#they hurt you irreparably without even noticing sometimes and then you just get over it. so im not counting that

[homoerotvic]

even though you were possibly the one to hurt my feelings the most in my entire life in every single dream you appear in i forgive you

[dufferpuffer]

What do you think lupin needs in a romantic partner to have a functioning/healthy relationship (as healthy as this man can manage atleast)? What qualities would this person have to have to be able to deal with all the more challenging aspects of being in a relationship with him? But also what does he want in a partner? And what would he absolutely not want?

Me. I am perfect. Remus Lupin hmu

Remus Romantic Partner pt1: Remus is needy Link to pt2: Remus is good Link to pt3: Shipping, I guess (aint done)

In short: Remus Lupin needs an ANCHOR POINT to harbor his ship. 1. Someone interesting he can pour his attention into. 2. Generally up-beat/optimistic, so he has warmth to lean on. 3. Bold enough to be themselves - even if they're different. 4. Kind and accepting of other people 5. A little 'cute'. 'Quirky'. Small 'issues' support. (just a bonus, really) 6. Independent. Can live without him just fine but still want him. 7. Emotionally strong. Immense maturity and stability. 8. Doesn't have much temper, doesn't start drama or fights. Of course he doesn't need ALL of these boxes ticked - but the highlighted ones are the closest to a MUST for the relationship to even have a chance at being healthy. In long: Explanations (and example characters who I think fit) are below. B^)

Remus is an introverted man. He isn't shy (he can take charge of a room, he can speak publicly, he is good at getting people to like him) but when he isn't the focus he is a wall-flower. He doesn't talk much unless he has something to say. He is deeply, irreparably self-conscious. He has trauma of unintentionally hurting those he loves, so he keeps his distance.

((His parents became sick with the stress of having to move house every few months, find new work every few months, keeping their bank account drained... socially isolated with a son they had to lock away every Full Moon - lest he killed them. They loved him but that was a difficult thing for Remus to grow up witnessing, knowing he was the cause. Knowing him leaving for Hogwarts was the best thing to happen for their health since he was bitten... Of course he pushes people away. He can't help being sick - but he can help them not suffer... if he stays away.))

He is always thinking inwardly. He is always anxious. He wonders how he can make himself smaller, friendlier, less scary… Trying to plan how he wants others to relate to him. He tries to control how others think of him, to steer them away from the bad things... He is a wolf in wizards clothing. If he treats everyone as dolls to manipulate, and if they never know the real him... it will hurt everyone less when he leaves.

1. He needs someone who can bust him out of that toxic mindset. Someone that grabs his attention and pulls it away from himself. Someone interesting, skilled, passionate - living a life he can't achieve. Someone with knowledge or stories he can listen to at length and live a little through them... or they can even include him. More of a talker so he can be a listener, so he can focus on someone else's world - but they're also eager to hear whatever he has to say without prying. They aren't arrogant or loud: they can listen, too. Remus needs good, witty conversation over a cup of tea.

2. They need to be generally up-beat, but not in a way that'll crush his down-beat. They invite him to join in if he wants - or else lean on them like they're a heater for his troubled soul while he feels down. Sometimes he will feel bad, or flat, or tired - and they can't fix it.

I don't think he has any visual preferences. What he notices first about people are their mannerisms. He is always shaping himself to fit the room, so I think he admires people who act authentically: Boldness. Bravery. Honesty. Earnestness. Brashness. So... 3. He would be more attracted to people of subcultures and/or strong interests - or are simply out-of-the-expected-norm. I think he would be fascinated about these little nooks of belonging - alternate 'normal's' when the Wizarding world can be so rigid. (Do I think he has a preference for LGBTQIA+? Yeah. General androgyny too.)

4. Kind. Accepting. They need to be kind to others in general. Because he can't always be kind to others. He puts himself first and sometimes that hurts because he WANTS to be more kind. A partner who can pick up the slack? Who he can trust to always be kind and accepting of him - because they are such a way with everyone...? That's just a requirement, really.

5. A small thing I think he likes in particular: A cute factor. A little clumsy, A little slow, Enthusiastic, Awkward, Weak, A bit short/tall... something that isn't an issue but will pop up every now and then, distract him and make him go '...cute. That was cute.' Something he can effortlessly support. Something he can be thoughtful about, thinking of their needs rather than his own. - They struggle to read quickly? He can read out loud for them. - They tend to act impulsively? He can hold them back just enough to let them to give it a second thought. - They struggle in social situations? So he can talk on their behalf. - They keep fumbling and tripping over? He can keep them steady. It's nice to feel useful and kind in a simple, effortless way. Something so obvious to proves he isn't bad at heart - even when he feels awful.

6. They need to be Independent. What he CAN'T have is someone who NEEDS him. Oh god, the pressure… He cant be trapped. He requires a high level of independence... because he WILL FAIL. He WILL leave and break their heart over nothing. He WILL make promises he doesn't intend to keep - because he intends to run away and never look back. If they NEED him, just to stay afloat…? It will break him. He can't be the bread-winner, even if he could have a stable job. He can't be a long-term emotional support, only short-term. He needs to know that WHEN he breaks down and fucks off not 'if' - even if it's FOREVER… that they will be okay without him. 'Not being ok without him' won't make him stay. He will not 'shape up under a bit of pressure'. It will only injure him.

7. He needs someone strong enough to be forgiving. Not a self-harming, forcing yourself to forgive-and-forget either. That is a very real danger with Remus: If he got with someone who was as much a people-pleasing self-depreciator as him…? He will tear them to shreds. He is a toxic man and he requires tough gloves to handle:- Genuinely emotionally strong. Someone he can lean on, far more than they lean on him. - Wise enough to see through his bullshit manipulations and lies - with enough tact to navigate them, understanding he struggles without judgement but holding him gently accountable. - Empathetic enough to understand him even when he can't explain himself properly. - Mature enough to hold him accountable. Can help him understand how he can do better. He is filled with shame - sometimes for very good reasons that need addressing.

He will go through periods of being unable to be contacted, periods of self-endangerment… He needs somewhere, someone, he can crawl back to in shame. Who WILL talk with him seriously about things… but is willing to just let him sleep quietly for the night in their arms, for now. (Am I saying he needs to date a therapist? Yeah, basically. Dating Remus isn't easy.)

8. Doesn't start fights. Doesn't lash out. Doesn't live off of drama. Remus fits himself into situations passively - he doesn't need someone making situations more difficult to feel comfortable in. If they get angry and yell at him - he will yell one hurtful thing back and leave. He has a very limited ability withstand tension. He tries to keep a level head and a level room - he needs a partner who will support those efforts, or at least not sabotage them.

Partners I think have good chemistry, for examples:

NYMPHADORA TONKS. It is annoying how perfectly she has been made to fit Remus' needs, as she is so underutilized. I wouldn't find her as frustrating if she got more fleshing out in ways that weren't the specific things suited to being with Remus… ugh. - She is a skilled Auror, especially for her age. - She lightens the mood of any room by being playful. - She is unapologetic in being herself, accepting people with ease. - She is a bit clumsy - but capable and hugely independent. - Her ability to roll with the punches is insane: every time Remus is hot-and-cold she has both the ability to hold him responsible for how much it hurts and the strength to still stand there for him. - She is firey and doesn't back down, but she isn't trying to start fights. She's just stubborn and confident in what she has to say. To make claims like 'Remus only likes her because she can shapeshift' or whatever is just... no, its because she is perfect for him.

LUNA LOVEGOOD. Surprising, I know. Perhaps in different circumstances they could have hit it off. - Strong interests, a subculture at the edge of Wizarding society yet she is always 'uniquely' and brazenly herself. - Optimistic and up-beat... a little dreamy, air-headed, focus could use some steering sometimes. - Helpful and kind to all, even those that have been mean to her. - Very used to being alone. Independent in body and soul. Quite comfortable being alone - but friends are nice, too. - Emotional strength is a specialty of hers. Even in the worst situations she keeps her head on her shoulders and, despite how aloof she appears, is intelligent, sharp and serious. - Can make demands when she needs to - not a pushover. Bonus: An interest in magical creatures, too. :)

Close, but I think have a large flaw (that might makes them spicy):

SEVERUS SNAPE - Potions Master. Dark Arts specialist. Veteran teacher. All the steady employment and deep, fascinating interests Remus wishes he could have - along with ALSO having been a Spy... and being misunderstood. They have more in common than they don't. - He isn't optimistic, but he is a problem solver, dedicated to making things better than they are. He faces problems head on while Remus would rather curl away. - He understands feeling quiet and low. He might not be warm, but he is a softer place to rest than you'd expect. - He has never changed himself for anyone. He is stubbornly himself, even when it makes him seem like an outcast weirdo. - He has little patience. He isn't gentle or nice. But he cares enough to be kind, even to those he hates... and he is loyal. It isn't ideal for Remus but it gives him a place to fit himself: If Severus is cold, he is warm. If Severus has the quirk of being a snarky, prickly bastard - Remus is skilled at the opposite. - Independent. Accustomed to being alone. Expects to be alone. Being with someone who understands him... a little daunting, really. The main place I think Severus fails here is emotional strength. He is quick to anger and lashes out. He holds grudges. He starts shit and Remus can't handle shit. Severus needs someone who can temper those anger flares, or at least weather them - and Remus can do neither. But perhaps that is the place they can meet in the middle...?

LILY EVANS - Everyone liked her. Talented, bright and strong-willed, She was a popular girl. I think Remus liked her too, but... James and Severus. - She seems a bit cheeky, quick witted - she brightens a room when she walks in. - She was best friends with Severus for years. Maybe she had other friends in her dorm - but if they were as close to her as Severus was, they would have been HIS friends, too. She was willing to be with the outcast, even when popular. - I know it's a movie quote, but I think it still fits from Remus' POV when he says Lily was an 'uncommonly kind woman' and 'had a way of seeing the beauty in others when that person cannot see it themselves.' I think she accepted him fast and firmly. - She didn't need anyone else. She stood up to James by herself. She knew what she was worth. - She seems to prefer ending fights rather than starting them. She hates a bully. Lily doesn't have the 'grit' (for lack of a better word) to take toxicity. She hated James' bullying. She dropped Severus. She has patience and an 'I can help fix him' desire - but they need to put in the effort, too. James cleaned up his act somewhat and she liked that. Remus isn't going to fully succeed at 'fixing' himself. Not just by 'putting some effort in'. It is going to take so long, and be so slow... Severus would be far easier to 'I can help fix him' - and she couldn't handle him. !!!This isn't saying Lily is weak or something. It is incredibly HEALTHY to not being able to put up with toxic shit, to have the strength to say 'enough is enough'. That is a GOOD thing.!!!

A popular partner I DON'T think works out so easily:

SIRIUS BLACK Sirius Black is a dog. He needs people. He needs constant companionship - especially after Azkaban. He is a mess who needs support, company, loyalty... and Remus can't provide any of that with regularity! Waking up in an empty bed, in a cold room, after Remus timidly promised to 'always be there' for him but was lying... it would shatter Sirius. He doesn't have the strength or stability to lose anyone else. Sirius is honest and sticks to his guns even when times get tough. He would rather DIE than turn his back on a loved one. Remus lies unprovoked and runs away with his tail between his legs at the slightest sign of trouble. Sirius, as a traumatized man, is not going to be able to understand why Remus can just throw away everything he has to run off. How he could just leave him alone again...? Doesn't he love him?! At his worst: he is more likely to try and emotionally trap Remus with him, force him to stay - and that just isn't going to work. Remus is a Wolf. He can't be locked in. I don't even think Sirius at his best, pre-Azkaban, would fit well: - He is upbeat, but in a way that tries to break others out of their funks. It's abrasive for him to hang out with someone sad. ((I'm sure he could learn to do it but his instinct is to help.)) - He is kind - but he has a limit. When that limit is passed, his care is snapped. He holds grudges and he makes judgements. - He is not and has never been independent. He is strong-willed and confident about himself, yes - but he thrives when he is at another's side. He has always been like this Azkaban just made it worse. - He doesn't have what it takes to weather Remus' bullshit. That's not a bad thing either, he know how to cut toxic people from his life when they are too heavy - but post-Azkaban he is even more scared of losing people, which makes him vulnerable. - He starts shit. He jumps into arguments, he escalates, he enjoys the thrill and the drama of it. Remus wouldn't join in, even if he agrees with Sirius, and thus would leave him unsupported. We see this very thing happen in OotP

[masterwords]

My Heart Is In Your Teeth

Summary: Coda to 04x02 - The Angel Maker // Morgan drives Hotch home from Ohio...unsurprisingly, they stretch it out a little.

Warnings: vomit (brief, due to carsickness) and sex (not smut, but still obvious)

** 18+ recommended (Probably unnecessary but being cautious.)

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 3.3k

Notes: Written as a gift for the AO3 Bulletproof exchange using the freeform tags: Adaptive sex due to injury or disability/figuring out how to get a partner off in different ways and Character adapts to serious permanent injury (in this case, hearing loss after the NYC car bomb)

Read on AO3:

**

“Where are we?”

“Well, sleeping beauty,” Derek began as he arched his back, his breastbone pressing up against the steering wheel so hard he depressed the horn. They both jumped a little in their seats, an involuntary movement. He played it off like it didn't happen of course; of all the stupid things to do while your partner is recovering from an ear injury, honking the car horn is probably at the top of the list but it didn't seem to faze Aaron so he let it go. “We're in some nowhere town about an hour past Pittsburgh and I'm beat. I need to eat something.”

“Derek.” He said it like there was something important meant to follow it, but honestly, he felt sick, and he was tired. He wouldn't mind taking a break from the motion of the vehicle. “Okay.”

Stretching his limbs, rolling his ankles, he groaned at how old and useless he suddenly felt. He walked like Frankenstein's monster, his back ramrod straight, his injured leg bucking out from under him each time he put weight on it. Everything had frozen up in the car, he felt like the Tin Man, if only it were so simple as to obtain an oil can for his locked-up joints. He was barely on the planet, so focused only on moving his weary bones from the car and into the diner that he didn't notice the sound of a vehicle coming up behind him.

“Earth to Hotch,” Derek said, waving his hand in front of Aaron's face before tugging him out of the way like a parent might a child. Aaron glanced sheepishly at the car as it slid past them, wondering at how he hadn't heard it. He still didn't hear it, not above any of the other strange static floating through his head. There was either no noise or too much, he couldn't seem to keep track of when the fluctuations happened or why. “You doin' alright man?”

Aaron nodded automatically. There wasn't another answer he could give, not even if he wanted to. Dave said it himself, he'd play through the pain, he could no sooner admit it than he could ignore it. After the last few days, the gunshot and the cemetery, he was certain that he'd done irreparable damage to his hearing and this, whatever this was, would be permanent. The best he figured he could hope for was that the pain would cease to accompany the sharp audible changes. As his hearing fluctuated between agony and silence, he almost craved the silence. They walked inside slowly, grabbed the table nearest the door and immediately Aaron buried himself in the menu. He had no real intention of eating, but he'd make a show of looking.

“What are you ordering?” he asked sometime later, surfacing from behind the over-sized menu in an attempt at pleasant conversation.

“Man...” Derek sighed, raking his hands over his face. “I already ordered; didn't you hear me?” He knew the answer already, he was just frustrated and lashing out now. Rebelling against his own fears that Aaron's hearing wouldn't return to normal. He softened his features and spoke slowly, carefully forming syllables. “I got you covered; guess it'll be a surprise...” Aaron nodded and leaned gingerly back into the squeaking vinyl cushion before closing his eyes, shutting the entire world out briefly. Without sight, all sound faded, sounds he knew by watching them but realized he might not have actually been hearing melted away into a sea of static. The lights in the diner were too bright and hurt his head, the brief reprieve was calming. He felt a brush of wind and opened his eyes as the bus boy rushed past with a tub of silverware, and Aaron startled at the sharp sound of metal forks and spoons crashing together as the tub hit the table. The sound broke through and reverberated in his skull. The young man seated himself with this back to Derek to fold the settings inside of napkins, his headphones blocking out the dull noise of the diner. Aaron watched him intently as he wrapped the napkins, tucked the forks and spoons inside quickly while bopping along with whatever musical selection was being dumped directly into his ears. He was jealous, and he wondered if he'd ever hear music like that again.

The waitress brought Derek a salad with chicken breast and avocado sliced on top and dropped a bowl of fruit salad covered in bananas in front of Aaron with a smirk. She was judging him for his kid food, he knew it, but then she looked at his pinched features and her face softened. “You alright honey?”

“Hard week,” was Derek's reply, drawing her attention back to him. “Thank you.”

Aaron picked up his fork and poked at the banana, he knew he could start there. He might not make it to the melon that was tucked at the bottom of the bowl but he'd try because Derek was watching. “You got avocado,” he whispered, frowning at Derek's salad. “You hate avocado.”

Derek leaned forward, spoke slowly and carefully. “It's for you. If you want it.” He slid his plate toward Aaron, an olive branch, and waited while he slid his fork beneath the bright green slices and pulled them to his side of the table. He balanced them on the lip of his bowl and watched them teeter above the sliced bananas and melons and oranges, a fruit assortment that was as baffling as it was endearing. Seasonal Fruit Salad, he'd read, and he wasn't entirely sure that was an accurate description but who was he to judge?

“I'm sorry about all of this,” Aaron muttered, plucking up another banana and Derek's exasperated sigh broke through his fog.

“Aaron, stop it. Just eat somethin' and let's get back on the road already.” Aaron, to his credit, didn't need to hear a single word to understand Derek's sentiment and he obliged without further attempts at awkward conversation.

They made it an hour before Aaron begged Derek to pull the car over, and while he wouldn't have complained if it had been a ditch on the side of the road, he was glad they managed to make it safely to a parking lot. He fell out of the car onto his knees barely in time to be sick in front of a nostalgic roadside motel. “Well,” Derek said, tossing his keys in the air while he tried to do anything but watch Aaron lose his fruit salad all over the oil slicked parking spot. “I'm callin' it. We're getting a room.”

“Strauss is...” Aaron tried to reason, his voice shaky and desperate.

“Strauss will mind her own fuckin' business unless she wants me to talk to the Director about her allowing an Agent in your condition out in the damn field.”

“I had a doctor's note.” He was speaking around gasps, each word cut off by a pained whimper, a sharp intake of breath. It hurt to pull air into his lungs, and his ears were screaming and popping, every sound became deafening.

“Yeah,” Derek rolled his eyes. “And Strauss knows better.”

With one arm, Aaron braced his chest, splintered bones constricting and expanding painfully with each movement. He thought only about holding himself together for Derek's sake, tried to focus on his hand on the thick, slippery congealed oil, the gravel digging into the flesh of his knees beneath ruined slacks. It was all he could do not to fall on his face.

By the time Derek came back with another key dangling from his hand, Aaron's back was resting against the wheel, head hanging limp between his legs. He wasn't certain it was over, but he knew he couldn't move, not yet. The blue sky spun above him, fluffy clouds swirling at the edges of his vision.

“Room 6,” Derek announced, cutting through the flurry. “First floor, down by the vending machine.” He wanted to help Aaron up but even he could see that would be a mistake, so he busied himself by hauling their go-bags inside and raiding the vending machine for drinks to put in the mini fridge. He'd run to the store or see if there was some local shitty pizza he could order; he was just going to try to make their room something habitable by the time Aaron was ready to stand on his own two legs.

Aaron was sagging in the doorway when Derek turned around, just watching him with an odd little look on his face. Not really a smile, it was amusement and delirium and pain, something uniquely Aaron. “Shower work?” he grunted, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. He used the walls and furniture for support, his leg hurt, he tried to keep the weight off of it but the effort of that made his back and ribs scream. All he wanted to do was collapse in the bathtub and let the hot water drown the world out for a while.

“About that...” Derek replied with an amused grin. “There isn't a shower. This is the honeymoon suite...”

“Derek.”

“They had a special.”

“Derek.”

He paused to glance around the room, leaning heavily against the back of an office chair like his life depended on it. It was like stepping back in time. Shag carpet that he knew hid a number of horrors that dated back decades, comforters covered with over-sized gaudy floral designs in dancing golds and browns. The room was shockingly understated and yet distinctly vintage, and not the kind where a new designer tries to mimic the old ways, there was nothing mid-century modern about this, it was simply...dated. Any number of items from this room could just as easily have been in his childhood home, or worse, his grandmother's. Derek was thumbing through a dusty record collection while his eyes wandered around the oddly placed shelves boasting tchotchkes that seemed to have no rhyme nor reason. Swans whose necks twisted together in heart shapes, heavy brass busts of naked men and women, fine thrift store art.

“Derek, all I want is a shower...” he said, his voice hardly audible over the noise from the heating unit that rumbled beneath the window. Derek nodded.

“Bath is running, it's the best I can do.” Aaron knew what he would find when he entered the bathroom, but the sight of it took his breath away nonetheless. As Derek had already pointed out, there was no shower, instead just a large, tiled monstrosity with steps leading up. Looming at the top was a heart shaped bathtub filling achingly slowly with thick, foamy bubbles and the smell of strawberries. It turned his stomach.

“The note said it takes a while,” Derek called from the other room and as Aaron lost himself in the slow trickle of the faucet, he thought that might be an understatement. He eased himself down onto the edge of the sunken bathtub and started the arduous process of removing his clothing; he might need the time it took to fill the tub just to complete the process. His back wasn't bending right, getting his shoes off was almost impossible. He sucked in his breath and forced his protesting muscles to do what he wanted, and by the time both shoes and socks had been removed his face was hot, blood pounding in his ears. The world felt quiet, all he could hear was his own heart and he was momentarily caught up in the fact that his ears didn't hurt, the pain in his head had taken a backseat to his frustration at his limitations. While still sitting, he unbuttoned his shirt and let it slide down his arms with little effort, shrugging out of it while one sleeve dipped into the frothy bubbles that were filling the tub twice as fast as the water.

The rest of the undressing was uneventful, just slow. When Derek walked in to check on the progress, he was shocked at the sight of Aaron sitting on the edge of the tub, his feet tucked inside the hot water, his head in his hands. His back was a mottled series of deep purple and black bruises, and Derek walked up behind him, placed is hands against warm skin and traced the outlines like a cartographer sketching out landforms. Aaron sucked in his breath, surprised and leaned into the gentle pressure of Derek's fingertips, his eyes drifting shut as sparks blotted out his vision. Derek's arms slipped around his waist, chin digging into tender flesh, his lips cold and sugary sweet from the lemon lime soda he'd cracked into while he selected some records to enjoy.

“You mind sharing this tub with me?” he asked, his voice rumbling near Aaron's ear. “It takes so long to fill, I don't think we'd get two in by morning...”

“Get your own tub.”

They both fit inside, which was a miracle Aaron noted, and he couldn't be entirely upset about the lack of a shower as he sat cradled in Derek's arms. Getting in had been more than a little hassle and the change in pressure made his ears pop angrily, the ringing settling back in as the ache in his back and leg faded into the hot water. Trading one for the other, he supposed. Derek's hands were roaming, rough, and while Aaron wasn't planning to turn down any requests Derek might have, even if it killed him, he would have liked to have a few minutes just to settle his nerves.

The record began to skip in the other room, ruining the sound of Patsy Cline's honeyed voice dripping through the air and Derek grunted as he hopped out of the tub. He was slippery and wet and didn't have a care in the world about grabbing a towel first. He had to sort out the music, and it provided Aaron with just the briefest moment of still reflection. Derek regarded him as he entered the bathroom again, the faraway look in his eyes, the sadness in his features. “You good?”

“Just thinking. Come back.” He smiled at the wonder that was Derek approaching, let all of the other things fall away. They would be back sooner rather than later, but he knew better than to squander a moment like this. There were kisses as Derek slipped back beneath the surface, bubbles clinging to their skin, highlighting the deep bruises they both wore as proof of their trouble in New York. More kisses as Derek gripped Aaron tight, sore muscles and angry bruises crying out for a mercy Aaron wouldn't give voice to. He smiled into the kisses, wet arms slicking around Derek's neck, sliding himself up onto Derek's lap, bubbles frothing and foaming between them. His kisses were hungry and desperate, pulling on what little strength he possessed to reclaim what was lost. Derek's thumbs dug into the soft curves of Aaron's waist and pulled his aching hips close, the pain melted into the background, and he rested there afloat and weightless in the water. Wet bodies weren't easy to maneuver, creating tides that washed over the walls of the heart shaped tub, Derek's head hitting the low-hung chandelier as he tried to adjust his position, move them into the center, long limbs and stiff muscles barely cooperating. The bump of the chandelier caused the light in the room to bounce jarringly, and Aaron shut his eyes against a sudden burst of seasickness, forcing himself back into the touch of Derek's hands on his chest, pressing him down into the water.

There was a brief moment of clarity, when Aaron realized that he couldn't hear the splash of the water, the slap of skin, Derek's breaths. Patsy Cline no longer sang to him, the sounds of the world had dropped away but he pressed his hand to Derek's chest and could feel the thunder of his heart. In the water he could move his body, he could slide and turn and feel almost like he was in control. He knew it was a lie, gravity would crush him anew when they were done but this...he didn't hate the heart shaped tub so much now. Watching Derek's mouth fall open at his touches made him long to hear the low moans he knew were filling the room, the sound of Derek's pleasure was like a drug and he craved it.

The anger and frustration he felt at being deprived of one of his greatest joys gave way to something new blossoming beneath the scream of new bruises forming under Derek's rough touch. Where he'd lost sound, this new sensation exploded. Derek was grabbing Aaron's wrists so hard he felt the bones grind together under the pressure and he smiled into it, let his attention be drawn to the sheer strength of his lover. Where he would usually seek out the sounds of Derek's pleasure as he moved against him, now he had to read other cues, the way his adam's apple bobbed beneath his slick skin, the way his back arched and his head twisted to the side, the desperation in his grip when he pulled Aaron's body. In the morning there would be a purple bruise that would settle beneath the band of his Rolex, a reminder that he was in the hands of someone who possessed enough strength that he could, even just briefly, let his own go. Be broken and soft and cling to someone else.

The water began to turn cold as they finished, and only then were they willing to fall out of it in a heap of sopping wet bodies. Aaron hurt, every bit of him hurt and their escapades hadn't necessarily helped but he felt lighter, less burdened by it. His focus was elsewhere finally. Their fingers and toes were wrinkled and soft, restless bodies sliding down the tile of the tub to the shag carpeted floor. The silent world cradled him, he clung to Derek and closed his eyes. His ears popped painfully and sound flooded his head, a tidal wave crashing against his skull and suddenly everything was too loud, too sharp.

“How many people you think have done that before us?”

Aaron laughed in spite of himself, nothing could ever be too serious with Derek. The laughter hurt his head, his ears popping painfully again. He was doing his best just to ignore it, to make peace with the sudden changes. “Too many,” was his response and Derek's face turned thoughtful.

“You think any of them died while doin' the nasty in there?”

“Are you trying to ruin the mood?”

“What mood exactly?”

Aaron groaned and let Derek wrap him in his arms. The room was warm and the record had long since stopped pouring Patsy Cline into the air. He hung there, sagged against Derek, his body a wreck, his ears ringing, and he felt somehow content in spite of it.

“You hungry?”

“Not even a little...” Aaron replied, his hand mindlessly drifting to his aching stomach. He was barely hanging on, but the way Derek eased him down onto the bed and pulled the small jar of arnica oil from his bag was all he needed to settle.

“Penelope said to give this to you.”

“Like this?”

“Well, this is my interpretation of her instructions...” he said, warming the oil between his hands and rubbing it into the old and new bruises on Aaron's back, the blooms of soft yellows and blues and the deepest purples.

There was a remote beside the bed, and while Aaron tried to let himself drift into some sort of sleep, Derek pressed buttons like a child. He delighted in the way the bed rattled and vibrated while Aaron shoved his face into the pillow and groaned miserably.

“Derek...” he whined, and Derek stopped playing with the buttons, turned it off and sighed.

“You really are no fun.”

[otonymous]

It’s The End Of The World (MLQC Headcanon)

Dear Nonny...

I say that now, Nonny, but the truth is that the ONLY thing I love more than smut is angst! Mwahahaha! 🤣🤣 That being said, let’s take a one-way trip to Angst Town!  Everybody got their seatbelts on?!  LET’S GO!!! (Please note warnings below before reading 💕💕💕)

Warnings: angst, explicit language, trigger warnings (mentions of speeding, near-death experiences and flashbacks, nausea & vomiting, insomnia, slight mention of possessive behaviour, workaholism, loss of appetite and weight loss, anger and violent behaviour (not towards other people though!)) and SPOILERS (basically up to chapter 24 in the EN server; includes dates and Rumours & Secrets for the boys) 

Gavin:

DEVASTATED.  This man is absolutely devastated.

Gavin has known you since high school and loved you since then

You were his dream girl — the one he thought had got away until his duties brought you back into his life.  He had vowed to protect you till the very end, had absolutely no qualms about giving his life for yours.  He made a solemn promise to himself that he would never lose you a second time

Until that fateful day when you invited him out for lunch at Lynn’s Kitchen on the grounds of your old high school

You order his favourites, spicy noodles and lemon tea; wait until his stomach is full before you open your mouth to gently broach the topic

“Gavin…I…”

A single glance at your face tells Gavin that something is terribly off.  He’s immediately setting his chopsticks down, asking, “What’s wrong?  You know you can talk to me about anything.  Whatever it is, I’ll help you—”

“Shaw.  We…we’ve decided to be together.  I know you’re not on good terms, and he did insist on coming today, but I thought it would be best if I told you myself…”

He cannot hear  

He cannot move  

And it isn’t until the burning sensation in his lungs catches up with him that he realizes he hadn’t even been breathing

Amber eyes, listless and dull, float from your lips to the wall decorated with Post-It notes just behind you, moving from one colourful slip of paper to another

“I hate it when people leave without saying goodbye.”

Gavin still remembers the loops and dashes of your handwriting on the Post-It note you had written so long ago, the way you dotted your i’s with hearts

And all of a sudden, he is back in his high school uniform, bloodied and bruised and free falling from the roof of the four-storey building

Except this time, he cannot hear the strains of a piano, no matter how hard he tries.  The gingko leaves around him flutter to the ground just before…

“Gavin?”  The touch of your hand on his snaps him out of his reverie.  He tries to force a smile and fails.

“I…I’m sorry.  There’s somewhere…I just remembered…I have to go….”  He hurriedly puts a few bills on the table — more than enough to cover the entire meal — and dashes out of the restaurant

Gavin hops on Sparky and just goes…riding for hours on end with no destination in mind.  He’s taken with an intense urge to go fast, as if his body were trying to outrun the feelings he doesn’t have the means of dealing with.  At one point, an overwhelming wave of nausea hits him and he stops at the side of the road, retching and retching until his stomach is as empty as his hollowed-out heart

He’s still thinking of you the entire time he’s MIA.  The last text from his phone is one sent to you, telling you not to worry about him and apologizing for the way he behaved back at the restaurant.  He’s asking if you’d still be okay with talking to him when he gets back, and of course, to contact him immediately if you need anything at all

He still feels you in the wind

Believe it or not, for a short period of time, Gavin actually develops a fear of flying: it reminds him too much of you, brings up too many memories of him holding you in his arms as you traverse the skies together.  He’s not confident he can do it anymore, partly because he thinks his Evol might suddenly give out when he’s high up in the air

The turning point comes when Gavin visits his mother’s resting place.  There, for the first time since you broke the news to him, he actually cries, and it gives him the strength to carry on

Let’s be clear: Gavin will never, ever be over you.  The two of you will remain friends though because Gavin intends to watch over you for the rest of his life (that is one promise he would never break)

With time, he gets used to seeing you with Shaw, even starts to relax a bit when he realizes that his younger brother is capable of protecting you

Someday, Gavin will marry — likely someone who was set up with him either by Minor or his colleagues (Birdcop would never take the initiative to actually meet somebody).  This person is absolutely smitten with the handsome officer and his gruff ways and cannot wait to start a family with him.  They would also have to be thick-skinned and stubborn enough to turn Gavin’s “no” into an eventual “yes”

And while Gavin would prove to be a loyal husband and doting father who would do anything for his family, a part of him would always, always, continue to burn for you.

Lucien:

How do you expect this man to behave when he’s lost the only colour in his life?

Lucien would never, ever recover from this.  He doesn’t want to.  The man for whom love was never meant to happen has no need for such an emotion.  He wants nothing to do with it unless it has to do with you

The professor’s world literally returns to being a drab shadow of blacks and greys — the rainbow disappeared when his little butterfly flew into the palm of another’s hand

“Do you love him?” He’ll ask you, dark eyes almost hypnotic in their intensity when he pierces you with that gaze

You’re ashamed to find that you have to think twice before replying that you do indeed love Victor

Ba-bump, ba-bump, BA-BUMP — Lucien breaks out into a cold sweat as his heart begins to race, face becoming pale as a sheet

His shaking hands are pulled into tight fists within the pockets of his lab coat.  He’s running his finger over the cap of his pill bottle inside one of them, not wanting to take them in front of you because in spite of it all, the last thing he wants is for you to worry about him 😭😭😭

Lucien nods, placid smile a mask on his face when he says,  “I wish the two of you nothing but the best.”

“Lucien!”  You start after him when he turns to walk away.  “We…we’re still friends, right?”

