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maatryoshkaa · 3 years

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between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

2K notes · View notes

mythiccheroacademia · 4 years

Text

Delivery HCs with 1-A’s Big Three

A/N: Maybe I’m a bit biased because I want to be a pediatrician when I’m older, but I think children are the true gems of the world. I’ve seen a few deliveries in my life, and it’s a moment that not even magic can explain. I can only imagine what it’s like for the parents--to see the baby you’d start a war for if need be. So, here’s my attempt to translate that special love within a headcanon.

Enjoy and continue to stay safe honey bunnies

Also, remember to thank a (good) mother for being literal superheroes once in awhile. Delivering is no joke!

Warnings: all the wonderful things that come with pushing a baby out of a 3-4in hole

All characters are aged 18+

Midoryia Izuku:

when you and your husband got to the hospital, the nurses were suprised to find you laughing and your husband muttering

they soon came to find out he was reciting how to books about delivery

word-for-word

the buff, muscley, #1 hero who scared villains into a crime rate of 2% was wiggling his knees in fear every time you had a contraction

he was running around, calling his friends and family about how he was going to combust

asked you every five minutes if you were ready to push

“izu, honey, i don’t think it works like that”

“true....but are you ready?”

it was funny

but it stopped being funny after 14 hours of labor, when the contractions got really bad

now you were just snapping at izuku to quiet down otherwise you’d united states smash his face in

him: 😧

the nurses: 👀

he knows you’re in pain but damn

it’s a relief when you get the epidural

after that, it was a relatively smooth birth

it still hurt like hell, but your husband is holding your hand, giving you encouraging kisses

one final push and the baby is out

immediately, the little boy is screaming his head off making his presence known

you let your head fall back with a relieved sigh as your body works to get the placenta out

whiles you do tiny pushes, izuku is in a love-struck daze as he stares at your son

it’s like he has tunnel vision

suddenly, nothing in his life was ever more important than this tiny little human who couldn’t weigh more than his left hand

the nurses hand you your son and you laugh through your happy tears

“it looks like i’ve got two cry-babies to deal with now” you lovingly smile

izuku is on his knees, sobbing, kissing your forehead and rubbing his finger against his child’s cheek

he’s so thankful

he’s so very thankful, he doesn’t even know how to comprehend it

you’re the best hero in his eyes

“he’s so beautiful” he repeats, like a broken record

there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you or his son

he silently makes an oath to do everything in his power to see his family smile with security every day

izuku feels like he finally knows what being #1 truly is

Bakugo Katsuki:

pregnancy wasn’t easy for you

having twins wasn’t rare, but it made the process riskier

giving birth is still quite dangerous, like women are superheroes bruh

due to forseen complications, you were scheduled for a c-section

unfortunately, you’re blood pressure sky-rocketed and you had to deliver your babies two weeks early

on the way to the hospital, your contractions were tearing you apart

during each shake and scream you gave, katsuki would hold your shoulder and let you dig your nails into his arms

he took it without complaint

it was like you were a different person when a contraction hit

you never complained about the pain, but he could tell you wanted it to end with how your head would fall like dead weight

never admits to the few tears that slipped past his cheeks

he never wanted to see you like this again

when you make it to the hospital, they wheel you into the surgery room and he follows after

is relieved to see that you can no longer feel the contractions

in fact, even with all the IVs in you, you seem a lot better--more alert

he makes his way over to you

“sorry for the car ride. i think i drooled. i probably looked gross. still do” you joke

he speaks in the softest voice you’ve ever heard, kiss your dry lips

“no baby, you look beauitful”

and he means it

you do. you’re the most beautiful woman he knows

you feel a lot of pressure as they take the babies out, but once they do, the sounds of your children make you tear up

bakugo is frozen as he watches his babies, one boy one girl, get cleaned up

there’s a softness in the air as the nurses lay the boy on your chest and the girl in katsuki’s arms

your heart explodes with so much love that the heart monitor does a little jump that makes everyone laugh

but katsuki makes a pained expression before lowering himself so that his forehead rests beside your ear

he can’t tell what he’s feeling bc he’s felt love before but this was different

this was so overwhelming that it sent his knees buckling

you use your free hand to smooth down his hair as he cries

“thank you” is all he’s able to say until the tears are gone

Todoroki Shouto:

when shouto looks back on one of the happiest days of his life, all he feels is shame and embarrassment

he was just doing everything wrong that day

no thoughts, head empty

of course you had to go into labor the day he decided to take a tiny job 30 fucking minutes away from the hospital

he made it to you in 20, he broke several laws to do it

when he gets to the hosptial, he can barely talk

the nurses had to call you to make sure this crazy man was actually the father of your child

misses the baby floor twice

walks into the wrong room three times bc he forgot how to read

when he finally makes it to your room, he’s fed up with himself

“what took you so long? the front desk called me, like, ten minutes ago”

“i don’t wanna talk about it”

“are you having an attitude with me right now? when i’m about to deliver your child?”

shouto: ☹️

shutting up was the smartest thing he did that day

when the 15th hour of labor hit and you were gripping your husband, screaming and rocking on your knees for any type of relief, todoroki was nearly begging you to take the drugs

“sweetheart, please consider the epidural”

“no, shouto. i’m doing this without one”

“why do you want to suffer when technology and modern medicine--”

“todoroki shouto, you give me one more lesson about modern medicine and i’ll rip your quirk right out of you”

“i dont think that’s--”

the nurse finally chimes in: “sir, i mean this in the nicest way possible. shut up”

after 24 grueling hours, you’re pushing

it’s taking everything within shouto not to pass out from the blood, the screaming, and how tight you’re squeezing his hand

the baby is out and crying her little head off

you’re happy it’s all over and shouto should be too

but he’s going over the past 48hrs and letting it confirm how he’s just not set up to be a father

he’s almost grateful that you would hold her first bc he doesnt want to screw up more than he already has, but you have a different idea

understanding the emotions and self-doubt reflected on his face, you say

“shouto, i want you to hold her first”

he’s shocked and starts his stuttering, but the nurse is already on it

“you heard mama, open your arms big guy”

once the nurse helps him find a good hold, todoroki doesnt even notice the tears falling down his cheeks

“look at you,” you sniff. “you’re a natural”

his eyes are wide with child-like wonder and he manages to give you a trembling smile

“you think so?” you nod and he’s smiling so big, you wanna take a picture. “she’s so beautiful, just like her mother”

he leans down to kiss you

wonders what he did in his past life to deserve the love he was given the chance to feel today

4K notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 3 years

Text

Emp-Ire, “Patriot.”

Still working and am still in a bit of a writing slump.

I have only been able to write the very few things that REALLY interest me right now. So thank you for your patience with me going off on the occasional tangent, ok maybe more often then not going off on a tangent, but thanks anyway :)

A crisp morning breeze needled his skin, the icy tendrils causing goosebumps to break out over Adam’s bare chest and shoulders. Overhead a layer of dismal grey clouds blocked the sky over an alien landscape.

He was so tired.

And he hurt.

All around him other bodies shifted in the cool morning air, and he would have sworn he could see their breath puffing out in great gouts of steam, though that might just have been his imagination. He was so cold, what the hell was wrong with wearing a shirt, or at least some real pants.

But no, apparently pants were reserved for those who earned them, everyone else was relegated to nothing better than short leather skirts, or underwear which he found mildly infuriating. Even some compression shorts would have been nice. Another cold breeze ran past him and he crossed his arms over his chest palms pressed flat over his freezing nipples in hopes that by warming them up they wouldn’t just fall off.

Also his toes were numb, courtesy of the sandals he was wearing.

Looking around him, he could see that the other men and women didn’t appear to be nearly as cold as he was, in fact, they were probably being kept nice and warm by the sheer awesomeness of their big manly muscles or something.

Standing in a line with all of them he felt like the awkward nerd kid trying out for the football team. Each and every last one of them had washboard abs, or similar since genetics is more kind to some than to others.

And then there was him.

Chicken chest, noodle arm bastard that he was, with only the faint line of abs hanging out waiting for the moment he flexed intentionally to pretend his abs were bigger than they actually were. He hunched his shoulders just a bit, feeling very very small in comparison.

“Hey, how are you doing? Looking good everyone, looking good…. Hey…. hey.”

Adam lifted his head just in time to watch Ramirez strut up like he owned the damn place turning heads with the sheer gravity of his confidence.

He walked up to stand Next to Adam, “Fuck you, dude.”

“What?”

“How can you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Strut up like you and I aren’t literally the most pathetic people here.”

Ramirez patted him on the shoulder, “Confidence is key my friend. If you pretend to be awesome, soon you’ll believe it and eventually it will be. Self fulfilling prophecy and all of that. The mind is a powerful tool. Also chicks dig confidence.”

“What about men?”

“Them too, I don’t discriminate.” he held his arms out wide, “Everyone could do with a little bit of Ramirez in their life.” He looked at Adam pointedly, “How about you?” He flexed, “Want some of this.”

Adam snorted, paused and then said, “You know what, if I swung that way, sure.”

Ramirez put his hand over his chest, “That is probably the nicest thing you ever said to me. But the Ramirez is an open door and I open both ways.”

“You’re not a swinging door, you're a revolving door.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know man, it just sounded good. But if you were a door, you would also open from the bottom up, I just couldn’t think of an object that opened on both the x, y and z axises.”

He tapped his chin, “Gotta love how my morning has mostly involved being compared to a door, besides I don’t open to just anyone, I am age restricted, and no pets allowed.”

Adam grimaced, “Gross.”

“No I am not gross, if I was pet friendly THAT would be gross.”

Adam paused, “How about…. aliens ?”

Ramirez shrugged, “If it’s sentient, I Will try anything once. You kno, can’t knock it till you've tried it.”

It was at this moment that Adam became acutely aware that they were the only ones talking. They may have been speaking rather quietly, but at some point the other men and women had stopped speaking. He paused and turned his head to look. Ramirez’s voice faded off into the silence as the two of them turned to find a tall, heavily muscled woman standing before them. Her hair was tied back and her midriff was bare. She carried a spear in one hand and a shield in the other, and she waited very pointedly for the two of them to stop talking.

The look on her face could have coagulated his blood in his veins.

He shrunk back.

She walked up, looked at the two of them and her face pulled into an expression of disgust.

“Flabby.” She announced smacking Ramirez in the thigh with her spear. He yelped and grabbed his leg, “Soft.” The spear jabbed Adam in the belly driving the wind from his boy, “Pathetic,” She announced, “No weakness, not on my island.” She jabbed at him again and, on instinct, Adam caught the haft of the spear.

He knew pretty immediately he had made a mistake as her eyes widened, and then he was slammed to the dirt head ringing from the metal of the shield on his skull.

He groaned and rubbed at his head.

“Thank you for volunteering.”

Adam didn’t know what he had just volunteered for, but it sounded like he wasn’t going to like it very much.

As it turns out.

He was right.

She announced immediately that they were going to play a game. He thought that seemed weird for the biggest badasses this side of fake Greece but ok. But it turned out her idea of a game was just a fun way of saying I am going to make you regret you ever lived.

They were the wolves, he was the rabbit. He had a two minute head start, and then they would chase him. If he got caught, they were allowed to beat him up for a few minutes, and then he got another two minutes head start.

This lasted all morning.

About two or three hours. He couldn't tell by the end.

He had never been so exhausted in his life, andhe thought training with the Drev had been hard.

By the end he determined that they were about the same amount of hard, but the Drev didn’t do nearly as much Running. Towards the end his two minute head start counted for almost nothing, and he was in a nearly continual state of getting the shit kicked out of him. Ramirez huffed and puffed at the back of the pack like the big bad wolf had asthma.

And Adam threw up…. Three times.

Three times.

By the time it was over he was covered in bruises and could barely walk. He thought, like during training, they would get a lunch break or something, but nope by the end of the day they were back to the sandy training field where it was either, wrestling, bare knuckle boxing, sparring, or some other ungodly torture.

There was no stopping.

Occasionally, they were allowed to kneel on the dirt and have something to eat. He wasn't sure what the spartans had eaten back in the day, but this looked like meals clearly prepared by people who studied the science of getting jacked. Mostly protein and vegetables. Whatever drink they were using was some kind of water, but cut with something else he couldn’t have been sure about, probably electrolytes.

Either way he had a hard time keeping it down.

Ramirez on the other hand was part of the passing out gang.

The two of them together barely made a functioning human. And by the end of the day they crawled themselves back to what constituted as the barracks, which was just one long building with mats laid out on the floor. He was so tired that he slept like a log through the entire night until they were woken up to do it again the next day. He slept whenever he could, using anyone and anything as a pillow.

He became way more intimately familiar with Ramirez than he had ever wanted to be but at that point he was too tired to give much of a shit. Even Ramirez was too tired to say anything sarcastic or inappropriate.

He honestly couldn't have said how long they were there, every day seemed to bleed into the next with only the changing of the weather and the night to let him know anything was going on at all.

The change in himself was so gradual that he barely even noticed until one day…

“SHIELD WALL!”

Adam and Ramirez raced forward interlocking their shields with the group of men and women before them. Others piled up behind bracing their spears over the shoulders of their comrades.

“Remember the wall is only as strong as its weakest member!”

Across from them a group of other trainees raced forward and slammed against their shield wall.

Adam and Ramirez shouted their exertion.

“Push back!”

They pulled back slightly and then drove forward shoving the other recruits back and to the ground tossing a few of them bodily three or four feet back.

“BRACE!”

They returned to their interlocking position, spears bristling outward like some sort of demonic porcupine.

They did that exercise once or twice more until ordered to break off, separating into individual units which charged the other groups' spears raised.

Adam Batted another combatant’s shield aside, slammed his shoulder into the man’s chest, kicked another oncoming from the left, dodging out of the way as Ramirez covered him from the right with a sharp jab of his spear which caught another woman by the bottom of the shield and sent her deflecting to the right.

They clashed on the training field for a good half hour of continual battle, when another group of fresh, armored combatants charged them. He was tired, but as the enemy charged inward, he shook it off, roared a battle cry and charged them.

“Shields!” He ordered without thinking, and a small group of remaining fighters bunched up with him and Ramirez. They managed their wall right before the new combatants hit, “PUSH!” And with a massive have they threw them back, causing them to trip over one another. They broke their wall to take on the remaining group now fractured.

Adam went straight down the middle with Ramirez guarding his back chagrin at the armored combatants.

They were fresh, and Adam had the distinct impression that they were also not trainees.

Three of their number had already gone down under the onslaught, but he brought up his spear, knocked the shield to the side and tagged the other man with a glancing blow in the throat. He staggered away holding his neck. He spun left clobbering a woman with his shield. Ramirez cut past him stabbing straight down the middle and catching another one straight in the breastplate.

Two more of their number went down to the right.

There was no way they could make an effective shield wall now.

One more went down on their right.

Ramirez went to his knees shield held up before Adam, who used the shielding to strike past with his spear.

Ramirez ducked and Adam leaped over him crashing into another line of men shield on one side spear on the other.

The man before him went crashing to the dirt. He caught incoming strikes simultaneously and ducked under both allowing Ramirez to take one while he dealt with the other. They were split off from each other in the confusion and he didn’t see what happened as he was blindsided by another shield.

The power in that was awful, and he went flying back at least two feet staggering until he skidded in the sand and regained himself. The armored man came charging at him with a roar, and they clashed shields again. The other man was clearly stronger, though not by much. Adam strained against him, feet digging into the dirt before suddenly slacking and rolling off to the side.

It nearly caught the other man off his guard, but he was good, and caught himself before he could fall forward.

Adam snarled as they exchanged a flurry of blows. All the other combatants had backed off so the two of them could fight. He advanced pushing the other man back, though it seemed impossible that he would be able to score a hit, the other man was just too fast. It went on for a while.

Adam got tagged in the right hip, but kept fighting, it was nothing compared to the beating he had received only yesterday. He cut in again slamming his shield against the other man to throw him off balance. It didn’t do it as well as he had hoped, but for a split second he saw an opening. He would have to time it perfectly.

It was probably as much luck as it was skill that he managed to pass the spear through the little hole between the shield and man scoring a long cut across the man’s left bicep. As soon as he did someone shouted the halt, and he froze in palace.

The man before him lowered his shield and pulled off his helmet to reveal.

The King!

Adam stepped back in shock, quickly raising his spear in salute.

“Sir!”

The man smiled grimly turning to look down at his bleeding arm. He turned back to look at Adam, “Exhausted, training all day, and you still managed to cut me, I think that is a good sign.”

The entire field was returning to rest position.

Ramirez climbed out from under his shield, dazed but somehow unscathed.

“How long have you been with us now, two months maybe more.”

“I can’t remember.”

“Two months of improvement I think, and today many of these men proved themselves worthy of being real soldiers….” He turned to look at Adam, “How about yourself, what do you think you deserve?”

Adam planted his spear against the ground, “I’m still standing aren’t I.”

James, the king of sparta, laughed, “Spoken like a true Spartan.” He turned to look at the others, “I tend to agree with your assessment.” He waved a hand at those who are still standing, which included Ramirez, to Ramirez’s evident surprise.

He looked down at himself then around then grinned nodding as if it was very obvious he deserved to be there.

Adam smiled slightly.

He supposed he did.

And now that he realized it the two of them didn’t look at all out of place in comparison to the other men and women there. He stood up straighter, “Thank you, sir.”

“Just right in time then. We set out for Argos tonight, one last test before I let you go.”

The men and women raised their spears to thor king.

***

It felt good, almost familiar, with a cloak fluttering at his back, a spear in hand and a helmet on his head. Granted it was almost nothing like the Drev, but it still felt good enough that he could forgive it. He was, in fact, very proud of his accomplishment as he now stood on the rocky outcrop next to the King of the Neospartans and an entourage of warriors, his sandals feet rested hard against stone and a bare wind tugged at the red plume on the top of his helmet, the same wind that caused the red cloak to flutter behind him in the breeze.

“What is in Argos?” He wondered allowed, not entirely sure if he was allowed to ask, but curious enough to risk it.

James looked down at him from the pinnacle of rock, “You know we dislike the New Athenians?”

Adam nodded “Yeah…. About that, is it just tradition… or…”

James shook his head, “No, nothing like that. We would be fine working with them. This is a real place with real people who have their own real beliefs. It isn’t just some elaborate LARP. No, I was here when this colony started, and there was no difference between us and the New Athenians but after a while there rose some… disagreements.”

Adam tilted his head, “And what disagreements are those?”

“Moral disagreements. I am a patriot, admiral. I may be the king of Sparta, but I was also born on earth and am a True believer in the unity of the GA. Division Will only weaken us. But there are factions among the New Athenians who don’t believe the same, which would be fine. I understand a group of people who disagree with the current political system. That should be allowed by all means, but the way they are going about it is just wrong.”

“What do you mean.”

“They Are supplying information, weapons, and lodging to rebel forces who wish to destroy the GA and everything it stands for. They aren't just doing it through protests and reforms, but through violence, and hurting innocent people. They don’t care how they win as long as they do, and that is something I cannot abide. I have on good authority that some of them are working with Kree operatives and anti-alliance forces to plan assassinations against key members of government.”

Adam’s eyes widened in shock, “Really!, than why haven't we heard about this.”

James shook his head, “Despite their radical ideals, they are a very small and mostly powerless group who don’t pose much of a threat to GA members themselves. In fact, most of them are all bark and no bite. I figure that it's my job to keep my little slice of the galaxy clean, and I have managed it so far.”

Adam shook his head in surprise…. “So the Oracle….”

James nodded, “She recognized you, and likely sent you here in hopes that we would kill you for being spies, which we have done before. She honestly should have killed you herself, but the New Athenians don’t like to get their hands dirty, they like to keep their hands clean and let others do their dirty work.”

He turned to look at Adam, “Based on my studies, you are an important piece in an intergalactic chess game, holding the GA together with a volatile humanity.” He turned his head back to stare out at the horizon, “Like I said, protests, petitions, and legislation is all well and good, but as soon as your course starts to hurt innocent people you lose my sympathy. You are no longer the heroic rebel, but you are a blight and you must be stamped out.”

The fire in the man’s golden eyes was enough to make Adamstand back a little.

“I see.”

“I am glad you do, you need to see what goes on at the small scale. You need to know that there are people here fighting for you and your ideals. You built what the GA is today, whether on purpose or not, and that is something I intend to uphold.” He pointed downwards, “And we are going to start here.”

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ellewords · 3 years

Note

“you know i’m in love with you, right?” hinata mutters into your shoulder, arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace.

he had to leave. a team had invited him to play in japan. an opportunity of a lifetime had presented itself to him, and he would be an idiot to pass it up. but that also meant leaving brazil. leaving you.

the pair of you had met pretty soon after hinata had arrived two years before, and there had been a spark from the second you laid eyes on each other. you had never been happier than you were during the time you got to spend with him, and as far as you could tell, hinata shared that sentiment. but you knew from the very beginning that your time was limited. that was why you had never made anything official; it would hurt too much when time ran out. you had too much of your life rooted in brazil to validate leaving, and hinata was rooted in japan. it would be unfair to expect that to change just because of how you felt for each other.

yet here you guys were, hinata holding you like you were his lifeline, face pressed tightly into the curve of your neck, confessing like he’d wanted to from the very start as you sniffled. it was cruel, getting a taste of what could have been just as he was about to board a plane out of your life, but you couldn’t help the watery laugh that escaped your lips.

“i love you, too, sho. always have.”

he pulls back, and his smile is wide and wobbly, and his eyes hold so much love and so many tears, and it hurts. neither of you look away.

you don’t know who leans in first, but before you know it, your noses are nearly touching. he looks just about ready to plunge in and seal the deal when the intercom interrupts with the announcement to begin boarding his flight. he winces, pulling away slowly to look at the throng of people beginning to line up. he needs to go soon, but he can’t make himself move. he doesn’t want to move.

he squeezes your hand and looks like he’s debating whether he should pick up his luggage and begin his departure or stay by your side for forever. instead, you make the decision for him, tugging him towards you gently and pressing a kiss to his lips. it’s quick and light, but it starts a fire in your chest. you almost regret it, feeling the longing begin to start up again, but the thought quickly leaves your mind when you see the way hinata blinks rapidly and a smile finally makes its way to his cheeks. then he pulls you tightly into his chest and spins you around, once, twice, a third time as he peppers kisses across your face. when your feet finally hit solid ground again, he’s buzzing with the energy he always seemed to have as he gathers his things and leads you as far as airport security will allow.

“i’m gonna make you so proud, (y/n)! i promise! and then when we see each other again, i’m gonna take you out on a proper date and ask you to be my girlfriend and—“

“i know, sho,” you interject, heart feeling just a little lighter as you watch him get further and further out of view. “i’m already so proud.”

his smile gets impossibly bigger then, and he turns on his heel to walk the rest of the way up the walkway. he stops right before he can disappear, and he looks serious again.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“i’ll come back to you.”

your heart skips a beat, but before you can respond, another passenger pushes him forward. he’s out of sight instantly, and it finally feels safe to cry. but your smile is still in place.

“i know, sho. i know.”

-💛

— from elle! 💛anon you make my heart hurt and for what?? oh my gosh this is amazing! like legitimately so perfectly bittersweet !! gosh, i love this so so much and the fact that it's timeskip!hinata just makes it all the more *chef's kiss* anyways, i'm picking up where you left off for my little scenario (under the cut, as usual; feat f!reader to go along with what 💛anon sent in). hopefully, i'm able to do justice what you've sent in. thank you so much for this, i hope you're having a wonderful day <3 also i'm not too sure if this is for the first date margins q but i'm considering it as that just in case

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

it’s one of those rare moments wherein he had gotten more than just a couple of days off; in fact, he actually had a couple of weeks. the off season for volleyball had begun — no matches, no tournaments, and for a short while, no practices. just giving the team some rest after months of non-stop playing and training.

the second he had gotten the email that confirmed his time-off, hinata’s fingers found themselves booking a ticket on the nearest flight to brazil, the flight that would bring him back to you. he promised that he would take you out on a date, he couldn’t just show up without a plan. not when all he thought about for most of his waking moments was running home to you.

so he packs his nicest suit, folding it as carefully as he could as to not get it crinkled, and spends all of the 26 hour flight daydreaming of the moment you two would finally meet again in person. would you run up to him? wrap your arms around him? he hopes you would.

you had kept in touch of course, hinata couldn’t allow himself the displeasure of not talking to you at least once a day. but late night video chats, early morning phone calls, and text messages throughout the day could only do so much. he wanted to feel your skin against his, to hear your voice untainted by the thousands of miles of distance, to run his fingertips along the apples of your cheeks and cup your face in the palm of his hand.

and hours from now, he would finally be able to.

hinata stands in the reception area of your office building, flowers in hand, nervous smile on his face. after a nap and a shower, he raced out of his hotel room in his suit, making a reservation to one of your favorite restaurants.

his foot taps on the marbled floor, glancing at his wristwatch every few seconds. he had placed himself by the elevator doors, making himself the first thing you’d see the second you stepped out of it. hinata’s growing more and more impatient as the seconds ticked by, rocking back and forth on his feet. the clock strikes six, any second now.

hinata wishes he could capture the bewildered look on your face, the way you stopped in your tracks the second you made eye contact with him. he gives you a sheepish smile, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck before gesturing into a wave. a quiet little “hi” leaving his lips.

you approach him cautiously at first, tentatively, like you were unsure if he was actually there in front of you. he had told you that he had gotten a couple of weeks off, but he never mentioned using them to fly back to brazil. you’re stunned, breath caught in your throat as your eyes move along the entirety of his figure. there’s no way he was here, this is all just a figment of your imagination; the section of your mind that missed him had finally lost control. you want to keep your steps slow for fear of disappointment.

but your heart and your feet betray you, picking up the pace just as you were a couple of feet in front of him. you practically throw your body against his, wrapping your arms around his neck, hoping he’d be strong enough as to not make the two of you fall on the cold floor of your office building.

hinata takes a few steps back from the force of your body impacting his, but he places an arm around your waist, steadying both himself and you. he hears it, the beating of his heart, loud and clear as he takes in the familiar scent of your perfume.

you pull away, placing your hands on his face just to make sure he was really in front of you. gazing directly into his eyes, you breathe out, “you’re here.”

“i'm here.” hinata confirms, pressing a kiss to your temple; just to let you know he's real.

hinata gazes at you from across the table, reaching out for your hand so he could hold it in his; he needed this, the warmth of your touch, a gentle reminder that he was once again in your presence.

and you were not one to deny him such a simple thing, mostly because you need that reminder as well.

this isn’t the first time you had eaten at this particular restaurant. during his two year stint in brazil, the place had become a source of comfort for the two of you. it’s where you celebrated birthdays, big promotions, or just had dinner when neither of you felt like cooking.

hinata still knows your order by heart, surprising you. in all honesty, you thought he would forget all about you the second he step foot in japan. there’s a small pull at your heartstrings, a flurry in the pit of your stomach, a fluttering in your chest.

most first dates are spent trying to get to know the other person, but hinata already knew you like the back of his hand. and the same could be said of you with him. you knew in the light in his eyes as he talked about his new teammates how much he adored playing with them. and he knew in the smile on your face as you rambled on about the book you had just finished reading that it would become one of your favorites.

you can’t help but stare, how could someone change in just a short amount of time? he had grown more confident, looked the happiest he’s ever been. and it certainly helped that he was wearing a suit — you had mostly seen him in sweatpants and pyjamas, so this was an entirely different look to you.

“you know, i wish you had told me you were coming,” you frown, looking down at your work clothes, knowing that somewhere deep in your closet is a dress that would have been perfect for a night like this, “i would have dressed for the occasion.”

“but you’re already perfect.” hinata says it without missing a beat, with such complete and utter sincerity that your heartbeat pick up just as he said it.

like a true gentleman, he walks you back to your apartment. a place that isn’t exactly foreign to him, his feet leading him on muscle memory alone.

the walk back is filled with his and your laughters, arms looped around the other’s as you made your steps as slow as possible; trying your hardest to extend the time you had.

when you finally reach the front door, hinata stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, suddenly unsure of himself. was this too much for you? was he coming on too strong?

you chuckle, seeing the complete panic in his features, stepping closer to him. you hold his face in your hands, voice barely above a whisper, “i still can’t believe you’re actually here.”

hinata’s breath evens out at your touch, heart finally calming down, blush on his cheeks. and just like that day at the airport, it’s unclear who leans first, but did that matter at this point? everything hangs in the air, months of unsaid words between the two of you, breath hitching as your noses touch.

“i told you i'd come back.” he mumbles against your lips before letting them meet his in a kiss.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

a question: what are the hq characters like on a first date? | written on the margins masterlist

taglist : @haikyuutothetop @crystal-lilac @tobioespresso @sushijimawakatoshi @itsmeaudrieee @pantherhappy @jesssobs @mysticstrawberryballoon @cloudedsky_29 @sakusasimpbot

join my hq taglist here. <3

#my addition got so long and why??#pls i'm really sorry i had a lot of fun tho:<<#thank you sm for this 💛anon !!#trying not to think about how that last line rhymed 🤧#written on the margins 🔖#hinata x reader #hinata imagines #hinata scenarios #🎐 — 💛anon! <3

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.21

Tense. Things at home were tense. Lance had muttered about needing to go shopping, then left. Keith knew when to bite his tongue, and this was definitely a time for tongue biting. Wanting to do something helpful Keith put his mind to cleaning. Not like in-depth cleaning, but enough to be counted as an effort around the house. That meant first he had to find everything, then he had to argue with the washing machine as he tried to figure the damn thing out as he didn’t know if sheets were washed on the same cycle setting as clothes... if they weren’t before, they were now. Blue had acted like it was the end of the world once the vacuum cleaner went on, dramatically running from the living room so fast she skidded. Adam would have been proud of him. As was every foster family he’d never fit in with. Sure, he had anger issues, but he wouldn’t have anger issues if people stopped making him angry.

Keith got less done than he’d set out to accomplish. Barely finishing the first floor before there was the sound of a car horn out the front, the approach drowned out by Lance’s ancient vacuum that would have been tossed out long ago if Adam had seen the device. Adam really did have the one functioning brain cell between him, Shiro and Keith. The hunter knew it was unhealthy to hold onto things, Adam had died over a year ago now, but he and Shiro together had been the best family Keith had ever had. Shiro never treated him like a legacy. The child of a hunter who’s name carried far too much weight. Since being accepted into the Order and beginning his training as a cadet, he’d lived in the shadow of the great werewolf hunter Krolia. He understood why she had to leave him, why she did fought as she did, but... Shiro and Adam felt more like family to him than she did. Krolia was... she was... it was heavy to think about her accomplishments. Stowing the vacuum back in the laundry, Keith rushed back through the house, trying not to appear like he cared whether Lance was alright or not... because he didn’t.

Heading out, Lance was standing at the back of his bronco, trunk door open

“Help me carry stuff”

Lance wasn’t supposed to be doing anything exerting like carrying in the whole damn shop from the look of it

“Did we really need so much stuff?”

“Not supposed to go out, remember. So I stocked up. Before you bite my head off, I didn’t go shopping alone. I found my phone in the car and shot Hunk a message”

“You... talked to Hunk?”

“Am I not allowed?!”

The snappiness in Lance’s tone kind of hurt, as did the fact Lance had talked to Hunk before they’d had a chance to talk about their situation

“I’m not saying that. I’m just wondering what... It’s none of my business”

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have snapped. I told him Mami had a fall, well, Miriam had a fall and I was in Platt due to it. He went a little crazy shopping”

“So you’re blaming Hunk for this?”

They needed a whole army to eat the amount of food in the back of the bronco. Lance sighed as he passed Keith the first bag

“He’s a good man. I really do think he and Pidge are both interested in you, as in being friends. Sorry, can we save talking until we’re back inside. I want to wallow a little longer”

“Alright... but don’t think you’re getting out of this”

“I wouldn’t dream of it”

People were exhausting. Hunk was one of those people. He was a natural born worrier who’d worried the moment he showed up. Lance was pulled into a tight hug, hiding his discomfort as he was. Normally he loved Hunk’s hug, but he couldn’t tell him the truth and it sucked big hair testicles. Repeatedly trying to redirect the conversation from him, Hunk kept bringing up how unwell Lance looked and how he needed to eat more. Yeah. He did. But looking at all the food in the supermarket isles made him sick. It fed the knot of anxiety that’d settled in his gut. He was changing for the worse, and there was no way to back out of it now. When Matt came, everything would change again. Pidge would be over the moon to see her brother again, while Matt would be terrified of one wrong move exposing his secret. Secrets sucked. They festered like wounds. Growing and spreading that infection until you felt physically ill.

Settling down with a cup of coffee, like a normal human would, Lance stared into the cup as Keith put things away. Lance wanted to take control, he wanted to take back some kind of order in his life, yet with Keith living there, he needed to loosen up. Keith needed to know where things went and how to navigate his kitchen beyond how to use the coffee machine. Keith really seemed to like his coffee. He wasn’t so fond of broccoli, or corn for that matter, but he also never really complained about eating anymore... provided he could hover while Lance he cooked, still kind of paranoid Lance was going to poison him or something. If he was going to do that, he would taken care of Keith the second Shiro was clear of the picture.

“You look pale. Do you need blood?”

Keith’s question took Lance by surprise. He never hid his drinking blood from his friends, but they thought he was simply indulging in red wine. Keith had seen him drink, and extremely embarrassingly vulnerable. He’d swallowed down that blood bag at VOLTRON with no worries thanks to how hungry he was... So why was it now he was feeling self conscious thanks to Keith asking? And why were his teeth almost throbbing at the idea? It would be a blood bag like the rest of the times he fed, having Keith there was not his ticket to a fresh meal because he didn’t want a fresh meal. That’d mean only submitting to his vampire way

“Not yet”

“Coran said you need to keep your strength up”

“Since when did you care?”

