#which is awful. and i’m hoping by acknowledging that here n now i can prevent that from ever escaping my head

[anarchofairy]

going to admit to bad things

[hpalways]

Commissions || Childe

UNPREDICTABLE people were like magnets to you, somehow always managing to show up. Usually, you would avoid them at any given chance, preventing further interactions from occurring. As an adventurer, you didn't work for the thrill, but rather for the money. That meant that deep inside, you longed for a peaceful life, which was the main reason why there were certain beings that shouldn't exist in your reality. So how did it go oh-so-terrible with Tartaglia?

You first met Tartaglia -- also known as Childe -- in Liyue Harbor when you were at a stall to buy food. You had a few commissions in tail, waiting to be resolved for the day. But first, food was on your mind. It wouldn't do any good to fight hilichurls and whatnot with an empty stomach. As you were about to dig into your trouser's pockets to find any mora, a man stepped up in front of you, blocking the way. Assuming that he was budging you in line, you opened your mouth to protest, but the words faltered to come out when the male whirled around to face you.

Deep, blue eyes stared into your soul, twinkling mischievously... and somehow, you couldn't read into them. Fiery, orange hair accompanied his features, going unexpectedly well with the blue. Smiling at you crookedly, he saluted you with a gloved hand. A red mask was adorned on the side of his head, matching the red details on his overall gray outfit. He was very tall and attractive -- taking you momentarily off guard. 

"I'll pay for your meal. My treat," he easily told you, making a show of flashing the lump of mora in his hands. He even went as far as to swing his arm around your shoulders like the two of you were friends. The warm, close contact nearly caused you to freeze in place, getting flustered all over. What the hell was happening?

"Oh... sure," you uttered, staring blankly at him. Well, there was no use turning him down. The word treat was enough to hook and wheel you in. 

"What's your name?" he inquired in a friendly manner, lugging you along as if you were a ragged doll through the waiting line.

Hesitating to answer for a second, you were beginning to look stupid under his expecting gaze. There was a reason though: you were wary of strangers, having learned that the hard way when you encountered Treasure Hoarders one time. But seeing how amused this man was by your internal debate, you pushed the doubts away and decided to go for it. "I'm [Y/N]. You?"

"Lovely name befitting for a lovely person," he mused, leaving you embarrassed. "I'm Childe."

It was then your turn to order. Letting his arm around you go, he straightened up and nudged you ahead. The warmth evaporated from you and you suddenly wished for his touch again. Horrified by your thoughts, you brushed them away and stepped up to the front, telling the chef your order. 

Once that was done with and the food was received, you sat down at a table outside. Three whole dishes filled of food, you wasted no time to dive into them, the steamy aroma wafting into the air. Mouthful of food, you almost choked when you found the so-called Childe sitting down in front of you. Coughing for a good minute or two, you suffered as he watched you in enjoyment. When you could catch your breath, you averted your gaze to the table. Oh god, you wished you could bury yourself before you could humiliate yourself any further. He shouldn't have followed you here. 

"I'm surprised you bought three whole dishes for yourself," he pointed out, taking delight in teasing you. 

You scowled and looked at him, the shameful emotion fading away. "Are you insinuating something?" you asked, squinting at him. He rose his brows in surprise, quickly shaking his head to explain he meant no harm. Sighing, you decided to go all out then. If he already knew your name, what difference would it make to share a few more things about yourself? Besides, this was Liyue Harbor we're talking about; no one was that desperate to seek out trouble so publicly. "I'm an adventurer and I also do commissions. Fighting takes up a lot of my energy, so only one meal wouldn't suffice."

Something swirled in his eyes -- unknown and still just as unreadable. However, you paid no mind to it, too absorbed by the food and the conversation to notice. Maybe this was where it went wrong. "An adventurer?" he echoed, his voice breathless. His ears seemingly perked up and he leaned forward in his seat, anxious to hear more. "What would you say if I tagged along with you today?"

It was shocking to hear that, but eventually, you accepted his self-invitation and brought him along to the locations. Setting off by foot, the two of continued onward with full bellies and enough energy to last several hours. The land stretched for miles and miles, scaping the grounds of hills, mountains, rivers, and meadows. Hogs ran through the trees and birds soared in the skies. Monsters rolled around in the dust, waiting to ambush anybody in the way. The sun beating down upon your backs and the weather a little too warm for liking, it was a difficult trek, but nothing close to impossible for an adventurer.

The fighting began when the destination to a pack of hilichurls appeared on sight. Unsheathing your blade, you immediately attacked them, continuously slashing away until they were entirely cleaned up. Breathing heavily with sweat beading your forehead, you did all the dirty work as Childe inspected from the side, his eye following your every move.

It wasn't easy though. You struggled at some areas, sometimes missing them or getting slightly injured by their own weapons. It was sloppy and flawed, for you were not a skilled swordsman, born without the talent and money. Anyway, it didn't matter much; as long as you did the job, that was what mattered. 

The next one took place near the mountains. Insuring that a wagon would be delivered somewhere safely, you had to fend off more monsters, circling around the large transport tirelessly to prevent any damage. While you were doing so, the orange haired male lounged on top of the-said wagon, relaxed and watching the battle beneath him. 

Afterwards, it was of simple commissions, with no sword involved. On the last one and feeding ducks for a little kid you accidentally offended, you let out a yawn, ready to go home and sleep everything off. Your partner for the day was also there, crouching down beside the lake's bank, tossing the wheat to the little creatures. Turning his head to the side, he gave you a small smile. Unlike you, he was widely awake and full of energy -- you expected that much, considering he didn't do anything to help you. 

"I enjoyed traveling around with you today, [Y/N]," he said, straightening himself up until he returned to being taller than you. 

Minus the part where he was completely useless to you, you couldn't help but admit that it was enjoyable to have him him around. His cheery persona helped to distract you from your dislike with the job, filling the silence with easy discussion about basically anything. "It was fun... I suppose," you responded, letting out yet another yawn. 

"You know, you could've asked me help. It would've been less straining for you," he pointed out.

You swerved your head at the mention of this, flabbergasted with your mouth hung open like a gaping fish. "You can fight?!" You shot up from where you sat, stepping up to a half-laughing, half-scared Childe. He nodded slowly and you rubbed your eyes harshly, curses running through your head. "And you didn't think to tell me that until now?"

He shrugged, drinking in your angered expression. No ounce of remorse shown in his features, he was pleased to get a rise out of you. Goddammit, this guy was going to be the death of you. "You never asked."

Not replying to him, you faced the other way and crossed your arms, brooding like a kid after a tantrum. 

"Aw, don't be mad at me," he cooed, petting your [h/c] head endearingly. "Hey, are you thinking of improving your swordsmanship?"

Originally planning to give him the silent treatment, you could barely even hold on to the promise for a minute. His question intrigued you and you began to wonder why he was asking you something like that. "No, not really," you answered. 

"Why not?"

"It's not necessary. My level is adequate for the commissions I take on. It's not like I'm striving to be anything legendary... that's just asking for a death sentence."

His forehead furrowed and a darkened gaze was aimed at you. He seemed to want to say a lot of things, yet couldn't find the words to them. Was he... mad at you for some unknown reason? Almost expecting a big lecture from him, you were shocked to hear what he said instead. "You have potential though."

That was where you parted from Tartaglia that young evening, but by no means was that the last time you were to see him. 

You would run into him at Liyue Harbor, in Mondstadt, or sometimes in your travels as an adventurer. Each time you would welcome him warmly, always glad to have his company. He was seriously growing on you, become a friend that distracted you from the hardships of the cold reality. He brightened the atmosphere wherever he went, always the charismatic type, wooing anyone with a tip of a smile. 

Of course, you knew he was a Harbringer; he never made a show of hiding it, so you were acknowledged of this pretty much immediately. Hearing the gossip and rumors of the Fatui, you understood that the organization was hella sketchy, but it didn't shine a bad light on Childe at all. You wanted to put your hopes in him, to give him the benefit of doubt. He was helpful so far and your life was peaceful with him around -- which was the one thing you wished for. 

Or maybe it was because you had fallen for him already. 

At least for the first month or so, everything passed through wonderfully. The two of you were like partners in crime, back to back and supportive of the other. The amount times you would stroll through the meadows and just talk to the man was becoming countless. It began to be something you were looking forward to: to have the time to get to know him even better, from his family to the simplest of facts about him. 

It was too good to be true. As the saying goes, nothing lasts forever. 

You should have never lowered your guard down. Not when you were found laying on the grimy grounds of a domain, beaten and bloodied. Not when the man you supposedly loved was towering in front of you, his deep blue eyes glowering in lust for violence. Not when your peaceful life was shattered to pieces. Childe couldn't control it any longer that day. He wanted to battle you out, to cause chaos and havoc. Why? You didn't understand... he was your friend. This wasn't what friends do. Nonetheless, he was serious about this declaration. 

He spat at the ground, annoyed you didn't put up a greater fight. Not at all worried about your wounds, he paced around the chamber, pulling at his messy locks. "Didn't I say you had potential?! You should've tried harder."

You soon lost consciousness, too exhausted and pained to do anything else. The next time you awoken, you were in Mondstadt, getting healed by Barbara. Tartaglia was no where to be seen, as he ran off earlier without telling anyone of his whereabouts. That was the last time you saw him for a while...

Everything that happened was the past, occurring a few months ago. And here you were, in the present, back to the same life you had before meeting Childe. You still disliked the same things, whether that'd be fighting, unpredictable people, or your job. Day after day, you worked to gain money for a living, hating every moment of it. It was so normal that sometimes you wondered if you may have imagined the certain Fatui man up.

Walking through the mountainous parts of Liyue, you were on a hunt for resources. Hoping to stumble upon a mine and get done with the work as soon as possible, it was unfortunate that the weather hated you.

Droplets fell from the sky and the clouds darkened the world. Rain thrummed against the earth, soaking your clothes within a few minutes. They stuck to your skin, turning uncomfortable and cold. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you quickened your pace, desperate to find shelter for the time being. Shit, shit, shit. You hated the life of an adventurer so much--

Too blurry to watch where you were going, you hit a hard surface in front of you. Rather than a hard surface, it was actually a person. Squinting and wiping the droplets from your eyes, you cringed when you saw who it was. It was the one and only Childe, looking the same as always.

Wet orange locks somehow making him more attractive than he already was, he was as soaked as you were. The clothes defined his body and you frantically stopped yourself staring at it any further. 

"[Y/N]," he breathed out, looking unsure. The sound of his voice snapped you back to life and fury filled the pits of your stomach. Seething in spot, the hands at your sides clenched tightly. He had taken your trust and ruined it -- he was nothing but a fucking bastard. 

He took a few steps forward, growing nearer, his blue beautiful hues full of regret. You hated that he dared show himself up, wearing that damn look as if you would ever forgive him. Pulling your hand back without thinking, you laid it across his cheek, harsh at the contact. He touched his red cheek in awe, lowering his head in shame. 

"I deserved that," he whispered, smiling at you sadly.

"You do," you muttered. 

Despite how angry you were at him, there was this twisted desire to kiss him. Feelings were confusing, always making a situation more complicated than it should be. 

Leaning forward, you locked lips with his. His body had stiffened in bewilderment, but he soon returned the kiss, wrapping his steady arms around yourself. Digging your fingers into his hair, you sighed in between breaths and listened to your racing heart. He tasted like salt and the soil beneath you. He was the definition of unpredictable, but you couldn't get enough of him. He brought destruction in the paths he walked on and had the continuous yearning for war. He was everything you were not and you hated him for it. 

His lips trailed away from your own, peppering kisses on your jawline, causing you to gulp. He was swallowing you whole, taking in everything about you to memorize. His touch was intoxicating, the finger tips leaving a mark on your tender skin. "Let's never see each other again after this," you told him. He didn't respond as he continued to bruise your neck. "I hate you, Childe. I fucking hate you, you bastard."

Tears welled out of your eyes, mixing together with the tears from the gods, unable to be distinguished. 

He lifted his head and gave you one last long kiss. Your insides were this close to bursting, butterflies fluttering horrendously like a beast within you. Soft lashes flitted and he stared at you with understanding. He was going to listen to your wish; he would never show himself up again. 

[bonjour-rainycity]

Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 15

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/639152911075672064/odins-ward-chapter-14

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Word count: 3182

Warnings: None

True age: Y/n: 1449 // Loki: 1575 // Thor: 1827 // Audunn 3213

Human equivalent age: Y/n: 23 // Loki: 25 // Thor: 29// Audunn: 51

Y/n’s POV

I bite off a piece of bread, if only to appease my hovering maidservant. Periodically, Frigga attempts to broach a talking subject, but I fear I am not a good partner for conversation. No, my mind is too filled with fears for my home, for my father, and, annoyingly, for Loki, who is nowhere to be found.

“Why doesn’t he dine with us?” The question blurts from my lips before I register my interruption of Frigga’s sentence. I apologize sheepishly, feeling bad for not only cutting off a queen, but a woman I greatly respect.

Frigga only smiles softly without judgement, seeming to intend to indulge my question. “He thinks himself too proud or too far removed from our family to be with us—no doubt as a result of the hurt he’s suffered. He sees his absence as a punishment for us when, in truth, it is a punishment for himself as well.”

I sigh, sinking deeper in my chair, the tasteless bread falling from my fingers. Ragna, attentive as always, takes this as an opportunity to put a bowl of bright red fruit in front of me.

“Please eat, My Lady.” Her care for me is what ultimately leads to me taking a bite. Bland, but I continue nibbling in order to ease her worry. In truth, though, I do not anticipate having much of an appetite until a significant number of my fears are assuaged.

“Have you any word from Odin or Thor? Or my father? It has been over a day since they departed.”

Frigga shakes her head. “With regret, I have nothing to report.”

Under the table, my leg begins to shake. “I hope they’re alright and successful in putting an end to the rebellion. My people cannot survive many more hours of this slaughter.”

Frigga leans forward, queenly authority washing over her words. “As a wife and mother, I worry for Odin and Thor. But as a queen, I have little concern. Asgard’s army has defeated much more formidable foes than your husband. I have no doubt this will result in a victory for Asgard and for your people.”

Her words and the conviction behind them do calm me slightly.

She sees this, and seems to seize on the opportunity. “But let us talk of lighter things. It has been over three hundred years since I last saw you. Tell me—how has your life been since your wedding?”

I exhale heavily without meaning to.

I have no desire to tell Frigga about the abuse from my husband and the scorn from Court, nor the stark isolation I feel nearly every day. So I decide to gloss over as much as I can, and relay only the good parts of my life in Alfheim.

“Our summers in Alfheim are very mild—barely hotter than spring. It makes for long, lovely days full of picnics and outdoor games, time on the lake, then perhaps a dance or two under the stars. Alfheim thrives in the night, you know. Our castle, our clothing, even our people are the most beautiful in the moonlight. Connecting with the people of Court has been a bit of a struggle, but the common folk seem to love me, even if they do not know me, not really….but they throw flowers outside my carriage when I visit the towns, and even named a library after me in the main village. It’s nice to feel that sense of community, even if I cannot be around it all the time.” At this, I look at my hands, not wanting Frigga to see the sadness in my eyes. Because, despite the clearly awful parts of my existence away from Asgard, there are bright, shining, beautiful moments in my life in Alfheim. These glimmers are what would get me through the day.

And they are what tear my heart apart now as I think of my homeworld being ripped to shreds by civil war and brutality.

Frigga hears some of what I leave unsaid. She squeezes my hand gently and places the lightest of touches under my chin, encouraging me to look up at her. “My dear, do not be saddened. Here you will find community in those closest to you, there is no need to be so isolated.” My heart, which had fluttered in hope at her words, quickly falls with her next. It seems everyone, even those I love and trust, see me as just a means to produce an heir. “It took Odin and I many centuries to conceive. And when nature failed us, another child came to us in the most unconventional, but no less miraculous, way. Alfheim lacks progressiveness, but Asgard suffers no such fault. In your own time, you and my son will produce the most wonderful child, I know that deep in my heart. But until then, Asgard will wait patiently. Do not let the fear of retribution mar your time here. And do not let your heart be weighed down with a desire unmet—everything happens in its time.”

Loki’s POV

The stone of the wall bites into my fingers as I grip it with unwise force.

Around the corner my mother—my very own mother—encourages the woman I once loved in her future quest to have a child with my brother.

A bitter taste grows in my mouth.

And although I know Y/n does not want to marry Thor—anyone could see that in the way she protested—there is real pain in her eyes.

Pain that I have caused.

I do not know if she aches with the longing for a child. But it’s not a difficult task to surmise the isolation and ridicule she has no doubt been subject to for the last two and a half centuries has weighed on her.

Preventing conception was her decision, yes, but I was the one who made it possible. I put the magic on her, effectively ruining any chance she ever had at being accepted in her home. And if she ever did want a child, but found herself unable, well, I bear the blame for that hurt, too.

It seems no matter what I do, I cannot help but destroy the lives of those I’m supposed to love.

I was so close to entering the dining hall and joining them for breakfast—the first meal I would have shared with my mother in over seven months—but I had heard the end of their conversation before making my presence known.

It’s better that way.

I do not know how well I would have reacted, had I been in their company upon hearing the conversation between Y/n and my mother.

The sound of trumpets interrupts my thoughts, and I teleport away mere seconds before Y/n races by.

Y/n’s POV

The news of Asgard’s victory is unfathomably welcome.

When I hear it, I can’t help but fall to my knees, releasing a shout of joy and thanks to Odin himself, a man I, in fact, really don’t care for.

Thor quickly escorts me away for what he calls a ‘debrief’, but I can see by the set of his shoulders it is more of a transition into spending one-on-one time in our new capacity as fiancés. And while nerves and resentment rattle my stomach, I follow him willingly, eager to hear of the path to victory and how Alfheim fares now.

He wastes little time. The moment we are in the privacy of the gardens, he speaks.

“Your father is alive and well, do not fear. His loyal guardsmen managed to keep Audunn’s forces at bay, though I fear it would been a different outcome if we had not arrived when we did. You did well getting to us so quickly.”

The compliment is unexpected and, I feel, undeserved. “All I really did was relay a message. I am quite thankful, then, to you, your father, and your army for coming so quickly to Alfheim’s aid. Surely this will cement positive diplomatic relations for years to come.”

A strange look crosses through his eyes as he looks away from me, choosing instead to squint into the sun. “Spoken like a politician. I see you learned much in your time away.”

I catch the edge to his voice. “You do not approve?”

“I didn’t say that, I only mean that it is…unusual in Alfheim for women to be so involved.”

I fight the urge to scoff bitterly. “I wouldn’t have called myself involved—Father and Audunn would have none of that—but I did pick up some tricks and knowledge in my three hundred years there.”

There’s a slight pause. In that pause, Thor seems to steel himself. I know instantly that I will not like whatever he has to say next. “I wanted to tell you, ah—while your father was successfully restored to the regency, we were able to capture and imprison Audunn rather than having to resort to killing him on the field. He is here, in the dungeons, and will stand trial tomorrow.”

My blood runs cold. “Here? In the castle? Why didn’t you kill him?!” The words come out in breathless gasps, and Thor takes a step towards me in concern.

“You need not fear, Lady Y/n, he is securely guarded. He poses no threat to your father or your people any more.”

Yes. I swallow. But now that we are in the same place once again, I worry of the threat he poses to me.

Thor attempts to continue our walk with lighter conversation, but I don’t pay him much mind. All I can focus on is the terrifying reality that, as long as Audunn lives, my own life is in danger.

Loki’s POV

When the moon is high in the sky and the air has turned crisp, I acknowledge the reality that I will get no sleep tonight.

Groaning, I fling the covers from my body and exit my warm bed, dressing quickly. As soon as I’m decent, I exit my chambers, heading straight for the library. I have plenty of books in my room, but nothing I haven’t already read. The library is likely to have a variety of unexplored distractions.

I enter the vast library and turn left, heading for the history section—one of my favorites. I round the corner and am met with a sharp gasp and the sound of clattering books as Y/n jumps back, hitting a shelf.

Surprise and self-loathing mingle within me. She’s terrified of me.

Without really deciding to, I take a step back, showing my lack of intent to harm her. “I apologize. I did not mean to frighten you.”

She exhales, lowering the shaking hands that had come to grip her stomach. “N-no, it is I who should apologize. I….thought you were someone else.”

I raise my eyebrow, buying time as I calculate the truth of her statement. She does seem to be relaxing. Now all that remains is the faint hint of embarrassment in her features. She even offers me a small smile, one that I find unexpectedly welcome. I decide to believe her. “Don’t worry about it. I understand your nerves must be frayed, given all that you’ve been through.” Flashes of what she must have experienced in the past four days come to the forefront of my mind, unbidden. Handled roughly, a dirty jail cell, a hit that would explain the coloring on her lower jaw, the fear as she sneaks through the castle, praying she goes unnoticed—

“Are you alright?”

There’s a note in her voice that suggests some of her apprehension has returned, and I can guess why. My body has gone completely rigid, my fists clenched tightly, and I’m sure I’ve just fixated on the nearest object with a death glare—I can only hope I didn’t direct it at her.

I try to recover the moment. “I’ll get those books.”

She hurriedly drops to the ground, grabbing novels at random. “Let me, Your Highness, I’m the one who—”

I sink next to her and smirk, for some reason desperate to dissolve this strange uncertain air between us. “Last night you barge into my chambers unannounced and tonight we’re back to the formalities?”

She studies me for a moment, looking quite perplexed. Then, she exhales a shaky bark of a laugh. “I suppose so.”

Fair enough.

I straighten, beginning to alphabetize the books and put them back in their proper place. She follows suit, working beside me in silence. I don’t miss the glances she gives me when she thinks I’m not looking. The looks are full of uncertainty, full of trepidation—she has no idea where we stand. For that matter, neither do I.

But there’s no use in finding out, the snide voice within me remarks. She’s engaged to your brother. You will have no chance to know her again as you did once, long ago.

But still, as since the moment she burst through the throne room doors, I war with myself.

I do not want to love her. I have no claim to her. Pursuing her would only lead to heartbreak, and I fear I cannot take any more.

If I were smart, I would push her away as I do everyone else.

I should push her away.

“Why are you in the library so late?” Her voice, stronger now, clouds my head once more and pulls me into conversation.

I have no desire to detail or even acknowledge my crippling nightmares, so I turn the question back on her, hoping to save myself the humiliation of admitting weakness. “I could ask you the same thing.”

She is equally eager to explain her reasonings, and quickly changes the subject. “I saw Lady Naerys this morning. Can you believe she has seven children?”

I chortle, and the sound feels strange coming from my throat. “But alas, not one of them fathered by a prince.” Without really meaning to, I take a step closer to her.

Y/n mocks distress. “But how will she ever become queen now?”

And just like that, we’re back on a subject we both would like to avoid.

I try to steer us away. “I admit that I was pleased when I heard news of your father’s safe return to the regency. You must be very relieved.”

But despite my efforts, a strange look takes over her face. “Yes, I am more relieved than you know.”

I press further, finding myself desperate to know what she’s thinking. “Audunn’s trial will be interesting. I estimate spectators will extend well past the boundaries of the courtroom.”

Again, I have misstepped. The color drains from her face and her hands immediately wring together in tight knots. It seems I have completely forgotten how to speak to this woman I once knew so well. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to—”

“It’s fine.” She cuts me off, staring at my shoulder rather than my face. She takes a deep breath, and when she speaks, her voice is hard, almost as if she’s willing the words to be true. “Soon Audunn will be dead. And all will be well.”

Something in her voice tells me that she is trying harder to convince herself than me.