For what is possibly the first time in his entire life, Lucien can’t think straight.  His mind is a mess, logical thoughts tangled up with sorrow, hurt, anger, and the sense that the world could end at that very moment and he wouldn’t even bat an eye.

He takes a deep breath, composing himself before he turns to face you again: “Of course.  You can always come to me if you ever need anything.”  It takes everything in him not to fall apart when he lays a hand on the crown of your head, savouring the heat of your body for the very last time

In the days immediately afterwards, the people around Lucien better watch out as his ability to keep cool, calm and collected is challenged: he’s giving the side-eye to his colleagues at the research institute more often then usual, and Black Swan members literally want to run the other way when they see him coming.  If they thought Ares was ruthless before then they’d better watch out now…

As if it were even humanly possible, the professor sleeps even less now: if he’s not in the lab, he’s literally wiling away the hours watching old Hollywood films

Sometimes, he’ll place his hand on the handle to the door of your apartment, closing his eyes and doing his best to pretend that he can still feel your palm in his (he knows you’re not home.  You so rarely are these days…)

Unbeknownst to you, Lucien spends his weekends revisiting the places you used to go together: sitting on the same bench at the aquarium where you kissed him without a second thought, wandering to the theme park you ran away to as a child just to watch the carousel spin round and round, trying his best to keep a smile on his face when the kids at the orphanage ask him where his “pretty lady friend” is

Lucien actually has a kite that he bought ages ago, intent on fulfilling his promise to one day fly it with you.  It sits in his apartment still.  He can’t bring himself to dispose of it.

Gives you his pen, Iridescent, as part of his wedding gift to you.  “May it always bring you luck, wherever you are and…whomever you’re with.”

Regardless of where he is, Lucien will always be keeping tabs on you.  If Victor ever trips up, you can bet that Lucien will be there to swoop in and take his place

The professor will never love another person for as long as he lives.  That’s all there is to it.

Victor:

Throws himself into his work when you break the news to him that you’ve accepted Lucien’s proposal

“If that dummy can’t see that I’m the most suitable choice for her, then let her suffer the consequences of her foolishness.” — Victor will tell himself that, but don’t believe it for even a second

Victor has always been obsessed with working, but this is on an entirely new level, even for him: the man’s been missing meals (or taking them at his desk, at most) and doesn’t leave his office until close to midnight, most days of the week

Like a watch whose gears are irreparably damaged, the LFG CEO is broken on the inside.  He has to focus on work because he knows that if he stops long enough to fully consider the consequences of having lost you, he would never climb out of the depths of his despair

Even his dad and aunt become concerned, especially when they notice that he’s lost weight: “Victor, you have employees for a reason.  Delegation is not a weakness.”

His mind often drifts to you, especially when he’s driving.  There are many times when he finds himself absentmindedly heading in the direction of your office after work before he catches himself (the man is so used to picking you up that it’s become like muscle memory, in a sense)

Weekends will find him holed up in his attic space, fingers tracing over the uneven surface of the cup you had accidentally dropped and shattered, the pieces of which he had spent an entire night glueing back together

He shuts down Souvenir for a while: Victor cannot bring himself to step foot in the kitchen because he can’t help but see your face, smiling in rapturous joy to indulge in the caramel pudding he made especially for you

He spends his nights lying wide awake in a bed that suddenly seems much too big, wondering if you would’ve chosen differently if he took the time to tell you all the things he always thought were obvious: that he respected your fighting spirit, admired the brazen way you never gave up on the things you believed in, loved every single thing about you, even the things he seemed to disapprove of

His biggest regret: that he never had the chance to tell you that you were the love of his life

He often fantasizes about what it would’ve been like to stop time before you informed him you were choosing Lucien, to exist forever with you in a single moment when you made him the happiest man alive just by sharing your time with him

He still checks your Moments account religiously, murmuring “Dummy” with the faintest hint of a smile on his face to see your ridiculous posts, but he can never bring himself to reply.  Victor’s pride won’t let him.  He would rather die than let you know that each moment spent without you makes him feel like he is suffocating

Eventually, his worried family — especially his aunt — decides that enough is enough.  They force Victor to take a vacation while trying to discreetly set him up with daughters of other wealthy and prominent families

Victor is beyond annoyed at having his personal affairs meddled with like this, but is essentially strong-armed by his aunt, who turns on the waterworks and starts sobbing about wanting to see the progeny of her dearest nephew before she passes on or withers away from want of new blood in the Li family

Victor will eventually have to marry and have kids — he needs to have someone to pass LFG on to.  It will be a long while before he does settle down though; at one point, it’ll seem like he’s content to be a bachelor for life, married to his work

He will show up for your wedding though, and you can bet the most generous gift will be from the LFG CEO

“Try not to be such a dummy from now on.  I won’t be there to set you straight and your husband may not be as patient of a man as I am.”  Those jet black eyes are wavering with emotion when he reaches out to lay a hand on your head.  But he halts midway, awkwardly pulling back because he’s realized that he doesn’t have the right to touch another man’s wife so casually 😭😭😭

Kiro:

“Ahahaha!  All right, all right…you’ve got me.  You can stop playing around now, Miss Chips,” Kiro will say, hands held up in defeat when you tell him that you’ve accepted Gavin’s proposal

When he realizes you’re being serious, it’s like all the warmth and light has suddenly been sucked from the room

Those blue eyes go wide, the smile dropping from the superstar’s face.  For what seems like an interminable amount of time, Kiro just sits there staring at you, almost catatonic

When he speaks again, you’re so surprised you almost jump out of your skin: “Gavin…he’s that cop, right?  The friend you’ve known since high school?”

You nod and all of a sudden, it’s like the floodgates have been opened: Kiro’s grasping your hands in his, expression panic-stricken as his questions come a mile a minute:

“Was it something I did, Miss Chips?  I swear I’ll change!  I…I won’t eat junk food anymore!  Won’t even look at that stuff!  If you don’t like your nickname, I’ll call you by your real name, anything you want!  Or maybe it’s because my schedule is always so crazy?  I’ll cut back on my jobs, I don’t care about the money!  If you’re tired of running from the paparazzi, I’ll quit.  Just quit, stop everything — I don’t care, ok?  The only thing I care about is you!  Miss Chips?  Please don’t cry…I’m your hero, remember?  So please…please…”

A single tear rolls down his cheek — you have to look away or else your resolve would crumble

“I’m so sorry, Kiro.  I…I wanted you to be the first to know.  I wanted you to hear it from me…”

It’s like all the life has been drained from him; it actually frightens you to see him like that

“Kiro?"  You hesitantly lay a hand on his.  It’s almost cool to the touch.  Kiro gives his head a little shake, seeming to come back to himself

“I’m…I’m so sorry, Miss Chips.  I don’t know what came over me.  I didn’t mean to get hysterical.  God, what an awful way to react….”  He forces a laugh, but it is wooden and so goddamn heartbreaking to hear.  You almost wish he would scream obscenities at you instead

“He, Gavin…he’s a good man.  He’ll be good for you.  I’m happy that you’re happy, Miss Chips.”

The next day, Kiro drops off the face of the Earth: he’s MIA, no one can reach him

Everyone is panicking: his agent, Savin, and management, his legions of adoring fans all over the world, and most of all, you

That is, until he sends two text messages, one to Savin and the other to you, telling you all that he’s safe and not to worry; he’s just taking some time to work some things out for himself

In actuality, the only thing that’s happening is that Kiro is reverting back to who he originally was before you came into his life

His sun has been eclipsed by crushing sorrow and loss, the brilliance of your light and warmth forever taken from him and he is left in the cold shadow of solitary darkness

Kiro wants to be happy for you, and he hates that he can’t — this dissonance so disconcerts him that he’d rather not feel anything at all

When the superstar does eventually return to the world at large, there’s something about him that’s changed — Savin and the rest will be largely fooled by that ever-cheerful mask he puts on, but you won’t

Those blue eyes seem just a bit darker, the radiance of his being almost imperceptibly dimmed

Poor Kiro, loved the world over, would never love another person for the rest of his life.  It would always be you or nothing.

Shaw:

Hurt.  Angry.  Confused.

Shaw is angry with himself for ever believing that you and him had a future together; he hates that he saw the signs that you would always, always, always choose Gavin in the end and still continued to lie to himself in spite of it

He hates that he let himself become vulnerable by falling in love with you (Shaw sees vulnerability as the biggest weakness one could have, that’s why he’s always kept himself emotionally guarded in his dealings with people)

But for whatever reason, when it came to you, he just couldn’t help but fall (“Guess brothers are hard-wired in the same way after all, no matter how different we think we are,” he’ll say with a bitter laugh)

A lengthy and most unusual storm will hit Loveland City; expect an extended light show with lots of thunder and lightning

The boy is trashing his place, throwing whatever he can get his hands on: cans of Coke and Pepsi, dishes, clothing and books

He breaks the deck of his skateboard when he smashes it against the wall, bringing down a good chunk of plaster along with it

You won’t be there to witness the destruction.  Shaw will continue to front like nothing could ever faze him when you tell him that you’ve chosen to be with Gavin.  He’ll chuckle, brows raised as he bites on the tip of his straw, saying, “Whatever.  It’s your life.  Do what you want with it.”

Then suddenly, he’s standing up to leave, hand half-raised in goodbye as he makes for the exit without so much as a glance back at you.  

“Take my umbrella.  And don’t worry about returning it.”  

Those are his last words to you.  Not long after, you spy the handle of the black umbrella sitting in the stand near the front of the café (the only one there, since it had been bright and sunny out).  And suddenly, the clouds are rolling in to blanket Loveland City in grey, sheets of rain pouring from a sky cracked in half by a fearsome bolt of lightning

Shaw walks, letting cold rain soak him to the bones to take his mind off the ice that’s already started to freeze the blood in his heart

“Don’t cry…don’t let them f*cking see you cry…" he's saying to himself, over and over again like a mantra

Starts hanging out at the Live House more than ever, losing himself in the music and packed crowds there; he can’t stand to be alone right now.

When he’s not playing bass guitar as a last minute backup for the bands, he’s literally working on his thesis at the bar, sipping on his Coke and Pepsi blend (the staff know him so well that they’re pretty much cool with him doing anything at this point LOL)

STILL blows off every person who comes to proposition him for a good time

I’m sorry, but you know it’s pretty much gonna rain on your wedding day, right?  (The poor boy can’t help it, okay?  He is SAD, SAD, SAD!)

Much like his brother, Shaw will never really get over you.  You were, after all, the first person he ever truly loved

Would likely remain an eternal bachelor, only engaging in meaningless sex but never opening his heart to anyone ever again.  One lesson was enough for him. 😭😭😭

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[satendou]

⟼  musical chairs

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢  pairing: semi/reader

⇢ au: college!au

⇢ summary: when semi can’t seem to keep himself together, he turns to you

⇥  masterlist

⇢  warnings: psuedo-incest, mild reluctance, dubious consent, smut, oral, no prep, angst, parental gaslighting, mentions of blood

⇢  word count: 4790

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢  a/n: yolo

you could hear them again, screaming and yelling at each other and your heart thumped hard in your throat. your stepfather and stepbrother were going at it again, probably over something to do with school and his music, because that’s what it almost always was. the whole household was walking on eggshells around the two of them, waiting for the next time something would set them off.

semi was tired, you knew that. he was tired of his father always shoving his wants and desires down semi’s throat in an attempt to make him into what his father had wanted to be when semi just wanted to make music. you knew as much because, though the two of you weren’t extremely close, you were also the only one who understood what he was going through, having been stepsiblings for going on ten years at that point. there was an age gap between you that meant, until you were older, the two of you had had different friend groups and interests.

when semi expressed a desire to pursue a musical career, it was quickly declined, being told that his future was set towards a doctorate degree and nothing less. it was the first time semi had exploded, startling you at the sink and causing you to shatter the cup you were holding.

he had come to apologize later for causing you to hurt yourself, taking your bandaged hand and rubbing it gently for a moment before quietly asking why they couldn’t understand. you yourself didn’t understand and it made you feel almost guilty because they wholeheartedly supported your own career choice-- psychology, with a minor in social services. it was a nice, stable path, they said, unlike semi’s, which would be tumultuous and unfulfilling-- for them.

it was unusual to see the strong willed semi so unsure of himself and for a while you just sat there with him in silence, unsure of what to say to him until you finally asked, “how bad do you want it, eita? i don’t-- i can’t say you absolutely should ignore what they say, but if you really won’t be happy until you’ve at least tried then… maybe you should.”

semi had looked at you with a pensive expression and then sighed. “they won’t be happy.”

you squeezed his hand and gave him a smile, though it was thin with worry. “i’ll support you, eita. your music is amazing, you’ll do well if you have the chance, i know it.”

the transformation in his face was staggering, and it made your heart skip a beat to see the smile that spread across it. you couldn’t blame him for wanting to pursue his dreams, and you certainly wouldn’t tell him he shouldn’t.

the fighting started more frequently after that, a lot of it revolving around him going out to open mic nights at clubs, bars, and cafes-- anywhere he could get some stage time. you also learned shortly after that that he had dropped some of his courses and replaced them with musical theory classes and the like, asking you to help keep his cover, which you agreed to without hesitation. for the most part, he had kept you from getting involved or blowing that you were supporting him behind the scenes. you often pretended that semi was studying with you while he was actually practicing his songs or out at mic nights. on nights when he couldn’t use you was when the fights would escalate, except today it seemed that it wasn’t about just his music.

there was the sound of slamming doors and then the house fell silent, which wasn’t unusual in itself, but there was something heavier than usual in it, as if something had irreparably changed. sitting up on your bed, you strained your ears and picked up the lightest footsteps coming up the stairs. they stopped just outside your bedroom and the gentle rap on your door indicated who it was, and you called him in quietly.

“eita,” you whispered, reaching out to him. his eyes were rimmed red and his mouth was twisted in a feral scowl which, in another instance, might have frightened you. but you knew without a doubt that it wasn’t directed at you, and he collapsed face down on your bed, groaning into the blanket. “what was that about?”

you had to scoot closer to hear his muffled voice against the fabric as he said, “they found out i switched my classes. they opened my fucking mail.”

“fuck, i’m so sorry, eita,” you said, carding your fingers through his hair. there was a lot of tension in his shoulders even after he relaxed under your touch. “what are you gonna do?”

he shrugged before rolling onto his back. his long fingers wrapped around your hand as he did and pulled you down to splay across his chest. you wiggled around frantically, hoping to hide your fiery face before he could see it and ended up tucking your head beneath his chin. the sound of his heartbeat was erratic in your ear, belying how nervous he was under his aggravated facade.

“they want me to change the courses back or they’ll stop helping me pay,” he whispered, and his arm tightened around you.

a startled gasp flew from your lips and you pulled up, turning your body halfway so you were hovering over him. “no way, they-- those assholes. i don’t-- why can they not just accept what you want to do? i don’t get it.”

he smiled at that, a cold uptick at the corners of his lips as he said, “of course you don’t. you’re doing exactly what they want.”

the reaction was instant.

your shoulders deflated and you pulled away, sitting up cross-legged behind him. it wasn’t exactly your fault you happened to enjoy something they approved of. turning your head away, you stared at the closet door, biting the inside of your lip to stem the tears stinging your eyes. 

semi’s lips parted and he sat up as well, shifting the mattress beside you while he scratched the back of his neck. “i-- sorry, that didn’t come out the way i meant it to. you’ve always been their golden child without even meaning to. i know you enjoy what you’re doing, it’s just that they actually approve of what you’re doing. wish i could do that too.”

“you’re fine just the way you are, eita,” you whispered, turning back to look at him. you could still feel the tears sitting in your eyes, not quite heavy enough to fall but definitely there, and semi’s hand came up to cup your cheek. his brows were furrowed, guilt evident on his face, and you covered his hand with yours. “you should do what makes you happy, not force yourself to live the life they wanted to have.”

the room grew silent after you said that, unsure of what to say from there even though he wanted to disagree. it would make things so much easier if he just gave in and stopped fighting, and he wouldn’t have to worry about funding or how he was going to pay for the classes he did want to take. he propped his elbow up on his knee, resting his chin on it as he stared forlornly at your bedroom door, listening to the bed shift until there was a soft touch on his shoulder.

your head was resting on his shoulder, arm wound around his in an effort to comfort him, and he smiled. his lips pressed to the top of your head, eyes closing while a feeling of fondness overcame him. how he had never noticed, before this whole thing started, what a sweet person you were was beyond him and he realized what an idiot he had been to ignore you all this time.

“thank you, by the way. i don’t say it enough, but i probably wouldn’t still be trying if you weren’t encouraging me,” he said against your hair, and felt you nuzzle against his neck. warmth rushed through him at the small gesture of affection, and he had to resist the urge to pull you closer. he wouldn’t consider himself a bad older brother. whenever you needed help studying, he would walk you through the steps or if you had to stay late at school for an extra curricular, he would wait around to walk you home. it was just that there was a disconnect, a distance between the two of you that had a lot to do with age and his own self-absorption-- and he would be the first to admit he was pretty full of himself sometimes.

“that’s okay, eita. i want you to be happy and I’ll support you however you need,” you whispered, squeezing his arm. “wanna go get something to eat?”

“that sounds great,” he said, pulling you to your feet.

--

again. a-fucking-gain, they were fighting. you could hear stomping and yelling, cabinets slamming and what ultimately sounded like glass shattering. it fell silent just after that, and you sat in your bed with your head in your hands, just listening to the eerie quiet.

after a moment, there was a quiet conversation that made you more nervous than the yelling, and then footsteps passed your bedroom door. a door closed downstairs and a light flicked on out in the hallway, and you stood up and opened your door to find semi hovering over the sink in the bathroom, the water running a vivid red that set your anxiety off.

“what happened?” you murmured, pulling his hand out from under the stream. 

he winced as you picked up a clean hand towel and pressed hard against the wound to staunch the bleeding. “i was holding a glass and squeezed it too hard. he told me it’s stupid to pursue a career when i have no talent.”

where there should have been bitterness or anger in his voice, you heard cold amusement and defeat, and looked up at him. “that isn’t true, eita. i’m an expert, i would know.”

your joke fell flat and his chuckle was humorless and empty while he watched you examine the cut on his hand. it was shallow and had already stopped bleeding, not even requiring a bandage, and he flexed his fingers. “i think i’m just going to quit. this isn’t worth it,” he said, so quietly you would have missed it if you weren’t standing close enough to touch him.

sadness welled up, a quiet ache filling your chest for your sweet stepbrother, who was sometimes an ass and kind of a narcissist. cupping his cheek in one soft hand, his eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into your touch, frowning as you said, “if you really feel that way, then you should step back. but don’t let them tell you you wouldn’t make it. i know you would, eita-nii. you’ve never let anything hold you back when you really wanted it, and your music is amazing. you fill up those mic nights, it’s only a matter of time until someone sees you.”

his lips pursed and he looked at you, a quiet sadness in his eyes that you were sure mirrored your own as he said, “i’m not sure i’m passionate enough about it anymore, _____. they’ve taken it out of me. maybe i won’t go down the path they want me to but… i don’t know if i want to pursue music anymore.”

that was surprising, at least for a moment, and then you realized how normal that was. when you were forced to choose between the thing you loved and people you love, sometimes the love for the thing faded away because of it. you just hoped semi didn’t come to resent them too much, though they would deserve it.

“what do you think you’ll do?” you asked, linking your fingers with his. his skin was cool and soft, worn from years of volleyball and strong-- you could feel it in the way he squeezed your hand, that he could hurt you if he wanted but he didn’t. it was comforting and made you feel safe, and you found yourself lost in the sadness swimming in his eyes.

he took a step forward and you took a step back, the motion repeating until you were backed into your bedroom, the door closing with a soft click behind him. the bed creaked beneath you as he forced you to sit before climbing on beside you. he picked up the remote for your tv and clicked the power button, mulling over your question.

he wasn’t really sure, truth be told. it was something he had been thinking about for a while but when he really thought about it, he couldn’t see himself doing anything else. but the fighting was too much right now, he was too tired of trying to make them understand him to want to do it anymore, so he would find something else to focus on.

you were warm beside him, staring up at him with bemused concern as he scowled at your tv. if anyone else were to look at semi right now, they would think he was pissed, but you knew better. it was easy to see the sadness, and the confusion and fear beneath it on his face. music was something he had been wholeheartedly set on, and all of a sudden he was adrift, unsure of himself. even though he didn’t answer, you knew what it was already.

i don’t know. 

it was written all over his face, screaming at you and you stretched your arms out to him. 

he allowed himself to be engulfed in your arms, curling his massive frame down over you and resting his chin on your shoulder. his eyes remained locked on the flickering screen, unseeing as you rubbed his back and, in the end, he gave into the urge to hide his face in your neck. 

releasing a long suffering sigh, he sagged into you, but his weight was too much to bear and you fell backwards into the mattress, pulling him down on top of you.

praying he couldn’t hear your heart pounding away in your pulse, you relaxed into your pillows and wiggled until you could see the tv. he had put an anime on, probably one tendo had recommended to him, and it was at least interesting enough to keep your attention.

until semi’s hands started to move.

it started off with him adjusting his head so he could watch tv, his hair tickling your neck before his fingers started tracing patterns over your clothed stomach. you giggled and swatted at his hand and he snickered, pretending to stop until you were relaxed again and then he attacked, pinning you down while he tickled your stomach and sides.

you squealed, curling down on yourself for a moment before reaching for one of the pillows beneath your head. raining blows down on him, he used one arm to shield himself while the other continued to attack. he was straddling your hips by then while you bucked up, trying to throw him off. it was a miracle you didn’t wake your parents up with your laughter and squeaking bed frame, but by the time you were done you were out of breath, residual laughter lingering in the air between you.

staring up at him, cheeks red and eyes finally alight with something other than that lingering sadness, lips parted as he panted above you. like a switch was flipped, you realized two things simultaneously: one, the position you were in, laying beneath him as you were and two, that he was rock hard against your stomach.

“shit, sorry,” he muttered when he caught sight of your eyes widening. he made no move to get off though, continuing to stare down at you with an unfathomable look, taking in the flush in your cheeks and nervous, not quite repulsed glimmer in your eyes. your arms were spread out across the bed beside you, and you tensed when he finally moved off to the side. “roll over.”

“huh?” you said intelligently, giving him a confused look.

he sighed, pushing at your hip. “roll over. onto your stomach.”

even as you do so, you say, “um, i don’t think we should--”

but he cut you off, coming to rest over your thighs, and you clammed up upon feeling his hands slide up your shirt and over your back. you could feel his hard on, resting now between the cheeks of your ass and you were nervous but not in the way you should have been at having your brother groping you. swallowing thickly when his fingertips grazed the sides of your breasts, you wiggled and he tutted you.

“don’t fight, princess. i know you’re wet already,” he said, voice a low, not-quite-whisper in your ear and you whined quietly. his fingers hooked in the waistband of the shorts you were wearing and pulled, slowly peeling them down. you tensed your thighs to hide the fact that he was right, you were soaked but his sharp eyes didn’t miss the way your panties peeled off your slick folds or the wet spot that had been left behind on them. “oh hell.”

you bit your lip when he ghosted over the round cheeks of your ass, barely a touch against your skin and then he squeezed, parting your lips so he could get a peek at your soaked cunt. it was almost surreal, your head spinning as you wondered how you went from a playfight to semi practically eyefucking you. it was impossible to wrap your head around and you jumped when he moved so he was sitting between your legs, spreading your thighs far enough that he could lay between them..

“e-eita--,” you called out quietly, not sure what you want from him when the first swipe of his tongue covered your pussy from your clit up to your clenching hole. “mm, wait, please, we--”

“it’s too late, princess,” he groaned against you, feeling you jerk hard in his hands. he looped his arms beneath your hips and canted your hips up so he could devour you with ease. “you taste so fucking good, i couldn’t stop even if i wanted to.”

the way his tongue flicked at your clit sent shocks through you, and your toes curled when he forced his tongue into your spongy walls, filling you up. he lapped at your walls, tasting you with another groan before returning to your clit. already, you could feel your orgasm building, something about not being able to see him taking you right up to the edge and when he dipped his tongue into you again, you came with a cry, legs bending at the knee and back arching down into the bed.

he continued to eat you out for another moment, until you were trembling and trying to get away, releasing your clit with a wet pop. before you could say anything, a complaint or otherwise, he was sliding his shorts down his legs and throwing his shirt over the side of the bed. both hit the floor with a faint noise, and then your shirt joined them. you didn’t argue when he settled over you again, pinning your thighs together between his while he settled his cock between the cheeks of your ass.

you knew it was going to happen regardless of if you asked him to stop. the part of you that felt it was wrong was growing smaller and smaller anyway as he rocked his hips, the soft skin of his hard cock sliding between your cheeks, occasionally dipping down to nudge your entrance. you could how big he was and your toes curled every time he seemed like he was about to slide into you. he would pull back though, and you could feel your juices on his skin, smearing it across yours.

“i don’t hear you complaining anymore, princess,” he said, and you could practically feel the smugness radiating off of him. he stilled above you, hands squeezing and kneading your flesh and you craned your neck to look up at him. 

you nearly stopped his heart when he caught sight of your flushed face and lips swollen from nibbling on them, eyes wide and glittery while you whined, “i’m not, eita-nii. please, i-- please put it in, i want it--”

oh fuck.

his cock throbbed at your words, at the nickname, so innocent and yet you used it now.

“fuck, whatever you want, pretty girl,” he whispered, barely containing his own need as he positioned himself at your entrance. he knew it was cruel, not prepping you when he was as big as he is, but you were such a good girl, he knew you would take it without complaining.

much.

even just the tip was enough to make you whine, nails digging into the comforter beneath you and you used that to try and pull away as he forced more of himself into you. it was a heady mix of pain and pleasure; you wanted it so bad you could taste it but the pain of him forcing you open was almost too much. it didn’t even feel like you were stretching, he was just pushing everything out of the way to make room for his girth.

your teeth sank into the pillow to stifle your scream, drool dripping onto the fabric as your eyes fluttered and rolled, focus narrowing down to the incredible feeling of him buried deep inside you. as pretty as you acknowledged him to be, this wasn’t something you had ever fantasized about and you were wondering if he was going to split you in half when he finally stopped. you took a deep breath, ready to cry in relief when he pulled back out and pushed in again, your cunt already partially open and offering no resistance as he worked to hilt himself inside you. 

it took a few more thrusts that left you winded and crying before his hips finally met yours and, just as he said, you didn’t complain once. 

not that you could when he took your breath away with each thrust.

he braced himself up on his elbows over you, muscles tense on either side of your head, and you tilted it back to look up at him. his face was swimming in your vision, but you thought he was smiling even though he was panting.

and he was, even though his face was twisted with pleasure over how tight you were squeezing around him. he could feel you pulsing around him, still trying to suck him in deeper even though he was already nestled right against your cervix. there was something so wrong about being buried balls deep inside you, his little sister, someone he grew up in the same house with for so many years. it was taboo, wrong, fucked up and he pulled his hips back to your stifled whines before slamming back into you with abandon.

the noise you made was choked and high pitched and he throbbed at it, doing it again just to see if you would make it again and he was rewarded for his efforts. he wasn’t going to last long with you choking his cock like that. the tight fit made incredible noises, your pussy gushing around him and dribbling down to the blanket, and they filled the room along with your muffled noises. he was grateful you had the forethought to silence yourself as his hips slammed into yours because he couldn’t hold back even if he wanted to.

your legs kicked up against his back because he was grazing the swollen, spongy spot inside you with every thrust and you could feel every ridge and vein rubbing along your walls. it felt like he was dragging himself out of you every time and you gasped when he snapped back in, cunt stretching with the effort to take him even though he was fucking you like he was trying to imprint the shape of his cock into you.

his hair was matted to his forehead and there were red marks where his fingers were digging into your hips but it didn’t phase either one of you as you tightened up around him, cunt fluttering as you teetered on the edge. 

you’d never cum without pressure on your clit but there was a spot inside you that he kept fucking rubbing and you were going to lose your mind. the whines that fell from your lips were mindless, eyes streaming tears and you thought it was going to be too much just as the coil snapped and your whole body tensed because he wouldn’t stop moving. you screamed into the pillow, a loud, whiny noise as he hips continued to roll, forcing your twitching walls to part around and pressing into the spot that made you cum in the first place and the bed below you soaks.

he knew you squirted, knew you were too sensitive and when you were trembling with overstimulation he stopped and let himself cum deep inside you with a broken, rough moan. his fingers bit into your hips and ass, keeping you still until he was done and then he collapsed over top of you, forehead resting on his arm beside your face and he saw that your eyes were closed.

at least you released the pillow.

when he had finally caught his breath, he nuzzled your cheek and you sighed, leaning into it. after a moment, you turned your head and bumped his nose, blindly seeking something and sighed again when his lips met yours. the corners of your mouth turned up and he can taste salt on his tongue and he worried for a moment that he might actually have hurt you.

“are you okay? you aren’t hurt, are you?” he whispered, unwilling to break the soft afterglow between the two of you, and you shook your head.

“no, i’m okay,” you answered, just as softly, and moveed so that your arm pressed to his.

balancing his weight carefully, he linked his fingers with yours, moving your arms up above your head, so that his chest was plastered against your back and you were fully encased in his arms. “eita, what now?”

he shrugged, breathing evenly against your cheek and pressing small kisses to your skin. “what do you want to happen?”

you mimicked him, shrugging as best you can beneath him and bit your lip. “i don’t know. can we even be anything? and would it end well if we wanted to be? i just…”

his normally sharp eyes softened as you stared up at him, doubt and confusion and worry all twisting your sweet face into a grimace, and he squeezed your hands. “we’ve only lived together for how many years? we already know each other’s bad habits and negative traits. we’d probably do a lot better than most.”

“what about them?” you persisted, and he knew you meant your parents. but there was a tinge of hope to your question, a little less tension in your body beneath him, and he kissed you full on the lips again.

“what about them? if we’re careful, they won’t know the difference,” he answered, breathing the words against your lips. he was over talking now, your wet cunt still gripping his cock and he could feel himself hardening again. 

a careful roll of his hips produced a gasp and a whine, and your fingers squeezed down on his like your walls were around his shaft, buried all the way inside you. 

“e-eita-nii,” you whined, lips parting in a quiet moan as he slid slowly out and back in. you were so loose and relaxed now that he had no issue slipping back inside with a wet squelch, groaning into your ear as you swallow him whole.

“feels so good, princess. ‘m not leaving this hole all night, i promise,” he whispered, and he can feel you trying to rock your hips back into his.

“fill me up, eita-nii,” you begged, voice ragged with need. there was already a throbbing between your legs, each drag of his cockhead over your walls leading you towards your high for a third time. “want all of you inside me, all the time.”

he growled at that, jerking his hips hard and forcing himself into you so fast it took your breath away. “don’t ask for things you can’t handle, pretty girl. i’d hate to break you so soon.”

a shudder ran through you at that, his words filled with dark promise and a question, and you breathed out shakily.

“break me, eita. please, please, break me.”

⇥  masterlist

[loverofthousands]

Ceaseless Despair// Dazai Osamu

"Tell me, Dazai-san. What causes tragedy? What causes despair? How can one truly call something as tragic?"

The glass was cold to your lips as you drank the golden liquid it contained, bitter yet sweet to your tongue. Alcohol had never been your friend. Shattered, empty bottles of it were lined up in your childhood home, cutting you with its sharp shards, but your father never seemed to care. He piled it up, higher and higher until you saw a stranger who once called himself your father. Only bad memories came from alcohol. How ironic that you now seek its bitter taste in the darkness of the night, haunted by memories you'd rather forget. You turned to the bandaged man standing at the steps of the stairs, beckoning him to come sit beside you. Dazai smiled and walked on over, no doubt fighting against painful memories as well. This might have been the reason why you two got along so well. Your fights were different, but similar in nature.

He sat next to you and ordered a drink of his own, though he barely drank it during the entire encounter. "What do you mean? Tragic, by definition, is when something incredibly, irreversibly bad has happened. Tragic is the broken, the shattered, the irreparable. In other words, something like me." He smiled then, playing with the ice in his drink. You were sure you will never forget the sound of the ice clinking against the glass. You shifted in your seat, leaning against the wooden counter, your head resting at the palm of your hands. "Ah, yes. The tragic story of Dazai Osamu. If you wrote a book loosely based on your life, it might sell for some good money." He laughed, but you can tell it was devoid of any emotions. You knew won't be able forget that too.

"But what of the fairy tales?" You asked. Dazai tried to meet your gaze, but you were already caught up in your own fantasy world. "By that logic, every story is tragic. Snow White was chased out of her own home and was poisoned by her own stepmother. Aurora was cursed from the moment of her birth and then never met her parents until the moments before the curse was fulfilled. Cinderella was treated as less than human by her own stepmother and stepsisters all the while mourning her father's death. Those traumas and heartbreaks are sure to torture them all throughout their lives. But still they had their happy endings." Dazai Osamu, the former executive of the renowned Port Mafia, Demon Prodigy, and a man who was barely considered a human. He is broken like shattered glass, but still, you didn't believe he was tragic.