Keith placed down the box of cereal he’d been trying to find a home for

“Since I don’t run away from mistakes I’ve made”

Ouch. Yeah. Keith had fucked up, but he was kind of trying... but only because he felt obligated too. Obligations sucked. Lance knew he was only a job to Keith, but “mistake” struck like a bullet to the heart

“Dude, ouch”

“I... I mean. I take responsibility for my actions. You’re changing because of me. We can’t ignore it”

“I can try”

Keith slammed his plan down on the kitchen bench with enough anger that Lance felt himself jump

“Why?! Why do you that? You said nothing to Luis. You didn’t try defending yourself. You didn’t ask to be turned”

He really hadn’t. He’d been such a lonely kid, he always seemed to have plenty of people around him, but he’d always felt so filled with faults that he kept messing up his friendships. Every month he seemed to have a new best friend who’d leave him to play with someone cooler and smarter than he was. Someone who better at games, and didn’t have problems with English as Spanish was the spoken language at home. He’d been alright with his siblings until they all started to grow older... then they’d all sort of... given up on their little brother

“Luis gave into his fear long ago”

“That doesn’t make it right. He tried to have you hunted”

“I know he did. Look, I’m way too sober for that conversation. But you’d be right if you thought I ruined our family. No one knew how to handle a kid with flashbacks, nightmares and all the things that come with being a vampire. I’m happy they all got out and had a life...”

“The rest of your family’s like that? Like, Luis?”

“It’s complicated. They don’t understand why I’m the way I am. Why I don’t drive a car in the hundreds of thousands of dollars, why I live in a house that’s a cross between farmhouse and plantation. Why I work so cheaply when I could be earning more. They all think I sponge off Mami, and stay with her so I have control over her. It’s easier to pick your battles and the way I see it, Mami won’t live forever. I’ve caused her enough pain that shouldn’t have to see me fighting with my siblings. Fuck... I really am way too sober”

Taking off his glasses, Lance leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms. Keith didn’t know his life outside of whatever he’d read. He didn’t know how hard it was in the house to have a blood sucker. He didn’t know how many times Lance had made things hard for their family. How he’d cost them all this extra money to keep him fed and safe. Then there was therapy. Him changing schools. Him dealing with his mental health while trying to deal with puberty and nightmares. And God knew how hard it was. How hard it was for his parents, how exhausted they were. How his condition was kind of taboo, and no one was allowed to make a joke about it lest his Mami heard and you’d get smacked across your arse with her pink slipper. Keith picked up the box of cereal again, Lance could hear his moves. The way the contents of the box shook, and the way his clothes rustled. The tiny shift of his footing as he stood on tiptoe to find a space in the cupboard

“I think you were wrong not to stand up for yourself”

Of course “Crusader Keith” thought he needed to stand up for himself, he’d been trained by “Shiro the Hero”

“Tried that, doesn’t work”

He always sent cards, via Mami who knew their address

“Even if Shiro turned, I don’t think I could ever give up on him”

“That’s because you’re far more emotionally mature that my siblings were when they had to deal with a messed up little brother. I’m going to get a bottle of red. Fuck being sober, I’m going to wallow the patheticness out my system, then hopefully I won’t be such a grumpy dick”

“I don’t think you’re being too grumpy. You’re still a bit of a dick”

Lance snorted, placing down his cup of coffee

“That might just be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me”

“Don’t get used to it”

Lance’s lips turned upwards, the ghosting of a smile. Keith was a total dick, and had no place in Lance’s life, but he wasn’t as obnoxious as he’d been when they first met

“Have a look in the blue bag, down the bottom. I got you something while I was out”

Keith didn’t get Lance at all. He’d been moping, now he was kind of smiling, or grimacing, Keith wasn’t completely sure, but the fact Lance had bought him something seemed kind of like a trap

“You got me something?”

“Yep. Blue bag is all yours”

His? Wasn’t the food because he was human? What else did he need?

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why did you get me something?”

“Because when I saw it, I thought of you. Don’t make this weird”

It was already weird. All of this was weird as fuck. Peaking in the first blue bag there was a whole heal of vegetables, including broccoli which he hated, Lance snorted at him

“Not that one. The other one”

“You could have told me that”

“Coulda, woulda, shoulda”

Whatever that meant. Grabbing the second blue bag, Keith pulled it forward by the handles

“Milk?”

“Lactose free. Actually, all the milk I’ve been buying lately to feed your coffee addictions been lactose free, so you’re welcome over that. I said in the bottom. You know, under everything else”

“Shut up. It just looked like bottles of milk”

“On the top, maybe. I’ll give you that”

Keith sighed to himself mentally. How was he supposed to put up with Lance for another two weeks when he had nothing to do. He couldn’t work out, Coran had benched Lance from teaching him anything physical. Sitting around and doing nothing didn’t agree with him. Lifting out the two bottles of milk, he was annoyed that Lance had something nice. He wasn’t strictly like allergic to lactose, but some brands definitely upset his stomach more than others. At the bottom of the bag was a wrapped box, the paper slightly wet from the condensation off the milk bottles

“It’s a box?”

“Wow, I bet those powers of observation are what makes you a great hunter. Open the box, dummy”

Grumpily Keith took the box out of the bag, mumbling as he did

“You didn’t need to buy me anything”

“You’re really bad at accepting gifts aren’t you?”

“Shut up”

Inside the box was a red digital camera. Keith had always loved the colour red, he also indulged in a little photography thanks to Shiro. It wasn’t as fancy as his camera at home, but it wasn’t bottom of the range either

“You got me a camera?”

“Yep. If you’re going to be sticking around, I figured you might want one to keep up the pretence of having left it here”

This would have easily cost Lance a couple of hundred. Didn’t the vampire have better things to spend his money on?

“Why...?”

“Not this again. Fine, I’ll play along. Why, what?”

“Why did you spend money on me?”

“Because you’re stuck here and I thought that it might be nice to have something of your own. It’s also an apology for all the shit I put you through by turning into a bat. Just make sure you get a few photos of the house, I told the others you were taking photos to help me renovate. Accept the damn gift”

Lance seemed as bad at giving gifts as Keith was at receiving them. Not that the camera was a bad gift, the vampire seemed embarrassed that he was making a fuss over it all. Big gifts like this were shaved for birthdays or Christmas, no one went around simply buying things for other people, unless it was Shiro. Shiro had absolutely awful impulse control, Keith’s not that much better. His savings only went as far as saving for what he wanted, buying it, then looking at his abysmally empty bank balance sadly. There was no reason to really save when any mission could see him dead...

“Thanks. I’m not used to things like this”

“I can tell. Just... the camera isn’t me trying to buy your apology. Just so you know, I wanted to do something nice for you, with like, no strings attached... and now that this has gotten even more awkward, I’m off to get that red”

As Lance pushed his chair back, curiosity struck, Keith tilting the box in Lance’s direction

“Hey, Lance... Do you show up in these things?”

“Really? Photos, videos and mirrors... People wish they’d looked as good as I do dead. I mean, otherwise it’d be super suspicious when I didn’t show up in Pidge’s videos, when I let her film me”

“Oh... I hadn’t thought about that”

Lance snorted at him

“Some vampire hunter you are. Please don’t destroy my kitchen while I’m gone. Also, I grabbed some stuff so we can make pizza for dinner... I assume you don’t mind pizza and beer?”

Keith wrinkled his nose. That sounded like he was going to be cooking... and if the piece of shit toaster Lance used to have was anything to go by, then maybe that wouldn’t be the best idea. Lance was already walking towards the kitchen door

“I don’t know how to make pizza”

Raising his hand, the vampire waved his concerns off

“Then prepared to do the learn. Man, I’m going to have to teach you everything, aren’t I?”

“About vampires?”

“Nope. First you learn to do the human, then you’ll learn how to do the dead human. Don’t forget, I’ll hear you if you try breaking my kitchen... ow, fuck...”

Walking straight into the door frame, Lance rubbed at his forehead. Keith had no idea how Lance managed to walk into so many things and be so absolutely uncoordinated while in his own house. He wore glasses, shouldn’t that like help him see? Shouldn’t he have some kind of sense when he was getting too close to something? What kind of a vampire needed glasses? Lance didn’t make sense at all.

#once bitten #oncebittentwicestupid #once bitten twice stupid #klance #mpreg #voltron #vld au

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horansqueen · 4 years

Text

AM Conversations : chapter 51

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34 || CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39 || CHAPTER 40 || CHAPTER 41 || CHAPTER 42 || CHAPTER 43 || CHAPTER 44 || CHAPTER 45 || CHAPTER 46 || CHAPTER 47 || CHAPTER 48 || CHAPTER 49 || CHAPTER 50

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.2k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- if you want to be notified when this is updated, please message me or leave a comment!

- note for this chapter: i hope its not too bad. you can see her friendship with Louis but also how much she loves Niall yea?

one request for this chapter but the camping scene will continue in the next chapter (along with i believe 2 more requests) and there will be sex AND drama :)

Chapter 51 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

I was slowly falling asleep after using half my tissue box when the doorbell rang. I jumped slightly and groaned before reluctantly getting up. My feet rubbed on the carpet as I walked nonchalantly to the door. I looked like a mess and it was probably because i actually was and when I swung the door open, I started yawning and my eyes filled with tears.

"Very fuckin' classy, Livi." Louis pointed out as I yawned again.

I raised my nose up as I blinked a few times and showing him my middle finger. He grabbed it quickly and I groaned again, pulling on my arm to get it back without much success.

"I'm siiiiick." I complained again. "Why aren't you nice with me?"

"Because i'm not a nice person, love." he let out, raising his eyebrows as I turned around to go back to the couch.

"You like people to think that but it's a lie."

I let myself fall on the couch and Louis closed the door before joining me. He leaned against the side of the couch to face me and frowned, his elbows placed on the back of the couch. His eyes got smaller as he studied me and I brought my legs up, wrapping my arms around my knees as I felt a shiver cross my back.

"What does that even mean?"

The left corner of my lips raised up and I shrugged with a shoulder, feeling slightly dizzy probably because of the fever.

"That you play the bad boy card to scare people away but I can see right through you." I explained slowly, staring at him. "You are the nicest, kindest, sweetest and most sensitive person i've ever met. You think people don't see it... you don't want people to see it, but we all see it, Tommo, that's why everyone loves you."

He remained silent for a while, just looking at me, and I didn't drop my gaze, I wanted him to know it was true, that I meant it, and that I knew who he really was. He shook his head very slightly.

"Not everyone."

"She loves you too."

Louis trying to hide himself behind a bad boy facade became worse when he and Eleanor broke up. He was always out getting drunk and partying but for some weird reason, it seemed like I could feel his aura. I could sense him sadder than he ever was, even if he showed the world the total opposite. At the same time, I felt very selfish, knowing that I would never have gotten so close to Louis if he wasn't single, but if I wanted to be honest, i'd give my friendship with him up if it meant he and El never broke up. I wanted nothing more than him being happy.

Louis cleared his throat and moved closer, leaning his elbows on his knees and raising his eyebrows at me. I knew he was going to change the subject and it was okay with me. I didn't want to discuss anything he didn't feel comfortable sharing.

"So little Nialler just told me you were still sick."

I chuckled at the nickname and rolled my eyes.

"He's anything but little."

His lips curled into a smirk and it made me smile too. I pressed my lips together to stop myself from laughing and he raised his nose up.

"I know, i've seen."

We both burst into laughter and I grabbed an other tissue before blowing in it. Louis' face changed into a disgusted grimace as I sniffed.

"Good god, stay away from me."

I stuck my tongue out at him and he laughed again.

"You knew I was sick, don't act so surprised!" I argued as he laughed again. "Why are you here, Lou?"

His facial expression changed and his gaze left mine. His eyes found the tv and he stared at it for a few seconds before shrugging and I knew that a lie would come out of his mouth.

"I don't know man, I was at the pub and Niall said you were still sick and I thought hey, Liv's alone so why not pay her a little visit, you know?"

I kept quiet until he finally turned to me and when out eyes met, I sent him a small smile.

"That's sweet of you." I replied, tilting my head slightly. "Now what's the real reason?"

His eyes roamed on my face and I held my breath as his gaze traveled on me. I didn't know why but it made me feel self-conscious and I was well aware of how disgusting I was at that exact moment. I sucked my bottom lip in and waited for what seemed like an hour but I pushed the air out of my lungs when I got a notification on my phone. I grabbed it quickly and realized someone had tagged me on twitter. It took a few seconds for the application to open and when the picture appeared, my lips parted and my heart shattered. I stared at it for a while until I felt Louis' hand on my thigh. I looked up, blinking a few times until his face was somewhat clear again, and that's when I realized I was crying.

"Love, what's wrong?"

The warmth of Louis' hand on my thigh seemed to penetrate through my sweatpants and it burned my skin. I didn't know how to explain how betrayed I felt as I squeezed my phone in my hand so hard it started hurting. The screen was black again but I could still see the picture of Niall with a flirty smile, leaning close to a beautiful girl in a bar. It was stuck in my mind, engraved on my retina, and I felt like it would never come off. I was doomed to see this every single time I was going to close my eyes.

"Olivia, talk to me." Louis added a bit more firmly but still with a soft voice as he moved closer to me on the couch.

I shook my head a bit and felt his hand on mine as he grabbed my phone, tapping on the screen twice to see what exactly had gotten me so upset. I shut my eyes tight not to see the picture again but it was useless. Like I thought it would, it was dancing in front of my eyes and twisting my heart in my stomach.

"Shit." Louis whispered, putting my phone away and moving as close as he could. His hands found my cheeks and his warm palms made my eyes flutter for a few seconds. "I'm so sorry you saw that, darlin'"

Without thinking, I reached for the front of his shirt and gripped it tight in my fists. I could feel his breath hitting gently my chin and I breathed in deeply. He smelled of cold cigarette and mint and for some reason, it was comforting.

"Tell me he didn't cheat on me, Louis." I murmured so low that I barely heard myself. "Tell me it was just an innocent flirt. Tell me he loves me. Tell me he'll always love me."

"It was just an innocent flirt I promise. He loves you and always will."

His voice made a shiver run across my back. I never thought he'd say what I asked but the fact that he did meant more than I could explain. I felt his thumbs brush my cheeks slowly as he wiped my tears before his hands pressed more around my face.

"That's why you came here isn't it?" I ended up asking after thinking for a few minutes. "You saw it and you couldn't do anything so you came here."

He sighed but kept his hands on my cheeks and licked his lips. "I just didn't want to witness that. I warned him, I swear."

"I'm not gonna make you responsible for Niall's mistakes, Louis." I explained, swallowing hard and realizing there was a lump in my throat again. "I just don't know what to do."

With a sigh, Louis pulled me closer and held me close against him as I kept crying on his sweatshirt. We didn't say a word for a very long time until something escaped Louis' lips, something I never thought he'd ever say about his best friend.

"I want to hit him." he whispered angrily.

I looked up, peeling myself away from him with a frown. He turned his head my way and raised his eyebrows.

"Wha?" he asked just as low.

My lips curled slightly at the way he was looking at me. I loved how he didn't pronounce his t's and I somewhat found it endearing, but not as touching as the fact that he was talking about hitting his best friend just for me.

"He's like a brother to you."

Louis stared at me and his lips parted a bit. I knew he wanted to tell me something but he just shook his head and sighed, leaning back on the couch. I felt like what he was about to say was important but clearly, he wasn't ready to say it.

"That doesn't mean he can make my best friend cry."

My eyes got wide in surprise and my expression turned into a bigger smile. I moved closer to him and kissed his cheek, brushing my lips against him and he groaned, making me chuckle low.

"Yea, don't ever do that again." he let out with a grimace before I kissed his cheek again. "Gross."

We laughed a bit and my smile turned into a sad one. I had no idea what i'd do without Louis in my life. It felt like since Niall and I started dating, the friendship I had with him was different, and although it was sort of normal, I missed having a close friend like that. Louis was there, he took that spot and I let him.

"I should go. He'll be there any minute and you may want to have a discussion with him." he proposed as I nodded. "Are you gonna be alright?"

I nodded again and he got up, bending down to leave a kiss on the top of my head.

"If you need anything just text me and i'll come back yea?"

"Mmhm, thanks Louis."

He opened the door but turned back at me to send me a smile before to walk out and close the door behind himself. I held my breath to make sure tears wouldn't fall again and I just got up and turned all the lights off before getting under the covers. The house was quiet and dark but I could still hear and feel the beating of my heart against my rib cage, making me slightly nauseous. I was scared of what would happen when Niall would come back and at the same time, I couldn't wait until he was back. There was also this tiny fear inside me that told me that maybe he wouldn't even come back, that maybe he'd spend the night somewhere else... with someone else.

It was a relief but also even more stressful when I heard the door open after over an hour. As usual, it didn't take him long to join me in bed and when he pulled me, closer, I shut my eyes tighter.

“I love you, Olivia.” he whispered as I felt him nuzzle my neck. “I’m in love with you.”

I couldn't believe he had the guts to say that after spending the night flirting with an other girl but I swallowed my harsh words and licked my lips before turning around in his arms. He jumped a bit in surprise and chuckled low. I looked at his face, the love I felt for him hitting me hard just like every single time, but stopped myself from touching him.

"How was your night?" I asked a bit rudely before he shrugged.

"Not bad, was fun."

I held my breath for a while and swallowed hard again.

"Who was there?"

"Oh you know, Louis, Deo, Willie, Mully... the usual guys night."

I frowned and shook my head again. I didn't want to fight but we had to talk about it. I knew I wouldn't be able to fall asleep if I didn't know what exactly had happened. I needed to know even if I was pretty aware that it was about to hurt like hell but in the end, not knowing was just as bad... maybe even worse.

"No girls?"

He frowned and chuckled awkwardly. He didn't want to answer and I just decided to keep talking. I wanted him to admit it to me before I had to tell him that I knew. I wanted him to be honest with me the way he always used to be, or almost. I wanted him to confess to his mistakes so I knew he really did think they were mistakes.

"Pretty brunette, maybe?"

"Oh, yea, Heidi was there, but we barely talked."

My heart dropped in my chest and I blinked a few times again, seeing the picture of Niall with that girl behind my eyelids. It was clearly not Heidi.

"First of, I was not talking about Heidi." I pointed out, feeling suddenly pissed. "And second of, Heidi is not pretty."

We remained silent for a few seconds and he finally cleared his throat. His fingers played with the fabric of my shirt and I realized he knew exactly who I was talking about. I was not sure what stopped him from admitting it to me but the more he hesitated, the more hurt I was getting.

"Some girl randomly sat next to me and we talked. She was pretty and she flirted with me."

I felt my heart drop inside my chest and I swallowed as I teared up. I was glad the lights were off and that he couldn't see how hurt I was from his behavior. Even if he was flirting just for fun and had no intention to cheat, it was still painful.

"You flirted back." I whispered before licking my lips.

Despite the darkness in the room, I could see his traits softening as guilt appeared on his face.

"I flirted back." he admitted so low that I barely heard.

I swallowed again but couldn't stop the tears from falling on my cheeks. I ignored them and cleared my throat, hoping my voice wouldn't crack as I tried not to think of his fingers that had slipped on the skin of my waist.

"Why did you do that?" I breathed. "Am I not enough for you?"

His grip tightened on my waist and I held my breath as he tried pulling me closer. I didn't budge and he closed his eyes, swallowing too. Something was happening to us but I was not sure what. Maybe it was also my fault, maybe I was too intense, too insecure, too plain. Maybe dating me was not what he had imagined... maybe I was not how he expected me to be. No matter what mistake I made, though, nothing could make me think that what he did was justified.

"You are. This has nothing to do with you not being enough."

"Then why do you keep doing that, Niall?" I asked a bit louder. "Why do you need all that attention from other women? Why doesn't the fact that you keep hurting me stop you from doing that?"

"I don't know."

I heard him sniff and moved my head slightly closer but my heart jumped in my chest when I realized he was crying. He was clearly tired and a bit tipsy but I stared at him as he tried to keep his tears in. I saw his bottom lip shake and I closed my eyes with a frown as I tried to do the same.

"I don't know petal, I really don't know."

Without thinking, I moved closer and wrapped my arm around his neck. I felt him brush his nose on my skin and held him close as his arm slithered around my waist. He pulled me against him and my heart broke when I heard him sob, his mouth pressed on my neck. He held onto me like his life depended on it as my tears fell silently down my cheeks to his forehead. Watching him so sad and guilty about hurting me was some sort of relief even if it still hurt like hell. I didn't know how long we hugged each other tight but when he talked again, I started biting my bottom lip hard.

"I'm so sorry." he whispered as I felt his lips brush on my skin. "I don't know why I did that again, I don't know, at times I get so scared... so fucking scared, Liv."

"Please, don't ruin this. Niall i'm begging you, please don't ruin this. I love you so much, you're everything to me."

"I love you too." he murmured, his lips trailing on my jaw until my mouth. "I fucking love you."

His lips quickly parted mine as he turned us around to lay on top of me. I heard him groan in my mouth as I brought my knees up and my hands in his hair. I had no idea how this turned into a lustful moment but I wanted him so bad and I needed him to show me he wanted me too.

"I don't care about them." he whispered again in-between kisses. "You're my best friend, my lover, my girlfriend. It's you I care about."

I felt one of his hands get between us to pull my panties aside and I noticed he had pulled his boxers down already.

"Promise me you'll never do that again." I asked in a begging voice. "I need you to promise me."

I held my breath when the tip of his dick pressed between my legs and pushed my hips closer to feel it slip inside me. I bit his bottom lip but not hard enough to hurt him as I felt myself throb around him.

"I promise. I fucking promise, i'll never do that again. Never."

He bucked his hips my way and I let out a short but loud whimper when I felt him completely inside me. He didn't wait and started thrusting in and out of me as I gripped his hair tight, my fingers twisting some of his locks as my knees trapped him against me. It felt amazing, my head was throbbing hard, and I knew we both wouldn't last.

"Petal, I love you." he whispered again before groaning. "Mm, fuck, I love you so much."

I started pulling on his hair and my whole body tensed when an orgasm reached me. I started shaking beneath him as he fucked me harder and I moved my hips against his in rhythm with his thrusts. I felt him quiver over me and the fact that he was cumming made me feel dizzy. His body finally relaxed and he buried his face in my neck again but after a few seconds, his mouth found mine. We were both panting, our parted lips brushing against the other's and It suddenly hit me. I believed him. I believed every single thing he said. I believed he loved me and I believed he was never going to do that again to me. I didn't know why he did that and I had a feeling that he did but it didn't matter, as long as he kept his promise.

"I swear, Olivia." he said, pulling away slightly to look in my eyes. "Was the last time."

I swallowed a lump in my throat, remembering the girl from the bar but my eyes never left his. I nodded and he sighed in relief before kissing me gently again.

"I love you too."

---

"I knew this camping idea was a bad one." I groaned when Niall handed me his scarf with a laugh. "Nothing funny! It's freakin' october, Niall! Who had this idea?"

"Your fuckin' Romeo that's who." Louis pointed out with a grimace as he looked through his bag. "It's probably the only camping site still open. They clearly only allow dumb fucks."

"That says a lot about you, Tommo." Niall joked with an amused smile.

"I was forced into this by your bloody girlfriend, who was forced into this by your stupid ass."

I laughed at his annoyance and took a step closer to him, putting my cold fingers on his arm.

"Like you're not happy you'll spend two days cuddling that cute girl you brought with you, what's her name again?"

I glanced at the girl I had seen at the bar who was a bit further, chatting and laughing with Harry's girlfriend while he was setting up the tent.

"Briana."

"Cute."

I sent him a smile and he rolled his eyes at me but I could see his lips slightly curled and it made me chuckle. Louis seemed happier and although I knew Eleanor was still on his mind at all times, I was glad he could enjoy the presence of an other girl in his life.

We set the three tents and Niall started a fire. I sat by it as Harry sat next to me while Louis was talking low with Briana and Niall was gone to get some food in our tent. I noticed that Harry kept glancing at me and I smiled a bit more before raising my eyebrows.

"What?" I finally asked as he smiled more.

"Nothing. You seem happy."

I shrugged and looked away without answering. After what had happened with Niall recently, I couldn't say everything was perfect, but I wanted this relationship to work so bad I was ready to make all the efforts needed to keep it and make it better.

"You seem quite happy yourself." I just pointed out without answering him. "What's your girlfriend's name again?"

"Carly."

I stared at her for a few seconds and licked my lips before nibbling on my bottom one.

"It's a good thing we broke up so you don't have to date a 5 like me, you can date models now."

He remained silent until I looked up at him and sent him a small smile.

"First, you're not a five." he explained, raising his eyebrows up in a way that told me I shouldn't argue with him. "And second, well that's not how love works, Liv, you know it."

A bunch of memories of us came up to my mind and I turned around to look at the fire again. Everything was so simple with Harry yet I couldn't stop thinking about Niall. Now that I was with Niall, nothing was easy but I wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. There's no one else I would want to be with. I looked up as Niall was coming back with a pack of cookies and felt the left corner of my lips curl into a sad smile.

"Sometimes, it feels like that's exactly how it works."

Niall sat next to me and instinctively, I moved closer to him. It was so cold outside, especially at night, and I was not sure I really wanted to be there but at the same time, I couldn't pretend it wasn't fun, just very fucking cold.

"Okay, let's play a game!" Briana proposed, making me lay my head back against Niall's shoulder.

"No no, no game, it always ends up into a real big mess."

I felt Niall's lips on my forehead and heard Louis laugh.

"Olivia has a bad history with games like that, darling, you don't want to go there."

I heard Harry chuckle next to me but just closed my eyes, enjoying the way Niall was holding me against him, his arms around me. I could feel his stubble scratching gently the side of my face and I turned to kiss his jaw, making someone around chuckle again.

"Okay then, tell us how you two met?"

I opened my eyes again to be sure they were talking to me and I smiled, turning to Niall who had the exact same amused expression as me.

"When I was four, Olivia moved in a few houses away and we met. She was six and she acted like she was so much better than me!" he related, still staring at me.

"I did not!"

"It was winter, she had the biggest french accent I ever heard, and she was annoying as hell so I threw her a snowball and it hit her right in the face."

"The shoulder! It hit my shoulder! You're not as good of a pitcher as you think you are!"

"Turns out our moms became close very fast and she was always home, so we sort of became friends like that." he added, ignoring my comments but still staring in my eyes. "And I feel lucky because she's the best friend anyone could ever have."

I felt my heart melt and sent him a fond smile.

"And Niall's the best person I ever met, he's got a heart of gold."

He smiled more and bent down to kiss my lips as I heard a few "aww's", some real and one slightly sarcastic, probably coming from Louis. Everyone started laughing and talking about how they met but all I could do was stare into Niall's eyes.

"You're my person, Niall." I whispered, licking my dry and cold lips. "You've always been and you always will be."

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan story #niall horan writing #amc #my fanfics #i just want to write next chapter #it feels like its not ending and it bothers me #so expect the next chapter asap

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hysteriium · 5 years

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Karma’s a Bitch; {1}

// Deal With the Devil //

Steady hands met with the flesh of a tense bicep. An arm you knew by now would never relax despite your genuine reassurances.

With one scarred, blind eye and the other distant, refusing to look at you, it was always difficult to tell if he was in the present moment; aware. Or, if the infamous man was miles away, thinking — perhaps about what he’d do to you now if you messed up.

Though, maybe that was your anxiety talking.

Michael definitely wasn’t the nicest patient, there had been plenty of incidents over the years. Fatal ones. Yet, much to doctor Sartain’s persistence, Michael remained in the facility. It wasn’t ethical, but hey, you needed to get paid and so you tried your best to please everyone. Do your job for your boss, Sartain, and take care of Michael, since you were the only nurse who he allowed near him.

You wouldn’t say Michael trusted you. You figured he was quite unacquainted with the notion, yet you knew that he at least tolerated you. Seeming as you hadn’t been slammed against the wall, your brains splattering and contrasting against the blinding whiteness that coated the entire facility, this was a clear fact. A morbid, gory masterpiece that would almost belong in a museum; its message loud and clear.

With a gentle hum, you wrapped the measuring instrument around his arm. It wasn’t a daily process, but one that had to be performed every so often. It was a strict regulation with patients, especially with precious Michael (as your boss would so kindly emphasise), to ensure each patient was fit and healthy.

As you sat across from him, your gentle humming signified your distance from present-tense, your mind flickering elsewhere — dangerous. As your movements went into automation, you were too dazed to notice Michael slowly moving his head towards you; expression vacant, with no evidence of a human being residing within the flesh. It was only after completing the small task of writing down Michael’s scores when you stopped. Michael’s comparatively larger hand had halted you, your pen falling to the ground in a series of taps. It was a firm grip; you could never envision the man being gentle. It was a hold that signified if you made it difficult, there’d be no hesitation in ending your pathetic, significantly weaker, life.

Steady heartbeats morphed into that of panic, a hammering stampede. Taking in the new bits of information, you looked down at the man sitting before you, his gaze spilling into your own with such intensity it was hard to keep your eyes from saccading away. It had the capacity to turn even the hardest men into stone, like that of the great gorgon, Medusa. A flame lay within those dead eyes, ones that harboured the burning desire to kill.

“M-Michael?” Your voice came out as a pained whimper, and if he hadn’t had any indication you were bat shit terrified before, (which you doubted), he sure as hell knew now.

He could smell fear from a mile away.

His grip tightened at the sound of your small voice, the pullback of his arm forcing you closer to him with your faces mere inches apart. The action forced your eyes shut, and you felt your face involuntarily scrunch up in fear as you waited for impending doom. The atmosphere was suffocating, your body hot and tingling with adrenaline as the laboured breathing of your former patient, and soon to be murderer, triumphed. Its flow tickled the base of your neck, strands of your hair softly swaying against his harsh respire.

When you mustered enough courage to look, with the seconds speedily turning into minutes, you opened one glassy eye, tears pricking at the corners and threatening to spill. You weren’t sure which was more horrifying; getting hurt — and perhaps murdered by Michael — or the absence of pain that virtually seemed impossible to associate with the infamous man.

Then, as unexpected as it was abrupt, his strong hand released you.

Curious beyond articulation as to what the fuck happened, you didn’t need to be assaulted twice to know when to scramble out of there. Speedily you exited. Shaking hands collected your equipment before locking his cell. With no interest to look behind you, into the small window his cell had, you failed to witness his gaze still upon you, remaining that way until you completely vanished from view.

But, although you couldn’t see it, you sure as hell felt it.

——————

It had been days, perhaps a couple of weeks, since the incident and you hadn’t been back to see Michael. Despite your bosses protests and his covert empty threats, he was unable to get you back to your regular routine. Treating regular, less murderous patients was now your daily experience, and to be honest, you were much happier.

Living was currently an attractive state of being to you, so you were trying your best to avoid anything that could potentially endanger that. With Michael being the angel of death, it was obvious you would avoid him at all costs.

As for Michael, ever since the incident, he had been attacking the new nurses sent to him (attacks that hadn’t resulted in deaths, yet), or remained as uncooperative as possible. You’d be on shift, minding your own business until the piercing shrieks and cries of Michael’s next victim filled your ears. After awhile it became routine, and you instantly knew where the source was. You’d often see nurses with bruisings on their body, arms, legs, cuts from where he dug in his nails — and most commonly, bruising around the neck. It was particularly heartbreaking, especially since you had been one of the lucky ones; to put up with Michael for such a long time and to be able to continue on your day without an incident was a luxury. You weren’t entirely sure why that was the case. Either way, it didn’t stop the injured nurses' filthy looks whenever another staff member was assaulted, as if you had something to do with it; as if you had some kind of hold over Michael.

No one could control Michael, he was his own person.

Perhaps the violence was his silent protest to get you to return, you weren’t sure and you didn’t want to know. What you did know, however, was that Michael’s poor behaviour only worked to exacerbate the doctor's desperate pleas to return to Michael. He didn’t want the state to get any ideas, and he wanted to keep Michael in his clutches for as long as he possibly could. It was his primary objective, as he had once so nicely conceptualised. Sartain, someone you’d describe as a borderline madman, was still convinced he’d get groundbreaking research from Michael.

Delusional.

You were in one of the equipment rooms, ready to attend to another patient when Sartain strode in, his long lab coat floating in behind him. He made his way to you in long strides, eyes hard and focused with determination, peering into your own like an owl on cocaine.

Without even hearing him speak, you knew what this was about.

“No—“

“Hear me out, (Y/n)!”

“I’m not doing it—“

“He’s attacked another one miss (L/n). They’re transporting him in a few days and I need to know this won’t end up in failure. I need you there.”

You froze, biting your lip in thought, the bitter, metallic taste of blood only seemed fitting as you crossed your arms, contemplating the pros and cons.

The doctor not receiving an answer, interpreted your silence as a small victory, choosing to elaborate.

“He’ll be incredibly secured, chained up and driven in one of our busses. Nothing will go wrong, I can assure you that.”

You definitely needed a chance to think about it. Were you really going to endanger the lives of others just for your own comfort? It was a difficult decision that needed careful thought.

“I’ll be raising your pay, and it’ll be the last time you get to see Michael.”

Nevermind.

“Resorted to bribing now, sir?” You finally spoke up, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He shot you a playful smile, “so I’ll take that as a yes?”

Releasing a sigh, you slowly nod your head, barely believing what you were agreeing too.

“Okay, yes. Only if you’re certain it’s safe.”

“Utterly, and completely.”

As his smirk widened, happy at his win, you couldn’t help but feel like you were making a deal with the devil. A deal you felt you’d totally, and wholey, regret.

If only you knew how right you were.

