#she fucked your sister i would think her capable of at least recognizing you

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

Dave: hey, i don’t know if you remember me–

Kanaya: Yes, We Lived In The Same Meteor For 3 And A Half Years

[sabertoothwalrus]

Your tags on the Elven Queen vs Laois "close to a mixed race child" and the differences and. The fact that Marcille as well half elf head magic advisor, him canonically wanting his misfit friends help him run the country (whether capable or not). She can't even pull the "older and wiser" card with Yaad "I'm older then all you long life races" around. She thinks about how somehow this all boils into a fairly successful kingdom and gets a migraine

Godddd I spent so much time thinking about dungeon meshi politics yesterday.

I genuinely don’t think the Queen of Elves would have a change of heart towards mixed-blood people. I think it would stress Kabru the FUCK out because the political tensions this would cause (but also he’d be a smug about making the elves angry, serves them right.)

The dwarves are a different story. Even if the King also hated mixed-bloods, most dwarves look to their local governance than the King. It’s also common for dwarves & gnomes to have families together, so at the very least, dwarves are accepting mixed-bloods as long as they’re both long lived races.

Even if they weren’t, it’d be funny if dwarves became more progressive culturally just because they hate elves so much shfhshdhsjs AGAIN. THE POLITICAL IMPLICATIONS OF THIS.

Imagine. Marcille feeling guilty and targeted simply for being mixed-blood on a royal council. Trying not to feel like her whole existence is undermining the legitimacy of Laios’s new kingdom.

And the worst part? she’s GAY

LIKE!!! we don’t know how accepting this world is of gay people. And ngl I sometimes think it’s more interesting when stories have homophobia. We know the village the Toudens grew up in was fairly conservative. We know Otta is a canonical lesbian, but she was, yknow… arrested.

What if Laios, wishing the best for his little sister and one of his closest friends, legalizes gay marriage in Melini. What if their marriage isn’t recognized in other countries? What if people start to move to Melini BECAUSE they want to get married. What if Melini is seen as some silly, backwards, laughing-stock of a kingdom. God, Kabru would be like “listen I love what we’re doing here but I’m trying not to start an outright WAR. 😭”

Oh god I haven’t even touched on Falin’s chimerism. That’s probably also a sore subject. WHEW!

[lowlylux]

I am a Sinner (You are a Saint)

Chapter Fourteen | One World

Ship: HeiKazuScara

Rating: E

Status: In Progress

Word Count: 3.5k words

Description:

“You shall be cast out of the heavenly realm indefinitely.”

Kunikuzushi feels arms grab his own as he is forced to his feet. He struggles, keeping his eyes on his mother only. “Mother! Don’t let them do this!” The guards continue to drag him away, even if it is a struggle. “Mother!” He knows the gate to the human realm is growing closer to him. The more time passes, the less chance he has to escape. But the divine never back out of their decisions…never. He looks to his mother one last time, hoping that she at least looks at him. But her gaze refuses to meet his own.

When he is finally cast out, the air rushing past his entire body, he could only visualize his mother’s pained expression.

He has never felt so alone…

AO3 Link

“I’m surprised you actually showed up,” Kaeya says casually, crossing his right leg and placing it on his left.  He has some sort of drink in a glass, and Scaramouche hopes it isn’t alcohol just for the sake of everyone’s sanity.  “Considering they showed up to your house, no one would judge you for staying home.”

“You definitely would have talked about it for days afterward,” Diluc says with a scoff.  He’s sitting with Childe, in seats far away from Kaeya.  Childe is holding onto Diluc’s waist, resting his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder.  “But Scaramouche, it’s good you came.”

Scaramouche hesitantly takes a seat, noting that for once, the bar is completely empty save for the few people he expected to see today.  “For all the praise I’m getting for showing up, I’m still not sure why you all wanted me here.”

“Are you familiar with the gnosis pool?”

Scaramouche nods, growing uncomfortable with the conversation.  “The divine determined that knowledge was superior to the evolution of the angelic realm, and mandated that an angel’s memory should be available to others.  Although, I’m not too sure how much is updated if we fall.” Scaramouche’s eyes flick forward, staying on Kaeya.  “Why do you want to know?”

Kaeya takes a sip of his drink before talking, staying as calm as ever.  “We have reason to believe that the current leader of the demonic realm is a fallen angel.”

Scaramouche’s heart drops at such words, looking to Childe for some assistance.  He doesn’t even know why, but something in him hopes that Childe can shed some light on the situation, but the demon avoids his gaze.  “What do you mean?  Angels don’t just fall to the demonic realm…and based on my own memory, we haven’t had anyone fall since before the war.  So who exactly do you think the Tsaritsa is?”

Diluc squeezes Childe’s hand for a moment before sighing.  “Have you heard of Barnabas?”

Scaramouche’s brain feels as if it has short circuited, unable to fully recognize the words these people are saying.  “She died after the war.  We held a funeral for her.”

“She’s alive.”

“No,” Scaramouche says, shaking his head.  “It was shortly after I was created.  My mother specifically told me that I was created due to the rage of losing both her sister and Barnabas.”

“And what if she lied to you?” Kaeya questions, rolling his only visible eye when Scaramouche sends him a look.  “She lied, saying that she didn’t know about the uprising and you’re sitting here looking at me as if she is a saint.”

“She’s my mother.”

“And she lied to you, get over it.”

“Kaeya, that’s enough,” Diluc says, sitting forward.  “I’m well aware that this entire situation is fucked up, but that doesn’t mean you need to be an ass to the only chance we have.”

“If he was actually capable of basic comprehension maybe I wouldn’t have to be.”

“And if you were able to properly communicate with others we wouldn’t have a problem,” Diluc hisses out, grabbing Childe’s hand for comfort once more.  The demon is the one to squeeze this time, successfully calming the man.  “We have reasons to believe that Barnabas was able to ascend and become an archangel, and in order to continue their control, the divine cast her out.”

“If she became an archangel, people would have talked about it,” Scaramouche says, not quite in denial, but suspicious.  “Everyone in the angelic realm believes that she is dead…but…”

“But?”

“It would make sense why Celestia was afraid of me becoming too involved with anything,” Scaramouche mutters, putting the puzzle pieces together himself.  “They claim that our ranks are eternal, but if one was able to ascend, it could potentially decimate their entire society.  It would make sense that certain people are far more predisposed to ascend, which is why an seemingly arbitrary list of people weren’t able to have free reign like other angels.”  Scaramouche’s gaze snaps forward, “but all this is hypothetical.  The only angel to ascend was rumored to be under high stress and protecting another life.”

“And what happened to that archangel?” Diluc questions, staying calm and keeping an even tone as he speaks.

“The records of them were sealed into the gnosis pool…and I never felt the need to look into it.” 

“Scara,” Childe says hesitantly, talking for the first time.  “If Dottore and Pantalone are going after you, that means they are close to summoning the Tsaritsa.  We need to find out if she has weaknesses.”

“And why are we sure that you won’t betray us?” Kaeya asks, his attention now on the demon.  “You’re a harbinger, that’s only awarded to those who are her confidants.”

“My queen is the reason I am able to make my own decisions.  I stand here only because she saw something in me,” Childe says defensively.  “If there is a way to make her stand down, I will urge all of you to take it.  But, she’s changed over the centuries.  While I adore her and owe her my existence, I refuse to sit by and let her destroy the human realm and herself.”

“In other words, shut up about things you don’t understand,” Diluc mutters, rolling his eyes at his brother.  His attention goes back to Scaramouche.  “Only angels can access the gnosis pool, and if our theory is correct, we need to see if there is something we can use against her.”

“What if I can’t access it anymore?  They cast me out.”

“Then it will be another failed plan,” Diluc says, trying to reassure the angel.  “We need a few days to get the spell ready so you can access it from here…but if it ends up being unsuccessful, we will not fault you in the slightest, understood?”

Scaramouche can only nod.

●•·•●

Heizou didn’t expect returning to work to be as boring as it is.  No, boring is not quite the right word for it, aggravating is a much better one.  Everyone is tip-toeing around him, acting as if he is a porcelain doll that could break.  Yes, he was kidnapped during an investigation, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t against going back out there.

Scaramouche is connected to the magical world, yes, but maybe Heizou can do something to stop Dottore and Pantalone in his own world.  He didn’t see them coming at first, but he knows their tricks.  Possession, shape shifting, and an over reliance on their opponents being less intelligent than them.  Heizou can definitely work with that.

Hell, he doesn’t even know what Scaramouche is doing at the moment.  He trusts him, but that doesn’t mean he can’t wonder what’s going to happen.  He clicks through files he’s accumulated on both Dottore and Pantalone.  

And there really isn’t much.

He didn't expect there to be, after all these two have been planning all this for a long time.  They even infiltrated his workplace to keep other people’s eyes off the truth.  However, there is still enough to work with.

Heizou considers himself to be smart.  He has to be when working as a detective.  So seemingly meaningless information is like a Christmas gift to him, forever furthering the investigation.  Because if you can look into the small facts, like what they ate at a steakhouse, or where Dottore went to kindergarten, threads begin to unravel.  The truth can’t really be hidden, merely obstructed.  But if you take the time, you can blow away the dust and reveal everything you need to know.

So he definitely plans to do that.  While Scaramouche can continue to unravel their plan, Heizou will attack their entire way of living.  It’s not a solid plan, and it could most definitely come crashing down and actively hurt him in the end, but Heizou cannot bring himself to care.

“Heizou?”

The detective’s attention snaps away from his computer, allowing him to look at his superior.  Kujou Sara stands there, looking hesitant.  “Did your boyfriend adopt another wild animal?”

Heizou raises an eyebrow, fully questioning what she is asking.  When Sara points to the ground he stands up, looking down.  And honestly, he didn’t expect to see a fox sitting there calmly, staring directly at him.  And the eyes…he definitely thinks there is something more to it.  

Quickly recovering, he just shrugs.  “Kazuha said he needed to grab a few things and asked me to take care of this one.  I should have asked, sorry.”

“…make sure it doesn’t ruin the carpets,” Kujou Sara says with her eyes narrowed.  She obviously doesn’t believe him, but he really appreciates her trusting him to not do anything stupid.  But who knows, thinking a random fox is anything other than a fox is rather stupid.  

When his boss leaves, the fox wastes no time in jumping onto Heizou’s desk.  It stares at him, blinking slowly, clearly assessing him to an uncomfortable degree.  Or maybe it isn’t, maybe Heizou is going crazy.  Honestly, that is probably the answer now that he thinks about it.

“Are you actually a fox?”

It was a shot in the dark, and it definitely makes Heizou feel like he is going crazy.  But with the way the fox moves, it almost feels like the creature shakes its head.  

“Are you here because of Scara?”

It nods this time, and Heizou feels as if he is going insane.  It is a good thing he has his own private office or his coworkers would mock him relentlessly for talking to a literal wild creature.

“Are you here to kill him?”

It shakes its head.

“To protect him?”

It just stands still, which Heizou decides must mean that the situation is far more complicated then a simple yes or no interrogation.  

“To watch him?”

The fox nods once more, and it surely was not the answer Heizou was hoping for.  Honestly, he doesn’t know what he is really hoping for.  

“Why?”

While Scaramouche insisted that he could craft jewelry using the feathers he selected from his wings, both Heizou and Kazuha refused.  Both said that they would do it right, and while neither had previously done anything close to jewelry making, neither of them faltered in their collective decision.  If the receiver of the feather is supposed to craft the jewelry in the Angelic Realm, they can do it down here as well.

During his breaks, Heizou had been watching Youtube videos on how to start crafting an necklace that would rival whatever Kazuha is cooking up (and has most likely finished by now).  So, when this fox stands up and puts a paw on the feather, Heizou cannot help but worry.

“You’re connected to heaven?”

The fox stands still: another complicated answer.

So, Heizou just narrows his eyes for a moment, his mind going through many possibilities before arriving at a very simple one.  He stares at the fox for a moment, looking for anything that indicates something different from what he has come up with in his mind.

“His mother sent you.”

The fox nods and Heizou quickly realizes that maybe this will be a day he doesn’t talk about once he gets home…at least not with his angel.

●•·•●

Kazuha found himself admiring the earring he made, the feather almost shimmering in the light.  Scaramouche took forever selecting two feathers, according to the angel he needed to ensure that both were of equal quality.  But Kazuha likes to think this is special.  Scaramouche isn’t unintelligent, he knows that both his partners favor different styles, and most likely selected feathers to portray that.

When the front door slams, Kazuha sits up immediately, heart racing when he thinks of Scaramouche seeing the earring for the first time.  He can already imagine the smile that will spread across the angel’s face.

But Scaramouche barely even looks at Kazuha before flopping onto Kazuha with the grace of an elephant.  He buries his face into Kazuha’s shoulder and just sits there, as if silently asking Kazuha to ask what happened.  

“I’m guessing hanging out with Childe didn’t go well.”

Scaramouche only grunts in response, nuzzling further into Kazuha’s shoulder.  Kazuha takes that as an answer though and continues on as if he had said a thousand words.  

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Scaramouche moves, shifting so that he and Kazuha are face to face.  He looks conflicted, and Kazuha frankly does not like it whatsoever.  “They think there is more to the current ruler of the Demonic Realm than meets the eye.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t ask me to clarify,” Scaramouche says with a sigh, messing with Kazuha’s sleeve.  “I don’t even know all the details myself…What they’re suggesting is practically impossible.”

Kazuha moves hair out of Scaramouche’s face, silently noting that the angel’s hair is getting long again.  But He doesn’t have the heart to point it out, especially due to the choppy haircut Scaramouche once gave himself, now growing out into quite a nice one.  “That sounds stressful.”

“It’s fine…I think,” Scaramouche says, not really believing his words.  “But they want me to do something that I’m not comfortable with…Looking into another angel’s memory is something I never thought of doing.”

“What?”

“Celestia makes sure our memories are preserved so we can further our own knowledge.  It’s not utilized a lot because we don’t have control over what is saved.  It saves every moment of our lives.”

Kazuha pauses, his mind going over the sudden information.  “Does that mean that any time we…”

“I don’t like thinking about it.”

Well that certainly answers his question.  Now, while he does feel comforted that it probably would never be seen, he cannot help but feel a bit uncomfortable that any intimate moment he has had with Scaramouche has been recorded.  “Why didn’t you say anything about that?”

Scaramouche finally meets his gaze, and Kazuha's heart practically melts.  The angel looks absolutely devastated, as if waiting for Kazuha to throw him aside for this.  His wings are even drooping, barely visible due to the angle Kazuha is sitting at.  “I didn’t think my memory was still being recorded once I was cast out.  I’m so sorry, I should have told you both about the possibility.”

“Hey,” Kazuha says softly, holding Scaramouche’s face, “you didn’t know.  And if what you said is true, not like someone is going to just happen upon your memories.”

Kazuha notices Scaramouche’s eyes watering and immediately brushes away any tears that start to fall.  “You two are too good to me.  I don’t deserve it.”

“Scara…If I could, I would shower you with everything you would ever want until you admitted that you deserve that tenfold.  I would hold you in my arms, praising you until my throat goes dry.  But for now I think just telling you that neither Heizou nor I care about something as insignificant as our lives with you being immortalized.”

Scaramouche stares at Kazuha in shock, his eyes wide.  Honestly, Kazuha suspects that the man’s brain has short circuited.  

“I love you so much.”

And suddenly Kazuha also cannot think clearly.  He doesn’t even respond at first, instead causing the angel to worry as he stays silent.  Kazuha pulls Scaramouche closer to him, pressing his lips softly onto the other’s.  When they separate a few moments later, he smiles.  “I love you too.”

And for the first time, Scaramouche is actually looking at Kazuha.  Kazuha notes how the angel looks him over, observing every reaction he is having due to the sudden confession.  But when Scaramouche spots the earring, he visibly stops before reaching out and touching it.

“What do you think?”

“You made it an earring,” Scaramouche whispers, letting out a breath as he continues to observe it.  He holds it in his hand, letting the light catch it as he just stares.  But when he suddenly grabs Kazuha’s face, forcing a kiss that does not feel like the previous one, Kazuha cannot help but gasp in surprise.

Truthfully, if Kazuha knew that wearing the feather would cause Scaramouche to kiss him like this, he would have done it immediately.  He keeps his hands to his sides, deciding to not make a move until getting permission.  Not that it really seems like he needs it, as Scaramouche continues on without a care in the world.

He deepens the kiss, his arms moving to loosely wrap around Kazuha’s neck, successfully pulling him closer.  Kazuha is becoming hyper aware of every move Scaramouche makes, moaning into the angel’s mouth as the world around them disappears.

They separate for a moment, their breaths mingling as they just appreciate each other's presence for now.  Kazuha rests his forehead on Scaramouche’s, softly smiling.  “Are you okay?” Scaramouche asks.

And Kazuha, for all that he likes to believe he knows how the human brain works, looks absolutely confused.  “What?”

“You’re stiff…” Scaramouche mutters, intertwining one of his hands with Kazuha’s.  “Did I do something wrong?”

Kazuha squeezes his partner’s hand, pressing a soft kiss onto the angel’s forehead.  “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I thought I told you to stop doing that.”

“I guess you did,” Kazuha replies, smiling as Scaramouche gets visibly annoyed, scrunching up his face.  “Maybe I’m developing memory loss due to my old age.”

“You’re twenty-four,” Scaramouche says with a blank expression, and then, seemingly, he gets another idea.  “And I’m older than you by a few thousand years at least.”

“Ah but humans change faster than angels, so how do you know I’m not old by human standards?”

“I’ll tell Beidou you called her old.”

“Please don’t.” Kazuha shudders at the thoughts of his last breath as Beidou murders him.  He decides to ignore those thoughts, as he would at least hope Beidou wouldn’t kill him.  “But seriously, what do you want me to do?”

Scaramouche’s cheeks flush red as he pushes against Kazuha’s chest.  “You can’t just ask me something like that.”

“Why not?” Kazuha asks coyly, grinning widely.  “Is it my fault that I want to know what you want?  Or maybe I could just do the process of elimination, hmm?” He still smiles as he presses a soft kiss onto Scaramouche’s lips.  “Maybe this?” He grabs a handful of Scaramouche’s hair, pulling the angel's head to the side so that he can start pressing soft kisses onto his partner’s neck.  

And even though Scaramouche is clearly enjoying this, the angel shakes his head.  When Kazuha lets him go, he doesn’t fail to hear the whine coming from him.

“Well I simply need to think about this then,” Kazuha says, messing with the angel’s wings this time, pulling at specific feathers meticulously.  “Maybe you just tell me what you want.”

Scaramouche nods, visibly swallowing before taking Kazuha’s hands with this and placing them on his hips.  Kazuha wastes no time in squeezing his partner, finding the edge of Scaramouche’s shirt, drawing circles onto his skin.  He pushes against Scaramouche’s hips with his own, relishing in the small sounds Scaramouche releases.

Scaramouche is always vocal, and honestly, Kazuha loves it.  He adores relishing in the knowledge that his angel slowly begins to lose himself when like this.  And when it starts happening, he knows that he is doing everything right.  

Scaramouche still does not relinquish control however, instead moving his hips against Kazuha’s, just using the hands on his hips to keep him stable.  Kazuha just stares at Scaramouche, enjoying every expression that appears on his beautiful face.  

But Scaramouche doesn’t seem as enamored with the idea of Kazua watching him with a stupid smile on his face.  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Well if I can only keep my hands here, there’s not much else I can do,” Kazuha teases, closing his eyes for a split second when Scaramouche grinds against him with the right amount of pressure.  

“I hate you,” Scaramouche mutters, burying his face into Kazuha’s shoulder.

“Does that mean I can move my hands?”

Scaramouche doesn’t respond, instead continuing his actions.  But, with Scaramouche’s current mood, Kazuha takes that as an answer and starts to toy with the angel’s waistline.  Scaramouche lifts his hips immediately, giving him an opening to push the clothing down.  

“It might be uncomfortable..”

“Shut up.” Scaramouche mumbles into his shoulder.  His hands are traveling down as well, messing with Kazuha’s sweatpants.  There aren't even words needed as Kazuha just picks up Scaramouche and allows him to tug them down.  

When they get comfortable once more, Kazuha finds enjoyment over how flustered Scaramouche looks.  Kazuha grins as Scaramouche cries out, his eyes tracing over every feature and reaction as he slowly moves his hand along both his and Scaramouche’s cocks.

Scaramouche holds onto Kazuha tightly, his nails digging deeper the longer their moment lasts.  And, to the angel’s credit, it does last for a good while.  Even when everything is said and done, Scaramouche stays close to Kazuha, his breath tickling the other’s neck.  

Kazuha presses a few scattered kisses onto the angel’s skin, enjoying the silence.  And it is in this moment, that Kazuha determines that he refuses to let Scaramouche deal with all of this alone.

He will help.  That he is sure of.

13 << >> 15

masterlist

[puffpasstea]

Satellite

Warnings: mention of drugs.

---

Chapter 9

"So, how's she?" I pressed the phone harder against my ear as if to make up for the thousands of miles between us.

"Good, really good...Yeah. They're letting her come home today. Mum's just gone to pick her up."

"That's great, Harry! I'm so glad!"

"How's...everything on your end?" I knew what he was really asking.

"Stop, Harry. We told you not to worry about work. We've got it covered."

"I just feel bad. Feels like I've abandoned everyone. Chris and Sienna, especially."

"Believe it or not, they're perfectly capable of giving interviews without your irresistible charm to lead them through it."

"you think I'm irresistible AND charming?" I could practically hear the grin in his voice.

"Fuck off."

Harry chuckled, and relief instantly washed over me. I didn't realize that I hadn't heard his hearty laugh in a long time. The high pitched, lilt, almost song-like to my ears was so distinct. I could picture him with a hand on his stomach, his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. I missed his laugh.

"Hey, could you turn your camera on? Wanna show you Gemma's room."

"y-yeah, sure." I ran a quick hand through my hair and adjusted my shirt collar, making sure I looked good enough.

Harry walked me through the set up he'd put together. "Do you think this is enough pillows?"

It was sweet how fussy he was being over the smallest of details.

"Like, if it were you, what would you wanna have by your bedside?" He asked, chewing on his lower lip worriedly.

"My thoughtful little brother."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm being serious!"

"So am I! Harry- look, it's not about the items within her reach, it's about the effort you're putting into showing her that you're there for her. That's what's going to give her comfort."

"I just- want it to be perfect. Don't wanna miss anything."

Harry had been determined to be more present in his family life since his sister's illness. He didn't want to ignore the wake-up call that these unfortunate circumstances had given him about his relationship to the people in his life. And I could see how hard he'd been trying. As difficult as the decision was, he'd stepped back from promoting the film to go be with his family and support his sister. I was proud of him for recognizing what needed to be done, though I was by no means surprised. He wouldn't be the Harry that I knew if he'd taken this lightly.

"Alright, well, mum's just texted me that they're almost here. I gotta go. Talk soon?"

"Keep me posted on how she's doing!"

"Will do."

***

A week later, just as I was logging out of a virtual work meeting, the landline in my hotel room began to ring.

"Is...this Alice's room?" The voice on the other end of the line asked.

"Yes, this is Alice...sorry, who is this?"

"Oh, it's Jeff! Azoff? Harry's manager?"

"Oh? ohhh! Hi- Hi, Jeff. To what do I owe this...call?"

"Well, umm, come downstairs and you'll find out."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm trying to say I'm in the hotel lobby. Would you come down and have a cup of coffee with me? let's chat."

"S-sure, I guess."

"See you in a bit?"

"Yeah."

The phone went silent. I froze in place, listening to the monotonous beep announcing the end of the call as Jeff hung up. It took me a moment to remind myself that I had no reason to feel nervous about this. Unlike Harry, I don't pay Jeff to tell me what to do or not to do. It's not like he can actually do or say anything of consequence to me. But that's exactly what made this whole thing so strange. I couldn't think of a single reason why he and I would ever need to interact. A single good reason, at least. So it must be something bad. The kind of thing that you can't just mention over the phone, or via text. And thus began the longest elevator ride of my life. All the way to the lobby, I wondered if Jeff was here to tell me that Gemma's back in the hospital, or that Harry's been in a plane crash on his way back to LA, or...

A hotel staff member walked me to Jeff's table at the cafe in the lobby, pulling my chair out for me and announcing that he'll be back to take our orders in a second. Jeff opened the menu, glancing at his options.

"Have you had the cappuccino here, yet? oh, you must have the cappuccino, it's to die for!"

Ok, so he's not here to inform me of anybody's untimely demise; surely he wouldn't use 'to die for,' if he were about to tell me that someone's dead.

The waiter returned. "What can I get for you this morning?"

"We'll have two cappuccinos-" Jeff started.

"Actually, just black coffee, for me, thanks."

Jeff waited for the waiter to be out of ear shot before turning back to face me, and, taking a sip of his complementary water, he looked at me. "You don't like me very much, do you?"

"Not even a little bit."

He smiled brightly. "Good. I wouldn't be doing my job right if you liked me."

"So, are you going to tell me why we're here?"

"Of course-"

The waiter brought our drinks over, interrupting the conversation. "One cappuccino and one black coffee. Anything else?"

we assured him that we were all set, and with a courteous smile, he was gone again.

Taking an immediate sip of his drink, Jeff dug his hand into the pocket of his coat and took out an envelope, sliding it across the table to me. "Came here to give you this. Didn't think I should mail it or trust someone else with it."

I took the envelope and began to open it. "What's this?"

"From Harry. The keys to his home and a list of discrete spots inside the place."

Jeff was right. The keyring was hefty, fastening together a number of keys, all attached to a keychain with the signature house logo and "Harry's House" written on it. It brought a smile to my face to think about how clever Harry must have found this. I bet he was impressed with himself for the double-meaning.

I picked up the coffee to warm my hands and began sipping on it.

"Those places are where his, umm, fun pills are stashed." Jeff leaned in closer, lowering his voice, "He wanted me to ask if you'd be willing to go over there and...dispose of all of it for him. He's coming home at the end of the week and he doesn't even want to be tempted by the possibility of their presence, you know?"