"Happy endings, huh? I never pegged you to be the type to believe in those." You merely shrugged at him in response. Your mother used to read to you every night, all curled up in your pink blanket, a teddy bear in hand, her voice drowning out the nightmares that came with the dark. He hummed as he nodded his head, a cynical smile still plastered on his lips, playing with a thought in his mind. For awhile, you two sat there in silence. No one, but you and him at the expanse of this bar, finding a twisted sense of comfort in each other's company. "But, you see, it is because they have their happy endings that they are not considered as tragic. They were reparable. That's the difference between me and them. I am not..." Dazai trailed of his words with grim finality.

"Dazai-san," You can feel his dark brown eyes look at you, but you didn't turn back. You stared head on to the selves of alcohol in front of you, not daring to even catch a glimpse of him, your eyes filled with fervor, burning with a flame that threatened to burn him alive. He looked at you with awe like a moth drawn to a flame. "Do you think there are things in life that are irreparable? Objects are often broken, but given time and patience, will be repaired. With cracks and scars, yes, but still repaired." You paused, gathering your thoughts, latching unto an idea, desperate to not let it slip your mind. "Humans are even more so. They have vitality and resilience, granting them the power to bulldoze through the toughest times."

He laughed a broken sort of laugh containing disbelief instead of humor. "Don't you think that all fairy tales are tragic? After all, despite the golden castles and gowns, death will soon take them all. Life is a tragedy. It gives then it takes with no remorse. Death is its inevitable ending." His face grew darker and darker as the conversation passes. You took a deep breath and let let it out as if letting go of an extremely heavy burden that nestled itself deep into your bones. "First of all, fairy tales aren't usually tragic, but they are dark and morbid. After all, they carry that truth of reality, designed to teach young children. Secondly, how could you say they are tragic if they had once found happiness in their lives? Happiness, despite it being called a happy ending, is usually found in the journey rather than the ending."

Dazai shook his head, an empty smile never disappearing from his face. "Pretty words for a pretty girl. How fitting. So what do you call a tragedy then, hm?" Pressing a finger to your lips, you stared at one of the yellow lamps that hung from the ceiling of the bar. "Sakunoske Oda..." You muttered under your breath, but he heard it. Dazai's face contorted to that of anguish and despair as if he had just been slapped in the face, but in a blink of an eye it was gone, hidden under the many masks he has perfected his entire lifetime. He held his breath, listening carefully to what you had to say with narrowed eyes. You chose your next words carefully, not wanting to offend the memory of his dearest friend. "I believe that tragedy is an ending and the sadness that followed up to it before. Humans, in all their vitality and resilience, have the potential to find happiness all throughout their lives. And although Sakunoske-san wanted to, he still chose death without truly reaching happiness and contentment. That is what I call a tragedy." You felt like melting under his gaze, but still you held your ground. He fell silent, the atmosphere getting heavier and heavier by the second.

"What's your point? If you want to say something to me, just say it." Dazai snapped at you. He shook with anger, but it was barely noticeable, almost as if you merely imagined it. You steadied your breath, your heart pumping loudly in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. "A while ago you said that you were tragic. I don't believe that's true. You, after all, despite not believing it yourself, still have the potential to find the happiness in your life. Tragedy is sad from start to finish, but your story isn't over yet. You can still shape how you want it to end. You know why?" You turned to him with eyes as clear as day. "Because, even if you don't realize it yourself, you, Dazai Osamu, are still undeniably human." His breath hitched, and although he tried to desperately hide it, he was clearly shaken by your words. It cut him deep in the heart.

Silence fell once again. His gaze never went up to you, but instead stared at the drink on the counter, its ice already halfway melted. "Is that why you've come here? To torture me and then scold me for my patheticness?" He laughed darkly. From your point of view, you can clearly see the hollow shell of a man. You almost felt pity for him, but you dared not to. Pity wasn't what he wants, nor does he need it. What he does need is love and understanding, things that he was depraved of as a child. You weren't sure whether you are able to give him these things, but you're sure as hell going to try. Was it out of pity? No, it was out of empathy, because you too made friends with the very darkness that drowned him now. Sometimes you still felt trapped under it, but it wouldn't hurt to shine a bit of light unto a fellow companion.

"Do you remember what you said to me the second time we met?" You started, your gaze distant as you walked through memory lane. You and Dazai only met three times, all of which took place in this very bar. First was when he went here to meet up with Ango and Sakunoske, but found you instead. The second was the wretched night his best friend died. And the third was now, when he found you sitting at his friend's designated seat, waiting for him. Dazai composed himself, shifting in his seat. "Yes, of course. How could I forget? That was the time I anguished at the fact that you are unable to erase my painful memories due to the nature of my ability, right?"

Forget-Me-Not: The ability to tamper with one's memories. That was your ability and you hated it so. It can tamper with everyone else's memories, except yours and Dazai's. How truly loathsome. It was a curse that took everything from you, as well as the happiness of only one you had ever loved your entire life. "Yes. Do you still believe that forgetting them would make you happy?" He opened his mouth, and closed it again in quiet contemplation. A few seconds had passed before he broke the silence. "Well, it's much better than to be haunted by them constantly, right?" He waved his hand in the air in a disregarding manner. His eyes dropped once again to the glass.

"I met my mother today," You started. Dazai didn't move to look at you, but you knew he was listening, an unreadable expression on his face. "Well, not exactly met. I meant, I saw her from afar at the train station. She carried herself pretty well in public, but you can clearly see the dark circles in her eyes. She probably is still unable to sleep due to her misery." From your second meeting, you had opened up to Dazai about your mother. When your drunkard of a father passed away, it took a heavy toll on your poor mother. In his drunkenness, he had abused both you and your mother, but she still cried out to him every night since his passing. That was until the fateful night, the night your ability activated. Your mother shook from the nightmares that haunted her, and you consoled her, but deep inside your heart you wished for something you regret up to this day. You wished your mother would just forget him. A bright light blinded you and the next thing you knew, your mother was screaming "Who are you? What are you doing here?" Yes, she forgot about your father, but along with him, you were forgotten too.

"I had accidentally erased her memories of us that night, of the heartbreak and trauma and pain. So why is she still miserable?" Dazai didn't answer, or rather, he couldn't. He didn't know the answer. "Seeing her today reminded me of you, and a certain fairy tale I had read a long time ago. It's called "The Boy Who Fed On Nightmares." Do you want to hear it?" He was silent, but soon found the courage to look at you, solemnly nodding. You smiled at him. It was genuine this time, filled with warmth. You told the story from memory. "It starts like this: The Boy woke up from another awful nightmare. Bad memories of the past that he wanted to erase from his head were replayed in his dreams every night and haunted him nonstop. The Boy was terrified of falling asleep. So one day, he went to the Witch and begged "Please, get rid of all my bad memories, so that I won't ever have a nightmare again. Then I will do everything you ask." Years went by, and the Boy became an adult. He no longer had nightmares. But for some strange reason, he wasn't happy at all. One night, a blood moon filled the sky and the Witch finally showed up again to take what he has promised in return for granting his wish. And he shouted at her with so much resentment. "All my bad memories are gone, but why... Why can't I become happy?" Then the Witch took his soul as they had promised..."

You paused, grabbing the glass and drinking the alcohol in one gulp. Your throat burned and your tongue cringed at its bitterness, but at that moment you didn't care. You stood up from your stool. "And?" Desperation leaked from his voice. Dazai no longer bothered to hide the anguish from his deep, brown eyes. "What happened after that? Why didn't he become happy?" You turned to him, still smiling the same smile of warmth. "The Witch told him this, "Hurtful, painful memories, memories of deep regrets, memories of hurting others and being hurt, memories of being abandoned. Only those with such memories buried in their hearts can become more stronger, more passionate, and emotionally flexible. And only those can attain happiness." So don't forget any of it. Remember it all and overcome it. If you don't overcome it, you'll always be a kid whose soul never grows old... That's how the story ends." Back then, you didn't fully understood the tale. You did now.

You turned your back to him, walking towards the stairs. At the third step, you looked back. "Dazai-san, in every fairy tale bad things happen, yes? But those with happy endings have always defeated every adversary. They didn't run, nor did they hide. They slayed the dragon, defeated the wicked witches and created a happy ending for themselves. I hope, with all of my heart, that you find the courage to create yours..." And with that, you left, your words still hanging on the silence of your departure. Dazai was alone once again, staring at the space you had once stood on proudly. He sat there in silence, replaying your last words over and over again in his head. After a few minutes, he smiled and left the bar, leaving his drink completely forgotten and untouched in the wooden counter.

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

A/N: I’ve recently watched the Kdrama, “It’s Okay Not To Be Okay” That’s where I got the inspiration for this one shot. The fairy tale, “The Boy Who Fed On Nightmares” is from there too. Thank you for reading <3

[muddyhippy]

Night Terrors, Chapter 8: Lying in the Dark (11k)

As always gorgeous artwork done by @smolghostings

Lying in the Dark 

Jonny wasn’t in his room.  

It was late, well, it felt late but he wasn’t in his room. That was rare, he was normally easy to find. Only sometimes he was doing something else. But still, she’d had a bad dream and she wanted him to tell her it was alright. He was very good at it, when he said things were alright she believed him. He gave really good cuddles too. She liked sleeping in with him when she got really scared, he made her feel safe and he kept the bad dreams away for the rest of the night.  

It hadn’t been a  horribly  bad dream, or at least, not as horrible as they were back on the ship but it was still a  bad  one, one with screaming and blood and accusations. She wanted him. Wanted to know that it was just her brain telling her lies again. The bad ones couldn’t hurt her anymore and they weren’t hiding on the ship anywhere and her people weren’t cross with her for leaving them behind to live with the Mechanisms. Jonny knew a liar when he saw one he said, he knew a lie when he heard it too so he could tell her that it was just a bad dream and nothing more.  

Nothing to be scared of.  

Lily hummed unhappily, trying to think of where to look. She could wait for him, but she didn’t want to be on her own that long. If she was looking for him then she was doing something to fix it herself.  

She carried on humming, the corridor was quiet but hummed a little bit in response.  

Lily didn’t really notice the change in pitch of it as she wandered along, too preoccupied with a lurking nightmare and looking in each and every door along the way.  

She was so busy investigating the doors to the side she didn’t notice the access panel open at the end of the corridor, when she emerged from the latest room she just assumed it was another open door. Lily wandered in, her search for Jonny far too important to worry about the possibility of getting lost.  

Aurora knew exactly what she was doing. She recognised the child’s humming and responded in kind. The little one was sad, sad and scared and missing someone. Missing Jonny.  

Lily had woken up after tossing and turning and crying out.  

Aurora often watched over the little one, making sure she had someone looking in on her. She often pinged Jonny’s communicator to warn him if it looked like Lily was having a particularly bad one. They’d been increasing in number recently. More crying and screaming from the child which was something Aurora hated to see.  

She liked Lily, the child was bright and made her crew smile, bringing some sort of lightness with her when she laughed and smiled and danced. It made the darkness of her dreams all that more stark.  

Aurora had got into the habit of alerting Jonny whenever he was  awake  and he would always go to comfort the child wholeheartedly without a single  hesitation,  but she drew the line of when he was sleeping.  

She knew her love worried about the first mate, the fact that until Lily he’d been slowly getting colder and harder and wilder. More trigger happy, heavier drinking and going for weeks without sleep. She was worried his descent into extended self-destruction would be irreparable but each time she’d tried to broach the subject she’d been rebuffed as though he had no idea what she’d been talking about even if this had been going on, bit by bit, for centuries.  

With Lily joining the crew it had forced Jonny into altering his behaviour pretty drastically, and to a lesser extent had forced the entire crew too. They were now trying to avoid murdering each other outright, violence in general had dropped to a bare minimum because no one wanted to make Lily cry the way she had on her first night with them. That had been horrific, and whilst they may all be bastards of the highest order, they may be entertained by war and death but they weren’t complete monsters and they didn’t enjoy listening to or worse, being the cause of a child who obviously adored them sobbing her little heart out.  

Lily, latching on to Jonny as she had, had thrown real, serious and immediate responsibility into his lap. But instead of bolting or imploding like almost the whole crew had expected him to, he rose to the challenge. Nastya and Aurora however had hoped the child would have this affect on him, she’d seen Jonny long before the others had been forcibly added to the crew. She knew far more of how he worked, how much he cared.  

Lily  gave Jonny intrinsic permission to care, loudly and openly without a shred of derision or the threat of punishment for caring. She was a little girl who needed love and reassurance and surety. And Jonny provided it, unconsciously most of the time, she was a priority to him and so he gave her his attention and did what he could to make sure she was alright.  

It had pleased Aurora and Nastya no end to see how much Lily reciprocated that even without truly understanding the extent of it.  

Jonny even had somewhat of a routine now, he was forced to talk instead of shooting his way out or he could just leave the room without blowing up if things were too much. He was starting to practice sharing his real thoughts and feelings, both ship and engineer were deeply amused that such an accomplished liar found it impossible to really lie to Lily, omitting some truths until she was older excepting, he answered honestly to any question she asked. Then again, so did the rest of the crew when she had a question, no one had really learned to withstand the eyes yet.  

He put her to bed at night and often woke in the morning to her snuggled against him. He’d eased off on his drinking for the most part, wanting to be semi-sober to deal with any bad nightmares and he’d slept more in the last four and half months than he had in the last four years.  

Aurora was pleased to see that when Lily joined the first mate in his bunk both occupants slept more easily and peacefully.  

Which was why Aurora was loath ever to wake him.  

This time however, Jonny was not asleep.  

Aurora happened to know exactly where he was, he’d got swept up into a spirited argument with about something that was long overdue and needed settling whilst the ceasefire was in place. Aurora would be tempted to eject them both into space if they attempted to hash this out with their usual methods, she nearly had done the last time this was broached several centuries ago. That time Brian and Ivy had killed them both before they got dangerously destructive.    

They needed to actually argue and resolve things without murdering each other for once so she steered Lily away from that cathartic nonsense and guided her instead down to her love who’d been a little despondent of late and could probably use the affection Lily gave freely to anyone who wanted it.  

Lily wandered guilessly down into the depths of the starship, humming along in tune unbeknownstly with Aurora.  

She was just beginning to get worried that she was really very lost when she heard some familiar muttering up ahead.  

“Nastya?”  

The muttering stopped.  

“Nastya?” She called again, a little louder this time.  

“ Маленький ?”    

“What?”  

There was more muttering which quickly flipped to English.  

“Lily?”  

“Nastya? Where are you?”  

The engineer appeared from the other side of a service hatch.  

“What are you doing down here?” She looked about for an accompanying Jonny, surprised that Lily appeared to be on her own, “You should be in bed.”  

Lily suddenly remembered why she was here in the first place.  

“Had a bad dream, wanted Jonny but I couldn’t find him.” The child sniffed, rubbing at her eye with her sleeve.  

Sometimes it struck Nastya all over again just how young Lily was. When she was up and bouncing with the crew it was almost easy to forget, she was so full of life and smiles, bringing out what could arguably be described as the best of them that it was very easy to equate them all together, like she just belonged and fitted in as if she’d always been there.  

Especially since they’d all tried hard to curb their more violent instincts around her.  

Right  now,  Nastya was painfully reminded of her own young self.  

The engineer was never entirely sure exactly how to handle Lily, her own childhood was so very different what Lily had experienced so far both on her own ship and with them. She was free with her affection and care with them all which was surprisingly pleasant after a fashion.  

It had taken Nastya a while to get used to Lily’s exuberant love for the crew, for their lives and especially for her own love, Aurora. Lily had accepted the two of them without a single qualm, only asking Nastya how she communicated and if she could learn to say hello too.  

That, that had stilled her.  

Jonny had learned enough to interpret Aurora’s clearer messages, as had Brian to an extent given he was her pilot and they needed to work together, Ivy and Raphaella, the latter pair inspired by curiosity. Tim too, knew some of her simpler sounds, mainly due to his first few weeks conscious it took him a while to get used to his new multileveled-vision. He kept his eyes closed when he was too overwhelmed. Aurora had hummed to him in the darkness of those confusing weeks because he was nearly as young as her Nastya and Jonny, another boy gone to war too soon and seen too much.  

Brian had an understanding because he felt something of a kinship with her, sentience encased in steel and brass and Jonny because he’d been there the longest, Aurora had done her best to help him when it was just him, when he’d won her from the soldiers but before he and Carmilla had brought on board her love when he was actually, truly, young and lost, scared and very betrayed. She’d hidden him when she could and he’d learned which of her noises meant that she was pleased, annoyed or was offering comfort.  

Aurora had told Nastya that she had composed a lullaby for each of the crew but only a few of them actually noticed. She was still working on one for Lily whilst Nastya had an entire anthology dedicated to her composed over centuries, each created to show her love for her engineer.  

Lily had asked in her second week about Aurora, found out they were in love and beamed. Then asked about talking to her. Lily was still learning, it took a while to get past the basics of different sounds and she wasn’t confident talking to Aurora on her own truly. Nastya had explained that it didn’t matter that she couldn’t understand Aurora’s replies and that she could talk to her anyway. Lily had argued that that felt rude to just talk at someone and not be able to listen properly and be equal.  

Nastya had made the mistake of saying she should sing to her instead then.  

Lily had taken this to mean sing-everything-you-want-to-say-to-Aurora-instead-of-speaking-it.  

It was unbearably cute sometimes.  

Not that she would admit to deeming anything ‘cute’ to anyone but Aurora.  

Aurora had cooed to Nastya about it for three full weeks when it first began, telling her of the stories Lily sang to her in her room. Lily sang to her telling Aurora all about the tea parties with the Toy Soldier, listening to Marius play, reading with Ivy and shooting with Tim all to tunes of her own devising. She sang of science experiments with Raphaella, star charting with Brian, cataloguing and card games with Ashes, all the story telling and cuddling and nightmares she shared with Jonny and mending things with Nastya all rendered with the same piping little voice that showed definite promise. Aurora was delighted to be told things rather than it be assumed she knew anyway, Lily was aware Aurora was the ship and she was alive but whilst she knew Aurora could see everything theoretically, for Lily she was a person who just wasn’t in the room rather than  actually  being  the room.  So,  wanted to tell her about her adventures.  

It made Aurora hum with happiness. And it pleased Nastya to see her love so included.  

Lily sniffed again, “can, can I help please?”      

Nastya was well-versed enough in Lily-speak to know what she was really asking but didn’t want to be demanding.  

“Come on then, I need another pair of hands with this panel.”  

Within moments Lily was stationed on Nastya’s lap small spanner in hand carefully unscrewing the more delicate bolts.  

This went on peacefully for another 10 minutes until the tell-tale wiggling started.  

The movements were slight, reigned in heavily but Nastya knew all about repressed movements, it was her childhood in the palace. Hiding her playfulness and then her constriction under polite curtsies and porcelain smiles.  

Lily was a born dancer, she had grace enough to find a home amongst the ballet and ballroom steps of the cold and haughty parties Nastya had been forced to attend, groomed into the perfect wind-up doll to be presentable at parties.  

But Lily had no place there.  

Lily was a child who was encouraged by them all to feel and share and sing.  

Aurora had shown Nastya footage of Lily with the others, waltzing with Tim, Brian and TS as they sang ‘Hatter and Hare’ to her, learning how to classically ballroom with Marius who might not be a real Baron but certainly knew the steps well enough to pass but beamed the entire time whilst teaching her. Jonny had even been teaching her some square dancing, far away from the others on nights when she was too tired to scream and charge about with her rage but to angry to settle back into sleep, they stomped and swirled and dosy-doed with a vengeance.  

It warmed her cold, quicksilver-fuelled heart.  

So she was an expert in knowing when Lily wanted to say something but wasn’t sure. She found she felt sad that Lily was still unsure of her four and half months into her living with them.  

But then again, she saw her less than the others did, more comfortable in the core of the engine decks than the main living areas it was usually Jonny or Aurora herself who guided Lily down to see her when it wasn’t a meal time. Nastya didn’t always make it up for a group meal but she did now make a concerted effort to join them all at least once every few days, especially when if she hadn’t made an appearance for a while Lily would appear with Jonny in tow bringing a lovingly made sandwich which Nastya dutifully ate ignoring the smirking Jonny who stood behind the beaming Lily, happy at having done her self-appointed job of making sure the crew was fed regularly.  

She saw a lot of herself in Lily and she didn’t know what to do with that.  

The child she herself might have been if protocol and duty hadn’t been forced down her throat the moment she could walk and talk.  

It was one of the reasons Nastya didn’t resent teaching Lily anything she asked to learn about. Everything in her formative years had been prescriptive, the least she could do now was contribute properly to Lily’s eclectic education, encouraging any interest no matter how varied or how ‘unladylike’. Nastya’s lip curled, the term still made her thrum with a raging quiet of fury.  

Nastya was fairly certain she, Jonny, Tim and the Toy Soldier were the only four that had any form of formal education, for her and Tim at least certainly past the age of 12. TS was mainly taught etiquette and the others either had no memory of it or were not keen to share.  

Jonny she knew because he’d confided in her one day when she’d found him hiding from Carmilla’s wrath, her beration ringing through the corridors that she was going to make ‘a backwater dolt like you learn to be a competent assistant even if it takes  centuries ’  

Nastya had silently dried his tears, used her cool hands to sooth his fresh bruises and assured him he wasn’t stupid.  

He’d had to drop out of school at 12 in order to pick up more work to support his mother as his father drank more and more of the household income and hadn’t been confident in his reading, writing or arithmetic.  

She’d started helping him get a hang of the basics when they hid together, enough to avoid the more violent repercussions of ‘failing’ the good doctor.  

Jonny still wasn’t a fan of anything that sparked.  

Still, he, like the others all had useful skills to share.  

Ashes was in a similar situation, the orphanage forced the children in their care into nominal education but they’d learned their most important lessons on the street and then with the Sevens.  

Jonny and Nastya had done their level best to protect the newly mechanised Ashes from Carmilla’s wrath, ensuring their new crew mate’s literacy was up to scratch. As it was, Ashes with their Quartermaster’s mind took to the particular order and meaning of words and numbers Carmilla expected like a match to gasoline.  

All the others were accepted as was.  

Lily was eager to learn to as much as possible, she was interested in everything and it seemed to please all the crew that she wanted to listen to them and valued their skills enough to want to emulate them.  

Which is why she knew how to carefully undo panel bolts and rewire the smaller plugs and transistors under supervision.  

But Lily didn’t come down here to help.  

It was 1:30am.  

She was up and out of bed and clearly upset.  

Nastya wondered where her useless lump of a brother was and how hard she could kill him for leaving her to deal with a sad Lily. Maybe she could take her to Brian or Marius? They were good at this, certainly better at emotions than she was and—  

“Nastya?”  

Nasyta cursed extensively and creatively in her own head.  

“Yes  сладости ?” “Have you killed anyone?”  Fuck everything and its goddamn siblings.  “Why are you asking me that?” “Because everyone else has here.” That was surprisingly matter of fact, for a moment Nastya felt a pang of regret that they had been rubbing off on her. But then again, the child was no stranger to death.   “Yes I have.” She answered just as matter-of-factly.      

“Do they stay in your head?”  

Now THAT was a question. Why was Jonny not here again, the one time she really needed the bastard to be useful and he’d fucked off beyond the seeking of an eight year old. She was going to murder him, he’d got (surprising everyone but her) very good at dealing with Lily’s questions about things like this.  

“No, not anymore.” She paused, that wasn’t entirely true. “Well, the first person I killed did stay for years.”  

“Oh.”  

“Why?”  

“I killed people too.”  

“No, you killed Jonny, that doesn’t count.”  

“It does!”  

“He got back up again though.”  

“The others didn’t.”  

This was something new. Was Lily saying she killed others on her ship? There was no way it was any of the raiders she killed, if she had her nightmares would be different. From what the others had said, almost all of her nightmares were about her fear of those raiders coming back and attacking the Aurora. So obviously she still feared them and hadn’t killed any of them to take that power from them.  

So.  

Had she had to mercy kill her own people? Could she? There was a core of steel in this child. Enough that Jonny had feared when she first joined them that she would be lost to vengeance.  

But Lily had been naught but condensed sunshine during the day and was clearly working through her nightmares during the night, mostly with Jonny and sometimes the others but they’d all been along the same theme.  

Why now did it have to be different? She was absolutely going to murder Jonny and throw him out of the airlock, consequences be damned.  

“What others?”  

“The ones of my ship.” Explained the child.  

“You didn’t kill them Lily.” Stated Nastya as firmly as she could.  

“I did.”  

“No—”  

“I didn’t help them.” Pressed the increasingly upset little girl, “They said so.”  

Nastya swallowed.  

“It’s my fault.”  

Oh not a chance.  

Nastya physically turned Lily in her lap to face her.  

“What did you say?”  

“I said it was my fault.” Came Lily’s surprisingly defiant response.  

That sparked an unexpected jolt in the engineer. “How? How is it your fault?”  

“I didn’t help.” Lily declared firmly, “I hid and stayed quiet and they died. They all died. They all died horribly. Screaming and crying and all I did was hide. I stuffed my sleeve in my mouth so they wouldn’t hear me and hid. I let them all die, all the gunshots and tears and fires.”  

Lily’s eyes welled with her own tears once again.  

“I didn’t come out until they’d been gone a long time and everything was dark and quiet.”  

Her voice was beginning to wobble.  

Nastya was unwillingly dragged back to the palace. The roars of the mob, the sound of shattering glass and crackling wood as the fire began to greedily consume her home, everything was sharp and petrichor, the tang of copper heavy on her tongue.  

She knew what that child had faced, at least, she knew a flavour and she’d been over double Lily’s age when it had happened. She had fought back but only after the fact, after being mortally wounded, terror forcing her blood out of her louder and faster with every desperate beat of her gasping heart. If only she’d  known  it was the last  time   she   know  the feel of true warmth.  

Maybe she would have tried to say no to Carmilla.  

As if that would have stopped her.  

Still, there had been Jonny who held her those first nights, Jonny who’d found her her coat (and kept it in good repair for her despite all his protestations to the contrary) and gave her the first sense of warmth and safety she felt in those confusing and agonising first weeks.  

Whether it was the pain of her body, slowly acclimatising to the quicksilver or the wrenching pain of loss and guilt, feeling that she should have died with them all, that she should have tried to protect them she was wracked with it for months. Or maybe years. It was hard to tell in those early times.  

Jonny had introduced her to whiskey and got her drunk on it in a well-meant effort to help her cope and make her feel warm inside. She appreciated the warmth but not the hangover that made her wish she could truly die. She drank in moderation after that. It still helped ward off the sense of cold and misery to an extent, but sleeping in the vents, wrapped up in her coat and Jonny’s arms as they hid eased her the most. She’d never been all that close with her blooded brothers and now, well, her blood and his heart were a match, they adopted each other wordlessly and without ceremony.  

Nastya paused, it was funny in a way, that Jonny, of all of them, was the one that could and did provide comfort when it was desperately needed.  Oh  he was much younger when it was just the two of them, he was far more the frightened boy to her frightened girl, gone to space too young and become immortal without the understanding what that truly meant than he was now, bitter and jaded and calloused to the universe but he’d still been  there  and he’d protected her when he had no reason to. He could have tried to direct  all of  Carmilla’s attention on to her, the new plaything and spare himself. But he didn’t. He cared and he  protected  and he loved even if he didn’t admit it. He built up quite the guard over the centuries when more and more people kept being added and hurt and he couldn’t stop it. He tried anyway. He was still the first on the scene to console each new addition to the crew when that had generally been appreciated. Apart from Tim.  

But he became colder and harder and more indifferent on the surface and seethed inside with each passing year and each new addition.  

She knew it was by sheer luck that it was Jonny Lily had shot, she probably would have launched herself at whomever she’d killed and then sat back up and Nastya wasn’t sure that Jonny would have been anywhere near as accepting if it wasn’t him she attached herself to, more for Lily’s sake than anything else. She wasn’t an annoying child so no real risk of her being shot but still, Jonny probably would have fought harder to leave her somewhere safe with decent people and not them. She was a good kid after all. But he’d got attached the second he failed to shoot her and she’d clung on. He still, despite everything, couldn’t refuse a hug when it was sorely needed. Even if he never admitted or telegraphed it.  

Lily probably had no real idea how lucky she was, having Jonny on side was like having an admittedly annoying but ferocious and lethal guard dog to protect you. Anyone he deemed as ‘his’ was under that protection. He could mess with those people as much as he wanted but the second there was a real threat, an actual, credible danger to ‘his’ people and Jonny could turn all his violent chaotic bastardry into pure, vengeful murder.  

But also, Lily apparently gave him permission to show that secret softness he hid pretty well most days to the point it had just become accepted that Jonny had a gentle side that he could and did use with Lily. It was nice to see again after so long.  

She’d missed this side of him being as apparent. He saved his real smiles for her which she cherished but still, it was few and far between. Lily had been good for everyone, even if Nastya wasn’t sure exactly how to interact with her. They had such a lot in common in some ways and in others? Completely alien.  

Maybe it was better to focus on their shared love of the first mate, (Never Captain, that was Carmilla and no one should ever be associated with her reign no matter how much he protested.) rather than their entries into orphanhood.  

But first. Lily was upset and it was an upset she unfortunately knew far too well.  

“ Сладости , Lily, look at me.”  

The child reluctantly raised her eyes to meet Nastya’s.  

“We have talked about this before, what you did, hiding in the vents was not only good but it was the right thing to do, your parents put you there for a reason, they wanted you to survive.”  

“But, but—”  

“No, no if’s or buts.” Interupted Nastya in her best, ‘Jonny-I-am-not-accepting-a-single-word-of-your-nonsense-right-now’ voice, “Knowing what you know now about guns and ballistics from Tim do you think you could have stopped them?”  

“No.” Lily conceded, wilting a little.  

“Do you think, knowing what you do now about piloting, angles and speeds from Brian you or anyone on your crew could have got the ship away from the raiders in time?”  

“No.” she shrank a little further.  

“Do you think, knowing what you know now about hull integrity from Aurora and I that could have found a way of stopping them before they breached your ship?”  

“No.” She curled up closer to Nastya as the facts rolled over her. Nastya found herself rubbing the child’s back consolingly, being told you’re wrong is always hard, even if it’s for your own good in the long run and she was still small and Nastya wasn’t beyond giving comfort when it was needed.    

“So I don’t see what the problem is Lily, there was nothing you could have done. It took a lot of courage just to stay alive in the aftermath long enough for us to find you. You were incredibly brave.”  

“But they don’t believe me.” Lily all but whispered.  

“Who don’t?”  

“My crew, my old crew, they’re in my nightmares, they blame me for not helping, that I shouldn’t have left them. That I’ve betrayed them by coming to live with you all.”  

A stream of creative Cyberian cursing torrented across her brain. Nastya took a deep breath and continued to curse Jonny for not being here with her for this. She didn’t want to talk about this, had avoided it for a very long time.  

“I felt the same way.” She admitted in as firm a voice as she could manage.  

Lily perked up immediately, sitting up to face Nastya, “You did?”  

“Yes. Where I am from, there was an uprising. My, my father was not a kind man and he had responsibility over a lot of people. He didn’t treat them well and eventually they realised there were more of them than the people in charge. They attacked our home, they wanted to kill us all. I saw them murder my brothers, my mother and my father and all the people who’d surrounded me since birth. I was older than you, I was 19 at the time but I was so scared Lily, I ran, I got attacked by someone who I thought cared about me. I killed him in self-defence but it broke my heart, he wounded me very badly. After Jonny rescued me I saw their faces in my dreams night after night, accusing me of being a coward, that I should have died with my family.”  

Nastya paused trying to gather the right words to try and get across in the simplest terms she could.  

“And you know what?” she continued.  

“What?”  

“That was my mind lying to me.” And oh, didn’t that feel good to say out loud?  Nasyta  hadn’t realised she needed this for herself even after centuries and continued with more emphasis.  

“My mind was lying to me,” she expanded, “it was the guilt talking, nothing more. Guilt is a natural emotion in events like these, you want to help people you care about but sometimes there is absolutely nothing you can do, no matter how much you wish it. You can tie yourself up in knots about it, you can tear yourself apart over it but it doesn’t matter. You won’t change what happened.”  

Nastya raised a hand carefully and after hesitating a moment, carded her hand gently through Lily’s wild and sleep-mussed hair. It was approaching her shoulders now, as she’d pointed out proudly every so often because she was trying to grow it as long as Raphaella’s.  

“Lily, I need you to listen very carefully to me.” The little girl fixed Nastya with her huge blue eyes. “Those things you see in your dreams, they’re not your friends, they’re not your family. They are lies. You feel guilty and that’s normal, that’s alright, but you can’t let it rule you, you can’t let their lies in. Your mother and father wanted you to live, they wanted you to live with every fibre of their beings because if they didn’t they would have held you close when the raiders came. You need to understand the hardest thing a parent can do is to push away their child to protect them. They knew how dangerous the situation was, they knew they might not survive and to increases your chances of survival the best thing they could do would be to put you out of harm’s way to and hope it was enough.”  

Lily shuffled, looking down as she sniffed. Nastya gave her a moment then tilted her little face back up to hers, she needed to take this all in.    

“And it was.” Stated Nastya.  

“Because you were clever and you were brave, you stayed still and silent and stayed alive. You gave them no cause to search the vents. You did want your parents wanted. You survived.”  

The engineer gently wiped away some of the escaping tears.  

