#self-indulgent bullshit yet again

[acediaedeus]

the reason I like Grimmjow so much is, obviously, because he’s a feline-adjacent character and that’s all I really need. and that’s also why my mission in this life is to slap as many feline traits on him as possible.

but before that I need to reinforce my “cat person Ichigo” agenda, because he would definitely be one, and not just because of Grimmjow, no. I just feel like if Ichigo had to get a pet it would be a cat, because cats are rather self-sufficient and independent, they don’t require 24/7 attention (rather hate it even), their needs are easily met and over all they are quiet, calm. cats enjoy a great nap and lazing around, but do get into a playful mood at times, which all sounds to me very much like Ichigo. also I think the ways cats show affection would really appeal to him, as well as their companionable silence, their presence small, but comforting, because they let you know you’re not alone.

so, enter Grimmjow with all his feline grace, a predator to his very core, snappy and yet intelligence shines in all that he does. and when things come down to affection he is still so very cat-like with it. a cat who’s been hurt, had to fight and hunt to survive, bristly and quick to anger and oh so slow to trust. just like the stray that you see on a street, that you get down on your knees for and thrust your hand out so it can sniff it or swipe its claws at or get frightened by, forcing it to retreat, run away, whatever wins out in that stray’s mind: curiosity, flight or fight. and Grimmjow is that stray too, but pride won’t let him run away and he’s been wondering the world long enough to not be so easily swayed into what could very well be a trap by mere curiosity. that is, until Kurosaki Ichigo.

and so Grimmjow meets him and falls into his trap, not willingly, not without a fight. he hisses and growls, he yells and spits venom, he scrambles to get out, claws like daggers swiping at everything, anything, to find something to dig into, so he can pull himself out. and yet he can’t, and with time resigns himself to the fact, that he doesn’t even really want to.

Kurosaki’s presence at first disappoints, nothing, but prey in all his terror, shaking hands, erratic movements, but as the fight goes on the boy feels less and less like prey, and then his mouth is twisted into something deranged, something similar if not identical to Grimmjow’s own smile, all sharp teeth and the promise of violence. maybe not so disappointing after all. every next time they fight each other after that Kurosaki’s presence gets more intense, at times making Grimmjow’s hair stand on end. and then they don’t see each other for a long time, and then they do, and Grimmjow somehow failed to notice when Kurosaki’s presence stopped feeling like something crushing down on him, urging him to fight against whatever it is and destroy it, and more like a blanket, light, but there, seemingly insignificant and yet comforting and warm.

Kurosaki Ichigo doesn’t feel like a fight all the time anymore, although Grimmjow enjoys every second of it when he does, and he finds that he doesn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. the boy, who’s not even a boy anymore, is there, on his knees before a stray, holding out his hand, ready to bleed, but hoping for softness. and Grimmjow is that stray, ready to claw and yet choosing to trust, if only for a second. and when that trust doesn’t result in hurt, Grimmjow finds it brings security.

anyway, before I ramble even more, oh my god, what is this?!?!?? all I wanted to write was “Grimmjow and Ichigo are like those lions you see in TV programs about wildlife, nuzzling each other’s heads and then flopping down against the other for a nap”??? what is this shit 💀🙏🏻??

[spidehpig]

the crooks are out, and the streets are grey

aka a prison pen pal au

HUUUUGE fucking thank you to @ceilidho for all of the writing advice and beta reading this and just generally being a big motivation and indulging in all of my random cod thoughts lol

this is incredibly self-indulgent. tags will be updated accordingly with a warning on each chapter when necessary. i'm a big fan of ghoap being perverted violent freaks if you couldn't tell.

thanks for reading besties. sorry there isn't any direct reader x ghost interaction yet. i promise it's coming.

you can also find me on twitter

[cw implied sexual harassment, future dubcon, explicit sexual content] 18+ MDNI

AO3

Part 1

It starts with a little slip of paper shoved under the bars of his shared cell with Soap. 

An official notice to inform inmates of the start of a new pen pal program the following week. Some rehabilitative bullshit about encouraging good behavior and rehabilitating prisoners on track to be released within the next few years. Ghost can’t help but roll his eyes as he crumples up the slip of paper and makes his way to the prison yard. Doesn’t give it another thought. 

That is until he receives a letter. Packaged in a little envelope with the prettiest handwriting he’s ever seen, addressed to the one and only Simon V. Riley: Inmate #634. The envelope had been torn open with a letter opener, read by prison staff, and searched for contraband, of course, before it made its way through the slot of his cell door. It comes in a lilac envelope and it's even adorned with a pretty little heart right next to his name scrawled in cursive. 

Ghost shoves the pastry he swiped in the cafeteria from a new inmate into his mouth as he rips open the letter with mild interest. He lets out a snort when he sees that the staple holding the pages of the letter together was ripped out by whatever guard had gotten stuck with mail duty today. He knows that you’ll have already received an angry voicemail from the prison advising you that all mail to inmates must be paperclip and staple free upon arrival. 

He glances over the letter with disinterest, a couple paragraphs introducing yourself and one detailing your excitement about joining the program. He only skims his way to the second page where you start to ask him questions about himself before he’s crumpling up the pages to shove under his bunk. He’ll be free of this place in a mere sixteen months; doesn’t need a bloody pen pal to encourage good behavior. 

He knows that there is anger and violence rooted deep within him. On a good day, it simmers in his chest, a warm heat that lies dormant. On bad days, it burns so hot that he can feel the angry heat creep up into his throat. It makes the words that spill from his mouth cruel, and his calloused fingers twitch as he stomps his way over to the courtyard to beat the old punching bag until his shirt is soaked through with sweat and his knuckles are raw and bloody.

Not all bad days end with him wrapping his split knuckles with bandages from the infirmary. Sometimes they end with him in solitary and picking another inmate’s dried blood from underneath his fingernails. He hasn’t had a bad day like that in over a year now. 

If he’s being honest with himself, it’s only because he doesn’t want to jeopardize his early release. Most of the other inmates know well enough now to leave Ghost be. The last inmate to piss Ghost off ended up in the infirmary with three broken ribs and two of his own teeth spat into his palm. 

Poor sod ducks his head like a quivering dog every time he meets Ghost’s gaze now; surely won’t make the mistake of cutting in front of him in line at the cafeteria again. Ghost hasn’t been outside of a prison in the last seventeen years but he can’t imagine a civilian would try to swipe food from his plate or pick a fight with him just to see if they could win it. 

So he lies through his teeth at every psych evaluation. Tells the doctors that the exercises they suggested are helping him manage his anger. He has a feeling they don’t quite believe him, but he hasn’t had an episode in over a year to justify their reservations. And since they don’t question his ability to rehabilitate into civilian life, he tells himself that he’ll be fine on the outside. All he has to do is keep to himself until Johnny gets released eight months after him. He just needs to behave for another year and he doesn’t see how writing letters would make any difference.

He had thought that if he just ignored the letters they would eventually stop coming, but despite his obvious reluctance to partake in the program, the letters keep coming. Every last one in a pretty lilac envelope, notably staple free since the first one. He gleans little from her letters. Some young bird that signed up for this pen pal exchange. She’s twenty-one and has an interest in criminology. 

Ghost decides that he hates her for it. 

Each letter gets shoved under the bunk; most of the time he doesn’t even bother to open and read them. He rolls his eyes when Soap whines and begs to trade pen pals with him. Apparently the poor mutt got stuck with some seventy-four year old retired veteran and he doesn’t think it's fair that Ghost got paired with a young woman. 

It isn’t until he receives yet another letter from his unwanted pen pal, this time addressed from another country, that something finally makes him stop in his tracks. The bird is apparently studying abroad and when he opens the envelope, a flimsy polaroid floats down into his lap. He doesn’t bother to read the newest letter and instead snatches the picture up between his thick fingers. He can’t help the groan that escapes his lips the second he flips the polaroid picture over.

Ghost hardly even looks at the sweet smile and bright blue ocean behind her. No, that’s not what catches his attention. His gaze immediately flicks down to the swell of her breasts taking up half of the image. What would be an innocent selfie to most might as well be a page ripped straight from a playboy magazine to Ghost. Clearly taken at the beach after a swim in the ocean, sweat and ocean water glistening on your skin, and Ghost can see the peaks of your nipples poking through your thin bikini top. 

And fuck is that enough for him. He hasn’t had a woman in, well, ever, and the guards keep confiscating his playboy magazines, so this will have to do. A low grunt escapes his chest as he reaches down to palm his cock that’s now twitching to attention. He pauses to make sure Soap is still snoring, loudly , in the bunk above him before he reaches down to grope at his stiffening prick. Unzips himself from his prison issued track pants and palms at his stiffening cock over the thin fabric of his briefs. 

He hisses between his teeth when he dips his hand under the band of his briefs and the rough skin of his palm tugs against the sensitive skin of his cock. Has to yank his hand back and spit into his palm before wrapping his thick fingers around the base of his cock. His other hand grips the picture of you between his fingertips as he pulls his foreskin back to reveal his swollen tip already leaking precum. It twitches in his hand as another glob of precum leaks down his prick. 

He has half a mind to wake Soap up and shove his cock down the boy’s throat. If he fucks his throat deep enough he could pretend it’s the tight heat of your cunt clenching around his cock while he laps at one of the nipples peaking through your bikini. 

Ghost’s fantasy is shattered the second the little shit sleeping above him wakes with a loud snort. He watches Soap’s head peek over the side of his bunk, pretty blue eyes clouded with sleep as his disheveled mohawk dangles over the metal bunk. 

“Yeh could’ve asked for a helping hand yaknow that, Ghost. Yeh know I’d—” Soap’s voice cuts off abruptly, eyes narrowing on the polaroid clutched in Ghost’s hand and the other wrapped around his prick.

”Whatcha got there, Ghost?” Soap drawls, accent still thick from sleep.

”Fuck off, Johnny,” Ghost grunts as he looks back down at your picture and gives his cock another stroke.

No use in deterring his mutt once his sight is set on a bone though. He feels the bunk shake and squeak as Soap scrambles down the ladder, the pervert already tenting his boxers as he crawls into Ghost’s bed.

”I said fuck off, Johnny.” Ghost grits his teeth and clutches your picture to his chest. Trying desperately to reimagine the swell of your tits pressed against his chest when you finally sink down on his cock. But Soap is relentless. His needy slut straddles Ghost’s thighs with a smirk on his face. 

And fuck it, his boy is gagging for it, he might as well. He doesn’t acknowledge Soap’s incessant teasing and instead fists a hand through his soft mohawk before shoving the brat’s head between his legs. 

A low growl escapes his chest as the man’s lips wrap around his throbbing cock. And fuck, does his mouth feel good, tight and wet as his soft lips slide down Ghost’s length, throat swallowing around him. He loses himself in the feel of Soap’s practiced mouth, eyes only snapping open when Soap lets out a deep moan. Before he can even think, the palm of his hand is connecting with Soap’s cheek, hard . It draws a low moan from Soap’s throat which only serves to irritate Ghost more.

”Shut up,” Ghost snaps and pushes Soap’s head down on his cock until he feels the man flinch and gag around his prick. Usually he loves to hear the whorish sounds that fall from his boy’s pretty lips but right now, he’s trying to imagine the way you’d cry out and beg as he inches his cock into the tight heat of your cunt. Ghost slaps his boy across the cheek again when Soap lets out a low growl and scrapes his teeth on the underside of his cock. 

Soap seems to get the message, his moans and growls slowly quiet, swirling his tongue around Ghost’s swollen glands before sinking down until his nose is buried in Ghost’s pubic hair. Ghost loses himself in the wet heat of Soap’s throat once more, eyes rolling back as his head knocks back against his pillow, your pretty smile contorting itself into a cry as he bullies his cock into your cunt. His hips buck and bruise the back of Soap’s throat with every thrust while he dreams of fucking your pretty cunt full of his cum. He cums with a snarl on his lips and Johnny gagging around him. Holds Soap down on his cock as he reaches down to squeeze at his balls one last time before ripping the boy off his cock with a sputtering gasp. 

Soap is immediately scrambling up the bed, grinding his prick against the swell of Ghost’s thigh.

”C’mon, Ghost, lemme see, just a peek I swear that’s all I need,” Soap whines, frantically grinding his cock against Ghost’s leg. Ghost blinks as the bliss from his orgasm melts away, the bunk creaking from the force of Soap’s desperate thrusts, the man panting and grunting above him. 

He languidly flips your photo between his fingers, any streak of possessiveness gone now, as long as it’ll get his mutt to stop humping his leg faster so he can get some sleep. 

“Ah, fuck , Ghost, looks bonnie, don’t she,” Soap pants as his eyes flit over your bikini photo, the grind of his hips losing their rhythm for a moment. 

“Bet ‘er ass hasn’t been fucked yet,” Soap groans.

”Make ‘er take us both.”

”Bet she tastes sweet.”

”Pretty thing.”

Ghost barely registers Soap’s babbling above him, just grabs his ass and guides his hips against his thigh until Soap is cumming in his briefs with a low moan. When the boy finally calms down enough to catch his breath, he pulls the cum soaked briefs off of his boy and tosses them across the cell before pulling the mutt to his chest as they both doze off.

Ghost wakes annoyed, drenched in sweat and cum and Soap snoring loudly against his neck. The little shit has the audacity to grumble and pout when he makes Soap go sleep in his own bunk. When he hears Soap’s start to snore, he sits up, stealing Soap’s pencil and a spare sheet of paper. He starts scribbling words back to you. The first letter he’s responded to. His handwriting is ugly and near illegible, but he thinks you should be able to read most of it. He hangs his arms out of the bars of his cell and whistles at the guard stationed down the hall. Shoves his letter to you in the guard’s hand and grunts at him to send it to his bird.

The guard, Andrews, he thinks, scoffs snatching the letter from Ghost’s fingertips before banging on the cell door.

”MacTavish! You got a letter for your lovebird too?”

Ghost groans, already prepared for the bitchfest that’s about to happen.

Soap awakes with a loud snort, head snapping up over the edge of his bunk and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.” 

“Aye fuck off, you limp dick prick,” Soap growls and scrambles down the rickety bunk to press the length of his body against the cell bars as he curses the guard that taunted him. A litany of Scottish curses fall from his lips as Soap presses his forehead to the bars and goads the guard into approaching their shared cell. The little spitfire has himself so worked up he’s pacing the length of their cell and spewing insults at the guards on duty.

“I know yer playing favorites, Andrews. Think yer funny giving me some old bastard, don’t yeh?” Soap hollers into the hallway and slams a fist against the bars of their cell, pressing his forehead against the bars once again, growling and swearing some more when Andrews takes a step back, barking out a harsh laugh. Ghost can practically see the metaphorical fur on Soap’s hind spike up at that, just a moment before he spits at the guard’s feet. Andrews, the scrawny little fucker, lurches forward to swat at Soap’s fists clenched around the bars of their cell with his baton.

“You better back up and watch that mouth of yours Mactavish, or it’ll be another two days in solitary for you,” Andrews snaps at Soap and shoots a knowing directly at Ghost. 

And oh does Ghost hate when Soap gets sent to solitary. Can’t use his boy’s holes when he’s locked up on the other side of the prison. The rough drag of his own fist just can’t compete with the tight heat of Johnny’s throat or arse. Especially now that he’s got a bird back home to think about. Ghost grips the back of Soap’s sweat soaked shirt and yanks him back from the cell bars, grunting at him to give it a fuck rest.  Ghost retreats to his bunk when Soap finally cools off, watching as Soap flops down onto the chair at their shared desk and starts to angrily scribble in his journal, occasionally grumbling to himself under his breath. He settles back against his pillow, content with thinking about his new bird on the outside until the guards release them for breakfast. He almost feels bad about not writing to you sooner. Poor girl tired of her letters going unanswered, you really were just begging for his attention when you sent a violent inmate a photo of your tits now, weren’t you?

[vanishingstarrs]

midnight rain

katsuki bakugo x reader, slow burn, hurt x comfort, anxiety, fluff, sfw

part 1, part 2, part 3

( as an insomniac, this was a bit self indulgent, also for the sake of this story the timeline is irrelevant, i kinda went all over the place so let’s all just pretend it all lines up <3 also also feel free to imagine whatever quirk you’d like i never really had one in mind except for the side effect is you being v v cold bc it worked for the plot lol sorry it took so long to get this out, just wanted it to be perfect !! hope y'all enjoy <3 )

It was raining. Hard.

You were a nervous wreck.

It had been agreed that your classmates and you would be permitted to retrieve Midoriya from his self isolation. The heroes were out in the streets, instructed to call as soon as he was sighted since your class had full permission to spring into action and try to convince him to come back. The heroes told to stay back and allow you guys to take the lead on the mission.

Part of the reason you couldn’t sleep as of late was your classmate out in danger. You and Midoriya had never been best friends by any means, but you’d been close enough and you’d worked alongside him a few times. He was a nice person and always trying to help those around him, he’d come to you multiple times with theories on how to better improve your quirk so you wouldn’t overwork and accidentally freeze yourself to death. Even if he hadn’t done any of that, you likely still would’ve felt guilt over being safe while he wasn’t. He was good, and he deserved to come home.

All of this in turn meant more baking and less sleeping. You’d been out of bed for thirty minutes now, having brought your journal with you in order to go through your recipes.

You’d been in your room before, tinkering with your costume and doing little workouts while waiting for everyone to head to bed, not wanting to bother anyone.

The day had been spent training and putting more work into improving your individual powers, leveling up so that when the time came… you and your classmates could join up in the war. It was a frightening thought, and you weren’t sure you were quite ready for that again.

Speaking with Katsuki had been some help though, the way he spoke of heroes and nobility made you want to be brave like him.

And so, to thank him for the late nights, you were now up again, only this time you baked with purpose. For him. You weren’t sure how you were going to approach him to give him the baked goods, and part of you hoped he might be awake and come out on his own to save you the trouble of an awkward conversation.

You sighed as you double checked your recipe, making sure of your next step before incorporating dry ingredients with the wet ones.

It wasn't that you wished another sleepless night on Bakugo... but it was definitely easier to go to bed after having had him around. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't bullshit you, or the way he let you talk about nothing in particular until you were ready to open up about what had actually been weighing on your chest. Things you had yet to even bring up to your best friend.

You went through the motions almost at a sloth’s place, overthinking to yourself as you made sure everything was perfect for the muffins you were baking.

When all that was left to do was wait for the room to start smelling of cinnamon, you sat yourself at the island, headphones blasting as you grabbed you pen and journal again. You turned the page from your experimental recipes and found your sketches for the new costume you were working on, you'd asked Hatsume for some suggestions, but she'd dismissed you; she was too busy right now. She said she'd help you create the final design, but she didn't have the brain capacity to make something from scratch for you.

A groan left your lips as you stared at the page, just about ready to tear it and your hair out when your headphones were yanked down to your neck and the chair next to you scraped the floor as someone sat down,"Don't you ever sleep?"

"Don't you?" You scoffed, the response coming naturally,"Thought you were Mr. go to bed at seven every night, what happened?"

"That was before." He rolled his eyes,"Whatcha working on?"

You stared at Bakugo, unsure if he was actually there. Had you conjured him up somehow? Were you hallucinating? And was he actually making small talk with you right now?

"Muffins... for you, actually."

"Hah?!" His eyes bulged as he turned to the oven, like he just noticed it was on,"What are you making shit for me for? And I meant the sketches, idiot."

"Oh." You frowned.

"I'll eat them." He declared, realizing that it sounded as though he didn't care for them.

"No, it's okay." You looked away, trying to hide your smile and the fact that you were teasing,"I'll offer them up to the others. Who doesn't like apple cinnamon muffins with a nice crumble on top? No, don't worry, my efforts won't be in vein, maybe Momo will make a nice tea for us all."

"Tea? I can make tea, I'll make you the best damn tea you've ever had, and we're eating these damn muffins if it's the last thing we do." He grumbled as he stood up and found his same mug, as well as somehow finding yours amidst the array of everyone's cups.

His was orange with his first initial on it, and yours was purple with the multiple facial expressions of Kuromi all around, she was your favorite Sanrio character. You had no idea how he'd known that it was yours, but didn't dwell on it as you turned your frown back to your notebook and the aforementioned sketches.

"Been tryna come up with a new costume design, I'm not very great at it... Midoriya kinda helped me with my last one." You mentioned as he began boiling water for your tea.

You heard him scoff.

"What?" You asked immediately, self conscious now.

You had thought he'd done a pretty good job, and most of it was your idea anyway; he'd really only brought your vision to life since he was a lot better at that kinda stuff than you were.

"Nothin'. Didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to, is my costume ugly? I'm not really a big fan of the flashy stuff, I just want something simple that won't make me stand out..."

He walked back over, leaning against the island counter as he raised his eyebrows at you,"You do know the whole point of being a hero is standing out, right?"

"No..." You denied,"Not all of it. What if I just wanna help people and not be seen?"

"What about recognition?" He countered,"I see you standing back all the time, especially when you make shit like this and just leave a note, you don't always sign your name, don't you want people to know what you've done? What you've accomplished?"

"I'd hardly call baking a few cookies an accomplishment." You scoffed.

"When I got kidnapped." He brought up,"You were there."

It wasn't a question. He was stating it like it was something he knew for a fact and you didn't know how that came to be.

You'd never spoken about it, you'd gone along as a favor to your friends, they thought your power might be useful just in case the situation escalated. You'd agreed and at the end of it all, after getting him back, you'd gotten separated in the crowd. You didn't bother meeting back up, feeling you'd done all you that could and gone home. It was a long time ago, you felt.

"Who told you that? Kirishima?"

"Deku did." He corrected with a roll of his eyes,"He wanted to make sure I thanked you properly."

"You never did."

"I should've."

The oven timer dinged and you used it as your excuse to remove yourself from the conversation. You cleared your throat as you stood up and grabbed your oven mitts, your face felt warm and it wasn't just because you were removing baked goods from the oven.

"We'll have to wait for them to cool." You said aloud.

"Still gotta brew the tea, so... it's fine."

You felt incredibly awkward and he must've sensed it too, because he changed the subject back to the original.

"Y'know I can help you with this." Bakugo was holding your journal when you finally mustered up the courage to face him again,"My parents are fashion designers, I did my own costume. Won't make it too flashy if you don't want, or you could just wait for Deku if that's what ya want, he'll be back soon anyway."

"No." You said, maybe a little too eagerly.

He stared back in surprise.

"You help me." You made your way across the room again,"Please."

“Alright, alright, no begging it makes you look pathetic.” He said, though it had no fire behind it,“I guess I owe ya anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the tiny smile as he tugged you closer and took charge of the project. He made a few comparisons from your last costume to the lame prototype you’d been working on and then asked you for your favorite aspects of both before starting up from scratch on a different page, his writing was surprisingly neat as he listed a few support items he thought you should look into for the upcoming battles.

“It has to be purple.” You stated your only condition as you took the pen from him and started to shade a few spots, you had to lean close into him to be able to reach the journal and you heard him inhale sharply before moving it closer to you.

When you reached something actually resembling a good costume, you grinned and turned to him,“It’s great, Katsuki, thank you so much.”

“No problem.” He seemed to whisper, he was staring at you in a weird way that made you look back down at the costume you’d drawn up together,“Let’s, uh, eat those muffins now.”

“Wait! We have to sign our names at the bottom.” You held his arm before he could move away,“C’mon, we’re the designers.” You quickly scribbled your signature before handing the pen back to him with a grin.

He rolled his eyes, but snatched the pen from you nonetheless and quickly wrote his name next to yours. It felt… binding, weirdly enough.

You let him go and he brought over the tea he’d brewed, which had cooled a little but not enough to be cold. The muffins were perfect and you watched for a reaction that he never gave, so you went poking for compliments.

“You can say they’re good.” You teased as he took several bites in one breath.

“I was getting there.” He grumbled, after swallowing hard. He looked at the tray of muffins and then back at you,“You really made these for me?”

You shrugged,“You said they’re your favorite.”

He took another huge bite and around it he managed to get out something sounding close to a thanks.

You laughed,“You’re welcome, Katsuki.”

When he finished off two muffins, he wordlessly began helping you clean up your mess. It didn't take too long, as much as you wished that it would so you could talk to him more. When you handed him a tupperware for the muffin's he seemed to get an idea as he walked away and came back with a piece of tape and a sharpie.

He started writing "DO NOT TOUCH" on the tape.

You couldn't help snort,"Had a feeling you weren't the sharing type."

"They were made for me, weren't they?"

"Mhm." You hoped you weren't blushing as you agreed.

He stuck the tape onto the top before showing it to you,"I can share, but only with you."

You were definitely blushing now as you read "Y/N and Katsuki's muffin's" underneath the initial message for no one to touch them. You smiled,"You're sweet."

He scoffed,"Am not."

"You totally are." You teased as he rolled his eyes at you for the hundredth time while also turning you around and pushing you toward the stairs, he was holding your headphones and journal in hand and when you reached your door, you held out your hand expectantly.

He held them back,"One condition."

Feeling emboldened, you went up on tiptoes to whisper into his ear,"My door will be open, don't worry."

With your heart beating wildly in your chest, you quickly brushed your lips somewhere along his cheek while grabbing your things from his hold,"Night, Kats."

You weren't sure if you heard him say it back, but you thought he did as you escaped into the darkness of you room, blushing.

That night, you had one of your better sleeps.

The next day, however, came early. And before you knew it you, along with your classmates, were suiting up and leaving U.A. to chase a possible Midoriya lead. The state he was in when you guys finally found him broke your heart in a way you didn't know was possible, the boy was working hard to get Japan back to how it'd been before and the citizens seeking safety in U.A. didn't understand that. Tears were brought to your eyes after a touching speech from Ochaco, and when the day finally came to its end your bones too were crying from all the extra exertion.

When everyone got back, you'd set to work making a simple batch of chocolate chip cookies since the last one hadn't lasted longer than the morning on which they were discovered. The bath had been miraculous for your muscles, and you'd almost fallen asleep while sipping on the tea Momo had brewed for everyone.

The day had been quite momentous, and through it all, you couldn't help want to seek out only one person...

You sighed as you turned over in bed.

You had your phone turned on in your hand, your text messages with Mina blinking up at you as you typed and deleted the same text many times.