The desire to comfort her is strong, but I am woefully out of practice. “I…do not see an outcome in which Audunn survives, yes. His choices were unfortunate, and put him at odds with the interests of two of the nine realms. Odin will not let that go unpunished.” I fight against a scowl. Because if anyone had been listening, they would’ve guessed I was talking about myself.

She surprises me with a tight smile. “Yes, you are right. This time tomorrow, Audunn’s execution will be set.”

Again, there’s that hard edge to her voice, one that wasn’t there the last time I encountered her. Whereas before it amused me, now it makes me feel sad. There’s no reason both of us had to be affected so by the world—Fate did that out of cruelty. Perhaps tomorrow after the trial, when her anxieties are further resolved, she will find some peace.

I think to the upcoming trial. She will be asked to bear witness, of course. But I worry of Odin fulfilling his duty to prepare her. I take matters into my own hands. “You know you will be asked to testify against him.”

“Yes.” The word is harsh, quick. But then she looks to the ground and stretches a hand absently to the bookshelf, almost as if she’s seeking some sort of comfort or reassurance from the touch. When she speaks again, her voice is softer, more vulnerable. “I find no pleasure in sending a man to his death. But I will speak honestly. Audunn dug his own grave—it is just my unfortunate duty to send him to it.”

I swallow, unsure of what to say. The last time I saw her, she spoke of no love for her husband, but this seems different…a deeper hurt, somehow. Part of me wants to ask what happened, but a larger part knows I haven’t the right. We are not lovers, we are not friends, and she is currently a married woman. When her status is changed upon the execution of her husband, she will immediately become the betrothed of my brother. So rather than risk hurt and vulnerability, I keep her at arms length. “I would advise you to get some rest, Lady Y/n. I have no doubt tomorrow will be a long and difficult day.”

She avoids my eyes as she curtsies and exits the library. Once she’s gone, I take a much needed deep breath. Something about her presence made the expansive library seem incredibly small, intimate. When she’d gone to curtsey, she’d needed to take a step back, as we had gotten quite close during our discussion.

With a groan, I practically stumble to the bannister overlooking the basement archives, gripping the wood tightly. Attachment to Y/n has never been a good idea, least of all now. But even after many breaths to clear my head, I still find that unwelcome feeling in the pit of my stomach, the feeling that nearly begs me to follow her from the room and pull her into my arms.

I slam my hand on the wood, startling one of the bookkeepers on the level below. Upon seeing who stands above him, he shrinks away, quickly gathering his books and scurrying out of sight.

That’s right, I think, bitterness bringing an unpleasant taste to my mouth. Run from me. I am dangerous. I am other. No one is safe with me.

Least of all a kind, wonderful woman who, even after hundreds of years, seems to hold the ability to ruin me in the palm of her hand.

A/n Hey guys, sorry for any mistakes! I proofread but I feel like I probably missed something because I’m tired. Let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list! What do you think of the conversation with Loki? How do you think Audunn’s trial will go? Stay safe out there :)

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/642883586082635777/odins-ward-chapter-16

Masterlist

Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99 @what-am-i-doing10 @chxrryycola @ravenclaw5606 @hiddlebatchedloki @jooordanharrrop @marsbarsboy @damondallysodapopstiles 

[random-mha-thoughts]

Name part 2 (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x fem!Reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Sequel to Name (part 1)

Word count: 1,445

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ 

a/n: I had trouble writing this for some reason.  I started off writing one scenario, but I ended up hating it after writing 500 words and then deleted the whole thing and started over, so I’m sorry if it’s not satisfying enough.  I think I need to just write more angst I think I just need a break from angst, or I’m just exhausted from today because I was out all day.

I promise the ending is happy.  This one is half the length of the original since this was one of the original endings I was considering for the 1st part.

I’ll probably pick right up with the other angst submissions tomorrow if I’m not still exhausted.  Hopefully I won’t go overboard again...

Shoto didn't know how to feel once she left him.  It didn't hurt as much as it would hurt for a lover to walk out on you, but he still felt the most amount of guilt he's ever been burdened with.  He wanted to blame his father for putting them in this position to fail, but he knew how childish that would be.  In reality, he was accountable for his own behavior, and he'd taken his anger out on an innocent person in the same situation as him.  He should have commended her for being the bigger person.  And now he's lost her.

His biggest frustration is that he never even got a good look at her.  In his mind, her image is a fuzzy mix of color, no real outline of a body or face that he can remember.  How could he have lived in the same house as someone for 5 months, but not know them like the back of his hand?  Deep down, he knows that if he had looked at her, he would've internalized how human she is and would've treated her better than a doormat.

As he lay in bed after she left, all the things he wanted to apologize for but didn't get the chance to were still hanging in his mind, uncomfortably unfulfilled.

.

The next morning, Shoto decides he needs to apologize immediately.  He hates the eerie loneliness of being the only person in the house.  Even if he never acknowledged it before, in hindsight, at least he felt he presence of company.  At least he had someone to talk to, even if everything out of his mouth was a critique.  The walls seem to close in on him, the sunlight isn't as warm, and, most importantly, there was no breakfast waiting for him.  A vain problem, but it sobered him to know she had still taken care of his needs through everything.

After fixing his own meal, he called his agency to tell them he's taking the day off and didn't delay in rushing to his in-law's house.  The nervous pit in Shoto's stomach almost makes him throw up his breakfast, but he ignores it.  All acts of courage require varying degrees of nerves.

On his way over, his father calls him constantly, probably to give him an earful about "ruining their perfectly-matched marriage."  He doesn't need to hear it from Endeavor when he's already chewing himself up about it, and he turns off his phone to concentrate.

Shoto walks up to the family's door, smoothing his clothes and hair out.  He feels akin to a boy picking his girlfriend up from her parents' house for their first date and trying to make a good first impression, except Shoto's already married his daughter and needs to make up for the awful impression they already have of him.  Taking a deep breath, he pushes the doorbell, his heart hammering in his chest wildly.

Her father and mother answer the door, expressions less than pleased already.

"Good morning.  I hope I haven't disturbed you."  Shoto was raised with manners, and he hopes politeness with get him somewhere.

The two don't say anything in response to him.  Understandable, given the condition their daughter was sent back in.

Trying not to be too disheartened under their malicious stares, the boy asks "May I come in?  I would like to speak with you and your daughter."

"If Endeavor sent you, we don't want to hear anything you have to say," her mother scowls, rightfully so.

"No, ma'am, I am here without my father's knowledge," he responds earnestly, trying not to seem too firm about his tone or his face.  He's trying to appear sincere, a husband trying to set things right from the bottom of his heart.

The couple exchanges glances, but let the young boy in without another word, which Shoto takes as a small victory.  They lead him to their formal living room where they sit together on one couch and Shoto prefers to stand.  A maid brings cups of tea and a pot to rest on the coffee table between them before bowing and shuffling away.

"I won't allow you to see my daughter," her mother states bluntly, "Not after hearing her crying over the phone for what you've put her through the last 5 months."  The boy almost winces, the memory of overhearing the girl's phone call still fresh.

"You can say your piece to us and we may pass it on to her," her father adds, eyeing the boy.

Shoto breathes to calm the jumping nerves in his gut.  One wrong move and he know he'll be kicked out immediately.  He levels his calm gaze at the piercing glare of the couple in front of him.  "I'm not here to make excuses for my actions.  What I did was terribly wrong, both as a person and as a husband to your daughter.  I accept full responsibility for my mistakes."  He bows fully at the waist.  "I apologize deeply for my behavior towards your daughter.  I let my personal feelings get in the way of our relationship flourishing as she wished.  I don't deserve it, but I would like to ask for forgiveness."

The parents are silent, leaving the boy to listen to his hammering heartbeat as he retains his position.  The lack of response is ear-deafening to him.

"You many stand, Todoroki," her father instructs, the edge slightly lessened in his voice.

When Shoto returns to his original position, their daughter stands between them, remnant sadness still filling her eyes.  It's the first time he's taken a good look at her.  She's a head shorter than him, hair down past her shoulders, respectable composure.  Even with a tired expression, she exudes calm.

He doesn't know what he should do now.  The girl looks between him and her parents.  "I'd like to be alone with him, please," she requests in a soft voice.  It's a stark contrast between the voice that reported their divorce to him.

Though her parents are wary at first, she smiles to reassure them and they agree to leave the pair to talk.

All the apologies Shoto prepared start bubbling up his throat, unsure how to start or organize his thoughts.  He's overwhelmed by how much he wants to say, composure crumbling under the weight of his words.  "I'm so sorry about everything- I heard you crying and I- I'm an idiot for-"

"Funny how you can form coherent sentences to my parents, but not to me," she jokes lightheartedly.

Her small smile calms Shoto so he can gather this thoughts and try again.  "I've done you such a disservice.  I let my anger towards my father prevent me from taking care of you like I should have."  He moves to touch her hand to comfort her, but he stops and redirects it to the back of his neck.  "You must have felt so unwanted and lonely.  I'm truly sorry for everything I've done or said to you.  When I heard you on the phone with your mother, I had every intention of coming back and fixing everything, but you had already made your decision."  His eyes meet her's again.  "If you wish to continue with the divorce, I understand.  I wanted to come and apologize to you because it's what you deserve.  And, if you forgive me enough, we can start over and build a relationship as you wanted originally."

At first, the girl is silent, clawing at Shoto to be left in anticipation.  Then, she tilts her head and asks, a cheeky grin on her lips, "Do you love me, Shoto?"

His hopes come crashing down at the question.  "I'm sorry to say, but I'm not in love with you right now.  Our marriage isn't like that."

She shakes her head at him.  "I wasn't expecting you to suddenly have a huge change of heart like that.  We're still barely strangers, though I do know way more about you than you know about me.  As long as you're open to any kind of affection, it's fine."

His eyes widen childishly.  "Does that mean-"

She smiles, finally showing teeth to him, and envelops him in a hug.  He breathes out in relief and returns the gesture.  A small voice in the back of his had notes how perfectly she fits in his arms.

"Who knows?  We might end up actually falling in love slowly as time goes by," she giggles against his chest.  "That's how it tends to happen in the movies."

The slight vibrations invoke a strange warmth to bloom within Shoto, not resulting from his quirk, and his eyes widen.  Oh.

[joe-mazzello-archive]

Party For One

A Joe Mazzello x Fem!Reader fic

Word Count: 4k whoopsssss

Rating: PG

Warnings: language, drinking, angst for most of it, a teeny bit of fluff, joe is a bit of a shithead in this one, sorry gang

A/N: hey remember how i was supposed to be finishing doj part two and instead i word-vomited this out in five hours at work yesterday? anyway, enjoy.

He hasn’t changed a bit, you thought to yourself as you watched him, always the life of the party. He’d been that way all through high school, the summers you saw him between college semesters, and the few gatherings he made appearances at when he was home.

You’d always been right beside him, too. Pre-gaming at a friend’s house, sharing the mic during karaoke, rubbing his back as he leaned over the toilet, crashing on the couch or the floor or wherever you could find a spot.

But now you were out of your element. You were in his other world. You were surrounded by vaguely familiar faces, people you knew you had probably seen in a movie or a tv show but you couldn’t place them exactly. And there he was, across the room, animatedly entertaining a small group with some anecdote you’d probably heard before.

He was obviously the reason you were here. He had been begging you to come out to Los Angeles for years now. Years of you’d love it out here and you and I both know you’d take the industry by storm and I miss my best friend. Eventually, you relented. Mostly because your career in real estate was exhaustingly boring and you needed a change. Acting had always been something you enjoyed but never looked at as a career opportunity until now. But you had to admit, you missed your best friend too.

So you packed up everything, drove across the country, and settled into Joe’s guest room. You had a meeting with his agency on Monday, but of course Joe, always the party host, insisted that you needed a welcoming get-together upon arrival. Which soon turned into a complete blow-out. In fact, you were pretty sure most of the guests in attendance had no idea what the party’s true origin was, let alone who you were.

So there you were, only hours since you had arrived, left to nurse your beer off in the corner. Part of you wished you and Joe could have had a quiet night in, catching up over pizza and a comedy special. But you knew deep down that would have just exacerbated the situation you found yourself in. Seeing Joe in the flesh once again had caused some...feelings to resurface. Feelings that you had worked for years to suppress, and had been hoping were completely gone by now.

All it took was him opening his front door and pulling you into a tight hug for all of those feelings to come rushing right back.

Sometimes he did things that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, he felt the same. Like the way he used to wrap a protective arm around you when the two of you walked around Brooklyn at night. The way he could sense when you were having a rough day just through your texts, and suddenly a delivery of Insomnia Cookies would arrive at your apartment door. The way every hello and goodbye hug lasted just a moment longer than was probably appropriate for two friends. But surely you were reading into it.

You knew he wasn’t avoiding you. No, he couldn’t be. Sure, the second other guests had started to arrive, his focus turned from you to them. And sure, he hadn’t given you the time of day since. But he wasn’t avoiding you, no. He was just a popular guy, he always had been.

You pushed those negative thoughts away, not willing to accept them.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” sounded a familiar voice with a British lilt from behind you. You turned and were met with ocean blue eyes and chiseled cheekbones.

“Gwil,” you breathed out, almost in relief. Someone you knew. The tall man pulled you in for a bear hug, immediately putting you at ease. You appreciated the gesture considering you and Gwil weren’t even that close, only meeting each other a few times back when the Borhap cast was briefly in New York.

“Did that asshole leave you here alone at a party full of people you don’t know?” Gwil asked as he pulled away. You chuckled at his frankness.

“You know how he is,” you mused, offering a smile and a shrug. “He’s gotta entertain everybody.”

“Now did I hear correctly that you’re moving out here?” Gwil questioned, casually leaning a shoulder against the wall next to you.

“Got here a few hours ago, in fact,” you explained. “I’ll be occupying the guest room until I find my own place.” Gwil chuckled at that.

“You quite literally just got here and he’s off chatting with people he sees all the time?” Gwil clarified, earning an exasperated nod from you. “I’m going to go ahead and apologize on behalf of that bastard.” You let out a genuine laugh at that, clearly pleasing Gwil if his smile was any indication. “So how was the trip out here?”

And that’s how you found yourself tucked into the hallway of Joe’s apartment, just exchanging stories with Gwil. You welcomed the change in subject, not wanting to harp on the whole Joe situation. You told him about the weird truck stop in Ohio, the delicious pizza you devoured in Chicago, the loud hotel neighbors you encountered in Colorado, and your brief stint in Las Vegas. Gwil offered his own road trip tales before the conversation shifted, and eventually he was regaling stories about various sets he’d worked on, actors he’d worked with, and general knowledge of the business. He even offered some much needed advice, melting away some of your initial anxieties about your career change. All feelings of loneliness and inklings of frustration at Joe were long gone, and you mentally thanked Joe for inviting at least one person you knew.

“Can I ask you something?” Gwil inquired after a little while, the two of you finding yourselves settled out in chairs on Joe’s balcony, enjoying the night air of LA.

“Fire away.”

“Did you and Joe ever date or anything?”

You burst out laughing at the question, shaking your head.

“No, no, definitely not,” you replied before taking a sip of your beer. You chanced a look at Gwil, finding him eyeing you warily.

“That’s surprising,” he admitted before pursing his lips and gently caressing his own beard, a gesture you noticed he did often.

“Why is that surprising?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Just the way he talks about you…” Gwil trailed off, his gaze focusing on the city lights before him. Your heart slammed against your chest at his words. You tried to keep your face neutral, not wanting to let Gwil know just how important what he was saying was to you.

“How...how does he talk about me?” you followed up, attempting to hide the quiver in your voice. Gwil immediately turned back to face you, his eyes glinting mischievously. His lips curved into a soft smile before he said your name gently.

“He...he’s in awe of you,” Gwil confessed. “I swear he talked about you constantly while we were shooting the film. ‘She’d be a great actress if she wanted to be. She’s funny, she’s charming, and she’s got the looks and talent.’ Everything reminded him of a funny story involving you. We practically knew you before we even met you.” Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as Gwil spoke. Sure, Joe had complimented you before. But something about the fact that he had practically bragged about you to people who didn’t even know you made your stomach flutter.

You realized Gwil had stopped talking and you met his gaze, finding his eyes narrowed at you.

“You should tell him,” he finally said after a few moments.

“Tell him what?” you asked, playing dumb. You knew exactly what he was referring to. The man had seen right through you. He smiled, this time seeing right through your act of denial.

“How you feel.”

You ran your hands over your face and let out a groan.

“I literally just moved in, Gwil,” you reasoned. “I don’t want to make him feel awkward about me staying here by telling him about the feelings he very clearly doesn’t reciprocate.” You gestured inside the apartment, where Joe was still talking it up with a few guys you recognized from Undrafted.

Gwil leaned forward, shuffling closer to you and placing a gentle hand on your knee.

“I know his actions tonight make it seem like he couldn’t care less. But I promise you, he’s so happy to have you here. He adores you. More than you even realize.”

You chewed on Gwil’s words, your mind swimming. You believed him; he had no reason to lie to you. But you just wished what Gwil told you lined up with how Joe had been behaving all night.

Eventually the two of you made your way back inside, to find the party had somewhat died down. Joe had shifted into clean up mode while the last small group was starting to make their exit. You instinctively began to straighten up, grabbing beer bottles and paper plates and disposing of them while Joe worked on packing up the leftover food.

You were tying up a full trash bag when Joe brushed past you, not even acknowledging your presence. Your heart sunk, knowing full well you couldn’t use the excuse that Joe was just distracted by others this time.

He was actually ignoring you.

As you opened a new trash bag, you began to wrack your brain for what you could have done already to piss him off. Gwil pulled you from your thoughts, pulling you in for a goodbye hug and a peck on the cheek. When he pulled away, his brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” It was amazing how quickly Gwil learned how to read you. Or maybe you were just that bad at masking your emotions.

Your lip trembled as you tried to prevent the tears from falling.

“He’s ignoring me now,” you revealed, earning a sympathetic look from Gwil.

“I’m sorry, love,” he offered quietly. “He’ll figure his shit out eventually.” Another hug, this one a bit longer as he held you against his chest. “I’ll text you next time I’m in town, we’ll all grab lunch.” You nodded with a soft smile before pulling away, turning your attention back to your cleaning.

Another minute passed, the last of the voices faded away, and the door clicked closed, leaving a silent apartment. You let out a sigh as you tossed the last of the plates you had found in the new trash bag. Pulling another beer out of the fridge, you ventured into the living room where you found Joe pushing the coffee table back to its original position. You awkwardly leaned against the arm of the loveseat as you waited for him to say something.

But he didn’t. After finishing rearranging, he passed by you once again, not even sparing you a glance, before heading back into the kitchen. You let out another sigh, following after him.

“Okay, can you please tell me what I did so I can fix it?” you pleaded, completely at a loss. Joe silently pulled a bottle of disinfectant and a rag out from under the sink and breezed past you another time, heading back into the living room. You scoffed at his actions, your sadness being replaced with anger at his immature way of handling himself.

You placed your beer down on the counter and trudged back into the living room, stopping in front of where Joe was wiping down the coffee table and crossing your arms.

“Joe? Are you going to talk to me or continue to ignore me like a fucking child?”

He froze, dropping the bottle and the rag on the table before finally, finally looking at you for the first time in hours.

“You’ve been here for what, five minutes? And you’re already trying to fuck my friends?”

Your jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

“You and Gwil seemed awfully cozy,” Joe replied before picking up the rag and continuing to wipe down the coffee table. You grabbed the rag from his hand, earning a sharp glare. “Hey--”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you roared, your blood boiling. “I hang out with the one fucking person I knew at my supposed ‘welcoming party’ besides you and suddenly I’m trying to fuck them?” You were shell-shocked at the accusation. Joe simply shrugged.

“The two of you were inseparable all night, what was I supposed to think?” he reasoned as he began to walk back into the kitchen. You scoffed again, tossing the rag onto the table in frustration at his nonchalant tone.

“How about the fact that you left me alone at a party full of strangers so I spent time with Gwil since you were busy with your other friends?” you fired back as you stomped into the kitchen. Joe began to wash his hands, still ignoring your piercing stare. “Like, holy shit, Joe. I know your world does not revolve around me, but the least you could do was acknowledge my existence. It’s my first night here, for fuck’s sake.”

That made him pause. He stared at the counter and you could practically hear how hard he was thinking. Suddenly, he met your gaze once again, a brazen look on his face.

“You could have come up to talk to me. I shouldn’t have to babysit you.”

His words were like a sword through your chest. Your jaw practically hit the floor this time.

“Fuck. You.” You turned on your heels and headed for the guest bedroom, angry hot tears escaping down your cheeks. You thanked your past self for barely unpacking anything before the party as you began to scoop up your toiletries and few pieces of clothing laying out on the bed and threw them back into your suitcase. 

You felt ashamed and so so stupid for thinking that this had been a good idea. And the worst feeling of all was the embarrassment at thinking that there was ever a chance of Joe reciprocating any feelings for you. You were nothing but a burden to him. Someone he felt like he would have to “babysit.” You didn’t fit in in his world and you were foolish to think you could.

“What are you doing?”

You jumped at the sound of Joe’s voice behind you; you hadn’t even heard him approach. You swiped at a stray tear and finished zipping up your bag before lugging it onto the floor and pulling up the handle.

“I’m going to check into a hotel,” you explained as you pushed your way past him, luggage dragging behind you. “I don’t feel welcome here.” You began to make your way towards the front door, already feeling overwhelmed by anxiety. You had no idea what your next move was going to be. Stay in LA and try to figure things out? Go back home to two parents who would chant “we told you so” until they were blue in the face?

Joe’s hand caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Please don’t do that,” he pleaded, his tone from earlier completely gone and replaced with a much softer and more desperate one. “I’m sorry. Please stay.” You whipped around to face him.

“Which part are you sorry for?” you asked sharply. “The part where you ignored me? Or where you accused me of trying to sleep with your friend? Or maybe it’s the part where you said you shouldn’t have to ‘babysit me’?”

“All of it,” Joe replied. “I’m sorry I lashed out at you. I’m just--” he trailed off as he turned away, almost bashfully. “I can’t help but feel protective of you.”

You furrowed your brows. It didn’t make sense. He felt protective of you but didn’t want to have to ‘babysit you’? He felt protective of you but he got mad at you for talking to Gwil? You stuttered as you tried to put the pieces together, coming up empty.

“I don’t…” your voice petered out. You were completely flabbergasted. “What do you want from me, Joe?”

Joe’s eyes met yours once again, and you could see the conflict written on his face. He was struggling with something. It was almost as if he--

“I want…” he began, before taking a deep breath. “I want you to stay here tonight.”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. For some reason, a part of you was hopeful he would say something else. The two of you stared at each other for a few more moments, giving him the chance to say more. But it never came. So with a soft nod, you reached for your suitcase again, pulling it behind you as you walked back into the guest room, closing the door behind you.

✧✧✧

You awoke to the smell of bacon wafting into your room. You sat up, throwing your legs over the side of the bed. With a deep breath, you pushed yourself up and headed toward the bathroom.

The sight of your face in the mirror made you cringe. You hadn’t taken off your makeup before crying yourself to sleep the night before, leaving black streaks of mascara across your cheeks. You washed your face before running a comb through your hair. You knew you looked awful, but you didn’t care. Joe had seen you worse, and honestly, his opinion of you was not high on your priority list after his hissy fit last night.

You sauntered into the kitchen with a bit of hesitation, unsure what you’d be walking into. You found Joe, furiously whisking some pancake batter.

“Hey.”

He practically jumped out of his own skin, clumsily dropping the bowl of batter to the counter, luckily with little to no mess.

“Hey,” he replied, running a hand over the back of his neck. “How did you sleep?”

“Alright,” you lied. You had agonized over every detail of the evening until practically three in the morning. But you didn’t want Joe to know that. If he knew, he didn’t let on, instead offering you a small smile.