I nodded and took a big gulp of my drink, burning the roof of my mouth.

"Of course, he wants you to know that there's no pressure to say yes. He could just ask Mitch, or someone else, if you don't feel comfortable."

"N-no. it's no big deal. I'm happy to do it."

"I can drive you over there, whenever you'd like."

"How about- like, now? after this?"

"Sure."

***

I worked my way through Harry's house, room by room. Jeff remained in the main living room area, informing me that Harry had asked him not to get too involved. Occasionally, if I passed him by, he'd try to strike up a conversation, or provide some context for the pieces of art I saw on the walls, explaining the decorative items, award trophies, or personal photos of particularly sentimental value to Harry. It was clear Jeff knew him very well.

In his bedroom, a sweater was folded neatly and placed onto the bed. My hand reached towards it, taking the hem of the sweater between my thumb and index finger, and feeling it. I knew exactly which sweater this was. I'd seen it on Harry on more than one occasion. He'd even been wearing it the night before his flight to London. The feeling of the fabric between my fingers brought me back to that night, and it suddenly hit me that I've been missing him ever since. It feels like it's been so long. I knew why he had to be gone. I was glad even. Because I saw how hard he wrestled with the decision to walk away from film press, and how guilty he'd felt for leaving his co-stars to cover for him. He was in no shape to carry on with business as usual, and he would've regretted it if he'd stayed. I knew that, but it's been a while since, and I was looking forward to his return.

once I'd confiscated all of Harry's drugs, I made my way back to the living room to ask if Jeff knew of any safe pill disposal locations nearby, but he was on the phone.

"Hang on, she's here...It's Harry; he wants to talk to you."

I took the phone, turning around so he couldn't see my smile. "Harry."

"I wanted to say thank you so much for doing this for me. You've no idea how grateful I am."

"Oh, it's- fine, no worries." His sincerity and intensity were throwing me off.

"No, really. I appreciate it more than I can say. Didn't want have to ask Jeff to do it. I feel like a line needs to be drawn somewhere, you know? don't want him to, like, be my 'handler' or something...Gosh, who am I? my 'handler'? listen to the words coming out of my mouth." Harry laughed, partially out of nerves.

"But you're okay with me being your handler?" I whispered into the phone, walking into another room for some privacy.

"You can handle me any time, darlin'"

"Gross."

Harry chuckled.

"So, I hear you're coming back soon." I blurted out, unable to conceal my excitement.

"Yeah, yeah, in a few days..."

"D-do you, uh, do you want a ride from the airport? I could, like, pick you up? we could grab a bite to eat, or-"

"That's sweet, really-"

"But?"

"Well, yeah...I've been thinking," fuck. What now. Nobody ever says 'I've been thinking,' unless it's bad.

"I think... we might need- some ground rules."

"What do you mean?"

"oh, god. I haven't actually thought about how I want to phrase this yet, but...I think we just need to take things slow, you know? We've skipped a bunch of steps, I think. Jumped in head first into the deep end. Maybe we scale back a little bit?"

"Harry, I don't understand any of the words that are coming out of your mouth right now. What? are you saying you don't wanna be friends anymore?"

"I do! oh my god, I do!! Look, I love our friendship. I think we both know there's something between us that we'd be foolish to throw away. You're one of my favorite people on this planet. And because of that, because you're important to me and I don't want to lose you, I think I've got to, like, get a grip on things. I've been flying by the seat of my pants for a while. And it put us in a tough spot. I want to be more intentional with things. take it slow. Set some boundaries. Please tell me you understand?"

Harry had been the one speaking, but I was the one who felt out of breath. I sighed loud enough for him to hear. "I don't know. Like, what kind of boundaries?"

"Well, no more spontaneous late night calls, for starters. That's disrespectful and emotionally manipulative."

"It is? I mean, yeah, it is."

Harry laughed. "I'm serious! And we can only hang out alone in public places. At least for a little while. If we must be secluded and indoors, it needs to be with other people."

"What's a little while?"

"Well, we can discuss this, but, at least from my side, I think....a lot of my problems have been resolved now that I've been able to see my family and make sure Gemma's all good. But there's still quite a bit for me to work through."

"Harry, have you met me? I'm not exactly perfect."

"Don't you think that we keep...crashing into each other, though? and making a mess of the aftermath? "

"I just- don't want to lose you." Unexpectedly, I felt my throat tighten. My heart was racing. I thought I'd be used to the abandonment by now. My whole life, everyone and everything I've ever loved has left me behind. I should've known that telling Harry I loved him would be the beginning of the end for us.

"Hey, you are never going to lose me, do you hear me? never!"

"Doesn't feel like it."

"I'll prove it to you. I know change is hard. It's hard for me too. it's going to be very difficult for me not to call, or text, or kiss you every minute of every day. But, I've got to try. To get better."

"I never want to be the thing that keeps you from getting back to your life."

"you are my life."

***

The end of the week came and I did NOT pick Harry up from the airport, but I did get a text from him

I'm backkkk!!! goodnight. see you Monday!

I did, in fact, see him on Monday. The first thing he did upon his return was hand his phone and mine over to Jeff. They'd installed some kind of filter on both of our social media accounts to block certain kind of comments from reaching us, essentially minimizing the gossip from being a constant force. That seemed to make Harry's shoulders lighter, and I can't lie, the number of death threats against me decreased too.

To make up for his conspicuous and very sudden absence from promoting the film, he made several appearances on the covers of magazines, most of them, on his own. It was clear that his team had booked him these interviews as ways to introduce him to the world as a double-threat. This was about his acting AND his music. However, occasionally, he did some interviews with Sienna and Chris, to focus solely on the film, and I tagged along to provide a few quotes about the cast being an absolute pleasure to work with, and even explain the role that the university had played in making this film.

On occasion when it was all of us, we tended to go for drinks or dinner afterwards, so Harry and I saw each other regularly. On some of his days off, he'd go out for a run with his trainer, and then invite me for a coffee or a smoothie afterwards. Although we kept things light and friendly, always in parks, cafes, and juice bars, always around other people, just as our ground rules required, I knew he was making good on his promise that he wouldn't abandon me. I appreciated his effort, genuinely, but I couldn't deny that things were, at first, slightly strange. I felt stiff having to watch my every move, touch, or gesture around him. I couldn't help but wonder, in the back of my mind, if we were going backwards in our friendship.

"Can I ask you a question?" I mumbled one morning, during a lull in our conversation. I wasn't sure Harry could even hear my small voice over the sound of birds chirping, cafe-goers coming in and out as we sat at an outdoor table. Harry's eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, so I wasn't even sure he was looking at me.

"Of course." He took a long sip out of his protein shake.

"Are you worried we'll never be the same again? with the way things were between us? " I turned side-ways in my seat, so I could face away from Harry, and distract myself by watching pedestrians on the street.

"I hope we never have to be." He spoke without missing a beat.

"W-what?" Are we not on the same page about this whole thing? Had I missed the memo on the future of our relationship?

Harry took off his sunglasses, folding them and hanging them onto the neck of his shirt. His ocean-green eyes shimmered in the bright LA sunshine. " I know it's scary. I'm not particularly a fan of change either. But, I think it would be insane to want to go back to the way things were."

"I liked getting to know you and feeling like you really knew me."

"And you don't feel that way these days?"

I shook my head, feeling suddenly emotional. Admitting this out loud made it inescapable now. I guess there's no way out of this conversation now. "We just talk about the weather, and the differences between London and LA, and food, and all of that's fine, but I still feel like I've lost you."

Harry smiled to himself as he swirled the straw in his cup a few times. "Your favorite flavor of anything at all is vanilla, but you won't admit it to anyone because you think that's boring and might imply that you're vanilla, which we both know isn't true."

"Wha-"

"You know a lot more about architecture than the average person and I'm not sure you're aware that most of it isn't, like, common knowledge. Which I find kind of cute, to be honest; your favorite season of the year is fall; you've never been to Italy but it's your dream to visit one day; if you had to rank my work, gun to your head, you think my first album would go last BUT you also think it's the most underrated. I'm both flattered and confused by that."

I turned back around in my seat to face him.

"I learned all of this about you in the past few weeks! by talking to you about food and the weather and LA and London! I've never stopped getting to know you, Matilda. I don't intend on it."

I was sure my face was red, but I hoped I could disguise it as sunburn. "I just think you don't even know how good "Meet Me In The Hallway" even is. And "From The Dining Table"? I mean, c'mon!"

Harry shook his head and laughed, reaching for his sunglasses again.

***

Harry was right, there was value in the mundane interactions. Besides, the longer we kept doing this, the more I noticed that we'd developed a new kind of ease. It's amazing what can happen when not all of your energy is devoted to trying to decode the mind games or wondering if there was a hidden meaning behind a smile, a hug that lasted too long, or brush of the hand that seemed entirely too intense to be accidental. In fact, the structure and limits around our interactions had injected them with new meaning. I found myself looking forward to our short coffee dates and excitedly anticipating seeing him at group dinners. While things were different now, for the first time in my life, different didn't also feel bad.

***

One night, as I was getting ready to go to bed, I saw my phone light up on the night-stand. It was a text from Harry.

-You doing anything tomorrow night?

-Nope. Why?

-Wanna go to dinner with me? Somewhere nice and quiet. Where we can talk...

-Am I in trouble?

-Guess you'll find out tomorrow at dinner. ;-) Pick you up at 7?

-Sure, 7 works.

-See you then!

What the hell is that about?

[r0mc0m]

this got way longer than i intended so lmfao. it’s a chunky hc / rant post about mac tho ... my heart aches for her every day.

... nah fuck d/ylan c/oyle actually. it took your little sister getting sick and fucking dying for you to get your act together? you should’ve been there for her from the start. smfh.

like yes i’m still going to get emotional and wish that m/ac could stay with future d/ylan whenever i watch it ... she absolutely deserves all the love and happiness and SECURITY ... but man do i get bitter when the next thought comes tumbling in that that’s how it should have always been. he was always capable of it. he just chose to be a dick instead.

i know he’s a product of their dad just as much as she is, their mother’s death had to hit him harder too because she was too young to really know her but he’s older, probably felt the absence a lot more. their stepmother being just a reflection of their already garbage father in some ways had to also suck. but isn’t it all the more reason to give a shit about your little sister and not have to live your entire life with regret for how you treated her 90% of the time growing up? she died and you have to live with knowing that you didn’t do anything to make her life easier, and you don’t get to say your sorrys nor do you get forgiveness. you mourn with this heavy weight of guilt, that you could’ve made her short time on this fucked up earth a little brighter!!!

would he have even gotten his shit together if she lived? or would he just become his dad? honestly ... i think he would’ve just become his dad ... like when he said that her death made him get his act together i really believe it. i don’t think he would have taken any kind of steps to break the cycle ... no ... and he might not have even been any kinder to m/ac. nah. he would’ve continued being just as bad as their dad, cherrypicking what moments he would defend her in or be there for her in. it’s the emptiness of her absence that makes him realize that she meant more to him than he thought. because of course it would be!

AND SHE LITERALLY STILL THOUGHT HE WAS SO COOL MOST OF THE TIME ... accepted his hand me downs ... could have taken mom’s stuff but nah, thought his shit looked cooler. why do you think she always stole your walkman ... she thinks your taste in music rocks ... and the way this is all she’s ever really known. this abuse ... like she just thinks it’s normal. so what reference point does she even have to realize that you should have been kinder. that brothers aren’t supposed to peer pressure you into doing shit for their own amusement, they aren’t supposed to use you as a punching bag, not supposed to belittle or mock every little thing that brings you joy ... he probably looked back on all that shit and finally like fully recognized that there was hardly a soft moment in her life when all she wanted was for things to be softer. she puts up this cold and tough act all the time, but come on ... have you seen her. she cares so much about others but she’s afraid to show it because if you do you’re weak, at least that’s the connection she makes when she sees the behaviors of her dad, of d/ylan, even of a/lice. her bedroom, some level of a sanctuary even though there’s no real safety to be had in her home ... she just wants to read her sweet valley high books and have real friends to just be kids with and all that ... being a girl scout is fun but it’s still rough when you don’t exactly fit in and you still have to come home to endless insults being hurled your way making fun of you for wanting to do something, anything, to feel like a normal kid. and if she never died? he would’ve just kept it up.

that’s just me tho. i think d/ylan is just selfish and not acting entirely out of kindness, but more of a place of trying to lift the guilt he lived with for decades and try to earn her forgiveness. there is kindness there, obviously ... i mean he’s a father now, a lot of things have changed between her death and when she comes to the future and finds him ... but this second chance, it’s more about making himself feel better. like yes ... he’s gone through his stages of grief ... must have made his own peace with it ... but then saw her and after realizing it was real and not just some weird prank it all reset and he was a teenager again looking at his kid sister and knowing what was coming ... what else do you do with a second chance like that ... idk! idk. shrugs. who knows. i just know he must have always cared about her like that but never actually felt a need to show it until after it was too late, and i think that is incredibly selfish regardless of what he does in the future to apologize and try to make it up to her. because at the end of the day ... she has to go back to 1988, and in 1988, you’re still going to treat her like shit.

[sirensmojo]

“KINDRED”, 1 - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, Guns, Tommy & Reader being bitches

Summary: Tommy meets a librarian that he discovered to be the chief of an underground organisation. Needing man enough allies to dirty their hands in the battle against Oswald Mosley, he shakes hands with the devil. Feelings intertwine with business, a mix that leads to unalterable ends...

Word Count: 5k+

*London*

The man entered the library in a hurry, the door making a grinding sound as he paused for a second, his eyes wandered on the areas as if looking for something. 

Your face popped off the book lying on the table where you had been sitting for almost an hour now. 

Quickly enough, when you caught sight of the individual that had just entered your space, your head went down to the printed lines again as the tip of your fingers were scratching, up and down, the back of your neck. 

You heard footsteps navigating through the shelves to which you paid no mind. It’s only when you heard them walking towards your desk that you tuned your ears to the sound.

A shadow fell over the pages and the clearing of a throat resonated in the peaceful silence.

 You sighed at the interruption and looked up at the intruder. 

Your eyes encountered a not so tall man, wearing an elegant and costly-looking dark blue suit, adorned by a neat long coat. 

He remained silent as he opened his coat with one hand, searching his pockets for something. Your eyes stared at his hand as it came out with a cigarette between two fingertips, which you followed with your gaze to his mouth.

That’s when you finally saw his face and recognized him to be Tommy Shelby.

“Searching the political area” the blue-eyed man voiced, not a single look thrown your way. 

He was too occupied lightening his cig. 

You pointed, nonetheless, at the direction of the section he’d asked. You then, hassled back to your book, not giving him a second glance as you turned a page. 

As you did so, Tommy frowned, squinting his eyes. His focus fluttered from your face to the novel a couple times. 

Afterwards, he puffed on his cigarette and walked toward the politic’s shelves. 

(...)

Book in hand, shaking it proudly he reappeared in front of the desk.

“Found what you were looking for, eh?” You offered him a smile as if you hadn’t totally ignored him several minutes before. 

He chuckled to himself. “I’d like to take that for some hours”. 

“If it’s only for a couple hours...” You begin, pointing at the tables in the corner of the building, near the huge windows.

“you must do what you got to do there. Else, you must pay and keep it for at least three days before returning it” You muttered outright. 

Thomas scoffed, turning towards the tables and stared at them with contempt before he turned back at you. He shook his head in disbelief, his mouth opening as if to speak but he didn’t seem to be able to find his words. 

So, with a final frown, he gave up and went back to staring holes into your head. 

You basically just put Thomas Shelby back in his place.

Of course, he knew there were rules, but none of the librarians he has met before actually told them to him.

Too afraid to look a Shelby in the eyes, even more, to surrender them to some rules about borrowing a book. 

But here he was, in front of you that seems not to care what his last name was. 

You let go of your reading, turning it paper against the wood to keep your page. 

Fetching some papers out of the drawer, you began to fill a form with what he recognized to be his name, then as you got ready to write his address, you finally lifted your head and addressed him.

“Would you mind giving me your home location Mr Shelby?” You asked, eyes devoid of emotion.

“Are you going to come and fetch the book yourself if I don’t return it in time, aye?” He returned, tilting his head to the side.

Even if his voice wasn’t capable of wording it playfully, you knew he didn’t take the process seriously. You decided to ignore the peaky blinder and wrote down the address you were well aware of from the very start. 

The man clenched his jaw, watching you write down the address of his mansion as if you knew each other intimately. 

“I’ll do without your signature” You murmured utterly to yourself even though Tommy did hear it. 

“It’s 13 shillings.” You added, staring right at Thomas, not an ounce of fear in your expression. 

He just placed on the table the money he owed and walked away, letting himself turn back to peek at you. 

Some research will have to be done to uncover your identity. He had never until now seen you at the library, although it had been a meeting place for Ada and him multiple times as his sister works here as a counselor.

(...)

Back home, Thomas was met by Lizzie, a shoulder against the frame of the open door, her arms crossed on her chest.

“Pol’ is here, she says she wants to talk to you about Michael”. Her sweet voice contrasting her worried eyes. She was trying to read her husband’s expression.

He walked past her, greeting the maid that indicated to him the presence of guests she had guided to wait in his office. 

“Tommy!” Polly exclaimed, her eyes lit up at the sight of him. 

She had been on Tommy’s side since Michael’s return, but this meeting was leading him up to believe that perhaps, she had finally heard her son out and was here to convince him to do so as well.

Without sparing them a glance, he went behind the large desk and speak to them:

“I’m busy.” 

At the dismissal, Polly’s hopeful face fell.

“There are some things you might want to know”.

At the sound of this voice he had long ago hoped to never have to hear again, his shoulders tensed. Taking his coat off, the two individuals forward him could see the whitening of his tightened hands. Wanting to calm himself down, he lit a cigarette and sat.

After a few strained minutes of silence, during which the other occupants of the room could only stare as Tommy poured himself some whiskey and proceeded to drink it as if no one was there, he finally got sick of seeing their faces, eventuating in him breaking the silence.

“The American gentleman has decided he wants to speak, now.” 

He emphasizes the first words as if to provoke Michael, who knew it wasn’t a question but a statement. So the younger Gray clenches his jaw to remain silent.

“Where’s your wife, Michael?” 

He mockingly said, sipping on the liquor.

“Tommy,” Pol’ warned.

“What? It looks like they make a hell of a couple, ready to take on the world, my business even, eh?” The family leader continues to incite, with a merry tone.

“It’s not like you haven't had your day” Proudly spit his younger cousin, ignoring the staring battle between Tommy and his mother.

The eldest Shelby looked up at Polly’s son with an unreadable expression on his face. He straightened up in his chair and grabbed a cigarette with two of his fingers that he pointed toward the man in front of him.

“See, Michael, you keep saying that you’re willing to take the head of the family business in America out of care for the family. But to me, it looks like you were always lurking at the back, waiting for the moment you’ll be able to take everything for you.” 

He was blankly staring at the younger Gray, waiting for an answer that never came.

Polly’s back stiffened, the insinuation of her son having schemed against Thomas making her unable to even make the slightest move.

She couldn’t blame Thomas for thinking that as it all made sense, but she wouldn’t... couldn’t think her son of being capable of such a thing.

Or at least, that, she wanted to believe.

(...)

Days later, Tommy met with a couple of people, from policemen to bureaucrats, whilst attending the usual business tasks, to learn more about you. 

He had to know if you were a potential risk to his family, after all, you knew his address, what if you communicated it to his enemies, or if you were an enemy?

Not that he thought you were, but something was off. He couldn’t quite yet put his finger on it, but he had a feeling, probably a gipsy thing, he thought to reassure himself. 

The primary reason he got the book was to better study the ascension of different politic’s sides. His actual main focus being to stop Mosley by any means, he needed more knowledge to be able to think of a strategy.

With Mosley, he just couldn’t afford defeat. At least not without giving it a good fight.

Nonetheless, while it began as a business matter, this book gave him an opportunity he would’ve never thought to exist.

(...)

Early in the morning, as he lit up his first cigarette, he heard two quiet knocks at the door. Tommy stood up in a hurry, almost running to the front door, a hand grabbing his gun as he uncocked the safety. 

Nobody knew about this house except the family, and it was far too early for a Shelby to come and visit.

The blue-eyed man took a peek through the window, before opening the door. Gun pointed toward the individual’s head, the tip of it centred right between the brows, Tommy exhaled. 

“I’ve been expecting that book for two days..” the figure paused, sliding a hand in their suit pocket to glance at their watch.“... and 5 hours exactly”.

One of their brows lifted at Shelby’s lack of reaction. Who other than you could it be?

Without a word, you entered the house, your heels echoing against the walls of the elegant mansion’s hall. You looked around as if to confirm that you indeed were inside the house of the famous and feared gangster.

“How about you put down the gun, eh.” You commanded, turning around to look him in the eyes as a snicker slipped through your painted lips. 

“Well, Y/F/N, what do you fucking want?”He was holding the gun steady, ready to shoot whenever, whatever.

“Huh, you researched me. That warms my heart” You mockingly let out, disdain in your voice. “I bet you have questions. So? Did my several years as a nurse at the war impress you, Mr Shelby, or perhaps my calling for illegal & criminal activities?”

You scoffed at yourself. By enunciating those things he probably knew already, you showed him you weren’t impressed he researched you.

“Anyway, all this fuss isn’t necessary.” You tried to convince him again, but this time, your hand went flat on the top of the gun still pointed towards you and pushed it down very softly, taking the blue-eyed man’s hand in yours.

At the touch of your skin, an electric current ran down his spine making Tommy step back. 

Your eyes flickered a quick instant, a curious gleam making them shine. He wondered if you too had felt it.

“Plus, I heard you have children? We wouldn’t want them to see their father holding a gun.” You simply put.

He let you pass him by and continue your walk out of the house, toward the garden.

Coming back to himself, Tommy realized he hadn’t blinked for a whole minute. He exhaled deeply and put back the gun in his shoulder holster. 

It was only when they reached the little table, that the peaky blinder allowed himself to take a closer look at the stranger sitting in front of him. 

Your suit was dark-blue, ornamented with stripes of lighter grey complimented by the various golden rings that adorned your fingers. 

You hair fell beautifully on your shoulders, framing your face. 

His eyes finally reached yours that were underlined by charcoal liner and your E/C iris were shamelessly staring into his heathen soul.

Tommy had heard of the English political party that shook traditions about women, norms and rights. And from the masculine way you were dressed up to the way you refused to fit women’s 20’s haircuts, he thought you might've been a member of the Women’s Social and Political Union. 

Once again it was his intuition talking to him. If he was right and that you were into politics, that means you could be useful in Mosley’s downfall. 

He had to figure out a way you two could get along. 

“What business do you have in Birmingham?” Tommy managed to word even though he is not used to be the one initiating talking.

“I was born here. But ‘am also the owner of the London library where you borrowed your book. And I came here to give the first warning.” You playfully returned, lighting up a cigarette. 

So you were the new owner of the library Ada mentioned when he questioned her. But it just couldn’t be it.

“What? Don’t you think there is enough criminal in here for me to join ‘em, Thomas?” You said as if knowing he didn’t believe you were here solely because of a library. You were reading his silence with a disconcerting facility and it started to get on Tom’s nerves.

“You’re not from here, War Service Record mentioned you were from Paris--”

“My father. I, myself am very much from Birmingham.” You snapped back without even letting the Shelbys head reach the end of his sentence.

Noticing the annoyance all over your face, he felt a sudden need for fresh air aching in his chest. He grabbed a cigarette and ignited it quickly. 

Your mysterious stare was still persistent, almost making the Shelby brother uncomfortable. 

“Is that all, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Call me Y/N. And yes, That’s all.” You got up, ready to leave.

“Then, Miss Y/F/N,” He emphasized your full name as if to put a distance between you two “the next time you step foot in my mansion without being invited to do so, it’ll be a bullet to the fucking head.”

You leant forward as your hands laid flat on the table. You were so close, he could feel your warm breath on his skin. And as you placed your lips to his ear:

“If you ever again point a gun at me, better aim right cause if you don’t, I’ll shoot back and I don’t miss, Tom” You patted his shoulder. 

The Peaky Blinder didn’t know what annoyed him the most, the words or the touch, although if being honest with himself, he would admit the touch wasn’t as annoying as he wanted to believe.

A torrent of thoughts overwhelmed him as he slowly processed the words you had murmured to him. It wasn’t a menace, it was worse than that, it was a promise.

“I’ll be looking forward to your visit, Mr Shelby.”

He stood up, but you were already far away, your coat flailing behind you.

(...)

On an evening, coming back from London, Tommy got home, walked through the hall, joined the dining room and looked at Lizzie that was already sitting at the table:

“Dinner will be without me tonight.” He said, putting on his béret.

“Where are you going?” She asked, but he didn’t respond, turning on his heels and walking outside. “You agreed on letting me in sometimes, Tommy.” She urged as she followed him.

“Well, Lizzie, I’m trying to make today a good day.” He coughed away anything his wife could want to object. 

He drove to the old yet refined London’s building. After he parked, he paused to look intently at the imposing glass doors. 

The building hadn’t always been this huge library. Actually, the last time he was here, it used to only occupy the first floor, but it seems the new owner had bigger plans. 

Now, the whole structure had been remodelled, bookshelves could be seen through the wide windows on all 3 floors, the fourth one had a soft light emitting from it and from where he was, the Shelby brother could see a shadow pacing back and forth.

Only five days had passed since you came to the manor and pressure Tommy with your fearless fierceness, and he could see the arrangement work was almost done. 

While workers were leaving the library, Tom was getting in and envied them as their headache would disappear as soon as they walked out, whereas Tommy’s appeared as soon as he walked in.

He somehow felt like talking to you would be worse than a full day of work.

He opened the heavy doors and as he was approaching the desk, noticed a golden plaque on the nearest wall:   

 Floor 1. Novels.

Floor 2. Science.

Floor 3. Politics.