You deleted it one last time and reread her text.

mina ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ: soooo you and bakugo ?? 👀👀 noticed he was prettttty worried abt u getting hurt / just u in gen during mission bring deku home, didn’t know y’all were so close hm 🤔🤔🤨

You debated letting your best friend know you’d somehow become sort of friends with Katsuki, having spent a few nights in each other's company. But how did you explain to her that somehow, through three simple nights, that you might be having other feelings for him. And that you'd kissed him. Well, his cheek, but still. That move was quite bold for you and then, like a coward, you ran away. You'd always dismissed things like crushes and boys, but Katsuki... he was loud, to put it simply, and therefore was much harder to ignore.

You hadn't thought he'd paid you any extra mind in comparison to everyone else during the fight, but having been focused on Midoriya... maybe you'd missed it?

You pulled out your phone again, sending your friend one last reply.

y/n (ෆ•∘̬• ͒)◞: lolll as if girl yk he doesn’t do friends, think he’s probs just on edge bc of midoriya

She texted back immediately, but rather than opening the text you opened up your music app and pressed play on a soothing playlist. You listened to it, along with the rain that had yet to stop, and felt your body start to relax into your pillows.

You weren't lying to your friend. Bakugo had made it clear he was at U.A. because he wanted to be number one. He didn't have time for "extras", as he so often put it, what exactly made you so different? Nothing. Exactly, you told yourself, nothing at all.

Sure, he was calmer around you on those measly nights on which you found one another. But that was just because everyone else was asleep and maybe he was being considerate. Sure, he listened to you talk on and on and watched your silly romance drama with you... but that had to be because he had nothing better to do, having already been awake... right?

You groaned, the longer you thought about it the more the frustration with yourself grew. How could you be so clueless?!

When it all became too much, you pushed your covers off and ripped your headphones off, your feet found your slippers immediately as you picked up your glasses from your nightstand and slid them on. You marched toward your door with purpose, ripping it open only to freeze at what awaited on the other side.

He had his fist up, ready to knock. There he was.

Katsuki Bakugo, right outside your door.

“Bakugo… hi.” You breathed out, you felt your heartbeat start to pick up a bit.

“What happened to Katsuki?” You faintly heard him say, but your attention was elsewhere, eyes taking him in completely.

He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants you’d never seen before and a fitted black t shirt. His hair, you noticed, was pushed back by a black headband. You never wanted to be a headband more. Was this his usual sleep attire? Last time you could’ve sworn he was wearing a muscle tee and a pair of shorts. Focus, Y/N, focus! You yelled at yourself internally. You snapped out of it in time to hear him say your name.

Aaand shit. So preoccupied with him, you had momentarily forgotten your own attire: Kuromi pyjama bottoms and a sports bra... and your glasses— shit, shit, shit.

Embarrassed, you pulled your hair forward to try and cover yourself just a tiny bit,“Oh, my god, sorry, hold on, let me grab a shirt.”

You turned, but didn’t make it more than two steps when you felt his hand wrap around your wrist, he pulled you back and firmly asked,“Were you coming to look for me?”

You gulped, forcing yourself to meet his eyes,"Yes."

His eyes widened slightly, like he couldn't believe how easily you admitted to it.

"You too, by the looks of it." You pointed out, and he nodded.

He looked away, gaze zeroed in on the ground as he released a deep breath, and with it, how he truly felt,"All I seem to think about these days is impending doom. Well, that, and also you.” His lips pressed together and you noticed his hands clenching down at his sides, you wanted to unfold his fingers and tuck your own around them.

“Whenever I talk to you, or I’m near you… it helps. I don’t know what it is, but being with you makes me not have a fire lit up under my ass or something.” He confessed.

A weight was instantly lifted off your shoulders. You allowed yourself to smile,"That's super poetic, Katsuki, and sweet."

He rolled his eyes, and you could swear his ears were turning red too,"I'll take it back."

You gasped,"You wouldn't dare."

He shook his head, releasing a small sigh,"I'm no good with words, but am I..."

You took a step forward, listening to your heart and taking his hand into your own. He seemed to want to pull back, but you didn't let him as you wound your hands together.

"They're sweaty." He argued.

"Don't give a shit." You grabbed his other hand too,"You're not alone, you know. I feel the same way you do, not about the impending doom part, but the rest of it. Ever since that first night when you were there... I just feel at ease with you. You may say you're not good with words, but you're pretty good at listening, and I think you've done great at comforting me in your own way. I didn't really see it today, but you were there, watching me, making sure I was good, I was so scared—”

“I was terrified.” He said at the same time.

You smiled even bigger now,“Good thing it all worked out in the end, huh? You got your friend back.”

He scoffed,“He’s not my friend.”

“Am I your friend?” You asked, still grinning.

He shook his head and the smile instantly left your face as you started to pull your hands away,"Oh—"

You didn’t get a chance to fully let go as he pulled you forward with one hand and grabbed your waist by the other, and before you realized what was happening, his lips had met yours for the shortest kiss. So light it could barely qualify as one, but it was enough to freeze you in place as you once more repeated:

“Oh...”

He leaned his forehead against yours and you inhaled, consumed by him and his scent.

"Hold on, can I...?"

You didn't wait for a response as you stood up on your toes, placing a hand on his cheek and kissing him again. This one lasted longer and you thought you might've tasted chocolate from the cookies you'd made earlier on his tongue, you hadn't seen him around when you were passing them around and you were happy he'd gotten to enjoy some after all. When you pulled away, you were smiling again.

"I'm not good at this." He repeated once more.

You shook your head,"You're doing perfectly."

He kissed you a third time, another short and sweet peck that led to one more on your cheek and then the other cheek and then your forehead and lastly, your nose.

You blushed as he buried his face in your neck and hair and inhaled deeply,"You smell so good, like cookies and warmth."

"Katsuki?"

"Mm?"

He tried to move, but you kept him there by running your fingers through his hair and making him relax further into your hold. You couldn't look at him for what you were about to ask. You felt your face heat up,"I know that was our first kiss and you said we're not really friends, which I think means something and if it does mean that thing, well, our timing isn't great and we can't really go on a date or anything to even start the thing, and if Aizawa were to find out, surely we'd be dead, but could you, maybe, think about possibly staying with me tonight?"

Katsuki pulled away, hands in your hair as he agreed right away,"Thought you'd never ask."

He pulled you back into his arms, shutting the door behind himself as he walked right into your room like he owned it. "Those glasses drive me crazy." He said as he instantly made himself comfortable under the purple comforter of your bed.

"Really?" You scrunched up your nose before taking them off and putting them back on your nightstand,"I hate them."

He shook his head,"You should wear 'em more."

"When classes start back up, maybe, I'll think about it." You hesitated as you laid down next to him.

It lasted maybe one minute before he was pulling you closer, your head on his chest. You could hear the pounding in his chest as he said,"It's new for both of us, but I think we can figure this out."

His warmth and his arms around you were already making you sleepy, you agreed with him,"Mmm, tomorrow?"

He gave a grunt of acknowledgement and you could tell the lack of sleep lately was catching up with him too as he shifted his body even closer, head burying into your neck again,"Night, Y/N."

You smiled, content,"Goodnight, Katsuki."

[hellfire--cult]

toot toot

Eddie has a very important question for you - just eddie being a loving boyfriend with something i know we all struggle with as we enter a relationship (fem!reader) - self indulgent

a/n: idk man. i had this talk with @ghost-proofbaby and I was like, 'yeah, i should write this' and she agreed.

Wc: 1k

-

“Why don’t you fart in front of me?”

You almost spat the water you were drinking all over the book you were reading as you laid on his bed with your back propped up on the headboard. 

“Eds, what?”

“You never fart in front of me.” He was dead serious, looking at you while his arms rested on his guitar, sitting at the end of the bed, his legs crossed. You were blinking at him as if he had just sprouted a leaf over his head.

“What are you going on about?”

“We’ve been dating for a whole year, and I have yet to hear a fart from you!” Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment and you shook your head, looking back at your book.

“And you never will.” He rolled his eyes at you and scooted a little closer with a little jump that made the bed move underneath you, making you jump and glare back up at him.

“I fart all the time with you, with sound, with no sound… I mean, we trust each other, and darling, I do know you hold them in.” Your mouth opened with an o shape, not believing the words coming out of your boyfriend’s lips. 

The worst part, he was right.

You complained many times because of tummy aches, and you knew it was retained gas you weren’t letting out. You were just embarrassed about it. He didn’t care whenever he did it, and you didn’t either. You even laugh at some of his farts because they sound straight out of a cartoon, and sometimes, you die a little bit because they are deadly.

“I don’t feel comfortable doing it!” You retorted back, and he sighed in frustration, shaking his head again, putting the guitar to the side of his bed. 

“I promise you, it’s normal, it’s natural, and the stigma of all the women being proper ladies is such bullshit.” You knew it was that as well. You were also afraid of it being too loud, or smelly, and just utterly repulsive to him to the point he would not be attracted to you in some way.

“I know it’s natural… But I still won’t ever fart in front of you.” He groaned loudly at your words.

“You’re impossible princess.”

“But you love me.” You grinned at him with a sway of your body and he smiled back at you and crawled towards you to plant a smooch right on your lips.

“That I do.”

But it wasn’t even a week later that you were both lying on bed again, and you both were laughing as Eddie told you a story about Steve completely fucking up his date with Heidi.

“He literally tumbled back when he saw a roach sneaking in front of him and he made her fall onto the fountain at the park! That’s why his face is fucking red!” Eddie was cracking up by now and your eyes were filled with tears as you laughed with him.

“Oh shit, she slapped him!?”

“Of course she did! It was a fucking roach! Not a goddamn monster or some shit!” You cracked up at that, and it was a bad idea, because your stomach had been contracting in pain and twisting for the past hour because you were holding your gas in. 

You had tacos for dinner, and that was a very poor decision knowing that you were spending the night at Eddie’s, and knowing how the night might end. Everytime you held your gas in, sex was almost painful sometimes.

And now, with the laughter, with your belly going up and down against your stomach, it happened. And your laughter and his immediately seized, leaving the room completely quiet for a few seconds.

It was small, very thin, but it could be heard. Your face immediately heated up in embarrassment, and you turned to the other side, not being able to face him. Was he going to think you were disgusting? Not lady-like? Was it a boner killer? Why isn’t he saying anything–

“Oh, FUCK YES! I’VE BEEN SAVING THIS FOR THE OCCASION!” You felt him sit up on the bed and your eyebrows frowned, making you turn to look at him rummaging in his drawer from the night table. A small confetti popper in one hand and its string on the other. He pulled and the confetti exploded with a pop, startling you.

“What the hell Eddie–”

“Congrats on your first fart in front of me!” Your eyes were wide at his antic, but he had a wide smile on his face and you couldn’t believe your boyfriend got happy from you letting out an accidental fart from laughing so hard. 

“It was an accident Eds!” You whined as you sat up next to him and you had a terrified look on your face and he shook his head, holding onto your face with both of his hands.

“It’s the first step! Next one is an intentional one, so come on darling, I know you’re holding it in~” He cooed and you pushed him away, shaking your head in utter embarrassment.

“You’re so weird Eddie… you don’t… find it disgusting?”

“Fuck no! Makes me happy you trust me enough to do it in front of me! Accidental or not!” He was smiling at you, and your heart fluttered as you stared at your loving boyfriend. You leaned towards him and pecked his lips softly, only to then shake your head.

“You’re insufferable.” 

“But you love me.” He smiled at you and you couldn’t help but nod and lean in to kiss him again.

After that, you never do it intentionally, but now, if one escapes you by accident you are able to laugh it out with him. 

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

a/n: purely self indulgent plus WE CANT DENY EDDIE WOULDNT CELEBRATE OUR FIRST FART WITH HIM. ALSO, FARTING IS NATURAL.

[tarjapearce]

YOU CANT JUST LEAVE US HEARTBROKEN LIKE THAT 😭😭😭😭😭

HOW DO THEY MAKE UP??!!!!!

he better does grand gesture, and apologizes the right way!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭



Ngl, I'm so nervous about this. 🫣. Hope you like ~

Pt. 3

Miguel remained glued to the door where you just left. It wasn't the raucous door slam he had expected. Dread sit on his gut at the quietness of your departure.

You weren't one for boasting up or make a show out of the situations, but you had your temper and seeing this quiet yet nerve wrecking side of you only enervated his anger. Froze it completely, leaving him with a whirlwind of emotions that mutinied in his head to be felt first.

Self loathe and guiltiness the main contenders.

His arms rested on his chest, crossed. Defensive as the creaking door from Gabriel's room opened wider.

"Miguel?"

Gabriel's voice echoed so distant in his head, despite his younger brother being a few steps away from him. A raging stupor spreaded through his limbs.

"You ok?" Gabriel tried even though he already knew the answer. He just gave a silent nod and Gabriel didn't pry further. He'd try later.

----

One week. It had been one week since you had crossed that door and vanished from his life. His mind was a corded mess of over thinking, intrusive thoughts and of course, you.

No matter how much he tried to overwork himself back in the lab, his mind often gravitated towards you.

What would you been doing? We're you doing the same as he was? No. You were probably crying and letting it all out. Something he was still working on his own. Of course you'd recommend therapy, but again, pride and fear always came his way. He was doing fine, wasn't he?

Bullshit.

Lying to himself was another thing he had perfected to a T. And it was low key terrifying for him for you to see underneath the layers (he had made sure to build sturdier), with such ease after a couple of months into the relationship with you.

But there he was, tired bones, body and soul aching from the lack of sleep. His stomach churned at the little food he consumed, the rest was coffee, to try and keep himself awake.

Cause after trying to call you next day, the only reply he got was the automated announcement of the operator.

The number you're trying to reach is no longer available or is out of reach, please contact your-

And the message kept replaying over and over. His texts didn't go through. And it didn't help that Peter arrived with the box full of his stuffs you had kept.

Peter's words fell upon deaf ears.

Peter always knew how to give him his space, but wouldn't hesitate to step up, even if it meant to be called nosy and annoying by him later. He knew he meant good. But he wasn't ready to fully grasp the fact that you had left. All thanks to him and his insecurities, something you had embraced and loved without restrains.

You loved him.

His chest constricted at the raw memory of you saying that. And tightened even more upon laying down and feel your empty space in his bed. The pillow was still deflated in the shape you had left it that fateful morning. He didn't puffed it up, fearing that the little scent of you etched to it would fade forever.

He'd fall sleep watching that small space, hoping to feel you in the morning, snuggled next to him, with your head nested on the crook of his neck, holding him like a tiny marsupial that refused to be separated from it's tree.

It was when he slept the most. Soundly and comfortable. But now, only bad dreams came for a visit.

There was no good morning kisses, no bantering for whose turn was to make the breakfast and coffee. No morning sex that probably made Gabriel uncomfortable, but the younger O'Hara was too into his business and polite to say anything. No more corny movie nights he indulged with you just for the sake of hearing you laugh at the terrible acting and cringe dialogues.

No more of your hands playing and caressing his hair just cause you wanted so, no more excited bear hugs everytime you saw him. No more of your comforting touch and words whenever he had a bad dream. No more you praising him. No more you.

Gabriel had tried to distract him, but the effort only lasted for so little that he went back to his silent mourning.

He missed it all. Missed you.

---

Gabriel let Peter and Jess in, Peter's muffled voice trying to appease a caustic Jessica whose eyes settled on a surprised Miguel on the kitchen, drinking his fifth cup of coffee.

Peter gave him an awkward smile as he followed Jessica.

"You look terrible."

Despite her anger, Jessica only pointed at his unkempt and disheveled looks.

His stubble had grown, the eyebags underneath his lower lids more prominent, bloodshot eyes that were set in a void and solemn gaze, skin ashy from the lack of sun.

"Miguel" Peter started with a sigh, "You're clearly not fine. "

He grunted and sipped the bitter coffee.

"Look, this is not our business, but we're here as your friends."

Jessica saying your name and how you were doing made his grip on the mug tighter.

"I just... don't understand. You out of everyone know the relationship with her family. Yet you accused of being like them."

"I did not"

Miguel rubbed his face and sighed. Already feeling the emotional toll he had been neglecting for the past week.

"Are you calling my friend a liar, then? She came to me, weeping, with a hecking anxiety attack saying you didn't love her anymore."

"That's.... Not true."

The constricting feeling came harder than ever upon hearing Jess' words. How could you even think that he didn't love you? He did. More than he let on. But pride was surely costing him big time.

"Then own your mistakes."

Miguel's eyes casted away from the both. Peter rubbed his neck and sighed.

"Look, Mig. We're not telling you what to do here. But I can't stand see you like this. Not when you know you can do the right thing."

"It's not that easy"

"It was easy for you to judge her-"

"Jessica"

Peter frowned and Jessica glared

"It was easy for you to say such things to her, but it's hard to apologize?"

"Exactly. You think I don't know I fucked up? I know I have to make things right-"

"Then do it!. And take a bath, I can smell you from here."

Miguel half scowled half pouted at her words. Peter just patted his shoulder softly before leaving.

-----

His first attempt at apologizing failed. He had sent flowers to your job, only for the delivery man to tell him that you had returned them, along with the box of chocolates you've always wanted to try.

He wanted to taste the waters before actually step in. And so far they'd drown him if he ventured deep enough.

But he was fighting against the tide.

---

The cold rain had soaked him, ruined the flowers and his hairstyle. He wanted to make things right, but knew that couldn't do it looking like shit. He had taken the time in getting ready. Black pants and shoes, a deep green button shirt, one that you had picked for him and praised him nonstop about it in one of your shopping outings.

Necklace in one of his pockets, flowers in one hand and his heart on the other.

Gabriel just teased him with a smile before he left. Glad that his brother seemed with a spark again.

But the rain, had ruined his plans. And now he was soaked, hair a wet wavy mess, shivering with a single tulip in his hands, all before your apartment's door.

He'd know you'd be home, it was your resting day. Taking a deep breath and swallowing back the anxiety gnawing at his head and heart, he rang the doorbell.

Small taps of your fuzzy slippers echoed closer and closer, your voice soft and serene. The same way you'd talk to him when he was grumpy or in a bad mood.

Who were you talking to?

The thought of you moving on so fast crossed his mind but instantly was fulminated. You weren't like that. You still loved him.

Right?

His breath hitched once your door swung partially open, revealing you. A messy bun ontop your head, phone on hands, puffed eyes that were red from previous crying, a sweater double your size and comfy pj pants.

"I-I'll call you later. Hm. Bye" You sniffled and hung up the call.

You closed the door on his face and he stilled for a moment, the shuffling of your locks finally turned to swung open the door completely. He swallowed thickly

Mahogany eyes locked in yours, you frowned and he sighed.

"May I... Come in?"

Miguel sighed and offered you the lone and wet white tulip. Your favorite, as a peace offer.

"Please?"

Despite the inner turmoil in your heart, you stepped aside and let him in.

Baby steps.

He swallowed as he ventured deeper in your home. It had changed little to nothing. Just like you. The only visible change in your factions was the restless look he shared with you.

You went to the bathroom and brought him a towel. He didn't know how would you react if he just pulled you closer and held you tightly.

He just took the towel instead, brushing cold fingers against warm ones. His body almost sung in delight at the little feeling of you again.

But he knew he had lost the right to your physical affection. To your attention, and the fact that you had received him and still looked after him in the admist of his wrongdoings, humbled him.

You went to the kitchen and put the kettle to boil. He was on the edge as he removed his shirt and wet clothes.

"W-What are you..." You looked at him in mild alarm as he wrapped the towel around his waist. The storm kept raging outside, thunders only enhancing the heavy atmosphere that settled between you both.

"Relax, don't wanna catch a cold."

His skin full of goosebumps, probably cold by the unforgiving rain. You went back to the living room and fetched the blanket you were using.

"Here."

You only watched him, but he refused to meet your gaze just yet.

"Im sorry."

He blurted and his eyes softened at you bracing yourself.

"I fucked up, didn't I?."

"Big time."

He nodded and wrapped himself the blanket on his shoulders. Being both emotionally and physically naked before you wasn't something he had planned on. But it was one of the least of his concerns.

You had put the tulip in a small vase and soon poured two mugs of hot cinnamon and milk tea, a drinking habit he had rubbed on you.

You sat on the couch, he followed.

"I know you don't want me here but, I really need to make this right. If... you don't want to continue this, I'll understand. I'll respect whatever choice you make."

"I just don't know if I can trust you, Miguel."

A stab on his chest. A well deserved one. He nodded.

"Is there anything I can do to fix that? Can I still fix it? "

You sighed softly and shook your head, "I don't know. I want to believe you, believe that something like that won't ever happen again."

You squeezed the mug in your hands

"You have no idea how... your words hurt. Even worse when you looked at me with such anger and disgust. It felt like my family looking at me when I left them."

Your voice cracked and he tensed, but slowly reached for your hand. Relief washing over him as you didn't recoil from his touch this time. The tea long forgotten.

"Te prometo, que nunca volverá a pasar. Y sabes que soy un hombre de palabra. I know what I said is unjustifiable, But I can't stand this... space between us" (I promise this won't happen again. You know I'm a man of word)

You knew he wasn't good with feelings, that he sometimes needed a reminder to  look for help, the way he breathed as he spoke the last two words made you smile a little. He was trying.

"I know" You sniffled and wiped your eyes.

"Do you... want me to stay away until you feel ready to try it again?"

A vehement shake of your head.

"I need to get it out cause... I don't know if I can't keep bottling up these things anymore. I'm not... sweeping my feelings under the rug anymore. I'm tired of that."

"That's... something I need to keep working on"

His hand slicked his front bangs away from his face.

"It's something I've always admired from you, mi niña." His hands grabbed yours once more, relishing in the warmth and grounding feeling your body provided him, "You've... always made it look easier. I tried to learn but... I guess it doesn't works like that."

"It takes time. And willingness to share. I could teach you."

"Have you... ever felt like I'm not willing to share things or that I'm too closed off with you?"

"Yes. I feel like mostly of the times I need to take initiative for you to do things with me. That's why I said you didn't want me"

He rubbed his face as his chest constricted, just like his throat.

"I know, sometimes I'm an ass"

"Un pendejo, de hecho" (A dumbass, actually)

He chuckled and nodded as he entwined his hand with yours.

"And I'm sorry if I ever took you for granted. I'm sorry for... the many things I should've done better but I didn't cause I knew you'd stay with me anyways. And... I'll forever regret that it came to this point for me to realize that" 

He cradled you close and held you with such gentleness it made your heart thump in relief. One of his arms went around your waist as his other hand caressed your hair.

Miguel was now resting on the armchair of your couch, you lying ontop of him. He didn't need the blanket anymore. His hands were too fearful of you slipping away from him.

"Have you ever felt judged by me?" Your voice soft, and melodic, music to his anxious heart.

He shook his head and pressed a firm kiss on your temple. You closed your eyes, melting into the caresses he gave as his hands roamed gently your back, saying 'She's here. She's real. She's mine again'

"All the opposite. You really felt that I didn't love you?"

"That and that you didn't want me anymore"

He sighed and cupped your face to give you a tiny and gentle kiss as he squeezed you against him.

"Mensa." (Dummy)

Your hand reached up to pull a strand of his hair as a little vendetta and he chuckled.

" Te voy a demostrar que te amo" (I'll prove my love for you)

"Can't wait" There was a little flush on your cheeks. You knew that his heartfelt and most sincere words came better in spanish.

There was a silent moment, the drip drops of the rain against your window were the perfect lullaby for you to close your eyes.

Tonight you'd sleep soundly, so would he. His hand on your hair trembled. These forms of intimacy always made him marvel at how easy was to keep you and himself happy.

"I've missed you." He whispered only for you. Your heart frisked in contempt, cause only you could make him say such words.

"I've missed you too"

He caressed your cheek once more and smiled gently.

"Are we good?"

"We're working on it"

The heavy and unpleasant feeling slowly melting off from him. He smiled as he secured you in his arms.

---

The dim lit room soon made him to yawn, awakening in a different place. A soft startle, but feeling his arms occupied with you, snuggled against him, face hidden in the crook of his shoulder, deeply asleep.

His arms couldn't get enough of feeling your skin. Feeling you, to make sure his mind wasn't hallucinating. You had given him another chance and he was ready to prove himself worthy of you.

His soft kisses on your hair stirred you awake as you hooked a leg on his waist, But when he mimicked you, his whole frame engulfed you, earning a little squeal.

He smiled as he kept crushing you.

"Miguel!" You whimpered and he let you go. Everything felt like before. Like it should.

"Want some breakfast? "

He whispered as he curled on you. you'd gladly make the big spoon if needed, strong hands cradling you closer as you nodded

"Later though, Let's stay five more minutes." You kissed his forehead in exchange.

Yeah, everything was as it should. His world was spinning again and you in the middle of it. His own moon and stars.

"Pitufina?"

You grunted at the nickname.

"¿Me amas?" (Do you love me?)

"Y mucho." ( A lot)

You mumbled in between sleepy whispers. the golden necklace once more around your neck.

"Do you?"

He grope you tighter at the question.

"More than I thought possible."

------

Taglist:

@kinkybandages

[lieslab]

Nothing new

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Minho X gn reader

Summary: Minho finds you on the porch when the hurt from the issues your father gave you tends to bubble up and fizz over.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.3K

Trigger warning: Daddy issues, grief, depression, anxiety, mentions of physical violence and emotional abuse.

A/N: I forgot that I wrote a daddy issue post like a week or two ago because I have the memory of a goldfish. I haven't done a Minho drabble in a while and honestly, this was one hundred percent completely self-indulgent and I cannot lie about it. I was spiraling and this was what conjured up in the middle of my grief. I'm so sorry if you can relate, we deserve better <3

_ _ _

"Why are you hanging out here alone?” Minho plopped down beside you on the back wooden porch. 

You couldn’t remember how long you had been here. Maybe it was mere minutes or maybe it was more like hours. Time seemed to blend together out here and you let it. 

The sun was starting to set. It painted the sky with roaring reds and bright oranges. Streaks of clouds were beginning to fade further and further away into the distance. Soon the sun would set and the moon would begin to climb the darkened skies. 

