maybe we’re all just in plato’s cave actually and it’s impossible to know something about everything and be socially aware and care about everything all the time

— the other side

request:  BRUH YOUR SWIMSUIT SHOPPING WITH JJK IS GOD LEVEL 😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫 I think you wrote Gojo perfectly 🥺 Could I pretty please request FaceTime sex with Gojo 🤩 Like maybe Gojo’s away on a mission and he really misses reader and he’s needy so he calls her and has her put the phone down in front of her and tells her what to do 😳

warnings: nsfw, mutual masturbation, facetime sex, dirty talk (+unedited fic)

note: i actually wasn’t sure if i could write this well since i’m not the best at dialogue, but i tried my best and i hope you like it anon! thank you for the request! dinner has been served!

masterlist ! 

Ruined. He’s absolutely ruined you.

You pull your fingers out of your clenching hole, your cheeks sweaty as you pant against your pillow. Hole clenching around nothing at the sudden emptiness, your chest heaves up and down with the gnawing dissatisfaction that you could no longer cum yourself; could no longer feel pleased unless it’s Gojo doing it for you.

Before you know it, a single tear flows down until it collects besides your lips. Hands rubbing against your tired eyes, you sigh at the clock blaring 2:19 AM mockingly at you.

It’s two in the fucking morning – and you haven’t cum ever since Gojo left for work.

Your fingers just wasn’t enough; could never be enough compared to his magical tongue and long dick that absolutely drives you into with so much need, large hands grappling against your soft mounds for leverage while he pounds himself into you.

It’s not the same without him. It’s been four long days ever since Gojo left for work; four torturous days that you’ve done everything you could to get off, only to keep failing after hours of humping your pillow or doing all the work with the cute pink dildo you got just for days he wouldn’t be around. It never ends well. Your wrist would only cramp or your thighs would ache afterwards, but you never came.

Perhaps that’s one of the consequences of being greedy and wanting to keep Gojo Satoru all to yourself. In return, he’s also stolen you of the privilege of fucking yourself.

Arm sprawled over your face, your breathing begins to regulate. Your legs are still wide open, arousal leaking from your disappointed cunt. You were ready, so ready for Gojo to come home and just fuck you silly.

You hate yourself for being this way, hate that your lips are trembling because you miss him so much and you’re actually crying all because you feel so empty without him buried within you.

It’s stupid, so fucking stupid, but you can’t help it.

You turn around to your side and hug his pillow closer to your body, breathing in his scent. It helps to calm you down a bit and even reassures you you’re not really alone; he’d come back in a few days and you’ll have him all to yourself again.

It’s been a long day, and the days just keep stretching over with the fact you’ve pretty much masturbated everywhere but still never got to come. A wave of exhaustion washes over you, your eyelids growing heavy at the same time you wrap one leg around Gojo’s pillow. His musky scent still remains, almost mocking that he’s never really away from you, but the dull aching deep within your pussy says otherwise.

You’re so helpless without him.

Just as you’re about to gaze off into to dreamland, your phone blares from your bedside table. You don’t waste another second before scrambling off the bed to get it, nearly falling off if you hadn’t grasped on to the sheets hard enough.

Gojo’s contact name of baby with a heart emoji flashes on the screen. Out of reflex, your entire body responds. Palms sweaty, lips puckered, pussy fluttering and nipples peaking – it’s embarrassing how your body reacts to him strongly. If he was here and he saw the way you open yourself up to him, Gojo would laugh while knuckle deep in you, teasing that you’re so eager for him and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

You quickly swipe right to answer, the grin on your face large and beaming when his handsome face greets you. “Satoru,” you smile, leaning back on the pillows to make yourself comfortable. “I missed you.”

There’s no lie about that. He’s still so handsome with one arm propped underneath him, hair down in messy strands and his eyes free from the blindfold, allowing you to witness the magic that pooled within that beauty. Satoru is now wearing a plain white shirt in exchange of his usual dark uniform, his bicep flexing under his weight, but you’re more focused on how his eyes crinkle once he finally saw your pretty face.

You could tell he misses you just the same.

“Hey, baby,” he coos through the call, and his low, husky voice immediately sends chill down your spine. The cold air bites at your exposed cunt and you shudder; you already know you’re wet again. It’s still ‘yesterday’ where he’s at, meaning that he’d have to leave for work after three hours or so as the sun begins to rise, while you’d still be slumbering at peace.

Or at least, sleep as comfortably as you could with countless failed orgasms.

“I missed you too,” Satoru sighs. His eyes droop for a moment, and he sees the way you open your lips, ready to tell him to get some more rest instead of calling you. Satoru only presses a finger to his lips, eyes glinting playfully at your awaiting gaze. “I’m fine, baby, don’t worry about me. I just needed to hear your voice.”

Your heart skips a beat at that. You’ve always known that Satoru is flirty, and even though he isn’t exactly being too flirty right now, the mere thought of him wanting to hear your voice before he sleeps does wondrous leaps to your wavering heart.

“Me too,” you confess in a small voice, tugging up the sheets under the chin as you grow more and more shy with each passing second. “It hasn’t been the same without you, Toru. I can’t…I can’t be myself when you’re not here.”

Satoru, despite being an absolute dumb fuck all the time, isn’t stupid when it comes to that tone of your voice. He nods once and presses the phone closer to his face, voice low and serious. “What’s wrong, baby? Do you want to talk to me about it?”

Yes and no. You seriously debate whether it’s best to tell him that you can’t cum without him, simply because he’s always so much better and feels perfect compared to your nimble fingers that barely even stretch you. On the other side, you don’t want to keep him up too late, plus phone sex… well, you haven’t really done it before. Just imagining showing yourself bare to Satoru through the camera already makes your body feel warmer than it already it is. He’s seen you naked hundred of times before, but the idea that he could record it…

You swallow audibly and look away from him. Your cunt is already gushing as you imagine Satoru recording the way you lose yourself as he buries his cock into your hilt, but it’s a different thing if you could both masturbate to the thought of each other.

“Babe,” Satoru cuts off your train of thoughts, “You feel frustrated too, don’t you? I’ve never hated my fist as much as I do now.”

Your head snaps to his direction so fast Satoru laughs at your crazed reaction, and the sound only increases when you start babbling to him. “Y-you,” you shake your head in disbelief, “You too? You can’t cum too? I mean, I’ve done everything I could, I even got a dildo but it’s not enough, Toru, it’s never enough, I need you so bad.”

You don’t care that you’re whining at this point. Satoru doesn’t give a damn either because he’s already palming his erection through his sweatpants from the other side of the world, jaw clenching as he imagines you doing lewd things without him.

“Aw, my poor baby,” he teases you, making you pout and hide under the sheets with only your eyes peeking through. “It’s okay, I’ve got you now,” his voice drops an octave lower, eyes darkening as lust consumes both your body. “Just be a good girl and follow my instructions, okay? I’ll make you feel good. We’ll make each other feel good. It’ll feel like I never left, okay?”

“O-okay,” you nod shakily, still unsure of what to do. “Is there-?”

“Yeah,” Satoru grunts as he whips his cock free from his confines, hips jutting forward now that his hand is wrapped around it. He sighs at the relief of finally getting his chance to cum. He understands your situation; his cock won’t even come close to the warmth of your tight pussy clenching on him. “Show me yourself, pretty girl. Show me those pretty pink lips of yours,” Satoru places his phone somewhere on the table near his bed, pushing his sweatpants down until his cock slaps against his underbelly, the tip red and leaking.

You gasp at how lewd he looks. The sheets are absolutely crumpled beneath him, and you clench your thighs at the sight of Satoru wrapping his hands around his large, angry cock with his eyes staring straight directly at the camera.

“Come on, baby, don’t be shy,” he rasps, “I want to see you, want to hear you. You’ll let me hear those beautiful moans, won’t you?”

When his hups jut forward to meet the tight grip of his hands, something inside you snaps. Breath shaky and legs trembling, you throw your sheets off to the side and get your phone stand before setting it up at your bedside table, making sure to tilt the camera downwards before you lean back onto the bed. You’re already naked underneath Satoru’s large shirt, and it doesn’t take much as you spread your legs eagerly for him, using two lips to spread your lips open even without his command.

Satoru groans at your arousal leaking down the sheets and making a mess. He pumps himself harder, smirking at how your heavy breathing is all he could hear. “So fucking pretty,” he praises, “Now put two fingers in your pussy for me, baby girl. Stretch yourself open so I can see how much you miss my cock.”

Obedient as ever, you do as you’re told, letting out a shuddered moan when your two fingers go past your walls without resistance. You’re wet, so fucking wet for him, but you want him. “Satoru,” you whine, pushing your fingers deeper and deeper and pulling them out for friction. Your walls clench around your digits and you start imagining that it’s his long fingers buried into you this time; getting off to his image and relishing in how Satoru is moaning your name. “Miss you baby,” you cry out, hands trailing up to squeeze your nipples. “I want you so bad.”

“Me too, baby, me too,” the sound of Satoru’s slick running up and down his shaft, along with his low groans, are like music to your ears. Your moan grows louder when you open your eyes and see that his muscles are flexing as he fucks his hand eagerly, his gaze focused on the way you’re shuddering around your own digits. “Another one. Add another one.”

Shakily, you add another one, your head falling back at the welcomed intrusion. It’s still not enough, but it’ll do for now.

You just imagine that it’s his cock inside you instead, each vein prominent as the ridges of your wall hug him completely. Satoru replaces his hand with your pussy as well, that the fist running down his dick is you bouncing on his cock instead. He can already picture the way your breasts bounce in front of him and Satoru shudders, “Tits,” he growls, “I want to see your fucking tits. Want to feel them on my hands,” Satoru chuckles at how eagerly you lift your shirt up to show him the beaded nipples, teeth biting down on the material with your hands still knuckle-deep in your pussy.

“Fuck, you’re always so pretty, babe.”

“Miss you,” you keep crying out, words muffled through the shirt you’re biting. You pinch your nipple at the same time you rapidly finger yourself, your pussy squelching and the sounds pornographic as it echoes all the way to Satoru’s phone. You miss him so fucking much that it’s unreal. There’s no more self control when your back hits the bed, hips lifting off the bed and giving Satoru a clearer view of your juices dripping down your ass.

Satoru can’t resist the way his balls tighten, desperate to have you right next to him so he can fuck your brains out already. He wishes he could come home and be in your warmth, be in your embrace, but he’s still got curses to kill that fucking you would just have to wait much to both parties’ displeasure.

Sweat is beading down his forehead as he watches you thrash around your bed, his cock only growing harder and a low growl emanating from his throat when you keep moaning satoru, satoru, satoru, I love you so fucking much.

“I love you too,” he manages to say in shaky breaths. “You’re so perfect for me – fuck.”

You push yourself off the edge by pulling your lips aside and pinch at your clit. At that, your back arches off the bed, making your fingers dig deeper into you and for a split second, you manage to hit your g-spot. Satoru can tell you’re close by the way your legs spasm and he encourages you, spitting down his cock as he pumps his fist around his length almost angrily.

“That’s good, baby, keep going, keep going,” his teeth clenches when you nod, tears falling down your pretty cheeks. “Want to fuck you so good – I’d have you screaming around my neck while I take you from behind and shove your face down the pillow,” you moan in response, the sound high pitched and almost whiny. Satoru chuckles before he cuts himself off with a hiss, his balls tightening and his cock throbbing already. “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want me to fuck your ass when I get home?”

“Yes, yes, please,” your belly tightens at the thought of Satoru stretching your tight hole, even better if he pulls at your hair while his hips slam at the flesh of your ass.

Rubbing your clit fervently, Satoru’s name comes out as a broken cry as your orgasm chokes you. The tears are staining your cheeks the same way your cum is making a mess on the sheets, and you grind down harder on the sheets, scissoring yourself just to extend your orgasm.

“Satoru,” you whine, “Fuckkk.”

“I’m close, baby, I’m-” Satoru falls forward when his cock shoots out thick ropes of cum, some of them landing on his abdomen and one sticks to his chin. Your pupils blow wide with lust as you shudder around your fingers while riding down your high, in disbelief that Satoru is cumming so much.

He’s shameless as he continues thrusting into his fists. You’re worried he would overuse his strength and beat his cock to death, but Satoru only chuckles as he keeps pumping his cock, his cum overflowing and pooling down his thick thighs.

“Shit,” he mumbles to himself, falling in the same state as you when he drops down on the bed. His dick begins to turn limp but it’s still twitching, turning a dark shade of pink as he beats his dick almost lazily the time. The both of you take a moment to breathe at the orgasm; not as mind blowing as the ones you’d get if he was there rutting into you instead, but because he’s there, you’re still left with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Wiping the arousal left on your hands on your shirt, you grab your phone and fall into your pillows, cheeks squished and eyelashes fluttering slowly. “Toru,” you call out softly, “You asleep?”

“I want to come home already,” is all he says. He’s still half-passed out in his bed and you laugh, rubbing your thighs together and grimacing when it starts to stick together from your cum. Glancing at Satoru’s form, you dash to the bath to clean yourself up by washing away the cum, coming back to see that Satoru was also in the middle of cleaning his cum with napkins.

“Facetime sex,” he laughs to himself with a shake of his head, mirroring your form by langind on his pillows. He looks absolutely adorable with his lips puckered out like that, azure blue eyes drooping close. “I miss you, babe. I promise when I come home I’m going to fuck you endless.”

You chuckle at his words, wondering how he’s able to say such suggestive things when he’s seconds away from passing out due to exhaustion. Your eyelids grow heavy as well, and along with the light blanket of satisfaction and post-orgasm bliss, the only thing that wouldn’t make this a good night of sleep is the fact Satoru isn’t next to you. Nevertheless, you’re grateful that Satoru took the time to call you despite his busy schedule.

Your heart flutters when Satoru lazily calls you baby, mumbling on and on about how much he misses you. Now that he’s come down from his high, he’s reverting into his big baby self.

His eyes are closed and he’s burying himself deeper into his pillows. You’re about to say goodbye when Satoru lightly snores from the other line, a smile tugging at your lips when you see that he’s now blissfully asleep. Wishing that you could run your hands through his hair, at least, you kiss the screen in the hopes it’d reach him at least metaphorically.

“Sleep well, my love,” you whisper before swiping left to end the call.

Even through the other end of the line, on the other side of the world, Satoru’s worries and exhaustion are washed away with the love you send him.

Worse Days - Aaron Hotchner

The faint dripping of water pulls me back to reality. The same sploosh happening over and over. Minute after minute. I pull my eyes open blinking, forcing them to focus. The swaying back and forth, left to right, doesn’t help ease the dizziness I feel.

“Looks like your girl is finally up.”

I look around, searching for the source of the voice.

“Wake up, sunshine!” He finally sits in front of me, taking my head in his hand. His fingers are coarse and strong. He forces me to look him in the eyes, his grip tight on my cheeks. He tilts my head to the tripod over his shoulder. The red light on the camera blinks back at me.

“Smile for the camera.”

This is not at all how today was supposed to go…

Twenty-Two Hours Ago.

“Alright, we’re looking at four women, murdered and found on the beach in Miami. All from different classes and backgrounds, but similar age groups” JJ hands us each our files.

“He takes them for three days, before brutally dismembering them. The morning of the fourth day, the woman is always found.”

“He takes risks. Each of these women were taken from high traffic areas.” I comment.

“There’s more.” Garcia suddenly takes over.

“He also sends a live feed to the family of the victim.” She reluctantly pulls it up on the TV, a live feed of the women pleading for their lives. Saying their goodbyes.

“He’s definitely a sexual sadist. He finds pleasure in knowing that families are watching their loved ones last moments.” I clear my throat, pulling my eyes away from the screen.

“That’s what he gets off on.” Derek agrees. “He likes knowing that there’s people in distress on the other end of the camera.”

“Wheels up in thirty.” Hotchner simply says before excusing us all.

As soon as we land we start the process to find the unsub. It begins with all of us splitting up and going to the scenes where the bodies were found. All of them were ditched on the beach, early morning before anyone was out.

We get nothing from the populated beaches other than sand in our shoes.

We sit down and look at the profile and determine the man is bold and try to analyze the footage we have from the previous victims. Penelope is trying to find any identifying marks from the videos to see where they come from. Based on the way he treats the bodies, we’ve determined he’s likely a white male in his early thirties. 

“It looks like they’re on a boat.” I say, we’ve been watching the videos on an endless loop. Trying to catch any new details. 

“The camera is steady.” Morgan argues, looking at the TV now too.

“But look at her hair, it’s moving when she’s not. It’s like the rocking of a boat.”

“It’s possible considering he’s ditching them on the beach.” Reid comments. 

“That’s why no one sees him dragging a body all across the beach. He already had them on a boat.” Ross puzzles together. 

“The most recent body was found this morning, that means he’s going to take his next victim tonight.” Morgan says.

“We should visit where each of the women were taken. Try and get an understanding of how he was able to do so in such populated areas.” Hoctchner announces, “Prentiss and Morgan, go to the grocery store where Hannah Lane was taken, Y/n and Spencer, go to the parking garage where Amy Bryant was abducted and Rossi and I will go to the last two locations.”

We all nod and go off in our separate directions. Spencer and I get in the car and drive to the parking garage where Amy was taken. We drive around until we reach the second level and get out.

“Even for a parking garage, it’s bold. It’s packed with cars on this level. Anyone could show up at any time.” I look around.

“You’re right, they could.” A voice calls out behind me before everything goes dark.

Present time.

“Morgan, you owe me twenty bucks. I told you it was a boat.” I stretch out my neck that has a kink from hanging loosely while sitting up in the chair for so long. It feels heavy, like I’ve been in this position a long time.

The man in front of me rolls his eyes, huffing loudly.

“You picked the wrong girl if you were counting on me melting like puddy in your hands. You forget that I know exactly what you want. You want the tears and the begging.”

“Trust me. You’ll get to that point.” He smirks. “They all do.”

He leaves the room, loudly pulling the door shut behind him as he goes.

“I promise, it’s not as bad as it looks.” I plead with the camera, knowing that my team is on the other side of it. I can only imagine what they’re all feeling. We’ve had close calls with team members, it’s not any easier to be in their position right now. You feel helpless. 

“Definitely on a boat, but I think we’re just at a marina or a pier. I can hear seagulls, we aren’t rocking that much.”

I lean forward as best as I can while still being tied to a chair. There’s a small window along the ceiling allowing me to see blue skies.

“It might be a ship. I’m above sea level, I can see the sky.” I try to give the team as much information as I can possibly gather. Anything could help.

“Sorry that’s about all I have right now to help.” I look around the bare room for any other details that could help, “I think I have a concussion, and maybe a cracked rib. I can’t take a deep breath.”

Suddenly the man comes back in, just as quickly as he left, he takes the camera in his hands.

“That’s all of your Y/n time today. You should get to trying to find me, because I am going to have a lot of fun in the meantime.”

Back with the team at the Miami police department...

The feed cuts out leaving the team in silence and shock.

“There’s nothing we could’ve done. We couldn’t have known-”

“We could have waited.

Spencer looks down at the ice pack in his lap. As if the guilt wasn’t eating away at him enough before. He also received a concussion. Only he woke up on the ground, relatively nothing compared to the person he was sent out with.

“There was no way for us to know that the unsub was going to come back to visit the last scene of the crime.” Emily defends. She can see the pure anger in Aaron’s eyes. Completely unwavering, and only focused on getting Y/n back to the team.

“But that’s the thing. He wouldn’t, that’s not in his MO. He moves on to his next target. Once he kills these women he feels nothing, it’s all in the buildup, he feels nothing at the scene of the crime.” Rossi says, thinking out loud.

“Y/n helped JJ talk to the press. The unsub could have seen her then. It’s likely that he would follow the case, especially once it was announced that the FBI had joined the case.” Spencer rapidly explains.

“She’s the right age, she fits his type.” Rossi nods.

“So, he sees her as more of a challenge. He’s escalated. He knows that she is a higher risk person to take.” Emily comments. 

“Y/n, said she’s on a boat.” Morgan says, bringing up the clue that Y/n gave them before the feed cut out. 

“We’re in southern Florida, there’s thousands of boats within just a hundred miles of us.” JJ sighs, looking around to the group around her.

“Four thousand, seven hundred and fifty-two within 75 miles of here.” Spencer pipes up.

Hotchner cuts him a look. Still trying to find anyone to blame, but himself. He’s the one who sent her in to that parking garage. 

“Garcia, can you locate her based on the feed the unsub has sent us?” Aaron asks, looking at the plain black screen, hoping to see it come back on so he can see the girl behind the camera. 

“No sir, he’s using a different routing server, just like he did with all of his previous victims.”

“Y/n is not a victim.”

---

It takes some time while the team continues to try and work out locations and who the unsub could even be. He wasn’t afraid to show his face on camera, which makes things a little more difficult. He has no record, making Garcia’s life a little harder. 

The TV in the conference room lets out a crackle before the familiar room comes into their view. Everyone sets down what they had been working on and halts all conversation. It’s been several hours since we’ve seen anything from him. Y/n has been gone for eleven hours at this point.

“Welcome back to the show!” The unsub grins. 

He moves out of the way to finally put Y/n in the frame. She’s hunched over, she doesn’t look as good as she did before. It’s evident that things have changed off camera. 

“His name is Nick.” Y/n mutters, picking up her head as best as she can. “He’s five ten and approximately a hundred ninety pounds.” 

“Don’t you learn to shut up?” Nick pulls back on the hair at the back of her head. In doing so it reveals new bruises that have taken home on her. 

“Baby, we talked about this. No more sharing with them, or else you know what happens.” Nick brushes her hair out of her face now. 

“This is his dads boat.” Y/n looks at the man who has taken her with spite in her eyes. It seems in his hours spent with her, he hasn’t learned that Y/n doesn’t like to be told what to do. And that she’s tougher than she looks. 

He lands a sharp fist into the side of her head and takes a step back. He lets himself take a deep breath, trying to gain control. He doesn’t want to kill her yet, that would be over too soon. Now he can step closer again, he lets one hand wrap around her throat, halting any oxygen of reaching her lungs.

He waits for Y/n to start to struggle in her chair before he lets up. 

“You just don’t like to learn, that’s okay. I’ll fix you.” Nick takes her hand, which is still tied to the arms of the chair she’s sat in. He pulls her pointer finger with care, before sharply pushing it straight up, breaking it. 

“Garcia-” Y/n picks up her head struggling to fight against his hands, she’s coughing now still trying to gain her breath back, “You don’t need to see this. Please. Turn it off.”

“Of course, Y/n is the one being tortured and she’s worried about other people.” Morgan turns away, himself unable to watch this continue. Listening to Y/n’s screams and shouts are going to be enough to stick with him. Rossi forces himself to watch the girl he’s grown so close to since joining the team, brutally tortured in front of him. 

Everyone on this team has love for this girl. She’s managed to worm her way into everyone’s life in some way or another. Y/n always knows exactly what each person needs, and she meets it. She holds the team together when they’re all falling apart. If anything were to happen to her, it would destroy them all. 

Especially Aaron. As reluctant as he would be to admit it, this girl has wormed her way into his heart. Different to everyone else on the team, though. He saw her beauty and kindness. It was hard to him to imagine a woman ever entering his life like Haley did, but Y/n did it with such grace, and without even trying. Y/n helped him out with Jack when he needed it, and made them meals when Aaron just needed to catch a break. She didn’t even need a thank you, it was just part of her.

Without even trying, Y/n became his person and all he can think now is that he never got the chance to tell her, never even got the chance to thank her, and that he won’t let happen.  He wants to see Y/n’s face in person, not bruised and bloody through the screen on the wall. He needs to get out to save her.

“Garcia, does that help you narrow your search.” Hotchner asks their tech who is still on speaker. 

“We’ve got twenty-two Nicks with boats in the Miami area.” She explains. 

“What about Nicks who have wealthy fathers? Or boats that weren’t originally in their name.” Spencer asks. 

“That leaves me with one. Nick Hoffman.” Garcia cheers, “Sunset Harbour on 1928 Sunset Harbour Drive” 

The team takes off without a second thought, quickly trying to save their girl. They manage to get there in record time and find the boat with success. Y/n was right, it’s more like a ship with its size. 

“Morgan, Rossi, work your way around the main levels and then below. Emily and I will lead the upper level.” 

The team takes off to clear the boat. It took a few empty rooms until Emily finally opens the door to where they are. Nick holds a knife to Y/n’s throat. He’s essentially using her as a shield, ducking behind her. 

“If you take one more step in here, I will slit her throat.” Nick shouts. 

“We don’t want that to happen.” Emily negotiates, Hotch finally stepping into the room. 

“Hey! I told you guys not to move!” He presses the blade down tight against Y/n’s neck while she lets out a shudder. 

“Let her go.” Hotch declares. 

“I want a deal.” Nick grovels. 

“Men like you don’t get deals.” Emily says, her eyes trained on him and all of his movements. 

“Not even for your precious Y/n’s life?” He grins, looking down at the girl below him now. 

“Go to hell.” She mutters as best she can., 

“Maybe killing you would be worth it.” He smirks, “Then we could go out together.” 

“I’ve got better plans.” Y/n throws her head back into Nick’s disorienting him enough that Hotch has a clear shot, and he takes it. Nick’s body falls and Emily kicks his knife out of reach.

“Get me out of this chair.” Y/n shakes, squirming to get out of the spot she’s been constrained to. “Get me out of here, please.” 

Hotch and Emily both holster their weapons and rush to help her. They quickly untie her and when her legs fail her, Hotch scoops her up. He quickly walks her down the stairs and doesn’t stop once he reaches the dock, he takes her all the way up to the ambulance. 

Without hesitation, Hotch gets in with her. There isn’t anything that could keep him from leaving her now. 

“Wow, that was a dramatic ending, huh?” Y/n grins. 

“You can’t seriously be cracking jokes about this now.” He sighs. 

“I mean come on, aren’t you going to even ask how I figured out his name was Nick? I figured it out when he ow-” 

Y/n cuts herself off when the paramedic starts feeling her ribs to see which are cracked and if any are broken.

“Y/n, we can talk about this later.” Aaron smiles. 

“Am I hallucinating? Is it the lack of oxygen, because you’re smiling.” Y/n comments, finally turning to look at her boss who has a smile that she knows he saves for Jack. 

“You’re back. That’s reason to smile.” 

They make it to the hospital to find out that Y/n has a concussion, one broken rib and three cracked ribs, and one broken finger. Not to mention the trauma to the trachea. 

“The gangs all here.” Y/n smiles, noticing Garcia has flown down to join the group. Everyone has been gathered in the room since everything settled down, “What are you doing here?” 

“Y/n, you were kidnapped.” Garcia states, still in shock, “You could’ve died.” 

Tears fill Penelope’s eyes and Y/n opens her arms from her hospital bed for a hug, which she easily accepts. 

“Ehh, I knew you guys would find me.” Y/n grins. “I’m fine Pen, I’m getting discharged in the morning and we can all go home.” 

“Yes, speaking of, we should all get some rest. Especially Y/n.”

Slowly, the rest of the team clears out, giving hugs on their way. 

“Not taking your own orders?” Y/n asks, noticing her boss making himself comfortable on the small couch in her hospital room. 

“I don’t think I could leave if I tried.” Aaron admits. 

“And why’s that?” Y/n asks, carefully turning to lay on her side to face him. 

“Because I love you.” He confesses, “I have for a while now, and it’s alright if you don’t feel the same, or if my position with this team makes you uncomfortable. I just don’t think I can go any longer without you at least knowing.”

“You love me?” Y/n asks, her voice cracking. Aaron finally has the courage to look over and she has tears in her eyes. 

“Yes.” He clears his throat, “The way you have become a part of my life, and Jack’s for that matter. You bring so much light with you everywhere you go, even after a day like you’ve had today. You manage to still be the brightest person I have ever met.”

“Please don’t make me get out of bed to kiss you, because I think I would crack another rib.” Y/n sighs. 

Hotch lets out a soft chuckle before getting up from his spot. 

“Only if you promise to go to bed after this, you need rest.” 

“Promise.” 

He leans down to connect their lips, it’s soft. Y/n can tell that he’s being gentle with her. She reaches up a hand to thread them through Aaron’s short hair, using it to her advantage to hold him there and pull him a little closer. They pull away eventually, Y/n stealing one more peck before fully letting go of him.

“Ok, maybe I’ve had worse days.” 

---

AHHHHHH my first time writing for criminal minds! i hope you guys liked it! 🥺

from neon genesis evangelion, vol. 12

The Mysterious Stranger

The Anime, the Manga, and the Mark Twain Novella

"God will provide for this kitten." "What makes you think so?" Ursula's eyes snapped with anger. "Because I know it!" she said. "Not a sparrow falls to the ground without His seeing it." "But it falls, just the same. What good is seeing it fall?"