Tommy paused and read the plaque a second time. 

He counted four floors, didn’t he?

Why would they omit the presence of a fourth one when it was clear someone was up there. The absence of its mention aroused his curiosity, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as a voice approached him.

“Hello, sir, this’ a library. The pub’s the other side o’ the street.” Said the woman with judgment underlining her strong accent.

Tommy looked at her, dismissing her insult by a cough, as he waved the object in his hand.

“Came to return it.” He placed the book on the table, the tip of his fingers patting its cover as the woman put on a fake smile.

“A name?” The voice resonated, its owner opening the drawer full of files.

“Shelby.” 

At the mention of the name, the desk woman raised her eyes to the man standing in front of her and blinked a couple times before glancing at the stairs against the furthest wall. “The fourth flo’, you’re expected.” She leaned toward Thomas murmuring as if telling a secret.

“Fourth floor?” He repeated to himself. So he was right, the top of this building was indeed occupied.

As he wondered who the mysterious shadow he saw earlier belonged to and what might wait for him there, his attention instinctively drifted to Miss forced-smile again. 

She was staring at him as if he owed her something, so he lifted a brow at her, waiting for her to speak.

“I’ll need a pound.” She simply put. 

“‘S’cuse me?”

“The book, Mr Shelby. It’s the penalty.”

He scoffed at the revelation, the woman staring at him until he placed the pound on her desk. She then started filling the returning paper without a second glance to the peaky blinder.

(...)

The fourth floor was a never-ending corridor with brown and cream patterns on the walls that led to an imposing wooden door. 

Apprehension seizing him, Tommy frowned. He wasn’t sure he could trust that fucking desk lady, but the adrenaline led him to knock anyway.

“It’s open.” Stated a distorted voice.

Tommy entered the room, stumbling on a vast sophisticated office.

Classical music could be heard in the background, variations of piano only. Golden framed paintings were hanging on the wooden decorated walls, matching the golden details of the little marble table on his right. 

It was encircled by two leather armchairs and an opulent lion paw sofa. 

On the counter against the opposite wall rested a collection of fancy glass-bottled alcohol and near it was a snifter cabinet.

Ahead of him was a large sculpted desk with an artistic lamp enlightening loads of papers. A desk nameplate indicated Tommy was in your office. His eyes lift to the familiar face. 

“Here you are,” You muttered, getting up from your chair, your heels making a muffled noise on the seemingly expensive carpet. 

A folder in one hand, a cigarette in the other, you passed by him, so close you briefly touched. Your bewitching perfume filled the man’s nostrils with fragrance as his gaze followed you going to the door to close it. 

“Whiskey? Irish, right?” You spoke, joining the counter and pouring two drinks.

For the first time since the blue-eyed man entered the room, you looked up to him. 

“Perhaps Mr Shelby lost his tongue?” You asked with curiosity. 

You looked surprised by Tommy’s lack of enthusiasm as if you were waiting for him to ripost when you cast the barb.

“Is being rude pre-required to work in this library?” He ignored your previous comment.

You frowned in what seemed to be confusion, but quickly smiled in understanding. “Oh, right, Ana. I take it she left quite an impression.”

Tommy scoffed, shaking his head at your ridiculous reaction.

“You do realize that she’s supposed to be welcoming, and not make you want to leave and never return, right?”

You laughed leaving Thomas aghast. “Ana’s not the desk lady. She was only here because I trusted her to send you my way, and she did.” You said with a satisfied smile on your face.

While Shelby was surprised at the first half of your sentence, curiosity took over at the second half. “So this is the first of your gangsters I’ve met, a woman.” 

You knew Tommy wasn’t the type to diminish women’s work according to what you read about him, you surmised it was more to gauge your reaction to him talking about your organisation, which you were fine with.

“All of ‘em, women.” You accentuated your words, mimicking disgust.

He let out a snort, but you kept on as if you hadn’t heard him.

“I bet if you tried to know her you would in fact, like Ana.”

Raising his eyebrows at your admittance, Tommy decided to drop the light talk and get to business.

Even though he was still quite taken aback by the settings of this meeting he hadn’t forgotten the thing he wanted from you. 

He knew you were “prosperous” according to his readings, but this office showed him the chosen adjective didn’t do justice to reality.

“I want to deal with Mosley, Miss Y/L/N. And I’d like to believe you’re here to do the same.” His grave tone filled the room.

“Call me Y/N,” your arm invited the man onto the sofa. 

You handed a cup to the peaky blinder that gladly took it before moving to him with your own and the folder that you dropped on the table while sitting. “here is a list of every man you need to keep an eye on in order to accomplish your plan safely.”

He looked over to you at the announcement of his plan. Of course, you were informed, of course, you weren’t only here for a library. 

He took the file and started to flip through the papers, his index patting on a specific name. He glanced you. 

“Michael Gray” He read out loud.

“You have to know Captain Swing from the occupied six counties and I had met a couple times. I found it funny how you ignored the fact your cousin, who had lost nearly $2 million in America, was serenely aboard the SS Monroe in Belfast dock, plotting with men that want you dead.  Some representatives from County Tyrone and Glasgow UVF--”

“She told me.” Tommy cut you as if he wanted to dismiss the call he had with Captain Swing.

You, aware of what he was trying to do, continued to remind him where his cousin’s betrayal began.

“They were talking ‘bout how they’d divided up the English racetracks after they’d blown away your legs.” 

You were intently looking at him, accentuating some words as if to show the urge for him to realize the gravity of the situation.

Tommy wasn’t waiting on a specific call that day, so he knew trouble was coming when the operator told him the call was from Belfast. 

But God, it was worse than anything that could be expected. 

A certain Captain Swing captured his cousin that was returning from America. She said he was dealing with some men that were Shelby’s enemies, talking about his downfall and the benefits of it. 

She offered him two options: Put a bullet in the head of Michael right away or send him “home”, to Birmingham.

Tom did choose the second one... after a long minute of thinking.

“And may I ask… why are you doing me this favour?”

The woman on the phone clicked her tongue before responding, 

“Because, Mr Shelby, we’ve been informed by people at the very highest level, that since your conversion to socialism, you’re now on the side of the angels. And angels can be useful to us.” 

The last thing the peaky blinder heard was the line disconnecting.

“People at the very highest level, eh. So it was you.” He chuckled to himself, getting up to face the windows. 

He placed a hand into his coat searching for something and as he did so, you placed your fingers on your gun that was still in your shoulder holster. 

Even if he didn’t show it, it was clear the news startled him, and you didn’t know what he would do next, you had to be ready.

“You spied on me.” He turned to you and you let go of your gun seeing he pulled out his cigarette case, an unreadable expression on both his face & tone.

As if he needed time to discuss internally with himself, he lit a cigarette and smoked half of it before exhaling deeply, rubbing a hand on his face. 

You waited patiently for the expression of the Shelby brother to tell you you could go on. Even if it wasn’t an easy task to understand or read Thomas Shelby, you were arrogant enough to think you succeeded at it.

“You did it too. You’re just not used to being searched the way you research others.” You managed to slide your hair from one shoulder to the other, to light a cig. 

“You get used to it.” You assured him, inhaling as much smoke as you could. 

“Listen, you don’t get the right to erase crucial information because it’s about a member of your family. He is a threat that needs to be dealt with, Thomas. I know you trust no one, even less me, you have no reason to, but I’m saying it anyway because I want you to understand that not every time you do something right, innocent people have to die.” 

As soon as he heard your last words, he turned to you, waiting for an answer to a question he hadn’t worded yet.

“Who’s going to die?” He muttered.

“We are to be partners, so I’ll give you an ounce of who I am: my father died at the beginning of the war, leading me to enter it. When I joined the nurses I wanted to die, just like him. He was all I ever had, I didn’t think I could be anything without him. You damn know war, so I’ll skip to what happened after: I came back. I’ve failed to die, but my profile caught the eye of a police officer. He saw I could use my head and logic to know my enemy’s strategy and predict their next move. So I worked for him nearly one year before I killed him.”

You totally ignored Thomas' question, hoping your monologue will keep Tom’s mind busy so he’d forget what you previously said, and it worked. 

Tommy’s face met with your piercing-eyes as you shrug.

“Corruption. Soon enough, the police department found a bounty killer in me.” You stop at Shelby’s scoff. He shook his head, brows raised as reaching for his alcohol. He then led his cup to his mouth and drank it in one go.

“Didn’t you find that?” Your high-pitched tone expressed your surprise.

“Nah.” He clicks his tongue. “So you’re a copper?”  You shook your head.

“I stayed in Paris, as I already had quite a reputation there. People respected me despite my gender, so I was able to do most things women are forbidden to do. On one hand, I was still a bounty killer with some girls, on the other hand, I’d started a counterfeit money’s enterprise. And given all of my options there, I opened a bar for women to debate and learn. It wasn’t easy as I wasn’t married, there was no man to “tame” me as high society people said, but I managed to buy a racetrack, and with a little bit of fighting, gave women the opportunity to bet. And even if I fought for the women’s cause, men liked my face along with what I represented... “ Thomas' stare got heavier as questions came to his mind at almost each of your sentences.

“I used their attraction towards me to get what I wanted. And ultimately, I entered politics.” You sipped on your drink.

“You forgot to mention you being a librarian, aren’t you, Y/N?” It was the first time he’d called you that, but it somehow felt natural. 

As you smirked looking away, he could tell you’d noticed how good your name sounded on his lips.

“It only helps for the public image. People like to ask questions about your income sources if you hadn’t noticed. And for people like us, it’s better to have sturdy explanations.” You served yourself another full cup of whiskey.

“Was it the chase of gangsters that made you like whiskey over gin, eh?” Tommy teased you.

“Are women solemnly allowed to drink gin, Mr Shelby?” You raised a brow at him, curiously waiting on his answer. 

“You were indeed a suffragette.” He firmly stated, nodding to himself.

“Bonne intuition *speaking french*(=good intuition). That’s good.” You were pleased. 

“I, when leaving Paris, was told to beware of you. ‘The bastard thinks’ were their exact words. Even out the borders, people know the peaky boys.” You gave a faint smile while Tommy chuckled, smoking his cig.

“We’re going to need it for this new war.”

“Need what?

“Instinct.” You got up, turning up the volume more. When back, you filled Tommy’s glass. You found the man looking through one of the windows, arms crossed in his back.

“Not so sure it works that way around here.” 

You joined him, handing him his cup. He stepped aside, putting a certain distance between you. You were faster than he to noticed.

“All the big cities work the same, Mr Shelby. I’ve been here before, once you know the flaws in one of ‘em, you know the flaw in ‘em all.” You assured him with confidence, stealing the man’s cigarette from his lips.

You stepped into his space.

“You’ve been here before, hm. And what part of your business does this library cover for?” The peaky blinder took his cup from your hand.

He stepped into your space.

“The right question is not ‘what part’, rather ‘what business does this library cover for?’. I branched out, remember? Like you should.”

Tommy was uncomfortable regarding the turning of the meeting.

“Do you like music, Mr Shelby? I, meself enjoy very much Erik Satie. He was french and died in Paris a couple years ago, unfortunately. I’ve met him, several times in fact, at some events such as festivals, ballets, theatrical performances, and other fancy evenings, you know?” You were restlessly talking, seeking any emotion in Tom’s face.

Even if his primary idea was to come and suggest that the two of you could work together, he didn’t think this would’ve been this easy to convince you, or that you would be so open about yourself, you didn’t behave the same as you did during your previous meetings, which confused Tommy.

“No--No, I don’t know, I was born gipsy, not born with a silver spoon in me mouth” His tone filled with sarcasm, he caught you staring at him. You didn’t release the look, nor did he.

“I wasn’t either, I just worked my way up there.” You handed back the cigarette to Tommy.

He glanced at you that was standing beside him, you were now looking at the movements in the street with an unreadable face.

“Guess politics offer diverse opportunities?”

You were fierce, without a doubt, but for some reason, your guards were down this evening. Perhaps this meeting established your partner status?

“Would you drive all the way to Westminster in London to talk every week at the House Of Commons, if not?” You retorted a brow raised high.

So you were aware of his position there... It wasn’t too much to say your whole character was a mystery to him. 

Sometimes you were head-on & aggressive, sometimes you seemed confident and serene. But overall, you were aware of yourself and everything you might be concerned about. 

You knew how to collect information and use it to your advantage. He didn’t doubt you were smart, but the best thing he’d seen about you so far was your patience. 

You knew everything would fall into place as you handled it with a tight hand, so you weren’t rushing over anything nor slipping key information to demonstrate your power. 

You used them at the right time, always reminding the people working with you that you were to be taken seriously.

The more he knew about you, the more emotions were settling in him. Which didn’t happen in a long time. 

He couldn’t even get something as basic as sleep, so how could he afford to feel things? But here he was, his heart fluttering at the idea you were maybe what he was looking for: a man that he couldn’t defeat. A woman, innit.

He was reassuring himself thinking “it’s only business” when catching his thoughts drifting to the tornado that you were, but as you succeeded to impress him every time, he admitted there was something about you that was calling him.

“You’re on your own?” The words left his mouth softly.

“Beg pardon?” You drank your drink taking your time, appreciating the burning spreading in your chest. 

“You’re in town by yourself, no one to call family then?” Tom tried to cover his thirst to know more.

You didn’t respond right away, looking into the liquid in your drink as if searching for the answer there. You were unreadable again.

“I am.” You finished your cup.

The man didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t staring at you, his deep blue eyes searching your soul in the slightest of your move or expression as a peaceful silence settled between you. 

Following Chapter ❱

[ragingbookdragon]

The Theory Of Everything

Outlaws x Tamaranean!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: So y'all remember how I said that one story sparked the beginning of the Outlaws x Reader? Yeah, I lied and wrote the actual beginning. Enjoy! -Thorne

It was a subtle thing, the slightest shift in her demeanor, and he would have missed it if he hadn’t the years of thorough training in order to recognize such shifts. Her default expression was typically a frown and narrowed eyes, and hardly ever did she crack a smile, even at the most downright hysterical jokes and pranks his family would pull on one another. Which was odd for a Tamaranean considering the fact that most of the ones he’d met were usually overjoyed, especially her sister.

Something had also flashed across her face in that moment he mentioned it and she offhandedly muttered about being conditioned to not show emotion, especially that of joy or kindness during her captive years—it was easily taken advantage of by those that wished to do their worst harms to people. Then, she waved it off, and talked about something she’d read on the internet, Resting-Bitch-Face, she’d called it, then actually laughed, and said it was her normal face, there was no particular negative emotion that caused it, it just was—but if it deterred people from being friendly with her, all the better.

And he’d come to realize that her frown and narrowed gaze didn’t ooze disinterest or irritation like he’d once believed. No, now that he’d noticed the shift in her eyes when she was around him and those she cared for, the softness that entered them, and the split second that her brows unfurrowed, features relaxing ever so slightly before they hardened again, covering up any semblance of relative peace. That was the moment he realized he was in love with her, and hopelessly at that too.

But she wasn’t an easy woman to understand, not by a long-shot, or to be around, and she’d even agree with both of those. Most people, like his older brother and his friends, avoided her like the plague and didn’t interact unless it was necessary, despite the fact that she’d once been a member of the Titans with Kory. Hell, most of the Justice League didn’t want to call in reinforcements if it meant she was coming too, she was that destructive when she fought—but her volatile nature held a lifetime of wrath and a raging need to burn away all remnants of abuse—either in herself or other innocents. And she only got it out when she expended her solar energy on those she deemed her enemies.

She was impertinent with people that wasted her time, and she especially hated when people made noise, hell, even when they breathed loudly it drove her up the wall. Which almost made her kill Roy the first time she’d met him because he wouldn’t stop whistling. She was also typically the reason that Jason and Roy couldn’t bring her along to bars anymore because she was more than happy to break someone’s leg over touching her or muttering explicit comments in her ear.

But what most people didn’t take the time to see was that she was caring too. She didn’t show it because she viewed it as a weakness to be taken from her by an enemy, but it slipped through sometimes. One of the easiest memories to call on of it, was the time they’d saved a group of kids from human traffickers and as they waited for the city police to show up, she made even the youngest child learn how to send a strike that would disorient even someone who was larger than they were. That spot just below your chest is called the solar plexus. Hit it as hard as you can, and your opponent will be winded. Curl your fingers in and open your hand, like so. Strike into their middle with the heel of your palm as hard as you can.

Jason wondered if it was the first time she’d smiled since she came to earth, because when she saw the kids slip into a state of absolute fun as they tried to whack each other, a broad grin stretched across her face. But it gave him a glimpse he hadn’t seen of her—that she was still a living being, capable of strong emotion, and if that smile on her face was any indicator, she was feeling pride and understanding towards the children. He loved her smile, wishing that it would’ve stayed a moment longer.

Unfortunately, being smitten didn’t seem to just apply to Jason because if someone as hard-assed and anal-retentive about feelings as he was, was feeling such a way, he knew a loose, emotionally tethered man like Roy was too, especially when the archer gazed at her with those big evergreen eyes like he was staring at the whole universe compacted into one woman. Jason wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

And if he was being completely honest, he didn’t know how to feel about either of them—he wouldn’t deny there was something more than just friendship between he and Roy, and it wasn’t that strong as steel, forged level of trust you get between watching each other’s back when you’re in the thick of danger—it was deeper than that, but they’d yet to bring it up—that or it just hadn’t come up to where they needed to talk about it. And now that there was another person he wanted…Jason wanted to acknowledge it, but he was so afraid of fucking up probably the greatest thing that happened to him since he came back, and that kept him paralyzed from acting on his feelings. And he was content to keep his mouth shut if it meant avoiding that, even if he had to watch the two people he loved the most get closer.

***

She was typically the first one to wake in the morning. Training with the Warlords of Okaara meant rising before the sun, and while she’d learned to indulge in waiting for the sun to appear in the sky before waking here on earth, old habits died hard, and more often than not, she found herself lying in bed in the early hours of the morn, simply staring at the ceiling until she heard Jason or Roy shuffling around in the kitchen. That being said, it was usually Jason who was up and not Roy, the latter being very lazy and preferring to sleep until practically noon.

Today however, she wasn’t the first to arise, coming to stare at Jason as she shuffled into the kitchen, watching as he tiptoed around the area, either consciously being quiet, or unconsciously falling back on sneaking training. His back was to her, and even if she wasn’t one privy to childish whims, she couldn’t help but creep up on him and wait in his peripheral until he finally noticed her. And when he did, it was downright hilarious.

He jerked with a sharp ‘shit’ and immediately threw out his right elbow to jab at whatever had snuck up on him and she caught it with ease, allowing a smirk to cross her lips before it fell and she murmured, “Peace, Jason. It would be unbecoming to attack a teammate.” She pressed her thumb into the flesh underside his arm and his arm tingled with heat. “Better yet a friend.”

Jason scowled and pulled his arm out her grip. “It’s unbecoming to sneak up on teammates too, (Y/N).”

She merely hummed and flowed around him to the refrigerator. The door creaked on its hinges and he momentarily reminded himself to oil it later, watching as she pulled out the water pitcher.

“You are up rather early,” (Y/N) noted. “I have noticed that you sleep an hour or so later than I.” Her glowing eyes pierced him with a clarity that he wasn’t sure he liked. “Is there something on your mind, Jason?”

He shrugged and turned away, busying himself with pulling out a skillet and a spatula. “Just woke up, is all.” Jason didn’t have to be facing her to know that those eyes were boring into his back—he could feel them.

“Ah, so your body has received the needed recovery.”

Chuckling, he replied, “Something like that.” He felt her shift behind him, then the egg carton appeared beside the spatula on the counter, and he glanced over at her, only to see a curious look in her eye.

“Has anyone ever told you that your eyes glow in the dark?”

Jason blinked—not that he remembered. He unconsciously reached up to touch just below his eye and he murmured, “No…they do?”

(Y/N) lifted a hand and he couldn’t fight the way his heart began to pound in his chest at how soft her fingertips were when they finally touched his skin. She drew her fingers up his cheek and to his eyebrow, tracing it delicately, as if he were made of porcelain and the faintest touch would shatter him into a million shards—not like he wasn’t feeling like that already.

“It is strange, Jason. They are teal in the light, but when there is darkness…they glow a vivid green.”

A memory flashed across his mind, waking up in the neon ooze of the Lazarus Pit and he couldn’t help but shut his eyes, trying to will it away. She placed her palm against his cheek and Jason sighed as the warmth bled into his skin, reminding him of those moments of falling onto a warm pillow.

“What is on your mind, Jason?” she asked, and this time she wasn’t probing to see if he’d tell her—(Y/N) wanted an answer, and a real one at that. He let out a shaky breath as he mulled over the words that played on his tongue. “I can see you are thinking about it. Tell me what is weighing on you and I will do what I can to appease it.”

“I don’t know if it’s that simple, (Y/N),” he replied and he opened his eyes to stare at her. Her expression was unreadable and the fact that he couldn’t decipher her thoughts worried him.

“Simplicity. Complexity. These are only matters of time and understanding, Jason,” she explained and thumbed his cheekbone. “You know that I can do so. Let me help you.”

It was now or never and either he told her here or he told her later when the timing was worse, and he made an even bigger mess. At least here, she could let him down easy and swear to never say a word to Roy about it.

Jason took a deep breath and prepared himself for the worst as he confessed quietly, “I…love you, (Y/N).”

The most extraordinary thing occurred in front of Jason—her jaw went slack, and her eyes went wide like she’d witnessed the most impossible thing. And that had to be the second to worst reaction he could hope for because he’d honestly rather have her flat-out rejection than stunned silence, just staring at each other. And stare they did…for a solid minute before she appeared to find her voice.

“I…was not aware you had affectations for me.” (Y/N) blinked, adding, “Is this a recent discovery?”

He shrugged. “I tried to ignore it…I didn’t want to mess up the dynamic we’ve got going but…”

Jason trailed off and she tipped her head to the side, repeating, “But?”

Meeting her gaze, he said, “But I couldn’t stop feeling for you.” Suddenly he felt like a caged animal, too close, too confined, too transparent in her glowing stare and he pulled from her touch, spinning around to place his hands on the counter so he could gather his thoughts.

“I don’t know what’s between you and Roy, but I know it’s more than sex and I’m not going to come between it.”

“Even if you want to?” she questioned, and he gripped the counter until his knuckles turned a sickly, pale shade. “Don’t you want to be the one at my side?”

“What I want doesn’t matter. I want you both to be happy.”

“At your own expense.”

Jason huffed a mirthless laugh. “I’m used to my expense being unseen and uncared for.” He lowered his head as his heart began to collapse on itself. “I love you, (Y/N) and…and I love Roy too.” Even with all he’d been through, Jason wondered if this was what it was like to have a broken heart. “But I won’t stand in the way.”

She was silent for a long time and Jason fought viciously to keep the tears at bay. He’d just revealed two of the biggest secrets he’d ever had in his entire life—discounting the whole vigilante thing—and he wasn’t sure where that was going to leave him in the morning.

A warm hand touched his knuckles and his head shot up, staring wide and teary eyed at (Y/N) who wore a heart-tugging smile. Finally, she spoke, soft and kind.

“Come with me,” she said, and Jason felt confusion course through him as his brows knitted together.

“What?”

(Y/N) pulled his grip away from the counter as if it were nothing and she tugged at his hand. “Come with me,” she repeated, this time a bit firmer and he had no control over his feet as he silently obeyed, letting her lead him down the long hallway until they stood at her door.

She opened it and pulled him inside her room, closing the door with her free hand. Jason had turned on the lights leading to the kitchen, so he had to blink a few times, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness in her room, but when they did, her room was the last place he wanted to be—mostly because Roy was curled up like a cat in her bed.

He tried to pull away, whispering, “(Y/N), please don’t—”

She shot him a look with those gleaming eyes and his mouth snapped shut, though his apprehension bubbled in his chest the closer she led him to her bed. They reached the edge and she pulled him towards her. He stepped forward, allowing her to maneuver him until his knees touched the edge and she placed her hands on his chest, shoving with enough force that if he wanted to stop himself, he had to try hard. Jason didn’t though and he fell back onto the mattress, momentarily glancing over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t wake Roy; he didn’t, and he looked back at her.

“(Y/N)?”

She pulled the shirt from her body, leaving her in her undergarments and she shoved at his shoulder.

“Lie down,” she commanded calmly, and despite everything in his bones screaming at him to get up and flee, he obeyed, albeit when his back hit the bed, he went still as a wooden beam.

“X’Hal, Jason. Relax.” She slipped into the bed beside him and pulled the covers up over the two of them as she pressed herself into Jason’s side, one leg sliding between his.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening at the moment, but when she reached across him and shoved Roy in the face until he woke up, something started to fall into place.

“Roy,” (Y/N) said and shoved him again, smirking slightly when the archer let out a grunt and cracked an eye open.

“What?” he muttered rather annoyed, glaring into her eyes.

She nodded at the man between them. “Jason is here.”

Roy blinked a few times. “I’m sorry?” he questioned, evidently not understanding it the first time.

(Y/N) grabbed Roy’s arm and hauled him until he collided with Jason and he wasn’t sure if it was himself or Roy who was more flustered at meeting each other’s gaze as she simply repeated, “Jason is here.”

Roy took a moment to fully understand what she was saying. “Jaybird?”

Jason pulled the most awkward smile he’d ever produced. “Roy.”

The archer looked between him and her then asked, “I thought we were going to talk to him together?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “He told me he loved us.”

Both men yelped at the same time, vastly different reactions words, but the feeling of shock was still the same. She was obviously unamused at the long, drawn-out moment and Jason remembered she hated wasting time when she gave him another look. She nodded at Roy and they stared each other down before he sighed and nodded, turning his face to Roy.

“She’s…right, Roy.” He let his fingers brush against the smooth skin of Roy’s wrist as he whispered, “I love you. I love both of you.”

He wasn’t sure what reaction was going to come out of Roy, but when the man sat up in the bed with a face-splitting grin, it was safe to say he was relieved.