“I made bacon and I’m about to make pancakes,” he stated, gesturing towards the stove behind him. You nodded simply and took a seat at his kitchen island.

Things were awkward. You didn’t even know where to begin. Part of you wanted to tell him to forget everything and start fresh. It would make things easier. But part of you wanted to stand strong, make sure you held him accountable for how he’d hurt you.

You mulled over everything, idly chewing on a piece of bacon as Joe worked at the stove, mumbling under his breath about the pancakes cooking inconsistently or something. After a few minutes, you were pulled from your thoughts by a plate of pancakes being placed in front of you. You glanced up to see Joe eyeing you, an uncertain look on his face.

“I’m a huge asshole,” he admitted. You opened your mouth to agree with him but he kept going. “You were right. I was avoiding you during the party. It was easier for me to convince myself that you were having a good time than to check up on you myself. I thought I…” he trailed off, losing momentum. He shook his head and began again. “I assured myself that I could handle being around you again. That enough time had passed and I could be your best friend again without a second thought. But then you walked through my front door and it all came rushing back and I panicked.”  You shook your head, trying to keep up with what Joe was trying to tell you.

“I don’t understand--”

“I’m in love with you.”

For the third time in less than twenty-four hours, your jaw dropped.

“I honestly think I’ve been in love with you since high school, but it took me well into my late twenties for me to actually realize it. And I got so caught up on this fantasy of you and I being this acting dream team, showing this fucking town who’s boss, together. And then you were here and you had spent the last week road-tripping across the country yet somehow you looked so fucking beautiful? And I just...couldn’t handle it. I invited practically everyone in my contacts to come over right away because I needed a buffer. I turned my focus to everyone else at the party because it was familiar and certain. With you there was so much uncertainty.”

He paused for a moment and collected his thoughts once again.

“And then I saw you with Gwil. I knew it wasn’t anything. But you were smiling and laughing with him and I just couldn’t help but wish you were spending your time with me. I know that doesn’t make sense. But I just got so caught up in my own head so when you finally confronted me, I panicked again. I threw everything back at you because I was afraid and embarrassed.”

You watched him as he plopped down on the stool next to you with a sigh.

“I wish I could do it all over again. There wouldn’t be a party. Just you and me like it used to be,” he continued. He turned to you, eyes sad with regret. “I am so so so sorry. You were right about everything. Except one thing. My world does revolve around you. The day you told me you were coming out here was the happiest day I’ve had in awhile. I’ve thought about nothing else since. But I completely understand if you want to leave. Hell, I’ll pay for your hotel and help you figure out what you want to do. But I also understand if you want me to just leave you alone.”

To say you were stunned would be an understatement. Your heart was pounding out of your chest at Joe’s confession. You didn’t even know what to say. There was so much that needed to be said, but you were frozen in place.

So you didn’t speak. You just moved.

You gripped the sides of Joe’s head and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. He let out a small noise in surprise, but quickly melted into the kiss, his own hands reaching for you and landing on your hips. You kissed him hard, pouring every emotion you felt into it. Every past pang of your heart when Joe had gone out of his way to do something for you. Every past flutter of your stomach when he had wrapped his arms around you. Every ounce of frustration and hurt that flooded your heart last night. He kissed you back just as eagerly, pulling you off the stool and closer to him, your chests pressing together.

You finally pulled away to gasp for breath, your forehead still pressed against Joe’s.

“I love you too, you asshole,” you breathed out, earning a chuckle from Joe. He pulled back to look at you, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You think I’d uproot my entire life and move across the country if I wasn’t completely in love with you?”

Joe’s face lit up before he dove in for another kiss.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” he asked, running his hands up and down your sides. You pursed your lips as you thought it over.

“I’ll only forgive you if you help me finish unpacking,” you reasoned, a smirk playing at your lips. Joe beamed, pulling you closer to him so you were practically in his lap.

“So you’re gonna stay?”

“Of course I’m staying. Why stay in a hotel when I can stay with my former best friend?” Joe’s brows furrowed.

“Former?”

“I guess I just figured ‘love of my life’ was a better title for you,” you revealed with a smile, running your fingers through his auburn locks. Joe pulled you in for another searing kiss, standing up and pressing you against the island, earning a squeal from you. After a moment, he pulled away, grabbing your hand and practically running down the hall towards the guest room, pancakes long forgotten.

✧✧✧

Permanent Taglist (crossed out names won’t let me tag): @queenlover05​, @mrhoemazzello​, @madamsledge​, @sadhwstudent​, @johndeaconshands​, @puffnstuff08

[justauthoring]

even after it all.

Request: I’m such a slut for Until Dawn, so you’re crazy if you think I won’t jump on the opportunity to get more Until Dawn stuff and from my favorite fanfic writer. I’d love a Josh Washington fic where the reader (his gf) finds out that he’s been behind everything and goes out with Chris and Mike to the shed to stand up for him because she knows they’ll be hard on him and she knows he just needs help and better meds. Thank you!

Requested by: @itsfangirlmendes​

Pairing: Josh Washington x Reader Word Count: 2,019 Please don’t plagiarize my work!

Surely, you were imagining this...

right?

You eye both Chris and Ashley, who are both still tied to the chairs, to Mike and Sam who both work quickly to untie the former’s. But you can see the looks on their faces. The anger on Ashley and Mike’s, the absolute disgust and dismay, and the complete confusion on Sam and Chris’ face. An expression, unlike the others, you mimic because you’re just as confused. Maybe even more so.

You’re positive you are just dreaming. Or someone was playing some sort of prank on you. Because... this? Josh being the one behind all of this? It... This can’t be real.

“Josh...”

Your call for him isn’t heard over the yells of the others. Nor is it heard over the maniacal laughing that pours from Josh’s lips as he circles around, pacing on his feet aimlessly with the brightest smile upon his lips you’re sure you’ve ever seen in a long time. And it hurts, because since his sisters, you’ve never left his side, never once abandoned him or made him feel guilty about needing his support. You were just there for him, whenever he needed you. And you’d tried to make him smile like that, like he used to, for months, but nothing ever worked.

Except, apparently, this.

“Oh, oh, very good!” He applauds, circling past you. You find yourself slipping to the back, unable to believe the sight before you. And honestly, it doesn’t even really hurt you that Josh doesn’t acknowledge your presence. “Every one of you. Got my name! And after all you’ve been through. Good-good-good-good! I mean how does that feel?”

You catch Mike’s gaze, your own distraught, tearful gaze meeting his harsh, frustrated expression. You want to defend Josh, but you can’t. Not in this scenario. So as you look at Mike, you can’t blame him for being so angry, only managing to avoid his gaze you glance down at your feet, your hand falling to your cheek where -- who you’d originally thought was the psycho -- had hit you.

“Right? How does it feel? Do you enjoy feeling terrorized? Humiliated? I mean, panicked? All those emotions that my sisters got to feel a year ago! Only guess what? They didn’t get to laugh it off? No! Nope! No! No! They’re gone!”

“I don’t know if you noticed this,” Mike speaks up for the first time, gesturing around himself. “Josh, but none of us are laughing.”

“Oh come! Come-come-come-come! Why the long faces? Come on!” 

Your heart sinks, entire body tensing when Josh makes his way over to you. You don’t have the heart or strength to shrug away from him as he pulls you close, wrapping his arm tightly around like he always has but this time, it feels different. For obvious reasons why. And your heart both hurts and pounds madly against your chest in fear. Which feels so incredibly wrong because he’s your boyfriend and you shouldn’t be afraid of him.

“It’s good to get the heart racing every now and then, right?” You cringe, trying to pull away as he pulls you closer, eyes twisting shut. “And race they did, I mean, every one of you, just pitter-pat, pitter-pat! I hope you appreciated my little phantasmagorical spectacle! I mean, no detail too small. No opportunity missed. It was such a delight to play the puppet master to all your Pavlovian panic! And all that gore? I mean, gore, there was gore-galore! Fake bodies... I mean, god that shit was expensive. And no retakes. Nope. Nope. Only double takes. You should’ve seen your faces.

“Hook line and sinker, for every little stinker!”

“Josh,” Sam calls, desperate, “why are you doing this?”

“Don’t even ask this squirrelly little runt. He’s got no clue. He’s out of his fucking tree.” You blink when Mike makes his way over to you and Josh, slipping his hand gently around your arm and pulling you from Josh’s grasp. You notice the look of distraught and surprise on Josh’s face but don’t do anything about it, glad to be out of his grasp. “I mean, you hit your own fucking girlfriend. What the fuck, man.”

You meet Josh’s eyes, and you know he’s eyeing the bruised spot on your cheek.

“Well, he’s definitely off his meds.” Chris concludes.

“Aw, come on, you guys,” Josh calls, as if surprised by your none-too-impressed response. “Revenge is the best medicine.”

But I didn’t even prank Hannah. I... I tried to stop them. I tried to help her...

“You’re done!” Mike demands, shaking his head.

“Mike,” you call softly, shaking your head. “He’s sick.”

“What?” Josh mumbles, “come on, you guys are all gonna thank me when you become internet sensations!”

“Wa-Wait, what?”

“Oh you better believe this is little puppy going viral ladies and germs.” Josh exclaims, an excited glint to his eyes. “I mean... we got, we got unrequited love. We got... we got blood! I don’t think there’s enough hard drives in China to-to count all the views we’re gonna get, you guys.”

“What are you talking about, you ass-hat?” Mike demands. “Jessica is FUCKING DEAD!”

Maybe it’s wrong of you, maybe it’s biased, especially after all he’s done, but as you glance over at Josh, something tells you he’s genuinely surprised. Genuinely upset. That what Mike just said, he hadn’t had any part of it.

“What?”

“Did you hear him?” Mike asks, circling around the table to quickly make his way over to Josh. Jessica is dead and you are gonna fucking pay you dick!”

-

“You only see what you wanna see. You’re blind!”

With great reluctance, you’d managed to convince Chris and Mike to let you come with them to tie Josh up. They tried to convince you to stay back with the other girls, that it would be safer for you. But, even after all he done, to you and the others, you still cared for Josh. And you weren’t about to just leave him. Not now, when he was clearly so sick.

“Stop talking!” 

You wince as Mike shoves Josh to the ground, pulling unceremoniously on his tied wrists and he presses him against the snowy ground. “You are-- argh!”

“Dude--” Chris calls out.

“It’s not my fault you suckers can’t take a joke.”

“That wasn’t a joke, Josh,” you mumble, thought you’re not sure if he even really hears you.

Mike presses his knee into Josh’s back, eliciting a small yelp from the latter’s lips. “Oh, did I hurt you?” Mike taunts, still pointing the gun at his head. “Did you just... did you feel a little bit of pain? Right now? I am so... so, so sorry!”

“Stop it!”

Rushing forward, you grab Mike by the arm, pulling. It only knocks him back a little bit, and he turns to stare at you in disbelief. “Y/N, what are--”

“I understand you’re mad and hurt but... just please,” you whisper, “stop.”

“Y/N, he killed Jessica,” Mike explains, eyes lighting with anger at the memory. You frown as he explains, your chest twisting in guilt though you’re not exactly sure why. You didn’t do anything. You weren’t at fault. But yet, you still felt guilty. And even more so, you still felt the need to defend your boyfriend. “I mean, he fucking punching you in the face. Aren’t you mad?”

“Of course I am,” you explain, shaking your head as you scarcely avoid Josh’s gaze. “Just... just tie him up and stop. Please.”

You step back and Mike’s eyes wander on you for a moment longer before complying, standing up to help pull Josh against the nearest poll. Of course, Josh decides to speak. “Michael... man, i’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that something happened to Jessica but I swear, I swear to you I have no idea what happened to her...”

“Josh?” Chris calls, “be honest with me. Do you expect us to trust you for a single goddamn second after all the shit you put us through?”

Letting out a low chuckle, Josh head rolls as he mumbles out; “can’t we all just get along?”

-

Mike tried to convince you to go back with Chris. But, like before, you refused.

So, now, here you were, sat in front of Josh, not really sure what to say. Mike was stood by the entrance of the cabin, keeping his distance out of respect but you could feel his eyes wander over to you every few minutes just to make sure you were okay even if Josh’s hands were tied. You didn’t blame his mistrust of Josh, and part of you would like to say that Josh would never hurt you but after everything that’s happened... you weren’t so sure anymore.

He already had, first off. But Josh was also so far gone that you’ve never seen him this bad before. It was a sight you’ve never wanted to see either. And a sight you’d worked so hard to help prevent. All those months, those long nights you’d spent with him, trying to make him better. You wouldn’t change anything and you’d do it all again, you just thought... you thought if he’d gotten this bad he would come to you.

Instead of... this.

“Y/N.” Eyes falling shut at the sound of Josh’s voice, you hesitate on glancing up at him, heart pounding madly against your chest. “Y/N/N.”

Blinking, you glance up at him with a huff, shaking your head. “What, Josh?”

“Are you mad at me?”

You pause for a moment, wondering if he’d really just asked that. But then you take in the dazed expression on his face, the distant look in his eyes, and all you’ve heard. Standing there and listening as he made fun of his own best friend, teased him about Ashley after all he’d forced Chris and her to endure. Or to talk about Jessica like that, not only in front of you, but to Mike when she was... dead.

He was so clearly gone, you knew he didn’t really understand the severity of what he was doing.

Because the Josh you knew, the one you’d fallen in love with, wasn’t like this. And he never would’ve done this to his own friends if he was in the right state of mind.

That, you knew.

“No,” you sigh, “no, Josh, i’m not mad.”

He frowns, eyes drooping. “You look mad.”

Inhaling deeply, you let your head drop, the tip of your head resting on his forehead. “What have you done, Josh?” You whisper, voice faint, raspy. “You went too far.”

Josh doesn’t say anything. And after a moment, you dare to glance up at him, finding that he hadn’t looked away from you and instead, was just frowning down at you. The sight of it breaks your heart, even if you feel like it shouldn’t. You felt conflicted, stuck, because he’d done so many horrible things and said some too, but yet, as you looked at him; this broken-hearted, out-of-his-mind boy that you loved, your heart broke for him.

“It’ll be okay, Josh.” You soothe softly, even if you know it won’t. “We’ll figure it out.”

He nods and his lips part to speak, but the sound of a shrill scream echoes. It causes you to jump to your feet, spinning round to face Mike who quickly makes his way over to you. 

“What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Mike shakes his head. “It sounded like it came from the lodge.”

You eye Mike, frowning.

“We’ve gotta to check on everyone.”

Glancing back at Josh, you shake your head. “I can’t leave him.”

“Y/N--”

“You go,” you encourage, nodding at him. “I’ll be okay.”

Mike hesitates, his eyes narrowing in concern as he shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N. It’s not safe for you--”

“I’ll be fine,” you assure, cutting him off as you send him a sharp look. “I just can’t leave him, Mike. I’m sorry.”

Frowning, Mike’s shoulders fall. “Even after all he’s done?”

Glancing back at Josh, you sigh, shoulders falling.

“Even after all he’s done.”

-

Let me know what you thought?

[prettywordsyouleft]

Forsaken | Part 2

Summary: As one of the Forsaken, Jinyoung had no right to covet anything as his own. When he stumbles across you standing in the middle of the village he had plundered, the memories of old make him risk it all, clutching at the past in hopes for a better future.

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: warrior au / star crossed lovers / angst / romance

Warnings: death, kidnapping, cursing, a myriad of emotions - this is a really sad love story.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 

You could feel the tremble within the arm across your neck, his gaze penetrating to your soul.

How you had craved to see these eyes for years. They had always carried a hardness within them even when they were young, having seen too much of this cruel world. You could tell they had since witnessed far more than you ever wished to know about, even if you were curious now.

Just how was he alive?

The darkness within his eyes swirled and you gasped a little, acknowledging the fear and remorse now showing. Why was he scared of you? Before you could examine him further, the man stepped back, shaking his head softly. “You don’t know me.”

“Jinyoung,” you managed to say just louder than a whisper and watched the shiver run its course throughout him. It gave you the courage you needed to say it louder, repeating his name until he turned and looked at you again.

He had been a scared little boy back then when you had first met him too.

He laughed hollowly. “You never change.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Why did you spare me?” he questioned with a bitter tone, shaking his head as if he was trying to remove memories with the notion. “You should have told the authorities there was one of the Forsaken within your community sooner.”

“Why, so you could be an actual ghost to me right now like I thought you were?” you concluded and the man merely shrugged his shoulders. You stepped closer to him, reaching up for his neck. There laid a faint scar, your index finger tracing it slowly. It was as if your touch turned him to stone, and as you looked up into his frozen expression, you checked to see if his nostrils were flaring in and out with his breath. You sighed.

“Why did I spare you?” you murmured, thinking back to a time in which you had often thought over.

Your steps were hastened, your skirt held up with one hand as you gripped at the hand of another, dragging Jinyoung behind you. He followed you sluggishly and you yanked on him harder, wondering how he could be so slow at a time like this.

“Jinyoung!” you hissed, tugging on him. His eyes fell to your action, smiling softly at your hand in his. You groaned at his lack of urgency and ducked down another alleyway between the houses, knowing an adult couldn’t fit down such a gap. Moving until you were at the back of it and out of sight, you breathed heavily, peering around Jinyoung for signs of the soldiers.

“You should have let me be caught,” he murmured and you gaped at the boy beside you, completely calm unlike you. His eyes bore into yours. “Protecting me is dangerous.”

“You’re my friend and I’ll do as I please,” you told him firmly, blinking with the sudden burst of light filling his entire face. Even with his big ears and short hair, Jinyoung was boyishly handsome when he smiled like this. He radiated a light unlike any you had seen from a mere smile. It reached into his eyes, softening them from their usual hardness. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“You like being my friend?” you asked softly and Jinyoung nodded.

“I’m yours.”

“Hey! That makes you sound like a possession. I don’t own you.”

“Yes you do,” he replied, pulling your still linked hands up to show you. His grip tightened on your hand. “You took me as your own and gave me a name.”

“You silly boy,” you chided despite the swell in your chest. You liked that he was your friend. No one else knew of him yet as you had been hiding him for the past month in the barn out the back of your family farm. Jinyoung had easily become the most important person in your life. You knew if you didn’t look after him, he would be forgotten about once again.

You couldn’t let the authorities take away someone so special.

“You’re cute when you’re worried,” he told you bashfully, ducking his head away from your startled expression.

“And you’re trouble, Jinyoung. One day you’re going to leave my heart aching, I just know it.”

You clutched at your chest, the ache you often felt towards his departure from your world now conflicted with his reappearance. He had changed so much, adapted to a harsh way of living that you couldn’t fathom. Your shock was wearing off; overwhelmed by everything that had occurred to you during this nightmare.

He had saved you and yet he had killed all that you knew. It wasn’t the first time you would lose the ones you cherished because of Jinyoung, though this time it was by his own sinful hands. You stared at his limbs, wondering just how much blood he had washed away from them over the years.

You were momentarily disgusted and took a step back. “You’re right, I don’t know you now.”

Jinyoung watched you silently, his brain calculating something to say. Instead, he was cut off by the bell in the corner of the room chiming. He sighed and nodded. “Stay here; I might be gone for some time.”

“What makes you think I will listen to you?”

“Because if you leave this room, the others in this camp are trained to kill strangers immediately on sight.” He examined your expression for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. “Then again, do as you please. I don’t know why I brought you here anyway.”

“Answer me one thing,” you pleaded as Jinyoung moved to the door. Whilst he didn’t look back at you, he didn’t depart the room either. You swallowed, licking at your dry lips before speaking once again. “Can I trust you?”

“I can’t even trust myself,” Jinyoung honestly admitted, and left the room swiftly, shutting the door firmly behind him. You listened for him to lock it, to ensure you remained entrapped in this strange place.

However, his footsteps grew faint until they were unheard of and you dashed towards the door, reaching for the latch. Stopping midway with the uncertainty of what waited for you beyond these walls, your hand fell back to your side and you slowly made your way back to the bed, curling up against the wall.

You felt exhausted from trying to navigate the multitude of emotions within you, soon drifting off to sleep once more.

“Jinyoung!” you cried as he splashed the water from the lake at you, earning a squeal from you in protest. His hearty chuckle made your arms drop away from their defensive barrier, staring at his mischievous expression in awe. It had taken him three years to open up, to feel free enough just to live. Now as teenagers, you enjoyed a prolonged youth despite the adult world impending on you both. Of course, your naïve approach of keeping him to yourself hadn’t lasted very long, your parents had discovered him and sympathised enough to take him in. From there, your small community had gained knowledge of the boy and he was protected by everyone. It meant Jinyoung was finally safe and had a place where he belonged.

Hearing him laugh like this made you believe that all those years of being cautious on his behalf were long forgotten. You could dream of a future with him.

You could experience your first love as well.

Another splash of water came your way and you shrieked, dashing across towards the shore. His arms encased you before you could escape, dragging you back into him, into the water.

It was him boldly taking you places now.

“Where are you going?” he asked breathlessly and you spun around, staring up at him until you smiled.

“Nowhere.”

The humour in his expression eased and he brushed the hair away from your face. “You know I will follow you even to nowhere, right?”

“Of course, you’re mine.”

“Mm,” he hummed, a satisfied smile tugging his plump lips up. “I’m yours.”

He was too close and didn’t expect your eyes to open and find him there when you did. Blinking rapidly, Jinyoung went to move back but you held onto his hand, preventing his departure. You scrutinised his appearance, searching for the boy you had just dreamed of. The boyish charm was replaced with something harder to read. There was no doubt in your mind that you were still attractive to the Jinyoung who stared back at you, scars and all.

Your stomach twisted when you acknowledged the man before you still owned a part of your heart.

He merely stared back at you, unmoving, and yet his eyes were telling a tale of another lifetime. There was a warmth that seemed as bright as the summer of love you had relished in before the harsh winter that crippled you with loss. You gripped on more tightly, wishing to go back to that time.

Hoping for another reality other than this.

“Will you still follow me to nowhere?” you breathed, the man before you swallowing visibly. He toiled back and forth with his emotions openly before squaring his jaw. This world had conditioned him to believe in nothing that possessed hope and magic. Jinyoung chuckled but it wasn’t as joyful as you remembered.

“Y/N, nowhere doesn’t exist.”

“Yes it does,” you persisted and he frowned. “Nowhere exists, Jinyoung. I’ll find it.”

“We’re not kids anymore, stop thinking like that.”

“You didn’t answer, would follow me to nowhere?”

A faint purse of his lips made you hold your breath, searching for a glimmer of the past you held onto so dearly. It didn’t last long and he pulled away from your hand, standing up from his seat on the bed beside you. “This is where I belong.”

“Is this where I belong too?”

“This world isn’t for someone like you.”

“Yet you brought me into it,” you bit back and Jinyoung nodded.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“A bout of insanity,” he answered though it wasn’t convincing. You could see with the way he regarded you he hadn’t saved you just for fun.

He had seen you there and couldn’t let you leave this world before him.

“Are you sane now?”

He laughed and shook his head. “I forgot your persistence.”

“Have you missed it?”

“What are you fishing for, Y/N? A love confession? A sign that the boy who followed you around like a lost puppy is back? Don’t kid yourself. I simply returned a favour.”

“A favour?” you echoed with a scoff, your anger rising. “If you truly felt the need to repay me, you should have killed me right there and then. Let me burn with all the others you murdered that day. This is how you repay me? I’ve lost everything I had twice now because of you.”

Jinyoung’s brows knitted together briefly before he smoothed his expression back to the stern, uncaring one he was trying to maintain. It made you roll your eyes, he was pathetic and nothing like the boy you once knew.

You were foolish for even giving him space in your mind all these years.