—from The Mysterious Stranger

There is a short novel by Mark Twain, written near the end of his life and published posthumously, entitled The Mysterious Stranger. The tale is set in a small village in 16th century Austria, where three boys one day meet a young man different from themselves: "he had new and good clothes on, and was handsome and had a winning face and a pleasant voice, and was easy and graceful and unembarrassed, not slouchy and awkward and diffident, like other boys."

The mysterious stranger starts to do small but amazing tricks for them—causing water to turn to ice; conjuring grapes and bread out of air; even making birds that can fly out of clay. At last one boy, the story's narrator, works up the courage to ask the stranger who he is:

"'An angel,' he said, quite simply, and set another bird free and clapped his hands and made it flyaway."

The angel then proceeds to really impress them by making an entire toy castle, complete with five hundred miniature soldiers and workmen that move around by themselves. Naturally the boys get involved with this ultimate playset, making their own knights and cannon and cavalry, and although they get rather nervous again when the angel reveals his name is Satan, he assures them he is not that Satan, but only named after the fallen one.

"We others are still ignorant of sin; we are not able to commit it; we are without blemish, and we shall abide in that estate always." Distracted by two of the miniature workmen, "Satan reached out his hand and crushed the life out of them with his fingers... and went on talking where he had left off: 'We cannot do wrong; neither have we any disposition to do it, for we do not know what it is." Horrified as the other boys are, "he made us drunk with the joy of being with him and of looking into the heaven of his eyes, and of feeling the ecstasy that thrilled along our veins from the touch of his hand.'"

Yes, Kaworu Nagisa made quite an impression on the fans of Neon Genesis Evange/ion, despite the fact that, in the original broadcast version of the TV show (before it got all director's-cutted, box-setted, special-editioned, and platinum-lined) he shows up for only slightly less than thirteen minutes of total screen time, the climax of which being an entire minute where nothing happens at all.

That's what being a beautiful angel will do for you, especially when you make the most of your thirteen minutes on Earth by having a Whirlwind romance with the main character that ends in a lover's quarrel with Prog Knives and finally a voluntary martyrdom at the hand of your boy here. Relationships don't come any more tragic than that of Kaworu Nagisa and Shinji Ikari, and when fans (including this one) first saw it on TV, the affair was so brief and shocking the story logic of it didn't click in until much later.

In the anime, Kaworu is acknowledged as the Final Messenger, and, of all the Angels Shinji has to fight, this is the most ruthless battle, won at the highest possible cost to himself. It took even longer for me to realize that the showdown in episode 24 had also taken us full circle from Shinji's first fight in episodes 1 and 2, which emphasized his personal helplessness against the looming Angel Sachiel. Against Kaworu, it is the Angel who becomes the small, helpless figure, while Shinji is represented only by the gargantuan, frightful helm and arm of his Eva Unit-O1. We never see Shinji's human face once throughout the whole final minute of decision.

So as Col. Trautman would have said instead of Major Katsuragi, "It's over, Shinji! IT'S OVER!" Kaworu v. Shinji (or Kaworu x Shinji, in the doujinshi) was the big final showdown between humanity and the Angels. And with the outcome leaving Shinji at his most wretched ever, wouldn't it be nice if everyone just died—your wish being Eva's command, as it turns out that fortunately humanity hardly ever needed the Angels to slaughter itself.

"I am perishing already—I am failing—I am passing away. In a little while you will be alone in shoreless space, to wander its limitless solitudes without friend or comrade forever...But I, your poor servant, have revealed you to yourself and set you free. Dream other dreams, and better!"

—from The Mysterious Stranger

Satan's words near the end of Mark Twain's story also uncannily prefigure the end of the world and the Instrumentality project, both of which follow his death in the TV show in such quick order you picture Anno as a hairnetted fry cook dinging the counter bell. By now you see Sadamoto's handling of Kaworu, and perhaps nothing illustrates the different experiences of the manga and the anime better than his handling of this critical character.

No longer the last Angel to be fought, Kaworu actually becomes an active Eva pilot and fights an Angel—the dude even has the nerve to observe the fight is fixed, based on his knowledge of SEELE's prophecies. Sadamoto of course introduces him at an earlier point in the narrative—at the equivalent of episode 19's end—and then sends him to NERV near the equivalent of episode 22's beginning—before certain important events, to put it mildly, can occur. When one notes this kind of thing, of course, it's important to restate that the Evangelion manga has always been a separate but equal "official" version of Eva, with no particular obligation to align itself with the anime, and indeed it was with Book Five, the first released after The End of Evangelion, that Sadamoto began to truly seem free to go in his own direction.

Nevertheless, as the "other" official version of the Eva story, it is reasonable for fans to view it as an "alternate history" relative to the anime, and the way Kaworu has been introduced makes us realize the manga may end very differently indeed. Despite the fact we know here that Kaworu is an Angel from the very beginning, he appears destined to at least hang around long enough to pick up a few paychecks. It's not clear when your health benefits kick in at NERV, although if Ritsuko is your primary caregiver it might be best to forego them.

Sadamoto's remarks upon visiting the U.S. in 2003 indicated that the Eva manga might (might) be planned as a twelve-volume series in all. There is still plenty of room for speculation, as the slow working pace to which the artist himself often refers has of late become almost relativistic—as of this writing, it has been eight months since Sadamoto has drawn a new installment of Eva in Japan, and hence a Volume Ten is nowhere in sight. It may be small comfort, but those of you reading this are pretty much in the same drifting boat as the Japanese fans.

"An angel's love is sublime, adorable, divine, beyond the imagination of man—infinitely beyond it! But it is limited to his own august order. If it fell upon one of your race for only an instant, it would consume its object to ashes. No, we cannot love men but we can be harmlessly indifferent to them; we can also like them, sometimes."

—from The Mysterious Stranger

And with Book Nine we see the most staggering difference thus far between the manga and the anime; Sadamoto's Shinji doesn't even like Kaworu, much less love him. Of course, you could say the less-ethereal Kaworu of the manga is harder to love. I can't believe Sadamoto had him tell Rei he thought she'd be "heftier." And yet he did.

I don't think any A.T. Fields actually got penetrated in the anime; while I do think Shinji felt sexually attracted to Kaworu, and that you the audience are supposed to feel that he felt it, what Kaworu himself thought was a very different matter. Like Rei, I believe Kaworu to be innocent—coyly, he appears not to be so, because while Rei needed to be reached out to, Kaworu has come to reach out; whereas Rei has spent her existence being observed; Kaworu has come to observe.

Indeed, in the manga, Shinji's irritation about Kaworu's invasion of his personal space seems almost a parody of his attitude in the anime. In the TV show, when Kaworu put his hand on Shinji's, he flinched but did not pull away; whereas in the manga it's easy to imagine Shinji slugging him. Instead he goes to run after Rei, hoping to get closer to her again.

I hardly think the change reflects any phobia on Sadamoto's part (after all, we even get to see Shinji's "Unit One" in the manga), but the fact the manga Shinji is less emotionally bleak and empty, and hence less vulnerable. Shinji's just as negative in the manga, of course, but it's an active variety, rather than the passive negative creep (in the best Nirvana song sense) we know from the anime. We don't have to imagine him slugging Gendo; from the look of surprise on Dad's face in Book Seven he would have smacked the beard off his face if Kaji hadn't stopped him.

Neither is Shinji in a positive emotional situation where we leave him here, either; indeed at this point in the manga there's arguably no one he can turn to—the more brutal fate that befell Toji has cut him off from his school friends, Rei has become hesitant, Kaji is dead, and his perennial self-esteem booster Asuka is going to need to rebuild her internal supply before she can even get back to calling him a loser and idiot.

So, like Misato trying to put her own hand on Shinji's, all I can do for now while we wait for Sadamoto-sensei is to recommend for your winter vacation reading list The Mysterious Stranger, which I can almost guarantee will give you new angles to think about Kaworu, and may even earn you class credit besides. A quick look at the novel's comments on Amazon list a teacher who says fundamentalist students walked out of his class when he taught it; another compares it to The Matrix; those who dislike it call it "sick," "bitter," and "twisted." Sounds like good old Evangelion to me!

—Carl Gustav Horn

[a drawing of Kaworu holding a kitten]

Although The Mysterious Stranger can also be found in a number of print editions, including The Portable Mark Twain from Penguin (haw haw), the story, being from the days when mp3s came on shellacked cylinders, is legally available online at http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/TwaMyst.html. The same site has a book called The Holy Bible, King James Version, which fans of Evangelion might also enjoy, although it's technically "Editor's Choice."

you can now read the homeschooled au on ao3! or you can keep reading here. in this installment, the boys go to a mall for the first time and have an Experience™

(cw for sensory overload, if that's something that doesn't quite butter your bread roll)

One day, Sam realised that their dad was just a person.

He can’t remember the conversation, if it could be called that, in its entirety. But what he does remember with a surreal vividness is seeing Dad’s face, cold and hard with rage and frustration, and thinking, I don’t understand. Real life doesn’t have those scenes where the camera cuts to the perfect moment to explain the characters’ motivations. Dad had a whole life before Sam and lives most of his existence separate from Sam, with his own ideas and interpretations and some sort of equation that added one dead wife and two kids and came up with the mess that’s been Sam’s life so far. This experience of the world, a mark of being human.

And that thought was like a spotlight had been shone on Sam’s little corner of the world, this glaring thing, an unavoidable truth. It isn’t always there but, when it is, it’s inescapable. If Sam’s honest, it’s fuelled the fire in more than one of his arguments with their dad. Sam wonders if this is how Eve felt after biting into the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, cursed with a realisation that can’t ever be unlearned.

But Dean’s different. Dean’s life isn’t this impossible, untouchable thing like Dad’s is; it’s Sam’s life, too, this thing they share, and Dean lives life more than anyone else Sam's met. Admittedly, Sam can name the amount of people he's actually met, beyond the handful of cashiers he's made uncomfortable eye contact with, on one hand. But he can't imagine that anyone who's ever spoken to Dean has left the conversation thinking, Well, he doesn't experience life as much as I do.

That’s not the point. The point is, Sam’s become accustomed to the concept that people in the real world have thoughts and feelings and lives that Sam will never know. But he and Dean had wanted to try going to a mall for lunch, instead of their usual cafés, and Sam had no idea that you could find this many people in a single place.

"Wow," he says, standing with Dean in the doorway.

There really are just so many of them. Parents with their kids, old couples, gaggles of teenagers laughing and shouting. Sam sees a group of girls around Dean's age in bright colours, hair falling in a sheet around their shoulders. He sees two young parents with their baby, jostling them up and down as they wail, drawing dirty looks from a couple of older women chatting over coffee. Everything is fluorescent bulbs and colour and sound. It's wonderful. It's horrible. There are so many of them and Sam has no idea who any of them are. It’s the Tree of Knowledge again, if biting into fruit was comparable to plummeting off a cliff, and he doesn't think he’d be able to handle feeling like this all the time. It's almost too much, to think that everyone here is just as alive as Sam and Dean.

Sam reaches out slightly to tangle his fingers between Dean's. Dean's hand relaxes easily, less soft and larger than Sam's, and grips him reassuringly after Sam's fingers are threaded with his. He feels better, after that. He watches the small family as the baby suddenly stops crying, their mother pressing a pacifier into their mouth and receiving a gummy smile. Genetically, a person's DNA is half their mother and half their father. Sam has a matching theory about himself as a whole. Half of Sam is characters from books, TV shows, movies, and half of Sam is Dean.

He follows after Dean as they move out of the doorway, away from Sam's sudden movie moment, and they melt into the crowd. It's even worse once they get in there, and Sam keeps overhearing snippets of conversation, fragments of this bustling chaos of lives.

"-working Friday, and I don't know if-"

There's a girl with an ear full of piercings, silver and solid, wearing all black with ripped jeans and a leather jacket-

"-assignment? I haven't-"

-and the sun streaming in through one of the windows flashes off the glass of one of the stores, momentarily turning Sam's vision white, and it's enough to make his eyes sting-

"-Sarah, Katy, wai-"

-while the air is filled with the scent of a hundred different foods, sweet as spun sugar one second and then the smoky thickness of meat, and Sam's head turns to follow the smell of flowers carried by the curls of a dark-skinned man in jeans-

"-long black, two sugars. Do you ha-"

-who greets an older woman with greying hair, and Sam turns back to face the direction they're heading and sees a crowd of people too thick to move through.

"-believe, I mean, it was so-"

He squeezes Dean's hand. Dean squeezes back. Sam squeezes again, and they have a back and forth for a minute or so as they wait for a space to open up in the crowd ahead of them. Sam knows what the person at the counter is ordering and what the people at the table behind them did for their weekend and what Donnie did to Amy, did you hear?

I heard, Sam thinks viciously, Everyone in a ten mile radius heard, can you shut up?

And then he feels bad, because it's not their fault it's so loud in here. He can barely hear himself think. He can't even hear himself breathe, can just feel his lungs inhaling and exhaling in his chest. The functional unit of the lungs are small sacs called alveoli that have walls one cell thin, and the culmination of Sam's can usually run a five minute mile but today, now, they're barely keeping him standing.

"-diagnosis, it all happened so fast-"

It's been a minute since he last squeezed Dean's hand, so he squeezes again. And Dean squeezes back, hard, and that seems to help the frantic energy building in Sam's body, so when Dean starts to relax his hand Sam squeezes again and he doesn't let go.

"-don't know what I'd do-"

And Dean looks back, and something must show in Sam's face, because then they're moving, the crowd be damned. Someone brushes against Sam and he feels every part of it, too aware of the fabric of their shirt brushing against Sam's flannel. Someone else steps on the side of his shoe and he wants to step on them back, wants them to finish the job, wants to break out of his body. Dean's squeezing Sam's hand hard enough that he feels the bones in his hand shift, but it's all he has, right now. The rest of him is too busy paying attention to everything else.

"-rotten leaf in my salad, I want-"

There's a group of children laughing and stumbling over their feet, their mothers following behind with gentle smiles and chattering conversation, and Sam feels this tug of want-

"-failed my midterms, so I just-"

-and there's someone in a bright, multicoloured jacket holding hands with a girl dressed in all denim, laughing as they reach up to gently grasp her chin and lean in-

"-loud in here, do you want-"

-so Sam looks away, and no matter where he looks there's another person, another family, another store, another thing bright and beautiful and he can't take it, okay, it's just too much-

"-I said, that's crazy, no way-"

-for him to handle right now, the everything of it all, the thought that, all this time, the entire world has existed just outside of their motel room and he's barely a part of it.

"-beautiful, Mary-"

Sam's heart jolts in his chest.

I can't do this, he thinks desperately, still moving with Dean, pulled along by him, his hand encompassed by Dean's. He tamps down the visceral urge to just lie down here, press himself into the tile and be consumed. He sidesteps a puddle of someone's chocolate thickshake, his stomach turning over. He can feel the slick of his sweat between Dean's large, warm hand and his own. Part of him wants to tug away to dry his palm on his jeans, but he feels like he might fall apart if he does.

Dean leads him into a store and the temperature change shocks him, sending shivers cascading down his spine, and Sam feels suddenly unwell, like when he has the flu. But it's quieter in here, the cacophony of the mall muted by the racks of clothing. The fluorescents take all the red away, leaving Dean wearing an ugly brown flannel, and that sick feeling grows stronger. Sam closes his eyes, letting Dean guide him. He flinches at the clatter as Dean pulls something off the rack, the hanger tapping plastic against metal railing, and lets himself be swept along, around a corner and into a changing room, Dean pulling the curtains closed.

Sam bypasses the bench to sit down on the floor, gaze fixed on where the curtain brushes against the faux wood linoleum. He can still hear the chatter in the store, muffled as if underwater.

Dean crouches down in front of him, breaking his line of sight, but Sam can't move. He can't stay still. He's going to fall apart. He's going to turn to stone. He wants to run, run, out through the mall and back home, he wants to crawl into Dean's chest and stay there forever and never go outside again. Fuck outside. Outside is overrated. Outside is filled with people who couldn't give less of a shit about Sam, going about their days while he falls apart in the middle of a food court. Outside is filled with people who aren't Sam and Dean, living TV lives while they spin out on some highway in Nowhere, America.

"Sammy?" Dean says, and it's so loud, what the hell, Dean.

Sam untangles himself from his little ball of limbs to silently shoosh him, and he watches as the tense line of Dean's shoulders relax infinitesimally from where they were hitched up around his ears, all worry. Dean bats his hands away gently, fine, fine, he'll be quiet.

What happened? asks the moue of Dean's mouth, the furrow between his brows.

Sam shrugs.

That's not an answer.

And Sam knows it's not, but how is he meant to explain it when even he doesn't know what happened? It was just everything, all at once, and it crept under Sam's skin and into his head and he couldn't escape it. He looks up at Dean, helpless, and Dean's hands come up to cradle his face and it's alright. It'll be okay. Sam tips his head into the warmth of Dean's skin, lets his eyes fall closed.

Someone laughs from in the store and Sam flinches, then feels Dean's hands move to cover his ears instead. Sam sighs and leans into Dean's chest. He expects to hate it, being touched, worries that he'll want to shed his skin in a heap at the feeling of it, but it's Dean. Sam presses his forehead into Dean's ribs firm enough to bruise, and Dean pulls him along as he reshuffles on the floor so that Sam is between his legs, wrapped in warmth, anchored to the world. He moves his hands away from Sam's ears and Sam, with a bitter-sick feeling of betrayal, clamps his own over them, pressing hard. But Dean puts his hands on Sam's back instead, rubbing soothingly, and that's better than anything else.

A few moments pass, quietly, just the two of them. Sam’s still stuck in his head, which is tuned into the world like a radio turned up too high, but he does his best to focus on the smooth movements of Dean’s hands up and down his back, fingers running over the knobs of his spine. They’re called spinous processes, and they lengthen throughout the cervical spine but are mostly the same size in the thoracic spine. Sam checked. Dean kicked up only a little bit of a fuss. And when Sam realises that he’s playing that memory in his head, eyelids heavy, he notices that he’s feeling a little better.

As if reading his mind, Dean moves his hands to rest on Sam’s arms, and Sam settles back. He takes his hands away from his ears, blinking hard. His chest feels a bit tight, but he’s okay. He conveys as much to Dean, who looks over him, expression doubtful. But when he sees Sam watching his face he plasters on a grin, rubbing Sam’s arms quickly through his shirt before he moves back, too.

Dean signs for Baby. They don’t have to stay.

Part of Sam wants to leave, but it feels like giving up. And he wants to try the mall, was excited until he became overwhelmed and, if he tries, he can make the adrenaline feel more like anticipation.

“I want to stay." He accompanies the words with their signs. “Can we get pizza?”

Dean kept bringing it up in the car, subtle as a truck, and Sam saw some slices of a vegetarian pizza through the glass of one of the counters. It’s an easy choice to make. Sam doesn’t really feel like pizza, but he knows that Dean will try to cheer him up the same way he cheers himself up. And it works, for the most part. Dean just hasn’t quite realised that the main reason why is because Sam likes seeing Dean happy.

And, fine. Sam knows Dean needs him to be happy, too, and maybe that plays a bigger part in it all than Sam would care to admit. He knows that if he asked to leave, they would be as good as gone. It's enough to make him feel lightheaded, sometimes, the things that Dean would do for him. And it's not even because he has to. He chose Sam, over their dad, over hunting, over the chance to be free from Sam's drama forever. So they'll stay, and they'll get pizza, and they'll buy jackets and underwear and Dean's paraphernalia, and then they'll be gone. Sam just needs to hold on for a few more hours.

Dean beams and Sam feels his cheeks flush in response. Dean's so, so proud of him. He circles Sam's heart through his shirt and Sam feels something bright and beautiful settle in him. It’s contagious.

"That's my boy," Dean says, ruffling Sam's hair.

Sam pushes him away gently, reaching up to fix his hair, and Dean rocks back, still wearing that easy smile. Sam has to look away, eyes settling on the amulet sitting on Dean's chest and shining dully in the crappy change room lighting. Sam doesn't know how he does it. Sam knows better than anyone that life isn't always sunshine and roses but, even with Sam losing his grip over and over, Dean's still here. Maybe it's selfish, but Sam can't help but be desperately grateful. He wouldn't trade where they are now for anything. They're alive now in a way they weren't before, and Dean seems to be genuinely enjoying it. Sam wants to love existing that much.

Dean stands and offers him his hand.

One day, maybe I will, Sam thinks, and he reaches out.

Flash mob | k.sy

shy dancer!kwon soonyoung x anxious!reader

genre: fluff, angst, strangers to friends au.

warnings!: certain sensitive topics, cuss words, anxiety issues, fat shaming, mentions of suicide, bullying, inhaler and pill use(?), if any other warnings please let me know.

word count: 8.6k+

In which, this random dancer in a flash mob you crashed unknowingly helps you overcome your fears and teaches you what it’s like to really be happy. 

A/n: I just wanted to let you know that I personally have never faced any of the issues mentioned here so I want to apologise in advance if in case this offends anyone for that was not my intention. This may not be exactly like how it works in real life but I just wanted to bring a bit of light on these topics that I’ve come across in my friend circle and just let people know that you’ll be okay and one day, either you will find someone to help you, or you yourself will overcome all this and become a stronger and better version of you. 

P.S- this is also my first time writing something like this so criticism is very much needed.

4 pm.

Sighing as you finally stretched, you placed the pencil in between the pages you were reading before shutting the book and placing it on the table. You glanced at the wall in front of you covered with paintings done from different shades of black and dark purple. You smile slightly as your paintings bring you a sense of calmness.

Pushing yourself up again the desk, you stood up straight, making your way downstairs to grab something to eat.

“It’s a Sunday. I can’t believe you’re studying. You really need to go outside, honey”, your mother smacks your arm as she hands you a plate of toasted bread. “At least for a walk, even if it’s just for ten minutes”. You groan as you take the plate while rubbing your arm.

You make your way to the living room peeking at your younger brother focused while playing something on his playstation.

Taking a seat, ready for your ten minute break before you had to go back to studying again, you grabbed the piece of toast but before you could take a bite, your phone began to ring. You glance at the phone screen that lit up with the caller ID, contemplating within whether or not to pick up. Knowing your best friend and the temper tantrums she put up, you eventually decided to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Y/n”

“Yeah?”

“Get ready”

“What?”

“I said get ready we’re going out”

“What? No”

“Yes. There’s a huge celebration going on downtown. We have to go”

“I’m not really interested”

“You never are if it’s doesn’t include something related to studying or painting”

You shrugged, not really caring enough to respond.

“Listen, I’m begging you. I’ve never forced you to go anywhere with me if you didn’t want to, but I really need you this time. Mom’s making me go with Kyla and her squad so that we could have some ‘sister bonding time’ but I honestly want nothing to do with that bitch-

Grimacing, you remembered your first encounter with Soobin’s step sister. You had never cried or hated yourself as much as you did that day for being so helpless and weak in front of her.

-but I have to do it for mum. I really need your support. You know how bad it gets for me to be alone with her. Please?”

You were a hundred percent ready to tell her no but the fragility and fear in her voice weakened your heart. You thought about it for a few seconds, neither of you speaking.

“Only for an hour”

“Yes, I promise. Oh my god, thank you!”, Soobin cried into the phone as you heard kissing noises. Slightly annoyed, you pull your phone away from your ear, completely ignoring your best friend.

“Okay, so I’ll pick you up in a half hour. I love you. Bye bye”, she laughed as she cut the call.

You sighed as you sunk deeper into the couch, feeling more annoyed that you actually had to get out of the house and that your toast had turned completely cold.

You handed the plate over to your brother, a human food dispenser, watching him gobble up the cold toast as if he hadn’t been fed for days.

“Good boy”, you patted his head as he smacked your hand away, his focus back on the game.

You made your way upstairs, freshened up and picked something to wear from your cupboard. Not really being in the mood to dress up for just staying out an hour, you threw on a pair of worn out jeans and a plain white T-shirt with a small tiger printed on one side of the chest.

The doorbell rang through the house and familiar voices could be heard downstairs followed by loud laughter. Giving yourself one last glance in the mirror, you grabbed your backpack as you wore your shoes while stepping down the stairs.

“Don’t do that. You’re going to trip and hurt yourself one day. Either wear it and walk or wait till you’re downstairs to wear”, your mom grunted as she sent glares towards you.

“But anyways, I’m just glad you’re finally taking a proper break. Have fun and genuinely enjoy it”, your mother squeezed your shoulders as she headed back into the kitchen, giving Soobin a small wave.

“Let’s go!”, Soobin grabbed you as she pulled you out towards the car.

“Home by 11”

“I’ll be back in an hour”, you shouted out to your mother before stepping into the car.

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?”

“Because my mom is getting married to that slug face’s father and she wishes that we spend some time together before the wedding. We both love my mom and want to see her happy and you love me more and want to see me more happy so you’re here to keep me company and support me”

“I swear to god, if you weren’t here, I probably would have already karate chopped her by now”

You chuckled as you watched your best friend bust out a few miserable attempts at karate poses.

“Oh my god. We’re in public. Could you behave more decently please? I have an image to maintain and I’m not going to let you idiots ruin it for me”

Soobin immediately stopped, clutching onto your arm, as she turned her head away from the devil girl that stood a few feet ahead of you with her minions friends laughing beside her.

They stared at you like you two were stinky pieces of trash thrown into a chamber of gold. Soobin huffed as she pulled you, walking past the girls that quickly jumped out of the way as if being touched by you would turn them into trash too. Ignoring them, you and Soobin looked through the stores that lined the streets.

You had to admit, maybe coming out her wasn’t too bad after all. The festival was grand. It covered almost the entire downtown area. The streets were lined with lights from top to bottom. Every inch of the stores were decorated and the purplish orange sky created a perfect contrast against the bright gold and red lights. You wished you could pause this moment. Just lie down right here in the middle of the road and stare up at the slightly starry lit sky. You wished you could make this place a reality within your mind. A place you could visit whenever you wanted to or needed to.

You were abruptly brought out of your thoughts when you felt someone push against you, causing you both to stumble to the ground. Surprised, you looked up only to see the person grabbing their things, mumbling out an almost inaudible sorry, not even glancing at you, before rushing again in the same direction.

How rude.

“Y/n, you okay?”, Soobin was at your side as she lifted you up and onto your feet. You dusted your palms before patting away the dust on your behind. You glanced up to notice that everyone around you was looking your way, at the commotion that had been caused and almost immediately you felt an overwhelming sensation to drop dead. Your palms become sweaty as you started to breath haphazardly. White light shined into your eyes and all you could hear was static as you felt your body go limp. Warning bells rang through your head as you saw only red. Your vision slowly started to blur as you felt your legs give way. Your mind felt disconnected from your body. Your body working as if it had a mind of its own.

Accessing the situation, Soobin immediately seated you on the chair of a store you were currently near. She blocked your vision as well as others vision of you. A few more people made their way towards you, worried and frantically trying to see if you were okay. She grabbed the inhaler she had for you in her bag, handing it to you before turning around towards the crowd.

“Everything’s okay. She’s alright. Sorry for the commotion. Please continue whatever you were doing. We’re all good here. Thank you”, she let out a panicked smile as she flung her arms around, desperate to get people’s attention away from you.

When the crowd finally began to disperse, she whipped her head around, her heart beat steadying a bit, watching you take deep breaths from the inhaler. She took out a water bottle placing it near your mouth, providing support for you to drink.

You gulped down the water. It felt like a flood against a decade of drought in your throat. You pushed your head away to take a few more deep breaths as you felt yourself calming down. Glancing at your best friend, you watched her smile, trying to hide the worry and fear behind her eyes. You held her hand, squeezing it softly as you gave her a genuine smile.

“I’m okay”

She dropped her head down at those words, her breathing so rough, you thought she was about to cry.

“Don’t scare me again like that, you bitch”, she smacked you softly over your head before helping you up once again. You laughed at her softly and she interlocked your arms together.

You began making your way down the streets, when you felt someone push past your shoulders.

Kyla glanced back over hers as she murmured loud enough for you to hear.

“Attention whore. What a fake”

You looked down as she and her friends giggled. Apparently this had gone unnoticed by Soobin so you glanced at her to find her typing away at her phone. You rolled your eyes as you realised she was probably texting your mom to inform her about the episode you just had. You chuckled randomly as she looked up at you.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to say thanks”

“Don’t. I’m your best friend it’s the least I could do”

“.... and here are your fries”, you smiled as you thanked the waiter for your food. You actually had a pretty decent time as you walked past a few stores, shopping for stuff along the way. Had it been only Soobin and you, you knew it would have been a memorable time but even still it was. Although you’d have preferred to not be insulted or ridiculed for every minute thing you did every two minutes.