Roy took Jason’s face in his hands. “You do?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah.”

The archer glanced at (Y/N) then back to him. “We were going to ask you to be with us later today, but we weren’t sure if you would respond positively or not.”

Jason blinked then turned his attention to (Y/N). “Like…for sex?”

She directed her gaze to the ceiling, and she let out the longest and most tired sigh he’d ever heard her make.

“If we wanted you to have sex with us, we would have asked a long time ago.” (Y/N) sat up slightly and lay against his chest. “No, we want you to be with us, Jason. Romantically.”

His eyes widened. “You want me to be with you two? Like a poly relationship?” Both of them nodded and he turned his head up to the ceiling, staring, unblinkingly.

“Do you think we killed his brain, (Y/N)?” Roy chuckled as he nudged her in the side and she snorted, gently rising until she was in Jason’s line of sight.

“Roy and I have not been seeing each other for a long time Jason, but even if we have not, we have noticed that something is missing, and that something is you.” (Y/N) caressed his cheek with the back of her hand and murmured, “We both share your affections. Greatly and strongly do we share them.”

She smiled and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “We love you, Jason.”

He took a second to gaze between her and Roy, his heart stuck in his throat and when he received the heartwarming smile from Roy, he looked back at her.

“You both really want me to be with you?” he sounded so scared, so ready to have the rug pulled out from underneath him with a horrible, tasteless joke, but (Y/N) merely nodded.

“We do, Jason.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “But if you wish to leave, you may. We will not be upset at your hesitancy or refusal.”

Roy placed a hand on Jason’s clothed chest and added, “We want you, Jason, but if you’re uncomfortable with it, we understand.” He smiled and reassured, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, Jaybird.”

They waited. Patiently. And it took Jason a few moments to remember how to breathe correctly again, but when he did, he nodded silently.

“I want to be here…with both of you,” he whispered and before he could even do a thing, the two of them had him caged between them, their heads resting on his shoulders, arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

But it wasn’t confining, it was comfortable, and it was loving. So loving that Jason’s eyes filled with tears and he shut them tight to avoid crying, but when his body began to shake, (Y/N) and Roy didn’t think twice before shifting and pressing their faces into his neck, showering him with praise and love-filled words.

And Jason fell asleep in the arms of the two people who he loved the most—and loved him as well.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 14.5

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  And it’s unbelievable, truly, that he’s found someone who makes him feel as though he’s flying and falling simultaneously. 

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,701

Warnings: angst, dialogue heavy, language, angst, Violence, plot plot plot, did I mention angst? Cuz it’s here

Author Note: Texas weather is no laughing matter and never have I hated snow more than these last few days. This is definitely more of a transition segment so I wrote shorter snippets as a result, but there is some serious plot development nevertheless. The response to last chapter was so amazing I can’t thank everyone enough for all the love and support 💖💖💖

Links to Part 1 and Part 14 and Part 15

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

Ahsoka hijacks the Razor Crest as soon as Din teleports her aboard the ship. She pushes Din out of the cockpit, refusing to let him so much as glimpse the coordinates of the destination she inputs into the nav computer. The Oracle hadn’t been kidding when she said she didn’t trust him going alone to rescue his soulmate.

Bo-Katan hadn’t been phased by Ahsoka’s arrival, adapting to her presence with the same ease as a duck to water. However, Din couldn’t help noticing the moment her mask of cool indifference slipped when Ahsoka asked the reaper to stay in the cockpit with her, claiming they had important matters to discuss. 

Din climbs down the ladder into the hull, recognizing that the conversation about to ensue is not one he needs to be involved in. Fingers twitching restlessly, he commits himself to checking each of the weapons in his armory, sharpening his vibroblades and loading a set of whistling birds into his vambrace. He’d made a promise to Ahsoka against killing Moff Gideon, but he’d made no vow against scarring the Seraph beyond recognition.

When Din’s finished with him, Gideon will be a warning to the rest of the galaxy what happens if you steal from Death. 

He stills at the thrum of satisfaction that runs through his body at the thought of pressing Gideon’s eyeballs out with his thumbs. The darkness within him has grown stronger since he killed Hess and it’s becoming an increasingly harder challenge denying its craving for bloodshed. If not for Ahsoka’s intervention, he would have reaped Xi’an’s soul, breaking another sacred rule. He should feel grateful, but the darkness expresses annoyance instead, upset to have been denied its kill. 

There is a thought that has been plaguing the back of his mind, shackled in the same corner as his other doubts and regrets. He once had iron control over his powers and emotions, but now he’s holding onto his human façade by a mere thread. So slowly he hadn’t even been aware it was happening, his darkness has usurped his morality. 

He’s meant to be a neutral entity, but when he looks at his reflection in the fresher mirror all he sees is a weapon. 

Obsidian orbs have replaced brown eyes. Flawless tan skin has become dissected by lines of ink that once were blue veins. 

Darkness is corrupting him from the inside out, making him a slave to the power he once mastered.

And he doesn’t have a fucking clue how to stop it. 

~~

Bo-Katan joins him in the hull an hour later. She doesn’t say anything , just leans against the wall across from him, and Din continues cleaning the barrel of his amban rifle as if he doesn’t see her. 

The silence isn’t tense or uncomfortable, but he feels her gaze trying to penetrate his helmet. He knows the reaper well-enough to tell there is a question on her mind, but her hesitance to voice it unsettles him. Bo-Katan rarely holds her tongue around him, preferring blunt honesty over sugarcoating, which means whatever is on her mind must be serious. 

He bites back a sigh when she starts restlessly shifting in place and pauses his task. “Ahsoka told you,” he says at last.

“That Moff Gideon fucked with our lives?” Bo-Katan snorts humorlessly. “Yeah, she showed me everything.”

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

“Me too. But it’s...good not being in the dark anymore. I needed to hear the truth,” she replies stoically, but the pointless adjustment of her headband betrays her internal strife. There is a moment of pause before she looks at him again. “I heard about your promise,” she says, and it’s not really a question, except that it is.

Din’s fingers tighten around the rifle. “Did she make you swear the same one?”

“No.” Bo-Katan shakes her head. “No, she didn’t.”

He’s not surprised by the answer. He actually thinks he should have expected it, considering the universe has always held him to a stricter standard than other entities. 

“Ahsoka made it clear to me that this is something between you, Gideon, and your angel alone. I cannot interfere just like you cannot kill him.”

There is bitter resignation in her tone. He recognizes it because he felt the same when he made his promise to Ahsoka. No one likes being told no when they want something. But this—knowing with absolute certainty Gideon is the one responsible for hurting their loved ones and being told you can’t do anything to avenge them? This is the kind of pain that will linger for years to come as an ache in their bones and a scar over their hearts.

It isn’t fair. But Din’s lived long enough to know the universe never intended life to be that way.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Bo-Katan asks, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He blinks at her, realizing this is the question she’d been withholding since she came down the ladder. Never has she asked him a request before. “What is it?”

“You must separate Gideon from the Darksaber,” she answers, expression one of absolute seriousness. “The Armorer warned my people if the Lightsaber was ever mishandled, it would turn against the wielder by transforming into the Darksaber. Instead of empowering you, it deceives you. Fills your head with delusions until you lose your grip on reality entirely.”

“And you want to spare Gideon’s sanity?” Din asks slowly.

“Of course not. The son of a bitch deserves to be punished for his crimes. Even if I did want to,” her lips curl into a snarl at the thought, “there’s no way of undoing the damage done to his mind. What I want is for the weapon to be returned to the Armorer. She’s the only one who can properly dispose of it.”

“Right,” he agrees quietly. Anything that comes out of the Armorer’s forge is built to last the length of eternity. He could toss the Darksaber into the center of a sun and it’d remain whole and unaffected, waiting to twist the mind of the next wielder. Nodding his head, he assures her, “I’ll take care of it, even if I have to cut off his hands.”

“Good.”

~~

Din paces the length of the hull, each thud of his boots making contact with the metal floor blends with the low hum of the engines. Usually he’d ignore the creaks and groans of his home, but the metallic symphony is the only thing capable of drowning out the thoughts in his head urging him to storm the cockpit and retake control from Ahsoka.

“Pacing isn’t going to make us arrive any quicker,” Bo-Katan tells him, not even bothering to open her eyes as she lounges atop one of his storage crates. “Ahsoka said it will be another hour at least.”

He has a retort ready on his tongue when a voice calls out his name from somewhere beyond the Razor Crest.

“Din!”

Din freezes in place as unexpected, heart-wrenching hope slices through his chest. He knows that voice. It’s his favorite in all the galaxy.

“Death?” Bo-Katan asks, concerned by his stillness. “What’s wrong?”

He tentatively reaches out towards the bond, giving it the slightest of tugs. When he feels the distant flicker of a reaction on the other end from his angel he nearly forgets how to breathe.

“The bond,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe and relief. “I can feel it again.”

Longing fills his chest where the hollowness used to reside now that the invisible block separating them is gone. It wraps around his heart, squeezing so tightly he nearly falls to his knees. Din pulls at the bond again on impulse, possessed by the all-consuming need to see her, to have her at his side where she’ll be safe.

The bond protests the harsh treatment, too weak to physically bring them together across the vast distance separating them. He snarls a curse under his breath, hating being helpless to protect her. It’s unfair, he finds himself thinking for a second time. Unfair how it hurts more now being able to feel her presence compared to when he couldn’t at all.

A paper airplane flickers into existence on the horizon of his mind, flying straight into his hand when he reaches out for it. I can’t leave this place. Not yet, the note says. The words themselves are unsettling, but it’s the strength of the emotions she’s attached that has him reeling with shock. For one crazy, electrifying moment he thinks he’s passed onto the afterlife. 

Another note arrives. I miss you, Din. I want to see you so much it hurts. And it’s unbelievable, truly, that he’s found someone who makes him feel as though he’s flying and falling simultaneously. 

As he sends a message of his own, never has he been more certain that if anyone can put an end to the darkness inside of him—it’s her.

~~

“The Moff is an expert when it comes to defensive warding,” Ahsoka says as the three of them stand looking up at a canyon wall that extends in either direction as far as their eyes can see. “But even he can’t hide from my sight.”

Din scuffs at the salt-covered ground with his boot, still coming to terms with the fact all this time Gideon’s been hiding out on Crait of all planets. As much as he wants to believe Ahsoka’s right, his powers can’t detect even the barest hint of the Seraph’s presence.  

Bo-Katan’s eyebrows arch with skepticism. “You’re sure this is the right place? It’s kind of remote.”

“Perfect for building an army,” Ahsoka replies without missing a beat.

Din exchanges a look with his reaper, realizing this is the first time either of them are hearing about this. 

“Gideon has an army?” he asks. “Who—”

“Mercenaries,” she interrupts, turning around to face them. Her blue eyes are distant and cloudy, entranced by a vision. “When I break the warding, all but one will meet the end of their mortal lives attempting to overpower us.”

“All but one? I don’t think so.” Bo-Katan rests her hands deliberately on her blaster pistols. “Anyone who works for Gideon is an enemy in my book.”

“Migs Mayfeld is not to be harmed.” There is steel in Ahsoka’s voice as she blinks back into the present moment.

Din nudges Bo-Katan with his arm when it looks like she wants to continue arguing. The reaper huffs a quiet breath of annoyance, but eventually jerks her head in the tiniest nod of compliance. 

Ahsoka grabs her twin sabers from her belt and ignites their blue blades. She handles her weapons with deadly grace, altering her appearance from peaceful Oracle to fierce and cunning warrior. Turning back to the canyon wall, her gaze trails over the red-brown rocks only to pause and narrow at seemingly random points.

Bo-Katan tries and fails to follow her line of vision. “What are you—”

The Oracle leaps into the air with surprising agility, lashing out with her sabers against the rock. Blinding light bursts forth from the point of collision followed by a flickering glimpse of a gigantic metal door. 

“—looking at,” Bo-Katan finishes quietly, watching Ahsoka swing herself higher to attack another portion of the canyon wall where the next segment of warding is hidden. 

There is something undeniably satisfying about seeing the door materialize as the wardings cloaking it are destroyed. Every precise strike of Ahsoka’s sabers brings Din one step closer to reuniting with his soulmate.

As if spurred by the mere thought of her, fear ripples across the bond like a gust of icy wind, stopping his heart cold. His angel is terrified. Din reaches out as far as the bond will allow in its fragile state, trying to get her attention by pulling at it and shouting her name, but none of his attempts breach the storm of panic. 

“She needs me,” he mutters to himself, stepping forward with clenched fists. His vision narrows until all he can see is the door in front of him, an obstacle that must be dealt with. “She needs my help.”

“Wait,” Bo-Katan calls out, but her voice sounds as if it’s coming from thousands of miles away. “Ahsoka isn’t finished with the warding yet!”

If he were capable of rational thought in that moment, he would have heeded her warning. As it is, he summons his power into the palm of his hand, the darkness inside of him crowing in wicked delight. He winds his arm back, preparing to slam his fist against the door, only for a whipcord to wrap around his wrist with an audible zip. 

He’s pulled backwards onto the ground, breath knocked from his lungs as he lands with a heavy thud. Bo-Katan appears not a second later and pins him in place by straddling his waist. The darkness is demanding he push her aside, knowing with absolute certainty the reaper is no match against him, and it takes all his strength to wrestle the urge under control. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” She glares at him, eyes resembling green flames eager to incinerate him.

“I—” he rasps, breathing heavily. His hand starts trembling, a burning itch under his skin. “I can feel her fear. She needs me.”

Bo-Katan blows out a long, frustrated breath. “Well, shit.” She jostles him then, forcing his head to momentarily clear as his helmet smacks the ground. “Look, soulmates are soulmates for a reason, right? I heard it’s like being two halves of the same whole. So if your soulmate is anything like you, she’s not going to give up without a fight. You have to trust she can take care of herself right now. That she’ll be fine.”

Din bristles. Trust is not the issue here. There is no one he trusts more than his angel—not Bo-Katan, not Ahsoka, not even Kuiil. The issue is he’s being asked to deny the instinct to shield her from danger which is woven into every cell of his being.

“She’ll be fine.” The words come out sounding sharp around the edges, cutting his tongue like shrapnel. “Everything will be fine.”

Bo-Katan disconnects the whipcord and rises to full height, apparently satisfied by his agreement. Din pushes himself onto his feet at a slower pace, his hand still shaking as if it's electric. He looks down at it, noticing for the first time the flesh is gone, replaced entirely by shadow. His expression tightens as he observes the change, realizing the black tendrils are slowly creeping up towards his wrist. 

An alarm rings out, reverberating off the canyon walls like an explosion. Din’s gaze snaps up just as Ahsoka lands on the ground in a defensive crouch. Now that it's been fully unveiled, the door bears a striking resemblance to ones he’s seen at military fortresses across the galaxy, ridiculously massive to intimidate enemies and impenetrable from outside attacks. It makes sense, he thinks with a scoff, someone as power-hungry as Gideon claiming an abandoned base as their lair. Without the wardings, Din is able to detect the massive number of souls gathering on the other side, resembling vermin crawling over one another in their haste to arm themselves. 

He searches for his angel’s soul, even just a glimpse of her bright light, only for his powers to instead encounter a massive cloud of dark, negatively-charged energy within a distant corner of the underground tunnel system. It fills an entire room, prohibiting him from sensing if anyone is inside. There is something strangely familiar about the energy, like he’s encountered its essence before, but he can’t recall the specifics of when or where. 

“It’s time.” 

Ahsoka’s voice reels his focus back to his physical surroundings. He notices the way her grip on her sabers tightens in anticipation and out of the corner of his eye Bo-Katan withdraws her blasters from their holsters.

The bottom of the door begins to raise with an earsplitting groan, but the mercenaries only wait the minimum amount of time it takes to pass under without hitting their heads to start charging forward. 

Every mortal has a beginning and an end just like everything else in the galaxy. These mercenaries are no exceptions, having long sealed their fates when they agreed to accept Gideon’s payment. So when Din’s shadowy hand phases through a man’s chest and tears his heart out of its cavity, staining the white salt under their feet crimson as blood bursts from the vacant hole, Din tells himself he’s simply fulfilling destiny. 

He repeats it when he discharges an assault of whistling birds, each one puncturing the throats of each target they encounter with a shrill warcry. And also when he rips a devaronian’s horn out of his head, a fragment of skull and bits of brain matter still gruesomely attached. 

Again and again, with each permanently silenced voice and every shattered fragile bone, destiny is fulfilled. 

~~

Din would be lying if he said he’s never wondered what it would be like to die. To pass on from this world into a new realm for him to explore. He’s imagined the idyllic afterlife mortals have written poems and novels about, describing it as a blissful safe haven where sorrow and tragedy have no definition because they do not exist. He’s familiar with their opinions of damnation’s appearance, too, as an infernal place of fire and brimstone and screaming.

They were wrong about that.

Damnation is not a distant hell. It is found in an underground lair on Crait. 

Instead of flames and sulfur, a Cupid’s blood is split and a soulmate bond is snapped in half. 

Instead of screaming, a madman laughs.

“I’ve waited so long for this moment,” Gideon says through his chuckles, hauling himself onto his feet. His voice is an abrasive rasp, as if he’s shredded his vocal cords by screaming. “I’ve had to be patient, wait to find your weakness so I could catch your attention. It’s a shame, really, she had to be the one you fell for. She was quite the little spitfire.”

Din stares at his soulmate’s motionless body, frozen in place. Please, he pulls at his severed half of the bond, resolutely ignoring how cold it feels. Open your eyes, angel. Don’t leave me. Please.

There is no response. Just heartbreaking silence.

“I sense your anger, your hurt, and grief. Those are mortal emotions.” The Seraph grimaces in disgust, then lets out a low hiss when he agitates the wounds on his face. “By living amongst their kind you’ve forgotten your true potential. You are not their equal, Death. You are their superior. Immortals are meant to be better than them. To rule over every aspect of their pitiful lives.”

“I don’t want to rule anyone,” Din says, dragging his eyes away from his angel to glare at Gideon. Both his hands begin to shake as his mind plunges into a gaping abyss of remorse and despair. “I just want a life with her.”

“Even dead, she continues to blind you.”

Din snarls viciously in response. His control is pushed closer to the brink, holding on by mere fingertips, and darkness engulfs the entire room as a result. 

The glow of the Darksaber persists, reflecting off his beskar and Gideon’s armor. It reminds him of moonlight, and he thinks for all that Bo-Katan warned him about the weapon’s sinful qualities, she did not mention its beauty. Even Ahsoka’s vision had failed to truly capture its radiance, just as a holovid can never compete with a face-to-face conversation. 

His powers are drawn to the Darksaber. The energy it emits matches the one encountered earlier when searching the tunnels for his angel’s aura. This close, there is no ignoring its familiarity, not when his brain feels seconds away from exploding. 

“I used to believe love conquers all,” Gideon prattles on, seemingly oblivious to Din’s torment. “I chose it as the Cupid motto because I thought there was nothing mortals cared more about than the health and happiness of their loved ones. Only after our fateful encounter did the Lightsaber reveal to me the truth.”

Lightsaber? Din’s head jerks up to stare at him, biting back a wince when the throbbing in the back of his mind intensifies at the movement. Does Gideon not realize the weapon has transformed? 

By connecting Ahsoka’s claim that Gideon didn’t fully understand the consequence of corrupting the Lightsaber with Bo-Katan’s explanation that the Darksaber deceives its wielder, the answer is an obvious one: he doesn’t.

Gideon mistakes Din’s confusion for interest and his lips slowly curl into a smile. “Mors aeterna. It means—”

“Death is eternal.” The translation slips unbiddenly from Din’s lips before he even realizes his mouth has opened.

“There is no one more feared or respected than you. But for what reason? What have you done to earn your reputation?” Gideon demands, spit flying as his anger flares. “You are no more than the universe’s favorite puppet. Mindlessly obedient to its every demand.” 

Hearing the truth always hurts, but hearing it from Gideon is especially torturous. Din’s creed to the universe has dictated his actions the entirety of his existence. He never fought against its orders, never thought of his own desires as more important than what it wanted.

Until he matched with his soulmate. She changed his priorities and shifted the center of his entire world by revealing to him even Death could experience love. 

There had been no hesitation when he broke his creed for her.

And he doesn’t hesitate breaking Ahsoka’s promise now.

“I just murdered your soulmate right in front of you and you do nothing. Did you ever love her at all?”

“I do.”

Din summons every trace of power and darkness he possesses and combines them together within his core—a volatile, pulsating mass of pure chaos. His beskar armor starts to crack and chip away, unable to withstand the increasing pressure. 

He thinks of his angel’s smiling face, the sound of her laughter, how bright her soul shines, and he thinks all those things are gone now. Not even a chance to say goodbye.

“More than anything.”

And Death lets go.

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[thefanficmonster]

Just Another One

Sequel to: ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’

Corpse Husband x Actress!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Mention of bad past relationships, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: They keep proving each other right in the most wrong ways possible. They each want to be guarded even if that means the other will be hurt. Maybe that’s what they want - to hurt one another because they’ve already hurt each other once before.

Requested by the lovely readers who enjoyed the previous fic ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’. Sorry for the large time gap between the posting of the two fics but I still hope you guys will take the time to read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love you all with all my heart, Vy ❤

When you go out of your way to avoid leaving the house your options of entertainment are severely limited and you can’t blame anyone or anything but yourself for it. Today, I wouldn’t have gone out of my apartment even if I was one of those people who frequent the outdoors seeing as how the sky is trying to flood the Earth with all this nonstop rain. It does set a mood for a perfect night in but when you spend all your nights in doing the same thing over and over again, the atmosphere is practically meaningless. And so I ‘ve decided to resort to channel surfing as though I’ll find something interesting on TV that I haven’t yet seen on one of my social media timelines.

I pass several cooking channels on my journey, making a mental note of their individual numbers in case I don’t stumble across anything capable of better distracting me from my boredom and loneliness that’s slowly starting to creep in. I pass by a few movie channels showing teenage romcoms as if to celebrate the start of summer so you can imagine how quickly I moved on from those. Then come the celebrity channels which can often get a laugh out of me because of how pathetic and unbelievably ridiculous they are. And so, I stick around one where there’s a broadcast on a movie showing that’s happening tonight in LA. Oddly enough, despite my anxiety, going to a movie showing has always been on my list of things I’d want to do. This can be considered living vicariously or rubbing salt into the wound that I’ll probably never go because my anxiety and fear of being recognized is too severe. Either way I stick around to watch it.

And man do I regret it now looking at several different angels of a couple of actors entering the venue where they are to be photographed and asked questions by the mob of paparazzi that’s gathered due to the massive event. That in and of itself doesn’t sound - and really isn’t - so bad. However, it’s important to note that the actress in this duo is Y/N. Y/N L/N. My Y/N....shit, sorry, I mean my FRIEND Y/N, her arm linked with whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is who is holding an umbrella above the both of them, shielding them from the downpour of rain that is also taking place in LA apparently.

“The two were seen entering the venue earlier this evening, looking particularly cozy in each other’s presence if I do say so myself. The rain probably worked nicely in their favor.“ The first reporter says, her teasing tone of voice sending chills of anger down my spine as I glare at the screen, hands balled in fists, jaw clenched - all my body’s instinctive reactions to what is being shown to me. I know I technically have no right to behave or feel this way, in fact I should be fucking happy for Y/N and her successful career and the progress in her love life. But damn it how can I?! I was so damn close to kissing this girl! I was so fucking close to falling in another trap, tripping and landing in the embrace of another liar and user, another girl who switches partners more often than shoes. How could I’ve been so reckless to get so close to her even platonically? How did we become close enough for me to 1) show her my face; 2) start inviting her over to my apartment regularly; and how didn’t I notice the kind of messed up person she was all that time.

She was all sweet and flirting and shit a week or so ago and now she’s doing the exact same thing with him! The cameras are capturing them perfectly: every laugh, every exchange of a knowing look or nod, ever smack to his arm when he tells a joke. But what bothers me most is the many times he’s wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. Not just for pictures, but just because the fucker felt like it! And Y/N doesn’t seem to mind it at all. 

“They have been the talk of the town recently, so while they could just be adding fuel to the fire, they could also have been caught by the flame and ‘caught feelings’ as they say. Regardless these two are a view we’d like to see more often.“ The other reporter says and that’s the final straw.

In one swift motion I turn the TV off and throw the remote across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the ground in several pieces, broken by the force of the impact. Just like I am broken by the force of the impact of these news. I don’t know which is worse: the fact that I fell for her and almost let her know it; the fact that she’s just another member of the club I don’t want anywhere near my life; or the fact that I can’t believe it.

Yeah that’s right - one foolish part of me refuses to believe that’s she’d do such a thing. I think that’s the same part which is still in awe of her so you can bet I ignore that part the majority of the time.

She is just another one. Not the one. Having been hurt before doesn’t mean she won’t hurt me or anyone else she’s gonna be with. Hurt people hurt people.

And damn has she hurt me, probably without knowing a damn thing. How selfish can you be, Y/N? How selfish can you really get? And how much am I going to allow you to hurt me?

                                                             *  *  *

“Thank you so much, Andrew. I would’ve died on the spot of anxiety if I was on my own.“ I say to my best friend who is currently sitting next to me on a park bench, in a tux, eating a cheeseburger. I too am still in my gown and am also gorging on a cheeseburger of my own.

“Don’t mention it. Us anxious people need to stick together.“ He bumps his shoulder against mine, stealing a small genuine smile from me, “Plus I couldn’t not come with you. You know how much I like a good rumor.“

I scoff, “Of course you do, but then again there was no need to add to what the media has already made a whole-ass ship out of.” I roll my eyes and take another bite. My appetite hasn’t been in its best condition so I’m only eating this under Andrew’s orders. I have no idea how people can ship us romantically, he’s the definition of an older - and very bossy - brother to me. I wish I could tell each and every single one of those girls who hate me because I’ve ‘stolen their man’ that I’d most likely be their sister in law rather than man snatcher, seeing as how my relationship with Andrew is so sibling-like.