“I’ve been calling your name for a while. I thought you were in our bedroom, but you didn’t respond. I even thought you were showering until I found the bathroom empty. I was starting to think you had been kidnapped or something.” 

You shrugged, “I’m just here.” 

“So what are you thinking about?” 

“Noth-” 

“Bullshit. You don’t turn into a recluse unless you’re truly struggling with something. You know that I’m not going to judge you, so what are you really thinking about?” 

“Everything all at once.” 

“Anything specific?” 

“Family.” 

His face softened at the mention of your family. Life with your family has been chaotic. He knew the stories, you always told him about them. More specifically, he knew the issues that you had with your father. 

“Daddy issues again?” 

“Or perhaps my brain is the issue.” You shifted and leaned back. Your legs hung down the descending stairs, but your upper half clung to the deck. “I just…I just wish I could stop making it a big deal. I wish things didn’t affect me so much. I wish actions and words would run off me like water instead of sticking.” 

“It’s not wrong to mourn the things you missed out on. I understand that it must be hard to deal with the cards life gave you. Everyone has struggles and yours just happens to be your father.” 

“You’d think it’d stop once you grow up.” 

He paused for a moment and his eyes went out to the backyard. Off in the distance, the shared vegetable garden bloomed. Bright grown plants flourished in every direction. Two white cabbage butterflies chased each other around and around. Soon they’d land on an outer cabbage leaf and begin to munch away without a care in the world. 

“I think realizing it when you get older makes it worse. You become aware of the injustice and hurt which causes a cognitive disconnect. It makes it cut that much deeper. You don’t have to feel bad for feeling something so natural.” 

“You know what the worst part is?” You finally got out. The sting of tears began to collect in the corners of your eyes. “He’s not even a good man. We’re talking about one of the worst people out there and yet I still feel myself chasing after him.” 

“The kind of person who picks strangers over his own children. The type who spends money on stupid things instead of the youngest child’s needs. The kind of person who has no issue yelling and screaming in someone’s face. The kind that lets their anger control them and make all the decisions.” 

“But yet…I keep chasing. I keep hoping and praying. I’ve started to talk to God,” a tearful snort fell from your mouth. “I don’t even know if I believe in him, but I’ve talked to him. I keep asking for a better father, but all I hear is silence.” 

“They say you should stay in contact with your parents because they’re your parents, but what if a parent is making you so stressed and upset, your hair falls out? What if it leads to sobbing and emotional distress? What if it leads to screaming and fighting? What if trying to love my father is what kills me?” 

Minho’s heart broke apart at your words. He knew it was bad and it had been for a while, but he didn’t know it was this bad. His hand instinctively reached out for yours. The warmth of his palm connected with yours and curled around your fingers. 

“And you know what the worst part is?” 

“Hmm?” 

“If I leave him, that’s it. He won’t change and try to become a better person. He won’t think about his actions and go out of his way to change. He’ll just point the finger and belittle me. Run my name through the mud to every family member. He’ll belittle me, turn me into an outsider, pull the curtain over everyone’s eyes again. He’ll always be the good father in his eyes and I’ll just become another asshole that did him wrong. Just like the hundreds of other people that he once upon a time knew.” 

Narcissism was deadly for some. Too much of an ego and too much self-imposed-importance left people craving attention. No matter whose character they had to rip apart, they’d do it. Whether that meant belittling them to everyone they knew, screaming at them, or even assaulting them. 

Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. 

All the attention had to be swallowed by them. Like some sort of powerful sun, the rays never knew how brightly they burned. Any ounce of criticism was a pot of boiling hot water. 

The huffs and puffs. The finger in your face. The yelling and screaming as spit flew everywhere. The broadening rage that seemed to fill the room without a single sound. The angry marching from them as you tiptoed along on eggshells. Just when you let out a breath, they snapped and lashed out. 

You didn’t have time to react before you became a victim of another episode. Another rage fest where things went flying. When the refrigerator door slammed shut so hard that the shelves full of condiments shook. The way that cupboards were dented from the force of wood slamming against wood. 

Your dad would always be your dad, but he’d never be a good father. You could cry and cry and cry. You could cry enough tears to create an ocean, but it’d never be enough to wash the hate out of your father. That realization caused your heart to break apart. 

Your biological father would never love you, at least, not the way you loved him. Your chasing was starting to slow down. You could spend a few more years chasing his love and begging on your knees for it, but when was the last time your father said he loved you? 

When was the last time you were your father’s child? When was the last time that your father seemed to give a shit about you? Did he know your favorite color? Did he know the songs that caused your heart to boom with adrenaline? 

Better yet, did he know something as simple as your birthday? Does he know or does he laugh as he asks you because it’s not such a big deal to him? So when he hands you a card from the dollar store with his name, does it feel just as worthless as his love for you? 

“Is it wrong to want to be loved?” 

“Never. It’s never wrong to be loved and I’m sorry you don’t have that kind of love. If you want me to, I’ll share my father with you.” 

“I haven’t even met your father.” 

“Oh, I was talking about Bang Chan.”

“Minho!” You leaned over to lightly slap his shoulder. Before you could reach it, he jerked out of reach. His hand grabbed your wrist and he jerked you closer. 

“Hey!” 

Your annoyance instantly dissolved the moment his lips met yours. Your body relaxed and you began to kiss him back. At this moment, none of your father’s lack of love mattered. Right now, you had this and what a fool you’d be to ever give it up.

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[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Faint of Heart | One Shot

Pairing: Astarion x The Dark Urge

Chapter Count: One Shot | Read on AO3

Word Count: 7,816

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 during Act 2. Explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge as Astarion struggles with a confession. Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Confession of Feelings, Mentions of Violence, Soft Astarion, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character Rating: Mature

Author's Note: Back on my bullshit with these two. This is a one-shot based on the same Durge MC, Eli, as my other fics. I took some liberties with Astarion's confession scene, taking into account the background of the Dark Urge. It's all somewhat self-indulgent, and I wanted an excuse to write sassy Jaheira and practice writing from Astarion's POV. It's angsty, it's fluffy, it's soft and Karlach is the greatest wingman of them all! Thank you for reading my nonsense.

She stood, looking to everyone else in the Inn like a conquering hero ready to head out once more and face the darkness. She smiled with Rolan, laughed with Cal, chatted with Lia, and no one was the wiser.

Except him.

In their time together, Astarion had picked up on some of Eli’s tells. Behaviors that slipped past her mask of composure and enthusiasm, exposing the truth beneath her carefully constructed veneer.

She was exhausted. He could see it in the slight sag of her shoulders, in the way she kept having to blink and refocus on whoever she was conversing with, in her tired yet reassuring smile…the one she always had at the ready for anyone who came to her with yet another ordeal to hang around her shoulders.

A sudden and fierce burn of irrational anger flared in his chest as he continued to watch people flit around her. It brought to his mind an image of bees sucking the nectar dry from a gorgeous wildflower. They would use her until there was nothing left because that was their nature. They were desperate, all of them. The tieflings, Jaheira, Barcus, Counsellor Florrick…they were all starving for a savior, and Eli was that succor. They’d use her up until nothing was left. They’d watch her kill herself in the name of their ambitions, then hail her as a hero rather than the kind fool she was, always taking on other people’s burdens in some mad, desperate attempt to redeem whatever darkness lay coiled in her past.

Nevermind the fact that Eli’s kindness was exactly what he’d set out to manipulate from the start.

He was just as bad as the rest of them, looking to use Eli for her protection and capabilities. He was just as guilty. He’d seen her compassion as weakness and immediately dug his claws in, hooking into her like a parasite. Seducing her into his bed, stoking affection and twisting feelings – both hers and his – until he couldn’t tell truth from fiction.

And that was the problem.

Somewhere along the way, more and more truth began to slip into the words he used to charm her. He wasn’t sure when it started, but sometime between their passionate nights and hard fought days, genuine feelings began to stir every time he thought of her.

And, gods, he’d hated it.

On that first day after the nautiloid, when he’d discovered he could walk in sunlight and was out of reach of Cazador, he’d swore to never allow anyone control over him again. He’d rather drive a stake through his own heart than be a puppet tethered to someone else’s strings. And yet…here he was, allowing the very first person he’d met after making that oath to have sway over him. And he was utterly terrified he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

And so he sat at a far table in the bustling lounge of Last Light Inn, watching Eli and growing more and more perturbed as people buzzed around her.

Couldn’t they see how tired she was? She’d done enough for them today, breaking Wulbren and his compatriots out of Moonrise alongside the tieflings…well, those tieflings who’d survived the assault in the Shadowlands. Eli had been battered, bloodied and in desperate need of a healer, and yet the moment they’d come upon the prison, nothing else had mattered except freeing those being held captive.

She hadn’t said as much, but Astarion knew her well enough by now to recognize the shadow of devastation that drifted across her expression when Dammon described the attack that had scattered the refugees while on the road. She’d grown close to many of them, back at the Grove, often allowing conversations to drag on far past their welcome as some poor sod carried on about their insignificant struggles. It had frustrated Astarion to no end. They didn’t need to hear all about Bex’s absurd dream of owning a little orange cat with a bell on its neck! That knowledge did nothing to aid the process of driving steel through goblin guts.

It had all come to a head when she’d given Mol gold in exchange for absolutely nothing, spouting off some bullshit about wanting to back the next great thieves guild of Baldur’s Gate. Astarion had pulled Eli aside then, hissing about futile charity and asking her if she intended to bankroll every guttersnipe with a sob story.

She hadn’t missed a beat with her retort.

“Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite of all the guttersnipes I’ve come across. Thank the gods you only ask for blood and not gold. Otherwise, we’d be deadass broke.”

She’d leveled a stare at him that spoke volumes. He’d rolled his eyes and tried to hide the smirk threatening at the corners of his lips. Of course he was her favorite.

Still, it was mind-numbingly infuriating, how far Eli would go to help someone she cared for. What was worse was that Astarion knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that she’d do the same for him. That she’d throw herself thoughtlessly into pain, torment and suffering for his sake. At one point, he could not have cared less whether she destroyed herself for his gain.

But those days were gone, and he was now forced to reckon with the fact that he’d grown attached…that he cared. That he’d slit the throat of anyone in this room who tried to take advantage of her. That he’d once been the person trying to take advantage...

The thought now stirred something uneasy and almost nauseous within his stomach. He hated thinking about how he’d treated her, and yet it seemed to be something he was incapable of forgetting. Whatever was between them now, it was founded on something rotten. It had grown out of a lie, and regardless of how he felt now, a part of him knew that in order for anything to continue he would need to confess the vile intentions that had started all of this.

He owed her that, and she deserved it. She’d likely hate him, and all of this would come crashing to a disastrous end…but she deserved the truth, Astarion’s feelings be damned. She deserved to be with someone who would treat her with the same honesty and respect that she showed to everyone else. She deserved to be with someone who would protect her, not lie and manipulate her. She had so many burdens of her own, and yet she kept piling the burdens of others atop them. She deserved someone who would help steady her, not someone who would only get in her way and cause her to stumble.

She was going to hate him. He knew it as surely as he knew the sun would not cut through the gloom over the Shadowlands tomorrow morning. But he couldn’t keep living this farce. He couldn’t keep bedding her and enduring all those feelings of guilt and self-hatred as they mixed with the longing and ecstasy of bringing her to the brink and watching her come undone. It was too overwhelming. He wanted to be with her honestly and openly and not have their time together tainted by his wretched memories.

He wanted something real with her, built on the foundation of what he felt now rather than the putrid intentions that had started all of this.

It wouldn’t happen, he knew. Astarion wouldn’t want himself, either, all things considered. And that was okay. She deserved the opportunity to hate him for how he’d treated her. Gods knew he hated himself for it, it was only fair she hate him, too.

The fact that she didn’t already was astounding. He was a wretched thing, ugly in all ways except for appearance and so useless that he had to manipulate others into fighting his battles. He had ruined so many lives over the past two centuries. He’d been used up until there was nothing left of him to offer. And yet she was always near, never shying away and never overbearing…just always there, always at his back. She didn’t flinch away from him, didn’t pity him, and she made him feel things he’d forgotten how to feel.

The first night they’d spent together had been unexpectedly enthralling and pleasurable, something he had not experienced in he didn’t know how long. And he’d wanted more, despite his confusion and the messiness of his feelings, he wanted more of that connection. And so they’d spent more nights finding comfort and pleasure in each other. Those nights were little moments of solace in a world gone mad.

Those nights had been about more than sex; they were nights where she told him beautiful words that weren’t made for people like him.

“Seldom do I find so little fault with someone. I hope it lasts.” A cool voice caught Astarion by surprise as he sat lost in his darkening thoughts.

His head snapped around, hand instinctively twitching towards a hidden blade at his hip.

Jaheira stood beside him, arms crossed and face unreadable and she pinned him in her stare. Her eyes flitted momentarily to the hand at his waist, and Astarion brought it back to rest on the table he sat at, dagger still fastened to his belt.

The ghost of a self-satisfied smirk flashed across her face as Jaheira glanced away from him and back towards the subject of her comment. He followed her gaze towards Eli and hummed thoughtfully, settling into a more relaxed posture that he hoped did not betray the swirling mess that currently haunted his mind.

“You should tell her as much,” he mused, watching Eli as she pushed a strand of her silver-white hair behind an ear.

The sight caused his mind to pull a memory forth, unbidden. It was tactile and soft, the feel of his fingers tangling in that hair…of his lips caressing the shell of her ear as he whispered ravishing praise for only her to hear.

He took a grounding breath and dashed those thoughts from his mind.

“She thrives on pretty words and compliments,” he quipped.

Astarion wouldn’t elaborate that the reason for it was because Eli had a desperate desire to escape whatever monster dogged her broken memories. She thought of herself as something tainted and corrupt. Something unworthy. He’d got a glimpse of that darkness on the night she’d woken him, panicked and breathlessly ranting about how she feared she would harm him.

At first, he’d thought she was still in the throes of one of her many night terrors, perhaps sleepwalking. The truth had been far more grim, and Astarion was still haunted by images from that night. Images of Eli struggling against the bindings Astarion had put her in, for the protection of them both. Eyes feral as her nails dug into the flesh of her palms, mouth snarling as she spat all manner of vile insults at him. She had lost herself to whatever thing she was keeping at bay inside herself, and Astarion had come to realize that the fear which hounded Eli on both sleepless nights and in nightmares was well founded.

That fear had spread to him, too. Fear of losing her, of watching her be overtaken by this madness. He understood the depravity he saw in her eyes, the mania that was a loss of self when hunger took hold and choked all other sensibility from your mind. He hadn’t felt empathy for another soul in nearly two hundred years, and suddenly there it was, raw and wounding and utterly terrifying. His thoughts screamed back to that year of starvation and darkness, locked in a tomb as he slowly went mad with hunger. Those recollections were an undertow, threatening to pull him down and drown him.

But she’d needed him, and so he’d wrenched himself free of his clawing subconscious and watched over her until morning when she returned to herself. A lot of things changed that night. They’d been changing already, but the lies he’d been telling himself about how he felt simply could not survive the blistering reality of the situation at hand.

There was still some life left in his cold dead heart, and he had no idea how to reconcile with that knowledge.

The sound of Jaheira clearing her throat brought him out of his brooding and he turned his head to find the druid eyeing him curiously, a hand outstretched towards him. A key was held between her fingers and Astarion glanced at it before meeting her gaze, perplexed. Jaheira sighed and took a seat opposite to Astarion at the table, setting the key down on the worn wooden surface of the hightop and pushing it over to him.

“Seems Karlach was speaking truth when she said the two of you were a pair of emotionally-stunted lovesick fools,” Jaheira said, leaning back in her chair and pointing from Eli to Astarion. “You completely tuned me out, staring at her like a wolfhound salivating over a piece of raw steak.”

Astarion tensed at the remark, frowning before he slipped back into his casual and roguish demeanor.

“Yes, yes, make your jokes about the monstrous vampire. How dare he pursue the charming and morally upstanding hero.” Astarion snorted, eyeing Eli ruefully. “I’ve heard it before. Wyll likes to especially harp on the subject.”

He made a mental note to tell Karlach not to be such a gossip.

Jaheira huffed, a noise that could possibly be construed as a laugh, except Astarion wasn’t sure he could picture the stern woman laughing.

“Please,” she said, almost dismissively. “I am not familiar enough with your little band of hedonists to form an opinion on your social dramas. And even if I were, I doubt I’d care.”

The druid turned her head to gaze back towards the bar.

Bex and Danis had joined the group situated around Eli, and Astarion noted that another bottle of wine had recently been opened. Eli was turning down offers to refill her glass and Astarion felt a sudden urge to grab her and whisk her away to the quiet sanctuary of his tent back at camp. And not even to do anything sexual, though if that���s where the night took them, he’d happily oblige.

He just wanted to give her a space of reprieve, somewhere she could rest and escape all this chaos.

“What I do care about,” Jaheira continued, drawing Astarion’s attention back to her. “Is that one’s wellbeing.” She tilted her chin towards Eli. “She is our way into the cult. Our way to get close to Ketheric. She is our key to putting an end to this blight of the Absolute.”

Astarion didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to open his mouth in that moment. Jaheira was loading more burdens onto Eli’s shoulders, and his desire to hide her away – to protect her – was only growing.

He knew the druid spoke truth. Eli had a connection to all of this that none of them, including her, understood. What they did know was that Ketheric Thorm recognized her when they showed up at Moonrise. He’d addressed her as a comrade, and it deeply unsettled her. What secrets were lying locked away behind Eli’s fractured psyche? A part of him honestly didn’t care…he just wanted her safe…

“So,” Jaheira said after the silence between them lingered for a moment. She tapped the key still lying on the tabletop in front of Astarion. “That is a key to a room upstairs. As well-meaning as the rabble down here is, what Eli needs is rest. The days and weeks ahead will not be easy, and opportunities for respite will be few. Make her take this one.”

Astarion opened his mouth, intending to ask why the hell Jaheira didn’t just go over there and say these things to Eli. But she was well ahead of him and held her hand up in a motion to silence him.

“I have no sway over her. I will only come off as overbearing and fussy, even if I do speak truth.” Her tone took on a hint of amusement, that of an elder and learned lioness affectionately chiding a cub. “I have been informed by Karlach that the two of you are together, yes?”

Astarion stiffened, his mind swirling around all the complications involved with his and Eli’s relationship. Guilt rose up in his throat and he swallowed it down uneasily as Jaheira eyed him curiously. She bullied past the question, not waiting for his affirmation.

“Take Eli upstairs and away from all of this,” Jaheira said, rising from her chair in a motion to leave, her piece said.

She then paused, considering something, before turning back to Astarion.

“It is not my place to say this, but I will, anyway. You seem conflicted about something concerning her. And I don’t want details,” she added hastily, noting Astarion’s discomfort at being called out. “However, I know all too painfully the grief of leaving things unsaid. This life you currently lead, it is one lived day-to-day, and those days will run out. Sometimes, much sooner than expected. Don’t wait until you have nothing left but regret.”

Once again not waiting for a response, Jaheira turned and made her way towards a group of Harpers who were chatting near the Inn’s central firepit. Astarion was left alone with the echo of her words and the key she had provided.

Something squirmed uncomfortably in Astarion’s chest as he rolled what she said over and over in his mind.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

She was right, of course. He needed to talk to Eli about them. About whatever this was. About how he’d manipulated her.

Used her.

Astarion groaned softly and ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly - a nervous habit.

Enough! Enough thinking, you wretched pathetic cowardly moron!

Rising from his chair, Astarion grabbed the key and made his way towards the bar, stepping up behind Eli who was currently providing Rolan with a play-by-play of their Moonrise prison break. Gently, he wrapped an arm around her waist and brought his other hand up to rest on her shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the side of her neck as he did so.

Astarion felt Eli’s pulse quicken beneath his lips and smiled as she leaned back into him. He felt a smug sense of satisfaction as he caught Rolan frowning at him, indignant as Eli’s attention shifted away from him and to the vampire.

“Hello, my dear,” he whispered softly into her ear, ignoring the tiefling wizard who looked as if he wanted to set Astarion on fire. “I’m sorry to interrupt you and your adoring fans, but I have some adoring of my own that I need you for.”

It was so easy for Astarion to slip back into his charmingly seductive mannerisms, so much so that he felt a pang of guilt twist in his stomach.

Truth be told, Astarion wasn’t exactly sure how to approach the type of conversation he wanted to have. He’d never done this before, asking to talk about a relationship, so he was winging it and using what tactics he knew to get her away from the crowd and to a more private location.

Eli turned her head to meet his gaze and grinned, placing a hand on the one Astarion had at her waist and intertwining her fingers with his.

“Really, now?” she said playfully. “And what does this adoring entail? Because if a hot bath and a massage are not included, I’m not going.”

Eli’s eyes shined with mischief as her expression settled into a teasing smirk. She kissed him lightly near the underside of his jaw – a reassuring gesture. Eli would go with him, regardless, but she always did enjoy a bit of banter.

“Arrangements can be made,” Astarion quipped as he turned her in his arms and began leading her towards the staircase to the upper floor.

Apprehension was beginning to roil in his gut, but he forced the alluring façade to stay in place.

Eli allowed him to direct her towards the stairs, tossing a wave to Rolan and calling over her shoulder.

“Sorry, Rolan! We’ll chat more later, as I’m currently being commandeered.”

Astarion couldn’t help the smug expression that crossed his face when he heard the tiefling’s miffed response.

“Mmhm, you seem like a very unwilling captive,” Rolan grunted.

Eli laughed.

“What can I say? I’ve got a weakness for pretty words, great sex and a man I don’t have to share snacks with,” she said.

Astarion tried to hold back the surprised bark of a laugh that bubbled up from his throat and failed miserably. He felt eyes on them, some scandalized and others amused - and heard Rolan’s agitated groan - as he led Eli up the stairs.

They reached the second-floor landing and he pressed a hand to the small of Eli’s back, guiding her towards the room.

“Where are we going, anyway?” she asked, trying to stifle a yawn as she spoke.

Safe from the greedy, peering eyes of the mob below, the shift in Eli’s demeanor was almost instinctual. She sagged a bit, weary and leaning into his touch. Hey eyelids fluttered closed for a moment and she drew in a deep, steadying breath.

She truly was exhausted and Astarion began to second guess himself. Maybe this wasn’t a good time to broach such a sensitive topic. She needed rest, not more burdens. Was he being selfish? Trying to offload his guilt just so he could feel better?

But the way she pressed into him, slightly leaning on him in her fatigue and suddenly so disarmed and at ease the moment they were away from the crowd…it caused a gnawing self-hatred to burn deep in his bones.

She trusted him. She felt safe with him. She shouldn’t…he didn’t deserve her affection.

“Jaheira, like the meddlesome elder she is, secured us a room away from all the nagging unwashed masses so you can finally get some peace and quiet,” Astarion said, stopping in front of a door which had the same designation as the key he had been given.

“Astarion, we are the unwashed masses,” Eli chuckled, glancing down at the battered scale mail she wore which was currently spattered with grime, blood and who knows what other less-than-savory substances.

Astarion expression pinched into one of mild disgust as he considered his own leathers which were equally smeared and foul.

“Yes, well, perhaps whatever contemptuous god is overseeing our day-to-day lives has seen fit to grace us with a private washroom? You know, as a way to apologize for all the horror and trauma that surrounds us every second of every day,” he bemoaned in that haughty, vain manner that only Astarion could pull off.

Unlocking the door, Astarion held it open and motioned with a gentlemanly flourish for Eli to enter. She did so, and the pale elf had to suppress a snort of laughter when she called out to him not five seconds later.

“Holy shit! I’ve never had such an emotional reaction to seeing a bar soap before!”

“I would hope we have not become such heathens that soap merits this much enthusiasm.”

“It smells like eucalyptus, Astarion! Eucalyptus!”

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

There was, indeed, a private washroom.

Eli and Astarion took turns getting cleaned up. Soaking in a tub of warm, soapy water was a scarce luxury. Most days, their motley group was resigned to bathing in cold river water with minnows nipping at their toes as they tried to cleanse themselves with whatever natural herbs and ointments Halsin was able to scrounge up into a paste.

In truth, Astarion couldn’t recall the last time he’d been afforded the opportunity to simply enjoy a bath. Cazador certainly didn’t allow his spawn such niceties, and while he’d visited his fair share of taverns and hotels with rentable rooms while prowling for victims to bring back to his master, he was never able to just…be. To relish in the comfort of it all.

The warm water was soothing, banishing the endless chill of death sunk deep in his bones that was his constant state of being since the night he turned. Eli had washed before him and was now situated on the large plush bed across the room from the tub. A privacy screen blocked their view of one another, but they’d been chatting idly throughout the evening about nothing in particular.

Now, in a lull of silence between them, Astarion’s mind was wandering as he rested with his arms and head propped against the sides of the tub, eyes closed in a moment of calm that was all too fleeting these days. He lazily imagined having Eli in the water with him, her warm body pressed up against his which, for once, wouldn’t be cold and pallid to her touch…wouldn’t be greedily stealing the heat of her skin to warm his corpse.

But, he’d still be stealing her trust to warm his dead heart…

He sighed, feeling the ease of the moment slip away like the tendrils of steam coming off his bath water. He needed to own up to his manipulative intentions. Now. He couldn’t stomach the thought of holding Eli in his arms that night while she slept, peaceful and trusting. Holding onto him like he were something to be cared for, to be cherished. Unsuspecting of the truth…that he was deceitful and lowly.

That they never would have been here, in this room, had he not set out to use her for his selfish gain.

If he didn’t approach the subject now, he may not get another chance for some time. Their days were so overwrought with hardships and schemes that finding a moment of quiet was nearly as difficult as figuring out how to subdue the shadow curse.

Resigned to what he needed to do, and with an icy weight of dread sinking into his gut, Astarion rose from the tub and towled dry. He dressed in his typical casual outfit, a black ruffled shirt and dark trousers, and rounded the privacy screen to see Eli sitting on the bed, legs crisscrossed as she drew in a small leatherbound journal. She’d picked it up in the Emerald Grove, exchanging a dagger with Mattis for it that she’d picked up off some decrepit corpse or another.