“I wish you had remained dead to me,” you announced, gathering yourself up from the bed and storming towards the door. As you headed down the small earthen corridor towards the exit, you were surprised not to hear him follow you, or to even stop you from leaving. You started to silently cry as you opened one of the doors you had once blindly came through, scolding yourself for considering you meant anything to the man back in that room. Why had he gone to all the trouble of bringing you here if he couldn’t admit to a plausible reason?

He clearly had gone mad from his years as a member of the Rebellion and you wanted nothing to do with him. You’d rather face death by the members of his camp, to leave this wretched world behind. You had no family left, no friends, no value. There was no need to survive as you had thus far. You had been determined to live on in hopes you could live a life worthy of the one you thought he had lost back then.

Stepping out into the dusk of the night, you were uncaring of your efforts. He had thrived in the dampest, darkest of places all this time, and you had been none the wiser.

Jinyoung could live on now without you.

You broke into a run, heading towards the tree line beyond the settlement. It felt good to feel the burn within your lungs from the physical activity, the sting in your weakened limbs as you urged them to power on. It was cathartic to escape everything. The loss, the yearning, the pain. You needed to break away from it all.

However, your blind dash away meant you weren’t paying attention to the world around you until it was too late. You saw another person within the woods, their hand unmistakably reaching for a bow from upon their back.

So, you would actually die then. Waiting for the impact, you felt a rush of air by your ear and then your body was hurtled into another direction, pressed against a tree protectively.

You glanced up at the man now encasing you away from further attack, his heavy breath falling onto your face. Jinyoung’s eyes connected with yours desperately. “I’ll follow you to nowhere.”

He sucked in a deep breath to steady himself, however his gaze remained determined. “So don’t try and leave me yet.”

_________________

Part 3

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[duchessfics]

Underestimation

(https://duchessfics.tumblr.com/post/612885556559593472)

Billie, Reader x Wilhemina

Requested by @urleastfavtree​: Can I request either Billie or Mina where they’re out at a bar and some guys are challenging themselves to get the waitresses (reader’s) number and then Billie/Mina asks for it right in front of the guys and they get the number and a kiss too???

Warning(s): Guys being dudes, Mentions of alcohol, Mentions of police, Brief bar fight (but nothing too serious)

Summary: While bartending, the reader has to deal with some sleazy business men, and in the process she meets one of her biggest idols. However, things get complicated when her girlfriend shows up to pick her up from work.

Word Count: 3875

A/n: I hope this turned out alright @urleastfavtree​. I know I kind of veered off from what you requested, but this idea crossed my mind and I couldn’t shake it off. 😊

While Billie didn’t imagine herself ending up at some bar in downtown LA, today’s location for her newest TV special was more intense than she anticipated. Of course years of experience have helped her to conjure up a white light of protection when necessary. But the aura of illumination can only do so much. It doesn’t prevent the ever-present anxiety of the unknown or sleepless nights due to nightmares from past interactions with the paranormal.

So that is why the medium is perched on a barstool, nursing a third glass of red wine and contemplating if some whiskey will be her next choice of beverage.

The low-lit room is practically empty, allowing the classic rock music to softly fill the room with the occasional snickers emitted from the small group of businessmen nearby and the light clink of the freshly washed glasses you replace on the racks behind the bar.

While you hear the men muttering amongst themselves with sporadic bursts of laughter, you remain focused on your task. Even though you’re a bartender, there is something about men that is unnerving to you. Of course you try to keep pleasant, but avoid any other non-essential interactions. Just thirty more minutes until you close. Then you’re free to go home.

“Hey, sweetheart, we’ll take another round of beers.” 

Sweetheart. 

You take a second to compose yourself, transforming your clenched jaw into a pleasant smile and turning to face the three men.

“Same beer?” You chirp, trying to ignore their roaming eyes.

The man who seems to be the ringleader sports a wolfish grin as he responds, “Whatever you think, darlin’.” For a second your lip tremors and nearly curls up in disgust. But you catch yourself and squat behind the counter to open the fridge and grab 3 beers. As you hold them by their necks, you take a deep breath to calm your nerves and temper. 

They’re just lonely. Think of the tips. They have designer suits on and if you play nice they may be generous.

When you stand back up, your pleasant façade is back in place and you remove the bottlecaps, setting the drinks before each man. In an effort to avoid speaking, you keep your eyes downcast as you take their empty bottles. However you make the mistake of meeting the gaze of the man with icy blue eyes. He takes a swig of his beer before saying with a smirk, “Thanks, doll.” You nod in acknowledgement sporting a reserved smile and put the bottles in the box containing the other empty bottles. Then you pick up the container and try not to run into the kitchen on your way to dump the discarded bottles into the recycling out back.

The blonde near the opposite end of the bar doesn’t miss the exchange, rolling her eyes at the men’s words. And when you disappear behind the door, the one who thanked you turns to the others and claims, “I bet I could get her number.” Then one who originally asked for beers scoffs and sneers, “She didn’t even look at you. Besides if anyone would get her number it’s me.”

Then the third one with slicked back jet black hair comments, “You both talk too much. I guarantee that if I asked for her number right now she would melt.” Their assertions make Billie softly chuckle, but she swallows her sounds down with a sip of wine before the men can notice. While she thinks this behavior is childish, it’s pretty typical. However, the medium nearly smashes the glass she holds when Mr. blue eyes makes a proposition:

“I’ll bet 50 bucks I can get her number first.”

“Only 50? I’m in.”

“Me too.”

Then the one who proposed the bet says, “And even if one of you somehow gets her before me, which I highly doubt will happen. But if it does...well…I don’t mind sloppy seconds.”

His comment makes all three of them snicker and they murmur words of agreement. Then, as if on cue, you re-enter the bar area with a small bucket of steaming water and washcloth.

You hear the men hiss indistinct words amongst themselves, but actively ignore them, setting the bucket towards the middle of the bar and wringing the excess water out of the rag before starting to wipe down the countertops. Unfortunately, the talkative leader clears his throat and asks, “So you’ve worked here awhile?”

You continue to wipe the counter clean, keeping your back to them as you answer, “Not really. Just about 6 months.”

Billie has to stifle another chuckle when the man who spoke grumbles at being practically ignored. So much for being suave.

Sadly, the cloth can only go so far, and you have to return to the bucket, making eye contact with the ringleader as he asks, “Well how did a pretty girl like yourself end up here?”

Jesus Christ. The arrogance of this man!

After swirling the wash cloth around in the soapy water, you wring out the excess water while replying in an attempt at a casual tone, “I gotta pay my bills somehow. This was just the first job that hired me when I moved here.” His eyebrows raise and he states, “Well I have plenty of friends in high places, darlin’. If you gave me your phone number I could get you a real nice job.” You can’t help but laugh at his supposedly generous offer and assure him, “I’m good for the moment. But thanks.” Then you step away to continue wiping down the counter, missing his enraged expression.

Billie smirks in amusement as she watches the other two silently tease him. Then the one with blue eyes looks in your direction to make his move. He smoothly says, “I’m sure it gets lonely sometimes. It’s nice to have some friends around, doll. I’ll make a deal with you: if you give me your number, I’ll give you mine.”

This time you don’t stop your motions, rolling your eyes as you answer in a firmer tone, “I’d rather not.”

The medium notices your clenched jaw and decides to grant you some reprieve. So she finishes off the rest of her wine in one generous-sized drink before asking in a calm tone, “Could I have another drink please? Whenever you have the chance, of course.” You look up to the blonde and silently thank her, rushing over to her side while answering, “Yes.” The other bartender must have served her earlier, because you would recognize that face and voice anywhere.

Billie Dean Howard.

But you don’t want to make her uncomfortable by acting star-struck. You’ve seen other celebrities here and nothing annoys them more than a pestering fan. When you meet her dark brown eyes, it’s fortunate that the lighting is dim so she can’t see your flustered expression. You take the empty wine glass before asking, “Same drink?”

The medium lets out a low hum while her eyes scan over the numerous bottles along the back wall of the bar. Then she looks to you and replies, “Actually I’ll take some whiskey.” So you pull down the bottle and take your time pouring the amber liquid into a fresh glass tumbler.

While you do, Billie softly asks, “Do you get guys like them often?” The question makes you let out a sigh of relief and you set the bottle back on the liquor shelf before looking to her and softly replying, “Depends on the night. But I’m glad someone else notices.” She smiles and holds out her hand while stating, “I’m—”

But you finish her sentence, “Billie Dean Howard. Medium of the stars.” You take her hand and shake it as you quickly stutter, “I-I didn’t mean to cut you off. It’s just…I’m a big fan.” But she just chuckles and releases your hand picking up the glass while murmuring with a raised eyebrow, “I take it you’ve seen some of my work?” You look down to the glossy tabletop as you admit, “I’ve watched you since your first lifetime special. I—I love your work Miss Howard.”

But you look to her and quickly apologize before assuring her, “I don’t mean to sound obsessive or anything—”

She chuckles and soothes, “You’re fine, sweetheart.” However she immediately stiffens and says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say sweetheart. I’ve probably drank too much—”

But you cut her off and say with a smile, “No—No it’s ok. When you say it, it feels different.” She relaxes a little and takes a long swig of her drink, letting out a soft hiss at the warmth in her throat and cheeks. Then she goes to say something, but one of the men distinctly clears his throat making you look over.

It’s the one who hasn’t spoken to you holds up his bottle before saying, “I need another beer, sugar.” 

Another beer your ass. He was just jealous of the attention you were giving to Billie.

The woman across from you doesn’t miss the low growl in your throat. But you dutifully walk over and reply, “After this round I’ll have to cut you off since we’re closing.”

All three of the men’s eyes darken and the one who asked for another beer teases, “Awe come on, darlin’. We won’t stay long.” But you look to them and softly reply, “I’m afraid it isn’t up to me. But there’s a bar down the street that stays open later.” 

In response he purrs, “But if we go there we won’t be able to see your pretty face. I promise we’ll make it worth your time, sugar.” Your stomach churns and you feel nauseous with the way he looks at you like a piece of meat. And to your embarrassment, you find yourself weakly stuttering out, “I-I’m sorry. But my manager would be really upset.” Before anymore can be said you take their empty bottles and replace them with new ones, keeping your eyes downcast.

Fortunately the men don’t say anything to stop you besides muttering amongst themselves. When you go back to wiping the counter closer to Billie. Her chocolate brown eyes twinkle as she mischievously asks, “Are you gonna have to cut me off too?” Her false innocence causes you to smile before replying, “I’m afraid so, Miss Howard.”

She takes another sip, warming her body even more as she purrs, “Please, call me Billie.” You look up and notice her flushed cheeks and unfocused gaze. She is at least tipsy but looks to be closer to drunk. However, she does remain poised for the state she’s in and still looks devastatingly beautiful.

You both quietly observe each other for a moment before you look down to the counters you clean. Billie finishes off her drink, starting to feel the effects of drinking that whiskey so fast. Then she quietly says, “They were right about having friends in high places.”

You place the rag back in the water to rinse it and wring out the excess as you admit, “Probably.” Then you say in a softer tone, “But I don’t think I want their friends.” The blonde nods in understanding and looks down to her one finger that casually traces the rim of the now empty glass as she asks, 

“What if I could help you out? Only if you’re interested of course.” 

You pause your movements, mouth gaped in shock. But you manage to snap your mouth shut and ask, “Y-You would do that for me? But I’m no one special. I mean…I’m just a mediocre bartender.”

Billie chuckles and ceases her movements before looking up to you and answering, “I would be happy to. And you are special.” Her compliment sends you over the moon and you can’t stop grinning like an idiot. 

Billie Dean Howard just called you special. Does it get any better than that?

“Thank you Miss—I mean, Billie.”

She chuckles and replies, “You’re welcome. Could I get your name and number to contact you?” The way she looks to you with her warm brown eyes doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable. So you rip off a piece of paper off of the pad where you write down orders and jot down your cell phone number and name.

Maybe it’s because Billie’s drank too much or that she hasn’t slept with someone in a hot minute, but the way you bite your lip in concentration as you write makes her insides pool. Then when you look to her again and smile with the outside corners of your eyes crinkling a little at the movement, she feels a sense of desire filling her.

You slide her the slip of paper and say, “Thank you again, Billie. I definitely owe you one.” In the process, she gently takes your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as she purrs, “You don’t owe me anything, sweetheart. I’m just happy to help.”

As she looks to you, the medium leans closer and says in a low purr, “Y/n is a beautiful name.” 

She doesn’t want to—she wouldn’t be kissing you, right? 

She keeps coming closer so you stutter out, “Billie, um, I-I didn’t mean to lead you on like that. You see I have—”

But you get cut off by your partner snarling, “Who the hell is this?” That’s when you see the woman in purple at the end of the bar. Her lip is curled, and she looks to Billie with nearly black eyes and if you don’t intervene now, the medium may be joining those she interviews permanently.

So you run over to your girlfriend and soothe, “It was just a misunderstanding, Mina. She’s had a lot to drink.” Then you cup her face and encourage her to look at you before you say, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. If you want, you can wait in the car. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She looks to you with those darkened eyes and you see a hint of hurt and betrayal behind the rage.

So you kiss her lips and whisper, “We can talk about it after I close. No secrets. She’s just drunk and got the wrong idea, Mina. I promise.”

Then Billie walks up, but doesn’t come too close before saying, “I’m sorry. She’s right. She never acted towards me; I’ve had too much to drink. But this is my fault. She was just saying that she had a girlfriend.”

By now your girlfriend has an arm draped around your waist and holds you possessively close. But you sense the heat of her initial rage stabilizing as she looks to you and asks in a low voice, “You were?” You wrap both of your arms around her and reply, “Yes. I know what it looked like, but I promise you, Mina you’re my girl. And I’m yours completely.” 

She pauses and you can sense the wheels turning in her head as she tries to decipher the truth. But she lets out a breath and says in a quiet voice, “I’ll just wait in the car.” You give her a small smile and press a kiss to her lips.

But the moment gets cut off by one of the men saying, “You would really choose her over one of us?”

That makes all three of you look over and you’ve had enough of their bullshit. Your eyes narrow and you shoot back, “Yes. I would.”

The man with blue eyes scoffs and comments, “But you don’t look like a lesbian. You dress so…normal.” That makes your blood boil and you don’t prevent your upper lip from curling as you sneer, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Now the lead man steps forward, and you back away from Mina to stand on your own so you face them directly. He looks to Billie and says, “Well the blonde,” then he pauses, looking her over before continuing, “she could go either way. And the ginger…” he trails off as he eyes her up and down. After a moment, his eyes return to yours and he asks,

“Are you sure you’re really into chicks, sweetheart? Maybe your past experience with men was lacking. But I can treat you like you deserve so you won’t have to settle for... less.”

That son of a bitch.

Rather than answering with words, you walk up and slam your fist into his jaw and keep punching as you yell, “Going out with you would be settling for less you piece of shit!” As you bust his nose and blood gushes out enough to get on your clothes and he yells, “Call the police!” Then you knee him where it counts, sending him down to the ground with a cry.

Once he’s down you run at the man with blue eyes and manage to punch him as you scream, “My girlfriend is better than any of you will ever be! You’re just some fucking perverts!” But before you can knock him or the other man down, two sets of arms wrap around yours, holding you back. You squirm in their grasp and only see red as you growl, “Let me go! They deserve this! The fucking bastards!”

But Billie uses her strength to hold you back on your left side while Wilhemina leans close on your right side. Then she says in an unusually soothing tone, “Hey, it’s ok, darling.” You thrash and roar, “But they insulted you! You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

You see the red and blue lights flash outside of the bar and an officer enters the building. Immediately the men spring into action showing off the damage you enacted on them. That’s when you stop resisting and realize what the consequences of your actions could be. The officer doesn’t handcuff you, but you have to ride with him to the police station where both Wilhemina and Billie promise to meet you…

While Wilhemina Venable would never be caught in such a compromised position hugging you close to her while rubbing your back and murmuring soothing words in public. She not only permits this behavior but encourages you to keep close as you weep into her lilac dress.

Why did this have to be your fault? When you tried to explain to the officer how they were treating you, he said there was no evidence of harassment or threat. And with how injured the one man was, charges could be pressed. This is all your fault. You’ll be lucky to keep your job after this

Between your in-depth interview with the police, the men’s hurtful words, and the time now being around 2 in the morning the tears that pour from your eyes seem impossible to stop. Your face is buried in Mina’s chest and she keeps her arms wrapped around you protectively watching Billie calmly speak with the three men.

Even though the medium is still slightly inebriated, she keeps a charming smile on her lips and warm eyes as if discussing the weather. But Wilhemina also notices that her posture remains tall and her arms are crossed over her middle in an unapologetic stance. Then she gestures over to your trembling figure and the men look to you both. Automatically, the red head holds you slightly closer and looks at them with a cold stare. They speak a little longer and eventually the men walk away.

Billie takes a moment to let out the breath she had been holding and walks over to you, wobbling just a little in her heels. Once she’s close enough, the blonde says, “They aren’t going to press charges.” 

Mina relaxes a little and asks, “What made them decide not to?” By this point, you’ve peeked your head up to look at her and she smirks before replying in a sly voice, “I have my ways.” She gives you a warm smile, but your lip tremors and you rasp, “I’m so sorry for pulling you into this, Billie. I can’t believe I was so stupid—”

She kneels before you and takes one of your hands before soothing, “Don’t say that, sweet girl.” Billie looks to the woman who holds you, making sure she isn’t getting too close, but the woman in purple doesn’t seem bothered. Instead she continues her sentiments, saying, “They were provoking you in the hopes of getting a reaction. If anything, they were stupid for underestimating how you would react.”

Then the medium lets out a small chuckle and says, “You should have seen their faces when you threw the first punch.” Wilhemina smiles too, making you duck your head to hide your grin. Billie brushes her thumb over your knuckles for a moment before releasing your hand and standing up.

The movement causes you to look up and see the blonde watching you both. Then she says, “I want to apologize again about the misunderstanding earlier.” 

Your girlfriend shakes her head and hesitantly replies, “I overreacted before knowing the truth. But I should thank you for speaking with them about not pressing charges.” You look at her with wide eyes, shocked that she would actually admit error on her part to someone she just met.

And Mina surprises you even more when she asks, “Is there any way we could make it up to you?” 

Did Wilhemina Venable just ask that? 

In response, Billie gives a demure smile and casually replies, “Well…we could go out to dinner sometime. I wouldn’t mind the company of two beautiful women.” Then she has the audacity to give the red head a wink, and Mina actually blushes. The woman blushes. This whole ordeal may have a silver lining after all.

Your girlfriend’s reaction makes you giggle and Billie sports a wicked grin as she purrs, “I have y/n’s number so I can let you know when I’m available.” The woman in purple still seems stunned by the medium’s forwardness so you reply, “Oh we will. Thanks again, Billie.” Then she says goodbye and walks away.

Once she’s out of the police station, you chuckle and tease, “She really flustered you, didn’t she?” 

Wilhemina clears her throat and rolls her eyes before replying, “It merely surprised me. That’s all.” You both stand up and begin to walk out to your car. And as you do, you comment, “I guess Billie may not be so bad after all. Maybe we could even get to know her a little better.”

The red head lets out a humorless laugh and replies, “Don’t push your luck, dear.” You both get in the car and begin to drive home. As you do, your phone lights up with a text:

I’m available Friday night if you’re interested in dinner? -Billie

You read her text out loud while Mina drives and she keeps quiet. So you wait a moment before asking, “How should I respond?” The red head taps her fingers on the steering wheel and slowly replies, “Friday works.” 

Her calm demeanor surprises you and you ask, “You’re sure? We don’t have to go out with her if you’re not comfortable.”

Your girlfriend keeps her eyes on the road as she comments, “I’m sure. She seems…interesting. I wouldn’t mind talking to her more.” You smile to yourself and text back,

Friday works. I think you have a captive audience with Mina, which is very rare. 

After a couple minutes, Billie responds, 

I’ll make a reservation. And I’m glad she’s interested. I’m interested in getting to know both of you as well. I look forward to seeing you both again.

You smile at her response and put your phone away, looking forward to getting some sleep and your dinner with Billie Dean Howard.

Tagged:  @marilynroselleprentiss, @saviorinsilk​, @chokemepaulson​, @versonstar​, @find-me-a-constellation​, @cordwliagoode​, @psychobitchtess​, @midnight-lestrange​, @mysweetdelia​, @venablesbitch​, @peachesandlesbians​

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in later works!

[serendipitykpop]

please don’t be mad

Pairing: choi seungcheol x reader

Summary: “I knew it! You don’t love me anymore!”

“I can’t wait to see Y/N!”

After being apart for so long, you and Seungcheol could finally meet each other once more. He was looking forward to this day, this moment for weeks. Now, he could run into your arms and cuddle with you for as long as he wanted. Hence, why his steps had a bounce to them and he was humming a happy tune all the way to your apartment.

“I’m here!” He announced his arrival after using his spare key and kicking open the door. A big smile was plastered on his face as he scanned the apartment for you. He really couldn’t wait anymore. He had grown impatient. He wanted to give you as many hugs and kisses as he could to make up for lost time.

Upon seeing you on the couch, his eyes brightened. He opened his arms as he ran to you. But what he didn’t expect was for you to stay sitting down. Whenever he came over, you greeted him with as much excitement as he did. Sometimes, even more on days where you missed him. So why are you staying put?

Then, he saw why. Your face was scrunched into a frown and you had your back slightly to him with your eyes glued to your phone.

Out of panic, Seungcheol quickly racked through his brain to think of what may have caused this. Did he do something wrong recently? Did he forget to do something? Was it a special occasion that flew right over his head? He didn’t think so. He hoped not.

His arms fell down to his sides, disheartened as he cautiously walked over to you. He bent down to your eye level to have a closer look at you. Indeed, you were angry.

“Y/N?” He waved his hand in front of you, but you didn’t respond nor even spare him a glance. Now, he was getting extremely nervous.

Seungcheol sat down beside you and held the hand that wasn’t holding your phone. He stroked circles into your hand to get you to look at him, but no such luck.

“Babe.”

“My love.”

“Love of my life.”

“Babyyy.”

No matter how many pet names he listed off, even if you were a blush away from looking like a tomato, you didn’t give in.

“Y/NNN.” He shook your hand back and forth. His bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for whatever it is that I did. How can I make it up to you?”

Yet, you said nothing.

“Please tell me if I did something wrong, so I can fix it. Did I do something wrong?” He pleaded. After not receiving yet another response, he pushed himself up off the couch. With a pout on his lips and his head hung in sadness, he sat down on the couch across from you. “Okay. I’ll just give you some space then.”

But the worry ate away at him. What could he do to cheer you up? Or would it be better if he left you be?

The minutes slowly tick by as this ongoing war went on. He was going crazy trying to figure out what he did. You wouldn’t even look at him, let alone acknowledge his presence.

Deciding it was better to do something rather than nothing, Seungcheol dared to come closer to you. He knelt down in front of you and tilted his head to get a better look at your face.

“Y/N,” His voice grew a bit whiny from the lack of attention from you. He tugged on your pants, but that did little to get you to look at him. “Baby. Please say something.”

“Do you not love me anymore? That must be it! You don’t love me anymore if you can’t even look at me anymore!”

He really was making this hard on you. You had to bite down on your lip to prevent yourself from laughing so much. This silly boy.

“Blink if you still love me! I’ll give you five-no, ten seconds!”

He watched for ten seconds and you didn’t blink even once. He let out a yell, his face falling into his hands in agony.

“I knew it! You don’t love me anymore!”

Just how dramatic could he be?

Out of options, he falls down to his knees and his head rests on your lap with his hands holding onto yours. His lips formed a pout as his sadness overwhelmed him. He didn’t know what else to do. He must’ve done it now.