“You survived long enough for us to find you. Do you really think your parents would want you to stay on your ship when you could leave with us?”  

Lily sniffed again, thinking about the cold, dark awfulness of her ship that slowly been smelling worse and worse and bit by bit falling apart.  

“No.” She realised, “No they’d want me safe and warm and with nice, kind people like you all.”  

Nastya didn’t think she’d ever get used to hearing herself and her crew described as ‘nice’ or ‘kind’ without a shred of sarcasm.  

“Exactly. You made the right choice in coming with us.” Actually, thinking about it, Lily didn’t so much as have a choice as ‘clung to Jonny and didn’t let go when he carried her onto Aurora’ Hmm. Well, semantics at this point.  

Nastya paused to look at Lily, really look at her, doubt creeping in because they’d assumed a lot with Lily and she’d seemingly just rolled with it, “Are you happy with us Lily?”  

Genuine shock bloomed across the child’s face as her eyes grew round in consternation, “What? Happy?  Of COURSE  I’m happy with you! You’re all so nice and kind and cuddly and you look after me and don’t ever tell me I’m small or silly and you let me do big important things! I’ve got a proper job here! I cook for you and you all spend time with me and teach me things and play with me and listen to me and there’s no fighting over things like food and you always make sure I’ve got enough. More than enough.”  

Well fuck.  

She was going to have to feed this all back to Jonny wasn’t she?  

Nastya privately was rather pleased Lily’s crew had no further claim on her, they were ill-prepared, ill-equipped, and obviously ill-suited to manage the prospect of a pioneer mission when it came to their most precious consignments. Maybe not her parents but still. From between her own and Ivy’s observations from the ship and the black box they would never have made it to their chosen destination. There were other ships as part of the  mission  but the black box recorded having lost them years previously, their engines had been damaged and they fell behind and never caught up.  

And Lily had clearly been given the impression she was bother, she was tiresome and she was constantly in the way by the other adults in her life.  

Never would Nastya have thought that the Mechanisms would make better care-givers than literally any other sentient being but apparently the universe was still full of surprises.  

“That’s good, I’m very glad to hear it. Do you understand why I asked you that?”  

Lily thought it over. “Because,  because,  I needed to think about all the good things here. About how happy you all make me and how sad I’d be if I stayed behind.”  

Thank fuck she was an intelligent and perceptive child.  

“And what do you think your mother and father would want for you?” pressed Nastya, determined to get this concept across to Lily, she didn’t deserve to have that sort of unwarranted guilt resting on her small shoulders.  

“To be happy. And safe. And feel like I belong.” She stated immediately with absolutely surety.  

The words sunk in.  

“Oh.”  

“Exactly. They would be very pleased you’ve found yourself a group of people who care about your well-being.” She took a deep breath, she wasn’t given to sharing her emotions freely with anyone but Aurora, and Jonny if really needed but Lily was a special case. “And we do Lily, very much so, you’re very important to all of us. We want you to be safe and well with us, even if we’re not always sure what to do or say, we do care about you.”  

Lily gazed at Nastya with all the sincerity of an eight year old.  

“I know. From the first night and you all hugged me even though Marius and Tim came back and some of you don’t really like hugs but you hugged me anyway because I was scared and I was sad and you didn’t have to. Thank you.”  

“You’re very welcome  Сладости .”  

“Can I hug you now please?”  

“Yes.”  

Lily carefully wrapped her arms around the engineer, taking in her scent of oil, grease and delicate musk. She didn’t get to hug Nastya often so she cherished it. “I knew you were kind, you cuddle even when it’s not your favourite thing.”  

“Well I know what it’s like to feel alone, I didn’t want you to feel like that.”  

“But you have the crew and Aurora?”  

“Not when I first joined, it was just Jonny and I.” Nastya was trying to edge carefully along the level detail she could share, they’d not talked to her about their mechanisms yet, or how they’d come to all be together on Aurora. It wasn’t her story to tell alone. That would be an all or nothing tale she felt.  

“And Aurora?”  

“And Aurora,” the engineer latched eagerly onto that as a conversation avenue, “it took me a while to learn how to listen to her before we could truly understand one another.”  

“I think I hear her singing to me sometimes, it sounds different to when she’s talking to me.”  

“That’s because you’re a clever girl and you listen well. Yes, Aurora is singing to you.”  

“She always sounds so pretty.”  

“Yes she does, she’s beautiful.”  

“Have you always been in love with her?”  

Wasn’t that a question, of course Nastya loved Aurora, she had for the longest time, her hums were comforting, warming her to her core. Being Cyberian and Aurora being a cyberian ship she could speak with Aurora from the first days, translating for Jonny when he  asked  or it was particularly pertinent. She and Aurora understood each other far deeper than words anyway, she was what filled her thoughts, gave her purpose and flooded her soul with warmth. “For a very long time, yes. She was very kind and comforting when I was first on board, I was very scared and lost even with Jonny to keep me company.”  

“He’s good at that.”  

“Yes he is.”  

“But Aurora loved you? Right at the beginning? Was it love at first sight? Like in my books?”  

It was sweet that Lily still thought like that when the universe was rarely so forgiving or amenable, “Not quite at first sight, I think love is something that builds up over time, but I believe we mutually fell in love, I with her kindness, her warmth and her spectacular grandeur.”  

“And Aurora?” The child looked up at the panelling.  

There was a deep and resonant humming that broke out around them.  

Nastya allowed her fondest smile to spread over her face, “Thank you my love, she said that she fell involve with my music, with my hands and how I use them work my violin and my tools to keep her in good repair, she says she loves how I listen, how I touch and how I care about things.”  

Lily was enraptured, “I bet she thinks you’re just as beautiful as you think she is.”  

Silver flushed Nastya’s cheeks, “That’s very kind of you.”  

“It’s true, you have such nice eyes that really smile when you see something you like or Aurora says something secret to you.”  

Aurora hummed in agreement.  

“See! I know that means she thinks I’m right!” The little girl beamed.  

It was something Nastya was very grateful for that the child was just willing to accept things, for Lily, Aurora was another adult to listen to and very much a person in her own right. It was refreshing to just be accepted without shred of confusion.  

“Quite right indeed.”  

“Does Aurora sing a lot to you?”  

“Yes she does, she has a beautiful set of sounds.”  

“Would she sing now?”  

“You’d have to ask her.”  

“Aurora? Would you sing a song please? You always sound so pretty.”  

Well how could she refuse a request like that?  

Aurora began to sing, this time a favourite of her love, soft and gentle, reverberating sonorously through her wiring and her metalwork.  

Lily was mesmerised. She leaned back against Nastya chest, soothed by both the song and the rhythmic sound of the engineer’s heartbeat.  

The weight against Nastya’s chest grew heavier and heavier until the sound of tiny snoring emanated from her ribcage.  

She sighed internally, she should have known this, Raphaella had told her how quickly Lily could fall asleep and now she couldn’t move for fear of waking her. Still, it wasn’t too bad, Lily was a little radiator and it was strangely peaceful to be the source of comfort for such a vulnerable being, a little girl that despite everything they seemed to be managing to raise to an acceptable standard. The child was happy, was building up her strength and general health now she had a proper balanced diet and obviously felt comfortable enough with all of them to come to them when needing comfort and reassurance as much as when she wanted to play or help with something. And that she’d managed to comfort Lily when it was clearly something serious bothering her was something Nastya was quietly proud of and more than a little relieved that it had obviously worked. She was rarely counselled for advice beyond Jonny and that was because he didn’t mind sharing his vulnerable side to her, she’d seen him sobbing and bloody and terrified enough to not be deterred by his defensive walls. Nor did he really try. But to help Lily? To reason well with a child? It was very new territory but one, on reflection, she found she didn’t dislike.  

Now she’d calmed down herself, soothed by the sleeping breaths of the child she remembered to be furious with Jonny for leaving her in this situation in the first place.  

Aurora noticed the hitch in her love’s breath and the flaring of her nostrils.  

She interpreted correctly, humming a question.  

Nastya Nodded.  

Aurora pinged a message to Jonny, now that the situation he was in had been resolved, to come and collect Lily.    

Jonny waltzed in roughly twenty minutes later reeking more pungently of whiskey than normal, a sloppy, sappy smile plastered across his face that spread even wider at the sight of his sister gently rocking the sleeping form of the child he was more than a little fond of.    

The engineer on seeing him went from peaceful to furious in roughly half a second.  

“Just where the fuck have you been?!” Hissed Nastya, “Lily has been having breakdown over her nightmares conjuring her dead parents and crew mates to chastise her for leaving them and having the audacity to survive.”  

All the drunkenness drained out of Jonny along with his colouring.  

“FUCK.” Sobriety hit him like a particularly colourful train, “Is she okay? She’s not had an accusing nightmare for a while.”  

“ Oh  you knew about these?” if anything Nastya’s fury deepened.  

Jonny was aware of the danger in her voice but ploughed on regardless, “I mean, yes, she tells me all her nightmares most of them are just banging noises in the dark.”  

“But sometimes she nightmares about her dead parents blaming her for their deaths?”  

“Sometimes?” Now Jonny thought about it, had it been more frequent, more recently?  

“You BASTARD.” It was impressive how much fury Nastya could convey in a whisper, “Why haven’t you told the rest of us?”  

Jonny immediately puffed up his chest in defence, “Because it’s her nightmares, not mine to share and it’s personal.” He hissed back.  

“Jonny she is EIGHT. This is serious stuff that does need sharing. And to dump it on the rest of us un-warned isn’t fair.”  

“I’ve told you the important stuff, she deserves her privacy as much as the rest of us.”  

“Jonny she is eight, not an adult, whilst it is commendable you respect her privacy there are some things that need to be shared with the rest of us, important things. Like this. THIS is important!”  

“It’s just a progression, Marius says—”  

“Fuck what Marius says, this was important and she needs to be reassured properly not just have me wing it and hope for the best.”  

Jonny grinned ruefully, “Welcome to my world, it’s a bitch isn’t it?”  

“No, I, she deserves better than that,” the engineer trailed off.  

Jonny paused to really look at Nastya, realisation dawned, taking in the paler-than-usual complexion and gentle, almost imperceptive trembling, “what’s wrong?”  

“I, she, the palace, it’s similar enough, it, brought up some memories I’d rather forget.”  

Everything clicked into place, Jonny looked horrified, immediately contrite, this was a BIG deal for Nastya after all and she hated being reminded of that time, “Fuck I’m sorry I should have—”  

Nastya was touched at his concern, it helped to calm her enough to start to regain her composure, “Actually, it was quite helpful really, I realised a few things I needed to put to bed and I think I was the voice I needed to hear when Lily’s situation was as fresh for me.”  

Jonny reached out and gently squeezed her hand in sympathy.  

“Are, are you both alright? For now?”  

“I believe so. I managed to convince Lily the words and the people who spoke them were just manifestation of guilt. Nothing more. That she did the right thing in joining us.”  

“She was questioning that?!”  

“Subconsciously. I think because she is growing more at ease here. More comfortable and settled.”  

“That’s good right?”  

“Yes, but it comes with consequences, namely questioning her loyalties to those she’s known all her life and those whom she’s only known for the past four and a half months  

“Well her people are dead, there’s not much choice there.”  

Nasyta closed her eyes, “Please tell me you’ve not put it to her like that.”  

“Of course I fucking haven’t what do you take me for?” Jonny paused, his eyes narrowing, “Do not answer that. I just tell her that her brain is lying to her because brains don’t always get things right.”  

“Huh, I said something similar.”  

He grinned at their similarities, there was reason people assumed they were siblings more often as not.  

She shared the smiled, pleased to have settled the matter and felt more at peace with herself than she had for a while, “Anyway, where have you been all evening that Aurora led her to me?”  

Jonny immediately shifted, looking awkward and closed off, “Oh, uh, nowhere.”  

Nastya cocked a single eyebrow, “Jonny. For an excellent liar this is a piss poor effort.”  

“Fine I was having a discussion.”  

“With?” she prompted, apparently he was determined to be difficult.  

“With Tim.”  

“If you have broken any more of her panelling I will gut you right here.”  

“No, it was civilised thank you very much.”  

“I do not believe it.”  

“Well we did. Go look for yourself.”  

“What could you have possibly been discussing that was reasonable?”  

“I, well, he, we—”  

“Spit it out.”  

“Fine we were discussing how he came to join the crew and the misunderstandings about it. Happy?”  

Nastya froze. That was something that Jonny had tried to do not too long after Tim had joined them and got the hang of his new vision. It had not gone well. As it was Brian and Ivy had killed the pair of them and locked them in their respective bedrooms till they calmed down. Things had escalated. Badly. Threatening-an-actual-hull-breach badly.  

Nastya hadn’t spoken to Jonny for a month.  

Then he’d come stomping down to find her to give her as much of an apology he could give her and then proceeded to rant and rave until she’d slapped him silent. Nastya was not given to laying hands on people, she didn’t like it. But Jonny had been revving up again and that was not explaining the situation.  

As it was it shocked him enough to explain himself properly. He was devastated that Tim blamed him, that he’d tried (albeit very clumsily, Jonny, for all he was a gifted wordsmith for stories struggled when orating things related to him and his own, more complex emotions) to explain that none of what happened was his choice. He wanted Tim to have his ending. That Carmilla hadn’t listened, had killed him and locked him away. By the Jonny broke out it was too late.  

Carmilla had her accident not long after.  

“Are you alright?”  

The bluntness had the effect as the slap several centuries ago and shocked the truth out of him once again.  

“Better than I thought I’d be.”    

“What happened?”  

Jonny took a breath, wanting,  needing  to share it.  

The evening had been normal, less murder-filled since it was getting close to 1am and that was prime Lily nightmare-time. They’d been making cracks at how Lily kept Jonny in better time than their music, a complete lie but intentionally teasing.  

Then someone made a crack about  newfound  responsibility.  

And Jonny had responded that he always was  responsible,  but he just wasn’t appreciated.  

Tim had commented that he was only responsible when it suited him with more bite than had been in his voice previously.  

Jonny rose to it, snapping that he was always keeping an eye out for the crew.  

Tim bit back about only looking out for  this  crew.  

The others went quiet, poised for violence.  

Jonny immediately hit back at who the fuck else was he supposed to look out for?  

Too late the first mate realised what Tim was getting at, too late he realised that Tim had been cleaning Bertie’s gun, which he only did when he was specifically thinking about the Lunar war and what had happened.  

Building the fort with Lily had clearly stirred up memories.  

Tim promptly erupted, getting right up in Jonny’s face.  

Spewing the words he’d obviously been festering for centuries.  

“You only care when it directly relates to  you   selfish  bastard! If Lily had latched on to anyone  else  you’d have been the first to say we dump her! It’s only when you have a benefit out of it!  So  don’t you dare try to pretend you  actually give  a fuck about any of us, it’s just that we all can’t really leave, not permanently, so we have to endure each other!”  

“Don’t you DARE talk about Lily like that, she’s as much your kid as she is mine or anyone else’s! It was you she spent the best part of the last four days building a fort with, not fucking me!  So  don’t you dare! I care about all of you ungrateful bastards, I  have to ! You’re MY crew.”  

Tim punched him square in the jaw.  

The Mechanisms didn’t usually resort to physical violence, usually it was just gunshot, immolation or whatever Raphaella had concocted that week.  

As such it caught Jonny off guard, forcing him to stagger backwards.  

“There! You see! YOUR crew! It’s all about you!  We’re our own people. We’re not beholden to you and you’re lying to yourself like always if you think anything different!”  

Jonny spat out blood and snarled at Tim through gory teeth, “I don’t mean it like that you wanker! And you know it! I’m not HER!”  

“But you helped her!”  

The room dropped about 10 degrees.  

“What did you say?” Jonny’s voice had gone dangerously quiet. Everyone else in the room tensed to leap into intervene, the last time these two got like this they filled the room with so much gun fire it nearly penetrated the outer hull.  

Tim didn’t back down in the face of Jonny’s icy fury, “I said, You. Helped. Her.”  

Jonny was suddenly on Tim, fists in his coat and slammed him against the wall, hard enough to make the gunner’s teeth rattle. Jonny might be shorter than Tim but he was strong.  

“You take that back you piece of shit.”  

“No.” Spat Tim.  

Jonny slammed him against the wall again before he held Tim with one hand and the other snatched for his six- shooter . Then he remembered the proximity to Lily-horror-hours and visibly tried to calm down and withdrew his hand from his holster.  

Tim followed his movement and stopped in his tracking to do the same. Couldn’t be shooting and waking Lily, kid needed her sleep after all, she’d worked hard building all day.  

“Because it’s the truth isn’t it?” He continued, glaring at Jonny, faces barely 6 inches apart, “It wasn’t enough to fuck with me on the moon—”  

“I tried to stop him! You KNOW I did!” Exploded Jonny, “I couldn’t get to the grenade in time, I TRIED to out-run him but he was faster and I was still regenerating from the lasers!”  

“You should have told us!”  

The words knocked the rage right out of him, he let go of Tim, backing away, “Yes.” He conceded, sincerity pouring into his words, “I should have. I’m sorry.”  

Tim stared dumbly as Jonny spoke the words he’d wanted to say for over three centuries. Apparently soothing Lily almost every night had given him some practice at actually communicating some emotions.    

“I didn’t want Bertie to die.” Now Jonny had said those words he’d apparently broken some sort of dam and the words kept coming, “I didn’t want you to die. I wanted you both to survive the fucking war and go home. You two were the nearest thing I’d had to real friends for CENTURIES. I wanted you both to have a fucking happy ever after for once.”  

“Then WHY?!” Tim all but screamed.    

“Why did I help her make you into one of us?” Jonny glared at Tim, if there was a sheen to his eyes then he’d deny it for eternity.  

“I didn’t.” He let the words hang there for effect before ploughing on.  

“I never wanted this for anyone, not one of you fuckers. No one deserves this. No one. I begged her, I fought her, I fought against the bio-programming to try and stop her. She shot me. She shot me so much I woke up locked in a store cupboard a week later and when I finally broke out it was too fucking late.” Jonny sighed, finding himself sadder that he’d allowed himself to feel for a long time, “I’m sorry Tim, really, I never wanted this for you.”  

He ran a hand over his face suddenly feeling every single year he’d lived weighing down on him.  

The others, having frozen in place, poised to haul them away from each other like they had to do over three centuries ago relaxed, now they’d clearly calmed down a bit, that they’d not drawn weapons and that Jonny fucking  apologised .  

Well.  

Things were obviously going to get all  feelingsy  and out of a sense of decorum for some and not being drunk enough to deal with another outpouring of emotions for others the crew that had been present quietly left, ignored by the first mate and master-at-arms.  

“So that’s it, carry on fucking hating me, that’s fine, don’t break the habit of centuries, it doesn’t matter anyway but don’t you fucking  dare think I helped her or had anything to do with it. None of us did. She plucked you from space when she was scooping me and TS up from the debris. Decided to ‘fix’ you up like she did the rest of us poor fuckers. I tried to stop her, tried to deflect, to convince her to let you die but she realised I cared about you. So she did exactly what she wanted. I'm sorry she used you, sorrier than you'll ever fucking know.”  

The first mate straightened his back to cover a sniff, “Now if you’re done, I’m going to go check on Lily because I do, in fact, care about her like I care about the rest of you bastards.”  

He made to move away. Jonny got three paces before a slender hand gripped his shoulder.  

“Jonny.”  

The first mate wheeled around.  

“What?!”  

“I, I didn’t know.” Tim was looking worryingly sincere.  

“Clearly.” Jonny didn’t really know what to do with Tim looking like that, like a grown-up version of Lily’s sad-eyes, eyes that were his natural colour, not focused on anything but him.  

“I wish I did know.”  

Oh fuck, Jonny was really not prepared for more emotion right now, “Well you do now.”  

“I mean sooner.” Pressed Tim.  

Jonny huffed, the resignation stealing most of the bite from his  words, “I  tried to tell you. I tried to tell you when you first made it out of the lab just after Carmilla had her accident.”  

Tim did a genuine double take, “That was you telling me?!”  

That riled him, “Fuck off Tim!” He snapped, “I tried! You started yelling, I started yelling, we started shooting, next thing I remember waking up locked in my bunk.”  

“Me too.” Surprisingly Tim didn’t rise to the heat in Jonny’s explosion instead  he looked  like he might be feeling a stab of regret.  

“I also remember you shooting me in the face for the next five years whenever you saw me.”  Emphasised  the first mate.  

“I did.” Tim agreed  

“And?” Prompted Jonny, his heartbeat beginning to pound in his ears, hoping he’d not mis-judged this, he was still  angry  and he was damn well going to voice  it  but he did want this to be resolved. He liked Tim despite all the relentless violence. He liked their competitions. He’d not taken to someone so quickly since Nastya and Tim (and Bertie for that matter) had been mortal. He’d liked them both. He had wanted them to be alright. If he was honest with  himself  he wanted to have that tunnels friendship again, he’d wanted a brother growing up almost as much as a sister and privately he wouldn’t have minded if that brother had been someone like Tim. It was fine if their relationship was going to stay the way it was, it had been that way for three and half centuries, it didn’t need to change, didn’t have to. But it would be nice if it could.  

Tim sighed, then fixed his stare on Jonny, utterly serious even if it looked like it was paining him to admit, “And if I’d known then I wouldn’t have.”  

That was as good as an apology he’d ever expected from Tim, “Alright then.”  

“Jonny—”  

“What Tim? What?” This was far more emotion that Jonny was really able to deal with in one evening, “I’ve said my piece, I should have said it years ago, I should have tried again before now, I didn’t. I’m sorry for that but I don’t know what else you want from me.”  

“Thank you.” It looked both painful and alien for the words to cross his lips but the master-at-arms  said  them all the same. “I’m, I’m, I’m sorry I thought you’d been involved.” For the first time in years Tim actually looked awkward.  

“Good.” Jonny had no framework of reference for this, the last time they’d been this honest and open was in the tunnels before Bertie died and most of that was now a purposely hazy memory.  “I, er, I’m sorry I gave you that impression.” He offered, hoping that was the right thing to say.  

“Do you—” Tim hesitated.  

“Do I what?” Jonny have never quite understood the phrase walking on eggshells until that exact moment thought it was more like breathing around eggshells. He felt horribly powerless that the next thing out of Tim’s mouth might dictate how they interacted for the next ever.  

“Do you want to get very drunk and accept that this happened and we’re alright but we never have to talk about it again?”  

Jonny breathed a huge sigh of relief, “Fucking YES.” He began to grin before a thought caught him, “Wait, Lily, I’ve got to—”  

A screen descended from the ceiling.  

  ‘If you are seeking Lily  Jonny, she is safe with Nastya next to the engine room. They’re both in deep conversation and are fine, I will notify you when you need to take her to bed.’

Well it was nice that Aurora acknowledged that there was no way Lily was moving off from Nastya once there, the child was like a limpet and once comforted it was like she had an off switch that just flicked the second she was feeling safe and secure again.  

He felt bad he’d missed her getting  up  but this really needed to be said and he was glad they’d had the chance to finally clear things up between them. It had only been several centuries in the reckoning.  

Still, if she was still talking to Nastya then that gave him and Tim at least an hour. No point disturbing her when she’d just fallen asleep after all. Plus, it was good she was talking to Nastya, she needed to talk to the engineer more, Lily spent the least amount of time with Nastya so it was nice she was there. And he really wanted to drink with Tim, it had been a long time when it was just them and the air actually felt clear. Ironically it was in the gas-filled tunnels.  

The two men read the notice and shared a look.  

“Whiskey?”  

“Whiskey.”  

He was grateful that whilst he wasn’t drinking to his previous capacity he could still drink Tim under the table.  

Which was why when Aurora summoned him later into the night he still had enough nouse about him to be able to ease Tim back against the sofa and cover him with his great coat that he’d shucked earlier and make his way down to where his sister and charge were waiting without too much stumbling.  

“So you and Tim have made up?”  

Jonny grimaced, “Don’t say it like that.”  

“Like what?”  

“Like we’ve had some sort of lover’s tiff.”  

“Well…”  

Jonny’s face morphed in a deep scowl, “Fuck off Nastya. You two are the only couple here and you know this needed sorting for years.”  

The engineer sombered, she did in fact know, knew how much it had eaten at Jonny over the years on top of everything else till he grew cold and indifferent, thinking it one last curse from Carmilla to endure.  

“It did, you’re right, and I’m glad. Really. For you and Tim. And Aurora that there’ll be less damage inflicted by the pair of you.”  

“I make no promises.”  

“You will not like the consequences.” promised the engineer.  

Jonny smirked, “No but I enjoy the challenge.”  

“You are such a bastard.”  

“Always,” he agreed easily, “you love me anyway.”  

Nastya rolled her eyes and huffed, looking thoroughly unimpressed, “You are a blight on my life and I despise everything you stand for.”  

His smirk deepened, “I know, I know,” before he allowed the soft smile he saved for Nastya and more recently Lily to bloom across his face instead as he stepped carefully into Nastya’s space and pressed a gentle kiss to her head, leaning against her wrapping his arms around her, lending yet more warmth to her.  

“Thanks for looking after her.” He mumbled against her hair.  

“Well, she’s as much my responsibility as yours to care for.” Admitted Nastya, allowing the affection she felt for Lily flow through her, feeling far more connected now than she ever had before.  She squeezed his hand, enjoying the tenderness. It was still quite rare between them, especially in the last few centuries, and it had been an emotional night for them all.  

Aurora continued to sing, low and warm and loving as the siblings and their child just breathed together and were.  

[ask-artsy-oncie]

So I’m kinda in a meh/apathetic headspace in regards to my mental health right now. Maybe it would be best to just let some thoughts out. 

Firstly, I do want to apologize for making stupid, borderline inflammatory posts and throwing them out there onto tumblr dot com, I know that’s never the best course of action. However, I really, really do not appreciate anons sending vague “are you okay”s at me. If you’re not close enough to me where you can’t PM me (relatively) face-to-face, then I really wouldn’t like random inquiries about my mental health from you. Maybe it’s just because I don’t 100% trust anons (I’ve been here for a decade, I’ve seen some shit, can you really blame me?) but I think I ought to make myself clear on that. Are we clear on that? cool. 

I don’t know... I’ve felt so lost and tired recently, moreso than usual.

I’ve always had a massive complex about annoying people, being too self-indulgent, not having good ideas or opinions or what-have-you. People who have known me for a while almost definitely know that. I don’t think it all necessarily exists in a vacuum, either I have a genuinely hard time coming up with objectively good ideas. Sometimes I’m just straight-up “head empty” mode. I’m also often really opinionated and sometimes intend to die on hills that people aren’t really meant to die on (or are even necessarily worth dying on). I can get way too wrapped up on meaningless things because my brain is too hyperfocused on this one thing, or maybe something I rely too heavily on for comfort is... I don’t know how to put it.... put at risk? Challenged? I have a lot of mental issues and real life issues, though I’m not claiming to be massively oppressed or anything, but I tend to cling to comforts a little too desperately. And I’m not just talking about like. Media. Just comforts in general. Sometimes I’ll spend too much of the day laying in bed. Sometimes I cling to old relationships or old forms of relationships or I constantly worry about the day I’ll inevitably no longer have the same relationships I have now. 

I’ve known I needed therapy for a while now. I’m waitlisted and everything, but I need to go about actually choosing a therapist to see and I’ve been dragging my feet on that so I guess that’s my bad. I’ll get to it. Shit’s overwhelming, yknow? 

Anyways I know I have a lot of these flaws and problems and I think my horrible anxieties about being too annoying and whatnot is just a really extreme form of self-reflection. Maybe. Not entirely sure. Maybe a therapist could tell me.

I get way too passionate, way too easily, and it’s almost always followed by a super intense period of shame, like, to the point where I’m desperate to isolate myself and destroy my relationships with other people, because then at least I’m actually trying to destroy a relationship by being a bad person, rather than someone leaving me for... I don’t know, being too happy? Caring too much? Talking too much? Just. Shit I have less control over. 

I’ve tried putting a cap on it, suppressing everything. Trying not to indulge too much, trying not to be so happy and talkative, straight-up deleting messages I think might be too annoying the second I send them. Trying to be inoffensive through being unnoticeable. I’m trying to do that now, honestly. It’s why I joked about deleting my blog. All it does is hurt and make me go fucking nuts because I’m bottling up a lot in doing that, I know. I’m just not fully convinced I don’t just deserve to feel that way.

There are a lot of points in my life where I’m convinced that my best course of action in succeeding or keeping people from being put-off by me is to just sit down and shut up and draw what I’m told to draw. To just completely lose my agency in drawing. It makes sense, when you feel like you don’t have any good ideas of your own, you just illustrate others’. And there are many, many points where I have done this out of a place of love. Fuck, most of what I’ve drawn for Lolly’s writing has come out of a place of genuine love, not just for her work, but for her. A lot of what I’ve drawn for Bethany (for any REAL long-time followers reading this) has been like that, too. But there are also points where it honestly just feels like my only purpose is to be a tool through which others may visualize their whims. That if I dare inject too much of myself into things, they’ll be permanently ruined. And then there’s the shame I feel in having wanted to impart a piece of myself into a work - a demerit for being too selfish or self-important to deem my whims anywhere near good or important enough to be included. 

I have so many ideas. So many opinions and thoughts and feelings and genuine insight that I’ve suppressed or deleted because I either feel like that’s what’s expected of me, or I’m straight-up told that my thoughts and opinions are bad and wrong. Like. Fuck me for having opinions on animated media levels of being shut-down. And you know, I’ve noticed something in the past decade of being an insufferable opinionated prick about things like that - that it’s actually easier for me to enjoy media when I’m allowed to be negative and critical of it. When I am allowed to just share my thoughts. And I don’t mean like, without being disagreed with, I mean like, in an environment where I’m made to feel like I actually can share these thoughts. When I can pinpoint and analyze what I didn’t like or what made me upset, it can be a lot easier for me to then move on and be able to focus on aspects that I genuinely do like. Like, holy fuck, it is SO much easier for me to pick-and-choose aspects of a certain sequel film that I actually like and feel comfortable saying I like than it was for me to do with the original, because I no longer have an incredibly toxic person in my life (or at least, in my life as much).

But that doesn’t mean I haven’t had this kind of experience since then, like. There are STILL things I struggle to move past because I have been made to feel like I just can’t fucking talk about them without being insufferable (sorry if I’m overusing that word - it just feels like the best word the feeling I’m trying to describe) or just straight-up ruining something for someone I care about. Keeping shit like this in does crazy shit to me, for real, and there’s still a large part of me that tells me “Fuck you. Suck it up. None of this shit matters.” Y’know? Because in the grand scheme of things, I know it doesn’t. And then there’s the shame that comes from having cared so much in the first place. It’s a fucking cycle. There’s some shit that’s just irreparable ruined for me because of this and that SUCKS.

I don’t like losing comforts. Fuck, I hate it, really. And I’m not talking about new comforts coming along and catching my attention as an old comfort begins to wane, I’m talking like. Destroying relationships, feeling SO MUCH shame surrounding a comfort media that it’s too difficult to enjoy it no matter how hard I try, or having too hard of a time disassociating a comfort with a horrible event or person. And it’s feeling like at LEAST one of these is starting to happen to me again and Good Gods it’s just. It’s so terrifying. 

But who do I tell? When my primary worry is annoying or offending or hurting people? Y’know? I can’t just vent to one single person to this all the time, that isn’t fair. But it gets to a point where my brain tells me “No, you can’t talk to ANYONE about this because that’s rude and wrong and a true friend wouldn’t do that. There’s a reason why you can make any number of concerning posts, messages, private ramblings, whatever, and the people you’re closest to won’t ask you what’s wrong.” 

And, yeah, honestly, I do think it’s true that the people I consider my closest friends won’t read this. I actually don’t believe the average person will read this, or at least get this far. I genuinely do just talk too much and it’s a lot for most people to deal with. Otherwise, I talk too little, and probably enter the “you should be able to read my MIND” level of expectations, which, of course, isn’t far. I understand, I swear I do, it just takes some time to come to terms with every time I get wrapped up in my stupid mental stuff. And I also promise that I try to give these people the same kind of response I want, y’know? I try to look out for any worrying behavior and try to offer an ear and help in any way that I can. I don’t think expecting the same in return is fair, I just worry about any of them being like me, and I’m willing to play to that if it’s necessary. I’ll break quiet streaks for that shit, y’know?

Honestly, these stupid quiet streaks are probably more unbearable for me than they are even noticeable for most people. It sucks. I just wish my mind was normal so I A) wouldn’t have these insecurities to begin with, because B) I would never end up exhibiting the behavior to warrant such insecurities.

There’s so much shit I want to talk about, to analyze, or explore, that I want to share with the world, or at least with people I love, that I probably never will because my stupid brain has already decided that all this stupid shit is better kept to myself where it can rot and be forgotten eventually. Which is fine, in the grand scheme of things, I guess, because I functionally have never really been the guy who comes up with ideas (at least, good ideas) I’m just the pencil, the one who I guess makes things visual? I can’t even bring myself to say “I bring the ideas to life” because that’s pretentious and untrue. These ideas are already alive because they come from brilliant minds. 