Eli had taken to writing rather extensive notes in it about anything and everything; from information about the cult to descriptions of acquaintances and even hand drawn maps of the various areas they trekked through. She’d confided in Astarion that she feared what memories she’d made since the nataloid could one day be lost to her, just as her past was lost. And so she wanted to ensure, should that happen, she had a record she could refer to in order to hopefully reclaim some of what was gone.

Eli had even showed him several pages full of details about him. She’d written down all manner of notes, from little preferences he had – such as the style of embroidery needle he liked to use – to reminders such as: “You’ll figure out he’s a vampire pretty damn quick, Astarion is absurdly terrible at keeping secrets. Don’t be weird about it, he’s cool. He can get a bit whiny and obnoxious when he’s hungry, so make sure to keep him fed, especially if there isn’t much wildlife around. The wrist is for everyday use and the neck is for sexy times. Don’t believe him when he tells you that the inner thigh provides the best tasting blood. This is a kink and he is a liar! RATION ACCESS!”

That had made him smirk.

She’d also shown him two pages of detailed notes describing his appearance, from hair to foot. Eli wasn’t much for artistic talent, but she had a flair for the written word despite the copious amounts of vulgarity that shot from her mouth like dragon fire. The attention with which she’d described him and the complimentary nature of it all had caused his breath to catch at the back of his throat. He’d read the words over and over, actually able to picture his face in his mind’s eye as described. A strange sort of familiarity settled over him as he pictured the details on the page, and when he finally found his voice he’d stuttered a bewildered thank you, unused to the kindness she’d shown.

Now, as he sat on the edge of the bed, he felt a desperate fear burn to life inside himself. What if he never got to experience something like that again? What if their time together over the past weeks was all he ever got? Just a few brief flashes of respite among centuries of misery…

“Feeling better?” Eli asked, jolting Astarion out of his thoughts.

He blinked at her for a moment before clearing his throat and running a hand habitually through his hair.

“Yes…yes, I always feel better when I’m not covered in other people’s bodily fluids,” he said with a halfhearted chuckle that caused Eli to frown curiously and set down her journal.

She could sense something was off. And so with one last internal curse to himself, Astarion launched into one of the most anxiety-inducing things he’d ever done.

“I’ve…been meaning to talk to you. About us,” he said, tone soft and hesitant.

Eli shifted her weight on the bed, turning her body to face him. Her brows had furrowed only slightly, unsure whether she should be concerned about Astarion’s sudden shift in demeanor, yet fully open to listening attentively. Trusting. It made his gut twist.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course!” Astarion responded reflexively, instinctively jumping to make light of any tension. He bit back anymore reassurances before he could spit them out and cleared his throat, voice taking on a more serious tone.

“Except…not really,” he backpedaled.

Eli’s expression grew more worried and Astarion could see her already beginning to play through scenarios in her mind, trying to sort through what she may have done. What wrongs her broken mind may have committed. He sped forward, wanting to absolve her of any notion that she was at cause for anything.

“Look, I had a plan,” he began, turning towards her on the bed. “A nice simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he chuckled nervously, swallowing down the bile threatening to rise in his throat.

“It was easy…instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it…” His eyes dropped, unable to hold Eli’s stare as her own eyes searched his face, taken aback and confused by the sudden confession.

“And all I had to do was not fall for you,” he continued, glancing back up to her. Desperate for her to hear this next part. “Which is where my nice, simple plan…fell apart.”

Astarion paused, gazing at Eli with a mixture of trepidation and guilt as she watched him silently, stunned and not without a little hurt bleeding into her eyes as his words caught up with her brain.

“You’re…” he started, unsure how to put a voice to the storm wheeling inside of him. He wasn’t as eloquent as Eli, and never had he felt so incapable and inadequate at translating what he felt into words than he did right now. So he said what had been tearing him up from the inside out for days, and braced for the inevitable fallout.

“You’re incredible.” He couldn’t help the touch of a sad smile that came to his lips, or the nearly awed tone of his voice as he said the word like it could encase inside of it everything Eli had come to mean to him.

It wasn’t enough, he knew. No word would be enough. Nor would a thousand words. Because he didn’t understand how to express the way his heart seemed to flutter when she looked at him, despite it being cold and useless in his chest. He didn’t know how to explain the way her smile made him feel like someone worthwhile. Or how when he held her in his arms he thought that maybe…maybe some god somewhere had finally heard his desperate pleas.

“You deserve something real,” he admitted, with no small amount of shame, before adding, “I want us to be something real.”

Confessing to something he wanted, out loud and to someone else, was an experience he was woefully unfamiliar with. It was an experience he fully expected he’d come to regret, but he said it anyway and waited for the pain that was sure to follow.

Eli was quiet for a long moment, peering at Astarion with an expression he couldn’t quite read. He saw confusion and sadness, but there was something else, too. A flicker of something not unlike…understanding?

No, he was surely mistaken…

“So…” Eli said softly, working through her words before she spoke them out loud. Trying to parse through the influx of information coming at her.

“So, this hasn’t been real? Us? Everything we’ve been through. Our nights together…they didn’t mean anything to you…” she trailed off, almost as if she were talking to herself rather than asking it of him.

“Of course they did!” Astarion was quick to correct the assumption.

Gods, he didn’t want her to think that. Of course they had meant something to him, more than he’d thought they could. He’d chosen to be with her, even if it had initially been out of less than innocent desires, he’d chosen it. He hadn’t been forced to seek her out and lure her somewhere. She wasn’t a mark or some wretched experience he wanted to forget. He’d acted of his own free will, and even if the reasons hadn’t been as genuine as he’d made them out to be at the start, it was still the first decision he had made in nearly two centuries that wasn’t directed or forced.

That meant something to him. Those nights meant something to him. And, gods, so did she. That was part of the problem…

And so he explained as much, describing how he was used to twisting intimacy into something to be used rather than felt. How his past experiences with sex were bleeding over into the nights spent with her and that he didn’t have the faintest idea how to fix it. How he had trained himself to be numb, to wall himself off. And how, when Eli had finally, gently dismantled those walls he didn’t know what to do next…

“I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to…” Astarion concluded, feeling about as small and insignificant as he’d ever felt.

The silence that followed his confession made his skin crawl with ill ease. He stared at the bedding, terrified to look up and see the fury Eli surely felt. This was it; this was when she’d tell him to leave. And he would, quietly and without fuss. It was the last kindness he was capable of giving her.

“Astarion.” The calm softness of Eli’s voice nearly made the elf flinch. “Please look at me.”

Not a demand, but a request, spoken with care.

Confused, Astarion looked to her and instead of anger or hate or rage, he only found…her. Just Eli, looking back at him with thoughtful consideration. She should have been furious, but instead she simply took a steadying breath, scooting a bit closer on the bed so she could place a hand lightly on his knee.

He didn’t move, didn’t breathe as Eli looked at him and carefully began to speak.

“I care about you, Astarion.” She said it as if she were trying to convince him of the truth of her words, and he was stunned.

“Really?” he asked, breathless and unsure. But hopeful, too. Hopeful that maybe, just once, something in his miserable life might not end in disaster and pain.

“Yes, you beautiful fool!” she nearly laughed, squeezing at his knee.

Eli smiled at him and…gods above, it was the most dazzling and gorgeous thing he’d ever seen.

“Neither of us was looking for anything more than a night of comfort, and maybe some fun, when all of this started. We both had our own self-serving reasons,” she explained, before chuckling lightly. “Hells, I barely had more than a few weeks' worth of memories in my head at that point. Trying to rope anyone into a meaningful relationship was so low on my list of priorities I would have burst into flames on the spot had anyone mentioned the idea to me.”

Astarion couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face as Eli looked at him with an adoration that made him dizzy.

“But, things change. We changed. And, I’m glad that we did. I came to care about you in a way I don’t remember caring about anyone ever. And while that may not be saying much, considering…” Eli laughed and Astarion’s dead heart soared. “You’re special to me, right now. Regardless of how this started.”

This was certainly not how Astarion had expected this conversation to go, and he had never been so overjoyed to have his expectations usurped. He was entirely out of his depth, and so far outside his comfort zone that he was reeling. Words kept building up in the back of his throat and yet when he opened his mouth, he was struck dumb. He was overwhelmed, in the best way possible, but he hadn’t the slightest notion of what he was supposed to say or do next. And so he defaulted to what he knew.

“Well, I mean, of course I am, darling,” Astarion’s voice slipped into a silky tone. Anxiety was roiling inside of him and he tried to claw his way out, using the tools he knew best.

“The unyielding praise I am able to coax from your lips during our nights of passion has made it more than apparent,” he leaned in towards Eli, the tone of his words easing back into sultry familiarity.

Eli just shook her head with a breathy chuckle, meeting his gaze with a genuine affection in her eyes that made Astarion feel known in a way that was comforting.

“That’s not what I meant,” Eli chided with a tenderness that caught Astarion off-guard. “I mean you, Astarion. The person that you are. The person who cares about me enough to watch over me all night while I go mad. The person who is forgiving enough to not hate me the next morning. The person who makes me laugh after a long and painful day.”

Carefully, Eli raises a hand and gently presses it against Astarion’s cheek. He leans into the touch, expression softening and relaxing as his red eyes stay locked in to her own.

“The person who is being honest with me, right now. Who I appreciate more than I can say.”

Astarion was quite certain his brain had seized. He sat frozen, frantically searching her face for any hint of a lie and finding none, to his utter astonishment.

“That’s…” he started, then faltered. He knew he should say something, but his chest currently felt as if it was being wrenched open and no words would suffice to express his amazement.

“I don’t know what to say,” Astarion admitted after his stunned silence wore off. “Which is quite the accomplishment on your part, my dear.”

Eli smiled, warm and without expectations. It was beautiful.

“Thank you,” he breathed, closing the small gap between them and resting his forehead against her own. “For trusting me, and listening. For everything.”

His words were woefully inadequate, and he feared they always would be. But, Eli didn’t seem to mind and that brought him immeasurable relief.

“I’ll always listen,” Eli reassured him as she stroked the side of his face with her thumb. “Considering who you are, it’s kind of hard not to,” she teased.

His expression took on a somewhat sheepish hint as he took her hand from his cheek and held it reverently between both of his. He sat up a bit straighter as Eli pulled away, silently watching him run his fingers across her palm with a light touch.

“What do we do now?” he asked, hesitant and unsure.

Astarion looked to Eli for some sort of direction. He hadn’t thought this far ahead and honestly figured the conversation would have ended in tears or bloodshed or both by now. He didn’t know what a way forward with Eli looked like, but he knew he wanted her with him. Maybe he could ignore the confused and unsavory feelings that intruded upon their nights together? He wanted to enjoy her, to satisfy her without the shadows of past hurts creeping in. Perhaps he could figure out how…

“What do you want to do?” Eli responded, turning the question back onto him and taking him by surprise.

Astarion looked back to Eli, brows raised at the unexpected question. He considered her for a moment, thinking through how to answer. What did he want?

“I’m not sure…” he said honestly. “No one’s ever asked me that before. About anything, really.”

Eli waited, smiling reassuringly, though with a hint of sadness at Astarion’s words. It was freeing, somewhat, to be given the space to think about what he wanted and a chance to put a voice to it. But, it was also a little overwhelming, and truth be told he wasn’t quite sure how to figure it out.

“I know I don’t want to lose you,” he affirmed, squeezing her hand in his.

He did want something real with Eli. The problem was, he didn’t know what real looked like. This was unfamiliar territory for him, and he didn’t even know how in the hells he was supposed to get his bearings.

“I don’t want that, either. You know, we could be together without sex. For however long we need,” Eli suggested, a small smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. “I don’t think I have the best associations with it, either, considering the…things that sometimes pop into my head. Maybe we both could use time to work through those things.”

Astarion considered the idea, a cool rush of relief overcoming him as it truly began to sink in that Eli wasn’t only interested in him for his body and the way it roused it her own. They were good together, really fucking good. But it was becoming more and more difficult to reconcile what he had done in his past, under the subjugation of Cazador, with what he did with Eli now. He didn’t want to treat her like a mark or just another one of his conquests. She deserved better than that from him – to be cherished and worshiped, even ravished, fully and completely and without the haunting presence of ghosts that lurked in the corners of his mind.

“Why that almost sounds like a challenge,” Astarion said, trying to slip back into his sultry mannerisms yet failing to hide the appreciation he felt.

His tone then shifted into something quieter and more tentative as Astarion asked, “Can we…still share a bed? I think I’d miss sleeping in your arms.”

He cleared his throat, eyes darting to the side. The vulnerability behind his question was uncomfortable for him, but he thought maybe he could manage if it kept them from spending their nights apart. He’d grown fond of drifting off to sleep with her near, lulled by the low beat of her heart and the soft sighs of her breathing. It was a comfort he had never imagined himself longing for, and yet with Eli he’d quickly come to miss her warmth on the nights they slept in their own tents. Her absence at his side becoming a chill he’d rather not endure.

“I’d like that,” Eli agreed, giving his own hand a soft and appreciative squeeze.

“Well,” Astarion sighed, tension easing out of him as he leaned forward suddenly and wrapped Eli in an embrace that quickly had them tumbling back onto the bed. “No time like the present!”

Eli laughed and Astarion pulled her close, reveling in the easy solace of having everything between them out in the open rather than eating away at his insides. He rolled onto his back, tugging her up onto him so that her head was resting on his chest, just below his chin. His fingers idly stroked through her hair, eyelids drooping as the stress of the day finally caught up to him.

“This is nice,” he mumbled a bit more sleepily than intended.

A contented hum was the only response he heard from Eli before sleep took him completely.

___________________________________

In the morning Karlach gave them a knowing smirk as they descended the stairs and Eli began rummaging through the Inn’s cabinets for something that could pass as breakfast.

“You two look happy,” she remarked as Astarion took a seat across from her at one of the low tables near the central firepit. “Seems a night on your own did the both of you some good.”

The tiefling eyed Astarion pointedly as she raised a mug of coffee and sipped, eyes twinkling with more than a bit of self-satisfied mischief.

Astarion clicked his tongue and leaned back in his chair, feigning disinterest as he began to study his nails.

“You know, Karlach,” he began, flicking a speck of dirt from the tip of a finger. “For someone without a heart, you sure do seem to get invested in the romantic affairs of others.”

Karlach nearly spit coffee across the table as a boisterous laugh leapt up from her chest. She managed to contain herself, half choking and half coughing into her mug before she set it aside.

“That’s rich, fangs, coming from the likes of you,” Karlach giggled with good nature. “Honestly, I was just getting tired of the constant pining and lovesick angst between the both of you. For a pair of bloodthirsty murderhobos, you two are adorably dense when it comes to interactions that don’t involve stabbing something.”

“And for a professional killing machine from the hells, you are a hopeless gossip,” Astarion replied, shooting Karlach a sidelong glare before he glanced across the room to where Jaheira was consulting with a pair of Harpers as they studied a map.

He cleared his throat and pointedly did not look at the tiefling, speaking low for only the two of them to hear.

“Anyway…thank you. For meddling,” he said somewhat stiffly, though there was a timid genuineness to his words that made Karlach beam.

“Always happy to meddle, fangs.”

[justpoliteconversations]

The Negotiator [Reader + Mer!Warriors]

This was not in your job description. You don't get paid enough.

The self-indulgent is spewing forth even stronger than usual with this one. This particular topic was supposed to happen differently, but I was seduced by the unceasingly posts of the scarf on my dash. It be that way sometimes.

Masterlist

Part: 1 / 2

TW: Implied things. Not specifying, so be warned.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

You hadn't aimed for the welfare department when you'd signed up for an entry level position at a mer rehabilitation center. In fact, you hadn't expected to be considered at all, nevermind accepting the position even if you did get a call. It had been a fit of fancy sending in that application. A shot in the dark, when honestly you'd already been accepted for another job.

And yet, here you are. Just like you'd taken a chance in sending out that application, you took another one when you turned down the job you'd lined up previously in favor of a pipe dream.

You just hadn't expected that dream to become a nightmare so quickly. You hadn't expected the glamor of media and public perception to be so skewed by romantic bullshit it had become more akin to a lie than an embellished retelling.

In the time you'd been working there, you learned something about Mers that should have been obvious from the beginning (was obvious, you just hadn't wanted to accept it at first). Furthermore, you learned something about humans you'd always known but now had deep, intimate experience with.

And that was that Mers are dangerous, feral creatures. And that humans are damned idiots.

"Wars." You called softly (you knew he'd hear you. he always did), staring down cautiously into the enclosure from the safety of a catwalk far above. The water rippled at the surface, just the slightest of movements giving away the presence of the Mer you currently had the most concerns about.

Wars, for better or worse, was a charmer as far as mers go (honestly, as far as any male species goes). A handsome face, elegant features, charisma for days and a flare for the dramatic. And also, a flirt. An insatiable flirt who knew how to woo a female of any species into giving him a second look.

It was what made him so valuable to the center. So damned profitable. The picture perfect fantasy come to life, all wrapped up in a saucy little wink and a sweet (fake. so fake) gesture of affection for the throngs of desperate humans clambering to meet the real life prince charming. The perfect act. An act made by a predator that thrived on deception.

And those ignorant center visitors were none the wiser. Just throwing their money away to coo and sigh at the smiling face that had learned to keep his fangs securely behind an upturned pair of lips.

It's not hard for a creature as intelligent as mers to lie, after all. Despite what the law may interpret the existence of mers as, when it came down to it they were sentient predators. And humans were just as likely to end up on the menu as anything else.

The water shifted again, and suddenly there he was. Golden spun hair shimmering in the sunlight like gold dust, gorgeous blue eyes half-lidded and a smile (fake. fake. fake.) turned delicately against the plush shine of full lips.

He did a little turn in the water as he looked up at you with a damn good imitation of bedroom eyes, making a soft cooing sound and letting the long, silky sapphire fan of his fins flare out across the water's surface like a great billowing cloak. By the end of the flashy swirl, he's wrapped his glimmering curtain of tail fins around himself, blowing you a kiss in a very humanlike gesture. Of course, throwing in his signature wink at the end, delicate head fins folded back and eyes so liquid they were practically melted.

Ever the performer. And currently the bane of your existence.

"Yes, yes. Beautiful as always, Wars." You drawled, rolling your eyes before continuing. "Now. If you're done trying to kill me for the day-" He made a wounded (fake) sound in the back of his throat. "-I have to talk to you." You leveled his pouting face with a serious stare. "About my co-workers."

It was instant. The way War's melted sugar eyes hardened like cold chips of ice, the pupils within constricting so rapidly you could see it even several meters above the water. His fins pulled close and held perfectly still atop the water's surface, the lithe muscles of his tail working so fluidly in his element he hardly seemed to move at all.

He sank just the slightest bit until it was just his dark, predatory eyes watching you from the eerily still surface. Waiting. Watching. Assessing.

It took everything in you not to take a step back. Away from the catwalk. Away from the predator curled tight in the water below, tense as a coil in a spring-loaded trap (you wondered sometimes if he might not make the leap one day and drag you down to your death. he had the power for it, no matter what your coworkers seemed to think).

You pushed away the unease, instead taking a step forward. Ignored the way his eyes tracked you like pinpoints against the whites of his eyes. "I'm sure you've heard that management are thinking of putting someone in the water with you. For- performance potential." You grimaced at the idea of it.

It would be a blood bath. Warriors was territorial. Far too territorial to allow just any random trainer in the water with him (which shouldn't have ever been a concern at all. because there were restrictions put in place for a reason. and no direct human-mer interactions was at the very top of the list damnit).

Wars was silent, as was to be expected. He hadn't yet learned human speech, and if you had your way he never would. Because he wasn't even supposed to be at the center anymore. He should be back in the wild where he belonged. Seducing fish and seals to their untimely deaths or whatever it was this particular mer did to get by before he arrived at the center.

But he was a money maker (and a damned good one). He was basically the face of the center by this point (featured on so many postures it was nearly sickening). And the big bosses were hard pressed to let such a cash cow go without a fight.

You understood. You really did. Money didn't grow on trees and mers were expensive to upkeep. Not even accounting for the gray-area bullshit that was mer standing in the political sphere. Mers were not an easy subject to acquire funding for, given the hazy line between sentience and non-sentience the world at large couldn't seem to agree on (you knew where you stood on that line).

However, (and as you've said so many times before) forcibly keeping him (or any mer) here with the intent to gain profit went against the very purpose of the center. Which was to rehabilitate mers affected by human-made incidents and to release them back into their natural environments as soon as possible.

Simple. Effective. Routine. And then Wars had showed up with a badly torn (shredded) fin from an illegal nighttime boating incident. He was put into the isolation tank (just like any other new arrival) where he had then proceeded to mimic his handlers' playful (you damned well hoped it had been playful) gestures out of boredom.

He's intelligent. Very, very intelligent. He learned very quickly which gestures got him the most attention. And food. And the rest, as one could say, was history.

Which had snowballed into the issue you were now addressing. That some grade A idiot up top thought it would be a good idea to get someone in the water with a potentially deadly (very much deadly. actively deadly) mer just because he learned how to blow a kiss and smile pretty for treats.

"Wars. I am trying my best to get you back to the ocean where you belong." You saw the way his pinprick eyes dilated and flickered briefly, and you resisted the urge to grit your teeth. "Yes, Wars. The ocean. Where you actually belong. Not here in this tank, lovely as you seem to think it is."

Silence. As was expected. Except for the way Wars had flicked his head fins in slight irritation, upset that you were talking of releasing him again when he had made it abundantly clear that he preferred it here. Where all his wants and needs were provided for and life was just so easy to coast through with a few mimicked expressions.

You leaned against the catwalk, arms crossed and head hanging at the shoulders. Not looking forward to a potential one-sided argument with Wars. Exhausted as you were from a long day of arguing with your superiors and trying your damnedest not to call them all conceded fools and ignorant morons.

You sighed. "But that's not the point right now." You moved away from the topic before it could throw you off track. And thankfully, Wars let you (for now). "I'm doing everything in my power to keep all these overzealous idiots out of your territory." He made a pleased coo at that, but you silenced him with a tired glare. "You aren't making it easy, Wars."

From the water, the blue-finned mer unfurled his elegant tail fins and began waving them gently through the water, chirping and squeaking at you in appreciation. It was so convincing you almost wanted to smile, but you didn't because you weren't an idiot.

"Cute. But no takers, love. Your eyes are still doing that thing they do when you're contemplating ripping someone's throat out." Wars blinked at that, before finally (finally) pulling his lips back until his fangs were on full display. Long and sharp and predatory to the very core of him. "Ah. There he is. Good to know we know where we stand with each other."

And he snickered. Honest to God snickered. Pupils no longer flickering between too large and too narrow, just settled into some state of in-between you've come to learn was his version of relaxed.

It was unnerving. But better than the fake ass smiles and doe eyes he seemed intent on practicing on you. Anything was better than knowing you were being actively hunted (even if just for casual sport. especially because it was just for casual sport).

You picked up the bucket at your side now that you had his actual attention. "Back to business." You grabbed a fish from it, a beautiful female salmon nearly half your size (eggs still intact, just how Wars preferred them). "They're going to evaluate you tomorrow. I need you to be- less pleasant." That was definitely an unimpressed snort, but his attention was still on the fish and therefore you were still negotiating. "And by that I mean hissing, snarling. Hell. Even some tail thrashing wouldn't be amidst."

You held the fish out over the catwalk, and his eyes pinpricked again, tracking it with interest. Now for the hard part. "But no biting." His eyes. Flickered. Contracted. Dilated.

"No biting, Wars. Don't kill them." His eyes were fully blown now. Looking you right in the eye. Quiet. So quiet.

"I'm going to give you this salmon. Okay, Wars?" No response. "And if you don't bite, kill or maim anyone, I'll bring you three more. Just like this one."

That caught his interest, and you pressed your advantage. "You know I'd never break my promise to you. I never have before, right?"

He blinked. And his eyes were neutral again. Tracking the salmon with new appreciation. Something almost like enlightenment entering his eyes.

"Is it a deal?"

You were making a deal with the devil. Because this was an intelligent mer. And when he learned how to get what he wanted he'd grasp it with both of his clawed hands and never let it go.

He nodded. And you knew future you would rue this day for the rest of your life (or just until you got this fucker back to the wild, because you would. for sure).

But still. Tension you hadn't even realized was in your chest loosened. Relief flooded your body, so great you nearly went limp with it.

You didn't want to think about what the alternative would have been. Even if it meant Wars now had a new trick in his arsenal to make your life a misery, it would be worth it (it had to be).

It would have been a bloodbath. You were sure of it. Wars was territorial, after all. Of his space. Of his food. Of his resources.

It was why he didn't want to leave.

"Okay." You said, smiling finally. "Here you go."

And with a toss the deal was struck. And you prayed to whatever deity would listen that Wars kept his end of the deal. Because he was an accomplished liar, and he always had been.

And you knew, beyond logic and beyond evidence, why Wars had been hit that night. Why he'd been so close to that boat when he'd been ensnared in their propeller. Why he'd been right under them, so close he could reach out and touch it. In shallow water. With the lights off and the moon full.

Why he'd had injuries on his hands that weren't from propellor blades. Why his claws had damn near been ripped off.

He was territorial, after all. And a predator. The top of the food chain.

And humans were just another animal.

---

Back to the shadow to rest. It's so late.

[minhosimthings]

For Love to Exist: A Hyunjin Fic

Synopsis: In which Aphrodite makes a plan for two loveless souls.

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin × Fem!reader, includes rest of Skz (side characters)

Word count: don't know but it's really long

Warnings: Fluff, angst, slow burn, mentions of self harm, and mental abuse, reader is an orphan, mentions of food and drink. She/her pronouns used, reader has scars on her skin

A/N: this is sort of a self indulgent fic for me and it is dedicated to all the people in my life who have made me feel like I am worthy of love again. This is based off of my own experiences due to my abusive past and how I let those go with the help of the people I've met here in university. I based Y/N off of myself (I hope you don't mind) because I feel like Hyunjin would be the type of person to love s person, regardless of their past, and ignorant of their future (and also I'm too delulu for Hyun rn). I dedicate this fic to all the people around the world, who feel that they do not deserve a red heart, and an I love you everyday. I dedicate this fic to the little girl inside of me, who still thinks that she is unworthy of love.