Finally, you made a movement. You let out a sigh and placed down your phone to look at him.

“Do you want to know why I’m ignoring you?”

“Yesss.”

“It’s because of last night.”

“What about last night?” He was at the end of his rope that he really couldn’t care about anything but trying to make things right again.

“You don’t remember what happened last night and what you did?”

“Nooo.”

“Seungcheol.”

“Yes?”

“You didn’t say I love you to me.”

He blinked.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, shaking his head on your leg and making you laugh from the ticklish action. “I thought you hated me!”

“Hey, this is payback for what you did to me the one time I forgot to do the same.”

“I-yeah, that’s fair, but Y/N! We haven’t seen each other for so long. That was cruel!”

“Aw, I’m sorry, my love. Come here.” You opened your arms for him to crawl in to which he happily did. As he laid on top of you with his arms around you, legs intertwined with yours and head on top of your chest, he still wasn’t happy.

“That was too mean of you, Y/N. I don’t forgive you!”

“Fine, then get off of me,” You teased, pushing him off. Though, he didn’t budge from the spot as he whined. You giggled. What a big baby.

“Now, you have to cuddle with me for the rest of the day.”

“And if I have to pee?”

“Too bad.”

“Seungcheol!” You laughed.

“Okay, then maybe I’ll let you go, but besides that, I’m not going to let you go.”

“I’m perfectly fine with that.” You kissed the top of his head to appease him. In response, he held you tighter and buried his face into the crook of your neck after placing a kiss on your neck.

“I love you.” He said with a grin, but it was replaced with a frown when you decided to tease him one last time. “Y/N!”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I love you too, you doofus.”

[renaxwrites]

Eleven

.04  -  18

synopsis: the number Eleven had always appeared in milestones of your life. it was a constant, and you didn’t know why. but you would soon find out when you study abroad in japan and meet Him.

pairing: tsukishima kei x fem!reader

warnings: none!

masterlist: here :)

a/n: more introductions! English will be in bold. Hope you enjoy this one <3

      previous || next

We made a start. Be it a false one, I know.

“Oh. It’s you.”

You turn to see the one and only Tsukishima towering over you. But that didn’t shock you.

His jersey number was Eleven?

Why the hell did he have that number? Is this supposed to mean something? I could be safe to call it a coincidence, but there was no way. Your whole life that number had appeared, so it should be a sign of something, right?

But what?

Millions of questions dashed through your mind as you stare each other down. The split second of intense eye contact felt like an eternity of wavelengths flowing between the two of you. That split second was all it took for everyone in the gym to dissect this interaction.

Hinata, always being the one brave enough in awkward situations, spoke up. “Uh...so you guys know each other?”

His inquiry broke the tiny trace between you and Tsukishima. You glance at your feet, the team, the net. Anything but him right now.

“I guess you can say that,” you admit shyly.

Tsukishima grunts. “She’s staying at my house for the time being. Not a big deal.”

Gee, he’s so nonchalant about it. You weren’t sure how to feel about that, but seeing at the confused looks being exchanged between the players, you felt the need to give a quick rundown of what the deal was. Better to prevent any wrong ideas.

You pipe up after Tsukishima, “It’s really not. I’m originally from the United States, but I’m studying over here now. Mizuki, Tsukishima’s mother, generously offered hospitality while I was over here in the country. Nothing more than that.” You smile assuredly, trying to avoid the need for any more pressing questions.

Too bad that didn’t work.

The two boys that high-fived, who you discovered to be Nishinoya and Tanaka, burst out, “So if you’re from America, you know English, right? Say something in that language!”

Not surprised, you ask, “What do you want me to say?”

A dark-haired boy, who quickly introduced himself as Kageyama, had been quietly observing the entire time. However, he was lightning-fast to give his suggestion:

“How do you say, ‘Hinata, you dumbass’ in English?”

“HEY!”

You pivot toward Hinata’s voice and find him staring daggers in Kageyama’s direction.

“Sorry Hinata, but Kageyama thinks you’re a dumbass. Sorry Hinata, but Kageyama thinks you’re a dumbass.”

Nishinoya and Tanaka whisper to themselves, and you only catch phrases like, “Who knew foreign languages could sound hot” “The way she could flawlessly switch between them bro oh my gosh”. You felt like a bug under a microscope. Especially with Tsukishima’s negative vibes rubbing onto you. It’s so weird how just his presence has been taking a toll on you.

A blonde man, probably in his twenties, strides up to the huddle, redirecting the team’s focus to him. He seems a little intimidating, but not too much. This must be the coach then.

He announces, “Alright guys, the ride to Tokyo is in a MONTH. Just some food for thought, so I would suggest you guys get cracking on your drills sooner than later.”

Daichi claps twice. “Alright! Starting with dives! Let’s go!” And with that, the team narrows their attention to the court.

The coach hums and finally acknowledges you, in a warmer tone opposite to the stern voice he just served his team. “Hey there, seems I missed introduction time. I’m Ukai Keishin, coach of this team. You’ll meet our team advisor too. He should be coming in soon, he just went to get something real quick. So, what brings you here?”

You explain the same spiel you gave the team, and he gives a curt nod. “I see. This might actually be perfect timing then. We were actually going to begin to evaluate each player to find their strengths and weaknesses, so we know what to tweak before Tokyo. You know what, think of today as a trial. Maybe you’ll be able to give us a new perspective we could miss.”

Your eyes glisten at the thought of being legitimately helpful for the team. You felt you were meant to be here.

The doors burst open, and in scurries what looks to be the advisor with multiple packets in his arms. You sense his distress, and you dash over to help him, managing to catch one as it fell off the pile.

“Why thank you! Can’t lose that at a time like this!” he smiles in appreciation.

The two of you carry the papers over to the rest of the staff. More introductions were made on your behalf, and soon Ukai and Takeda, the advisor, catch you up on their latest tactic of evaluating the team. They give you an extra copy of their packet, which lists every player’s strength and weakness.

“Your job, (y/n), is to capture their weaknesses in action. This way, they can physically see what they’re doing, and go from there. You can throw in some cool ones of them too, if you want. So their egos can get a little lift,” explains the coach.

You get to work.

                                    ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You only have the essentials of your photography setup with you wherever you went, while your more professional add ons were in your room. This meant you had to get a bit closer to capture the range of certain angles, but you didn’t mind. You’ve been on a football field, basketball court, and a whole bunch of other arenas where you were drowning in a sea of giants. You’ve definitely seen worse situations.

Practice ran pretty smoothly. You were surprisingly able to shoot everything needed within the players’ packet, so once the team was officially done, Ukai had them all line up. One by one, each player would be able to look at their action shots, and the coach would explain to them what was working, or what can be improved. The players were, to say the least, super hyped at seeing themselves in action. (Nishinoya: “SHE GOT MY ROLLING THUNDAAA!” Your ears rang for a couple minutes after how closed he yelled) You weren’t too familiar with the sport itself, but you made sure to slide in a compliment for every player. It really made all the difference in the world to see their face light up, knowing someone else is motivating their hard work.

But a certain someone has been very difficult to read so far.

Tsukishima approaches you for his turn. What if he doesn’t like his photos? What if the angle you shot his blocking wasn’t good enough?

Why are you suddenly self-conscious?

You show him the first photo burst. A simple serve. Shouldn’t be too much.

Ukai begins explaining volleyball gibberish to Tsukishima, and you’re just trying to focus on not doing anything irrational. Just stand. Breathe. Click through photos. Repeat.

Usually, you’re able to tell what a player is thinking once they see their plays in action. But man, this guy was just so monotone! The only ounce of emotion you were able to detect was the tiniest glimmer of awe in his eye when you clicked through one particular block of his. This was the best from his series in your opinion. At least he recognized it. Your chest felt warm for some reason.

Before Tsukishima was dismissed, you slip him a quick confidence booster. “You’re really good at blocking. You look like you manage to catch anything, it’s awesome!”

He half-heartedly turns your way, looks at you dead in the eyes, and hums as a thanks.

So much for interaction.

                                    ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Practice ends, and the gym gets locked up, much to Hinayana and Kageyama’s dismay.

Everyone begins to go their separate ways. Tsukishima was still conversing with Yamaguchi, so you weren’t sure if you should wait for him or not. Playing it safe, you start to walk, but slowly. Eventually, you hear footsteps crunching behind you, signaling him catching up.

“You shouldn’t walk alone in the dark. Can’t have mom’s favorite getting hurt or lost now, can you?”

It seemed more like a rhetorical question than one you should answer, given the way he has his headphones on. You decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, by trying to keep up with his pace. Metaphorically, anyway. Man, he sure walks fast!

“I know the way back! Plus, there’s streetlights, so it’s not that dark,” you muster out.

He sighs, then takes off his headphones. “You’ve been here one day and you know you’re way around? Seems like a stretch.”

You bounce back, “I mean, it’s literally down the street. The only way I would get lost at this point is trying to keep up with your long ass stride. Chill dude!”

He finally looks at you in the eyes.

He smirks.

Then slips his headphones back on.

You couldn’t tell whether or not this was his way of playful banter, or if he was genuinely trying to get a rise out of you. Either way, he had you feel a certain way. Good or bad, who knows?

The rest of the way continues in silence. And all too soon you both arrive at the house.

At dinner, Mizuki is excited to hear how your first day played out. “You came home along with Kei, so is it safe to assume you’ve already found a club or some sort to be in?” she innocently inquires.

You animatedly nod in response. “Actually, I was with his team. Hinata has shown me around the school, so he’s the one who invited me to their practice! One thing led to another, and basically I’m the team’s official photographer!”

Mizuki smiles and grasps your hand in exhilaration. “That’s great (y/n)! It’s a good thing Hinata was your guide then. Maybe it’s fate! I feel good knowing you and Kei will be around each other often. Isn’t this great, Kei?”

He looks up from his bowl. “As long as I don’t have to carry her from a concussion or something.”  He goes back to his dinner.

Even though you retort, “I’ve been surrounded by pleasures of almost every high school sport, including volleyball. So I’ll be fine,” it still didn’t stop the evident blush that was resting on your cheeks. Why were you blushing? Stop blushing!

Once the kitchen was cleaned and you all were in bed, that’s when your thoughts started to stir. What exactly was the universe trying to tell you with his jersey number? Why did everything he did make you feel a certain way? How was he attractive without even trying? He wanted nothing to do with you, so why him?

Little did you know that he was thinking the same about you.

Why you? With the dumb way your face looks, all cute when it’s flustered? How you were able to flawlessly match his sarcasm and comebacks? He hasn’t even known you that long, so why are you making him feel something he hasn’t felt before?

While you both were drowning in each other’s thoughts, you both were staring at the same wall. The one wall separating your rooms.

It was Eleven o’ clock.

Let's split the night wide open. We'll see everything. We can live in love, in slow motion.

taglist: @jiminslonglostjams @fantasymirror @shewastheriot @lukes-princess @iamthepenguinwhosearseisonfire @its-bnha-babe @desi-studys​ @shootooooo​ @noya-senpai-imagines​ @animefan7420 @anpancari​ @tsukkx​

[into-crazy]

Man Under the Makeup Pt. 3

Arthur Fleck/Joker x Female Reader series

Warnings- Cursing, mention of carrying a weapon for protection, sad conversation

You can find the other parts RIGHT HERE and through the “Man Under the Makeup” tag lovelies!💘

Come 6pm, you were strolling to meet up with Arthur. Around this time, the sun normally sets, allowing you to walk just before the darkness of the night hits. How thoughtful of him not to have you roaming around too late. He of anyone would know these streets, after all. Although you can handle yourself, never leaving your home without your blade and some mase.

Few people seem to be making their way home after a grind filled day. Also those, who for a fact are heading straight to the bar. Judging by their distressed faces, they're in for a large amount of drinks throughout the night.

You're going through the route you normally take for work, keeping an eye out. Walking around the large piles of garbage scattered on some parts of the side walk. Covering your nose from the wretched odors which littered the air. These streets were disgusting! No wonder everyone in the city is pissed.

As you're nearing the spot you and Arthur encountered, you find him standing there waiting. Still dressed and with make on, Joker stands there with a flower bouquet. You find it quite cute how he's patiently awaiting your arrival.

"Y/n, you made it!" He starts excitedly.

"Of course I have," you reply, "why wouldn't I? Hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

He offers you the flowers. "Not at all."

"For me? Why, thank you." Taking the bouquet made of various roses and lilies, you catch glimpse over at the crew he has behind him. About 15 members, gathered a few feet back. "You brought your men, I see."

"I did," he nods in their direction, "they're just for precaution. I got a lot a heat on me these days." He states anxiously shifting the weight between his slender legs.

"So I've heard." You reply waving at the crew who acknowledge your arrival. It's only polite to greet those who would be joining you, even if it's from a stretch away.

"I'll have them keep their distance. They won't interfere with our time." He assures pushing his green hair back.

"Oh no worries," you assure, "I have no issues with it."

The place wasn't far from where you'd met. It was a nice, quiet bistro. Well, maybe it was peaceful right now considering everyone left spooked when you and Joker walked in. His men also made sure the staff wouldn't try to leave or call the cops. So you weren't surprised when your waiter was practically trembling coming over to your table every now and then.

"So, Joker," you emphasize the name, "seems like you've made quite the image for yourself."

He chuckles, "It appears so. Ya know you don't have to call me that, right? We're by ourselves over here." Hinting towards his crew behind him- sat on the complete opposite side of the small eatery. They were doing their own thing, giving you both your respective privacy. Seated directly across him in the corner of the place. So you felt comfortable no one was eavesdropping in on your conversation.

"I'm aware," you tell him, "I'm simply addressing your new persona." Smiling, you take a sip of your drink.

"Right," he adds, "I've got so much to tell you."

"Hm, clearly." You reply removing your large coat, as it was increasingly warmer indoors. Revealing a red satin dress that hugged your body nicely.

"Wow." He was momentarily at a loss for words. "I gotta say, you look amazing my dear." Taking your sight in, admiring the beauty beaming off you. Not eyeing you like a hungry dog waiting for a treat- but genuinely appreciating what he's seeing. You're gorgeous inside and out, he couldn't help but think why you had agreed to dinner with him. Dressed up all so nicely, for him. "Red is definitely your color."

"I'm flattered," you accept his admiration, cheeks growing hot with delight. "You're quite charming yourself, Mr. J."

"Charming? Me?" He questions the word, seemingly confused. Unable to grasp the concept of anyone ever thinking such. He's been deemed the worst insults, in addition to horrifying and intimidating. But charming? And what about.. Mr. J? Oh, he can't deny loving the sound of that.

"Yes, you are. It's- you're different and I like it." You tell him. "But I have to ask, what happened since the last time I saw you?"

He sighs placing his hand on the table. "See before, I've got tired of being pushed around and stepped on. People are so awful, I finally hit my breaking point. This city's lost it's way. So I decided to do something.. differently."

"And what is that?" You give him your full attention as the topic becomes more serious.

"To show the people of this city what life really is." He amusingly states. "See, most haven't quite gotten it yet. They believe I'm doing it for a change in who's running the city. That I'm going to fix everything that's wrong." The sarcasm in his tone may try to sound amusing, but his eyes show something else. His eyes are dark with that last statement. Cold and dark.

"And you're not?" Briefly pondering his words. "No. No, you aren't." You say, shaking your head slightly.

"W-what was that?" He asks scanning your face.

"Of course that's what they believe. It's what they want, right? Some bold new guy comes around to make a difference. But from my perspective, that's not your intention."

He taps his fingers on the table, fighting the urge of a laughing fit. Rising up from the pit of his stomach- catching it in his throat, before it has a chance to emerge. "And m-may I ask what you think?"

"I haven't figured it out yet," you start, "but I know fixing the city isn't the case. The riots, the mobs, the brutality- which happen to be chaos you helped reign. I understand that the wealthy politicians and citizens have their fair part in it, too. But one does not simply seek for so called better change, when that's how they choose to take a course of action."

Joker adjusts himself so now he's leaning forward on the table. Closer to you, trying to show he's not intimidated. "That's a good observation," he acknowledges, "and it's got you wondering the real reason, right?"

"Yes," you reply softly. "Look, I'm not judging. I'm interested is all."

He embraces your curiosity. "I want to show them the funny side of the bigger picture. The world.. this terrible city, this life we're living-" he pauses, "It's a joke. And the sooner people realize that, the happier they could be. It's all simply for laughs, my dear." Shrugging his shoulders at the last statement.

All for laughs? Somehow you thought that wasn't entirely it.

Something else had to have happened. How could a man's eyes that once carried so much emotion go completely dark? Grasping the fact he wasn't telling you entirely why. Maybe it was this "Joker" persona, currently preventing him from letting you in. You'd have to ask these questions when you're speaking entirely to Arthur.

"And to make that work, you had to change?" You recall. "Adopt a new identity?"

"Yeah," he confirms. "As Arthur, I could never have it off. They wouldn't take me seriously and use everything to their knowledge against me- Gotham PD, politicians, those that disagree. But not with the Joker."

"No one knows who the Joker is," you almost whisper looking down at the table. If only the rest of the world could see him as you've seen him- still see him. Maybe if everyone wasn't so shitty with sticks fully up their asses, then perhaps they could've seen the man you thought him to be. Could things have turned out differently? Honestly, who knows.

"No one," he adds, "accept you." He brings your face back up to his- which is intensely close. The heat of his body enticing you further into him. The scent of cigarette smoke and soap strong on him. Gazing onto his bright red lips, you thought he was going to kiss you.

Only to be left surprised when he quickly shys back, leaving you in a bit of a haze. He sits completely back in his seat- seemingly entertained with your response to his withdrawal. You scold him for it.

"Nice to see you're so interested." He implies with a short laugh, flashing a killer grin.

Embarrassed, you lean back into the bar seat. Damn him. How could he make you feel so vulnerable when you'd least expect it? Along with the audacity to gloat about it with his ridiculously gorgeous smile. He knows. He knows exactly what he's doing.

"What makes you so sure of that?" You playfully question him crossing your arms.

"Well for one," he states, "you agreed to meet up with me."

"Yeah, and I was half expecting a man with a lot less makeup on then myself." You tease leaning onto the table.

"And yet, here you are. Sitting across, having dinner with me." He winks putting a cigarette in his mouth. "See the point I'm getting at?"

You huff at the remark. He's toying with you, he's gotta be. "Alright then, fair enough. I'll give you that. But don't sit there and act like I'm the only one."

"I didn't say that," he sneers flicking the lighter until it lights the stick. "I know you're wondering what it is about you that's captivating me."

You hum waiting for a response, "I am."

"I like how you're not afraid to say what you need to say. Mindful for others, but you don't take shit from anyone. I admire that. And also- don't mind me saying- your fascination with a freakish man like myself."

"I don't think you're freakish," you interject. "Different yes.. But I don't perceive you as a freak."

"You don't?" His reply comes out softly. His whole demeanor eases- relaxing his shoulders. It reminds you of that shy man he's holding inside. What a shame to think he might not fully come out anytime soon. Joker could not be seen as too much of a "softie" by the public or his loyal crew. Noo. It wouldn't be good for his image. You need to be completely alone with him if that were to happen. For now, your quiet corner conversation will have to do.

"I never have." You make it very clear to him. "I never thought of you as a freak Arthur. Not before. And not now." You lay both of your hands above the table. He melts with you calling him by his name for the first time tonight. Even more so when he's started coming out of it. He puts the cigarette butt out in a small ashtray by the side.

You take his speechless silence as a sign to continue. "I've noticed you were absent lately.. As I walked by that same spot everyday, and not seeing you there- it concerned me."

He moves his hands closer to yours atop the table. Hesitant in getting too close. "You.. looked for me?" Arthur's heart flutters at your caring words. The fact you noticed that he was gone. No one has ever paid attention to his existence like such- before the Joker that is.

"I did," you continue, "and I grew even more nervous after seeing that clip they played of you on the television.. with Murray making fun of your stand up performance.."

He gently lays his rough hands on top of yours, lightly squeezing with awe. Needing to feel that you were real. To know you are really here, and not an illusion of his mind.

You need a second, looking off to the side briefly before continuing. "I had hoped that it didn't destroy you."

"Y/n.." Realizing he doesn't have to put on this persona to impress you. You look past the clown- past the makeup. Because you've already admired him from the beginning, as Arthur. Heck, even as Carnival, because that's how he'd met you. You care for his well being and feelings. He cherishes your shared moment of silent intimacy. Which is he hasn't had the chance to experience before. It feels nice, refreshing. Like he's finally being seen.

He's the first one to break the stillness. "Well, let's not make this evening all about me," he rests back comfortably. "Please, y/n. How about we talk about you?"

He is all questions and ears for you over the next hour. You inform that you're an office secretary, often working the usual 9 to 5. Which is the only thing going on in your life right now. Having moved here some time ago on your own- no friends or even family. Needing to get away from your life before. However, you'd be lying if you claimed to love it here. You feel alone, trapped. Not just in Gotham, but trapped in your own state of mind. There was nothing in your life, you were simply existing. Only staying because you felt you were part of the few inhabitants that brought some form of color into this cold grey city. But things have only gotten worse for you since. Until now it seems.

"What about you, have you got any family here Arthur?" You ask him curiously.

His smile slowly drops while he thinks of an answer. "No.." he shakes his head, "no one." How? How is he supposed to tell you he killed the woman he grew up thinking was his mother? Who only turned out to be an enabler of his previous ongoing abuse.

No. Bringing her into discussion will only put a damper on such a great night. Eventually he might indeed tell you, but not at the moment. He's having an amazing time with you. Listening to the way you talk, hearing your sweet laugh. Why ruin it?

Towards the end of dinner, you notice Arthur has hardly touched his food. His plate looks as if he picked at it a couple times. Not that it was particularly strange. Perhaps he was too caught in conversation to eat.

"Hey, what do you say we get out of here?" He suggests needing a change of atmosphere. "One of my men over there could drive us. We'll get away from the rest of the crowd. Ride through the town?"

"Sure," you freely agree.

Before you leave, Joker pays the check. Actually pays. Leaving an overly generous tip for the waiter who served you both. Criminal or not, he feels that a gentleman should pay for a first date. Mean, come on, you know the money's stolen. But hey, it's the thought that counts, right?

End of part 3.

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Second Chances - Ch. 33

Hymn to the West 

Warnings: swearing, blood

Word Count: ~6700

Masterlist

Read on AO3

All you can see is black as you begin to wake up. At first, you feel nothing. You don’t know where you are and you barely remember your own name. What you do know though is that you succeeded: Hamish came to help you save Arthur. Unfortunately, your exhaustion got the better of you before you could be much help.

As you breathe softly and slowly, your senses begin to return. First comes your hearing. Birds are singing, but they’re dull. Then you hear the sounds of wet bubbling. The sound is preceded by the smell of cooking bacon. Along with the scent is that of burning wood. 

You feel slightly chilly and a steady breeze wafts over you. A hard surface lies beneath you, further chilling you. Just as you’re acknowledging this, you begin to feel your body and pain comes pounding over you. 

Your eyes flash open and you gasp, your back arching, which only makes things hurt worse. Your upper left arm and shoulder burn particularly bad. Your eyes sting with fresh tears. 

“Woah, settle down, settle down.” Someone walks over and then Hamish’s face appears above you. “Easy. You’re okay.” 

“Hamish?” you squeak. 

“Here, you must be thirsty.” 

He kneels down and takes a water pouch. He tips the nozzle to your lips, dripping water into your dry mouth. Your hands wrap around it, drinking greedily. 

“Not too much, you’ll make yourself sick.” 