I don’t even think it’s fair for me to call myself a character designer unless the characters are my own. Otherwise, I’m just following the directions of a much more competent conceptualizer (there’s a reason my characters barely have any... well, character). That’s the reason why I removed my unearned credit as the character designer for Ty from Swindle’s description, because I really don’t deserve that kind of credit. It’s why the asks about the designing process of Ty have been left unanswered, because, fuck, what do I even say? “I just did what Lolly told me to do, just like I did with all of Swindle. Please don’t give me that kind of credit, I know I falsely ascribed it to myself earlier, and I want to rectify that”? I guess I could have, actually, now that I’m typing this. But people always get fucking upset with me when I try not to take credit, even when it’s shit that isn’t mine!! So I don’t know what to do!! I don’t know what to fucking do!!! Because I just don’t fucking want to make people upset or unhappy!!!!!!!

I’m sorry, this post is too long and I’ve worked myself up and I’m no longer apathetic. I’m gonna go cry myself to sleep so big win for my complexion, honestly. 

Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I guess getting this shit out of my system is probably best to do in a big tumblr post no one will read. 

I don’t want anons about this. If I can just ask one thing. Please.

[pointy-hat-witch]

My gift for @smol-fatale for the @fyeahbnha secret santa event!! I had lots of fun writing it! Hope you enjoy it! I never wrote a ShinKami fic so I hope I did them justice! :)

Title: Hot Stuff Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Word count: 7233 words Summary:  In which Shinsou’s Christmas Miracle happens in form of a broken stove and an electrician.

You can also read it on AO3! :)

Shinsou was, generally speaking, a loner by choice, mind you. He enjoyed his own company, living at his own pace. So, when Midoriya slowly but steadily made himself a presence in his life, he initially didn’t notice. And by the time he did, it was already too late.

Together with Uraraka, Midoriya’s almost-sorta-girlfriend(?), they moved into a three bed-room-apartment rather close to their uni. Every now and then, Shinsou asked himself how it ended up like that but whenever he thought about it, he reached to the conclusion that he didn’t really mind, after all. He found these friends, or rather they found him and now they’re his family.

Well, until moments like these.

Shinsou came home from one of his late lectures, and it was already dark outside which was no surprise for mid-december anyway. Because he was hungry, the lecture dragged on as it was and his last meal had been some time ago, he just wanted to fix himself a fast meal and watch a movie before passing out.

So, when he came home he first noticed the silence, the eerie silence. After around a year and half living with friends, he was fluent in reading the atmosphere, that was why he knew something was up. He was certain that Midoriya and Uraraka should be home already and that they hadn’t anything planned for tonight.

“Hello?” He patiently half-shouted into their apartment from their entry hall as he slipped out of his shoes. There was a shuffle in the kitchen and some muffled voices. Something was definitely amiss. Shinsou sighed.

Preparing himself mentally, he left his bag where it was, put on his slippers and slowly made his way toward the kitchen. He didn’t sneak up or anything but when he appeared in the door, both Uraraka and Midoriya jumped up as if he was Satan himself. They pressed their shoulders together, standing as rigid as humanly possible and their faces, hh god, Shinsou would have cracked at least a smile if his gut didn’t say something was awfully wrong.

“W-w-w-what’s up, Shinsou? Home already, huh? Kinda thought you would have come a little later, like you know, you could have gotten a coffee because it’s so late and you would have taken a bus later or even walked, so we didn’t really thought you would be-“ Midoriya continued babbling but Shinsou already zoned out, staring neutrally over to Uraraka.

And, oh, Uraraka. “Why on earth don’t you breathe?” Shinsou interrupted Midoriya as he slowly squinted at her round cheeks, her eyes almost bulging out.

“Baaaah!“ Uraraka pushed out all of her breath she held in and then took a deep breath afterward.

“Sorry, ahhh,” she whined, fanning herself, “I was getting so nauseous and just had to.”

“Why did you feel nauseous?” Shinsou’s voice cut through the air that was as thick as butter.

“Uhhhh,” Midoriya and Uraraka looked at each other in panic but after a couple of silent seconds exhaled defeatedly. Whatever it was, they couldn’t keep him in the dark forever. They each took a step to the side, moving away from each other to show him the disaster.

“What am I looking at, guys?” Shinsou asked, fully aware of what he was looking at. But he needed them to say it.

“We, uh,” Uraraka gesticulated wildly without saying anything, looking at every possible thing in the room except Shinsou and that. Shinsou’s gaze wandered over to Midoriya who’s shoulders were perched up, elbows close to his body while mumbling inconceivable into one of his hands.

“Guys.” Shinsou sighed. “Just, what happened?”

“We wanted to make dinner,” Uraraka whined, “for you, you know? Mondays are bad as they are and you have a full day of classes so we thought we could, uh, make you dinner.”

Midoriya nodded, his hair bobbing with the motion. “And we just got started, like prepping and we needed flour for the batter and it-“

“It just,” Uraraka threw her arms in the air, “the glass container just slipped through my fingers.”

“And fell on the stove.”

“And fell on the stove.”

“And fell on the stove.” Shinsou mumbled, nodding solemnly. Yeah, this was his chosen family. Smashing their ceramic stove plate with a glass of flour. He stared at the abomination. The cupboard right next to the stove was a little higher than usual, so Uraraka had probably stood on her toes to reach the glass and it must have bounced off her arm right in the middle of the stove plate, smashing it into pieces. Everywhere black shards. Leaving the stove irreparable.

“Did you get hurt?” Shinsou asked as he kneeled down to pick up some of the bigger pieces.

“No!” They both shook their heads.

“Then that’s all that matters.” Complaining about spilled milk wouldn’t do neither of them any good. He knew it was an accident, shit happens.

“We’re sorry, Shinsou.”

Shinsou blinked and looked up. Both Uraraka and Midoriya looked at the floor, Uraraka fighting off tears and Midoriya balling his hands into fists.

Yeah, those were his family. If he would have been still with his blood relatives they- no. Shinsou didn’t think about that anymore.

Shinsou shook his head, almost smiling fondly. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t get hurt, so it doesn’t matter. We can just order food.”

Averting another disaster, as Uraraka and Midoriya looked like they wanted to jump on him to smother him with their affection, Shinsou got them to help him clean up the kitchen, before they ordered food, which his friends paid for, and watched a movie until he passed out.

He woke up the next morning with his blanket thrown over him and he indulged himself for another five minutes, snuggling into the heavy blanket. But, alas, even though he only had two classes in the afternoon, he had some homework from the day before, so he had to get up eventually. And the earlier the better.

When he got up, he noticed a small piece of paper on the couch table with his name neatly written on.

Curious, he picked it up and unfolded it.

 “Dear Shinsou,

we hope you slept well. You looked like you were dead at least.. Sorry again for the stove. Please call the landlord about it. He likes you.

Love,

Your besties!!”

 Shinsou couldn’t decide whom of them he wanted to strangle first. Letting out a silent groan, Shinsou let himself fall back onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Today was an even more low energy day than usual, so the thought about calling someone was already taking a toll on him.

They all knew, Aizawa wouldn’t yell at them or anything. He was the best landlord you could get, honestly. Not they often, say, smash their stove plate but if they needed anything done in their apartment he would get it done in a few days. Sometimes, he even just came over to talk and check in if they’re alright, studying and working and all that.

And Shinsou and he may or may not clicked right from the start. They both were low-tension, didn’t talk around the bush and didn’t need to tiptoe around each other. If he could choose, Shinsou kind of wanted to have him as a dad. But that was something he would ever say out loud.

Still, why he needed to call him was beyond him. 

He searched around for his phone blindly, not bothering looking away from the ceiling. When he finally found it, his finger scrolled through his contacts, their landlord a commonly called number. Shinsou sighed. He dialed.

“What did they do now?” Aizawa’s voice was gruff, probably only just gotten out of bed himself, for what Shinsou felt a little guilty. They both didn’t like talking on the phone, but both his roommates and his spouse were notorious in getting them to do it.

“They broke the stove plate.” He cut right to the chase.

“They did what now?”

“Dropped a glass on it. Smashed it.”

“They smashed the-,” Aizawa mumbled in disbelief to himself.

“Do you have an electrician or a company you use for stuff like that? I can call them. And we pay, of course. Our fault.”

“Their fault,” Aizawa pointed out, “but yeah. I know someone. I’ll give them a call.”

They agreed that the electrician either comes until 1 pm or the next day in the evening and their call ended. As short as it was and for some may sound a little standoff-ish, Shinsou liked those calls the most. They weren’t as dreadful as those where he had to make small talk and offend the other person by not being the friendliest customer or something.

When he finally was done with that, he fixed himself a bowl of cereal and then sat down on his desk to get some work done before heading off to uni.

When the doorbell rang, Shinsou almost flinched, hunched over his notes about commonly known phobias. Geez. He rubbed his face as he stumbled over to the door, not thinking twice about making himself any more presentable. He, first of all, didn’t give a flying fuck about what an electrician would think about him, and secondly, it was a apartment with three students, what could anyone expect?

What he didn’t expect, was to look into the bright face of someone his age, grinning around a lollipop.

“Yo!” He almost shouted, as he pushed up his cap a little, grinning around his lollipop even wider.

“Hi.” Shinsou answered in the most monotonous voice he could muster but it didn’t deter the other to smile any less.

“I heard you have a broken stove.”

“Yeah.” He stepped aside, letting the guy inside. “First door to the right.”

“Gotcha!” He nodded, pulling his feet out of his shoes. “Oh, I’m Kaminari, by the way.”

“Uh-huh.” Shinsou wasn’t sure how to handle this ball of energy. Literally. When the electrician took his cap off, clipping it to his belt, his yellow hair showed a black streak in his fringe which resembled a flash of lighting. His steps had a little spring to them, his fingers kept tapping to some rhythm, his eyes darting around. And Shinsou only knew this guy for about ten seconds.

“Oh.” Kaminari said as he entered the kitchen. “Well, yeah, that is fucked. In my professional opinion, of course.” He threw his head back and laughed. He fucking laughed at his own joke. “How in god’s name did you do that, man?” Kaminari walked up to the smashed stove plate, without the glass shards mind you, looking at it in fascination.

“My roommates dropped a glass on it.” Shinsou crossed his arms lazily, leaning against the kitchen door frame. “What can you do about it?”

“That sounds like your roommates are a blast!” He laughed again, pushing his lollipop around in his mouth. “Well, I am great at my job but that,” he pointed at the broken ceramic plate, “even I can’t fix that. Got to get you a new one.”

“Figured as much.” Shinsou groaned. “How long will that take?”

“Not that long,” Kaminari mused, pulling out a folding rule. “Oh, did you take out the fuse?”

“Huh?”

Kaminari laughed, again. “That answers it, hehe. Where is your fuse box?” Though Kaminari laughed again and again and kept a lazy smile on his lips, Shinsou never felt that he laughed at him, he just was … amused. And it kinda made it easier to talk to him.

“Over there,” Shinsou pointed back to the entrance hall, next to the small coat rack.

“Gotcha!” Kaminari hopped over to it, with one look flipped one of the like fifty switches, which Shinsou had only a very, very general idea for what they were, and danced back into the kitchen.

“Didn’t plan on getting fried by a smashed stove today!” He winked at Shinsou as he laid down his folding rule to measure the plate.

Shinsou was frozen on the spot. Did he just wink at him? Was he … no. He was just like that, that wasn’t anything weird, was it?

“Alrighty,” Kaminari mumbled around his lollipop, writing some numbers on his notepad that he pushed back into one of his numerous pockets. “It’s a standard stove plate, so nothing hard to get by. I would say tomorrow, the day after tomorrow the latest I can install the new one. Does one of the days work better for you?”

Shinsou blinked himself out of his own stupor, mentally going through his schedule. “I could do tomorrow evening or the evening after that.”

“Tomorrow it is then!” Kaminari smiled around his now almost vanished lollipop. “Uh, can I have your phone number? Just in case, it doesn’t work out for whatever reason, you know?”

“Sure.” Shinsou nodded, rattling off his number. Kaminari typed at his phone, throwing Shinsou a quick glance, clearing his throat.

“And, uh, I didn’t catch your name?”

There was a beat silence, before Shinsou answered slowly.

“Shinsou Hitoshi. Got it.” Kaminari smiled. His fingers fished out another lollipop, unwrapping it so fast Shinsou has never seen anyone do it before and popping it into his mouth. The other stick wandered into a small container with at least five other empty sticks. Uh, okay.

“Well then, Shinsou,” Kaminari said in his usual loud voice, Shinsou just figured out, “see you tomorrow!”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” Shinsou nodded as Kaminari slipped back into his shoes and then was out the door after a short wave.

Shinsou didn’t know how long he stood in the entrance hall after Kaminari left. It was kinda like a storm passing by and Shinsou had to process what just happened. Like, nothing bad happened, Kaminari did his job, was friendly, professional. But… but why did it feel like there so much more that happened?

Shinsou shook his head. It was just their wavelengths that were way off and it just was too much all of the sudden, Shinsou figured. Though, if Kaminari felt like so high tension and brimming with energy, why didn’t Shinsou feel drained in the least?

---

Since he only had morning classes, Shinsou spent the afternoon with his roommates. They brought some takeout with them on their way home, so they had some warm food at least. Shinsou was appreciative of them buying all the food, college students being notoriously broke as they were, though it didn’t come up yet, Shinsou planned to chip in with the repair costs, of course. They’re his closest friends after all.

Of course they did speak about the short visit of the electrician and in hindsight, Shinsou ought to know better, but he brought up the topic just to inform them. But he must have slipped in something of the sort that he felt weirdly calm around this energetic guy, because they both brought up sudden plans right after.

So, when 7 p.m. rolled around, he was all alone in the apartment again. And his heart was weirdly pounding in his chest. That was why he literally flinched when his phone rang on full blast. He forgot to put his volume back down after watching a cat video because who the fuck did call anybody these days?

The number was unknown and everything in him screamed to just not pick up. But then his finger was already sliding the “accept” button to the side.

“Shinsou speaking.” He pinched his nose, already berating himself for getting on the phone with a stranger.

“Ah! Hey, Shinsou! It’s Kaminari! The electrician? From yesterday. Because of the stove?” Kaminari’s voice was even louder through the phone, practically screaming in his ear and Shinsou had to hold his phone away before turning down the output volume.

“Yeah, Kaminari. I remember. What’s up?” Shinsou licked his lips, his mouth gone dry all of the sudden.

“I just wanted to check in, if I can come in around half an hour?” There was some traffic noise in the background, he probably just finished up his last customer.

“Yeah, half an hour. I’m here.”

“Perfect! Then I’m just gonna pick up your wonderful new stove plate and come right over!”

“Great.”

Kaminari chuckled and Shinsou’s skin prickled. It even sounded like he had yet another lollipop between his lips, clacking occasionally against his teeth.

“See you soon, Shinsou!” Kaminari hung up before Shinsou could even say anything. He let his phone fall out of his hand on the couch, pressing his hands against his face as he leaned back. What was going on with him? He … was looking forward to seeing Kaminari again? What in the ever loving fuck?

The next half hour went by agonizingly slowly since Shinsou looked at his phone every other minute, both to check the time but also, and he would never admit to it, maybe getting another call from the electrician.

When it (finally) rang at the door, Shinsou had to force himself not to run to the door. Purposefully slowly he opened the door to Kaminari leaning against the stove plate, properly secured in Styrofoam.

“Hey,” he grinned around his lollipop, “I chose the best stove for you!”

“Tha-“

“Out of a range of options!” Kaminari proceeded to put his hands up, motioning finger guns, while winking at Shinsou. And then snorted with laughter himself.

Shinsou didn’t know what did it for him. The absolute absurdity of the situation, the worst pun he ever heard, or Kaminari laughing at his own joke. Maybe all together. But he had to turn his head to the side and snort behind his hand.

“I saw that!” Kaminari yowled, high fiving himself. “Still got it!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Shinsou asked in the least serious way possible.

“Come on! That was funny!” Kaminari grinned, pulling off his shoes as he more or less invited himself in. Well, Shinsou did step aside to let him in anyway.

“It wasn’t really.” He shook his head, hands pushed inside his pockets as he didn’t know what to do with them.

“But you laughed!” Kaminari exclaimed, carrying the stove plate that looked like it weighted nothing in his arms over to the kitchen.

“I laughed because it was stupid.”

“Whatever the reason, I made you laugh!” Kaminari threw a quick glance over his shoulder at him, before putting the stove plate down right in front of the destroyed one.

“You didn’t turn on the fuse again, did you?”

Shinsou shook his head. “Why would we? I think you were the first one to ever touch that box in this household to begin with.”

That made Kaminari throw his head back with laughter. Why, Shinsou didn’t know but it made him feel warm that something he said made Kaminari laugh so earnestly.

“Are your roommates ever home?” Kaminari opened the cupboard underneath the broken stove plate, getting his flashlight to look at the high-tension socket. “Or just to break your stuff?”

Shinsou could see Kaminari’s shoulders tremble as he suppressed his laughter. Taking a deep breath and exhaling silently through his mouth, Shinsou leaned against the doorframe.

“They had some plans. Suddenly,” he added under his breath, shaking his head. “We do lots of stove together, don’t worry. They’re great friends.”

Kaminari’s whole body shook, giggling silently. He pulled out a small screwdriver and undid the lid of the outlet.  There were a couple of silent seconds as Kaminari carefully pulled out the few wires, before coming up again.

“Wanna give me a hand?” He grinned, setting the flashlight to the side, still kneeling on the ground.

“And doing your job without getting paid?” Shinsou answered but stepped up next to the other regardless.

“Ha, you wish!” Kaminari pushed his lollipop around in his mouth, grinning widely. “Okay, just lift the plate when I push it up.”

“And I won’t get electrocuted for sure?”

“Alas, I’m too good at my job for this to happen. An unfortunate circumstance of being gorgeous and talented.” Kaminari shrugged, shaking his head with a mock devastated expression. Shinsou snorted against his better judgment and didn’t acknowledge the knowing grin from Kaminari.

The plate lifted up a few centimeters as Kaminari pushed it from below and Shinsou grabbed it around the edges, raising it up a little higher. It was, indeed, lighter than he thought.

“Great, thanks.” Kaminari stood up and took it off Shinsou’s hands, standing so close to him he could smell the strawberry scented lollipop through his lips. Kaminari put the broken plate flat on the ground, so as to not let any loose shards fall off. Shinsou stepped back to the side when Kaminari lifted up the other stove plate, put it into its designated place and was back on his knees within seconds. Talk about efficiency.

Another few hand movements and the wires were back in place, the lid was screwed back on the socket and Kaminari stood back up.

“Done and done. Just a last check.” He jogged out of the kitchen and Shinsou was surprised that he still knew where the fuse box was. He heard the switch being flipped and then Kaminari was jogging back in.

“Moment of truth.”

Kaminari turned one of the four knobs on the stove plate and with a silent electric vibration one of the four panels slowly turned red. Kaminari grinned self-satisfied and turned it off again.

“Perfect. Everything as it should be?”

“Yeah, uh, thanks.” Shinsou nodded, a little impressed. That wasn’t complicated in the least and didn’t take as much time as he thought. Probably a lot more expensive than expected, though.

“Great, then I just need you to,” Kaminari fumbled through his pockets to pull out some piece of paper, “sign these papers off. To accept the repair and that stuff.” Kaminari tapped on some boxes Shinsou had to tick and the line he had to sign on.

“Yeah, sure.” Shinsou accepted the pen Kaminari pulled out of another pocket. For a second Shinsou skimmed over the paper, just to be totally sure he wasn’t in some kind of high caliber scam or something but everything seemed to be in order, so he signed it.

“Then we’re done here.” Kaminari folded the paper back into his pocket and saluted Shinsou lazily. “My pleasure.”

“Uh, sure.” Shinsou’s thoughts came to a screeching stop as he realized that Kaminari was about to leave. Like, for good. And somehow it made him anxious. He didn’t want him to leave, instead he wants to hear more bad puns and his contagious laughter.

“Have a nice holiday!” Kaminari crunched the last bit of his lollipop and waved.

“Uh, yeah, thanks. You, too. Don’t get electrocuted by another smashed stove. Or something.” Shinsou pulled at one strand of his hair, unsure where to look.

“I’ll be careful!” Kaminari laughed, popping in another lollipop. “Well, then. See you, hot stove,” Kaminari winked and was out of the door. Leaving Shinsou staring at the closed door.

What the fuck?

---

It didn’t help at all, that Uraraka was literally rolling on the carpet in the living room and Midoriya’s shoulders shook while making a face as to no burst out laughing, when Shinsou told them about his second encounter with the electrician. He never regretted moving in with them more than in that moment.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Midoriya held a finger up before covering his mouth, mumbling something Shinsou didn’t quite get. Uraraka sat up, wiping away the tears that kept on rolling over her cheeks.

“So, what if,” Midoriya looked between them back and forth, “the lollipop was a metaphor all along?”

Uraraka shrieked and fell back down, holding her stomach from laughing so hard. And Shinsou stared outside the window, wishing he was somewhere else but here.

“But jokes aside,” Uraraka said from the floor, spread like a starfish, “you gonna text him or something? Like, you both pretty much find each other … likeable.” They both burst into a small fit of laughter.

Shinsou shook his head. “Why would I?” he sighed. “Sure, mayyyybe,” he fixed them both with a glare and they pressed their lips together, “we kinda sort of found each other tolerable, but,” he leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms, “he just did his job and maybe that’s just his way to talk to customers.”

“Whatever you say, hot stove,” Midoriya snorted.

And if Shinsou threw them both out with a hearty kick in the ass, he would pledge self-defense for his mentality.

---

It wasn’t that Shinsou not thought about maybe texting Kaminari after all since he had his number after he called him. But it didn’t feel right to text him on his work phone just because he felt like his social anxiety wasn’t as bad with his electrician than with everybody else. What kind of reason is that? And then he got flooded with assignments for almost all of his classes due before the Christmas holidays and it kind of slipped his mind.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Shinsou said goodbye to Uraraka and Midoriya who both had promised their respective families to celebrate with them. They were home almost never already, that’s why they had these fixed days they just had to come home. And Shinsou felt warmed to the core, when they tried to get out of it to spend Christmas with him.

It was no secret that Shinsou would spend Christmas alone and he honestly didn’t mind. Christmas wasn’t a holiday he celebrated in the first place but just knowing everyone spent it with people they love sometimes can be pretty lonely. And spending these days with his blood rela- no, he didn’t even finish that thought. He rather felt like the loneliest person on earth than to spend Christmas with them.

So, he had to give his friends a crushing hug, reassuring them that he really didn’t mind, and he would text them as soon as something came up. It still didn’t make them stop crying, even when they were out the door and he waved at them until they were around the corner of the hallway.

His friends were the best.

The plan was to write a little bit on his paper about the impact of forced interaction because of holidays with family members and then watch a movie and order take out. Even if the stove was working again, it didn’t mean he had to use it.

When the doorbell rang at around noon, Shinsou looked up in confusion. He didn’t order anything yet, did he? He stumbled a few meters as his legs had fallen asleep sitting cross-legged for the past hours on the ground in front of the coffee table.

When he opened the door, it was his landlord Aizawa standing in front of him.

“Uh, hi?” Shinsou blinked, mentally going through anything that could have prompted his landlord to show up. They always paid in time, he wasn’t even remotely too loud to bother his neighbors, there was nothing leaking in the apartment…

“For you,” Aizawa held up a plastic bag, a food container shimmering through the almost transparent fabric. “Hizashi cooked a little too much. And we didn’t want it to get to waste.”

Shinsou looked at the bag and back at Aizawa’s tired face. He didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the floor.

“But your husb-,” Shinsou started but shut himself up. Aizawa’s eyebrow twitched up, but didn’t say anything as Shinsou took the plastic bag.

“Thank you, Aizawa.” Shinsou took a quick glance inside, but couldn’t make out anything specific.

“Merry Christmas, Shinsou,” Aizawa pulled up his scarf and nodded. “If you need anything, just give me a call.”

“Thanks, I will. And merry Christmas to you and Yamada, too.” Shinsou answered, raising his hand in a small wave. He looked after Aizawa’s back until he reached the staircase, where his landlord raised his hand one last time without looking back.

Shinsou went back inside and closed the door before leaning against it. He rubbed at his eye with the ball of his hand, squinting against the tear ducts that threaten to open up. Damn. he didn’t need to be around people to know he was loved so dearly.

But he for sure sent Uraraka and Midoriya a text message for snitching to their landlord that he’ll be home alone. But he also thanked them. And then send them a picture with the food container to make them jealous because they all knew what a great cook Aizawa’s husband was.

Taking a deep breath, willing his eyes to stay dry, Shinsou decided it was time for a break anyway. In the kitchen Shinsou turned on the rice cooker and then took a look at the food container. It was still a little warm and just smelled heavenly. Shinsou seemed to be in luck to get a taste of Yamada’s curry to which his growling stomach agreed.

He put the curry into a pot to reheat it, turned the stove on low heat and walked back to the living room to make some room to eat. It didn’t even take him five minutes when walked back into the kitchen, not even being able to wait twenty minutes, he tried to reason with himself if he even needed rice or could eat it crunchy and call it fried rice for a split second, as he stirred the curry.

Though … it didn’t smell any different, like it didn’t unfold its whole flavor when getting heated up. Shinsou dipped his finger into the curry to feel that it had cooled down even more. Blinking, he pushed the pot aside, hovering his hand over the stove plate to feel no heat at all. He turned the knob to the highest number, but the panel didn’t turn red at all, let alone get warm.

This just couldn’t be happening. Shinsou counted to ten inside his head, before turning the stove and the rice cooker off for good. His next action was to look up the landline of the company that had sent him the electrician that was “alas, too good at his job” and hoped they were still open.

Luck was on his side for that matter at least, since the call connected. The free-line signal went on for an alarming long time until someone picked up. A gruff voice answered, sounding like they had their fair share of annoying customers on Christmas Eve already. After getting through the greetings, Shinsou went right to the point. He didn’t brag about being the perfect customer, he was polite, for sure, but he didn’t suck up to them.

“The stove plate one of your electricians installed last week doesn’t work anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he didn’t sound genuine at all, but Shinsou didn’t care. He just needed someone to fix it. “We have someone for emergencies on duty today. As soon as he is done with his current assignment, I’ll send him over. That okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Great. Bye.” And he hung up.

Shinsou exhaled hard, nibbling at his lower lip. What now? Kicking his heels for between half an hour to five hours for someone to come? Working on his paper some more? Order some food already, maybe ruining his appetite?

After an hour he spent playing random games on his phone, upside down on the couch, the doorbell rang yet again this day. It didn’t make Shinsou any less anxious answering the door, though, even if he knew who it would be.

Kaminari stood at the door, cheeks slightly red, his chest rising and falling heavy, almost as if he hurried over here. Shinsou decided to ignore that for his own good.

“Yo!” Kaminari grinned, this time pulling out the lollipop and bowed slightly with his cap pulled off. “I’m terribly sorry about that mistake.”

“Uh,” Shinsou blinked. He didn’t expect such a sincere apology. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanna get something to eat, you know?”

“Yeah, totally!” Kaminari was back grinning at him and walked in as if it was already his own home. And Shinsou honestly didn’t mind. He even opened the fuse box to flip the switch for the high-tension outlet on his way as if it was the most natural thing to do.

“Your friends coming home for dinner, then?” Kaminari asked as he entered the kitchen, Shinsou slowly following him.

“Nah,” he tilted his head, one hand on his neck. “They spend Christmas with their family.”

“Huh?” Kaminari was already kneeling in front of the counter, looking over his shoulder like a lost puppy. “What about you? Does your family not meet up on Christmas Eve?”

Shinsou clenched his jaw, scratching his neck. “No.”

Even if he found Kaminari sympathetic and maybe even liked him a little bit, he still was a stranger and he didn’t need to tell him about any potential tragic backstory. And fortunately, Kaminari seemed to get the hint.

“Gotcha.” Kaminari pulled out his flashlight, leaning inside the cupboard. “I’m gonna spend Christmas Eve alone, too, you know? Though, some friends come over tomorrow evening.”

Shinsou blinked. “Uh-huh. So… what are you gonna do tonight?”

Kaminari had the audacity to lean back on his heels, looking over his shoulder with a smug grin. “What? You gonna ask me out on Christmas after meeting like three times? Shinsou,” he shook his head, “I’m on the clock, you know?”

Shinsou was speechless. Before he could even say anything, Kaminari leaned back under and this time opened up a small panel on the downside of the stove plate.

“Cat got your tongue?” Kaminari asked from inside, not sounding any less smug than before.

“Does your small talk always end up in something romantically and/or sexually implied?”

Kaminari looked, once again over his shoulder, pulling out his lollipop while smacking his lips lewdly. “I don’t know, does it?”

“Goddamnit.” Shinsou mumbled under his breath. Both done and frustratingly smitten with Kaminari. The offending electrician giggled before closing the panel and coming back to his feet again.

“The wire was a little loose, no big deal.” He said, back to his usual voice. “Should be no problems from here on out.”

“That’s what you said the last time.”

“Oh, did I?” Kaminari squinted at the ceiling as if to underline how hard he was thinking back to it. “Can’t remember.” He finally said, shaking his head.

“But now you really don’t have to worry about anything at all anymore.” He pushed his flashlight and screwdriver back into his pockets, unclipping his cap and putting it back on his head.

Shinsou nodded, scrunching up his face in annoyance or disappointed, he didn’t know either.

“Hey, Shinsou?” Kaminari asked around his lollipop as he put on his shoes.

“What?”

“My shift ends at around eight. Give or take half an hour depending on my last assignment.”

“And?” Shinsou raised both his eyebrows, playing nervously with the small hair at his neck.

“Well,” Kaminari chuckled but it was dry, not with its usual lightness, “I just… fuck.” He whispered to himself.

“What, Kaminari?” Shinsou pushed, his voice steadier than he would have thought with his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

“I just thought, you’re alone on Christmas Eve, I’m alone on Christmas Eve,” Kaminari rattled on, not looking back at him, “and I just, you know, I just thought it would be nice to spend it with someone. Who was funny. Or something. You know?”

Shinsou stepped a little closer, seeing that Kaminari’s neck turned bright red and Shinsou had to swallow hard around the lump in his throat. Fuck, indeed.

“You like Chinese food?”

“Huh?” Kaminari turned around half way this time, his cheeks still a little red.

“When you come over, bring Chinese Food. Or Indian. I’m not picky.” Shinsou mumbled, suddenly unsure of what to do or say, kicking at nothing. But he didn’t miss Kaminari’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree.

“Chinese sounds awesome!” Kaminari stood up, suddenly in a hurry. “I’m gonna call you when I’m on the way! See you later, Shinsou!” He shouted as he ran out the apartment, not even bothering to close the door.

The next few hours Shinsou tried to concentrate on writing his paper, failing miserably. He ate some of the curry from Yamada and Aizawa and it was as good as expected but Shinsou found himself looking more forward to the Chinese Takeout. Or the company with it. So, he only ate half of it and put the other half in the fridge for tomorrow.

He ended up looking at his phone every other minute, writing a sentence, then looking at it again. It goes without saying, but he didn’t get any real work done and he knew he had to revise everything he wrote on the last page.

The doorbell rang for the third time this day but Shinsou’s gut didn’t do its usual gymnastic exercises and before he knew, he was already in the entrance hall, opening up. Kaminari changed out of his work jumpsuit into his casual clothes. A thick coat with a dark purple scarf and hat buried him almost completely. His nose was a little red from the cold as he was overall dusted in light snow. But his smile was wide and seemed to melt the snow and cold away.

“Delivery!” It was almost unsettling that there was no lollipop in his mouth this time and Shinsou could actually see the wide grin, showing off immaculate white teeth.

“Come in.” Shinsou tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, only being betrayed by his trembling hands.

Kaminari stepped in, slipping out of his shoes without untying them, threw his coat with his scarf and hat over the wardrobe and just walked up to the living room. Shinsou followed close by, clenching and unclenching his hands to keep them from shaking.

“Wait a sec,” Shinsou pulled his laptop and books to the side, putting them under the coffee table for now. Kaminari put down the plastic bag with various containers.

“I hope I chose right,” he chuckled as he unpacked everything.

“I think you don’t have to worry about that.” Shinsou hummed as he stared at the various containers, kind of a little bit of everything. Fried rice, fried noodles, chicken, duck, wontons, fried vegetables, to name the usual suspects.

“I just wasn’t sure, you know, what you preferred,” Kaminari sounded genuinely worried, scratching his cheek as his eyes hopped from container to container. And that’s when Shinsou noticed how Kaminari’s hands were fidgeting around, pulling at a loose thread on his shirt, his foot tapping silently on the carpet, shifting his weight from one side to the other.

“Sit down,” Shinsou motioned on the ground. “Be right back.” Coming back from the kitchen, Shinsou put down two glasses and a bottle of soda on the table, before sitting down next to Kaminari, who put down his phone as he came back.

Shinsou turned around to pull down his weighted blanket, holding it up to Kaminari. “You want some?”

“Oh!” Kaminari’s face lit up. “Is that one of those weighted ones?!” Before Shinsou could even nod, Kaminari grabbed at it and weighted it with his hands.

“This feels so strange!” He giggled. Shinsou shook his head almost fondly, taking the blanket back from Kaminari’s hands and putting it over their shoulders.