Hey guys! This is my first three-shot / miniseries? Idk what to call it lmao. But I hope you enjoy! I'm really happy with how some of it turned out, I hope my characterisation of Michael is somewhat realistic. I don't particularly believe the narrative that he's completely unfeeling and further, incapable of feeling. I certainly do think due to the environment he grew up in (in the sanitarium), he was unable to really express and develop said emotions. With the added mixture of Loomis, and his psychobabble (he really needs his licence revoked), I really don't think that helped him lmao and this obviously added to the myth of 'The Shape'. Although Michael's emotions would be hard to access and even draw out in the first place, I still think it's possible that he'd feel some sort of affections for someone? It'll be very hard though. I also believe if he were to start feeling things for someone, he'd definitely be very confused, and it would lead to a lot of emotional outbursts, particularly anger - rage even - because of how unfamiliar it is; also due to how anger and rage are so "normal" for lack of a better word, he'd try his hardest to regress/revert back to some sense of familiarity. Though like how it is for most, repression of emotions really doesn't work, and this would thereby manifest itself as intense bouts of possessiveness and jealousy. Idk that's just my opinion and my own interpretation, I could be really fucking wrong lmao but I guess that's the beauty of writing. Anyway, Jesus, I'm rambling, I'll be surprised if anyone even reads this lmao. Thank you for reading if you did, I love you and I hope you enjoy!

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dxlansfxck · 5 years

Text

BLOOD // WATER [G.D] † 01

Summary: Grayson Dolan, better known as “el diablo” – Los Angeles’ most known gang leader and drug lord – doesn’t usually think twice when it comes to killing someone that is dangerous for his business. One night, he meets this mysterious woman that out of nothing wants to start dancing in one of his DEVILISH-nightclubs. Once their heated relationship got more intense, he knew he’d be killing for her too – and realizes how handy she actually could be for him and the revenge he’s been longing for years.

Warnings: mentions of violence, sex work, stripping / pole dance, soft smut, gun use, blonde & tattooed Gray (it should be a warning bc it’s hot, lol)

Word Count: 14.5k

Saturday, 13th August 2016. 10:47 PM

Loud, obnoxious sounds were filling the crowded streets of Los Angeles, caused by a pack of luxurious cars racing down the 700 Main St, passing by tourists and locals that were trying to get to the annual beach party on Venice Beach. The leading car, a black Mercedes AMG CLA 45, came to an abrupt halt, all the other cars stopping right behind it. The tinted windows rolled down as one hand motioned the crew to take a turn on the left side, while the Mercedes went the other way, trying to find a free parking lot somewhere… inconspicuous. Not that this car wasn’t inconspicuous at all, Jalen chose the sleek black one instead of his bright green Corvette, but it wasn’t even his job to fulfill this task on his own. Usually, Grayson didn’t give him those kinds of jobs, knowing that Jalen could do better, but today, everything was different. They were so close to reach their goal; Jalen just had to make sure everything worked out as planned – so he decided to do it by himself.

Grabbing his sunglasses, he stepped out of the car in one swift motion, closing the door behind him while walking towards the more and more crowded beach where loud music was playing, and drunk people were either grinding on each other or fucking in the ocean. He scoffed at the exhilarating freedom those people must be savoring, knowing that by tomorrow, some of them wouldn’t be there to celebrate anymore. On the other hand, it wasn’t his fault that they chose the wrong side.

Jalen quickly pulled out his phone, texting Grayson that he was there and telling him to look after him if he wouldn’t call him within the next two hours. Then, he muted his phone, stuffing it back into the pockets of his worn-down jeans while putting on some random base cap he found in the trunk. Lighting a cigarette, he passed some couples that were in the middle of making out, not caring about them at all – he was looking for someone different.

The heavy weight of the Glock that was pushed into his underwear was something he was used to by now, even though he wasn’t one to use it on a regular basis. Like already said, he wasn’t the one to do that. The diablo’s hierarchy was strict, no one could ever come even near the rank that Grayson Dolan had, that was for sure. But Jalen, he was a close second, maybe even qualified enough to be called the vice president. He was still out there in the streets, looking for his rookies sometimes, but most of his business was behind a desk, just like Grayson’s. Neither of them was the one to have blood on their hands, why else would they have hundreds of members following their instructions?

This time was different, though. Jalen couldn’t sleep over the fact that someone else could be the one to kill this motherfucker, the one that seduced his girlfriend, the one that had her pinned underneath his body when he was out there on a business meeting with Grayson. He found out rather quickly, he left no one he was close to without observation, but he couldn’t believe that the whore he used to think of as a loving girlfriend would ever dare to cheat on him with Kyle Houck. This edgy, wannabe tattooed bastard? Yeah, no chance that he’ll be surviving this night.

11:43 PM

The beach got more crowded as the time passed by, but Kyle Houck was yet nowhere to be found. Jalen has updated Grayson, talked to a few other gang members that were there as well, but neither of them has seen the target yet. Jalen grew nervous and impatient, wanting this night to be over as soon as possible to head back home where his younger sister was possibly waiting for him. Y/N never liked the thought of him being part of this gang, even though she didn’t know what exactly he was doing in there. But he loved his family, wanting them to be protected for the rest of their lives – and Grayson was one of the few people that could help him with that.

Sunday, 14th August 2016. 12:18 AM

A mob of teal hair passed Jalen’s field of vision, causing him to be more attentive than he’s already been, following the colorful head with his eyes, slowly walking after him without getting noticed by the dancing crowd. Sweaty bodies were pressed against his and Jalen couldn’t help but cringe at that, hating all those people but envying them at the same time. Their life was easy and fun, his on the other hand was full of risks and worries, weighing too heavy on his shoulders.

The gun he had checked multiple times by now was burning into his skin, ready to be used any moment from now, but Jalen had to wait, not wanting to cause a mass hysteria. Kyle walked further down the beach to a part where just a few random people were standing with red cups in their hands, probably talking somewhere quieter. Jalen acted as if he was concentrated on his phone. ‘Got him” was sent to Grayson before he raised his glance just to be found right across from Kyle motherfucking Houck. Jalen was quick to grab his weapon, but Kyle was faster – and smiled down at him. “Hello there”, he grinned while almost softly caressing his own gun.

“Houck”, Jalen spoke through gritted teeth, loading his gun while pointing it at his opponent. The tattooed man laughed at his reaction, angling his head. “What brings you to our side of the beach, Y/L/N? This is Angelo Vendicatore territory and it makes you”, he steps closer to him, “our prey.”

Just then, Jalen realized where he was, surrounded by AV members. “Fuck”, he hissed, reaching into his pockets with one hand to press the quick call button that was holding Grayson’s number while still looking at Kyle, but he was too late. Just as Jalen was about to make his only shot – a shot that had to be on point -, he heard a loud noise followed by the worst pain he had ever felt. His ears were ringing, and his body was on fire, a loud scream escaping his lips as he randomly shot his bullet into Kyle’s direction, not even hitting him in the process, before he fell to the ground with a loud groan. “Y/N”, was all he could say, not wanting to leave his sister yet, needing to see her finally get a man, build up a family, moving out of their parent’s house. He promised to take care of them, but he broke his promise. He broke his life goal. Laughs and applause was heard, but he couldn’t concentrate on that while feeling such pain. Jalen cried, not caring about it at all, his vision getting blurry and his breaths coming shorter than he’d like them to come. He felt so, so cold and he was hurt. Flashes enlightened somewhere in the corner of his eyes, knowing that someone must either film this scenario or at least take enough pictures to threaten Grayson with them.

By all goods, he just hoped Y/N would never be able to see them.

Y/N. With the thought of his sister, he closed his eyes one last time.

Late July, 2019

“Maybe you should go for it, Y/N. I know what they say about el diablo, but he never disrespects any of his girls – and you’ll be save around there. Jalen is dead, we can’t change that. It’s been over three years, you need to get your head back up, honey”, Zavi mumbles while scrolling through different web pages, looking for a better job opportunity than dancing in a night club. You sigh, pulling some of your thick braids in a knot. “I know that he’s dead, Zav, thanks for reminding me”, you shake your head, trying to get rid of the tears forming in your eyes. “But it’s el diablo, he’s known for killing people! What if I fall down the pole or anything like that? He fucking killed his twin brother’s fiancé because she was pregnant, and he wanted to get out of the gang!”

It was true, Grayson Dolan wasn’t known to be the nicest human being on earth, he killed many people – not that anything was proven by the police -, but people around the streets knew what he was able to do. He might not be the one to kill those people himself, but he for sure was the one that shoot the shot in this woman’s heart, enjoying the view of her falling to the ground, crying out her baby’s name while Ethan had to watch the entire time, not being able to move. Grayson’s men were holding him down, making him feel every bit of pain his fiancé had to feel, watching her life end while tears burnt his cheeks. Soon enough, her eyes showed no emotions anymore, her mouth hang open, but no sound came out, her heart stopped beating, still losing blood. And the baby never made its way into the daylight. At least, that’s what the rumors said.

Rumors said also, that Ethan killed himself right after that, others said that he managed to leave the gang, joining another one while promising to ruin Grayson Dolan’s life. But no one knows for sure what happened after that one special night. You didn’t know who exactly killed your brother, but you for sure knew that Ethan Grant Dolan was still alive, running the Angelo Vendicatore like his life depended on it. Yet, not many people have seen him ever since that night, leaving him to be as mysterious as you could imagine.

“Y/N, stop it! It’s your decision, I could totally talk to my boss if we have another spot left in the team, but you were the one that said working in a pet store isn’t going to pay your rent”, Zavi shakes her head while writing the number of the DEVILISH-nightclub down. “That’s the number I found online. Give them a call, maybe even just go there to introduce yourself, I don’t think Grayson Dolan himself will be the one to decide who’s going to work there or not. He’s probably too busy buying and selling drugs.” She shrugs her shoulders before standing up and pressing a kiss to her best friend’s cheek. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?” You just sit there and nod, still thinking about Grayson Dolan, while Zavi was already on her way out of the small apartment.

You knew you were in desperate need for a job, your parents didn’t even bother sending you any money to pay the rent when they moved away over two years ago, leaving you in the city where your brother was buried, but not wanting to live there themselves anymore. You on the other hand couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, Los Angeles was the city you grew up in, so many memories you had in each and every street that you could never leave that town. It was the city of angels during the day, but the city of the devil in the night – the city of el diablo, the city of Grayson Dolan.

Letting out another sigh, you quickly type in the nightclub’s number in your phone, breathing in a few times before pressing the call button, letting it ring for a while, but nobody answered. “Seems like I need to go there on my own”, you huff before standing up, taking a deeper look into your wardrobe, searching for an outfit to wear while having a job interview at a night club as a stripper.

You, of course, didn’t know what to expect there, trying to be prepared for anything that could happen. Starting off with a shower, an intense shaving session and you even exfoliated your skin to make it extra smooth. “I should’ve gone to the waxing appointment with Zavi.” You muttered, annoyed at the amount of time you just spent shaving, knowing that by tomorrow you’d for sure be covered in stubble again.

Now onto the big decision: what was the best way to show off your body, but not looking like a whore? On the other hand, it was a strip club, you might need to show off more than you usually would. You were standing in front of your full body mirror, the opened wardrobe right next to it, clothes were shattered all around your feet, some on top of your bed, but you felt like neither of them fitted. Usually, you’d go out in oversized band shirts and leggings or high waisted jeans, completely fitting into the whole “grunge/arthoe”-aesthetic without even trying. You didn’t like to dress up, all your clothes were comfortable but still cool looking, completely fitting your tattooed body. If you’d ever dance for el diablo’s nightclub, you’d dance in an outfit you feel good in.

Around an hour later, you decided on wearing a black button up skirt that ended mid-thigh and was tight, hugging the curves of your butt perfectly, showing off what you’ve got. Usually, you’d combine that skirt with a jeans jacket and an oversized shirt, knotted above your stomach, but that just wasn’t sexy enough. Grayson Dolan had the most beautiful, exotic woman dancing for him, skinny girls with porcelain-like skin, completely different from your dark skin and tattooed, curvy body. Back in the days people would call you out different names, not realizing that your skin color didn’t make your personality. You are black, who cares? You couldn’t change that anyways – and you love your skin, love the way it makes your light green eyes pop out and how white your teeth looked even though you were literally running on coffee.

One problem you’ve always had with finding cute tops was that your boobs were too big to wear most of them. That’s why you always decided onto something loose, showing off your hips and butt instead of your cleavage, but you felt strong and confident tonight, deciding on wearing a leather harness-bralette with some fishnet long sleeve over it. You’d totally dig some fishnet tights as well, but wouldn’t want to overdo it just yet, needing to find a pair of shoes fitting to that outfit. For you, it was usually either a pair of Doc Martens or some sneakers, but for today you decided to go with your old Jeffrey Campbell heels, the ones you wanted to badly but never wore them because they were made out of black leather and covered in studs. Well, tonight was the night.

LA’s streets were still filled with people, even though it was around 11 PM now. You didn’t like going out there alone, walking the streets on your own without anyone to protect you – especially in that outfit. For your hair and makeup, you kept it quite simple: bold brows, eyeliner and mascara, some highlighter and lip gloss. But still, you were popping out in the nightlife, people were looking at you with confused looks on their faces, eyeing you up and down. Your tattoos were always something that society didn’t seem to accept, making it quite hard for you to find a job these days, but you would never even think about getting them removed, they were a bigger part of you than your actual self. Your arms were sleeved up, mandalas and dotwork covering your left arm while your right one was filled up with beautiful flowers. Medusa’s head was covering your lower stomach, disappearing in your underwear – where it for sure continues, the snakes winding up around your belly button.

But your favorite piece so far was the ox skull right under your boobs, its horns going up on the sides of your boobs, while a dagger was placed between them. Some smaller tattoos were splattered around your legs, some of them stick and poked by yourself or your brother, but you loved all of them equally. You made your body even more beautiful than it already was by putting your own art onto it.

It was quite a walk to the DEVILISH-nightclub, but once you started to hear music you already knew it wouldn’t be as far anymore. The loud bass was already accelerating your heartbeat, making your stomach jump in both fear and excitement, but you were still more than just nervous. Your feet stopped abruptly; it was your last chance to head back home now. The red and pink sign of the nightclub was so bright that you had to squint your eyes to read it, making sure you were in the right spot. DEVILISH. There it was. Either your future or your death, you couldn’t know by now. Biting your lip in anticipation and agitation, you decided to stay there for a while to watch people enter the club.

Not everyone could get inside, you got to realize that so far. Boys in a sweater and joggers? Nope. Girls without makeup or high heels? Nope. Any other person that looked wealthy and arrogant, maybe even dangerous? Sure, come on in.

That was probably one of your biggest problems: the audience, the clienté. Those people, who will be watching you move your ass on stage. Those people, who probably wouldn’t even think about shooting someone your skin color. It was dangerous, you knew that, but it was also your only chance to stay in Los Angeles. You take one more deep breath, straighten your posture as you walk towards the line, waiting until you were the one in front of the bouncer. He raises an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to explain yourself while checking out your outfit.

“I want to…”, you cough, trying to control your shaky voice. “I want to dance for this club. My friend told me I could just come over to give you a sneak peak of what I’m able of?” The bouncer looked at you in confusion before speaking into his headset, unsure of what to do with the girl in front of him. You tried to resist the urge to bite on your bottom lip, not wanting to, first off: act like you’re weak and second: not wanting to smudge your gloss. His deep voice asks for your ID card, repeating your name, address and date of birth to the other person who probably must check your criminal past. Luckily, you had none that was written down by the police. With one last nod, he opened the curtain for you to walk through, wishing you good luck.

You were overwhelmed by everything that happened right now; your senses couldn’t even react to all the action around you. It didn’t smell like alcohol or sweat like most of the clubs you’ve been into, it actually smelt pretty nice; like a mixture of grapefruit, ginger and even coffee, maybe. Step for step, you dare to walk in further, carefully having an eye on the people that you passed on your way, one prettier than the other. Blonde goddesses, tall businessman, all dressed in Louis or Gucci. You looked down at your own outfit, frowning while doing so. It wasn’t anything expensive, nothing too daring and suddenly, you don’t feel as confident as you did a few minutes ago. You felt cheap, not worthy to dance in front of those people. As if they’d watch you, if they could enjoy a show by the other, prettier, more experienced dancers.

“Are you Y/N?”, a sudden voice tears you out of your thoughts, making you turn around with a quiet shriek. Right in front of you, there’s this woman and you could swear to god, she was the most attractive person you’ve ever seen. She was so tall, you had to tilt your head back to look her in the – bright blue, of course – eyes. She didn’t wear much make up, but she didn’t even need to. Her skin was flawless, her lashes long enough to just be coated by a simple layer of mascara and her lips, god her lips. They were covered in a nude gloss, looking so soft and plumb, you scolded yourself for always chewing on yours, which looked nothing like hers. “Yes, I am, ma’am. Y/N Y/L/N.”

The mysterious woman smiles down at you, offering you her perfectly manicured hand to shake. “I’m Lia, nice to meet you, honey. I got told you wanted to dance for us?” Her smile was still prominent, revealing two rows of beautiful teeth and two cute little dimples. You nod, still more than cowed by her appearance. “Don’t worry, love, our team is nice and loving, the girls will love you!”, Lia cheers while grabbing your hand and walking you to a huge door, typing in some code to open it, motioning for you to walk through it first. Somehow, you couldn’t help but grin at the hectic woman in front of you, nodding quickly while walking through the door with your head raised, making you look more self confident. Suddenly, you didn’t bother your outfit anymore, even though everyone else was dressed differently – it was your style, your dance and most importantly your body.

“You don’t need to be nervous, you won’t dance today, we just all need to get to know you first”, Lia smiles at you sympathetically while guiding you through the long hallway – the clubs music was nowhere to be heard anymore. “Currently, we’ve got 7 wonderful dancers, most of them are American, but we’ve got one beautiful Asian queen and a European goddess, we’d love to have someone like you in our team as well!” You cringed at her comment. ‘Someone like you’, what were you like? Were you different? Was it the tattoos or the color of your skin? “Oh, shit. I didn’t mean it like that!”, Lia cringes as well, trying to make the best out of the situation. “Don’t worry, it’s fine”, you mumble while looking around.

Just as if she was reading your mind, Lia points to another huge door. “There we are, it might be a bit confusing to walk through this long ass hallway, but Mister Dolan just wants us to be save from all those… people. You know, our clienté isn’t always the nicest, you’ve probably heard the story about our club and why it is called DEVILISH. But don’t worry, until now, nothing bad has ever happened, Gra- Mister Dolan just wants to know us in safety if something would happen.” You nod, waiting for Lia to enter the code to open the door, letting her step inside first this time.

“Okay, this is basically where we hang out before our show starts, we get ready in here, we eat in here and after the show, we could shower or take a bath in here as well. Mister Dolan offers each of us a room to sleep in whenever we need to make more customers, whenever we need a place to sleep or when we’re just too tired to head home, maybe having one too many drinks.” Lia smiles at the thought, she’s probably been sleeping here quite often. “He takes good care of us, Y/N, don’t listen to all those bad stories people tell about him. He has had a rough past, losing his brother like that, you know? I’m sorry for him”, she sighs before eyeing your outfit the second time this evening. “I love your skirt! And those shoes, god damned, I wanted to get them too, but I couldn’t figure out where to wear them. Well, by now I would know. Anyways, let’s find at least two of our lovely girls.” Lia starts walking through the different rooms, showing you the bathrooms with those luxurious bathtubs that made you think about the old one back in your apartment that you never used because you were kind of disgusted by how old and rusty it was. Usually, you’d just hop in the shower, scrub your body and jump out again before the cold water was actually hitting you. This seemed… nice.

Soon enough, you were introduced to a small Asian girl, also covered in tattoos, but a different style than yours. Hers were more comic book looking, some Ghibli figures dancing on her skin, some bright colorful ones, not fitting into your black and white scheme. “Oh my god, hi! I’m Yun Hee, but you can go for Yun, it’s easier and easier to remember, I guess. I’m glad we get another tatted bad bitch for our team!”, she hugs you, glitter spreading all over your body while you hesitantly wrap your arms around her as well. “I hope you’re going to make it, Mister Dolan is here tonight”, she whispers the last part into your ear, not looking at Lia, “He’s a sucker for his girls ass and can’t say no to a lap dance, especially when it comes to a girl with a body like yours.” Yun slapped your ass with a cheeky grin, watching as it bounces while you couldn’t hold in a small laughter. “I didn’t know I had to dance in front of him… I thought I’d just dance for you and you girls decide whether I’m in or not…”

Yun nodded with a knowing frown but got back to her cheerful self within seconds. “Anyways, I need to fix my make-up, I’m sure you’ll do fine! I’ll let Lia know to give you my number, tell me how it went then, okay?” Then, she was gone. And you? You were even more insecure, biting your lip in anticipation while looking around to find Lia. Instead, you stepped in front of the many full-length body mirrors, eyeing your outfit once more this evening, not sure if you want to do this anymore. You should’ve asked Yun about the costumers, the loan and Grayson Dolan.

“Y/N, there you are! Mister Dolan would like to see you perform, now. Don’t be nervous, I’m sure he’ll love you! I hope he does, good luck!”, with that, Lia pushes you through another door, leaving you alone in a dark room with dimmed lights, a little platform for you to stand on and a dark blue velour couch. You take in another deep breath, trying to calm down all your anxious thoughts before raising your head, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness.

And then you saw him. Erebus. El diablo. Grayson Dolan himself. Staring at him, you couldn’t move at all, hypnotized by his stunning looks, now understanding why he was named after the devil himself. He looked hot as hell.

“Hello, angel.” His deep chuckle brought you back from your trance, causing your breath to hitch slightly. You finally dared to really look at him, practically sucking in his appearance. His eyes even managed to sparkle in those lights, prominent eyebrows giving him that intimidating look and those, combined with his tight, chiseled jaw just left you like a shy little schoolgirl, dreaming of his attractive teacher. He tilted his head in amusement, raising one of those sharp brows at you. “Did something bite off your tongue? Or are you just so wet by just seeing me that you can’t move without dripping down your long thighs, baby?” Now it was your turn to raise your eyebrow, mocking his amused face while stepping towards him.

“Not the slightest, Mister Dolan. I came to dance for you and that’s what I’m going to do, yet I couldn’t get any preparation time. Is there any chance to change the lights and let me choose a song of my liking?” Your loose tongue causes his fists to clench, but he was somehow impressed, no girl would ever contradict him, especially none of those dancer girls. “Suit yourself, angel.” He crosses his arms while sliding back onto the couch with spread legs, making himself comfortable while taking a deeper look at your dark skin, covered in all those pieces of art. And that outfit, that no other of his girls would ever choose because it wasn’t as slutty, not as cliché. But on you, it looked amazing. You looked like a bad ass bitch – exactly what he was looking for these days. Mentally, he took a note on observing you the next couple weeks, minding something bigger for you already.

Soon enough, the lights turned a dark red, making you almost disappear as you slowly walked onto the platform as “DEVILISH” by Chase Atlantic started to fill the room.

SEVER OFF THE HEAD AND WATCH THE BODY FALL, SEE YOU IN THE DEPTHS, THAT AIN’T A METAPHOR.

SEX, BLOOD, FASHION DRIPPING HOLY WATER. HOLY SHIT, SHE WORSHIPPING MY DICK LIKE IT’S THE HOLY FATER.

As soon as the calming, yet rough voice fills your ears, you couldn’t help but slowly sway to the rhythm of the song you chose wisely – referring to Grayson, to his nightclub and his life. You’ve had lots of dancing experience, even took some pole dance classes, but dancing in front of the devil himself wasn’t something you could ever come prepared for. The beat started to get faster, making you run towards the pole and jump up on it, letting it turn you around multiple times with your head hanging low, bringing you closer to the floor with every rotation. Once your fingertips brushed past it, you let yourself fall until your back was hitting it as well, turning around to crawl onto the floor while opening your legs for him, humping the parquet twice.

TRIPLE THE SIX, I’M BLAMING YOUR GOD ‘CAUSE HE DON’T EXIST, I KEEP THE BEAT, ONLY TALK A FEW WEEKS THEN I CUT OFF YOUR WRISTS.

MEDICATION GOT MY HIGHER THAN HEAVEN BUT BRO I’M THE SHIT, BETTER FIX I SAVED FOR HADES, I’M POPPIN’ THE PILLS WHEN I’M SICK.

You didn’t dare to break the eye contact with the intimidating man in front of you, watching every of his reactions, trying to read his mind – but he was a professional in keeping his poker face up, not showing you any kind of emotion. Biting your lip in anticipation, you continue your dance routine, climbing back onto the pole until you were about to reach the ceiling, when you pushed your feet of the secureness, holding yourself up by just your arms while walking through the air, slowly circling around again. Then, just as the beat intensifies again, you press your back against the turning pole, crossing your feet over it while slowly tracing your silhouette with one of your hands. Your thick braids were flying through the air, your abs clenched, and you were slowly but sure getting out of breath, but you would never give up.

I ONLY EXIST TO FALL, HAPPENS LIKE THE GHOST OF GOD, I JUST WANT TO LET THEM GO. FEELING HOMESICK, FIRE UP THAT BLUNT, BITCH. SHUT UP.

DEVILISH, FUCKING WITH MY GUYS, YUH. I MAKE SACRIFICES, YOU MAKE LIES UP. HEAVEN LOST AN ANGEL WHEN I SIGNED UP, I MIGHT FUCK YOUR FRIEND, I MADE MY MIND UP.

Just as the music hits its peak, you pulled yourself up with your right hand, bringing your legs over your head in a split, spinning the pole even faster than before. Your legs were now above you, your head stretched away from the pole and hands working as wings, as you slow down a bit, winding around it like a snake. Taking a deep breath, knowing the next move must be perfect, you jump back up to the highest point, wrapping your legs around the pole as you let yourself hang from it like a bat, opening your arms while waiting for the next beat drop. Once it comes, you let yourself fall to the floor in a horrific pace, a move you usually just dared to show off when you were drunk. Just as your nose was about to hit the floor, you quickly let go of the pole with a somersault.

Grayson raised an eyebrow, impressed with your performance and shifting in his seat while waiting what’s next to come. You couldn’t hide a smirk while crawling towards him with swinging hips, enjoying the desirable glance he shoots towards you.

I’M DEVILISH, YUH. I’M DEVILISH, YUH. I’M DEVILISH, YUH. I’M DEVILISH, YUH.

Looking up at Grayson with a slightly innocent look, you climb up on his lap, debating whether to touch him or not. This man was out of your league, yet, you had to compel him, to seduce him like you would with any other man that was watching you perform. Without even thinking about it twice, you grab the collar of his dress shirt, playing with it while smiling down at him. You didn’t press your crotch against his – yet -, but you could feel his hips move to the beat as well, eyeing your entire body up and down

It wasn’t part of your choreography, but you bite your lip while placing his huge hands on your hips and pull off your fishnet shirt with them, wrapping it around his neck as if it was a scarf, giving him a view seconds to enjoy the view of your impressive cleavage. Then, you turn around quickly, pressing your back against his toned chest while using his hands again to roam your body, while wriggling around in his lap in a slow pace.

DEVILISH, SAY THE PART YOU LOVE ME, YUH. I DON’T WANNA TALK, JUST SAY THE PART YOU LOVE ME, YUH.

SETTLE DOWN, YOU DON’T WANT TO SEE ME DRIVE THE DEVIL OUT, YOU DON’T WANNA SEE MY DEMONS IN YOUR FUCKING HOUSE, YOU DON’T WANNA FACE DAMAGE IN YOUR MENTAL HOUSE.

Once the slow part was over and the beat dropped again, your let yourself fall right down onto his dick, earning a quiet gasp from Grayson, his hands tightening around your waist as you started to grind down on him, hands buried in his perfect styled hair. Just as his hands were about to travel further down your waist and you feel something starting to grow underneath you, you get out of his lap to dance around him while softly pressing down onto his shoulder. Once you were standing behind him, you let your nose brush against his neck, breathing in his heavy but delicious after shave, knowing that this man had to smell good. Your clothed tits were pressed against his shoulders as you gently bit down onto his earlobe, loving the way he twitched underneath you. Placing your hands on the couch upholstery, you lifted yourself up in a handstand above him, rolling down back onto his lap as the song finally comes to an end.

I TAKE DRUGS ON THE DAILY, I TAKE PITY ON THE PEOPLE WHO TRY TO SAVE ME, GOD DOESN’T EXIST AND EVEN IF HE COULD, OH BITCH YOU WOULD NEVER CATCH ME PRAYING.

Within seconds, you had your shirt back on and were standing in front of Grayson, raising an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to say anything. He, on the other hand, keeps on looking at you, burning you with his stare. Just as you grew impatient, he opened his mouth. “Where have you been all my life, angel?” He stands up, walking right up to you while pressing his warm palm against your cheek, almost stroking you. “Definitely not here, Mister Dolan”, you chuckle as you stepped back once more. “Well, what is your opinion on me, Sir? Will I be able to dance for your clienté?” He hated the fact that you were running away from his touch, but he loved playing games, he loved a challenge.

“Well, Miss Y/L/N”, he chuckled in his intimidating deep voice, “I do think you’d fit in perfectly, but”, he stopped once more, just to build up some tension, “why would I let you dance for me, angel? What would you do to deserve your wings? How important is this job for you? Tell me your story.” He was way too interested in her to just let her go like this, no. He needed to know everything, needed to know if she was the one. The woman he was seeking for, the woman he needed to finish off his plans.

“I’m sorry to tell you, Mister Dolan, but I don’t think my past is important for you to hire me, isn’t it? All you need to know it that I’m available on the daily, I will dance for you, your friends and your… costumers. I don’t mind if it’s one man or twelve, I’d still be up for it if the payment is high enough. I’m not for free, you won’t be able to bring me down, I went through way too much to be ordered around by another gang member, even if it’s the leader this time. So, you could either hire me and make some money with my body – a body like no other of your girls has- or I could pay your sweet brother a visit to see what he thinks of my dancing skills. Because I for sure know what’s going on with you two, Mister Dolan. I’m sick of deciding which gang my family belongs to, you know?”, your walk towards him, showing him that you weren’t afraid of him. The thought of your brother, killed by the rival gang, made you feel powerful.

“I once chose my side, don’t let me regret it.” You lift the left side of your bra a bit up, showing off the devil tarot card that held Jalen’s name hidden on your ribcage, always near your heart. “I’m not an angel, nor am I as innocent as you might think, but I am willing to fight for my survival. I am willing to fight for my family, even though I might have lost an important member of it. So, I wouldn’t wait another second to team up with Ethan’s gang, because I don’t want to starve to death, but my brother was part of the diablo’s , I guessed it would be just the best to follow his footsteps.”

Grayson’s eyes widen in shock before he frowns, pulling you even closer to look at the healed tattoo – you had to have it for quite some time now, not seeing any fresh ink or crust to show some healing process. “How long?”, he mumbles while secretly checking out your other tattoos. You didn’t even have to think about it for a long time, always remembering the night you got the tattoo together with Jalen.

“About three years ago, when my brother got his tattoo, he made me get the same one – I didn’t know what it meant, though. I thought it was like a brother-sister thing to do, get matching tattoos and stuff. But once he…”, you cough to swallow the lump in your throat, trying to find your voice again, “But once he died, I quickly found out what that tattoo meant. He wanted me to be safe if something happens to him. I knew I never had some receptive ritual or something like that, but I already have the tattoo – wouldn’t it be a shame to get it covered by Gabriel?”

“It would be a total shame, princess. You deserve an angel on your skin, but not that one”, he walks around you, acting like he’s inspecting you, as if he hadn’t seen enough of you during your performance. “Who was your brother, darling? Must have been someone I know, otherwise he wouldn’t be that confident of me securing his little sister.” Well, you haven’t thought through that part of you actually telling Grayson who your brother was, not knowing which position he had in the gang or if Grayson even liked him. On the other hand, you really didn’t want to know what your brother did, whether it was a simple drug deal or being the cause of someone’s death. It doesn’t matter, just because of this gang shit, Jalen ended up being the death one.

“Jalen, Sir. Jalen Y/L/N..“, you mumbled while lowering your head, afraid of his reaction. “Jalen? Jalen had a sister?”, Grayson raised his eyebrows once more, balling his hands to tight fists. “I never knew about his family. Okay, listen to me, Y/N. You should’ve been searching for me a long time ago, Jalen didn’t die for no reason, you got me?” You just nodded; eyes wide in shock.

“Jalen was somewhat of my right hand, he helped me do… lots of things, I guess. But they know who he was, probably checked out his family as well, but nobody ever knew he had a sister.” Grayson paces through the room, the red light making him look even angrier than he already was. “Where are your parents?” Biting your lip, you quickly answered. “Gone, they moved away as soon as they found out about his death – but I couldn’t leave the city I grew up in, I’ve got too many memories here. And I want revenge.” Your voice sounded stronger than you felt in this moment, but Grayson looked at you with an impressed glance, nodding in agreement. “That’s what I wanted to hear, angel. Okay, here’s what I could give to you: a place to stay that’s absolutely safe, money or whatever you’ll need to keep living your life and I promise you: you’ll get your revenge. But I need you to do something as well, angel. Are you willing to do something for me in return?”

“Yes, Sir. But you don’t need to do all those things for me, I’d be fine with a somewhat good paid job. I don’t need a new place to live in…”, you suddenly grew nervous again, not knowing what he had up for you. “Really, I don’t want to bother you, Mister Dolan.” “Stop talking, would ya? As Jalens sister, I owe you more than you think. This man saved my life way too many times.” He shakes his head with a chuckle before continuing. “And don’t worry, my house has more than enough rooms, I wouldn’t even know you’re there. Anyways, I think you’d look quite good by my side, don’t you think? So, in return I want you to keep me company whenever I need to do important stuff. I want you to dress up pretty for me, lull my business partners and who knows, maybe you could be the one to finally ruin my brother. I know you’ve got your brothers blood in your veins as well. You’re a fighter, angel. Would you like to fight on my side?”