That’s because we’re too alike, no one gets that. People play the ‘opposites attract’ car more often than I consider rational. But  then again when they see a couple like Andrew and I - who are basically the same person in different bodies - they suddenly think we’re super compatible. Trust me, we’re not. And everyone who’s been on set with us will tell you the same.

“What can I say...“ he shrugs, smirking at me, “I like the fun. I bet Becca doesn’t though.“

I can’t help but huff. Andrew is the only one I’ve ever openly expressed my frustrations with Rebecca to. He was super helpful on the subject, seeing as how he can relate - many partners of his have tried to use him, some of which even succeeded. He’s more than qualified to school me on the topic but it turned more into sharing bad experiences. One of which was that instance back at Corpse’s apartment.

“And neither does Corpse I suppose.“ As though he’s read my mind, he pokes the hurt spot, pouring salt in the wound causing me to visibly cringe as though the pain was physical - because it was, I felt it in my chest and in my gut, a sharp stab of guilt and regret. 

Why did I let it come to that? Why did I let us get so close? How did I not think of the consequences?

“I don’t care if he does or doesn’t.“ My hand automatically reaches for the pocket of the jeans I’m not even wearing in search of a cigarette. Not that I’d be able to light one even if I had them on me - Andrew would smack it out of my hand before I could even take a single puff.

He has the audacity to laugh, “You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.”

That’s all he needs to say really - that’s enough to make me feel seen and understood. Though that’s not always a good thing. I often times wish he couldn’t read me so well. Better said: I wish I didn’t let myself be so readable, you know. I’m just glad he’s the one who sees me because if it were anyone else they’d use this vulnerability of mine against me. I’m well aware that it’s a weakness, a really inconvenient one, but damn it I can’t get rid of it. I feel like I’ll be less human if I lose it. Everyone’s allowed to be vulnerable, some just are lucky enough to choose who they’ll be vulnerable around. I’m lucky enough to to have a choice, not so lucky in the people I choose to trust. Guess that’s not a luck thing, it’s just my inability to decipher whether a person is worth all the pain and torture of coming clean to them or not. So far many people have burnt me but two stick out in particular - Becca and Corpse. Corpse especially, which is the odd thing considering he hasn’t even wronged me in any way. At least not yet.

“Your phone’s vibrating.“ Andrew says, pulling me out of my overflowing head when he hands me my phone which I handed to him because of my dress’ lack of pockets.

“Thanks.“ I mutter through a sigh as I take it from him, checking the notification I’ve gotten.

My stomach drops: it’s a message from Corpse.

“Hey I saw you are in LA but we have a stream tomorrow, will you still be participating?“

Before I can reply, he sends me another message.

“I know you’re probably very busy but we get the most viewership on the streams when you’re in them so....“

I’ve probably been staring at my phone screen for longer than I thought since Andrew felt the need to make sure I was still breathing: “Hey, you ok? You look terribly pale.” I can barely hear him let alone reply. I can’t hear my own thoughts to know what to reply to him. “Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

I’m scaring myself too, Andrew. I’m scared too. I’m scared of how broken my picker has become. I almost kissed this guy! I almost entrusted all my thoughts, hopes, wishes and goals to him! What the fuck was I thinking?! Well, at least I know what he was thinking about - viewership. Likes, subs, views, publicity. The more eyes on the stream the better for him and everyone else. I genuinely want to applaud him, no one has been so direct about using me before. I was in a relationship with Becca for almost a year before I accidentally found out what she had been doing the whole time. No one’s ever smacked me in the face with this much honesty. It’s bittersweet really.

I want to laugh, I want to cry, slap myself across the face, slap him...I want to do so much, but all I can do now is sit in silence and think of how I could be so stupid.

He’s just another one, how did I not see that? How do I never see it until it’s too late? Why is one part of me still screaming: ‘He didn’t mean it like that!’

AND WHY THE FUCK DO I WANT TO BELIEVE IT?

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[justasimptm]

The Bride C7

The walk to the village he doesn’t let a moment go quiet, poking and prodding, making jokes or inappropriate comments. His favorite is to tug on the laces of my corset, never enough to undo any of the knots, but just enough to make me jump and glare at him. Everytime he does it he lets out a hearty laugh at the look on my face, puts his hands up in surrender and swears he’s going to stop, only to do it again minutes later. I try to keep myself out of his jeering, far enough ahead he can’t reach me with his hands and far enough he doesn’t see the flush that coats my cheeks as he whistles at me. As annoying as it is, he does keep it at least mostly respectful which does soothe my fraying nerves some.

“Say, sweetheart, is that a new corset? I don’t think I’ve seen you in it yet, and I definitely would remember,” He calls out, voice dipping down an octave. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something I shouldn’t, but this time he takes my silence as an invitation to continue. “If you ever need help getting into it again-or getting out of it, you know where to find me.” That pulls a sharp, quiet breath from my lungs, surprise causing me to whirl on him, jaw dropped and eyes wide. He couldn’t have behaved for a few minutes longer, we were on the outskirts of the village, so close to the end of our journey. The smirk laced across his lips tells me he is expecting me to ignore him again, to turn back and finish this.

I can’t tell which makes me boil more, that assumption, or the fact he had the gall to say something like that to me, knowing who I am and who my mother is. He steps closer, bordering on too close but far enough not to be rude, tips his head down slightly and stares at me over the rim of his glasses, waiting for me to do something. As smoothly as I can I close the gap, completely entering his space, having no more than a few inches between us. He freezes slightly as I reach up, calmly pinching the arms of his glasses and pulling them down off his face, leaving us eye to eye. I smile sweetly, tucking the arms in and then into the collar of his shirt, patting his chest with two gentle bats. I pretend I don’t notice the firm muscle under my palm, or the way his breathing hitches slightly as he tries to hold still.

“And what, exactly, makes you think I would ask you for that kind of help, hm?” I whisper, cocking my head to the side, “I’m sure that if that’s something I wanted, I could find someone more, how can I put this, experienced.” His eyes narrow, “Maybe you can find a toy in the gaggle of sad little ducklings we’re taking today. I bet if you ask real nice Mother Miranda might let you keep one.” The teasing tone in my voice is more than obvious, and I know he hears it, but he seems finally stunned into silence. Taking this as a victory I back up, grinning at him before making towards town to finally put an end to our less supervised trip. I make it roughly two steps before his hand latches onto my wrist, jerking me slightly off balance. Enough to wobble but not enough to crash down or into him. My eyes snap to his in a fraction of a heartbeat and I have no words to describe the look I find embedded in his. It’s the oddest mix between ego, surprise, and fire, and it sends tendrils of fluttering through my stomach.

“You should be careful how you use those pretty words of yours. Don’t need you getting in any trouble you can’t handle.” He states gruffly, briefly flickering his eyes down and back up before dropping my arm like I burned him. “Come on. We should get this done before your mother worries. We both know that we don’t want that.”

The rest of our walk towards the square is finally quiet. Heisenberg stopped pulling on my strings, physically and metaphorically, and part of me is wishing the silence wasn’t so harsh. It feels like it’s drowning in rejection, stinging and unforgiving. The excited chittering of our soon to be unwilling experiments helps drown it out, they keep to themselves mostly, but I can feel the way they side eye us. We don’t typically interact with them in a group like this, Mother Miranda tells them that they’ll only see us if she has something special for them. They think this is going to be an honor, and how blissful it is to be unaware of the horrors waiting for them at that church, in Moreau’s laboratory. To them Miranda is a God, my mother and the others their protectors who they only hear whispers of when we need more of them, they are so so naive of the monsters we really are.

God I envy that. The flaming jealousy streaks through my chest before I can stop it and I know my face has soured. Unable to tone it down very much I elect to keep my face forwards, walking at the beginning of the pack, a few paces in front of everyone. Heisenberg’s taken up the back, I know it’s to keep his Lycans at bay, but part of me thinks it’s because he wanted to be separated. I catch a breeze of one of the girls speaking. It’s too quiet to make out fully but she sounds so happy. What a fool.

Mother Miranda greets them all joyously, opening her arms and thanking them all for joining her. They nearly collapse to their knees at the sight of her, a flood of thanks and awe soon floods the still air. She takes a few moments with them all, taking down their names. They think it’s so she can address them, but really it’s for their labels so she knows who was the most successful. As she reaches the end of the line she tosses a nod at the two of us, as we hover by the door unsure of if she is expecting us to stay or not. She asks them all to thank us for guiding their passage, for keeping them safe from ‘the devils’.

Our murmur of praise is much shorter than hers was, very clear they’re only doing it to please her. None of them spare us another glance as she dismisses us. The air is smothering as we step back outside, just the two of us again. I hesitate for a split second and he sighs, choosing to break the silence.

“Let’s go sweetheart. Gotta walk you back up to Castle Doom.” He mutters, motioning with his hand for me to start walking. The way he says it is defeated, like he has no interest in doing it but he has no choice. Stubbornness flares up inside my chest and I have to fight a snarl as I roll my eyes.

“You don’t ‘gotta’ do anything, Heisenberg, Just go back to your fucking factory doing whatever the hell it is you do up there. I am more than capable of walking myself.” My voice is filled with anger, shaking with it in fact and he is visibly taken aback. The fact he’s acting like I’m a child that needs babysitting absolutely burns my core. He doesn’t have to watch me, make sure I don’t fall down and get a boo-boo. I have more than enough ways to protect myself.

I don’t give him a chance to argue back, to tell me that he does in fact need to escort me back, because Mother Miranda can’t risk something happening to the source of her progress. Yet another thing I have to exist for that isn’t myself or my choice. Instead I let the fluttering beats of my rage turn into the beats of wings, swarming from my full form into my mass of moths. Vaguely I recognize the sound of his cursing as I take off towards the castle. Everything feels so much calmer when I’m like this, simpler. Just move the wings, keep the destination in mind and trust in myself to get there.

I make it to the gates before I force myself to reform. Mother doesn’t like seeing me like that. Says I should use it for emergencies only because it leaves me more exposed between the fact I’m literal bugs and the time it takes for my body to set back. I push the heavy iron gates open with a resounding creak, surely announcing my presence to everyone inside that I’ve returned. My feet barely step over the barrier when I hear him shout my name from behind me. Why couldn’t he just leave, I wonder, especially if he is oh so concerned about my safety. He calls out to me again, closer this time, but I set my pace with purpose, not slowing or stopping when he curses again. Steeling my bones as I hear the gate slam back shut loudly so I don’t jump. I know my mother is waiting for me inside, ready to ambush me, to push me for every last detail to make sure I behaved appropriately. With some luck, hopefully my sisters will be off somewhere, tormenting some poor servant so I don’t have to deal with them immediately as well. Given how frayed my nerves are, I don’t entirely know how well I would be able to keep myself from doing something I would be punished for. But honestly, after all of that, it might be worth it just to blow off some steam.

@foggyturtleknightangel @beingviolentlyhappy

[in-tua-deep]

Oooooo the red bock au sounds so interesting! Does Five caught himself thinking of his brothers just as numbers and weapons like Reginald talks in his book? Does he read Vanya book to remind himself that they are still human even though he reads it through lens of someone hurt by them all? And I feel like the handler would know either way about the books but o it's so much fun to see five being paranoid

I think having both books and both perspectives reminds Five that... he’s getting some very biased accounts of his own siblings. I think that when he’s still young, he writes down as many memories as he can remember because... he starts to forget, at some point. 

Vanya’s book talks about how volatile Diego and Luther’s relationship is, and so Five writes down the time Luther and Diego teamed up to toss Five off a balcony when Five kept switching the pens in their hands with pipe cleaners during a lesson (and he will maintain until his dying day that he was just practicing his control, c’mon guys!)

when Reginald’s notes call Allison an “insufferable, narcissistic creature,” Five remembers Allison bribing him to cause trouble and distract Reginald so that she could use the microwave unobserved to heat up some water bottles as makeshift heat packs for Luther’s sore muscles

when Vanya calls Ben “easily manipulated,” Five recalls Ben arguing theories with him at 2am after one of Ben’s training sessions where Ben almost flipped his bed when Five jokingly suggested that he could use the horror’s tentacles to bounce up and down like a pogo stick before Ben tackled him and tried to beat Five to death with an encyclopedia of sea creatures (affectionately)

I think having Reginald’s journal actually helps in a lot of ways, because Five automatically autocorrects literally all of Reginald’s thoughts to be like, mostly inaccurate and much harsher than they need to be. So when he reads Vanya’s journal he also autocorrects and is able to recognize that it is a very biased and somewhat harsh view of his siblings

(he doesn’t distrust them as much as he does in canon, with only Vanya’s harsh words to cling to with no reminder that they were all raised by a man capable of unfathomable cruelty, no reminder that authors can be oh so biased)

outside of his equations, there’s notes to himself written in the margins of Vanya’s book. Sometimes they’re just small, pointing out that Klaus had fought to include Vanya in trap week (Klaus then proceeded to team up with her and managed to catch Five in a snare - he actually still has a scar around his ankle from his upsidedown thrashing before he managed to steal one of Diego’s knives to cut himself down) or pointing out that Luther’s chilly attitude when they were ten was probably the result of Vanya outperforming him in every standardized test they took because of Luther’s ridiculous inferiority-superiority complex

at the very least he has comparison, because Reginald’s book calls Klaus an absolute failure while Vanya’s book called him “sweet, as a child at least”

As for the Handler... she’s aware that he has Vanya’s book and a red notebook, but I don’t think she actually knows what’s in the red notebook! Reginald was notoriously secretive, after all

So the Handler assumes that the red notebook is where Five keeps his time travel equations because aw, he hasn’t given up! how cute!

She makes an assumption that, logically, makes sense. Of course Five is still trying to figure out time travel, no matter how much he denies it! Of course he’s writing the equations down! What a silly boy, thinking that he could hide this from her, of course she knows about his little plans to save his siblings ;3c

And because she’s so powerful and knowledgeable and one step ahead all the time, she makes an assumption and assumes that it is fact. Because she’s so smart, of course she isn’t wrong! She’s had Five clocked from day one!

(The Handler thinks she has Five all figured out, a creature so based in sentiment. Why would he carry a book around that details the torture his siblings went through? He hates his father, why would he ever carry around his father’s notebook! The Handler has a fatal flaw, and it is that she doesn’t understand loyalty and sneers at sentiment and those are two of Five’s most powerful driving factors. Five lives for his siblings and would die for his siblings, almost his entire life has been dedicated to saving them. Not the world, just his family.) 

(She understands that Five considers his family to be exceptionally valuable, but doesn’t comprehend that Five is 100% willing to die for them should it come down to it. Why on earth would anyone value something like siblings over their own life? Absurd. I genuinely believe that the Handler thinks she could get Five to betray his siblings with the right leverage, and so she fundamentally does not understand Five as a person)

To be fair to the Handler, the whole academy’s morals and just. completely and utterly fucked. Luther condemns the murder of innocent civilians even if it would save the planet but doesn’t blink an eye at killing the ‘bad guy’ Commission agents. Diego stabs criminals as a pastime while still holding himself at a moral high ground for saving people, despite the fact that too many criminals are forced into crime by unfair circumstances. Allison used her powers to bolster her career without even blinking but now refuses to use her powers at all because of the manipulation of one (1) child, not even against ‘bad guys.’ 

I mean. Vanya wrote an entire salt book without consulting her siblings that had lasting impacts on at least one of her sibling’s career in the public eye and potentially impacting her siblings relationships with everyone who had every read the spark notes on her book, without the opportunity for reprisal. Publishing your entire family’s dirty laundry as personal emotional catharsis is... kind of a dick mood, lets be real. Especially when you were all abused children raised in an environment of excessive violence and rigid structure. 

Like yeah, of course Allison is good at manipulation and lying - she grew up with an abusive and over-controlling father. She probably lied as easily as breathing about where she’d been, who she was with, what she was doing, etc. The only privacy they got in that household was what they seized with their own hands and carved out for themselves! Is it fair to say that Allison’s superpower is dishonestly?

Is it fair to say that Klaus got crueler as he grew? He was tortured and turned to drugs as an unhealthy coping mechanism, and then he sat down at a table and looked at all the other little kiddies who did not get locked into a crypt overnight. In fact, there was one child who never got any extra training at all! Can you imagine the jealousy? The bitterness? Klaus might have been exceptionally cruel to Vanya as a teenager, she had everything he wanted and dared to complain about it. Can you imagine listening to someone wistfully wish they could join in on missions when you know that the cost for doing so has been carved out of your soul?

My point is, none of these little bitches have anything that resembles a sane moral compass. They’re unpredictable as fuck! It’s like herding cats! You never know what they’re going to do next! Oh? Are they going to investigate in any logical pattern? No, because Diego just remembered Patch exists and helping her print flyers for the annual police ball is more important than saving the world or whatever lol

Luther is over there investigating the moon! The moon! Meanwhile Allison is breaking and entering her sister’s student’s house because she got shady vibes off of him one time and she has never heard of a proportionate action in her life. 

Meanwhile Vanya is going through the phone book trying to call up psychiatrists who have any familiarity with whatever fucked up meds Dad put her on because like, she would like to Not Be On Them (fuck you dad) but also understands that danger of quitting cold turkey something you have been taking for years and would like a professional opinion on how to safely decrease and eventually eliminate her usage, thanks (Klaus is hanging over her shoulder pointing out the ones who will sell you non-prescription drugs for a price and Vanya mentally crosses those ones off of her list to call)

Five is probably joining on the breaking and entering because Allison promised she would sweet talk to eye dude if he did her this solid 

(Five complains at length about how investigating the apocalypse should not be a solid because she would 100% die as well if the apocalypse came to pass)

[nanaminsonyfans]

✨Birds of a Feather✨

Masterlist ✨ Requesting Rules

Request; Could I request a YJs1 Dick x reader with the reader being new to the team and a protege of black canary? He’s my favourite 🥰

A/N; honestly, if one robin is AT LEAST one of your favorites, if they aren’t in the top three, i don’t trust you. also, i really like the way i wrote this a stuff, if anyone wants i can make this a thing. I fucking grew up on young justice i love these characters. rock and roll buckeroo!

Pairing; Dick Grayson(Robin) x Fem!Reader

Warnings; fluff, slight cursing

Your upbringing wasn’t pleasant, for a short backstory, Black Canary found you when she did a raid on an illegal Meta-Human fighting ring. Your parents sold you to the leader of the ring. Your power was similar to Canary’s, in which your voice was a power. You could mimic sounds around you like a mockingbird, but you had similarities with an owl in the fact that your neck could turn all the way around and you had night vision. Black Canary found you when you were ten, taking you in as her own. She took you under her wing. *dad jokehehuheh*

She had taken care of you for four years, you ever really made you debut as a hero, until Batman started the underground team of sidekicks. Robin of course knew of you, as did Batman because, duh. Well, Roy did too but that was mainly because Green Arrow was dating Canary. He was like a big brother, and he deeply cared for you. 

“And this is Black Canary’s protégé, Mockingbird.” You walked out from the shadows, a black hoodie and red jeans on. Your hoodie had your favorite band one it, whatever it may be. “Sup.” You nod your head at the boys, your hood covered your face since it was dark but you also had glasses on, kinda like Robin’s but they were reading glasses. The glasses could profile anyone and bring up their history, if it’s in the web or files on the cloud, you gotem.

Kid Flash was easy, he didn’t both with covering his face, everyone else was open with you, but not Robin. You glasses always got glitched out when you tried to activate them while looking at him. He knew this and did it on purpose. He didn’t know much about you, only you hero name, you also did that on purpose, it was a fun little battle. You were closer to Robin anyways, being close in age but that didn’t stop Wally from flirting. “Hey babe~ Wanna spar~?” The redhead would ask, before you could speak he would go pale. “Nevermind.” Then he’d run away, you guessed it was Robin, he had mastered the infamous bat-glare.

When Artemis joined the team, you were happy. Another human girl on the team, no offense to M’gann but you felt more comfortable with another human female around. Plus, she was funny. You lived in Star City with Diane and Oliver, and you met her first, it was awesome when you came with her to the Cave and saw all of them shocked.

“What’s up, birdy?” You smile as you trotted over to Robin, you didn’t really have a superhero suit, you kinda took after Black Canary, civilian clothes were your hero clothes. It was usually blood stained black leggings, a navy blue crop top hoodie and black paint around your eyes and bridge of your nose rather than a regular mask because those were itchy. “Do NOT call me that.” Boy Wonder grumbled and elbowed you playfully. You gave him a smirk and batted you eyelashes at him. “You love me.” “No I don’t.” He snorted.

“The Wallman is here!” A redhead yelled through the zeta-tubes as he entered, the loud noise made you yelp and grab onto the nearest person, which was Robin. When you both realized that you both turned red. “Yeesh...stay whelmed Mockingbird.” He finally got out after being frozen. You both had completely ignored the situation going on around you, until...

“Recognize: Speedy, B06.” The computer spoke, making you grinning like an idiot and turn towards the tubes. “Well for starters, he doesn’t go by speedy anymore. Call me Red Arrow.” Your eyes lit up at your brother, well not really brother but you both looked at each other as such. “Roy-” Oliver started but you cut him off. “Roy!” You yelled happily and ran towards your redhead. “Wa to ruin his moment...” Wally grumbled but you flipped him off as you hugged Roy. “Why don’t you call anymore? I’ve been worried. So was Olly, and I guess Robin, Kaldur, and Wally, but I’m your sister!” You whined and teared up, your tears mixing with the paint you used as a mask causing black tears.

“Oh birdie...you know why.” Roy soothed causing you to sniffle and rub your tears away. “Right, sorry.” You mumble and pull away, “Sorry.” You mumbled again and walked back to your spot by Robin, the taller boy put a hand on your shoulder. “Roy, you look-” Oliver started, “Replaceable.” Roy hissed and walked over. “You know it’s not like that.” “Then why bother with a sub? Can she even use that bow?” He gestured angrily to the blonde archer. “Yes she can.” Artemis hissed back. “Who are you?!” Wally whined. “I’m his niece.” “She’s his niece.” “She’s my niece.” Artemis, you, and Green Arrow stated in a matter-of-fact like tone. “Another niece?” Robin snorted, earning an elbow from you.

“But he’s not your replacement!” You chimed in, walking over to the arrows. “We have always wanted you on the team.” Aqualad said, walking over to the now, Red Arrow. “And we have no quota on archers.” The leader continued. “And if we did, you know who we’d pick!” Wally chimed, glaring over at Artemis. “Whatever Baywatch,” Artemis glared, “I’m here to stay.” You stifled a chuckle and looked away. “Baywatch...” You snorted. “But you came here for a reason, right Roy?” You asked when you finally calmed down. “Yeah, a reason named Dr. Sterling Roquette.”

Both yours and Robin’s eyes widened before you both pulled up a file with the holographic computer. “Nano-robotics genius-” Robin started as he began typing. “And claytronics expert at Royal University in Star City! I love her!” You finished and gushed the last part. “Vanished two weeks ago.” Robin continued, earning a frown on your face. “Abducted two weeks ago, by the League of Shadows.” “Woah, you want us to rescue her from The Shadows?” Boy wonder said in a hopeful tone. “Hardcore.” Wally said in awe and fist bumped the other boy. “Dumbasses.” You scoffed and hit them both in the back of the neck. “Roy probably already did that.” You pointed out and walked over to him with a big smile. Roy smiled back and ruffled your hair. “She’s right, I already rescued her. There’s only one problem, the shadows already got her to make a weapon, ‘Doc call it the Fog.” Roy pulled up an image of a dark cylinder looking object with red buttons.

“It’s comprised of millions of microscopic robots, nanotech infiltrators, capable of disintegrating anything in their path- concrete, steel, flesh, bone.- but it’s true purpose isn’t mere destruction. It’s theft. The infiltrators eat and story raw data from any computer system and deliver the stolen data to the Shadows. Providing them access to weapons, strategic defense, cutting edge science and tech.” “Perfect for extortion, manipulation, and power broking.” Artemis starts, earning a groan from Wally, an admiring look from you, and a knowing look from Robin. “Yep. Sounds like The Shadows.” She finishes. “Oh like you know anything about The Shadows.” Wally groans and glares at the blonde, who just smirks. “Who ARE you?!” Wally yells obviously irritated, both you and Robin chuckled a little.

“Roquette’s working on a virus to render the Fog inert.” Roy says, ignoring the childish behavior. “But if The Shadows know she can do that...” Robin started quietly, you gasped softly. “They’ll target her.” You whisper in shock. “It’s okay, right now she’s off the grid. I stashed her in a local highschool computer lab.” Roy shrugs, opening his mouth to speak again. “You left her alone?” Green Arrow asks in shock and mild disappointment. ‘Oh great, here we go again.’ You think as you roll  you eyes. “She’s safe enough for now.” Roy spits and glares at Oliver. “Then let’s you and I take care of that together.” “You and I? Don’t you want to take your new protogé.” The redhead spits again, earning a groan from you. “Roy, you brought this to the team, we’ll talk care of it okay?” You say softly, putting your hand on his shoulder. “And she is part of the team. I promise nothing bad will happen. Trust me, big bro.” You smile, a child like glint in you e/c eyes. “Fine, Y/n. I trust you.” Roy whispered, kissing your forehead before leaving. “Speedy-” The computer started, “Change that to Red Arrow.” You spoke up before Roy could, you winked at him before he left.

Robin knew it was a platonic gesture, you both looked at each other like siblings, he knew that. He fucking knew but a piece of him was jealous. He didn’t know why, maybe he like you? No, he wouldn’t, doesn’t matter anyways. The team had a mission to do. But god damnit he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He wished he could be the one kissing your forehead, holding you, knowing your actual name like Roy did. Damn, being a teenager with feelings fucking SUCKS. 