You handed each person whatever they had ordered before taking your own. You unwrapped your burger as you held it, ready to take a bite.

“Ugh, I wouldn’t eat that if I were you. You’re already pretty fat. We don’t want you putting on more weight now, do we? You’re just making it harder for you to find someone to date”

“Shut up. You have no right to talk about her like that-“

Soobin’s voice was drowned out when suddenly people’s shouts could be heard from behind.

Temporarily forgetting about the conversation you guys were having, all of you turned your head towards the noise, when music started playing. It was one of your favourite songs. An unknowing smile embraced your face as you stretched your neck and body in all directions to catch a glimpse of what was going on outside of the restaurant. Upon noticing the huge crowd and movement, your eyes widened as you realised.

“A flash mob!”

With sparkling eyes, you nodded your head towards Soobin. Being mesmerised by it in movies and YouTube videos, you’ve always wanted to see one in real life. You had such love and admiration to those dancers who were just ready to dance anywhere and everywhere. To have the guts to dance in front of a bunch of random strangers who didn’t even ask to see you, to have such presence and confidence that you make anywhere your stage. To be able to perform so smoothly while still handling a whole crowd. As silly as it sounds, you’ve always wanted to be a part of one, to help make random unsuspecting people who were probably having a bad day feel happy in an instant but you knew you could never handle the attention of so many people on you, let alone the fact that you’ve never even danced in your entire life.

Upon noticing the huge crowd, your felt your anxiety rushing back a bit so you turned back around and focused on the food in front of you. Soobin noticed the way your eyes fell in an instant. She knew about your love for flash mobs when she was once forced to watch at least a few thirty of them straight when you had called her home for a sleepover. It was like a fairy tale to you, a happy place.

You quietly picked up your burger again as you took a bite. Kyla and her friends chuckled as they watched you. 

“What? Can’t handle that someone else is getting more attention. What a joke honestly”

“Such an attention seeker”

“As though anxiety is a real thing”

“Probably never even had a person look at you. Who would when you look like that?”

Soobin was about to speak up again when you banged your fits against the table, accidentally poking the fork into the side of your palm. You didn’t flinch as you pressed your nails into your arm. The sound deafening outside but seeming so soft against the silence of your table.

Obviously, a lot of the remarks hurt you. They hit you pretty hard and you had to try your best to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. You were always weak when it came to people speaking about your fears and anxiety attacks because you hadn’t chosen something like this, you were forced to be born with this, forced to deal with this everyday. People always insulted you for this. Bullied you so bad that you thought death could be a solution had it not been for your family and your best friend. All you’ve ever wanted and dreamed of. To have a friend group, to do silly and daring things with them, to go to parties and get drunk, to have a normal life. 

Was that too much to ask for?

But this time you had had enough. You were done letting others talk for you, protect you, take all the hits for you instead. You lifted your head sending glares to them as tears flowed down your cheeks freely. 

“Shut up”, You scream as loud as you could, somewhat glad that there were not many people in the restaurant. Everyone being too preoccupied with what was going on outside. 

“I’m strong!” You shout into their face as you grabbed the fork twisting it around in your palm and stabbing it into the table. You watched their eyes widen before taking off your backpack and placing it on the chair you were seated in a few seconds ago. You turned around stomping you way towards the doors of the restaurant, already regretting your decision. 

It’s too late to turn back now.

You paused at the handle of the door as you took a deep breath and pushed it aside, stepping into the crowd. Pushing past them you made your way to the front of the line. Your brain too fumbled up to understand and comprehend what your body was doing. 

Just do it. You can regret it later.

You took a few steps forward and were now in the smack middle of the back line of the flash mob. Few of the dancers gave you weird looks but you didn’t notice. You watched the line in front of you and tried to copy the moves they were doing. Key word being tried. 

Although failing miserably, you still continued. It took awhile but your brain finally snapped back to reality and you froze in place. It was a crowded street and you probably had thousands of eyes on you. The familiar feeling of someone’s hand around your throat came back to you as you saw red. You stood there helplessly, ready to drop to your knees, regretting this whole decision and just wanting to go back home and lie down in the comfort and privacy of your bed, away from all the privy eyes. 

You gulped as you felt yourself lose consciousness but you snapped back to reality in an instant when you heard laughter from beside you. You glanced behind you and saw a boy with slightly reddish-brown hair point at you while dancing and laugh at you.

“So cute”, he cheered out as he attempted to re-enact the way you tried to wiggle your hips. Laughing at himself at the cute attempt he made, he clapped his hands, temporarily forgetting about the flash mob. Unknowingly, a small blush had creeped up your cheeks as you watched the guy wiggle his butt at you. You laughed at him, immediately covering your mouth as though it were a sin. 

The people in the flashmob began to change their formations and the guy grabbed your arm pulling you along with him through the flashmob as he jumped to a stop on reaching his position in the most endearing way possible. You beamed at his adorableness as he made you stand next to him and showed you the moves. You hesitantly raised your arms and began coping everything that he did. 

You laughed along with him when you did a silly move or when he’d purposely be extra just to earn a laugh from you. You felt bad for ruining their flash mob but you needed this. You were allowed to be selfish this once but also made a mental note to apologize to everyone here once they were done. 

You had never genuinely enjoyed like this before. You knew you had a lot more eyes on you, laughing at you because you were messing up everything. But for once you genuinely didn’t care. You actually liked that you were able to make people laugh. Occasionally, the feeling of the attack would pass through your body but it would be immediately wiped away by the man next you. Both of you dancing like it was your own world. Your focus on him and his focus on you. Like it was just you two dancing together. 

Towards the ending you finally stepped away from the flash mob, having enough of ruining their hard work. The guy looked at you confused before realising and sending you a pout face. You chuckled at him as you stepped into the crowd and grooved a bit as an encouragement to him. He smiled at you as he continued with his dance. His eyes on you the whole time, a show he put up only for you. You focused only on him and before you knew it, the flash mob came to an end and the whole crowd erupted into cheers. 

Surprised, you glanced back at the crowd for a second before looking back at the dancers who were all gathered in a line and were bowing. You searched for the guy but you couldn’t find him anywhere. Realizing the situation, your heart beat sped up so you rushed to find your best friend. Pushing through the crowd you finally found Soobin making her way towards you. She pulled you into a hug. Her face showing pure shock. You pulled away from her as you gasped breathlessly.

“Inhaler”

She frantically searched through her bag as she grabbed the inhaler and placed it near your mouth, pulling you back into the restaurant. Kyla and her friends just laughed at you as they took their leave. You sat down taking deeper breaths. Soobin just stared at you trying to make sure what just happened wasn’t a dream. 

“Did you just-”

“Yeah, apparently”

“Okay, so that just happened. Are you alright?”

“Yeah I think so”

You felt a huge flick to my forehead as you held it and groaned in pain.

“Are you mad? How could you do something like that? Even if it was to prove a point. You need to be more careful, y/n. You should have at least pulled me in with you”, she sighed as she rubbed her temples.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”, you nodded.

“I’m mad at you but at the same time I’m so proud of you”, she clapped her hands as she gave me a tight hug. I laughed as I hugged her back.

“Oh, I need to go apologize to the flash mob dancers before they leave”, you turned around to watch the slowly dispersing crowd. You actually wanted to see the guy again and thank him. So you walked back to the street. Your eyes glancing at everyone to find a mop of reddish-brown hair. You were disappointed when you couldn’t find him among the crowd of the dancers who were packing up their speakers but still smiled and apologised to them while they waved you off saying that they were actually glad you joined. You didn’t really pay much attention to them, trying to calm yourself by gripping onto your bag while all their eyes were on you, as you continue your search for the guy through the crowd.

“Um, by any chance do you know where the guy with the reddish-brown hair went?”, you asked one of the dancers. They looked at you confused before you shook your head and waved at them.

“Never mind. Good bye. Have a nice day”, you smiled, heading towards Soobin as she gave you a sly one.

“Searching for a guy, huh?”, you rolled your eyes at her.

“I just wanted to thank him”, you sighed glancing around one last time before finally giving up and taking your backpack from Soobin. Tired and feeling a bit off mood all of a sudden, you asked Soobin if you could go back home to which she readily agreed, worried the effects of today's miracle would take place sooner or later.

You began walking towards the exit of the street when someone grabbed your arm softly, stopping you while they stood in front of you.

“Hi”

“Hi”, you blushed a bit at the guy that had his hand on his chest panting for breath.

“I saw....you.....leaving.....searching....talk....you”, he spoke between breaths. You smiled at him, handing him the water bottle as he thanked you before gulping it down. Once his breath steadied he turned towards you and smiled.

“Hi, my name is Kwon Soonyoung. You can call me Hoshi”, he stretched his arm as you did yours, making contact.

“I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you”

He squeezed your hand a bit and you flinched. He glanced down at your palm.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to squeeze- oh my god, you’re bleeding”

You were bleeding, it was all dried up blood from the little dramatic moment you had at the restaurant. He pulled your palm to his face to examine it when Soobin produced a medical kit from her bag.

Hoshi looked at her in confusion.

“You carry a medical kit in your bag?”

You and Soobin glanced at each other before looking back at Hoshi.

“I just like to be prepared”, she smiled as she took out the antiseptic, cotton pads and a bandage. Hoshi pulled you to a table nearby, never letting go of your palm, placing it on the table so delicately like it were glass. You chuckled at him slightly as he looked up at you with an innocent look.

Soobin groaned as she glanced at the missed calls and text messages from her mother. She showed the screen to you and you could only give her a look of pity. 

“That bitch Kyla, I swear to god”, she pressed the bridge of her nose before standing up from the table you guys were at.

It had been almost an hour since Soobin bandaged your arm and she, Hoshi and you had decided to have a little chat under the lights while sipping on some iced tea.

“Well Hoshi, it was really nice meeting you but I think it’s time for us to go now”, Soobin gave him a soft smile as she watched both yours and his face frown slightly. She sighed as she mentally contemplated within herself.

Ah fuck it.

“Actually, I need to go. But I’m sure y/n can stay for some more time. Her mom said she only needs to be back by 11”, Soobin smiled at the two of you as she packed up her stuff into her bag. Completely shocked, you grabbed her wrist and dragged her to another corner of the street, a few feet away from Hoshi.

“Excuse me for a second”, he nodded softly.

“What the hell?”

“What?”

“What do you mean what? You can’t just leave me here alone”

“I’m not leaving you here alone. I’m leaving you here with someone”

“A guy”

“A decent guy who I think is definitely trustable. Plus he looks so harmless. You could probably karate chop him if he does something wrong”

“Will you quit it with the karate chopping?”

“Look, I’ve always been worried about you I’ve always tried to be by your side any time you step out of the house-“

“Because of you”

“Shut up, I’m talking. As I was saying, it’s time for you to be a grown up. You can’t keep having your mom or I run around behind you, scared of every step you take. I’ve seen what he does to you. You felt so at peace while dancing with him. Maybe it’s time to let someone else into your life, you know?”

“But I-“

“Y/n you need this. I’m not forcing you. It’s your choice. If you want we can go back home right now. But I would really rather than you try this out at least. I really like him and I think he genuinely is a good guy”

You thought about it for a while. You could go back home and get onto your bed and sleep. Or you could stay here and possibly get murdered.

“I’ll stay”

“Good. You have everything you need, right?”

You nodded as you checked your bag for your phone, keys, inhaler and water bottle. Soobin slipped you a pepper spray and a pocket knife as you raised an eyebrow at her.

“Just in case, you know”, she winked as you walked back to Hoshi.

She waved you both goodbye and you both watched her until she turned around a corner and completely disappeared.

“Soooo”, you stiffened at his voice, slowly turning around to look at him, an awkward tension filling the air.

You shuffled your feet while glancing down at your shoes. Not daring to make eye contact. The two of you were silent for a while before he decided to finally speak up.

“Do you want to, um, maybe walk around and, uh, look at stuff, I guess?”

He smiled as you nodded.

“Yeah, that seems fun”

He shook his head as he fell in line with you and you both began walking, no destination in particular. It was quite awkward for none of you knew what to speak about. You’d get so tensed every time his arm would brush against yours, or you had to push up close against him because it was too crowded.

“You seem like a really good dancer”, he broke the tension and finally started a conversation.

“You’re kidding, right? I have literally never danced in my entire life and I know it was terrible. You even made fun of me for it”

He scratched his head as his cheeks turned a tinge of pink.

“I didn’t make fun of you for it. I just thought you looked pretty cute doing it like that”, he spoke with a pout, thinking you took him in a wrong way and actually felt bad. You heart felt giddy listening to him.

“It’s okay. I was just joking”, you laughed at him as he smiled back.

“Wait. So you’ve never danced and still decided to randomly jump into a flash mob?”

You shrugged your shoulders, not really in the mood to explain today’s happenings.

“Ah, so you’re a daredevil”

You snorted at him as you lightly hit his chest.

“Daredevil? I just randomly joined a flash mob. It’s not like I jumped off a cliff. And trust I’m not a daredevil”

“Same thing. It takes just as much guts to do it”

“Oh by the way, I never really got to apologize to you for ruining what was probably loads of practice, like that”, you bent your head feeling very embarrassed in front of him.

He put his hands on your shoulder and you lifted our head. Your faces were centimetres away from each other and you saw him hesitate, feeling flustered at the distance. None of you backing away until a small kid crashed his plane on the side of his head.

He yelped as he fell to the ground. Rubbing the side of the head that was hit.

“Are you okay?”, you exclaimed as you kneeled down.

“Sorry, uncle”, the kid laughed as he took the plane and started running away.

“Uncle?”, Hoshi exclaimed. He immediately stood up like there was nothing wrong with him and pointed at the kid, shouting at him.

“Do I look like an uncle to you? Hey, I’m only 24 years old you know!” He screamed at the kid and you watched him in shock.

He glanced back at your shocked face and knew he messed up.

“I like kids”, he simply stated and you laughed at him, handing him the water bottle, as you turned his face to look at the bruise that was forming. From where did you manage to summon these guts to even touch him, you don’t know but for some weird reason, it felt normal to you. An everyday thing.

“Sure”, you huffed as you observed the bruise.

“There’s a slight bruise forming. It doesn’t look too bad. Just ice it and it’ll go in probably a day or two”, you nodded as your eyes turned to him. He was staring at you and you felt your face flush. You immediately backed away from him.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have touched you like that”

“No it’s okay you were just-“

He was interrupted by a low growling sound that erupted from his stomach. You watched him with wide eyes, wrapping his arms to cover his stomach as though it would hide the sounds.

“Do you maybe wanna get something to eat?”

“Yes please, I would like that”

“You’re going to choke”, you laughed at Hoshi as he gobbled up all the ramen that was placed on the table just seconds ago. He grunted, rubbing his palm on his tummy.

“You’re starving, I get it, but that doesn’t mean you choke yourself to death”, you roll your eyes as you handed him a tissue and poured a glass of water pushing it towards him. He drank a bit of the water, helping him easy down the masticated food. You grabbed your plate and poured some noodles into it, taking your peaceful time as you ate.

“There’s supposed to be a firework show and a campfire later in the evening. I was supposed to watch it with my friends but I kind of ditched them last minute. Would you want to watch it with me?”, you looked up at him, thinking about it. You’ve never watched fireworks before. At least not in real life. They’ve always seemed so surreal to you.

You nodded as you drank the soup in the bowl, “Sure, I’d love to. I haven’t really seen fireworks in real life or ever had a campfire”

He looked at you surprised.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve always just seen them on television. I’m not an outdoor person, and I don’t really like loud noises or crowded rooms or physical activity. I like isolation a lot. More like I’ve grown up in isolation a lot, so I’ve found peace in it and it’s my comfort zone. So I haven’t experienced a lot of these things, but I really would want to. I always keep imaging how s’mores would taste like. I’ve never had marshmallows either. Are they soft? I’ve heard they taste sticky but-“

You drone on and on. Not even realising that this was probably the longest you’ve ever spoken. Hoshi just watched you, your lips. A small blush creeping up his face when he glanced at them. They looked so soft and pretty, bright pink from the spicy noodles you just had, so perfect like they would fit so snug with his. He paid attention to everything you said as he sat and listened to your voice, it felt like silk against his ears, sending goosebumps through him. He loved the way your face lit up as you spoke, watching your cute little hands make all these movements to exaggerate your words. You seemed like a dream to him. Hopefully a dream come true.

You finished speaking as you finally glanced at Hoshi. He was leaning towards you, his elbow propped on the bench, his cheek pressed against his palm and a goofy smile adorning his face. You unconsciously smile at him and he suddenly reaches out to boop your nose.

“Adorable”, he cried out as he giggled, continuing to eat whatever was left over. You sat there shocked as you watched him eat. Your heartbeat racing in your chest. You pressed a palm against it, trying to calm it out. You felt your face heat up and you excused yourself to the washroom.

You stepped in and immediately rushed towards the basin. You glanced up in the mirror and saw that your face was a bright pink shade. You felt your cheeks and they were extremely warm against your cool palms. You collected some water before splashing it on your face continuously, to cool yourself down. 

You groaned in frustration as you leaned against the empty wall beside the basin, slowly sliding down and wrapping your arms around your knees. You softly banged the back of your head continuously against the wall as you let your insecure thoughts overcome you. 

This can’t be happening. I cannot be catching feelings for a guy I just met. I need to stay away from him. I am a pain to be around. He’s probably hanging out with me out of pity because my best friend had to go. I don’t want to get attached to him. I’m a mess. He shouldn’t have to be friends with me, even if he likes to hang out with me. I need to stop whatever is going on now. I should have just stayed home.

You groaned louder as you slowly started feeling anxious, placing your forehead against your knees. 

“I have to leave”, you said out loud to no one in particular.

I could just sneak my way out of here and leave him a text once i’m home. Wait, I don’t have his number. Maybe if I slip a note to the waitress and ask her to hand it to him? Yeah, that should work. Or would that be considered rude? The fact that I could write him a note but couldn’t just personally tell him? Why don’t I just tell him? No, I could never lie to him. I should call Soobin and ask her.

You groaned as you felt your head hurt a bit, making you feel dizzy.

“Hey, are you okay?”, you suddenly looked up, causing your head to hurt more and you let out a cry.

The person rushed towards you as she dampened one end of her dress and slightly pressed it against your burning face. She yelled something to someone, your vision slightly blurry as you felt your eyes get teary. You took a few deep breaths, just like your mom taught you and within a few seconds, your vision came back to normal but your head still kept hurting a little. 

“I’m fine, thank you”, you smiled at the lady as you attempted to stand up, the woman helping you. 

“Are you sure?”, she asked.

“Yes, I’ve been out in the sun the whole day, so I just felt a bit faint”, you lied to her.

“I think you should go to a doctor”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll be fine in a while. Happens often”, you smiled at her as you splashed some water on your face. Suddenly, the door to the washroom burst open. Shocked, you glanced through the mirror at the door behind you. 

“Y/n!”, a frightened and worried Hoshi ran towards you, his eyes wide, his cheeks puffy and mouth still filled with food. The sight of him seemed so funny to you and you unknowingly let out a loud laugh. Hoshi just stared at you, eyes wide before he looked at you through the mirror and then himself. He choked a bit, making you laugh louder, turning away from you, chewing his food and swallowing it as quickly as possible. He turned back around to you.

“Glad that me choking to death could entertain you”, he huffed fake angry as he placed his arms on his waist. 

“I rushed in worried that you fainted or something and here you are laughing at me almost dying”, he shook his head disappointed as he crossed his arm. 

You laughed at him completely forgetting about the situation. 

The person who had helped you previously laughed as she patted your shoulder. 

“I’m glad you’re alright now”, she smiled at you, leaning in towards you. 

“Your boyfriend seems like a great guy. I can see how happy he makes you. He’s a good one. Don’t let him go”, she winked at you before walking away. Hoshi grabbed your arm, looking concerned.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just felt a bit dizzy, probably cause I forgot to take my pills”, you accidently said out loud. You glanced at him hoping he didn’t notice but he did. You prayed he wouldn’t ask you more about it. 

He took a deep breath, turning towards you with a soft smile.

“Do you have your pills with you right now?”, you looked at him slightly confused. He stared at you, expecting an answer. You nodded your head still staring at him confused.

“Okay. Is it in your bag?”, he asked you. You nodded.

“Do you want me to get it for you?”

“It’s alright, I need some fresh air too”

He nodded his head as you both walked side by side, his arms still holding yours even though you were already feeling better. You glanced at his arm around yours and you felt goosebumps creep up your skin, a shiver running down your body. Hoshi noticed as he glanced at you.

“Are you feeling cold? I could give you my jacket”

“It’s pretty warm actually, thanks”

“Oh, I could help you take off your shirt then”

You narrowed your eyes as you turned to him, a sly smirk on his face as he gave you a pointed look. You rolled your eyes as you smacked his arm hard.

“Ouch”, he yelped holding his arm as you smiled, walking towards the bench you two were previously eating on. You sat down, rummaging through your bag and Hoshi took a seat in front of you a while later. You looked at him. He had gotten you a bottle of juice. You thanked him as you took your pills out of the packet and gulped them down with the help of the juice. Seven of them. Hoshi stared at you, confusion, shock and curiosity scribbled in red ink across his face as he watched your every move. Whether he figured from your expression previously or not, you could see he was dying to know but he still chose to keep quiet.

He smiled at you once you packed everything in. 

“You ready to head back home?”

“No”, your heart spoke before your brain could. He looked up at you from where he was throwing the trash in the bin.

“What?”

You mentally slapped your mouth, slightly mad that you lost an opportunity to head back home. But more glad that you could still have more time with him. 

“I kinda want to watch the fireworks. But if you need to head home then that’s okay too”, you looked towards him, your heart praying that he’d say no, slightly afraid that he’d give an excuse and take the opportunity to leave especially after all that happened ten minutes back.

“I want to watch the fireworks too”, he smiled at you as he dumped the last of the trash, he bowed forward, stretching his palm out to you. 

“I would love to accompany you, madame”, he tipped his fake hat forward. Playing along, you pretended to pick up your skirt, grunting and making very unwomanly positions as he glanced at you confused. You grinned at him.

“Sorry, this shit’s heavy”, he laughed out loud as he pretended to help you pick up the dress too. 

“Ah why thank you, noble sir. For your kind deed I shall accompany you”, you posed elegantly as Hoshi laughed again. You both laughed and made fun of each other’s cringy lines. Interlinking your arms together, you made your way towards where the fireworks were to be held.

“You two are such a cute couple. Would you like me to take a picture?”, you glanced at the man holding a polaroid camera in front of you.

“Um we’re not-”

“Sure”, Hoshi interrupted you as he pulled you towards the pier. Taking a spot in front the lake that currently had lanterns floating over it. Hoshi paid the guy as he glanced at you. He took off his denim jacket, handing it over to the guy as he walked back to you.

“Is it okay if I put my arms on your shoulder?”

You glanced at him as you nodded. He put his arms across your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You hesitated a bit, scared he would feel the racing heartbeat that vibrated through your body. When you both settled, ready to take the picture, you felt your heart calm down and you felt so comfortable, almost tipsy. Taking a risk, you laid your head on his shoulder as you felt him stiffen before he immediately relaxed and placed his head on top of yours. A small smile playing on both of your faces.

You saw a flash and heard the buzzing sound of a camera. A flash like that would have immediately brought upon a panic attack but you felt so at home in his arms that you let your mind only focus on his touch. 

“I love your matching shirts, they’re charming”

You both glanced at each other’s shirt, noticing the little tiger on the side. You looked up at each other, shook, before you both burst out laughing.

“How did we not notice this before?”, you let out through breaths as Hoshi had his hands on his knees. You felt the flash go off as you heard the camera buzz again. The two of you immediately stopped as the camera guy handed Hoshi’s jacket and the two polaroids he clicked, to you. 

“The second one is on me”, he giggled before walking away from the two of you. 

You glanced down at the already forming pictures on the film. Hoshi and you patiently watched as the images darkened slowly. A similar bright smile forming on your faces. The first picture wanted to make you smile, you looked like a set, like you belonged to be in those arms of his, that they were meant especially for you and the second one made you cry, you could not believe that it was you. You had always imagined the day when you’d smile so carefree and seeing yourself like this in the picture was a dream come true. 

Hoshi watched as your eyes turned glossy. He patted your head softly, pulling you closer so that you could put your head on his shoulder. You did so, turning your face inwards to block anyone from seeing your tear stained face. 

After a lot of tissues and probably three water bottles later, you calmed yourself down as Hoshi giggled at your pink tinted face. You heard an announcement that the fireworks would start soon, so you both made your way to find a seat near the campfire. Finding one that was at a perfect distance from the campfire and was pretty empty considering the huge crowd that had gathered there.

“Take a seat I’ll be right there”, you watched as he walked away, taking a seat at the spot. You felt very lonely without him. It had only been a few hours since you’ve been with Hoshi but as soon as he was gone, you missed him already, feeling like you’ve been with him forever and he was suddenly ripped away from you. 

You sighed staring straight ahead at the campfire, feeling comfortable against its warmth. You stretched your palms out as an attempt to get a real feel of the campfire. It was a huge one, probably three feet high. Although it looked nothing like how a real one would look like, you found yourself imagining you and Hoshi at one, with tents sent up and cooking s’mores over the fire as you’d take turns trying to scare each other with stories. 

Just as you imagined, the image of s’mores had entered your eyesight. You looked up at Hoshi as he stretched it out to you. You thanked him as you took it, feeling happy that you could finally try one. You watched as Hoshi took a bite of his, moaning slightly at how good it tasted. You saw him lick his lips, your heart fluttering slightly at the sight and sounds he made. You glanced back at your own one, taking a bite of it. Your eyes wide as you looked back at Hoshi. 

“These are so good!”, Hoshi laughed as he watched your eyes light up. You watched him, as you saw his smile fade slightly at something behind you. You turned around and saw a bunch of guys taking a seat right beside you. They saw you, a few of them giving you a smile, waving at you and some even winking at you.

Feeling slightly anxious and uncomfortable, you gave them an awkward smile before turning around and scooching slightly closer to Hoshi. He let out a grunt as he stood up and walked to sit on the other side of you. His thighs touching yours. He shot a glare at the guys before looking back at you with a sweet smile. You looked at him confused and he shook his head.

“I like sitting on the right side”

You nod your head in understanding, surprised that people have such preferences too. You were about to say something when there was suddenly an announcement stating that there was a slight delay but the fireworks would start soon. 

Groaning you leaned back a bit with your palms pressing into the ground, raising your head to the sky.

A playback of everything that had happened today ran through your mind as Hoshi watched you in silence. A single tear slipped your eyes as Hoshi looked at you worried but did not want to intervene. You realized you owed him an explanation for so many things. So you took a deep breath ready to start explaining everything to him from the start, even though you could already feel it pain you to talk about. You completely turned your seated body towards him as he did the same to show you that all his attention was on you. By the look in your eyes, Hoshi figured out what was going on. 

“I-”

“You don’t have to”, you looked up at him. 

“I meant you don’t have to explain anything to me. I do need to know and I will be ready to listen when you feel like telling me about everything. I don’t want to know just because you feel like you owe me that. I don’t care if it takes forever for you to tell me because I’m willing to wait. This is the most fun I’ve had in years and you’re the only woman outside my family whom I’ve ever spent so long with” he scratched the back of his head, “I genuinely like spending time with you and I would really want to get to know you better. Whatever it may be, I will be there for you. I want to stay by your side and be with you. Even as just somebody you know”

You gazed at him as tears slightly filled your eyes, not knowing what to say, you just turned towards the front when bright lights clouded your vision. 

Fireworks.

You beamed as you watched the sky light up. The beauty it held while watching it in real life was nothing compared to what they showed in the videos. It looked like glitter splattered on the night sky. For some odd reason, it felt like you were watching Hoshi and your interactions throughout the day. Like how anytime he was around, you felt a splash of colour was added to your black canvas. Your eyes were focused on the colourful lights, but you could feel his eyes on you instead. You turned to look at him and your eyes made contact, staring into each other. You took this time to really observe his features that were lit by the fire, the colour of his eyes, the curve of his nose, the shape of his lips, the pink tint on his puffy cheeks.

Your eyes fell to his hands as you slowly traced your finger on his palm before looking back up at him.

“Thank you”, you mumbled out softly as he shot you the brightest teeth smile he could muster before taking your hand in his and interlocking your fingers as you slowly leaned on him. 

