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#i should probably read acceptance again too i probably meant to last year but wound up getting a new book or sth
islaytonlost · 1 year
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What Have I Done? LB;MR Fic
First Part, Previous Part, Next Part
Disclamer: I am not an expert in DID. This is not based on that disorder. Please do not use Alfendi to base your opinion of real world people who actually have this disorder
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It’d been a week, every time they tried to sneak in and take something Hilda caught them.  She always found out in some way and came storming to his flat, confiscating anything Fendi had managed to sneak out.
This time it was Florence who caught Fendi. He’d come in long after everyone else was meant to go home but it seemed Florence had decided to stay late. Thinking about it he wasn't sure if he’d ever seen her leave. Of course that could just be because he always stayed late. 
No matter what the reason was she was here now. Timid but curious “Alfendi?” She peers at him round a corner. As if entering the room would be too much.
“Hi” he keeps his voice flat. 
“You’re not -ACHOO- meant to be here,” she rolls into the room. He notes her hand still clinging to her IV. With no Lucy they’d never grown close enough for her to update him on her condition. He could feel Al wondering if she was okay.
He didn’t wonder about that. He just felt the anger flash through him, “is it any of your business?”
“You were shot.” she doesn’t back down but doesn’t move closer either. Staying near the doorway, smart.
“So? Shouldn’t it be my choice?” he snaps, glaring at Florence. She shrinks back against the wall, staring at him warily, “do you think you should have control over my life? Do you think I can’t make good choices?”
“You clearly can’t,” Hilda’s voice echoes through the empty halls.
“Ah-ah-achoo!” 
“Florence, why don’t you go away?” Fendi snaps.
“You can stay, if you want,” Hilda contradicts. Was she just trying to annoy him? If she was it was working.
“I think I’m alright,” she mutters, not moving from next to the doorway.
Hilda turns back to Alfendi, Fendi scowls, “I can look after myself!”
Hilda’s eyes narrow as she strides across the room her finger reaches out and she jabs the bullet wound. The pain is instantaneous shooting through him, making his knees weak, “AH” he huffs, “what’s wrong with you? Why would you do that?”
“To prove that you can't look after yourself, you can’t even stand up straight!” he attempts to then, clutching at his shoulder but the movement sends fresh waves of pain through him.
He takes a shuddering breath, “how dare you! You think I was planning on getting poked in the arm! I was reading! I thought I was safe here!”
“You’re not. Lucy Baker is a killer, she clearly wants to attract our attention. She’s probably watching here.”
Oh, yeah, he’d neglected to tell her about the last time he met Lucy. How she wasn’t really a killer… It’d been so awful last time she’d called them crazy, and rejected Al for not being Fendi. They couldn’t go through that again. 
It didn’t matter, going after criminals was their job and talking to Lucy would be easier if she was behind bars. “I am going to do my job!” he yells. He didn’t want to arrest Lucy but it was in his job description to at least find her. He had to at least find her, ask her why.
“You stubborn mule!” Hilda yells, “can’t you understand? I almost lost you!” was that tears in her eyes? They couldn’t be. Hilda was always so calm, so composed.
Years ago, after he’d been shot she’d said, “I lost you that day” she’d told people she lost her Alfendi. She’d told Lucy. 
Everything seemed to slow, the pounding ache in the back of his head, no, no not right now, not like this, not again, “go away…” he groans, between holding his shoulder and not moving his arm for fear of flaring up more pain he couldn't hold his head like he usually did. 
“What?” 
“No not you it’s just…” he couldn't tell her, she’d never accept it. No one would accept it, no one was on his side, “Just let me do my job,” Al moves closer to having control, “and leave me alone!”
“Get out then!” she yells back.
“I just said not you!”
“Then who!”
His eyes dart around the room, “Florence!”
“What?” both women ask at once just as Al takes over. 
JUST LEAVE, PLEASE. I CAN’T LOSE HER!
“I need to talk to Hilda in private, you’ve heard enough,” Al tries to snap at Florence, it just sounded calm.
“Okay, fine.” Florence wheels herself out, back to forensics. 
“Why do you want to be alone?!”
“Because I don’t want her to hear how much I missed you. Idiot. Not everyone can hear about my softer side. If Lucy is watching here she’s watching you. We need to do this together.”
Hilda frowns at his softer tone but she chose to go with what he's saying instead of the time itself. A tone not fiery enough to be Fendi, “Fine but what about how I feel?”
Act offended, of course I care! I also care about not getting shot.
“I’m just worried about you getting shot!” Al tries to sound offended, “I care about your feelings I’m sure you’ll feel terrible if your shot!” He sounded too reasonable too caring. Of course Fendi cared but it was fiery, passionate. Everything about him was fiery. Hilda knew this fact too well.
“That’s not all, what are you hiding? What were you saying earlier, you were not talking to Florence,” Hilda moves closer, “what happened Alfendi?” she whispers, soft and vulnerable. A closeness that was Fendi’s.
“Don’t,” Al says, to both Feni’s anger and to Hilda’s closeness, “please, I can’t do this.”
We have to do this!
“Hilda, you trust me don’t you?”
“Of course, Alfendi, what's happening?”
“I can’t tell you but I need to do this.”
“Are you in trouble again? I’ve told you you have to do these things with people. You can’t just keep running off aline. It’s how you got shot.”
Al winces at that. If Fendi had never run off alone he’d never be there, if he had never run off alone Diane could well have blown up Lucy’s house (or a hospital, or a school, they still couldn't bring himself to care as much about them though, no matter how selfish). Maybe sometimes it was worth it. 
“So tell me, what’s going on?”
Nothing!
“Nothing”
“Alfendi…”
“Just trust me.”
“I do trust you! I trust you with my like, just not your own! Would you accept that? If I told you to just trust me would you?”
“No.”
“Then tell me!”
I’ll cut your tongue out, I don't know how  but I’ll figure it out don't you dare!
“I can’t,” he begins heading to the door.
“This isn’t you.”
“I know.” he exits the room. 
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diabolicalacid · 1 year
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ONCE MORE TO SEE YOU
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“don’t worry, yn, you’ll get to meet them soon enough.” he tells you, patting your palm resting against the soft fabric of his trousers as he pulls out his cellphone, tapping his fingers off in order to contact someone who you can only assume is relevant enough to get you access to the locker room or something like that.
“alright, i just talked to their manager.” tetsuro says, sighing, owning a sorry look on his face, and a part of you feels at ease even when it shouldn’t. if he’s about to tell you the meeting can’t take place right now or ever, for that matter of fact, you should probably throw hands, get an access to the back door one way or another. after all your job is on the line here. but really, the very thought that you won’t have to come face with (possibly) sakusa kiyoomi from your high school releases the tension your nerves are racked up with, and you think that you’re capable enough to stir up an excuse to explain your circumstances to kurusawa. that would be better for you on any given day, much better than crossing paths with someone who threw your feelings away and let you sink in a scurry of embarrassment eight years ago.
“and. . .” a very long pause, too long for your liking because you’re impatient for him to announce the bad news to you. you just want to throw this interview in a dustbin at the venue and run away. really, more than some exalting words from your superior that will momentarily put you on a pedestal, you would rather accept criticism and issue an apology.
“and. . .” a very long pause, too long for your liking because you’re impatient for him to announce the bad news to you. you just want to throw this interview in a dustbin at the venue and run away. really, more than some exalting words from your superior that will momentarily put you on a pedestal, you would rather accept criticism and issue an apology.
“they said the boys are read to meet you now!” tetsuro announces, voice brimming in glee for you, and he expects you to return something similar to the bright look designed on his own face, but you can only look at him with a face that speaks of pity for yourself. this confuses him, but tetsuro decides it’s only because you’re trying to process this victory before you’d like to react to it.
the reality, however, his words snatch the colour off your face. the pink blush your cheeks were smothered in, is wiped off the instant his words hit you. the very thought of coming face to face with sakusa, who could possibly be the sakusa you wanted to desperately ignore for the rest of your life, paints your skin a pale shade that you’ve only seen once before when you almost got into a hit and run two years ago.
earlier it was a question about him recognising you and denying the interview, but now that you’ve given it too much thought, too much to be considered healthy at least, you think it’s more about your own dignity. you think you want to walk away because your self respect has never been higher than it is at this point in your life. to face someone who scalded your reputation like he did and slashed your ego into strips like that of bacon (you haven’t been a fan of the food ever since, but you can’t really blame yourself to begin with. with sakusa kiyoomi, you think the wounds he burnt into your skin are meant to last forever), you don’t think you have it in yourself to stand in front of him with a make up that imitates a straight face, asking his team to offer you an opportunity to interview them. you decide it’s better to walk away while you still have the time to.
you get off the seat, turning around instead of offering tetsuro’s statement any regard. “you know what, tetsu, i’m really sorry, but i need to leave now.” you shift around to face your best friend, still intact in his seat, sighing, pursing your lips. “i know i made you set this up, but i’m not feeling up to the mark right now.” you tell him, and his first instinct is to get off his seat to place one palm against your forehead and another one against his own.
“you aren’t warm, yn.” he declares, checking your temperature that seems alright when compared to his own. “are you having some kind of stomach issues?” he asks, turning your cheeks red in embarrassment, not because you’re uncomfortable around him. you’ve known him since you were four, there’s no way this makes you uncomfortable in the least. rather, you spot a musubi player taking position right behind tetsuro, who you’re pretty sure heard whatever your best friend just asked you, and you lower your head, wiggling your toes as you try to paste your attention anywhere but on the player waiting to initiate a conversation with you.
“i have some medi—“ tetsuro is interrupted by the player who taps his shoulder as he offers you a vague smile in the process, feeling the embarrassment you felt just moments ago, moreso feeling bad for you.
“oh, hey, meian san!” kuroo turns away from you, tugging the player behind him into a big hug, smiling ear to ear as he pats shugo’s back, withdrawing from a hug, pulling the dude closer to you in order to introduce the two of you to each other.
so it seems your chance to walk away has been demolished and you’re about to face what it seems the second most horrifying night of your life. but you think there’s still a faint sliver of hope that hangs from the night sky tonight, and it might not be the sakusa you were acquainted with during high school, but someone else entirely. although it’s the faintest it has ever been, it’s hope enough, and it aids you to look up to curl your lips into a soft smile at shugo or whatever his name is, even though the smile you’ve put up is nothing close to your best.
“yn, this is meian shugo. he’s the captain.” tetsuro introduces you to the guy in front of you. meian puts a hand ahead, hoping you’ll return his gesture, acknowledging, “it’s nice to meet you, LN.”
“it’s nice to meet you too, meian san.” you shake his hand, bowing down to him, words only a breath away from being inaudible. but for what it’s worth, you said them nonetheless, despite the urge to walk out poking around and about your gut.
you look around as you step back from the introduction, failing to spot shugo’s teammates around, and you think you still have a chance to escape. “meian san, i’m so sorry. can we do this some other time?” you ask, expression that of apology and a shaky voice echoing around.
shugo chuckles, saying something in between the rhythm of his laugh, butting in a joke regarding you, “because you have stomach issues tonight?” although he says it only as a joke with no intention to offend you, your face reconstructs into a frown of sorts, and you blurt out, “no, it’s because my head hurts.”
“your game was too loud for me to take.”
shugo senses you’re bemusement towards his harmless joke, but instead of saying it out loud, he bows down to apologise. you nod, accepting it, but the frown on your face isn’t yet convinced to pale itself. it stays in place, intact, just the way it was the moment it had appeared.
“i think it’s best if we do this another time, meian san.” tetsuro steps in, convincing shugo as he bows down to apologise on your behalf, “yn seems like she’s a little cranky tonight.”
“i should probably take this kid home now.” he chuckles, patting your back lightly, definite not to vex you furthermore. while you do manage to see eye to eye with shugo during tetsuro’s conversation with him, you’re still just as annoyed at him as you were earlier on, more than you were pleased that he agreed to meet you in the first place.
you aren’t even pissed at him. he did nothing wrong to you, and your sour feelings towards the dumb joke he put out will probably dissipate off in a few. but sakusa’s presence somewhere around you, somewhere within a hundred feet of you, that is what has bothers you the most of all of right now, and shugo cracking a joke in front of you didn’t make it any better for you. and really, you could’ve been ruder to him, but he isn’t sakusa kiyoomi and you aren’t so petty either.
“that’s quite alright. we can arrange this meeting another time.” shugo reassures you, stretching his lips the widest, so far that their ends meet the crinkles of his eyes, and rather than creepy, he looks great smiling like that. but you wish he would just say no, but tetsuro probably convinced them to say yes to you. so either way, you’re stuck with the musubi black jackals until further notice.
you greet him a goodbye before tetsuro and you turn away from shugo, beginning to pave your way towards your car in the parking lot, when a rather excited pair that of shoyou and koutaro spot you. they throw their hands into the air, but you don’t really respond despite spotting them standing right in front of you, just a few feet away. the lack of response on your end drags koutarou’s hair towards the ground, but shoyou grabs him by the hand and starts practically sprinting in your direction. as happy as you are to see the two lights of your dull life after months of separation, a certain someone with black curls scattered around his head, wet from a shower, a buff, tall figure, and a stoic expression stained over his face garners all your regard.
the faintest sliver of hope vanishes into thin air, the pit of nervousness in your stomach replaces the void it created with the heaviest weight it possibly knows of, the frown shugo etched into your face dries into nothingness, and all you’ve ever known about kamisama floating amidst the cloudy skies suddenly feels stupid. because the person you’re looking into the dark brown eyes of right now is the same sakusa kiyoomi from high school you swore to never even spare a look towards again.
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↬ PART 05 : msby’s #15
↬ MASTERLIST
↬ #previous • #next
↬ A/N : rest in peace, yn chan. taglist is open!
✦ taglist : @wolffmaiden @k444zuha @scrawled-in-ink @kiyoomimybeloved @hangecanweholdhands @kurooloveschurroo @yachisupremacy @ladle-things @thoskyrn @suhaaaefre @saaraunicorn @midnight-drives-with-sunarin @tobiot4life @mitsuki-simp @karasunoya
*bold* cannot be tagged.
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sol-flo · 2 years
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guy who only thinks about AI art thinking about annihilation: wow getting a lot of GAN vibes from this......
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amor-immortalem · 3 years
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Replaced
Genre: Heavy Angst, Angst with a somewhat happy ending.
Warning: The following piece is my take on the replaced! au with Arella. Dark themes lie ahead. If you are triggered by feelings of abandonment, suicidal ideation, or outright suicide, this mini fic is not safe for you to read. Please continue at your own discretion.
A/N: I did it guys! I actually managed to break myself with this mini fic by digging into my own abandonment issues. It was fun- cathartic almost. Please enjoy! Also, spoilers for the lesson 16 incident.
What does it feel like to be replaced? If you were to ask Arella, she’d say it felt bitter and painful. Like someone was holding a white-hot branding iron to her stomach and pushing it in to the point it ate through all the layers of her skin and was now searing through her stomach or like someone was rubbing salt into a open, festering wound.
When Diavolo had announced to the other student council officers that a new exchange student would be joining their ranks, Arella was excited- especially when she found out the new student was a female- there was only so much Arella could talk about in a house full of men and one genderless individual that they would understand, all of them having been assigned male at birth and whatnot. So, another woman among their ranks would be a breath of fresh air for her. And it was for a time being- until the brothers had taken favor to this new human.
It started within months of this new exchange student arriving. One by one, her favorite demons started hanging around her more often. It wasn't like Arella could be mad at them. This human was novel and oh so different from Arella. She was everything Arella was not, from her blonde hair to her well-developed body- even her height, which matched closer to the brothers. She was everything human world media told a girl she should be. She even looked like she fit in with them- having taken to the Devildom like a duck to water even without being able to use magic.
Arella wants to be angry with this girl, but she can’t. This girl, named Melissa, was so sweet it was almost enough to make Arella sick. She was smart, innocent, and -above all else- selfless. It was apparent the boys adored her immediately. One by one, Arella was losing them to the charms of this new girl. The first to go was Satan, clearly smitten by her love of books and knowledge of obscure but very talented authors. The second to go was Asmo, often taking her out to clubs or on long shopping trips that often lasted well past curfew. And just like that the other brothers started to follow suit. Game nights between her and Levi? Gone. Drawing up budgets with Lucifer? Not anymore. Going out with Beel to cafes? Not in her wildest dreams. Naptimes up in the attic with Belphie? Hah! Fat chance. The last and most painful to pull away was Mammon- her first man. The one who swore he would always be there for her when she needed him. And oh how she needed him.
Just like when Arella had first come to the Devildom, Mammon was given the task of watching over Melissa by Lucifer. At first Arella tried to justify it as Lucifer worrying about the girl’s safety as even though his brothers had gotten better at controlling themselves, they still had their moments.
As time went on however, she started to notice the little things. Missed movie nights between them, date nights often forgotten about in favor of showing Melissa his favorite spots around the city, the loss of any physical intimacy. Soon, he stopped seeing her all together. Things that she and Mammon did together were now reserved for Melissa: casino trips, movie nights, pranks on Lucifer that would have the eldest chasing after them, running around the city until it was nearly what could considered to be the Devildom’s equivalent of dawn. She knew he was completely gone when she walked down to the dining room for supper one evening and overheard them just casually flirting. Mammon didn’t even make any attempts to dissuade Melissa’s advances. He remembered he actually had a girlfriend, right? Right?!
Or were they even a thing anymore? It had been months since they’d spent any substantial time together outside of classes and even then, he’d moved seats to sit closer to the new human. He’d either ignore her texts or straight up just ghost her altogether. As she listened to them, she had to push down the possessive tendencies that tried to force their way out of her. She pushed them back down into the flimsily locked box they had always been contained in and burying them down in the deepest parts of her mind, forcing herself to accept that she was no longer wanted- no longer loved by the family she thought she’d found. She returned to her room for the rest of the night and for the first time since the initial weeks after arriving here on her first visit, cried herself to sleep.
The next time she interacted with any of the Avatars, it was Lucifer ordering her off to school telling her that she had better not be late and tarnish the good name Lord Diavolo and the exchange programme. Arella only nodded and promptly left the house, not even bothering to finish her morning cup of tea. The walk to school was lonely, Mammon had left earlier with Melissa and it was then, with a broken heart, Arella decided she would leave them all to their new toy. They wouldn’t bother her. They didn’t need her. At least she had Solomon and the angels, didn’t she? No, it didn’t seem to be the case either judging by the mass of unanswered texts.
As she entered class, Arella took her usual seat only hoping Mammon would choose to sit with her for once, would just choose her for once in general. But it wasn’t meant to be. Of course, it wouldn’t. Why would he bother to choose her when there was someone who was much better for him than her? Someone who wasn’t selfish or possessive or... or... worthless... She subtilty looked over her shoulder to watch as they cracked jokes and laughed together and she felt tears pool in her eyes- heart aching at the thought that she would never have that again and the sweet memories she’d made with the demon. The spot she once saved for him was now taken by another demon.
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Two months more of this- it had been eleven since Melissa joined them. None of the brothers even looked Arella’s way anymore- often forgetting she lived in the house with them in the first place. When she tried to reach out to any of them it was Melissa needs this or Melissa and I are doing this, so she just stopped. She stopped eating, stopped taking care of herself save for basic hygiene needs. No one came to check on her. There were no texts, no calls, nothing. They’d gotten all they wanted out of her and now she was like a cast aside doll. She thought about reaching out to any of them but decided against it. They were demons and she was just an insignificant human. It's not like they actually cared and Arella was a fool for allowing herself to entertain the thought.
She should just go home. But where was home? The human world held nothing for her to return to. Sure, she had that degree in biochemical engineering to fall back on but after having a taste of true happiness, would she even enjoy a life doing that? Maybe she could just go back to her original plan. The plan she had made when she first signed on to the exchange programme. 23 years was certainly long enough to experience everything life had to offer, right? She always did tell herself if the year on the exchange programme didn’t work out, she’d end it all. The idea was sounding more and more appealing by the minute.
With her mind made up, Arella swung her legs over the side of the bed. A smile was painted on her face. Her cheeks stained with tears; emerald-green eyes bleary from all the crying she’d done over the past two months. No one would miss her. They left her- abandoned for the better human like she was an unwanted pet. What did she expect though? No one ever stayed. No one ever cared. No one ever loved her enough to begin with. She was always thrown away like the trash she was after her purpose was fulfilled.
With what little strength she could muster, Arella stood as she uttered a spell and a portal opened. She gladly stepped through it, finding herself in her childhood home as it closed- a place filled with nothing but suffering and pain for her. What a fitting place for her own painful end.
“Hello, Mum, Myles... I’m... home... Isn’t it lovely... that you were right after all? I’ll be with you... soon...”
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Missing his call on her D.D.D. was the first thing that Mammon noticed. He knew he hadn’t been the best boyfriend ever since the new human arrived and the demon felt guilty for that. He’d put so much energy into helping Melissa get a date with his younger brother that he hadn’t realized how much time had actually passed- how it had been almost a year since he’d done literally anything with his girlfriend. She was probably pissed at him and rightfully so. Now that he had actually looked at his calendar, there had been so many planned dates and movie nights he had missed with her and all he wanted to do was make it up to her somehow. She probably thought he didn’t want her anymore which couldn’t have been further from the truth. He missed her- missed hanging out with her, missed the dumb jokes they would crack and the laughter that followed, missed the pranks they would play on Lucifer that often ended up with them strung up from the ceiling together. He missed the late-night cuddles and having her tucked up under his arm at night as he held her close. The bed they had once shared was considerably colder now that she was no longer there.
Mammon made his way down to her room. That was the only place she could be. Arella never left her room anymore. She always left for school earlier than anyone else too, choosing to skip breakfast outright, so Mammon couldn’t even catch her to talk then. He thought about reclaiming his seat next to his human but every morning he found her chatting up another demon that had taken his old seat. He often felt his possessiveness spike most during those times but did he even have the right to feel that way after neglecting her for the past eleven months?
As he drew closer to her room, he could see Beel knocking at her door, asking if she’d like to go visit that new café she had mentioned a couple weeks ago. When there was no answer, the Avatar of Gluttony would frown, unsure if she was just asleep or just actively ignoring him. That was the second sign something was wrong. No matter what happened, at the end of the day, Arella was always happy to entertain their whims.
“She’s not answerin’ ya, is she?” The second-born asks as the sixth-born shakes his head, looking like an abandoned puppy on the side of the road. “I’ll go in ‘n see if she’s awake. I have to talk to ‘er anyway.”
Beelzebub nodded as he left back to the kitchen- likely to eat his hurt feelings away. None of them really had the right to feel this way after they’d just ghosted their favorite human though. As he opened the door, Mammon stopped dead in his tracks. She wasn’t there, her phone lay on the bed lit up with missed texts from Asmo and Levi.
Immediately, he took off for Lucifer’s study. If anyone would know her whereabouts it would be Lucifer, right? The family patriarch had the uncanny ability to know exactly where every resident of the House of Lamentation was at any given time so long as they were still in the Devildom.
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After considering her options, Arella was left indecisive. There were a number of ways she could end her own life. She wouldn’t lie, before the exchange programme she would fantasize about the many ways she could kill herself. Would it be by hanging like she found Myles? Or perhaps she could slit her wrists like her beloved mother. If the car in the garage still worked, carbon monoxide poisoning was a valid option too. There were sleeping pills up in the medicine cabinet- a large handful of those would definitely do the trick... Ah choices, choices. As she smiled to herself, the human wondered if any of the brothers had noticed she wasn’t in the house anymore. The chances were unlikely as they were all too busy with their new human but if they had, who was it?