You’re in too much pain to argue with him, so you pull the pouch away and breathe heavily for a moment. Finally, your eyes open, even though you’re still in a great deal of pain. 

“Arthur?” you ask. 

Hamish furrows his brow for a moment, his jaw clenching. You suddenly fear the worst. 

“Can you get up?” he asks. 

“Where am I?” 

“My cabin. I’ll explain in a bit, but you better come see.” 

You take a better look at your surroundings. You recognize the stove and the table of Hamish’s cabin. Looking down at yourself, you see you’re lying on the ground near the door. When you stare questioningly at Hamish about your position, he lets out a small laugh. 

“Sorry, had to sort of dump you there and with this leg I can’t lift heavy loads from the ground.”

You nod and then start to sit up. The act is agony. Every muscle in your body is sore and tired. You move your left leg and your knee immediately complains. You clasp it, grunting.

“You alright?” 

“Yeah,” you gasp, adjusting yourself to try and stand. Hamish sees how you’re struggling and bends down to help you up. “My horse, he fell on me when they… when he died.” 

“That’s a shame,” Hamish says, pulling your arm over his shoulders. He gives you a sad look.

“Where is he?” you ask. 

“I’ll show you.” 

The pain in your body is nothing compared to the pain and fear that runs through your chest. Arthur must not have made it, you think. He must have bled out or been exposed for too long. You simply weren’t fast enough.

Hamish begins to walk you, but instead of leading you to the door, he takes you around to the fireplace. His bed comes into view, Arthur lying on his back. 

You let out a painful gasp when you see him and immediately pull away from Hamish to go to him. He’s wearing nothing but his union suit which is unbuttoned to his mid torso, a blanket covering him to his chest. A few pillows line his sides and prop him up slightly in a sitting position, preventing him from rolling. His eyes are closed and his lips are parted slightly. You sit down next to him and brush the hair from his face, tears spilling down your cheeks. 

“He’s in pretty bad shape, but he’ll be okay I think. Got the bullet out of him and he’s got a couple broken ribs.”

You look up at Hamish. “Thank you,” you sob. “How long have we been here?” 

Hamish grabs a chair from the table and pulls it over. “It’s only been a day. When you showed me where he was and passed out, I tried to move you and him but as I said, I can’t pick up heavy loads from the ground with my leg. And from what you told me about your gang, I knew going to town for help or a doctor was out of the question. So I went on the trail and happened to bump into a nice fella and his wife and their teenage son riding in a wagon. I told them the problem and they were willing to help. They were kind enough to help me load you and Arthur into their wagon and bring you both down here. Turns out the wife works in the doctor’s office in Annesburg, so she knew a few things. She helped me pull the bullet out of him.” 

“Was he… was he awake when you did that?” 

“No. We knew he had broken ribs when we tried moving him. Even just trying to get him to sit up seemed to be too painful and he went out soon after. It was a good thing because he was panicking about you when he saw you fall.” 

He pauses and smacks his lips a little. “When you collapsed, he tried to move but just couldn’t. I haven’t seen anyone beaten the way he is with that look in their eyes since the war. Now why don’t you tell me exactly what happened up there? You’re all torn up and he looks worse.” 

You sigh and wipe your cheeks dry, keeping your hand on Arthur’s chest. You’re comforted by the steady rise and fall as he breathes. You tell Hamish everything that happened from the train robbery to saving Abigail and killing Milton to Dutch betraying you. 

When you get to the part where you were by the river with John, you have to pause again as tears overwhelm you. Hamish gets up and gets a cup, filling it with water and bringing it back to you. After taking a sip, you continue on. 

“Micah found me, that little bastard. He told me that he’s been working against us the entire time. How could I have been so stupid?” you sob. “I heard him telling Dutch all about the ferry job all them months ago. He set us up.” 

Hamish pats your shoulder comfortingly. “You couldn’t have known, Y/N. If he managed to play that many sides for so long, he was very clever. Knew exactly how to manipulate the rules of the game in his favor.” 

You nod, looking at Arthur’s bruised and cut face. He hasn’t moved at all. After a moment, you continue telling Hamish your story up to the point where you found Arthur. 

“Please tell me he’s going to make it,” you beg him as if he has any control over Arthur’s fate.

Hamish sighs. “Doing everything I can, miss. The young lady who helped me had some kind of alcohol the doctor uses, gave me that to clean the wound, then she stitched him up. Long as it doesn’t get infected, he should be fine. But to be honest, he hasn’t moved at all since he’s been here.” 

You involuntarily let out a sob and look down, stroking Arthur’s face. 

Hamish sighs and stands up. “Well, I got some bait cooking up, been seeing signs of some giant pig about. I’m going to finish that, then I’ll make you something to eat. You need anything now?” 

You look up at him and shake your head. 

“Okay. Well, get some rest.” 

Hamish walks away to the stove and begins stirring whatever’s cooking inside, which explains the bubbling you heard when you woke up. You watch him for a moment, still somewhat dazed by everything that’s happened. With a heavy sigh, you lie down next to Arthur, resting your head on his shoulder, wishing he would wake up. 

Another day passes by and Arthur still hasn’t woken up. Hamish has been a blessing. He let you spend the night in his bed with Arthur. He happened to have a cot which he set up on the other side of the fireplace. You briefly noticed the fish you caught mounted up as well as the wolf that nearly killed Arthur sitting on either side of the fireplace. Hamish made you a plate of venison with canned peas, but understands when you don’t eat much. 

You hardly leave Arthur’s side, constantly hoping he’ll wake up. Hamish notices the stitches on your face are ready to come out, so he sits down and removes them for you. That’s when you notice the stitches in your upper left arm where the bullet grazed you. Hamish also noticed how you were favoring your left knee when you walked. Figuring it was just sprained, he wrapped it for you. 

You sleep sporadically throughout the morning, your body still tired and sore. By noon, after finishing one of your naps, you wake to find Hamish gone. Figuring he’s out with Buell or hunting or fishing, you get out of bed and walk around the small cabin. Arthur’s hat lies near the door, so you pick it up and set it down on the bed near him. 

You walk over to the small mirror hanging near the sink. You haven’t seen your reflection since you were at Charlotte’s; that also happened to be the last time you bathed. It’s hard to believe that was only four days ago, it feels like a lifetime has passed. 

In the mirror, your face looks awful. While the stitches no longer decorate your forehead and cheek, an angry red line still marks it. You’ll have a scar there the rest of your life. Along with it are the dark bruises on your lower cheek and neck from when Micah attacked you. You rub your neck, despite the tenderness, and suddenly you’re sobbing. 

How can this have happened? The gang you’d grown to love and view as a family is gone, either dead or run off. Arthur’s fate still hangs in the air and at this moment, it feels like he’ll never wake up. You wish you could forget all of it, it’s simply too painful. It would have been so much easier if Arthur never showed up to collect your bounty. 

Hamish walks in at that moment and he sees you breaking down. 

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” you sniff, wiping your cheeks. 

“Come on now, your face ain’t that bad.”

You laugh at his bad joke, despite the pain. “Good. I was worried.” 

He smiles and puts a hand on your shoulder. “Well, why don’t you go get yourself cleaned up? Lake at this time of day is nice and warm and there’s a spot on the south side that’s sheltered from view. You could use some sun, too. I promise you’ll feel better. I’ll stay with him.” 

You nod and thank him. He gathers a bar of soap and a towel and hands them to you. He also points out where he left your saddlebags so you can take out some clean clothes. 

Once you’re set, you head along the shore of the lake to where Hamish described. You find a cluster of large boulders that form a small pool, perfectly hidden from the road and the cabin. You climb up onto the nearest boulder, sitting behind a bush and undressing. Then you slip into the clear water. 

Hamish was right; you already feel better. The water covers your body to just above your elbows and the sun washes over you. You take a moment to enjoy the sensations of both. 

After scrubbing your hair and your skin, you grab the clothes you stripped out of and wash them too. You drape them over a boulder that’ll be in the sun for most of the day and then climb out of the water, putting on fresh clothes. 

You walk back to the cabin, your heart sinking again, not that it lifted much in the first place. When you walk in, Hamish is sitting on the chair he’s kept near the bed and he’s talking. 

“Ah, there she is,” he says when he sees you. 

It only takes you a moment to realize he must be talking to Arthur. Hamish stands up, offering you the chair and you rush over to find Arthur, his eyes open. He smiles when he sees you. 

“My girl,” he says in his deep, gentle voice.

“Arthur,” you say, smiling for the first time in days. You place your good knee on the bed and place a hand on his cheek. He sighs and puts his hand over yours. 

“How you feeling?” you ask. 

“Just dandy,” he says with a smile. “And what about you?” 

“About the same,” you say, your eyes tearing up again. 

His arms suddenly lift away from his body, inviting you to lay down with him. 

“Arthur, your ribs. I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

“You ain’t, darlin’. Just come here.” 

You hesitate and then lay down, resting your head against his neck. He rests his cheek on your head and his arms enfold you. For the first time in a long time, it feels like home. His warmth seeps into your cool skin. Tears squeeze from your eyes again.

He sighs heavily and rubs your back. “Saved my life again, darlin’. Me findin’ you in Tall Trees was the best thing I ever done.” 

“You must be in a lot of pain, Arthur, you’re delirious.” 

His arms stop and his cheek leaves your head. He tilts your face up so he can look at it. 

“I am in pain, sweetheart, but I ain’t crazy. I would have died on that mountain if it hadn’t been for you. If only I knew when I took your bounty poster from that sheriff how much of an impact you’d have on me.” 

“Would you still have come if you knew?” 

He smiles and kisses your forehead. “Oh yes. And I’d have gotten there sooner too. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

You lean up to look at him better. “Well, you saved my life by coming after my bounty, Arthur. Guess the least I could do is save you back.” 

His thumb traces your cheek as he says “Well, you’ve saved me more than I saved you. Think it’s my turn next time.” 

You sigh and lay back down. “I hope there won’t be a next time, Arthur. I’m so tired of running and being scared.” 

“Me too, sweetheart.” 

A few more moments pass in silence. You replay the events of that night when you and Arthur fled with John. You remember the Pinkertons, how many there were, and then you recall how they were still coming when Arthur sent you away. 

“Arthur, what happened with the Pinkertons? When John and I left, they were still coming after you.” 

He doesn’t speak up immediately. “Right after you and John left, Micah showed up. He tackled me and threw me down to the ledge. That’s how these ribs got broke. Anyways, we fought there and because of my damn hip and ribs, he had the upper hand. I fought him as hard as I could but then I just couldn’t stand anymore. His gun got thrown so I started crawling to it. That was when Dutch showed up. Told me the game was over and he’d won. Course, I told him that it was you and John who won, you were the only two to get out.

“I remember his eyes when I pleaded to him. It was like he came back to himself when he saw me, just for a moment. Micah begged him to go with him, but then Dutch just turned around and left. Micah must have figured I couldn’t do much, so he ran off. Pinkertons were still coming, but I didn’t care. Thought I was a goner, so I crawled to where you found me. I just wanted to see the sunrise one last time.” 

You’re quietly crying at this point. You saw the same sunrise, remembering how beautiful it was. 

“Then the Pinkertons showed up. Ross looked at me and said I wasn’t worth wastin’ anymore bullets on since he figured I was about to die anyways. They left after that, chased after Dutch and Micah.” 

He goes silent now and rubs your back. After a moment, he speaks up again. 

“Why did you come back, darlin’? You must have figured I wouldn’t make it and it’d be a dead end for you.” 

You wipe your cheeks again. “I had to, Arthur. Something in me just told me that I didn’t have a choice. But when I was coming back, I ran into Micah.”

“Micah found you?”

“Yeah. Arthur, he told me he’s been working against us the entire time.” You tell him everything Micah said. He sighs, his brows furrowed. 

“He killed Hosea, Lenny, all the others. That goddamn bastard. I wanted to kill him from the start, but Dutch liked him too much.” 

“I saw him, too. He… Micah was about to finish me when Dutch showed up and shot him. Gave me the chance to kill Micah.” 

“Dutch. Did he say anything?” 

“Yeah. He said how he left you to die. I told him if I ever saw him again, I’d kill him.” 

Arthur sighs again. “Good. That damn fool, lettin’ himself get played for so long. I known him for over twenty years, but I don’t think I ever really knew him.” 

“Micah twisted him, Arthur.” 

“No. Think he was that way before, but Hosea kept him straight. Without Hosea, Dutch was free to show who he really was. All them speeches about how he was gonna keep us together, all them things he claimed to sacrifice, how he kept us alive. They were just a facade.” 

You run your hand across his chest. You can only imagine the pain and betrayal he must feel. 

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I’m so sorry.” 

He kisses your forehead again. 

Hamish suddenly walks in. “Sorry to interrupt you both, but I need to take a look at Arthur’s ribs, make sure the swelling’s going down.” 

You look back at him and nod before standing up and moving away from the bed. Hamish approaches Arthur’s side and pulls his union suit away, exposing his right ribs. You see the red bruises on his side and upper chest. Hamish touches them gently, causing Arthur to flinch. 

“Well, looks about the same. Just keep breathing slow as you can.” 

“How long do ribs take to heal?” you ask.

“About six weeks or so,” Hamish says, pulling the union suit back over Arthur’s chest. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do to hasten the process or even dull the pain.” 

You remember the concoction Hosea made you when you’d been shot in the leg with an arrow. “I have something. You have any yarrow and ginseng?” 

Hamish nods and tells you to follow him. Going outside, he leads you to the back of the cabin near Buell’s stall. There, he has a little shack and when he opens it, you see some gardening tools and higher above, hanging from shelves, a variety of dried herbs. He takes some herbs down and hands them to you. 

As you’re heading back to the cabin, Hamish stops to give Buell a pat. He invites you to do the same, so you walk over and rub his neck. The small morgan you stole comes over, looking for some affection as well. Of course, this only reminds you of Artemis and Rannoch and how they died. Pain pings in your chest again, bringing a new wave of tears. 

When you return to the bedside, you sit down in the chair beside Arthur as you grind the herbs up in a bowl. Something on your face must attract his attention.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” 

You stop and look up. “It’s just… Rannoch. And poor, sweet Artemis.” 

He sighs heavily. “I know, darlin’. I miss her. And Rannoch was so good for you. To have him torn away like that after Rain… I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head, letting the tears spill. “They were good horses. They deserved better.” 

“Yes, they did.” He puts a hand on your thigh as you continue grinding up the herbs. Hamish, silently listening, fills a kettle with water and puts it on the stove to boil so you can make a tea. When it’s cooled down, you help Arthur to drink it.

The next few weeks pass much the same way. Every day, you make the ginseng and yarrow tea for Arthur’s pain. His bruises slowly vanish and the bulletwound begins to heal. He starts slowly being able to sit up more and more as the days go by.

A few days after he’d first woken up, you could tell he was growing depressed in the bed from the constant confinement. You know in times like this, he liked to write or draw in his journal, but he’d left it in his satchel when he gave it to John. You take the morgan and ride into Valentine and buy him a new satchel and a handsome leather journal with a wolf stenciled into it. When you show them to him, his eyes light up and the kiss he gives you is one you’ll never forget. 

Hamish is a trooper the entire time you’ve been here. You feel sorry for invading his home and his bed as Arthur recovers, even stating you can both leave and get a hotel room in Valentine or someplace, but he refuses. He seems to enjoy yours and Arthur’s company, claiming he hasn’t had anyone to talk to very much in the past few months. 

When Arthur sleeps, which is quite frequent, you and Hamish go out hunting or fishing, which you enjoy. He’s got such a wealth of knowledge and you learn a few tricks such as setting snares for small game like rabbits and squirrels. He also teaches you how to sew pelts together to make clothes or blankets. On his boat, he teaches you how to make lures with the right combination of feathers and gleam. He also tells you stories of the war or when he lived with his grandfather, learning to trap and hunt. 

One morning, you’re sitting out on the porch with Hamish, tying a new lure you’ve made completely on your own. Arthur’s inside sleeping again. Hamish sits on the other side of the door, cleaning his rifle. He keeps mentioning seeing signs of some giant wild boar. You’ve seen them too, occasionally finding dung, tracks and once a dead ram which had been gored. 

The door creaks open and Arthur walks out, wearing nothing but his pants over his union suit. You look up at him and your eyes widen. This is the first time he’s been on his feet. 

“Arthur! What are you doing, go back to bed.” You stand up, putting your lure and twine down. 

“Ah, I’m sick of that bed, darlin’. Besides, I ain’t been outside in so long. Started to miss it.” 

He limps onto the porch and asks you to move your things so he can sit. You can tell his hip still hurts and he moves his upper torso gingerly.  He sits down heavily, grunting a little. His beard and hair have grown long since he hasn’t been able to cut it since fleeing Beaver Hollow. 

“Well fine, since you insist on being out here, then you gotta let me give you a shave,” you say, going inside and grabbing the chair from the bedside and heaving it out so you have a seat. Arthur just smiles when you come out a second time holding his shaving supplies. 

As you cut his hair, you can tell he’s eating up being outside, hearing the birds and seeing the lake. You know he would have come out here weeks ago, but you’ve been perhaps a little too protective of him. He’s been very patient with you though. 

You move on to lather his face and then take the blade and carefully start shaving his neck and chin. You try not to laugh as you see goosebumps erupting along his neck and arms as you touch him, but it’s clear he’s enjoying it. 

As you wipe the blade clean, he continues looking at the lake. Hamish stands up, holding his rifle. 

“Well, I’m gonna take Buell and go to town, pick up a few things, then go on a hunt. Either of you need anything?” 

You and Arthur shake your heads and he mounts up and trots off, leaving you and Arthur alone. You pack up the shaving supplies and take them inside. Arthur asks you to grab his hat, which you do, knowing how much he likes wearing it. When you hand him the hat, you notice how dirty his union suit is. Even though you washed it after Hamish patched him up, it hasn’t been cleaned properly since. 

“Arthur, do me a favor. Think you can walk over there?” you point to the boulders where you bathe at the south end of the lake. He looks and shrugs his shoulders. 

“I can try.” 

He stands up with some difficulty, putting an arm on your shoulders so you can help him walk. The stairs prove to be a challenge for the both of you, since your knee is still sprained, but you make it down fine. Unlike you, however, Arthur can’t climb up onto the boulder, so you help him strip on the shoreline and then wade into the water, still wearing your own pants. 

Once Arthur’s settled between the boulders, you climb up to your spot in order to remove your clothes. You blush as he watches you, despite knowing he’s seen you like this many times. It has been a while though. 

When you enter the water, he holds his arms out and you walk over, folding your arms around his waist. You’re glad his bullet wound is beneath the water. Although it’s not infected, it looks gross. You press your face to his warm chest and place a light kiss directly over his heart. A soft laugh rumbles through his chest. 

“Hmm, I’ve missed seeing you like this,” he says softly, his chin on your head. 

“Me too. Just a shame we can’t do nothing just yet.” 

“In time, sweetheart,” he sighs. He lets you go so you can grab the soap. You’re about to start cleaning him when he grabs it from you and starts scrubbing your hair. His fingers rub your scalp, sending shivers down your spine. When he’s done with you, he lathers himself up and then allows you to take the soap and wash the parts he can’t reach and then move on to scrubbing your clothes. 

After you’re done, you help him walk out of the water and onto the shore. However, you realize with a pang you neglected to grab fresh clothes for you and him. When you tell him so, he just laughs. 

“Well, I’ll stay here. You take the towel and head back to the cabin- oh, maybe not.” 

You look to the cabin and see Buell’s there, which means Hamish has returned. “Crap,” you say. “And the saddlebags are inside.” 

Arthur just laughs. “Well, give me the towel. I’ll, uh, go get our things.” 

“Arthur, you can barely walk. I don’t want you pushing yourself.” 

“You don’t gotta mother me, Y/N, now give me the towel.” 

You roll your eyes. God he could be stubborn. You hand him the towel and he wraps it around his waist, tying it off. Then, he starts hobbling towards the cabin. It takes him some time, but he manages to make it. He disappears for a few moments inside the cabin, then he comes out red-faced. Even from here, you can hear Hamish laughing. You put your hand in your face and grown as Arthur makes his way back. 

“Well, glad he at least found it funny,” Arthur says as he hands you your clothes. He whips off the towel, smiling when he sees you staring. You blush and quickly dress yourself so you can help him into his clothes. You ask him why he didn’t bring his other union suit and he just gives you a sly look before going back to the cabin while holding your hand. 

A few days later, you finish cleaning up breakfast. You cooked this morning as a way to thank Hamish for his hospitality. As soon as they were done eating, Hamish headed off to hunt and Arthur went outside again. 

Just as you finish drying the last plate, you hear something thunk outside. Wondering what it is, you head out onto the porch. Although it’s late in the morning, it’s unusually warm and you look over to the left of the house and find something that makes you bite your lip and smile. 

Arthur’s standing near a stump Hamish uses to chop wood. He’s got an axe in his hand and is swinging down on a log. What’s got your attention though is he’s removed his shirt. Even from here you can see the sweat on his neck, arms and chest. You know he really shouldn’t be doing something this strenuous just yet, but he just looks so damn good. At least the bruises over his ribs have been gone for the last couple of weeks. 

He must feel your eyes on him because he looks up and smiles when he sees you staring. Instead of talking to you the way he normally would, he continues chopping, only he’s put more of a flourish in his movements, as though trying to impress you further.

With a heavy sigh, you walk over to him. “Honey, isn’t that hurting you?” 

He pauses to wipe the sweat from his brow beneath his hat. “A little, but nothin’ I can’t manage.”

He lowers the axe and embeds it into the stump to stay standing, then he turns to you, giving you a chance to admire the hard lines of his shoulders. You smile and have to look away to hide your blush. 

He walks over to you and enfolds his arms around you, letting you plant your face on his damp and hot chest. 

He begins to say something but then he stops when Hamish’s voice washes over you. Looking back, you find him walking up to the cabin on Buell, singing to himself with two rabbits dangling from his saddle. Arthur sighs and lets you go, putting his blue shirt back on. 

Two weeks later and you’re walking down the trail and back to the cabin with Arthur. He’s insisted every day to take a walk down the trail and go a little further each day. He seems well enough to be able to do it, although you still see him wince every so often. 

Even though it’s been six weeks since the gang fell apart, there’s been no word about Dutch or any of the others. Hamish went to Annesburg a week back and returned, stating the Pinkertons have left. They must have figured Dutch is no longer in the area so turned their attention elsewhere. Not that you care much; you prefer it this way. You and Arthur haven’t spoken of him again. 

When the two of you walk into the cabin, you find Hamish stumbling around on his crutch as he’s taken his wooden leg off. He does this quite often when he’s staying inside, resting what remains of his leg. When he sees the pair of you, he smiles and greets you, sitting down and putting his leg on. He must be preparing to go hunting or fishing again. 

“This is a’right,” Arthur says, looking around the cabin. “Livin’ away from civilization like this.” 

You nod. It has been nice. While the gang never lived in a town, the life was rarely quiet, but here it’s like time stands still. It’s been a welcome change. 

“Civilization,” Hamish grumbles, finishing strapping his fake leg on. “I saw what that and industrial advancement will get you in the war. Progress, well, it ain’t always progress.” He stands up, testing his leg is on properly. “Besides, I’m never lonely up here, even before you two showed up. I always got company with nature. I plan to make the most of it as long as there still is some.” 

Arthur hobbles over to the bed to grab his journal since you and him observed a rather striking bird during your walk. Despite him insisting Hamish take his bed back, Hamish has refused, stating Arthur needs the bed more. 

Hamish limps over to the window by the door. “Oh, there it is! That beast.” 

You and Arthur join his side to see what he’s looking at. By the outhouse stands a massive boar, big as an ox. You never knew they could get so large. 