Just the two of you watching as he slowly colours up your life.

a/n: I kinda got the idea for the flashmob from the neocities prompt generator so credits to them. The rest is purely my work. And just a huge thanks to hoshi for existing because he’s always been the bright light helping me and keeping me happy during my darkest and toughest times. horanghae <3

Hopeless: Chapter Seven

Klaus Mikaelson x OC

GIF Not Mine

Click Here For Masterlist

I groaned at the dull aching in my neck as I regained consciousness, proof that my neck had been snapped. When the memories of what had happened came back to me my eyes jumped open. Everything was upside down and it took about three seconds for me to realise I was tied to a tree by my feet, leaving me the wrong way up. I was glad that my skirt had been tied into the knot that secured my feet, for that would have been a whole other problem. Just as I reached up to break the ropes, a hand stopped me.

 ‘Why am I upside down?’ I asked the alpha, hoping conversation would delay the inevitable.

 I could tell that night had completely fallen now, fire torches were the only things lighting the clearing, though I was surprised he was the only one there.

‘I’ve been bleeding you out.’ He replied, and he was right, I hadn’t noticed the dried blood on my arms until that moment, or the pools of crimson on the floor, ‘I’m going to release you just before the moon reaches its apex and we’re going to chase you down.’

 ‘That sounds like fun.’ I muttered sarcastically, ‘what is that, some kind of wolf bonding exercise?’

 ‘As a matter of fact, yes it is.’ He grinned and it was all teeth.

 ‘Well then where is everyone?’

 ‘A mile away, gotta give you a head start or it will be over far too soon.’ He said, casually bringing a blade to my wrist and dragging it down to my elbow.

 I bit back my scream of pain when he repeated the action on my other arm before throwing the blade to the ground.

 ‘That should be enough. The moon will be rising soon, enjoy your last few moments, blood sucker.’ He sneered and walked away, leaving me struggling to stay conscious from the blood loss.

 When I was sure he was out of earshot I tried to lean up again, but I couldn’t find the strength. I couldn’t die like this, Klaus knew why the ritual failed before, but I needed to make sure that this time was a success. My family and friends were counting on me. I felt my stubborn streak rise up inside of me and I managed to reach the ropes. It took a lot longer than it should have, but I managed to snap the rope and when I landed on the ground I untied my legs and unsteadily got to my feet. Taking a deep breath, I focused my hearing—the pack was definitely close and they were in the path I would need to take to reach the Mikaelson mansion. I inwardly cursed and started heading in that direction, being sure to stay as far away from them as possible when I reached them. The relief at making it past them didn’t last long as after about five minutes of stumbling I heard bones breaking. They had started. I’d learned from Tyler that the more wolves transformed, the quicker the transformation happened. I was willing to bet that these wolves had transformed more than a few times. Using my last bit of strength I flashed forward, managing to make it to the woods directly in front of the house.

 ‘Klaus!’ I yelled but looked behind me when I heard twigs breaking.

 When I was met with several fully transformed wolves I felt my stomach drop. I saw one lunge for me and I closed my eyes, fully ready to accept that I was as good as dead. A whimper followed by a crash made my eyes snap open in surprise and what I saw surprised me and relieved me at the same time. Klaus had thrown the wolf that had lunged at me into a tree with enough force to knock it out, and was steadily working his way through dismembering the others. With his strength and speed it didn’t take him long to deal with the four that had caught up with me. Before I knew it, he was in front of me, his hands grasping my upper arms, but I barely registered it, because he was looking at me with an expression of pure worry on his face. Though admittedly, due to my weakened state he was a little unfocused and so my sight wasn’t completely reliable. There was no way he was concerned about me.

 ‘Evangeline, look at me.’ His hand went to the side of my face, bringing my gaze to his.

 ‘They’re coming.’ I murmured and I was grateful he was holding me because if he weren’t, I would have fallen to the floor.

 ‘Let’s get you inside, love,’ he whispered, but before he could lift me up, the sound of growling filled the air.

 Klaus’ face hardened and he shifted me to stand behind him as he faced the newcomers. I felt my knees buckle without him supporting me and I was helpless to stop myself from falling to the floor. I was sure I was about to pass out, but before I could I felt a sharp sting in my side that made me scream before blackness consumed me once again.

 Klaus’ POV

 ‘Elijah!’ I yelled as I rushed into the house, carrying Evangeline’s body in my arms.

 I had managed to destroy all of the wolves, but not before one had bitten her. The feeling that accompanied me hearing her shout for me was a feeling I hadn’t felt in centuries—complete and utter fear.

 ‘What happened?’ Elijah’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

 ‘A wolf bit her.’ I growled, blinking away the tears in my eyes, ‘find me a witch, any witch.’

 ‘Brother—,’ Elijah started, probably about to remind me that no witch was going to be able to stop the inevitable but I didn’t want to hear it.

 ‘Now!’ I roared before taking Evangeline to my room.

 I laid her down onto the bed, brushing her hair out of her face and frowning at how pale she had already gotten. Wolf bites wouldn’t usually work so quickly, but the state she had already been in was hurrying the process along at an alarming rate. Watching helplessly as she deteriorated wasn’t something I wanted to do, so I decided to take a different approach. I took her hand in mine and opened up my mind before delving into hers.

 Evangeline’s POV

 The smell of bacon cooking roused me from my sleep. It must have been Saturday; mom always cooked bacon on the first day of the weekend as well as pancakes. I rolled out of bed and pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, smiling when I heard Elena skipping down the hall. After grabbing my dressing gown I followed after her, eager to eat breakfast. Today was going to be a good day.

 ‘Good morning family,’ I greeted brightly, ruffling Elena’s hair on my way past her to take my seat.

 ‘Hey!’ she complained around a mouthful of bacon, making me chuckle.

 ‘You’re chipper this morning.’ Mom said with a little laugh, her hand coming to the side of my face for a moment before falling away.

 ‘I have a good feeling. I’m gonna roll with it.’ I said in between mouthfuls of pancakes, ‘is dad already at work?’

 ‘Yeah one of his patients went into labour early this morning. He went to the surgery from there.’ Mom answered after taking a sip of coffee.

 ‘When’s aunt Jenna getting here?’ Elena asked, standing from the table and loading her dishes in the dishwasher.

 ‘This afternoon.’ Mom said, watching Elena’s movements with a knowing eye, ‘although she’s staying longer than she planned so if you want to go to this party tonight, you’ll get to see her tomorrow.’

 ‘Really?’ Elena’s expression brightened and when mom nodded she squealed and ran over to hug her.

 ‘Same rules apply. In by eleven and no drinking.’ Mom gave her a stern look and Elena nodded with an innocent expression.

 I laughed but then something occurred to me—this had already happened. This exact day was the day my mom and dad had died. How was this happening? Was I dreaming?

 ‘Sweetie would you get that?’ Mom said, patting my arm.

 ‘Get what?’ I frowned.

 ‘The door.’ She smiled, and at that moment the doorbell rang.

 I stood to answer it, a feeling of uncertainty burrowing in my gut, but when I opened the door a feeling of relief washed over me.

 ‘Klaus.’ I breathed, stepping out onto the porch with him.

 ‘Hello, love.’ He smirked, though he was surprised when I leaped into his arms and hugged him hard—he was the only connection I had to genuine reality right now. Last I remembered I was running from some wolves in the fifteenth century and I’d reached Klaus’ arms.

 ‘I must say, this is not what I was expecting the future to look like.’ His comment distracted me from my worry and I pulled back from him to give him an amused look.

 ‘Ah, yes, you’re dressed how I’m used to seeing you.’ I joked, observing his shorter hair, brown leather jacket and jeans.

 ‘I much prefer the fashion here.’ He said looking over his own outfit. When his gaze moved over to mine he looked a mixture of confused and amused.

 ‘Believe it or not, nightwear is much more comfortable in the future.’ I told him, very matter-of-fact.

 ‘I can see that.’ He smirked and offered me his arm, which I took after smiling in bemusement at the gesture, ‘show me around your little town, love.’

 ‘Is that a good idea?’ I wondered but I led him to my car anyway, pleased to find my keys in the jacket of my bathrobe, ‘showing you what life will be like in six hundred years?’

 ‘It can’t hurt,’ he smiled, taking a moment to observe my car in amazement before climbing into the passenger seat, ‘what is this?’

 ‘It’s called a car, not as traditional as a horse and carriage, but it gets you where you need to go.’ I teased, deciding not to turn on the radio in favour of not wanting him to combust.

 ‘So where are you taking me?’ Klaus wondered, staring at the surroundings with wrapt interest.

 ‘I’m taking you to the Mystic Grill. It’s the prime hangout here.’ I informed him, pulling into an empty parking spot and gesturing at the establishment, ‘you can see how different alcohol tastes in the future.’

 ‘Lead the way love.’ Klaus smiled following me out of the car and into the bar.

 It was exactly how I remembered it that day; of course I’d originally come for lunch with my mom. The people were all there, Matt was busting tables, and Tyler was playing pool with Vicki hovering around him. I smiled faintly at the familiarity, of course in reality, Vicki wasn’t alive and neither was my Mom or Dad. I didn’t know why I was having this “dream” but I was going to roll with it for as long as I could.

 ‘Two bourbons please, Jeff,’ I grinned at the middle-aged man behind the bar.

 Klaus slipped into the stool next to mine and accepted the drink with an amused smirk.

 ‘Of all the things you could have had me doing… this is not what I expected.’ He commented, taking a sip of the bourbon.

 ‘This is the day my parents died,’ I murmured, smiling slightly when his eyes widened in surprise, ‘I woke up to pancakes and mom letting Elena go to this party she’s been asking about all week. I would have come to the Grill for lunch with my mom and then headed over to the library to start my summer reading.’

 ‘Summer reading?’

 ‘I was about to start my first semester at collage…’ I continued when he looked confused, ‘it’s somewhere you can go to get refined skills in specific subjects. I was there most of the day, and I went home to dinner with my family, apart from Elena. It was going perfectly well, until Elena called for a ride home. Mom and Dad left but never came back.’

 ‘Being heartbroken over the loss of a parent is not something I can relate to,’ he admitted, looking down for a moment before looking over to me, ‘but I’m sorry, love.’

 ‘I miss them every day. But it does get easier.’ I murmured, ‘I hate to say that because it shouldn’t should it? The pain of missing them should grow every day, not lessen.’

 ‘Those who love us, never truly leave us.’ Klaus said softly, his hand resting on top of mine, ‘you don’t need to feel guilty about not missing them as much because they’re always going to be with you.’

 I hadn’t realised I was crying until he gently wiped away the tears from my cheeks. I cleared my throat.

 ‘Thank you. I needed to hear that.’ I smiled softly and shook my head, ‘come on, I want to show you something.’

 Klaus allowed me to drag him back to my car, where I drove him to Mystic Falls High School. I grinned at him as he eyed the building curiously.

 ‘This is where I went to high school,’ I told him, taking his hand and leading him to the front doors, ‘of course it’s the weekend, but we have supernatural strength.’

 I shot him a mischievous look that made him chuckle as I broke the chains that had the doors locked. After throwing them to the ground, I opened them and led him inside.

 ‘How long were you in high school for?’ Klaus asked, glancing around at the lockers, classrooms and stopping to look at the class case that held pictures of past sports teams.

 ‘Four very long years.’ I said very melodramatically.

 ‘You didn’t enjoy it?’ he wondered.

 ‘Sometimes I did.’ I nodded, ‘and sometimes I didn’t. It was a… unique experience. Of course, when I graduated, every time I came back to this school it was for something bad.’

 ‘How do you mean?’ He frowned and I pursed my lips, debating whether to tell him—I had held back the fact Elena was a doppelgänger on purpose when I told him about the future the other day. But it seemed futile now, what difference did it make with him knowing about Elena?

 ‘I’ll show you.’ I said, an idea forming as I dragged him to the cafeteria, I pulled him into the corner and let the memory of Elena and I being attacked by one of the tomb vampires play out in front of us.

 We had both managed to fight him off, using pencils and I even managed to steak him in the back. Before he could retaliate out of anger, Damon and Stefan had arrived.

 ‘Your sister is the next doppelgänger.’ Klaus realised, looking over to me with an astonished look on his face, ‘that’s why you want me to complete the ritual now.’

 ‘It’s one of the reasons.’ I nodded, hoping I wasn’t making the wrong decision by telling him, but at the same time I knew I hadn’t.

 ‘What are the others?’ He asked, squeezing my hand gently.

 I had already told him what he had done when he came to Mystic Falls, but maybe showing him would help him understand more. I took a deep breath and imagined we were back at my house, internally cursing myself for driving around when I could have manipulated the scenes around me. When I opened my eyes, we were stood in the hallway and I silently pulled Klaus so we were standing side by side, looking in on the living room.

 ‘Those are the reasons.’ I smiled softly watching Elena and Jeremy arguing over who got the last valentine’s chocolate.

 Jenna walked in from the kitchen and took the box out from the middle of them, telling them that seeing as she was the only one not to receive anything for valentines, she deserved it. Jeremy and Elena didn’t argue, holding up their hands in surrender.

 ‘That’s my aunt Jenna.’ I said softly, being careful to keep the anger out of my voice, ‘I told you about her.  You turned into a vampire and used in the ritual to unlock your werewolf side.’

 Klaus looked surprised, glancing in between me, and the light-hearted family scene that was taking place in the next room. I looked away from him, taking in every detail I could. The sound of Jenna’s laugh, the way she teased Jeremy over his valentine, which Elena enjoyed until she turned her antics on the older Gilbert sibling.

 ‘You miss her,’ he noted, when my eyes flickered over to him I noticed he was watching me.

 ‘I do. When our parents died she was all we had. She suddenly had three teenagers that she was obligated to care for overnight and honestly I don’t know how any of us would have gotten through it without her.’ I felt tears trailing down my cheeks, but didn’t bother with wiping them away.

 His hand came up to the side of my face to wipe the moisture away, and I felt myself unintentionally leaning into his touch, but something broke the moment. A sharp pain flared up in my side and I whimpered, pulling away from Klaus to lift up my shirt, revealing a bite mark.

 ‘Is this real?’ I asked in a small voice, not meeting his eyes in fear for what I’d find.

 ‘Yes,’ he said reluctantly, his index finger went to my chin to force me to meet his gaze, ‘I have Elijah on his way with a witch.’

 ‘There’s only one cure for a werewolf bite.’ I told him, suddenly weak—apparently I’d been distracted from reality for as long as I could. The irony wasn’t lost in me—the two pieces of information I’d wanted to keep to myself, I had ended up telling him in less than twenty-four hours.

 ‘What is it?’ he demanded urgently.

 ‘Your blood.’ I said simply and I felt the alternate world we were consumed in collapse around me.

 ‘Klaus?’ I groaned; I could feel the fever burning underneath my skin, the sweat and the pain erupting from my side.

 ‘Here, love.’ He said and my eyes snapped open when I smelled blood.

 His wrist was in front of my face, a bite mark already in place to release the blood from underneath his skin. I could feel the veins growing underneath my eyes at the sight; I had been weak and hungry before I’d been bitten and now it had increased ten fold.

 ‘I might take too much.’ I warned him, already bringing his wrist to my mouth and moaning when a few drops spilled onto my lips.

 ‘Take as much as you need. It won’t kill me.’ Klaus assured me, lifting my head up to make it easier.

 Without further hesitation, I allowed my vampire face to come forward and I bit into his skin, savouring the taste of his blood on my tongue. He tasted exquisite; even better than the first time I tasted blood. I didn’t think it was possible, humans were supposed to be the best food source for vampires, but I could have easily survived on Klaus’ blood without any complaint. I drank until the fever broke, until the pain stopped, until the wound on my side stitched itself back together, and my hunger was satisfied. When I was finished, Klaus wasn’t any worse for wear; he continued gently stroking my hear and when my fangs withdrew from his skin, he kissed my forehead and lay me back down on the bed, where I went without complaint. I was more than happy to sleep, as the whole days events had been more than exhausting.

 Klaus’ POV

 I heard her breathing even out and felt myself release a sigh of relief that she had been right; my blood had cured her werewolf bite. She was going to be okay. Now that I knew that, I was fully able to digest all of the information she had given me while I’d been inside of her head. What she had both told me and shown me in the last twenty-four hours made me realise a few things. First, she was telling the truth about coming back for her family, and I couldn’t blame her, because her sister would have had to die for the ritual to be completed. Second, she was one of the strongest women I knew; she lost her parents, her aunt, her life and she was the one who shouldered the responsibility for her family. Third, I vowed that even if Katherine got away this time, I was never going to walk into her life and tear it apart like I had before, because… she didn’t hate me. She should have, but she didn’t. That was made clear when she comforted me by the river and told me she wasn’t going to blame me for something I hadn’t done yet, when she easily could have and with reasonable justification. And another reason that I wouldn’t hurt her sister, or any members of her family was because I wouldn’t be the reason that her life was ripped away from her, hindering her from living a full immortal life. I couldn’t hurt her. Not when I was more than certain that my affection for her was starting to become more than me fancying her. There were a few things that needed to be done, to assure that Evangeline went back to the future she deserved.

Love and Again

Amnesia fic (kinda) featuring Raphael!Crowley before he fell and the angels being dicks, set right after armageddon’t.  Read on ao3 here (X)

Fingers carded through his long hair, trailing down his back and then pushing their way between the feathers of his wings.  He shivered, overwhelmed by the feeling of love he could feel pulsing off his angel.

His Aziraphale.

Aziraphale lifted his head and looked up at his face.  God, he was so beautiful.  One of Her greatest creations, in his totally unbiased opinion.  The stars he crafted had nothing on the sparkle in Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his own aura of love swelling as he looked at his angel.  “You’re glorious.”

Aziraphale ducked his head, suddenly depriving him of the beauty of his face.  That wouldn’t do.  He lifted a hand and caressed Aziraphale’s cheek, slowly lifting him back into his eyesight.  Aziraphale covered his hand with his own and turned his face into his palm, gently kissing it.

Looking back at him, Aziraphale said, “I love you, Raph-”

Crowley woke, heart pounding.  What was the use of a demon having a heart, anyway?  Damn thing was more of an accessory than anything.  At least, that was what Crowley told himself.

He stared at the ceiling, trying to cling to the dream he had, but he could already feel details crumble through his memory.  All he knew was that wasn’t the first time he’d had that dream, or ones similar, because the residual feelings of light and love that were fluttering around in his chest were achingly familiar.

For Go-, for Sata-, for someone’s sake, this was ridiculous.  He didn’t need to be chasing the memory of some dream specter.  He had Aziraphale.  

Oh fuck.

Aziraphale.

Crowley leaped out of bed and skidded down the hall in search of his angel.  It was the day after armageddon’t and while Crowley was as elated as he could be that the Earth wasn’t a pile of burning goo, he would feel even better if his angel could stay put for five bloody seconds.

He slid into the living room area, where, on a couch that was decidedly not his, Aziraphale sat with a book and a cup of tea.

“Oh, good morning, Crowley!  I was wondering when you’d be up,” Aziraphale said, looking up at him and smiling.

Crowley felt a twinge as he looked down at Aziraphale, like his mind was trying to remember something important, but the memory wasn’t there.

“You could have woken me, angel,” he said, running a hand down then back up his face, through his short hair.  Another twinge.  

Aziraphale’s face sobered as he rose.  “It’s going to be a big day, Crowley.  I wanted you to be as rested as you could be.”

“Right.”

They had made their plan on the bus ride to London.  Choofe your faces wisely.  But it was a very different thing to have a plan and to carry out said plan.

“Well… shall we?” Aziraphale said, holding out a hand.

Crowley took it, forcing himself not to show any emotion.  It was as impersonal as a bloody handshake, for fuck’s sake.  He felt his appearance change and retracted his hand, pretending the tingling he felt was from the transformation.

It was odder than he had expected to look at Aziraphale, see Aziraphale’s mannerisms, but have them come from his body.  He found himself straightening his shoulders and clasping his hands over his belly.

Aziraphale looked at him and Crowley could tell he was feeling the same dissonance as he was.

“Strange,” was all he said.

“I’ll head to the bookshop.  See if Adam set it right,” Crowley said, startling momentarily at Aziraphale’s voice coming from his mouth.

Aziraphale nodded.  “I’ll go to your apartment, then.  Meet you at the park afterward.”

Crowley nodded.  He didn’t want Aziraphale to leave.  He had the feeling that something big, something possibly horrible would happen if they walked out the door.

Aziraphale turned to go.  

“Be safe, angel.”  The words left Crowley’s mouth before he could stop them.

Aziraphale turned, and even though it was Crowley’s eyes looking at Crowley, he could see his angel underneath.  But then Aziraphale slouched and smirked at him, putting on a pair of sunglasses he pulled out of his pocket.  He was good, Crowley had to admit.

“You too, angel,” he said.

Before Crowley could even compute what had happened, Aziraphale in Crowley’s form was out the door.

What in someone’s name was that?!

______________________________________________

It was harder than Crowley had expected to let himself get dragged away from Aziraphale, to pretend to be scared and helpless against the angels pulling him along.  He almost broke character when Hastur leaned over Aziraphale’s unconscious body.  He only could control himself because he knew that keeping in character was the one thing that would keep Aziraphale safe in the long run.

It was harder once they got to Heaven, though.  Mostly because he had forgotten how much of a prick Gabriel was.  

“I’m the archangel fucking Gabriel,” he said and Crowley was ready to punch his teeth in.

“Now, we’re going to destroy you, there’s no getting around that.  But our new partnership downstairs gave us an idea of what to do beforehand.  Turns out, demons are good at torture.  I mean, what’s new, they’re demons.  But this is particularly diabolical, even for them.”

Crowley forced himself to remain calm.  He didn’t know what they were going to do to him, but he didn’t really care about himself right now.  Whatever they did to him, his demonic counterparts could be doing to Aziraphale in Hell right now.

Let him be safe, he thought.  He didn’t care who was listening.  He just needed someone to look after his angel.  He got the feeling he might not be able to soon.

Gabriel reached into a box Uriel was holding and pulled out a ball of gold light.  It floated in the palm of Gabriel’s hand.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked.

Crowley slowly shook his head.

“These are all the memories you had of the angel Raphael,” Gabriel said and there it was again, that stupid twinge in Crowley’s brain.  He made Aziraphale’s face look open and curious.  “We took them out of you after he fell.  They made you too distracted.  Distraught, even.  It wasn’t a good look on you.”

“I don’t know who Raphael is,” Crowley said, Aziraphale’s voice quavering.

Gabriel, Uriel, and Sandalphan laughed.

“Oh, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, leaning in, the ball of light still floating between his hands.  “He’s the angel who loved you.”

And he thrust the ball of light into Crowley’s face.

Crowley screamed.

_______________________________________________

Red hair filled his vision.  But it wasn’t just red.  It was copper and auburn and ruby and flames come to life.  

“Raphael?” he asked, “I’m Aziraphale, a principality.  I wanted to give you my regards on…”

He trailed off as Raphael turned to him because God, She had done amazing work when she had created him.  Yellow eyes like warm pools of gold appraised Aziraphale, but he didn’t feel judged by the gaze.

“Aziraphale, you said?” Raphael asked.

Unable to do more, Aziraphale nodded.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Raphael said, reaching out with a wing to brush against Aziraphale’s.  It was a gesture that Aziraphale had participated in hundreds of times, but never before had he been so aware of another angel’s graze of feathers against his own.

“And you, as well,” he said, his voice coming out quieter than he’d like.

Raphael smiled at him.  “I hope She deems to make us cross paths again, Aziraphale.  I’d like to know you more.”

“A-and you, as well,” Aziraphale said again, then immediately regretted the words.  The archangel would think him a simpleton.

But instead of laughing at him, Raphael’s smile turning into a full beam of joy.  God, he was stunning.

“Until next time,” he said, wings unfurling and he flew into the sky.

_____________________________________________

Aziraphale pushed his fingers through those long, flaming locks, reveling in the act.  He still had a hard time believing he was able to do this.  He had a hard time believing that God allowed beings to be so happy.  He felt he could burst with it.

He looked up at Raphael and was struck by how beautiful he was.  The stars Raphael made took after their creator.  He was radiant.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Raphael said.  “You’re glorious.”

Aziraphale was suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of love exuding from Raphael.  He looked down, feeling suddenly shy in the wake of such emotion.  Raphael’s hand cupped his cheek and gently pulled his face back up, so that their eyes could meet.  Aziraphale could see stars in Raphael’s eyes, bright lights directed exactly at him.  He turned his head and kissed the hand against his cheek.

“I love you, Raphael.  More than the oceans are deep and the skies are vast,” Aziraphale said.

“Oh, my dear angel.  I love you so.  Every star I create pales in comparison to your beauty,” Raphael replied.

“God…” Aziraphale said.  “You can’t just say things like that.”

He went up on tiptoe and pressed his lips against Raphael’s.  His fingers were back in Raphael’s hair and his wings had come up to encircle the both of them, cocooning Raphael in a physical display of his love.  Raphael met him kiss for kiss, touch for touch.  

“How can someone be this happy?  How did She allow it?” Raphael asked after they pulled minutely away.  

“I know, I can barely stand it,” Aziraphale replied, tucking his head into the crook of Raphael’s neck.  “Best not to ask.”

____________________________________________

He was gone.  Aziraphale watched as firey comets streaked down and away from Heaven. Aziraphale’s love continued to burn as bright as the flaming sword in his hand.  But Raphael was gone.

Gone.

____________________________________________

“Honestly, Aziraphale, we’re doing you a favor.  This way, you can go back to serving Her and not be distracted from your work.”

“I understand that.  I do.  But if you just gave me some time-”

“Time is up.  She needs you on Earth, guarding Eden, and you can’t do that if you’re caught up on some fallen angel,” Gabriel said.  

“Please, the memories, they’re all I have of him, if you take them, I won’t have anything left!” Aziraphale begged.

“I’m sorry, Aziraphale.  This must be done.”  Gabriel’s hand came towards his face and then everything went black.

____________________________________________

Crowley gasped as he came back to himself.  He didn’t need to breathe but his chest heaved as he tried to understand all that he had just seen.  Countless memories of Aziraphale’s, all of an angel named Raphael.

That had been him.  Him, Crowley, before the fall.  Raphael.  His name had been Raphael.

Aziraphale had loved him.

His angel.  Then and now.

“Don’t get this view down in the basement,” Crowley heard and he forced his eyes open because he knew that voice, but what was a lower demon doing here?

Crowley watched, being sure to keep his expression as open and trusting as he could, trying to keep his cover to keep his angel safe.  As Hellfire billowed up and up and up to the ceiling, though, he had to take a moment to thank someone that he was here and Aziraphale was elsewhere.  This, he could survive.  The residual feeling of love in his chest might kill him though.

“I don’t suppose I can persuade you to reconsider?” he asked lightly.  Some of his anger flared at the idea that Aziraphale was supposed to be here, was supposed to be the one stepping into the flames and he snapped, “We’re meant to be the good guys, for Heaven’s sake.”

“Well, for Heaven’s sake, we are meant to make examples out of traitors.  So… into the flame.”

Be Aziraphale.  Don’t give it away.  Don’t punch his teeth in.  Keep him safe, Crowley chanted as he approached the flames, trying control himself.

“Right…  Well, lovely knowing you all.  May we meet on a better occasion,” he said, forcing himself to be nice, forcing himself to smile.

“Shut your stupid mouth and die already,” Gabriel replied, then plastered on the fakest smile Crowley had seen on any face; angel, demon, or otherwise.

Crowley couldn’t keep the contempt off his face as he stepped into the flame.  He immediately felt the kind of warmth only hellfire could give a demon.  He sighed, letting go of the tension he had been holding in his neck.  Then he opened his eyes and smirked at the flabbergasted angels standing before him.

He roared, letting all the anger inside him out in a blast of Hellfire.  At the angels’ taking away Aziraphale’s memories for his own good.  At them trying to end Aziraphale’s existence.  At the way they treated his angel, like he was lesser than them, when in reality, he was so much more.

They were lucky they fell back in shock.  He was ready to burn them out of existence.

He stepped out of the flames and forced himself not to laugh as the angels took another step back.  “Well,” he said, trying to be Aziraphale with a cheerful, unaffected air as he spoke, “if that is all, I’ll be off.  I would prefer to keep all communication to a minimum from now on.  You understand.  Toodle pip.”

They made no move to stop him as he turned his back and walked out of Heaven.  He descended the escalator back to Earth and waited in the lobby for Aziraphale to come up from Hell.  Crowley didn’t even consider the fact that he wouldn’t.  Not after everything.  Not with what he knew now of their past before Crowley had fallen.

Would that complicate things now?  Crowley loved Aziraphale then and now, so nothing had really changed for him, but for Aziraphale?  Crowley didn’t even know if Aziraphale loved him.  Would this just make things weird between the two of them?  Should he just go?

God, so many questions.  No wonder She cast him out of Heaven.

“Angel!”