All of a sudden you all were linked up by Miss Martian telepathy. “Everyone online?” Her voice rung inside your head, causing a giggle. “Mhm.”  You hummed in your head while you sat on a table between Kid Flash and Robin. “Woah, this is weird.” Artemis said, in her head of course, and you just giggled in response. “I know right? Prepare for a killer headache when Megan cuts it off!” You giggled more as you popped some of Wally’s fruit snacks in your mouth. Then the doctor started complaining. “Lady, I’m not really diggin your attitude right now.” You say while rolling your eyes. “You literally look like some random kid they got from the street!” The doctor replied earning a huff from you as you sat up straight. 

“You literally look like some random kid they got from the street.” You said, using your mocking power, you spoke in her exact voice, earning a shocked look from her. “Now shut the fuck up.” You hissed in your normal voice, earning a stern look from Aqualad. “Oh don’t judge my language fish boy.” You grumbled and crossed your arms, looking through a blind. “Do you always act like this when people try to help you?” Wally’s voice rung in your head. “Pot, kettle, you’ve met?” Artemis replied, you snickered slightly. “Great, now I want kettle corn. Thanks Art.” You whined and then ignored them arguing until Robin spoke. “You should give her some more credit. It was /her/ arrow that saved you from Amazo.” Robin said with a smirk, in which you practically swooned. “No, it was Spee-Red Arrow’s arrow, right?” “Not so much.” Robin snickered and you did as well. 

“God I love his voice.” You thought and then you realized that everyone was connected, SHIT. Your eyes widened and your face turned red. “I mean haha, I was thinking of something else.” You got up. “I’ll...I’ll go an patrol the halls...hall monitor duties.” You got up. “Oh god oh god. This is so embarrassing.” You though as you messed with your fingerless gloves. “Should we tell her?” Wally’s voice rang in your head, you could feel him smirking. “THEN DON’T LISTEN!” You screamed from the hallway and you could hear his laughs. Everyone basically knew you had a crush on Robin, it was obvious to everyone but him. He felt the same, it was also obvious to everyone but you. This was not the TIME.

You were walking down the hall, until you heard footsteps behind you. You turned around, punching the figure and wrapping you legs around the person’s waist as you pinned them down. “Woah woah, stay whelmed, Mockingbird.” You squeezes you legs tighter when you realized it was Robin. “What do you want?” You whisper-shouted. “You seemed to be distraught. You really should get traught.” He gave you a smirk that you always melted over. “Mind not squeezing me to death?” He asked and you flushed as you let him go from you thighs crushing him. 

“Your wordplay is so stupid...” You smiled softly and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “So what? You said you love my voice.” Robin teased. “I do.” You sighed and then covered your mouth in shock. “I-I mean...shut up!” Robin bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck. “I have to head out with Superboy.” He mumbled in which you sighed and grabbed his wrist before he could leave. “Be safe okay?” You whisper softly, getting closer to him. His lips were inches away from your. Robin smiled and kissed your forehead. “I’ll try.” He smiled in which you turned so red you were sure you would’ve been glowing. “It’s Y/n...Y/n L/n.” You spoke up as he started to walk away. “That’s my name.” You mumble. He turned around, wide eyed. 

“Y/n L/n eh? That’s a pretty name.” Robin teased before running off.

[sassooda]

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 36 - No Longer Alone 🔞

w/c - 7,680

               “Kokoro really was a fool…I almost feel sorry.” Genghis is in the mood to celebrate as he quietly snickers through the Titer compound, planning to share the news with Getou. He passes through a crowded windowless but well-lit room heading towards the southern bunker. Nearly all of the clansmen and women bow to his presence as he cheerfully ambulates through their earthy corridors, submitting their trust into him. He enjoys the gestured acclaim, knowing full well this position being his was long overdue. After searching over the room joyfully, he becomes momentarily sidetracked as his first turbulent encounter ensues. The young Titer that served Mugoi before appears in front of him, blocking Genghis’s direct path. ‘Now to reform these loose ends…’, he thinks to himself as he assesses the young Titer’s despair. “You there, what is your name?” Genghis sees the hatred in the young man’s face.

               “…Itgeltei.”, is all the young man offers while still trying to remain fearless in front of the now most masterful man of the clan. “Itgeltei Baidal.”. His chin-length black hair waves with the wind as his deep brown eyes feign revenge.

               Genghis smirks to the spiteful response, understanding that the poor wretch has lost his own mentor and is raging with emotions. “You can come with me now, there is still much work to be done.” He motions for the young Titer to follow him but the single energized stomp in response makes him halt his resumed stance.

               “YOU KILLED MASTER KOKORO!” Baidal surges his energy and aims it at Genghis with tear filled eyes. “…and my SISTER!” His shaking limbs continue to quake as he takes a deep breath and prepares to at least injure the newly appointed head before being killed himself. “You have to pa-…”.

               Genghis, without lifting a finger, uses his presence to immediately suffocate the young man who is now clear with regret. “I certainly did not kill Mugoi or Okhin, that was the enemy.” The fear pricks its way to the surface as the young Titer now seems to recognize exactly how unmatched he is and this entertains Genghis, “See, I never inherited the ancient techniques but I’m the top dog now for a reason…”, Genghis slowly approaches while Baidal chokes, surely feeling compressed as he opens his mouth to breathe but is unable to suction in any air. “…I have learned other ways to instill my goals.”. After reaching the young Titer, he looks around to all of the surveyors that stand winded with horror. “YOU ALL UNDERSTAND WHO IS IN CHARGE NOW, RIGHT?!”. Genghis darts his eyes back to Baidal who’s face has since turned red and puffed from the lack of oxygen while he continues to struggle. A woman near the door cries, “Yes! We do Master Genghis!”, and all of the Titers before him that are able, drop to the floor to offer an extensive bow. “Alright then!”, Genghis releases the young Titer with a smile and watches him crash to his knees, gasping. Genghis kneels down before him and holds out a hand, “If you’re willing to redirect your hatred to the right place, you can still serve your clan to the upmost, Baidal.”, but he’s met with still resentful eyes and understands that the young man will need time to decide his own fate as his hand is swatted away. “If you cannot however, you serve no purpose at all. Consider my offer.”. Genghis then turns to continue walking to Getou before the young man did something hasty, not wanting a scene to erupt with so many witnesses.

               After Genghis leaves that corridor, Baidal hunts the room for any indication that he had supporters on the matter but feels completely alone as everyone looks down or simply continues with their business. ‘He may be powerful but he needs to be stopped.’, Baidal’s frustration peaks as he’s still trying to regain his breath, knowing that Genghis could have crushed him if he wanted to. Beneath his heaving he mutters the words that would have caused him death had they been heard, “He was supposed to stay locked away.”. Only by being Kokoro’s understudy did he become privy to the horrifying information of Genghis’s past and the true reason he was sent to death by the hands of Satoru Gojo to begin with. Baidal knows that there was never any love between himself and Getou, being that Kokoro committed atrocities himself. ‘I have to find allies…’, knowing he may have to outsource beyond his clan in order to have the backing necessary. ‘What does he have planned for Master Getou?’. Baidal thinks to check a few more friends before leaving the compound, his anxieties feeling all too real to ignore.

               Genghis is back to his excited mood as he feels the weight of Kokoro’s lack of existence uproot his very soul. ‘Kokoro was a mediocre man and never should have been given this role.’, he resounds internally as he feels that although that wasn’t the exact future he saw, he knew Mugoi was likely to expire at the hands of Fushiguro. “I do admire this Toji’s strength and he will certainly give us another edge until his time comes as well.”. He pretends to be kind as more Titers bow on foot to him as he passes, loving the thrill of being the faux head. The red clay-made walls and ground signify his descent into the compound, “Now we just have to work on Getou with the girl…”. Genghis smiles wider, ‘She’s truly perfect. What she’s capable of…what I’ll have her do…’. Genghis has yet to reveal all of his plans to Getou but will do so when he feels the time is right but not a moment sooner and for good reason.  Upon turning the corner towards Getou’s quarters though, he feels the gravitational presence. “Such a grown child…”, but hurriedly runs towards the door with slight apprehension, knowing there were some of the help in there with him.

               Getou is furiously releasing his gravity manipulation throughout the room. He’s yelling out but the sound means nothing in particular as he pins weaker Titers that were only there to serve him. “What am I supposed to do with THAT?!”, in pure fury he asks one of the servants as he points to the shattered bowl with water spilled all around it. “She’s…SHE IS DISGUSTING!”. The servants cry out unanimously as his fit continues but Getou purposefully doesn’t kill any of them. He looks to a younger male Titer who is already crying, “You really suggest that I should just accept this SHIT?! She’s tainted!”.

               Genghis bursts through the door, “SUGURU! STOP THIS AT ONCE!”, and uses his crippling presence to counter the waves of gravity. They’re no match for Getou’s abilities but they can at least bounce some energy back to him, thus giving his attention to Genghis. “RELEASE THEM!”.

               Suguru faces his mentor and reluctantly quells his technique, allowing the four pinned servants to scurry away through the door behind Genghis. “I wasn’t going to hurt them…but I may hurt bird bitch. You cannot SERIOUSLY expect me to want her.”. Getou now sits to the chair beside him and takes out his bun knowing he made a mess of it. ‘At least Fushiguro took action…’.

               “What happened in the small number of hours I’ve left you?” Genghis sees the shattered bowl and immediately understands that Getou saw something he didn’t like. He takes in the state of the room, all of the different craters formed about as he nears. ‘We’re lucky this part of the structure didn’t collapse…’. He’s a little irritated.

               “I will not have her as my wife.”, Getou huffs. He seethes at the images in his brain that depicted Elska, Naoya and Gojo sharing sexual relations. “She is not suited to be ANYONE’s wife!”. He accidentally snaps his hair band apart while trying to put his hair back up and becomes further infuriated. After grinding his teeth together, he tosses the useless hair tool across the room before running his hands through his long black hair. He sees Genghis nearing him and tries to recollect himself so he doesn’t seem immature. ‘Why the fuck did I have to see that?’.

               “What happened little one? What is SO bad that you feel you can justify this tantrum?” Genghis needs his words to cut but not in a way that will dislodge Getou further. He understands that sometimes he just may need a parental figure and is attempting to gratify this part of Suguru.

               “She…”, Suguru’s words silence for a moment before continuing, “…she was having sex with Zenin and Gojo…”. His fists clench reflexively as the thought of Gojo enjoying himself, living care free. It wrenches his intestines together. There’s a lack of response from Genghis, so he lowers his voice to exact his reasoning, “She fucks everyone.”, he cackles in annoyance, “Everyone but me that is.”. Getou remembers her glare when he left the room they held her in at the base. “I knew Zenin was oddly territorial with her but I never would’ve guessed this debauchery. He hates Gojo too…so I thought.”. Getou reels over the loss of his cohorts once again as he’s no longer alone but it doesn’t really feel like it.

               Genghis knows Suguru is expecting him to be riddled with disgust as well but he’s isn’t. ‘Is he..?’, Genghis is not even upset anymore as he feels that was confirmation of Suguru’s jealousy, whether Getou knows it or not. ‘Maybe there is hope for us after all…’. He lets a few seconds pass to simulate that of someone who cares. Genghis loves Suguru like a son but he also loves his own future as well along with his grandiose plans for their clan. With a small sigh he brings a chair and places it opposite of Getou and sits down. “Look little one, are you sure tha-…”.

               “SHE HAD GOJO INSIDE OF HER WHILE SHE WAS GAGGIN ON ZENIN!” Getou almost doesn’t catch himself in time to control the surging energy flowing through him. ‘Gojo… of all people.’.

               “Hmmm…”, is all Genghis offers while he thinks of how to diffuse this situation.

               “HMMM??!!!” Suguru mocks and then hollers, “What the FUCK kind of response is that?!”. He sees the glint of anger that flashes across his mentor’s eyes and decides to calm down. It’s a matter of respect.

               Genghis raises an eyebrow at how perceptive Getou can be at times although he needs to learn to be like that always. “I can see why that would bother you…”, but Getou scoffs as he turns away. “Her nature…it’s solidified but ever changing it would seem. We may not have the time we originally thought.” Suguru looks back to him now as he’s obviously curious as to what that could mean. ‘She’s already creating a small but powerful army.’.

               “What is that you know, Master?” Getou’s back to his collected demeanor as he’s eager to understand what could cause Genghis to seem so offhand on the ordeal. He looks around the destroyed room and feels slightly embarrassed, especially if there’s some kind of explanation.

               “When she drinks from the hybrid, his curse blood fuels her own. This is what I was trying to elucidate to you before.” Genghis checks to make sure he has Getou’s undivided attention. When he’s satisfied by his pupil practically hanging on the edge of his seat, he continues, “She has awakened to a small degree and with her kind, that means a growing appetite for many things and less inhibiting emotions in exchange.”. Getou’s eyes narrow in response but Genghis proceeds, “When we get her here, you’ll have to sate her needs little one so it’s best you understand now.”. He’s anticipating a rebuttal but it doesn’t arrive, ‘Good, because if you don’t, I will...and that may cause some problems.’.

               Getou is still mildly confused but understands enough that he’ll have to feed and fuck her. “I’ve already tried that, it didn’t work.”. His thoughts take to the last time he saw her, while he was working his way in.

               “You stabbed her, broke her wings and then forced yourself between her legs… let’s understand the difference here, Suguru…”, Genghis shakes his head as he didn’t want to be so blunt but at the same time, there’s no room for error there, Getou must comprehend that.

               “And she called out for Naoya when I did.”, Getou’s patience are being tried at this point. He knows he was wrong in his approach and even with his brutal nature. He also is hesitant to express anything in regards to that scent that provoked him.

               Genghis interrupts the pity party, “Because she’s afraid of you Suguru…and rightfully so!”. He softens his eyes for his pupil for just a moment, “I could never imagine expecting any other outcome. I’ve never even thought to do something like that to a woman.��, Genghis lies with complete knack.

               Getou exhales heavily and turns his gaze to the shattered bowl, “That doesn’t explain why she’s fucking everyone…”, he loses himself in those same images again and runs his finger along his scarred cheek. His eyes widen as he’s suddenly remembering the aftermath, “Toji attacked them though, I’m guessing Kokoro succeeded?”. He switches his view back to his mentor with inquisitive eyes.

               Genghis decides to hold off of the details about Elska and Toji following the incident. ‘She really is getting her fill though…’, but smiles to her ways as he watched them that day, all of it, from afar. He then tilts his head upwards and tries to hold his happiness inside as he delivers Mugoi’s fate, “Kokoro perished by the hands of Fushiguro… and Oda.”.

               Upon hearing of Mugoi’s death a small smirk appears initially but then he’s overcome with the fact that he’d always planned on taking out Kokoro himself. “How can he be dead? Isn’t he under the same technique?”. He hopes the bastard can return for more.

               Genghis allows his grin to sneak through after seeing Getou’s reaction, knowing they’re both pretty glad the fuckers gone. “Yes well, they didn’t use any techniques to kill him, they just utilized that nature of theirs. If he were killed with a cursed ability, yes, we could have reversed that.” Genghis chuckles lowly, “I told him to be extremely cautious but he ultimately underestimated this Toji gravely. To be fair though, I wasn’t expecting the girl to behave as she did…she killed Okhin viciously as well.”.

               Getou catches on to his master’s amusement and it rubs him as odd, “You said the outcome would benefit me…did you know this would happen?”. He’s decided to place that weird display in the back of his mind for the time being. ‘Okhin too?’, Getou barely knew the Titer woman but was aware of her loyalty to himself and their cause and feels regret that she lost her life.

               “I did.”. Genghis leans toward being honest about this bit at least. He waits to gauge Getou’s response and becomes eased when he can tell that his knowing won’t be met with hostility. “Mugoi wasn’t a very good man and he had no business leading this clan. His strategies were half-baked and his desires to lead were misplaced.”.

               “I never did like him…I actually hated that fucker and owed him for Kechi and Eso...” Getou sighs as there’s yet another thing to be grateful to Elska for. “Serves him right.”. ‘I wonder how she did it?’. Getou ponders on her mysterious existence and wonders what else he may not know about her. He thought he was well informed before but sees that’s not the case at all.

               Genghis smiles genuinely as he proceeds the conversation to nourish the seed he’s planted, “So…you were watching her?”. He gives a playful shove to Suguru, “You can’t hide the fact that you’re interested…I can already tell.”.

               Getou’s face becomes deadpanned at his mentor’s words. He’s self-conscious about the truth in the statement, not really being sure as to when it happened nor why. He looks back at the shattered bowl, “I was seeing if there were any tactics I could formulate based on their own.”. He feels another light push and it’s clear that Genghis wasn’t buying it. ‘Why is she so important to even him?’. He sighs in frustration, “Yes, ok? I was watching her…although I regret it now.”. His eyes widen during the statement, showing he meant it desperately.

               Genghis releases a loud cheer into the room, “ALRIGHT!”. He pats Getou on the shoulder, “This is great little one! You shall have her then!”. He can barely control his pride as he knows this step was imperative to conquer. “We will have to secure her soon before the others reach her to do the same.

               Getou wants to ask about the others mentioned but figures it pertains to the clans also aiming for the same goal. He becomes tactical, “I think we should draw them in and crush all of their shaman.”. This time, when preparing her quarters, he would take a note from Naoya and make sure she can at least be impressed by their offer. ‘Would it really make that much of a difference though?’, he’s unsure of what lies ahead because of what’s occurred in the past.

               Genghis leans forward with approval, “That is a wise idea but we should bait them first.”, he smiles maliciously, “I think we should take your lover first and give them a location.”.

               Getou blushes against his own will and tries to mask it with haste, “Whatever, that’s fine. I need to prepare an area for her.”. Suguru stands up, cloaked in agitation as he worries about what could be wrong with him. ‘Why…am I feeling so…awkward?’.

               “Don’t be ridiculous, you only need to prepare another room for yourself.” Genghis can’t believe that he’s having to hold his pupil’s hand through this but laughs to the confusion painted on Suguru’s face, “She’s going to be staying with you.”.

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

               “Cho, how do you know this? ARE THEY NEARBY?” Naoya knows Choso is also very fine tuned when it comes to sensing other techniques, primarily the Titers for having worked around them for so long. Naoya still is looking around to silently ask everyone to be on their guard.

               Choso doesn’t remove the box from his pocket. He keeps his fingers wrapped around it though and tries to figure out a way to communicate that won’t bring them to a disadvantage. His stillness unnerves everyone but Toji tries to calm the room, understanding there’s a purpose for it. Choso decides to try something. After standing, he uses his right hand to point at his pocket and while still holding the box inside of there, he flicks it a few times with his finger, creating sound.

               Gojo is the first to catch on and decides to give it a codename, “The bento box!”. He smiles to Choso’s relieved nod and turns to face everyone. “Do you remember the yellow fish delivery we received earlier?”, Toji scrunches his face but then the connection is made. “I believe that Choso’s saying he can tell by the bento box it came in.” Elska now seems to get it as well.

               “Baby? When did you eat yellow fish?” Naoya approaches her with a coy smile as the remaining members in the room sigh in frustration, thinking he was too dense to comprehend. Megumi scoffs being out of the loop and apparently feels ashamed of Naoya’s gestures. When within arm’s reach, Naoya snags Elska by the hip and kisses her cheek while whispering, “We will protect you princess.”. He feels her pull away only enough to look into his eyes. He knows she trusts him, it’s written all over her face and nothing could make him happier.

               Elska is lost in Naoya’s warm expression until a realization hits her, “Does…does that mean they saw…everything?”. She becomes completely uncomfortable at the thought and welcomes Naoya’s arms as they wrap around her fully this time. While burying her face into his chest, she can feel the bass from his voice as he laughs awkwardly above her. ‘Greeeaaaaat…’.

               “Well at least it was worth watching…I can attest to that!”, Gojo’s eyes brighten as he recalls the three of them on the bed. ‘It was…perfection.’. Nanami sends narrow eyes over to him which he can feel instantly and against his rowdier judgement, decides to leave it at that.

               Toji scoffs while looking at Gojo, “You’re the fucking worst, you do know that, right?”. He’s never been able to stand Satoru’s need to gloat about everything, especially when it comes to her.

               Gojo warps himself behind Elska, “Oh…but she loves it…” and ruts his pelvis into her rear.

               Naoya uses his projection technique to pull her away afterward, “You’re too fucking much Gojo, don’t expect that shit to happen again.”. He actually really enjoyed the threesome for the most part but sees that he stoked an already heated fire within Gojo by participating. ‘This guy is not right in the head!’.

               “Sati! Why would you do that in front of everyone?!”, She’s not felt Naoya’s technique first hand like that and stumbled with collecting herself after being moved with such speed. ‘Did he seriously just hump me?’.

               Nanami yells, “SATORU!”, with absolute disapproval as Megumi scowls heavily beside him.

               Choso loses himself in thought after hearing Gojo’s mischievous giggles. ‘Do they know that this connects their energy to us? I can tell when they’re spying…’. He twirls the box within his fingertips in his pocket as he tries to formulate an explanation as to why the Titers left it behind if this was genuine. He looks back over to Toji now, ‘Is he really ok? What did this do to him?’. Choso’s eyes now take to Megumi and his heart sinks knowing that they’ve only just begun their father and son relationship officially, ‘I have to figure this out before it’s too late.’. He still hears the voices of everyone else but doesn’t register that his name is being called. The surging energy from the box also ceases and he quietly states, “I think they’re done for now…”.

               Toji sighs, “Thank god, those fucking creeps have nothing better to than to use ourselves against us.”.

               Naoya and Elska both relax into each other knowing they can likely move more freely now. Naoya smiles at her but then continues what they were originally talking about. “I’ll get you some sweets baby!”. He now turns to Choso who is still in his own mind, “Cho!”, Naoya is waving at his friend, “Does that sound alright to you?”.

               Elska chimes in, “I swear I won’t bite you again!”, she looks around to everyone, “Although I am due for a feed soon…”.

               Naoya gasps, “Well I’ll stay too!”. He’s weary of her feeding from Choso for many reasons, his personal ones at the forefront though.

               Toji huffs, “I think you two should make yourselves scarce when we come back.”, his vision glaring between Naoya and Gojo. “You two have had enough today.”.

               Gojo wants to say something smart to rile Toji up but decides that maybe that wasn’t such a huge demand. He looks to Naoya and whines, “Let Toji feed her tonight…”. He kicks at nothing to display his disappointment but knows that he owes the giant this much at least.

               Naoya grabs her hands now and looks down to her with his weak protest, “Baaaby…”, but then sighs as he can understand where Gojo is coming from, “…Ok…but tomorrow you feed from me!”. He smiles gleefully as he secures one of his favorite past times. Of course, he enjoys the feeling her bite surges through him but more than anything else, he loves how much she enjoys drinking from him. It certainly makes him feel needed and with all of the testosterone surrounding her now, he appreciates the affirmations he receives from her, this one especially. ‘If only I had my own fangs…’.

               “If she drinks too much of you boy, she’ll get fucking cavities.”. Toji laughs to his own joke though as he meant nothing foul by it, he’s actually surprised he didn’t receive more resistance from either of them on the matter of feeding.

               “What are you guys about to do?” Choso now feels he missed something important.

               Elska and Gojo chuckle at the fact that Choso indeed tuned them all out moments ago.

               “They’re going on a food run while you stay with me, if that’s ok!”. Elska smiles and continues, “You can take a shower too if you want, I won’t leave the room but you’ll still have privacy in there.”. She walks over to the bathroom and pulls out a fresh towel from a neat stack that lays on iron shelving next to the tub.

               “And make sure you’re clothed when you leave the bathroom…”, Gojo’s tries to make his tone lighter but he’s serious. “I saw what you’re hiding underneath those clothes, you thick ass stallion!”, and laughs to Choso’s widening eyes.

               Choso recalls Gojo complimenting his body before  and becomes flustered by the accusations being launched at him and quickly defends himself, “Elska! I promise I wouldn’t try to do anything sexy to you!”. He hears Gojo roar into laughter and anchors his eyebrows in a way that show the silver shaman that he’s been teased enough for one day.

               “I would hope not.” Megumi makes his quiet presence known again as he’s only just calmed down after seeing his sensei hump her…and then there’s the feeding. He turns his nose up and hollers while leaving for the door with Nanami, “GIVE HER SOME SPACE.”.

               “Doll, I’ll be right back alright?” He grins when she nods in anticipation and he can sense that she’s as eager to feed from him as he is to feed her.

               “Umm…I will too, don’t forget that part old man…”, Naoya finally releases his hands from her as he forces himself away and towards the door. “Be right back baby!” He blows her a kiss from the doorway but waits impatiently for Gojo to make his exit.

               Gojo now grabs her hands and with a serious face says, “Love, just be careful and wait for Toji. We will back after you have some time.” He smiles, “Don’t bite Choso in case it’s related to that other you ok?” He kisses her on the forehead gently before stepping back and taking in her comfortable and casual appearance while relishing on his recent lush memories of them. He glances to Choso, “If anything happens, make a portal to Naoya but we should be back really soon.

               Choso nods and is glad that there was reiteration over him being the source of her nourishment. ‘Gojo is far more intelligent than he typically lets on…’. After everyone leaves the room, the silence engulfs them. “I uhh…I guess I will take a shower now.”, and dutifully heads into the bathroom.

               “Wait there’s a trick!” Elska rushes past the door before he can close it in order to reach the faucet. The temperature designated knobs are actually reversed and she didn’t want Choso to fall victim to ignorance’s cruelty. Once adjusted, she stands up tall and smiles, “Now, you’re all set!”.

               “I tend to take lengthy showers, please do not be alarmed by this.” Choso feels the steam beginning to take form and is ready to wash the day away. She giggles and says “That’s totally fine, relax a bit.” Before switching on the fan and shutting the door behind her. As he undresses, he folds his new pajamas neatly on the counter, planning to put them back on when he’s finished. For a moment he freezes as this doesn’t make sense, how can he watch her while he bathes? ‘Oh, they were way ahead of me with this one…’. He forms his observer window, focuses it on her and leaves the curtain parted so he can check it from time to time.