Grayson steps towards you, placing his hands on your waist as he whispers the last couple words against your lips, leaving you gasp in excitement. “You sure, Sir? I don’t know if I’d look that good by your side, I-“ “Oh angel, you don’t know how you’d look in Louis, in Gucci or even in Balenciaga? All those brands would be glad if you wore them, pretty girl. Where’s that skirt from, Forever 21? You deserve better.” His soothing words left you with goosebumps along your spine, making you shudder under his touch. “It’s actually H&M…”, you whispered, ashamed of your cheap outfit that probably hasn’t even cost half the price of his underwear. His fingertips were currently tracing your jawline while you were still thinking about his offer.

“What do you mean by living in your house, though? I mean… I do have my own apartment, there’s no need of me moving in with you. But I’d totally be fine with escorting you to your business meetings. And I wouldn’t say no to a nice dress. I came to dance, so that’s one thing I’d love to do for your club, Mister Dolan”, you giggled at the thought of something more expensive covering your body, knowing that Grayson wouldn’t be hesitating in buying you all the designers you loved. “I just offered you anything you could dream of, but you still want to dance in front of hungry men? What did I just got myself into”, he chuckled while nodding in agreement. “Fine, you can put on your show on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but on the other days, your body will me mine, angel. And about the living situation: we’ll be discussing that later, for now you can go home and think about everything. Tomorrow, you’ll be having a little shopping spree on your own, okay?” He hands you his credit card while grinning down at you. “Visit La Perla for me, darling. I bet you’d look great in salmon colored silk.” With that, he left you standing alone in that dimmed light, holding nothing but a black credit card in your hands – not knowing what to do with it.

“So, you’re really telling me that he not only offered you a job, but also to live with him in his freaking mansion? And that you denied that?”, Zavi shakes her head at you, blowing nose through her nose in disapproval. The two of you were currently wandering through your local mall, searching for some nice stage outfits. Grayson’s credit card was burning holes through your wallet, but you denied on using it, not wanting to waste any of his money for something you’d earn your own money with. Just as you walked past a small store called La Perla, you smirked while pulling Zavi with you into it. “Y/N! This store is out of our price range, c’mon, even looking at those pieces will make me poor”, Zavi whined as you showed her Grayson’s credit card. “It’s on el diablo. Don’t worry, I guess he won’t even realize that some money is missing. He told me to spoil myself, so why not spoiling my best friend too?” You shrugged while looking through the different lingerie sets, some of them out of complete mesh, others of lace – which you absolutely adored, packing 4 sets into your basket, knowing they’d look stunning on your body. But one pair of silky lingerie caught your eye, salmon colored and absolutely wonderful, you didn’t even dare to touch it. Zavi didn’t even bother to put that one into your basket as well, grinning at you while showing off her teeth. “Make him greedy for you, girl. Try it on, I need to see it!” She shoved you into the dressing room, handing you your basket after putting some more lingerie in there.

You put on one after another set, actually feeling yourself and smiling into the mirror with such a confidence, you couldn’t help but step out to show Zavi your favorite set so far – the one that Grayson suggested. It pushed up your tits to their maximum without looking too fake, but those panties were a different level. They were short, revealing but sitting on your hips like they were meant to be there. You turned around, showing her the fabric that was hidden in between your cheeks, showing the roundness of them perfectly. “Fuck, Y/N you look so hot, you’re driving my pan sexual ass crazy”, Zavi moaned at the view you gave her. Just then, you saw a familiar silhouette passing the dressing rooms, making you chuckle. “Hey stranger, what do you think of it? Or would you like to enjoy a show later on?” You would’ve guessed it was Grayson, following you on your little trip to see if you were about to spend his last coin, but the person that was now standing in front of you definitely wasn’t Grayson. “Oh, that color suits you pretty well. But let me tell you, I bet baby blue suits your skin even better.” You stood there in shock, not being able to speak up while letting your eyes travel the person that looked so similar to Grayson that it couldn’t be a coincidence. “Oh, I’m sorry, what a shame to not introduce myself. I am Ethan”, he holds out his hand for you to shake and as soon as your smaller one touched his, you felt instant rage boiling up your skin. But instead, you smiled.

“Well, hello Ethan. I’m Y/N, always up for help when it comes to finding a new style. Is there anything specific you’d suggest for me?”

You instantly regret going out in your sweatpants and some tank top you found laying on your floor, your face was free of any make up, wishing you had at least put some effort in doing your eyebrows. It was a one time chance to meet Ethan Grant Dolan, talking to him without him knowing who you were. “Oh, for sure, pretty girl. I see, you already chose some lace, that’s always been a secret love of mine, I adore women in lace”, Ethan closes his eyes, imagining you stripping down in front of him, wearing nothing but those see-through lace panties.

“Yeah, I can totally imagine you in that set”, he pointed over to a cute baby blue set with flowery lace detailing. “Oh, Ethan, this is so pretty!”, you smiled at the set, putting it into your basket willingly. On the inside, you were rolling your eyes at him being that easy to compel. Shouldn’t he be crying over his dead wife? This Ethan wasn’t someone you expected him to be.

“Let me buy that for you, Y/N. It’s going to be my treat for you, hoping I’d be the one to see you wearing it one day.” “Oh, Ethan, I can’t accept that, this lingerie is way to expensive to let a stranger pay for me…”, you pouted while Zavi giggled.

“You like being a challenge, huh? I won’t be a stranger to you for long, baby”, he grabbed the lingerie to go and pay for it while you rolled your eyes as soon as he was out of your sight. “Such a fucking dumbass”, you huffed to your best friend. “As if I’d be in to fuck the guy that-“

“Here I am, babe.” Ethan hands you a little bag while smirking at you. “I put my number in there as well, I surely hope you’re giving me a call or at least some pictures to strengthen my opinion on you in lace.” He kisses your cheek before winking at Zavi one last time, disappearing into the crowd of people outside that store.

Later that night, when you finally unpacked all the clothes and make up you bought, you decided on enjoying a nice bath and some Sushi in the tub while listening to music. Sadly, your pampering night got interrupted by the annoying ring tone of your phone, the display showing some unknown number. “Hello?”, you asked while chewing on a big chunk of avocado maki, snorting at the amount of wasabi you put on that piece. “Angel.” Grayson’s soft voice made you almost drop your chopsticks into the water, choking on the Sushi. “Mister Dolan.” You tried to sound professional, but which professional would ever decide on eating maki in their bathtub? “How is my princess? I was hoping to see you tonight, there’s still some things we need to figure out. Are you free?” “I guess I am, Sir. When and where to you want to meet up?” Opening the drain, you stepped out of the tub while grabbing a towel from your heater, wrapping it around your body and looking for your body lotion.

“I don’t mind coming over to your house, would you?” Grayson asked casually, causing you to sigh in relief. “I’d like that, Mister Dolan. Would mean I don’t need to get dressed nicely”, you giggled while walking towards your bedroom, looking through all those beautiful pieces of lingerie you got with his – and Ethan’s - credit card today. “Fine, I’ll be there soon, angel.”

Minutes have passed and you grew more and more nervous, debating whether to wear something nice or casual, whether to wear make up or not. Well, you chose the same pair of sweatpants from before combined with a basic tight black crop top, trying to look at least somewhat sexy. Not knowing what Grayson had on his mind, you just set your brows in place with some brow gel but didn’t waste time on foundation or mascara. Then, your doorbell interrupted your upcoming anxiety attack, leaving you with one more spritz of your perfume before rushing to open the door. And there he was, dressed quite casually, some lose dress pants combined with a simple black hoodie – but he managed to still look stunning. “Good evening, angel”, he grinned at you while shrugging his shoes off. “Can I come in?”

You just nod, still perplexed about how different he looked from yesterday, but you instantly felt so miserable standing next to him in your dirty joggers. “Sure.” Stepping aside, you allow him to come into your cozy little apartment. “Do you want anything to drink? To smoke?” Grayson shakes his head, but you decided to grab a beer just to calm your nerves. “I don’t really have much space to sit, is the couch okay for you, Mister Dolan?”, you bit your lip in discomfort, you’ve never been ashamed about your living situation, but you knew he was used to something much better. “Everything’s fine, angel”, he places his hand on the small of your back while guiding you to your own living room. Once the two of you sat down, Grayson looked at you with such an intimidating look that gave you instant goosebumps.

“So, what I’ve been wanting to talk about was our contract stuff. I know you want to dance for me, but you know that I’ve got different plans for you, right? It wasn’t just a wish of mine to have you move in with me, Y/N. I want you to live by my side from now on, not just as my coworker, more like a… girlfriend. It is hard for me to do all the business meetings alone, to attend anything without someone by my side. The problem is, I can’t trust most people around here. I mean, I could choose any girl from the gang, but… most of them are manlier than I am”, Grayson chuckles while looking at you, “Would you be okay with that? Just keeping me company. You wouldn’t have to dance for all those men, you could be by my side, in my house and live your best life while doing one, two things for me. To be honest, I’ve got plans, most of them maybe not as easy as pole dancing. But I feel like I could trust you – I know that I can trust you, let alone because of Jalen. I owe you something, angel.”

Grayson el diablo Dolan wanted you not to only move in with him, but be some sort of his girlfriend? Shaking your head in shock, you chugged down most of your beer before starring at him in confusion. “Mister Dolan, I don’t understand...” “Grayson”, he interrupted you. “Huh?”, you raised an eyebrow at him, more confused than before. “My name’s Grayson, don’t always call me ‘Mister Dolan’ or ‘el diablo’ that’s kind of weird, you know?” You gulped but shrugged your shoulders.

“Fine, I don’t care what to call you, so Grayson it is. Okay, Grayson. Don’t you think there’s some kind of love needed to ask someone to be their girlfriend? Instead of just asking someone jobwise. I mean, I’m honored, but… I feel like this is so wrong. I’m not an escort or anything like that – and I barely know you. What I know is that you can be really, really dangerous, that you own more money than I could ever dream off and that you could probably pay prettier and more graceful woman to go out with you. I’m not the one to be in the spotlight, Gray”, the nickname slipped off your tongue so easily that you didn’t even bother to correct yourself, “I need to be the girl in the shadows, the mysterious one that dances a few times a week and that’s it. If I was the one by your side, everyone would know me. I’d be everyone’s target.” There it was, the side you didn’t want to show anyone that works – or owns – DEVILISH. Your insecure, anxious self.

But Grayson was fast to react, cupping your face with his large hands, suddenly a soft sparkle in his eyes. “Listen, Y/N. The moment I saw you, I knew that I had to have you. Before you even started to dance, I knew what kind of ride you were – the first girl ever to open her mouth and be not up into my ass like all the others. I’m usually not the type to ask for anything, you should know that. But let me phrase it properly: Will you, Y/N, be my girlfriend? Or will you at least be willing to get to know me better?” He smiled that smile that would melt thousand of hearts in seconds, but you were still frowning, not sure of this situation. “I am willing of getting to know you, Grayson”, you bite your lip while nodding shyly, “But I still want to dance, you know that. I want to get paid the way you pay all your dancers, no benefits, okay? Dancing will be my job, we’ll see about the rest – that will start only in our private time, okay? You can invite me to dinner, I love sushi. Tomorrow, 7PM?” Out of nowhere, you got your confidence back, grinning at the man in front of you. Grayson couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ve got myself a feisty one, huh? But fine, sushi it is. Wear something nice, though, I may or may not want to take you to another club afterwards”, he winks at you before standing up, looking down at you. “Mind escorting me to the door?” You nod, getting up as well and throwing your braids into a knot, relaxing your neck while doing so. “Oh, by the way. I met the other Dolan twin today. It was quite… interesting, I’d say. He even bought me those”, you giggled while lowering the waist band of your joggers, revealing some of the baby blue lace Ethan bought you earlier that day. “That dumbass even gave me his number, wanting me to send some pics in those.” You rolled your eyes, huffing at the thought of this greasy guy.

Grayson’s eyes widen at your confession, sitting back down on the couch in disbelief. “You met Ethan? And you didn’t tell me earlier? What did he say? What did he do? Does he know who you are? Oh, no, he couldn’t know. Are you going to call him?” “Grayson calm down! He was so weird, acting all flirty and stuff. I mean, I tried to flirt back, but I couldn’t because I kept thinking of Jalen. I still kept his number, though. What do you think?” You sat down next to him, popping your legs on the couch table while looking at the bill that kept Ethan’s number on it. Grayson scratched his beard, thinking about all those possibilities to ruin his brother.

“Tease him, send him pictures, try to get in his pants, I guess. But that would mean you couldn’t be the girl by my side… Mh. Fuck, Y/N that’s one of the best chances I’ve ever got. Okay, wait. Let’s do it like that: we’re still going out, doing all that official business stuff but you keep on hitting on Ethan, trying to convince him that you hate me with all your guts but you’re still with me because of my money, how’s that?”

You scrunched your nose at his idea, shaking your head no. “I’m not the type of girl to do that, Gray. It would be too obvious to be with both of you, don’t you think? I mean, Ethan doesn’t seem that dumb. But, I may or may not have a friend that he flirted to as well. I think she’d be up for it. She loves a challenge – and a good dick to ride on. How’s that? I just slip Zavi Ethan’s number, telling her to send some lingerie pics to him, trying to drive him crazy. And once he’s far up her ass, we’re destroying him and his business.” You raised an eyebrow, giving Grayson an asking look while typing Ethan’s number into your phone, sending Zavi the contact.

“Girl, I love you, I can officially say that. You’re a genius! But I got to say”, he eyes you from head to toe, smirking while doing so, “I think I’d still prefer salmon colored lace or silk on your body. Was your shopping day successful, angel?” You nod with a wide smile, thinking about all those luxurious lingerie sets that were ready to wear in your closet. “Yeah, it was wonderful. I was quite surprised though, I look fine as hell in salmon.” Grayson groaned quietly, nodding his head. “I bet you do, angel. I bet you do. I can’t wait to see it, mind to give me a show? I mean, I paid for it”, he winked at you, making you pout. “But I wanted to wear them for my first dance.”

“Dance for me, then.” Grayson kept his eyes on you, a soft smirk still plastered onto his beautiful lips while you stand up, basically running into your room to change into a nicer outfit. If Grayson wanted a show, he’s totally going to get one. Stripping out of your nasty clothes, you quickly slipped into your new lingerie set after removing the tags on them, turning around in front of your mirror with a proud smile on your lips. Salmon truly looked amazing on you, Grayson was right. You didn’t have a pole montaged into your living room, so you need to improvise in that, probably going for a lap dance or a striptease. One of your new favorite pieces you just bought today was a skin-tight dress made from black faux leather, hugging and stretching around your curves. It had so much cleavage, that you were unsure if your boobs were about to fall out during your dance, but they’d see them anyways – who cares? The back was something different, though. It was held by many straps, covered in rivets, giving it some sort of grunge vibe. To that, you’d usually wear some of your combat boots or over knees, but since you were at home anyways, you went barefoot.

Once you came back into the living room, you saw Grayson on his phone, probably checking up with his gang mates or whatever an important gang leader must do in his free time. Little did you know was that he already booked your dinner at this really fancy sushi place. You walk up to him, coughing quietly. “What’s your favorite song, Gray? What would you like to see me dance to?” You ask while standing in between his legs, caressing his thighs with your thumbs. Grayson lays his head back to take your appearance in, sighing at the view of your hips in that tight ass dress. “Fuck, angel”, he moans while gripping onto your love handles. “You could dance to anything and nothing, I wouldn’t mind at all. Look at you, girl.” He pulls you down onto his lap, smoothing out your braids over your back. “The worst thing is, I kind of know what’s underneath, but I haven’t seen it. So, what about me just ripping off that beautiful dress?”

You shake your head in amusement, standing up again before connecting your phone to the Bluetooth speaker, choosing ‘American Money’ by BØRNS. As soon as the soft bass starts, you sway your hips in front of Grayson, but he just shakes his head, pulling you back onto his lap while holding your chin between his fingers. “I can’t watch you just dance for now, babygirl”, his nose traces your jawline, inhaling your flowery scent with another groan while his hands explore your body. “I need to see you, need to taste you”, he mutters with closed eyes – leaving you almost paralyzed. His fingertips were melting into you skin, while his body was practically molding against yours, leaving no free space for anything. Opening his eyes again, Grayson traces the thin straps of your dress, biting his lip. “This makes you look so naughty, angel. Doesn’t it?” You nod, seeking for more than just his fingertips on your body, aching for his rough touch. “Grayson, please”, you mewl, rolling your lips between your teeth and looking down at him. “Please what, baby? Please, stop?” He grins, waiting for your answer. “No! Please, continue. Please, touch me. Please, remove this fucking dress”, you squirm around in his lap, searching for at least some friction.

“But, Y/N, I thought I came just to talk?”, he removes his hand from your collarbones, smiling innocently at you. Your blood was boiling, not wanting to waste any chance of getting Grayson into your bed. “Yeah, you did, but now I want you to fuck me, Mister Dolan.” Grayson loved the way his name rolled off your tongue, but he loved the sparkle you had in your eyes even more. “What was that, doll?” He needed to hear it once more, needed to hear her begging for more. “I want you to touch me, Gray.” Raising an eyebrow, Grayson gently rubs her back, her hair and her shoulders. “Like this?” You shake your head, whining in impatience. “No, you idiot. I want your hands here”, you place his large hands over your tits, helping him to squeeze them while grinding down on his slowly hardening dick, “while I need your tongue down there.”

His hands were fast to move to the bottom of her dress, rolling it up and revealing the fantastic set of lace that she bought just for him. Grayson breathed out through his opened lips, not believing what he was seeing. “Fuck, I fucking told you”, he emphasizes while quickly laying you down onto the couch, hovering over you with lust filled eyes. His fingers move to the already damp fabric, slowly tracing those flowers out of lace. Squirming, you were the one to remove your dress completely, enjoying his stare with a wide grin. “Look at what you bought, Mister Dolan. Don’t I look pretty for you?” “You look amazing, babygirl. You look like the queen you deserve to be”, Grayson breathes out as he picked you up, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist. “Where’s your bedroom?”

Just as you were about to tell him, Grayson’s phone began to ring, causing him to set you back onto the floor, picking up his phone with a groan. “What?”, he snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose, shooting you a sorry smile which you just shrugged off as you took another sip of your beer to calm your nerves down. You were really about to go there, even though you know nothing about this man besides that he’s fucking dangerous. On the other hand, he could give you anything you wanted, he could make your life hundred times better than it was by now. He had the opportunities – you didn’t. And by now, he was nothing but nice to you, as if he really wanted you by his side. “Taehyung, I already told you not to go that far all by yourself! I swear to god, if you get hurt, I’ll fucking shoot you!” Grayson’s loud voice dragged you out of your thoughts, making you look into his direction in confusion. He quickly mouthed a ‘sorry’ combined with an apologetic grin before continuing to talk. “Just take care, man. Alright, good luck, I’ll be there soon.”

You laughed as soon as Grayson had shoved his phone back into his pockets. “Don’t your own men listen to you, Mister Dolan? Where’s the authority?” Grayson laughed along with you. “Taehyung isn’t one of my… men. He’s most likely my best friend that wants to save my ass more often than I could save his. Speaking of, I need to head over to him before he ends up in the hospital once more.” He presses one soft kiss onto your blushing cheeks before walking towards the door. “I’m sure you’d like him too, but I need you to get to like me first! Tomorrow, 7 PM!”, he shouts before leaving into the dark night, doing whatever he needed to do.

Once your clock hit 6 PM, your nerves started to go wild again. You were pacing around your flat, trying to clean up even though you just spent an entire day cleaning just to calm down. Of course, you were already dressed and did your make up, but you’ve been changing your dress at least 5 times, drew your eyebrows on twice and couldn’t decide for the perfect lip gloss for another solid 15 minutes. Grayson stressed you out, even though your “date” hasn’t even started yet. You spent the entire night thinking about what he had said to you, about the girlfriend thing and living with him, but you were still unsure. He has been nice to you two times, but you didn’t know him, didn’t know what he does in his “job” and you didn’t know if he would be loyal or if all of this would be just for the outer world. All you knew about him was that he was fucking powerful – and that scared you.

At 6.54 PM, Grayson texted you to come outside, so you quickly applied one more layer of lip gloss before slipping into your heels and heading out. Gasping, you couldn’t help but adore the car he was standing in front of: a dark grey Corvette Z06, one of your most favorite cars in the entire world. “Fuck, Grayson”, you basically moaned, walking towards the car, touching it with sparkling eyes. “Hello to you too, angel”, Grayson laughed before pulling you into his arms softly, pressing a kiss to both your cheeks. “I see you like my car for the night?” You not quickly, smiling at him. “Can I drive?” Grayson’s chest moved against your head as he chuckled, looking at you in amusement. “Not tonight, this is one of my favorite cars, I wouldn’t even trust Tae to drive it. C’mon get in!” He guided you to the passenger’s side, opening the door for you and watched you get in before closing it, running over to his side. Once he started the motor, you couldn’t contain your envy. “I will be your girlfriend if I can drive this car. The interior is even better, this car is pure sex.” “Keep on talking angel and we won’t make it to the restaurant”, Grayson glanced at you while maneuvering the car through the traffic, soft beats coming out of the speakers while Los Angeles’ skyline passed your windows.

“It is so beautiful at night, yet so dangerous”, you mutter with a sad expression on your face, thinking about the night you heard about Jalen’s death. “It is, but who am I to judge?”, Grayson answers, leaving the car in silence again. He was right, you thought. If his and his brother wouldn’t be in those gangs, your brother would probably still be alive. Grayson breaks the comfortable silence shortly after, announcing that you arrived at the sushi place.

“Urasawa? Grayson, this is literally the most expensive place. Believe me, I’m fine with ‘Roll Roll Roll’, really. No need to spent hundreds of dollars for some raw fish…”, you mumbled as you gawked at the luxurious restaurant, but Grayson ignored you, opening your door and holding out his arm for you to hold on to. Sighing, you stepped out of the comfortable car, grabbing Grayson’s muscular biceps as you walked in together. One of the waitresses came up to you, showing you your booth as soon as Grayson mentioned his name, leaving you two in the most private area after taking your orders.

“So, Y/N, why don’t you tell me something about yourself? Did you go to university?”, Grayson asked as he took a sip of his water. You played with the water droplets that were running down your own glass, shaking your head. “No. I was about to go to university, but then Jalen died, I needed to help my parents pay for his funeral. Then, I fell in some kind of black hole, couldn’t handle my own feelings and decided to take some time off. Well, I never applied after that, working here and there to pay my rent. College wasn’t a topic for me ever since. By now, I’m too old to attempt, I guess. Did you?” Not wanting to talk about you all night, you decided to ask him some questions too, wanting to know everything about him and his life. Grayson nodded.

“I did, but only two years, never finished because… well, the gang happened. Ethan and I were both going to UCLA, I studied law and forensic studies, while Ethan went for art and humanities – even though our dad wanted us to study architecture. But then, things got weird and difficult with us, so we stopped and went our own ways, you probably know the story”, Grayson shrugged as the waitress brought your food. You smiled at her as she placed the plate in front of you, Grayson didn’t even look at her. Once she was gone, you tried to get him talking more. “What happened between Ethan and you? I know what the street says, but I want your story.” “You should eat, Y/N. We can talk about this another time.”

The rest of the dinner went on with some small talk, but you learned quite some things about Grayson. He loved wasabi, even ate it without pieces of sushi. He didn’t do drugs, even though he was one of the biggest drug lords out there – he hated people that bought from him, but he makes his money with him, so who would he be to decline that? His mother and his sister are still in contact with Ethan, but not him. His dad passed away because of cancer, which caused him to donate around a million Dollars to a children’s hospice. You frowned, feeling bad for him and his loss, but also admiring him for his strength to still lead that empire on his own – starting to hate Ethan more and more. “Don’t worry, I’m fine by now. Learned to hold my head higher than they do. I don’t get called el diablo for nothing”, Grayson winked at you while eating his last piece of sushi, making you giggle, but also smile in admiration. “What is your favorite childhood memory?” You asked while continuing to eat, curious if he’d tell you something about his past. Grayson remained quiet, obviously thinking about it before answering. “Probably something with my dad. Whenever Ethan was sick, dad and I would go out and do things on our own. It was fun, almost like I was an only child, not having to share experiences with my twin, you know? Full attention on me. Not having to share dad or mom, something like that”, he shrugs. Nodding, you finished your sushi as well, laying back in your chair to relax your stomach. “I’m so full”, you groaned with an exhausted laugh, Grayson joining in. “You ate more than I expected, not that it’s a bad thing. Usually the girl I take on business meetings with me just eat some appetizers. I must’ve looked like Son Goku next to them, eating all the time.” Smiling, the two of you kept having a comfortable conversation, getting to know each other better and better, leaving you with the thought that Grayson wasn’t a monster at all.

Days have passed, conversations were shared, and memories already made. By now, you knew that Grayson wasn’t the tough man he pretends to be, you found his soft spot, even though you’ve been now living with him for little less than a month. You decided the day after your date night, that Grayson was right: you two were meant to be. All your worries were for nothing, Grayson cared about you as much as you learned to care about him. Including staying up the entire night whenever he didn’t come home, cleaning his wounds whenever he got into a fight and helping him with any paperwork that was bothering him. A smile stole its way onto your lips as you thought about your argument during your second week of living with him.

You just got into the car with Grayson, glitter covering your body, barefoot and an exhausted look on your face. “You tired, angel?”, Grayson hold your hand while driving, caressing it with his thumb. “Mh, yeah”, you yawn, head pressed against the window, about to close your eyes. He looked over at you, smiling, while he realized something on your exposed neck. His grip got tighter; eyebrows furrowed. “What’s that on your neck?” “Hmm?” “Is that a hickey, Y/N?” Turning your head in confusion, you rolled your eyes at him. “Probably something you did last night, babe.” Grayson shook his head. “I didn’t, this time. What happened during that privat dance? I told you not to make out with any of your costumers!” You shot him a glance that could kill – if Grayson wasn’t already used to your stubborn head. “Thank you for calling them ‘costumers’ as if I was some slut fucking for payment. I dance, Grayson. I don’t even strip that often, remember? You should, because you’re always there when I’m on stage. That private dance was just me on the pole, I didn’t even give him a lap dance, I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it definitely isn’t a hickey.” Rolling your eyes, you laid your head back again, huffing at his assumptions. Soon enough, Grayson’s finger was tracing your neck, touching the ‘hickey’ – and realizing that it stuck to his fingers. “Ew”, he said, looking at his index finger, causing you to break out in a massive laughter. “That, my dear, is lipstick. My own lipstick, to be exact.”

That night, Grayson ended up showing you who you really belong to – him, no one else.

That night, you stopped dancing for clienté, leaving Grayson to be the only one to enjoy your hips swinging to slow music.

That night, you fell in love with Grayson, because you realized he actually cared for you.

Smiling, you looked down at your intertwined fingers, gently squeezing Grayson’s hand as the two of you walked towards the empty beach, large cones with ice cream in your hands. “I’m glad this part of town is mine, I wouldn’t know what to do without Marco’s ice cream”, Grayson confesses while happily licking at his lemon ice cream. You nod, stuffing your face with the mixture of hazelnut and melon you chose, leaving Grayson cringing. “I don’t get your taste.” “I can never eat just milk ice cream, but just fruity ice cream is boring either. So, the only logical thing to do is just pick one of each”, you shrug as you bite into your cone. “Never liked that though”, you hand him the waffle as soon as every drop of ice cream was in your mouth. Grayson takes it, basically eating it in one piece, speaking as he was still chewing. “How can someone not like the waffle?” You shrugged, nudging his side and you started to run down the street, enjoying the wind in your hair, laughing as Grayson started to sprint towards you, trying to run faster than him. “I don’t need a girl that’s fitter than I am, Y/N!”, he laughs as he finally catches you, pulling you closer to him and pressing a soft peck onto your nose. Then, he wraps one of his arms around you, hugging you from the side while walking towards the soft breeze of Venice Beach. “Haven’t been here since… you know”, you whispered as you slowed down, terrified and anxious about your feelings. Were you ready to get confronted with that? “It took me a while to come back too. But I want to show you something. Jalen once told me how he imagined some nice guy taking you here, walking with you on the beach, enjoying the comfortable silence. Are you okay with me being that nice guy tonight? Fuck it, not just tonight. Always.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, allowing you to just nod. “Just… don’t leave me there, be by my side, okay? I don’t think I could handle it all by myself.” Grayson’s eyes got soft immediately, his fingers playing with the braids that fell over your shoulder. “You’ll never be alone again, Y/N. I promise you that.” Then, he guided you towards the water, lacing your fingers with his and pulling you closer to his side. Soft rustling noises were heard from the ocean, even some seagulls were still flying around, chirping above your heads. “Should we sit down here?”, Grayson quietly interrupts your thoughts, pointing to a clean spot in the sand. Once you nodded, he pulled you in between his legs, sitting down with you against his chest. “I’ve never done that with a girl, romantic stuff.” “Really? Not even in high school?” “No. It is difficult to date when your brother is always the one who gets the girls. I was always their second choice whenever Ethan didn’t want them. So, I preferred staying single instead of being just the Ethan lookalike. But let’s not talk about that, let’s make it to a moment you will ever remember and a night that you will never forget.”

And well, you did.

Grayson pulled you towards the water, the two of you only in underwear, deciding to go for a midnight swim. “Gray, please tell me nobody will see us”, you asked in worry, but Grayson just shook his head. “I promise you, baby. No one comes ever to this part of the beach, it’s el diablo territory – and I told my guys that we would be here tonight. But if you don’t want to…” “No! I want it, but… not in my underwear”, you grinned at him while slowly unclasping your bra, letting it fall onto the ground where all your other clothes were neatly folded, your slip soon following. “C’mon, baby.” You ran into the cold water, yelping at the feeling, but laughing as soon as you realized you were back in your element, letting yourself fall under the surface. Grayson laughed, enjoying your carefree side – and the view – before he stepped out of his boxers and ran towards you, embracing your naked body with his own, warming you up and engulfing you in comfort. Your skin was glistering from all those water droplets reflecting the moonlight, you were stunning, like Selene herself. Grayson’s personal goddess of the moon, of the night – and of his life.

Grayson on the other hand looked like a mixture of Hades and Nyx – if she was a man -, fitting perfectly into the night, shining under the starry sky. His broad shoulders broke the soft waves on the water surface, his strong arms holding you up against him. “You’re so beautiful, angel”, he whispered as he admired your simple beauty. You smiled at him, tracing his tattoos with your fingertips. “You’re a piece of art. I love every single one of your tattoos”, you hum. “I… love you.” There you said it, looking at Grayson with wide eyes, just like a shy deer, scared of his reaction. Grayson’s face softens immediately, mouth hanging open before it cracks into a smile, pressing soft little kisses around your mouth. “I love you too, angel. I never thought I’d say that, but I love you. I love you. I love you.” His hands were everywhere, showing how much he loved every part of you, starting from your face down to your neck, your arms, your fingertips, going back up again to caress the curves of your breasts, your hips and your butt before he grabs your legs to wrap around his waist.

You didn’t even break eye contact once, not as he touched your nipples, nor as he slowly enters you. Both of your lips were parted, chests pressed against each other’s as you moved gently against Grayson, soft hums leaving both of your mouths as the water around you started to move with your actions. “Grayson”, you whimper as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, his teeth teasing the sensitive skin. “I’m here, baby.” His soft thrusts grew unsteadied, whimpers turning into moans as Grayson hits the right spot each time. Again, you couldn’t believe that this tough, almost criminal man was so soft when it comes to you. You tilt your head back, looking up to the stars and start to ask yourself how you out of all people deserved to get this man. “I love you, Gray”, you moaned out as you clenched around him, your orgasm coming in stronger than the waves around you. “Fuck, angel, I love you.” With that, Grayson came too but remained inside you while you shared this intimate moment, soft kisses and many whispered promises, before you eventually went in for another round.

#BLOOD // WATER #dxlansfxck #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan smut #ethan dolan #ethan dolan fanfic #dolan twins #dolan twins fanfiction #dolan twins smut #grayson dolan imagine

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wallsinner · 5 years

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Training Wheels | 1 | Jean x F!Reader

Title: Training Wheels Pairing: Jean Kirschtein x Female Reader Warnings: Swearing, Discussions of Virginity, Eventual Smut, Chapter Summary: Your friend Jean has a lot to complain about. Words: 2k Notes: I first started writing this in 2016(!!) and you can find this first chapter in it's first draft on ao3 if you're that way inclined, but I rewrote it, replanned it and I'm *so* excited to be rewriting it. The first chapter of Tear in my Heart -- aka the story from Jean's POV -- will be up on Monday at around 10PM GMT.

If there is one mystery you want solved, one question you want answered, it was why are you genetically predisposed to being the laziest of assholes. You’ve been so since you were a kid and personally, you blame your father because it’s a habit you’ve picked up from him at the very least. And you always suffer for it.

Like, right now, you are suffering because you’re more than well aware that if you’d gotten out of your pit of a bed when your alarm had rung this morning, then you would have had plenty of time to get your butt into the kitchen and produce yourself a tasty sandwich -- or maybe even a salad -- from what you’ve salvaged from the fridge, but oh no, what had you done?

You’d snoozed the alarm, twice. And then when you were finally ready to be awake, you’d lay in bed for forty-five minutes needlessly scrolling through your phone, checking your notes on Tumblr, your Snapchat and your Instagram stories. Hell… you’d even gone on Facebook even though nobody even uses Facebook in this day and age. Then you’d clicked over to Buzzfeed, done a couple of quizzes to find out which Disney Princess you were and played a couple of rounds of solitaire. And then you’d realized the time and jumped in and out of the shower, choosing instead of washing your hair, to slip the head of the shower beneath your legs, which had led you to not even having time to dry off and to just toss some clothes on, grab your bag and get out the door.

You had good intentions every morning, but… you just didn’t act on them. And this was why you used your shower head every morning because you were such a flake that no dude wanted to come near you. Well, that and the company you kept.