Would it be Asmo, Levi, Belphegor? Surely, it wouldn’t have been Mammon. He’d long since moved on, probably enjoying the start of a new relationship with Melissa. It hurt that he couldn’t have been bothered to even break up with Arella in the first place. What happened to forever? Had it all been the honeyed words of a liar?
She shook her head. It was best not to think too much on it but she still couldn’t help it. Once she was gone- once their pact faded away- would he regret this? Would he regret losing the person who loved him so unconditionally that it was almost embarrassing?
With her mind made up, Arella grabbed a knife from one of the drawers in the kitchen and carried herself up to the master bedroom where she had found her mother four years prior. As she lie on the bed, she pressed the knife to her wrist deep enough to cause substantial bleeding. She drags the blade up her arm, watching as the crimson liquid gushed from the from the wound. She thinks it’s beautiful- a fitting end for a vile creature such as herself.
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“Lucifer!”
“What, Mammon?” The eldest didn’t even bother to look up from the ever-growing stack of paperwork on his desk.
“Did Arella have plans tonight?” The Avatar of Greed asks as his brother finally looks up at him.
“Not that I’m aware of, but I also haven’t seen her all day. As her mate, you should know, shouldn’t you? As far as I’m aware, Arella hasn’t left the house and is still in her room probably practicing her mag-”
In that moment, both demons felt a sharp pain shoot up their arm as if someone had taken a knife and was drawing a line up the inside of their arm. The same pain was radiating from the places where their pact marks were located. Mammon clutched at his chest as he fell to his knees, the symbol representing his girlfriend radiating with pain that reached down to his heart. If the screams of the others were anything to go by, they felt the same thing.
“She’s not in her room!” The white-hair demon manages to gasp out. What scares him most is that he can feel their pact fading away.
Lucifer’s heart leapt up in his throat as the realization hit him. It wasn’t her practicing magic that he had sensed earlier, it was her casting a spell. She opened a portal to the human world and had gone through. He now realizes the mistake they’ve made as he remembers back to the confession she had made to him over a year ago one night when neither of them could sleep and opted for a late-night cup of tea. She had told him that he and his brothers had saved her life that first year during the exchange programme. That if things hadn’t worked out so well, she had planned to take her own life. Back then, he thought nothing much of it since the problem had resolved itself. But with how they had essentially pushed her aside in favor of Melissa, she would have felt unwanted bringing the suicidal thoughts back full force. They had to get to her and fast before it was too late.
Always fast on his feet the eldest, opens a portal of his own, knowing of only one place she would go to take her own life. Both brothers would hop through, landing in the dusty house with a thud. The smell hit them faster than either of them could process it. Blood. And a lot of it at that.
Mammon was the first to scramble for the stairs while Lucifer made a break for the phone, having forgotten his D.D.D. on his desk in the rush to get through the portal. The second-born knows the layout of Arella's house too well, having been here with her multiple times before this. Back in better times when she knew just how much he loved her. As the smell of fresh blood grows stronger, he finds her resting on the bed, a smile on her face as the knife lay between her body and the arm that was still slowly losing blood.
Faster than a flash of lightning, the demon tore his belt off and was on the bed immediately. He took her arm, fastening his belt around the upper part in a tourniquet to stop the blood flow. He shook her frantically, tears spilling down his face freely.
“Arella! Arella! C'mon, baby, wake up! Please!” His voice came out in a scream and he could only vaguely hear his brother speaking on the phone with emergency services. “We’re sorry! Don’t leave us! Don’t leave me!”
With every passing second, Mammon could feel her life slipping away through the pact that was still searing his heart. This was the price of his actions- of all their actions. Her blood was on his hands, literally. He should have done more. He should have been there. He could have called or texted or even just picked up the damn phone when she had called him, but instead just like the blood that had slipped from her arm, the Avatar of Greed let her slip through his fingers. She was gone and there was no bringing his human back this time like they had when Belphie threw her body down the stairs after he’d strangle her to death. He and his brothers had spent all that time protecting her from other demons but they couldn’t protect her from themselves.
Once the EMT’s got there, the demon stepped back from the blood-soaked bed in a state of shock- a state of disbelief. There was nothing they could do for her now. She had no pulse, no signs of life. He dropped to his knees unable to believe that his human was truly gone. His throat felt tight as more tears came. He was only just able to register the feeling of the Avatar of Pride’s embrace as they cried together- something they hadn’t done since the fall, since Lilith passed.
The two demons were informed that the coroner would arrive to collect her body shortly as they left the room. Slowly they got up, Mammon taking her body in his arms as he fought back the urge to sob. The pair returned to the House of Lamentation with Arella’s body in tow, cradled carefully in her mate’s arms. As they stepped through, they were met by their brothers and Melissa. Even the Angels, Solomon, and the Royals were there waiting.
“She’s gone,” The eldest’s voice cracked as a pained grimace formed on his face, more tears slipping down his face. Mammon couldn’t even lift his head to look them in the eyes as the crying, wailing, sobbing started.
“We didn’t deserve ‘er.” The second-born chokes on his tears, feeling utterly broken inside. “We did this to ‘er. All... All seven of us did this... She reached out to alla us ‘n we ignored ‘er.” He’s the angriest with himself.
The prince and his butler only watch on, tears in their eyes. Diavolo remembers all the good times they’ve had with Arella. The way she made the lives of the Avatars better, the fun she brought to the student council meetings, the beautiful light she’d brought to the Devildom. She’d made such an impact on the lives of all of these demons and angels. As selfish as it was, Diavolo didn’t want to let any of that go.
“Bring her back, Barbatos.” He orders and his loyal servant steps forward.
“Place her on the ground, Mammon.” Barbatos says calmly, almost as if he’s done this a thousand times and for some reason the Avatar of Greed obeys the order.
Once she’s on the ground, the green-haired demon pulls open her mouth and takes Mammon’s hand in his, producing a dagger and slicing the white-haired demon’s palm tipping it to side and allows the blood to drop into Arella’s mouth. As the crimson liquid flows down her throat, the effect is immediate- Arella's body convulsing violently before she gasps for breath as the gash along the inside of her arm heals.
Everyone- demons, angels, and humans alike- stare wide-eyed at the scene. Lucifer looks up to his longtime friend in disbelief. He had just...
“Let this teach you all a very painful lesson. I’ve given her life as a demon, do not take this chance for granted. You will not get it again. She needs rest for now, but in a day or two, Arella will reawaken.” The prince’s voice is stern as he peers down at the former human who would now become a very powerful demon. “Treat her right this time.”
It’s with that that Diavolo and Barbatos take their leave. The rest was up to the brothers now to care for her and right the wrongs they’ve made.
-------------------------------------------------
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Kiss Me More (Part IIII) - Zemo/Reader
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Masterlist | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | 
Summary: Reader ponders the decision they made after meeting Zemo in Riga. Series now complete!
Words: 5.2k
Warnings: Kissing, marijuana & alcohol abuse, heavy angst & depression, small reference to suicide, implied casual sex, yearning
A/N (also check out A/N at end when finished reading): This is it, everyone! I was going to end this completely differently originally, but after some thinking --  and some light peer pressure from ya’ll, I did something a little different. I did fight with this part the most out of all of them, so I hope it’s still good. Please enjoy. And thank you for all the love on this series, it’s been so fun to write! Also I was listening to this song while writing this.
---
The incessant buzz of her alarm clock jolted her out of her dreamless sleep. Fumbling in the dark, she slapped the top of it, hitting the snooze button and looking at the interface with bleary eyes. 
4:00 A.M. It stared, indifferent, back at her tired face. 
She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and lamenting, bargaining, half expecting the clock to turn back time when she opened her eyes again. Unfortunately, it did not. With a huff, she threw back the covers and stretched, disturbing the orange cat that slept in the empty spot next to her where her husband used to lay. 
Snorting, the cat lifted its head to look at her as she climbed out of bed before curling back up in a ball where her feet had been. 
“Don’t mind me, just getting ready for work so I can feed us,” she said, grumpily, then in a moment of repentance, affectionately scratching her behind the ears. 
She had always been a night owl, so she didn’t think it would be possible to ever get used to waking this early. No human was meant to function at this time. It was the one part of the job she hated most. The rest of it was manageable, though it was still work. 
Setting about her morning routine, she showered, made coffee, and donned her uniform. Eating a day-old bagel and nursing her coffee on her tiny balcony, she looked out over the darkened horizon. It was far too early to even enjoy a sunrise. 
There was a saying, time heals all wounds. After her husband died, she’d heard it a lot. It was a saying she had come to find true. But it’d been well over a year since she’d left Helmut, alone in that swanky hotel room, and it still hurt like it was yesterday. 
“I understand,” he’d murmured, and she felt the ghost of his kiss on her forehead, arms around her waist, even now. She shivered, not from the chill of the morning air.
She’d left her old life behind, all of it. Sam and Bucky, too, about a month after their time in Riga. She couldn’t look them in the eyes after what she’d done.
But, she was proud of what they’d accomplished. They’d defeated the Flag Smashers. Bucky seemed happier, more at peace. Sam had accepted his role as the new Captain America. John Walker seemed to have faded into irrelevancy. All the loose ends had been tied up in a pretty little bow.
Except for hers.
Which is why she moved, sold all the stuff in her tiny NYC apartment, and packed her car full with what she couldn’t bear to part with, some photos and momentos from a different lifetime. Her car didn’t stop until she hit the Atlantic Ocean, on an island just south of Charleston. All but undiscovered by tourists, the residents in the sleepy beach town kept to themselves, and she could go about her life in peace, undisturbed. 
She couldn’t just run away from her problems, that was why she’d left Zemo. It seemed counterintuitive, but in her mind, it made sense. The problems would catch up to her, like they always had. The dissatisfaction she had with her life, with herself, was always going to return. And she knew she had to be alone to deal to face it head on. Like a wounded animal, crawling into the woods, there were only two ways things could end here; either she’d heal and come out stronger, or eventually she’d die. And so far, the healing part wasn’t going great. 
Each day was a matter of convincing herself that she’d made the right choice. Especially now, as her eyes burned, fighting to stay open against the inviting embrace of sleep. 
Despite it being dark outside, the bakery was bustling already when she walked in the service entrance. It smelled amazing, as always. Sweet and warm, a cacophony of aromas, baking bread, fresh coffee, sugar.
She set about the usual preparations to open up, packaging orders for the regulars, sweeping the floor, wiping down countertops. Once the place was open, she didn’t have to work the register, as she prepared batches of dough in the back for proofing, to be baked the next day. 
Before, she’d been a terrible cook, but she’d grown comfortable in the kitchen after learning to bake. There was something satisfying about working with her hands, at this point she’d memorized all the recipes and the work became second nature to her. Now, she always had fresh bread and pastries in her kitchen, although they were the slightly disformed, ones the shop owners deemed too ugly for the glass display cases. Daylight was cherished, even if she barely saw it inside the shop. Because while she was awake, busy with work, her thoughts remained pleasant.
At night it was the hardest. Things got quiet, lonely. When she got home, she poured herself a drink. Cheap whiskey, the kind that came in a plastic bottle and burned on it’s way down. She had never been much of a drinker before, she was now. Her thoughts were more manageable after a drink. Especially because she was usually thinking of Helmut. 
It was often that she wondered what he may be doing, and those thoughts usually ended with the image of him lying in the sun, poolside, on some island in the Pacific Ocean, drinking expensive champagne with a supermodel. It wasn’t a particularly comforting thought to her, and yet she was plagued by some variation of it every night. 
Sometimes, she’d humor herself, and imagine what they might be doing had she decided to stay with him. Unfortunately, thinking of that was more upsetting. She wanted it, selfishly, though she wasn’t willing to admit it.
When she was younger, it had been so easy to block out the pain, to just press forward, no matter what. Much to her dismay, it didn’t get easier as she got older. Years of watching those she loved in pain, years of being in pain had taken a toll on her resilience. She wasn’t the strong woman she once was, she was weak.
That night, one drink had turned into two, into three. Wallowing in her own self-pity had become second-nature, she felt like Hamlet, lamenting her circumstances, a constant turmoil monologuing in her brain. But this night felt particularly worse, for some reason. 
For the record, she had been doing better. But she was all-too-familiar with how grief worked, pulling her back down the dark side of the mountain, where she was forced to fight her demons over and over again. At some point, they were going to win.
It was a funny thing. Despite the loss of her husband, who she had loved dearly, his death had been easier to accept. Final. She couldn’t bring him back. Helmut on the other hand, was still out there, an open wound that could never fully heal.
Before she knew it, she was four drinks in, at her bedside table, fumbling through the bottom drawer, until she found what she was looking for.
Back on her couch, she stared at the card in her hand, the hastily written phone number on it, an international line. Helmut had given it to her, the day she left, stuck it in her purse while she wasn’t looking. She didn’t discover it until she had returned home.
It had been months since she last did this, pulled the card out of its hidden place in her drawer, placed it on the coffee table in front of her next to her phone, and considered dialing it. It had been a frequent occurrence when she first moved here, when she couldn’t find a job and spent most of her mornings either hungover, or stumbling home from rendezvous with men whose names she wouldn’t remember, and she wouldn’t care to, because there was only one man she really wanted. She could only hope he’d be as close as one call away. But she never called. 
I mean really, he’d probably moved on by this point. If she was going to call, she should have done it months ago, when there was more of a chance that he’d give a fuck. 
She considered this a setback. But she’d made her way halfway through the cheap bottle of whiskey, it was the drunkest she’d been in ages and she was curious. She didn’t know whose number it was, who’d be on the other end of the line, and never knew why Helmut would want her to have it to begin with.  
At this point, she wasn’t capable of good decision making. In general, it hadn’t always been her strong suit. So why did doing the right thing matter now? It didn’t, she decided. 
Taking a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle, she ensured she wouldn’t remember what happened next, at least not clearly. 
The phone rang twice before someone picked up. “Hello?” she didn’t recognize the sound of the man on the other end of the line immediately, so she didn’t answer. All she had wanted to do was maybe hear Helmut’s voice, he didn’t even need to know it was her that was calling. 
“Hello?” the man repeated, and she realized it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. The grandfatherly, comforting tone wasn’t her former lover, but someone close to him. And she supposed that wasn’t terrible.
“Is this Oeznik?” she asked. 
“It is,” he said after some hesitation. “May I ask who’s speaking?”
Truthfully, she was shocked she’d allowed herself to go this far. This was a bad idea. If she stopped now she could get off without doing any real damage. But just as she was about to hang up, she heard her name, muffled, on the other end of the line. 
“H-How do you know it’s me?” She raised the phone back to her ear. 
“I thought you sounded familiar,” Oeznik chuckled, low and soft. “Helmut told me you might call.”
“He did?” she squeaked. “Yes, although it was awhile ago. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I uh….I….well….” she managed. “I guess I just….I guess I wanted to see how he was doing.”  Her words flowed together like the liquor she was drinking, she knew she sounded drunk.
“Good, since we last spoke,” he said. “I don’t hear from him much these days...maybe every couple months. As you might imagine, he’s trying to keep a low profile for the time being.”
She nodded. Perhaps Zemo was as lonely as she was, hidden away in some cabin in the middle of nowhere. Though she had to imagine it looked much nicer than her current place, and maybe he had better company than a portly orange cat that begrudgingly liked him. “I understand.”
“How have you been?” he asked.
It sounded stupid, but she realized it was the first time someone had asked her that. Sincerely. Checked up on her. Even if she was the one who had dialed the number in the first place.
“I’m good,” her voice cracked. “Just keeping busy.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Helmut always had such nice things to say about you.”
“Really?” she couldn’t stop herself. 
“Of course, would you like me to let him know you called?” 
“No, no...I wouldn’t want to bother him,” she choked on her words, something catching in her throat.
“Are you sure you’re alright, dear?”
“I’m okay, I just….” she felt tears prick at the back of her eyes, lowering her voice, since she didn’t think her normal register would come out as anything other than a whine. “I think I made a horrible mistake.”
“What’s the matter? What did you do?”
She shook her head, shaking the tears loose and now they were lining her lashes, threatening to spill over. However, she managed to make the next words she spoke come out clearly. “Nothing, I just...it’s really stupid, I really shouldn’t have called.”
He sighed on the other end of the line, and she felt like, despite her attempt at staying calm, he could still see that she wasn’t somehow. “It seemed Helmut was awfully sweet on you,” Oeznik’s words next came hesitantly, calculated. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he told me if you ever called, to help you with whatever you might need, no matter the ask.”
Oh God, what had she done? A sob left her, one she couldn’t control, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle any more. Her tears were flowing freely now, tracking down her cheeks and along her chin. She wiped at them clumsily, clearing her throat. 
“That’s very kind of him, but you can’t help me. I’m so sorry to bother you, please just forget I even called,” she forced a smile on her face so that hopefully he could hear it. “Goodbye.”
She hung up, horrified, and within seconds had deleted the call log from her phone. She’d been thoughtful enough not to memorize the number, and the lighter she used whenever she smoked sat in front of her. Without a second though, she burned the card, watching the paper blacken and disintegrate, until it was all but a pile of soot on her Wal-Mart coffee table. It was a fair punishment, and ensured she’d never get the chance to embarrass herself like that again. 
And then she cried, sobbed into a pillow next to her, until her tears ran dry and she wore herself out, falling asleep on the couch alone. When she’d wake the next morning, the only evidence of her actions would be a throbbing headache and a dead phone. 
She wouldn’t remember the call.
----
Life went on, as it always did. It had been about a month, and since that night she grew more indifferent, remembered how to ignore heartbreak. For now, she was stuck in her purgatory, waking up before the sun and falling asleep before it set, smoking joints, drinking cheap liquor, and going on the occasional date with people who she didn’t really like, tourists who would leave after a week and wanted temporary company. 
Despite everything, she partly believed things were getting better. Maybe they weren’t, but the possibility that someday they would seemed feasible. And that was enough, for now. 
On her days off, she’d walk to the beach and lay on a blanket, reading a book until the sun dipped below the horizon and lit up the sky in hues of pinks and purples. She found a record player at an antique store and began collecting vinyls, listening to obscure artists whose albums she found in the $1 bin. It wasn’t so bad. Life wasn’t so bad. 
She took a shower after work. Tomorrow was her off day, and she wasn’t sure what she had planned besides maybe watching a movie and getting stoned. Maybe she’d try going to the beach. The weather was getting warmer, and she could even go swimming if the water wasn’t too cold. 
Exhausted from her day of work, she laid down in her bed, still in her robe, her hair wrapped in a towel around her head. The sun was setting outside, the windchimes she’d hung outside slowly clanging together, birds singing in the warm spring air. Her cat hopped on the bed, offered an affectionate trill and curled up at her side, purring, in a rare display of affection. A cool breeze drifted through the open window. And for the first time in over a year, she felt content. Closing her eyes, she savored the moment, committed it to memory, so she could recall it the next time she was drunk-crying in front of her TV. 
She fell asleep slowly, so slowly that when she woke, startled by something in her kitchen clattering to the floor, it felt like she hadn’t even been sleeping at all. The clock next to her red 11:31 p.m. and it was pitch dark outside, the cool breeze from before had grown stronger and her bedroom curtains were billowing, wind whistling loudly through the apartment. Her cat had left her side, and she frowned, shivering in the sudden cold.
Pulling the towel off her head, she made her way over to the window with the intention to close it, sleepily, lazily, until she heard something else. A creak in the floorboard. A heavy footstep in her kitchen. That wasn’t just her cat. 
Some kind of muscle memory was ignited then, an ancient instinct that called to her from a different lifetime. Darting across the room, the gun she kept was in her hand, stealthily pulled from its hiding spot beneath her mattress. Truth be told, she never thought she would’ve needed it. Anyone looking for her would be smart enough to kill her in her sleep, not be so foolish as to wake her first with their heavy footsteps. 
A dark silhouette stalked through her kitchen, moving slowly. It was a man, she assumed, based on his broader figure, and lack of coordination. In her experience, women were often stealthier without trying. He took another step, the floor creaking below him, shuffling on bargain linoleum. 
Staying low, she crept forward, ducking stealthily behind furniture, avoiding the spots on the floor she knew made noise. It didn’t appear the intruder had a weapon, in fact, it seemed he was bumbling about, searching for something. A burglar, and a bad one at that. An island full of vacation homes owned by rich doctors and they thought they’d find valuables in her shitty apartment?
It wasn’t until she was standing directly behind him, gun aimed at his head, that she finally spoke up. 
“I believe you’ve come to the wrong place,” she said flatly. “Whatever you’re looking for, it’d be in your best interest to leave empty-handed.”
Her eyes were still adjusting to the dark, but the intruder froze, arms slowly raising in defeat, empty-handed, as he turned around to face her. In the dingy room, she couldn’t make out any of his features, could only see that he was clad in all black.
“Unfortunately, liebling, that wasn’t my intention.” 
She would’ve recognized that voice anywhere, though the endearment he’d used was enough to clue her in. Hitting the lightswitch with her free hand, she was face to face with the man she’d spent the past year trying to purge from her memory, Helmut Zemo. 
Her gut twisted, her mind raced, but the only thing currently bubbling up, over the surface of every other emotion was the pure, seething rage left behind in the wake of fearing for her life.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she stepped towards him, gun still raised, fuming. 
“Hey, hey!” he staggered backwards, hands raised, eyes averted. 
“I thought you were a fucking robber!” she hissed. “I thought you were here to kill me!”
“Lower your voice,” he scolded. “You’re going to wake your neighbors.”
Taking a deep breath, she realized she still had her gun trained on him and she lowered it, clicking the safety and discarding the weapon on the countertop. “What the fuck?” she asked. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I didn’t know you had such a mouth on you,” he smirked, but she wasn’t finished, and she glowered at him. 
“You broke into my apartment!” she growled.
“I had to be sure I was in the right place.”
“Yeah? You couldn’t have knocked first?”
He nodded, eyes trailing down to her hands, which were trembling, she hadn’t even realized. He seemed to understand what he’d done then, and she flexed her fingers, eyes locking with his. “I suppose...you may be right,” he said, surrendering.
She felt the rage subsiding as she took in his appearance. He looked not so different from the last time she’d seen him, except a fair amount of stubble covered his jawline in a short beard. He was still devastatingly handsome. Zemo’s dark eyes, filled with longing, drank her in, tilting his head as his gaze shifted to her lips. It was like she could read his mind, she knew what he wanted, what he was thinking. And her body was going to betray her if he kept it up.
Despite everything, she was still upset. Upset and embarrassed, as the light was doing an unflattering expose of her tiny, cluttered apartment, full of mismatched furniture and water-damaged wallpaper that her landlord refused to replace. It probably gave the prison cells that Helmut had spent years in a run for their money, and was in stark contrast to every other aspect of his life.
“What’s this?” he asked, gesturing to the empty liquor bottles on her countertop, stowed in her trash can. “Have you been drinking?”
“Not tonight,” she quipped, on guard. Had to be. As much as some old instinct told her to throw herself into his arms, press her lips to the underside of his jaw, and let him envelope her in the comfort of his embrace, she knew she couldn’t.
“Hmm,” he brushed past her, frowning, looking disappointed, as he made his way to her living room. 
“How did you find me?” she asked, eyeing him wearily.
“I’m a wanted man, I trace every call that comes into my estate,” he said over his shoulder. 