               Elska isn’t sure why but as soon as the words, “Relax a bit” left her, she felt the urge to do so herself. “Well…he did say he takes long showers…and they’re no longer watching us…”, she walks over to Choso’s unintentional gift and honestly just wants to try it. After grabbing it, she cautiously makes her way back to the bed, dropping her new ace sweatpants to the floor before laying on her back. Her mind brings her back to Naoya and Satoru taking her and becomes flooded with arousal. “That really was…amazing.”. Her nimble fingers press the tiny rubber button located on the bottom of the little pink mouse and jumps with excitement when it turns on. ‘This shouldn’t take much time at all!’, and gleams to its vibrational impact. The thought of Naoya extracting her pheromones and orgasms while Satoru filled her mouth sends a sensation between her thighs before the vibrator ever reached its target. She self consciously listens for any sudden movement in the bathroom, wondering why she was really about to do this right now. ‘I just feel like I need to…’, but is trying to ignore the fact that she’s seen plenty of action for one day, at least normally. Once the silicone bullet reaches her clitoris, her body tenses up by the sensations it sends through her and she quietly gasps with a wide smile.

               Choso is rinsing his hair, enjoying the scented products that fall and mix into the water. ‘How does my hair feel this smooth after just shampoo?’, he’s amazed and feeling anew. After applying the thick conditioner, he decides to read the ingredients from the bottle located at the other end of the tub. When he grabs it, he turns to check his observer window to make sure everything is alright. “Oh my…”. His eyes are wide and the shock from what he’s seeing steals his attention thus causing the shampoo bottle to be dropped onto his foot. “OW!”.

               Elska hears the commotion and immediately closes her legs for cover. She’s panting lightly as she was already pretty close to being done with this test drive but still calls out, “Chos…Choso? Are you alright in there?!”. She sits up as she listens carefully for a response.

               “I uhhh…Yea!! I’m great! Just…dropped something!”. Choso feels his heart pounding through him and when he looks down can see his chest beat along with it. ‘I should’ve just told her the truth!’, he panicked though. He stands at the end of the tub where the water barely touches him as he breathlessly waits for a sign that she’d either stop or continue. ‘Does she not know I’m observing her?’. He watches her settle back into the bed but has failed to notice his instant erection until this point and whispers, “Damnit…”. When she places the mouse back on her sensitive areas, he can see her face twist in pleasure and cannot help himself. Choso begins to stoke his member as his human desires take over and shudders to the wonderful sensations it sends through him. Elska moans quietly but Choso is audibly attached to his window so he hears it. He watches her placement of the toy and is surprised to see that it’s used to for surface features rather than being for inside. He continues to pump his hand, gaining speeding even while the water threatens to stop his motions, moaning himself as he studies the visual before him. “Women…they’re such…beautiful creatures…”, he whispers through his small gasps.

               Elska is working towards her climax, intermittently edging herself when she feels she’s too close, not wanting to end the pleasure so soon. She thinks about how Toji always tries to stimulate her with his hands while he works himself into her, causing her toes to curl. ‘Toji and this would be incredible…’, she pictures him with his wings and fangs out, using his mass to pin her against the bed as he thrusts through her. In this fantasy, he would hold the mouse down against her, forcing her to endure the bliss while locking glowing eyes. “Holy…oh…yes…”, she whines out underneath her breath as she feels her moisture gather. She imagines him smugly smirk above her before saying, “Doll, you’re so fucking wet for me.”, but realizes that would be much more of a Satoru thing.

               Choso is no longer even bathing by this point but has opened the curtains further so he can still receive the warmth from the water as he continues towards his own relief. Every time her body arches or she whispers confirmation to how good she’s feeling, his hand increases speed by itself. He looks down to see how unbearably hard he is and bites his lip as his vision takes back to his technique. His mind is plaguing him as he doesn’t have a direct desire to sleep with her but she’s always the subject of his sexual thoughts. He imagines himself sitting between her knees, administering the mouse. “Mmmm…”, he groans while thinking of her furrowed brow and flush expression being the product of his placement. His hand grips his girth and he momentarily seethes and hisses to the building rise coursing through him. He whispers her name to his own dismay, feeling that it increased his ability to reach his orgasm. The water falling down his back has become cooler but it doesn’t deter him from this interesting experience.

               She is now daydreaming about Satoru’s aggressive behavior. ‘He would most definitely use this mouse as a tool to dominate.’, and the thought of him bending her over while making her hold it to herself almost makes her unravel. He’d say things like, “Awww love, what’s the matter? Can’t handle it?”, and she would have to respond to him before he’d smack her ass…but maybe she would keep quiet on purpose. He’d likely grab her by the throat and raise her up from behind so he could hear her clearly as he spreads her from within. She gasps to this and arches her body again as she nearly lost herself. Her eyes open widely though as she’s sure he would attempt anal next…but she wouldn’t necessarily fight him. ‘If I ever tell him that I actually like it, he would try it all of the time though…’, and the idea of him relentlessly trying to impale her in that manner slightly decreases her arousal.

               Choso is all but minutes away from being spent. He’s staring intently into the observer’s window and ignores her change in demeanor. Instead, he’s now wondering about this taste that women provide. He still isn’t sure you’re supposed to lick them there but the probability of it being allowed makes him imagine how he would. The expression on her face is back to be pleasant so maybe if he would take his tongue to the same spot where the mouse is located, he could cause this too. His eyes are closed at this point, while he hastily grips and rhythms with his hand so when she cries out, his imagination runs wild and he imagines inserting himself into her. That was a mistake though because in this moment, he’s releasing his contents all over himself and the tub while he fails to cease his motion.

               Naoya’s sweet but domineering nature saved the day. While reliving old memories of when she was his prisoner, she remembers the sexual tension that made her crave him even more. While envisioning them on their sides again, she smiles to the desperation felt that consumed her, making her take him in his sleep. “Oh…Naoyaaaaa…”. It really didn’t matter what he would try with her, Elska was likely to allow him wantonly, she trusts him fully in this realm. In her sexual dream however, he’s given glowing red eyes and golden wings. He would brush her hair aside while rocking his hips while they lay there but he’d also lean down to pierce her neck. “God pleeeeassee…”, she begs the universe to at least be able to simulate what his fangs would feel like. She cries out though in real time and releases a wave of pheromones as her legs tremble, the orgasm following immediately after. She lies there panting, not having removed the mouse from her hand, nor has she budged to change her position. Her eyes take to the little mouse though while she heaves and feels her arousal seeping out, “This was actually a wonderful gift Choso!”. She smiles and feels the cold chills that are result of her thin layer of sweat. She goes to sit herself up but finds she just doesn’t have the energy in this moment. Her eyes dart open as she recalls, “CHOSO! SHIT!”, having temporarily forgotten that he was in the bathroom, only a few feet away. She sits up tensely to gather herself as the door is pushed open. She screams, “DON’T!”. She feels so ridiculous as she knew Toji’s door no longer latched.

               Choso heard her scream and although he’s a mess he launches out of the shower. “Elska! What’s wrong?!”.

               Toji stands in the doorway first inhaling the scent before noticing Elska’s position and eyes the mouse next her on the bed. The fact that she wasn’t dressed on her lower half clearly gave it away. He feels himself get a little excited but its all but crushed as a wet and naked Choso barrels out of the bathroom door. “What the f…”.

               Elska quickly covers herself before Choso has a chance to turn around but she can’t help but stare at him against her better judgement. His body is so refined and built, his lower half just as impressive. She doesn’t feel any desire to experience him but she can still appreciate a good work of art. When their eyes meet, Choso turns beet red and flails his hands in an attempt to shield them from his usually hidden parts. “I thought something was wrong!”.

               “The fact that you’re out here butt ass naked is the something that’s wrong buddy…”, Toji glares at the being and huffs. Toji points his finger toward the door and says, “Go get some fucking clothes on! What were you doing in there to still be bathing?!”. A realization hits him and he growls at the possibility that Choso was relieving himself in his shower. “How the fuck were you planning on protecting her if you were in there the entire time?!”, Toji demands an explanation.

               Choso looks away from Toji and to the floor, “Well…I was watching her still…I just multitasked.”. He can feel Toji’s presence intensify immensely and wonders if he should have just lied and apologized.

               Elska folds over in the bed and curls up in embarrassment. ‘Does he mean…he watched me do that?”, she too mortified to ask or even look at either of them.

               Naoya now walks through the door, “CHO! WHAT THE FUCK!?”. He sees Elska hiding in the bed and after seeing his friend’s bareness, freaks out. “WHAT DID YOU DO!?”, he runs to Elska who’s actively deflecting any interaction and he assumes the worse. “Baby! What happened?!”, He then sees the pink mouse on the bed and feels his left eye twitch. He snatches it from beside her and charges Choso, “YOU THOUGHT TO USE THIS ON HER?!”. He sees the surprise in Choso’s eyes and even through his anger, realizes that he jumped to conclusions.

               Elska understands this is taking a wrong turn so she sits up again and says, “I used it on myself! Choso was just taking a shower and bolted out here when I screamed!”.

               Naoya stops now, being only about a foot away from Choso. “Baby, what caused you to scream?”, he now looks at the toy with a raised eyebrow, ‘Could it really be that good?’. Choso’s eyes meet it too and the being blushes further.

               “She screamed when I came through the door, boy, calm down.” Toji is now pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation to the endless web of miscommunication that spins between them. He walks over to Naoya and steals the mouse. “You guys need to scram for a few. She needs to feed and I’m tired of there being a god damn peanut gallery.”.

               Choso immediately rushes into the bathroom to change as Naoya pouts while walking back to Elska. “Baby, I’m parking right next door and I’ll be back as soon as you are finished.”.

               “We actually are switching rooms tonight!” Gojo now strolls in, having listened from the hall. He comprehends everything that just happened, from the dual masturbation to the sad accusations that were pointed to Choso. If he hadn’t stayed behind though Megumi would’ve seen everything before being shooed away and that’s the only thing that bothers him. ‘Toji is going to have to handle that soon…’.

               “This is my room you silver fuck, I don’t want to move.”, Toji defends his messy territory that has suffered from the multiple people using it.

               Elska is further jolted by Satoru’s sudden appearance but calmly asks, “What are you talking about Sati?”. She’s now quickly donning her ace pants while trying her best to make it seem like she’s no longer bothered by what may have taken place with Choso. ‘I’m just glad that topic got skipped over…’.

               “We’re going to a bigger room, with a bigger bed.” Gojo winks at her as he’s still bent on proving to her that the additional company can be worked with. “But you two can still feed here, I’ll have Naoya and Choso help me set everything up!”. His eyes take to Toji, “Surely you can understand why this room’s defenses are no longer suitable…”. He glances to Elska and brings his palms up to the situation they’re in with an expression that says, “Think about it.”.

               “I swear if it’s poorly designed, I’m going to snap. Color scheme and layout is everything Gojo…”, Naoya rolls his eyes as he’s really not in the position to refuse lodging but wishes he didn’t have to share everything with his cousin and him.

               Toji howls, “You fucking broke the door in the first place you cunt!”. He never knows how far the silver shaman will go but is slowly wondering if there are any boundaries at all. Becoming further irritated, he starts to manually push everyone towards hall. “Get the fuck out!”. Naoya is still protesting to being forced to leave even as Toji shuts the door in his face, hearing his whining through the wood. “Jesus Christ…they’re such fucking handful…”.

               Elska giggles to Toji’s vexation but sits on her knees as the large man returns toward her, sitting on the bed.

               Naoya is still on the other side of the door, “Choso is in there you old fart!”.

               Toji’s eyes narrow to the bathroom but before he can say anything, Choso quickly races out with soaking hair and practically runs to the door leading to the hallway. He now sighs and slouches over on the edge of the bed, “Doll…sometimes it’s so much to navigate through…”, he looks to her, “…are you not overwhelmed by all of this?”. His hand finds it’s way to her cheek after he orients his body more towards her. They’re eyes respond to each other, him not knowing who’s began glowing first.

               “It is…a lot…”. She admits while nuzzling into his hand. “…but look at how you three loners are no longer alone.”, she means it and smiles genuinely as that part does lift her heart. She watches Toji scoot back onto the bed but to his knees and her teeth peer through her lips as she gathers he’s getting straight to it. With slow motion, she crawls over top of him until she’s perfectly seated in his lap and his arms are securing her body against him. Looking down from now overhead, she chuckles, “Just like our first time…”, and brushes his hair from his face as she happily takes in the details of his rugged features. “I’m really sorry about earlier Toji…I really wasn’t expecting Sati to take us away like that. I really wasn’t expecting any of it actually.”.

               Toji can sense her guilt and feels like he should address his prior purpose. “Doll, I was just worried Gojo was taking things too far…like before. I didn’t trust that he would have your best interest at heart which is why I was so angry.”. He lifts his chin so he can tuck her head underneath it while holding her, “I am with you no matter what, never forget that.”. Toji closes his eyes as he feels her relax and cackles, “Naoya already said he wasn’t going to do that again but I feel like Gojo will still try.”. He pulls her away and bends his neck to the side to give her full access with a smile.

               “You’re too good for me, Toji…”, she laments while eyeing his neck. Instead of immediately biting him though she turns his head back towards her for a deep and passionate meeting of the lips. He responds by send his tongue into her mouth, causing her to whimper as she grips his sleek black hair with her right hand while holding his throat with her left, not even meaning to. Both of their fangs form as soon as he breaks their lustrous kiss and he again positions his head to the side as she lowers her own. She can hear him groan as her teeth skip across the skin of his neck and right as she’s about to puncture him, Satoru’s presence can be felt.

               “LOVE WAIT!” He runs over to the bed as Elska didn’t seem to even flinch. “Choso made a valid point!”, Toji’s glowing eyes finally meet his so he continues, “If Toji has Titer energy in him, this is about to be another fucking catastrophe!”.

               Toji swiftly blocks Elska from his neck and rolls over so she’s pinned to the bed, being startled by her reaction.

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Tagging : @angelofthorr

[chwepen]

stacy’s mom ↦ hvc

♢ genre: fluff, bits of angst and crack(?) ♢ word count: 4k ♢ summary: it may sound crazy, but you have good reason to believe your best friend may have a crush on your mom.

read on ao3!

The first inkling of suspicion began with a bouquet of flowers.

Driving home, you had expected your mother to be in her rose garden by the time you arrived. She often spent the afternoons tending to the flowers in the backyard. Whether it was clipping leaves from the stems or simply soaking in the summer sun, she enjoyed her hobby. Likewise, you liked that she had something to take comfort in while your father was at the office until the late afternoon and you and your younger brother were off with friends or in class.

What you didn’t expect was Hansol’s car to be parked in the driveway. You could recognize his beat-up Volkswagen anywhere, never mind by the house where it was stationed countless times before today. He had morning classes before yours, so it was common you’d come home to find his car parked on the grass near the street and him inside with his feet up on the family couch, headphones in and head bopping back and forth. However, this time, that wasn’t the case. You checked the garage and kitchen, but neither his bag, his headphones, nor the man himself were anywhere to be found.

Fed up with the busy day you had, you walked through the living room and towards the glass door leading out to the yard. You stopped dead in your tracks though once you saw your friend and your mother in deep conversation. Your mother was in her usual gardening gear: a blue gingham apron tied to her waist and her old visor sitting atop her head. Hansol was wearing a Metal Gear Solid t-shirt and cargo shorts, not a speck of dirt on him compared to your mother who had soil-stained hands.

With your palm still on the door handle, your eyes darted to the bouquet of flowers in Hansol’s, wondering if you had to blink twice to see the scene in front of you clearer.

“Hansol, I can’t believe it,” your mother spoke, eyes alight. Her words were breathless but loud enough for you to hear through the door.

“I know. It took me long enough right?” Hansol laughed. His smile was usually bright, brighter than it should’ve been allowed to be, but his voice was shaking and the curves of his body fidgeting in a way you had never seen before.

A blush sprang up on both of their cheeks, and you felt bile in the back of your throat. Your whole life, the only man capable of making your mother blush was your father, whether by making an inside joke or kissing her without warning. 

She took the flowers from him, inspecting each one with only the knowledge of someone with a green thumb. The entire time, she beamed. “They’re perfect.”

“I know it’s sudden—“

“You don’t have to explain it to me. I understand.” She placed her hand on his forearm, squeezing it with either motherly reassurance or something else entirely. “Don’t worry, honey. Our secret’s safe with me.” Your mom winked.

You backed away, tiptoeing until you made it to the stairs and ran up to your room. More than a dozen questions ran through your head once you sat down on your bed. Why was he giving Mom flowers? Why were they acting so weird about it? Where did he even find flowers? How did he pay for them? He just got fired from Prince’s Pretzels.

The thoughts swam on, circling and burrowing in your mind. Then, a theory broke through and made you freeze in your spot. He has a crush on her? 

No fucking way.

Hansol never gave you a reason to suspect such a thing. He didn’t joke with Seungkwan or Doyoung about it, at least not to your knowledge. Of course, he never would tell you if he did, but you were certain he respected you and your family more than enough not to.

Still, you knew he had dated some junior cheerleader his freshman year of high school. Guys were known for finding older women attractive, but could that mean that attraction, particularly Hansol’s, could extend to your mother?

“That’s ridiculous,” you whispered out loud to yourself, pushing the speculation out of your mind to stop yourself from feeling nauseous. There was no way on the planet one of your best friends would be into your mom. And even if he did, he definitely wouldn’t act out on those feelings and expect you to be okay with it, right?

Your door opened out of nowhere. Before whoever was on the other side suspected you were acting abnormal, you grabbed the novel on your nightstand and flipped it open to a random page. You pretended to read as Hansol strolled in with a bag of chips in his hand and no bouquet in sight.

“I didn’t realize you were back. Did Professor Lee let you out that early,” Hansol asked, hopping into bed next to you. He reached his hand into the bag of chips, putting a good amount of them into his mouth. You set your book down in disbelief, the guy outside shaking like a leaf so foreign compared to your best friend stuffing his face next to you. How could he be so nonchalant?

“Y-Yeah,” you stammered, “Lee’s kid had some sort of issue at daycare so he ran out half an hour before we could do lab-work.”

“Sweet. Time for Hulu.“ He turned to you, his face looking at yours with a tinge of confusion. “Are you alright?”

Besides the fact that I think you’re into my mom?

“Yeah, everything’s great.” You stuck your own hand into the bag, feigning a smile as you popped a chip in your mouth. He smiled back at you with joy, believing your guise, and grabbed the TV remote. His shoulder brushed yours as he reached over, and you felt the static of his shirt cling to your sweater. Something akin to a spark lit inside of your chest, but before you could ruminate on it further, you stamped it out.

Hansol flickered through the show and film previews with blissful ignorance of how unsettled you were by what you knew and what feelings it brought to the surface.

You couldn’t help but speculate more after Sunday dinner, three days after the bouquet episode.

Hansol and Joshua in tow, they had spent a good portion of the night discussing FIFA and current music releases with your brother. He was only a few years younger than you and your friends, but he got along with them so well it was like you rarely needed to be there for them to hang out. Your parents had been deep in their own conversations all night, mostly about your father’s new business lead and your mother’s visit to see her sister on Friday.

They had touched hands throughout, happy to be in each other’s presence when they didn’t have time during the week. You could tell on your mom’s face. And Hansol looked like he always did—ridiculously chipper and goofy. There was no way two individuals would ruin such happy lives for some irrational and pointless affair.

Once you had cleared the table, you strolled over to your mother at the kitchen sink, eager to help her. “You don’t need to do this, I got it.” Your mom shooed you off. She loved doing chores on her own for some ungodly reason, but you tried all the time to be included to ease the burden. Your father, brother, and the guys all wandered off, and you wanted to help even if your mother didn’t ask for it.

“Can you let me help you just this once,” you replied, a pout on your lips.

“How about this? Go grab your brother’s hamper from his room. That way after I wash his clothes he’ll actually have something to wear to school on Monday.”

You laughed and kissed your mom on the cheek before walking away. Your brother’s bedroom was right across from yours upstairs, so you took the usual trek to pester him and complete your mother’s request all at once.

A step away from the door, you could make out the rumbling sounds of a video game and your brother’s voice. “Dude, are you sure about this? I mean, I know it’s how you feel, but is it worth fucking things up?”

Your eyes widened. 

“He wouldn’t be asking you if it wasn’t, dumbass,” Joshua chimed in. The night’s dinner almost made its way back up your throat, knowing the “he” in question was neither your brother nor Joshua. “But he’s got a point, Han. You’ve had more than enough time to spit it out.”

Finally, you heard Hansol speak up. “I know, okay? It seems like the worst timing, but I really care about her. I may even— Look, I know I should consider all the complicated shit in the middle. But I have to give it a shot.”

“Well, I can’t stop you, man. Just do it before you chicken out,” your brother responded.

You can stop him, you fucking idiot.

You stepped into the room, and the boys were surprised to see you there as though you had entered private territory. “What are you guys chatting about,” you asked outright, fed up with speculating.

“None of your business,” your brother replied, never looking away from the television.

“Don’t forget who helped change your diapers, asshole.”

“It was nothing, honestly,” Hansol interrupted, flinging the controller at Joshua. “Take my place. I was dying out there, anyway.”

Hansol looked at you with his typical warmth and concern, but that fresh, foreign spark rose up inside of you. This week had been an amalgamation of oddities. Why did now have to be the time for your feelings to be so tangled up? Especially when he looked at you the way he did so easily without noticing its effect on you? 

Or could it be that you finally noticed it and that newfound clarity scared the shit out of you?

“What’d you need,” he asked.

“I was grabbing the asshole’s hamper. Mom asked for it.” Your brother stuck his tongue out at you in response, and you kindly sent the same expression his way with the addition of your middle finger.

Hansol laughed. “I can help.” He took it from your hands and made his way to the door. When you didn’t move, he turned his head and smiled. “You coming?”

With a nod, you remained silent as you both exited your brother’s bedroom. 

You hated that you were questioning the simple act of him helping you do an uncomplicated task for your mother. You hated how Hansol seemed unbothered by what he had been hiding from you, all while you both walked down the stairs and handed over the hamper to your mother, the two none the wiser to the fact that you were questioning them. You hated a lot of things in the moment, the biggest one being the jumble of questions in your brain that got bigger with every suspicious moment you caught Hansol in. And when the night came to a close, you knew all the aching feelings inside of you weren’t going away until you got to the bottom of the situation.

“You can’t be serious!” Rin cackled, almost doubling over and running into a random stranger.  The mall was quiet on a Monday at 12 o’clock, a few mall-crawlers and the occasional mom-with-a-stroller passing the both of you. Professor Lee had to run out for another parental emergency, so you appreciated the free impromptu day off from class. It allowed for you to deal with your issues head-on, especially with the advice of a friend. Typically, you would run to Hansol with a problem this big, but seeing as he was part of the problem itself, it hurt even more that you couldn’t confide in him.

Abnormal was the only word to describe how it felt dodging his phone calls and text messages, only replying once or twice in the past few days. You gave him enough so he wouldn’t notice anything weird but without any of the typical humor you both exchanged. How could you tell your best friend that you were thinking such things about him, only made worse by the feelings budding underneath the surface of those thoughts?

“You sound like a goddamn crazy person,” Rin said. Her bags bounced off of her hips as she walked, but she didn’t notice. She just looked at you like a you were the funniest and most insane woman on the planet. To her credit, you didn’t blame her.

“I know, okay,” you whined, “I know it sounds nuts, but you haven’t seen what I’ve seen this past week and a half. He’s been so weird around me, and then when I see him and her together…” You blanched, horrified that you made your mother sound like the other woman in this fucked-up equation. “Anyway, I just needed to ask you what you would do in this kind of situation.”

Rin scoffed. “Well, I would first not expect my best friend to want to bang my mom, that’s for sure.”

“What the fuck, Rin?”

“Okay, too far,” She admitted with a smile. “What I mean is you have to think about how realistic you’re being here. Like come on, don’t you think he would’ve shown some signs a lot earlier if he was really into your mom? I know we’re not teenagers anymore, but Hansol has never been the type to hide his feelings.”

“I get it, okay Rin? But how do you rationalize any guy your age and—“ You stopped yourself when you noticed Rin’s smile fade slowly, eyes alight with surprise and confusion until they widened completely. “What?”

You turned in the direction of her gaze. The sight of your mother and your best friend walking towards a jewelry store was one that stung to the bone. Your mother dragged Hansol to the entrance. His eyes were skeptical but the two of them shared knowing, humorous glances. They vanished into the store hand in hand. You felt the pit you had been making a home for in your stomach for the past week expand like a balloon. The weight of it became so heavy you couldn’t feel anything besides it, its mass too agonizing to bear any more today.

“I gotta go home,” you croaked, turning back in the direction of the main entrance.

“Hey, wait a second! Maybe it’s not what you—“ Rin tried to put a reassuring hand on your shoulder but you brushed her off.

“Rin, I just need to go home.”

The house was still vacant by the time you arrived home. You sank into the living room couch, clutching onto a frilly throw pillow for support. Not only was the predicament getting ridiculous, but so unnecessarily painful. If they could just prove your suspicions either wrong or right, you could move on and forget the whole thing ever happened.

After another twenty minutes of contemplating, the front door opened. Your mother had no shopping bag in her hand or any outward evidence she had been at the mall, only her satchel strapped across her chest and a Lowe’s bag filled with what you assumed was more flower seeds. “Hey kiddo. Didn’t think you’d be home so early! Was class rescheduled again,” Your mother asked. 

The carefree tone of her voice spiked a nerve, and before you could contain yourself, you said, “Why do you care? Worried I’ll find out something you don’t want me to?”

Your mother’s face contorted into surprised confusion with a twinge of hurt in her eyes. How could she pretend for this long with this much effort?

“Forget it, I’m going upstairs,” you said before she could respond. Your shoulder almost knocked into hers as you passed her to make it to your room. You were grateful you didn’t get closer, otherwise you would’ve broken down or screamed and it would’ve made it worse. All you wanted to do was lay down and forget for a minute.