For love to exist, souls should exist too. For love to breathe, souls should take a deep breath too. For love to live, souls should learn how to live too. But for you, souls simply did not exist. They were just imaginary things made up by boring adults to tell children why they married their partners, to mask whatever what going on in reality. Why would anyone believe in souls and hearts and bonds and all that bullshit? Kids, of course, believed it.

You, on the other hand, were taught by cold eyes, ever since forever. Cold eyes had taught you that warm ones always lied and that love was just a fairytale made up to increase the population of earth. Cold eyes told you that June wasn't about pretty flowers and sundresses. They taught you it was about the burning sun and the heatwaves. Cold eyes taught you that flowers were nothing more than biological creations of two genetically unique organisms. Cold eyes taught you that the world was just the Earth, just a globe and that the universe didn't care for a tiny speck like you.

Work, Eat, and sleep. Those were the only things you did with passion. Those were the only things in your life that you noticed and yearned for. It was painful to watch your coworkers at the company, who were below you, enjoy life so much. As chief editor, you had less work than they did, yet they saw life as a chance. They saw life as a chance to enjoy the fruits of the universe, while you still saw life as a scarred being. Funny, how you thought that everyone else was mad to have love in their lives, yet there you were with scars on your chest, both physical and mental, going unnoticed by the minute.

Until Hyunjin came into your life.

Hwang Hyunjin. Step son of your goddamned boss. You were told that he would be working alongside you as both an assistant editor and as a new cartoonist, replacing Mr Park, who had resigned five days ago. You groaned at the idea of having someone follow you all day, asking you if you needed anything. You were better off without an assistant or a cartoonist. But your magazine wasn't the leading magazine in South Korea for no reason. The illustrations provided alongside the thigh slapping articles always provided the greatest entertainment to the millions of readers. Mr Park was an old man, who was always quiet and mostly kept to his drawings, exactly your preference. Someone who doesn't annoy you or ask about your love life because apparently, at 23, a woman has nothing better to do. But a man, your age, who you've heard used to be a singer in a band, yeah that wasn't going to work with you.

Your boss had introduced you guys on his first day. He was.... surprisingly handsome. His eyes were like a kitten's, small and glittery, as if Andromeda had poured all her stars into them. His nose and jawline were so sharp, in total contrast to his gaze, soft and pinkish. You wondered why all those thoughts were coming into your head. Never before had they had even touched your mind, when you saw other men and women around you, no matter how pretty they were.

He worked in silence. Complete silence. He wouldn't even move his chair or anything. The desk on which he worked was so pristine and organized, very much like yours, exactly like yours. But there was an aura with which he worked on piece of paper with a black ink pot that you could only dream of having. It was like the sky favoured him, sunlight illuminating all of his features, including some tiny moles on his face. You couldn't help but admire his serious face, headphones in, with an ink stained brush moving swiftly across paper, tracing the tiny dots and lines of whatever he was making. You had first approached the company as a cartoonist yourself, having the skills because of an art minor. But soon the director saw you better as a journalist and slowly but surely you moved your way up the ladder to become chief editor. And when you saw other people doing something you used to love doing, you wondered if you hadn't accepted the job as an editor, would your life have been so mundane? So brown and still?

"Um Miss Y/N?" A voice broke you out of your stupor, starting you and getting your mind away from the articles on your computer screen. Hyunjin was standing next to you, holding pieces of paper in one hand and his brush in the other. He had a dab of ink sprawled across his nose. Cute, you thought.

"I, uh, finished the illustration for the first article you sent. Are they ok?" He gave you five pieces of paper, all with funny intonations on them, a cookie wearing hat, and an iguana wearing a DJ's glasses. It was cute, really cute you thought, as you gave them back to him, nodding in approval and shooting him a small smile. "You have ink on your nose, did you know that?" You pointed out to him, handing him a tissue from your tissue box, which he took and immediately disappeared behind his computer, wiping his nose aggressively. Cute, so cute.

You usually left work at eight thirty, not too late and not too early that you'd miss your tea. But something made you want to stay back today. Someone, specifically. Hyunjin told you that he usually went home by ten, since he didn't do much during the night. You refrained from telling him when you went, lest he question why you stayed back today.

"Miss Y/N I'll be heading out now. Good night." He held up his olive green bag and waved goodbye to you. Something inside of you wanted to say 'Wanna go together?' but you had always ignored that something so you instead waved back to him and started picking up your things.

That day, the old grandmother at the ramen shop you always went to said something was different about you and told you to smile more. You didn't know whether or not that was a complement but you took it willingly along with spicy ramen with beef.

"Miss Y/N I-" "Hyunjin stop call me Miss. Im your age. Just call me Y/N, alright?" You finally got that sentence out of your mouth after keeping it in for an entire week. An entire week Hyunjin addressed you with honorifics and today you wanted to tell him that just your name was enough. Just your name coming out of his mouth like a sweet melody was alright. "Oh well ok Y/N." He said with some difficulty, feeling awkward not using the proper words. "I wanted to say that lunch break began over two hours ago and you still haven't got up from your seat, so I uh bought you something. I asked your co workers what you usually eat so um yeah." He did what? You looked down at his extended hand, holding a box of your usual Ramyeon and an americano. You silently took the food from his hands, shooting him a quick 'thank you'. He deserved more than that, but at that moment, all your shocked brain could do was that.

Someone cared for you. Someone noticed that you weren't eating. Someone noticed how you stayed on this cold October day. And that was sort of sweet? Someone did that for you and for once it seemed he did not want anything in return. That couldn't be true, you thought as you silently ate your Ramyeon, all the while shooting tiny glances at Hyunjin, who was once again immersed in his drawings. Seeing him so deeply imbued in an art, which provided him a job, was so endearing to look at. He was doing something he enjoyed, while earning money for it. Isn't that what everyone in the world would love?

"Um Hyunjin? Hyunjin." You snapped your fingers in front of Hyunjin, who had his headphones on, with that brush back in his hand. He looked so cute, being broken out of his hypnotised state. His eyes blinked at you for a few seconds, before he took the headphones off and greeted you. "What is it Mi- I mean Y/N?" God he was so handsome. He was in a loose baby blue sweater and white pants today. He looked so dainty and fragile as if you touch him and he'll break. "I uh wanted to thank you again for the food today. Um. Any way I can thank you for it? Maybe buy you a coffee?" You could feel your cheeks getting redder by the moment. Even if he couldn't see the blush, you could definetly feel them. If your guardian angels were watching you right now, they'd be saying 'Y/N get your ass up and stop blushing so much.'. "Oh. Um uh" Hyunjin stuttered for a bit before checking his watch. Nine thirty am. There was still half an hour left to go home, meaning you both had enough time to grab a coffee and perhaps a bagel or something tasty.

"Oh course Y/N. But please do not pay for my food. You need not repay me for lunch." Your pleas for that sentence went unheard, as Hyunjin kept saying that he didn't want anyone to pay for him, reasoning that lunch was a basic human need and he was just helping his co worker out. Something about the way he defended himself and explained things was so adorable. It was like a ferret explaining why it's fur is white and why it's ears are so round.

"This is surprisingly good." You commented, as Hyunjin and you sat by the little round table in the coffee shop, drinking Americans and eating Macarons. Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at you, watching as you are your pistachio Macaron. "You never had a Macaron before in your life?" You shook your head at his question, trying to swallow your bite of the Macaron quickly, so as to answer his question. "No actually." You managed to cough out after what seemed like five hours of you chewing the sweet dessert. "I don't have a preference for sweet things. I used to but I grew out of it." Hyunjin looked up at you, from staring at his shoes. "You used to? Well I always used to believe that a sweet tooth could never grow out of their preferences. Turns out I was wrong then." The corners of your mouth twitched as your heart itched not to say 'why are you so perfect?' to the man sitting in front of you. "So what musicians do you listen to?" It was now your turn to look up at him with wide eyes. It was funny how both of you were eating food together like two normal human beings, yet neither of you dared to look at each other, or maintain direct eye contact for more than a fraction of a second. "Pardon?" You asked him, eyebrow raised and foot tapping on the floor. He stumbled back a bit and said, in a apologetic tone, "Oh I didn't mean to impose. Im sorry. I just thought, you know we see each other every single day, and I have never gotten to know what my coworker likes a dislikes so um.. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." Seeing him apologize like that was like seeing a puppy apologize to a black cat. You probably looked scary right now, with your expression and your rigid figure, so it made sense for Hyunjin to react like that.

"Oh it's alright Hyunjin." You said, shooting him the tiniest smile ever. "People don't really ask me questions about myself that often so I was kind of taken aback." Hyunjin just nodded and hummed in response to your bland statement.

That night, when you went home, you thought to yourself, about how much you missed human interaction. Most often disassociation and loneliness were your favourite drugs, but Hyunjin asking you a simple question about your favourite singer, made those drugs seem pleasure less. Your therapist would have probably looked you up and down and immediately told you that you were in love, being the hopeless romantic he was. People were scared to approach you. You, with your head held high in the air, your gait threatening that of Hera's, and your expression, cool and wicked. But Hyunjin just casually asked you what musicians you listen to, as if he had known you for years and he was meeting up with you again, at a school reunion. It was shocking to you, how he could just say that, without stuttering. Yes he did stutter later on, but it was so adorable the way he apologized to you, hands nervously palming at his fingers and nose silently twitching. Maybe friends weren't so bad after all, you thought, as the stars looked at you in pity, talking amongst themselves, about where had God gone wrong with you.

A sticky note? Your boss never left sticky boss for you. Usually his assistant to deliver you messages. So who wrote this mysterious pink sticky note, stuck to your computer with a smiley and something written on it? You had arrived at work after Hyunjin today, who, once again was is a hypnotic state, lightly bobbing his head to whatever was playing inside of those blue headphones. You slightly suspected that the note was probably his, as you sat down on your chair, hanging your bag in the usual place beside your table. You pulled off the note from the computer and examined it closely. There was something written on it with a glittery purple pen.

I scared you yesterday with my question. So I'm going to ask you through a note. What musicians do you listen to? (PS you can answer through a sticky note too)

You noticed Hyunjin kept giving you small glances from time to time, only taking his eyes away from his art for a fraction of a second. Cute, you thought, really cute. This was by far the cutest thing he had done. You silently took up a glittery blue pen from your drawer and wrote some sentences on a different sticky note, knowing when you were going to stick it.

"Hyunjin could you do me a favour?" You tapped on his desk to alert him. He looked up at you once again, with those same doe eyes. You noticed the ink once again splattered on his nose. "Yeah?" "Could you take this up to Mr Kim once and ask him if this is how he wanted the article to be edited?" You handed him a blue file to take it upto your boss, which is silently took and went up to the boss's office, giving you enough time to stick the note onto his computer. You made a last minute addition to the note, before rushing off to the canteen, lest Hyunjin catches you in your mischievous act. Even though it was just sticking a note to your co worker's computer this felt like the most amazing thing you had ever done in your life, the most daring.

Where had you gone? Hyunjin had come back to his desk after handing off the file to the boss, who said he'd give it back tomorrow, only to find you nowhere to be found. He swore that he had saw you here just a second ago. Where had you gone now? Shrugging his shoulders and telling himself that you had probably taken a bathroom break, he sat back down on his desk, ready to complete the illustrations for the day, that you had given him yesterday, when he noticed something stuck to his computer. A green sticky note. Could it be? Did you respond to his very creepy, weirdo nerd way of asking you a question in order to get to know you better?

When Hyunjin sat down on his chair, and slowly pulled the sticky note out, he sweated that his heart had skipped a hundred beats (or 143 beats hehe). Your loopy handwriting was scrambled on it with sparkly blue ink.

This is very middle school of us to be passing notes in work but I like listening to Lana del Rey, Florence and The Machines, a bit of k-pop and lot of classical music. Now you answer my question along with your own question. What is your favourite ice cream flavour? (PS you have ink on your nose)

Hyunjin's soul was doing backflips in his stomach. Having an obsession for love, he wondered whether this was how Cupid felt like when he shot his first arrow. You listened to the same artist he did. He absent-mindedly wondered about what question to ask you next when you came out from the canteen, carrying lunch for the both of you. "Oh hey Hyunjin." You said in what you hoped wasn't an over active tone. "I uh got you lunch to pay back for when you got me lunch and um here you go." You awkwardly handed him the cup of spicy tteokbokki along with some other dishes and an Americano. As if returning the awkwardness, he mumbled a sheepish 'thank you', grabbed the food and hid behind his desk. Somewhere in the clouds Aphrodite was sighing, not knowing what to do with you two.

After a few hours, when you had gotten up to go the boss's office, Hyunjin saw his golden chance and took it. He scribbled his question onto a pink sticky note and quickly stuck it to your desk, frantically sitting back on his chair and pretending to be focusing on his cartoon which had long been completed.

Happiness. Happiness was all you and Hyunjin felt that night, when both of you parted ways. It was that happiness which a fourteen year old gets when their crush pays attention to them. It was mischievous happiness, as both you went home and pondered about questions and answers. Middle school romance was something neither of you had, with him not finding the correct person, who would love him for who he is, and you just not wanting love anymore. Aphrodite would be probably be smiling right now, twirling her roses and she makes the next part of her plan.

"Hyunjin! Over here!" It was raining very heavily today and you had chosen this very day to not take your car. Apparently Hyunjin had done the same thing, as both of you saw other close to the cafe a distance from your work. He didn't have an umbrella and you had spotted him running over in the direction of your work, blue hoodie gripped tightly over his head. "Did the universe have to choose the day I didn't get my car to rain?" He shouted at you as you both were shielded by your umbrella. "I was thinking the same thing!" You shouted back at him. "Let's get inside the cafe!"

The cafe thankfully wasn't crowded at all, and as you took off your coat and shoes to dry, you appreciated the heat coming from inside the cafe. It was on the more traditional side, with a wooden interior and sepia toned plants hidden in mud pots.

"Oh great." Hyunjin sighed. He was holding his phone is his hands, having taken off his hoodie and his shoes before you did and setting his bag down at a table for two. "Boss just texted. Work's cancelled for three days straight." "So we went through all that rain for nothing?" You deflated on the comfy chair, opposite Hyunjin, who was revealed to be wearing a dark blue shirt underneath his baby blue hoodie. "Well damn it. What do we do now? I didn't bring my car and neither did you. Do we have to wait out the storm here?" You asked him, wiping your face with a handkerchief. "Well we can." Hyunjin responded. "I think the owner will probably let us." You raised a brow at him at that statement while he just stared into space, as if expecting an alien to show up any moment. "How do you know the own-" "HWANG HYUNJIN YOU FINALLY DRAG YOUR ASS HERE TO SEE ME."

A very loud voice rang through the cafe, accompanied by a much quieter 'Hyunjin's here?'. Hyunjin groaned and buried his face in his hands, as a handsome man with olive skin, brown hair, and the prettiest nose ever, came striding up to your table, wearing the uniform of the cafe. He promptly pulled up a chair and collapsed onto it, next to Hyunjin, all the while playfully glaring at him. "Hey Minho hyung." Hyunjin mumbled, not looking directly at whoever this Minho was. The other man clicked his tongue out of disapproval and said, "Say that louder would ya? And why have you not been coming to visit me and emotional dump on me for like two weeks? Oh and who's this lovely young lady?" He looked into your eyes at that last bit, startling you a bit, at how round and black his eyes were, like tiny little boba balls. "I'm Y/N." You extended a hand forward. "L/N Y/N" Minho took your hand and shook it with a firm grip, before getting up and slightly bowing to you. "Well Miss Y/N, may I get you anything? Perhaps something which is not an Americano, which is what this monster" he motioned to Hyunjin "drinks?" You gave him a calculator look before saying, "Oh. Um I would like an americano actually and probably one for Hyunjin too please." Minho looked ever so slightly taken aback by your words. "As you wish!" He declared before giving Hyunjin and a smirk and leaving.

"So who was that?" You asked Hyunjin, whose ears were burning red. With a sigh, he put his elbows on the table, burrying his head in them.

"That was Lee Minho. A college mate of mine, who opened a cafe with a friend of his, soon after graduation, because apparently he didn't want to get into a boring job." He chuckled slightly at that. "He's a mentor to me. He's like I think two years older than me and he treats me like a damn baby. But it's fine cause I'm the one who helped him cheat on his exams so I get free shit here."

"Americano for two?" Oh hey Hyunjin!" A freckled boy had come up to your table, americano filled cups in his hand. His skin was porcelain, like glass, dotted with star like freckles, with blonde hair framing his beautiful face. "Hey Lix." Hyunjin patted the boy's back, as he set the coffee down on the table. "How's your mum now? Is the treatment working?" A smile never seemed to leave this boy's face, as he sat down in the chair which Minho had pulled up earlier. "She's good now. Much better! I've been sending her some brownies every now and then but she's still disappointed because apparently her son won't get a girlfriend." He slightly pouted as Hyunjin chuckled lightly. "Oh who's this? Wait are you-" the boy looked at you with excited eyes, before gasping and turning his head to Hyunjin. "Is this the Y/N you told me about?" He excitedly extended a hand towards you, which you took, experience pleasure at his soft grip and hands, which was in stark contrast to Minho's handshake. "I'm Felix! Lee Felix. Nice to meet you! Y/N right?" The amount of happiness radiating from this boy was so much that you thought he was probably the reincarnation of Helios himself. "Nice to meet you too Felix. I'd introduce myself, but judging from your excitement I believe Hyunjin's already told you about me." You gave him a smile, which he returned. "Yah Felix!" Minho's voice came from across the wooden walls. Felix groaned and got up from his chair saying goodbye to both of you and rushing off to Minho.

"They're really nice." You told Hyunjin, sipping on your americano. It was nice and weird to have people like you for who you are. It was kind of alien to you, to meet two people who knew about you. It was even more alien of Hyunjin to tell people about you. What could people tell about you? What fragments of your being attracted Hyunjin that he told his friends about your existence?

"Y/N are you ok?" Hyunjin's voice broke your mind from staring at the rain pouring outside. The storm had calmed down now and it was just lightly drizzling, drops staining the window, racing against each other. "Oh yes I'm good. Sorry."

"So you wanna talk about the notes or should we keep it a middle school secret?" Hyunjin's question rang across your brain, and as you sipped on your americano, you couldn't help but notice how innocent that question was. It was just a question. It wasn't an interrogative question, which you'd be punished for if you didn't answer. You fingers unconsciously went up to your wrists when you thought about that question. "What do you suggest? I'm alright with answering the question in person, instead of exchanging notes." You responded, keeping your tone casual, so as to not reveal the fast pace of your heart beat.

Hyunjin smiled at you and sipped on his americano again. "My favourite ice cream flavour is pistachio. And I also like listening to Lana del Rey and classical music. My turn now." He leaned forward slightly. "A song which you could listen to, for all eternity?" Musical questions were what you enjoyed the most, having being in love with music ever since your ears picked up the tune of twinkle twinkle little star. Hyunjin's question seemed hard, since your favourite song changed every few seconds and you couldn't just choose one melody to pleasure your ears for all of eternity. "Hmm" you responded after a while. "Probably Love by Lana Del Rey." "Why so?" Hyunjin asked.

"Because along with having an amazing tune and the greatest vocals ever," you started your lecture "It's also such a deep song. The way she is symbolising young love is so beautiful, from the way she alters her voice at certain lines to the lyrics themselves. I especially fell in love with the chorus because it signifies such a beautiful matter of being so much in love that even the tiniest actions can seem like elephantine gestures. Even that lyric 'The world is yours and you can't refuse it' it's so pretty. It's symbolising that feeling of ruling the world when you fall in love. Or atleast I think it does. I've never fell in love so."

You fell quiet after your rambling, hoping that it didn't freak him out how much you knew about one particular song, which you definetly did not write an entire essay about. L/n Y/n you've done it again. You've scared a person off because of your rambling about your hyperfixation because you have nothing else to love. Great job, you thought.

But as you looked over at Hyunjin's face, it was happy? His eyes were wide and his lips were slightly parted as if thinking what to say, his americano straw remained in his mouth, but he wasn't sipping on it. He was in total awe, something you couldn't see.

"That- that was amazing." He said after a pregnant silence. "I never thought about songs that way honestly. But I think from now on I'll start thinking of it like that." God his smile was so handsome. The way the corners of his mouth stretched and the way his lips always slightly parted, it was all so pretty. And since when have you became so observant? To notice a man's manner of smiling?

Aphrodite smiled again in the clouds, calling for her chariot, to take a ride across the sky, making up the next step of her masterplan.

It was still pitter-pattering outside the window as both of you finished your drinks. You declined Minho's offer to eat, since you had already ate a lot for breakfast and you weren't feeling hungry. You tasted a bit of Felix's brownies, for which you complemented the freckled boy so mich to point where his glass skin turned into stained red glass.

"God the rain is stopping, how the hell are we going to get home?" Hyunjin sighed, as he meant back in his chair. You both had put your shoes, hoodie and coat back on and were staring out the window. You had an idea in your mind. A peculiar idea. An idea unlike you. An idea made by your heart controlled mind. You know how they say that we should never let our heart control our brain? Well sometimes, just sometimes, in the tiniest moments, we could let it control our being just a little bit.

"Doyouwanttocomeovertomyhouseitsreallycloseby" "I beg your pardon?" Oh great you spoke the easiest sentence in the fastest way you could possibly imagine. You should probably get the Nobel Prize for the most awkward person ever. Taking a deep breath, you made eye contact with Hyunjin (perhaps for the first time) and said, "Would you like to come over to my house? It's close by and I can drop you off at your house if I get my car." Hyunjin looked slightly taken aback by your suggestion, and as he pondered over it with a series of 'ohs' and 'ums', you mentally scolded yourself. How could you never say the right thing ever? How did you manage to say the wrong thing every single time? How did you manage to scare off every person every single time? Were you really not capable of love? Was your mother really right?

"If I don't impose Y/N, I would like to come over to your house. I should actually probably get going home too, so I accept your offer, only if it doesn't bother you." Your heart lifted from where it was earlier. Listening to the words coming out of Hyunjin's mouth in the soft tone, was something so comforting to you. It was like the smell of old books, like the way flowers moved in the wind, like the way wine swirled in a wine glass and like the way melodies danced to the beat of a song.

"This is your house?" You and Hyunjin had walked all the way to your house, shielded by his umbrella. It was safe to say that your house was a very luxurious one, in the more expensive side, courtesy to your high profile job. It was a two bedroom house, with the most beautiful terrace and balcony anyone had ever seen, which gave a view of the Seoul skyline. "It's beautiful." Hyunjin breathed out. "Come inside." You said, taking off your shoes at the entrance and unlocking the wooden door. "Want some food?" Hyunjin shook his head as both of you entered your house, his mouth dropping on seeing the interior. You had a conversation pit inside your house, much like one of those 80's sitcoms, and it was the most queer thing in your house. It was purple and magenta, with white finishings and a pretty carpet, sitting below a glass table. "It seems the interior is much prettier than the exterior." Hyunjin said, as you both entered the pit, sitting down. You sheepishly smiled and mumbled a thank you, before getting up to get him some water, even though you both had downed a big cup of americano.

"Your books are really interesting." You had started showing Hyunjin around your house, and when you reached the library portion, he wouldn't move from there. Granted, you did have a pretty library, decorated with fake moss and hanging vines, which made it look like a shelf growing out of the forest. "What is so interesting about them?" You asked him as he stroked the book covers with his fingers, to which he smiled and pointed to the last two books. "Their arrangment is fascinating first of all. I mean The Animal Farm and Pride and Prejudice are sitting together, as if going for a tea party. Did you arrange them yourself?" You only nodded to his question, too scared to answer. "The second interesting thing about this bookshelf is that all the books are so dual to each other. You have Harry Potter-" he pointed to the topmost shelf, "then you have 1984-" his fingers went to a handsome leather book, "and then finally you have a pop up children'd book." He laughed pointing to the bottom most shelf, where a glittery pink book lie. You blushed, as you saw that book. It was the book, which your best friend at the orphanage had given to you, before she was taken away. You cherished it a lot, it being the only form of love you had ever recieved in your life. "Woah you have Taylor Caldwell too!" Hyunjin said, excitedly, his fingers bouncing on the shelf closest to him, where a series of faded books lie. "Do you want them perhaps?" You asked him, to which he gave you a sad smile. "I've always loved her since the age of eleven but I could never buy any of her books, courtesy to my mum thinking they're too 'westernised'." "You can take some if you want. I hardly ever read these ones." You pulled out some of the books and put them in his hands. He looked surprised and his eyes widened at you. After much trial and error, which included him refusing to take the books, and you threatening to leave him out in the rain if he didn't take them, he finally stuffed then into his bag, thanking you over and over again.

The car ride to his home was fun, to say the least. Hyunjin narrated some funny stories with Minho and Felix, and a few of his other friends. You were shocked to find out that he used to be in a band, where he played the drums. "You must play them for me one day." You said, as you pulled up to a light. "as payback for the books." Hyunjin gave you that sweet smile again, causing your brain to malfunction.

"Thank you for the ride home Y/N. And for the books." Hyunjin said as you both pulled up to his house. "Say I have a question." He said, before unbuckling his seatbelt (drive safely kids). "Would you ever be interested in spending your lunch break with me everyday? Cause I really like talking to you and I don't have many friends at work. Only if you want to though!" God he was so adorable with those round eyes and those cute cheeks. Was he actually so cute or was your hopeless brain just making it up?

Aphrodite sighed again as she watched you silently from the bushes, happy that you were going on the right path, but worried about the trajectory of your mind.

Spending time with Hyunjin were the best moments of your life. It was surprisingly fun to spend a part of your day everyday with Hyunjin. It was just lunch and americanos, fresh from Minho's cafe, since it was the only one you liked now. You warmed up to him more than you had wanted to, and for the first time, your brain didn't mind being ruled by your heart. Hyunjin had introduced you to some of his closest friend, who came to visit him at work, making sure he didn't overwork himself. And he had interesting friends. Apart from Minho and Felix, there was a producer group called 3Racha who wrote songs for a company called JYP. It was composed of the three most kindest people you had ever met. Jisung, Changbin and Chan treated you like their own sister, often picking up an Americano for you whenever they got one for Hyunjin. You met Hyunjin's youngest friends Seungmin and Jeongin at Minho's cafe, when Jeongin bumped into your shoulder, dropping his books and apologizing to you frantically. Both of them were University students, one having a pottery studio and the other studying computer science. They were mischievous little things, but you loved them too, with you sharing Seungmin's love for pottery and Jeongin's hatred for sugary foods. It was so fun, having friends, even if they weren't your friends from the beginning. This was the first time you had experienced happiness ever since you were eight.