Crowley turned to see Aziraphale in his form careening his way towards him. (Is that how he looks when he runs?  He never did it often enough to know.)  Aziraphale didn’t stop when he reached him, he just grabbed his hand and pulled him into motion as well.  

“You alright?” Crowley asked, trying to look him over for injuries.

“Fine, fine, just want to get as far away from that place as possible,” Aziraphale said.

He didn’t stop pulling Crowley along until they were in St. James Park, just two people amongst everyone else and the ducks.  Aziraphale stopped and Crowley went to sit on the bench, but he was suddenly engulfed in the angel’s arms.

“Oh, Crowley.  I had no idea.  Well, obviously, I didn’t, but oh my dear-”  He squeezed him tighter to his body and Crowley could barely stand it because he was so confused.

“Angel, what happened?” Did they show you my memories?  Do you know that I loved you?  Do you know that I still do?

Aziraphale pulled back and picked at the cuffs of Crowley’s sleeves.  “They showed me- I saw- well, it would be easier to just show you,” he stuttered, holding out his hand.

Crowley only hesitated a moment before he took it, feeling not just his form change, but memories transfer over as well.  He let go of the ones he had seen and heard Aziraphale gasp as reality faded and the memories took over.

_______________________________________________

Raphael felt someone’s presence close to him, but didn’t turn, instead staring up at the sky.  “Raphael?  I’m Aziraphale, a principality.  I wanted to give you my regards on…”

The voice was new and Raphael turned to see a blond, beautiful angel standing there.  He looked him over, taking in every glorious detail of him.  

“Aziraphale, you said?” he asked, wanting to commit the name to memory along with the rest of him.

The angel nodded, his blond curls bobbing with the movement.  

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Raphael said, brushing a wing against Aziraphale’s.  He reveled in the feeling of his feathers against the other angel’s.  They were soft and as radiant as the rest of him.  The stars Crowley carefully crafted were nothing compared to Aziraphale.

“And you, as well,” Aziraphale said, his voice as soft as his wings.

Raphael felt his mouth turn up into a smile, unable to keep his pleasure inside himself.  “I hope She deems to make us cross paths again, Aziraphale.  I’d like to know you more.”

“A-and you, as well,” the other angel said.

God, he was simultaneously adorable and mesmerizing.  Raphael felt his grin grow and did nothing to stop it.

He didn’t want to leave, but he had work to do up amongst the stars.

“Until next time,” he said, committing the angel’s face and name, Aziraphale, to mind as he spread his wings and flew off towards his creations.

__________________________________________________

Fingers carded through his long hair, trailing down his back and then pushing their way between the feathers of his wings.  He shivered, overwhelmed by the feeling of love he could feel pulsing off his angel.

His Aziraphale.

Aziraphale lifted his head and looked up at his face.  God, he was so beautiful.  One of Her greatest creations, in his totally unbiased opinion.  The stars he crafted had nothing on the sparkle in Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his own aura of love swelling as he looked at his angel.  “You’re glorious.”

Aziraphale ducked his head, suddenly depriving him of the beauty of his face.  That wouldn’t do.  He lifted a hand and caressed Aziraphale’s cheek, slowly lifting him back into his eyesight.  Aziraphale covered his hand with his own and turned his face into his palm, gently kissing it.

Looking back at him, Aziraphale said, “I love you, Raphael.  More than the oceans are deep and the skies are vast.”

“Oh, my dear angel.  I love you so.  Every star I create pales in comparison to your beauty,” Raphael replied.  It was true.  It seemed that he couldn’t encapsulate Aziraphale’s glory in one of his creations.  He had tried and every time, he failed.

“God…” Aziraphale said.  “You can’t just say things like that.”

He leaned up and kissed Raphael.  Raphael reveled in the feel of his lips against his own, his hands in his hair, his wings around him.  Every kiss and caress Raphael returned.  His hands tingled with every touch.

“How can someone be this happy?  How did She allow it?” Raphael asked into the small space between them.  He couldn’t believe the vast emotions emanating off of his angel.

“I know, I can barely stand it,” Aziraphale replied as he tucked his head into the crook of Raphael’s neck.  Raphael’s hair was trapped between Aziraphale’s cheek and his neck, but he made no motion to move him, just silently miracled his hair slightly longer to allow the movement without discomfort. “Best not to ask.”

Easier said than done when there were so many questions reverberating around Raphael’s head.

_________________________________________________

He was burning.  Every cell of his form was on fire and the trail of smoke following him told him that the fire was consuming the outside of him as well.

His last thought before he met with a pool of boiling sulfur was, “God, spare my love.  Spare Aziraphale.”

He emerged from the pool, surrounded by fellow fallen ones, wings black, eyes slitted.  He didn’t know who he had been.  He was that angel no more.

The one that would be known as Crawley lost all memory of who he had been and in doing so, lost all that he knew of the angel known as Aziraphale.

Until now.

_____________________________________________________

Crowley gasped as he came out of his trance, even though he had been expecting the memories this time.  His eyes were closed but he didn’t open them just yet.  He was overwhelmed with all the memories that were running around his head now.  It had been one thing to see them from Aziraphale’s point of view, but to see them from his, or at least, Raphael’s perspective…  It was almost too much for him to bear.  He had loved Aziraphale for so long, to feel his love, even though it was directed at his past self, was both wonderful and painful.

He opened his eyes to see Aziraphale looking at him with tears in his eyes.  His expression was so soft that Crowley could barely stand it.

“I’m not him!” he burst out.  “I’m not-  I’m not Raphael.  Not anymore.”

Aziraphale’s brow creased as he stared at him.

“I mean, I know you were in love with him.  Raphael.  I saw that.  Felt it.  But I’m not him.  So please, don’t start to feel something for me now that you remember, just because of retroactive emotions.  I couldn’t bear it, angel. I might love you now but I don’t expect you to suddenly start to feel the same way just because of some emotions you had over 6,000 years ago.  I have enough self-respect to know that’s not good-”

“You love me?” Aziraphale demanded.

Wot.

“Wot?”  Crowley’s eyes widened as he stared at the angel, then quickly turned his attention to the ground.

He hadn’t meant to let that slip.

“Crowley.  Please, dear.  Look at me,” Aziraphale requested.

Crowley shook his head, eyes closed behind his sunglasses.  Maybe if he just didn’t look at Aziraphale, he would just eventually go away.  

No such luck.

“My dear demon, just because I found out that you have fallen in love with me twice, does not mean that I will suddenly cast you aside.  It would be highly hypocritical of me, seeing as I have done the same.”

At that, Crowley’s head snapped up.  Had he just heard that right?

“I don’t-  I… Angel.  Please, say that clearly.  I need to hear you say it,” Crowley begged.

“I love you, Crowley.  You.  The demon.  The snake.  The celestial being who has been by my side for 6,000 years.  My mirror.  My equal.”  He oh so gently held one of Crowley’s hands in his own, like Crowley was something delicate and precious he treasured.  Wait.   “I love you with every ounce of my being.”

How was Crowley supposed to hear that without crying?  He was blubbering like a baby, unable to help the warmth that he felt blooming throughout his whole body.  It was like stepping into Hellfire, without the edge of pain.

“I- I love you, Aziraphale.  You-,” He ripped off his glasses with his free hand and wiped his eyes with the back of it, unable to stop the tears as they kept coming. “Fuck, angel, you’re everything.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, tears running down his face even as he beamed at Crowley.

Once again, Crowley found himself in his angel’s embrace.  

“Fuck it,” Crowley murmured, snapping his fingers and stopping time.  He unfurled his wings and curled them around Aziraphale, because dammit, he deserved to feel the same cocoon of warmth and love surrounding him that Crowley had in his memory.

Aziraphale shuddered but reflected the gesture, his wings materializing and wrapping around Crowley.

“My dear demon,” Aziraphale whispered, “may I kiss you?”

Ngk.

Suddenly unable to speak, Crowley just nodded his head repeatedly.  

Aziraphale seemed to steel himself and then turned his face up to Crowley.  He placed his hands over Crowley’s jaw, gently moving his head.  Crowley didn’t resist.  He didn’t think he ever would.

“I love you,” Aziraphale said and leaned in and kissed Crowley’s forehead.  “I love you,” he said and kissed Crowley’s cheek.  “I love you,” he said, kissing the tip of Crowley’s nose.  “I love you,” he said, leaning over and kissing Crowley’s other cheek.  He paused, making direct eye contact with Crowley, who at this point was a puddle of goo and love, and said, “I love you, my dear demon.”

And he leaned in and kissed Crowley on the lips.

It was just a soft brush of flesh against flesh at first, gentle touchings that were there and then gone again.  Then Crowley lifted a hand and put it on Aziraphale’s cheek, caressing it.  That seemed to set something off in Aziraphale, as he wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist and pulled him into his body.  The kiss became more present, deeper, as Crowley met him touch for touch, kiss for kiss.

It was overwhelming.  It was devastating.  It was glorious.

It felt like coming home.

Wretched/Deluded

Pairing: Prinxiety, side Logicality

Summary: As Virgil helps Logan get ready for a date, he reminisces back to when they first met in high school.

Warnings: Swearing (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Words: 3030

Song rec: Factories by Autoheart (This is less of a theme for this chapter, but more of the theme I’m using for the fic in its entirety!)

A huge thanks to the lovely @fall-sunflowers for being my beta reader!!

Taglist: @xionbean @thenewlarislynn @emo-disaster @darkstrange-son @starwarsdestroyedme

I love reading your comments! Please let me know what you think! :)

Read the companion to this story!

Next

——————————————-

Chapter 1: To Put Together Me

         ~ -222 days from The Beginning ~

Virgil heard the front door of his apartment slam shut.

        He switched the tab on his laptop from Tumblr to LinkedIn and got up from the couch, leaving the screen open and facing out as if to prove that he’d been doing what he was supposed to. His roommate walked through the kitchen, grinning.

        “Hey.” Virgil walked across the room and leaned against the wall. “You look happy.”

        “I am.” Logan opened the refrigerator and grabbed a water bottle. “I have a date tonight.”

        Virgil grinned. “You finally asked that guy you met?”

        “‘Finally’ seems rather melodramatic. I waited a perfectly reasonable amount of time before asking him out.” Logan cracked his water bottle open. “I’ve only known him for two weeks.”

        “And for two weeks you haven’t stopped talking about him.”

        Logan rolled his eyes. He took a drink and set the bottle down. “How goes the job hunt?”

        Virgil grimaced and sat back down on the couch. “I can’t find anything worthwhile.”

        “Maybe I can ask Patton tonight if he knows of anyone who’s hiring.” Logan offered. “He knows the city well.”

        Virgil scoffed. “You can’t ask that on a first date. He’ll think that’s the only reason you took him out.”

        Logan’s eyes widened. “Okay, I won’t.”

        Virgil grabbed his laptop. “When are you picking him up?”

        Logan checked his watch. “About two and a half hours.”

        “And what are you wearing?”

        Logan looked down at what he had on. “I was just going to wear this.”

        Virgil stopped. “You’re kidding, right?”

        “No. What’s wrong with it?”

        Virgil shook his head, eyes wide. “You can’t wear your daytime clothes on a date! Especially not when he’s already seen you in them that day. Do you want to look like you don’t care about going out with him?”

        “Well, obviously, not,” muttered Logan.

        Virgil sighed loudly and stood up. ”Come on, I’ll find you something.” He clasped Logan on the shoulder. “I guess some things never change.”

        Logan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “It’s not like I’m helpless without you.”

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” Virgil lightly pushed against Logan into his room and started to rifle through Logan’s closet.

~

        ~ -3110 days from The Beginning ~

Virgil Terek had no friends.

        And he was okay with that. He enjoyed being alone.

        It’s not like he wasn’t likable. He wasn’t an outcast. People were nice to him and he was polite back.

        Virgil just didn’t make an effort to put himself near other people. If he auditioned for the school musical, he’d be immediately adopted by the theater kids. Same with choir, or art, or any kind of sport, all things he could excel at. He simply didn’t want to.

        Virgil didn’t want to join a group where he’d always be on the outside. He might have had a couple friends, but he was too far behind to ever be a part of some tight-knit collection of people who had been in that club together since childhood. Virgil would sit with them at lunch, hang out with them on the weekends, go to their birthday and graduation parties. But they wouldn’t ask to work with him on group projects in class. They wouldn’t pick him for their team in gym. Every time they made plans, it would be, “Oh, and you can come too, if you want, Virgil.”

        And it was far too dangerous to have a single best friend, instead of a group of people. Virgil would never depend so much on one person. He’d just get hurt when they left for someone else.

        Virgil was happy where he was. At lunch he sat in silence with the other kind-of-loners like him and did homework. At home, he read or wrote or listened to music or watched television or dicked around on his phone. Virgil was content.

        The lack of friends eliminated distractions from what really mattered to Virgil. He could focus on what he wanted to do, and never had to worry about not having enough free time to do it.

Virgil Terek entered the ninth grade with complete indifference. By that point, he had learned his place in the world. As long as he maintained his grades and took all his required courses and interacted with his parents every once in awhile, nobody bothered him. He was free.

        And Virgil had never had a problem maintaining his grades. Being categorized as a “gifted student” sometime in elementary school, he never struggled with completing an assignment or needed to study for tests. Virgil was placed in the advanced classes throughout elementary and middle school and had no problem breezing through them without trying or even enjoying it.

        He took Geometry CP freshman year because it was the logical next step. He had no idea how much different an advanced high school course was from an advanced middle school course. When Virgil didn’t immediately understand a concept, he didn’t ask for help. When he only halfway understood the quadratic formula or didn’t memorize the order of the postulates and theorems, he didn’t study, because he had never had to before, and everything worked out on its own. Virgil started getting the worst test grades he had ever received in his life.

        A few weeks into the course, he was barely pulling a D+. His parents and teacher kept getting on his case, Virgil didn’t know how to fix his grades, and he felt his freedom slipping away.

        Other students complained near him about doing poorly, but their worst was always a grade Virgil would kill to have again. And the most annoying part was the new student in his class who never complained, who never was unprepared or confused, who seemed to have already mastered every topic in the course yet participated and accomplished classwork with vigor like it was the most interesting thing going on in his life.

        Over the course of a few weeks, Virgil saw his irrational hatred of the kid intensify. Every time he got a poor test grade or failed assignment, he grew angrier at the kid who had no problems with the material. Everything about him annoyed Virgil. He was a freshman who had just moved into town, and he was still better than Virgil. He was very tall and very thin, which should have made him awkward, but he wasn’t. He dressed every day like he was going to work, tie and all. He spoke so professionally, almost robotically. He was stuck up and arrogant and took every chance he could to correct someone. But he had an A+ in Geometry.

        Virgil, slumped at his desk in class while the teacher passed back their most recent tests, let these thoughts stew. He begrudgingly took the paper his teacher handed back to him, upside down and folded, with a stern but encouraging glance in Virgil’s direction. Virgil grimaced and turned it over.

        A big red D- sat leeringly at the top of the page. Virgil sighed. He looked to the front of the room at the new kid, who was flipping through the test, observing it with noticeable interest, looking over the unmarked pages before setting it back on the desk with an obvious A+ at the top.

        Virgil rolled his eyes to himself. None of his closest acquaintances were in the same math class, and he didn’t feel comfortable asking the sophomores and juniors in the period for help. This kid who didn’t know Virgil and therefore, didn’t have a reason to turn him away, might have been Virgil’s only chance to get his life back to normal.

        He groaned inwardly. He wished he had another option.

        When the period ended, Virgil walked up to the kid, who was packing up his backpack.

        “Hey, how’d you do on the test?” Virgil asked. He hated small talk, but he was about to ask a complete stranger for help, and Virgil felt that he at least owed it to the kid.

        “I got one-hundred percent,” answered the boy. Virgil resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

        “Cool. I didn’t do so well.” Virgil slung his backpack over his shoulder and they walked out of the classroom. “I’m Virgil, by the way.”

        The kid furrowed his brow. “Like the poet? What kind of a name is that?”

        Virgil glared at him. He decided didn’t need straight A’s that badly. “Alright, fuck off.” He started to walk away.

        “Wait, I’m sorry.” The other boy at least looked sheepish. “I don’t have much of a filter or an understanding of social etiquette. I tend to speak whatever I’m thinking without realizing the effects of what I say.”

        Jesus, this kid. Virgil was sure he had just recited that from a textbook he picked up somewhere. He sighed. “Okay. I don’t think that makes it better, though.”

        The kid stuck his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Virgil. My name is Logan Schlenke.”

        Virgil gingerly shook his hand and they continued down the hallway. “Okay, so here’s the deal. I’m kind of doing really badly in Geo and I can’t help but notice that you know what you’re doing.” He sighed. “Is there any way you can help me when I don’t understand what’s going on?”

        “You want me to tutor you?” asked Logan. “Sure, I can do that.”

        “It’s not tutoring, I just want a little help with the content.”

        “That would be called tutoring,” Logan offered.

        “No, I don’t need –” He stopped himself and gritted his teeth. “Fine, whatever, call it tutoring,” Virgil muttered. He bit his lip. “But you’ll do it?”

        Logan stopped. He looked at Virgil thoughtfully. “I’ll help you under one condition.”

        “Seriously?” Virgil groaned. “What is it?”

        “It’s become evident to me that in order to have a productive and enjoyable high school career, one must be on good terms with their classmates,” Logan said. “I’ll help you understand Geometry if you help me to understand how to interact with people.”

        Virgil raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’m your best choice to learn people skills, man. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I kind of keep to myself and don’t talk to anybody else.”

        “That’s not true,” Logan commented. “I’ve seen you talking with lots of people and everyone likes you. Besides, I don’t want or need actual friends. I just need to get along with the other students in the school.”

        Damn. This kid. Virgil was already regretting the decision. There had to be an easier way to pass Geo.

        He let out a breath. “Okay. I’ll help you.”

        Logan stuck his hand out again, and Virgil shook it. “It’s a deal,” Logan smiled.

        The two exchanged contact information, and Logan walked into his next class, leaving Virgil shaking his head in the hallway.

        Over the next few days, Logan went to Virgil’s house after school and worked with him on the content they learned in class.

        “Your main problem seems to be that you never learned how to study,” Logan noted. “If you practice teaching yourself the concepts you don’t understand in class, soon you won’t need someone to reteach it to you.”

        Virgil scoffed. “Why should I teach myself something when there’s a teacher getting paid to do it?”

        “Teachers or other professionals are useful to help explain a concept to students. Not all teaching styles work on everyone, so sometimes it’s necessary to find out how you learn best and teach it to yourself,” Logan explained, maintaining a remarkable amount of patience. “You should also pay attention in class more often.”

        Virgil tried to help Logan interact in social situations, but he had no idea how to teach him, or if any of what he knew would work for Logan. Logan tried his best, though, putting the same effort into studying people skills that he did in his schoolwork.

        “So, maybe, when you want to say something, just…don’t, for a bit. Until you think it over and decide it’s an acceptable thing to say,” Virgil offered.

        Logan’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t think I’ve tried that?”

        Virgil rolled his eyes. “Look, dude, I’m not really sure how it works for you, anyway. But if you want people to like you, you can’t say things that make you look like an asshole. Just…calibrate, I guess.”

        Logan’s eyebrow raised, but he said nothing. He jotted something down in a notebook.

        “And you have to lose the tie.”

        “Why?” asked Logan, genuinely confused.

        “Nobody wears ties to school unless they have to dress up. Don’t you own, like, a single t-shirt or something?”

        Horror flashed across Logan’s face. “Why would I wear a t-shirt to school?”

        “So you look like a normal human teenager and not a child trying to run for president.”

        Logan pursed his lips but wrote in his notebook again.

        Virgil took a breath. “Tomorrow, try wearing jeans, a nice t-shirt, and an unzipped hoodie. And brush your bangs forward a bit, your hair doesn’t have to all be going in the same direction.”

        Logan looked at Virgil like he had told Logan to wear nothing but a bathrobe to school, but he wrote it all down.

        And the next day, Logan walked up to Virgil at his locker, wearing skinny jeans with a brown belt, a long-sleeve gray and white raglan, and a green hoodie. He had his hair swept to the side, falling gently over his forehead, just high enough so it didn’t impede his vision.

        “Whoa.” Virgil grinned at Logan.

        Logan smiled sheepishly back, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “I feel ridiculous.”

        “You look great, man,” said Virgil. And he really meant it. He could already feel a difference in the energy surrounding Logan. He could feel the other students no longer seeing him as an outlier or a stranger, but as someone who could be anyone else in the school. He’s one of us, they seemed to think out loud.

        And, for the first time, Virgil realized that Logan was actually a really attractive guy. He just hadn’t known how to express himself. For some reason, Logan had tried to confine himself to a professional, more mature style. But in this outfit, he looked comfortable, relaxed, more laid-back and easygoing. Though he was almost definitely nervous of switching up his style so suddenly, Virgil could see in the way he carried himself that Logan felt more like himself in this outfit, not trying to prove to everyone that he’s someone he’s not.

        They began walking down the hallway. “The most important thing about wearing this today is being confident in it. It won’t have as much of an impact if you doubt yourself.” Virgil said. “I know it’s a big change, but you’ve got to believe that you do look good.”

        “You told me I did,” Logan said. “I have no reason to distrust you.”

        As they walked, a few kids in the opposite direction smiled or nodded hello to Logan. He smiled back

        “How do you feel?’ Virgil asked.

        “I feel good.” Logan nodded. “I had no idea how much something as small as what I wore could have an effect on how I’m perceived.”

        “You’re already starting to seem like a real person to the others,” Virgil smiled. “Keep this up and I’d bet anything you could get any girl in the school.”

        Logan laughed out loud. “We’ll see. How did you do on the pop quiz in Geometry yesterday?”

        “I got a B,” Virgil grinned.

        “Well, that’s certainly an improvement, but I know you can do more. Are you free again this afternoon?”

        Virgil sighed. God forbid he be proud of less than his best. “Yeah, my place again?”

        Logan nodded and turned into his first period classroom for the day.

        As the days passed, Virgil slowly grew more confident in his abilities to learn and understand things himself. He noticed that he started asking questions in class when he was lost, and he noticed seeing Logan smirk with pride every time.

        Logan slowly grew more accustomed to social interaction. His robotic syntax and word choice didn’t change, but with the change in style, it began to seem quirky and intelligent rather than just arrogant. And though he still, with nothing but good and helpful intentions, corrected anyone who was wrong about anything, Virgil helped him to do it without making the other person feel stupid. Logan made friends, built connections, and started making a place for himself in the school.

        Virgil soon became confident in his ability to study and learn things on his own, which was a huge source of pride for him. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to properly study. As one last benchmark, Logan went an entire chapter without tutoring or explaining anything to Virgil.

        At the end of the chapter, his teacher handed him his test, upside down, with a pleased smile. Virgil turned over the paper to see a 96% A crowning the top.

        Virgil ran up to Logan at the end of the class as they walked out together. “I can’t believe I did it!”

        Logan grinned. “Congratulations.”

        “Man, I could not have done this without you. Thank you so much for everything,” said Virgil.

        “You’re welcome.”

        Virgil pulled his phone out. “Do you want to come over today? I have to text my mom but I know she’ll be fine with it.”

        Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “Is there another class you’re having trouble with?”

        “What?” Virgil looked up at him. “No, no. Not for studying. Just to hang out.”

        Logan raised his eyebrows.

        “Like, for fun?” Virgil continued.

        Logan’s face lit up. “Okay. Sure.”

        He turned and walked away, beaming. As Virgil watched him go, a realization hit him. He had been trying for so long to get his life back to normal, back to being alone and untethered. But now, he’d never be able go back to that life.

        “Goddamn,” he muttered.

        Virgil Terek had one friend.

        He walked away, shaking his head and laughing at himself, but unable to keep a smile off his face.

La Princesse (Part One)

I don’t... I don’t know what to say for myself.  Two days ago I had a dream I made out with Chris Jericho, told it to the hangman gang and my bestie so they could all laugh at me, and instead they all started to point out why that’d actually be something I’d be into and got my brain going a completely different direction so, uh... here’s part one of I guess what’s going to be a sugar daddy Chris Jericho fic????  There isn’t anything TOO exciting in this part, it just sets everything up, but things will spice up an get nasty in the next bit.  

Ship: Chris Jericho x (currently) nameless plus-sized female OC

Summary: Chris Jericho’s eyes have been caught on one of the backstage personnel working for AEW and, as we all know, what Le Champion wants, Le Champion gets.  The only thing is... will she agree to his terms and let him spoil her the way he wants to?

Rating: Mature? (? I guess?? Nothing really bad happens in this part except some “talk”)

Warnings: Sugar baby/Sugar Daddy proposition talk

Length: 2,979 words

Available below the cut

Soft music played throughout the rented room in the upscale high-rise hotel, filling the gaps between conversational lulls but never loud enough that it’d steal conversation.  Though there was an open space cleared for dancing, no one had taken to the floor yet and were instead grouped among friends, holding their beverage of choice and enjoying each other’s company.  The windows along the edge were nearly from floor to ceiling in size, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline with its thousands of lights lit in the windows of skyscrapers, mimicking stars that couldn’t be seen from here.

“You know,” a charming voice familiar to hundreds of thousands of people was suddenly in her ear and she had to swallow the surprise that made her want to jump.  She blinked, catching his reflection in the tinted hotel window before she turned, gaze trailing up the front of his expensive, fitted suit and on those blue eyes that were even more vivid up close.  He gestured with a tilt of his head toward the left side of the building. “You can see Dames Point Bridge lit up over there.”

“Oh,” she started, scrambling, trying to find an excuse to slip away from his presence, not because she didn’t want to talk to him, but because she felt she had no right.

He was Chris Jericho.  A man worth millions with legions of fans following every breath he drew.  The charm and magnetism oozed from him with such potency, the moment he entered a room everyone became aware he was there.  It was as if the air changed and shifted around him.  Sometimes, backstage, it caught her breath and she found herself floundering where she stood, trying to flatten against the nearest wall and hope not to be seen. 

She was no one.  Backstage personnel.  A fly on the wall where Chris Jericho, Le Champion, should be concerned.  Why was he even bothering to give her the time of day?  A quick glance showed three of his closest followers – the Inner Circle – were talking nearby, sitting on couches in a nearby lounge area.  Shouldn’t he be with them?

When her eyes swung back to him he was smiling at her in that way he often did, like his position afforded him knowledge of something everyone else had yet to figure out.

“Come on,” he beckoned, brows dipping as he nodded and opened an arm, easily wrapping her in it.  The pads of his fingers skimmed her bare shoulder as he turned her.  Sensual by accident, no doubt.  “What are you drinking?”

Her eyes jerked down to her flute, half-filled, and back to him.  “Champagne.”

“Ah,” he said, grin spreading with amusement, “a little bit of the bubbly?”

Despite her nervousness at being one-on-one with a man she always feared bothering just by existing near, she couldn’t help but smile too.  “Yeah.”

“Good girl.”  His voice dipped, warm with praise and said low and soft enough that the words would only be theirs. 

She blinked, and her eyes jerked forward, breath subtly catching in her chest.  It hadn’t been intentional, she mentally chided.  His eyes hadn’t dropped purposefully from her gaze to her mouth and he hadn’t lingered there long enough to make her wonder.  It was her perverted mind that let the phrase be something more than it should be.  It was her nervousness at interacting with a star as magnanimous as Chris Jericho, one-on-one, and him seeking her out that had her mind in a jumble.

“Let’s top it off,” he suggested, sliding them to the expensive stone bar top that gleamed, polished to perfection, and showed faint images of the world above in its reflection.  He reached without invitation and plucked the glass flute from her fingers, setting it down and smiling with that same ease of charm he’d approached her with.

She knew as well as anyone how quickly that charisma could sour, if anyone dared deny him whatever he asked for, no matter how minuscule the request.  Of course, a man like Chris Jericho likely wasn’t told no often.

“A flute of the bubbly,” his voice dropped purposefully when he said the word he’d somehow trademarked, and he slid a grin at her, one that was infectious enough to make her smile too, “for this pretty little thing.”  He requested from the man in the white-collar shirt and black vest and tie who’d been making the drinks. 

Had Chris Jericho just called her pretty?

“No, no,” he clicked his tongue and something in his tone suggested the man was dumb for reaching for the mid-shelf alcohol he’d gone to grab, the one everyone else who drank at the company party was happy to indulge in.  “Top shelf.”

“Oh, no, I can’t pay for tha–” she started to say, worried.  The open bar had stipulations and expensive, top-shelf liquor was not included.

He glanced down at her with that same amused expression.  The one that said: You silly little girl.  Hush while I’m talking.  Don’t interrupt me.  I make the decisions.