Helmut was taking inventory of the cramped space, staring at the photos she’d hung in a collage on the wall behind her couch, with a few watercolors painted by her late husband. One in particular, that he was focused on now, was from her wedding. Of all the memories she chose to hang, this one was her fondest, her former partner was all dark curly hair falling into deep blue eyes, and she was the portrait of a blushing bride, wearing a dopey love-drunk smile, gazing at him, ignoring the camera. 
“You looked so beautiful on your wedding day,” he said, turning over his shoulder to look at her. He was so out of place here, standing in her living room, for a moment she thought he might be a hallucination, some physical manifestation of the heartbreak she’d experienced. “Although that doesn’t surprise me.”
She flushed, suddenly self-conscious in her thin black robe and still-damp hair. It occurred to her that she wasn’t looking her best, which made this whole situation that much more disconcerting. However, the compliment disarmed her slightly, and the anger she felt began to dissipate, slowly. She was going to offer him something to drink until her cat, who had been absent through the chaos, suddenly jumped up on the back of the couch and promptly hissed at him in an attempt to defend her territory.
“Pumpkin, be nice,” she said, although it was mostly to placate Helmut. Pumpkin never listened to her. 
Helmut let her sniff his hand, and she was stunned when the cat rubbed her face against it. Of course, Pumpkin would like him of all people. That made sense. Then again, she supposed it made them not so different. He turned away to look at the rest of the room. “I see you haven’t kicked that bad habit you told me about,” he gestured at the ashtray full of roaches on the coffee table. 
“Did you just come to my place to insult me?” she asked, putting her hands on her lips and feigning confidence. She could’ve rolled over and cried and told him how much she missed him, how many nights she’d spent crying over him, and while all of it was true, she felt indignation was the better option for her self-preservation.
“That’s a good question,” Helmut turned to face her now, hands in the pockets of the leather jacket he was wearing. Completely inappropriate for the weather here, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. “Why do you think I’m here?” he asked.
She shrugged, feigning indifference. “I don’t know, but you shouldn’t be.”
He snorted, his frustration evident, and she saw a glimpse of the man that so many feared, the side that had earned him his dangerous reputation, that had him locked away in a high-security prison for nearly a decade. “I didn’t come all this way for nothing, draga, we’re going to have it out.”
“Fine,” she said, lacing as much venom as she could into her words to prepare herself. “Then get on with it.”
He stared her down, and the expression her wore startled her, something sparkled in his eyes, mischief, relief maybe? It was insulting. Like he didn’t take her seriously. But there was something else there, too, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it was wiped from his visage before it registered.
The tension in the room dissipated slightly when Zemo sat on the arm of the worn couch she’d bought from a yard sale, and she winced. “I spoke to Oeznik the other day,” he said flatly, snorting, eyes focused on a stain on one of the rugs she owned. “He told me he had the pleasure of speaking to a friend of mine about a month ago.”
Frowning, she tilted her head, her eyes meeting Helmut’s. Something in her brain sparked a memory she’d once dismissed as a dream after a particularly bad night of drinking.
“He was concerned, you see, because this friend didn’t seem to be in the best state of mind,” Helmut rose from the arm of the couch, stalking forward slowly, and she couldn’t move backwards, not even if she wanted to, as he could pin her easily against the front door. His voice grew louder, faster as he went on. “He said she was crying, slurring her words, he told me he thought maybe she might be-” Helmut cut himself off abruptly and closed his eyes, clenching one of his fists, a look of distress on his face as he took in a terse breath. “I won’t finish that thought, but you’re a smart girl, you can imagine what I’m getting at.”
Swallowing hard, the phone call came back to her in pieces, the tears, sobbing on the phone to a man she hardly knew. It was the night she finally admitted to herself she’d made a mistake, even though she’d already known it, deep down when she left him in the hotel room. 
“Please forgive me for breaking in tonight,” Helmut said. “But I couldn’t bear the thought of you not answering the door, I needed to see with my own eyes that you were okay.”
Exhaling through her nose, she looked at the floor. “It’s not like that. I had too much to drink.” she said, keeping her voice as steady as possible. “It was just a bad night.”
“Then tell me, what was the horrible mistake you made?” he asked, stepping closer. He was close to her, now. So close. And his proximity made everything more difficult.
God, if only she could remember exactly what she’d said, the only thing that came to her were the emotions, desperation, sadness, grief. It was all too much, and he was threatening to bring them all back to destroy her again. 
“I shouldn’t have called,” she said, shaking her head. “And I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? What do you want from me?”
“What do I want from you?” He asked, tilting his head, his eyebrows pulling together. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? How hard it was to sit on a plane when all I wanted to do was be here? With you?” His hand rose to cup her cheek, stopping just short of her face when she flinched away from his touch.
“Please stop,” she managed, the burn of tears behind her eyes almost menacing. The last thing she needed was to cry in front of him. “You’re undoing everything.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked. 
“You’re….you’re here,” she murmured weakly, wetness seeping, glossing over her pupils. “I only have so much capacity for pain right now, if you touch me now, you’ll ruin everything.”
No one ever had this kind of hold on her, she’d never bent her rules to appease anyone else, and she’d gone toe to toe with super soldiers. He was just a man, and yet, he terrified her. 
“You really want me to leave?”
She couldn’t answer, but one tear escaped, sliding down her cheekbone, and she sniffled. 
“I’m not the one who did this to you,” his thumb, swiped along her face gently, wiping it away. He’d touched her, just barely, and she was reeling. 
“I know,” she stuttered, gasping. “I know it was me, but I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“You are so stubborn.” His expression softened as he looked upon her, his thumb tracing underneath her jaw, tilting her head upwards to look at him. Malleable, she obliged. “I’ve thought about you everyday since the night we spent together. You’ve plagued me. That can’t be a coincidence. Are you really happier this way? You must be honest with me.”
She shook her head, blinking out fresh tears. “No, I’m not. I just thought...by the time I realized I made the wrong choice, you’d have moved on. People like us don’t get to be happy.”
“Says who?”
How could she refuse him anymore? This would continue to go on until she gave in. And from the beginning, she wanted to give in. There was no use in fighting the inevitable. The small point of contact -- his hand on her chin -- radiated impressive warmth, and she could feel every part of herself being attracted to him, quelling some ache deep within her. 
Reaching up, she clutched at Helmut’s palm, which didn’t last long, because he pulled her into his arms, nestling her head underneath his chin. She melted into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his solid frame. 
“Come home with me,” he coaxed softly. 
“I will,” she murmured, surrendering to the comfort of his presence. “But you have to let me bring Pumpkin.”
He chuckled, warm and amiable, the vibration of his chest echoing in her own. “Of course, you’ll bring Pumpkin,” he murmured into her hair. Oh, how she had missed hearing him laugh. They could’ve stayed that way for hours, and she would’ve been content, but he pulled away, hands on either side of her face as he studied her.
Unable to hold back any longer, she leaned in to kiss him. It was chaste at first, all the memories of her last night with him came flooding back quickly when he parted his lips to deepen the kiss, but she didn’t want that quite yet, just needed a moment to process this. The simple comfort of being held by him, kissed by him, was more than enough for now. He’d been waiting for this, she could assume in the way that he responded, pulling her impossibly close so she was engulfed in him.
Her stomach flipped, a warmth blossoming in her chest as he pulled away, their foreheads touching. “Oh, I missed you,” she sighed, shivering as his beard tickled her neck, his mouth on her sensitive skin.
“And I, you,” he murmured. His eyes studied her, carefully, up close, and for the first time since meeting him, she really let him see her, teary-eyed and vulnerable.
She would never let him go again. 
---
A/N: So here we are! I know it’s been a ride, but I’m really excited for these two. However, I don’t feel like I’m done writing for Zemo yet. If ya’ll have any headcanons, thoughts, questions, requests, etc, feel free to drop them in my ask box or shoot me a DM. I’d love to talk more about him. I also would be down to write more oneshots based around this series, because I am sort of like….okay, they obviously have a connection, but they don’t know that much about each other, and I may or may not have a light future already mapped out for them. I might do an epilogue at some point even. But if you have anything you’d like to add, let me know!
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captains-simp · 3 years
Note
Ummmmm........
Can I have Yelena Belova "I'll stay as long as you need me too" or Fluff number 3?
I think i got the right prompt but it's definitely fluff.
If you still are accepting these requests and you haven't already done this one yet.
Chskdjks I didn't think anyone was actually going to request anything, this sparks so much joy (all of the requests are amazing and I'm working on them all). Soft Yelena let's gooooo
"I'll stay as long as you need me to."
Warnings: injury detail and my extreme lack of knowledge regarding medical treatment
2k words
[ masterlist ]
Buy me a coffee ☕
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hearing someone knocking at your door at 11:48 pm was never something you took much comfort in. Especially when there was no previous heads up about it.
You considered not opening door, telling yourself to continue watching your show and not think about the fact that you didn't live in the best neighbourhood.
When the knocking continued you wondered if you should call someone, anyone, but the faint and very much strained sound of your friend's voice had you sprinting across the apartment to open the door.
Yelena was leaning against the door frame, frighteningly pale and looking as tired as someone who had just fought a war on their own. Given her line of work you guessed you weren't that far off.
"Lena you...what happened?" Your eyes fell to her stomach where she was holding her blood stained shirt. You felt faint imagining how bad of an injury she had sustained.
You stumbled backwards and motioned for her to come in before you shut the door behind her and rushed to the bathroom to get your well-stocked first aid kit.
You had meant to go back to the front door to help Yelena into the bathroom but she had already made her way towards you.
"I love that you have such a small appartment." She breathed out. You smiled weakly and supported her weight as you helped her manage the final few steps to your bathroom and sat her on the edge of the tub.
"You should be thankful for the friend that owns it too." You joked as you knelt down infront of her.
"I am." Yelena was quick to say. "I really am." You smiled up at her took her hands away from her shirt before you slowly peeled it away to expose the gun shot wound. You took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of it.
"You need to go to a hospital." You said as you tried to examine it without causing your friend any extra discomfort.
"I can't." You knew better than to push that. It no doubt had something to do with her mission, which meant you weren't allowed to know.
Yelena had never made it a habit of coming to you for medical assistance - especially as you weren't a doctor or nurse. The first time you had done so was when you picked up on her strained walk. You kept bugging her about it until she finally showed you the gash on her calf. It had been easy to clean and healed quickly. After that was a deep cut on her arm, then a burn on her back, then another cut. All of which you noticed. It was only when the injuries were bad that Yelena asked for your help. Too stubborn to ask anyone else and smart enough to know she needed assistance.
You never told Yelena, but you had gone out of your way to learn a little more than the basics on dealing with injuries. Once or twice you had to sneak away from her in your bathroom to double check one of your books to make sure you were doing everything right. Whenever she asked how you knew so much you made up some lie about watching a lot of TV...okay so maybe that wasn't a complete lie.
"Where's the bullet?" You asked, confused by the absence of an exit wound.
"I took it out." Yelena mumbled, she was starting to look worse now.
"Yelena!" You scolded. "No wonder you're bleeding so much." Yelena knew better than to do that but you decided you would investigate that further another day.
You placed a cloth against the wound and held it there with one hand and bit your lip as you glanced up at her.
She's lost a lot of blood...really needs a hospital...are stitches enough?
You didn't want to leave Yelena's side for a second to check one of your books. You weren't sure stitches would cut it, the wound should have been cauterized but you had no experience with that and didn't want to try your luck. Stitches would have to do.
You prepared the needle and thread as Yelena held onto the cloth. Your hand was shaking slightly in anxiety over the situation. You wanted to hear about the mission, about who shot the blonde you cared for so deeply. She wasn't meant to tell you anything, but you needed to hear her voice and it would help her stay conscious so you tried.
"Did you get the jackass who shot you?" You asked as you started to hold the skin in place. Yelena hissed sharply before speaking.
"Of course." Even bleeding out she was smug, what else would you expect from her?
"Mmm, and the mission was a success?"
"It was." You were surprised at the confirmation. "Besides getting shot." She added. You had been trying to keep her attention off of that fact.
Yelena gripped the bathtub tightly and groaned. There had been no time for anaesthetic.
"Almost done." You assured.
You stayed in a concentrated silence as you finished the last stitch. It wasn't perfect, but you had done a good job.
You got up to get a bottle of painkillers from the cabinet and handed them to Yelena with a glass of water. She waved them away at first until she begrudgingly accepted them after a firm look from you.
You carefully cleaned the blood off of her stomach with half a dozen wipes and placed a dressing over the wound as gently as you could manage. It would need constant attention for a while and you could only hope that Yelena would stay with you in that time. You wanted her by your side until she was well. You wanted her by your side when she recovered too. That was a convosation you weren't ready for.
"Thank you, y/n." Yelena said as she struggled to keep her eyes open.
"Let's get you to bed." You said, lifting her arm over your shoulder again to help her up.
"No, you don't have to-"
"Doctor's orders." You insisted, not in the mood to deal with Yelena's stubborness when she could have bled out in your bathroom. There was still a chance that could happen. She could sense your slightly agitated tone - she was superspy and your best friend of years, so of course she could.
"Not a doctor." She muttered as you guided her to your room. You rolled your eyes but didn't manage to stop the small smile creeping onto the corner of your mouth.
"I'll take the couch." She made a move to separate from you but you held onto her waist perhaps a little too desperately to lead her to your room.
"No way."
"It's your house." Yelena said, trying to look at you but you kept your eyes forward, afraid of what she would discover when she read you.
"Then we'll both take the bed." You sighed. Yelena managed a sly smile at your words and you gently nudged her side as you sat her down on your bed. "It's not like we haven't shared a bed before." You said that to yourself more than Yelena, trying not to think about how close you would be during the night and how that would probably keep you awake.
You handed her a spare pair of pajamas and went to leave for the bathroom to change and clean away when you noticed her struggle.
"Let me." You muttered in the least pitiful and condescending tone you could, knowing if she thought she heard some she would reject any further help from you. She nodded so you lifted the stained shirt over her head as carefully as you could, using her breathing patterns as a guide to tell you if she had any discomfort.
"You want that off too?" You motioned to her sports bra and averted your eyes a little too obviously from her toned stomach.
Yelena huffed when she noticed the sports bra, clearly thinking about how much of a literal pain it would be to get off.
"Just get me some scissors." You nodded and grabbed some from your desk and handed them to her, instantly turning on your heals to leave to avoid a sight that would be stuck in you head for the rest of your life.
God, y/n. Don't be such a perv. You mentally scolded as you cleaned and cleared everything away before quickly getting into your pajamas.
You knocked on your bedroom door and heard Yelena tell you you could come in.
Her discarded and very much ruined beyond saving clothes were in a surprisingly neat pile on the floor, you would deal with that the next day.
Yelena was wearing one of your shirts, which looked much better on her, and hadn't bothered with the pajama bottoms. You gulped as you realised you would be sleeping next to her in that.
"You always have your heating on way too high." Yelena mumbled, you smiled sheepishly and let the complaint go as she was clearly not having the best of days.
"I get-"
"Cold easily. I know." Yelena smiled knowingly at you as she pulled the covers over herself and layed on her side facing your side of the bed. You got in next to her and mirrored her position.
"Please don't go disappearing as soon as I fall asleep." You said with a slight pout. It wasn't like she hadn't done that before.
"I'll stay as long as you need me to." Yelena smiled reassuringly at you. You wanted to believe that, but it seemed much more likely that you would wake up without Yelena next to you the next day.
The blonde must have picked up on your skepticalism, she placed a gentle hand on your hip and the other snaked around your back. Together, they pulled you closer to her slowly until you were pressed against Yelena as she moved onto her back. One of her legs even tangled around yours to keep you close.
You didn't move for a moment, almost not trusting yourself, but eventually you gave in to what you were craving and rested your head in the crook of her neck and wrapped your arms firmly around her.
Her familiar scent engulfed you in a way that was much more reassuring than her words. This was amplified when Yelena kept her hand on your hip while the other combed through the top of your hair in the most comforting gesture you had ever seen from her much less received. You felt yourself sink into her more as you fully relaxed.
You couldn't contain the smile on your lips. Nor could you ignore the butterflies throwing a rave in your stomach. It definetly didn't help you get a handle on your ever-growing feelings for your friend, but there was no way you were going to pull away from the embrace.
In the warmth and security of Yelena's comfort it didn't take long for sleep to overtake you. You knew she was safe, as you kept brushing your fingers lightly across the part of her shirt concealing the dressing, and you knew she was there with you. It put your mind at rest better than anything else ever had.
But just as you slipped into your deep sleep you could have sworn you felt Yelena's soft lips on your forehead.
Maybe there was a chance you could fall asleep in her arms more often and maybe it could be when she was unharmed. You were unsure about a lot of things in life, but that was something you felt confident on.
And rightly so.
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sekceesimps · 3 years
Text
Dying Light (a yandere Zhongli x reader oneshot)
summary: Zhongli comes to claim his darling after she fails to fulfill her end of the contract 
a/n I wish I could say this was requested but I love this man too much. Writing this one had me feeling some kind of way… Hope you all enjoy and leave some requests (pls do yandere Genshin 🤧 smh)! 
Sincerely Coffee
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His dark hair shines vividly in the solemn moonlight. Amber eyes radiant, like the purest of diamonds, and fixated right on you. You stand before him and try to subtly shrink away under his piercing gaze. The candles in the room flicker from some gusts of wind coming in. Zhongli seems stiff and at attention, but at the same time far away, lost in thought. Your light and unconscious movement backwards out of fear, unnoticed by you, immediately snapped the archon’s thoughts back to you. 
A ghost of a smile begins to dance its way onto his handsome face, a stark difference to the dangerous threats he had whispered into your ear just moments ago. The light gave him an eerie appearance. 
“Darling Y/N, I’m afraid that you didn’t uphold your end of the bargain,” he frowned and cocked his head mockingly. You step backwards some more until your back hits the wall of the funeral parlor. He has a predatory gaze now as he steps forward and pins a hand on the surface next to your head. He leans forward to further take in your panic. It brought him distress to see that you weren’t comfortable around him. 
“I’m sure you were a good girl and read the fine print. Surely you must be aware that at the end of our contract, if it was that you couldn’t fulfill your end of the deal, then you must join the greatest contract of all time with me?” he continues and runs another hand hand teasingly down your jaw. 
“Perhaps you could entertain me and tell me what that greatest contract is?” you ask hesitantly. Beginning to feel the gravity of the situation as you notice the way the archon caresses you and looks at you with eyes filled with a dangerous sort of adoration. 
“Oh Y/N, you’ve been bad, I thought you understood everything when you signed. I mean marriage of course,” he answered gleefully, eyes sparkling with affection and excitement at your shocked expression. 
Yes, just when did this feeling for you begin, he had pondered to himself. There was no mistaking that these emotions he felt for you were love. He was sure that you also loved him, so why did you look so afraid? He would show you again how perfect the two of you are. 
- - - 
Zhongli is not one to break his word. He is the archon of contracts after all. When you had approached him, as Rex Lapis, a few months ago he had decided to learn much more about you.  
You were an interesting mortal and had almost immediately caught the God’s attention. The geo archon had taken to shying away from the affairs of humans over the last hundred years or two. However he tended to make exceptions for interesting people with even more interesting requests. 
“I’d like to ask for some help,” your melodic voice said, breaking the silence in Rex Lapis’s abode. “If that means signing into a contract with you, then I accept,”
He appeared near you in an instant, “Even if that means not getting the best deal?” he asks, startling you slightly. 
“Yes,” you breathe out lightly. 
“Hmm, you’ve caught my interest,” he responds, putting a hand to his chin, as if he was thinking long and hard about a potential deal with you, “do go on with what you need my help for” he finishes. Of course, he already knew what you needed. He had been watching you for quite a while, but he loved hearing your voice and being near you for once. 
“I need to find someone and I can’t do it by myself. Could you please lend me your strength and assistance as I look for this person” you practically begged him. Oh how he wanted to hear your begging in a different context. It was taking everything within him to not tug you by your hair and bring you to his side forever by force. He knew that you probably wouldn’t appreciate that and he still had to do his job and draft a contract. That is when the idea had struck him to skillfully find a way to keep you with him forever. 
“Very well, let us start writing up a contract then,” he pronounces with a tone of disinterest, secretly preening with joy on the inside. You perk up and smile largely at him, it brought him satisfaction knowing that he made you feel like that. 
“Alright that should be everything,” he finishes and removes his quill from the scroll. “I will come to you whenever you need help, all you must do is call out my name. As for my benefit, all you need to do is find this person you hold dear and that will be enough for me. You have the next 70 days to complete this, of course there will be a punishment if you can’t fulfill your end. However I have the most faith in your skills.” you nod at him in confirmation as you take the pen from him and leave a scrawling signature on the paper. A glowing binding tying you to the archon, prompting you to blush at how close the two of you were now. “Don’t disappoint me, Y/N'' he whispered and let you leave his abode with a smile. The first step in his plan to make you his was finished. Time to wait for your inevitable failure. 
Now he wasn’t going to actively make you fail, he still was true to his job and bound himself to you so that you could call him for help. He would still assist you as well. However, he agreed to what you wanted because he knew the task itself was impossible. This brother you were looking for was long gone for sure, he made sure of that before he signed on to your contract. He couldn’t wait for when the two of you would finally be spending the next few weeks together. 
 Zhongli was smart about the way he conducted himself around you. He was careful not to give you any hints of his true intentions. Sometimes though there would be foolish people who pushed him. Whenever he saw you talking with, brushing arms with, or giving attention to others, the archon would be fuming. Of course, he would let it simmer, playing for the long game instead. It never failed to make him angry and anxious that these insignificant mortals thought they had a change with his future wife, it caused him to let out a tsch in annoyance. 
The two of you had wonderful moments in your quest. Your ability to work well together in battle allowed for quick defeats of random hilichurls on the journey. Truly your skills were something he admired and loved about you. 
The first night you left a parting goodnight kiss on his cheek was what made him truly believe in life again. Your warm lips against his skin ignited a flame within him that he didn’t know he yearned to have lit.  It began to become a sort of tradition between you two for the next months. 
 His favorite moment with you by far was when the two of you had been drinking and you allowed him to come into your bed. Now, not in THAT way. You didn’t like how he had been sleeping on the ground whenever you spent the night in a tavern so you told him to just sleep in the bed with you. It had been an awkward fit at first due to his taller frame. His long limbs were cramped painfully so you let him wrap his arms carefully around your body. Both of you take in and are intoxicated by the other’s warmth. He could get used to the way you faced him and nuzzled your face into his neck. He had fallen asleep and had the most wonderful rest for the first time in a while. 
After the two of you woke up and cuddled in the morning, “Should the day ever come where we are not together, you will continue to shine like gold in my memories” he had smiled and gently taken your hand into his own as he brushed his lips softly against your knuckles. His words and soft actions prompting a light blush across your face. 
He didn’t know how much longer he could wait for you. Every moment he was with you, but not truly in the way he desired wound him up more and more. He knew he would snap very soon. 
- - - 
You tremble against the cold breeze and his warm touch as he leans closer to you and captures your warm lips with his own in a passionate kiss. His hands traveling down further onto your flushed skin. 
Now that you were his in an unbreakable bond, he finally felt at ease. With you, Zhongli felt at home for the first time in thousands of years. He would protect you from any and all threats. If it meant keeping you safe with him, then he would tear apart all of Teyvat. After all, you belonged to this archon now. 