And so you’d had no breakfast and two long lectures had basically put you into starvation mode and so you’d had no choice but to drag yourself to the caf and get the special of the day -- which claimed to be shepherds pie, but should have been renamed ‘brown sludge with white bits and the odd pea’ -- which you were like… a thousand percent sure you were going to get food poisoning from, but hey, at least your stomach wouldn’t be eating itself.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow you will be better. You will get out of bed when your alarm goes off, you will go downstairs and get some breakfast and then you’ll have a long shower -- but you won’t masturbate, trying to get the shower head on that one spot is far too time consuming -- and put together something that is fit for human consumption to bring for lunch. Hell, when you get back home tonight maybe you’ll even take the time to sniff everything that’s on the floordrobe and maybe put it in the washing,

Maybe you’ll even fully clean your room while you’re waiting for the spin cycle to complete.

Actually, nah, maybe you’ll just watch the new episode of Catfish and eat a fat bowl of pasta.

You shudder as you look down at the ‘food’ again and with disdain, put the plastic fork (sidenote -- you know that Trost Community College ain’t exactly Oxbridge, but would it kill them to dish out the cash for one of those industrial dishwashers instead of trying to kill the planet you have to raise your children on -- near your mouth. You’re real tempted to hold your nose while you gulp it down, but you don’t really want to give Hitch Dreyse and her crew more ammunition for thinking you’re weird, so you just brace yourself and shove it in.

Well.

At least it doesn’t taste as bad as it looks. Definitely nothing gourmet, but if you distract yourself, then you’re probably gonna be able to finish it. You shove another forkful in and whip your phone out of your pocket, loading up Lovestruck and deciding to reread a few chapters of Ash Winters to distract yourself.

You’re about to come to one of the best sex scenes in the whole ‘book’, ignoring the world around you when a loud thump pulls you away from your Gangster bae. Peering over the top of your phone, you catch a glimpse of a thick, Art History book -- the cause of the thump, you’re sure -- as Jean slides into the seat opposite you.

You’ve known Jean forever. He’s basically the Boy Next Door, except he’s less Boy Next Door and more Boy Down the Road and on the Right Hand Side. He’s the only one of your little group of friends -- The Raspberry Crew, as you’d decided to name yourselves when you were five -- who still lives there. And like you, he’s also dumb as a bunch of rocks so he’s at community college too, so you spend a lot of time together.

“Hi.” You say.

He doesn’t reply, just looks at you and narrows his eyes as he pulls his own lunch out. It’s in a brown paper bag and of course it was handmade lovingly by the wonderful Mrs. Kirschtein, who was the nicest woman you knew and adored her son so much. Whereas your own mother liked to yell at you all the time to get out of bed and stop being a fuck up. Rude. Is it too late for her to adopt you?

“Okay,” you tell him. “I’ll bite. What’s going on?”

He looks up at you and the expression on his face changes from someone who wants to commit a murder, to someone who just watched their puppy get kicked into the sun. “It’s… nothing, really. It’s just…” he gives a big dramatic sigh. “Finally official.”

“What,” you ask him. “In all of the seven hells are you talking about?”

He looks around in an over dramatic gesture, to make sure that nobody is looking at the two of you and them just as over dramatically he leans in to you. “It is official.” His voice is a stage whisper, so that nobody can hear the two of you, like he’s in fucking Hamlet or some shit. “I’m the last virgin in Trost.”

And in hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea to take a bite of your food as he was speaking because you splutter, covering his face in little bits of half-chewed mince and reach for your water. When he’s wiped his face and your choking has subsided, you look him in the eye. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me,” he snarls. “I know you did and I’m not repeating myself again.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I, uh, I definitely heard you, I’m just wondering if I heard you right. And if I did infact hear you right, I’m wondering when exactly between your Mom coddling you, your lectures, moping after Mikasa Ackerman and your homework did you manage to go around canvassing Trost to come to this conclusion. Cuz uh, if you did Kirsch then you’ve screwed your numbers up because you’re probably not the only one with your V-Plates still on this room, let alone in Trost.” You are technically a virgin, you’ve fooled around with a few people, sure and you’re pretty sure Jean just assumes you lost it to Marcel Galliard because he did walk in on you at a party with his dick in your mouth that one time, but are you going to admit that nothing but the streams from your shower head have penetrated you? Fuck no, you know he’s got a big mouth. “Also… there are children in Trost.” Jean is seemingly as disgusted by you that your brain went there judging by the fact he balls up his brown bag and throws it at your head.

“Sometimes I think there is something very wrong with you.” Shucks, you’re flattered, but hey at least it distracted him from his misery for all of five seconds. “But okay fine, all of the people in Trost who are of age,” he tells you through gritted together.

“Again,” you ask. “When was this survey conducted?” You push your plate away because honestly this conversation had made your appetite much, much less raging.

“I didn’t do a fucking survey,” he tells you a little more aggressive than is necessary in your opinion. “I just know and do you want to know how I know?”

Honestly, you didn’t really because you never know what the hell is going to come out of his mouth, but you know that if you say you don’t want to know then he is just going to ignore your wishes and come out with it anyway so you just keep quite and say nothing and barely five seconds pass, before he opens his mouth again.

“Marco.”

“Oh,” you can’t help but laugh because Marco Bodt is the nicest human being and at one point you had the hugest crush on him and you honestly can’t picture him bullying Jean by taunting him, it’s too surreal. “So Marco did the survey? Or die he come up to you and say…” you put on your best Marco voice. “Oh hey Jean, did you know you’re the last…” and the look on Jean’s face is another for you to shut your fucking mouth and not finish that sentence.

“There was no survey,” he’s talking to you through gritted teeth again and you can see the tips of his ears are a fiery red, a sure sign he is about to loose his temper. “Forget about the fucking survey. I came by to see if you were getting the bus this morning and your Mom said your ass was still in bed, so I walked over to his instead,” he takes a deep breathe. “His Mom sent me straight up to his room because he was still getting ready, which I thought was really weird because when is Marco ever late to anything and well… he and that brunette from his Psychology class were in bed together.”

Well, your appetite is definitely gone now, former crush or not, it’s never nice to hear something like that about someone you once liked. “…That doesn’t mean they’ve slept together, we’ve slept in the same bed together and has your dick been inside me? No, not it has not.”

“Trust me,” Jean shudders. “I left them too it and when I spoke to him earlier, well, he turned into a human tomato at the mention of her name.” He pauses. “Plus her tits were out.” Ugh, you can feel the brown sludge on the move and you know the brunette he’s talking about and you really, really hope that Mina Carolina took her pigtails out when she got smashed and oh your God, you cannot believe you just thought of sweet angel Marco and smashing, where did that brown bag go, you may need it. “And the last time we slept in a bed together we were both six.”

“Nah, it was last April when you got fucked at Reiner Braun’s party and I had to bring you home with me so your mother wouldn’t see you in that state.” You wave your hand, indicating that you want to change the subject. “Did I really need to know about Marco? I’m sure he’d prefer you kept that one quiet.”

“You’re the one who made me prove my life is over.”

“Oh puh-lease, your life is not over. You are just an overdramatic fuck. It will happen.”

“Oh yeah? When?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Oh let me just consult my crystal ball! Look, Jean, it will happen when you meet the right…”

“I swear to God, if you say when I meet the right person… I already did remember?” He sends a longing look across the caf and you don’t even have to follow his eyeline to know where he’s looking. At Mikasa Ackerman of course, a girl he met at the beginning of your time here, she’s Eren, a sort of frenemy of sorts of Jean’s foster sister. You’d thought it was kind of cute at first, until she’d gotten a girlfriend and he’d stayed as deluded as ever.

“Remember that time when ‘Kasa told you that even if she wasn’t with Annie she wouldn’t give you the time of day?” He doesn’t look away from her, so you’re guessing he didn’t hear you. Or he’s choosing to pretend he didn’t hear you. “Jean!”

“What?”

“Look, I promise you that it’ll happen. You’ve just got to wait it out.”

He pulls a face and starts gathering his things up. “Whatever. You don’t know that.”

You grin at him mischievously. “Oh it will, because if it hasn’t happened by your thirty-fifth birthday, I’ll buy you a hooker.”

“Fuck you.” He tells you, but there’s no actual malice in his words. You just smirk at him.

And the two of you go your separate ways for the rest of the day.

#mywriting #jean kirschtein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean #it's been so long since i've shared something like this #so i'm nervous #i hope u like

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vertanimeni · 4 years

Text

the ice will start to break, the day will fade away (5/18)

Summary:

“Have you heard? The Elephant of Caocin has committed high treason!”

From Trikru’s most reputable war hero to Trikru’s most wanted traitor, Kova found themselves stripped of their titles and trapped between a clan that wants them dead and a camp of invaders - the same ones who kidnapped and tortured their brother.

But Kova was willing to do anything to stay alive and keep their family together.

Pairing: Bellamy/Grounder OC

Word Count: 6,277

TW: Canon typical violence, injuries.

A/N: Hi hi! After some convincing from my friends, I decided to post this series here :D I’ve already finished with season 1 and half of season 2, I’m just in the middle of re-writing and editing. If you’re reading through my blog, the read more does not show up due to Tumblr’s new formatting, so please click on the post itself. I’ll be updating every other day at 12pm EST. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

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v. intervention.

The sole fact that the Ankwon Bridge stood tall and proud despite the dry creek underneath, despite having gone through neglect, a nuclear war, renovation, and more neglect, was an impressive feat on its own. The debris scattered across the floor and the crumbling sides and edges made it quite obvious that it had been abandoned, or at the very least, hadn’t been used as often, for trading or otherwise. After all, there were faster routes to get to southwest Trikru, and with no villages or people for miles down this road, it became an unpopular course.

Which is why Kova couldn’t hide their surprise when they found someone casually leaning against the railings, as if she had been waiting there for a while now.

Knowing their tendency to accidentally sneak up on others, Kova made sure to step with a bit of extra pressure on a few dried leaves and twigs. Octavia turned at the noise. Her eyes landed on Kova, and she gave them a wry smile. They dipped their head in acknowledgment. Octavia might be Lincoln’s… interest, but that didn’t mean Kova would drop their guard just for—

“No sword to the throat? I thought you liked me?” Octavia couldn’t help but tease, a sly smile on her face.

The muscle underneath Kova’s eyes twitched. They blinked once. twice. Octavia could have sworn for a brief second she saw the corners of their lips twitch, too. Suddenly Kova’s chest spasmed as a light laugh tumbled out without restraint.

Alright. Maybe they could warm up to her.

Once they calmed down and cleared their throat (pointedly ignoring Octavia’s wide eyes), they held out their forearm. Without hesitation, Octavia gripped theirs with her own, and her smile was much more natural when they squeezed lightly.

“Wanna sit with me while we wait for the others?” She asked.

“…mn.”

Since they were early, the two sat on the edge of the bridge, legs hanging over the side and arms resting on top of the lower railings. And to Octavia’s shock, Kova easily plopped down by her side, letting their shoulders touch.

“Lincoln talked about you a lot.” There was no hint of malice in Octavia’s tone, just curiosity. “He mentioned why you can’t take off the mask. Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to make sure you can stay with us while everything clears up.”

“Mn. Thank you. I appreciate it.” They faced her and bowed their head slightly. “He talked about you as well.”

Well. More like gushed. A lot. He had been telling Kova as much as he could about Octavia, probably to put the woman in a favorable light. But she was doing just fine on her own.

Her cheeks flushed at their words.

After that, conversation flowed out naturally. After all, both sides were equally curious about the other. Octavia spoke about how difficult life was on the Ark. She spoke of the prison system, her trauma of being thrown in the sky box just for being born (and that added a whole new conversation topic on the Ark’s justice system — Octavia never thought she would see the day where she had to explain how the justice system worked and try to defend the justification behind her imprisonment, but here she was.)

But she also spoke of the parties, the view of the moon and stars and the sun with its solar flares, and how different and freeing it was to live here, with friends, clean fresh air, and the ticklish grass underneath her feet (although she had to admit, she hated the mosquitoes and bugs that tried to sneak in her tent.)

Octavia had to admit, she liked the way Kova listened intently while they watched the distant landscape, with a few hums of acknowledgments and agreements, a few frowns and worried glances when she mentioned the sky box and her “crimes.” Almost exactly like how Lincoln had reacted when she told him.

“What about you? What’s your sob story?” She couldn’t help but ask at the end of her history.

Seeing as Octavia laid out most, if not all her history and secrets and worries bare to them, Kova couldn’t help but want to do the same. Well, not all their secrets, maybe not even most, but more than anyone would know.

(Except for Lincoln, of course. He knew everything.)

So Kova explained what it was like to live on Earth. They spoke about Trikru, about how Trikruvians are expected to train in the militia for 20 years before they’re allowed to opt out, how they themselves so desperately wanted to opt out early and work full time in prosthetic handling, something they thoroughly enjoyed on the side. They spoke about how tired they were of training, of fighting battles after battles, wars after wars (Kova could tell Octavia sat up a little straighter, as if she wanted to delve more into that topic, but Kova sent her their most nicest glare and she thankfully didn’t press into that open wound.)

But they also spoke of the ceremonies and celebrations, the drinks and foods with spices so ferocious tears would bundle at the corners of their eyes, the delicate warmth of fire after a night of fishing in the river, the stars and moon twinkling above them, the smell of the earth after it rains, and the way the trees move with the winds.

(They told her they hated the bugs just as much, if not more, than she did. And if they get the chance to, they would show her which plants keep them away.)

A comfortable silence fell between them as the sun began to rise higher in the sky. Both of them needed a moment to gather their bearings. After all, two weeks ago they hadn’t known the other person even existed, and in Octavia’s case, she was getting used to the fact that she was practically an alien on a planet her ancestors were from.

Surprisingly (or maybe not, due to the nature of their question), Kova broke the silence with, “Can I ask what your intentions are with my brother?”

Octavia nearly choked on her spit. She leaned over the railing as she coughed, but eventually broke out into a laugh. “Are you giving me a shovel talk?”

Thumping her back, Kova couldn’t help but soften their eyes. “No. But I am curious.”

“Huh. Well, I’m interested in your brother.” Octavia’s cheeks flushed. She suddenly found her nails interesting and picked at them. “Really interested.”

“Do you like him?”

“Yeah.” She would have been more shocked at her quick answer if she hadn’t known her feelings already. “I do. A lot.”

Of course, this entire time Octavia knew she had been talking with Kova, Lincoln’s sibling. But it suddenly struck her as fast as a train that this was Lincoln’s sibling. As in the person closest to him in the entire world. Shouldn’t she be proving her feelings towards their brother? Shouldn’t she say more than ‘I like him a lot?’

“Mn.” Kova nodded slowly, unaware of Octavia’s sudden flustered panic. “Good.”

Octavia paused. “Good?”

“Good. As long as he’s happy, you don’t have to worry about me.”

A pause.

Ah.

So it was a shovel talk.

The two made eye contact. Octavia was the first to burst out into a light laugh, one that made the corners of Kova’s lips quirk up. Yeah. They could see where Lincoln’s infatuation came from.

Their conversation ended when Kova’s ears picked up the crunch of leaves and twigs in the forest closest to them. They snapped their head to the side, alerting Octavia. The two stood up just as three figures came out of the forest. Despite Kova’s mask in the way, Octavia understood the questioning look they gave her, and gave them a safe nod.

One girl, presumably Clarke, and two boys, one of which Kova easily recognized as Finn, the boy Lincoln had stabbed.

“So that’s how you set this up.” Clarke’s eyes glanced between the boys behind her and Octavia. “You helped that grounder escape, didn’t you?” An all too familiar accusatory tone laced her words.

That word didn’t seem nice. Hmm. She reminded Kova of General Tristan. That was already a bad sign. Before Octavia could respond, Kova stepped in between her and Clarke. “The ‘grounder’ you speak of is my brother,” Kova bit out, “and it was I who rescued him.”

“You? How?”

Kova dipped their head ever so slightly, locking eyes with Clark dead on. “If you truly do not know, then I believe you should update your security measures.”

To Octavia, Kova’s personality did a complete 180 compared to who she had been talking to a few moments beforehand. Now she understood what Lincoln had meant when he said, ‘They might be cold to you at first, maybe even sharp, but once you get to know them, they’ll warm up.’ They were neither of those things when they had started talking, but now…

Their straight and tall posture displayed for all the confidence of someone who had expertise of these situations, of someone who took no shit, of someone who had been there, done that. Kova’s presence certainly created a challenging atmosphere, one that Lincoln would find in handy.

Clarke, poor Clarke, grew both uncomfortable and seemingly irritated at the sudden switch in the situation, her face going tight and her eyebrows wrinkling. “I see. Who are you? Are you the one I’m meeting with today?”

Kova didn’t respond, they merely stared at her. The skin under their eyes twitched, a movement Octavia recognized from before. Ah. She wanted to smack herself in the forehead for not realizing, and she suddenly found herself in the same place as Kova, struggling to hold back her laugh.

Imagine? Imagine if Kova had been the Lieutenant? Imagine if the sky people had tortured the brother of the Lieutenant they were meeting with today? What a stroke of bad luck that would have been — the sky people wouldn’t even be able to negotiate a way out of their situation. Hell, they would be fortunate if they made it out of the bridge alive.

Oh, to most people Clarke’s face seemed stone cold, but Octavia could practically feel the panic thrumming in waves from the sky people’s leader. Taking pity, she took charge. “This is Kova.” Octavia placed a hand on their shoulder. “They’re the one helping us today with Lieutenant Anya.”

They raised an eyebrow at that. “The Lieutenant? Not the Chief?”

“Nope, Lincoln said it would be best to skip the Chief and went straight to the Lieutenant. I was shocked too.”

Octavia truly had intense whiplash from Kova’s sudden personality change, and didn’t know how to respond when they gave her a succinct nod. Thankfully, Octavia didn’t have time to over think it, because Kova started talking.

“My brother, despite everything, was kind enough to set up this meeting between you and the Lieutenant. You must provide her with good reasons why Trikru shouldn’t declare war. If she thinks it is sound, then she will pass the message on to the Commander. Did you prepare?”

“Naturally. I—” Clarke paused. Something caught her attention behind Kova. But just as Kova turned to look, something bright shined across their eyes for a brief moment. Their gaze turned to the tree line over the bridge. They switched their gaze to Octavia when her warm hand left their shoulder. She ran across the bridge to—

Lincoln.

He jogged towards them from the other side. He must have came after talking with the Lieutenant. Kova used the distraction to coax Clarke to the side of the bridge. She followed with little reluctance, as if knowing what Kova would say.

They jutted their chin towards the bank of the dry creek. Clarke’s back-up contrasted severely against the green bushes. Kova’s mere presence seemed to have forced Clarke’s back-up out of their hiding spot behind the bushes for a better view.

“Guns aren’t permitted. If the Lieutenant sees them, she’ll kill you on the spot.” Kova stated. “But seeing as you all seemed to have been taught to use them, you are allowed to have use them, so long as those three,” They jutted their chin once more. “can hide properly. I have to say, it is physically hurting me to see how careless they are.”

Flustered, Clarke turned around to face the trio. She signaled them to move back, to hide themselves lower in the thickets. Once they were concealed properly, Clarke gave Kova a silent nod of gratitude before heading back to the others waiting for her.

Kova remained where they stood. They stared silently into the distance before turning their sharp gaze on the trio. Based on the rustling of the bushes, Kova must have startled them. Satisfied with their coverage, they sent them a thumbs up before heading back to their position.

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It had been a struggle to set up the guns at the bank of the dried river, but Raven, Jasper, and Bellamy managed to make it work despite all the foliage around them. Jasper muttered under his breath in the background while Raven and Bellamy remained posted by the guns. The two figured it was best for him to let off some steam by organizing their water and snacks.

Raven looked through the optic of her rifle towards the bridge. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Hey, where did Octavia come from?”

The fear that shot throughout Bellamy was enough for him to grab his rifle and peep through the optic. Jasper followed suit and said, “Who’s the grounder next to her?”

Well, they certainly weren’t the grounder that escaped the camp not too long ago. That one was bald, brown skinned, and tall. This one had long dreads, dark skin, and although they were tall, they weren’t as tall as the other one. There wasn’t much else they could say about the new grounder, since an intricate mask covered the entirety of their face.

“Do you think that’s who Clarke’s supposed to meet?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Bellamy muttered before taking aim.

Raven immediately pushed his gun down by the muzzle, an appalled look on her face. “Bellamy, what do you think you’re doing?”

He pulled his gun back, his famous scowl back on his face. “Waiting for this shitshow to blow up.”

“What—?”

Before Raven could scold him, Jasper interrupted with, “Guys, somethings going on.”

The three of them looked through the opticals. There was movement in the trees opposite of their side of the bridge before someone came jogging out. It was the same grounder they had captured!

“What’s Octavia doing— Oh.”

Octavia had practically thrown herself into the grounder’s arms. The two embraced one another tightly. There was no question what their relationship could possibly be.

Jasper felt his heart sink deep into his chest, a pain strong enough to make the scar throb.

“Well, I guess we know how he got away now.” Raven remarked with a smirk, unaware of Jasper’s change in mood and purposefully ignoring the way Bellamy seethed with anger. Her eyes flickered back to their side of the bridge. “We got movement with Clarke and the new grounder.”

The trio watched carefully. To their shock, the grounder jutted their head directly towards them without sparing a glance. For a moment, the trio panicked, under the assumption that they had been caught by this grounder leader, and thus destroying the chance at a deal. But because of the mask, they couldn’t tell the grounder was still talking until, to their shock, Clarke turned and signaled for them to move farther back behind the foliage.

The trio did as told without hesitation.

Once Clarke felt satisfied, she nodded to the grounder, as if showing her thanks, and made her way back to Wells and Finn. Huh.

“What was that about?”

“Are both grounders helping us?”

The grounder hadn’t moved, even long after Clarke left their presence. Now that they were heavily covered by surrounding bushes, Bellamy knew there was little to no way the grounder could directly see them. But as he peered through his optical, the grounder seeemd to have looked straight at him. He hated the shudder that ran up his spine.

After a moment, as if scanning their area, the grounder sent them a discreet thumbs up before turning away and heading out of sight.

“It seems like we have a new friend?” Raven elbowed Bellamy’s side. Not wanting to decipher whatever look she was giving him, he turned away.

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Back on the bridge, Kova joined the rest of the group and clapped Lincoln’s shoulder. “How’s everything?”

He nodded briefly. “The Lieutenant is pissed, but she’s willing to—”

The bridge under their feet rumbled, followed by the sounds of hoofbeats. The two Trikruvians winced at the familiar noise, but the invaders had no idea what it was, and their eyes flickered across the bridge in a crazed panic.

Clarke looked past the group and towards the other side of the bridge. “Oh my god,” Her mouth dropped slightly in excited shock, “are those horses?”

“Don’t look too happy about it.” Kova muttered.

Three horses came into view, Anya in the lead with two warriors beside her. The two warriors carried swords, but it seemed the Lieutenant did not.

“Hey, we said no weapons.” Finn protested, placing him between Clarke and the other side.

“We were told there wouldn’t be.” Lincoln glanced at Kova, as if to say ‘guess you were right.’

“It’s too late now.” Clarke brushed past Finn and made her way to the middle of the bridge.

He and Wells sent each other a look before stepping forward, as if to follow her. Until Kova and Lincoln stuck their arms out, shaking their head. “No. She has to go alone.”

“But—”

“I’ll take responsibility. I won’t let anything happen to her — you have my word.” They placed a hand on Wells’ shoulder, as sturdy as their gaze. Wells and Finn glanced at one another, then to Octavia, who gave them a subtle nod. The two boys conceded and went to sit next to her.

Kova could feel the heavy weight of Lincoln’s worried gaze once the two boys were out of earshot. “Don’t stress.” They murmured and lightly bumped their shoulder against his. “You focus on making this crazy ass plan of yours work. I’ll focus on keeping the kids alive.”

Out of the corner of their eye they saw him practically break his neck to look at them in shock. They would have found his reaction hilarious if it weren’t for their situation.

“…kids.”

Kova nodded. “Kids. They’re only two or three years older than Artigas. So. They’re children to me. I feel like I should say be something about you and Octavia…”

Lincoln stiffened.

“…but I already had a talk with her earlier. It all seems good. Treat her well.”

“…of course.”

Their conversation fell off after that once Lieutenant Anya walked up to the meeting point, holding the confidence of someone with three decades of warrior and battle experience under her belt. Not once did she waver, nor did her expression change during her talk with Clarke. To Kova and Lincoln, this was a good sign, and the two of them relaxed their tense bodies ever so slightly, arms crossed, leaning against one another.

“They seem to be doing fine so far.” Kova commented quietly, as if their voice could carry across the bridge.

“Mn.”

“How does it seem like they’re doing fine?” Wells’ panicked voice would have surprised the two siblings if they hadn’t heard his feet snap what seemed like every twig littering the bridge. “Your Lieutenant looks like she’s about to kill her at any moment.”

“But the fact is, she hasn’t.” Kova pointed out. “She hasn’t even glanced at her weapons, if she has any. It’s a good sign that your leader isn’t completely incompetent, at least.”

Truthfully, Kova regretted the words as soon as they left their lips. Even they could tell when their words were too harsh, and it was quite obvious they had offended Wells, as well as Finn who came up to them. The two boys straightened to their full heights. But before they could defend their leader—

“They’re about to shoot! CLARKE!” A boy’s voice bellowed from the bank of the bridge. “RUN CLARKE! THERE'S GROUNDERS IN THE TREES!”

Everyone twisted their head towards the noise, but Lincoln was the one who ran up to the side of the bridge only to find a sky boy at the bank of the dried creek, still shouting to warn his leader. “Clarke brought back-up?”

“Mn—” Before Kova could elaborate, gunshots rang throughout the area. The leaves were still plenty and bountiful, but even the trees couldn’t hide the thumps! of bodies hitting the ground. Too many bodies, actually.

Heart hammering against their chest, breath hitched, Kova found themselves trapped in their thoughts until someone bumped into their shoulder running by them. Before they could react, Lincoln stepped in front of the runner. Wells barreled into Lincoln’s arm, calling out Clarke’s name in fear, but Lincoln was much stronger than the younger boy and dragged him away from the bridge. “Don’t! The scouts will shoot you down.”

Lincoln had only been expecting at least one of the three sky people to try and run across the bridge to save Clarke, which is how he had managed to catch Wells easily. Yet when he looked back to Octavia and Finn behind him, Wells in his arms, he caught a glimpse of someone sprinting past him.

He had almost called out their name. Almost. He managed to stop himself, thankfully. But with no way to help them, he felt useless.

His grip around Wells tightened.

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Clarke had heard of the flight, fight, and freeze response, but there were no predators in space, and she had no idea what it truly felt like until now. She had only looked away from Lieutenant Anya for a moment — just for a single moment — when a strong shiver ran up her back, her body stiffening, hair standing on end, a heavy pit forming deep in her gut.

On instinct she turned back, raising her arms to protect herself (from what?). She only managed to catch a glimpse of shiny silver and the screech of metal scraping against metal before she felt someone’s hand on her shoulder, pulling her away.

The sheer unexpected force of the defensive move sent the Lieutenant’s arm reeling back. She stumbled over the debris of the old bridge. Kova stood in Clarke’s place, one hand holding a dagger and the other a barrier between the two.

The Lieutenant gathered herself and stepped forward to attack. Everyone flinched at the sound of a loud bang! followed by the sound of a bullet hitting its mark. Kova looked only to find the Lieutenant on the floor, clutching her shoulder and roaring in pain.

Not one to waste an opportunity, they grabbed Clarke by the back of her arm, shouting, “Go, go!”

“Fire!”

Kova paled. They looked over their shoulder as the two ran. The two warriors the Lieutenant had brought were now at her side, two large shields across their back. From the forest, as if in slow motion, dozen arrows shot up in the air, followed by half a dozen more. They had practiced how to avoid the arrows in training by prediction, but not once did Kova consider they would actually have to use this information against their clan.

Their predictions found a safe zone up ahead. If they had been alone, they would have made it with ease. But Clarke had neither the stamina nor the speed to reach it in time.

‘Ah. I took responsibility.’

They jammed their dagger back into its sheath and tackled Clarke to the ground, using their own body as a shield.

The arrows darted around the two. They counted each sound of seventeen arrows embedding into the ground around them, wincing at #14 who landed just by their head. For a moment, Kova wondered what happened to #18 when they felt a scorching fire shooting up from the outside of their left calf.

They looked over. The arrow sliced their pant leg and barely nicked their skin, thankfully avoiding Clarke altogether, but the pain grew intense with every throb of their heartbeat to the point of sudden intense nausea. They groaned, pressing their forehead against the cement below and gritting their teeth, taking deep breaths, eyebrows scrunched together.

Ah, unfortunately this pain was all too familiar for Kova. Trikru’s archers could be quite deadly when they wanted to be, and it wasn’t below them to dip arrowheads into vials of fire ant venom. If potent enough and in the right place, it could kill a person. If this were another time, Kova could only thank the Gods for the luck they bestowed on them. 1, the arrow didn’t land in the right place. 2, the arrow only nicked them. 3, the venom was certainly not potent enough.

But as they rolled off of Clarke onto their back, facing the blue sky, their eyesight slowly going white, leg twitching in pain, they couldn’t bring themselves to even think, let alone thank the Gods.

The bridge rumbled with hoofbeats, and for a moment they thought they heard Clarke talking to them, but all they could manage was a quiet groan. Next thing they knew, they felt hands lifting them up and over someone’s shoulder. Their head lolled around, and in their haze, they thought Trikru might have captured them, and tried to fight back. Kova slammed tight fists into the person’s spine to let them go, only to be surprised that the person could take their hits without wavering. In reality, they were only lightly tapping the person’s lower back with loose, curled fingers.

“—they’ll be safer with you guys for now, so please take them with you. Run and don’t stop until you’re behind your walls.”

“…A-Lin?” Their question was barely audible, the cloudiness of both their head and vision intensifying. They waved a hand in his general direction. A pair of shoes popped into their vision, and a warm hand settled gently on the back of their head. “Good luck fixing all that.”

“Thanks.” Kova could hear the small smile in his voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll come and find you when it’s all clear.”

“Mn.” They only managed to give a weak nod before their body finally gave up on retaining consciousness. But before they knocked out, they sent a thumbs up towards their brother.

***

Reluctantly, Lincoln brought his hand away, releasing a heavy sigh. He thanked Wells, who had offered to carry Kova. Wells could only nod, his face scrunched up as if all his energy went into holding them. Lincoln then turned to Octavia to give her a light kiss on the forehead before jogging off to where the Lieutenant had retreated to.

He had a lot of work to settle.

Just as he left their sight, Raven, Jasper, and Bellamy arrived at the foot of the bridge. The group merged and ran through the forest. Halfway through Bellamy noticed Octavia and Wells lagging behind and waved at them, urging them to hurry up, but he paused halfway through his wave, his face falling from disbelief to anger. “Why are you carrying that g—!”

“Bellamy, not right now!” Octavia snapped. “We don’t have time, and they saved Clarke.”

He opened his mouth—

“She’s right.” To everyone’s surprise, Clarke agreed. “Let’s bring them back now and talk about it later.”

As much as Bellamy wanted to argue, even he knew this wasn’t the right time nor place. “Fine. But we don’t have time for this,” he gestured vaguely to Wells’ trembling form, “either. Pass them over.’

If they weren’t in a dangerous situation, Wells would have felt at least a little offended. Instead, he passed the unconscious grounder over, Octavia helping with the process. Once Bellamy settled the grounder on his back, both arms curled under their legs, the group ran back to camp.

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The group slowed to a quick-paced walk once they were near the camp, much to Bellamy’s dismay. The grounder was heavy — there were too many times where he had thought he would topple over a root and under their weight. Now that the group no longer rushed through the foliage of the forest and the momentum was lost, the grounder felt even more burdensome — physically and mentally. How the fuck were they gonna explain why they brought a groun—

A steady, warm breath enveloped the back of his neck.

He detested the shiver running up his spine to the top of his scalp.

As if that weren’t enough, the next breath made its way between his leather jacket and shirt, leaving behind an even stronger warmth across his upper back.

The walk also meant Bellamy noticed little things from the grounder, like the loose arms across perpendicular to his shoulders, bouncing with every step, the expanding of their chest against his back, the twitch of their fingers—

The stiffening of thighs and calves against the hands underneath the back of their knees.

A soft groan.

Twitching fingers clenching, forming tight fists.

Before he could alert the rest of the group of the grounder’s awakening, the thighs in his hands suddenly pushed down with all their weight, forcing him to drop their legs. The once loose arms suddenly wrapped across his abdomen—

Bellamy only caught a glimpse of Octavia and Wells turning towards him in shock before his world flipped. The trees and the sky streaked across his vision until his shoulder landed against the forest floor—

There was no pop, but something definitely shifted. He let out a loud groan and rolled to his front, leaning on his uninjured arm.

“Hey!”

“Wait!”

With everyone shouting, it was a wonder that Bellamy heard the sound of metal unsheathing. He fell back on his butt, narrowly avoiding the swipe of their dagger. He noticed the grounder stayed close to the ground, favoring their injured leg.

Unfortunately, taking note of this meant he couldn’t dodge the next swipe. He flinched with the cut to his cheekbone, warmth trailing down his face. In his panic, he scrambled back, trying to evade each strike until his back slammed against a tree.

Oh. Oh no.

The grounder reversed their grip on their knife, the butt of the blade against their thumb, and struck at his neck.

Bellamy might not have been the strongest in the Ark’s cadet force, but he certainly wasn’t weak. Yet when he blocked their attack, slamming his forearms into theirs, his other hand supporting and exerting more force, he found himself struggling under their strength. The dagger, shaking under the force of both sides, was far too close for comfort now.