Her lips pressed shut and she glanced the top shelf of alcohol, which glittered and gleamed with decadent temptation.  Chris hummed thoughtfully under his breath and lazily directed the barkeep down the choices of expensive champagne, all of which a glass alone would pay half of one month’s rent on her studio apartment.  He settled on what she knew to be the most expensive, and she watched the pale gold, sparkling liquid pour into the glass with disbelief.  This was a dream.  This all had to be a dream.

“Add it to my tab.” He said.

She was still thinking it when Chris plucked the flute up by its long glass stem and wrapped her under his arm again, once more dragging the pads of his fingertips ever-so-lightly up the curve of her shoulder and down it.  He steered them a little way away from the nearest bunch of their coworkers, where their conversation couldn’t be picked up by curious ears and stopped them by the window.

“See?”  He asked and peeled his arm from around her shoulders, so his fingers could lightly catch her chin, pinching just briefly as he turned her eyes toward the city life below.  His hand slipped away, the action happening so quickly it was over before she could react.

She struggled to catch a breath and looked out, seeing the cables of Dames Point Bridge glowing a breathtakingly pretty blue-white over the dark, unlit waters of the Saint John’s River.  She had always thought the bridge was pretty, all lit up at night, but she’d never seen it from this vantage point.

“Beautiful,” he marveled, but when her eyes jumped to their reflection, saw he was watching her.  Her stomach twisted tight, and his gaze caught hers in the dark glass.  There was a boldness he wore like no one else could, that came with his vainglorious demand that everyone revere him and him alone.  He was not afraid of speaking his mind.  He needn’t be.  He was untouchable, in demand, and able to metaphorically spin straw to gold.

But why her?

She cheated her body to look away from the reflection and up at him.  He reached between them, placing the champagne glass in her hand and gently guiding the edge to her lips.  His fingers added pressure to tilt the glass, feeding her the first sip of the alcohol he’d purchased for her.  His eyes devoured the sight of her full lips breaking apart, giving him just a glimpse of her wet, pink tongue as he gently poured champagne into her mouth.  It slipped over her tongue, carbonation fizzing and popping against her taste buds. She could look nowhere but his eyes as he tilted the glass, his brows lifting encouragingly.  A slight panic increased her heartbeat, wondering if any wandering eyes would shoot over and see them.

She swallowed as he pulled the flute away and pressed it into her hand, her deep, natural pink lipstick a soft tint against the glass’s edge.  Their fingers touched it felt as if electricity tingled down the nerves in her arm.

“Good?”  He asked and seemed happy with himself before she even had given an answer.

“Mhm,” she said, bobbing her head with a nod and struggling still to figure out why any of this was happening at all.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he said and devoured her righteous gratitude the same way he did every other gracious utterance of thanks he was given by demand.  Something glittered in his eyes.  He reached between them, not shy of invading her personal space (clearly) and brushed her hair back over her shoulders, tucking it lightly behind her ear.  His knuckles barely graced her cheek with the whisper of a touch and it sent shivers down her spine.

She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. She’d always been susceptible to blushing a bright, cherry red and beneath his attentive gaze she was victim to it again.  Helpless, she floundered beneath his sudden, undivided attention.  His eyes left hers to brush across her face and he smiled a small, satisfactory grin. Even beneath her make-up, he could probably see the blush.

“You’re a smart girl,” his voice said gently between them, coaxing her to agree, “surely you can see how special you are.”

“Special?” She felt dumb, gaping in confusion up at him. Since when did Chris Jericho look at someone like her and think she was anything but ordinary?  

Short, thick-figured, and often dressed in jeans, a company shirt, and tennis shoes as she moved crates and ran around taking care of errands for the roster as needed, she’d never considered herself special. The women who knew Chris Jericho, who he called beautiful, were the sort of ones who’d rightfully grace the covers of magazines and cat walks or have “Instagram influencer” on their social media platforms, of which they had tens of thousands of followers.  Not her.

“I think you’re mistaken,” she started gently, nerves wound tight in her belly and head spinning.

“You’re saying Le Champion is… wrong?” He asked, one brow lifting higher than the other, eyes pinned on her the way a cat watched the prey it toyed with before pouncing.

“No! No, I just…” she stumbled with her words and shook her head quickly back and forth. Her dark hair - she’d worn it down and put loose, wavy curls for tonight when normally it was up in a high ponytail - untucked itself from where he’d placed it behind her ear and spilled over the low open neckline of her dress.  He wasn’t letting her awkwardly sidestep the conversation and instead stood by patiently, eyebrows lifted with near impatience, waiting for her to tell him the truth.  She swallowed and took a breath for courage before she tried to say what she was thinking without sounding too pathetic.  

“I just don’t see what someone like you would see in someone like me. I’m…” she gestured down at herself, expecting to point out her plainer clothes, then realized she had dressed up for the event.  She wore a short, black glittering sequined dress that pinched her body and accentuated her curves as if it'd been tailored to her shape.  She’d even forced her feet into heels, her pretty pedicured white toenails glittering in the open-toe of the black stiletto.  “Well, I don’t normally look like this.  I’m just… an assistant.” 

“What if you didn’t have to be?” He pulled his eyes up from where they’d lingered on the rolling curve of her hip.

“What do you mean?”

“Baby girl,” he said softly as if he was exasperated she couldn’t read his mind, exhaling a laugh, making her insides turn and squeeze with a want she didn’t know she had, “I’m surprised you’ve never noticed me watching you backstage.” He reached between them and tucked her hair behind her ear again, only this time the back of his fingers lingered with purpose on her soft, round cheek.

“You… watch me?” Always so intimidated by his celebrity, she did everything she could to avoid getting in his way whenever they happened to be in the same room. She’d figured she was only a nuisance to him, not that he’d actually look for her and watch her.  She’d made friends with some of the other members of the roster who were more… down-to-earth, but she’d never imagined herself anywhere near the social circles a man like Chris Jericho ruled.

“Yes,” he said simply, smiling as he pulled his hand from her cheek.  “It’s hard not to.” Those blue eyes turned a little darker as they fell down her body with deliberate slowness and made their way back to her eyes.  He paused on the champagne.  “Is this the first time you’ve had this champagne?”

“Yes,” she admitted, dropped her eyes to it and took another sip, trying not to show nervousness as his eyes trailed her every move.

“Someone as beautiful as you should only have the finest things,” he claimed with such assurance in his tone, she hesitated to question it.

“That’s… a nice thought…” She struggled through the reality of what was happening, sneaking a glance toward the open room to see if anyone else was looking their way in confusion as to why they were talking alone.  However, everyone else seemed wrapped up in their own merry talks and weren’t paying her much mind.  Though, as she glanced the couch his Inner Circle sat, she caught the quiet eyes of his muscle – Jake Hager – and swallowed as she looked back at Jericho.

“It doesn’t need to be just a thought, princess.”  He said, and she felt that same tight curl in her belly at the pet name.

She frowned, confused.  “What do you mean?”

“Well,” his smile spread wider, chest out as he squared his shoulders, lifting his chin to peer down his nose at her. He opened his palms and gestured at himself.  “Let Daddy take care of you.”

Her eyes widened.

“I’ll take all the worries off your pretty little shoulders,” he said, reaching between them to gently brush his fingers on her arm.  “I’ll buy you whatever you want, sweetheart.  Pay your rent… hell, buy you a new place if you don’t like the one you have.  Money is nothing to Le Champion.”  His smile grew more grandiose and flashed teeth.  He enjoyed flexing what his hard work and subsequent status had brought to him.  He could own the whole damn world if he wanted to.  “You just stay the pretty little princess that you are, do as I say, be available when Daddy needs you… and I’ll give you the world.”

She didn’t know what to say.  All her life she’d constantly joked about needing to find a rich, older man to be her sugar daddy, but she’d never thought it’d be an actual proposition she received.  Chris Jericho wasn’t an unattractive man by any means, though age and a life of luxury lived to the fullest laid a soft layer of fat over where cut, hard muscle had once been.  He was… rather handsome, actually.  She’d always thought so.  And the few touches he’d teasingly graced her with tonight had spread tingles from wherever he made contact on her skin and left her wanting.  It wasn’t that she didn’t want him – a piece of her did – but it was that she feared what it would mean, and what it would change.  Also, she was beginning to worry this was some elaborate hoax, or that she’d fallen asleep and dreamed the entire thing.  This sort of thing didn’t happen to girls like her.

He reached forward and gently grasped the back of her elbow, guiding her in as he leaned forward and placed his lips softly against hers.  The kiss was brief enough to leave her wanting as he pulled away, letting his touch slip from her arm at last. 

“Think about it, baby girl,” he said, “but don’t wait too long.  Daddy isn’t a very patient man when he wants something.”  It was said like a first lesson to understand.  A rule.  He was offering her the world and while he’d spoil her in endless gifts, she had a role to play too, and she needed to play it right.  “The Inner Circle is waiting for their princess.” 

He stepped back, and the air felt strangely cold without his close presence.  She didn’t say anything – couldn’t, her mind was a merry-go-round of thoughts spinning so fast it threatened to break off the axle – but her attention was stuck completely on him.

“Next Wednesday,” he said, lifting his voice just a little, so that it might threaten to spill onto the ears of nearby eavesdroppers.  “I’ll find you before the show and you’ll give me your answer.” 

No questions.  She had one week to make up her mind.  He winked, grin stretching as he finally made to turn around and return to his Inner Circle companions, jerking his chin toward the door.  They got up, one by one, and followed close behind him as they exited.  She only breathed once he’d left the room and stared blankly at the door that’d closed shut behind him, trying to organize her thoughts in a rational manner.  But there was nothing rational about this, was there?

It was as if his presence had cast a spell over her and with him gone, it broke, and she felt more exposed than ever.  It made a piece of her crave him, his attention, his eyes, his touch… she’d never thought herself special enough to have a man like Chris Jericho’s attention… and she’d certainly never thought herself special enough to have a sugar daddy.

One week.  Seven days. 

What answer would she give him?

Lost in Space Part 2: Ch 1

Summary: After returning to Earth, an unnamed Space Explorer must face the consequences of going past Quadrant 5.

Attempting to write 10k words for part 2 by the end of the week. 

Part 1:

Ch 1

Ch 2

Ch 3

Ch 4

Ch 5

____________________

I sigh. I watch my breath move away and disappear before my eyes. I shiver, but instead of hugging myself to keep in what little warmth I have, I look down at my shaky hands. I imagine my blood dripping down my fingertips. I then lay them down, hoping to paint the cold floor beneath me. I know full well it’s all in my head, but I try to anyway. I try until I can feel the skin underneath my nails tear. When that happens, I grip either shoulder. This isn’t because I now know it’s best to keep warm. I did so because of how trapped and lonely I feel. 

My eyes move up towards the wall I’m leaning against. I imagine a window and the rich blue sky waiting on the other side. I then go on to imagine how long I’ve spent here. By this point, I could’ve already stayed here for days, weeks, or even months. Time has lost its touch on me. The walls haven’t changed. No cobwebs or even a speck of dust has touched them. Even the door right across from me doesn’t have a sliver of time’s touch. Its knob hasn’t moved an inch since I got here. Even the air vent above lacks any indication of how long I’ve been here. There’s no sound coming from them, especially no voices. It strengthens the lack of hope, though. It causes my head to lower. 

Because of this, I scoff. I scoffed at how lucky I was back then. At least back at the Tauvoxes’ ship, I felt alive. Even if it was fear it’s better than feeling dead. 

Light touched me. It blinded me. I tried covering my eyes with my hand, but with his hand wrapping itself and clutching my wrist it became impossible. 

He led me. I walked by his side and took note of the many doors that stretched from both ends of the hallway. They’re all closed, which meant many others are facing the same torment I had just been released from. I imagine the hundred or so helpless others sitting at the very edges of their rooms with their heads down. Most hug themselves to keep warm or what little hope they had left. Some just lean against the wall, hoping for death to take them away from the mind-numbing torture. Sure, maybe some deserved to be here. Maybe they broke out of the limits of humanity, but no one deserved this. No one deserved the drain. Whatever they had done to get themselves here it couldn’t have been enough to forget they’re human too. They have families. They have friends. Maybe a pet at home like a dog. Maybe that dog used to wait at their front door until they got home from work. Maybe that dog now has their head down and is whimpering because they were promised a walk too long ago. Whatever the case they have memories. They have lives, or at least they had lives before being sent here. True monsters could be on the other side of those doors, but it’s not like they wanted to be one. Life just forces people to become one. I might not be called a monster to most, but it doesn’t matter what most think because in their eyes they see me as one. In his eyes especially. 

He sat right across from me and just like with The Director shades covered his eyes. They showed me the helplessness sketched on my face. “It doesn’t take much to realize you aren’t handcuffed. You can try to run out of here. Hell, you can try to sock my nose. However, if you’re smart you wouldn’t do something so rash. We attached a chip on the back of your neck not too long after your court case. So, if you try to do anything other than answer me you will be electrocuted.”

“Does it matter? Whether or not I answer I’ll just be sent back into that room to be left to myself. To be tortured.”

“Rightfully so. You had disobeyed direct orders, caused the death of your entire crew, and nearly brought all of humanity into another war. Thank God for that band of Space Pirates…”

His words faded from my hearing. Instead of sitting in the interrogation room, I’ve bent down in the middle of a farmers market. Underneath a small rock, a flower sways before my eyes. My hand pushes the rock away, grabs the flower, and plucks it out of the ground. I then ran over to my mother. Well, it was more like scrambling to her as I tried not to trip because at that time my shoes were somehow always untied. Once I’m next to her, I tug her baggy pants. When that doesn’t get her attention, I call out her name. Still, her attention is directed towards the woman running the little shop. They’re laughing as the owner places my mother’s purchased fruits and vegetables into a bag. Because I was just another selfish child, I kicked my mother. This gets her attention, but not the type I wanted. She turns and lowers her head as the owner is talking to another customer. My mother mouths, “When we get home-”

“Here’s your bag,” the owner interrupted her with a soft voice. 

With that, my mother’s demeanor shifted right back into its lighthearted self. She smiles and says her thanks, but that’s the end of that side of her. Once we get home she scolds me. With the flower crushed in my hand, I can feel my throat tighten. I’m crying in front of her as she points her finger and shouts at me. She could’ve scolded me for at least another hour, but a phone call cuts her off mid-sentence. 

I threw the flower down and continued to cry into my pillow. I don’t know how long I cried. Maybe a few seconds. It could’ve been five minutes. An hour possibly, or maybe even two. How long it was doesn’t matter. I calmed down eventually. Well, the crying portion of my emotions ended. From being a tearful mess I then turned to frustration. “You’re always making me cry. I wish something made you cry for once, mom,” I shouted.

It wouldn’t take long for me to regret that statement because what had come next was an explosion. My childhood home was swallowed up in a blaze of fire. I tried looking for my mom, but I was too late. A piece of the roof punctured right through her, but she was still alive. Her body twitched and I saw tears in her eyes. I wanted to help her. I tried to, but I was too weak. So, I ran. I pushed past some crops and ran until I slipped and fell in some mud. 

As I tried wiping off the mud from my face, I cried. I cried until I saw something appearing in the mud, it reflected something. It reflected something unworldly. Looking up, I see a spaceship. 

The trudging soon began. My shoes were covered in mud, grass, and sewage. They smelled and were on the verge of breaking apart. I’ve worn the same clothes for days. We’ve been trudging for days. Blisters sat underneath my feet. Scars scattered throughout my ankles and some even managed to get to my shoulders and chest. The others and I haven’t eaten much. Our rations ended a week ago, so we’ve been surviving on whatever we’re able to find whether that means killing a fox or going dumpster diving. 

It was supposed to end about a month ago, but the hideout was found out. The people that made it there first were either killed by the blast or, if they managed to escape before it hit, became their prisoners. 

“Go west? Are you insane,” our group leader questioned. 

She stood in front of him. She’s about my age, two years older. Her name is Ashley. I, of course, didn’t know it at the time, but she would become the one I risked everything for about two decades later. “Can’t you see they already know we’re heading south?”

We’re all young. Most of the group barely hit puberty. He was the oldest, so it was only natural for us to make him the leader. However, other than me he was the most stubborn. “Even if they do, what other choice do we have? Five hideouts have been discovered in the past month. If we go back west we’ll be shot down as soon as we step foot there, or worse we’ll become their prisoners. Let’s say you’re right. At least south we have some cover.”

“They’ve been hitting in one unit. There’s no way they’d split up in two separate directions.”

“And you know this how?”

“I’ve been watching them from afar. I haven’t seen any of them-”

“Wait. You’ve been splitting up from the group,” he yelled. 

“Yes,” she muttered under her breath. 

He steps closer to her and lifts her by her collar. Because of the huge height difference, her feet are seen dangling. She begins to cry. The others either just watch or look away. “You’ve been sneaking off from the group? For how long?”

Her crying causes my heart to drop and fists to shake. I wanted to do something, but I was just too scared. He was older, taller, and way stronger. 

“I-I don’t know...a few weeks?” The last word in her answer is spoken with a squeak. 

“You could’ve been caught for these past few weeks,” his grip tightens on her collar, “You could’ve given away our location these past few weeks.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. 

Seeing him move his hand into his pocket, I already knew what he was planning to do. So, I didn’t waste any more time. I buried down my fear towards him and instead replaced it with the fear of that knife making it into her chest.

“Stop.” It was my turn to get in front of him. I looked at him with begging eyes, but he ignored me. He pulled the blade back and swung. 

He cried out and let her go. I caught her before she hit the ground. As she and along with the rest of the group tried to process what just happened, I grabbed her hand and led her away from there. The last thing I see of them is them trying to help him pull the branch out of his ankle. 

For months we all struggled. For months it was all about survival. It was about becoming a hunter rather than the hunted. It felt like years, but the years I’ve spent with her felt like hours. She made me happy the first time in a while. It’s the type of genuine happiness that causes your cheeks to cramp from all the laughing. I hadn’t felt that happy since before my father’s death. She was my first in just about everything. She was my lover. We’ve been together for basically my whole life. Until everything crumbled down. It crumbled because of me. 

“And you did it all for her,” he broke me out of my memories. 

“Yes,” I said confidently. 

“One life isn’t worth the lives of millions.”

My eyebrows furrowed. One twitched. The space between them scrunched up. “What are you trying to say?”

“What do you think I’m trying to say?”

“You think I would let her die? You think I would just sit back on my ass and let my wife die?”

“You were the one that caused her predicament. It’s only deserved you-” 

Before he can finish I punch his nose. He stumbles out of his chair and clutches his now crooked nose. Blood dripped out of the site, but I didn’t get to savor his pain for long because the consequences he described earlier began. An electric shock hit me. It went up and down my spine, causing me to stumble out of my chair as well. 

Knees bent and shaking, I cry. I cry for it to stop. It does, but I still feel it. It’s over, but I still feel my spine burning and head pounding. So, I fall to the floor and try to dig my nails in it. I watch my tears splash onto it as well. 

He moves in front of me. He bends down so that my eyes can meet with his shades. “Was it worth it?”

Αιώνια αγάπη (DT AU), pt. 13

13: Love is the death of duty

Summary: Three testimonies, two mistakes, one sentence. Find out the punishment Hermes faces as three most important women of his life take the stand.

Warnings: angst

Word count: 3.4k

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Special thanks to @godlydolans for being in the story as Yashi Singh!

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Αιώνια αγάπη (DT Modern Greek god/frat! AU) MASTERLIST    

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Overwhelmed, lost and very much prepared to do whatever it takes to protect her children, Y/N steps forth, pushing both her babies behind her as she breaks eye contact with the gods she knew and loved and looks wildly at the ones she didn't but could easily guess who they were.

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun!" Hecate chuckled, her laugh echoing as she fell back into a chair, not even bothering with courtesies. After all, why should she? She wasn't avenged for her death and pulling her soul out of the Underworld for the purposes of burying her ex husband was the only thing she cared about.

Hera didn't hesitate, walking toward Y/N as her eyes tried to take a better look at her grandchildren. It's been too long since she had a chance to see a youngling, let alone ones who are her own blood.

Y/N stepped back, each of her hands pressed against her kid's backs as she pushed them closer to her.

Like a lioness backed into a corner, Hera thought.

"I can tell why my sons fell in love with you now. You're absolutely ethereal. For a human, of course." The backhanded compliment forced Y/N to bare her teeth, faking a smile without the need to cover up the fake part, making it clear she doesn't appreciate the goddess coming any closer.

"I'd very much like if you'd stop walking, Your...heavenliness?" Y/N paused, unsure how to properly address the goddess without insulting her and putting her children in more danger than they already are. She couldn't afford to slip up now.

"Hera is fine, dear. However, I'm afraid you can't take the kids with you when you're on the stand. Someone's going to have to take care of them and as their grandmother I am willing to give you a blood oath that no harm shall befall either of your little ones." Hera spoke plainly, stating not only she cares but she would go as far as to make the unbreakable vow to protect them. The vow no god made in history thus far, one that conditions her death should she fail to uphold her promise.

"Like you protected Apollo and Hermes?" Y/N remarks, watching a flicker of hurt and surprise pass on Hera's face as Y/N's words aimed to hurt the goddess and it seemed as if she succeeded.

Glancing back at a helpless Hermes, Y/N gulped loudly as her heart ached for him.

What could have possessed him to do the crime he did? What crime did he commit at all? He spoke of vengeance, but never did she believe he'd go through with it. He's always been unpredictable and she can't deny she loved that about him, but right now, in this particular moment, she held it against him for his unpredictability put her children at risk.

Did he even know about the kids? Did either of them?

"I swear to you on my life, you can trust mother with them." Apollo speaks up, attracting Y/N's attention, feeling his own heart stop once her troubled eyes meet his with ease, the trust she has in him still shining through when she nods reluctantly, letting up on the four year olds holding onto her legs.

Hesitant still, Y/N watches as her mischievous babies waddled slowly over to their grandmother, looking up at her as if she's the most peculiar person they've ever seen.

And in a way she is. Her hair is molten gold, a leaf crown woven into the locks that broke sun-rays to rainbows. She did look like something out of a fairytale, inhuman even to the ones who don't know any better. And her kids didn't know any better.

"Shall we begin? While most of us are immortal, some don't have the commodity of waiting forever." Zeus huffed, glancing at Y/N and her offspring with underlying disgust he could hardly cover up.

"Wait! Don't I get a single moment with Apollo and Hermes first?" Y/N questions, the panic cracking her voice so blatantly no one could miss the desperation behind it.

"So they can temper with your true feelings? I think not. My sons have done enough damage to you as it is." Zeus states, showing Y/N that it's time to take her seat.

Eyes brimming with tears chained themselves to where the only two men she ever loved stood, each of them facing a horror of impending doom. Apollo wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Y/N and the kids, just for one moment. Hermes wished for Y/N and the kids to return to Earth and forget about all of this more than anything because if him being with her meant she'd die for his sins, he'd rather not even see her let alone touch her.

But all Y/N could see is how different they seem. They didn't have that light aura around them, rather a gloomy one. Each of them dressed in warrior clothes didn't lessen the weight on her heart either, adding onto the worry she couldn't shed.

What if she says something that ends up being their doom? What if she causes them to die? After everything that's happened, the years of loneliness she's suffered in as a single mother while the future she hoped for disintegrated, she still wanted them to be happy. The only comfort she found in the hell she's felt inside her soul is that both of her guys were alive and together. She didn't break their brotherly bond and they were back home with their loved ones.

She never thought they'd fuck up everything. At least not in her lifetime.

Reluctant and on edge, Y/N sits down right between Yashi and Hecate, each of them representing the past evils Hermes did and each of them more than willing to bury him should they wish so. Hecate most of all.

Hecate played with her long black locks, the purple ends flashing every once in a while as she leaned closer to Y/N and talked in hushed tones.

"You really had me fooled."

Y/N turned to her, giving her a sideways glance before her eyes returned to her children and Hera who crouched beside them, charming them with a little light show at the palm of her hand.

"I'm actually kind of proud of you. It's my blood that allowed you to do so."

"You left me no choice." Y/N responds harshly, sending a quick glare in her direction before turning her attention to Apollo and Hermes, each of them quiet and lost in thought as it seemed.

"You had a choice, you just made the wrong one. You think with your heart and not your head and I tried to show you that listening to your heart will only help you wind up dead. It killed me in the end - not Hermes, but you."

"I would like to call Yashi Singh to testify first." Zeus interrupts the small exchange between Hecate and Y/N, showing Yashi where to stand as she glided across the marble floor, her hair flowing freely at the back. It's a sort of visual joy of the heavens. It's confidence and strength, natural and pretty just as her stance.

"Now, my dear. Would you mind telling me Hermes' greatest crime against your heart?" Zeus tried to keep his voice light, purring at her as if manipulating the woman to speak the most rotten, horrific deeds she could think of.

Yashi lifts her chin up ever so slightly, her lips set in a firm line as her hands clasp together at her midsection.

"Hermes had no trouble lying to get close to me. He hadn't even bat an eye when he took my maidenhood under false pretenses. After all he had done, I was lucky enough to find someone else to cradle my broken heart. My story did have a happy ending, but Hermes showed no mercy toward my future. If he had his way, I'd have ended up alone and disgraced, disowned by my family. Thanks to Athena, I was lucky enough to have time to form a plan and get rid of him and his brother." Sparing Hermes a single glance, Yashi raised both eyebrows at the once so loved god before she smirked. Apollo looked toward Athena who shied away from his eyes, clearly ashamed she worked against him before. He wanted to know why she did it in the first place, but he already assumed why. Zeus forced her, told her it's her duty to do what she can to protect her loyal servants. She didn't have a bloodline like many others for she remained a virgin, but those who served her, worshiped her? Those were her loyal subjects and she protected them vigorously whenever she could.

"I think he committed the same crime hundreds if not thousands of times and that's just his crimes of breaking hearts and draining once hopeful souls. I'm certain he's done much worse in his time. I do believe he deserves the harshest punishment of all."

"Thank you, child. You make take your seat and Y/N can take your place now." Zeus states with a feigned smile, making Y/N's skin crawl as she realized it was her turn to stand and tell the truth. She had no choice. Not if she wanted her kids to remain alive because she was sure Zeus would harm them otherwise.

Passing by Hera, she finds the goddess wrap her fingers around her arm, stopping her for a single moment to utter a few wise words.

"You're pure of heart and your word means more than anything they say. Keep that in mind."

Gulping loudly, Y/N found herself tempted to run toward Hermes and Apollo, ask them to rise up and fight Zeus and end this torture, but Hera is right. She is pure of heart. She can use that against them.

"What is the greatest crime my son has committed?" Zeus smirks, knowing Hermes was completely off the rails the entire time he knew Y/N and he expected her to be the most significant nail in his son's coffin.

"He loved me." Plain and simple, Y/N turns sideways, her eyes finding his as if they've been dying for a single glance, for the love he could offer just by looking at her.

"Hermes is anything but perfect, but he's also done what is necessary. He's always done the right thing, even when the rest of us couldn't understand it just yet and even if it's the hardest possible thing he could have done in the world. Hermes' biggest crime against me is that he loved me just as much if not more than I love him." Emphasizing the present tense, proclaiming her love for the infamous god, she turned back to Zeus defiantly.

"He burned down the Kappa house and most of your belongings. He lied to you. He impregnated you -" Zeus began, each fact spoken louder and louder as he counted until Y/N interjected, stopping him from bashing Hermes any longer.

"With all due respect, both of your sons did that and I don't see Apollo tried for that. It's the most ridiculous medical miracle, but they both did and I don't hold them leaving against them. It is my heart that caused that and I alone am to blame for loving them both too much. The very heart that is pure, which means if I do not hold any hate for him, no reason exists for either of you to. Hermes is a good soul and you should release him." Out of breath, Y/N found herself on fire with her nerves sparking up as every moment passed she felt herself grow stronger, more sure of herself. Without waiting for Zeus to speak and send her on her way, Y/N crossed the short distance between the stand and where Hermes was held on his knees with his brother a step behind him.

She threw herself at the god, wrapping her arms around him so tightly if he were human his ribs would crack under the pressure. She longed for a touch of his skin, but all she found was a long black cape under her fingertips, and gold plates right under her arms instead of his shoulders.

"Return to your seat, Y/N Y/L/N." Zeus ordered sternly, but she rebelled long enough to stand and grip Apollo who came closer, hugging over Hermes who felt his soul tear itself up only to be made new again with the pounding of his heart being so deafening.

"Are they mine?" Apollo whispered in her ear, frantic at the possibility of having an answer.

"Valerie is." She managed to respond before one of the guards rudely grabbed her by the arm and ripped her away from Apollo with a ruthless tug, causing her to stifle a pained groan.

"DON'T FUCKING PUT YOUR HANDS ON HER!" Hermes jolted, his voice echoing the hall as he watched the guard drag her back to the stand and release her from his hold.