As the sun begins to rise, you notice the dying light within the parlor, fading candles leaving behind a darker atmosphere. A perfect metaphor you think, if he kept touching you like this then you knew that your own resolve would also die out, completely accepting the ownership that he had over you. 
Zhongli notices your wandering gaze before he takes your face between his slender fingers and forces you to look up at him. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten how much you mean to me. Let me remind you,” he announces as he lifts you up and brings you towards his room. Indeed, he would be spending the next few hours reminding you of his love, before you embark on the next chapter of your lives together, courtesy of his subclause turning you into an adeptus in addition to being his wife forever more. He had all the time in the world to get you to comply and love him as dearly as he loves you.
a/n why am I so in love with this man 🧎‍♀️
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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years
Text
Time Apart
CW: Trauma survivor, referenced noncon and assault, heavy internalized victim-blaming and self-loathing/anti-asexuality (Chris has serious issues from his conditioning around this)
(references events from this small series)
I think you should spend time apart, not with me.
When Chris picks up his phone, it's not at all the message from Laken he expected to see. Not the kind of thing they've ever sent before.
He has to read it two times, then three. The letters swim and shake along with a dull pounding inside his head, but no matter how he tries to make them into other words - tell himself he must have misunderstood, must be missing something - they come back together the same in the end.
I think you should spend time apart, not with me.
Each letter is as crisp and clean as a sterilized blade between each rib, one by one by one by one.
The words are a body blow. They're a hundred blows, beating him into a barely recognizable shattered shell of himself. It wasn't supposed to happen this way - it's been a bad few days, yeah, a bad week really, but until yesterday's fight it had never occurred to him that Laken might give up on him.
The fight was his fault, anyway.
He meant to apologize last night, but then Nova had come into his room, and he'd lost the rest of the night to lying next to Jake, trying to remember how to stop living inside his head again, how to stop being still.
He'd woke up this morning with his stomach doing butterfly flips inside him, nervous, but he'd really wanted to say he was sorry, for the fight, for all the weirdness lately. He'd wanted to apologize for being difficult.
Instead... he'd woken up to find a missed text from the night before, sent after he'd shoved Nova away but before he could stand to look at anything again.
I think you should spend time apart, not with me.
There it sits.
He hasn't unlocked his phone yet. Instead, he keeps tapping the button to light up the screen, looking at the message preview that has all he needs to see. Lets it go dark again. As if one of these times he'll click and it'll say something else.
But it doesn't,
It just says the same damn thing.
I think you should spend time apart.
Not with me.
He's still staring at it when another one comes in. He feels the soft pulse of his phone in his hand, and the screen lights on its own.
LAKEN - NOW Did you see my message? 
He thinks maybe Kauri had it easier when he was the age Chris is now. Back when Kauri carried on entire conversations in emoji form, letting the nuance and ambiguity take over, the recipient working through the meaning on their own. With this, each letter is merciless, each word is unmistakable. He can’t misunderstand it. 
Can he?
He opens the phone with shaking fingers, types back yes, presses send, and turns his phone off.
Then he throws it at the wall.
He’s grateful for the heavy plastic case that makes it bounce off and drop to the floor without breaking. There's a strip on the back, textured and a soft purple, gray, white, and black. He rubs his fingers over it sometimes in class to keep himself from rocking and being distracting.
Now he just... stares at it.
Laken bought that for him. They bought the shirt he's wearing right now-
He yanks it off his head before he can think, balls up the soft fabric and throws it as well. It just sort of drifts pointlessly to the floor, a single eyeball from the print of a band he likes staring back at him.
Laken has ranted before about people who break up by text message, and Chris has to breathe through a physical ache in his chest that tightens every muscle at how awful he must be that they're not doing this face to face. How awful, how used-up, how shredded apart, how fucking pretty he is.
After all, he and Laken have been together for more than a year, and he still held perfectly still for Nova to touch him before he remembered how to move. After all, he’s a grown man who still cried and fell apart when Jake was hurt. After all, after all, after all...
He scrambles across the floor for his phone again, turns it back on. Part of him hopes he’ll see a new text saying they take it back, they didn’t mean it. Or just asking him to apologize for what he’d said that night before, for how he’d thrown their confusion over his reaction to something back at them, echoing out the way Kauri fights sometimes, talking about himself the way he thinks everyone else might be thinking about him, so he says the insult first and no one else gets to surprise him with it.
But there’s nothing new.
He manages to open the texts again, barely, and breathes in gasps, nearly pants, as he types out, you don’t want me at your place?
Not right now.
Is it because of what I can’t do?
It takes them a minute to answer. Every single second ticks by with a slowness Chris hasn’t felt since his days in the cold white room, tied down to stillness, forced to endure every minute that passed in perfect silence or to the soundtrack of his own tears and pleading for it to stop.
When they do respond, it’s just, it’s because of what you won’t do.
His breath catches in his throat. The ache in his head starts to pound harder, and he has to close his eyes against a sharp stab behind them. 
What he won’t do.
They’ve never cared before. How-... how could they suddenly care now? The fight had only a little bit been about that, it’d really been about something else. About his nightmares, how he’s not sleeping, not seeing his friends, skipping therapy. It hadn’t even been about... that. About what Chris can do and what he can’t, in bed. 
But that was the thing - the fight had started when Chris had flinched back from Laken’s touch to his back, and snapped at them, and accused them of wanting too much, and...
And now this.
It’s like they knew about Nova. Knew that he could be good just fine - better than fine, Handler Petrus said he was one of the best he’d ever worked with once - he just... wouldn’t. Won’t. Doesn’t want to. Never wanted to. 
Can’t do it without tearing himself to pieces all over again. 
It was always a scream inside his mind, but should he have pushed it down and tried harder to be more like everyone else? Is he losing Laken because of it? Did Nova pick up on something Chris himself doesn’t know?
Should he have... tried?
Even if it hurt?
He drops the phone again, then kicks it viciously under his bed, listening to the scrape of it sliding across the floor, the thump as it hits the wall. He hears it vibrate again, but this time he doesn’t care what Laken has to say.
They’ve said enough.
He understands.
Part of him expected this eventually.
He leaves the room, doesn’t bother to pull on his compression shirt, even. He lets his skin prickle bare and exposed to the air. He accepts the discomfort, the uneasy feeling of being too seen, too felt. 
The house is quiet, this early. 
He makes himself toast with butter, wincing at the scrape of the knife against the crisp bread, the sound boring into his ears. But eventually it’s done, and he slumps into a chair at the kitchen table, willing himself to cry. Somehow, the tears just... don’t happen.
He can hear Jake snoring softly from the living room. He’d been up with Chris until nearly 4 am, then Chris was awake again at 6:30, looking at that text, looking over and over and over again. Two hours of sleep leave him weirdly euphoric alongside his despair. Like he’s floating in some nightmare place that isn’t awake and isn’t sleeping, either.
He’s probably slept nine hours in three days at this point. He keeps seeing Jake with a knife sticking out of him every time he closes his eyes. Jake, screaming as Antoni pushed cloth into his wound to stop up the bleeding. Jake with a bullet wound, sitting up against the wall, staring at him with wide eyes whispering, It’s okay, Tristan, I love you, it’s okay as he dies. 
He can’t sleep. He can’t leave for long. He can’t breathe. He can’t think.
Him being what he is, it’s the reason Jake is hurt. If he hadn’t been his brother, he wouldn’t have decided to run a house for Romantics, and he wouldn’t have ended up dealing with all the dangerous bits about them.
Jake said it himself, didn’t he? It’s a mistake, running a house for Romantics. Not his best idea. A mistake.
Chris is a mistake.
Him being weak, and cowardly... it’s hurting Jake, making his life harder.
He makes everyone’s life harder.
There’s a soft sound of footsteps behind him, and he turns to find Nova in the doorway, staring back. She’s in a sleeveless gray dress and has her long dark hair pulled back from her temples, spilling in a waterfall down her back. Her eyes are dark and fathomless, and she gives him a faint, slight smile.
She had smiled like that with one hand down his pants.
Chris turns around, too fast, his head spinning a little, and hunches over his toast. “Good... good, um, good morning,” He mumbles. 
She clears her throat. “Morning. Chris, about-... about last night...”
“Don’t, um, don’t-... don’t don’t don’t worry about it.” He takes a breath. He doesn’t want his toast any longer. 
“I’m sorry,” She says, simply. “I spoke to Sarita about it, and... and she said this happens with us, and I should apologize, but, um. So I am. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-... I thought I was helping.”
“I... know you did.” His words are slowing down. Chris can’t hold on to his thoughts, they want to drift away somewhere else, somewhere safer. Somewhere darker. 
“When I was with-... with my Miss, she would always say, if you are sad the best way to fix it is to make your body forget that feeling, replace it with something else. And that was what we replaced my sadness with. So, you were sad and upset, and I thought I could fix it that way.” She pauses, flushing a little, looking down and to the side as she moves with effortless grace to get a glass and fill it with water, take a small sip. 
“Kauri used to... to do that,” Chris says after a pause, thinking about it. Kauri, who would show up in the small hours of the morning reeking of liquor and someone else’s cologne, or just didn’t show up at all. Kauri, who would laugh instead of crying, and laugh with someone’s arms around him, a guy whose name he didn’t know. 
Kauri, who ran and ran and ran and can do things and be things that Chris can’t.
Or... won’t.
What if he’s been hurting Laken this whole time and didn’t know it, because he was already hurt himself?
His foot starts to tap tap tap on the floor until he stops it. 
“Did he? Did it-... work for him?” Nova asks it with genuine curiosity, and her eyes are so pretty. He looks up at her, and then down again, pushing the plate of toast away from himself. 
“I don’t know,” Chris whispers. “I, I don’t know. He’s happy now, but...”
“Was he happy then?”
“No. But, but, but... maybe we aren’t supposed to be. At least... not with, with anyone... who isn’t like us.”
“Jake isn’t like us,” Nova points out. Her presence in the room feels heavy, like a weight pushing down on him. But what does it matter? He’s not with Laken anymore, anyway. If he wanted to, he could stand right up and kiss Nova right now, press her back into the counter, and learn what it’s like to be the one doing things and not just having them done to him.
But his body doesn’t stir at the thought. It never has.
“He is,” Chris answers. “A, a little bit. I’m, I’m, I’m sorry, too, Nova. Sorry that I-I can’t.”
“No, I know. You have a partner, and I shouldn’t have-”
“I don’t have... I, I, I I don’t have a partner anymore.” Chris stands up, leaving her there with his plate of untouched toast. The sky outside is bright as the sun rises, as if mocking the way he feels like a stormcloud inside. 
Nova watches him leave, and whispers to herself, “No partner?”
Chris goes outside, pulling a sweatshirt that hangs on the coatrack on over his head to protect his skin, curling up on the porch swing and watching cars pulling out of driveways as the neighborhood starts to head to work in ones and twos. 
He doesn’t cry.
He sits very, very still, and he is silent. 
Upstairs, under the bed, his phone vibrates, again and again, unnoticed.
Just go talk to Nat, Chris. That’s all I said. Just go see Nat and get a night or three away from the house. Being there all the time is overwhelming you. Are you even looking at these? Chris you can’t just ignore me every time I say something you don’t like Chris answer me ... ... Oh shit, Chris, my phone autocorrected earlier and I didn’t notice I meant “some time at Nat’s”, not apart Chris? Are you seeing my messages? Baby? Chris, please check your phone and answer me. Please.
-
@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @whumpfigure @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears
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krabstick32 · 3 years
Text
Girl Code
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Pairing: Giyuu x Reader
Synopsis: Having crushes are hard. Especially when your best friend and the person you like seem to be hitting it off. 
Tags/warnings: very very very light angst, mostly fluff uwu
a/n: first of all, happy new year! school got reaaaal busy, so whew! it’s been a while! not gonna lie, I really missed writing stuff! I got a few days worth of break, so hopefully I get to finish a few backlogged reqs. (I think I only have two left, but to those two, I sincerely apologize for the wait! I’m planning to write them as headcanons to get them out faster, so I hope you don’t mind!)
to @aliaisreal​, thank you so much for requesting and being so patient with me 🥺 i apologize in advance if it’s not very good :(( it’s not my best work, but I hope you still enjoy it and that it’s somehow worth the wait^^
Link to the ask: Request by @aliaisreal​
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As the Insect Pillar, and the successor of the Butterfly Estate, Shinobu Kocho was one busy woman. She has a lot of responsibilities on her plate such as slaying demons, concocting medicine, and the like, so it was safe to say that she had no time to babysit anyone but—
“Shinobu!” The door bursts open and one of her… self-appointed responsibilities come prancing right through the threshold. “How about we go out to the village and have some lunch, hmm? My treat!”
Even if her skin felt like it almost flew off in shock, her smile stayed the same as she arranged the papers she intentionally threw around her desk when you came barging through the door. It wasn’t like you immediately coming in shocked her or anything. No, not at all. “Hello to you too, (F/N). Not that I particularly mind, but why so sudden?”
At that, your cheeks turn an adorable shade of red. In your excitement to invite her out to eat, you forgot to greet her first. “Ah, hello. But, back to the topic of lunch!”
Shinobu didn’t really change the topic, but she waved a hand as an indication for you to continue.
“Well, you seem stressed lately. I was hoping to treat you out y’know? And then you could rant and tell me all about it—only if you want to of course, no pressure at all!”
She sighed. For the past few days, Shinobu was starting to get a little frustrated with the current medicine she was trying to make work. On top of that, she needed to handle so many other things, and do missions, check in on patients, cook—well, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but it was starting to get on her nerves. 
It was no surprise that you were starting to notice because even if you seemed a little too enthusiastic at times, you were still her best friend and a pillar at that—you wouldn’t be here without being exceptionally skilled and observant. Overenthusiasm aside, she—and everybody else included—knew you meant well. 
“I don’t know,” She hums, excited to see how you’ll react. “Are you done with your portion of the work? You looked a little distracted earlier, what with Tomioka-san—“
With the mention of the water pillar’s name, your sweet closed eyed smile turned sour as you immediately placed your hands on her mouth to stop her from continuing that sentence. “Y-Yeah! Yeah, I’m done! You know I don’t slack off. All the patients are fine and I've stitched up the few whose wounds opened.”
She was just teasing. Shinobu was well aware of your skill and work ethic, and while Shinobu was gifted in medicine, particularly pharmaceuticals, you had an uncanny knack for cutting people apart, and stitching them back up again. You were as skilled with a scalpel as you were with a sword.
“I’m just teasing (F/N)-chan.” The Insect Pillar replied, and couldn’t help but want to push more of your buttons as your face seemed to relax at the thought that she wouldn’t mention a particular someone. “But are you sure you’d rather invite me? I’m sure you’d rather ask Tomio—“
If your face was pink before, you were absolutely glowing right now as you put back your hand on top of her mouth. “Shinobu! You know I...you know I don’t like him like that! Besides, I am positive he likes someone else.”
She shrugs your hands off—which were slightly clammy, ew— as she shows you a devilish smile that has you sweating more. “Lie all you’d like, but I don’t think that’s something someone who ‘doesn’t like him like that’ would say, don’t you think?”
Ah, teasing was fun, but teasing you and tomioka were one of the few pleasures in life she made sure to enjoy.
“...Stop teasing me or I will eat without you.”
“Okay, okay, let’s go to that ramen shop in the village.”
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Everyone didn’t give the great Inosuke-sama enough credit!
He was raised by boars, grew up in the wild, and treated the mountains like his home. Insouke may have lacked skill in what society normally taught, like proper etiquette, and reading, but the wild was a great teacher on its own, and taught him things he wouldn’t have learned in the company of other humans.
Spending his entire life out in the wild, Inosuke was able to learn how to heighten his senses, particularly his sense of touch, and how to observe. He may have been clueless in the socially acceptable ways to voice out what he sees, what he feels, but Inosuke is perceptive, and that’s what people normally wouldn’t associate with someone who was as stubborn as a rock, and as brash as a beast.
Inosuke—and Kentaro, Nezuko, and Monitsu for that matter—usually spent their time at the butterfly estate. The three of them—mostly Tontaro, really—helped the girls. Cooking, laundry, cleaning, lifting heavy things, were simple chores that they did, and afterwards, Inosuke would often find himself looking for you and Shinobu.
He always felt this...fuwa-fuwa feeling around the two of you, and he thought both of you were like that Gengoro, his sister, and reluctantly Chuitsu.
There was a day where Shinobu was out on a mission, leaving you partially in charge of the butterfly estate, and spending some time with Inosuke. Personally, you found Inosuke to be interesting due to his origins, and overall, he was fun to be around with. Surprisingly, both of you really complimented each other despite being both huge balls of energy and enthusiasm.
That day, you and him were having a little spar by one of the yards around the estate. To an outsider, it was absolutely funny seeing him, who had a more built body compared to your lithe frame, getting thrown off and beaten to a pulp with a wooden stick. If Shuitzu were here to see the spar, he would be laughing his ass off in that pissy, slightly disgusting high-pitched tone at the many times Inosuke was thrown down. Manchiro would probably observe though, and would probably encourage him that he could beat you one day while helping him with his wounds.
Contrary to popular belief though, Inosuke was well aware he couldn’t beat you, at least not yet. Regardless of the way you looked, he could feel it in his skin that you were a formidable opponent who could easily break his bones if you wanted. Seeing your strength for himself was an opportunity he saw where he could get stronger, even if it did frustrate him a little. Or a lot.
“The great Inosuke demands a rematch! A rematch!”he demands, fussing against the ground as you lower your sword and stand up straight from your last breathing form.
“Ahaha, okay, okay! But I’m feeling a little tired…” you pause and place a hand on your chin with a thoughtful look. In a few seconds, you snap your fingers and turn back to him with a bright smile. “Ah! How about we take a break first? Then you could go back to handing me my butt?”
Inosuke knew you weren’t tired and that technically, you were the one handing him his ass. You weren’t heaving a lung out like he was, or sweating bullets. You were the picture of calm and collected, pristine like untouched snow, without a hair out of place.
Inosuke huffs and pushes himself off the ground. “Fine! Insouke-sama permits it!”
“Wonderful! Wait here.” You chirp and pad back into the butterfly estate, leaving Inosuke to unceremoniously plop back down to the ground.
A few minutes pass, and he feels his skin tingle—someone was here, but they didn’t seem to have any malicious intent. It would have felt different if there was.
He looks up from his spot on the ground and spots the hanhan baori guy, his face looking the same as it did the past few times Inosuke saw it. The odd guy was just passing through the gate when Inosuke pushed himself off the floor, wooden sword pointed between Pochioka’s eyes.
“Hanhan Bao—!”
Before Inosuke would have finished his proclamation to fight, you were back standing at the engawa with a tray of sliced fruit, and bamboo cups filled with cool water. “Inosuke? What’s wro—Giyuu! What brings you here?”
Huh. That was odd.
“(F/N)-san.” Inosuke goes uncharacteristically quiet as his eyes darted between the two of you.
It was completely unmistakable. Hanhan Baori’s mouth moved when you arrived. Inosuke honestly thought Dohioka was a magic statue before this day.
You turn to Inosuke and place the tray in a safe spot. “Here, eat first. I’ll just ask what Giyuu needs, and we can spar right after, ‘kay?”
“‘Kay.”
At his response, you give him a warm smile and pat his head (there was that darned fuwa-fuwa feeling again!). He watches as you and Tapioka move a few meters away, settling underneath the shade of a tree to talk, a bit too far away for him to hear.
He doesn’t think he needs to though, because your body language said it all.
Your face was a little flushed, your smile looked even sweeter. Hanhan baori’s mouth was curling upwards in a smile, and his eyes looked fond. A suspicious combination for someone who he previously thought was a statue up until now. But he digresses. He’s never seen you look so...like this. You smiling wasn’t much of a surprise, but with Pachinko around...it was different, and Tochioka seemed more open to boot. There wasn’t much of a doubt in his mind. There was something between you two. He just couldn’t put a name on it—but there was something. Maybe he should ask Monjiro about it.
He munches on the fruit thoughtfully, watching you smile softly—softer than he’s ever seen—as you seem to answer a question Torioka asked you.
Yep, definitely something up between you and Tomioka.
Maybe he should extend his help. After all, the great Inosuke-sama was the kind ruler of the mountains. Pushing you two along would be a piece of cake.
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Shinobu catches you pouting by the window in your joint office. It was adorable, considering how your cheeks were puffed, and your eyebrows were furrowed, but with your personality? Sulking wasn’t like you. “Care to tell me what’s wrong?”
Surprised, you jump and turn to find the Insect Pillar with her ever present smile painted on her face. It seems softer though, kinder. “Huh? No, nothing’s wrong!” You disagree, pushing yourself off the chair and tidying up the papers scattered on your desk.
She watches you with a small knowing smile on her face. “What, didn’t see Tomioka-san today?”
You paused for a moment, imperceptible to any outsider, but to Shinobu, who has spent so much time around you, that momentary lapse in movement was enough of an indicator. “...No.”
Hit the nail right on the head!
“You are a terrible liar (F/N)-chan. I thought the two of you were getting along? Should I go put poison in his tea?”
At her suggestion, you turn back as your skin pales. It was largely concerning how easily Shinobu could do that. “What? No! He did nothing, I swear it!”
“Awfully defensive,” The Insect Pillar snickers, before taking a seat on her chair and turning to you. With you pouting at her, Shinobu is reminded of how fun it was to tease you.
“Shinobu-chan.”
“Teasing.” She raises her hands in a move to placate you. Well, annoying you was fun and all, but she was concerned for you, more so than wanting to piss you off. “Anyway—jokes aside, you know i’m always here for you, right?”
You knew that. She was always willing to listen to your problems, but you couldn’t exactly tell her that you’re trying to distance yourself from Giyuu because he liked her.
Truth be told, you were getting along with Giyuu, so much so that you’ve started to like him as more than a friend. But, you cared for Shinobu and you wanted her to be happy. She and Giyuu made more sense than you and him.
“...Yes.”
“And that I love you like a sister, right?”
Despite all the teasing, you knew Shinobu really cared for you. She may like to push your buttons, but oddly enough, it reminded you of one of your siblings, so you didn’t mind. Just like your relative, you knew they did it because they wanted to distract you from your problems. An odd way of doing it, but they really would have gotten along.
“Yeah.”
“And that I can easily kill a man and hide his body?”
“Shinobu-chan!”
She laughs, the sound very similar to bells, and you can’t help the bitter thought that maybe Giyuu liked someone with a mellow voice like hers. “Kidding! Kidding! Well, kind of on that last one.”
You pout, and she brushes off her statement with a near irresistible bribe. “Alright, how about we go get some food? My treat.”
Awfully tempting. But there was still one more concern in your head.
“No poison?”
“Have more faith in my, (F/N)-chan!” Giggling, Shinobu slides the door open, and beckons you over. “Now, let’s go—I’m sure you’re hungry!”
“You didn’t answer my question!” You say, trailing after her in mild worry, feelings momentarily forgotten as the thought of food replaces it.
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It was any other early evening in the butterfly estate when the Water Pillar barged in through the doors, blood dripping from an open wound on his chest, with the oddest expression on his face.
Maybe what should have alarmed the butterfly girls were the deep scratch marks on his chest. Instead, it was the near half-crazed look on his face. Tomioka-san’s face never moved from it’s impassively cold stare, why was now any different?
“Where is she?” He rasps.