“Jesus, look at the size of that thing,” Arthur says. 

“When I was coming back from a hunt the other day, I saw some cattle gored, but I didn’t think it was possible for one to get so big. Let’s go get it!” He grabs his rifle and darts out the door. You and Arthur barely have enough time to grab your own guns before Hamish is on the porch. He fires at the animal, but misses, and the boar runs off with a loud grunt. 

“Damn! Thought I got him. You both pursue, I’ll grab the mounts.” Before you can say anything, Hamish runs off the porch with surprising speed. Arthur buckles his gun belt and then hobbles off the porch as quickly as he can. You’re worried about him riding again.

A few days ago, Arthur begged you to let him try mounting up on the morgan, stating it’s been six weeks since he got hurt. You couldn’t resist and helped him mount up. Although he was clearly in some pain, he enjoyed walking around the cabin on the little horse. He’s been riding every morning since, stating there’s less pain, which has given you some confidence. 

You and Arthur run as fast as Arthur’s capable, following the boar. It outruns you though and soon you’re following its tracks. The slots the boar leaves behind head up the side of a small mountain, which Arthur struggles with. However, he pushes on and steps onto the main trail. Hamish darts up on Buell, leading the morgan. 

“Get on! We’ll get this monster.” 

Arthur nods, panting a bit, and climbs up on the morgan. You slide on behind him, worried he might be pushing himself too hard too soon. Hamish trots along the boar’s trail before you can say anything however and Arthur leads the morgan to follow. 

“Pig shit. Think he’s been through here twice,” Hamish says. “Got two sets of tracks, but I can’t tell which is fresher. Can you?” You and Arthur shake your heads. Hamish stares at the tracks for a few seconds. “Let’s split up. You go up, I’ll go onwards.” 

Arthur nods and clicks to get the horse moving, walking up the trail. After walking up the slope of the mountain, you find the body of a freshly gored wolf. 

“Jesus, thing’s goring wolves too,” you say. 

“Keep an eye out, darlin’, don’t want this thing gorin’ us or the horse.” 

Suddenly, from the direction Hamish had been heading, you hear gunshots. 

“Shit, think he’s in trouble,” you say. Arthur tightens his hold on the reins and kicks the morgan into a run, ignoring your complaints. 

“Arthur, your ribs ain’t-” 

“My ribs are fine. Besides, he might be in trouble.” 

The horse canters along the mountain and the trail comes into view. Across it on the next slope you see Buell and Hamish being chased by the massive boar. 

“Shit, that thing’s after him,” Arthur says. He kicks the morgan hard, running down the trail and following the path the boar left behind. There’s a loud scream and then the horse rounds a bend in the path. Hamish comes into view, though he’s lying near the ground. Buell stands 50 feet from him, pawing the ground nervously. 

“Hamish!” you call out. 

Arthur stops the morgan and slides off, running to Hamish’s side. You do as well and see the blood pouring from his thigh. You grip his shoulder. 

“We can fix it. Hamish, we can fix it.” 

He just laughs. “Nah. No, he got me good. Don’t think there’s any fixing this.” He pants on the ground for a  moment. “I got thrown and the bastard hog got me. Take Buell for me, would you? He’s a good horse. He may be stubborn but he’s strong and he likes you two.” 

“Hamish,” you gasp, tears streaming down your cheeks. Arthur pats his shoulder. 

“We’ll take good care of him, just like you’ve taken care of us. Thank you, my friend,” Arthur says. 

Hamish smiles and then, with a final breath, his shoulder sags. Arthur removes his hand and then reaches for you. 

Just as he’s about to take hold of you, something loud snorts behind him. He turns and leaps to his feet. You do too, glaring at the massive boar. It squeals again and then charges. You both whip out your guns and shoot it, emptying your chambers into its head. Just as the boar’s about to ram into Arthur, it stumbles and falls before lying still. 

“Damn bastard,” Arthur growls, holstering his pistol. 

You put a hand on his back. “Come on, Arthur. Let’s get him buried.” You walk over and grab Buell’s reins, wiping your cheeks dry. Together, you and Arthur heave Hamish’s body onto Buell’s back. Arthur swings up onto Buell and the two of you head back to his cabin. Arthur finds a beautiful spot on the east shores of the lake with blooming wildflowers. 

The two of you begin to dig, although you insist that Arthur takes multiple breaks. After a few hours, the hole’s finally deep enough to be an acceptable grave. Then the two of you set Hamish’s body into it. Standing above the grave, you both look at him sadly. After a few moments, Arthur speaks.

“Thank you, my friend. You saved both our lives and we can never repay our debt to you. You’re a good man, and I hope you find peace.” 

You grab his hand as your eyes water again. “Thank you, Hamish,” you sob. “I rarely have good fortune, but I was very lucky the day we met you. You saved our lives when no one else would. I’m sorry we couldn’t save you in return.”

Arthur’s hand slides up to wrap around your shoulders. The two of you stand silent for another few moments and then you begin to cover the body. Once he’s buried, Arthur finds a large, flat rock to mark the spot. For the next few hours, he carely engraves Hamish’s name and the saying “Blessed are those who are merciful”. He asks your opinion and you tell him it couldn’t be more perfect. 

Just as he places the stone down, a light rain begins to fall. Arthur takes your hand in his and heads back to the cabin. You stay there for a few days, but it just doesn’t feel right without Hamish. This was his home after all, not yours. His lake, his trees, his mountains. You tell Arthur you want to head west, somewhere you won’t have to be reminded of how many people you’ve lost. 

Arthur agrees and so you pack up your belongings. You lay a bundle of flowers on Hamish’s grave and thank him one last time. Afterwards, you and Arthur mount up, Arthur astride Buell, and head west into the setting sun. 

**Author’s note: there will be two separate epilogues. I will post them at the same time so that if you choose to read one over the other, you don’t have to wait**

[angelicwolf98]

Dark Anticipations

A/N: This is my first time posting fanfic on here so please go easy on me. I wrote this almost two years ago, so, for now, it's unedited. My writing has greatly improved since then, so I want to see what people think of the story and see if it’s worth rewriting or not.

Pairings: platonic!Mark x OC, platonic!Jack x OC

Warnings: mild violence

Pain.

That’s the first thing my brain is able to register as I slowly regain consciousness. A dull, throbbing pain that reverberates throughout my skull.

What happened? Where am I?

Then I hear the voices. Fear grips my heart at the realization that I’m not alone. Continuing to feign sleep, I do my best to listen in on the conversation, hoping it could shed some light on what the heck’s going on.

There are two voices, both male. One voice has a deep baritone, while the other is more high pitched with an accent that I can’t quite place. These voices sound so familiar, yet I can’t put my finger on where I’ve heard them before.

“How long do you think she’ll be asleep?” the accented voice asks.

“I don’t know,” the deep voice responds. “From what I can tell, she took a pretty hard hit to the head, so she may be out a while.”

“I just don’t understand why they brought her here. I mean, what do they want with a freaking kid?”

The deep voice sighed, “Your guess is as good as mine.”

A sudden wave of intense pain shoots through my head, causing me to involuntarily groan.

“I think she’s waking up,” the accent says.

“Hey, are you okay?”

A large hand is placed on my arm, startling me. I quickly sit up and crawl backward as fast as I can until a wall prevents me from moving any further.

“Whoah, hey! Easy, easy. It’s all right, we’re not gonna hurt you,” the deep voice says.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm my pounding heart, I finally focus on these two strangers. The minute I look up at them, my jaw drops. I now realize why their voices had sounded so familiar; it’s because I know exactly who these guys are. I mean, how could I not! I watch their Youtube videos every single day!

I glanced at the man to my left. He had dark brown hair that was flipped to the side, facial hair that was more stubble than anything else, and bright brown eyes that were filled with concern. He had tan skin, and his facial features suggested that he was probably part Asian. He was pretty built, but his muscles seemed relaxed, and his hands were slightly raised in a non-threatening way.

Focusing on the other man, I can tell that he’s slightly built too, even though he’s much skinnier than his friend. His dark brown hair is similar to the other guy’s, except it’s more spiked at the top. This man’s facial hair is more grown out, but not to the extent of being called an actual beard. He has pale, white skin, and cerulean blue eyes that are also filled with concern.

“Are you okay, lass?” the pale guy asks in his accent.

Lass…

His accent…

It’s Irish…

I mentally slap myself for not recognizing this sooner. Still gaping at these two men, I struggle to find my voice.

“Y-you’re, you’re Markiplier…” I stutter towards the Asian. “And you’re… Jacksepticeye…” I look at the Irish man in awe. Their concern soon turns into surprise.

“So… you do know who we are?” Jack asks. I can only nod. Of course, I know who they are! They’re two of the biggest names on Youtube! Well, on the gaming side of Youtube, anyway.

As the shock of seeing my two idols finally wore off, my mind was immediately bombarded with a million questions. What are they doing here? What am I doing here? Where exactly is “here”?

I glance around to find that we’re in some kind of filthy, dank holding cell. The only piece of furniture is an equally filthy single mattress that lays at my feet. I’m guessing that’s where I’d been laying only a few minutes before. I see a rusted bed frame in the far corner, which is probably where the mattress came from. Seeing just how aged and fragile the metal looked, I can understand why they would choose to lay on the floor instead of the bed.

“I know you probably have a lot of questions,” Mark speaks up, “and I promise we’ll answer as much as we can. Is it all right if we sit with you?” He asks this hesitantly, and I can tell he’s trying his best to show he means me no harm. I hesitantly nod, and they both sit on either side of me.

I don’t know how long we sat there talking, but what I do know is that as time passed, I began to feel more comfortable around them, more…safe. I told them that my name was Hailey Peters and I had just turned fifteen only two weeks prior. I explained that all I could remember was that I went for a walk after being cooped up inside all day due to a heavy snow closing school. I slipped on some ice, hit my head, and before everything went dark, I had seen two pairs of glowing eyes looking down at me.

Mark and Jack tensed as I said that. I looked up at them, seeing the distress in their eyes.

“You know who brought us here, don’t you?”

Mark sighed, “You wouldn’t believe us.”

“Try me.”

“You know our evil alter egos, that the fans made up and we brought them to life in our videos?” Mark asked.

I nodded. I knew all about Jack’s and Mark’s demonic alter egos, or better known as Antisepticeye and Darkiplier.

“Well, somehow, they’re real…and they’re the ones who took us…” Jack continued.

I let this new information sink in. Dark and Anti are real… and they kidnapped us… no. No no no no no. Heck no!

I stood up and faced the two Youtubers.

“Look, I may be one of those fangirls that squeals every time Dark or Anti makes an appearance in your videos, but I know fact from fiction!” I started rambling, “I mean, what is this, a fanfic! There’s no way Darkiplier and Antisepticeye are real!”

“Oh, but my dear, we are very real.”

I froze as a deep, demonic voice spoke behind me. Mark and Jack jumped up quickly, their eyes wide with fear as they stared at the figure behind me. I slowly turned around and came face to face with not one, but two demonic beings. The very beings that I didn't believe existed until now… Darkiplier and Antisepticeye.

They looked completely identical to Mark and Jack, but at the same time, were completely different. Dark was clad in his usual attire of a white dress shirt and grey suit, which matched his deathly grey skin. Anti wore black torn jeans and a black t-shirt that was stained with the blood that dripped from the slit in his throat. His pasty, white skin had a greenish hue to it, while Dark was surrounded by a blue and red aura of light.

I gasped in fear and began to back away from the demons before I felt a firm hand grip my shoulder and pull me backward. The next thing I know, Mark was standing in front of me, shielding me from Dark’s piercing red eyes. Jack moved forward a bit, trying to keep his counterpart’s malicious green eyes on him instead of me.

I was silently grateful for them attempting to keep me out of harm’s way, even though we had just met. Because I knew very well what these alter egos were capable of, and the fact that they were alive terrified me.

“Ḑ̣̔̄ò̘̐ͅ ̫͚̀̕y̖̭͆͗ỏ̠̣́û̘̞́ ̣̙̂̆b̛̫̱̆ė̢͍̈́l̳̰͂͠ì̝͖̾e̪̲͂̓v̜̲́̓e̱͚͂͒ ̟̥̀͛w̬͖͒̈́ĕ̼͙͋'̞̼̈́́r̬̻̒̔e̝̱͊͠ ͖͓̇͝ŕ̯͆͜e͚͓̅͊a͕̘͌̈́l̩̙̎͝ ̨̗̍͐n̛͔̩̆o̩̙̾̽ẉ̬̂͐,͍̈́̉ͅ ̫̳̇̊H̥̤̄͘a̩͇͛̚i̳̘̊̊l̫̜̅͝e͈͚͆̈́ý̢̗͐?” Anti asked with a psychotic smile.

My heart skipped a beat at the fact he knew my name. Jack placed his hands on my shoulders as Mark kept his stance between me and the demons, both men's eyes never leaving the glares of their egos.

“What do you want, Dark?” Mark finally asked.

Dark smirked, “I thought it would be obvious. We’re here for the girl.”

My body shook with fear, and I felt Jack’s grip tighten on my shoulders.

“Over our dead bodies,” Jack growled.

The demons chuckled. “W̲̑e͊ͅ'̱͑l̼̽l̝̕ ͓̐g̈́͜l̮̉a͎̿d̙̔l͙͝y̰͠ ̫͛t͚̋a̠͋k͙̎ẽ̱ ̖̈́ṷ͛p̲̊ ̪̎ṭ̀h͇̑ḛ̀ ̡͆o̖͗f̠͒f̛̹e̮̕r̂͜…”

“Once our plan is complete.”

Dark flicked his hand, sending Mark and Jack flying across the cell. They slammed against the wall, Jack slid to the ground while Mark crashed into the old bed frame, causing it to completely fall apart. Before I could even react, Dark and Anti grabbed my arms and dragged me away. I kicked and screamed, fighting with all my might, but it was no use. I was powerless against these two demons.

“Hailey!!”

I heard my name echo through the hallway as Mark and Jack threw themselves at the cell bars, all the while yelling threats and curses at the demons. Dark and Anti took no acknowledgment of it as the dragged me into a room and tied me to a chair. By this point, I was crying, my anxiety spiking to new heights.

“What do you want with me?!”

Anti chuckled maliciously, “Y͋͜ó̭u͕̔ ̢̈s̢͂ȇ̲e̬̾,̠͝ ̭̽ḱ̪ĩ̢t̫͊t̮̓e͍͗n̦̐,” I cringed at that nickname, “ĕ͉v̘́e̱̓n̰͠ ̣̅t͔͆h͓͂o̭̚u̝͆g̤͠h̛͕ ͈́ẅ́ͅe̠͂ ̥̌a̬̋r̨̅e̠̋ ̥̀o̤̾ư̫r̨̂ ̻̂o̺͐w̼͝n̡͊ ̺̉ḇ̈́e̥͝ǐ̠ñ͓ǵ͜ŝ͕,o͆ͅů̗ṟ̆ ̼̈́ẽ̢s̺̓s̡̚e̩̽n͇̋c̤̈́e̝̾ ̣͐ị̌s͚̃ ̙͑ŝ̟t̯̾ȋ͖l̐ͅl̰̎ ̮̄c̞̈́o͓̔ṇ̽n̦̅e̦͂ç͝t͉̃e̺̎ḍ̓ ͂ͅt̠̽o͌ͅ ͉̉t̠̾h̖͊o̯͆ş̐e̛ͅ ̧̓m͕̋o̤͛r̞̄o̭͆ṅ̢s̝͗.W͐ͅh͚̉ḯ̗c̼͂h̻̀ ̲̕m̹͒e͙͛a̺͑ň͕s̟̓ ̦͐ị̚f̥͗ ̜̆t͖̓h̭͑e̠͌y̼͝ ̻̍d̼͒ì̻ẹ̉…”

“…we die.” Dark continued. “While we can hurt them all we want, we can’t kill them without killing ourselves. So to free us of this, we need the blood of our makers, and the essence of an untainted soul.” Dark smirked at the as my mind struggled to wrap around this information. They needed my soul… They were going to take my soul…

“Ẇ͙e͑͜'̺͗v̜͐ë͓́ ̧͝n͎̑e̖͊v̝̏e̜̚ȓ͚ ͕͝s̲͠e̜̾ẻ̱ṅ̞ ͍͝s͓̅ō̼m̱̈́ė̝ō̜ṇ́e̪̾ ̦͋s̪̚o̪̓ ͖͐p̡̈́u̖̅r̯͝e͔̾,” Anti said as he scraped his fingernails across the blade of a very large knife. Dark slowly walked behind me as Anti continued to speak, “I̲͌t͎̑ ̜͘w͙̚ȃͅs̱̎ ̣̇a̺̎l̼̒l̦͝ ̐ͅs̨̑o̼̒ ̬̈p̲̈́e͕̍r͕͌f̣̄e̼̋č͚t̳̍,̬͂ ͚̋u̦̓ś̢ ̫͒f̺͐i̧̓n͚͋d̮͘i͕̎ñ͍g̬̽ ̰͠t͖̚h̡̍ḛ̆ ̳́v͍̎é̥r͍̾y̘͝ ͙̃t̯̆h̫͝ĭ̞n̡̕g̜̐ ̦͐w͙͐e̼͘ ͓͐ṉ̉ě̳e̝̓d̟͐e̝̔ď̥ ͎̊m͔̂o̫͝s̡̏ẗ̺́.”

“And now, we can finally be free.” Dark was now standing behind me. He gripped my hair painfully tight and yanked my head back, exposing my neck. Anti walked towards me, an insane glint in his green eyes as he raised the blade. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing that there was no escape. Just as I felt the cool metal touch my delicate skin, a loud bang filled the room.

“W̧̊h̗̿à̤t͖̄ ̧̎t̮̄h͍̎e̝̒—”

I opened my eyes just in time to see Jack smack Anti across the face with a metal pipe. He fell to the ground.

“How did you—” Before Dark could finish, Mark tackled him to the ground and stabbed him in the chest with a knife he had grabbed off the wall. Mark began untying my hands from behind me while Jack worked at the ropes around my feet.

“How’d you get out?” I asked as the astonishment wore off.

“Took a screw from the bed frame. Picked the lock,” Jack huffed breathlessly.

Suddenly, I saw movement behind him. Just as I yelled in warning, Anti lunged at Jack and pinned him to the ground. Jack used all his strength to hold Anti’s arm back, which still held the knife. Mark freed my hands and rushed to help his friend as I finished untying my feet. Once I was finally free, I looked up to see Anti lying on the ground with his very own knife protruding from his chest. Before I could say anything, Mark grabbed my hand and we all bolted out the door, ran through the maze of hallways, and finally found the exit. But we didn't stop there.

Once we were outside, we continued to run, trying to put as much distance between them and us. We kept running until we couldn't run anymore. By the time we stopped, the building we had escaped was miles away. All three of us collapsed as we caught our breath. It was only now that I realized we’re in the middle of a forest.

“Hailey, are you okay?” Jack asked breathlessly. I looked at him with tired eyes.

“I-I don’t know…” I then told the boys everything that had occurred while we were separated. When they heard about the demons’ plan, their faces fell in defeat. I knew what they were thinking. As long as Dark’s essence is attached to Mark’s, and Anti’s to Jack’s, then they weren’t really dead. They’d be back, and probably very ticked off.

Mark hoisted himself up. “Come on, we should keep moving. Who knows how long we have before…” He trailed off, but Jack and I both knew what he meant. We were all thinking it. We may have escaped, and we may be safe. But the question was, for how long?

[iwritethat]

Jason Todd: Engravings

A/N: Italics are flashbacks, this ones a lil different to my usual style.

>>>>—————————>

———

"They're cool, kinda badass and luckily these ones are blank!"

"They're cheap and tacky. They haven't been engraved yet - where'd you steal 'em from?" He was always quick to pass judgement but it came from a kind place.

"Stall on the corner, I want to carve my name into it but I'm scared of messing it up."

"..."

———

"(Y/n) - Boss, we've captured the intruder and tied 'em up downstairs - want us to dispose of him?" Your peaceful drink at the bar was interrupted causing a halt to your paperwork as you glared at him.

"My my, so quick to get to the murder. You know it's both polite and resourceful to at least ask what they wanted, so come on." Placing down your pen, you ensured you looked presentable before heading down to the basement with your men strictly following like soldiers.

———

Your hands shook ever so slightly, fingers guiding the knife situated between them in sheer concentration though you'd yet to even graze the shiny steel. You winced, pulling away the blade with a frustrated sigh.

"Give it here, a knife is too big anyway." The exasperated tone of your friend reprimanded, briskly untangling the chain from your fingertips, then glaring at it before shoving it in his pocket and walking off into the alley leaving you with no explanation which left you to business on the streets.

———

The doors flung open signifying your arrival and the discovery was less than pleasant, a decently built male securely tied to a chair with guards standing on either side and his jacket and under armour folded on the table beneath his crimson helmet.

"Why did you uh... remove half of his clothes? That seems a tad unnecessary..."

"Ah that symbol electrocutes anyone in close proximity as Mal discovered but we didn't make that mistake twice." A henchmen quickly answered, sheepish expression on his face.

"Hm, clever. Is Mal okay though?" Not many held concern for their hired guns but you were a rare exception which is why your company were renowned for their loyalty toward you. Nevertheless, one of the guards nodded with a smile, once more placing down the offending piece of armour.

"Alright dumbass, what were you thinking breaking into my fine establishment?" Came your charming voice, fingers grazing across the back of the chair before stopping in front of your ravenette prisoner.

"That's no way to talk to your guests sweetheart, but admittedly it's one of the nicest places I've broken into." His icy gaze finally met yours, and that was when you noticed the reflective glint on his bare chest.

Instantly you knelt before the handsome stranger, fingertips barely brushing the heated silver before you received a vicious threat.

"Touch that and I'll personally make you regret it."

Regardless of his venomous attitude, you gently grasped the engraved dog tags - the gesture definitely not unnoticed by their wearer nor the foreign expression that briefly crossed your features.

———

"Oi!" The moment you'd acknowledged the voice, a slither of steel was slung in your direction capturing the light of the moon as it flew through the air.

You barely caught it, faltering before recognising the item and running your thumb over the new alterations.

'Name: (Y/n) (L/n)' accompanied by your birth date with enough space for another line if needed. However, you filtered through the next one as the tags originally came in a pair but this one was different.

'Name: Jason Todd'

'DoB: 16/08'

———

What surprised the majority in the room was your next swift movement, using the chain entangled around your digits you pulled him down to your level bringing your lips to his ear to prevent eavesdropping guards as a precaution.

"If you're Jason Todd, then what does (Y/n) (L/n) mean to you?" With your secretive whisper, the males muscles instinctively tensed and he looked to you with shock in his irises before scowling.

"That's a bold assumption."

"No, the fact you wear jewellery underneath your getup suggests it's sentimental. As it's a pair of engraved dog tags I would've thought military but there's no ID number and they're close to your heart aren't they?" Was your solemn explanation despite knowing exactly what they represented, though you still felt resentment radiating off of the captive as you waved your guards out of the room to speak more freely.

"How do you know I'm not (Y/n) (L/n) smartass?" Was his comeback, wrists twisting in his restraints.

"Because they're incredibly attractive, duh."

"Wait - you know (Y/n)? If you've done anything -" His voice seemed more lively now, like emotion was tied to that name and the hope of finding them.

"Just tell me why you're here already as I might be able to help." Unbeknownst to him, the person he seemed interested in stood right before him - not that you’d tell Jason that just yet.

———

"Why's your name on here?" You mischievously inquired, smirking at your now flustered friend.

"Wha- well because I made it, it's my signature duh." He shoved his hands into his pockets, gaze diverted to Gothams' skyline and pout upon his lips that only made you laugh.