The words on your books weren't skimmed over by your eyes anymore. Instead they were carefully taken in, word by word, appreciating how every letter formed the beautiful sentence. Now, winter wasn't about surviving anymore. Instead it was about being warm and cosy, all wrapped up in a big blanket, hugging a plushie and drinking hot chocolate as pretty winter flakes poured outside the window. Now you digged out the sundresses you haven't worn in so long, and you would wear them to work every now and then, catching the eyes of every person you passed (because you are the most beautiful person on earth LOVE YOURSELF I LOVE YOU). You never noticed it, but now, Hyunjin looked at you differently. He wasn't a very defensive person, choosing to end arguments quickly, but whenever his eyes set upon your figure dancing in a yellow sundress, embroidered with flowers, he swore that he would burn done the entire world for you. Both of you regularly met up at each other's house, having k drama nights, where you would do nothing but cry over the slow burn, and try out a new snack from the local convenience store every time. Sometimes Hyunjin would play the drums for you, taking your excited requests of the 70's and 80's rock songs. It was all so perfect, having Hyunjin in your life and every time you saw him moving his own across a piece of paper, whipping up a cartoon for you as a gift, your heart smiled, urging you to let it take over for just a little longer.

But Aphrodite had something else in plan.

Sometimes the Gods plan sinister things for humans. Sometimes they say 'lets whip up conflict'. And most often it's not between one human and another. Most often it's between a human and her own mind. You had gotten a call on a nice Thursday morning, when you were about to set out for work, clad in a white dress, which reached your knees. A call from your adoptive parents. Unbeknownst to the entire world, behind your pretty face, you hid a grief filled secret behind those glassy eyes. Your childhood wasn't all sunshines and rainbows. You had grown up in an orphanage basically your entire life, and at the tender age of eleven, you had gotten adopted by a rich couple. Good right? Nope it was the polar opposite. Turns out they had adopted you for their own benefit, to gain support from the media to continue their company or some bullshit like that. It had haunted you all your life, how they would never speak a word to you, never a word of affection. It was just words of 'who would ever love you?' and 'you aren't capable of love'. When you had gotten accepted in college, with a full ride scholarship, they had help a party, not for you, but to brag that their daughter, whom they did not even love, had gotten into a college all by herself. They had turned their devil tails into angel wings and it angered you, but you stayed silent. Why should you fight battles with other people when you could fight a battle with your own mind? You had cut off all communications with them however as soon as you left for college. Now it was just you and the world. Getting a job was the hardest thing and you still remember all those days that you survived on water and biscuits, like Marie Curie, when she used to research on radioactivity. You had learnt that your 'parents's' buisness had gone bankrupt, soon after you had gotten a job, but they still hadn't ever contacted you until this Thursday. It was Seungmin's birthday today and you had gotten him a puppy keychain, one that he had been wanting for a long time, which he had told you about in secret. You had purchased it the day before and wrapped it up in a cute box, writing some notes on the top. It was supposed to be the most perfect day. Happiness and melted ice cream that was what this day was supposed to be.

"Hello?" You had picked up your mother's call and your world came crashing down immediately. "Hey there Y/N. We need some money right now and we know you work for Mr Kim. Send us some money please." Not even a hello. The woman who had given you food and shelter didn't even say a hello. The woman who you owed nothing to didn't even say hello.

Hyunjin wondered where you were that day. You wouldn't ever miss a day of work and plus you were excited for Seungmin's birthday. You were going to go for a birthday party which was to be held at Chan's house. Hyunjin had told you that most of the boys would be bringing their girlfriends so you could meet them. You wouldn't never have missed this, especially not when your eyes lit up, when he had told you that Seungmin would be singing for you guys and Minho would be bringing his famous meat. So why? Why was your chair lying all alone and your americano untouched? He had asked Mr Kim whether you had called him today, to which he got disappointment when Mr Kim said no. Your boss didn't really care whether or not you took breaks, since you mostly finished your work in advance, in order to save time. That day Hyunjin told the guys, that he wouldn't be coming to the party, much to their disappointment. But they understood when he said that he was worried for you. He basically talked about you 24/7 and the boys still didn't understand how their most romantic friend ever ended up not knowing what love was.

Hyunjin had an extra key to your house, which you had given him after two months of knowing him, trusting him enough to keep an emergency contact. Hyunjin kept fiddling with it on the cab ride to your place, massaging his nerves to calm himself down. As he reached your house, the atmosphere around him changed. It became gloomy, even when the Sun attacked him with his rays. The sunflowers in your garden all seemed to bow their heads to him, as if to apologise.

"Y/N?" Hyunjin stepped inside your house, calling your name. "Y/N where are you?" He shouted a little louder this time. If you weren't in the living room, you'd be up in your bedroom or the library. Hyunjin slowly climbed up the stairs to the second floor, taking in the eerie silence of the house. It was such a loud silence. He could hear something in the distance but he didn't know what it was. Was it a cat? He heard a wailing noise that sounded something like a wolf crying.

The door to your bedroom was open. Hyunjin stepped inside, careful not to make a sound. He knew how creepy this was, to enter a person's house like this, but he didn't have a choice. "Y/N?" He called out, noticing the light in your bathroom switched on. "Y/N!" You were sitting on the floor, with a knife next to you. Your hair was in tangles and your body swayed back and forth, As you kept mumbling something to yourself. Your upper arm was slightly bleeding and your breathing was heavy. You had been lying there for the entire morning. You were still in your dress,which was now stained with blood from your arm. Your face was tear stained and your eyes were glassy. "Y/n. Hey look at me. Look at me. I'm here." You looked up to see Hyunjin's worried face, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted again. "Hyunjin?" You breathed out in a weak voice, which made Hyunjin's heart drop to his knees. "Yes it's me. Hey breathe. Please breathe for me." He coached you through breathing in and out, which calmed you down a bit, but you were still shivering and your skin was ice cold and white. You looked like a ghost. A ghost with sunken eyes and shocked expression stuck on its face.

Hyunjin carefully lifted you up and carried you to your bed, careful not to disturb your injury, which he immediately knew how it happened, from the knife lying beside you. He got some cloth and medicine for you from the first aid kit you hid under your bed, something you had told him a long time ago. You watched him with wide eyes as he carefully dressed your wound and got some water for you, forcing you to drink it.

"What happened? And it's ok if you don't wanna tell me." He sat beside you as you leant back against the bed frame. You tried not to catch his eye because you knew if you looked into those galaxies inside his eyes, you would start weeping. "Nothing happened Hyunjin." You mumbled, to which he scoffed silently, getting his hand up to your forehead to check your temperature. It was normal, thankfully you didn't have a fever. "Y/n" he faced you and out his hand on yours. "You know you can tell me right? I'm here for you and I'm worried. Please tell me what happened." It all happened so quickly. You looked into his eyes, taking in the stars inside of them, and you couldn't hold it back anymore as you burst out crying. Hyunjin was quick to hug you, holding your head gently as you buried yourself deeper in his chest, staining his grey shirt. His heart was breaking into a milion pieces, seeing his universe crying out her planets from her eyes. He shushed you from time to time, to make sure you don't become weak from crying.

"Y/N hey hey." He held you head in his hands, cupping your cheeks. "What's wrong? Just one word. Tell me one word. I beg you." You sniffled slightly and looked up at him, stopping you're tears slowly. You felt guilty, for him coming to you. Why should he? He's a human like you and he has responsibilities too and he should tend to them, not you. "Hyunjin, you should go. Y-you have S-Seungmin's party to attend. I'll be fine." Hyunjin knew how much you rejected being taken care of. Care was was word which simply never existed in your dictionary, courtesy to your past.

"Y/N-" "No Hyunjin!" You lashed out at him, tears brewing again in your eyes. Hyunjin now understood why the sunflowers outside had bowed to him, and why the aura was grey today. You had bottled up your feelings again, and one single word from a person of your past, was enough to break you. "I don't want help I don't need it! Just leave me alone! I don't want to be around you!" You panted a bit after shouting all that, your chest feeling heavy, not from the weight of your exhaustion, but from the weight of the entire world around you "Get out. Now."

The next few days, you came back to work, you avoided Hyunjin. You couldn't bear to look at his face, knowing that the stars in your eyes will collapse again if you do. You both worked in complete silence, with Hyunjin silently putting the completed illustrations in your desk, whenever you left to go to the bathroom. You now left at 9 am, instead of your usual 10 am along with Hyunjin. Your americanos seemed even more bitter now that you had no one to share your memories with. Every song in the world sounded like the same mundane melody now, chords repeating over and over again.

But Aphrodite always have something in plan, for souls like yours and Hyunjin's.

Hyunjin had been comforted by his friends for a week now. Every week, he would turn up at either Felix or Chan's house and cry to them. It broke their hearts to see their dearest friend weep and sob over you. You, on the other hand, would sometimes turn up to Minho, drinking his americano and venting your feelings, while he silently grilled his meat and put it on your plate. What you didn't know was that Hyunjin would be hiding silently behind the counter, listening to the notes of your voice talk about him. So one fine Saturday morning, he decided to do something. Something that would finally satisfy Aphrodite, and make her drop her roses down to earth to celebrate.

"Y/N." He called your name as you focused on your most recent article. "Y/N." He said again, when you didn't respond. "Y/N for Pete's sake, talk to me!" He basically shouted at you. You were staying back late tonight, courtesy to the hundreds of things you had to edit, due to your numerous amount of holidays. "Not now Hyunjin. I have to edit this." You spoke sternly, abandoning the fun filled voice you usually used when you were with him.

Hyunjin frowned at you, this time an actual frown, not like the playful ones he did when you would steal his meat from his plate. He was angry. He was angry at the world and at your mind for not treating you well. He was angry at your past, for making you believe that you were unworthy of love. He was furious and he would take it out right now, when no one except for you two were in the office building.

"Y/N listen to me!" He shouted, making you startled. You had gotten up from your seat and now you were cowering against a wall. You had never seen Hyunjin like this before, eyes narrowed and lips closed, burning anger seeping through them.

"Y/N you are quite possibly the most amazing person I have ever had the pleasure to meet in my stupid life. The way you walk the way you talk, everything about you is so amazing! It's so magnificent to me, how everyday you would explain the meaning behind a song, with your eyes all widened and your mouth moving fast! And it hurts me. It hurts me so much to see you like this, thinking that you are unworthy of love." His words were hitting you like bowling balls. "When you told me about your past, you know what I felt? I felt anger. True anger for the first time in my life. For the first time in my life, I wanted to burn down this entire world for a person. I was also so relieved that you trusted me enough to tell me about something like this. You really think I can't see the scars on your wrist through your foundation?" The scars on your wrist. How did he know about that? "Hyunjin-" you breathed out, crystals forming in your eyes again. "Y/N it breaks me. It breaks me so much to have a person like you in my life and not love them. I love you more than you can imagine. So why won't you accept it?"

"Because I can't!" The words spilled from your mouth like water spilling from a waterfall. "I can't Hyunjin! I don't know what love feels like! I never did! An-and when you came into my life and introduce me to all these amazing people, I felt so happy! For the first time in this dumb thing I call my life I felt happy. And I hated it! I hated the way Felix's eyes would light up every time he saw me. I hated the way Chan would always check up on me, making sure I don't overwork myself. I hated the way Minho would treat me like his own family, making sure I got the biggest portions of meat." Everything that you had kept hidden in that crack of your soul came running out. "I hated the way Jeongin looks up to me, telling me he admires the way I work! And you know what I hate the most out of all? I hate you! I hate the way you care so much for me and my stupid brain can't see it! The way you draw little cartoons on my americanos, the way you talk to me as if you were talking to a gentle lamb! I hate it Hyunjin! I hate myself for not seeing how much you love me! And I hate that I can't return the favour!"

Your knees gave way and you collapsed on the floor, sobbing your eyes out. Hyunjin was quick to kneel down next to you, hands searching for yours. Both of you looked into each other's eyes, seeing your entire universe's inside of them. You need love. You needed love to exist. And Hyunjin was there just to do that.

He leaned closer to you, eyes not leaving yours. He knew he had to do it now. Now or never right? Hyunjin, cupped your cheek with his left hand, right one still squeezing yours, and kissed you. He kissed you as if you were the most beautiful thing in the world. He kissed you as if you were the reincarnation of his last lover. He kissed you as if he had been wanting to kiss you for the last fifteen years. He kissed you, and you kissed him back. Your lips moved in sync with his, not moving away, hands wrapped safely around each other, both of you shielded from whatever the world was planning next. Time moved slowly again, as if the spinners of time had abandoned their looms to come watch you two.

And somewhere in the clouds, Aphrodite smiled, knowing that her mission was complete, and that two loveless souls had finally reunited, mending each other's cracks, slowly but surely.

Epilouge

"Hyunjin! We're going to be late! Hurry your ass!" You called out to your boyfriend of five years, as you waited by the door, bag clutched in hand, and white sundress flowing softly. The ash coloured cat you had both adopted, rubbed against your legs, purring and licking herself. Hyunjin had organised a 'special' date today, taking you to one of your most favourite places, a meadow by the beach, where you used to spend your days. It was already late in tbe evening, when Hyunjin finally came down from the steps of your house, still fixing his hair. "Alright Miss Universe, stop fixing your hair and come on!" You said, causing him to giggle, as both of you got in the car and drove off towards the sunset.

"God I love this place so much." You stretched your arms as you watched the dying sun, collapse into the ocean. "More than me?" Hyunjin pouted, as you slapped his chest playfully. "Oh god are those Minho's Macarons? These things are drugs to me." Both of you took a Macaron each, and raised them in the air, as if to make a toast. "Well, to our five year anniversary." Hyunjin toasted while you said 'hear hear!'.

"Y/N, I have a gift for you." You both had eaten all your food and we're slightly leaning against a tree, wrapped in each other's warmth. "What is it Hyun?" Hyunjin pulled out a paper from his pocket. A link sticky note. With Purple glitter pen scribbled on it.

Marry me Y/N?

"I thought I should do it in the way we first talked to each other. You know to make it more roma-" Hyunjin didn't get to complete his sentence, as you threw yourself around him, kissing him on his lips, as if you didn't kiss him every single day.

And Aphrodite couldn't stop giggling and smiling, knowing that now, love existed. And you? Oh you loved the existence of love.

[jujutsutrash]

Never mind me this is just my self indulgent weird scenarios. no real content warnings. maybe some angst.

Thinking about Noritoshi Kamo x Reader where it doesn't work out. he is too caught up in his clan bullshit and you don't want to get trapped in that baggage. he needs to become head of the clan, he will need to have a proper spouse. and you don't wanna be judged constantly by his family. so you run, leave the country even, and he never hears from you. he only knows you are alive because every now and again someone from the Tokyo School travels to visit. he doesn't see you for years. until one day he does.

A heavy hearted Noritoshi Kamo who has to visit the Tokyo School one day and ends up seeing you. after four years that seemed like an eternity, he sees you. you. with Yuuta Okkotsu brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. a small boy in his arm.

A phased Noritoshi who has to keep himself from staring in disbelief. you and Yuuta haven't noticed him yet but the boy turns his face around and his eyes catch Noritoshi's. it's only a split second but it feels like infinity.

It has been fours years since you left. you had always been close with Yuuta – and the special grade was always free to travel. it has been four years. Noritoshi tries not to think about it. but that boy looks nowhere under three.

The next time Noritoshi sees you, you are alone. you both exchange greetings, it's polite but distant. his eyes linger on what changed and what remained the same. your eyes have the same shape he knows so well, but they look tired now. your lips follow the same curves, but your smile has changed.

He doesn't ask about the kid, you don't comment either. your greeting is like a business transaction, done and over with. a braver man would have asked, but he isn't quite so brave. so you part ways, he doesn't learn the name of the kid, or his age for that matter.

Noritoshi later catches a glimpse of the boy with Maki – she was one of the few people he knew visited you with regularity, so it made sense. then he sees the kid again with Yuuta. it's through a window, and once more the boy turns around when Yuuta isn't looking.

He doesn't want to stare, not really. but Noritoshi can't help but notice his traits. the little boy has your skin complexion and the shape of your eyes. his hair is raven black, falling straight to his chin. Noritoshi never saw pictures of you as a child – and now he is left wondering.

Noritoshi walks away before he can be noticed. but not before he hears the boy call for his father. when Yuuta's gentle tone responds, Noritoshi feels a sting. he leaves the Tokyo campus that day. he doesn't return for over a year.

In the meantime, Noritoshi learns that you returned to action as a sorcerer. he overhears about where you had lived abroad, and the name of the boy. your son. Katsuhiro. it's a beautiful name, he thinks.

The next time Noritoshi sees Katsuhiro is when he needs to visit the Tokyo campus again. he'd made sure to arrange his trip when you'd be on a mission, but fate didn't care. he spots the kid with Choso, the half cursed spirit taking the little boy somewhere inside the school.

The kid should be about five by now - or closer to six by different calculations. Noritoshi tries not to think too hard about it. about how he is at the age where cursed techniques manifest. about how he heard nothing of it. about how Choso would be a good choice if one needed to train a child with blood manipulation without reaching the Kamo clan.

A braver man would have asked you, but he isn't brave. and now he lingers in the hallway, staring at the place where they turned around – one foot stepping into the sunlight coming through the window, and he doesn't know if he wants to move forward.

Noritoshi tries not to think about it. he really does. not to wonder about what lies behind the walls he cannot cross. not to muse on what ifs. he tries not to think about it. but now he can't even sleep – the thoughts won't silence for a second.

[remindingpersephone]

Here we go again

Hi gang. I'm back on my Chris-Get's-Healthy kick, again. I know I've talked about this and asked for your help in the past. I am once again attempting to quit sugar and work out more.

If you have offered me advice in the past and are tired of my requests, yet again, for advice and ideas, I understand. I get it. Believe me, no one is more tired of my bullshit and my inability to stick to a regimen and make the healthy choices than I am.

This last time I was derailed by my mom's illness and death. I just did not have the mental space or physical energy to commit to disciplined nutritional choices and consistent work outs while taking care of her. But the reasons don't really matter because there were excuses before this one, and on and on. I have been starting and giving up on, healthy living routines since I was 18 years old. Let's do the math, that's 30 years!

A little background: I am not a yo-yo dieter. I very slowly put on weight starting with my first desk job at 20 and never dropped it. The weight has never bothered me. I am a confident woman who has never needed to fit into a six 6. I am also single by choice and nothing in the last 30 years has given me a reason to change my mind about this.

This situation now is that I'm looking hard at 50 and the little aches and pains: the trick knee, the occasional sciatica, the feet that get a little too sore too soon, are, I feel, all red flags signaling that hitting snooze on my health is no longer an option.

I truly believe that fitness and nutritional eating are not only the key to staying fit and active, but I think if I just commit and get through those first few tough months, I would actually like it.

Lately I've been drinking my Dr. Pepper and eating my high-calorie cheesy pasta and lots of sourdough bread (all my favorites), but they just haven't been as satisfying as they once were. [Sidebar: I realize some of this could be residual depression and grief making life just not as wonderful as it once was. That will take time.]

Mostly, I'm just tired of giving the "I have got to get my health in order" thoughts the mental real estate in my brain. I need to deal with it so I can move on from it. So it is not such big part of my daily thoughts.

My long-winded and self-indulgent post here is just to ask once again - and I swear for the last time - what do you all find works for you as far as fitness and nutrition goes? My fitness goals are:

to get stronger and improve flexibility and mobility while protecting the joints and ligaments

staving off osteoporosis

alleviating some peri-menopause symptoms

My nutrition goals are:

to kick the sugar addiction once and for all and change my palate so I don't crave sweet things so much

prevent diabetes/heart disease, etc. before they start

improving gut health

I welcome all comments and advice, and that includes the tough-love "girl, you have got to get your shit together!"

[jj-5656]

First Impressions With; James Potter (Marauders)

A/N: Holy shit, hello again. Been a damn minute, six month hiatus yet again. First semester of college kicked my ass, but I can’t get this idea out of my head lately. To anyone who reads and even enjoys, please leave a comment. I love any and all feedback. Missed you guys, sorry I was MIA. :)

Summary: The one where you finally confront the egotistical chaser for Gryffindor, and realize things aren’t always as they seem. 

TW: Descriptions of assault, attempted assault, ect. It’s lengthy asf apologies in advance

       James Potter is undoubtedly the most insufferable, pompous, self-absorbed asshole to ever grace Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

You’re sure of it. 

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself as you grip the chilled glass of firewhisky between Lilly and Marlene. Watching the raven-haired boy amongst his friends in the Gryffindor common room. It’s a fairly relaxed night, you’d save the real partying for the weekends. Though you’d all survived a particularly difficult potions exam, and found it more than enough means to celebrate with a small get-together. There isn't much to worry about when it came to drinking under school-roof. Seeing as your prefect was one of the many students indulging in the nights activities, nursing his own glass along his friends. Remus is a sandy-haired, soft spoken student you’ve come to know through Lily and Marlene. 

It’s a wonder he even gives the rambunctious Potter the time of day, let alone choose to call him a friend. 

“Head boy, can you believe they’ve considered appointing him head boy for next year? James Potter, having authority over even the prefects, what a load of crap.”

“He’s not that bad, he’s actually quite pleasant at times.” You shoot a look to your redheaded best friend, who’d see the good in even the worst of people. 

“Respectfully, Lilly, if I were to maliciously pour this drink onto your lap, you’d forgive me in a millisecond. I don’t necessarily trust your character judgement.”

“Ever the dramatic, y/n. And I’d forgive you because I love you, but not after ‘accidentally’ spilling my drink on you.” She kisses the crown of your head cheekily before grabbing you and Marlene’s empty glasses, seeking to refill them. You wave her affection off despite the blush of your cheeks. 

And then Potter says something that catches your attention almost instantly. 

“Where do you think the lonely bloke is now? Probably in his dorm, moping about like always.” The fellow sixth year seems to have had half a glass too many, sudden passionate disdain for the Slytherin hadn’t been a topic the entire night. 

“You a fan of his, Potter?” You snap from the couch across him, catching the attention of the burly kid and his friends. The alcohol in your system also the cause of such an abrupt remark.

“Sorry?” He asks through a half-hearted laugh, incredulous gaze revealing the intense hazel in his eyes you hadn’t noticed before. 

“Are you a fan, would you like an autograph or something? I only ask because he’s almost all you talk about. And you can’t seem to leave him alone.” Marlene straightens beside you, sharing a confused look with the rest of the boys sat beside James. Who quirks his head at your irritated tone. 

“And you are?” 

“Tired of your bullshit, leave the kid alone.” You’ve honestly been waiting for give the Chaser a piece of your mind since you saw him trip the sullen Slytherin in the library. You hate a bully, and you’d be damned to stand by and watch. Not to mention his incessant pestering of your kind-hearted best friend, who returns to you with full glasses and a stern look pointed your way. You ignore her silent disciplining, too enveloped in your staring match with the boy opposite you. 

“Just a bit of fun, love. Nothing to get upset about.” Sirius, another acquaintance through your girlfriends, attempts to ease the tension. Setting a hand on James’ tensing shoulder. 

“I don’t think he’s having much fun. Seems a bit one sided if you ask me.”

“But we didn’t. Ask you, I mean.” You cock your head, pleasantly surprised at Potter’s wit. Having mistaken him for the dumb on the spot type.

Maybe it’s not your business, maybe your actions are making an enemy for no reason. But you know the likes of James Potter.Coming from a wealthy, well-known wizard family. And Snape, who was a half-blood, and not a wealthy one at that. At least, you’d assumed from his hand-me-down robes and unkept clothes on the train your first year at Hogwarts. He’d confided in Lily a couple times, and from what you could understand he was simply a quiet boy who was terribly misunderstood. Being a half-blood yourself, you’d fallen victim to some snotty comments from other students. And if Potter’s quarrel with the boy was due to his status and lack of pure-blood, you wouldn’t dare let him get away with it. 

“Maybe we should head up to the dorm-” Marlene starts before James interjects. 

“Nonsense, we were just leaving. Have a wonderful rest of your night Marlene, Lills, and-” He pauses, eyes narrowing in silent challenge. 

“Y/n.” You deadpan, pretending not to notice the anxious expressions of the boy’s friends and those of your own beside you. 

He hums, giving you a once over before finishing the remaining contents of his glass in an embellished swoop. Setting it down with an intensity that makes Remus cringe. “Y/n.” He tests the word on his lips, tongue running over his teeth with a vexed smirk. “Pleasure, truly.” 

“I’m sure.” You quip instantly, taking a particularly large sip of your own drink and tilting your glass in farewell. He scoffs, turning on his heel and heading to the boys’ dormitory without another word. 

“Alright, what the fuck was that?” Dorcas accuses, having silently entered the room amongst the commotion. Her astonishment pulls a laugh from you, and Lilly’s eyes widen tenfold.

“Laughing, she’s laughing? Merlin, you amaze me!” 

“I’m right, aren’t I? He’s mean to that poor boy for no reason. He’s pompous Lilly, thinks he’s better than some of us for being muggle-born. I wont tolerate it.”

“Has he said that? Has he personally told you that?”

“Doesn’t have to.” You cross your arms, defensive.” She only throws her arms up in exasperation as you begin to aid Marlene in cleaning up the room. 

“He’s a bit messy as well.” The dark-haired girl holds up his empty glass, biting back a smile when Lilly smacks her palm to her forehead, exasperated. 

***********

   You’re at an actual party this time when you interact with James Potter again. 

Ravenclaw is hosting after a successful round of midterms has finished. You can finally shake the mid-semester stress away and enjoy yourselves for the few days break you receive from classes. It took longer than expected to enter the house’s commons. Sirius had reassured you all he knew the riddle to get inside, until he in fact, did not know the riddle, and you were all left coughing through a fit of charmed smoke. Until a a soft-spoken second year, no less, walked by and allowed the group of you in. 