Aoi, who was standing at the entrance with Kiyo upon his arrival, was brought out of her shock. “Tomioka-sama, lie down. Kiyo will lead you to a room and I’ll get Shinobu-sama immediately to take care of your wounds.”
“No, where is she? Where’s (F/N)—”
From the end of the hall, you came down to see what all the huff was about. You were taking inventory of the supplies since it was a little slow today, but the ruckus urged you to go out and take a look.
“Giyuu? What’s going on he—ohmygods, Giyuu, are you alright?” Seeing Giyuu pale—well, paler than normal—and bleeding all over the floor was not what you expected though.
“(F/N)...” Seeing her alive and breathing eased Giyuu’s worries, so much so that he sags in relief. He would have dropped down the floor if it weren’t for your quick reflexes.
Lightly, he feels you press a hand to his head, wiping the sweat forming on his brow. 
“Giyuu? Stay with me, we’re going to fix you right up, ‘kay?” There was no doubt in his head that you could. He’s been in much worse really. The blood loss just wasn’t doing him any favors.
Regardless, he shakes his head and just savors you being here, warm and alive.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I thought you were dead.”
“Dead? Who, me? No, silly! I just sprained my ankle, so walking’s a little hard, but i’ll be fine!”
“I thought I was going to lose you...” He was starting to babble. The blood loss was starting to affect him more than he’d thought.
“Lose me? Don’t worry, I’m not going away any time soon.”
“Good…” Giyuu breathes out a sigh of relief. He liked the thought of you living for a long, long time. “I like you a lot.”
With that admission, his head slumps over your shoulder, and his body gets heavier, prompting you to nearly drop him with the weight of his sudden confession and his mass.
Aoi and Kiyo watches, shocked beyond words as your face continuously gets redder and redder. Whether it was from the exertion, or his words, well, everyone knew exactly what was causing you to look like a freshly plucked apple.
“H-Hah?! Wait, Giyuu? Giyuu!”
And that is the sight that greets Shinobu. She was back from a report to Oyakata-sama, so seeing you all red and flustered with a fully grown man who was bleeding all over her floor and who was about to fall over and kill you—with his weight, or with his words, Shinobu could easily guess which—was an especially unusual sight, but unfortunately, not really unexpected. And mildly infuriating.
“Tomioka-san, you total dunce! Get treated first! Ugh, (F/N)-chan, don’t let him fall, he’s losing blood!”
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“Ow—“ Giyuu grunts, the bandage being wrapped around his torso a little too tight for his taste.
“Tomioka-san.” Shinobu starts, her hands continuously steady as she wraps the bandages with precision and efficiency around his chest. “I don’t think we’ve had a heart to heart chat about (F/N)-chan, don’t you think?”
After Giyuu’s surprise confession, you and Shinobu were able to drag him to a nearby room. He was passed out cold, and between you two, carrying a fully grown man would still be difficult, even if you’ve both had special pillar training.
He woke up a few minutes after you were done stitching the open gash at his stomach which caused his bloodloss (and slightly embarassing fainting spell). These unfortunate series of events have led him here, painfully being bandaged by none other than Shinobu. It wold have been nice if you were the one doing it, but Shinobu sent you to go look for more bandages with this sickly sweet look in her eyes—which you barely noticed in your worry. The worry was sweet, but now he knows Shinobu’s motives. Interrogstion.
Giyuu could do nothing else but nod, doing his damn best to not flinch, and keep still.
“You see, she really likes you, you know? I’ve never seen (F/N)-chan happier than she is when she’s with you. Honestly, I don’t know why she does, and what she sees in you but I like seeing her happy. You and I both know that she deserves it.”
Giyuu watches her wrap the bandages with practiced ease albeit with a little more force than necessary. Hearing Shinobu talk about you so fondly has him feeling grateful that you had someone who cared so deeply for you, and who was so willing to do anything to keep you happy. Even if the brunt of her attacks did fall on him, he could understand where she was coming from.
“She does,” Giyuu says, surprising Shinobu as she finds the softest, most fondest look she has ever seen on Giyuu’s immovable face. For a moment, Shinobu could see that he cared so much for you—as much, if not more than you cared for him—and she knew that he would never do anything to hurt you.
Unbelievable. She can’t believe he passed her test so easily.
She lets out a heavy sigh, turning back to the task at hand with a saccharine smile ready on her face.
“All that said, If you hurt any part of who I see as my beloved sister, I'll make sure to use my medical expertise to ensure you don’t get a chance to spread your genes—”
The door slides open with a nice loud clack, preventing Giyuu from hearing the rest of Shinobu’s sentence. Just as well too. He doesn’t think he’d want to hear the rest.
“Shinobu-chan! I’ve got more bandages for Giyuu!”
“Ah, thank you, (F/N)-chan!” The Insect Pillar smiles, taking one of the fresh bundles you offered, as you moved to the side of the room, arranging the medical supplies for easier access.
Shinobu leans down, under the guise of tying the gauze, as you flit around the room, spreading sunshine in your trails. None of you mention how you blatantly avoid eye contact with Giyuu. But it’s not like he’s initiating any either.
“I don’t think I need to continue my sentence.” She mumbles under her breath. “Do you understand?”
Giyuu winces as she tucks in another piece of bandage, grumbling in response. “Loud and clear.”
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BONUS:
Later that night, Shinobu left the two of you alone in Giyuu’s hospital room to talk it out. It was a little awkward at first, but as the two of you melt the ice, your usual sunny personalty—ironic, as you were the Snow Pillar—takes over. Throughout the course of the evening, you take out his hand with his permission, and have the time of your life holding it. It was a little funny how stiff and unused he was being at hand holding, but you found that to be one of his unexpected charms. And it wasn’t like he was complaining. He actually found it adorable how small your hands were, and how it fit really well against his own.
“So you don’t like Shinobu?” You ask a little shyly, playing with the tips of his fingers.
Against your skin, you feel him shiver in disgust as he looks slighty disgusted by question. “Gods, no, never.”
“So you were serious about liking me? It wasn’t a joke?”
“I don’t think I’d joke about that in my final moments.”
You giggle, feeling a little silly for even questioning it. But really, you don’t think you could be blamed for it. “You have a point.”
The two of you stay in comfortable silence for a while. He watches you trace vague shapes against his palms and he’s never felt so at peace before, than he did at this moment. After a while though, a curious thought strikes him, and he can’t help but want to ask.
“...What made you think that?”
The tips of your ears stain pink before you look away and bring one hand to your cheek. “Well I thought you two liked each other, and it seemed like she suited you much better than I would.”
“I only ever liked you. I thought I was being obvious.”
As blunt as ever.
“Ahaha!” You laughed, getting flustered in spite of the warmth pooling into your chest. “Well, I guess not enough for me.” It’s not as if you were able to notice. You did think he liked Shinobu after all. “By the way, why did you think I was going to die?”
He look up at the ceiling. “One of Tanjirou’s friends...that boar kid told me you couldn’t walk, and that you couldn’t move.”
“Inosuke? Oh, that…that actually makes a lot of—a lot of s-sense!”
Giyuu watches you fondly as you laugh. In your defense, the thought of you spraining your ankle being blown out of proportion by none other than Inosuke was funnier than you ever expected.
“Don’t laugh.” Giyuu pouts. It was the most adorable thing you’ve seen. “By the way he said it, I really thought you weren’t going to live to see another day.”
You breather deeply, giggling a little as you look at him with mirth and happiness dancing in your eyes. “Okay, okay. I’ll explain it to him tomorrow. But I guess I should thank him. If you weren’t nearly half-dead on your feet, neither of us would have confessed.”
“Yeah. I‘ll go with you.”
“Cool! Cool...Um, Giyuu?”
“Yes?”
“Could you maybe… perhaps, say that again?”
“Say what, again?”
“That you like me?”
Giyuu chuckles, giving your hand a light squeeze. “I like you.”
He’d say it a million more times if he gets to see you smile like that again.
“Heehee, I like you too Giyuu!”
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a/n: i got a little sick of rereading this so many times, so, apologies for any grammar/spelling mistakes!! i hope ya’ll liked it though uwu
also, are any of you playing genshin impact? man, that game saved my sanity, and at the same time caused more insanity....it’s fun.
if u guys wanna play, feel free to send me your uid’s! i’m at world level 6 so i can go into most worlds :^)
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hlizr50 · 3 years
Text
You Belong with Me
Azriel and his brothers are high-power executives, and while the Valkyrie ladies always attend the fancy dinners and events, Gwyn is NOT wealthy and is the only one who isn't attached to someone who is. When Gwyn volunteers to take Azriel to the cabin early to prep for their big family/friends vacation, they have a conversation about how she might have to cut back. Add in banter and hours of Gwyn unabashedly belting Taylor Swift, and Az realizes that not having her around is just not an option.
Guys... I've never cared for AU, never been big into song lyrics. But my soul just needed this to be a thing. So here it is.
Read on AO3
“You sure this thing is gonna get us there?” Azriel’s smug grin only earned an eyeroll from the redhead on the other side of the car, opening the driver’s side door.
“Just put your shit in the trunk and get in the car,” she huffed across the weathered blue of the roof. He chuckled, slinging his suitcase into the trunk as the door slammed – maybe with a little extra force. He loved poking at her, and he knew she would dish it right back. After closing the trunk he returned to the open door on the passenger’s side and lowered himself into the well-worn leather seat. “You know not all of us are fortunate enough to be high-level executives at multi-million dollar companies. But rest assured that this historical document restoration expert and her 16-year-old Toyota with 154000 miles are going to get you to the cabin safe and sound. Because you insisted on getting there a day early to make sure everything is secure.” Gwyn deepened her voice, giving him her best Azriel impersonation. And maybe he was being a bit… overzealous. But he had always been the most keenly aware, the most protective. He may have been CFO, but he was also deeply involved in security – both from the standpoint of the organization and of it’s employees. And his family.
He simply smirked, “If you say so.”
“You’re insufferable,” she groaned, turning the key. The car rumbled to life, and Azriel had to admit that he was impressed with how quiet it still seemed to run. He was sure Gwyn was a stickler about maintenance. “Just for that, you are sentenced to three hours of me serenading you with the best songs Taylor Swift has to offer.”
“Oh, Gods, anything but Taylor Swift.” Azriel grimaced, hiding the secret joy he rarely let her see. He loved it when she sang. Her voice was lovely, of course, but what hit him harder was how she seemed to radiate joy when she did it.
Gwyneth Berdara wasn’t quiet and shy like he tended to be – not by a long shot. She was irreverent and blunt and bold. But he could see the shadows that hid just behind the shimmer in her eyes – he could tell there were demons there. Her sister had been murdered four years before, in the apartment they both had shared, and it had wounded her deeply. Nesta had mentioned that there was more to the story, but that it was only Gwyn’s to tell. So, yes, she definitely had darkness that followed her, but she kept it well hidden. He’d learned, as they had become friends, that she often grew anxious in large crowds or chaotic environments. She didn’t feel safe, and that had always bothered him. Regardless of how many people were around or how crazy it was, her friends were there with her. He was there. Whatever it was that kept her so on edge, he imagined that the lingering sadness in that deep ocean gaze and the faraway wistful look that sometimes passed over her features were a part of it.
But when she sang she was a beacon of light, with the brightest smile and rosy, freckle-flecked cheeks.
“Don’t you dare disrespect the goddess T. Swift,” she glowered, and as they pulled onto the highway he lost himself in the lilting notes of her car concert.
He wasn’t sure how long they’d been driving – at least seven works of the goddess T. Swift – when he reached for the volume knob on the console and turned it down.
“Are you coming to the charity gala in a couple weeks?” Azriel looked over at her, noting the light stain of pink gracing her cheeks. She kept her eyes on the road.
“Oh… No.” Gwyn glanced over at him and gave a tight smile, causing him to purse his lips.
“Why not?”
“Az,” she chided, throwing him a stern look. “It’s too expensive. I can’t afford a seat and a dress. Hell, I probably can’t even afford one or the other.” He stayed silent, mulling over the understanding that money wasn’t something he ever had to worry about, and how he could make that not a problem for her. “Besides, you know how I am with crowds like that. I’d probably just have an attack and ruin everyone’s night.” She tried to laugh it off, and that troubled Azriel even more. Because she had seemed disappointed just then when she said she wasn’t going.
“Do you want to go, Gwyn?” He prodded. I want you to go. She sighed, adjusting herself in her seat to straighten her back.
“It doesn’t matter. Like I said, it’s really not possible for me.” She shrugged, as if that was it.
But that wasn’t it. Everyone was going to be there. She should be there, too. She should be there, with him.
“You know we would help –“
“I know, Az. But I’m not asking you, or Rhys. I’m not asking anyone. I can’t keep depending on everyone else just to go to events and dinners and whatever else.” She sucked in a breath. “I just… I don’t live the same life that the rest of you do. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just how it is.”
“Gwyn, you know nobody cares about that.” Azriel frowned. “I understand that my family is… fortunate. Privileged. But you and Nesta and Emerie are a part of us.”
“It’s not the same, Azriel.” Azriel. The full name. This was more serious than he realized. “Nesta is with Cassian and Emerie is with Mor. It makes sense that maybe they’re taken care of. I’m just… a friend. A friend who is poor.” He opened his mouth to argue but she beat him to it. “And it’s not just about covering food… you go to places with dress codes and too many forks for dinner, and with the company’s increasing success the three of you are only growing more popular and more press-worthy. Especially you.”
“Me?” Azriel swallowed, brows furrowed. “Why especially me?”
Gwyn cast him a pointed look, eyes dark and serious. “You’re the last single brother, Az. You are eligible bachelor number one. All the single ladies in the metropolitan area, if not further out, will be pining for you. If they’re not already.”
Eligible bachelor number one. He rolled his eyes. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”
“Oh Az. Sweet, precious, innocent Az. Have you seen yourself? You’re gorgeous. You’re wealthy, successful, and absolutely beautiful.” Azriel raised a brow and gave her a sideways glance, but she was so stubbornly keeping her eyes trained ahead. It was responsible, of course. She was driving. But not even a peek meant that she was intentionally avoiding looking over at him. The corners of his mouth turned downward, not quite understanding how this conversation had gone the way it had.
“Is that so? Please, tell me more,” he snickered. If there was anything that he knew, it was how to draw her back with teasing. She wouldn’t back down from a challenge, and Gwyneth Berdara was ruthless when it came to having the last word. The corner of her mouth twitched, and he knew she was doing her best not to smile.
“I hate you so much,” she huffed.
“Now, I don’t think that’s even remotely true.” He reached out to pinch the apple of her cheek, but she slapped his hand away, sending a glower that only made him laugh.
“The single ladies can have you. Maybe you’ll find someone else to annoy.”
“Aw, Gwynnie. You know nobody could ever replace you.” And even though it was in jest, it was also… true. “And what would you do without me?”
“Get some peace and quiet for once?” And when the redhead turned with that scrunched freckled nose and her tongue stuck out at him Azriel was relieved to have the playful girl – his best friend – wearing a smile again. “Now shut it or sing along, you have not been punished with nearly enough of our lady Taylor Swift.”
And so the ride continued, but Azriel chewed on his lower lip, contemplating everything Gwyn had said. She was fiercely independent, so he could understand how she might not want to accept what she might perceive as charity, or worse, pity. But the idea of her just not being there… it made something inside of him feel hollow. He reached out and turned down the volume again.
“Why wouldn’t you say anything? About where we’re going to dinner? Or about not being comfortable at big events?” He didn’t even try to hide that he was staring at her, trying to pinpoint any reaction she may have. Once again pink stained her cheeks.
“Az, it’s not like you guys are going to stop going to fancy restaurants so you can come to Wendy’s with me. I don’t want to take away from anyone’s fun.” Fucking ridiculous.
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe we would have less fun without you there?” Azriel tried to keep his tone light, but his temper was flaring. He wasn’t sure why, but it bothered him that she would think she could just… not be there and they would all just go on like it didn’t matter.
“Of course I did,” Gwyn shrugged nonchalantly and threw him a wink. “I know it will be hard but I’m sure you’ll manage somehow. Besides, I don’t plan on just disappearing. I just… need to be more thoughtful about what I’m doing. I’ll just be around… less.” She turned the volume back up and jumped straight into the lyrics, not giving him the opportunity to tell her how preposterous she sounded.
Azriel leaned back in his seat, losing himself in thought with Gwyn’s lovely voice still soothing him in the background. He didn’t know how long he’d been brooding when the volume increased dramatically, blaring through the interior. Looking over he found her tapping on the steering wheel and swaying to the beat of her majesty Taylor Swift. Her eyes were shining, her smile was brilliant, and she sang like she didn’t have a care in the world.
You’re on the phone with your girlfriend, she’s upset
She’s going off about something that you said
‘Cause she doesn’t get your humor like I do
I’m in my room, it’s a typical Tuesday night
I’m listening to the kind of music she doesn’t like
And she’ll never know your story like I do
But she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts
She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers
Dreaming ‘bout the day when you wake up and find
That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time
If you could see that I’m the one who understands you,
Been here all along, so why can’t you see
You belong with me
You belong with me
Walkin’ the streets with you and your worn-out jeans
I can’t help thinking this is how it ought to be
Laughing on a park bench, thinking to myself
Hey, isn’t this easy?
And you’ve got a smile that could light up this whole town
I haven’t seen it in awhile since she brought you down
You say you’re fine, I know you better than that
Hey, what you doing with a girl like that?
She wears high heels, I wear sneakers
She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers
Dreaming ‘bout the day when you wake up and find
That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time
If you could see that I’m the one who understands you,
Been here all along, so why can’t you see
You belong with me
Standing by and waiting at your back door
All this time how could you not know, baby?
You belong with me
You belong with me
Azriel felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was seeing Gwyn for the first time. Unbridled joy, laughter when she turned to him when she was singing, dancing in the driver’s seat like a passenger’s worst nightmare.
And he couldn’t help but listen to the words, too. Surely that part was coincidence, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was speaking to him… something was speaking to him.
He grinned as she shimmied her shoulders and rocked her head from side to side, wisps of copper flying away from her ponytail.
Oh, I remember you drivin’ to my house in the middle of the night
I’m the one who makes you laugh even though you’re ‘bout to cry
I know your favorite songs and you tell me ‘bout your dreams
Think I know where you belong, think I know it’s with me
Can’t you see that I’m the one that understands you
Been here all along, so why can’t you see
You belong with me
Standing by and waiting at your back door
All this time, how could you not know baby?
You belong with me
You belong with me
You belong with me
Have you ever thought just maybe
You belong with me
You belong with me
“Gosh I think I went too hard on that one. I’m out of breath!” she laughed, and she glanced toward Azriel in the passenger seat. “Have you had enough yet, Az?”
“Never,” he murmured, and her breath caught. She turned her focus back to the road, but kept stealing looks back at him. She seemed unsure of how to respond, but he was also lost in his own head.
He didn’t want to be the eligible bachelor. He didn’t want to annoy anyone else. He knew that he had cared for Gwyn as more than a friend for a long time – Nesta and Cassian had always encouraged him to do something about it. Nesta in particular had assured him that Gwyn felt the same way. But no matter how much Azriel had flirted she never seemed to acknowledge it, never seemed inclined to do something about it. They bantered and challenged and laughed, but never more.
But Nesta continued to be insistent. She told Azriel that there were some things about Gwyn that might keep her from acting upon her affection for him, and maybe he should make the first move. He never had, of course, for fear of rejection and fear of ruining the relationship that they had.
But now suddenly he was looking at a future where she wasn’t always there. He didn’t like the thought of that. He would go to Wendy’s for dinner instead of whatever black-tie restaurant had their reservation. But, furthermore, he would take care of her, like Cassian took care of Nesta. He wouldn’t go to events without her, and he would make sure that she was comfortable and safe while she was there. Because he would keep her close. He would always keep her close.
By the time Gwyn was pulling the car onto the driveway leading to the cabin she was only singing quietly to herself and letting him sit in his own silent thought. And as soon as she parked and turned off the car he knew exactly what he needed to do.
Without a word he ripped off the seatbelt and burst out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He was already crossing across the front when Gwyn popped out.
“What the hell, Az? The car is 16 years old you can’t just slam doors like that –“
Azriel grabbed the back of her neck and crushed his lips to hers. Gods, they were perfect – warm and lush. She inhaled shakily against his mouth and he tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth. He swept his lips across hers once again before pulling away only slightly, resting his forehead against her own. They were both breathing hard, and her expression nearly sent him to his knees. Gwyn’s teal eyes were wide, shining with surprise and confusion. Her lips were swollen and her freckled cheeks stained crimson. Azriel wasn’t going to give himself enough time to question this, though.
“You’re coming to the gala,” he insisted, gaze flitting wildly between her lips and her eyes before drowning in the ocean pools. “I’m buying your ticket. On our way home after this weekend we’ll go shopping for a dress. And no matter what you wear you will be the most exquisite thing there.”
Gwyn looked up at him, chest still heaving and eyes still wide, and nodded.
“And you’re coming to every dinner and event and anything else after that. Because, no matter what you might think, I don’t want to be there if you’re not there.”
“Az –“
“And when you’re there, you won’t think about money or crowds. Because I’ll be there. I’m going to take care of you and make sure you’re safe. Because I don’t just want you to be there with all of us. I want you to be there with me. Okay, Gwyn?” His eyes bore into hers, willing her to understand, to see what was in his heart.
“Okay,” she nodded. Her breaths had quieted, her eyes were warm, and there was a ghost of a smile there. And Azriel dared to hope that Nesta had been right, and all he’d needed was to take the leap.
“Can I kiss you again, Gwyn?” he asked.
“Please,” she giggled at him, smile widening. He leaned in, this time with much more restraint and care, slanting his lips over her soft ones and gently moving against them. When he pulled away his face was plastered with a shit-eating grin, which grew impossibly bigger when he saw her blushing.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he laughed, still not believing that he had done all that, and that it had… worked?
“I… I’ve wanted you to do that for a long time.” Gwyn sighed and then dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. “So… so just to be clear. You want me… to be…?” Azriel chuckled and ran his hands down her arms and then tangling their fingers together.
“I want to date you. I want you to be my girlfriend. I don’t want to aggravate any other single ladies. I don’t want to be an eligible bachelor. I just want you. We can go to fancy dinners or charity events or the finest fast food restaurants in the metropolitan area.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and then kissed her cheek. “Will you?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Of course, Az.” He bent his head and kissed her again. He couldn’t get enough of it. It was like he was making up for lost time.
“As her holy highness Taylor Swift said, you belong with me,” Azriel grinned devilishly. “I can’t help but be suspicious that you planned that… planned to make me fall for your beautiful voice and how adorable you are.” Gwyn tilted her head back and laughed, nearly a cackle full of amusement and contentment.
“I did not plan it, but I’m not going to complain about how it turned out.”
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hot-wiings · 3 years
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The One Where Denki And Mina Think Katsuki Needs To Be A Softer, Nicer Boyfriend, And An Insecure Katsuki Agrees, But [Y/N] [L/N] Doesn't Want A Nicer Boyfriend, She Wants Him.
Requested By: @spicyhokage
Edited: 1-6-2021
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It was late when Katsuki came in through class 2-A's dormitory doors. Being his second year at UA the school was allowing students to go back into student internships. With Best Jeanist still off the streets, Katsuki wound up interning with Fatgum, using the link between Eijirou and him to get in. Katsuki hadn't expected to be out for so long, there had been a bad villain that showed up at a different agency and it was a perfect match for both his and Fatgum's abilities. Fatgum had allowed Katsuki to work on it with him, nevermind the fact that Katsuki had already planned a study date for your upcoming test Monday, he jumped at the chance to work with the heroes.