His gaze rose from the pointed end to the grounder. He had expected the grounder’s eyes to be focused, sharp, merciless, piercing him just as the dagger would. Instead, he found wide eyes, shaky hazy pupils glazed over with pain and panic.

Blood rushed in his ears. He couldn’t hear the shouts and warnings from the others around them, except for one clear call.

“Kova!”

As if a spell broke, the grounder’s panicked eyes widened and looked to the side of the direction where the voice came from, breath hitching in their chest, the momentum of their strength trembling.

Bellamy struck the bottom of the grounder’s chin with the palm of his hand.

The mask clunked! against their face, the ribbons unraveling, and it slipped off, landing out of reach along with the dagger. The grounder fell back from their crouched position onto their butt, and for a brief moment, Bellamy thought he was safe. Until the grounder used the moment and rolled back, landing on their feet in fighting position, legs trembling, ready to strike with bare fists—

“Kova!”

The grounder’s dreads fell over their face, and before Bellamy could catch a clear look, Octavia stepped in between the two, holding her arms out in a placating manner. Briefly, Bellamy wondered when his little sister started growing up, and when did she start protecting him?

“It’s alright. You’re safe. This is my brother, the one I mentioned before. He helped us.”

The grounder didn’t respond. Fear spiked in Bellamy’s heart, but before he could move in front of Octavia, the grounder dropped their arms and fell to their knees, hunching over. Octavia cried out their name and rushed to their side without hesitation, pressing a hand against their chest to prevent them from falling over.

Using the tree behind him, Bellamy took the opportunity to stand and looked at his people. Clarke, Wells, Raven, and Jasper stood around, completely stunned. Whether by what just happened or because of Octavia, Bellamy couldn’t tell. “Thanks.” He grunted towards Jasper, the one closest to him.

“What, you expected me to go against that?”

“Are you okay?” Came Octavia’s hushed murmurs.

Bellamy turned to answer, only to find Octavia pressing the mask against the grounder’s face, helping them keep it on straight while the grounder reached behind their head and tied the ribbons firmly. Betrayal and anger bubbled slowly in his chest. “Shouldn’t you be asking me that?” He snapped.

Imagine his surprise when, while helping the grounder stand, Octavia sent him an annoyed look! Dumbfounded, he opened his mouth—

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Panicked.” The grounder murmured.

While Bellamy couldn’t catch a clear look of their face, he saw how they leaned heavily against his sister, head hanging, hunched over, one leg trembling worse than the other. How could one arrow cause so much damage? He wouldn’t have believed it for a second if not for the eyes he had seen behind the mask up close.

“Kova, you okay?” Octavia asked again. “What happened back there on the bridge? Lincoln didn’t tell us why you passed out like that.”

“Fire ant venom.” Kova gritted out. “Pretty common for Trikru to use in battle, not so common for them to use it during a negotiation meeting. Then again—” Full of resentment and anger, the single eye visible through their curtain of dreads landed on Jasper, who flinched and curled away from them. “—it wasn’t like they had much of a choice.” They glanced at Clarke before turning downcast, hiding away from the group. “They aimed for your leader’s heart. She would have died. I promised I would take responsibility.”

Wells and Finn startled ever so slightly at that. They sent each other a look Bellamy couldn’t decipher.

Suddenly, Finn turned to Clarke, an angry look with hints of betrayal flashed across his face. “I told you not to bring guns!”

“And I told you we couldn’t trust them, I was right!”

“You didn’t have to trust them, you just had to trust me.”

A bitter, weak laugh caught the two off guard. Everyone turned back to Kova. “Foolish boy. Take your fragile pride elsewhere.” They gritted out. “You should be praising your leader. It was smart to bring back-up.”

Before Finn could respond, he felt a hand grab his shoulder. He was face to face with a very angry Raven. “And why didn’t you tell me what you were up to?”

“I tried, but you were too busy making bullets for your guns!”

“The grounder’s right.” Hmm. That didn’t sit right in Bellamy’s mouth, but he continued. “You’re lucky she brought that. Those grounders came to kill you, Finn.”

“You don’t know that, Jasper fired the first shot!”

“A mix of both.” Said Kova. “Trikru, naturally, would be ready to kill, but not unprovoked. Just as your gunmen had their sights on the Lieutenant, the archers had their sights on Clarke. They only shot because of that one.” They jutted their head towards Jasper, who flinched and looked away, rubbing at his arms.

“Raven.” Octavia called gently. She noticed Kova’s words began slurring together gradually. “Help me bring them to my tent?”

“…sure.”

“Whoa,” Bellamy held Octavia’s free shoulder as she tried to pass him. “Who said they’re sleeping in your tent?”

“Where else would they sleep?”

“The dropship, obviously. What if they try to kill you?”

“That’s a stupid idea.” Octavia’s eyebrows scrunched into a frown. “Say we put them in the dropship. They wake up, can’t recognize their surroundings, and start panicking. Are you trying to get sliced up by them again?” Before Bellamy could respond, she kept going. “At least if they’re in my tent, they can recognize me, and recognize they’re safe, like they did now.”

“You don’t have to worry about Octavia.” Kova’s deep voice grew quieter and quieter every time they spoke, as if it took up all their energy to speak. “I’m not dangerous to anyone like this—”

‘My cheek says otherwise,’ Bellamy thought bitterly.

“—let alone to Lincoln’s… interest.”

“…interest.” Bellamy gritted out.

“Bellamy.” Clarke stood next to him, dropping a placating hand on his shoulder. “They saved my life. Twice, actually. Lincoln said it before — it’s not safe for them to return to the grounders since they helped us.” She turned to Raven and nodded. Raven returned the gesture and moved to Kova’s other side, swinging one of their arms around her shoulders. “We’re letting them stay. Bring them to Octavia’s.”

“Got it.”

With a sigh, fists on his hips, Bellamy had no choice but to reluctantly yield, stepping to the side. Octavia and Raven dragged Kova into the camp. Bellamy turned to Clarke, as if wanting to argue more, but before he could speak—

Boom!

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#bellamy blake x oc #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake imagines #the 100 fic #the 100 imagines #the night our stars aligned (and our breaths touched)#bellamy blake #the 100 #writeblr #wip fanfic

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roseskiesandbutterflies · 4 years

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Killer Queen - Chapter 10: Dreamers Ball

Summary: Life is easy when things go your way. I know this from experience. I also know that that can disappear in an instant and that you have to be able to rely on your friends. Luckily my name is Arabella Ruth White and I’m the fifth marauder. But I want to show you the girl behind the mask. It takes a lot of work to be this fabulous, darling. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name.)

A/N: So, I recently binge-read all of Lore Olympus on Webtoons and if you haven’t read it, then I highly recommend it. It’s about the Greek Gods (mainly Persephone and Hades) but it deals with some mature themes just to warn you. The chapter title comes from Queen’s 1978 album, Jazz.

Warning(s): alcohol, drugs, swearing, implied sex

Word Count: 4.3k+ (this was one word off of being 4400 words so that’s annoying)

Inspiration: random headcanons I found on Tumblr and Pinterest, The Boy Who Killed God by SeraMGrigori on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3, Sweet Things by Cocomouse on AO3

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26

Ask to be on my taglist!

Throwing a birthday ball might just have been my best idea thus far, if I did say so myself, and it hadn’t even started yet. I was gradually walking through the doors of the Great Hall, embracing my dramatic entrance for every little millisecond that it was worth. All eyes were on me, as they should be since it was my birthday and I bloody love attention, and suddenly I understood what brides must feel like when they walk down the aisle. The train of my sparkling golden gown trailed along behind me, leaving a stream of glitter in my wake. It had been both a style choice and a way to infuriate Filch when he had to clean it up. Have fun with that, you miserable bastard. The Great Hall was decorated from top to bottom in gold, gold streamers, gold glitter, gold balloons. It was akin to the Emerald City from The Wizard Of Oz but, well, gold. Anyone who was anyone was among the crowd watching me, providing they were at least a fifth year; I didn’t want little kids at my birthday party, thank you very much. The only ones I would even consider would be Rhea and Luke, but they weren’t at Hogwarts yet and right now, I was grateful for that. As far as I could see, everyone had a glass of amber-coloured liquid in their hand, which I assumed was butterbeer for the far majority of people in the hall. Some minuscule part of me wanted to squirm under all of the attention, but I suppressed it as best as I could. I had a reputation to keep up, after all.

You may be wondering how on earth I got access to the Great Hall for my birthday party, and honestly, I can’t blame you for pondering such a thing. It had been a complete stroke of luck which had come in the form of good old Minnie McGee. I’d been explaining my plan for the ball to the lads during one breakfast back in September, yes my plans for it have been in the works for that long what are you going to do about it, and Minnie had overhead while she was walking past our usual spot. I’m quite sure she has some kind of hearing superpower, even though that particular sense should be decaying with her old age rather than growing. And just in case you’ve somehow found this, naturally, I mean no offence, Minerva, so please don’t give me another detention I really don’t want one please and thank you. She’d then gone on to offer the Great Hall for the party but with three conditions. One, she could go and bring Dumbledore as her ‘date’, two, we served nothing stronger than butterbeer and three, we actually worked hard for our OWLs which were just around the corner. Initially, we all thought that she was joking but it turned out that she was deadly serious (naturally Sirius had interrupted her with his classic pun) and that she was, in fact, rather looking forward to going to a party for the first time in a while. James had then asked if she was on drugs, because quite frankly this was one of the nicest things she had ever done for us, and she came very close to whacking him upside the head for even suggesting such a thing. But she never actually denied it, so I still secretly think she does weed. I don’t know about you, but I can most certainly see it.

Now, as you’d expect, I was rather disappointed at Minnie’s suggestion of a near total absence of alcohol, but it hadn’t been long before Sirius, always searching for an excuse to drink to the point where I often wondered if he was addicted, had suggested something quite marvellous: an afterparty. Such a seemingly straightforward idea quickly turned into something so much more. We decided to hold it later on in the night in the Room of Requirement, and only the elite people knew about it and, subsequently, invited. And by ‘elite’, I mean the male specimens I call friends, the females who I love and cherish and a couple of other people. And that was bound to be very much alcohol-fuelled. As long as I had that to look forward to, I could endure a much more age-appropriate evening, just not for too long.

Finally, I reached the platform where the teachers would usually sit during meals, and bear in mind that I had been milking the moment for way longer than necessary, so this did take some time. I cleared my throat for effect before speaking in an impossibly posh voice, “Thank you all for attending my ball this evening. I won’t talk for too long because I would hate to bore you to tears, I’ll leave that job to Professor Binns. Now, Minnie, don’t look at me like that, we all know it’s true. Look, even Dumbledore agrees with me and you can’t argue with Dumbledore. Moving on, I would like to say a couple of things so entertain me for a moment. One, if any of you are caught drinking anything stronger than butterbeer, then I will happily leave you to face the wrath of our dear Minerva on your own, I have no intention of arguing with any teacher tonight.” A few giggles rippled throughout the crowd as well as a few pouty faces from people who were doing a shockingly awful job at hiding mini bottles of firewhiskey behind their backs. It wasn’t my problem, I did say this on the invites I sent out, if they chose to go against that then they would deal with the consequences, not me. I continued, “Two, I hope you all enjoy yourselves tonight and remember, it ends at precisely eleven o’clock, which means don’t hang around. Frank and Alice, I’m looking at you.” The couple in question blushed furiously and Alice gave me a death stare that could rival the one I get from Remus when I gather enough courage to steal some of his chocolate. I then clapped twice to signal the official start of the ball and music began to blast from the speakers I’d linked up to my record player which was enchanted to start playing a record whenever I clapped my hands.

It took a second, but people were soon dancing and mingling and doing whatever else people do at parties. I made a beeline straight for the boys but ignored their greetings, instead, I grabbed two, I wasn’t sure which ones, and, hoping that they were all following if they weren’t being dragged, marched over to the drinks table. I let go of whoever I had been holding to pour myself a much-needed butterbeer, but in a wine glass because I’m classy like that, leaving two boys to rub their arms in pain.

“Bloody hell, Ruth, you could have just asked us to come with you, that really wasn’t necessary,” Remus muttered as he got his own drink.

“Why is your grip that damn strong?” James pouted, whining like the little child that he is.

Sirius just smirked evilly, “I think we all know where she gets her practice with her grip.”

Naturally, I wasn’t going to have that, so I swatted him on the arm as if he was a fly, but then I decided that that just wasn’t enough, so I kicked him in the shin. Not too hard because I was feeling nice for some strange reason, but you get the idea. He then howled suspiciously like a dog, causing us all to give him strange looks that pretty much read dude what the fuck.

Sirius, then desperate to change the subject to literally anything else, went on to ask, “Ruth, are Snivellus and his mates supposed to be here? Because I don’t have a problem with physically throwing them out,” he shrugged.

I sighed, knowing my response wasn’t going to be immensely popular amongst the group. I muttered quietly, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, “I invited them.” As expected, I was met with outcries and protests from the cloud of testosterone surrounding me, such as but they’re such pricks and why would you want to infect your own party with the human equivalent of the goddamn plague, so I was quick to defend myself, “I didn’t want to! It’s just that Lily said that she wouldn’t go if I didn’t at least give Snivellus the option. But then I worried that he’d hang around Lily the whole time, and I wasn’t going to allow that, so I invited a couple of his friends too. I didn’t think they’d actually show up though,” I peered over Peter’s shoulder to observe him talking to Lily, grimacing at his choice of outfit if you could even call that monstrosity an outfit. I’d specified in the invites that you had to wear muggle ballgown-wear and you had to make it yourself using magic. I guess blood supremacists don’t even want to wear muggle-style clothes these days. They really are that shallow and it surprised me how Lily couldn’t see that.

Sirius huffed and made a comment that sounded like it should have come from James’s mouth instead of his, “Fine, but only because Lily is a treasure and I’m also terrified to death of her.” When he was met with blank stares for the second time in five minutes, he blushed furiously, only just clocking what he had just revealed.

I smirked at him, “Since when were you such good friends with my dear Lily?”

It was just a widely accepted fact that the girls weren’t huge fans of the boys, and while those attitudes weren’t reciprocated by the other side, it was practically unheard of for the girls to be anything more than civil with the boys. Well, only if you don’t count Lily and Remus’s strange friendship. I’d often promoted a union of sorts between my two friendship groups, holding out in my firm belief that some epic bonds could be formed if they just tried, but I was usually shot down with objections of but they’re arrogant toe rags. I think that that’s complete and utter bullshit but each to their own, I guess. I just carried on in the hope that one day they’d come round and see how silly they were being.

While James was appearing to have a mental breakdown right there and then, Sirius slowly explained, “Since a couple of weeks ago? I went down to the common room because I couldn’t sleep and I found Lily and she looked quite upset, so I asked her what was wrong, thinking she would just tell me to piss off or something, but she just burst into tears and she told me a lot of stuff that I won’t tell you because I think it’s private. Anyway, long story short, we had a rather profound conversation at two in the morning, followed by a couple of games of chess because neither of us wanted to go back to bed. We’ve had some rather thought-provoking conversations in Charms because we sit next to each other this year. She’s actually really cool.”

I grinned broadly at him, “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you for four whole years!” We then high-fived because why the fuck not. Remus gave us a look of wholehearted betrayal, which is understandable because he had been assisting me in my quest to get them to appreciate Lily properly, so I gave him a high-five too, and so did Sirius. Then Peter and James high-fived for no reason other than they were feeling left out, as they should be. So, we all looked like fucking crackheads already but that was to be expected of us.

“Anyway, just because Sniv is allowed to be here, doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to fight him the second he does something fucked up, right?” Sirius asked.

“You and I both know you’ll fuck him up regardless of whether I allow it or not, so yes, yes you can. In fact, please do.”

***************

By around midnight we were drunk off our asses in the Room of Requirement, the civilisation of the ball long gone. It was total carnage, although you probably worked that one out for yourself, but it wasn’t all bad seeing as my two friend groups don’t try to murder each other every five seconds when under the influence of my lovely friend alcohol. Most of us were sprawled out on various sofas, still in our ball attire, with Hunky Dory playing on my record player at a much lower volume because our drunk asses couldn’t deal with too much noise. I was lying on a sofa with my head in Marlene’s lap and my feet in Dorcas’s while James and Peter shared a sofa. Alice and Frank were, as I had predicted earlier on, making out in some darkened corner, thinking that they were being subtle because no one was gawping at them. In reality, the only reason we all refused to look was because they were being more than a bit gross and no one wanted to see that, to be frank. Pun absolutely intended. Dorcas didn’t drink because of her religion, which meant she was the only sober one in the room, and that meant it was her job to make sure we didn’t get ourselves killed or anything like that. Lily was actually a bit tipsy, but only due to Sirius’s incessant nagging that she was missing out on the finer things in life. I mean there were certainly finer things than knock-off elf wine we smuggled in from Hogsmeade, but Lily didn’t need to know that. Meanwhile, Sirius was stumbling on a table he’d conjured for this exact reason, wearing Marlene’s stiletto heels and ranting about society’s many problems as he usually did when drunk. Tonight’s topic was for discussion was feminism.

“But why is the world like this? We shouldn’t just accept it for how it is! Shouldn’t we try and change it or something?” he slurred, finishing his drink and promptly refilling it with his wand. Several amens could be heard from almost everyone in the room, as is what happened every time Sirius made a point. It was strongly reminiscent of the church service my mum would drag me along to from time to time.

“Sirius, not that I don’t agree with you, but maybe you should get down before you break your neck?” Lily suggested, looking at him in sheer terror.

He just pouted down at her, “I will only get down when the patriarchy falls, and you girls don’t have to live in fear of boys who have the audacity to call themselves men!”

“If a boy comes anywhere near me, I’ll just smack him round the face, I don’t give a shit,” I piped up, swinging my hand around as if I was actually punching someone, and coming very close to actually hitting Marlene in the face.

“That’s alright though because self-defence and shit,” James grinned at me, running over to clink his glass against mine, then running back to his sofa and sitting down as if nothing happened, leaving me confused, to say the least.

“Has anyone seen Remus?” Sirius suddenly changed the subject. When all he got in response was shrugs and confused looks, he started walking up and down the table like it was a catwalk, shouting, “Remus! Remus, where are you, you little shit? Remu-” he suddenly fell straight off of the table but stood up and brushed himself off as if he hadn’t just nearly died, “Reeeeeeemuuuuuuuus!”

“I think he’s with Idania. I don’t know where though,” Peter offered.

Marlene and I gave each other a knowing look and bumped arms, “I think we all know what they’re getting up to,” she raised an eyebrow at me suggestively.

“Ooooooh, Remus you saucy boy,” I snorted, making James cackle so much that he fell off of his chair and also making Lily fake-vomit so much that I was seriously expecting her to actually throw up right there and then.

I think it’s important to update you on the whole Idania-Remus situation. It’s been a tricky one, I won’t lie to you about that. They only started talking again a couple of days ago, making it nearly three weeks of silent treatment from both parties. Even I thought that that was a bit much, and we all know that I can be a dramatic little shit at the best of times. After copious amounts of persuasion from us, way more than would have been necessary if he wasn’t a stubborn bastard, a rather miserable Remus had finally apologised for some things he’d said in the heat of the argument that he hadn’t really meant. He didn’t disclose exactly what he’d said, but I have to be honest, I was just glad that he got over himself and talked to her because it was painful to sit behind them in History of Magic while they were being that damn ridiculous. Not only had he said that he was sorry, but he’d wanted to do something for her to show her how sorry he was. He’d done some research, which meant he’d spent twelve hours straight in the library. James, forever the mother hen of the group, was far from pleased to find out that he’d missed two whole meals, so naturally, that had led to him lecturing poor Remus on the importance of eating properly. He argued that that it doesn’t matter that it’s for love, you need to eat, for Merlin’s sake, which was saying something when you remember how James was a closeted romantic himself. He’d eventually found a spell that was a variant on the translation spells Peter was rather fond of for uncomplicated pranks. Usually with those spells, you speak whatever you mean to say in English, but when it comes out, everyone hears the language you’re cursed to speak. This one, however, worked with sign language; he would say what he wanted to say, and his hands would automatically sign what he’s saying. It didn’t solve everything, he still had to keep studying the language so he could understand Idania, but it was a sure start, and a massive help for the both of them. According to Remus when he’d returned to tell us how it went, she’d been so grateful that she’d almost started crying, though she denied it every time we asked her about it.

While I had been simultaneously amusing and horrifying my friends with mental images of Remus doing unholy things, Sirius had been on a mission to find him, and seemed to have returned triumphant. At some point, he must have left the room even though I had no memory of seeing him leave, as he was now dragging Remus behind him by the hand, who was dragging Idania somewhat gentler. “I found them!” he proclaimed with a stupid grin on his face, in a way similar to how a child would announce such a thing.

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock,” Peter muttered with no actual malice behind his words.

“You’re welcome, Pete,” Sirius bowed but then stumbled forwards, crashing headfirst onto the ground. He didn’t bother getting up, choosing to sit cross-legged on the floor once he got his bearings.

Lily plonked herself down next to him and gazed at him quizzically, “Why are you saying, ‘you’re welcome’, when you’re the one who wanted to know where they were?”

He covered her mouth with his hand to prevent her from speaking, “Shhh, Lily-flower, shhh.”

She scowled at him while Marlene mouthed ‘Lily-flower’ at me in confusion. I just shrugged, desperately trying not to laugh at James who was clearly dying of embarrassment while trying to hide from Lily. We once heard him murmur the nickname in his sleep during our second year, and even though he hasn’t said it since, we refused to let him forget it. Lily must have licked Sirius’s hand or something for he retracted his hand as quickly as he would if he’d had an electric shock, wiping it on his trousers while staring at her in disgust and betrayal. Lily didn’t show an inch of sympathy towards his pain.

“So, what were you two actually doing?” Dorcas asked, directing the conversation back to Idania and Remus.

Idania smirked evilly and looked up at Remus, looking awfully glad that she didn’t have to be the one to explain. I still thought they hooked up finally, but Remus didn’t look nearly as mortified as I imagined he would.

Remus opened his mouth to speak but Lily cut him off, “I can smell weed.”

“How the fuck do you of all people know what weed smells like?” I laughed.

She glared at me in a way that had me quaking in my heels, “Please, you know what Cokeworth’s like, so you can trust me when I say I know what weed smells like.” I had to give it to her, that town wasn’t exactly the poshest in the UK, and I would know seeing as I used to live in the damn place.

We locked eyes for a second, then slowly looked up at Remus and Idania’s slightly guilty but overall chilled-out faces.

Well shit.

Once it clicked in my head as to what they had been doing, I started giggling uncontrollably for a good minute, and everyone else started looking at me really worriedly. I can’t say I blamed them if I’m honest, I did look like something of a lunatic. I quickly put the spell that Remus had found on myself, suddenly feeling really bad that Idania probably didn’t have much of an idea of what had just been said.

“Idania, how dare you corrupt our sweet, innocent Remus?” I laughed, shaking my head like a disapproving parent.

“Excuse you, Remus hasn’t been innocent since before he met us,” James grinned lopsidedly.

“I wasn’t that innocent before I met you,” the boy in question tried to defend himself, only to be met with about seven people saying, ‘you were’.

“Anyway, that’s beside the point. The point is you smoked weed?” I asked incredulously.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he said, “It’s not that big of a deal, no one really cares about that kind of thing these days, well not in the muggle world at least. Live a little, Ruth.”

“That doesn’t make it any less weird that it’s coming from you, mate,” James shook his head.

“But here’s the question nobody else is brave enough to ask, apparently,” Marlene raised a finger and then pointed it at the couple, “Is it nice? And if so, may we have some?”

Most of us, excluding Dorcas and Lily, made some sort of noise of agreement to which Remus just laughed, “Well, it’s Idania’s, not mine, so it’s up to her really…” he trailed off, leaving his girlfriend to make up her mind.

I didn’t actually know much sign language, except for the odd word or phrase I’d picked up (naturally fuck off was on of them), but whatever Idania had signed in response put a devilish smirk on Remus’s face that was all too familiar, “I think that’s a yes, just not too much. Ida doesn’t think you’ll be able to handle it.” The girl in question lightly breathed through her nose, which I’d come to learn was her laugh.

I gaped at her with mock outrage on my face, “I am offended but at least I’ll get to try some, right?”

A couple of blunts went round during the next however long we were high for, while Lily and, to some extent, Dorcas looked on disapprovingly. I think it’s safe to say that the concept of time was non-existent for the rest of the night. I have to say it was one of the most relaxing yet insane experiences I’ve ever had, and it wasn’t long until long after it had worn off did I start to wonder how Idania had access to that kind of thing. She must have been even more of a badass than we first thought.

When I had first started holding parties like these last year, I had made an offer to Dorcas which had involved me making drinks that had no alcohol in them but still had the same effect. She’d been grateful for the suggestion, but she’d pointed out that doing that kind of defeats the whole point of not drinking alcohol in the first place. We’d then settled on making non-alcoholic drinks that still tasted like their alcoholic counterparts but had no effect whatsoever, and we were constantly trying different recipes. Word caught soon after we started, and our non-alcoholic drinks were in almost as high demand as the alcoholic black market I’d created with the boys. They proved to be popular among students who either didn’t want to or weren’t allowed to drink, but didn’t want to miss out on a party or something like that, as well as older students who needed a form of stress relief from their exams, but didn’t want to develop some kind of addiction. I couldn’t blame them, seeing as they used to drink a lot as a really unhealthy coping mechanism. I’d much rather they drink something else, so I was glad to have been of service. As you can imagine, the business really boomed around springtime.

“You know, trying to keep track of you all is like herding a load of cats,” she huffed, taking a sip of her not-quite-firewhiskey.

“Hey, Dorcas,” I mumbled in the most serious voice I could muster, which was quite the feat considering I was both drunk and high at that point. She leaned in to listen, only to hear me say, “Meow.”

Her brows furrowed sceptically, “Meow?”

I nodded, not breaking my composure though I desperately wanted to just dissolve into giggles like a child, “Meow. Because you said we’re cats.”

Dorcas sighed with a resigned look on her face,” Sure, Ari.”

A chorus of meows sounded throughout the room, much to Dorcas’s confusion and exasperation. I could only imagine what it must be like to have to deal with all of us unaided when we were like this.

A/N: By the way, I’m not trying to promote the use of drugs, personally I think things like marijuana should be decriminalised but that’s a story for another day. Just to remind you, this is set in 1975 at the moment, which means that drugs were more common, and more people did things like weed. It makes more sense when you consider the context. Also, they’re only human, shit like this happens.

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lcuistcmlinscn · 4 years

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𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐢𝐬 + 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲.

𝐰𝐡𝐨: @harryedwcrd 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: n/a. 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: nyc traffic light party + a random new york street. 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: louis and harry are yelling at each other in the bathroom at the party, and then they’re crying in the streets of new york, until eventually they say goodbye with a promise to see each other back in la. 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬: alcohol use, hard drugs, useless men.

LOUIS: louis took the bag off of justin, blue eyes focused on him and making sure he's okay so when the door opened behind him, louis felt himself need to center his patience. because after only one cigarette and too much alcohol, he really felt himself getting wound up. satisfied that justin was okay, he turned to see who'd joined them and felt the very last slither or patience leave his body. "yeah, exes aren't always the nicest to be faced with," he said, trying to hold back. because he never wanted to hurt harry, louis was just pissed off. harry hadn't done anything wrong by not wanting to come to his show after lou had ghosted six months earlier, but it just stung too much. there's no way he could be around harry and ignore it, and so the end result was to just not be around harry. "i'm glad you're okay, mate, even though i'm currently bein' stalked so can't say the same."

HARRY: "oh, fuck you! what're you on about? bein' stalked." harry was seething. he lost every last bit of cool he was so narrowly maintaining in that moment, green eyes blown and darkened with rage as he turned to look his ex of half a goddamn decade in the face, "you ignored ME! you stopped talking to ME! not the other fuckin' way around."

LOUIS: louis was taken aback by the directness coming from harry. he didn't like it, since he'd actively avoided confrontation by not being around harry all night, and not even directing the words at him when they were together. but now they were face to face, eyes narrowed, and louis tried to put up a good front but it was no secret that he hated seeing harry this mad. "i ignored you? fuck that. i tried to make it better and then you were the one ignorin' me. you don't get to blank me an' then show up like i'm the bad guy. fuck you. now if y'don't mind," he stormed into a cubicle, slamming the door behind him and making the cubicles shake in the process, leaving justin and harry out in the open bathroom as louis dipped the key into the drugs, hand shaking from the adrenaline of fighting with harry.

HARRY: harry was such a softy by nature, he tried not to let things get him worked up like this, epecially since he'd gotten so into meditation in the last few years. but he had a tendency, at times, to become rather intimidating, even a little bit scary, when he was angry enough. couple that with the too-much-tequila coursing through him, and it was an absolute recipe for disaster. "what are you talking about? when did i ever blank you? last time I even heard from ya had to be what, last july? august?" he shouted after him as he came to stand right outside the stall door that louis had just dramatically stormed into and hidden himself inside. "fucking prick, i do fucking mind! come out here and fucking talk to me louis, right now, or i swear to fucking god, it'll be the last time I ever ask you to." it was part threat, part desperate bluff- he didn't want louis basing how much of justin's drugs he partook in to be determined by how high their emotions were both running in that moment, and even in his state of pure rage he felt that compassion for him.

LOUIS: louis couldn't be arsed anymore, hearing how angry harry was just pissed him off further - even if it did also scare him a little. the denial of how he'd ignored the invite. louis couldn't help but roll his eyes, predicting that they were about to go down the route of harry denying that lou had even reached out late last year. louis brought the key to his nose, inhaling the powder defiantly. it was as he tilted his head back to make sure that he got everything that harry made the threat, stopping louis in his tracks. in all honesty he'd been prepared to hide out in there until harry had given up, but after a couple of seconds passed he instead pulled the stall door open. as though he were going to do that anyway, whether or not harry had opened his mouth threatening to give up. lou hadn't expected harry to be right outside the stall, taller than louis but not really intimidating to the older man, who still shouted back at him. "you didn't fuckin' show, you selfish arsehole. i gave you enough notice so that maybe you could make space for me in your schedule, tried twice and you didn't show up. and, i mean, i don't give a fuck, really. if y'didn't wanna come then i didn't want you there. but don't act like i'm being unreasonable by not really wantin' to be around you as a result!" he used the sleeve of his green, yellow and red shirt to brush under his nose, still riled up.

HARRY: harry was so damn confused, all slack-jawed and furrowed brows, words dying on his tongue and leaving him at an absolute loss. he wasn't expecting confusion to overwhelm and take over all of his other emotions so quickly, but it did, and now he just wanted to understand what the hell he'd apparently done to make louis so pissed off he didn't even want to look at him. and as he listened to him and started to gain a vague understanding, all he could muster up was a pained, "what do you mean i didn't show..? i didn't know i was invited to anything! where did you invite me?" he asked him, eyes wide and glassy as they searched his face, "did ya pick up the phone and call me? did you text me? did you facetime me and tell me you wanted me there during a shared wank between old mates? where did you invite me? because i never got any goddamn memo, louis and i'd love to know what the fuck you're on about." he took a step toward him, so they were standing maybe even a little too close for such a heated conversation.

LOUIS: the reaction on harry's face seemed genuine enough that it caught louis off-guard, contemplating that maybe the younger man really did have no idea what he was talking about. stubborn as ever, louis still held his ground. "see, i dunno if you noticed, but i dropped me album and then me tour. and then i sent you an invite thing to the openin' night. to ya house. then i heard fuck all, so figured you'd not seen it, had 'em email you details an' shit." lou wasn't about to let the fact that he didn't reach out via phone take away from the fact that he did reach out, and as harry stepped closer louis still held his ground and frowned at him in return. "old mates? fuck off. i didn't call, so what? you didn't reach out when the album dropped, why the fuck should i?"

HARRY: "i never fucking got that invite, lou.. you have to believe that, as if i'd ever fucking blow something like that off on purpose. who the hell do you think i am, honestly?" he realized he was going to have to talk to someone, whoever the hell he'd gotten ahold of to forward an invite to his e-mail, because apparently they'd fucked him over in a massive way he had no idea of until this moment. but even in realizing he'd apparently fucked up in a way he'd been entirely unaware of, he was still pissed off that louis was being so shitty to him, especially following the last sentence that came out of his mouth, "i dropped an album too. first! and you didn't care about that, did ya?" harry asked him, "why should i have been the one to reach out when you're the one who fucking distanced yourself from me, again? why can't you ever just pick up the goddamn phone and CALL ME?”

LOUIS: louis could feel himself dig his heels into the ground, stubborn and refusing to budge on this so easily. it doesn't matter if harry was making some points, because louis just held onto the fact that he did try, and he knew within himself the rejection he'd felt when harry didn't show. remembering that was enough to power him through. "well that's the thing, haz, i always thought... dunno, i invited you 'cos i thought that no matter what we'd be there to like, cheer each other on," he said, a little flustered now as he spoke. "that's why it fucked me up. 'cos it was so unlike you. but i knew i fucked up, knew that was enough reason for you to change on that front." when harry pointed out that he'd dropped an album first, louis used his elbow to budge past harry and into the bigger area where justin stood. "because what fucking right did i have to call you, harry? i knew i couldn't just keep yo-yoing you. was scared ya wouldn't wanna hear me out, we'd never get to the part where i'd invite ya 'cos you'd be mad. and maybe that's a shit excuse, but i dunno. i also didn't wanna have to witness you rejectin' me calls." e-mails and post could be rejected and ignored, but louis wouldn't have had to feel that.