“Sorry, it’s a little small so we need to-“ – “No problem.” Kaminari interrupted him as he scooted closer, grinning from ear to ear. Shinsou swallowed. The blanket had a nice weight to it on his shoulders, grounding him a little and steading his pulse almost instantly. With a glance to the side, Shinsou saw Kaminari sitting with his eyes closed, slowly breathing through his nose.

“I really need to get one of those for myself,” he hummed, smiling up to Shinsou with his eyes only half open.

“It’s Christmas, after all,” Shinsou said lamely, looking away since Kaminari’s relaxed face did things to his heart he didn’t know was possible, “you just wish for it.”

“Mhm, from you?”  

“You wish.”

“Yeah, that’s the point.”

Shinsou snorted, shaking his head once again. He just couldn’t keep up with Kaminari.

They started to eat, trying everything before settling on some things just one of them liked and sharing other stuff. It was rather silent at first until Kaminari just started to talk about some of his customers, how just absolutely horrible some people can be. And some just unbelievable stupid. At one point he talked about a job where he had to replace a smashed stove for what Shinsou shoved him in the face.

Somehow over the course of their dinner, they scooted even closer, their arms almost touching constantly and Shinsou only ever realized that when Kaminari laughed at one of his anecdotes about Midoriya (he cracked a bowl with milk and cereal already inside and slurping it as fast as possible, so it didn’t spill) and he buried his face in Shinsou’s shoulder, his whole body shaking.  

He had to turn his face away, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. When Kaminari lifted his face up again and didn’t say anything, Shinsou could practically feel his eyes on him, looking through him.

“Hey.” Kaminari’s voice was quiet in contrast to before.

“What.” Shinsou mumbled, not trusting his face to be a normal color again.

“What if I tell you,” he heard Kaminari swallow, “that your stove stopping to work wasn’t a mistake?”

Shinsou felt all his reservation leaving him with a heavy sigh. He turned back toward Kaminari who looked at him with wide eyes, an unsure smile on his lips.

“You win, Kaminari.” Shinsou watched as Kaminari’s eyes squinted at him, thinking about what he meant. So, Shinsou made it a little easier for him.

He raised both his hands to Kaminari’s face, cupping his cheeks and caressing them with his thumbs. Feeling the skin under his hands turn hot and red, and seeing Kaminari’s lips part in surprise, Shinsou was this close to just getting up and leaving his own apartment. This was taking years off of his life.

“I’m going to kiss you now. Any objections?” Shinsou half-whispered, not trusting his own voice.

Kaminari shook his head in between his hands and that was all he needed to know. Shinsou leaned in, guiding their lips together. Both their lips were greasy from the food, tasting like the last dish the other ate, and so unbelievably warm.

Kaminari let out a quiet sigh, leaning closer and Shinsou felt his hands starting to tremble again. But then Kaminari’s hands were on top of his own, squeezing them reassuringly to calm him down. And it helped. Shinsou let out his breath he didn’t realize he was holding in through his nose, holding the kiss for a couple of seconds longer before slowly breaking apart.

“I think I just short-circuited.” Kaminari mumbled, snorting at his own joke.

“You say that as if you don’t have any wires loose anyway.”

“Wow, that was bad,” he snorted again.

“But you laughed.”

“Because it was so bad!”

“Just shut up.”

“Make me.” Kaminari wiggled his eyebrows, trying to hold back a grin.

“And that wasn’t bad?”

“Shinsouuuu,” Kaminari whined mockingly, so naturally Shinsou let him suffer for a couple of seconds longer before he leaned back in again himself.

[wronqness99]

Alone Together

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 2.5K+

Warnings: Emotional abuse, mentions of alcoholism, unhealthy relationships

Characters: Park JaeHyung / Jae Park (Day6) X Female Reader

> About my writing

*The image doesn’t belong to me, credits to the owner.*

Y/N held her knees close to her chest as she rocked her body back and forth in an attempt to calm herself as tears streamed down her face uncontrollably.

She felt broken and saddened by everything that had happened in the last few hours. Ever since her parents' divorce, the girl had felt like she barely knew her own mother who was once a dedicated housewife and someone who she could always rely on, who was there to protect her, to help her and encourage her way through life.

She felt some much needed peace when her mother finally decided to leave the unhealthy marriage in their past, even though her father sometimes liked to scare them by trying to intrude in their lives and know more than he should with his unhealthy addiction to alcohol, which made them fear for their lives sometimes. It enraged Y/N how the man couldn't seem to understand what he had done wrong for them to leave, the irreparable damage he had done to his own flesh and blood. She knew things were not going to be easy, but she never expected such a sudden dramatic change.

Y/N couldn't help it, her mother's new behaviour messed with her head more than she would like to admit and it became the reason for the loud screaming and fighting between the women quite often which would then lead to heartbreak and tears. It was like a cycle. Her mother liked to turn things on her and make her feel guilty by saying Y/N didn't want her happiness whenever the girl tried to reason and calmly explain why it bothered her so much seeing the older woman contact multiple men through the internet, but everything became worse when Y/N discovered her mom lied to her in order to go out with those men without her knowledge. This strained their relationship in an incredibly irreparable way. The one she had always trusted with everything was now failing her in avail of other people. She had been there to support her mother through the difficulties with the marriage and never left her side all the way through the divorce process, while most of their family just pitied the alcoholic man who had been unemployed for years and would never make anything of himself. Yet, despite all of that, she seemed to have just become something replaceable for her mother, like a rag who had become too old and could no longer serve its purpose. The woman always rubbed the sacrifices she made for the younger on her face in order to guilt trap her, but failed to see how many times her daughter had stopped living her life and doing things people her age were supposed to just to be by her side and somehow protect her. She didn't like to go to parties or stay out late with friends, she never went to sleepovers and whenever her family members invited her to go on holiday with them, Y/N would always refuse. She didn't want her mother to feel alone, she didn't want anything to happen to her best friend.

This time around, however, their fight had been on another level and it blew completely out of hand. Y/N had begged her mother not to go meet that guy. She was tired of seeing her mom jumping from man to man, the older having had her know of two different relationships within the span of less than a year, but she knew there were more. It pained her extremely and she couldn't understand how her relationship with the older woman had always been enough for them both until the moment of divorce when it just wasn't anymore. She felt like she had lost her mother.

Even though Y/N was used to her mother not listening to her, she was not expecting the woman to tell her such hurtful, poisonous words. And they fought. Yet again. But this time it was louder, uglier and made her cry more than ever before. It made her never want to see the woman ever again, she felt like her heart was ripped out of her chest.

That was the first time her mother had ever put a relationship with any man she had barely even known before the special, loving one she once had with her daughter.

"Do you think you'll stop me from seeing him just because you can't get used to it? You're worthless. If your behaviour doesn't change you will end up alone. Jae won't be willing to keep up with your nasty personality for much longer." Her mother had said. And Y/N went quiet, the words resonating again and again inside her head. She didn't even notice when her mom left the house.

Jae had been her support through the whole mess that was her parents' relationship, her shitty relationship with her father who was drunk most of the time, her parents' subsequent divorce and her mother's whole change in behaviour. He had been there through everything. Jae had been the warm hug in her heart whenever the situation with her father got out of hand at home before the divorce and after, when the man would call her mother questioning when they were coming back home and what he had done wrong for them to leave, like it wasn't obvious enough, which caused the woman to end up screaming on the phone and Y/N's world to fall apart all over again. Whenever this happened, anxiety episodes were sure to ensue. And Jae had always been there to pick up her pieces. He had always been there for her, reminding her of the strength she had but unfortunately only he seemed to be aware of. He was always there to give her the love she had lacked all throughout her growth like she had been there to remind him how good he was at his art, being a musician. When everyone else opposed his dream, she was there to pull through the hard times with him. Jae wasn't scared of her insecurities or her being broken. Instead, he focused on helping her become better mentally and allowing her to be the real version on herself whenever they were together, no judgement or questions asked. He loved her for her.

They were like each other's anchor, tying each other to reality, tying each other to life.

So many times the girl had asked herself what she would have done without Jae by her side, she honestly wondered if she would still be alive. Whenever things got hard at home when her parents got married, even though she still had her mother, she felt alone. Now, not even being able to count on the woman anymore, she felt even lonelier.

Even though she had a strong and loving relationship with her boyfriend, the woman she called mother had been able to shake her structures and make her doubt herself like never before. Was she really toxic? Did she not deserve Jae? Was he holding such a kind soul from something much better than what she could give him in life?

Well, the probability of answer to that she knew was a strong definitely yes.

She loved Jae and knew he didn't deserve what she put him through. He could do so much better and have someone who was more confident and happy with their own self. Someone who wasn't broken. Y/N was insecure about most things in life, her indecisiveness never really helped with anything either and it just so happened that they had never had really bad days at the same time because the girl was quite sure that if it were to happen, they would probably enter self-destruction mode and ruin one another.

Maybe she really was toxic and maybe she was dragging Jae right down with her. Maybe it truly was the best for him to leave and maybe, just maybe, she was being utterly and completely selfish by not wanting to let go of him.

Hearing the key turn on the lock, Y/N jumped up from the couch, blanket hanging from her shoulders as she ran to her boyfriend, who immediately embraced her in his warmth.

"Lovey..." Jae's voice made itself clear, worry laced in every vibration. "What happened?" He questioned, holding her body tighter and closer to his own, lips pressed to her forehead.

"Please... Please don't get tired of me? I know I'm hard to deal with, I'm not easy to love, but Jae, I love you with all my heart and I promise you I will always do my best for you! Please don't leave me..." The girl hiccuped, holding his white t-shirt tightly inside her fists as if that would keep the man she loved from ever leaving her side.

"Baby, look at me," Jae asked, holding her by the shoulders and pushing her back a little so he could look into her eyes. His heart broke seeing her tear stained cheeks and watery eyes that didn't seem to be going to stop crying anytime soon. He pouted, and carefully cleaned her tears with his thumb. The man allowed them a short period of silence, wanting his girlfriend to calm down so they could finally talk and he could get a better understanding of what was going on, even though he was pretty sure of the reason that left Y/N in such a state. "Did you fight with your mom again?" He questioned lowly. She nodded before looking down. Jae pulled her closer again and tucked his chin on top of her head, hands running freely through her hair, something he knew was going to help soothe her. "Y/N I'm not going to leave you. Not now and not ever. That is not something you need to worry about. It's truly annoying and saddening how your mother is trying to get to you just because you are opening, or at least trying to open your heart to her by telling her how you truly feel. I understand that she wants to move on and live her life but I won't allow her to make you doubt my feelings for you just because she wants to be selfish and have everything her way." Jae stated firmly. "She shouldn't be treating her own daughter like this, making her doubt her own capacities not only in love but life in general. She's destroying your self-esteem. I won't allow her to take away from you something that was so hard to build." By the tone of his voice and the fast pace of his heart, the girl could tell her boyfriend was mad. Jae knew how much she had struggled with her mental health and loving herself. Even if Y/N did the most amazing things in the world, she couldn't seem to notice that and that was always where Jae came in and helped her see herself a little bit through his loving eyes instead of her dark, unconfident ones, which helped his girlfriend to slowly begin trusting herself and having a little more confidence.

"I feel like I'm losing myself in this wave of emotions that hit me all at once and left me adrift." She chuckled emotionlessly, tears still in her eyes. "I cried so much today my chest went numb. I don't feel myself anymore." Y/N allowed herself to close her eyes for a moment and take in all of Jae. The wooden scent of his perfume, the warmth of his embrace, his caring and loving nature towards her. It was perfect. And she was afraid to lose it. Taking a step back, she looked into his eyes, the man holding both of her hands on his own. "I feel like I'm holding you back from the wonderful life you could have..." She confided barely above a whisper, eyes never leaving his.

"Y/N, please don't hide yourself. Show me you. Show me the real you. Don't hide your heart because of her hurtful words. I don't have any intentions to leave you. I'm here with you like I have always been and plan to always be. You can talk to me, ok? The words you've postponed in fear, the feelings you're holding in, they only do ill to you. The last thing I want is for you to doubt your strength or the strength of our love." He placed her hand on top of his heart. "This belongs to you and you only. But you cannot be afraid of me, especially of my feelings for you. Please believe me when I say that I love you and that I will always be by your side. I will always be here to lull you to sleep and to wake up to your love in the morning. You have no idea how much strength it gives me to just look at you and know you're mine, to know I have a reason. We are family Y/N, we were long before we started dating, when we were only best friends. Our bond was always something out of the ordinary. You mean the world to me, so, please don't be afraid. I will always be beside you."

"I'm sorry..." She said in a whisper and bit her lip in embarrassment. "You've never given me a reason to doubt anything in our relationship, yet here I am, being ridiculous and toxic. Sometimes I feel like I really don't deserve you." She stated, causing the man to shake his head in negation.

"You're not being toxic, you just believed the words of someone who's becoming toxic to you. You are dealing with the situation as best as you can. You never went through this before, you are learning and there is nothing wrong with that, you just need a little time. It's fine, ok? I am here and we'll get through this together like we always do." He stated and smiled, placing a chaste kiss to her lips before pulling her into his warm embrace once again, allowing them both to feel the love that bound them.

"Thank you for everything Jae, I love you. I truly do and there is nothing in this world I want more than to spend eternity with you."

Y/N knew she wasn't alone even if she felt that way. She knew Jae was right there and she could always count on him. He was there to give her strength and tell her how amazing she was over and over again until she would believe it herself.

Jae always made her a priority because, according to his own words, that's where she belonged.

In times like this, she was even more sure he was the one. The one true love that she had waited for her whole life. The one who simply adored her and always brought out the best in her, the one who dropped everything at a ring of the phone so he could be there for her no matter the circumstances, and the one who always made her laugh.

Deep in her heart, she knew they would always be each other's person.

MASTERLIST

[clevernewdimension]

Unearthly Delights Finale

Preview, One, Two (M), Three, Four (M), Five, Six (M), Seven (M), Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven(M), Twelve (M) , Thirteen (M), Fourteen (M), Fifteen, Sixteen (M), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Finale

Genre: Drama, Smut, Action, Romance, Supernatural Creatures and Monsters AU

Pairing: JunmyeonxCharacter

Word Count: 4.7K

AN: This is the ending, but not the last I will write for Ava. You best expect some drabbles and oneshots!! Thank you all for putting up with this. It’s been too fucking long coming and I wish I could have made this longer for you all. Thank you thank you thank you!

Rain was falling as I feel Minseok guide me. His hands on my shoulders, holding me. Trying to make me feel safe. I look up, seeing Jongin limping, holding onto Chanyeol as we made our way around Junmyeon’s home. Junmyeon was holding Jaehwa in his arms, wrapped in a sheet we stole from one of the rooms. The rain beating on the windows was all we heard as he gently sets her down on one of his couches.

Yixing sighed, before waving his hands in the air, muttering something in the air.

I see Sehun help Jongin into a chair, his leg completely mangled and ripped up, though it should heal in a few days perfectly fine, perhaps in even less time with Yixing’s help. Chanyeol came out with the worst of it, a cut across his face, damaging his eye. With magic it should be fine, though. Kyungsoo was overall fine. A few cuts, but nothing serious. Sehun was perfectly unharmed, which, given the scale of what happened, would be terrifying if he wasn’t on our side.

The only real damage done was the emotional damage we’ve just experienced. Something you can’t just wish away but have to actively work though. And Junmyeon had it the worst of us all after having to kill his own sister… after being forced to choose.

Junmyeon sets Jaehwa down softly on a couch in his living room, before moving. Silent tears falling from his face, looking at no one. He was moving without thinking. I see him walk outside, the rain pouring down as he instantly was drenched.

Sehun looks at him, looking at everyone else before going to follow.

Yixing reaches out, “Sehun-”

“He’s going to go dig her grave,” He says, looking back, “I’m not going to let him do it alone. Even if he doesn’t want me there, someone has to be there for him, and he doesn’t want Ava there.” He looks at me, a small wince at my pained expression. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” I say, nodding, “I… understand. It hurts, but I get it.”

Yixing was looking over and making magical potions or confections for those who needed them as I just sat down on the floor, knees to my chest, watching out one of the large, floor to ceiling windows. Out in the distance I would see a little light and two figures.

Minseok sat down next to me, a few cuts on his arms and one on his chin. He just places a hand on my knee, not saying a word. He knows nothing could comfort me at this moment. We sat like that for hours, as the sun started to rise. No one left to sleep. Not without giving Jaehwa a proper send off, knowing Junmyeon would eventually look back and appreciate everyone being there.

I see Sehun and Junmyeon walk towards the door. Both covered in drying mud as the rain stopped a long time ago. Junmyeon walked past, tracking mess everywhere before picking her up.

We all follow him out the door. Yixing stops him from placing her in the six foot deep hold as he drops an acorn in. I see it grow into a casket, growing out of the hole and just in front of Junmyeon.

He doesn’t even acknowledge it as he sets her down. The growing root casket shifting back down into the hole, roots tangling over her to create a top.

Chanyeol looks at Junmyeon, “Would you like us to-”

“No.” He says, “Just… don’t.”

He starts to cover her back up, one shovel full of dirt at a time. We stood there the entire time before he was done. Yixing waved his hand, flowers growing around, trying to make her place of rest a peaceful one.

I reach towards him, but he just moves away from me, not even sparing me a glance. As he leaves, I see him manipulate water in order to clean the mud off him. As we go back in, I see him take one of the elevators down.

“The tank,” I said, sadly. “Going somewhere he knows I won’t follow.”

Minseok just softly pats my shoulder.

“I’m sure he just needs a little bit of time alone,” Chanyeol says, “Then he’ll open up like always.”

I look at Chanyeol, who gave me a small smile. I adore his boundless optimism, but I know deep in my heart, it wasn’t true. Junmyeon wasn’t cruel to those he cares for. He wouldn’t just leave to the tank if it was the usual not waiting to see people. He’s doing this because he knows most of us can’t follow him there. He’s going there because he wants to separate himself from us. From me.

The choice he made didn’t lead to a happy outcome. Seeing him walk away made me really wish he would have killed me instead, because maybe he would have been happier that way.

Three weeks later, and Junmyeon still hasn’t spoken a word to me that wasn’t just purely professional or directed to a group I’m also in. Our relationship seems to have suffered irreparable damage over this. It made sense, but it fucking hurt. I worked at the club, but he did everything he could to avoid me. It was driving me crazy. I want to help him, but I know that it would just hurt him.

So, I had to do something. Because I felt like I was suffocating. Not even just from the fact that he’s ignoring me, but because I know I can not heal his heart. I can’t end the pain he’s going through. I know anytime he sees me, he thinks of the choice he was forced to make. Even after I told him I would be fine, that it was ok if he chose her, he still picked me. I still wonder if it was a mistake. If he would have been happier if he would have listened to me. And I know these thoughts are just… so fucked up.

I can’t just sit here and slowly and agonizingly die inside. I can’t sit here and remind him of his pain.

I stayed in his office, waiting for him. The day of work was over, as I heard the door open to the office. I was hidden behind it, watching as he pushed it closed with his back turned to me, taking a few steps towards his desk. He picks up the piece of paper. Officially it was filed a while ago, but I asked Yixing not to let Junmyeon know. He looks up, seeing me. The pain in his eyes hurt me down to my very soul. I hated seeing him like this as he looked back down to the piece of paper again, as if he couldn’t believe it.

My two weeks notice. Filed exactly two weeks ago. I walked over, Junmyeon still looking at me for the first time in three weeks. Not past me, not at something else, but directly at me.

The sadness and pain in his eyes killed me to see.

“You need time,” I say, looking at him. “Away from me. To get your head straight and to heal. And I completely understand that. But I can’t just sit here, being ignored for who knows how the fuck long it will take just... suffocating.” He didn’t say anything, but I could see his eyes fill with tears. “I love you so much, and if I have to walk away and be gone for a while in order to help you, I will. Because it’s the ONLY way I can help you now.”

“I’m sorry,” He says, very quietly. If I was still human, I wouldn’t have heard it at all.

“It’s ok,” I say, smiling sadly. “I understand. I really do.” I look up at him, seeing the pain of losing someone he cared deeply for. The pain of betrayal. “Just… we’ll go our separate ways for now. Learn, grow and whatever. Heal, I guess. I won’t come back to New York. And Minseok will come with me, though he’ll also come back from time to time. I still don’t have this whole vampire thing down, and I need someone there to help me.” I sigh, crossing my arms, “I just want you to focus on yourself. Heal, if you can. Not completely, because I know things like this never do. Just try to seek happiness again.”

He looks at me, tears falling from his eyes.

“I’m not leaving this, the love we have,” I say, “I just… sometimes you need time apart. To grow and understand yourself and the pain.” I smile, “You can still sleep around. Wouldn’t want you getting too rusty before I come back.” I say, giving him a wink, trying to lighten the mood. Making a joke in a time of pain, that’s the Ava way of living. “And we’ll say… two years from today, we’ll meet again. Sometimes all someone needs is time. If you feel like that’s not enough, tell Minseok.” I smile, tears welling in my eyes, “I will wait for you. Be it just these two years or be it two hundred years. I love you, and your well being is worth it to me, even if at the end of all of this you don’t want to be with me.”

I walked to him as he sat down in this chair. I took his face in my hands, pressing my lips to his forehead, “I love you so much. Please help yourself for once.”

“I love you too,” he finally chokes out, between sobs. Shoulders shaking in a vulnerable and pained way I’ve never seen him before. I hug him, wiping away tears for a brief moment. Trying to convey everything I feel for him in these actions because words will never do my feelings justice. I whisper in his ear our meeting place. The time. Hoping after this I’ll see him there.

But it was time. I had to go. But seeing Junmyeon like this, so open, makes me happy too. The first step of healing is to be open and vulnerable.

Seeing the first signs of healing in him is the only reason I’m able to stand up. I turn and walk away as he is crying. It will forever be the hardest thing I will ever do.

Immediately after, Yixing teleported Minseok and I to Paris.

We picked Paris because it was an ocean away, so really unless they get another really powerful fae, Junmyeon can’t just come here instantly. The city was known for having a vast vampire population of all different clans who live in relative peace. There’s squabbles between clans, but nothing like what happened between the Gangrel and the Ventures.

We settled down, getting to know the local vampire population there. The only two Gangrel left. Fellow vampire friends we’ve made like to call us ‘Mutts in disguise’. I learned more about what being a vampire is like. The power that starts to come as you grow in your newborn state. I still wasn’t as strong as adult vampires, but it was just interesting to see the way I was changing. Like puberty 2.0.

I got a job as a bartender while learning the craft under Minseok. Spoke to locals and tourists alike. Sometimes we’d take a weekend trip to other countries close by. We lived in the tiniest two bedroom apartment that we made into a small home. Both of us are not really buying a whole lot of things, just necessities. I learned through Minseok that, after a couple of months, Baekhyun was brought back into the fold. Forgiven after learning that they were using someone against him that was slaughtered in front of him anyways, even after following all their demands. He was a victim of their evil too.

I told Minseok to not give me updates about Junmyeon, and vice versa. We needed to heal away from one another. We can’t do that if we’re constantly hearing how the other is doing. We have to focus on ourselves. I don’t know about how it’s going over the pond, but Minseok has had to put up with a lot of drunk/high crying. My begging to see him in the moments of weakness I had. Thankfully he didn’t listen to me.

One time, Sehun came back with him. He just smiled, sitting at the bar in front of where I worked along with Minseok. He told me Johnny was doing very well at school, making a lot of friends. I never had a doubt in my mind, to be honest. He’s a great kid. Funny and charming. He apparently has grown into a very kind young man, and he even sent Sehun along with small gifts for me. One of them was a small necklace. It was magic, and if you say a word, music will start to play.

I cried after it started playing a small tune Taemin used to hum to me to lull me to sleep. The pain of losing my best friend was something I buried down for so long that, finally, it came to light and I had to actually sort through my emotions and start to really and truly mourn him. On the first anniversary of his death, Yixing teleported me to where he was memorialized in Junmyeon’s garden. Yixing made sure Junmyeon was busy as I just sat there, pouring his favorite and extremely expensive bottle of wine right into the ground where he rests, humming the tune back to him. I remember just speaking for so long to the stone there, seeing all the flowers growing around his resting place.

It’s beautiful. Just as he was. Is.

During my time away, I never had another official relationship. It was more of my old standard. Sometimes I’d seek that out with Minseok, sometimes with co-workers, or even strangers. It helped with sexual needs. Those desires were pretty much fulfilled when I wanted. But not the emotional ones. Sure, I could get someone and bring them home to have them fuck me until it felt like my brains were leaking out my ears, but you can’t make the heart want someone that it doesn’t want. There are times where I just miss Junmyeon’s hugs. How I’d lay on him and fall asleep. The way he would touch me lightly out of worry. The forehead kisses. The small ways Junmyeon would always let me know he was there. His adoration and love for me.

And people wonder why when I’m drunk and sad, I cry about missing him. He is half of my heart. He took most of it when I wasn’t looking. I feel a bit empty without him. The love he has for me made me feel truly alive for the first time in years.

You can’t find that in strangers or fuck buddies. In some ways I find that with Minseok, but that’s more of a friendly way. Not so much the way my heart really craves. Minseok was probably the best person who could have gone with me. Our bond is strong. The pact formed between us, the last two of the clan. He was there for my highs and my lows.

The vampire clans in Europe thought that our relationship was weird. After all, Minseok was the leader of our two person clan. Every other clan we’ve met, the leaders always demanded respect and to have people call them things like sir or ma’am, father or mother or even master and mistress. To Minseok and I that just seems so just… stupid. So we were the odd ones in Paris that the other clans would gossip about but still respect.

Gangrels are a bit like wild animals. Push us into a corner and we’ll fight until we’re dead on our feet. No other vampire clan wanted to mess with that. Especially after Yixing and Sehun came to visit and people could feel the power radiating off of them. We even got questioned on how we made such powerful allies. Hard to make them understand that it’s less allies and more family.

My time away has changed me, too. Not so much my style, though. Black remained my go to. The jacket Junmyeon gave me hidden away by Minseok. He’ll give it to me when the time is over. I’ve cut my hair short, let it grow back out. A small silver loop through one of my nostrils was the first choice I made since coming to Paris. After that, more happened. A few tattoos. A half sleeve on my upper arm made of flowers. One for all of the crew at Unearthly, as well as one for Taemin, Johnny and my mom. The only odd one was the ones that stretched out to my collar bone. A purple Nymphaea water lily without the lily pad. The very ends of it were a dark blue, though. The color of Junmyeon’s scales when he’s in the water. Those are colorful even though it’s against my whole style because the people they represent are colorful, vibrant and wonderful. So I thought I’d allow this a pass. I was stronger, too. A ‘baby’ vampire still but getting stronger and faster as each day passes.

That’s not the only way I changed, either. Before I was self confident in just my looks and stubborn. Now I’m willing to fight for myself and what I believe in. I’m confident in my body and my mind now. I’ve always been headstrong, but before I was way too reckless. Now I’m just a little reckless. Still a bit of a wild card, though. Can’t change me completely.

Everyone from Unearthly ended up visiting me from time to time besides Junmyeon. It was nice, being able to show them around Paris and remember why I care so deeply about all of them. It made my heart hurt knowing I was missing time with them. To know that, for some of them, their lives are moving past and I won’t have forever with them like I do the others.

Soon, it was six months until the day. I was excited, wondering what kind of person Junmyeon has become. What’s changed. Then three. Has he healed? Is he ok? Does he finally take care of himself? Then one. Will he remember me? A week. Does he still care? Does he love me? Hate me? What if he never wants to see me again? Will my heart be able to take it? A day. Does he even remember where we said we’d meet? Will he show up?

I was worried that after all this time, he would have decided he was fine without me. But if that’s what makes him happiest, then I will relent and cheer him on as a friend. It would hurt me, but loving someone means you wish to put their needs ahead of your own.

The cold New York air hits me as I, for the first time in two years, am handed my jacket back by Minseok. We’re outside of Central Park as he smiles at me.

“Go on, Ava,” He says, smiling. “You deserve to see what your sacrifice has done for him.”

He leaves, and I just hold the jacket as I walk through. It didn’t help that I was wearing a shirt with thin straps, either. My heart was racing as much as a vampire’s heart could. I walk along, my feet on autopilot. I see the famous bow bridge. Yixing picked the meeting spot, that sappy asshole.

I get the end, looking and seeing, directly in the middle, Junmyeon. He was leaning against the railing, looking out at the night. He looked good. Amazing, even. Healthier. Buffer, too. He was wearing jeans and a coat, hair pushed back. I could sit her and just look at him all day, and I probably would have if he didn’t turn and see me.

His eyes widened, before a big grin broke out on his face. I smile, moving and walking quickly towards him. He met me halfway, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into the biggest hug. My eyes teared up at the familiarity of this hug. At the smell of him. Having him so close after so long. My hands were shaking as he pulled away, wiping at my face. I didn’t even notice tears were falling from my eyes as I see him start to cry too.

We just cried for a bit, hugging one another before we were finally at an emotionally stable state. He pressed his lips to my forehead and smiled, “I’ve missed you so much, Avelyna.” He looks at me, “You’ve changed a little, but still seem quite the same too.” He looks at my arm, “And colors! That’s a shock.”

I point to the water lily, “This one represents you.”

The smile on his face made my heart soar. He smiles, opening his coat and pulling down the neck of his white tee. I see on his chest a black rose with a little bit of red. “This represents you, too.”

I laugh, “That’s why Sehun said it was interesting after he saw them for the first time.”

He smiles, looking at me before looking around, seeing people look at us. “You want to walk?”

“I’d love to. We have a lot to talk about,” I say, nodding. “How about we walk from here to get some dinner. I’ve been craving American diner food for literally well over a year.”

“Anything,” He says, lacing his fingers with mine.

Dinner was great. A small classic diner as I ate human food with Junmyeon. Both of us with a cup of coffee, listening to the stories we both have of our time away. He told me about how he’s completely out of arms dealing now, just running a club while I tell him about the time Minsoek and I were seriously considering if we could break into the Vatican secret vaults just to see what kind of shit they have down there. He told me about how Jongin now lives with him after some weird cult tried to go after all demons and I told Junmyeon about how I got lost in spain and ended up in the VIP section of some of their soccer teams celebrating a big win.

It was just us, talking for hours. Sharing stories of us apart. Of us growing, and healing and figuring out who we are since we lost that along the way. And it was wonderful.

Soon, though, came more serious topics.

“I think we should take this slow,” I say, looking at him. I hold up a finger, “My slow, not your slow because that’s too slow.”

The laugh he let out made my heart soar. He nods, “I understand. We have to… see if this is still there.”

I nod in agreement. “I’m living with Minseok. We got our own place that is about a ten minute walk from the club.” I smile, “We were kind of hoping for our jobs back? If not, then we can just get other ones. We can’t just expect to have them back after all.”

“We could never find people to fill the places left by the two of you that we liked,” Junmyeon admits, “So we’ve had people come and go. The bartender just left, and we’ve been looking for another bodyguard.”

“Thank you,” I say, smiling.

“No,” He says, hand giving mine a squeeze, “Thank you.”

I sit down, the grass beneath me as I look at the small stone. Flowers in bloom, colors all around. Makes me stand out in my all black next to them. I smile, pouring a glass of red wine and sitting it on the ground, putting a stopper on the bottle and setting it down next to me.

“Another year has gone by, and the pain of losing you still feels as if it just happened,” I say, looking at the stone with Taemin’s name. “I never imagined my life without you. You came into my life like a wrecking ball and made your presence unforgettable and irreplaceable, you bitch.”

I feel the tears start to well up, “I… I’m so much better now. I don’t drink. Not even the stuff that can get a vampire fucked up. Shocking, I know. Replaced my booze habit with a soda one. I’m happy, but I feel a hole where you’re supposed to be. I can’t close it. I can’t shove something there and forget the pain. You’re irreplaceable.”

I wipe my eyes, a gentle breeze blowing past makes me shiver. “I just wanted to update you. About my life.”

I smile, “Been almost a year since I’ve come back here. Minseok is like the older brother I never had in a way. Our little clan, just the two of us. I’m getting so strong now, I’m already stronger than Junmyeon and Baekhyun. I keep arm wrestling Jongin to check and see when I finally beat him.” I roll my eyes, “Sehun thinks it’s hilarious that I’ll never be stronger than him. Same with Chanyeol. At least Kyungsoo has the decency not to pick on me too much.”

I feel my face flush, “Speaking of Junmyeon… we’re actually going to… get married soon. He asked me when we were on vacation. Bahamas. Seeing him swim in the crystal clear water from the boat was awesome. His tail looked like gems, it was rad. He asked me on a beach at sunset.” I shake my head, “Little romantic, a bit cliche, but I liked it. Because I know that’s him, you know?” I smile, “I said yes after choking on my soda. The idiot should have known not to ask me when I was taking a drink.”

I frown, “We’re not going to do the whole wedding thing, though. Just us, a few witnesses and dinner after. Having a party like that just feels… wrong without you.” I smile, wiping my eyes again, “Besides, like hell am I wearing a goddamn white dress if you’re not alive to see it.”

I hear footsteps come from behind me, standing still. “We’ve also been talking about… you know, family. A kid. Just one because I’m not sure I could handle more than that because it just seems terrifying having a little like… alien ripping open my vagina, you know?”