Katsuki knew, or at least he hoped, that you wouldn't be that mad or upset at him for ditching you at the very last minute. It was a leg up in the hero industry, it was a helping hand, he could make more connections and improve his skills. As a student hero, you should know how important this is. He'd want you to make the same choice if it was reversed.
Despite abandoning your date, Katsuki wasn't heartless. He bought a bouquet of hydrangeas as an apology. Apologies weren't something he was good at, but he hoped you would accept it. Katsuki was hoping you would be up waiting for him in the dormitory lounge when he came back, but he knew that one was a longshot. He'd rather have you in bed resting, or making up for the studying he promised to help with but hadn't. Katsuki was hoping he'd find you in the dormitory lounge waiting for him, but instead, he found two of his peers.
"You were out awfully late, weren't you?"
"Shut it, pink face. I need to go see [Y/N] and then head to bed, like a smart student. You and dunce face do realize that we have a big test Monday, don't you?"
Katsuki marched right past Mina and Denki, who were sitting on the couch, towards the elevator to get up to your dorm. If he was right, Mr. Aizawa would be asleep by this hour, and getting into your dorm would be no issue. Katsuki stopped walking towards the elevator when he hears Minas' voice speak out again.
"Did you really get hydrangeas for her? You ditched her for your internship and you got hydrangeas? Girls like roses Katsuki. If a guy ever brought me hydrangeas, I'd kick his butt to the door. Queens deserve better."
"What the fuck are you implying raccoon eyes?"
Katsuki turned back around to yell at Mina for implying that he wasn't good enough for you. He nearly crumpled the flowers by clenching his hand. Mina didn't know what she was talking about. He had brought you hydrangeas several times before, you never complained about it. Denki spoke up to try and intervene Katsuki from blowing up on Mina.
"I think what Mina meant to say is that we're just worried for you. You really like [Y/N], right? Take it from a guy who gets dumped by girls a lot. Pretty girls like [Y/N] don't need to sit around waiting for guys like us. While you're trying to further your career you're ditching her, not to mention, when is the last time you showed her affection?"
"For starters, dunce face, don't call my girlfriend pretty. Secondly, there are no guys like us and girls like [Y/N], there's me, her, and all of you fucking extras that need to get out of my relationship."
"Fine, don't take our advice. Just so you know, [Y/N] isn't in her dorm, she's in the kitchen."
Mina practically sings her words out, and Katsuki changes his course of route from the elevator to the kitchen. He had a scowl on his face the entire time, courtesy of Mina and Denki. He had to restrain himself from beating them with the bouquet. Katsuki reached the kitchen door and he took a minute to recompose himself from his previous anger to a calmer version of himself. He pushed the door open with a calmer smile on his face but stops after opening it halfway.
"What's the answer to number two?"
"Uhm... 6?"
"That's right! Here's your reward."
Katsuki clenched his fist, practically ruining the flowers. He ditched you and your study date, he shouldn't be getting so mad at seeing you and Deku study together. You can have friends other than him. You can be around members of the male gender other than him. Even if it is shitty Deku. You're allowed to have a life outside of Katsuki, but as Deku broke apart a cookie and threw it right into your mouth, a sweet reward for getting the question right, he was ready to toss hands with the boy.
"We're gonna ace this test Monday. Thanks for studying with me Deku. I hate studying alone and you're great at math. Usually, Katsuki helps me, but he got busy."
"It's no problem, [Y/N]. Seriously, I'm always here if you need me."
Katsuki quietly pulled the door shut instead of going in and interrupting you and dumb Deku. Maybe Mina was right. Katsuki thought about it more as he walked back to Mina and Denki. He didn't really show you affection that much, and he did spend a lot of time in the gym or at his internship. His idea of a date was training together or studying. You probably hated the flowers but chose not to speak on it. If he didn't change, change now and fast he was going to lose you to that shit-munch. He needed to show you he was the better more deserving man. As Katsuki stared at Mina and Denki he uttered the words he never wanted to say to them.
"I want your fuckin' help."
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"Bring [Y/N] roses. Girls love roses. Not a daffodil, not baby's breath, not a tulip. Roses."
Roses were Mina's first piece of advice to Katsuki. According to her, girls only cared about getting roses, and every other flower was inferior. She also said apology flowers must be paired with chocolates. Katsuki personally thought that was bullshit. He had been bringing you different breeds of flowers throughout your entire relationship and never once had you vocalized disdain for it. But Mina is a girl unlike him, so she must have had some kind of special insight. You must have just not wanted to make him feel bad for messing up. Katsuki knew he was inexperienced in the dating area, but he hadn't realized he was screwing up so badly.
Katsuki did exactly what Mina said. Saturday afternoon, Katsuki showed up at your dorm with a bouquet of yellow roses and a box of chocolates, the milk chocolate kind. According to Mina, milk chocolate was better than dark chocolate. He knocked on the door after checking his phone for the time. He knew you didn't like getting up early on the weekend, and you had been up late studying the night before. Twelve-thirty seemed like a reasonable time to stop by.
You opened the door, slippers on your feet, eyes barely opened, and a crinkled forehead as you tried to slightly open them to see who you were staring at. You had a pair of shorts on and one of Katsuki's sweatshirts. One you promised you hadn't seen and swore he must've lost in the dorms laundry facility. Katsuki smiled down at your sleepy form, you were adorable. Once you registered who it was you yawned and crossed your arms as you lazily leaned against the door frame and let a small smile cross your face.
"What're you doing here? You were out so late last night, you must be exhausted."
"I could say the same about you, you look like the epitome of tired. How late were you up?"
"No later than two. When did you get in?"
Katsuki didn't want to tell you he came in at midnight. You would've asked him why he didn't come to see you, and he didn't want to say that he saw you and Deku studying together. He didn't want to admit that he felt pained at seeing you together so close. Pained at you needing and using Deku as you would him. Katsuki held up the roses and chocolates and thrust them into your arms.
"I didn't even check the time. I brought you apology flowers and chocolate for ditching you. They're roses!"
"O-Oh, they're yellow."
You took the items he thrust into your arms and moved further into your dorm so he could come in. You set the chocolate down on the bed but kept observing the flowers. Katsuki was quite proud of the flowers he picked out. They were pretty and blooming, and he thought you'd like them. Yellow roses would look good in your dorm room. You, on the other hand, were not ecstatic with the flowers. You bit your lip and tried to make your smile bigger. Did he know what yellow roses symbolized? He had to of known, even Denki would know something this simple. Maybe you were reading into it too much, they're just flowers. It was a gift, not a death sentence to your relationship.
"I'll have to go to the kitchen and see if there's anything I can put them in."
Katsuki could sense you being standoffish. He assumed you were upset at him for ditching you the previous night. He did the flowers right, he would just have to go the extra mile to make you happy with him by serving your needs.
"I can go to the kitchen and find a vase! You just shower or get dressed, or whatever, and I'll even bring you up some lunch."
"You don't have to do that. I can get dressed and do it myself."
"I don't have to do it, I want to do it."
Katsuki cupped your cheeks and pressed a quick kiss against your lips. They were soft and sweet. Katsuki could taste the residue sugar from the cookies you had been eating the night before and he pulled back with a frown, making you frown just as much. He wasn't mad that you didn't brush your teeth, although you should have. He was upset at the reminder that Deku was with you when you were supposed to be having a study date. He was upset that Deku was the one who stayed up with you until two in the morning. He was upset that Deku was acting like a better boyfriend when he was just your friend and nothing more. Katsuki should've been doing more, he should've been doing a better job.
"I really am sorry for ditching you yesterday. If you want, we can redo the date today."
"I really missed you yesterday. I did some cramming with Deku, but I don't think he's as good of a teacher as you are."
"Of course dumb Deku isn't as good as me. I'll grab my books before I come back, we'll have a nice do-over date."
Hearing you say that Izuku wasn't as good as him made him feel good. It was slightly reassuring to Katsuki, yet he couldn't stop this budding feeling every time he thought about you and Izuku studying last night.  
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"Buy her something nice. Something nice like jewelry. I always see you buying her practical stuff, that's boring. Girls like pretty shiny gifts from their boyfriends."
Mina's second piece of advice had been to buy you some jewelry. According to Mina jewelry was an acceptable gift for a boyfriend to buy his girlfriend. Katsuki had been buying you practical and weird gifts throughout your relationship. He thought they were good, he thought they were sweet and enjoyable. He supposed he was wrong. With every piece of advice from Mina, Katsuki was getting punched in the gut. He thought he was treating you right, he thought he was doing this whole relationship thing right, but he wasn't. If he didn't fix things fast then dumb Deku would steal you away from him.  
Katsuki felt inside of his pocket for the necklace he bought you. He had Mina help him pick it out that morning. It had been sitting there in a pretty little black box with a red bow waiting to be opened. He wanted to give it to you when he gave you the flowers, but he didn't want you to view it as an apology gift, he wanted it to be viewed as a sweet, 'I was thinking of you', gift.
By the time Katsuki had gotten back to your dorm room, you were all showered and dressed in fresh clothes. You were wearing comfortable clothes, and Katsuki had to smile again. You looked simply perfect. With your hair pushed back by a headband, sweatpants, and another one of his sweaters which you practically swam in, you looked angelic to him. Katsuki put a bag containing your lunch on the small table you had in your room, he placed the vase containing your new flowers there too before pulling out your lunch. You grabbed his book bag from him with a smile and began to pull his books out and place them alongside yours in a neatly organized fashion to create a nice study space.
"What'd you find for lunch?"
"There wasn't much in the fridge to quickly grab, so I made some curry."
"I love it when you cook. It always tastes good."
You smiled at Katsuki and placed a quick peck against his cheek before taking a seat next to him. His chest swelled with pride as he watched you freely dig into the container of food. You liked his cooking, and as he watched you feast in it he knew you weren't lying. At least he did one thing right on his own. One more wrong thing and he was sure he was going to blow a casket.
"Aren't you gonna eat?"
You stared at him with half-lidded eyes and spoke with your mouth half full, barely pronouncing your words but Katsuki still knew what you were saying. He stopped staring at you and began working on his own dish. Every once and a while Katsuki noticed your eyes go from your food to his face and then to the flowers before diving back to the food. He supposed you really liked them. It felt good knowing he was doing it right. It felt good knowing you were happy and content with him for the moment.
You wiped your face off and just as you were about to clean up your lunch mess Katsuki jumped up and took care of it. He grabbed your lunch containers and closed them before tossing them back into the bag he brought them in. He took a wet wipe and wiped up your table and then proceeded to toss the dirty wipe in the trash bin.
"Ready to study?"
"Yup! You're a really good teacher, I really look forward to our study dates."
You walked over to your bed and took a seat on the ground whereas Katsuki laid across your bed in a position where he could have a book out and also easily look over the edge to see what you were doing. This was how you always did your study dates. Katsuki would work and watch to see if you were slacking off, then you would switch books and quiz each other. Slowly the clock clicked away, each passing second made Katsuki grow antsy. He wanted to give you the stupid neckless he had inside his pocket. Katsuki huffed as he slammed his book shut and pushed it off of the bed. You craned your neck back to see what Kastuki was doing before narrowing your eyes, no way did he think he could stop studying while he made you work.
"What are you doing? Are you studying up there?"
"No, c'mere."
You huffed as you pulled yourself up off of the floor and crawled onto the bed next to Katsuki. A mixture of blankets and skin touched you as he wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you so your back was flush against his chest. He let his head rest inside your neck, and you struggled to pull out of his grip.
"What are you doing? We're supposed to be studying."
"I don't wanna study right now. The test is Monday, we can still study tomorrow."
You bit your lip as you contemplated his offer. He had a point. The test was Monday morning, and it was only Saturday, not to mention that you had studied with Deku yesterday. The offer was just so out of character for Katsuki, part of you wondered if it was a trick and thought he was going to pull out a piece of rolled-up newspaper to hit you with like he did for Eijirou. You let yourself sink into his arms, you had been up to this for a while, you deserved a break.
"Okay, but only a small break. got it?"
"Mm. I got you something."
Katsuki pulled away from your body to dig in his pocket and pull out the small black box. You rolled over so you could face him and your gift with a growing smile on your face. You loved Katsuki's gifts. Whether it was intentional or not, he always got you something you needed. Whether it was you complaining about cold hands or your lack of working pens, the next day you would find gloves and a pack of pens with a note from him saying something stupid, like 'You better use these to take your shitty notes' and 'If you get arthritis in your hands you can't become a hero'. It was always a surprise and a delight. Katsuki handed over the box and you tore the bow off before opening it.
"It's a necklace!"
"Oh, it's very cute."
You tried not to frown as you looked over the necklace. You tried you're best to put a beaming smile on your face. It was still a gift and you needed to show your gratitude. It wasn't as conventional as your other gifts, but it was still pretty. Maybe it had a special meaning? Maybe he saw it and thought of you? It was just so unusual. He never bought you jewelry and the style was obviously not his.
"Did you pick it out yourself?"
You tried not to make it sound like you were fishing for an explanation as you smiled and clasped it around your neck to show how much you 'loved' it. Katsuki contemplated telling you he picked it out himself but seeing as you were friends with Mina he wasn't sure what she'd say and he didn't want to look bad.
"Well, I got a little help. Figured a female's perspective wouldn't hurt."
Suddenly you felt sick to your stomach. Not only had he given you a necklace, an unconventional and unusual gift compared to the ones he usually gave, but he let a girl pick it out. There was no special meaning, it was just pretty. Your mind went back to the flowers. The yellow roses. He bought you yellow roses. Your whole relationship he brought different breeds and types, never roses. Especially not yellow, the color that represented friendship.
"Thank you, I love it!"
You wrapped your arms around Katsuki, bringing him into a big, tight hug. Although you were with him physically, mentally you were in other places. That dark place in the back of your head was telling you why he gave you these offhanded weird gifts. The dark place in the back of your head was filling you with untrue silly thoughts, yet you couldn't help but let your head entertain them and wonder. The more you wondered, the more you wanted to rip your neckless off.
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mina
Pop music could be heard blaring loudly from a BlueTooth speaker connected to Mina's phone as you walked into her dorm room. Without knocking you barged right in, Mina supposed there really was a reason you and Katsuki were together. You were both bluntly rude and sometimes you didn't even realize it. You flopped down at the foot of her bed and looked up at her before greeting your pink friend.
"Hey."
"Hi."
Mina didn't look up from what she was doing, she continued flicking through the pages of some fashion-forward girly magazine as she replied to you. You ran your fingers through her soft duvet as you looked around her dorm room. It looked like Claires threw up on the walls and it gave you a major headache. You and Mina had two different style sets, two sets of style very far apart.
"Did you study for the test tomorrow?"
Unlike her room, that was a subject that would give Mina a headache. Mina roughly flipped another page of the magazine she was holding as she let out an exhausted breath.
"No, and before you scold me neither did Denki. I swear Katsuki is rubbing off on you."
At the sound of his name, your hand went up and touched the necklace he got for you. You only wore it in case you saw Katsuki today, you planned to wear it for the next two weeks, then you'd pretend you lost it. You weren't a necklace kind of person, and it wasn't even sentimental. Mina tossed her magazine down on the bed and a smile played on her face as she saw the necklace between your fingers.
"That's a cute necklace? Did Katsuki get it for you?"
"Yeah, he did."
You answer Mina's questions and inquiries as you let the gem on the necklace slip out of your fingers. You couldn't help but let your face slip into a frown. You couldn't help it, the more you thought about the necklace, the further you fell into dark thoughts. It wasn't even the fact that it wasn't sentimental like all of the other gifts he gave you, it was the fact he let some girl pick it out. You weren't a controlling person, not remotely. If Katsuki wanted female friends he could have them, he did have them. While he wouldn't call Mina a friend, she was. Mina was a girl you felt comfortable with, however, you had already had a girl in mind of who you thought helped him, a girl who wasn't Mina. A girl you didn't feel comfortable with, a girl you knew you shouldn't feel comfortable with.
"Well, it's very pretty, if I had a boyfriend who brought me gifts like that I'd be over the moon. So I take it things between you and Katsuki are good then?"
"I guess, um, I just... I think Katsuki is cheating on me."
You started off in a stutter before you bluntly spoke out your words. The moment your voice hits your ears you cringe at yourself and cross your arms. It was such a ridiculous thought. A horrendous and dark thought that, lately, kept crossing your mind more often than it should be crossing and occurring.
"What? Why?!"
"He's just acting so strange and weird."
You pulled yourself up into a cross-legged sitting position on Mina's bed to talk to her. Mina moved and adjusted her own body, completely immersed in what you were saying. You played with your hand as your next words came out.
"Whenever he's out late he always, and I mean always comes to my dorm before going to bed. He didn't come to my dorm last Friday, instead, he shows up at my dorm Saturday afternoon with flowers."
"Flowers are sweet and romantic though. The fact that he bought them for you means he cares."
"Katsuki always brings me a wide variety of flowers. Hydrangeas, snapdragons, hyacinth. It's out of the ordinary and romantic, but this time he bought roses. Not just any roses, yellow roses. What kind of statement is he trying to make with that one?! Everyone knows yellow roses mean friendship and red means romance. Even Denki knows that."
Mina scratched the back of her head nervously. She supposed she should have explained to Katsuki to get red roses. Katsuki was unaware of things in the romance department. Mina needed to try and dial things back before Katsuki found out what you're thinking.
"Katsuki isn't very romantically smart, you're his first serious romantic relationship."
"Yeah, but we've been dating for nearly a year, and that's not even it. We were studying yesterday, and you know how strict Katsuki is when he's studying, you've seen him with Eijirou. Katsuki was not strict at all, he made me stop studying to cuddle. To cuddle! Can you believe that?"
"Well... Maybe he's trying to be sweeter to you, I mean look at the necklace he got you, it's so romantic."
"Don't even get me started on the necklace! Katsuki always brings me sentimental and meaningful gifts. He buys me pencil led when I'm low, and notebooks when he sees my paper is getting down to the end, he buys me gloves when he notices mine are lost or have holes. They're stupid and meaningful and I love it."
You ran your fingers through your hair distressed and upset. Yanking your hands through a few new forming snarls from laying on the bed, practically pulling some hair strands out.
"The necklace isn't meaningful, it doesn't have sentiment, and he didn't even pick it out himself! Some girl picked it out for him."
"Why, didn't he say who? It doesn't mean anything. The girl is probably a friend."
"I think I already know who the girl is. It's some stupid brunette from Shiketsu High. They met during his supplementary lessons, they met again after their internship heroes started working together regularly. She saw him when we were walking to get coffee and she just had to stop and talk to him, she was obviously flirting with him."
You had never felt more awkward at that moment. She was blatantly flirting with him, whether she knew that you were together or not, you didn't know. You didn't expect Katsuki to talk about his relationship during his internship, he was supposed to be working, but you didn't trust her. You knew from that moment the brunette was going to be trouble. She was interested in your boyfriend and that spelled out trouble to you.
"'had a little help' he says, staking her claim on what's mine I say."
"[Y/N], I don't think katsuki would cheat on you. He wouldn't do that."
Mina felt completely nervous. She hadn't realized you and she had such different opinions on romance and what was wooing and not. Katsuki was romantic, he was doing nothing wrong, she just didn't see it from your point of view. Mina had worried Katsuki for nothing and gave bad romance advice which resulted in you worrying. Katsuki was going to kill her, she needed to fix this.
"[Y/N], Katsuki loves you a lot, don't worry, okay?"
"Okay, you're probably right, I'm thinking too much. I'm going back to my dorm, try to get some studying in before the test tomorrow."
Despite the pink girl's words you still didn't feel good. As you stood up and walked to her door, you still felt a rush of negative thoughts and emotions. You still felt winded and emotional. You still felt hurt and fearful of your relationship. You felt the same as you did when you walked into her dorm.  
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You nervously tapped your leg up and down on the ground repeatedly as Mr. Ectoplasm and his copies passed out the scored math tests to the class. You supposed a quirk like that must be very useful as a teacher. You kept making little glances over at where Katsuki was sat and your heart clenched. You felt so ridiculous for suspecting he was cheating. You felt completely horrible. Mina was right, Katsuki loved you. Katsuki loved you and he would never cheat. The simple thought that he would was wrong, yet, this lingering feeling told you he was. 
Maybe you should talk to him about it. Maybe you should tell him and express your fears and worries. It was better to talk about things like this, it was better to express yourself rather than locking it up and away, where it could fester and damage your relationship. You looked back over at Katsuki, who caught your glace this time and smiled at you. The smile made you feel sick and guilty for feeling this way. You would tell him how you were feeling after class. The sooner it was out in the open the better. 
You turned back to your test sheet and frowned at the result. You got a forty. Forty. After all that studying you had received a forty. You wanted to be mad at Katsuki for not making you study harder, but you had studied with Izuku first hand. Maybe Ectoplasm would let you take a retest. Ectoplasm dismissed you all and you quickly folded up your test paper in half so no one could see your result as you exited. After you packed up your school bag you stood out in the hall and waited for Katsuki. 
The nerves in your stomach churned. You didn't want to tell Katsuki the negative thoughts that were running through you, you didn't want to tell him how you had dark thoughts and worries about him cheating, but you had to tell him. You had to put your thoughts and theories to rest. Katsuki came out in the hall with his own test papers in hand and you both began to walk to your next class. 
"What'd you score?"
"Got a ninety-two. You?"
"A forty."
You sighed as you clenched the paper in your hand. That was a D. Katsuki was on the fritz. He was trying to take Mina's advice. He wanted to be nice and softer to you like Mina told him he had to be, but he couldn't. You should've studied harder, he should've made you study harder. Katsuki gritted his teeth and took a deep breath to calm himself down before responding. 
"You'll do better next time!" 
"What is wrong with you?"
"What do you mean?"
You looked at Katsuki like he grew two heads. This wasn't your boyfriend, and you slightly wondered if Toga had infiltrated UA. He was never kind like this, he wasn't a positive person. He was supposed to yell at you. Tell you to study better. Tell you you needed to get good scores if you were going to become a hero with him. 
"It's just a bad test score, not every score can be a baller."
"I failed my test, you're supposed to yell at me. Tell me I'm stupid, tell me to study more. Tell me anything but that fake positivity shit! You are not acting like yourself, are you cheating on me? Is this guilt? Are you guilty?"
"No! Fuck, no!"
Katsuki dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around you. That wasn't how you meant to tell him about the thoughts you were having. You wanted to tell him calmly and respectfully, you hadn't meant to flat out accuse him, your thoughts just need up tumbling out that way. Katsuki's own reassuring words came stumbling out in your ear as he tightly gripped you against him.  
"You are perfect and beautiful, and so important to me. I would never cheat on you, I would never fuck up what I have with you. Why would you think that? I don't wanna make you feel that fuckin' way."   
"I know that. I know you wouldn't, but you have been acting so weird and different." 
"I need to be nice or else I'm going to lose you. I got insecure, but shit, I should be. You are so perfect, and you deserve roses and jewelry and the world. You deserve someone who cuddles you instead of studying and who doesn't make you feel like they're cheating and fuck-" 
You pull out of Katsuki's tight grip and cup his cheeks. Your fingers skimmed over his skin tenderly as you stared up at his red eyes and noticed how watery they were. Your heart broke, you thought he was unfaithful but he was really just scared of losing you.