"Uh-huh suuurre."

"If you don't want it then throw my one back." Came the snappy callout, Jason now looking at you expectantly.

"And split them up? That'll look weird." You shook your head, playfully pulling the tags away from his grip as he went for them and proudly clipped them around your neck.

"People probably say the same about us to be honest."

"What was that red?!" You didn't quite hear whatever he'd muttered under his breath, but knowing it would've been somewhat sentimental his defensive reply was expected.

"Nothing jeez!"

———

"I want Black Masks location. Now your turn."

"Roman has no influence over me or my club but I know some regulars who work for him so we can sort something out." With a brisk motion you'd slit the restraints on his wrists thus freeing him.

It was a stupid thing to do, your fingers instantly reaching for your necklace out of nervousness once you'd turned your back on him - it was a habit, you'd put your faith into a common criminal and were hoping he wouldn't kill you now he had the opportunity.

Instantly you realised your mistake, seconds later you ended up with your back roughly trapped against the table, knife to your throat and 6ft war god holding you right where he wanted you.

"Thanks for the assist doll, but you never answered my question about -" As he pulled back, there was a strain, a twinkle of metal against metal as the two chains kept you tied together.

His gaze flicked from the interlocked dog tags then back to you, recognition flooding him instantly as the knife clattered against the tile and his brows furrowed as of analysing you.

"You were right, (Y/n) is incredibly attractive..." Jason was breathless, a contrast of awe and snugness on his handsome features.

"Speaking of, clothes!" You’d grabbed the folded material and shoved it into his chest with a huff whilst subtly attempting to hide your undoing due to the close proximity.

It didn’t take much to detangle the chains so he could get dressed but not without a somewhat interesting reunion - it had been a few years since you were misguided street kids.

"I heard you were dead." Jason started, no doubt he’d inquired about you on the streets but judging by the last man any of your old acquaintances saw you with, you didn’t blame them for their presumptions.

"I heard you were dead."

"Touché, I came back though. Not 100%, but back." Jason commented, scratching the back of his neck which already told you this was a sensitive subject that you noted to delve into in the near future among other things.

"We really changed huh, you got adopted by Bruce Wayne, I got taken in by Carmine Falcone and now we're on the same side again. Sort of..." You playfully shrugged, offering your friend a small smirk.

"Falcone - you became a freaking underground crimelord?!" His shock was evident, jacket dropping to floor whilst he rubbed his temples then gesturing for you to elaborate.

"Says you! Look I did what I did to survive, after Falcone was killed I stayed out of everyone's way and kept this club and it’s profits under my control. No one owns me anymore. But nice to see you kept my nickname for you Red Hood!"

“I knew you’d do great and I have my reasons, it’s not just because of you. Anyway, Black Mask - we should probably y’know...” The big bad vigilante was flustered, a gift of yours that supposedly maintained its effectiveness through the change and so you couldn’t help but continue.

“Are you sure, you did call me attractive.”

“Yeah well you are so... whatever. And besides, you’re rich but kept the cheap dogtags so I guess I’m not the only sentimental one.” Jason closed the distance as he spoke, a gentle brush over your heart as he tugged on your tags with a smirk.

Since you seem in so much of a hurry I’d love to properly catch up some time if you��d allow it. So I f you’re quite done staring at my lips Jason I’ve got a club to open and there’s someone we need to speak to.” You tilted your head in a challenging manner before making your way to the staircase with a devious smirk as you finished your implied invitation.

“...I haven’t missed you at all. Just so you know (Y/n)!” Your partner hollered after you, hastily throwing on his jacket and grabbing the helmet before joining your side with a playful nudge as you walked to the bar.

———

"Even though you're rich now, you still haven't grown out of throwing things at people!" You mocked anger, huffing at the offender.

"Not people, just you." Jason wittily replies along with a wink.

"Oh wow, thanks I'm honoured." Your sarcasm was fluent, inspecting what he’d thrown at you before commenting on the chain.

"Jason what's this, they're replicas of the dog tags I wear already."

"Yeah I know, but these are silver. They're better." His light blush went amiss as he stopped before you with his explanation.

"You brought these?"

"Figured I might as well get you something, besides like you said, I'm rich now."

"Keep 'em." You effortlessly tossed them back, Jason catching them with both disbelief and confusion.

"But I-"

"I don't care - I don't want them. I like my ones - they're had crafted by Jason Todd and I have the crafters signature to prove it. Although since they are almost a matching set..." You trailed off, Jason's curiosity piqued as you unclasped the silver and walked behind the male who, despite his wealthy residence, kept his red hoodie.

"You should keep it, that way you'll have me close to your heart like you are to mine." Came your continuation, latching the tags around his neck whilst you walked around to face him, fingers lingering on the silver in the centre of his chest.

"Never knew you cared."

"Oh I don't, but I still have the original Red. And the originals are always more valuable."

———

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

(This is just an au idea I had a while back for My Hero Academia. Should only contain spoilers if you haven't watched Season 3 yet, but I'll tag anyway just in case)

The child was lost. He hadn't gotten very far, after all. The few adults who noticed him in the out-of-the-way spot either hurried past, or looked at him strangely. They were probably wondering if he'd gotten into a fight and was avoiding people. Somehow, they didn't seem to notice how frightened the little boy was.

But someone else did.

Originally, he'd been planning to wait an entire day before swooping in to the "rescue". But with a storm rolling in and the look of desperation he could see even from the rooftop, he acknowledged that he could also "save" the boy now. Whatever made him more malleable in the end.

And so he had stepped out of the shadows, tsk-tsking.

"Nobody came to save you, did they? How awful, they left you all alone...Tenko Shimura."

But the man had made one miscalculation.

[[MORE]]

The terrified kindergartner looked up at the height and build of the man who'd just snuck up on him, and his mind registered his presence as "Threat! Stranger!"

So when the man moved forward and suddenly reached down towards Tenko's head, he panicked.

"No!" he gasped, flinging his hands out to defend himself on instinct.

The man known as All for One had planned for so many things, had manipulated so many lives. And in one instant, it had been completely undone, because Tenko Shimura was afraid of strangers.

"Whoa!" a new voice shouted suddenly, "Holy crap, you broke him!"

A tall, thin boy in an highschool uniform peered into the mouth of the alley. He looked to be fourteen or fifteen, tired, but also startled. Tangled black hair fell over his face, covering his expression for the most part, but he sounded worried.

"Are you okay? Was that guy trying to kidnap you? We should get the police."

Tenko burst into tears as the older boy edged into the alley. "N- n- n- no, don't touch- my hands, they- my quirk won't- won't turn off!"

"It's okay," the other boy said, as calmly as he could, given that he'd just seen a man disintegrate, "I can fix it."

His eyes suddenly glowed as red as Tenko's, and his hair flew upright. At first, Tenko couldn't feel a difference. But when the older boy took his hand, nothing happened.

"I erased your quirk. It'll only last until I blink, so we better find something to cover your hands quick." He tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. "I'm Shouta. What's your name, kid?"

"Tenko."

"Okay, Tenko," Shouta fished around in his pockets and frowned. "Uh...okay, I gotta blink. Stand back a second." His hair fell back around his face, only to rise once more in seconds.

They improvised a pair of gloves out of a discarded t-shirt someone had left in the alley. Shouta patted the smaller boy's head and sat him down on the curb.

"We need to stay right here, okay? I'm gonna call the police. They'll probably want to ask you questions about that guy."

"He said nobody would come save me," Tenko sniffled.

Shouta grimaced. "Creepy. Maybe he was a villain?"

He kind of hoped so. The alternative wasn't much fun to think about, and Shouta had a feeling that giving in to his nausea right now would make matters worse.

The police arrived a few minutes later, with a few medics in tow. They questioned the boys separately, which meant that Shouta didn't hear how Tenko had come to be in the alley in the first place.

"He just got his quirk, but it won't turn off," he told the officers as the alley was blocked off for investigation. "My quirk can turn quirks off for a minute, so when that guy grabbed for him and he turned him into dust, I erased his quirk."

The officer taking his statement grimaced. "Poor little guy, that's pretty awful. That was good thinking, kid. Technically, you can't go around using your quirk in public. Judging by your uniform, you already know that. But right now I think you did the right thing. Since you prevented further injury or death, I'm gonna let you off with a warning this time, okay?"

The paramedic who had been tending to Tenko hurried back over suddenly. "There's another location we need to check," she said.

"Another-?"

She nodded. "It's looking like we have a case of Catastrophic Quirk Manifestation Syndrome on our hands."

The officer sighed and massaged her temples. "Oh no. Poor kid. Is it me, or is CQMS happening more frequently these days?"

The paramedic shrugged helplessly. "Quirks are getting stronger every generation. It makes sense, unfortunately. Do you still need to talk to the little boy? I want to go ahead and take him to Endor Children's Hospital."

"We can talk to him once we locate his family," the officer nodded.

Tenko shuffled up with another medic. "Can you come, too?" he whispered to Shouta.

"I can nullify his quirk," Shouta said by way of explanation, which sort of made things easier.

They were silent for most of the ride to the hospital. As they arrived, the second paramedic smiled at them.

"Everything will be okay, boys. You'll see! In the meantime, while we wait for your parents, you know what? All Might is supposed to be visiting this hospital today, to read to the kids! Maybe you'll get to see him!"

Privately, Shouta thought that sounded like chaos. But Tenko actually perked up a little bit, so he didn't say anything about it.

[austennerdita2533]

A/N: This is my Klaroline Winter Wonderland gift for the lovely @laufire. Thanks fam for another wonderful fandom event! Y’all rock my socks and I can’t wait to finish reading everything. :)

xx Ashlee Bree

Summary: Klaus knows Caroline has a prom to plan, that she's more or less threatened him not to bother her again after she helped "bring him back" from Silas's mind intrusion, but he's confused by the influx of text messages she's shooting his way. And all those angry tomato faces, too. He's not scouring the earth for Tyler, he's not siring or slaying hybrids, he hasn't bothered her friends or tried to contact her at all...yet she's upset with him for some new reason. And he has no idea why.

What's changed since "friends, then?"

(FF.net) (A03)

A Call That Angers, A Moment That Exposes

“Listen, love, I know you warned me not to call you after our little Silas incident,” Klaus drawled when he heard her answer the phone with an irritated click-and-huff, “but I feel I require an explanation for the onslaught of angry tomato faces you texted me a short while ago. Is the quantity meant as mere hyperbole or have I somehow managed to offend you ten separate ways without my knowledge or consent this fine Virginia afternoon?”

“Those weren’t tomatoes, genius. They were scowling emojis,” Caroline said, correcting him.

“Tom-eh-toe, tom-aw-toe…”

“Oh, for crying out loud! Can you not be impossible for two minutes, please,” she snapped, “or is that too much to ask of you?”

“Perhaps if you tried asking me nicely.”

“I don’t know why I bother asking you anything. Let alone talking to you at all,” she mumbled through clenched teeth. “Ever.”

“Just for the record, sweetheart,” Klaus interjected with a soft chuckle, paying no heed to her grumbling commentary because her revulsion was oddly endearing not to mention futile, “I believe one scowling text would have been sufficient enough for me to denote your obvious but unfounded anger.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding. You’re kidding, right?” Her tone was half accusation, half roll-her-eyes-because-she’s-not-surprised-by-this groan.

“No…” he trailed off, “no, can’t say that I am.”

“You’re unreal. Abso-lutely unreal!”

“I assure you I’m quite in earnest, Caroline.”

“Ha!”

“Post-stake-stabbing and bleach, I thought we left things okay? And, dare I say, more or less…” Klaus paused for effect, “friend-ish?”

He gripped the phone tighter to his ear. “What’s happened here?” he asked, unable to prevent that note of panic and concern from creeping into his throat, but desperate to swallow it down before she heard anything untoward.

“Un-freaking-believable,” she muttered under her breath, and scoffed for extra measure.

Klaus could picture her standing there—in her light and airy bedroom, before the fireplace at the Salvatore boarding house, in front of her alphabetized locker at Mystic Falls High, leaning against the pool table at the Grill, clutching her ‘x’-marked clipboard at a prom committee meeting (or wherever the bloody hell she was)—with her hands on her hips and one foot tapping with impatient energy as she readied to scold him in that perky, but razor-sharp-and-smiling, way of hers that meant business.

“I mean, why should I expect you to be anything but infuriating and goading as hell? It’s always the same with you no matter what, isn’t it? You push, push, push. You don’t stop,” she continued in a shrill voice, “you never stop!”

“Let’s skip past all the unpleasantries and blame, shall we? Just tell me what atrocity I’ve ‘supposedly’ committed,” Klaus air-quoted, scraping his fingers down his weary face and plopping himself into a leather armchair in his bedroom with a sigh, “so I can work out how to acquit myself.”

“Oh, please! Don’t pretend like you don’t know exactly why I’m pissed.”

“Who’s pretending, sweetheart?”

“Ugh! I swear I’d stab you with that white oak stake right now if I could,” she replied tartly. Caroline would probably throw her head back here, fists balled, then narrow her eyes at him until the hostility she directed toward him became palpable and blanketed him in the kind of hurt and disappointment he’d prefer to ignore. Then he’d lie to himself so he could believe those emotions never surfaced, that they were never there. “This isn’t funny Klaus!”

“Again,” he said as his voice unraveled into something more pointed and humorless, “who’s laughing?”

She relented a little bit here, but not enough to erase all remaining traces of annoyance, frustration, and disgust from her words.

“Just tell me how to fix it, okay? Or at least tell me which one of your minions you deployed to snatch then tamper with it, so I can bully him or her into correcting this nonsense. I suggest you do it soon, too, before I stage a coup and convince Silas to come after you again enacting my revenge.”

“Fix what?”

Caroline released an exasperated sound akin to a ‘why didn’t I kill you when I had the chance?’ “Stop acting clueless!” she demanded, her foot stomping in the background.

“I’m not.”

“You are, too! This isn’t a damn game, okay? It’s my life.”

“And this is my bloody time you’re wasting!” Klaus cut in as his patience fractured, jaw ticking.

“Stop screwing with me, then!” she shot back, more pleading than irate.

“I assure you I’m doing no such thing. But I am growing exceedingly tired of these riddles, Caroline.” Klaus’ knuckles whitened and dug into his knees as he leaned forward and half-growled into the phone. “So either tell me what on God’s earth prompted your emoji frenzy and sour as lemon attitude, or I promise I’ll hang up and tear into the next innocent human throat I see, leaving you to pick up the detached limbs all over Mystic Falls—alone.”

“Are you seriously going to sit there on your proverbial iron throne and act like you never stole—never hacked into my damn phone!?” she asked, incredulous.

“Call me old-fashioned or ill-informed, love, but I was of the opinion that friends didn’t take or break into each other’s belongings without permission?”

She laughed bitterly, disbelief rolling off her tongue like blades of ice, “Yeah, sure. And since when do you, of all people, follow rules of protocol?”

“I don’t,” Klaus answered. Caroline hummed triumphantly. “That is…” he licked his lips, rubbing them together uncomfortably, “That is until I met you,” he added in a low timbre.

“Oh, really? So what does that make me, then,” she clucked spitefully, “your almighty exception?”

“Stranger things have happened, so who knows? You could be, love. You could be.”

“Wait…what!?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, “Nothing,” he murmured.

“Did you just—”

“Nothing!” he barked as panic scuttled up his spine like spiderlegs. “I said nothing, damn you!”

Klaus regretted the admission the moment it left his mouth, the words sliding across his teeth and slipping out between his lips in a soft, artless way that betrayed too much meaning and speared their banter into silence, becoming a vulnerability he hadn’t intended to share with himself not to mention speak out loud. To her.

It was amazing and appalling, the things Caroline stirred inside of him. Mercy, pity, forgiveness, hope, tenderness: all of those human sensibilities she pulled out of his dusty, darkened recesses like entrails without trying—one-by-one—to make him almost grateful for the taste of blood they left behind whenever she was done; finished for the day, perhaps, but not ready to give up on him. Not quite, not yet.

Something unsettling always seemed to sink beneath his skin in her presence, behind her scrutiny, because of her influence and how she challenged him at every blasted turn whether she stood before him or berated him over the phone about a slew of ‘the Allure is calling for you, so come and surrender’ notifications; and he often felt himself bending in places he swore he would never budge again let alone would threaten to break open anew. He found himself willing to sacrifice certain things he wanted merely to make her smile. He found himself hoping to provide her with the happiness she desired.

Truth be told, for the first time in centuries, he found that, for Caroline, he at least wanted to try.

__                                                   __                                                  __

After a few more seconds of wordless awkwardness, therefore, particularly since there’d been no resolution between them over this whole phone rubbish, Klaus suggested they meet somewhere neutral and out-of-the-way (some place crowded, if she preferred) to debunk this whole mystery over a cup of coffee.

It could be our new “c” thing, he was tempted to say but didn’t. Like champagne.

Caroline hesitated at the proposition for what seemed like a decade. Then, after sighing as if she’d exhausted all other appealing avoid-the-hybrid options, she resolved to meet him at Wake Up Café on the outskirts of town within half an hour. Making sure to warn him beforehand, of course, that if this whole thing turned out to be some twisted, contrived game he’d concocted in order to trick her into spending time alone with him, she’d make him regret it. Sorely and completely. (As if he was somehow fool enough not to know that already.)

She wasted no time once she arrived at the coffee shop, either. She never did.

Caroline preferred to bite right into the meat of things, bypassing all the fat and fluff to chew on the truth of things with him, which is something he not only respected but admired. She was determined—to the point of tenacity, frankly—to sniff Klaus out for lies or suspicious behavior while she unloaded on him the barrage of “Allure” messages and notifications she’d received over the last day-and-a-half. The ones, as she’d soon come to understand, had been forged and delivered by a hand that wasn’t his.

“It doesn’t make sense, okay?” Caroline said, her fingers tearing through blonde tendrils. “Who else would go to such ridiculous lengths to convince me to acknowledge a so-called attraction to darkness, if not for you?”

Klaus shrugged. “It could be one of those asinine teenage pranks?”

“None of my friends are that cruel. Or stupid,” she added in afterthought.

Klaus averted his gaze. He traced the rim of his coffee mug with his index finger as the corners of his mouth twitched, “Are you sure you about that, sweetheart?”

“Yes!”

“Of course,” he nodded, unconvinced. “Whatever you say.”

She glared at him here, but it lacked substance and dwindled into uncertain obscurity in seconds, creasing her forehead like a question mark and giving way to the amused chuckle he hadn’t realized he’d been trying to stifle.

“Don’t be an ass,” Caroline pointed in warning, fighting back a smile.

“According to you,” he clasped his hands together and leaned his elbows on the table’s edge, “I can’t help myself. It’s apparently one of my most prominent and more inherent qualities,” Klaus said.

She frowned. “That’s not true.”

“No?”

“No,” she answered with a shake of her head. Sighing, her blonde waves spilled over her shoulders as she peered up at him with a flicker of something soft in her gaze he didn’t recognize, “Believe it or not, you can be okay sometimes.”

“Really now? How fascinating.” Klaus scooted upright, adjusting his posture so as to show her his attentiveness, “Tell me more.”

“There’s no need for you to grow a bigger head than you already have or anything,” Caroline rolled her eyes. “I only meant that—just—you’re not totally—” she fidgeted, pausing to collect herself, “I mean, your company isn’t always so—”

He inched forward and let his palm slide flat across the tabletop. “Yes?”

“Whatever. Never mind.”

She bit her bottom lip; waved him away with a blush.

“Don’t worry, love,” Klaus intoned, warmth buoying in his chest because their fingers were only millimeters from touching, “I aim to improve upon that sometimes. And I will, you know…straight away.”

Caroline arched an eyebrow but didn’t move or retract her hand as she shifted closer to smirk and whisper, “You’re exhausting, you know that?”

“I do, yes.” Considering her with a tilt of his head and a smug look, he added, “But I think perhaps you enjoy that about me? I’d venture a step further to say I believe you like the enigma I am because it’s unsettling and more than a little provoking to you that I’m shadowed and full of sharp edges and layers. I think…why, I think I intrigue you.”

He paused to run his thumb across her bedrock of knuckles, careful not to look up for fear of exposing too much or too little. Then, with a scratch of his chin, he added, “Occasionally, anyway.”

“You infuriate me, too, though,” she said a little too forcibly, the reply coming out louder than she’d intended.

Klaus grinned.

The rest of the café evaporated. No more screeching chairs, no more dings from the cash register, no more crying infants, muffled business, or coffee spills—nothing more was heard; nothing else was seen or smelt or touched. It was just a suspended moment now. Her and him. Them. This. It was just their slipping, sliding, perfectly mismatched, fingertips skating into position for the first time to graze skin, timidly; tenderly; and seeming to electrify them both in tandem like a cosmic click.

“You infuriate me most, I mean. Like—” Caroline stalled to run her tongue over her lower lip, probably knowing she should push back and let go of his hand…but she didn’t; she couldn’t, “Like, more than anything.”

“I know. You needn’t explain,” Klaus conceded, the words rolling out of his mouth in one hoarse breath.

Inhaling, he let her scent percolate. He roamed her features, relished the feel of her silky vanilla hand beneath his because it was warmer than he’d imagined—all the way through tendon and bone—and it made his heart gallop until all the sense he had left buried itself beneath a shallow grave to rest. No longer sleeping like it had been in the months since they first met, but killed into restlessness. It was a fate worse than death.

“Right. Good,” Caroline clipped at last, her gaze narrowed on their still-bumping fingers; her breathing erratic and disturbed, her cheeks reddening because she knew damn-well she never denied it. No, she never denied being intrigued by him…liking him…wondering, wishing, wanting…something…anything.

The rebuttal never once left her mouth, never once breached her lips to smash against his ears like cymbals. It dissolved. Faded into silence. Or, more unbelievable than not, perhaps it was never there.

“Just so…just so we’re clear then,” she said, disguising a shudder with a whip of her hair over her shoulder.

“Of course.” Klaus’ eyes were steady, penetrating: warmer than honey. More gold. “Always.”

A knock sounded on the window then, interrupting them. Breaking the moment and the tension like a snipped-in-half pling.

Turning, Caroline drew back from him to throw her hands over her mouth and squeak in a mixture of surprise and horror; Klaus crumbled a napkin in his fist and snarled, his mind swirling with fury, shock, and confusion. They were frozen. Stunted. In a matter of seconds, they became two vampire statues cemented to their wooden chairs, gaping and blinking in an effort to regain some semblance of composure—grappling to understand what in bloody hell this meant—and trying to ascertain if it was some kind of trick, or if it was a witch-brewed dream. After all, was not the world full of monsters with bloodstained vendettas who either already were, or could become, their enemies?

Regardless, the last thing they expected was exposure. Like this. By a man such as him.

Silas.

Never once did Klaus take his eyes off the impostor who stood before them in the middle of the sidewalk dressed in his favorite Henley, wearing his smug smirk, and waving his private and in-progress portrait of Caroline at them both like a jibe. Or like a hint of some kind. What kind of warped and sadistic mental attack was this? From where did he conjure the nerve? Why, and for what goddamn reason, would he dare to believe Klaus wouldn’t hunt him down and slaughter him into ribbons for this?

Laughing as if he’d heard a punchline with a meaning only he grasped, Silas flipped over the canvas and pressed it against the window where it stuck almost as if it were suction-cupped. He took off without waiting for their reaction. Or, more likely than anything, he left before he could face retribution and painful, neck-snapping, heart-squashing retaliation.

In the end, all that remained of him was this message written for Klaus and Caroline in black paint:

The Allure is what brought you here

The Allure is what connects you, what makes you the same

The Allure is here to stay

Stop fighting. Surrender. It won’t go away.

—And neither will I