Apollo gritted his teeth, not only because he was so fucking confused about what she meant, but also because he wanted nothing more than to rip into the guard and take his life with his own two hands. He'd choke the life out of him, snap him like a twig before throwing him into the Underworld, allowing Hermes to decide on the best form of torture for him.

"I believe I asked you to return to your seat. If not, I'm more than happy to show you what happens when someone disobeys a god." Zeus quipped, his lips curling to the left as he formed a half smile and his forehead no longer creased as his wicked implications came to life and Y/N quickly nodded, doing as she's told. She knew the threat was against her children, you didn't have to be a mind reader to see that.

Crashing in her seat, she could hardly breathe as she heaved with a fury of untold confessions to her favorite gods and hateful words at Zeus and all those who liked to play with human lives.

"Maybe you should. There are two of those snot monsters." Poseidon speaks up, rubbing his chin devilishly as a wicked grin spread across his lips.

Y/N's eyes widen, her hands gripping the chair she's in as she lunged forward to jump and protest, but Hecate outstretched her arm instinctively in front of her, stopping Y/N from doing something rash that she couldn't take back.

"Or perhaps I could tell my story and you can stop being such an ass? Have your forgotten Hera made an unbreakable vow?" Hecate raised her left eyebrow, standing up with ease as she challenged one of the supreme gods no one dared to second guess before. She waltzed toward the stand, keeping her gaze set on Poseidon who looked to be seething already.

"Or you can just return to the Underworld where you're supposed to be rotting! Perhaps you could be taught a lesson or two as Sisyphus is?" Poseidon snickered, placing his hands on his hips.

"Perhaps spend a few nights pleasuring me and I'll forget about all of this?" He offered, finding Hecate more than irritated.

"Maybe I'll bring back Medusa and have her do it for me? I'm sure she'd like to look you in the eye at least once." Hecate remarks and Y/N finally realizes this is all just a distraction for them to let go of the idea of even looking at her kids.

Hecate is...protecting her?

"Either way, I have a few to say to Hermes." She glances over her shoulder at her once consort, narrowing her eyes at him.

"He cheated on me, lied to me, abandoned me and then some. After all, he tried to kill me too. He just couldn't do the job right. Makes me think he didn't really want me dead, rather a way to exercise his demons on someone. Whatever. I don't really care what happens to him anymore, but if it's up to me, let him live the rest of his mortal life on Earth. Take away Underworld and watch him suffer for it while he's living a mundane life with Y/N and the brats she bore."

Without realizing it, in her first attempt of kindness in centuries, Hecate made a mistake.

"He tried to kill you?" Poseidon interrupts, watching her closely.

"Zeus, my brother, where did you bring Hecate here from?" The question alone unsettles both Hermes and Apollo, who is already well prepared for disaster.

"What are you trying to say?" Zeus frowns, realizing he had more trouble bringing the goddess to Mount Olympus than Y/N from Earth.

"I think Hecate here is dead. Just a shadow of her former self." Poseidon looks back to the goddess who lifts her head up high, strolling toward him with all the confidence in the world.

"You had to reassemble her soul from Tartarus to have her shadow here, didn't you? Poseidon keeps prodding, now making Y/N nervous. She still didn't know for sure, but she was pretty certain Ethan...Hermes is on trial for Hades' death. He was the only one missing in the hall and that's the only despicable thing Hermes wanted to do once he returned home. If Poseidon gets a whiff of what happened to Hecate, then what would happen to her?

"Who killed you, Hecate?" Zeus grabbed her by the shoulders roughly, shaking her violently as a rag doll while his rage filled voice chilled everyone around him to the bone.

Thunder rolled in, electricity sparking around the hall in unpredictable spots and once Y/N saw Hera cover her kids with her body, she knew they were safe and it helped her lessen the burden of her soul.

"Y/N did." Poseidon concludes, chuckling so loudly, so maniacally that his beauty truly didn't matter anymore. His rotten soul shocked more than his good looks, forcing Y/N to remind herself to breathe because the way this is going, she's in deep shit and she knows it.

Hecate turns to Y/N helplessly shouting: "RUN", but where? How? She's a human with everyone she loves trapped there as well. There's no where to run, especially not when two guards form by her side out of thin air, dragging her forth and pushing her down on her knees besides Hermes.

"Mommy!" Two tiny, terrified voices rippled through a sudden onset of hushed voices and small fights that erupted between the other gods.

But Y/N could barely hear anything after her kids screamed. She watched them trash against Hera as they fought to get to her side. She sensed Hermes lean toward her and his breath tickle her neck.

She didn't hear him whisper a promise that he wouldn't let this happen.

She didn't see nor hear Apollo being restrained just behind her as five guards struggled to hold him down. Apollo felt like a caged beast, breaking through anyone who tried to stop him from protecting Y/N and Hermes. He couldn't bear what would happen if he didn't. His duty as a god of Mount Olympus is to protect the gods and do what he must in order to serve his father for an eternity.

What is eternity without Y/N's gentle touch? What is eternity compared to his brother's love? Nothing at all. The love he bears for Y/N, for Hermes...for that little girl Y/N told him is his and possibly the boy as well? That love is the death of duty he swore to ever since he became aware of his existence.

He tried to reach Y/N, but she seemed frozen in her spot, her eyes laid upon her children in the far right as Zeus came closer, all the way until he stopped in front of her and the son he could barely call his anymore.

The next thing Y/N heard was what sealed her fate.

"Taking a life is an unspeakable crime. To take a gods eternity? It. Is. Unforgivable. You are both sentenced to die."

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Tags: @mutuallynotmutual @lanadeldolans @xalayx @accalialionheart @gia-kerks @historyheart  @heyits-claire @daddygraysonsbitch @fallinginlove-16  @lanadeldolans @beautifulfound @thearachna-kid  @dinnerwiththedolans  @graydolan12 @justanotherfangurl272 @dxlansfxck  @godlydolans @flowery-dolan @dominatedolans @buckysjuicyplums @ethanhes @dolandolll @dolanstwintuesday

“Breathe.” for Malex?

Sorry this took me a while! I’m not even a hundred percent sure what this is. So. Apologies? It’s set post 1x13.

I hope you like it, @seeaddywrite!

i.

The first time he finds out that Maria and Michael are making it work, Alex feels his chest tightening, a surge of white-hot pain and disappointment rippling through him, tugging deep in his stomach. The blood pounds in his ears and he thinks about the hours he spent sitting at Michael’s airstream, just waiting for him to come home so they could talk, like Michael had promised they would. Like Alex had promised. 

He’s in the Crashdown when he figures it out because Liz’s expression shifts like she’s hiding something and she tells him I didn’t want to be the one to let you know and there’s guilt written all over her face. It’s like when she looks at him, she can see that she’s made the wrong decision in even remotely encouraging Maria to go after what she wants, that maybe this was the wrong thing to do. Maybe she was supposed to have said that you can’t control who you fall for but you can control how you handle those feelings. 

He grips his milkshake and grits his teeth, forcing a breath in through lungs that don’t want to cooperate, forcing his spinning mind to calm and still and he thinks about Doctor Carson and her soothing voice as she tells him when it gets too much, Alex, just breathe. One deep breath in and one deep breath out. You control your emotions. You control your memories. You decide when you think about them.

He ignores Liz’s apologies and closes his eyes.

He breathes. He makes himself breathe. 

ii.

“Manes,” Michael says as Alex climbs out of his truck. His feet are uneven on the ground, he has a new prosthetic that he’s trying to wear in and the socket’s a little too loose to account for swelling. Pain radiates up his thigh and along his hips but it’s nothing he hasn’t felt before. It’s nothing compared to the way his breath’s stolen at the knowledge that now he doesn’t even get a first name from Michael.

They haven’t seen each other in a while, Alex passed him in the Pony once or twice and Michael didn’t acknowledge him much. He isn’t sure if that’s because he read the note Alex left behind for him or if it’s because he didn’t. But Alex is tired of secrets and he’s tired of lies and he’s tired of not saying what he wants to say.

“Guerin,” is what comes out of his mouth when he wanted to say Michael. He reaches back into the car and it’s the moment he needs to look away from where Michael’s eyes are boring holes into his very being (I never look away, not really) has become something they share between them, Alex never wanted to look away either but now Michael’s too much for him. Sitting in a beaten up garden chair with a beer resting on his thigh, looking for all the world like he doesn’t give a shit about anything. 

When he emerges he feels a little better. It’s fifteen seconds for him to grab his bag but it’s fifteen seconds more than he would have had to pull his shit together if he’d just walked straight over. He looks at Michael again and that vice is back around his chest. 

One breath in, one breath out. Just breathe, Manes.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Private?” Michael’s voice drawls over the wrong rank, he knows it makes the hair on Alex’s arms stand on end and Alex can hear the careful distance in Michael’s tone. He hates that his body reacts to Michael’s mocking with warmth and heat and want. 

“I’m not the one that’s been avoiding me,” Alex points out. Michael’s barely looked in his direction since he decided to try and make things work with Maria and Alex pretends it doesn’t hurt even though it does. 

Alex knows he hit something on the head there because Michael’s expression shifts ever so slightly. He sees him move on the chair, fingers tighten around his beer (and it’s true, as Alex looks at Michael’s hand he can see the lack of scarring, the straightened fingers, it’s healed and the last physical mark of what the Manes family has done to Michael really is gone). 

“You didn’t answer my question, Alex.”

Alex lifts his eyes from Michael’s hand. Nods his head. Clenches his teeth and walks closer, ignoring the burning in his thigh. He doesn’t fall into the seat on the other side of the fire pit, instead, he takes another breath and pulls his bag open, pulling out the pink, iridescent shard. 

“I have something that belongs to you.”

iii.

Alex thinks he’ll reach out with his powers to take the shard but he doesn’t. He gets to his feet, walks towards Alex and his hand’s lifted like he’s trying to keep Alex still, trying to stop him from running away. Alex couldn’t run right now, even if he wanted to. He wants to. He doesn’t want Michael to get into his space when he can’t have him. When he isn’t supposed to reach out and touch him. When he breathes in and all he can smell is Michael’s cologne and sweat and grease. When he breathes in and it smells more like home than anything Alex has ever known.

Michael stops within an inch of their feet touching and Alex holds his breath. He tenses his shoulders and his core. Tells himself not to sway forward into Michael’s orbit like the helpless fucking satellite that he is. He can feel the way Michael’s eyes sweep over him and then his eyebrow lifts. The curl that perpetually hangs above his right eye bounces with the tilt of Michael’s head and Alex’s hands physically hurt with the need to push it aside, to bury his fingers deep in that hair and tug Michael to him and fuse their souls together.

“Jacket looks good,” Michael says and Alex has to look down at his sleeve to remember that he’s in the leather jacket again today. He likes it, it feels comfortable and heavy enough that on days when the world is too much he can sink into the weight and feel the pressure over his shoulders like the hug he really needs. 

“Thanks.” Alex manages roughly and doesn’t look back up again. The shard’s in his hand but Michael hasn’t seemed to pay it any mind. Alex can feel the weight of Michael’s gaze on him and he swallows, pushing the shard into the space between their bodies and he ignores the way his whole skin burns when Michael’s fingers trail up to take hold of it, carving a path over Alex’s exposed wrist with the flames of his touch. 

“Where’d you find this?” 

“Jim Valenti’s cabin. He has- uh, he has a hidden underground bunker.”

Michael lets out a laugh. “Any dead bodies in there?”

Alex’s lips curl up in spite of himself. He thinks about looking at Kyle and saying literal skeletons and wonders how it’s fair that they’re still in synch when they’re anything but. Alex finally clawed himself up to be on Michael’s page but Michael had ended the chapter and moved on. 

“No, just more secrets.” 

He pushes the piece against Michael’s chest, uses it as a moment to break himself away from Michael so that he doesn’t lean in. It’s a barrier and it works perfectly and he takes a step backwards. Subtly sucks air into his lungs - one deep breath in one deep breath out - to force the words out of his mouth.

“I can’t be the one that keeps you here.”

He starts moving but Michael’s fingers lock around his wrist, tugging him gently to a halt. 

“You can’t say shit like that and then just leave, Alex,” Michael says and Alex presses his lips together.

Alex gently tugs his hand out from Michael’s grasp and feels the cold penetrating his soul.

“I think that’s the last piece you needed,” is what he says as he turns and walks away again. He hears Michael scoffing and he thinks about Maria and how she’s better for him than Alex could ever be. And how he wants Michael to be happy even if that isn’t with him.

iv.

“I’m sorry.” It’s not the words he’s expecting to hear and the voice that’s saying them isn’t one he expects to hear either. Maria comes out from around the side of the cabin, twisting her ring around her middle finger and looking uncomfortable. Her hair’s back in a messy bun and she doesn’t look anything like the confident, fiery woman that Alex knows and loves. He thought, once, that if he was into women she’d have been the kind of woman he’d fall for. He’s changed his mind since then, betrayal has a way of making you figure a person differently.

Still, he’s missed her. She was always Rosa’s friend first, and theirs second but after Rosa died she’d clung to them tightly. She’d taken them to be her own little family. Alex adores her still, even though the hurt is fresh. 

“What for?” he asks, not looking up from where he’s been tuning his guitar, he’s seen her in his peripheral vision, that’s enough for now. His fingers curl around the frets and he twists the pin, plucking the string again and tilting his head, eyes closed as he tries to picture what the right note is without needing to use the machine to his left to help him. 

Maria sighs and Alex can hear it in his bones. 

“You know what for.”

Alex tightens the pin further and hears the string groan. He shakes his head. He thinks about her telling him it meant nothing, he thinks about her telling him that she would never do that. He thinks about the times when he’d thought if he could trust anyone with how he truly felt about Guerin it would be her and then she settles down and plays the closest thing to house that Michael will allow. 

“You don’t have to apologise,” he says and it feels like he’s walking the floorboards of déja-vu. They’ve had this conversation before. “Michael and I-”

“I didn’t know it wasn’t over.”

Alex lets out a bitter laugh. “Is that what he told you? That it was over?” He shakes his head. “You’re about three months too late to ask me if I’m okay with this, Maria.”

“I know.”

“Then what?”

“You know I don’t need your permission, Alex.”

“I never said you did, but it might have been nice for you both to talk to me before deciding to give whatever it is a shot.” His voice catches and he gets to his feet, pushes himself up and puts the guitar on the seat he’s vacated. “You know how I feel, Maria. I’d have never done that to you.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Maria says and she steps forward like she’s going to touch Alex. He holds up his hand to stop her. “I- I found something out about him and I think you know and I just- I need to talk to someone who understands.”

Alex’s chest flutters and tightens and he realises that Michael told her the truth and he catches his weight on the wall and waves her inside. She goes, sparing him a concerned glance that Alex dutifully ignores, giving himself thirty seconds before following her to mentally prepare himself for the conversation he’s about to have.

One deep breath in and one deep breath out. 

v.

“Careful,” he says, as he drops into the bunker, climbing down the last rung of the ladder, “the bunker’s open. Anyone could walk in.”

He can smell the acetone in the air. The console looks completed, or at least, Alex thinks it looks completed, it’s humming and the air feels electrified like there’s a charge running through it that can’t be stopped or contained. Michael’s in the corner, slumped over a beaten up sofa that’s probably older than the both of them combined that he dragged out of a skip. 

“Anyone just did,” comes the response and Alex recognises that tone. Heartbreak. Sadness. Grief. 

He presses his lips together and tries to remember a time Michael’s voice didn’t sound sad or broken. He thinks it was that split second moment of perfection when he realised Alex had stayed. His voice had broken with something different, then, hope maybe? Happiness? It’s been such a long time since he’s made Michael happy that he’s forgotten what it sounds like. 

His chest hurts just thinking about it. He rubs at it absently as he walks over to where Michael’s lying on the couch. There are empty bottles everywhere, beer and acetone alike and hardly any food and Alex frowns, perches on the edge of the couch and pretends not to notice how Michael flinches as though he’s expecting Alex to rip his heart out. It’s already got too many boot prints on it, he thinks. He doesn’t want to add another while his one from before is still healing. A boot print he never wanted to leave in the first place but had imprinted before he’d realised what he was doing. 

“Maria came to see me a couple of days ago,” he starts, and Michael goes stiff again and Alex can’t breathe so he reaches out and pushes his hand into Michael’s hair and they both pretend Michael doesn’t chase the contact like the touch-starved adult he is. They both pretend it doesn’t loosen a knot in their chest and that it doesn’t make it easier for them both to hand this moment, to breathe. 

“She hates us, you know. For what we did to her mom.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Alex points out. The realisation that Mimi had been targeted by an alien with powers similar to Isobel’s had been a shock. It had been worse to find evidence that strongly supported Alex’s suspicion that it had been done on the order of Jesse Manes. All he could do was try and burn his father’s legacy to the ground, even if he ended up going down in flames with it. A blaze of glory that would never be sung about. Righting a wrong because he’s the only one that can do it. 

Michael’s quiet for a moment before Alex feels a hand on his knee, warmth burning through his jeans like a brand. One deep breath in and one deep breath out. “Neither did you.”

It sounds like forgiveness and Alex’s chest bursts.

+i.

“Will you stop?” Michael slaps Alex’s hand away from the tie Alex is struggling with and finishes tying it up, then tugs on it lightly to loosen it. Alex squints up at Michael, frustrated and annoyed that it’s taking them so long to just put on suits and get ready. They’ve had hours (but it is hard to get ready when you can’t stop yourself from touching your partner, pulling him into kisses that make you forget what day it is let alone what you’re supposed to be getting ready for) and they’re still not truly prepared to step out of the cabin. 

“You’re the one that messed it up the first three times I managed to get it tied,” Alex points out with a grin and Michael kisses his temple, then stands behind Alex as he fusses with the top button of his shirt before deciding fuck it. The only reason they’re in suits is because Michael can’t say no to Isobel and when she caught wind of what they were trying to do had come in like a hurricane to organise and plan everything.

It’s still their day, even if it’s got the stamp of Isobel Evans all over it. 

Michael’s hands are resting loosely around Alex’s waist, his chin atop Alex’s shoulder and they make eye contact in the mirror. They’re in matching suits, dark blue, and their cufflinks are stars. Alex has an earring in, just the one, and Michael nips below it playfully. Alex closes his eyes.

“Stop it,” he mutters, “you’ll make us late.”

“Can’t be late for our own wedding,” Michael mutters, lips against already sensitive skin and Alex just tilts his head to the side and lets out a shuddered breath and realises that it’s been so long that he can’t remember what it’s like to struggle to breathe. 

(At least, not until they get to the makeshift altar with Max standing with a bolo and a massive grin and suddenly Alex’s world is real and bright and everything he never thought he could have and Michael’s in his space, hands cupping his face and stealing a chaste kiss, thumbs brushing along the sharp lines of his cheekbones and whispering breathe, Alex, breathe. And he does.)

Goretober Day 17- Eyes

Shit this keeps going so fast. At least this was a day I was really excited to write, despite it still ultimately being late. Also prepare to drown in ellipses because that just happened for some reason.

Today might not be a surprise, but today’s characters are Baiken and Anji! I’ve been positively dying to do something with these two, and this seemed very appropriate. (Apologies in advance Rex I can’t write them as good as you but I hope you still like it)

When Anji had watched Baiken fall and not get up, for the first time in a long while, he didn’t know what to do.

The fight had been downhill ever since they’d started. For all their confidence and self-assurance, they had known that they were walking into one of the biggest Gear nests on earth. On purpose. Allegedly even Kiske and his army had barely been able to make it out alive when they walked in on accident.

At the time, it had only encouraged Baiken more. “Of course they did.” They had said, with a confident glimmer in their one good eye. “Panicking and running around like a bunch of headless fucking chickens. We could do better, just the two of us.”

While there wasn’t exactly much of a way to compare that sort of thing, Anji couldn’t say that they were doing well. They were used to Gears. They’d killed hundreds, all on their own. But here, a hundred had all come at once. Then another hundred. Then another. Their numbers only seemed to grow as they fought their way to the center of the nest, in the hope of finally destroying whatever was at the center that was making all these damn things in the first place.

Anji had feared that the battle wouldn’t turn out in their favor, even before the endless waves had begun wearing them down. Maybe it was his own doubt that had ultimately crippled their efforts. Maybe it didn’t matter. All that mattered now was that he only had Zessen to protect him, at least one of his feet was broken, and that Baiken was lying completely helpless out of his reach.

Something snagged against his back, tearing his sleeve and making a jab of pain run up his spine. Anji managed to blow it back with a hard swipe, but the movement immediately made him flinch from how it aggravated his back and foot. Dammit, why had he let himself get distracted? He wouldn’t be any use to either of the if he was dead.

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he tried to shove everything in between him and his companion out of the way. On more than one instance, it resulted in more cuts and scratches on his arms. His lenses had been shattered, so everything was slightly fuzzy and out of focus. But Baiken’s pink-and-crimson smear on the ground was clear to him, especially how the red was slowly overtaking the pink.

“C’mon, get up! Don’t tell me you’re down for the count already?!” They would have thumped him over the head for saying something like that, but if that was what gave them enough energy to keep going, so be it. Anji dragged them to their feet, tossing a limp arm over his shoulder before trying to break out into a run with the energy that he no longer had. The Gears continued to try and pile on the both of them, and all Anji could do was knock them away with the one fan in his one free hand and hope that he was running in the right direction.

“Baiken?! Baiken, come on, wake up!” He shouted, legs burning from the effort of dragging the extra dead weight with him. “Say something!”

“Mh...will you shut the fuck up already?” An irritable voice slurred out by his side.

Anji felt like crying, for a number of reasons. He tried to channel that energy into running. The Gears were gradually lightening up as he ran. There were still a few that he was narrowly outpacing but the rest were either already dead or bored of them.

“Baiken, can you hear me?!”

“Anji…?” Baiken’s voice was as gruff as it always was, but there was something else mixed into their tone. “Anji, where are you?”

“I’m right here, Baiken, I’m-” At first he attributed it to delirium and blood loss. As the two of them lurched forward, Baiken’s blood-drenched bangs plastered against their cheek and he realized that he could no longer make out their one good eye from a long set of talon marks that had ripped a good chunk of the flesh away.

He failed to ignore the cold dread that was seeping into his body at the sight. The lack of focus on his surroundings resulted in something catching under his boot and tripping him up.

The two of them hit the rocky ground hard. Anji cried out from the force, latching onto a spot on his chest that he was sure now housed at least one broken rib. He couldn’t get his legs to work well enough to stand up again. With one arm, he could barely manage dragging his beaten-up body over to Baiken.

“Come on! Baiken, please, wake up!” He shook their limp body, struggling to think of anything else to do. A few stray Gears were approaching what had now become a very easy meal. Their claws were remarkably sharp, and there was nothing separating them from the injured humans aside from a few hundred feet…

...and a cartoon bomb?

The object in question exploded before Anji could properly process the sight of it. The force blew his hair back and sent a nasty headache pulsing through his temples, but when the smoke finally cleared, the Gears had vanished.

“Did somebody call a doctor~?”

A massive, lanky silhouette fell over Anji. He wasn’t sure how to name the emotion he felt when he saw Faust landing on the ground in front of him. It seemed there was no need to, anyway. As soon as he caught sight of them, Faust immediately got busy carefully picking them up in his long arms.

Anji lacked the energy to object, even if he wanted to. The ensuing feeling of traveling through a warp added a dose of vertigo to his headache, and the concept of passing out was becoming more and more appealing. The only thing that kept him from it was Baiken. He tried to keep a close eye on their limp body, unable to tell if they still breathed with all the movement and his hampered vision.

The door dropped them off right outside a small building in a place he didn’t recognize. Or had Faust walked part of the way? Maybe he had blacked out for a moment. It was hard to remember.

The world spun again, though thankfully into something soft and comforting. He watched the man carry Baiken to a different bed, laying them down much more carefully. The doctor was saying something that he could only half make out. Broken things, drugs, blood-

“-need to get to work immediately. Going to sedate the both of you, so you don’t injure yourselves more-”

“W-wait, stop-” Anji spoke up.

“Yes?”

“You have to do something for me.”

“What is it?”

…

“WHAT?! You can’t be serious, you’ve already lost a significant amount of blood!”

…

“Are you sure? I can’t be certain if this isn’t just the shock talking. Do you know what you’re asking me to do?”

…

“...Very well, then.”

There wasn’t much more that he could do in such a state. Anji had somehow managed to cling onto Zessen through everything, and he thumbed over the patterns carved in the wood as several stings of pain worked their way up and down his arms. From the brief moments of coherency, he could see Faust doing the same to Baiken, setting up a blood transfusion, and injecting in whatever cocktail or drugs would be enough to keep them alive and unconscious. He didn’t worry about the details. He was already past that point.

He let his eyes rest for a moment. When they opened again, Faust was standing over him with a long syringe. Or was it a cable? He couldn’t make out the details.

“I’m going to sedate you now, Mr. Mito. I’ll ask you one last time, are you sure that this is what you want?”

Somehow, he managed a frail nod. “If it’s for Baiken, then I would never joke about such a thing.”

Anji wasn’t really sure what happened next. He could feel his mind unraveling, ultimately crumbling underneath him and leaving him to fall into the blissful darkness.

++++++

“God...f-fuck, Anji, what the hell?”

Even while half-asleep, Baiken knew how to be angry. And they liked to think that they had a good reason to be. It felt like a truck had run them over, and as much as they blinked, everything seemed to be dark. Had the building blown a fuse? Served them right for staying at that shitty rickety motel-

“You're awake? Ah, and already kicking. I shouldn't be surprised."

“Fucking-” They hissed, cutting off when they realized that they recognized the voice. “You?! Why the hell are you here, demon?!”

“Please, Baiken, I have to ask you to relax.”

“Why the fuck should I!?”

Faust huffed. “Well, you’re going to tear out your stitches, for one. And I can’t exactly take off the bandages with you moving.”

With a great deal of reluctance, Baiken let their muscles relax. They immediately noticed the pain lessening as they did so. Footsteps approached on their side, and hand began peeling back the fabric that had been wrapped over their face.

“There we are!” Faust announced cheerily, pulling off the last of the gauze. “And looking remarkably well, too! I was a bit concerned about performing so many emergency procedures, but-”

“You WHAT?!”

He recoiled, raising both hands in a calm gesture. “Everything is alright, I promise. You were simply in such a poor state when your friend arrived, I was a bit worried you wouldn’t pull through.”

Friend...? “Damn that bastard, where the hell is he!?” They tried to shout, but the dry throat made it crackle pathetically halfway through.

Faust tilted his head, gesturing with one hand. “What are you talking about? He’s right next to you.”

Their head snapped towards where he was pointing. Anji was motionless in the next bed over, swathed in white and thankfully hooked up to fewer machines than they seemed to be. Hell, he looked to be in pretty good shape, all things considered.

At least, that’s what they wanted to say, until they noticed the web of bandages covering the right half of his face.

“Is...is he okay?” Baiken didn’t care. Not really. Anji was good at getting himself out of scrapes, so if something major had actually happened, then it was probably his fault. Yeah. Not something they had to worry about...

Instead of replying, Faust approached with a hand mirror, which he offered up. “I think this should do the job well enough.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The samurai snapped. “Wasting my time, more like.”

Still, Baiken stared into the mirror. Disheveled pink hair framed their face, same as it always did. A few more bandaged spots that would probably leave scars, but they’d seen worse. A single eye stared back at them...

...had it always been brown?

A few strangled Japanese curses creaked out in a familiar tone. Baiken immediately dropped the mirror and threw the sheets back.

“No, no, don’t do that!” Faust cried, as thought it would stop them. “You shouldn’t be standing- !”

In a flash, Baiken climbed on top of the man, dragging along an IV drip and several ECG sensors that had disconnected from the force of being pulled. The movement had torn open a few stitches, and red blotches were soaking through the bandages, but all they focused on was grabbing Anji by shoulders and shrieking bloody murder.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!”

“Heh heh. You’re up. Good. I was worried…”

It didn’t quell their anger. “You DUMBASS! I never would have asked you to- !”

“I knew you wouldn’t.” He replied quietly, removing himself from their grip and sitting up in bed. “I did it because I wanted to.”

And in a moment, the anger turned into something else. Anji managed to catch Baiken as they slumped.

“Y-you didn’t…”

“Heh. It’s all better now, see?” Anji grinned, laughing a laugh that wasn’t nearly as aggravatingly bright as it normally was. “Now we match!”

“You idiot...you fucking idiot…” Baiken weakly smacked his chest, shoulders shaking with tears that refused to fall.

“Isn’t it nice, Baiken? Aren’t you happy…?”

Onward, Upward & Downward (The Roots)

Summary: A young magician's trek toward Vesuvia for a better life is unexpectedly waylaid by entering the magical realms in her sleep.