“Beautiful, you’ve just earned yourself a glass of firewhisky, love.” Sirius yelps when Remus smacks him upside the head, watching as the younger student slips past the rest of you, past the celebratory atmosphere and straight to the dorms. The common room has been charmed to prohibit any students younger than sixth years of entering, thank Merlin. 

Those from their respective houses usually enter these parties together, so you’re unfortunately grouped in with the marauders. Including James, who avoids any and all eye contact with you. Both of you sporting deep scowls until you’re finally able to disperse. Most older Hufflepuffs are already there, and Slytherin is the last to enter. Waltzing in with bottles of alcohol they most definitely wont share, contrary to the generosity of the other houses. Who all usually trade bottles of their specialty drinks to one another. 

“I’m gonna grab a drink, what do you guys want?” You shout over the music and boisterous laughter emanating from the room, admiring the bronze and blue decorum of the foreign commons. Theres a universal “surprise me” from your girlfriends, and you head off to the drink table with a curt nod. There’s an array of liquors and mixers on the table, and you survey the options before deciding on a simple handful of Hog’s Head brews. 

“I don’t take a girl like you to be so keen of draft beer.” Noah Lyre, a stalky seventh year smiles wickedly beside you. Like most Slytherins, a hint of judgement in his tone. “Here, try some of this, my own concoction.” 

“I’m alright, thanks.” You offer a tight-lipped smile, nose scrunching from the bitter smell emanating from the shiny black flask from even a foot away. He takes a step closer, to which you raise your brows. 

“I insist, you’ve got to at least try it.” He moves the flask toward you once more. To which you stick your hand out, irritated with his wandering eyes and unwavering persistence. 

“I said I’m good, thanks.” Is all you say before side-stepping his towering figure and heading back toward your friends. Passing out their respective drinks and taking a few gulps of yours, attempting to brush the creepy interaction off. 

“Everything alright?” Marlene leans close so you can hear her, you offer a reassuring smile and a quick nod. 

“I think this is the part where you ask Sirius to dance, considering he’s been eyeing you since we got here.” You tease, Lilly and Dorcas following your eyes across the room where the marauders are settled. Sharing a round of shots and shaking their heads to rid themselves of the bitter taste. Marlene steps forward at Dorcas’ shoving, shooting the three of you a half-assed glare before headed toward the boys. Amongst them, James hasn’t rid himself of that pitiful look. Wallowing beside his cheerful friends and taking large sips of the drink in hand.You meet his eyes for a split second, heads ripping away from one another’s direction as if the actions singed your skin. 

“Dorcas, look.” Lilly nudges the shorter girl excitedly in the direction of a Hufflepuff on the other side of the room. “It’s that sweet girl from potions who asked me about you, go talk to her!” Dorcas looks terrified, vehemently shaking her head as Lilly grabs her forearm. 

“Absolutely not, I’ll make a fool of myself.” 

“You will not! C’mon, I’ll introduce you.” The red-head beams as she tugs her along. You ignore the burning glare you receive as you ignore her mouthed ‘help me’ as she’s whisked away. 

*******

The atmosphere’s become increasingly chaotic as the night pushes on. You’ve shared a few shots with Marlene and some other acquaintances from your classes. Having just left a rambunctious game of truth or drink before hading into the hall. Not quite near the dormitories, afraid of disturbing any sleeping students, you simply seek a little more quiet. Just near the communal bathrooms, you’re stood admiring a painting of Rowena Ravenclaw. Watching as an eagle swoops by in the background.

“There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you.” You spin on your heel to see Noah, significantly drunker now as compared to his last appearance 

“I think you’ve got the wrong person.” You cross your arms, taking a couple steps back as he stumbles toward you. 

“No, I don’t think so.” He sneers, same lustful eyes raking over your form. You square your shoulders at an attempt to appear bigger than you are, heart racing at the oncoming severity of the situation. He reaches out to play with a strand of your hair and you fight a gag at the overwhelming smell of liquor leaking from his pores. 

“My friends will be wondering where I am, see you around.” You force out, attempting to shuffle past him when he takes strong hold of your wrist. Grip so tight you lose your breath. He tugs you into his chest, sneering when you struggle in his grasp. 

“Get the fuck off me.” You all but shout, panic shooting through your chest when he backs you into a wall. 

“Where are you going, love? I just got here.” 

“Let me go, I fucking mean it.” You stomp on his foot, crying out when he he pulls you forward and smacks you against the wall. The back of your head coming into contact with the painting. Distantly, you hear the enchanted eagle squeak in surprise. 

Your cries for help are muffled when he wraps his hand around your throat, forcing the air from your lungs as your eyes go wide in terror.

“Just behave, sweetheart. This’ll be so much more enjoyable if you do.” Tears prick at your eyes not only from the inability to breathe but from his revolting words. Faintly, you hear the unclasping of a belt buckle as you writhe and kick with all your might. He’s much larger than you are, though, pressing the force of his entire body weight onto you to cease your fight. With his free hand, Noah enclasps both of your wrists together and forces them above your head and against the cold, hard stone. You feel his lips graze your jaw as bile rises in your throat, mentally preparing for whats to come next before he’s suddenly ripped off of you. 

You collapse to the floor, clutching your throat and gasping for air. The room spins, and you shake your head to come to your senses. It’s dark in this hall, but it’s clear whoever has the Slytherin blonde in his grasp is severely beating the shit out of him. You stumble to your feet, wiping the blurred moisture from your eyes to gather yourself. It’s then you realize the identity of the assailant. Unmistaking the familiar head of dark curls and tall, brooding figure. 

James. Fucking. Potter.

Potter, landing blow after blow, doesn’t stop his assault even as blood (and what looks like a couple teeth) spews from Noah’s mouth.

You try to speak, but your own voice fails you. Strained and cracking from the pressure it’s been under. You cough, trying again with your hands out in front of you. 

“J-James!” Is all you manage, croaked and unfamiliar to your ears. It’s the first time you’ve ever voiced his first name aloud. This must stun him, too, because he pauses his assault to look over his shoulder at you. Noah groans underneath him, and the disheveled Gryffindor spits on the floor next to him in utter disgust. There’s a final blow to his head that makes you wince, and Noah’s out cold. 

James stands, wobbling for just a moment before he straightens. Rolling his neck in a slow circle, strained with effort. You take in his sharp, handsome features, still in pure shock. He takes in your trembling form and immediately snaps his head away. You quirk a brow, confused when he shakes his jacket off his shoulders and holds it out to you. Only when you look down do you realize your blouse has been torn. Quickly taking the fabric and wrapping it around your shoulders with deep embarrassment and misplaced shame. 

Silently, James uncuffs his sleeves and rolls them up toward his elbows. “I’m gonna kill him,” he grabs the unconscious boy by the collar and pulls his arm back to lay yet another punch before you stop him. Hands clasped around his veined forearm and pulling it down. 

“You’ll be expelled!”

“Fuck’s that matter?”

“You’re not thinking straight, look at him. He’s out, he wont be getting up any time soon. It’s fine, it’s over”

“It’s not fine. Nothing about this is fine.” He’s hot with anger, running a hand through his tousled hair and grimacing at the pain that shoots through up his arm. 

“Your hands.” You whisper, to which the boy surveys his own handiwork, covered in blood and cut up from his own rings. He shrugs, eyes narrowing as he notices the uncontrollable trembling of the appendages. You reach out to touch them, but he pulls away. Afraid of any further pain. You pull your hands to your chest, shocked at the red marks already forming all over your wrists. 

“You alright?” He mutters, tone softer than you’ve ever heard before. It’s odd, the sudden quiet of it all. Only the muffled music from the common room to be heard in the background. 

“Better off than him, I suppose.” You make a meek attempt at a joke, nudging the bloodied boy on the floor with your foot. 

To your surprise, three Slytherin boys scurry into the hallway. Stopping short in their tracks with mouths open wide. James steps in front of you without a second thought, wiping the excess blood onto his trousers and nodding his head toward the unconscious kid in front of him. 

“Get him out of my fucking sight.” The trio doesn’t speak, shuffling into action the instant he finishes the command. It’s a struggle for them to lift up the dead weight, but they move fast enough after James releases an exasperated sigh. Right as they exit, James’ friends and your own stop dead in their tacks, trying to process all they’ve just seen. In the other room, the music cuts short, you and James both pull a face in understanding. This’ll be the talk of the school for the next week. 

“We should go. All of us.” Remus announces, the rest of you nod. Your friends are on you in an instant, tugging the jacket tighter around you and checking your body for further injury. You let them hover, knowing they must be in almost as much shock as you. It’s a wordless shuffle back to the dorms, the boys ensuring their bodies shield your own as you make your way through the halls. You separate when you reach the common room of Gryffindor, and James is the last pair of eyes you meet with before sulking into your respective dorms. 

It’s only when you reach your bed do you allow yourself to be overcome with sobs. The weight of all thats happened collapsing in on you. All the girls can do is stroke your hair and whisper idle reassurances. When you finally relax a little, Marlene waves her wand over your head. Casting a peaceful sleep spell to get you through the night. 

**********

   Taking the steps up into the boy’s dormitory has your heart racing. The memories of last night never having left your mind. Despite the lingering, slight hangover you’re fighting, the only real evidence of the assault is the bruising on your neck and wrists, faded now that Lilly’s cast a charm on them. The deep, purple marks, and the whispers of fellow students. Unsurprisingly, word got out about what happened, and there’s been a lot of stares. After a concise meeting with McGonagall, Noah’s been expelled. You overhear in a hushed conversation between a few third-years that he’d walked out of his dorm with his belongings in hand, head hanging low to conceal the developing shiners on his face. A few slow, deep breathes, to ground yourself before knocking on the door. 

It’s Sirius who answers, offering the same sympathetic gaze you’ve been receiving all morning. 

“Hey, love.” He offers simply, studying your anxious form. 

“Hi, I didn’t mean to bother you guys I just...” You fumble over words despite having rehearsed this scenario a million time in the past hour. “I just wanted to return this to James, he lent it to me last night. I also never got to thank him, so please extend my gratitude when you see him.” You extend your arms, offering him the fabric in hand. Expecting him to accept it and bid you farewell. Cringing when you think you sound too formal and, well, rehearsed. 

“Nonsense, you can tell him yourself when he comes back. He was called to Dumbledore’s office but he should be back any minute.” He reads your sullen expression at the mention of potential discipline for an incident he didn’t have to get involved in, but he waves his hand dismissively. 

“Dumbledore knows what happened, might revoke a few points form Gryffindor but Prongs won’t be punished. It was self defense, really.” The raven haired boy comes to realize rambling on about the traumatic events are most likely not what you need to hear right now, so he clears his throat and smiles once again. Sirius Black, of course, does the complete opposite of what you’d expect him to do. Stepping aside to welcome you in. “Come in, come in, Remus just started a pot of tea.”

“Oh, no, thank you. I didn’t mean to intrude I just meant to drop this off and-” 

“Please, we insist. Besides, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“You have?”

“Of course.” There’s a few beats of silence, and you accept the cup of tea Remus offers with a kind smile. Feeling utterly undeserving of such gestures due to your last interaction. Sirius, realizing he’s supposed to be leading the conversation, then continues...

“I simply need to get to know any girl who can make Prongs speechless. And you did, in the common room the other night.”

“About that, I just wanted to apologize. I think I gave off the wrong impression and-”

“You can’t be serious, we loved it!” Sirius interrupts passionately. 

“It was a little harsh, sure.” Remus translates for his dear friend, as usual. Albeit true. James can come off a little...” He searches for the appropriate words, handing Sirius a steaming cup as he continues. “...Brooding, at times. But he means well. He has a good heart, just a little ‘do before you think or say’ kind of guy.”

“So I’ve noticed.” You joke, not unkind.

“See! That there. You’re quite witty, and fiery as well. James needs that in his life!” Your eyes widen at his presumption, Remus winces. 

“What he means to say, is James is quite stubborn. And doesn’t always listen to us when we try to nudge him in the right direction.” The lanky boy recovers, not before shooting Sirius a look. 

“And I do?” You laugh, amused at the absurdity of such a notion. 

“Yes.” They chime in unison, Sirius delighted in the abashed heat that singes your skin. He grips the chair in front of you, and you suddenly feel very small in their kitchenette of their dorm. 

“Prongs, James, is not silenced very often, if at all. He was mute for like, two whole days after your little argument in commons.” 

“Right.” You mutter, shame heavy in your tone. “I see now it was a bit, bitchy of me.” The two are a little taken aback by your language, though you continue anyway. “I didn’t have all the details about the situation. I just felt I had to say something...My mom’s a muggle, and I don’t know. I got defensive at the notion that he was the type of person to see her as less because she isn’t a witch. I made an assumption, a wrong one at that, and I feel terrible about it. Especially after last night.” Keys clatter as you finish, and you’re stunned to see James at the doorway, having heard your entire spiel. 

“Oh, hey” You mutter plainly, horribly embarrassed. 

“Hello.” James swallows, fiddling with the worn wrap covering his hand. “Does it hurt much?” 

“Sorry?”

“The bruising,” he motions to his neck in reference to yours, and you realize Lilly’s charms have completely worn off now. You caress the tender skin with a wince, smiling softly in reassurance to the concerned looks it earns. You take out your wand, aiming to perform the spell once again before James shakes his head. “Don’t. You shouldn’t have to hide what happened. He should live with the shame. Should have kept hitting the bastard.” He mutters the last part to himself, fist closing tightly and then releasing, jaw tensing as he recalls the conflict. 

“I think he got the message, Prongs.” Remus mumbles idly. James only shakes his head, clearing his throat and once again fiddling with the wraps around his hand. 

“You should probably change those. Here, let me help.” You get up from your seat, surprising even yourself as you approach the much taller boy. opening the discarded first aid kit strewn on the kitchen counter, they must have left it out in last  night’s commotion. 

“It’s fine, really. I’ve had worse.” James tries to pull away but you grab his arm and bring it toward you. Eyes full of such sincerity the boy finds his mouth has gone dry. He hadn’t noticed how bad the bruising was until now. Up this close, he can see the discoloration shaping out where Noah’s fingers were. It makes his stomach turn, flashes of the image forever ingrained in his mind. He can only imagine how it must be for you. And despite your strained relationship, James Potter comes to the conclusion that he’s been awfully concerned over your well-being the past 24 hours. 

“Please, it’s the least I can do.” Silently, you unravel the fraying wrap from his hands. 

“You know it’s against school policy, James. Laying your hands on another student. I should expel you.”

“Professor-”

“No matter, I understand the reason behind your actions. While I won’t tolerate any more violence on your behalf, I think you did what was...necessary.” 

James only nods, eager to go back to his dorm hide under his duvet. It’s all been so overwhelming. The stares, the whispers, the shaky feeling he’s had all say. Knowing you must be experiencing it tenfold. 

“Now, please Mr. Potter, straight to your dormitory. And try and look as though I’ve actually disciplined you.”

James snaps out of his thoughts when you flinch. In his daze, he’d reached out toward your neck. And although you’re certain he’d never harm you, you’ve been avoiding any physical touch since the incident. 

“Sorry, so sorry.” He manages dumbly, avoiding the not so subtle gawking of his friends. They know the boy better than himself, and know when he’s smitten over someone. Fuck, had he really just thought that? 

“It’s alright. I’m still a little jumpy I guess.” You say plainly, not quite gathering the weight of your words until you notice their collective reactions. You hate it, the pitiful gazes. Looking at you as if one wrong move could break you. 

“Sirius, we have to go do that thing.” Remus grabs the former by his arm, pulling him past you and James and toward the door. Sirius, still staring at the pair of you, clutches onto any furniture that will halt his friends actions. 

“No, there is nowhere we need to be, I’m perfectly fine right here!” He shouts in a panic, seemingly enamored with the two of you. 

“It’s very urgent, the thing we need to do. See you both at dinner.” Remus hurries his farewell, tugging a pouting, squirming Sirius all the way. 

“It was just getting good!” You hear from down the hall before James shuts the door with his foot. 

“What’s gotten into them?” 

“You should know they are almost always that insufferable.” James deadpans, though there’s a faint fondness in his tone. You know he loves them much more than he’d like to admit. It’s endearing. You've just referred to James Potter as endearing...What a bizarre 24 hours. 

“I don’t think I’ve said thank you yet.” You laugh, despite the absurdity of it all. 

“No need to thank me.” He only shakes his head, watching as you pour a small container of bewitched ointment onto a cotton ball. It smells strongly of herbs and peppermint, and the muscled, supposedly tough sixth year pulls his hand away before you can dab it onto his knuckles with a small grunt.

“C’mon, I haven’t even started.” It’s the first time in a while he’s seen you genuinely smile since everything happened. You like to tease James Potter, and he likes it too. 

“Smells awful, I’ll get Remus to find a healing spell.” 

“You need topical medicine, not a spell that will ware off.” You tug at his arm once again, both shocked at the force of it, so strong he has to take a step forward. Close enough to feel the warmth emanating from you. He’d probably be able to smell your hair too, if the horrid ointment was capped. He’s once again taken aback by his own longing thoughts. Just two days ago, Potter considered you an enemy. 

He sucks his teeth when you begin to apply the medicine, doing your best to be gentle. You pause, waiting for his signal to continue. 

“Didn’t tell me it was gonna sting.”

“Would you have let me put it on if I did?” You shoot him that incredulous look again, and James has to bow his head so he can manage to speak. You’re much too intense for him to bear, he thinks. And he then understands how much trouble these feelings will get him in. 

“There is a need. To thank you, I mean.” Unable to control the shudder of your shoulders when he releases a deep, pained breath from your work. Hoping he hasn’t noticed. 

“Y/n, I already said-”

“James,” There’s his name on your lips again. And it seems the two of you recognize its foreign nature once more. “If you hadn’t stepped in he could have-” You stop yourself, swallowing hard to fight the nausea. “You and I both know what could have happened. I didn’t...I haven’t taken that gesture lightly. Let me appreciate that.” You’re stern albeit no less kind as you begin to re-wrap his knuckles. Skin grazing his as you go. He’s silent, staring so reverently it takes your breath away. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.” He whispers, and you swear you see. For only a millisecond, James Potter’s eyes avert to your lips. And you think he might kiss you. And you think you might want him to. He pushes a strand of hair from your face, leaning even closer to you. You blink, slow with a reminder breathe, as you realized you hadn’t been the last few seconds. His hand trails down to your jaw, gently tilting your head up toward him. You let your lids closing, awaiting his lips on yours at any moment.

“We should put ice on it.”

“What?” Your eyes shoot open, and James has just most definitely fucked that up.

“Your neck. There could be swelling.”  He attempts to caress the skin there, but you step back, ears burning hot with embarrassment. Why did you think he was gonna kiss you, why did you want him to?

“Oh, sure. Right.” You watch as he fumbles about to the fridge, grabbing an ice pack and wrapping it in a paper towel before outstretching his hand toward you. Internally cringing when you take et instead of allowing him to place it on you. Merlin, I’m an idiot.

“Dinner. We should go eat.” You collect yourself, moving toward the door when James nods hurriedly. 

“Right, dinner. I’m starving, actually” He fumbles horribly, wincing at the crack in his voice. “I’ll meet you down there.” You nod, reaching for the door when he stops you. 

“Y/n?” You halt instantly, turning on your heel in hopes you haven fucked up as royally as you assume. The chaser scratched the back of his neck with a pained smile. “Thank you for returning the jacket. And, uh.” He gestures with his hands in reference to the bandaging. All you manage is a tight-lipped smile. And he swears he sees a hint of moisture pricking at your eyes, mouth agape to say something, anything. But you’re out the door before he can even blink. Not hearing the flood of curses escaping his mouth after kicking the kitchen bin in a fit of anger, clutching the now throbbing foot and hopping around the room like the bumbling idiot he is. 

***********

Dinner is weird. Really weird. Sirius insists you and your girlfriends sit with the marauders. Taking you by the shoulders and sitting you right beside a silent James. Marlene and Lilly were delighted, having always wanted to sit by the boys. Though with your not-so-secret disdain for Potter had always made meals a little weird before. You’d talk mostly to Dorcas, who was always eager for good conversation if it meant she could listen and not have to talk as much as you did. You understood her quiet nature more than the other girls, and often borrowed whatever book she’d be willing to lend you in leu of shared analysis. 

But now, Dorcas was looking between you and James with a shit-eating smirk. Much like that of Remus beside her, who pretended to be more interested in the book in hand rather than the two in front of him. Pushing the food around on their plate idly, whatever bites taken were chewed slow and with deep thought. 

“This is nice,” Sirius chimes cheekily. “All of us, eating together. I think we’ve found ourselves an established group. Don’t ya think, Prongs?” 

“What?” The boy voices beside you, much too loud to be appropriate. You’re both still getting stares from some of your peers. Although most of the buzz of what’s happened having worn off, now you’re seen sitting right beside one another. Bandages and all. 

A couple of Slytherin girls make their gossip particularly obvious across the room, one of them pointing at you as the rest giggle along. You sink impossibly closer into your seat. 

“Ignore them.” James mutters, practically seething as he stares them down. “They have half a mind to start double checking the locks on their doors. Seeing as that’s the type of boys they have lingering about in their house.” He finishes dryly, doing a double take when he finally glances your way. Fists clenched in rage once more as you blink away tears. 

“He’s gone now, for good.” Marlene reassures, flicking Sirius on the forehead when he does little to conceal his searching of your teary eyes. 

“How’s it feel, the bruising. You think the ice helped any?” James asks for what is likely the tenth time since you’ve sat down. Gently knocking your arm away that tries to stop him from taking hold of your chin. Surveying the discolored skin with a deep frown. 

“Probably in the same condition as it was ten minutes ago. And the ten minutes before that.” Black deadpans, yelping when Lily kicks his shin from under the table. Smiling sweetly when you and James jerk your heads toward the commotion. 

“Let’s change topics, yeah? Remus, how’s that book you’re reading there.” The sandy-haired boy is mid bite when she asks, mortified all the attention has turned to him. 

“Lovely,” is all he manages, swallowing thickly. 

“I’m gonna head up to bed.” You announce, tossing your napkin onto your barely touched plate of food with a feigned smile. They all straighten, offering a chorus of soft- spoken ‘goodnights’ as you rise from your seat. 

“I’ll come with you.” Lilly moves to get up, but you wave your hand. 

“No need, I’ll manage. See you up there.” You gather your things before heading toward the large doors of the great hall. Pulling up the collar of your dress shirt as you feel a few pairs of eyes follow you. 

James scrambles from the table without a word, hot on your heels as you both exit. 

“Y/n, wait up. Y/n!” You cease your movements, so sudden James has to steady himself on your shoulders. You look around, glaring at a few fourth years as they gawk at you. Whispering all the way. You pul your shoulder back to leave his grasp, guilt overcoming you when a flash of hurt overcomes his features. 

“People are watching, Potter.” You mutter, paranoid eyes darting around you. James stiffens, pained by your sudden formalities. 

“So what? Let them say whatever they’re gonna say. We know what happened.” He crosses his arms, brows taught with tension. 

“It’s not that easy for me.” You defend, fiddling with your collar once again. 

“I told you to stop covering that,” James reaches out to adjust the fabric himself. Further irritated when you pull his hand away. 

“They aren’t going to spin this on you, James. You don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand, I think I’m well aware of whats gonna happen. This is all gonna blow over, and this school will be better off without that piece of shit.” 

“No!” You blench at your own volume, shaking your head before continuing. “You want to know what they’ll say Potter? That I asked for it.” James steps back, disgusted at the notion. 

“Why on Earth would they say that?”

“Because that’s what some people say to make themselves feel safer, it’s easier to blame me than him.” You shrug, throat tightening at the realization. 

“Where’s this coming from?”

“There was a note, in the girls lavatory. Dorcas tried to throw it away so I wouldn’t see but, I did.” James studies your face, awaiting you to continue with soft eyes. “Some Slytherins are saying I made it up, since Noah’s such a good Quidditch player, was gonna be captain next year.”

“Good at Quidditch player, he’s a beater thats hit three of his teammates because he can’t aim.” It forces a strained chuckle from you, and you only shake your head. 

“Doesn’t matter James, they’re saying I got him expelled for Gryffindor’s team because we’re-” You stop yourself, somehow even more uncomfortable. 

“We’re what?” He cocks his head when you motion between yourselves, sighing at his confusion. 

“That we’re together, James.” 

“Oh.” He scratches his nose, shuffling through the beats of awkward silence. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well it’s all bullshit, why are you letting it get to you?” You practically draw in on yourself at his words, fresh tears begging to escape your eyes at his unbeknownst cruelty. 

“Right, it’s all bullshit. You’re right, I should just let it go. We can get back to our normal routines and everyone will see it isn’t true.” You attempt to turn away from him, but he grabs the fabric of your robes. 

“I’m sorry,” he laughs despite himself. “Am I missing something here?”

You falter, opening your mouth to respond but not quite sure what to say. He looks genuinely distressed, and you make one last attempt at extending an opportunity. “I don’t know, are you?” He’s silent, searching your face for answers you can’t give him. Panicking at the though of losing contact despite all you’ve been through. 

“Did you mean what you said about me. In the dorms.” 

“James, I told you-”

“No, you didn’t. Do you really believe I think you’re less than me because you’re a half-blood? You really think that matters to me?”

“No, not anymore, anyway.” James smirks, stepping closer when your brows furrow in confusion at his sudden mood change. 

“So I’m not as pompous as you thought I was?”

“You most definitely have a big ego, Potter.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” He takes your jaw in his hold, eyebrows raised in teasing inquiry. You lick your lips, swallowing thickly and avoiding his eyes. 

“What d’you think they’d all say if I kissed you, then?” You almost cough, choking on your own saliva at his words. The cheeky bastard just keeps smiling, basking in your flushed demeanor. 

“Oh eat slugs, Pott-” Your interrupted with his lips on yours, lifting off of your heels to make it easier for him. James, insufferable as always, is grinning the entire time. 