"I don't want you to be soft and nice. You already give me the world Katsuki. You make me study because you care about me. I don't want you to get me roses and Jewelry, I hate it, and I love the stupid little gifts you get me. You don't give me affection and cuddles, but you do other things, like waiting to walk me to class and making me food." 
"You don't want me to be nicer?"
"No! Everything you do is already perfect. Everything you do shows me you care about me in your own way. I love the way you are, I don't want you to change."
Katsuki pulled you back into his arms and pressed a rough kiss against your forehead. He was doing everything right. He was better than dumb Deku, and your test score was proof of that. He wasn't going to lose you, Denki and Mina were wrong. 
"Come to my dorm tonight, you need to study better dumbass."
It didn't matter that the whole class watched the exchange between you both. It didn't matter that Mina had screwed with your relationship and felt very relieved to have gotten off scot-free, for now at least. It didn't matter because all Katsuki cared about was the fact that he was a great boyfriend, the best. He didn't have to be softer, nicer. He didn't have to change, you liked it. You loved him, the way he was. That was all that mattered.
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rainbowserenity · 2 years
Text
royal!AU tag
*shows up a year and a half late with Starbucks* uhhhhh 8D
a lot of people that talk to me regularly know that I’ve been having a hard time with life lately. I started this next part of the royal AU shortly after the last one and just a few days ago finished it because of all the aforementioned life stuff. I really appreciate everyone’s patience and anyone who inquired to whether I would continue this or anything like that. you’re all the best :D
I really should have made this a multi-chaptered fic, but oh well! I would highly recommend reading at least the previous two parts, which you can find in the tag above or in the AO3 collection here. I’ll be posting this one on AO3 soon as well!
Back when she’d been in the Guardian Corps, struggling to survive in Eden’s slums, Lightning’s unofficial nickname had been “Captain Dangerous.” Once she’d completed her training, everyone on the force soon figured out she was, well, a force to be reckoned with. Few people could move as fast as she had, and she was able to push herself through just about anything. She’d done flips on twisted ankles, attacked enemies when she had wounds bad enough to need stitches, and never missed a day at all. She’d been unstoppable.
So when Lightning woke up with a raging headache and her limbs feeling as heavy as stone, it was honestly a new sensation for her...one she could have done without, to be honest.
“She’s awake!” a shrill voice cried, which made Lightning close her eyes again and rub her forehead with a groan. “Mr. Katzroy, the princess is awake!”
Oh, right. Princess. Which meant her. As insane as it still felt, even after quite some time now, Lightning was the recently discovered princess of Eden.
And apparently princesses got people to watch them at their bedside, only to yell for their annoying advisers once they woke up.
Honestly, Lightning wouldn’t have mind hitting the snooze button on whoever had called for Sazh. She had no idea how long she’d been out, but she felt like she’d been hit by a truck.
What the heck had happened, anyway? Her mind was fuzzy and bleary from sleep or unconsciousness or whatever the heck had happened, although she figured that if it’d been really serious, she’d been in a hospital and not her luxurious bedroom in the palace.
A flash of heat on her chest served as a reminder. She pressed at the spot, knowing the brand for the fal’cie Phoenix was scorched on her skin. She’d had a ceremony with it so that she could officially be accepted as the new future ruler of Eden – which was kind of a big deal, considering that the fal’cie Phoenix was the sun that provided for all the other kingdoms in the world. While fal’cie didn’t really care about human affairs, a ruler that could connect with it was extremely important.
Apparently she’d passed the test.
The memories were slowly coming back in her fuzzy mind. Ugh, her tongue felt fuzzy, too. How long had she been out?
Let’s see...
There was all the preparation for the ceremony, Sazh’s last minute advice, the actual meeting where Phoenix accepted her, and...
Lightning abruptly sat up, immediately regretting the action and clamped a hand over her mouth. It wasn’t exactly the motion that sent a wave of nausea through her, though...well, that was probably a good sixty percent.
But the rest...
Her eyes darted around the room, but she wasn’t surprised that her personal bodyguard was nowhere to be found.
Maybe because, as Phoenix had shown her before she’d blacked out, Hope was no bodyguard.
He’d certainly acted as much, though. Or she assumed, anyway, never having had a bodyguard before. Hope saved her from poisoned food, kept her from harm’s way, gave her a moment of peace during her introduction ball and…
Ugh, why did that kiss always come into her memory at the worst times?!
Focus, she told herself. For now, she was in her ridiculously huge bed, dressed in some silk pajamas – though she hated to think of who’d put her in them – and blessedly alone, although she assumed that someone would come in right about...now.
“You’re awake!”
Lightning slowly lowered her hand as the nausea ebbed. Luckily, Sazh’s appearance only filled her with the usual annoyance instead. “So it seems.”
“You, uh - ” Sazh glanced over his shoulder, where a couple of maids were visible through the open door in her bedroom, tidying up the sitting room. Her suite was obnoxiously large. He glanced at her and then jerked his head to the door, to which she nodded, feeling oddly relieved when he closed it and it was just the two of them. Sure, there was always a chance a maid could eavesdrop, but this still felt more secure, somehow.
She sighed heavily once they were alone and rubbed her forehead again. “What happened?”
“You’re askin’ me that?!” Sazh said in that weird sort of whisper-yell that defeated its own purpose. “You came back from the ceremony and passed out! It’s been two days!”
“Two days?!” This was bad. Very bad. A lot could happen in two days, especially involving a certain not-bodyguard…but she couldn’t make Sazh aware of that. Not yet. “Does Serah know?”
“I just told her you were sick and highly contagious. Figured that saying you were on a vacation or something would be a hard sell.”
“You got that right.” Lightning honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken any sort of vacation, unless she counted the days she lazed around the palace when Sazh wasn’t around to tell her to stop slouching. “Does everyone think that?”
“Yep.” Before she could argue, Sazh barreled on, “You completed the ceremony, right? I mean, I guess you’d be, you know, dead if you hadn’t, but a little confirmation’s a good thing.”
“Right.” Lightning pulled down the collar of her sleep shirt a bit. There, on the left, right above her heart, was the intricate brand of Phoenix. She’d seen the brand dozes of times in designs on her gowns, some jewels, coats of arms, but to see it on her own skin was incredibly strange. At least it would vanish once she was officially crowned.
Sazh let out a sigh of relief. “Good. One less thing for me to worry about.”
“For you to worry about?!” Lightning barely remembered to keep her voice down and hissed out, “Don’t play games. Where is Hope?!”
“I - ”
“And don’t lie to me! He was there when I came back from meeting Phoenix, so why the hell isn’t he here now?!”
She knew even as she said it that it was a stupid question. While she was basically positive that Hope hadn’t given Sazh any explanation, she knew that Hope knew that she knew...more or less.
And she honestly wasn’t sure he’d stick around, knowing that she knew.
...Ugh, her head was spinning.
“He managed to sneak you back in here, in your room,” Sazh replied after a pause. “Which, y’know, quite a feat when there’s always someone nosing around. But he hightailed it on outta here once he knew you were safe and I haven’t seen hide or hair of him since.” He raised an eyebrow. “Not that I’ve been lookin’ for him. Gotta keep you outta trouble even when you’re passed out, right? Some bodyguard he turned out to be.”
Lightning just shook her head a little, her fingers gripping the sheets so tightly it was a wonder they didn’t rip. It might have been no big deal to Sazh if Hope had vanished – after all, they could just hire a new bodyguard.
But none of them were Hope.
And none of them...
“Hey hey hey! Just where do you think you’re going?!”
“I have to find him,” Lightning said as she scrambled to get out of bed. Even before she was fully on her feet, she could tell that standing up was just about the worst idea ever. Everything started to spin and her head bloomed with pain. “You don’t understand - ”
“All I understand is that you’re gonna be flat on your face if you go anywhere, and that ain’t a way for a princess to conduct herself.” He forced her back into the bed. “You’re gonna lay there and rest, damnit.”
“Fine,” she muttered, though she knew she wasn’t in any condition to argue. It’d already been two days – what difference would a few more make?
Maybe she’d never see Hope again and this would all resolve by itself. Not exactly the sort of thoughts a royal should have, but what else could she do?
And why did the thought of never seeing Hope again cause pain in her heart that was worse than her headache?
“I’m gonna get a doctor to look you over,” Sazh said once he was convinced that Lightning wasn’t going to try and get up again. “Better safe than sorry.”
“What will you tell them?”
He waved a hand as he headed to the door, his communicator already out. “I’ll think of something. You just stay put, damnit, all right?”
“...Sure.”
She waited until Sazh had left before she sank back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Rest was impossible, though.
Everything was going to feel impossible until she saw Hope again.
Most people probably would have enjoyed a week of being pampered and having all their meals in bed, but Lightning had never been most people. Sazh had continued the charade that she was contagious. Not that anyone would think to directly question the princess and her adviser.
The one silver lining was getting to see Serah in a largely uninterrupted visit, once it was 'safe.' Of course, she spent a lot of the time gushing over the Patron of Yusnaan – an idiotic guy Lightning had met at her introduction ball and had been extremely unimpressed with – but it was still nice to feel sort of normal again for awhile, even just a little.
She wondered what Serah would do in her predicament...yell at Hope and throw something at him, most likely.
But Lightning said nothing about Phoenix or Hope or anything, just listened to her sister’s lovesick rambles and asked questions about her schoolwork. It was almost like being at home in the slums, except the slums didn’t have king-sized beds and silk pajamas and sheets as soft as butter.
And when she was finally well enough to get out of bed and act normal, Sazh had to go and drop a bomb on her.
“We’re hosting a ball tomorrow night to commemorate the anniversary of Eden’s establishment.”
“Excuse me?!” Lightning had been puttering around her sitting room, just basking in the marvel of being able to walk without the room spinning. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You haven’t heard the hustle and bustle, even from your room?”
“I can’t hear anything in there and you know it. Those walls are like cement.” She shook her head. “Why would you tell me this now?! I can’t go to a damn ball!”
“So sue a guy for not knowing if you’d be well enough.” Sazh rolled his eyes. “You don’t really have an excuse. People know you’re getting well, not to mention that it’s, you know, being held in your own palace.”
Lightning rolled her eyes right back. “It doesn’t feel like mine. But whatever.” She shook her head, hands on her hips. “This is ridiculous. I can’t go.”
“Look.” Sazh sighed and his shoulders drooped a bit. “This ball’s not just for other kingdoms and all them important people. It’s one of the few events that’s open for the whole kingdom. This thing’s only held every twenty-five years and it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a lot of people. Some spend their life savings on tickets. It’s the first chance a lotta citizens in Eden will have to see you, as well.”
As Sazh talked, Lightning felt her anger slowly dwindle. She’d assumed that every ball would just be for all the other royalty and whatnot, but now that she wracked her memory, some faded whispers of conversations tugged at her mind, from when she’d been a child and lived comfortably with her parents. Had her mother gone to this ball twenty-five years ago? She had no idea, considering that would’ve been before she was born, but it was a possibility. Where else would she have heard of such a thing? Not the slums, that was for sure.
“...The tickets cost money?” Lightning asked, and continued after Sazh’s nod, “What’s done with it?”
“Usually spread amongst several charities. Some’s kept in the royal treasury, y’know, for upkeep and salaries and the like.”
She frowned a bit and stared out one of her large windows. The side her suite was on faced the more well-off side of Eden – not a coincidence, she knew. But she knew what was on the other side.
You’ve seen both sides. You’re the one who can make a difference.
“...All the charity money is to be given to the slums,” she said. “It can be spread out according to need, but I’d rather focus on the schools and housing.” When she finally looked at Sazh again, he was raising his eyebrows in surprise, which was how she knew that this was not usually how royal ball profits were spent. “That’s my condition for going to this ball.”
Sazh opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, looking like he wanted to argue, but something changed in his expression as Lightning stared him down. She and Sazh usually got along well – except when he was annoying her – and she usually deferred to his decisions since she still didn’t know much about being a princess.
But clearly she’d picked up a thing or two somewhere. Or maybe it was because of Phoenix’s confirmation that she was, indeed, royalty.
Whatever it was, eventually Sazh bowed his head slightly. “You got it. Want me to send a maid up here to help you with a gown and all that?”
“Sure, I guess.”
He nodded and left the room, and she could’ve sworn he was smiling in approval.
Even though this was an event to celebrate the kingdom more than just herself, Lightning still had to be announced. Apparently it was some etiquette rule she was quite sure Sazh had just randomly made up.
Luckily, unlike at her introduction ball, there was way less fanfare and she didn’t have to give a speech. In fact, other royalty was getting announced from different entrances, so not everyone even paid attention to her.
Still, hearing someone call out, “Presenting Her Royal Highness, the future regent of the kingdom of Eden, Princess Lightning,” was weird.
Serah seemed to enjoy being announced much more, although her introduction lacked the ‘future regent’ bit. Lucky her. Lightning wondered how her sister would fare during her own introduction ball...probably way better.
No matter. She let out a breath as she descended down the ballroom stairs into the crowd, knowing the hard part was over, at least. Her dress swished as she walked, which was a fairly pleasant feeling. It helped that she liked the gown quite a bit – it was a gorgeous silvery-gray color that set off her hair beautifully. The bodice was a bit darker, with off-shoulder sleeves and intricate embroidery of flowers and Phoenix’s brand all over that was studded with tiny jewels. Her hair was loose and curled – largely on purpose because it helped hide her Phoenix brand, which she’d covered with makeup besides – but she still wore a tiara that had flower-like designs, all covered in diamonds. She also wore some diamond studs and a bracelet, not because the outfit really needed them, but because it was just sort of expected of her. After all, she was Eden’s princess and needed to look the part in front of the public.
Surprisingly, it was fairly easy to get into the persona of ‘princess.’ Maybe it was because there was a little less pressure this time around, or perhaps because this was the first time since being discovered that she would interact with ‘normal’ people.
It was clear that a lot of them were simply in awe at being in the palace, surrounded by real royalty and such finery. It made Lightning feel strange that she’d been like that not too long ago – someone who would have hardly believed that things could be so grand. Not that she ever daydreamed about stuff like this. Hers were more along the lines being Captain in the Corps someday.
Everyone who spotted her immediately bowed or curtsied or some combination of the two. Weirdly, none of them came very close or even attempted to talk to her. It wasn’t until several minutes later that she noticed two men in tuxedos basically creating a bubble around her, so that people could look, not touch.
Not that she wanted people to touch her, but that was beside the point.
“Excuse me,” she said, moving a bit away from the crowds. “Who are you, again?”
“We’re here for your protection, your highness,” one of them said.
“Protection?”
“Everyone who comes to the anniversary ball is thoroughly background checked and vetted,” the other explained. “But better safe than sorry, your highness. You never know who can slip through the cracks.”
“...I see.” Lightning closed her eyes for a minute, trying to contain her aggravation. She had no doubt Sazh had set this up, but seriously? This was a ball – a glorified, overly expensive dance, and one that he’d basically forced her to attend, at that. What the hell did he think was going to happen? And sure, it wasn’t like she could hide a gunblade in her gown, but she was used to doing the protecting. If something did happen, she could totally hold her own.
“Your highness?”
“I won’t be requiring your services,” she said.
“But your highness - ”
“I’ll talk to Sazh. Don’t worry about it.” She sighed heavily. “Instead, go find my sister. If she doesn’t have anyone guarding her, you can have the job.” She had no idea if the Patron was here, but if he was...no sense in letting him get too close to Serah.
The two men glanced at each other, and after they exchanged tiny shrugs, bowed their heads at Lightning. “Yes, your highness.”
When they walked off, she took a moment to kind of gather herself. This gathering wasn’t like her introduction ball, where she’d been specifically told to schmooze with the other royals and basically get on their good side. No, this one was more like a celebration – celebrating Eden, she supposed. There were many eyes on her – too many – but it seemed to all be out of curiosity than anything.
Which made sense, because it suddenly occurred to her that she’d never held any kind of press conference or something. Everyone knew who she was and they’d showed a picture of her on practically every news station in the world when Sazh had discovered her.
But no one really knew about her thoughts. Her desires. Her ideas.
The only one who had an inkling was probably long gone by now.
People were inching in a little more closely now, probably just for a look at her, although no one attempted to make conversation. Oddly, it didn’t feel as intrusive as she thought it might. Maybe it was because her mind was a million miles away, or maybe a part of her had actually accepted that this was her life now. Nope, no more struggling to survive – from here on out, it was whirlwind balls and parties with gowns and jewels worth more than an entire year’s salary from the Corps.
Ugh, she was getting nowhere with these thoughts. Maybe she needed to find Serah. Pretending that everything was fine was easier when her sister was right next to her.
Lightning walked through the crowds, wanting to just run, but of course that was impossible in her gown and heels. She really needed to insist on wearing more practical footwear next time she wore a gown. Who the heck was going to look at her feet, anyway?
Her gaze idly darted over the crowds milling about, half-listening to the conversations as she passed them. A lot of people seemed to be business owners trying to get loans or investments from the wealthy – which she supposed made sense. On their turf was the best way to approach them, like a soldier scouting an enemy. Then you had to lure them to your side.
It was at the moment she thought this that she saw achingly familiar silver hair out of the corner of her eye.
Of course, it was also at this moment that someone tried to approach her for conversation, but she couldn’t think about etiquette and abruptly lifted her gown so that she had the space to run away...or run as best as she could in her heels, anyway.
She ignored the crowds, though they didn’t seem to pay her much attention anyway. It didn’t matter! None of it did! Hadn’t he just been right here - ?!
Lightning heard a door open as she looked down an empty corridor. Before she could turn her head to investigate, someone grabbed her arm and yanked her into another room.
Naturally, she reacted on instinct by punching the offender in the face.
“Damnit!”
That voice...
“Hope?!”
Instead of answering, Hope – it was definitely him! - kicked the door shut and staggered so that he was leaning against a wall, one hand clutching his nose. There was no light in the room except a dim bulb that illuminated his face.
“I know you were trained in the Corps,” he said, his voice muffled by his hand, “but I wasn’t expecting that.”
All of a sudden, her anger and confusion since the ceremony with Phoenix bubbled to the surface and she let go of any sense of decorum. “Are you serious right now?! You took off and then grabbed me out of nowhere! What the hell did you think any sane person would do?!”
“...Point taken.” He finally lowered his hand and winced. His nose did look a bit worse for wear, but she highly doubted she’d put enough strength in her punch to actually break it. He’d probably just have a huge bruise tomorrow.
Served him right.
“What the hell is going on?” she demanded when he didn’t say anything else. “I know you’re - ”
“Shhh,” he murmured, holding up his hand. His eyes darted around the room like he was looking for something, and his arm flopped back to his side after a minute. “Sorry. You never know if someone’s listening.” He finally turned to face her. “And I wanted to talk to you in private.”
Lightning ignored the way butterflies immediately fluttered in her stomach when their eyes met. This was not the time for that! It would never be the time for that!
“...Phoenix showed me. It showed me everything.”
Hope’s hands clenched into fists, but he relaxed them a second later. “I doubt it showed you everything.”
“You told me when we first met that you built Academia’s fal’cie,” she said, basically ignoring him. She sort of paced a little, thought it was difficult because of her gown and the small size of the room, which she’d just noticed was some kind of abandoned pantry or closet, judging from all the dust she could see on the shelves in the dim light. “I didn’t know what that meant. I knew it was a big deal, but I was barely used to the idea of being a princess. It didn’t mean anything to me.”
“Your highness, I - ”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “Why the hell would you call me that now, when you know I know everything?!”
“Not everything.”
“I told you, Phoenix showed me!” Only the darkness of the room kept Lightning from shouting, like it required her to speak quietly. “You’re not a bodyguard at all! You’re the damn President of Academia!”
Hope opened his mouth a little, then sort of sank back against the wall some more with a groan. “...Yes. I am.”
Even though she already knew that, hearing Hope actually say it out loud caused her butterflies to turn to lead. Because of that was true, then everything else...
“The fal’cie branded you. Right?”
He was quiet before a minute before he lifted an arm and slid back the yellow wristband he always wore. It was hard to see in the dimness, but she could just make out the black arrows – just like Sazh’s – etched across his pale skin.
She stared at his wrist for a long time before looking him in the eye. “Why?”
“Phoenix didn’t show you?” he asked, somewhat sarcastically.
“No, I mean why the hell would you become a l’cie?! They’re stories. Legends. Did you think you were going to be some war hero?”
“I was forced into the branding.”
That actually shut her up for a moment. Every bedtime story she’d ever heard about l’cie painted them as people who’d willingly taken the risk in exchange for power. Even in Sazh’s case, it’d been done willingly. The thought of someone being forced to become a l’cie went against everything she’d ever known about them.
Then again, she wondered, had the same thing not happened to her? She unconsciously touched the spot where Phoenix’s brand burned, still hidden under makeup. Though it was nowhere near the same thing – after all, the brand would disappear once she was formally crowned – she’d more or less been forced into it. Get branded in exchange for royal power that wouldn’t be possible otherwise.
But with an actual l’cie, they were given a focus.
“The old family had died out,” she said. “And your focus was to come and take ownership of Phoenix so that Academia would have the power. Its fal’cie wanted you to eventually conquer everything. Isn’t that right?”
Hope shook his head, but it was in that weird, slow way where the truth hurt and you just didn’t want to hear it. “It was Adam – the fal’cie – that sent the sickness to the old family.”
That gave her another pause. Phoenix hadn’t showed her that, but as Sazh had told her, fal’cie didn’t care about human affairs. “What?” Another pause. “Also, Adam? Seriously?”
“My colleague named it,” Hope muttered, then shook his head again. “But it sent a plague of sorts through Phoenix. I’m still not sure how it did that. When I began all the construction, I thought it would run on autopilot and provide, like any other fal’cie. I never dreamed it would get so power-hungry. And I have to fulfill this focus or it’ll just turn someone else into a l’cie and make them do it.”
“So what do you expect?!” she demanded. “Everybody knows now that I’m the princess of Eden, and even if something happened to me, I’m not letting anyone lay a hand on Serah. I survived Phoenix’s judgement. Adam is just going to have to deal with it.”
“It doesn’t work like that. If I fail, another person will just be selected.”
“So what exactly was your plan?” Lightning balled her fists up, all the anger that’d been brewing in her since the ceremony bubbling to the top. “Infiltrate the palace as my bodyguard and get rid of me? Is that it? You were going to find a way to kill me in my sleep before Phoenix passed its judgment?”
When Hope didn’t respond, she knew what the answer was.
Once again, her body moved instinctively, but this time it felt like it was in slow motion. Punching him wouldn’t do much good, but what else was she doing to do with her anger?
“Then why?!” Her fist connected with his jaw, only there wasn’t nearly as much power in it as before, and he barely even stumbled. She wanted to knock his damn teeth out. “You were my personal bodyguard for ages. Why didn’t you do it?”
His gaze, which had sort of been staring off into the distance, met hers instantly. A gasp escaped her before he even spoke the words her heart already knew.
“Because I didn’t expect to fall in love with you.”
Lightning gasped again, which trailed off into a low, totally un-princesslike croaking noise. What on earth could she possibly say to that?
But it didn’t matter, because Hope suddenly cupped her face and brought their lips together with a desperate sound.
Her hands immediately flew to his chest, absolutely intent on pushing him away, but the strength left her faster than even her post-meeting with Phoenix. She instead curled her fingers into his shirt, gripping tightly as though that were the only thing keeping her upright.