The pillow was soft under your head as you tossed and turned, your desire to take a nap outweighed by your stubbornness to know what was going on. After a minute of struggling under the covers, you pressed your back flat against the mattress and splayed out like a starfish, listening to the cars pass on your street and eyes boring into the popcorn ceiling.

I can’t do this anymore.

With a deep sigh, you promised yourself the next time you saw Hansol, you would ask him to tell you the truth. And whatever the truth was, you would be grateful for the burden being lifted off of your shoulders, even if it hurt.

One dull Psychology lesson later, Wednesday was shaping up to be one of the better days of the last two weeks. You had spent all of yesterday hanging out with Rin and your mother, Rin biting her tongue for a majority of the time and your mother showing you the newest garden catalog she got in the mail. 

You had been taken aback by the fact your mother so easily forgot your outburst the day prior, but you were grateful to pretend for one day that things weren’t in silent disarray. Maybe you could fake it too for a little longer, just until the next time you saw Hansol and then everything would be out in the open, and that was what you were afraid of most.

Arriving home, you mother and father were in the kitchen, the aroma of pasta and garlic bread wafting into the hallway for you to smell immediately as you closed the door.

“Hey! Good to see you before five, stranger.” Your dad was wearing his “Kiss the Cook” apron that your mother bought for him a Christmas ago, even though she was the best cook of the two of them.

“What are you doing home so early,” you asked, beaming.

“I closed another account with one of the firm’s head honchos, so they gave me the rest of the week off as a thank-you,” he responded.

“And thank you, indeed.” Your mom winked, mixing the sauce and pasta shells together. “Since this is the last time I can think of that your dad has had time away, we’re going to stay in the city for a few days to celebrate.”

“Perfect time too. Your mother’s been raving about that botanical showcase for a month now.”

“You remembered!” Your mother grinned.

“Of course. How could I forget,” your dad asked, coming up behind her and giving her a kiss on the back of the head.

What. The. Fuck?

Did you imagine the past few days in your mind? It couldn’t be that easy for things to go back to normal.

“Honey, I forgot to bring in my gardening gloves. Can you get them for me,” your mother asked you with a smile.

“Sure, no problem,” you replied. Dropping your bag near the kitchen island, you walked towards the glass patio door that led to the backyard. Maybe things were that simple and it could be like the worry and hurt had never existed. It was all in your head, you assured yourself.

Then, surprisingly, you came face to face with Hansol in the backyard, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. 

He was wearing his favorite plaid blue button-up with a wife-beater peeking out underneath, a pair of denim jeans to match. The flowers were identical to the ones you had seen Hansol give your mother a week ago. The most you had ever seen Hansol style his hair was by putting a thick comb through it, but it was obvious he primped himself up.

Your chest sank, perplexed as to why he was at your house and if this had to do with what had been going on recently. Despite the realization you couldn’t shrug off those events, you were happy to finally be alone with him after what felt like eons ago.

What were you doing with my mom?

Why is everything so confusing?

Do you know that I’ve missed you?

“Hey loser,” you replied, knowing what came out didn’t convey everything that was on your mind. And while you tried to sound lighthearted, the words were flat as they left your lips. Nevertheless, Hansol replied with his boyish smile.

He stepped closer to you, but you held a hand up to stop him. “Before you say whatever you’re about to say to me, I need to say something first,” you interrupted him, feeling a sudden cord around your throat.

“I know what’s been going on… between you and my mom.” Tears welled in the back of your throat as Hansol looked at you with a gaped mouth and wide eyes, speechless. “And I may not understand it, but I do know my mom is an amazing person and it’s not crazy to imagine she was a catch in her day, weird as that sounds,” you said, holding back a flinch.

“That being said,” you continued, “you’re my best friend, Han. And I—“ No matter how hard you tried to or how many times you had said those three words to him in the past, they struck differently now. The realization had been there for awhile, planted somewhere down the line and in the smallest of ways, but it had grown and sprouted like the flowers in his hands until you couldn’t hide it anymore. But now because of this predicament, you wondered if you would ever be able to say you loved him the way you yearned to.

“—I just want you to be happy,” you whispered, tears falling slowly down your face. “And while this may make you happy, I don’t know if I can accept it, and if that means that we can’t be friends anymore, then—“

As quickly as you had said the words, Hansol dropped the bouquet of flowers and strode forward, pressing his palms to either side of your face and kissing you hard.

You stood there for a moment, stunned it was happening and instantly, extremely shaken by how wrong all of the signs had been. “Idiot” was too easy of a word to describe how you felt and how you had been acting, coming to such a ludicrous conclusion before you had all the facts in front of you. But it didn’t completely explain what Hansol had been doing all those times you caught him in less-than-stellar acts. The answers could wait until later, though. 

Shifting your focus back on your best friend, you kissed Hansol back and grabbed onto the front of his white tank peaking out of his plaid blue shirt. You both stood there clung tight to one another until you heard a whistle come from the window that looked into the kitchen. “I know you’re in love and all but quit making out, you two. You’re still my daughter,” Your dad yelled.

You both separated immediately, tiny but meaningful blushes on both of your faces.

“Why now,” you asked.

Hansol shrugged, breathless. “I don’t know, I just— I just remember walking to the cafe one morning and wanting to show these new lyrics I had written the night before. And then when I was waiting in line I wanted to buy you a cold brew because I know without one before your morning World Lit class you go ballistic,” he said, a laugh erupting from both of your throats. Your eyes became watery again as he spoke. “I woke up wanting to do a lot of things with you, and for you, and I guess I knew after I realized that that I wanted nothing more than to just be with you, whether you wanted that too or not.”

You wrapped your arms around him in a hug when he finished his speech, thinking about how ridiculous he was for believing somewhere inside of him you wouldn’t want everything he wanted and more. Even if that meant watching dumb falling compilations with him on Youtube or listening to his mixtapes that he would never finish, you would do it for him.

“Now, what the hell were you saying about me liking your mom?” You could hear your dad’s chuckle and your mother gasp in the kitchen, the two clearly eavesdropping on your conversation.

“It’s a long story,” you replied, “but I had seen you bring my mom flowers—“

“Which I was asking her about because I know she would know what you’d like,” he interrupted. “Oh!” He turned and quickly picked the bouquet back up, dusting off the wrapping paper that held the flowers in place. “For you.”

You laughed and took the flowers with a smile. “And I heard you and my brother talking last time you and Josh came over for dinner.”

“And we were obviously…“ He had a playful look in his eyes, waiting for you to finish the sentence as a way of teasing you.

“About me, jerk, I get it.” You scoffed. “But then why were you at the mall with my mom a few days ago?”

“What, were you spying on me?!”

“It was an honest coincidence!”

Hansol rolled his eyes and placed his hands in his pocket. “Well, I was gonna wait until after our date to give this to you, but fuck it.” A box inside of his palm caught your attention. When he opened it, a pair of golden teardrop earrings glistened in the afternoon sunlight. You gawked, but Hansol stopped you, knowing where your thoughts were going. “They were within my budget, so don’t tell me to take them back. All those tips I saved from Prince’s paid off, even if I could’ve done better.”

“Shut up, they’re beautiful.” They were textured but a simple yellow-gold color.

“You always said necklaces made your neck itchy,” he said.

You beamed ear to ear and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. This was more than you could have imagined. At the beginning of last week, you wouldn’t have predicted a bouquet of flowers you believed were for someone else would lead to such a surprisingly beautiful conclusion. And there was still more to come, but hopefully what was waiting for the both you involved less bizarre antics and misunderstandings.

“I love you, loser.”

author’s note: I’m back!! After a million years!! I am so glad to be back on here and writing again. I missed you guys and i missed this, just writing for the hell of it and not worrying about all the stuff that kept me away for so long. I hope you all love this story as much as I do and I can’t wait for you to read what else I have coming! x

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV: A Seed of Calvary

Wolmeric Week #4: Flowers

A/N: That’s “calvary,” not “cavalry.” This can be considered a sequel to my FFXIV Write 2018 fill “Resolution,” and my FebHyurary fill A Riot of Blooms references the events depicted herein.

Get tissues, friends, this is going to hurt.

Day 1 || Day 2 || Day 3 || Day 4 || Day 5 || Day 6 || Day 7 || Bonus!

RATING: T WORD COUNT: 2408 WARNINGS: Depictions of PTSD Cross-posted to AO3!

---

“Whatever you’re doing, drop it, and get to Synnove’s house now.”

Dancing Heron’s voice was harsh over the linkpearl, nearly angry, but stronger than the anger was the worry bordering on fear. Aymeric had never before heard his lady’s sister-by-choice sound like that, and it sent ice down his spine.

He dropped his hand from his ear and turned to Lucia, fighting down the rising panic; he was helping to oversee the installation of artillery—modified dragonkillers and Berthas, primarily—on the walls of the newly-reclaimed Ala Mhigo, and he could not let his troops see his concern, lest it spark unseemly or panicked rumors. “Ser Lucia,” he said, rock steady. “There is a matter that requires my immediate attention; may I leave this in your capable hands?”

His second had known him for years, and all it took was one meeting of their eyes for her to understand; her expression softened for a moment, brow furrowed with concern, before in a blink it had smoothed into cool professionalism. “Of course, ser,” she said with nod. And then, quietly enough for only him to hear: “Go.”

Aymeric turned on his heel and strode away briskly, but not too quick, nodding at saluting Temple Knights as he passed them by, until he turned the corner of the battlements. There were no more knights in immediate view, the nearest Resistance members further away, their attention focused outward as it should be. With no one to interrupt him now, he reached out with a thread of aether to begin casting teleport, shifting through the attunements he knew as well as the back of his own hand before finding the one that sang of waves crashing against cliffs and birdsong among cedars. The thrum of it slightly soothed his panic, letting him breathe, and on the exhale he let the Lifestream carry him away.

When the teleportation spell set him down just outside the gate to Synnove’s beautiful La Noscean home, he was initially met by the grim visage of Heron. She loomed over him, her arms crossed, shoulders rolled in in a defensive posture, and feet side wide as if to brace herself. Her lips were pressed into a thin line and her blue eyes were shadowed with uncertainty and fear.

He had last seen that look on her face during her and her sisters’ recovery following the Battle of Rhalgr’s Reach.

“What happened?” Aymeric said, doing his best to keep from snapping.

“Unsure at the moment,” Heron replied, terse. “We hadn’t heard from Synnove in a few days, but she wasn’t at the Gate, so Rereha and I decided to stop by. We found…this.”

She gestured behind herself, and Aymeric looked past her to finally took in the yard. His jaw dropped.

Synnove had never had an interest in maintaining an ornamental lawn, instead preferring to interfere with the local apiaries as little as possible and giving most of her yard over to clover. Except now the yard, from what he could see of it, had been nearly completely torn up, the clover tilled over to soil. There were a number of haphazard rows and lonely little mounds of dirt amongst the carnage; the rose bushes in the corner had a number of new siblings on either of them, small and flimsy in comparison to their thorny elders, and multiple new trellises now leaned up against the side of the house, ready for new vines.

The only spot as yet left untouched that he could see (the vegetable and herb garden was on the other side of the house next to the kitchen, out of sight from the main gate), was beneath the oak tree. And that was where Synnove knelt, just on the edge of the shadow cast by the great tree’s branches, digging with her bare hands in a furrow and a bag of seeds next to her.

Mouth and throat going dry, Aymeric said, “Where are the carbuncles?”

“I think she deliberately suppressed their manifestation protocols,” Heron murmured, “else they would have at least gone to the Gate to get help. They’re going to be furious with her.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I have no idea,” the Hellsguard said, frustration lacing her words. “Several days, I think; she looks a fucking wreck. She wouldn’t respond to either Rere or myself, either; Rere’s gone to find Aunt Angharad, she wasn’t answering her ‘pearl, and I called you; I’ll be calling Alakhai in a moment. We figured if we couldn’t get a response, either you or her aunt would, or perhaps all of us together.”

The frustration was now on Heron’s face, and Aymeric felt a pang of sympathy for her. She took her duties as the responsible ‘elder’ sister seriously, even more so as a paladin trained to take the brunt of an enemy’s attentions. While Heron did not confide in him personally, he could still well understand her helplessness at being unable to ascertain the cause of her sister’s distress or do anything to alleviate.

“I will try my best,” he said simply.

Heron nodded and shifted out of the way, and Aymeric walked through the gate.

He took care of where he stepped; there was no telling if any stones had been brought to the surface when the soil had been turned over, and twisting an ankle was the absolute last thing he needed to be doing. Too, it seemed many of these mounds and furrows were likely seeds, though what kind he couldn’t say, and until he better understood what had compelled Synnove to do this at all, he was loathe to disturb her work. A research frenzy was nothing new for her, after all; if they were lucky, perhaps this was an extension of that, simply focused somewhere else.

He doubted it, but he could hope.

Finally, Aymeric reached Synnove’s side, and he crouched down next to her. She paid him no mind, her attention on the ground before her as she dug out a hole with her fingers, reached into the seed bag next to her, and dropped one in, before covering it and carefully mounding the soil. A watering pail was on her other side, and she picked that up, dampening the site. And then she did it again, and again, and again. As she repeated the motion, he caught sight of her nails: broken and cracked, a few worn down to the quicks, and absolutely filthy.

He rested a hand gently on her shoulder. “Synnove?” he called softly. “Synnove, sweetheart, will you look at me?”

She ignored him—or, perhaps she couldn’t hear him. The more he took in the sight of her, planting and watering and occasionally shuffling on her knees into a different spot to better reach fallow soil, the more he began to recognize the signs of someone who had survived something terrible and fallen into a loop of memory or compulsion. He saw it most often among his knights and the House soldiers, but it also wasn’t unusual to see among any who had lived through a Dravanian attack, combatants and civilians alike.

Aymeric swallowed, sorrow sitting heavy in his heart, and kept quietly calling to her: her names, endearments, entreaties. It was a struggle to maintain the steadiness of his voice, but his own grief would be no help right now. He could mourn with her once she was back in the present.

Finally, finally, her movements slowed, then stopped all together, staring down at her hands lax in her lap. She pulled in a deep breath, chest expanding as far as it could, and she sighed it back out again shakily. And then she slowly turned her head towards him.

Heron had called her appearance wreck. Heron had understated it; Synnove looked an absolute disaster. Her hair was greasy and unkempt, half the beads she usually wore missing outright. Her lips were dry and cracked from dehydration, her normally golden bronze skin gone grey as if from aether shock and the skin of her cheeks sunken. And her eyes, oh, Fury, her eyes: the green gone dull and listless, the white so bloodshot they were almost entirely red, with huge, dark bags beneath them.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and when she spoke, it came out as a reedy, hoarse croak: “Aymeric?”

“Hello, sweetling,” he said, reaching up to cup her cheeks. He brushed away a stray bit of dirt with his thumb and smiled at her, not entirely able to disguise his heartbreak. “You’ve given your sisters and I a bit of a fright. Will you tell me what happened?”

Synnove swallowed, eyes darting beyond him to where Heron was, and Alakhai, too, based on the sound of a single incoming teleportation he had heard not long ago. She grimaced, slightly—no doubt her sisters were in that mixed state of “we’re not mad, just disappointed” and “worried sick”—then focused back on himself. She licked her lips again and said, “What day is it?”

“Lightningday,” he said.

“Shite,” she said under her breath, glancing away. She breathed deeply for a few moments before she finally continued: “I went to the manor. On Earthsday.”

Confusion spun in his head; he had been home that day, a short rest to address some matters that needed the Lord Speaker’s attention. Hersande or Baptistaux would have alerted him had she stopped by—

—oh.

Oh.

Synnove’s voice was faraway as she kept speaking. “I nearly walked by it, at first. It was—it was just some stone building, the same as all the others in the district. No vines climbing the walls, no oak tree shading the yard. It wasn’t until I saw the wolf’s head carved above the gate that I realized this was my home.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and Aymeric shuffled closer, still holding her face in her hands. She sniffed, hard, and looked him dead in the eye. “My grandmother’s gardens were gone,” she said, empty and flat. “All the colors, the smells, that beautiful oak that was older than any of us. Just. Gone. I’d known there wasn’t a chance that it would be unchanged, but I think I’d still hoped, and. And it hurt, to have that hope taken from me.”

Tears welled at her eyes until they spilled over, running down her cheeks and over his thumbs and hands. All the while, Synnove kept talking: “I went inside. I didn’t remember much about the interior, so it didn’t hurt as much. I found the attic, and—and portraits. I saw my grandmother’s face. I saw my grandfather’s.

“I saw my Uncle Tyr.”

A sob shook her frame, and Aymeric let go of her face to gather her into his arms, crooning wordlessly to his beloved. Synnove buried her face in the soft, unarmored collar of his gambeson, sniffling and choking back another hiccupping sob; his soul ached for her, and he desperately wished he could snatch this pain from her and bury it far, far away, but this was a poison she needed to excise herself. All he could do was be a shelter for her as she cut it from her being.

“I brought—I brought the portrait of Uncle Tyr with me, when I left,” she said, muffled and wobbly. He smoothed back her hair and kept petting it, beginning to slowly rock her. “Was one with Auntie, too. I went to Ul’dah, to Auntie and, and I showed it to her and she just broke. I’d seen her cry before but never, ever like that. Eydis was home, too, and she saw it and—and she hugged me. She hasn’t hugged me since before the Fall. I spent the night there and we all just cried ourselves nearly sick.”

She burrowed closer, bringing up her hands to clutch at his surcoat in a viselike grip, and he tightened his own grip on her. “I teleported home the next morning,” his lady sniffed. “And—and I saw my yard. No morning glory vines crawling up the walls of the house, no flowers anywhere save one or two spots. Almost as empty and featureless as the Greywolfe manor is now. I think that’s when I broke. There’s a blank spot in my memory; I ended up at the Botanists’ Guild, somehow. S’probably a miracle I didn’t fuck up the teleportation to Gridania or back home. I. I bought seeds. Lots of seeds. Just, flowers. Spring blooms, summer, autumn. Too late for most of them, but. But this fall, and next spring, there’ll. There’ll just be color.”

Synnove fell silent then, and Aymeric rested his cheek on top of her head and began to rub one hand up and down her spine in firm strokes, the way she liked to be cuddled best. She shuddered and went limp in his hold, a broken croak of a moan rattling out of her throat as she hid her face in his neck more thoroughly.

Instinct told him that this was far from the end of Synnove’s traumas; it was a wonder they hadn’t spilled over sooner, but perhaps it was the catharsis of finally freeing the city of her birth that had been the key to unleashing the flood of emotion. There was no easy method of healing such pain: all she could do was let it out and hope in doing so it lanced the festering wound at long last. All he could do was listen when she needed an ear, and provide the support she would need when her courage faltered and required shoring.

Aymeric sighed quietly, tilting his head to kiss her hair. “I will be more than glad to assist you in your planting, my Synnove,” he said to her, low and soothing. “And I’m sure your sisters will be, too. But before we return to that task, let’s get you a bath, and something to eat, and perhaps a nap. All right?”

“All right,” she hiccupped. “But—could you just hold me for a bit longer? Please?”

“Of course.” He pulled back just enough to sit on the ground, legs crossed, and Synnove crawled into his lap and buried her face in his neck once more, clinging to his arms while he held her. And if after a few slow heartbeats her shoulders shook and she finally, finally let herself cry, well. There was no one here who would judge.

[fandom-blackhole]

I'm back from my mandatory two day socialization recovery period required for all socialization even if I enjoy it. It's time for some Mermaid!Din au thoughts (No thots unfortunately but we'll live)

First off I love the isolation that the reader faces because of the lighthouse they live in. And I love how the townspeople being nice to the reader help give them a reason to stick around when weird things start happening.

I love how it took months before anything strange starts happening, like were Din and Grogu just not around or were they observing the reader. Did Din ever try to stop Grogu from damaging the lighthouse or did he let the little rascal do as he pleased.

· And gosh I love the idea of reader dressing in old worn clothing, a knit sweater with fraying sleeves, sweat pants covered in paint from repairs, an old windbreaker to help keep the cold out. It makes me heart all warm and fuzzy.

Edna, who i've head cannoned as this series Miss Chatham (H2O: just add water charter) is honestly life goals. Like live near ocean - check(ish), have rare knowledge that can be used to help new person - check, being just slightly spooky -amazing. And is that a little matchmaker I see her playing? I love it.

Then Grogu being injured :( I bet that Din is absolutely being eaten alive by guilt even though we all know it’s not his fault and he does literally anything he can to keep Grogu safe and happy.

And In love how Din is venerable enough to ask for help, like he recognizes that this is something out of his area of expertise so he goes to the person he knows is “safe” to get help. He’s humble enough to admit that he needs help and is not capable of doing everything for Grogu. And being able to admit that is an important life skill that not enough people have.

· But even after he ask the reader for help he is still hesitant which shows that even though hes trusting reader he will still kick (is it still a kick if its with a tail) the readers ass if he hurts him.

“But you can help him” Oh my heart the trust in that sentence. Like Din just heard, “so yeah I can help your son but I have to take him somewhere it will be hard for you to follow. And he needs to stay there for at least a week, and even if you manage to come its going to be so far from your natural element.” But he was still on board with the plan. And then he goes to climb on the rock so he can drag himself all the way to the light house because he can’t let his little boy go alone even if it means hurting himself to do it.

Reader was smart af for doing the old blanket slipperaroo trick

Reader immediately knowing something was up when she walked into town is so realistic. She literally is hiding a massive secret at her lighthouse of course anyone would be on edge walking back into society. Especially a society that already knows a little something about the secret. But them to amplify it. Miss Chatham to the rescue. She knows that reader is up to something and she uses her powers as an old lady with lungs and karen potential to scare off the problem for a little bit. The reader just placed so much trust on Edna by straight up telling her that she's housing Din and Grogu.

· Also that fool browsing the menstrual hygiene rack, like dumbass. Is this your way of making him miss every shot? Because we know that storm troopers are well known for their ability to miss every shot so making him automatically turn to tampons? Genius

Cashier for the win, like beep beep bitch now pay up

The "cyare" omg and then the reader warning Din about the cookies and him being so curious about them. The way Din is so perceptive of the readers mood that he is already able to tell that something is wrong. It was such a smart idea to have the reader lead with asking him to give her a small chance to calm down about what happened in the town.

Din and the reader low-key flirting and teasing each other at the end is so adorable. Grogu with the cookie absolutely melts my heart like of course that boy is hungry.

So this is a slightly polished layout of my stream of consciousness while reading this. Does it make sense? Probably not. But I love this idea and you have done it justice.

Ahhhhhhz thank you for all of the lovely thoughts and compliments, im glad you like my story and I hope it continuesto meet your expectations!!!! And you made perfect sense darling!

To reply to some things:

Honestly, I chose the isolation for two reasons, 1- it made sense, especially for how the plot is going to play out, privacy and isolation is needed, and 2- im introverted and I like being alone, so I just projected

The town's people are great! They are used to having lighthouse keepers just up and leave because of all the weird stuff, so the second that one sticks around they were all overjoyed, because like I said, a lot of the people work on boats fishing so the lighthouse is super important to them

Din did wait and observe the reader, wanting to know what to do when to attempt to scare them off. But also like no, he tried keeping Grogu away from the lighthouse as much as possible, not knowing what the reader might do to him, and just being a protective father, but we all know Grogu is a little shit and he snuck out before Din could stop him

Reader dresses in the COMFIEST clothes, and honestly, I am very much a sweater and comfy leggings kind of person, so again, something I am projecting

I love that you and everyone is loving Edna, she is definitely one of those cool old ladies that sneak you treats and shenanigans when no one is looking!

Also because idk if anyone has pointed it out.... in the last chapter I thought I was heavily hinting at it, but maybe it was more subtle than I thought, Edna and her MERMAID were alot more than friends *wink wink* she's gay as fuck and thats why she made the joke about not liking NUTS

Din loves Grogu, in and out of this AU, and it was 1000% not his fault that Grogu got hurt, in fact he was trying to protect him! Din definitely panicked and the first person that came to mind was the reader, and while he didn't know them, he knew for some reason they were safe to go to for help (as well as knowing the lighthouse would be a good place to hide while some things cooled down 👀), but Din will always be cautious because he is scared for his son

Din is just *chef's kiss* 👌, an amazing father who will do ANYTHING for his son, no matter what it takes

The whole blanket thing literally came from my childhood, thinking about how my sisters and I would drag eachother around on blankets, and I just thought it would be great for this scenario

Like the reader is gonna get real paranoid during this series, im not going to lie to you, things are gonna get rough, but Edna is the MVP she's one of those people that could pull your darkest secrets from you just by glancing at you, and the reader pretty much assumed she was safe to talk to after she had informed her about the food offerings

Ok ok, as for the dudes, I was too lazy to look up their names and stuff but they were these dudes from season 1 that gave Din Grogu's bounty: the first dude is the one 'hiding' in the women's hygiene section

Din is just obsessed for human food at this point, and he feels things for the reader even of he doesn't want to admit it quite yet

Din also may be oblivious as fuck, but he's also observant, hes a bounty hunter for fucks sake, he needs to be able to pick up on these things, so yes in my stories Din is really good at picking up on emotions, even if he doesn't fully know how to react to them

Im aiming for a slow burn foc, but to be honest with you all, chances are it is going to be a regularly paced romance, which for my writing is slow paced, so yeah the idiots are flirting and teasing eachother, but also like they will not be talking about or admitting feelings for at least a few more chapters

Grpgu deserves all the cookies!!! He's a growing tadpole, who has been magically healing himself while in a coma like state, so he hasnt eaten in days, and if he wanted he'd probably be able to devour 2x his body weight and then some, so a few cookies recieved in some kind of mysterious way are well achieved

Merman!Din Tags: @writeforfandoms @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @honey-goth  @mando-abs @lux-cream-67 @rachelle-on-the-run @katcharm   @ladamari68 @bluegalaxyprime @my-life-as-a-bird @altarsw @zarakem @stargazingthenightaway

(Added the taglist in case any of you guys wanted to read over my thoughts and things bc I have some hcs and cleared somethings up ypu may be wondering about)