“Yes! He made the first move, Remus. You owe me two galleons-” Sirius is cut off by his own whimper. What must be the lot of your spying friends shoves him into the hallway so he’s the only one caught, in which he stands speechless under your glares. 

“A sweet little first year lost her cat, you guys seen it by any chance? No matter, I’ll keep looking for it. Bloody kids always losing their pets.” And Sirius, the dope that he is, begins to make kissing noises in a meek attempt at recovery. Feigned grumbles of “here, kitty.” Echo down the hallways before you hear his fleeting footsteps. 

You press your forehead into James’ chest, utterly embarrassed and admittedly exhausted. What a bizarre 24 hours

[willowser]

okay haven't stopped thinking about this since the self-ship game but. on-again-off-again with touya is so heart-breaking.

he's always had his own shitty one-bedroom, but he stayed with you more often than not. claimed it was because you were closer to his job at the bar, but the drive is similar if not a smidge closer. you don't personally think it's worth it, but he does. or did, once.

you're looking at the two boxes of his things that are sitting by the door: a near-drawer full of clothes, bags of random jewelry, two pairs of his shoes, the dish towels he keeps "accidentally" stealing from work, as well as a few of their nicer glasses. photos you don't want to look at. even his shampoo and body-wash is packed away, because you can't stand to smell it anymore.

that's when your phone rings.

it's much too late for you to be awake, but you are, and the number coming across your screen isn't necessarily touya's but it is the number for the bar, so you hesitate in answering. watching and waiting, as it rings in your hand, before deciding to indulge in whatever heart-break he's got ready for you tonight.

—but it's keigo: "hey, i need you to come pick up touya."

you frown at that, and then deeper at the noise in the background. "what? where's his car?"

"he—" a heavy sigh scratches over the line, and his voice is strained, like he's struggling to hold something heavy in his arms. he's always been very friendly, charming; you've never heard him so stressed. "he can't drive. i just need you to come get him."

worry is a weighted stone in your stomach. "what do you mean he can't drive?"

touya's been sober for 16 months, something he's admittedly been very proud of. his longest stint yet, he'll tell you, and he's gone through hell not to break the streak. no matter how hard it was, no matter how tempting giving in sounded. he's turned back into his addictions in the past when you two have split, but you had faith in him this time. you really, really did.

"he just can't, alright? please?"

of course you go. and when you pull up in the parking lot, they're both standing outside, keigo with a half-empty bottle of water in his hands and a frown marring his pretty face. touya's back is to you, and he would almost look normal, if not for the swaying. you don't realize how bad it is until takami is throwing touya's arm over his shoulder and near dragging him across the pavement.

you only watch on, heart heavy, as he's shuffled into your car like a child, mumbling to himself as keigo buckles his searbelt. the car is immediately flooded with the sharp, bitter smell of alcohol and too many cigarettes, and you knew what the truth was, you knew, but you'd hoped for another answer, some bullshit excuse as to why he couldn't drive.

the reality burns; behind your eyes, deep in your nose, the back of your throat.

"call me tomorrow," keigo tells him, too-serious. "and we can figure out your car and stuff." he huffs at the ghost of a smile on touya's pale face, before looking across the seats to you. "i'm sorry, i really am, but his sister would fucking flip if i called her."

"no," touya mumbles again, voice scratchy like he's been yelling. "why the fuck would you call my sister, you perv?"

keigo only shakes his head before sighing again, and then he's leaning back and closing the car door without another word. you've never seen him so—annoyed; you can only imagine what touya's been up to tonight, to make him so.

alone, neither of you say anything, for a while. that haunting smile is still playing on his lips, as his head lolls back and forth with every speed bump you crawl over, and occasionally you can feel him watching you from across the console.

there are—one-thousand and one things you could say, but he wouldn't remember a single one. and so you don't bother.

he does, though, eventually, grin blooming in full. "know you fuckin' miss me."

you shake your head in an attempt to get rid of the tears, swallowing the frog sitting in your throat. he won't remember this. he won't. "of course i miss you, touya."

he laughs once, a small, airy sound, before he's turning to look out the window. your honesty has always caught him off guard. "yeah," he murmurs, smile drooping as reality burns him, in return. "miss you, too."

[fullsunrise]

Playing With Fire (M)

Word count: 1.8k

Pairing: Johnny x Original female character

Genre: Office AU, some angst, light smut

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, Johnny is a bully, heavy sexual themes, non-explicit smut (don't hookup with your coworkers!), uh semi-public sex

A/N: Uhhh I don't know what this is, but it's pretty much self-indulgent lmao

There was nothing quite like early winter in the city, with the twinkling lights tangled in the bare trees and a to-go coffee that was almost too hot. This early in the morning, there was no one around. It was calming, and Nari wanted to appreciate the silence before all hell broke loose. She sat on the unoccupied bench outside of her building, savoring the last five minutes she had until she had to face her worst nightmare. That nightmare happened to have a name: Johnny.

Johnny Suh from Sales. Even thinking about him made Nari’s eye twitch. Ever since she was forced to work with him on her latest project, he made it his sole mission to make her life a living hell. Never once in Nari’s career has she had to work with someone so egotistical, cunning, and above all else: annoyingly attractive.

Although she had been working at her company for the last two years, she had never heard of him. Not until she saw an unfamiliar name CC’d on an email from her boss. Confused, she made her way to her boss’s office.

“He's been here almost as long as you have, I believe,” her boss told her. “Great guy, it should be a breeze working with him.”

It was hilarious how wrong he was. Nari’s reality was most definitely not a breeze, but more like a hurricane. Whatever higher being set this up was surely laughing at her now as she struggled against the powerful storm.

To stand any chance, Nari knew she needed any advice she could get. And who else was more equipped than Jaehyun? After years of working at law firms across the city, Nari was sure he was the only person who could understand how to deal with egotistical monsters.

“I'm just saying, maybe try to avoid any interactions with the guy. I mean he's clearly a prick,” Jaehyun said, then took a sip of his beer.

“Trust me, I've been trying to avoid him but it's impossible when we have to work directly together,” Nari replied.

It was hopeless. Johnny was too smart. Careful not to push it too far, he was only condescending to her face. He made sure his actions spoke for him, though. Like last week when he went out to lunch with their project team, he accidentally forgot to invite her. And just a day ago, she swore he was whispering about her to another coworker in the kitchen. Then he laughed loud enough for Nari to hear, only confirming her suspicions. It was subtle, but enough to make her go insane.

“Don't let him get to you,” Jaehyun offered. “You know he's only doing this because he feels threatened by you.”

Threatened? Why would Johnny be threatened by her? Nothing about her was particularly threatening. Sure, Nari was good at her job but she never did anything that would cause someone to dislike her. And certainly she would never step on anyone just to get a promotion. In her corporate life, Nari made sure to remain honest, social, and professional. Unlike Johnny, who couldn't have a more opposite approach.

“I’ll try,” she replied. “But enough about me. How's it going in your world?”

“Same ol’ bullshit as always,” he chuckled.

They spoke about their jobs for a while longer, laughing at random anecdotes from the week. Nari didn't speak about Johnny again, and shortly the thought of him was washed down along with her Gin and tonic. Somewhere between her first and third drinks, Jaehyun asked her how her dating life had been. It caught her off guard only for a moment as she reached for an answer in her muddled brain. With her thoughts slowed, the best she managed to pull was a horrific yet comical dating story. Jaehyun laughed along with her and shared his own. It was always weird talking about her love life with Jaehyun but it was still nice nonetheless. But she would never get used to it, even though there were no lingering feelings left between them.

Nari came back to her apartment feeling a bit lighter after seeing Jaehyun. While he helped her forget about Johnny momentarily, Nari dreaded tomorrow. It was the day of the company holiday party. Normally Nari looked forward to it every year, but the idea of running into Johnny made her stomach churn. Sure, there were going to be a lot of employees and plus ones but the chance of seeing him wasn't zero.

The next day quickly flew by, with little to no urgent work that needed to get done. Nari always appreciated slow work days, but today she wished the day lasted a bit longer. Because as the moon rose in the sky, she knew could no longer hide.

The rooftop lounge was packed with her coworkers spread out across fancy bar top tables. Nari and a few of her team members claimed a spot close to the bar. While she was promised it would limit any unwanted interactions, the idea of walking up with all eyes on her made her mouth dry.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” Nari shouted on top of the loud music.

Much to her relief, Nari didn't recognize the people she passed on her way to the bar. No Johnny in sight, her shoulders relaxed instantly.

“One Old Fashioned, thanks,” the guy with slicked back hair in front of her ordered. Ugh, what kind of person would order that?

The guy with the slicked back hair turned around, and the moment Nari locked eyes with him she was frozen in place. The worst scenario Nair conjured in her mind was happening right now, in real life.

Johnny looked at her for a second before turning away to talk to his friend. That didn't bother Nari, but the fact that he decided to brush past her like she was invisible set her off.

Chasing after Johnny wasn't how Nari expected to spend her night, but there she was pushing through the crowd. Johnny moved fast, but she was able to catch up in the bathroom hallway.

“Why?” The liquor coursed through her veins, giving her the courage to speak up.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Johnny deadpanned, as he turned around to look straight through her. It was clear he was avoiding her question, which in turn only made her angrier.

“Don't play dumb, you know what you're doing,” she accused, her voice raising.

“You're going to be a bit more specific than that, sweetheart,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest.

“So you're just going to pretend like you haven't made my life a living hell the last few months?”

“I think that's too harsh,” he answered, his expression softening. That look could've worked on other women, but Nari wasn't going to give in.

“It's the truth, you've hated me ever since that day.”

“When did I say I hated you?”

Jaehyun’s words echoed in her mind. “Admit it, you’re threatened by me.”

Bingo. Her words seemed to strike a nerve with Johnny, because the next thing she knew he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the bathroom. Warning signs went off in her head immediately, but it happened so quickly that she couldn't break away.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” he seethed, taking a step closer to her.

Was he always standing this close? The temperature was rising, and Nari could feel the blood rush into her cheeks.

“I think I do,” Nari breathed, trying to sound confident. But her quivering voice didn't fool him.

His kisses were feverish against her skin he left bites along the curve of her neck. As he made his way down to her collarbone, Nari’s eyebrows scrunched together. With her lips slightly parted in pleasure, Johnny took the opportunity to steal the air from her lungs in one swift motion. His lips were rough and chapped from the cold, but the way they molded to her own left her utterly breathless. When he abruptly bit her lower lip and gazed at her, she knew she was done for. Deep desire pooled in his eyes and her body craved more of the pleasure he brought. Nari knew right then and there that she had no plans of stopping him.

“No, you don't,” he asserted, breaking the kiss for only a second before diving back in.

Her back was flush against the wall now, the cool tile contrasting against the heat of her skin. Johnny held the side of her jaw forcefully, with his other hand tracing the contour of her waistband. Out the window was her moral compass along with her dignity, her judgment clouded with pure desire.

The sensation of his hand dipping lower only added to her bubbling lust. Without warning, he snaked his hand out of her waistband. Nari whined at the loss and Johnny chuckled in amusement.

“Oh?” he mused, his grin never leaving his face. “You don't like that?”

Nari could only shake her head in response, her brain too muddled to think clearly. Satisfied with her frazzled state, Johnny resumed his motions. Her gasps bounced off the bathroom walls as she chased the high, no longer caring who could hear. With each moan that escaped her lips, she began to fall apart. Strands of hair came loose and tears of pleasure pooled. Her release was imminent, but before she could reach the climax Johnny suddenly stopped.

“I'm sorry, did you want more?” he asked, forehead pressed to her own.

Falling from her high, the reality of the situation came back into focus. What the hell was she doing? Not too long ago Nari couldn't even fathom being in the same room as Johnny, let alone letting herself unravel in front of him. It almost sickened her how quickly she folded under his spell. He knew exactly what he was doing and Nari was willingly falling right into his trap.

“Please,” she replied as she tried to catch her breath.

That was all Johnny needed to continue. With her pleasure still heightened, it took Nari only a few minutes to fully come undone. If Johnny wanted, she would let him take her right then and there. All the sirens in her head told her it was wrong, but why did it feel so right?

“See you tomorrow,” he snickered as he pulled away from her. Giving her a quick once over, he left the bathroom without another word.

Left alone with nothing but her reeling thoughts, Nari glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Disheveled hair and smudged mascara. Nari could barely recognize herself. As she attempted to fix her unruly state, Johnny’s words mocked her. Their little affair was going to cost her. She wasn't going to get fired over it, no, but her impulses were going to cost her the little bit of sanity she had left. Johnny was going to take it all and ruin her beyond recognition.

[yourmomsemogarlicbread]

Club Lights And Sex On The Beach (PARTS 2 & 3)

Pairings: Josh Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: none pretty much! just fluffy post-hookup stuff, and plot-building stuff too.

Summary: You wake up in Josh's apartment, who could interrupt? And who even is the man you just hooked up with?

Authors Note: Please read part 1 if you haven't! this is also part 2 and 3 because they are so short. enjoy!

masterlist

and again you may read on AO3 here.

Part 2

You wake up in his bed, a piercing headache from the night before rocking in your skull. You turn over to see his back facing you, graced by the gentle morning sun. You stretch as you sit up in bed, quickly realizing that you’re still very much naked. Memories of the previous night swirl in your head a bit more vividly now, realization setting in as you look around the room. Who did you sleep with? After all, you did go back to his fancy-ass apartment building. The art on his walls looks expensive, and assuming by the architecture of his room, it looks to have a rent upwards of a couple thousand a month. You hear him stirring in bed, looking back over at him you see him turn towards you, eyes still closed. You gently lay back down, turning your body to face his, a bit of self-indulgence never hurt anybody, right? The morning sleepiness still clinging to you helps put an end to your staring. You gently close your eyes briefly as you enjoy the comfort of what’s frankly the best one-night stand you’ve ever had. With all the bands you’ve gotten drunk with over the years from your brief time as an assistant, this had got to be the most fulfilling. Josh is a gorgeous man, probably the most handsome man you have ever seen. His beauty could kill anyone he wished, yet his kindness would prevent him from doing so, you barely know this man, by my god, did you already feel yourself falling. It’s slight, but it’s present. 

You open your eyes again to the sound of Josh’s tired yawn penetrating the room. “Good morning, mama,” he says with a stretch, the nickname makes your fear of falling worsen. “Good morning,” you say, taking the opportunity to stretch yourself out and sit up in bed. “Do you care for breakfast?” he asks, snaking a hand around your waist in bed, giving you a chaste kiss. You look back at him, giving a sweet but simple reply of “I’d love that.” as you thank him with a kiss. You smile as he gets out of bed, going to his dresser and pulling out a pair of boxers and a t-shirt with the words “saint vocal” followed by some random text you didn’t bother to read. What if he’s a singer? you think briefly. No, he couldn’t be what are the chances? You put on his kind offerings as you watch him get dressed alongside you, only in boxers and grey sweatpants. My god, he isn’t helping with this “casual hookup” ordeal, isn't he? 

You stand in front of him, walking up to him and hugging him. He grasps your waist, kissing you once more with a smile you can feel. You hear a door slam, breaking you from your enjoyable kiss. You look back at Josh to see the panic in his eyes. “Josh! Where are you dude you should be up by now!” 

“Shit,” he whispers to you, quickly ushering you to the closet. “I’m so sorry, it’s my brother just hide here for a second ok?” He pushes you back into the closet profusely apologizing with only his eyes alone. You look around the walk-in closet around you now. Damn, he is rich, isn’t he? You sit down on the small ottoman next to you, waiting out whatever is going on. You can’t help but overhear their conversation as Josh and one of his brothers enter his bedroom. 

“Josh, my brother, I swear to god you went home with a girl last night.” 

“Jake, I swear to god I didn’t. And if I did I would tell you.” 

“No, you wouldn’t.” 

“Yes, I would.” 

“Bullshit.” 

You hear footsteps walk towards the closet door. Fuck. You quickly make an attempt at hiding throwing yourself among the shirts and suits hung up. Praying that Jake doesn’t open the door, you wait. 

“Huh, ya know if there’s a girl in here I thought you’d try stopping from opening the closet.”

“I would because there isn’t a girl in there.”

“Yeah right, you’re such a horrible liar.”

The closet door opens. You hold your breath as you pray he doesn’t notice your feet sticking out among the carpet. You listen intently as a couple of moments pass. 

“Fine, I was wrong. I guess you weren’t whoring yourself out last night.”

“Thank you.” 

You feel a wave of relief wash over you, now just waiting for Jake to leave the closet. You hear footsteps walk around, to what you assume is towards Josh’s bedroom. 

And then the clothes are pulled apart and you’re face to face with him. 

“Good morning, darling.”

Shit.

Part 3

You look over to Josh who has his head in his hands, embarrassed beyond belief. “I’m so sorry,” he says with some sort of apologetic life. Jake turns to his brother and then back to you, holding out a hand. “Nice to see you again.” you sigh and take his hand in yours, “Nice to see you too Jake.” He laughs as he lets go, waltzing his way over to Josh, and giving him a pat on the shoulder. “You can never lie to me I hope you know that.” Josh looks up at him with animosity “Fuck off.”

You walk over to Josh as Jake decides to make himself at home and leaves the room. You take his head in your hands, locking eyes with his. “Hi.” he laughs and takes your hands in his. “I’m sorry about that, I don’t even know why he’s here.” you watch his eyes closely, pupils blown wide. “It’s perfectly ok, don’t stress it.” you slide your hands from his cheeks down to his collarbone. You watch his face relax as he grabs your hands and holds them in his. “Thank you-” “Josh, where the fuck our your eggs! I’m making your new fuck-buddy breakfast since you don’t want to.” You watch his face morph into irritation again, taking your hand in his and leading you to his kitchen. “One, they’re on the top shelf very right. Two, she is a guest and we will treat her with respect. And three, I was already making going to do that before you barged in asshat.” You laugh at their never-ending fighting, prime entertainment at its finest. Josh pulls out a seat for you at the island, motioning for you to sit. Taking a seat on the stool, you watch as the twins make you breakfast. Not exactly what you thought would be happening after a one-night stand but it's still a good outcome nonetheless.

You watch in love and lust-struck awe as you watch the twins not only manage to make you scrambled eggs with toast while also making up for their argument and becoming best friends before your eyes. Jake and Josh place the plate before you, both of them side by side giving you a warm smile. “Thank you very much,” you say. “Of course, who would we be if not the best post-hookup hosts?” you laugh at them while eating your eggs, nicely made, dare you say some of the best you’ve had in a while. Josh sits down next to you with his plate eating beside you in peaceful silence as Jake uses the bathroom. Josh turns to you, waiting for your attention. You turn back to him beckoning his response. “Ya know, I liked last night, like a lot.” you feel your cheeks warm. “I did too, like a lot.” you both let out small awkward laughs filling the silence. “I was wondering if maybe you would like to go on a date sometime, maybe next week?” Oh god, did this turn out in your favor? It sure as hell seems like it. “I would love to, Josh.”  you watch as his slight smile turns wide and bright, reminding you of the sun. You both manage to exchange numbers and set a date before Jake comes back. 

“Well, well, well, how’s your breakfast?” Jake asks as he walks back into the room, resting on his forearms on the island across from the two of you. “Great actually, thank you so much,” you respond. “My pleasure. Now, I think I might as well break the bad news to you, Josh.” you feel your heartbeat quicken just a bit, looking over to Josh to see him pause his chewing, looking back at his brother. 

“Oh god, what?”

“Our assistant quit.”

Oh shit. 

“What! Why? What the fuck?” Josh exclaims. “I mean right before the tour?”

Tour? Oh god, maybe he is a singer…

“I know! I mean like seriously we needed her, now we gotta find someone else.”

Would now be the time to mention that you’re in between jobs as an assistant now? No, you don’t want to make it awkward…

“I work as an assistant,” you say. Not meaning to say that out loud, your eyes go wide, panic filling your mind space slightly. “Wait actually?” Josh says, almost jumping out of his seat. “Yeah, I’m kinda looking for another job as an assistant right now…” you trail off awkwardly. You look back to both the twins, “But one question…” you state. “Yes?” Jake asks.

“Who even are you guys?”

[hasufin]

You've probably seen clips from this. This is Sen. Josh Hawley's speech to the RNC, in which he directly calls for Christian Nationalism.

I watched the entire thing. It's... it's a ride.

The weird thing is, sandwiched in the middle of his ahistorical bullshit and his Christian Nationalism, is an economic proposal which would fit right in at the DNC. It's weird.

Anyway, below is my complete reaction to it:

So, against my better judgement, I did listen to the speech.

Now, I’ve been reluctant to do so. It has been my experience that American Rightwing Christians tend to speak in a sort of dialect; that they tend to say things which – to an outsider such as myself – seem terribly incendiary, aggressive, and deeply unpersuasive. I’ve had Christian friends explain to me, of preachers “Yes, I know that sounds horrible to you, but that’s just how they talk in the Church”. And thus, I did ask this question [on Quora] to among other things give those within that community an opportunity to explain his words. I have, I confess, been disappointed: what I’ve received instead has been dismissal; just refusal to acknowledge that the things being said would reasonably be interpreted as threatening to one not steeped in that culture. Dismissal, I will say, serves to affirm our concerns: it’s like how Kavanaugh claimed that Roe was “settled law”… until he voted to overturn it. We don’t trust dismissal, because it has been a lie in the past and we expect it to be a lie in the future.

Now, the first few minutes of Hawley’s speech present me with a conundrum.

You see, he gives a brief historical recount of the fall of the Roman Empire, and of the Puritans (whom I have never before heard referred to as Augustinians, but again, I’m just not fluent in this particular patois.)

And the problem here is, his narrative is simply false. I mean, he pinpoints the early 400s as the fall of the Western Roman Empire – fair enough – but that’s also when Christianity became the majority religion of that empire; characterizing them as pagans as that point, and “paganism” as the cause of the fall of the Empire is quite ridiculous. But I’ll come back to that later, and why it’s deeply disturbing to me.

And then the Puritans. Again, I’ve never really heard them called Augustinians but that’s reasonably an oversight on my part – I’m of the opinion that their influence on the American colonies is somewhat overstated, but that’s just my opinion. His characterization of them is I think somewhat lack in nuance and reality, but the how and why of that seems important.

So I’m left with a bit of a conundrum. Do I assume his actual knowledge of history is that of a disinterested high schooler? Do I assume he just plain doesn’t know what he is talking about? If that’s the case, I – and everyone else - really ought to disregard whatever he says of policy: he is a fool, and we oughtn’t be led by fools.

But, perhaps he does know better? Yet, that’s worse. If he knows that the Roman empire did not fall due to “Paganism”; that the Puritans were a particularly intolerant sect of Reformationists who found freedom overly threatening and ultimately declined largely due to the infighting which is characteristic of rightwing authoritarian groups. If he knows this, and offers an ahistorical alternative instead, then he is a liar, and should be directly opposed.

One can slice that Gordian knot by realizing he offers these not as history, but as mythology. It’s not whether they’re true, but what they’re meant to communicate. However, as a non-Christian, that’s… that’s actually worse.

His decision, then, to attribute the downfall of Rome to corruption, to loving pleasure and self-indulgence, is important. Now, I think we all know that Rome did not fail because their soldiers were just too busy drinking and having sex. But that claim appeals to a disgust-based morality: it indulges in a visceral hatred of those excesses. And that same disgust-based morality can be used to justify any number of horrors. It’s a disgust-based morality which ties a gay man to a fence and leaves him to die; that beats a transwoman to death; that decides Jews are baby eaters and condemns them to ghettoes and them to death.

His ahistorical account ignores the entire history of Christian internal warfare. It pretends that the Puritans were an inclusive society – rather than one which executed their own on the mere allegation of them being people like me.

And I’m hearing him proceed further, to claim all things good… indeed, the utter ridiculousness of claiming specifically secular achievements as Christian. This is a fact-free speech, which is intended to appeal to a particular audience of which I – and any other non-Christian – is not a member. He proclaims that as a non-Christian I should embrace Christianity… after having lied and said many of distinctly non-Christian things are Christian. I mean, if you define Christian as “the stuff I want to claim” and non-Christian as “everything else” then sure… but that’s not what those things mean, and we’re back to that conundrum: is he a liar or a fool?

And then he gets back to his disgust-based morality, his appeal to hatred, his lies about his opposition, and just outright about what is going on right now.

Ah, and here we are: “the left” is evil, “the left” wants to destroy. And… wait, did he just claim that liberals like Ayn Rand? What??? And Milton Friedman? How… how does anyone buy this? I’m sorry, what the hell is this?

He is literally saying that the left is against god. This speech very literally demonizes his opposition. He lies about people, and and paints them as simply being against good. I wonder how anyone considers this as acceptable at all. This is Blood Libel.

Now, wait, he’s deriding other republicans? And saying that it was republicans who spearheaded DEI? I’m just confused here. Basically, it seems like he’s saying literally anyone who opposes him is evil, and he will make up Any Damned Thing to paint them that way.

Being honest, I’m not sure I am all that interested in the second half of this. Hist first half, in which he very literally calls everyone who isn’t on his side evil; in which he says the left is against love and god. I recognize that he doesn’t directly say “let’s put all the liberals in camps and kill them”, but this is the rhetoric which is used to justify these things. The policies he puts forth afterwards are less incendiary – and it’s kind of weird that he had to open a policy proposal which matches rather well with the liberal platform, with demonization of liberals, and I don’t know how anyone can reconcile that. But, y’know, he also claimed that liberals like Ayn Rand and Milton Friedman, so there’s a lot of contradiction there.

Oh, wait now he’s directly speaking against religious liberty. He’s saying directly that religious liberty is only valuable because it lets us all practice the same religion, and that Christianity is our national religion. So we’re back to Deeply Disturbing here. “More civil religion, not less”. Atheists are evil, they hate Christianity, this other not-religious thing is religion, trans people are evil… yeah. And he wants direct endorsement of Christianity. Now, I don’t think that taking down a pride flag is directly oppression, but I definitely see it as a first step: establishing that not-Christianity is a religion, and should be supplanted with Christianity by the state. So, having listened to this… I would dismiss him as a madman if he weren’t giving a speech at the RNC. But he is. And I see what he’s saying as setting the foundation for much worse. There’s nothing good to come of defining Everyone Else as being evil.