HARRY: harry suddenly wished he hadn’t had anything to drink. he wished louis hadn’t had anything to drink either, that they weren’t looking at each other through the somewhat foggy perspective that came with being intoxicated. that he was actively making the memory of this moment rather than feeling like he was witnessing it in some sort of strange drunken out of body experience, from third person, as though he were watching someone else have that conversation with louis. “i should’ve congratulated you.” he admitted somewhat meekly after his ex shoved past him so he was standing in the open space of the bathroom where justin stood, eyeing the drugs in his hand for just a moment before meeting his gaze, a silent pleading to leave it there, not to do any more. “shouldn’t have been so...- so fucking... convinced that you didn’t care to hear it from me, after we went so long without talking after..- last spring, summer n everything.” he felt the sinking feeling in his chest that filled him up every time he thought too long or hard about it and considered what he might’ve done so wrong, or what he hadn’t done enough of, to make him walk away from him again after they’d spent an entire year rebuilding their connection. he’d tried so hard to write it off, chock it up to simply how busy his ex must have become with everything he had going on in his life between furthering his career and the custody battle with the mother of his child. but no matter how much benefit if the doubt he’d forced himself to give louis, it didn’t stop him from breaking his own heart at the thought that the older man had simply just managed to remind himself that harry wasn’t what he wanted- again. “but you should’ve fucking called me. you have to know i’d never ignore an invitation like that. i’d never... fuck.” he shook his head, overwhelmed by all he was feeling at once, “you know me, louis, you know i’d have done anything to be there had i just known you fucking wanted me there.”

LOUIS: louis could feel the distance between himself and harry both physically and emotionally, stationed now on the other side of the bathroom, back against the sink as he leaned against it. both of his hands rested either side of his waist at the ledge of the counter, still trembling a little from intoxicated confrontation, the baggy with the key inside gripped tightly. three, maybe four big strides would take him up to harry. but he didn't want that, he wanted to turn and run away. but that's what got them into this situation in the first place, so after briefly meeting harry's pleading eye contact he fixed his eyes down at his white trainers as he listened to harry speak. when harry insisted louis knew him, it sparked something in the older man. pushing himself away from the sink, louis started saying things that he'd of never said whilst sober, essentially shouting in the slight echo of the bathroom, pacing a little. "oh fuck that. i fuckin' thought i knew you. so confident that at the bottom of it all we'd always have support and fucks to give about each others' music. i got most of the way through the set thinkin' you were there. because it was impossible to me that you didn't wanna come. most of the way through before i made eye contact with lots in the crowd an' she shook her head and mouthed that you weren't there!" he didn't even notice out of the corner of his eye the girls arriving because he was looking at harry now, blue eyes sharp and narrow, arms moving animatedly, baggy swinging round in the air, "so fuckin' forgive me if since then it's been hard to believe that i know you anymore, that ya ain't changed, that we aren't different people!" the alcohol was talking now that he'd gotten to a point of anger that he couldn't come down from. "all months after i came to your shows, decked meself out in your merch, met everyone on ya team. fuckin' stood with ya family. and you didn't even fuckin' show up for me!"

HARRY: harry had all but entirely forgotten where they were. it didn’t matter how crowded the bathroom had become or how quickly it was getting even more packed in there, he and louis might as well have been the only people there, he was so zeroed in on him. he’d heard him like this before, pissed off and with multiple substances mingling together in his system in a disastrous combination. but that had always been on occasions where everything was more secure, because at least they were together then, at least they knew they were mutually unwilling to let go of one another on such a deep level that some of the fear was automatically subsided. here, they didn’t have that same security, everything was far too fragile and harry absolutely hated it, it made him wish he’d never come to the party in the first place, hearing louis express to him how impossibly different the two of them were now, how that was enough to believe he had changed into someone who would deliberately skip out on being there to witness something so monumental for louis, it was devastating to know he believed that of him. “you didn’t fucking speak to me! for months! I TOLD you what I wanted, you knew how I felt, after everything- and you still just stopped fucking talking to me, y-... you fucking chickened out louis, admit it. admit it to yourself. you know I would’ve done anything, postponed or canceled anything, in order to be there. had you not gone months without so much as a fucking text.. had you CALLED- fuck the album, you didn’t even care when I had to go to court because some fucking lunatic was actually stalkin’ me, sleeping outside my house every night. fuck do you know about that word, huh? yeah, i’m fucking ‘stalking’ you.” harry felt his eyes well up with a betraying flood of hot tears, but he refused to blink in a way that would let them fall, instead opting to shake his head and take a couple of steps back. “chasing you, is more like it. haven’t been stalking you at all, louis, been chasing you, and what have you been doing?” he was practically shaking with the adrenaline rushing through him, “fucking running away.”

LOUIS: lou was still reeling from the weight of everything he'd just admitted, terrified of being vulnerable, relying on the encouragement of the alcohol to keep him angry so that he didn't fall back on becoming sad, or open to becoming hurt in any way more than he already had that evening what with the confessions that he'd accidentally made when his mouth kept talking without his brain's control. he wanted to punch something, cry a bit, take some more shots, do some more drugs. try and have a good night in the midst of all of this uncovering of wounds that he promised himself he wouldn't touch anymore. that he swore he'd move forwards from. when harry unleashed all of those thoughts and feelings onto louis, it stopped him in his tracks. his hands balled into fists, the edges of the key digging into his palms from inside the bag as he tried to follow all of what his ex was saying. but his palm hurt, and his head was fuzzy, and harry had used the word 'felt' and suddenly everything was definitely NOT okay. the past tense hit him harder that he thought it could, his mouth suddenly dry. "i didn't care?" he dead-panned, "of course i fuckin' cared but what the fuck do you want from me?" he ran a hand through his hair, busying his face in his hands for a second to pull his shit together before looking back, eyes less sharp and more confused, conflicted. he did chicken out and run away and louis didn't need to be sober to know this. "fuck, fuck, fuck," he swore, getting louder with each word and turning away. he couldn't look at harry, or witness how much he'd hurt the younger man. not in a room with their friends right there. "don't you think i know that i fucked up? that i shouldn't have run? i was scared, and that's somethin' that has been goin' around in me head for months and months. you don't think i watched your life, watched shit happen to you, kept up with mutual friends just to know how you are? i just.." he trailed off, looking down at his hands and taking this opportunity to pass the drugs back to justin. he wasn't in the mood for the party anymore, or for the drugs, or for any of it. he couldn't open his mouth and talk about his biggest insecurity right there in front of everyone. lou wanted to delve into something only they'd understand - the pressure of public reaction, louis' fear that he's be nothing but an inconvenience to harry's career just like their old management had told them for so many years. but that shit was buried deep in the pit of his gut, always there and ready to stab him whenever he let his mind linger there for too long - but never something to talk about. he let out a sigh, shrugging, blue eyes meeting green, still drunk and spaced, coked and desperate, but also solemn. "i'm sorry. for everythin'. for wastin' your time."

HARRY: it felt like someone had cracked his rib cage open and pulled his heart right through it to hear louis admit how right he actually was... because the fact of the matter was that harry didn’t want to be right. but the ways that he was wrong hurt even more somehow, because despite all of that fear, despite being so fucking scared, still, for all the reasons louis always had been scared, he was still brave enough to invite him to his show. and harry, however unintentionally, had let him down so fucking hard; the mental image of him getting through most of his set believing that he’d come was so hard to take once he allowed himself to. because there had been a trust built between them even as exes that they had worked so hard for, always doing everything they could not to cross over that fine line from love into hate the way it was so easy to do, because the love was always going to outweigh everything else whether either of them could admit it to themselves it or not. and inside all jokes about ‘mutual respect’ aside, they genuinely did have it, so of course he’d never doubted harry would show, and that (even if he hadn’t received any invitation) alone made the younger man realize he was more at fault for their current situation that he’d wanted to admit to either of them. “don’t do that. don’t fucking do that.” harry shook his head again, he couldn’t stand to hear him say those words ‘wastin’ your time’, as if a single moment they’d spent being aware of one another’s existence and such a prevalent part of one another’s lives, together and apart, could ever be something that harry considered to be a waste of his time. as if he wouldn’t do absolutely everything all over again, exactly the way it had already happened, face and relive all that pain all over again, if it also meant that he could have a second round of that kind of happiness, or just one more taste of the life together he knew he and louis were meant to have but had to tell himself he was never going to have again. he met his eyes for a moment, saying nothing aloud while saying absolutely everything in just those few seconds of heavy eye contact, “can we jus... can we go somewhere?” he plead, glancing over at madison, the two girls she’d brought with her, and justin after he watched louis return his drugs to him. there was no telling what he thought he was accomplishing by lowering his voice now after it had been so unapologetic about calling Louis out in the heat of their argument turned near-screaming match, but still, his tone had gone softer, become somewhat meeker. he was still angry, but he was also just as desperate as louis appeared to be, even if he wasn’t going to outright say it.

LOUIS: in apologising for wasting harry's time, louis was letting his guilt do all of the talking for him. because he genuinely did feel like a fuck up for all of the work that they put into reconnecting coming down to nothing just because he'd gotten too scared to take that final step. it had never been lost on him how different his life could look now if he hadn't cut harry off. because maybe in that universe, harry had been there for the opening show of the tour. and a lot of the shows that followed. and the album release party, the celebratory family dinner, with a photo in a frame to mark the occasion. but he'd had to come to terms with the fact that he'd given all of that away, and maybe deep down under all of the anger and hurt regarding harry not responding to the invite it was really lou's self-awareness of these facts that had him avoiding harry the whole night. unable to face could-have-beens and should-have-beens and instead allowing alcohol to do the job of numbing down any possibility of his mind slipping into this self-reflective state. as soon as harry told him not to go down the route of time wasting, lou pressed his lips together and just shrugged a little, unsure of what to say. preferably he'd say something which sat perfectly in between the right thing to say and the honest thing to say, but he didn't know what they were anymore. their eye contact felt like the closest to complete transparency that louis had gotten all night because although his eyes were clouded in alcohol and drugs and anger, they were soft. harry was stood in front of him and the two of them were talking (occasionally shouting) and that in itself was enough to soften a layer of louis' defences. it had just been too long since he'd seen the younger man in person. in the silence of the bathroom it was suddenly obvious how many pairs of eyes were on them, some of which probably didn't have any idea that anything romantic had gone down between the two of them in the first place. the alcohol kept him from being embarrassed about their argument, but once he was aware of it there was no going back. unable to form the words that he wanted, louis nodded instead, needing to get out of the room that felt so claustrophobic and still had harry's shouts echoing endlessly. without another word, his feet carried him past the girls and through the door, trying not to make eye contact with anyone at the table - especially since he was under the impression that nathan was still there and that was something else entirely that pissed louis off. he didn't want to allow himself to come face-to-face with someone that would re-ignite his anger so soon after he'd started to give into silence. he turned to face harry pretty suddenly after getting out of the bathroom, hand on the doorframe to steady himself so that the alcohol didn't cause him to stumble over at the sudden stop. "leave entirely?" he asked, not sure whether he wanted harry to say yes or no. "we could try goin' for a walk, or somethin'?" he suggested because he was too intoxicated to apply his brain to the consequence of being seen with harry, even if the consequence would be media knowledge and public opinion - one of the factors that had scared louis into running away the last time. plus, he really needed some air. "or.. i'm stayin' not that far from here? it's really up t'you. i just.. someone's gonna interrupt us, here..." he trailed off, mentally adding that with the pumping music and people like taylor and zayn in the building it really didn't feel like somewhere that this kind of conversation should be taking place. and just before he started making a move, he reached up to put a hand on harry's shoulder but stopped halfway. the elbowing harry out of the way earlier had happened in a moment of anger and now louis was just kind of scared to touch his ex. "m'sorry i -" the champagne he'd had not even that long ago made him hiccup "- shouted."

HARRY: harry followed closely behind him as he watched louis make his way toward the bathroom door, paying attention to the way he moved, all the while ignoring his own instinct to reach out and steady him, no matter how powerful it was and how much resistance it took on his part. he touched the door frame directly behind louis’ back, fought the urge to gently place his hand in the middle of it, or somewhere at his waist instead on their way out. he just couldn’t handle the thought of experiencing rejection, opening himself up to prompt louis to shake off his hand or worse, push him off. it wasn’t lost on him that the act of shoving past him, elbowing him like that, had been their first form of actual real contact since the last time they saw each other last summer, or just how different of a touch it had been from the last one. as he stepped in a bit closer just so he could hear louis over the music pumping through the speakers in the club, his felt his mind racing from the possibilities that started popping up at record speed. he knew that his ex was right, that even being in new york rather than LA posed a risk of them being seen together, and the possible complications that could arise with that happening. but he also wasn’t sure that the two of them going back to where louis was staying, or to harry’s barely-lived-in new york apartment, were the ideal direction for the the night to take them in either, it seemed so dangerous to even consider those as real options. so harry went ahead and nodded in agreement, speaking at a volume he was sure louis could hear him at despite the loud music, “yeah, let’s go for a walk..” he ran his fingers back through his hair, trying to come down from all of the heightened emotion still, to get his hands to stop doing that vague trembling thing they were doing. he noticed louis’ hesitation to touch him just before heard his apology, and rather than accepting it just yet he decided upon hearing him hiccup and feeling like his eyeballs were floating in his own right from how much he’d had to drink that he needed to take a preventative measure, to be just the slightest bit responsible in the midst of being fucked up. “jus’ one second though, okay?” he told him, gesturing with his hand toward the bar before heading over in that direction, hyper aware of each step he took as he swaggered on over and asked the bartender for a bottle of water. he was relieved to be handed it immediately and not have to wait, grateful to find it was icy cold to the touch, he thanked them and immediately made his way back over to louis. “alright.” he nodded, starting to break the seal by unscrewing the cap as he walked right behind him, letting louis lead their way outside. the cool night air hitting harry’s flushed cheeks made a huge shiver rock through his entire body, one he was sure was a combined result of his own nervousness and the immediate drop in temperature. “m’sorry I..- yeah, sorry i yelled too.” harry offered, his voice low, and just a little unsteady. he had no idea where they were going, just knew they’d started down the pavement walking side by side and showed no sign of stopping, even if they weren’t moving so quickly. “and i’m...- i’m really fuckin’ sorry, that I didn’t...- that I didn’t call you.” he wet his lips, “I could’ve called you, too.” out came the admission, followed up by another that even he wasn’t expecting to come out, “you were scared but, I guess... in a way, I was fucked up and scared too.” he breathed the last two words out, barely above a whisper, then brought the water bottle up to his mouth, taking a meager sip from it before automatically holding it out to louis without a second thought.

LOUIS: in any state of mind, louis could appreciate that this was progress and he could leave behind the yelling and the frustration in the bathroom alongside their confused friends. when harry had been right up close to him in the doorway of the stall, louis had been overcome with defence and anger. now that enough of that had subsided and harry had stepped a bit closer to him once again, he was now able to take in his ex's features. the familiarity in having harry stood in front of him again and the comfort that he brought even whilst being louis' source of pain. louis remembered their first reconnection and watching harry walk through the door with the pile of merch - remembered putting the hat on straight away, and their hug that lasted perhaps longer than it should've. he'd of given anything to hug him again now, let the alcohol-induced tears fall from his eyes and release his emotions that way instead of allowing himself to flip between angry and apologetic so quickly and unpredictably. lou hadn't brought a jacket or anything so he made a step towards the exit, stopping when harry asked him to wait. he nodded, leaning back against the wall and trying to steady himself. his sleeves were pulled down over his hands, but pressed against the wall in attempt to keep himself from sliding down it. lou didn't take his eyes off of harry's back as he walked over to the bar, and therefore had pushed himself back up and was ready to leave upon his return. one foot in front of the other led louis out of the bar and into the cold, welcome air. it seemed to wake him up and pull him a little closer towards the sober side of the scale. he was actually functional whilst walking alongside his ex, no signs of stumbling or falling even when his feet did drag a little, and he hoped that their conversation would be just as steady. no matter how genuinely pissed off he'd been at the beginning of the evening when he'd seen harry walk in, it was no surprise to louis that they were ending the night walking and talking together like this. it was perhaps always out of their control, magnetically persuaded to at least try to make some of this right where it had gone so, so wrong. the night wasn't as busy as you'd imagine new york to be, but louis still held common sense enough to keep his head down at any point where they passed by relatively close to someone. recognition was the last thing that they needed. louis shook his head 'no' at the man's second apology, looking over at the younger man. "i get why y'wouldn't have called," he said softly, happy that there was no longer any loud music to shout over. the argument in the bathroom mixed with the alcohol had made his voice a little croaky, paired with the cold, metallic taste of coke which still sat in the back of his throat. "you were protectin' yourself. i walked away an' you thought i didn't want you. it.. it makes sense," he insisted, eyes looking into harry's for the briefest moment. silently begging the younger man to never stop protecting himself, or looking out for himself first. louis knew that a phonecall from harry would never have been met with anything less than enthusiasm, but ultimately he just wanted harry to be happy. louis accepted the water, excited to wash away the drugs and alcohol from his mouth and eager to feel more normal. "thanks, harry," he said sincerely, not feeling like he deserved to use any of his old nicknames or pet names on the younger man. after having some, a few moments passed and he spoke again. "i think.." he cleared his throat and had a little more water. "i wanted to call. i know that i wanted to call. but i was just.. terrified," he admitted meekly. "terrified that me pullin' back like that had been the last straw. i dunno what i'd of done if like, yeah.. if you'd of hung up. but it wasn't about me. i shouldn't have been thinkin' about me and so little 'bout you." a strange thing to say since he'd been thinking about harry so much during the time that they were apart, but it was his fault that they were apart in the first place. he couldn't skate around that fact anymore.

HARRY: "s'alright." harry was still clutching the plastic cap between his thumb and forefinger when louis thanked him for sharing the water, words followed by him drawing in a deep, shaky breath, one he did his best to disguise by clearing his throat immediately after. he realized it was a natural reaction he had for multiple reasons. one being that he knew he'd just heard his ex give him subtle permission to snub him on purpose if it meant it was an act of self-preservation, and the self-awareness alone that came with louis saying that, even if it was in their shared (albeit not quite matched, thanks to justin) state of intoxication, was enough to make harry wish he hadn't said a good half of what had come out of his mouth back there in the bathroom. but the shakiness in his breathing was also a reaction to observing the way louis looked down every time they passed someone on the street, even if they hadn't so much as glanced in their direction while crossing paths, in a painful way, also made him glad that he had said it. how conditioned he still was to always feeling some level of paranoia and shame just by standing next to him (or at least that being how it read to harry), even while he should've theoretically been too drunk to care, it absolutely wrecked harry emotionally to see it in a way he wasn't expecting to happen, and he was doing his very best to disguise it as they continued aimlessly down that new york city sidewalk on a street neither of them knew the name of. "i... i just thought you'd..-" harry's tone was still low, and it was obvious he was doing his best to remain calm, but the unsteadiness was still clear within his voice, perhaps more than before. "remembered, all the reasons that you...-" he fidgeted with the little plastic bottle top, unable to look right at louis while he admitted it, "that you'd walked away before." harry finally admitted, making reference to their big breakup back in 2015, after he'd done so much that summer and fall to desperately cling to what had been left of it, how willing he'd been despite everything that had gone so wrong to stay, and try and make it work. it hadn't been enough then, how much he still loved louis, how much he believed in the two of them, how he could expect it to be enough years later, after so much had changed? after all, louis had just said it, they were different people now. "i thought... i'd done something, or there'd been some last straw for you.. t'make you wanna pull back like that." they came to the end of the sidewalk, where it came time to decide whether they were going to turn a corner together, or opt to cross the street. "i did almost call you, y'know? well no, you don't, but..- when the record came out, i mean..-" he stopped there underneath the glow of the streetlight, looking at louis in his stupid striped shirt, wishing he had the real capacity to hate him for how good he looked in it. "...i wanted to tell you that i heard you. that i hear you... but when you..- fuck." yet another deep, shaky gust of air pulled in, his eyes once again going wide and glassy as they bore into his, "when you were able to jus'... stop talking to me, after what happened last spring, i think i jus'...- told myself i'd gotten it all wrong." what other option had he been left with, after all?

LOUIS: louis hadn't really anticipated seeing harry at the party, but then again what had he really expected? the running away had always been temporary. the two of them were in the same band - a band that would inevitably be pulled together again to do something eventually. lou was just a fucking idiot, always thinking of what would be easier in the present moment as opposed to thinking about what would work out better in the long run. hence his ability to run away from harry when things were complicated without really comprehending how miserable he'd be - they'd both be - following that decision. ultimately he was grateful for this conversation, because what was the alternative? seeing him in five years' time when the band does a fifteen year anniversary special and harry is settled with someone new? even entertaining the idea would be enough to make louis feel sick to his stomach. but he'd spent years believing that there was someone better for the younger man out there, who would actually do right by him. louis himself had resolved to not really doing relationships anymore, following his realisation at the end of 2016 that he'd never loved danielle for the whole year they were together. that he'd just managed to convince himself that she was different, but just as good. hearing harry speak with such insecurity whilst linking what happened between them five years ago with what had happened last year made louis feel nauseous, fingertips picking at the plastic label around the water bottle just to stop himself from grabbing harry's hand, pulling him in and never letting go. it was only when they'd run out of pathway that he stopped picking at the bottle, sniffing as subtly as he could as he tried to keep himself composed. channelling the anger from earlier into sadness now wasn't going to fix anything. he needed to keep medium, stay rational, and he looked up at harry as soon as he revealed that he'd almost called when walls dropped. moments of eye contact passed before louis spoke. "mm," louis said, voice nearly cracking even with him just humming in acknowledgement of everything that harry was saying. he cleared his throat before continuing his train of thought. "we always - haz, we knew i was going to fuck up," he said, referring back to 2015 and unintentionally nearly quoting a lyric from a song he'd written and released about that time. "it didn't take me long at all to learn how wrong i was to go. but harry i couldn't -" a deep breath separated his train of thought. "i couldn't let you drown with me anymore. all the on and off, tryin' to piece back together what i'd broken. navigatin' me finding out about freddie. navigatin' how much our lives were about t'change without the band," he listed, eyes now flooded enough with tears that it made the streetlight above them just seem like a blur of light and distorting harry's features in the process, but louis carried on regardless. "you didn't.. last year, i just got scared. i'd spent so long wantin' us again, that when it seemed possible i just didn't know what to do, so.." he didn't finish the sentence, letting the words 'i ran' go unspoken. "stoppin' talking to you wasn't easy. fuckin' hell, you think that anythin' without you was easy?" he asked, voice soft even despite his sharp, frustrated language. at the time that their communication was breaking down he'd been aware enough that he was running away, but still going into the studio to write about how much he missed and needed harry. how sorry he was. and the whole time he'd been plagued with the knowledge that if he tried, if he was brave then maybe they could have it. but he couldn't do it, couldn't let himself go there. he wasn't brave enough to let them learn what they could be like outside of the band, doing things on their own terms, even if it was undoubtedly going to be changes made for the better. he never learned how to be public and proud in the way that harry was, or unlearned the fact that all he'd ever do is hold him back. wasn't brave enough for those changes, or ready, or in the mindset to implement them. "you didn't get it wrong, or do anythin' wrong, harry. i was just.. scared. in too many of the same ways that i was scared five years ago, and none of 'em were to do with your actions." his voice was practically begging now, eyes blurry and pleading harry to not blame himself. louis was so desperate for harry to not think that he'd misread the time that they'd spent reconnecting, that it had ended up being the push he needed to say what he needed to say, even if it wasn't in as much detail as he wanted to give.

HARRY: harry stopped fidgeting with the plastic cap when he saw all of louis' defenses suddenly drop, heard how honest he was being both with him, and with himself, and how painful it was to watch despite knowing on some level that it was necessary. necessary for the two of them, because the younger man had never expected louis to get so candid with him, but also necessary for him, because he knew that saying it aloud wasn't only important for him to hear; it came with a different kind of clarity for each of them, he knew he wasn't the only one who needed it. they hadn't spoken out loud about their actual feelings like this in... god, almost five years, and even then, there'd been so much built up pain and resignation to the end, their communication had been entirely different then, than now. which was why even in his state of still somewhat feeling like he was watching the situation unfold from a third person perspective rather than living through it himself, that clarity was something he desperately craved, and why he was doing his best to focus despite being so fucked up from the way-too-much tequila coursing through him. when he saw the tears pool in louis' eyes, harry was absolutely done for, he couldn't stop the way they flooded right back to his own the same way they had when they were face to face outside that cubicle a few moments prior, and he'd done everything he could to keep from breaking down right then. both of their guards were down now, and at least for tonight, it seemed, there was no putting them back up and shutting each other back out. he cried without doing anything to hold back, hot tears immediately bringing a change in temperature to his somewhat overheated cheeks when the cool night air hit the drops as they fell. he didn't wipe at his eyes or face, he just listened. 'you think that anythin' without you was easy?' that question, if he wasn't so desperate to remain entirely present in the moment, would've been enough to send harry spiraling otherwise. still, he couldn't help thinking of all the times in the past couple of months since its release that he had heard louis out just like this in the only way he'd been allowed to, by putting on his album and doing what he could to try and decipher if as many of the songs on it were about him as he felt that they were. how many times he'd wanted to just call him up and ask him if he meant it at best, or if he was delusional for daring to hope they were written about the two of them in the first place. he sniffled in the silence that hung between them after louis ended it all by admitting that all of it had had to d with how scared he was, how almost identical that fear was to the same exact breed of it that had driven them to break up. he knew his options were fairly limited. he could tell louis to go fuck himself, that he was through with chasing him and hoping that someday things would be different, that he would want to be with him, that the desire to be with him would finally outweigh the part of him that was still, at age 28, kept so bound by the chains that had been put on him at age 18. that he would finally want be brave with him again the way they had been when they were young, more than he wanted to keep hiding such a big part of who he is. but harry knew that could never really be an option, because he knew the truth: that he'd wait the rest of this lifetime for louis, and then go on to find him in the next, if it meant the two of them could be together eventually. of course he couldn't say that out loud, in fact he knew he was so emotional by that point that anything that came out would've probably been uninteligable, but still he needed to communicate what he was feeling with his ex somehow. so without a second more of hesitation he reached out to take the water bottle back from him, his shaky hand raising it up to his lips so he could take a drink from it before screwed the cap back on. and then in the next instant, his arms were around louis in a crushing embrace, he was leaned down burying his tear-soaked face in the crook of his neck, the way he had always made himself comfortable in his arms since he'd first grown taller than him. the hand he wasn't holding the water in was pressed against the back of louis' head, ring-clad fingers gently gripping his hair, but that just made him decide he didn't care about the water anymore, so he dropped it in favor of having his other hand between his shoulder blades. he breathed him in, words pleading and somewhat muffled as he shakily let them out, "don't you dare make me let go. not again."

LOUIS: louis knew that harry would hang onto every word he said, replaying them over and over again after the conversation finished and therefore he was trying to choose them carefully. yet, the truth was that there were no words that could perfectly describe how louis had felt internally for so long and the reasons why he did what he did, because so much of it really was irrational. so much of it existed outside of any logic aside from in louis' head, and the older man just had to keep relying on the fact that harry could understand him better than anyone else and understand his reasonings probably better than even louis could. being vulnerable felt strange, especially when he wasn't even sure what this was all for. when reconnecting before they'd managed to do so without laying their emotions out like this. louis just knew, instinctively, that he couldn't have the luxury of having harry be any part of his life this time around if he didn't learn to share what was going on in his head. pair that with some dutch courage and the words were pouring out of him and into the cold, new york air. so public, yet such a private moment for the two of them. he almost wished that they hadn't stopped under a streetlight so that he couldn't see all of harry's reactions. his own tear-blurred vision was welcome whilst he had been the one talking, but as soon as he was waiting to take in harry's response it was all different. he took in the way that harry was stood, attention entirely belonging to louis. he took in his facial features, his beauty, recalling then how many times lou had looked into those eyes and shared something personal and scary before. the difference was that this time, there was nothing to lose and so much to gain, maybe, eventually. but as soon as harry had started crying, louis was done for. he'd known he'd hurt harry and he'd pushed that knowledge from his brain for the duration that they'd been apart, willing himself to push forwards with his life and accept that he'd never get to have harry be a part of it in the way that he wanted, or the way that he believed he was meant to. and seeing that hurt in the form of yelling in the bathroom felt like payback, and maybe even expected. but this display of pain and care and, louis hoped, understanding - it made the tears spill over for him, too. it felt so undeserved, but so special. like a flood of relief was washing over louis' entire body. feeling like he needed to maintain at least some level of composure, he brought the sleeve of his striped shirt up and wiped under his eyes, looking away momentarily as he got rid of any of the evidence. when harry reached out, louis passed the bottle over silently all the while never taking his eyes of of his ex's face, desperately trying to map out what he was thinking and where it was going to lead them. the older man felt so vulnerable and small, and the time where he was waiting for harry to react felt like tens of minutes that then went on to feel like hours. he could see harry's hand shaking, the emotions behind his eyes and louis was swept up into the embrace so quickly that he didn't know that it was happening until he was there. he wrapped his arms around harry in return, and feeling the tears on his neck was enough for louis to feel the emotion in himself. he let out a couple of body-shaking sobs, needing air desperately but refusing to step away from this hug because for the first time since he'd last walked away, he felt safe. safe yet vulnerable, lost but also understood. his hands gripped onto harry's jacket in a way that silently begged the younger man to never break the hug. to just stay there, until the morning came and he new yorkers came out of their homes and people saw, and louis could start to learn the process of acceptance and true love that was proud in more ways than the ways that he already practised. tears matched the couple of sobs that lou let out, head still fuzzy and body glad that harry was his anchor when the alcohol in his system made him sway, or shake slightly. "m'not gonna," he promised, weak and strained but he meant it more than he'd ever said before. "i don't think i could, hazza," he promised. one of his hands was resting at the nape of harry's neck, thumb stroking his skin gently, soothing. "thank you for... for wantin' to talk. you didn't," louis took a deep breath, letting go of it shakily before continuing. "you didn't owe me that, or have to. 'nd i know that." his voice was soft, whispering right by harry's ear so gently that even if this had been the middle of the day and they'd been surrounded, then those words would still have been for harry's ears only. it was unsurprising to louis how violently this felt like home, because he’d never truly forgotten the feeling of harry’s arms around him and how undeniably right it had always been, from day one, at 16 and 18. when he did pull back slightly to look harry in the eyes he kept his arms where they were - he couldn’t fathom the idea of letting go so soon. he was scared of what he was about to say, still terrified of the rejection that he was scared of feeling the first time, but he knew that he owed it to harry to ask directly, like he should’ve done all along. looking into his eyes, he smiled softly, “an’ when me tour resumes, i’d love you to be there. for openin’ night number two,” he asked, trying not to sound as scared as he was.

HARRY: the contrast between the way that louis had struggled to get out his full name when thanking him for sharing the water bottle before, and the slight trembling in the way he called him by that ever-cherished nickname rather than harry's full name, none of it went unnoticed to the younger male- instead, it was subject to his notorious overthinking. even while he was so completely caught up in the way they slotted together so perfectly, harry couldn't help but notice the difference. they fit like two halves of the same whole being reunited after far too much time, and he had no idea how he was ever supposed to back away from him or bring about the end an embrace that he'd yearned for so deeply, for so long now. when he felt louis melt into him, the way he let himself collapse in the safety of his arms, his sobs of course could only harry into shaky, heavy breaths to try and stop himself from losing control over his emotions pouring out of him in the same way, because he knew that right then, what he needed to do was be the one to hold louis steady. he realized he couldn't always resign himself to being the one tender-hearted, even fragile enough to break down like that, instead he became hyper-aware of his responsibility to maintain a certain level of composure. how he now had to draw enough strength for the two of them from within himself as though he was siphoning it from the innermost depths of who he was. he saw no other option but to be strong enough to let him know that not only did he have no desire to, but he wasn't going to be made to let go again, be it by louis himself or any force outside of their control, no matter the size or intimidation of that force. "i know we didn't have to." he told louis with his lips also near enough to his ear given their position that they practically brushed the shell of it while he spoke. " i jus'.. needed to. we needed to. and not like that." he explained through a sniffle with a breathy edge of barely-there, humorless laughter laced through his words, putting a special emphasis on the one he ended his sentence with as he referenced the fucked up means of 'communicating' they'd been doing in the bathroom before they agreed to take this little walk together. "of course i'll be there." he smiled softly as he accepted his invitation, not even realizing that it the very first time that he had done that around louis all night, "wouldn't miss it for the whole fuckin' world." he had only drawn back far enough to look at him, had no desire to move away from him. all that being so close and sharing such vulnerability with louis just made harry want more, in any way he could achieve it. he smoothed the white collar of his shirt with his ring-clad thumbs as an excuse to remain just as close to him (not that he needed one, given louis' unwillingness to stop holding onto him) - he found himself especially grateful that it'd been his inclination to keep that contact when yet another random new yorker passed them on the sidewalk and he witnessed the vague-but-still-noticeable way that lou flinched at even so much as a the thought of them being seen there together by someone who recognized him. but as much as harry found that it stung, he also found that his desire to be someplace alone, just the two of them, far outweighed the part of him with the capacity to be hurt deeply enough by how louis was still capable of having such a reaction in the state he was in, or to let it stop him from asking the question that came out of his mouth next, "d'ya wanna...-" his fingers dipped under the angle of louis' shirt collar, straightening it as he met his gaze, doing everything to disguise the baited breath that came with the second half of his question, "you wanna get out of here with me? come back to mine?" he was of course referring to his new york apartment, the least lived-in of his three US residences, but he realized almost at once how it sounded to be offering such a thing, the unintentional implications within it, and his-still bleary eyes went wide as he stammered over his explanation, "so we can talk s'more, I mean.. just somewhere private, is all. that's all i meant." he still didn't want to step back out of louis' embrace, not just because he felt so right there, but because he was afraid that what he'd just said would be enough to have louis not want him there in it anymore, anyway.