I hear a chuckle, and I smile instantly. “Also they're really smelly. But perhaps in like a decade. We still have like… at least a century together. No need to rush.”

I lift the glass, pouring the wine into the soil, “Your spirit better be there when we say I do or I’ll fucking hunt you down in whatever afterlife we get.” I press a kiss to my fingers, placing them onto the stone. “I love ya, idiot. See you next year.”

I stand, turning and looking at Junmyeon. He smiles, his hair in his face and a bit wet as he holds his hand out for me. I slide my fingers and lace them with his, smiling as we walk together. Besides one another, hands holding tightly.

“Ready,” He says, “We’re supposed to meet everyone for dinner.If we leave now, we’ll be early.”

I smile, pulling him to me and pressing a kiss to his lips. He’s shocked for a moment, before pulling me into his arms and kissing back.

I smile, pulling away, “We could be fashionably late instead…”

He laughs, “Perhaps tonight. Damn vampire recovery. You gotta give me a little bit of time!”

I just take his hand, “Fine fine… but tonight I want you to use those handcuffs Yixing gave us as a pre wedding gift.”

I see a blush rise on his face, “Perhaps we can be late, actually.”

I smirk, pulling into the direction of our bedroom, winking at him.

My hand holds his, sometimes still afraid this is all a dream. I squeeze his hand, wanting that reassurance. To know he’s here. Real. And I get it. His larger hand giving me that proof I need. He’s real. He’s with me. We’re in this life together.

And because like hell am I going to let go of him ever again.

[hoodoo12]

Ménage (2/13ish)

SWF, backstory, personal hurts, connection

He listened to Molly move through her kitchen, hoping to hear her talk to herself for some more info on her. That wasn't eavesdropping, not really, he told himself; she knew he was there. But she was quiet, and quickly returned with another glass, sinking down beside him again.

He accepted the refill of this not-pink-at-all-drink, raised it properly in a toast, and liked very much that she took his hand as she settled in this time.

"So, you sound like you have a lot of experience with celestials. Is it just angels? What are they like?"

"Celestials?" he asked. "You really wanna hear about them? Pompous, jealous, dickwads? It's not just angels, either . . . anything that didn't turn away from the Light calls itself a celestial, and they're all busy jerking off to their own superiority. Sometimes they like to try and herd lesser beings back to what they think is the Way. Gets 'em brownie points or some horseshit."

He took a swig.

"Is that what you were hoping to call here?" he asked, barely keeping the distain out of his voice. "They're like Jehovah's Witnesses or fucking ringworm -- you can't get rid of them once they're here."

He extracted his hand from hers and drew his blackened fingernails through her palm and to her wrist.

"I think you'll find getting me was a much better choice, baby."

Rapt, she listened, her thumb idly brushing the side of his hand; his disdain was easy to perceive, but she was fascinated nonetheless. How many humans got an opportunity like this, to hear about the afterlife, to know even tiny details about the ever-looming What Comes Next?

"You know, I don't doubt you. I'm not exactly the religious type anyway."

The scrape of his blunt, dark nails across her palm to the delicate inner face of her wrist made her heart stutter in her chest, and goosebumps immediately raised on her arm all the way up to her shoulder. Oh. That had felt far too good.

She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks again, wondering how many times this ghost had made her blush in the half hour or so he'd been in her home. Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound. She flipped her hand over, lying it palm up on her knee, and took a long sip of her drink, draining half in one swallow.

"Do that again?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, half a smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

"This, baby?" he asked to confirm, even as he repeated the motion, first and second fingers circling in her palm, following the creases there like he was divining before dragging them to her wrist and the soft skin of her inner arm. He pulled his fingers backwards to her hand and did it again.

Without permission but with the same smirk on his face, his fingers skipped from her arm to her thigh. They were even lighter there, dragging slowly upward, even as he watched for her reaction.

If his smile wasn't enough to make her heart begin to race, the slow, deliberate drag of his fingertips across her palm certainly did the trick. There were calluses on her fingers from working in her gardens, but her palms remained soft, sensitive, and she couldn't help pinching her lower lip between her teeth to hold back a sigh. Who knew such a simple touch could have such a physical effect on her?

When his fingers migrated to her thigh, bare beneath a thin pair of cotton pajama shorts, she couldn't keep a soft moan back, shivering at the more intimate touch, sliding slowly inward. This . . . oh, it was nice but she couldn't . . . he needed to know what he would be signing up for.

"Hey," she whispered, placing her hand over his to still his progress. "This . . . look, I like you touching me. I like it a lot. But if you . . . if you want more . . . there's a few things you should know about me first."

She sighed, feeling embarrassment and anxiety creeping icy tendrils around her ribcage. "I don't . . .  I . . . um, I haven’t done this. I haven't even been kissed. This is all fresh territory for me, and there's a really big reason why."

At the hesitation in her voice and her physically stopping his hand, he cocked his head. She had let the softest moan ever escape. There was the faintest tremble to the fingers atop his. Her breath had come more quickly, and that same pretty blush had darkened her cheeks again.

He didn't want to care about her reason; she was responsive and just the fact she'd called him was arousing. He sported a bit of a tent pole behind his fly, but he wasn't all demon. He knew pain. He'd caused pain gladly, sometimes. But Molly, this woman who may had inadvertently summoned him hadn't immediately banished him, so he wasn't going to do that to her.

So he stopped.

"Everyone starts somewhere, baby," he told her, hoping it sounded more philosophical and less smarmy, and then he waited.

She was grateful that he stopped, that he didnt press his hand forward, only cocked his head in response. He even spoke gently, assuring her that everyone started somewhere, and she was grateful for that too.

"I know. If it was just the virginity thing, your hand would already be in my shorts. I wouldn’t have stopped you just for that." She took a deep breath, let it out, realizing just how long it had been since she had spoken to another person about this.

"I . . . I lost my whole family when I was fifteen. All of them. My older sister was graduating high school and my parents threw a huge party for her. Everyone came, aunts, grandparents, cousins. Everyone. I was being a shitty teenager and didn't figure they'd miss me, so I took a walk, just wanting to be away from so many people asking if I was gonna graduate valedictorian like my sister. And . . . well, I grew up in a small town in the rural midwest, which means half the town made cooking meth their day job. Our neighbors happened to be cooking that day and it...went wrong. The explosion took out half the block, including the house behind it. My house." She paused. She could get through this. "No one got out but me.

"After that, it was foster homes until I could legally be on my own. I had a small fortune in inheritance, since I was the only living relative of anyone with a will. I got a shitty apartment and stewed in a delicious mix of PTSD and survivor's guilt until I turned twenty and started putting my life back together. Got my GED and a BA in journalism. Even got a girlfriend."

A short smile curled on her mouth, but it was joyless.

"Met on an online literary forum. She lived two states away, so we were long distance for a year. She was gonna drive down to spend Christmas with me, and her car . . . hit some black ice. She was killed on impact. She was still in the closet back at home, so I only found out because her best friend found my Facebook. I couldn't even go to her funeral."

"After that, I . . .I just couldn't do it. Everyone I ever loved had died, and not peacefully. I couldn't let myself be around people. I felt cursed. I still feel cursed. I bought this house and I . . . I don't leave it. That's why you're the first person I've spoken to face to face in nearly two years." Her head hung, ashamed at her own weakness, thoughts dark with the horrible memories she has dredged up from the murk.

"Still think I'm worth the trouble?"

Oh, he had some stories about his past that would rival hers, but this wasn't the time or place for one-upmanship. He could bitterly tell her that shitty things happen to everyone, and that's life: just a series of falling down to claw yourself back up again, over and over. You did it or you didn’t, and no one’s path was the right one for anybody else.

But the deep pain he’d experienced that should’ve made him calloused and sour wasn’t quite there. Hers was different, nothing like his, and that didn’t make the deep-seated anger flare.

“So you thought calling up a spirit would give you some companionship,” he said. It was a statement, not a question. His voice dropped. “And you got me instead.”

Slowly, his fingers curled in on themselves, towards his own palm, until he was no longer touching her. Gently he extracted his hand out from under hers.

He tried to chuckle, but it came out a little strained. “Second best again.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and his gaze flicked downward, away from her for a moment, until he collected himself. When he did, straightening and leaving his hand on his own knee, he was able to look at her again.

“Tell me again what you wanted from the spirit you were trying to call up. I’m no good at conversation, I cheat at cards and Monopoly, I’ve eaten my fair share of puzzle pieces. TV is okay, so long as it’s reruns of the Jerry Springer Show. I’m not really suited for the quiet life that it seems like you’ve got going here--I’m more an inappropriately physical specter, if you hadn’t noticed.

“I’ve liked being here, baby, and the drinks were nice, but you might be better sending me on my way and trying your ritual again.”

For a moment, though his eyes were downcast and his posture already shrinking back from her, Molly could see something in his eyes. Something fractured and irreparable. Raw and pained on a level she couldn't possibly begin to fathom. Then the veil dropped, the veneer smoothly tugged back into place, his voice carefully measured and cold.

"What?" It was her turn to cock her head, brow furrowing. "I don't understand, second best to who? I called a spirit and you answered. Haven't I said more than once that I'm happy you're here?"

Reining herself in before her voice got too shrill, Molly took a deep breath.

"Just like I wasn't sure what kind of spirit would answer, I wasn't sure what I'd want if they did. Different spirits have different rules." She bit harshly at her lip, tugging threads of skin loose until the spot began to bleed. "I hoped maybe we could figure it out together, but I guess I just ruined that. I want you to stay, Beej, but I won't make you. Everyone else left, so I shouldn't have assumed you wouldn't leave, too."

She shrank back against the arm of the couch, tugging her knees up protectively to her chest.

People tended to dismiss him, so that wasn't totally unexpected; it was a familiar ache. But people didn't tend to be upset that he offered to go, didn't tend to try and tuck the blame back in on themselves, and didn't tend to tell him repeatedly they wanted him to stay.

In the silence that stretched between them, he considered what she'd said. Seeing her worry her lip till the red on it wasn't lipstick, he dug around in a pocket till he found a scrap of cloth that may have been a handkerchief at one time.

"Here," he told her, shaking it out. He looked it over, reading the monogram, before offering it to her. "I can't imagine old HPL is going to mind you using this. Why the hell anyone would be buried with a snotrag is beyond me."

He left it on the cushion between them, and sighed.

"Molly, I'm sorry I'm not what you expected when you wanted someone here. But . . ." He paused and made sure she was looking at him before continuing. "None of those people in your life left you. Not voluntarily, and that's a big difference than someone choosing to go."

Now the hard part, because it was dangerous being honest; in his experience, people used it against him. "You've said you'd like me to stay. I'd like to stay too, baby. A little company and comfort? Who in their right mind would turn that down?"

His own gaze had flicked to one side, a little, but he forced it back up to hers.

Out of her peripherals, she could see him moving, and assumed he was getting off the couch to leave. So when he produced an off white square of fabric and placed it in the neutral space between them, her brow knitted in confusion. Molly reached for it; there was probably more bacteria on this handkerchief than in a public restroom, but the gesture was kind, and she held it to her bleeding lip anyway.

Hope leapt in her chest like a flame when he admitted that he'd like to stay. Unfurling from her position on the couch,  she sat closer to him, and hardly believing her daring, she lifted her hand to cup her palm against his cheek, touch light in case she needed to pull away quickly.

"I was expecting at most some kind of poltergeist, something I could feel but couldn't see. Something to make the place feel less empty. But you came through, and I can talk to you and touch you . . . honey, don't apologize because you weren't what I was expecting. This is better."

Her thumb swept over the ridge of his cheekbone, secretly hoping no moss had rubbed off on her hand. "I would . . . I would really like you to stay. You're fascinating, and fun to talk to, and cute . . ." She bit her lips out of habit, wincing as her teeth raked the tender spot. "Please."

Her feather light touch made his eyelids flutter closed. It was something he could never get enough of, something he'd never tire of. He had to actively prevent himself from pushing into her like a damn cat.

When she relayed what she'd been hoping for and at her quiet admission that she'd like him to stay, he opened his eyes again and caught her gaze. He also couldn't help drop his eyes to her grabbing her lip between her teeth again. A smile grew on his face, and he hoped it distracted enough from what was growing in his pants.

Beetlejuice twisted his head under her hand a little, planting a kiss into her palm.

"I'd like to stay too, baby," he murmured against her skin, before he lifted his amber eyes to hers again. "You expected a poltergeist, but I can go bump in the night too, you know.

"If you're interested . . ."

There was something about the way his eyes fluttered shut, lashes brushing his cheeks as her palm brushed his cheek, that made her insides tremble; odd how such a minuscule gesture could affect her entire body, could make her breath catch. And oh, when his eyes opened again, intense and pinned to her, missing not a single move she made, and he smiled. Molly wondered if she was supposed to feel this way, if it was the isolation talking or if it was normal to have your heart try to hammer through your ribcage.

His lips were cool, colder than the rest of his skin from the chilled liquor, but they left a spot of warmth behind, ticking her palm as he spoke softly against it. Her stomach did a somersault, then another when he caught her gaze again, that playful flicker alight in his eyes. How could she possibly say no?

"I am interested," she breathed, her hand pressing just a bit more firmly to his cheek, leaning closer. Her drink was set aside, her other hand mirroring its twin, cradling his face between them. Her hands ached with the need to bestow gentleness on him; he seemed to be in desperate need of it. "You . . . you can touch me again . . . if you want."

He didn't need any further invitation. The hand he'd teased her with before went back to her thigh, using light pressure to draw a line up it. He made it to the hem of her shorts, then eased his fingers under it before stopping.

He shifted his head in her palm, and put his teeth on the fleshy mound below her thumb even more lightly than his lips had been.

When she moved closer in, he finally moved out of her hand again.

"Never been kissed, you said?" he confirmed, his voice a tad lower than before. "That's a crime. You bit your lip, and I don't wanna hurt you, baby, but I do want a taste . . ."

He left that hanging in the air as he tilted his head and his mouth covered hers.

The skin beneath his fingers seemed to tremble at their passage, a soft rush of breath leaving her as those gentle fingertips slipped under the hem of her shorts, caressing her inner thigh but venturing no further. A hot flush crept down her neck at the sight of his teeth, the soft scrape of the sharp edges making her lips part. Such subtle touches, but God, the effect they had on her.

Like a peal of passing thunder, the last parting rumbles at the end of a clearing storm, his question was asked, and Molly shook her head to confirm that no, she had never been kissed, head tilted back slightly to bare a throat that bobbed in a heavy swallow. Her hands slid to his shoulders, digging slightly into the material of his suit to ground herself as he crooned to her, leaning closer, closer . . .

 tbc

[garbagewhump]

Musings on whump and favored tropes

I should be working and technically I am simply multitasking, but if I have to code another surgery I think I might go bonkers so I am taking a short break. 

If I break down my favored tropes, there is a trend. 

Male whumpees and female whumpers; no preference for caretaker gender, I’ve found

Overwork and exhaustion.

Disproportionate retribution.

Villainous whumpees.

Heroic whumpers.

Emotional manipulation, gas-lighting, insecurity manufacturing, and psychological torture.

Reluctant caretakers.

All together these tropes make for a fine story, if you rearrange them a little bit. And I’m going to. 

The villain is captured by the heroes and put into a re-education program sanctioned by the law or powers that be. 

Said re-education involves some mental persuasion, breaking down the villain’s pride so he doesn’t get it it into his head to go breaking the law again. Hero works tirelessly to train Villain to think the right way, using positive and negative reinforcement and changing the rules constantly until Villain no longer trusts their own judgement.

“No, Villain, you’re not hungry yet. You’re not tired yet. Your joints aren’t sore. You still have work to do. Stop lying.”

Villain ignores his own bodily cues, defaults to what Hero tells him, out of fear for the punishments he receives for listening to himself instead of Hero. Even better, Villain does regret his lawbreaking and holding redemption over his head makes him infinitely easier to control. 

“You need to keep cleaning up your mess. Or are you not actually sorry? Did you lie under oath when you said you would put forth an effort to the people you hurt? You can do better. Be better. I’ll make sure of it.”

The little tidbits of emotional warmth and physical affection are Villain’s lifeblood and tether him to Hero. She sometimes rewards him. And, worst of all, sometimes she is downright kind. She smiles and laughs and jokes with him without any hint of meanspiritedness. She acts like a friend. And he is desperate for a friend. 

Hero and Villain even have public outings together when Villain ‘behaves’. Hero shows off how effective her training is and Villain basks in the company of people who don’t have a constant threat behind every smile. Sometimes someone might look askance at how terribly thin and tired Villain looks, but maybe it’s a trick of the light or they’re just misreading things. And sometimes he might even have a bruise visible here and there, but if it’s noticed, it’s brushed aside - surely Villain just did something to deserve it.

In private, Hero praises him. “Oh, Villain, you did so well in the latest experiment, the latest task, the latest test to see whether you have completely abandoned your attachment to your bodily autonomy and survival instinct."

It all comes crashing down eventually though. Villain will make a mistake, or Hero will have a bad day, or Villain will ‘selfishly’ take care of bodily necessities, or anything will happen. Then Hero is back to being cruel, beating Villain or ‘simply’ breaking him verbally, telling him that there is no hope, that she may as well leave them to rot, abandon him, because he is worthless scum that will die a hated monster...

And the cycle continues. Villain is desperate to be good enough not only because guilt is a heavy, dangerous burden, but because when you’re good enough, you don’t deserve to be hurt, but Hero doesn’t want Villain to be ‘good enough’. She just wants someone she can take out her rage and frustrations on without losing her righteousness because, after all, at the end of the day Villain is a villain. 

The best part, I feel, of such tactics, is that even when Villain is saved, he can’t adjust to the new rules. 

“Villain, you haven’t eaten all day, aren’t you hungry?”

“... Am I?”

“I’m asking you.”

And Villain panics in the deep end of a brand new pool, wondering how he’s meant to gain his footing if no one tells him when to eat, sleep, rest. 

The whole world has to deal with the knowledge that the person they believed to be so kind, their hero, is actually a monster. They have to set aside their hatred, even if momentarily, and help someone who was wronged so brutally. They may even have to live with the guilt over having congratulated Villain’s good behavior, not knowing the cost that came with it, or having ignored anything that seemed slightly off because, “Hero doesn’t do bad things.”

That got away from me a little (a lot), but the gist is that I adore whumpers that, on the surface, to everyone else, are perfect members of society, but underneath are absolute cesspools. And, most importantly, their crimes eventually see the light of day, because otherwise I get a sour taste in my mouth.

I adore whumpees who did do wrong, but they’re trying to make amends, and this desire is perverted and used to manipulate them into self-destruction. Psychological and emotional and mental abuse are so horrific that I love delving further into it, exploring how a mind cracks and how it can cause irreparable damage and severe trauma-- and yet, it can, and too often does, pass unnoticed, hidden with an abuser’s patented smile and a victim’s need not to rock the boat and bring upon themselves further harm.

I adore caretakers who want to hate, so badly; but here, in front of them, whimpering and emaciated and so broken they’re amazed by the slightest shred of kindness, is the result of that hatred. I adore caretakers who decide to heal and rehabilitate, rather than cause further suffering, because at heart I am an idealist who wants to believe that hate cannot drive out hate.

[loyally-unfaithful]

—; even if i am fooling myself, my feelings are true . (3)

word count: 4.1k

pairing: origami cyclone | ivan karelin / gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

summary: even if he was lying to you by pretending to be your lover, he told himself it was worth it. it made you happy. it helped you. he’s helping you. this ruse is only done in good faith. 

if it were to make you smile, if it were to help you brighten up, then all his lies and deceptions could be forgiven, he rationalised.

a/n: i know that ivan's peak depression and garbage self-esteem is pre-episode 8, and after that he's actually fine and coping ok thanks to the power of friendship but let's pretend that ,,, 2020 is hitting ivan hard, he keeps getting cucked by that one sekiro boss, he can’t defeat alatreon, and he's second guessing himself

he decided that he’ll tell you once you were released.

the door leading to your room opened with a marked click, announcing anytime a person entered (or exited) the room.

this time was no different. the door clicked as ivan quietly stepped inside.

he’ll have to ask you when you could be discharged, didn’t he?

though not quite taking your eyes off of your book, you shifted your head slightly to where the sound came from, notifying him that you were listening.

« hey, i’m back… sorry i couldn’t get by sooner. »

this time, you took your eyes off of the pages to answer him: « it’s really not an issue, you reassured him, don’t force yourself if you’re too busy okay? »

he blinked. the hero can’t help being unnerved: something about the way you said that made it seem as if you could see through him. for the past few weeks that he has known you, he has a nagging feeling that you know more than you let on, but frustratingly enough he still couldn’t figure out what’s between the lines.

probably just his paranoia.

he has learnt that you were, for the most part, an honest and straightforward person: if you had something to say, you’ll tell him—so the blond brushed his hypervigilance to his job as hero.

« still… i can’t help but feel bad… he smiled apologetically. – i know, i know... you conceded. »

ivan gently placed a humble bouquet of lily-of-the-valley, which he had come to learn was your favourite flower, on the table and seated himself besides you. book dog-eared and put away, you let your hand settle in his, allowing your fingers to intertwine with his. a warm smile crept on your face as you felt his thumb stroke the back of your hand.

« just, i don’t want you to worry. you turned to look to where he sat. i’d still live even if you don’t visit every few days. a soft laugh escaped you. »

you’ve changed, he noticed. you’re different.

you looked much happier. you smiled, genuinely smiled, and laughed, genuinely laughed, a lot more. your eyes were clear and focused, instead of the bleary, tear-soaked eyes he had come to associate with you.

you were much more animate than you were. animate in every sense of the word: yes, you were doing better in rehab, but you’ve started doing more outside of that. you were slowly, but surely, going through your abandoned stack of books. even though you were not that big of a fan of watching tv, he has caught you turning the fixture on a few times to serve as white noise as you read, tuning in to whatever was being broadcasted at the time. occasionally, you’ve even ventured outside your room to visit the hospital garden. you were much easier to talk to. you were more open and easy going. you’ve even started interacting with the hospital staff. he found himself being able to hold full conversations with you instead of the flat monosyllabic replies he had expected.

lively. lively was the word to describe you now.

 he recalls your first few interactions since his appearance. they were all lukewarm at best. were you always this unapproachable? this cold? what had happened to your warmth? he remembers asking himself that. the hero supposes it’s normal… he was disguised as someone who had hurt you. perhaps even humiliated you in front of all the staff present at the time, including he and dragon kid. so your behaviour was to be expected: after the relief of having your partner back, you probably remembered your own anger. the cold shoulder was to be expected. he tried his best to be patient with you, not letting your poorly hidden glare and scrutiny get to him. but even so, he would shiver at the thought of being watched. never before had he felt so much so like a prey pursued by a raptor.

the blond tried his best to coax you out of your impenetrable shell, doing his best to appear empathetic and appease you. if it would help you lighten up, then he’d willingly take the brunt of your hatred.

once in a while, he’d try to get you to speak, to no avail. you’d either ignore him, scowling, or whisper out a terse response. ivan tried not to get discouraged, he really did, but it was hard to do when the object of his affection, the person he cared for, the person he wanted to help rejected him with such disdain and pushed him away so coldly.

« how are you f— he started. – why are you here? but you had brashly interrupted him. why do you keep visiting me? what are you trying to prove? you spat, venom laced in your voice. » in your ire, you clenched your blanket tightly, until your knuckles turned white.

ivan was visibly taken aback by your slew of spiteful questions, and by your seemingly irreparable distrust. he doesn’t like the darkness in your eyes. much less at the thought that it was directed at him. he hesitated to answer, afraid that the wrong word could set your already agitated self off. ‘calm down, ivan. they’re not mad at you. he told himself. they’re mad the person you’re impersonating.

he swallowed, throat dry: « i don’t… what do you mean? he tilted his head, crushed. i’m not trying to prove anything, i was just worried about you. he hoped his tone conveyed the sincerity in his words. i’m really sorry i hurt you, i… i wasn’t thinking straight and i hurt you in the process. he shook his head in repentance. if i’ve humiliated you in any way, i’m really sorry. i really am. please believe me when i say that i care about you. he pleaded. »

it seemed that his earnest response had caught you off guard, having sat up straight up. for the first time in a long while, he found that you had properly turned to face him. you had unclenched your hands, and your eyes were wide. any trace of resentment had disappeared, in its stead was genuine surprise. as if not quite believing his words, you squinted in his direction as you went over his words again.

« you’re… not lying? » came your slow and incredulous response, voice having lost every trace of anger. there was no tension in the way you said it, innocent without any signs otherwise.

were you astonished by his response… why?

what did you mean by that?

it wasn’t a question directed at him, and more like a statement. a realisation. but still he moved to answer you, to redeem himself before your eyes.

« of course not… why would— i have no reason to lie to you… »

wrong answer.

he had to stop himself from wincing as you frowned, sceptical. you retracted your gaze from him and returned to quietly gaze out of the window.

he got the memo that the conversation had ended, that you didn’t want to elaborate nor continue. so he left. feeling at a loss after your tense exchange.

but even so, he came back a few days later, to your very apparent surprise.

even if your first few days with him as “taylor” were shaky, he was glad that he never gave up: having come to look forward to spending time in your company. instead of the solemn and wary person he had been introduced to, there was a warm and approachable person in its place. instead of the suspicious and closed off person he had to deal with, you’ve shown yourself to be a frank and honest, if sometimes candid, person.

 when he returned, the door clicked as he entered, and your reaction was instantaneous: « you came back. »

was it a statement? was it a question? he couldn’t make the tone in which you said that, but you hadn’t sounded angry as you did the last time, so he considered that he was still in the clear. maybe you were stupefied that he still came back after your vitriolic interrogation. for better or for worse, neither of you spoke much that day. ivan didn’t know what to say, while you remain as silent as you always were, fiddling with your sleeve. the tension was still omnipresent, but it didn’t feel as oppressive. it didn’t feel like a single misstep would send you over the edge. neither of you tried to meet each other’s eyes, but it almost felt like your avoidance was due to your chagrin at your past actions. your eyebrows knitted in contrition and you tapped your fingers absentmindedly on the sheets.

ivan sighed. he had decided to call it a day, happy enough to see that you were still alive and doing more or less ok. the young man wondered if he always felt this tired. he had stepped off to leave when you spoke up on your own initiative: « i’m sorry. »

your voice had been small, and he probably wouldn’t have heard it if the room wasn’t so depressingly silent. but despite the meekness of your own voice, your sincerity came through.

« i’m sorry. you said again, this time louder. i shouldn’t have been so crass… with you. » your expression was twisted in penitence. « i assumed the worst out of the situation when you’ve been nothing but accommodating with me. you paused. despite your good intentions, i continued to make disparaging remarks about you. i’m really sorry… »

without realising it, the blond had walked back over to your bed and started on his side of the apology, which he stuttered out: « i… it was… i deserved it, for making you upset… »

you smiled, but it didn't reach your eyes, almost like you tried to allow yourself to believe a well-intentioned lie, but couldn’t. you smiled and said nothing, moving instead to hold his hand tenderly in yours as a peace treaty. « if…. you can find it in your heart to forgive me, i would like to start over and give you a chance. you met his eyes, and he was relieved to see that they did not hold a single strand of malice. rather, you smiled. smiled so earnestly it hurt his heart. thank you so much for coming back. »

ever since, you’ve even started cracking your own jokes and no longer scrutinised his words seriously, almost as if you were trying to dissect each one of them. he happily listens to you jabber on about the new book you read, what you happened to have heard in passing while conversing with the medical staff or while being idle in the garden, and what was discussed on the news. anything. and he listened happily. because if you were talking, it meant you were happy. if you were happy, then it meant that you were hopefully getting better.

like night and day. from dispirited to lively.

he’s happy seeing you thriving.

even if he was lying to you by pretending to be your lover, he told himself it was worth it. it made you happy. it helped you. he’s helping you. this ruse is only done in good faith. if it were to make you smile, if it were to help you brighten up, then all his lies and deceptions could be forgiven, he rationalised.

« a successful rescue! as expected from the king of heroes: barnaby brooks jr! »

the announcer emphatically shouted. that train of thought halted, and ivan’s eyes flicked to the screen in the corner of the room.

‘must be a rerun from yesterday’s arrest.’ he mused, as the tv quickly changed camera, showcasing the past event in all its chaotic glory.

« he’s incredible isn’t he? your voice drew his attention back to you and he tilted his head. – barnaby? his voice wavered. »

it was an innocuous statement, but somehow the blond felt his heart crack a little. barnaby deserved to be crowned the king of heroes: he was strong, reliable, confident, everything he was not. barnaby’s power can be used to help people, unlike his. it made sense that he would be the hero everyone favoured, including you. go figure, seeing as barnaby was also very popular back at the academy. in a stroke of selfishness that made him hate himself, ivan had hoped that, somehow, he would’ve been your favourite hero. but there wasn’t any chance of that being true if he were realistic. he should’ve known better. despite his best efforts, he never really did manage to do more. to pull his weight. he blended in the background, with a passivity not befitting a hero.

unknowingly, he let out a heavy sigh. if only he were better. if only he were more like barnaby, or the other heroes. if only he were marginally as incorruptible as wild tiger, as self-assured as blue rose, as resilient as fire emblem, as steadfast as sky high, as tireless as dragon kid, as tenacious as rock bison. if only he were better. if only he were someone else, but him.

someone who could genuinely make you happier without having to disguise himself as somebody else.

he teared his eyes away from you to look elsewhere as he responded: « yeah, he’s really amazing. he hoped his voice didn’t betray how disheartened he was. the blond wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. you tilted your head quizzically. – i admit, he and his partner are quite enjoyable to watch. was it possible for his heart to drop even lower? but they’re not who i’m referring to. you completed with a chuckle. – oh? he asked, half curious and half worried. – i was actually, um, it was your turn to be sheepish, faltering, as you meet his eyes. talking about origami cyclone… it actually took him a few moments before it registered in his head that you were talking about him, though it only filled him with more confusion when he did. – but why? he asked incredulously. – but why not? you parroted with a laugh. i think his kabuki themed costume is pretty cool… it must be super intricate! you remembered when you saw it in person, how you found yourself fawning over it and its design. not to mention, his ability is also super impressive! can you imagine? he can camouflage himself anywhere! – but he’s not much of a hero… he mumbled. what could he do with that kind of ability? besides, all he does is just stay in the background… – photobombing like a pro, as usual we can see origami cyclone lurking in the background! with oddly perfect timing, the host cuts in to announce the points origami had gathered (or lack thereof). despite revving up his ad appeal, he has not earned any points! acting as if the announcement helped ivan make his point, he resumed avoiding your eyes, focusing on the one tile that suddenly looked very interesting. »

sensing the prolonged silence, ivan gave up expecting a response from your part. he doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse. he’s scared of what you might say, but he’s equally as terrified of the implication of your silence.

« so what if he stays in the background? your resolute tone caught him off guard, and he peered at you with wide eyes. i don’t think that makes him any less of a hero than the rest. your conviction astounded him. he’s able to help and contribute in ways the other heroes can’t. sure, maybe in terms of strength he couldn’t compare to, say, wild tiger, but during a recon mission or in situations where one is required to sneak into an enemy territory he would excel above every other hero. he’s not a power type next and he can’t control the elements, so it wouldn’t be fair to compare him to what barnaby could do with his hundred power or what blue rose could do with her ice manipulation. it would be like comparing a cat’s ability to fly with those of a bird.

besides, i’m sure there’s something only origami can do!

you took a small moment to choose your words, contemplating whether you should continue or not, but after a small pause, you decided to do so. this time, however, your voice was much smaller. he would even qualify it as timid.

when, um… after our fight, he came over to visit me. i mean, i know it was probably some planned activity for the campaign, but… it still made me happy, regardless. and even after that, he kept checking up on me during the rest of the event, trying to cheer me up and make me laugh with his antics. tried to get me talking, you know? you shook your head. i guess my miserable self must’ve been very obvious… you laughed dryly. i applaud him for bearing with me for such a long time: i must’ve been such a pain to deal with during the first few days. i admit i felt a little bad taking up his time like that, but for what it’s worth he managed to lift my spirits and his visits made my day just a little brighter.

so even if it doesn’t seem like he’s doing much on herotv, i believe that he’s a kind, and loyal person—the type who wouldn’t easily abandon or give up on others. and i think that that is what makes him a real hero, not points on a tv show. »

« i’m sorry, that must’ve been very corny… you scratched the back of your neck. »

it took him a moment to fully process what you had just said, and took the blond another to fully consider your words. a part of him didn’t—couldn’t—believe you: there was no way you thought that way about a loser like him, right? but a grateful smile bloomed on his face, nonetheless.