The following TWs apply: past references to abuse, blood, references to having been/lived in the middle of a war-zone, falling from immense heights at various speeds, falling through a void/space, temporary loss of one's voice, the unpredictability of magical realms, and nausea caused by aforementioned unpredictability.

O*O*O

It’s getting late. The sun is sinking into the horizon.

Keep heading northeast, I tell myself. Northeast, northeast, northeast. Northeast, northeast north-

I pause a moment to catch my breath. My knapsack digs into my back, full of my necessary supplies. 

I look down at my bandaged hands. Some of the strips are cut from my old clothes, long since worn out. The cloth strips are wrapped here and there over my fingertips, palms, and the backs of my hands. Some cloths can be easily replaced; other scraps of them I need to either throw away, or wash...

If I even can wash them at this point. One of the strips is an ugly, slightly damp brown over dried blood. The brown’s from the dirt and sand all around here. The injuries beneath, the dried red, were from laboring under my cousins’... ‘charitable’ mercy upon me. Mercy from them to take me on a long journey to my destination.

The ‘simple favors’ I had to do for them in turn were menial and backbreaking.

In the end, my cousins had taken me about ninety percent the way to Vesuvia. Since then, it’s just been me taking my sorry soul the rest of the way ever since. ‘Just follow the compass and go Northeast’ they said. ‘Northeast, phù thủy’.

I’m relieved I don’t need to rely on them anymore. I’m sick of being helpless, and being called names just because I know some magic...

I look to the left and right of me: golden fields. I look to the back of me: golden fields. I look to the front, and finally there is some differentiation: golden fields, but I think I see the faint outline of Vesuvia in the distance.

It has to be. I want it to be...

I’ve seen nothing but fields of gold for the past two days. It’s not exactly a desert, but are mirages from golden fields a thing? I don’t know! If there is, I really hope with all my might that the outline of the city ahead of me is not a fucking mirage!

Mind made up, I wobble over about ten to fifteen steps off the road and into the tall fields around me. My legs finally give out, and I fall flat on my face.

“Ack...”

I push through the pain, through my aching everything, and unburden myself of my knapsack. Much to my chagrin, most of the contents of my knapsack drop and roll out into the dirt. I painfully crawl around, pulling my supplies back to myself as the sunlight fades.

When the stars finally shine and moon glows, I need to squint. My eyes are not the best in terms of seeing clearly. Trying to see at night is tedious, even with the moon above me.

I shift the formerly wayward items into the moonlight, checking to see if I have everything.

There’s my compass, a raggedy old map to Vesuvia from my last pit-stop, a tin of salve, a messy pile of bandage strips made from my old clothes, a canteen of alcohol, two canteens of water, one slightly damp washcloth, and a heavy tome, covered in strange symbols.

I smile at the tome, gently patting the top cover in greeting.

In response, the arcane text flutters its pages. A soft, raspy voice from between the sheets within ask:

"̸̲̍͌D̵͓͒̏o̵̝͋̍ ̵̫̑y̷̱̣͊͋o̷͕̘u̵̦̰̿͘ ̶͉̀r̶̞̮̈ḙ̸̗͋̆q̷̗̤ư̸͌͜ͅî̵̮r̵͚͘e̸̺͍͝ ̶̳͂̍à̶̭͐ş̴̌s̴̞̯̀̃î̴̳s̴͓̑t̵̩̠̋̚a̷̤̯͐ň̸̺͍c̵̛̪̘̈́ȅ̴̪͕̾?̶̰̓̆"̸̮͛

“No Umbrae,” I say to the tome. “I got it. Rest up in the moonlight; we’ll be in Vesuvia by tomorrow.”

"̶̞̩͝V̸̱̯́ĕ̵̱͠r̸̡̺͒̏y̴̲̐ ̷̫͒̐w̶̤̆́è̵̗l̵͎͈̔͛l̶̥̄.̶̱̇ ̵̤̌̄S̸͓̐͗l̶͕̒̃e̴͍̅͑e̷͎̼͗p̵͖͓̈́͝ ̸̡̥͐͂w̴̳̞̉e̷̬̅l̵͉̀l̵̹͛͒,̴͖̎͆ ̷̝̓y̴̞͕̾o̸̳̣̐͠u̷̮̚n̴̺̔ḡ̷͇ ̸̝̀͜ó̴̞n̵̩̖̈́e̴̞͊.̸̘͐̉"̶͓̋̕

With that my magic teacher’s form settles down, looking like an ordinary book yet again.

I swallow, looking at my hands. There are open cuts and sores that are split open beneath uncomfortable strips of cloth. Eyes narrowed, I gather the items I need in order to change my bandages.

With an exhale, I settle back, grit my teeth, and begin pulling them off.

****

Well, to say it didn’t hurt like hell would be lying. I used the rest of the alcohol and the salve in my knapsack to clean my wounds. My hands sting something fierce, but the cool, minty smell is soothing.

It’s a struggle to even toe off my shoes, but I’m settled on the dirt now, eyes to the sky. My peripherals are surrounded by tall stalks of grain.

It’s strange, really. The stalks are so different, and yet not. I know they bear grains, like the fields back... back...

No, not home. There isn’t home anymore. Home is Vesuvia... or at least going to be home...

I think...

...

I’m not so sure yet. I hate to admit it, but I’ve heard nothing but bad and wild stories about Vesuvia. Mẹ said that her brother was irresponsible to settle in a place such as that. 

At least... at least I’d be with Cậu Bảo. He’d be a familiar face in a strange place, even if we haven’t seen each other in...

Ten years?

His letters to the house were always months and months late, but he has kept us updated on how he was doing. Mẹ read his messy script, saying that he really needed to work on his penmanship more, tut-tutting as if she were his mother, and not his younger sister.

Letters aside, I knew he was someone I could go to in case anything went wrong back at the house. Our village was right in the middle of two warring territories after all. The village was a neutral spot, which had been agreed upon by the warlords because of our position in the river. It was one of the easiest access ports in order to buy, trade or barter for food.

I just never expected it to go so wrong for me, the way it did...

I shake my head vigorously, getting my mind in the present. Right. No need to get caught up in that business now.

That was then, and this is now.

That was then, and this is now.

And here I am, at most two hours away from what is, hopefully, Vesuvia.

I move to rest my head on the low slope of my knapsack, adjusting every so often so I have some sort of support for my neck and head.

As the wind blows, the stalks around me rustle. They play a chorus of shh shh shh, the semi-repetitive sounds lulling me to sleep.

O*O*O

When I wake up, it takes me a moment to realize I’m somewhere impossible.

I’m floating in midair, surrounded by a sea of unfamiliar stars.

I bolt upright, and my body feels out of sync with my mind. My eyes see multiples of the same orbs of light all around me.

When I collapse back onto what feels like the ground, stars gather under where my hands and feet are planted. These things... they’re keeping me afloat...

Slowly but surely, the place around me finally stops spinning. Or rather, my vision stops bouncing around like a rabbit.

My breaths are shaky, but I slowly stand to my feet. Once fully upright, I look around.

As far as my eyes can see, there’s nothing but stars. They’re an assortment of colors and sizes, but the stars are spherical in shape. They shine like precious gems.

I am filled with a sense of awe.

A sound like a tree trunk snapping in two jolts me out of it. I’m suddenly aware that a path is assembled before me. Layer upon layer upon layer of stars gather together, creating a path. It looks like it’s a way forward... but forward to where?

I pause a moment, thinking.

The stars haven’t failed me yet. The stars for the past year and a half have not failed me. The only times they failed was because of human error. The gods placed them in the sky and we mortals are the ones that are supposed to follow the directions with the tools we have in order to navigate.

And these stars... say go forward.

With one more exhale, one foot in front of the other, I head onward.

****

I don’t know how long I have been walking, but it’s been an oddly pleasant experience. The stars not beneath my bare feet subtly hum and ring in greeting as I pass them by.

Before I can take another step, a deep, resonating rumble cracks the walkway ahead of me. The sheer force of it—!

I've been thrown off, backwards. I am flailing my arms about, trying to reach for the starry road, but I miss.

It dawned upon me that I'm falling.

No! No, nononono-!

I'm screaming, but nothing comes out. My voice... it's stolen from me.

I hurtle past a hundred thousand things. I glimpse dying stars, whorls of stars with fields of blue and skies of green, spheres fit to burst with fire and ink, and bubbles full of nothingness.

It's more than I can comprehend, more than anyone can possibly comprehend.

O*O*O

Eventually, I've slowed down. I'm not in danger of losing my limbs if I flail about now, but I'm frozen. I'm curled up into a ball.

I'm crying; silence is still taking hostage of my throat.

If the tears I cry drip past my chin and miss my sleeves, they lazily wobble down into the darkness, dotted with glittering stars. It's above, it's below...

It's everywhere. Everything and nothing is the same.

Despite being semi-blinded by my tears, I began to take stock of what's around me. I've been rationalizing my thoughts ever since I slowed to the speed I'm at now.

I know I'm dreaming. None of this, this all around me, could be possible in the waking world.

Umbrae mentioned to me that was possible for humans to travel to realms in their dreams...

The bubbles I passed before... were they the realms Umbrae spoke of?

Despite my neck being sore, I lift my head to finally look around. Even if I squint, eyesight is still crap. I can't make detailed assessments.

After a while, I can make out that there's something below me. I'm too scared to move, so I just let whatever force is pulling me down take me there.

****

I can finally make it out: it's another bubble. A massive one at that.

I spot a smattering of white from my position. Spots of browns and greens peek through gaps of that top layer in that massive sphere.

Before I can process it, and to my alarm, I make contact at the very top—

—and I breach through the bubble.

An immense force overtakes my body. I'm pulled down, down, down, past a layer of what I realize are clouds. Faster, and faster and faster I go, heading for a blur of brown and bright green below-!

My voice finally kicks in as I scream. It’s the only thing I can hear aside from the wind whistling past my ears as my body falls.

  I'm sorry, Mẹ.

O*O*O

...

....

.....

I'm flat on my front, eyes still shut. Dirt is in my eyes and my short, severely asymmetrical hair, but somehow, I'm alive. I’m alive.

Slowly, I wiggle my extremities. Finger by finger, limb by limb, I realize nothing's broken.

Blearily, I open my eyes. Everything is fuzzy, but I can feel that I'm in something that's like grass.

Tilting my head up, I'm greeted by a sky that is a confusing mix of hundreds, if not thousands, of colors.

I gag, my stomach lurching. I end up dry heaving into the grass...

...

....

.....

Once my body runs its course with nausea, I manage to wipe the dirt out of my hair and eyes.

What... what the hell is going on with me?

I want to wake up. I beg silently. Please, let me wake up...

I freeze as a bush just off to my right starts to rustle. I fall back onto my bottom, my blood rapidly pumping through me as I'm face to face with that bush.

... There's something in it.

If it's hostile, I'm screwed. If it's friendly, it might be able to help me...

What am I going to do? What  should I do?

[ Investigate the bush || Run ]

~To Be Continued~

EDIT ABOUT 5+ HOURS AFTER INITIAL POSTING: Hello readers! I failed to note that this is NOT a choose your own adventure!

Lyra has chosen both options, but this is where her path from being an NPC turns onto the path of The Apprentice, or turning to the Love Interest AU.

You’re gonna get both! (In time. I’m still working on this and other things in real life).

Thank you for reading!

A/N: And also a disclaimer: I am not in anyway bashing on the devs’ decision to change the prologue to the way it is currently. I am merely explaining how I reached my decision in terms of *where* Lyra is coming from (location wise) to get into Vesuvia, based on the map the devs released a while back for Vesuvia.

Now then:

In the prologue, previously to version released on May 21st, 2019, there was a maze test Nadia gave MC to perform in order to find Doctor Devorak (Julian). There was an option to escape the maze, and you’d end up meeting Julian that way.

He notes that MC came out of The Palace from the Southwest side, and the background graphic that was shown upon exiting the maze was The Fields during the day.

This is where I have gotten my head canon for how Lyra came to Vesuvia, heading Northeast from the edge of the Fields. There is no way Lyra would’ve *survived* crossing from The Fields into The Forest, and passing out in The Forest is high on the ‘you’re most likely going to die’ route.

And with that, disclaimer & A/N done! Thank you for reading.

to love in the dark

word count: 3.5k

warnings: smut, oral, implied demisexuality, fluff, established relationship

pairing: Shinji Nishiya/Kamui Woods x Reader (gender neutral)

author’s note: I had to re-write the same 3 paragraphs like 8 times, you guys!! It just kept.. not working?? Something didn’t click with the rest of it, or I was getting off topic or he tried to make it Too Emotional shush, Kamui Woods, just enjoy that hanky-panky dangit but despite this and injuries. Perseverance.

Frankly, he's a little bit eerie. It's not his quirk, not exactly. Quirks run from the absolutely mundane to frighteningly atrocious, and Nishiya's quirk registers, in your mind, anyway, as fairy tale. He's surreal, you decide. In his hero costume, as Kamui Woods, he is a solid presence, if still a stoic one, but out of it? Shinji Nishiya could vanish into the dark woods, leaving nothing behind but the creaking of branches and a sigh on the wind. Part of you will always wonder if that is why he spends so much time in costume. Saving the helpless, lending any aid possible- the never-ending rush of reaching one more person does not allow for self reflection. At that point in time, Shinji Nishiya has vanished. Even Kamui barely exists, nothing more than a body with the will to keep others breathing. It will always make you scared for him, and... This is the problem, really. With loving a hero. 

Your rambling thoughts escape when you blink, as if they're caught on the sudden gust of wind, and you half expect them to be reality. You expect to find him gone - nothing more than your mind playing tricks with the shadows of the trees, swaying in the wind - but he's still there. Now, though, after having been standing about for so long, you have his attention. You start walking, smiling sheepishly. "Here to see me?" He asks, when you reach him, as if he expects your answer to be different. The breeze tugs at the floppy hat he wears, and just this once, you wish it would carry it away, or lift it, just so, if only so you could see the smile that you hear in his voice. "Only the trees, of course," you tease as you offer him your hand. Nishiya takes it, gentle wooden fingers lacing with yours, before the both of you start walking into the forest. Neither of you speak, not at first. No matter how many times the two of you return here, he exudes a sense of reverence when you first begin to wander the trails, and you're always loathe to interrupt it. It isn't until his steps begin to drag, his attention caught by a new sapling, that you speak. "Needed a day off?" You're not expecting an answer right away, not when he's let go of your hand so he can kneel to better see the sapling. You don't mind his long pauses - he's simply processing his response, mulling over words a bit longer than others - but he's fast today. Or, perhaps, he expected this line of questioning. "I did, yes, but it isn't so much that I needed rest, as your companionship." Nishiya touches the soil at the saplings roots, fingertip pressing gently, before he stands and brushes his hands together, apparently finished. The sentiment, while not the strangest thing to happen in his company, is still all too surprising. Heat zips up your spine, leaving you sweltering beneath the collar of your shirt. Nishiya, the unobservant lout, walks on, and doesn't seem to notice that you're not beside him until he reaches for your hand again, wooden fingers grasping awkwardly at empty air.  He turns, murmuring your name, voice tinged with worry. You try and imagine the look on his face, the downward curl of lips you've yearned to kiss - but you can't quite focus on it. "Ah- s'nothing, just..." You trail off into an awkward silence, hurrying forward to slip your hand into his. You smile, hoping it will assuage his concern, ready to continue the small hike through the wilderness, but now Nishiya is the one hesitating. "Nishiya?" You prompt, stroking your thumb against his fingers. "I've a question," he suddenly blurts, turning his hand in yours to still all movement. He's steady, methodical, taking both of your hands in his and becoming so utterly immobile that you're reminded of a tree settling after a particularly strong gust of wind. You wait, silent, but there's a hitch in his breathing that has you biting at your bottom lip, wondering what exactly he's going to ask that's made him so cautious. Part of you hopes- you're dating, after all, you have been for quite a while, long enough that you feel you've a claim to the word love - but- "You've been so patient with me. With my work. With my... Perhaps this is long past due, but would you let me kiss you?" He tilts his head, not enough for you to get a full look at his face, but you catch the gleam of his eyes. Eyes you've seen through his mask a hundred times before, though never with his pupils blown or a stutter in his breathing. Your heart thunders inside your rib cage. "I would be delighted, Nishiya," and you're surprised, really, that you're able to get the words out so clearly. You have a thousand questions - why now's, and what changed or even reassurances that you don't need it, but you want it. You really, really do. He releases one of your hands, moving to push the brim of his hat up and you can't help it, you look away. There's a small rustling noise as Nishiya pulls his scarf away from his chin, his lips, but you still don't look. You just can't. You close your eyes, breathing out, and relax subtly when he shifts, reaching to place his wooden palm against your jaw, curling to cup your cheek. "Thank you," he whispers, and he's so close, a nose brushing yours, breath warm against your skin. "For not- for-" You think, maybe, that he's thanking you for keeping your eyes closed and you're vividly reminded of Psyche, and Eros, and only being allowed to love in the dark. His lips are warm and smooth, and slow against yours, his fingers sliding from your jaw to curl around the back of your neck. It's a silent query, closer? But he doesn't urge you, doesn't need to. You willingly step into his space, kissing him just a bit harder, a bit longer, and then nearly open your eyes in surprise when he gasps against your lips. A shudder runs through his frame as your tongue touches his lips - and then you hear shouting in the distance. You turn your face away, gasping for air, but Nishiya is frozen, arms still looped around you. You desperately want to see. Instead you laugh, and the sound is rough and not even close to the noises you'd like to be making. You reach, half-blind as you stare at the trees further up the path, and push the brim of his hat back down as the shouts get louder, both angry and frightened. "I think your aid might be required, Nishiya." It finally prompts him into action, as well as a flurry of muttered apologies and promises, but you barely hear them. He kissed you. Nishiya kissed you, and you're not sure you'll be able to function until he comes and retrieves you from the woods. --- For about three days, you're convinced it will be awkward. That you'll see him again and Nishiya will pretend it never happened. Or perhaps he'll simply open his door, hat and scarf and mask-less, the next time you come over. Okay, you're fairly sure he won't do that, but he could, and human curiosity is the worst. In the end, it's neither, because Nishiya is the one to show up at your place, late on the fourth evening. He's in wrinkled civilian clothing, his ever present scarf, and a hat sporting a moth-eaten brim, his shoulders hunched and posture radiating weariness, clutching at a bag that you're fairly sure holds his hero costume. "I apologize," he groans, once you've helped settle him on your couch. "I was told to head straight home after Recovery Girl- but you were closer, and I-" His hand spasms in yours, nervous. It's ridiculous, what he can do to you, just stumbling over words of attempted affection. "I missed you, too," you murmur, heart soaring with emotion. It's too bad that you have little time for it. "I caught that bit about Recovery Girl, though, and I think you need to get in bed." "I'll leave soon, it's-" "Nishiya. I meant my bed. You're in no state to drive anywhere." For a moment there is nothing but silence, and you fear you may have overstepped. You have only the barest knowledge about the additional things he requires due to his quirk and have a sudden silly worry that he may need soil or UV lamps or- "I- would appreciate that. And, if I'm not being presumptuous… your company, perhaps?" You can't tell if he's looking at you. It's likely that he only means for rest, obviously. Because he's recovering and just doesn't want to put you out of your own bed, but you can't help the silly smile you direct at the ceiling. "Of course," you reply, subtly attempting to punch the air in triumph. He chuckles though, and that means he saw your stupid grin and fist pump, so you just turn on your heel, intent on hiding in the bedroom with the excuse of straightening up. --- You're woken up, for the second time, by Nishiya shifting awkwardly on the other side of the bed. Sleepy and unthinking, you reach out, intending to pat the sheets and ask if he'd like to cuddle, when your hand brushes his bare shoulder instead. The texture of him, some strange combination of polished wood and the soft give of skin, has you freezing. "Nishiya?" You mumble, as he adopts that strange tree-like stillness once more. "I woke you?" He asks, voice rough with sleep. You stroke, curiously, just once, over the curve of his shoulder before you pull away. You haven't asked, and he's obviously having trouble sleeping- but Nishiya catches your hand, turning slowly to face you in the dark. "I don't mind," you whisper. "But yes. Are you.. still hurting?" Nishiya had never actually explained or shown the extent of his injuries, though his being awake could be due to any number of things. Maybe he wasn't fond of the mattress firmness, or, well, you'd never asked whether he needed UV lights. (Though that particular thought has you cringing, and you're not actually sure you want to be that blunt about it.) Nishiya takes his time answering, lacing his fingers with yours. "No," he says slowly, his tone almost questioning. "I simply can't stop thinking of-" He blows out a breath, as if exasperated with himself. "I seem to be incapable of being upfront with you. I keep thinking of the day we kissed. That... That I'd like to do more than just that." You can't help but smile into your pillow, cautiously beginning to move closer, just in case he changes his mind. Nishiya's fingers tense in yours, but he mirrors your movements when he realizes what you're doing, until the both of you have your legs tangled together, faces close enough to brush. "Now?" You can't help but ask, leaning forward and searching in the dark to press the tip of your nose against his. Nishiya hums, unlacing your fingers so he can slide his hand up your forearm. "Yes. Yes, if you'd like." You close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his and then sighing against his mouth as his arm slips around your torso, holding you close.  It's all too easy to lose sense of time when surrounded by so much sensation, to forego speech when his mouth is willingly opening to yours, when his fingers are pressing into your skin and his teeth catch at your bottom lip - you've dreamed about this, but the real thing is leaving your dreams in the dust. You pull back, shuddering when Nishiya's lips move to your throat, but you can't let yourself get too distracted now, or you'll never stop. "Let me- oh," you arch when Nishiya's palm skims up and over your hip, fingers curling underneath the edge of your shirt. "I - let me know if you don't like-" Nishiya's trail of kisses slows, though he doesn't pull away. "Am I rushing this?" He asks, voice soft, still once more. “I've been too for-” “No!” You exclaim, clutching at him before he can move away. “I've felt like I'm rushing you, not the other way around. We just haven't exactly discussed this much and-” you breathe out with a small laugh. “I've been thinking about you for months, Nishiya. I just didn't want to push or make you feel like you had to do something. I'm happy as we are, even if you don't want to.” Nishiya laughs too, but punctuates it by capturing your mouth with another breath-stealing kiss. He ends it with a sigh, but doesn't pull away. “It sounds as if we've both been overthinking this, hm? It.. takes me some time, yes, but.. With you, yes. I want this.” He shifts, reaching up so his fingertips can brush over the shell of your ear. The touch makes you shiver, and relief and desire mingle in a flood. "More kissing?" You suggest, trying not to focus too hard on the shadow of him in the dark room. You're still curious, of course, but the thought of waking and seeing his face in morning sunshine is more tempting than turning on the lights. Right now, you'd rather be touching. "Please," Nishiya murmurs, cupping your jaw to pull you back to him. His lips are that same soft-smoothness as his shoulder, heating quickly as you both adjust and tease, but when you nip at his lower lip, he just feels like skin. He murmurs your name, barely more than a whisper, but everything is so loud, amplified in the heavy darkness. The sheets and blankets shift, and the longer you make out, the messier it sounds. Between the smacking lips and Nishiya's heavy breathing, you're so touch-drunk that his sudden tug of you half on top of him barely registers. "I feel so selfish," he says, hands straying down to curl around the back of your thighs. "Wanting you this much," he clarifies. His tone, the way his fingers press- it's like he wants to keep the feeling a secret. "Mm." You tilt your head, moving to kiss his neck, absolutely reveling in how good all of this feels. "Then I am being selfish. I want you to keep touching me like this. I want you to keep telling me how much you want me." Nishiya huffs, but doesn't speak. His hands stroke up your thighs until they're cupping your ass, pulling you as close as he possibly can. The hard line of him brushes against your stomach before you're settled against him, knees on either side of his legs, and you have to breathe out, extra slow, for how badly you want to touch him. With your hands, with your mouth - you can't focus well enough to decide whether you him inside you or whether you want to be in him, and you aren't sure if either of you will actually get that far, but - it's most definitely a conversation you'd like to have later. For a short period of time though, you forget about speaking. Nishiya shudders, hips arching up to rut against you, and you're both too eager to find a rhythm, to keep up the friction, to take off your clothes. It isn't until you're both gasping that Nishiya puts a halt to it, hurriedly sitting up and pulling you carefully with him, to keep himself from coming. "That good?" You ask, breathless, still half splayed across his lap, trying to balance yourself by curling a hand around one of his shoulders. "Yes," he says, tone brooking no argument. "It's not- I've done this very rarely," he confesses, leaning forward until your foreheads are pressed together, still trying to calm himself. "It's always been difficult, unless.." Nishiya sighs, almost embarrassed, before he presses a smooth, wooden palm to your heart. Feelings, you think. He'd explained it before you'd begun to date, how his sexuality and libido were tied up in his emotions, in trust, in friendship- how many people had simply declared him picky without actually listening to him. You cover his hand with yours, turning your head until you capture him with another kiss. Nishiya relaxes into it, groaning when you reach between the both of you, fingers slipping beneath his pajama bottoms, to curl your fingers around his dick. You break the kiss, trying to keep up the motion you're making, but you wish you could stop and just listen to his gasping breath. "I want to make this easy for you," you murmur, squeezing him a slight bit tighter. "You know how I feel, Nishiya. How I've felt for a while." He shudders again, letting you set the pace, but his shoulders are growing more tense by the second. He gasps, suddenly grabbing onto your wrist as he spills himself over you. His control breaks. It isn't Nishiya's hand, but a mini lacquered-chain-prison that has snaked around your wrist, halting your movement. It's mildly startling, but the texture of the wood, and the quick.. shift back into his typical phalanges is so fast that you barely have time to process it. "Sorry," he pants. "I didn't- I couldn't control it for a moment. I'm sorry, it was ju-" If you wanted, if you let him, you know that he would draw back into himself. He's so private about his face, about Kamui Woods and the ghostly Shinji Nishiya being so utterly separate, that any kind of slip has had him pulling away in the past. You don't want that, especially not now. "I don't mind, Nishiya," you say. "I'm not going to lie and say it wasn't a surprise, but you didn't hurt me in the slightest. And... Well, knowing I made you lose control is rather gratifying." Nishiya laughs, leaning forward until his forehead is resting against yours. His breathing is still evening out, and your hand is stilled covered in come, but this is all you could have wanted and more. He gropes behind him, grabbing the shirt he'd first worn to bed, lost sometime after you'd gone to sleep, to wipe your hand and himself mildly clean before it soaks into his pants. "I'd like to touch you,” he breathes, tossing the shirt to the side before his hand is idly stroking down your thigh. His touch is reverent, wanting and so thrilling that you just barely stop yourself from grabbing his hand and putting it where you'd really like to be touched. You're not going to rush him, no matter how on edge you feel, eager for every brush of skin. You flop back on the bed, letting Nishiya arrange your legs, tensing when you feel his breath against your stomach and his hand between your thighs, almost too gentle. You almost laugh, because it tickles, but you don't want him to take it the wrong way. You close your mouth, lips pressed together tightly. Thankfully, his touch becomes bolder as his mouth travels down, and the weight of it, palm warm and mouth wonderfully wet- "Nishiya," you say, breathing out shakily as he works you over. He's slow, steady, and every press of his tongue and flex of his fingers has your hips trembling, trying not to thrust, trying not to be overwhelmed by it all. His mouth closes, sucking and you have to cover your face with your hands, or risk reaching down to pull his hair. "Fuck, that is - you are-" You leave off trying to speak, the pressure of an orgasm building, hot and tight and aching. "Close, I'm close, your mouth and the way you-" You gasp when he speeds his pace, not by much, but then he makes a soft "Mmm," noise against you and you can't hold it back anymore. You think you might be babbling, telling him how good it feels, how good it feels with him specifically, the way he moves, the noises he makes. Your hips do rise off the bed now, just barely, but the weight of Nishiya, the way he's laying between your legs, mouth and hand still moving, keeps you in place. And that tight burst of orgasm is making you shake, breath coming fast while Nishiya slows and finally stops. You still can't see him, it's still too dark with your curtains closed and the morning sun hours away, but you think he might be smiling. He sounds pleased with himself when he speaks anyway. "That good, hm?" He asks, mirroring your earlier question, and you laugh. Nishiya crawls up to lay beside you, pulling you close into his arms. "The best," you murmur. You're tempted to ask if he'd like to do more, but the slow stroke of his hands on you, the warmth of him pressed close and the boneless feeling of afterglow has you so relaxed that you may fall asleep soon. "Nishiya?" You whisper, drowsy, trying to fight it. "Mhmm?" "Be here.. in the morning?" You yawn, eyes closed, but you still hear his reply, clear and fond: "I don't want to be anywhere else."