LOUIS: it was ironic of louis to finally let his walls down in front of harry after months and months of nothingness and acting like he was okay, as though he hadn't just released an album stating that all of his walls had already came down. there seemed to be so many layers to his grief when it came to the loss of their relationship, his self-reflection and the separations between what he wanted and what he thought he was allowed to have. so much of himself wanted to stay right there by harry's side, but there would always be a part of him that felt like he was going to overstay his welcome. it made louis nervous, but as he looked harry in the eyes he'd never felt more motivation to be selfish. because after all, the two of them had always been one person. one human being, and if louis was going to be selfish in the way that he truly wanted to be then the likeliness was that it would go in both of their favour. there was an embarrassment and fear in his actions once he allowed for his earlier anger to subside into sobs muffled in the smooth fabric of harry's clothing, alcohol causing both of his moods to be represented in extremes. he'd just spent months making such a mess out of everything, and this was the only way he knew how to let the disappointment show. it would only be the next morning whilst nursing a hangover and a desperate need for proof that any of this happened that louis would recognise how selfless harry had been. to allow the man who hurt him, to cry on him. to allow the man who left him, to cry on him. and in all honesty, louis knew that he would have been even more of a mess if he hadn't had harry's arms keeping him steady, their bodies pressed together as they fit together so perfectly that it made it even more disgusting that louis had ever walked away. lou's eyes, reddened from tears and slightly dilated from the after-effects of the drugs, widened so slightly when harry agreed to come to the second opening night, the wave of relief visible as it softened all of lou's features even more so. even just the simple gesture of straightening his collar made louis feel looked after and cared for. since the end of 2016 after suffering loss and ending his last relationship simultaneously, harry was the only person that louis had allowed to look after him during the 'on' stages of their on-off times together. it scared him how easily he could sink back into it, and how much he never realised he needed it. but he'd of never accepted it from anybody else, no chance. he was almost too wrapped up in this comfort, arms still looped around harry's body, but that didn't stop him from wincing when someone walked by a little too close. they probably didn't pay them any attention, and lou tried so hard not to resist, but it was impossible for him to not tilt his head away from the stranger's direction to make it a little harder for her to notice who they were, assuming that she even would know who the two of them were. he'd learned that it was always better to be safe than sorry. or at least that's what management told him. he looked back into harry's eyes as the younger man offered his own place to stay, mind going at a million miles an hour until harry clarified what he'd meant. this brought a laugh out of louis, chuckling through the tears that had mostly subsided by this point. he was so tempted, bringing one of his arms up to wipe the sleeve under his eyes, "fuck. haz, i.." he paused, wanting nothing more than to agree. they had so much more to talk about, and taking advantage of this vulnerability whilst it was so raw would probably be a really good thing for the two of them. "freddie, he's stayin' at me mate's, here in the city, so i really gotta.. yeah," he said, not wanting to straight up say no to harry even though he had to. "see that's why me tour stopped, why i'm in the states at the moment. me shit with bri actually made it to a hearing, it's not too far away now," he paused to sniff, feeling himself getting sidetracked. "but i have him whilst our lawyers talk because payments have stopped an'.. yeah," he paused. having freddie with him all the time had been the most wonderful thing that he wouldn't replace for anything, especially when he had friends around to look after the youngster when louis needed a night off. but now more than ever, he wished he could accept the offer with harry. "me flight back to la, it's dead early tomorrow, if i'm late..." he trailed off again. "but i do wanna talk, i promise, m'not.. not runnin' away. not this time."

HARRY: harry felt a wave of relief hit him when louis laughed at him, it was just so good to hear the sound of him laughing after how much it had hurt to hear and feel him sobbing into his chest only minutes before. and as he listened to louis explain why he couldn’t come home with him he realized it would’ve probably disappointed him had he not explained his reasoning for not being able to in a way that made his reluctance to decline so clear to harry. hell, he couldn’t help but notice that louis never actually said the words “no” or “I can’t”, and saved him the feeling of rejection he’d been fearing from the moment any kind of self-awareness followed the offer coming out of his currently-filterless mouth to begin with. he listened to louis fill him in just enough on where he currently stood in the situation with brianna and their son, freddie, and couldn’t help but be happy to hear that things were moving along to something as a official as a hearing, something that had been a far-off concept back when they were still talking before rather than the apparent current reality. plus harry’s face visibly lit up just a bit simply because he mentioned his son’s name and informed him that he had him in the city with him tonight, and why he had him- because it hadn’t only been louis that he’d missed so deeply during all these months they spent apart, he’d missed his favorite little monkey too. before everything had gotten so confusing to harry with louis distancing himself from him, he’d even felt like he’d developed a real bond with little freddie in a way he didn’t even have with some of the kids that he’d been made the actual godfather of. he couldn’t help but be disappointed to realize that he’d missed out on being part of his life over the past not-quite-year, especially when it had no doubt been subject to so many changes as a result of the custody battle at such a formative age for him. but he’d save processing that disappointment for later on when he was on his own. “my flight’s in the morning too.” he told him tenderly, tone full of understanding even if he didn’t flat out tell him that he understood, and still holding onto him by his shoulders, still so unwilling to move out of his embrace, like a part of him was scared it would be the last time. harry hated the feeling of not realizing that he was experiencing the ‘last time’ he’d ever have something during the moment, but only registering it in retrospect. he’d thought twice in his life before this that it could be the last time he and louis ever held each other in their arms, and wished so desperately looking back both times that he had held on just a little bit longer, hugged him just that much tighter. But mostly, he just found himself wishing that neither of them had ever let go. another thrill of relief ran through him when louis clarified that he did want to talk, and this refusal to do so to night not only didn’t mean that he didn’t want to, it was only being turned down because he had to. “maybe we can..- when we’re both back in LA, I mean, we can find time to talk. before your opening night two point oh.” he specified with a softness in his words, both that he didn’t want to go that long without talking, and that he wasn’t about to let that be the first time the see each other again after tonight. “it’s really good that you brought him along ya..- how’s he doing?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking, curious not only about the kid but about how having him on his own so much more of the time had been for louis.

LOUIS: it was in talking about freddie that louis realised just how much of his life had changed since he'd last spoken to harry. he'd managed to file an order regarding brianna's spending of the money that he gave her for freddie and had officials gain access to accounts, assessing where it was being spent and if it were cause for concern. now freddie had been living with him since the day after he'd had to cut his tour short and fly out to los angeles when paperwork came through - pausing payment to bri and granting louis the custody temporarily until the hearing could come around. it had been such a whirlwind, and a long journey to get to this point. after losing his own mother, he'd never put freddie in the position to stop seeing brianna. he'd never stop paying for the roof over her head or the food on her table, but he was never going to allow his son to become a money-maker for her. especially when she'd appeared to have no motivation in doing too much of the actual mothering. on top of those obvious changes, the fact that he'd even released an album and started a tour made him feel like he was miles away from where he was when he'd last seen harry. miles away in terms of his career and his fatherhood, but still right there in the same place when it came to his emotions. waiting for harry, almost. or rather waiting for himself to right all of his wrongs and get harry back. because louis hadn't even bothered trying to connect romantically with anyone during the time that the two of them had been apart, already so confident that nothing was worth bothering with. because how do you get better once you've had the best? the way that harry's face lit up at the mention of freddie instantly warmed louis' heart regardless, especially since he was aware of how much of an impression harry had left on his son. freddie had been regularly asking about harry monkey for so long after the pair's last interaction, it really hadn't helped louis bury the already-growing guilt that he held regarding his own disappearing act, but it had warmed his heart to know that freddie really did love harry almost as much, and nearly as immediately, as louis did. like father, like son. the understanding tone of harry's voice allowed the older man to release a breath that he didn't even know that he was holding, feeling nothing but relief that his inability to stay hadn't turned the conversation around on itself and also hadn't seemed to set them back any. because even in their drunken state, and even if he wouldn't remember every detail, louis still felt like they'd made immense progress. if he hadn't of just finished sobbing into harry's shoulder then maybe louis would've been embarrassed at how quickly he nodded in response to the offer of talking when back in los angeles. however, embarrassment seemed to be off the table for the evening. "yeah. fuck, yeah, we'll do that. everythin' will be a bit mad for me for a couple days, but i promise i'll text ya," he said with complete sincerity. he winced before asking "your number hasn't changed, right?" louis wasn't about to let an overlooked detail such as a changed number fuck everything up and get in the way of their talking this out. but yeah. he's doin' really good, considerin' how weird this must all be for him," he said, smile soft in a way that was only ever reserved for when he spoke about freddie. "it was a massive adjustment for both of us. especially now that he's old enough t'ask every question under the sun. but yeah. the little lad's keepin' me on me toes, that's for sure," he joked, not wanting to take his arms off of harry and step back but also knowing that he probably should. it was just so hard to put distance back between two people where it didn't belong, especially when louis knew it would take all of his will power to stop the conversation and hail himself a cab. he already knew that driving away would feel like a crime. "he misses you though. spent forever askin' about you. think in not talkin' with you, i broke his little heart as well," he admitted sadly, dropping his arms so they were around harry far more loosely.

HARRY: harry remembered their conversations from before everything had taken yet another turn and louis’ fear and reluctance had led to them once again drifting apart from one another. how he’d encouraged louis not to write himself off before he even gave himself a chance, how he’d told him he knew what kind of dad he was and not to be too afraid of things not working out in his favor to even try and have some faith that they might. how he’d done everything he could to give louis confidence in the thought that he could take it to a hearing and be granted custody of freddie if he sprung for the right lawyer and had the right support system, and of course, approached everything the right way. he was already looking forward to hearing more details about how everything had played out to this point, to know more of louis’ feelings on it and how he was doing on a more in depth level. and of course, he was looking forward to hopefully (should everything work out the way harry was already half-drunk putting in the work to manifest), being reunited with freddie sometime soon as well. “no, no, same number- numbers, on both phones. you have both, yeah?” harry asked, though he was pretty sure he had given louis both his personal number and his work phone number. harry loved seeing the light in louis’ eyes as he spoke about freddie, it made his heart swell so much with adoration that it felt like it could burst right out of his chest. “oh yeah, I bet! four year olds, they’re so inquisitive- reckon especially so, in such a confusing situation. m’glad he’s doin’ well though, especially all things considered. Imagine you’re doing all you can to make it a fun, exciting thing for him.” Harry spoke of Freddie obviously being in Louis’ care for a lot more of the time now, something that has been imbalanced about their dynamic as co-parents in the opposite way before, when it was first brought to the younger male’s attention how much he was being taken advantage of by the mother of his child. harry wasn’t expecting it, but his eyes immediately flooded with a fresh round of tears when louis told him that freddie missed him, and the way that he told him, “oh shit, what’ve you done?” he laughed at himself in realization when it happened, letting go of louis with only one hand, just so he could bring it up and dab at his eyes to try and stop himself from blubbering like a baby all over again. he drew in a slow, shaky gust of air through his nose, the sadness in his eyes contrasted so much by the smile on his face, “i’ve really fucking missed him too. nearly as bad as I’ve missed you.” he knew what a heavy thing that was to say in its own right, but he couldn’t help confessing it, how much freddie, someone who was so much a part of louis, meant to him.

LOUIS: even in the moments of silence louis still felt like he was in some kind of drunken daydream, blue eyes fixed on harry's features, re-learning them all as though he hadn't spent five years of his life seeing them on the daily. and if he'd always known just how much he'd missed harry, it was disgustingly obvious now. the question as to whether he had both numbers pulled louis out of his quick, split-second daydream as he reluctantly pulled his arms away from harry and reached to pull his phone out of his pocket. unlocking it with his thumb, he scrolled through his contacts until he found both numbers, nodding in satisfaction and then not being able to pass up his proud dad moment when he re-locked the phone. "here he is," he said with a grin, leaning closer into harry's space again and showing him the picture of freddie on his lockscreen. "yeah, he has a lotta questions. a lotta sass. but i wouldn't have it any other way," he said confidently. doing things the easy way would be boring. the way that harry had gotten emotional made louis get emotional in return, because anyone loving his son made him happy but harry's reaction to the knowledge that freddie had missed him was a whole new level of sweet. shoving his phone back into his pocket, he confidently brought a hand up to harry's shoulder again. "hey, well, the three of us - we were a team for a little while there, weren't we?" he said softly and bravely, remembering vividly the few times they had spent as the three of them and how fucking special it had been. he was scared to put into words just how much he wished they still were a team, or that they could be again. "and he's missed you nearly as much as i've missed you, haz," he added softly. it was going to be harder than ever to end the night now. all louis wanted was to go back to harry's place with him, convince the younger man to catch the same flight with him and freddie in the morning. he visualised harry helping him deal with a sleepy, grumpy, airport child and then louis using the younger man's shoulder as a pillow on the flight, just like he'd done so many times before in their lives. it scared him, really, how quickly his brain let him want these things. how much it could skip over in order to land back on their happiness as opposed to acknowledging that getting it right will take time, and mean working through so much unhappiness. this couldn't work like last time, a year earlier, where the two of them had reconnected without talking anything through. this time around, louis was determined to do this in the right order. an order that could work - that might last. all presuming that harry would still want all of that with him, but louis couldn't allow himself to believe any different now that the younger man was stood in front of him. and that alcohol-fuelled faith that they'd do it all right this time, and the knowledge that he'd need to be up and dealing with a child in an airport in six hours, made louis turn to look over his shoulder to see if there were any cabs. "i should probably.. yeah, probably shoot off," he said sadly, turning back to face harry. he just hoped that harry could see in his eyes how much he wished he could stay, or could've accepted the offer to go back to his place. "did you wanna share a cab, if you're headin' back, i'm sure it could swing by yours?" he asked, not wanting to leave the man until the last minute that he had to, but also not knowing what his plans would be for the rest of the night since they weren't going anywhere together.

HARRY: "aw! look at him! just keeps gettin' cuter, doesn't he?" harry gushed shamelessly when louis showed him his lockscreen, feeling the need to actually hold onto the sides of his phone in his hand for a moment just to get a proper look at the picture. "bit inevitable that he'd have the sass though, innit?" he had to gently tease as he let it go and let louis shove it back into his pocket, knowing it could only be a case of 'like father, like son'. he felt his breath catch in his throat just a little bit when louis referred to the three of them as a 'team', something he never expected to love hearing about in the context of himself, louis and another person. he realized in that moment that freddie was likely the only one he'd ever accept as the third member of what had always been the two-person dream team that was him and louis. "we were, definitely.." he breathed out, taking one tiny, reluctant step back, "...hopefully me and him'll get to hang out soon, yeah?" he asked, full of hope that louis had just instilled into him with all his softness and his bravery; he knew that it wasn't just liquid courage talking when he referred to them that way, he knew just by looking into his eyes when he said it that he meant every word. and it felt so fucking good to know with certainty that louis had mutually missed him, that he hadn't been all alone in his pining for his presence, the yearning to get to be close to him again. while it hadn't exactly been as deep and torturous as it had been during the nearly three years they'd spent apart before the summer of 2018 changed everything for them, the last nine months or so had still been particularly painful, especially when he allowed himself to think about how much of a waste it felt like, as any stretch of time they spent apart always did. the fact that they both had flights to catch tomorrow was sitting right there at the forefront of harry's mind, and he couldn't help but let his thoughts wander back to the countless amount of flights the two of them had taken together. how different it would be if they were to be seen doing something like that now, and with a little mini-louis in tow? it felt like something he shouldn't even dare to imagine, and yet it was suddenly all that he could think about. certainly not something he had the bravery to tell his ex boyfriend aloud. he felt a sharp pang in his chest when louis admitted that he probably needed to head out, but he immediately nodded in understanding despite that, just wanting louis to know that he wasn't about to hold the need to leave against him. "oh, i ah.." he thought about the offer to share a cab for a moment, mind trailing off into the high likelihood that if the two of them got into the same car, they weren't going to end up going back to two separate places the way that he knew they needed to, for freddie monkey's sake and for the sake of what was to come for them in the future. “was actually thinkin’ about heading back in, just for a little bit. see if it’s dead or what.” he said it like an admission and not the excuse he’d just come up with that it was, but really he just... knew it was safer all around, if they ended the night for them here on the corner of this random new york city sidewalk, than dared for anything else, even something as seemingly innocuous as a shared cab ride. “but i’ll wait here for one with ya.. text me when you get in, yeah? so i know you’re safe.” he said it before he could even think to bite his tongue and stop himself, knowing that he sounded like a full-on husband when he said it, but unable to take it back now.

LOUIS: louis' fatherly pride was written all over his face, clear for the younger man to see. it made him proud to be able to tell harry even the little that he had done regarding the custody, and to share the fact that he'd made progress on that front. especially considering how it'd been largely harry's encouragement that had gotten louis to a place where he felt it was something he could proceed with. a place where he felt like he was good enough to be a full-time father. "yeah. yeah, definitely, we'll make that happen," he promised in regards to harry and freddie getting to hang out. it made louis' heart happy to consider organising that, and knowing that in doing so he'd be making both harry and freddie exceptionally happy. that in itself was all the motivation that he needed to ensure that they got to a place where the three of them together would be an okay thing to do, again. louis wasn't sure if he wanted harry to accept the offer of sharing a cab or not. on the one hand, he wouldn't have offered if he didn't have an internal need to ensure that harry got home safely and in one piece. but additionally, even taking a step back to turn to look for a cab made louis feel a bit dizzy and he knew he needed to get to his bed and pass out as soon as possible. and if he ended up needing to ask the driver to pull over so that he could puke by the side of the road, then that was his business. when harry said he was gonna head back in, louis nodded in understanding and slight relief. "yeah, yeah, hopefully the party's still goin'. i'm hopin' they managed to have a good time without us two lives of the party there, anyway," he exaggerated, shrugging modestly. he very nearly stumbled on his way to the curb, arm outstretched as he hailed the cab down. only two went straight past him before one stopped, which might have been a record. the haste was likely spurred on by the paranoia of having harry stood behind him, and feeling his eyes on the back of his own head. when the car was there, lou turned around and stepped over to the younger man. arms wrapped around him once more, holding him tight and being unapologetic about it. "i'll message ya," he promised, letting go and taking a couple of steps backwards before forcing himself to take his eyes off of harry, turning and getting into the car.

HARRY: harry had such a look of bliss and relief on his face when louis seemed just as eager to orchestrate a reunion between him and little freddie as he was to have one, so glad that his ex didn't think it strange that he felt such a paternal-like bond with his son. he'd always been good with kids, so at only 26 he'd already been honored with several god-children from his close friends who were parents, but his bond with freddie was entirely different. it had been instant, so easy for harry to adore him from the moment they met; not to mention, seeing what a wonderful father he naturally was had only made him love louis even more than he'd thought possible. he had so much faith that everything with the custody hearing would work out in his favor, as he had even before it'd become a reality; and now, he was instilled with a new faith that he'd get to be around to celebrate that victory with him. "if it's shit i'll just head home m'self, you know me." harry admitted with a soft, fond grin as he let himself look louis over one more time, committing the moment to memory. he hadn't been expecting him to hug him again before he left, the final, short-lived but warm, close embrace actually catching him off guard, pulling a soft, hardly audible gasp of surprise out of him. but as it sunk in just how much it meant to him that louis hadn't thought twice before doing it despite his visible nervousness at the prospect of being seen with him the entire time they'd been stood there together, he hugged him back just as tight, even tighter, if that was possible, before finally letting him go, confident that it was only for the time being. "i'll see you soon." he didn't even really mind that it felt like he was saying it both to louis and himself, giving a small wave as a final goodbye he watched him get into the cab,

#✗ — TRAFFIC LIGHT PARTY ⸢HARRY STYLES⸥

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makeste · 5 years

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BnHA Chapter 230: League of Thots

Previously on BnHA: We learned all about Twice’s past, which was a lot like Oliver Twist, if you’re like me and you never actually read Oliver Twist and only have extremely vague memories of watching one of the movie versions as a kid and seeing some poor wretched child asking for more oatmeal and falling in with some lovable scalawags. Although I’m pretty sure Oliver Twist never hit a dude with a motorcycle and made a bunch of clones of himself because he was lonely and then the clones all tried to kill each other. But like, other than that, I still kinda got that vibe, idk. Anyway so Twice is great and we all love him and feel sorry for him, and the Metahuman Liberation Army ripped his mask off because they’re dicks, and then they broke his arms because see re: the part where they’re dicks. But once his arms were broken, Twice, who’d been having an ongoing identity crisis due to not being sure whether he was one of his own clones, realized he couldn’t be a clone since he was still alive and hadn’t melted into a big blob after taking all that damage. So then he got all empowered, and he made like a dozen fresh new clones of himself, and now they’re gonna fuck up the MLA’s shit hopefully, and good riddance.

Today on BnHA: The League of Twices surges forth to do battle with the forces of evil and it’s my favorite thing ever. What started out as a dozen quickly multiplies exponentially -- we’re talking literal exponential growth here -- until Re-Destro’s Army of 116,000 people actually find themselves outnumbered. Up in his tower, Re-Destro is all “gee Skeptic you sure did fuck up spectacularly :)” and Skeptic quickly makes himself scarce, leaving Giran all on his own to antagonize RD about how royally screwed he is. Back in the thick of things, Dabi continues to attack The Night King, but it turns out he’s able to create new ice from just about any water source, so that complicates things a bit. Meanwhile Dabi is apparently starting to roast himself with his own quirk, which is very interesting and a huge clue as to how he came to be where he is, all scarred up and presumably Presumed Dead, and it’s all very intriguing. But before we can ponder that much, we cut to Ujiko, who’s getting tired of watching the League kick ass so effortlessly and decides to throw a Gigantomachia-shaped wrench into the mix just for the hell of it, waking the big guy early so he can join in on the fun. Well you won’t see me complaining omg.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, and added a couple of ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

oh my god

first of all, y’all know I love it when Horikoshi really gets into the nitty-gritty of how someone’s quirk works and hammers out all the little stipulations and provisions about what they can and can’t do, etc. but then to do it with this adorable little chibi Twice sketch is almost too much. we’re only on the first panel here; if this is an indicator of what the rest of the chapter is gonna be like, fair warning that I will probably have a number of little fangirling breakdowns

anyhoo, so this definitely clears some things up. the translation could be a little clearer, but I’m gonna take this to mean that he has a two-clone limit, period, and can’t make more than two of any person or object until the existing clones disappear. meaning that this can’t actually be used to create entire armies, which is a smart move on Horikoshi’s part in terms of keeping him from getting too op. this is especially important because we know his clones can use the same quirks as the original. so yeah, that could potentially get out of hand real fast without a few limiters in place

but! there is one exception to the “only two” rule, which we’re now seeing in action! a quirk hack, if you will. which is that if he clones himself, each of those clones is then capable of using the same Doubling quirk under the same rules. so each clone can make an additional two clones. which is dope. like, past a certain point, you actually have to start using math to keep up with him. and that part is in fact pretty motherflippin’ powerful, even if each duplicate is weaker than the last. it’s definitely not something you want to fuck with. I would sure hate to be a person, or army of people, who have done just that and are now going to have to feel his wrath. oh man

so because this is a Flashback Arc we are now cutting to another flashback, but this time a more recent one involving the Shigaraki Squad all hanging out in the ol’ Villain Shack

-- holy shit

okay but this is so fucking smart, though. these guys keep thinking of things that would never, ever occur to me because try as I might, I just can’t get on the same level of thinking outside the box that they’re at. obviously they’re a good deal more primed to think of creative applications of their own quirks, having lived with said quirks for most of their lives. but still

anyways, look at me, I’m practically beside myself being impressed even though Twice wasn’t actually able to do anything lol. but just, even the fact that they tried is impressive to me. leave no avenue unexplored. god this manga is so good

anyway so now we’re cutting back to the present, and Twice is thinking that he wants to repay his friends for accepting him. “that’s all I ever think about!”

weekly reminder that Twice is in fact the nicest guy in the series. and it’s all the more impressive since he lacked any kind of good influence when he was growing up. dude is a fucking saint if you think of it like that

lol. well no one ever said saints couldn’t be violent sometimes

so now the MLA goons who were formerly watching on the sidelines are all “oh shit” and they’re rushing in to try to help contain the situation

only to be confronted with this

you see?? math. Twice to the nth power. holy shit

also the title/attack name Sad Man’s Parade is so good and evocative that I assumed it must be a reference to something, but when I googled it just now all I got was links to articles and reviews of this very chapter. but I still think it must be a reference though. we’ve had a lot of them recently, including last week’s title, which as @herongale pointed out to me was a reference to The Killing Joke. so if any smart person can figure this one out, please let me know. it sounds like a song or something maybe

anyway I just clicked to the next page and it’s the most badass thing I’ve ever seen so let me just share that with y’all

things I like:

Twice’s face

that last panel. just. that

Twice holding Toga all protectively fffsdfasd

and did I mention that face though. holy hecking fuck my lovable lil LoV mascot is suddenly all grown up and making me feel things. going after all of my weak spots at once! protecting his friends: check. all scuffed up and covered in blood all sexy-like: double check. and last but not least, that look of utter, fearless determination: checkcheckmotherfuckincheck

jesus christ. first Giran and now you. more like League of Thirst, fml. what was that he was saying in the previous chapter about his scary looks?? you know what Twice, you can fuck right off with that noise. I can’t believe you were holding out on us this entire time

anyway so now here’s Re-Destro to chill me out before I completely lose my shit

ah, nothing like that arrogant pointy mug to bring me back down to reality right quick. really can’t wait until someone knocks this guy down off his high horse

and now he’s turning and casually remarking to Skeptic that it’s rare to see him fail. and holy shit though, there’s something about this scene that just sent a chill down my spine

and why did I get flashbacks to that poor lil dead mouse guy just now, though. the thing about Re-Destro is he’s the kind of guy who can and will be all smiles right up to and including the point where he happily snaps your neck for having displeased him. and that is scary as fuck. just look how quickly Skeptic noped the fuck out of there

look at him omg

he sure got the message right away, didn’t he? better go fix things right the fuck now if you enjoy being alive, dude

holy shit. he is genuinely scary. that one panel there may actually be scarier than anything AFO ever did. I suddenly had a rush of appreciation for Overhaul of all people, yes you heard me right, because at least he was just unabashedly Straight Up Evil. none of this pretending to be all nice with this cold dead look in your eyes bullshit

just, I really don’t like how it just seems like he could snap at any time and you’re never quite sure what the final trigger might actually be. it’s terrifying. but I guess that’s the kind of vibe you’ve got to have if you’re looking to be a villain so bad that the actual villains are fighting against you lol

now Giran is straight up not giving a fuck again, and acting like he’s not tied to a chair with one remaining hand and trapped in a room with this profoundly unsettling man, and as usual I love it

you just keep on being insolent and sarcastic you sexy piece of shit. you’re doing great

lol now Re-Destro says they’ll overcome quantity with quality, and wow. that may just be the most delusional thing this asshole has said thus far. have we even been reading the same arc?? are you really trying to say that your Metahuman Army of Jackasses is in any way even in the same league as Tomura’s merry band of ragtag prodigies? just go ahead and admit that they’re wiping the floor with you

and as if to prove my point

tbh I’m genuinely starting to feel like any one member of the League could singlehandedly take out Re-Destro’s entire force. and they haven’t even introduced you to Gigantomachia yet!! my god. RD’s horribly discomforting general vibe aside, this arc is like watching a horror movie play out where none of the victims realizes how screwed they are until it’s too late. and also you’re rooting for the killers because they’re likable and sexy

I do have to hand it to Parka here though because he’s somehow not dead yet in spite of all that, which is legitimately impressive

Dabi even says that his ice is almost gone. you’re living on borrowed time Baskin Robbins

ooh now we’re getting a quick panel of Compress doing his thing while Dabi carries on

Compress are we getting your flashbacks next. I can only begin to imagine what kind of tragic and relatable things you’ve been through and how hot you probably are too underneath that mask. how long until you’re my new favorite character. I’m onto this arc and its games by this point, Horikoshi. you and your motherfucking League of Thots ffff

Dabi is all “why do I have to help you?” lol. classic Dabi

eh what’s this

before I click to the next page, I’m just going to assume he’s talking about the twelve million Twices headed their way

yep

new favorite panel alert

oh my god. this is amazing. more of him to love

LMAO

FUCK YOU AND YOUR CAREFREE SELF-AWARE MANGA HORIKOSHI KOUHEI. I CAN’T LEGALLY MARRY A SHOUNEN MANGA SERIES SO WHY ARE YOU TORTURING ME LIKE THIS

and Compress is all “wow that sounds like something from a hero story,” and then we’re cutting to another Twice panel so that we can’t see him turning and winking at the audience

Twice says that the League are his only friends in the world and that they’re all precious to him. actually, he didn’t say it so much as he straight up yelled it. nicest guy in the fucking world I’m telling you. what a good egg. what a chaotic good little boy scout

lmao now he’s drunk on power and ambition

lmao go for it. THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER

(ETA: also I just realized what I said before about him not being able to make an army is clearly blatantly untrue, since even though he has the two-clone limit, that hardly matters if there are like 17,000 of him and each of them can clone two other people. he truly is a beast.)

oh my god

are you telling me that you guys are kicking so much ass that it’s actually backfiring on you. “that was such a good plan that we had, but unfortunately we didn’t take into account that we’re straight up gangstas who kick ass and take names”

hell, if the Army’s all gone by the time G-Man gets here, you can just sic all the clones on him and see if it finally gets you somewhere! I’m past the point of putting anything past you guys now. I’m pretty sure you can do anything. I’m glad you’re on our side. oh shit wait

anyway so Compress is checking his dandy pocket watch and says Giganto should be there in one hour and five minutes

are they taking travel time into account?? or wait, I guess Ujiko can just warp him over to their location once he finally wakes up. right

Twice is telling them all that Toga’s in trouble and needs help! yessss help her. I got so caught up in your tremendous badassery that I almost forgot

HEY WHAT THE

RUDE. WHO DID THIS

oh go figure

you know it really is incredible how quickly Horikoshi can get me back on that “so are we going to get any Dabi flashbacks” train though lol. I really should know better by this point. quash those hopes. this manga is not a charity; we don’t give out flashbacks for free just like that

and yet. my brain says no but my heart says “pleasepleaseplease”

so now Ben & Jerry’s is saying that he can also control the temperature of the ice. um, what? it’s already ice; how much colder can it possibly get? unless you’re talking about making it warmer, in which case I hate to break it to you but then it’s water and not ice, and you obviously can’t control water so

oh wait he just means that he can use his ice to freeze other stuff and make More Ice. oh

RIGHT, DABI??

and now Klondike here is launching into some kind of speech, oh joy

hoohhhhh boy

[sidles up to Dabi] hey there boy. that last part sound like anything you’ve heard before? jog any memories for you there bud? provoke any thoughts? spark any reveries??

Dabi you’re really one hell of a closed book, you know that? fuck my life

(ETA: but also! so the real colors of the MLA finally come out, huh. for all their talk of freeing people from oppression, they’re no different from the people they want to overthrow; it’s just that they want to oppress the people who don’t have quirks, or whose quirks are “weak.” no doubt the original Destro had a similar philosophy. can’t imagine quirkless people making out too well in this brave new world of theirs. in fact I wouldn’t be surprised if there was eventually a mass genocide of anyone quirkless. it would get real dark real fast.)

oh shit

everybody sHUT UP, WE’RE GETTING DETAILS ABOUT DABI’S QUIRK AND ABOUT HIS SCARS AHSLDFJASLK

okay first of all, !!!@KLK!L!!!LK!”!!!GGKK

and second, Horikoshi continues the trend of putting the brakes on the League’s powers getting out of control, even as he shows how much they can still kick ass when unleashed to their fullest potential. that’s a hell of a balance to strike

and third, !LJ!L!!!!”!”“!DSFLSDIW for reals though because this is the first we’ve ever gotten as far as actual details regarding those scars and their possible origins, and holy shit but I can’t. finally some more info on the mysterious house elf

and meanwhile Compress is sitting in a mess of melted and frozen Twices, and thinking that it would be great if they could have Haagen-Dazs face off against Gigantomachia. but like, the way he says that kind of implies that he doesn’t think he’s gonna last that long lol. which I’m in agreement with. Dabi you can go ahead and take this popsicle fucker out now

-- !!?!!

okay Horikoshi you can’t just CUT TO UJIKO LIKE THAT WITHOUT WARNING you ass. give me a sec to brace myself first would ya

and poor little John standing there in the corner. John-kun ;_; god that’s so fucked up to just draw him chilling there all but forgotten until he’s actually needed

and what do you mean “if you were to die here.” underestimating them much? but if you want to toss them a bone though sure go ahead

so does this mean he’s going to unleash another High End?? because I’m all out of puns for those, so I’ll have to come up with a new shtick and I can’t just do that off the cuff you know

oh, nope. even better!

yooooooo things about to get lit up in the club omgggggggg

YESSSSSSS

okay first of all is he literally uprooting fucking trees just by waking up from his nap slkjdlfffff how many more ways can Horikoshi come up with to show us how much of a fucking beast this guy is. holy fuck

and second, YESSSSSSSSS. THAT’S RIGHT YOU ARMY MOTHERFUCKERS! PREPARE TO TASTE SOME PAIN. JUST LOOK AT THAT. HE’S GONNA STIR UP SOME CALAMITIES AND SHIT. ALL YOU FUCKERS GONNA DIE, AND I’LL BE RIGHT HERE, WATCHING CONTENTEDLY AND CAPSLOCKING ABOUT IT

hahaha this arc is making me want to be a villain. I can’t help it. they make it look like so much fun. shit

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha 230 #twice (bnha)#dabi #mr. compress #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #I like how tomura vanished off the face of the earth after disintegrating all those redshirts #did he actually fall asleep #you're missing out on all the fun kiddo #calamities are stirring and your mascot made 80 thousand copies of himself #I guess he's just resting up for the final battle with re-destro once everything else is destroyed #that's gonna be good #though part of me hopes giran gets to deal the final blow #that would be the cherry on top of this perfect arc #either way I'm looking forward to it

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