« huh… he acknowledged. yeah… he agreed. i guess you’re right, love. even so, he allowed himself to believe your words. »

you hummed happily, pleased at winning this “argument”, and took to rest your head on his shoulder. he had gotten used to your affectionate nature, no longer finding himself flustered beyond words when you shifted closer to him and leaned into his side, nestling yourself comfortably within his arms. willingly, he wrapped his arms around your middle and carefully laced his fingers with yours. he let out a content sigh. his hand fitted perfectly around yours. you nuzzled his hair. there was no one else he’d rather be with, he belonged with you. your presence brought peace to his mind, your words always managing to reassure his turbulent thoughts and ease away his anxieties. truthfully, your presence comforted him in ways he couldn’t understand.

he wonders when you stopped needing him and he started needing you.

it’s hardly the right place to consider it, but he wished he could just capture and relive this one perfect moment—you, in his arms, humming a charming tune, stopping once in a while whenever you wanted to share an interesting trivia encountered during your reading. him, cradling you, watching over you quietly, attentively listening to what you said while he reveled in the time he got to share with you—over and over again. he wished he could stay in this one perfect, idyllic, moment and continue pretending.

close his eyes and pretend.

pretend everything was alright. pretend that this is where he belonged. pretend that he wasn’t lying to you. pretend that this was right.

but he was here to make sure of something right?

« oh, and by the way, do you know when you’ll be released? – hmm? ivan didn’t like the jarring silence that followed when you halted your humming. ...oh. your voice sounded disappointed and you seemed hesitant to tell him the truth. well, if everything went well they said i could go home tomorrow morning or afternoon. »

tomorrow?

« oh. » ivan responded, his voice tinted with a finality that concerned you.

he had decided that he’ll tell you once you were released, didn’t he?

he’d have to tell you the truth by tomorrow.

« but look taylor, it’s not all bad! you sensed that the mood had shifted downwards and you tried to lift it back up. once we’re out of here you can help me pick out a cane that’ll match with my style, maybe a colour that brings out my eyes. – yeah… »

he tried to sound enthused, but he doesn’t think that he fooled you. if you weren’t, you didn’t say anything.

the conversation had died out, and neither of you were particularly keen on trying to resuscitate it, so you both simply appreciated each other’s presence in a comfortable silence. or at least tried to.

this was a much harder feat for taylor, consumed by their own thoughts.

“taylor”. that’s what you called them. but wait, no, he was ivan.

that’s right, he’s disguised as your past lover wasn’t he? so yes, he was called taylor. that was the right name to call him by.

but he wondered how his name would sound with your enchanting voice. my name is ivan. he needs to tell you the truth. please say it?

oh god he needed to tell you the truth didn’t he?

he wanted to pretend that the person you were spending so much time with and pouring your heart to was him. he wished the skin you kissed were his, the hair you’d run your fingers through were his, the person you derived so much comfort from was him, the name coming from your lips were his.

but that wasn’t the case, was it? this wasn’t him. the skin you kissed wasn't his. the hair you played with wasn't his. the person that always made you happier wasn’t him. the name you called adoringly wasn’t his. the hand yours fitted so perfectly in wasn’t his, it was taylor’s. none of this was ever his. they were all taylor’s. this was taylor’s body. this wasn’t his body.

this wasn’t his body. this wasn’t his body. it made him so viscerally aware of the fact that none of this is real. it made the shapeshifter’s skin crawl. that’s right, none of this is real. he’s not meant to be with you. it’s all a lie. he wasn’t the one who you’d choose to share these intimate moments with. he wasn’t the one you were so eager to see. he wasn’t the one you had feelings for. was your closeness always this restrictive? his breath quickened. the impostor wanted to tear his skin off. he can’t breathe. he stopped himself from gasping for air, not wanting to out himself to you. his mind raced. he didn’t want to be here. he wanted to be here, but he needed to be elsewhere. he can’t stay here. he needed to go. his pulse ran wild.

he can’t breathe.

he can’t breathe.

« taylor? »

he snapped out from whatever trance he was in and his eyes slid over to where you were. noticing the tension that had gathered in his arm, he quickly let go of your hands—unhanding you as if he were holding an intense heat which seared his hand, which was what your prolonged contact started feeling like. your touch had set his skin on fire, making it painful. he must’ve started gripping at them tighter than he meant, than what would’ve been comfortable, because you instinctively massaged your wrist as soon as he let go.

« y-yeah… i’m so sorry, i’m r-really sor— he stammered, still trying to get his breathing, and voice, under control. – you look tired. you lifted yourself off of him and he didn’t protest against the separation, letting his arm flop uselessly. i think you should get some rest… your voice was tinged with worry. »

moving much too fast and much too slow for his liking, than what was considered normal, ivan stood up.

« u-uh, yeah… i think i’ll do just that… see you tomorrow... »

his voice didn’t sound confident. you didn’t seem to buy his promise. but too drained to rectify whatever had happened, the blond found his way out of the room.

what had happened to the peace that followed spending time with you? inhale and exhale, in and out. he needs to tell you the truth, and soon. everything will be ok, everything will be ok, everything will be ok. he can’t keep going like this, and it’s not fair for you either.

ivan stops in his tracks. his reflection on the glass pane beside him seemed to mock him. he frowns. he hates the person he sees in the mirror.

a/n: feel free to decide for yourself who that person in the mirror is lmao

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[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 14 of love is the only thing we can carry with us (kristanna slowburn/angsty but cute/no magic au, rated t) is up!

next chapter // all chapters

It was the ache in his chest every time he had to leave for a few days and the stars in her eyes when he caught her in his arms once again; it was kisses on his cheek and the top of her head and the tips of her fingers and the side of his neck, kisses that tasted like sweet tea and unspoken promises, and it was Anna, always Anna, this whirlwind of a girl who had taken his hand and offered him a chance to tag along, and it was fooling himself into thinking that this would ever do anything but end.

He saw her in the window, the little red-haired girl with tears streaming down her face, and he knew that this was how he lost her.

chapter 14: the truth

Olaf had asked him a while ago what it felt like to be in love. Kristoff had shrugged, not yet sure of the answer himself. “I guess you know when it happens. I don’t know.”

Now he knew; it felt like a sleepy head nestled on his shoulder, like knees brushing together under a blanket, like little fingers trailing over his cheeks and counting the freckles. It was the sunlight on his shoulders as he helped her tend to the sunflowers, the rain soaking his shirt as he sheltered her from a summer storm, the breeze in his hair as he held her under the spreading branches of the oak tree. It was the ache in his chest every time he had to leave for a few days and the stars in her eyes when he caught her in his arms once again; it was kisses on his cheek and the top of her head and the tips of her fingers and the side of his neck, kisses that tasted like sweet tea and unspoken promises, and it was Anna, always Anna, this whirlwind of a girl who had taken his hand and offered him a chance to tag along, and it was fooling himself into thinking that this would ever do anything but end.

He saw her in the window, the little red-haired girl with tears streaming down her face, and he knew that this was how he lost her.

---

They were both rushing through the door when she came downstairs, knees wobbling beneath her. She could feel her heart pounding like a prisoner beating against the bars and reached up to clutch at her chest. Elsa darted towards her, hands outstretched, but Anna jerked away, teeth bared.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, her voice low and angry, and Elsa drew back, looking like she was going to be sick.

She turned to Kristoff. He stiffened under her gaze, but his eyes met hers, warm and brown and afraid, just as they had been when they had danced in the grass and she had nearly collapsed. 

“Have you known the whole time?”

He nodded once, slowly, and something in her crumbled. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then forged on. There would be time enough to weep later; for now, she needed answers. “What did you mean, that I’m dying?”

“I don’t understand it all, exactly,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice, “but they told me when you came that it was something with your heart.”

“You’re not dying,” Elsa said quickly, cutting in. “Mr. Bjorgman is--”

Anna turned to her, eyes hard. “And how long have you known?”

Elsa was silent again. Anna narrowed her eyes. “Get out.” 

Neither of them moved. Anna felt her hands curling into fists. “I said get out. Both of you.”

Kristoff took a step backwards, not taking his eyes off of her, silently pleading. She wanted to run to him, to let him hold her and comfort her and make it alright; she wanted to scream at him, beat her fists against his chest and curse him for keeping this from her. Instead, she stood rooted to the spot, fighting to keep her breath steady.

Elsa tried again. “Anna, I can explain--”

“I don’t care.”

“But you need--”

“I know what I need.”

She turned away from them both, crossing her arms, and waited until she heard the door close behind them before she allowed the tears to fall.

---

She didn’t sleep the whole night. She alternated between weeping and pacing around the cottage in a rage, heart pounding with fury. After a while she found herself exhausted, but her mind was still racing; all her life had been plagued with questions, with confusion-- if being kept in a cage could even be called a life at all. It made sense, at last, all the days she’d been kept inside, all the worried looks from her parents, all the agony she had felt when she had pushed herself too hard and found herself crumpling to the floor. She had an answer, now, but it wasn’t enough; she had to know the details, had to know how much time, exactly, she had left, and above all-- why no one had ever told her the truth.

She wasn’t sure what hurt worse; her sister’s betrayal or Kristoff’s. Elsa had always been so distant, had made herself so hard to love sometimes. Perhaps this was the reason why-- perhaps she had wanted to avoid feeling this grief, this anger. But Kristoff-- she couldn’t understand it, how he could have held her and kissed her and never once told her that she was going to die. 

Anna sank down onto the sofa, burying her face in her hands as it hit her-- she would have done the same. She was angry with him still, but she understood, or at least was starting to. Perhaps this was what love was: knowing that the best intentions sometimes led to the deepest pain, that love and pain and grief were all inextricably intertwined, that there would be no happy ever after to make this all right.

As the first rays of sunlight gleamed through the window, she got to her feet, squaring her shoulders and marching out the door. The sunrise was beautiful, painting the world in shades of pink and gold. She hesitated, then went around to the back of the house as had become her habit. 

The first of their sunflowers had bloomed. She almost fell to her knees there, giving over to the weeping again, but instead she squared her shoulders and turned to go. 

The walk into the village had become familiar to her now; she recognized each tree, each sweep of wildflowers, but still she drank in the view, memorizing it, knowing she would lean heavily on these memories when winter came and she found herself oceans away. It was easier than she thought, going those two miles, and with a pang she realized she had Kristoff to thank for that. The girl who had come to the mountains would have struggled to walk down the hill without losing her breath; the woman who was leaving them was able to do more, much more, than it seemed anyone had dreamed possible. By the time she reached the square, a dull ache was tugging at her chest; she knew she would have to stop before an attack came on, but she couldn’t help feeling a glimmer of pride, all the same.

No one was awake yet, and she realized suddenly that she wasn’t sure which house to go to. She wandered for a while, down even unfamiliar streets, and found the little house at last. Kristoff’s grandfather was in the garden, yawning as he watered the tomatoes. He heard her approach and looked up in surprise, eyes wide when he realized who it was.

“Anna? What are you doing here? What’s wrong.”

Where to begin? she thought darkly. “I heard Kristoff and my sister arguing last night. About telling me something important.”

“Ah.”

“Because Elsa wants me to go back with her tomorrow. So I can get married. And Kristoff didn’t want me to go without knowing that I’m dying.”

The old man recoiled, as if her words had been a stone. “Ah-- and so…”

“I need to know.”

“I suppose you do.”

He led her indoors, gesturing for her to sit at the kitchen table. She did so, tapping her fingers against the wood impatiently. He was quiet for a moment, unsure, but Anna was running out of time. “Tell me the truth. All of it.”

He sighed. “I was not there, not at the beginning. But your parents told me it was your sister who first caught the fever. They told me you could not be dissuaded from trying to visit her in her sickbed.”

Anna nodded slightly. “I remember that-- just barely. I was so worried for her.”

“So was everyone,” the old man said with a kind smile. “Because she was the heir to the throne, all eyes were on her. They failed to notice when you started to display the same symptoms. Because of the delay, and because you were so young, it was much more serious in your case. They thought then that they might lose you. But then you recovered-- for a time.”

He reached over the table and took her hands in his. “That was when they brought you to me. You had been well for just over a week and suddenly were struck with the same symptoms. They treated you in the castle as they had been, but something was clearly wrong; you kept declining. The city’s physicians were at a loss. I believe the goal was twofold: to see if perhaps traditional ways in combination with modern medicine might help...and to keep your sister safe as well.

“It was-- difficult, to say the least. Even once you began to make a recovery, you were so lonely, so frightened. A child your age couldn’t truly understand. I suppose that’s when it all started; they didn’t even want you to know you had been so sick. 

“My daughter, God rest her soul, was such a great help. I think without her we might have lost you then. But even so...once the initial fever had passed, you still weren’t improving as you should have. I had seen it before, and I knew what it meant. I told your parents my suspicions before sending you back home, and when your sister brought you back this spring, I learned I had been correct.”

He looked at her then, sorrow in his eyes. “The fever you had the second time-- it damaged your heart. Irreparably. Eventually, it will fail. Each time it’s put under stress, there’s a chance for further damage, or…”

He trailed off, looking away again. “I’m sorry, Anna. It’s....difficult news, even under less...complicated circumstances.”

She squeezed his hands and pulled away. Unconsciously, her hand went to her chest. “My parents...Elsa...they always told me that it wasn’t something they had an answer for, just to be careful. All those times when I pushed myself a little too far...I didn’t know what was wrong with me. It just hurt so much.”

For a minute, she sat in silence, collecting her thoughts. Years of unanswered questions, of fears and doubts, all of it suddenly was falling into place at once. She closed her eyes, unsure if she wanted the answer to her next question.

“Why didn’t they ever tell me?”

He was quiet for a long moment. “I can only speak for what I observed; I cannot know their minds. But...at first, because you were so young; they didn’t want to frighten you. And then they saw how much weaker you were, how prone you were to those attacks, and I believe it frightened them too badly to even consider bringing it up. They worried that, as time went on, the shock of it might be enough to kill you. That’s what your sister told us when she brought you back to the mountains.”

Her eyes flew open. “So Kristoff thought…”

“I cannot speak to what he thought. But I do not believe he would have kept the secret from you if he had felt he had a choice.”

Anna stood then. “I-- think I need to talk to him. And my sister, perhaps. But--” She swallowed hard. “Am I...dying? Do you know how much time I have?”

He smiled gently at her. “I cannot say for certain. If you remain in good health, if you do not put yourself under undue strain, you have many good years ahead of you.”

“But if I get sick…if something happens…”

He bowed his head. “I wish I could tell you it would be alright.”

“What would you do, if you were me? If you knew this now, and you knew-- you knew what was waiting for you at home, and what was here…”

He smiled fondly at her. “You are your own person, Anna. You must do what you think is right in your own heart.”

She inclined her head. “Thank you....for everything. I have one last request.”

“Of course.”

“Will you show me the way to where he lives?”

---

Kristoff hadn’t slept. He’d come home, taken care of Sven, and sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands. He’d paced; he’d stood out by the stable; he’d sat again; he’d started walking towards the cottage and turned back before he even reached the village square.

He was pacing again when the knock came. “Come in,” he called, his voice hoarse, expecting it to be his grandfather or Olaf.

His back was to the door, but he recognized those quiet footsteps. He spun, eyes wide, and saw her there, looking as exhausted as he felt.

“Anna,” he choked out, starting towards her, reaching for her out of habit; then he froze, arms dropping limply to his side. 

She took a step closer, and then another; she had never seemed so small, so fragile as she did now, looking at him with shadows under her eyes and questions in them. At last she stood in front of him, chin tilted up so she could meet his gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to. I-- before last night, I’d asked my grandfather, even written your sister, telling them I thought you deserved to know.”

“But you could have said something, even without their permission.”

Kristoff drew in a shuddering breath. “I know. I just...they told me it might kill you. And I couldn’t be the one to...to do that to you. And then you were doing so much better, you hadn’t had an attack again, you had so much energy...I started to think that maybe they were wrong. Maybe it could be fixed. I...I’m so sorry. You have every right to--”

“Don’t,” she whispered, sliding her hand into his. He squeezed it, grateful. “I forgive you. I...I think I would have done the same. And...I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Elsa’s letters and the wedding and...all of it.”

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Just...no more secrets.”

“No more secrets,” she agreed.

For a few moments, they stood silently, not meeting each other’s gaze. Kristoff cleared his throat. “I, uh...I’d tell you we could sit down and maybe talk some more, but there’s only the one chair. It’s just me here, usually, and I’m usually out doing something anyway, so it’s just...the kitchen table and the bed.”

“The bed is okay.”

He blinked down at her, stunned, and she cracked a small smile. “You look like you could use a nap, anyway,” she teased. 

He led her into the bedroom and sat shyly on the edge of the bed. Anna perched next to him, already leaning her head on his shoulder as she had done so many times before, but this time he needed to hold her as close as possible, needed to feel her close to his chest and know that there she would be safe, at least for a little while. He pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around her, and she went along gladly, nestling her face against his neck.

Kristoff rested his forehead against the top of her head, inhaling her scent of black tea and cinnamon. Her breath was warm against his collarbone, centering him, reminding him that for now, at least, she was here with him, she was alive. There was no going back from what she had learned, from what had happened, but maybe-- maybe, by some miracle, they could move on from this together. If he told her again how sorry he was, how much he loved her, how much he wanted her to stay--

“Kristoff?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I have to go back with Elsa.”

There was a roaring in his ears, a blinding pain in his chest as if he had fallen from a great height and hit the ground hard. Stay with me, I love you, please, he wanted to beg; he closed his eyes tight. “Okay. If that’s what you think is the right thing to do.”

“I-- I do.”

She was weeping now, making little snuffly noises as her tears soaked through the collar of his shirt. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, reaching up to brush some of them away with the pad of his thumb, fighting to hold back his own tears.

“I just-- Arendelle needs me. Elsa needs me. And I...I want to do something with my life, want to have done something to help people if I can, if I’m-- if--”

He was almost glad she couldn’t continue; he didn’t think he could stand to hear her say it out loud. Already the ache of losing her to Arendelle, to her duty, was leaving him breathless; the thought of losing her altogether, of living in a world without her, would ruin him. He wanted to plead with her, to get down on his knees and beg her to stay with him, love him, let him hold her like this every day for the rest of his life. He would follow her to Arendelle, across the seas to the Southern Isles, across the whole world to stay by her side if only she asked him to.

But she didn’t, and so instead he held her, stroking her hair and murmuring words of comfort, until at last her sobs subsided and she sat silently in his arms, one hand pressed to his chest, just over his heart.

“I need to tell Elsa,” she said at last, and he nodded, already dreading the feeling of emptiness that would come when she pulled away. “But I’ll come back. I-- we won’t leave until tomorrow morning. We still have today. If-- if you want to spend it together, I mean.”

I love you, he wanted to tell her. Today and all my tomorrows are yours if you want them. 

Instead he nodded. “Okay.”

[justkeeptrekkin]

Since you all asked! I am gifting this to my dear @corndog-patrol​ <3 and thank you all for your wonderful support! 

Hizashi wakes up to the sound of his own heartbeat. At first, he doesn’t register that that’s what he’s hearing; for the brief few moments before lucidity hits him, he thinks it’s a really crap song and the beat just hasn’t dropped yet. And then the beeping gets faster, and light pours through the crack between his eyelids, and realises that this is him, he’s hearing his own heart.

And then he remembers why he’s in hospital.

Returning to consciousness, he feels himself automatically take a deep, slow breath. It hurts. Something in his ribs screams with pain. Almost everything else hurts too. And his breath turns into a coughing wheeze. His hand moves to rub his face, and a jolt of pain rings through his arm from the wrist upwards. He peers down and sees the handcuffs. Bandages all down his arms. And then he remembers the fire. The burning building crumbling and the flames licking around him as he falls through the floor and everything collapses.

And he remembers- he remembers-

Hizashi puts the memory aside, because he’s just noticed a presence by his bedside. Right now, he’d rather address that person than the memory of what he’s done.

Shouta’s wearing a hoodie. He’s pulled the hood up and tied it tightly around his face so he looks a bit like E.T.- all except for the occasional lock of black hair that escapes. He looks cozy. He’s also fast asleep by the looks of it, a childish little pout on his face as he dreams about something he doesn’t like. There are wrinkles on his cheek from the bedsheets. He rests the other side of his face on his crossed arms. Hizashi has known Eraserhead for years now, purely in a work context. It’s nice to see Shouta. 

Even considering the circumstances.

Hizashi smiles. He stretches out a hand to stroke his head. It’s instinctive. But the handcuffs stop him with another painful jolt.

The sound of the bed handles rattling against the handcuffs is enough to wake him up. He opens his eyes easily, without any groaning or stretching. As if he hasn’t been sleeping at all, just resting his eyes, waiting for Hizashi.

“Morning sweetie,” Hizashi jokes. It doesn’t sound so light and easy with his gravelly voice.

Shouta doesn’t say anything in response. He continues to rest his head on his arms, watching him, unmoving. His expression is blank. Exhausted. Drained. And then his eyes flutter shut, and he sighs.

For once, Hizashi doesn’t know what to say. Shouta starts, voice even and calm.

“Why did you do it, Mic.”

He swallows, rolls his head away from Shouta’s side of the bed and squeezes his eyes shut. He can hear his heartbeat jumping rapidly, and the pillow is warm from where he’s been sleeping for however long. It smells sour with his sweat. And there’s a pain in his throat that has nothing to do with his injuries.

“Mic,” Shouta prompts, and there’s an impatience, a desperation to it now.

“Don’t call me that. Please.” 

He doesn’t mean for it to come out, but he might be a bit hopped up on morphine right now. He doesn’t know how much control he has of his words at the moment. Then again, when has he ever had control over that sort of thing? He can alter the volume of his voice, sure, but he’s constantly chatting shit, isn’t he?

He can’t bear to look at Shouta, but he can hear him sit up, take a shaky breath. It sounds like it’s meant to be steadying, but it doesn’t seem like it’s doing the job. “Hizashi.” And at that, he can’t stop the smile that spreads across his cracked lips, the unexpected tear that falls onto the pillow. “Hizashi. Just- tell me why you did it.”

His breath escapes him in a stutter, and he rolls his head towards him again. At any other time, Shouta would look comical with his hood up like this. Right now, he looks so blank, all defences up, that it does anything but make Hizashi laugh. Slouched over the edge of the bed, curled in on himself like a wounded animal.

And before he can help it, Hizashi feels his lip wobble. Shouta’s facade seems to break at the sight, his eyes widening a little and lips pursing.

“You know why, Shouta,” he says, voice high and strained, more grating than usual with the pain that’s clawing at his throat. “You know why I told them I was the traitor. You figured it out back at the party. You said it yourself- I’m in trouble. You’re not so dumb, huh? Never thought you were, but-” he starts coughing, and he wants to cover his mouth his hand but he can’t. That fire really fucked up the inside of his body as well as the outside. Just breathing hurts his throat. He attempts to speak again. “You figured part of it out already.” Shouta shakes his head, frowns at his lap. A strand of hair covers his face. “That’s not what I meant.” His heart rate is irritatingly fast, beeping incessantly in his ear. “Come again?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he growls. “I’m not talking about you announcing you’re the traitor. Obviously it’s not you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew the ins and outs of Yuuei’s security. People don’t need to tell me you’re smart. But I know you wouldn’t pass on that kind of information. I know you’re not a murderer. It’s obvious you’re being blackmailed.”

Hizashi blinks. It occurs to him then that Shouta really, truly doesn’t see him as a villain. He never realised that Shouta actually saw him differently. He pretended that he did; daydreamed, fantasized about a knight in shining armour saving him from this fucking mess, seeing him for who he truly is. Queue songbirds. But until now, he thought that had only been a dream.

“And I know that it’s more complicated than that,” Shouta continues. He looks up, around the stray lock of hair and at the heart-rate machine on the other side of Hizashi’s bed. “With you taking the blame, that means that the real traitor relaxes, gets too confident. The police will stop looking. It leaves the investigation open for the rest of us.”

Shouta looks at him pointedly. Hizashi didn’t think he’d figure out that much that quickly. He’d sort of set himself up to explain it all.

“You remembered what I said at the masquerade party,” he croaks.

“It’s never black and white,” Shouta supplies. “We shouldn’t pretend that there aren’t enemies in our ranks.” “Pretty much impossible to do a thorough investigation of heroes and the police force without getting caught. But if everyone thinks the bad guy’s been caught already, it’s a little easier. Let their guard down.”

Shouta nods slowly. Looks at Hizashi unblinkingly.

“So if you’re so smart,” he says, attempting to sound light-hearted again but failing miserably, “then why’re you asking why I did it? You’ve got it all figured out.” Those dark eyes watch him unwaveringly. Some people think Shouta is cold, harsh. Hizashi can’t understand it. Sometimes, he feels him watching him so intensely, so much unspoken emotion pouring from him that he feels like he’s being set on fire.

“The building was collapsing, Hizashi. It was burning to the ground. You knew you’d barely get out of there alive. So why did you come for me.” Hizashi turns away. He feels a hand on his- calloused, but gentle.

“Look at me.” Hizashi closes his eyes, and now he knows for sure he can’t stop the tears. He takes a deep breath, looks at Shouta. As soon as his eyes open, the tears spill down his cheeks. Shouta’s expression softens. He feels, more than sees, Shouta lean closer to him. The bed shifts as he puts his weight on it.

“Why did you save me?”

For someone clearly quite smart, Shouta really is a fucking moron. The frustration of it all, the ridiculousness of it makes Hizashi release a loud, weary groan- followed by laughter. It’s a little hysterical, maybe even a little frightening. Shouta watches with an irritated little frown.

“What?” Hizashi can’t wipe the tears from his eyes. The metal handcuffs cut into the burnt skin of his wrists whenever he moves them even a little. He sighs, exhausted and not knowing how else to convey all the conflicting emotions. Desperation. Fear. Anticipation. Happiness, just to know Shouta’s safe.

“Man, you said it yourself, I’m not much of a villain. I’m not the type to leave someone in a burning building if I can see it’s about to come tumbling down. Not even all the kings’ horses and all the kings’ men would be able to put you back together again.” “Stop messing around.” “Never.”

Shouta huffs, and he hides his face behind his hair again. Hizashi hears the laugh in it. And then he peers up at Hizashi, knowingly, openly, and Hizashi’s heart breaks irreparably. 

In another life, he thinks. In another life, we could have worked.

“Why did you risk your life to get me out of there.” “You know the answer,” Hizashi says, rolling his eyes a little more emphatically than he knows is needed. It’s easier to be playful and silly in situations like this. “You know, Shouta.”

“You kissed me. That night, back in the club,” he says suddenly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” They look at each other. As is so rarely the case, neither one has anything else to say. The only sound that fills the room for a while is the gentle beep of Hizashi’s heartbeat. Distantly, there’s the echo of approaching footsteps. Hizashi’s been on the run long enough to recognise the sound of the police officers. Instinctively, he wants to rip himself out of bed and hurl himself out the window. 

But he can’t. Not just because of the handcuffs, or the duty he’s assigned himself- because apparently he’s a hero, now, taking the blame for something he didn’t do. No- it’s that he doesn’t think he can look away from Shouta. Refuses to. If he’s going to prison for life- and there’s a strong likelihood that he will, if someone doesn’t find and expose the real traitor- well. There’s no way he’s wasting any precious moments that he has with Shouta.

He’ll remember the gentle look of understanding in his face, the pain in his eyes, and something unnamed that Hizashi holds onto, and vows to remember on his loneliest days.

000

Visitors don’t often come. Present Mic is popular enough; he’s a funny caricature that people smile at when they see his impish picture in the tabloids. But nobody thinks about Yamada Hizashi, painting his nails and humming David Bowie to himself in cell block C1.

When cops occasionally come to see him now, Hizashi knows. A cop’s footsteps are easy to discern. In these cases, he likes to re-enact his favourite action movies. Inhabit the villain role and have some fun with it. He likes to try his best to be the cool, but slightly deranged bad guy who everyone secretly routes for; sat cross legged on the floor of his cell, silently reading something highly intellectual. Or, even better, meditating, facing the wall with his back to the bars. Giving off utter disinterest. He effects this well enough for the first thirty seconds. After that point, he’s taunting them and making unhelpful comments as he usually does with the police. He’s never liked them and never been good at holding back. They’re almost worse than journalists.

But with Shouta, it’s different. Always has been.

He hears him now. He recognises his footsteps immediately, distinguishes the sound of his gait amongst everyone else’s. He turns his head over his shoulder, puts the pot of nail varnish under his mattress, smudging black paint on his sheets in the process.

Shouta appears, leaning against the wall opposite his cell, hands in his pockets. He’s not wearing his hero gear today. Just black jeans and a coat, neck turned up. Must be cold outside. Not that Hizashi would be able to tell. He’s not allowed out in the yard until 3pm today.

“No chair today? Not staying long, then?” “Not today.” Hizashi stands up, hands wrapping around the bars. He props his forehead against the cold metal. A strand of blonde hair has made its way out of his pony tail and tickles his face. “Makes a guy feel bad, knowing he’s second best. Have you got some side-piece I don’t know about?” Shouta doesn’t smile, but Hizashi can see the amusement in his relaxed expression. It’s easier to joke about things like that right now. Neither one of them have been brave enough to address their feelings. Not when Hizashi’s here. Not when they can’t really do anything about it. It’s too painful.

A gravelly voice drifts from down the row of cells. “Stop flirting with your man, Mic, we can hear you from here.” “Don’t make me throw up, Mic.” “Yeah, get a room.”

Hizashi laughs. “Yo yo yo, I can flirt as much as I like, I might be behind bars but I’m free to do that at least.”

Shouta steps towards the bars, holds Hizashi’s gaze. There’s something different about him today.

“What’s up, Shou?”

And then Shouta holds out his hand towards someone out of Hizashi’s vision. It reappears, with a set of keys between his fingers.

“Step back.”

Hizashi scrabbles backwards. He unlocks the cell doors. He throws them to the guard around the corner, who seems to catch them, by the sounds of it. Shouta waits for him on the other side, door open, no bars between them. No handcuffs. No glass screen.

“I’m out?” “You’re out.”

A guard comes into his vision- one of the good ones- passing him the clothes he was arrested in. Something the nurses had given him, back in the hospital. So uncool, no style at all. But it’ll have to do. He holds them in his hands, staring at them wide-eyed.

He looks back up at Shouta, who’s smiling more broadly than Hizashi thought possible.

Shouta makes some comment about him wasting his time, acting like he wants to stay in prison. Hizashi probably laughs in response, he doesn’t know. His body moves on autopilot. The guards aren’t circled around him. The other prisoners- the ones who haven’t kicked the shit out of him- call out their goodbyes and congratulations. Some spit abuse at him. Hizashi doesn’t feel any of it happen, only acknowledges it.

It’s only when they’re in the car that his mind returns to his numb body. Only after he’s walked through the cold, windy courtyard of the prison, gates clanking behind him and Shouta opening the passenger door of his car for him. It’s only now, as he dumbly, silently watches the landscape change into something other than grey concrete that Hizashi returns to himself. He comes back to life in a sudden, deep breath- like he’s emerging from underwater.

“I’m out,” he breathes.

Shouta drives beside him. He’s allowed Hizashi to sit in contemplatory quiet. Now, he looks out the windscreen window and smiles gently.

“We found the guy. You’re a hero now.” Hizashi’s head snaps towards him. “No, I’m fucking not.” Shouta shrugs. “That’s what everyone’s calling you.”

“No. I refuse. Eugh, gross.”

Shouta snorts. “They’ll forget soon enough.” “And what about us?”

Hizashi’s always wanted to ask, been dying to do something about them, and it only just seems safe to do so now. Shouta lets out a long breath. “I was just thinking we just take it as it comes.” 

It’s a relief at least for Hizashi to hear confirmation. That he’s not making all of this up.

He looks through the window. The sky is grey, but the sun is peeking out weakly. They’re climbing around the edge of a cliff, and the countryside sprawls below them. The occasional car window glints along distant roads. He hasn’t seen anything like it for almost a year now. Mustafu sits in the distance, like a sleeping giant. He’s hit with an excitement to return, but a nervousness that it will spit him back out again.

And then Shouta’s parking the car at a clearing by the cliff, and he stops, leans back in his seat. The car hums and ticks as it shuts down in the cold air.

“Thought you might want a pause. Transition period.” Sometimes, Hizashi thinks Shouta can read his mind.

Rarely, they’ve sat in companionable silence. That’s only in special occasions, and they’ve already been quiet enough for the past ten minutes.

“It’s pretty here,” Hizashi therefore says to fill the quiet.

Shouta’s looking at him. “Let’s get out.” And it’s such a simple task, but Hizashi feels suddenly frightened by the idea. He’s never been scared to go outside before. But then, he’s never been forced into a container before. When people wanted him to conform, he never did. But that was before prison. Now, inexplicably, he hesitates, before opening the car door and stepping out into the cold. Shouta follows his lead, and they both perch side by side on the bonnet of the car. It’s warm.

It’s so busy down there- Mustafu is teeming with so many monstrous things. But from here, it’s completely silent. From prison, he could almost forget it existed.

“You can grow your moustache back, now.”

Hizashi’s hand instinctively touches his lip. “Still can’t believe they made me shave it off, the bastards.” Shouta smiles, and Hizashi can feel his eyes on him.

“Hizashi.” He still loves hearing him use his real name. It makes something in his chest spark. When he turns towards him, Shouta decisively leans in and kisses him. Firm and assured, but no less soft. 

Shouta’s always been soft, secretly.

Hizashi places both hands on either side of his face, breathes him in. If he lets him go, he might disappear. If he can’t feel him beneath his palms, he might wake up and realise this isn’t real. 

“You’ll come back with me, right?” he whispers, and suddenly, he realises how terrified he is. “You’ll stay with me, right?” Shouta replies at first with another kiss- brief, gentle. He pulls away, and looks at him seriously.  

“Where else would I be?”