And it probably was, because when Hope’s hands slid to her shoulders and one traced the bare skin on her back, everything flew out of her mind except kissing him.
The closest she’d ever come to feel like this was that night of her introduction ball, when he’d kissed her on the balcony. That should have been the knee-weakening kiss that made her go crazy, given that it’d been a much more romantic setting than some dusty old closet.
Maybe it was the relief that he hadn’t left. Maybe it was his confession. Maybe it was finally knowing his story, or perhaps all three.
But when she pushed him against the closest wall and deepened their kiss, neither of them resisted.
Lightning had never really been interested in romance or any of the physical aspects that came with it. There just hadn’t been enough time – survival was the utmost priority in the slums, after all. The most she’d ever experienced was a few innocent teenage kisses with the neighbor boy back before her mother had died.
Naturally, this was nothing like that and she honestly had no idea what to do with all of this...desire. She wanted to be close to Hope in a way she’d never felt about anyone. Gone were all of her princess lessons about restraint and poise and who knew what else. None of that mattered here.
Hope clearly didn’t mind any of this a bit. In fact, she could somehow tell that he was holding back, but she still shivered under his touch and lips and tongue -
“Light,” he gasped out of the corner of his mouth, and as soon as she figured out how, she was going to pass a law forbidding him to say her name like that. If it wasn’t for her ridiculous ball gown, she might have actually jumped on him.
He’s supposed to kill you.
The intrusive thought was like a bucket of ice water.
Lightning abruptly broke the kiss and tried to scramble away from him, but his grip on her was too tight. She stared at his dazed expression, his eyes burning and his face flushed, and wondered if she looked the same way.
No! It didn’t matter! She’d already let this get too far!
Perhaps he knew what she was thinking, because he leaned down and gently pressed his forehead against hers, mindful of her tiara – not that it would’ve really mattered, considering all the hairpins keeping it on her head. Their shaky breaths mingled in the close proximity and all she wanted to do was close the distance between them again.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed out. “Ever since your introduction ball, I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you. And when I saw you go to Phoenix, I knew there was no way I could hide my focus from you for much longer. I wanted to go back to Academia and just accept my fate, but...”
I didn’t expect to fall in love with you.
Lightning shook her head a little and pulled back so she could look Hope in the eye. They’d both calmed down somewhat, but it was hard to think clearly when he was staring at her so intensely.
“Even besides...that,” she said, not quite wanting to address the confession. Sure, she was extremely attracted to him – it was ridiculous just how much – but anything more felt like too much at the moment. “How the hell could you possibly think I’d just want you to give up and die?!”
“You wouldn’t have known.”
“Bull!” She finally tore herself away from him at that. “This whole week that you’ve been gone, I’ve been terrified you were never coming back. The thought of never seeing you again, even after those visions from Phoenix, just...” She wanted to run her hands through her hair in frustration, but the tiara was in the way, so she settled for kind of slapping the wall. “It destroyed me. Or at least wanted to destroy me, but I just kept holding on to the hope that I would see you again. Even if I never got an explanation...” Her posture slumped, and she ignored Sazh’s voice in the back of her head telling her to stand up straight, “...All I wanted was to know that you were alive.”
Hope stared at her like he couldn’t quite believe his ears. “And now that you know,” he finally replied, “...what now?’
A princess was supposed to have all the answers, but from the second she’d stepped into the palace, Lightning had constantly been at a loss. Between dealing with her new reality, all of Sazh’s nagging, the importance of her position, the ceremony with Phoenix – there had only one constant (besides the nagging, which she was fairly sure was eternal at this point).
Him.
“All the storybooks say that a l’cie is bound by their fate,” she said. She clenched her fists and straightened her posture, looking him right in the eye. “We’ll just have to find a way to change it.”
“We can’t.” Hope sighed. “I told you, if I fail, Adam will just pick someone else – someone who wouldn’t hesitate to make a spectacle.” He reached out and gripped her shoulders. “I can’t let anything happen to you. Not just because you’re the princess, but because - ”
“ - Because you’re my personal bodyguard,” Lightning interrupted, and raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that right?”
Something in Hope seemed to relax a bit and he smiled at the corners of his mouth. “Right.”
“Therefore, it’s your fate to protect me.”
“If only it were that easy.” But he was still smiling as he slowly drifted his hands off her shoulders. “Although you don’t seem to care for any other bodyguards, that’s for sure.”
“You saw that?”
“Yes. I, uh, was actually following you for awhile after you sent them off.” He cleared his throat. “I may have used a shroud on you.”
She frowned. “A shroud?”
“It’s an invention of mine I perfected with magic,” he said. “It doesn’t make someone invisible, exactly, but they’ll be far less likely to notice you.”
“That’s why people weren’t crowding me out there,” she realized. “I thought that was odd.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, but I needed to talk to you alone and I knew that if you got caught up in conversation, I’d never get the chance.”
Though she knew she probably should’ve been mad about it, Lightning couldn’t help but be impressed at such an invention. “Maybe you should get some more I can use for when I need to avoid Sazh.”
He frowned a bit. “You wouldn’t use them to avoid me?”
“You’re not a constant annoyance,” she replied. “Not to mention that you disappeared out of nowhere and now you’re confessing everything to me in a dusty closet. What the hell about that gives off the impression that I want to avoid you?”
“Because of everything!” Hope blurted out, his voice much louder than she’d ever heard it. He snapped his mouth shut and glanced towards the door like someone was going to burst in, but when nothing happened, he let out a breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “I can’t do this. I can’t be around you knowing my focus.” He opened his eyes and stared right into hers. “I promise that I’ll find a way to stop Adam and keep it from branding someone else. You will be the next queen of Eden, I swear it. I’ll keep you safe even if it costs me my life.”
Anyone else probably would have swooned at such a speech, but Lightning knew she wasn’t just anyone.
And neither was Hope.
“Big words,” she finally said after a long pause, “but has it ever occurred to you that maybe that’s not what I want?”
“What?”
“I know that Phoenix accepted me and I’m going to have to rule whether I like it or not.” She gestured to the area where her brand was hidden on her skin. “But it has zero say in the rest of my life. What gives Adam the right to dictate how you’re going to live yours?”
“You don’t know what it’s like to have a focus.” Hope gripped his wrist and rubbed the yellow wristband, like the brand underneath physically pained him. “It’s like a noose slowly closing around your neck. I would never wish it on anyone else – especially if the only way to destroy it is to destroy you. I told you, if I don’t do it, it’ll just pick someone else. I need to stop all of this, and if I have to sacrifice myself to do so, I won’t hesitate.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“I know.”
“No,” Lightning said. “You don’t. Do you think I’d actually be happy if you went and got yourself killed for my sake?” She pointed, nearly poking him in the chest. “I just told you that it nearly destroyed me to think that you weren’t coming back. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?!”
Anyone else probably would have ignored such a declaration, but Hope, damn him, actually smiled. “It does.”
“It does?”
“Yes. And I’m honored. But...” His smile faded a bit. “There’s nothing I can do about it. There’s nothing either of us can do about. I’m bound to a focus, and if word got out about any of it, I’d never be allowed near Eden again, much less you.”
“So throw a shroud on yourself. Isn’t that how they work?”
“Not long term,” he replied, although the look on his face suggested he actually gave it consideration for a second. “Whatever...this is...” He gestured in the tiny space between their bodies, “...it can’t happen. If keeping away from you means that you get to survive, so be it.”
Lightning wanted to scream, even though this closet seemed way too small for all the noise she wanted to make. Plus, some guards would probably bust in and ruin the moment, as usual.
There was something way better she could do since they did have this moment.
She grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him close, barely giving him a second to register what was going on before she crashed their lips together again. And it really was like a crash; she was totally off-center and he stumbled a bit from the force of her grabbing, so it was a wonder they didn’t actually tumble to the ground.
After the initial surprise, however, neither of them hesitated. Hope gripped her waist and she slid her hands up his chest and into his hair, a shiver going down her spine as he made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a moan. If she heard nothing else for the rest of her life, that would’ve been just fine.
Oh gods, what the hell was wrong with her?!
She was a fool, that was what. Lightning knew she wasn’t smart in every way of the world, but she never would have thought she’d fool enough to lose her heart and head to someone she, in all technicalities, barely knew. Oh sure, it was easy to see that he was smart and handsome and brave and caring and...and...
“Has it ever occurred to you,” she gasped when they paused for breath, only for him to immediately capture her lips again, like he knew what she was going to say. But she had to say it. “That maybe I didn’t expect to fall in love with you either?”
Their faces were way too close for her to see his expression, but she didn’t miss the way his breath hitched and his fingers tightened on her waist. It was enough to make her want to suggest that they just leave everything behind – damn her royal status, damn his presidency and l’cie brand. To hell with it all!
But Hope let out a long, low breath and pressed his forehead against hers. It was an achingly intimate gesture, especially after all of their frenzied kissing a minute ago, and it sent shivers down her spine in a completely different way.
“I don’t know why you did,” he murmured, “or how you possibly could have.”
“I could say the same to you.”
“True.” He huffed an amused breath and tilted his head so they could brush their lips together before he spoke again. “I meant what I said. I’ll do anything to make sure you survive.”
Lightning paused for a second. “What if I did the same?”
“What do you mean?”
“What good is having all this power if I don’t use it?” She shook her head a little. “I know that, for a lot of things, I’m basically a figurehead. But you’re the one who told me that I can inflict change, because I’ve seen both sides.”
“There’s a difference between bettering the lives of those living in poverty versus going up against a fal’cie,” Hope pointed out.
“Right. But even so...” She slid her hands back down to his chest, just kind of resting them there. “Giving in to a fate that was set by someone – or something – other than you is stupid. You decide your fate. And if there’s a way I can use my status to help you, then I’ll do it.”
He shook his head slowly, looking a bit dazed. “There’s really no need. You have far more important things to - ”
She cut him off with a hard kiss and looked him in the eye. “Have I not made myself clear?”
The dazed expression was still there, but now he smiled a bit, that tiny bit of cockiness she’d grown to...love apparent on his face. “Crystal.”
Her shoulders sagged a bit with relief. Maybe the situation was far from ideal – after all, there was always the chance he could change his mind and fulfill his focus – but she felt a little better knowing they were on the same page and he wasn’t going to disappear without a trace again. “I’ll see if I can sneak away from Sazh and look some stuff up in the library.”
“Perfect.” He chuckled. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”
“You would have eventually,” she replied with a flick to his forehead. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“I’m not sure yet. I think - ” Hope paused when there was a suddenly flurry of footsteps outside the door. She noticed that he held her more tightly against him at the sound...not that she was at all complaining. Was it because of his guise as a bodyguard or because of his feelings for her?
But again, so not complaining.
When the footsteps disappeared, he let out a breath and let her go, just a little. “You probably shouldn’t keep away for too long,” he said with obvious regret in his voice. “Someone’s bound to notice that I kept the princess locked up and then it’ll be off with my head.”
“I feel like I’m the one who’d make those kind of decisions.”
“I hope so. I’m rather fond of my head.”
“I’m sure.” She stepped away a bit more, though still didn’t quite let go of him. There was a tinge of awkwardness in the air now that she didn’t quite know what to do with, but at least now they were more or less on the same page.
And she wasn’t going to lose him again.
“Are you still going to act as my bodyguard?”
“I’m...not sure,” he said after a moment of hesitation. “Everything’s been a mess so far and I don’t want to arouse more suspicion around here, especially since I’ve been gone for so long already. I may need to keep traveling between here and Academia.”
“I see.” Lightning tried to ignore the actual pain in her heart when he said that. This was honestly getting ridiculous – she’d survived much worse than being away from someone she lov – er, liked a whole lot. There was also the whole deal with a man-made fal’cie ordering said person to kill her.
Honestly, it was all kind of a lot for anyone to deal with.
For a moment, Hope merely brushed some of her bangs aside – mindful of the tiara – and gazed at her with a thoughtful expression until his eyes widened a bit. “Wait a sec...I think I might have...”
“What?”
Instead of answering, he let go of her completely to rummage around in his pockets. A few seconds later, he produced a small, round object with some buttons and a tiny screen on the front and handed it to her. “This.”
She took it gingerly, like it was going to blow up, which probably wasn’t the best train of thought. “What is this?”
“A communicator I invented,” he said. “I can make it so that it’s only attuned to your commands. It’ll allow us to talk in relative secrecy – as long as this button’s on,” he pressed the one at the top above the screen, “no one will be able to eavesdrop. If they’re in the same room with you, they’ll be able to hear, but as long as you can’t see them, they can’t hear you.”
“Wow,” Lightning replied, honestly impressed. Hope had invented this? She supposed it wasn’t a stretch to imagine, given that he’d built a fal’cie, but still. “This is...thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He reached for the communicator and pressed a couple of buttons. “Press your thumb on the screen and say your name.”
She did as he indicated, hesitating for a second before saying, “Lightning Farron.”
“Affirmed,” came a robotic, female-sounding voice. After that, the communicator lit up and there was a flash of light that showed what looked like a city. Cars flew around and there were moving walkways lit up and buildings that could touch the sky.
“Academia,” Hope said.
“It’s...it’s amazing.” She stared at the image. “This is a hologram, right?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head a little, still awed. Sure, they had video calls and phones and tons of ways to communicate, but something like this just seemed...more futuristic, somehow. Like progress.
Was this why Adam wanted her dead? In the name of progress?
While she, of course, didn’t really like the thought of being a person who impeded progress, no matter how unintentional, it was kind of sick that she could understand the reasoning of a fal’cie. In a way, it was just an extreme and horrible version of what humans wanted.
“A-Anyway,” Hope said, covering her hand with his and effectively turning off the communicator. “This will allow us to speak when I’m not in Eden. Or even if I am.”
“So that you don’t have to use a shroud and lure me into a closet?”
“Something like that.” He chuckled. “Keep that with you. If you ever find or hear anything that may benefit this situation, let me know right away.”
“Right.”
He nodded slowly, satisfied with the answer, but then continued to stare at her for a long moment. She knew what was coming before it happened and gripped the communicator tightly as he pulled her close for another kiss. This one was deep and slow, completely unlike their kisses from earlier, but still spine-tingling in the best way. It was the way everyone should be kissed at least once in their lifetime.
When he pulled away, he stared at her a bit more before letting go with a sigh. She stepped back a bit, not because she wanted to put space between them, but because she didn’t really trust herself not to just stay in this closet with him for the rest of the night.
Ugh, what the hell was wrong with her?! He was a l’cie! He was supposed to kill her and all she wanted to do was kiss him in a dusty old closet!
Maybe she should have read some of Serah’s romance novels when she’d had the chance. Surely some of the heroines had been in situations like this before.
It was too late for that now, of course. All she could do was watch as he opened the door a crack and peeked out, presumably to make sure no one was going to come rushing down the hall again. When the coast was clear, he gestured towards the hallway with his head.
“Go down and make left, then leave from the door right in front of you,” he said. “Anyone who sees you will just think you came from the powder room.”
“Powder, dust, what’s the difference?”
“Allergies.”
“Good point.” Lightning flicked her eyes towards him at the same moment he did, and there was an instant charge in the air. She couldn’t describe it any other way – it was like they’d been struck by, well, lightning.
This was getting insane. She needed to get out of here.
Hope cleared his throat and looked away with a visible swallow. “The coast is clear.”
“Okay.” When he opened the door so that her massive ball gown could get through, she turned back for just a minute more. “...Thank you. Seriously.”
He shook his head, looking both grateful and sad. “I’ve done nothing worth your thanks.”
“Don’t make me punch you again.”
He chuckled. “Go.”
It was only when she heard the creeeeak of the door closing that Lightning finally hustled down the hall, following his instructions on where to go. Truthfully, it was nice to be alone – actually alone – for a few minutes to catch her breath and let her thoughts settle.
Who the hell was she kidding? Going back to kiss him some more would’ve been way better.
Lightning let out a long, low sigh and smoothed out an invisible wrinkle on her gown, then fussed with her hair a bit even though there was no mirror. Surely Hope would have mentioned if her tiara was askew, although there were so many hairpins loaded in there that it was basically all but cemented to her head.
When she finally collected herself enough to rejoin the fray, to her relief, the crowd had thinned considerably. There were still enough people to make her itch, but it was bearable.
Thankfully, before she could figure out where to go and excuse herself, Serah spotted her and bounded up to her side. “There you are! Guess what?”
“Snow asked me out to dinner!” Serah clasped her hands and twirled in glee, her silvery-pink gown billowing around her.
“Snow?”
“The Patron of Yusnaan, remember?”
“Right.” Lightning touched her fingertips to her forehead. How could she forget about that big oaf? Maybe it was because of a man who was anything but an oaf who kissed her like it was going out of style and -
Wait a sec.
“Sis?”
“He asked you out?”
“Yes!” Serah grinned widely, happiness radiating from her. “He knows about a private restaurant here in Eden where we can go. It’s supposed to have the best steak in the kingdom.”
Later, she honestly wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint exactly what it was that set her off. The idea of some idiot dating her sister? That idiot being another ruler? The steak?
“You can’t go out with him,” she blurted out.
It was like night and day. Serah’s expression immediately darkened and she frowned. “What?”
“How do you know he’s not going to try something? He’s the Patron – he could be after something from Eden.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Serah cried, but then glanced around at some murmuring around them from everyone else still in the room and lowered her voice. “I’ve been talking to him on the phone since your introduction ball and he’s the sweetest guy. It’s just one date – in a private location, besides!”
All Lightning could think about was the reason her feelings for a certain personal bodyguard were all but forbidden. Logically, she knew that not everyone was a l’cie tasked with taking over Eden, but fear gripped her at the thought of someone coming after Serah.
“You can’t go,” she said again.
She knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say. The dark expression on Serah’s face grew even more intense. “Just because you’re the princess doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do!”
“I’m not - ”
“You’re my sister, not my ruler! I’m going out with Snow whether you like it or not.” She huffed a little and gathered the skirts of her gown in her balled-up fists. “I’m going back to the dorms tonight.”
“Serah - !”
“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” With that, her sister spun around and all but stomped off, trying not to give away the fact that she was upset and angry. It was a walk Lightning knew all too well.
She also knew that going after her sister was useless – not because it would make people talk, but because she knew Serah wouldn’t listen. Not until after they’d both calmed down.
Lightning watched her disappear down the hall, hoping her expression was neutral enough. Some of the other guests were staring curiously, but most still looked to be in awe that they were in the presence of the real, live princess of Eden. Little did they know, she was marked for death by a man-made fal’cie and was supposed to be killed by the only person besides Serah who’d ever really made her feel like she mattered.
How the hell had things come to this?
She forced a smile on her face as she walked through the crowds. “Thank you for attending,” she occasionally said, in the ‘diplomatic’ voice that Sazh had drilled into her. After repeating variations of that several dozen times, the orchestra finally started to play a lively waltz, which actually took some attention off of her and she was able to escape.
Not that it mattered. Where was she going to go?
If she was going to do what Hope had always assured her she could and make changes to the kingdom, they needed to happen soon. She would show Eden she was more than a figurehead that wore shiny baubles.
Everything in her life depended on it.
---
((Lightning’s gown and tiara inspiration for this fic!))
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moontheoretist · 3 years
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When she and Tony Stark meet it is very clear that he was not expecting her there, “Jesus Christ, who the hell are you?” he asks, hand pressed to the space over his heart. His right arm is in a sling and that does not look good. “Is there something wrong with your arm?” she asks. It did not appear to be in a cast and she saw no bruising. His breathing was restricted though and that did not bode well either. She narrows her eyes at the thought of someone harming her King’s soul mate but she blinks, letting the anger go. Now was not the time or place. “None of your business, and you are?” he snaps, glaring at her suspiciously. “Dora Milaje,” she responds vaguely, “and I am here on the behalf of King T’Challa.” “T’Challa can fuck off,” Tony snarls viciously and her eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me,” she says in a dangerous tone. Soul mate or not she would not allow him to insult her King. “Anyone who is involved with Steve Rogers is no use to me,” he snaps. Her eyebrows remain raised, “I understand that Steve Rogers has caused you pain, but I do not understand how that extends to King T’Challa,” she says calmly. Perhaps too calmly but Stark either does not understand the danger or he does not care. Stark rolls his eyes, “I’ve spent the last five years dealing with people who blindly follow Steve Rogers around like a bunch of fucking lap dogs, I don’t need to have one more person tell me that I can never compare. I know that. No need to have anyone else remind me,” he says bitterly, his lip curling up in disgust. That changed things. “I here because the King is not sure what to believe about you. He and the Dora Milaje agree that the information about you is too conflicting to draw a reasonable conclusion. So I am here to try and find the truth, to see what you’re really like. I must admit that I do not like you,” she says honestly. Perhaps the man would take the honesty well. He does not, instead he flinches hard but the expression is gone very quickly. “Great, then you’re just like everyone else. Go report back to your king, tell him I’m as worthless as everyone says I am,” Tony says, turning and walking towards his kitchen. “I do not like many people, that does not mean that you are not a good person. And my personal opinion of you means little when you are not meant for me,” she says. Tony’s shoulders tense at that but he turns slowly to face her. “What do you want to know?” He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in days and she supposes that it is very likely that he has not. The man had chronic insomnia and she suspected it made his very obvious PTSD worse. The dismissals from everyone else around him, including his closest friends, probably did not help the situation. “Why did you support the Accords?” she asks bluntly. Cutting to the heart of the issue was what she was good at, and it saved her time and effort beating around the bush. “Steve told me that I needed to trust people, to listen to them. He was right, so when the opportunity came to listen I did, or at least I tired but apparently that wasn’t right either,” he snaps bitterly, that disgusted look back on his face. “You feel guilty for Ultron,” she says and it is not a question. He flinches at the bot’s name, he certainly felt guilty for being the creator of such chaos. “Of course I do, who the fuck wouldn’t? I nearly ended the world when I ran that program and I should have said something to someone,” he says. She finds that curious, his anger at Steve and his acceptance that Steve was right in his conclusions about his communication skills or lack thereof. “But you did talk to someone, Dr. Banner. I know that he is currently missing but surely you count your communication with him as something,” she says. Banner appeared to be the only Avenger who was not adverse to Tony. The two bonded over science and Tony’s lack of fear of him. “Lot of good that did,” Tony mumbles. “But you spoke to him and he agreed that it was a good enough idea to try,” she says. “So what if I did? Everyone blamed me for it anyways, might as well take the blame. Bruce said it could go wrong and I didn’t listen, I should have.” He leans against the counter and sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just because your team blamed only you does not mean it was fair. It is not like they are lacking in recklessness and stupidity themselves. What kind of moron releases a brainwashed assassin onto the world? Steve Rogers is very lucky that seems to have had no consequences. And his taking the word of Bucky Barnes as proof of five other Winter Soldiers was not wise either, the man hardly knows what is real and what is not, he is still partially under the control of HYDRA conditioning. Only a fool would take the man’s word at face value. I believe that your holding off until you found real proof of the Winter Soldiers’ existence made you the most intelligent and clear headed of the group, at least in that moment. The rest of the team has far too much faith in a man who is living in nostalgia. Bucky Barnes does not, nor will he ever, exist again as Rogers knew him. He should accept that,” she says bluntly. It was a harsh truth, yes, but a man would never be the same after a trauma like that. Rogers himself was more than likely not the same man he used to be so he should not expect Bucky to be. He should also accept the reality of that trauma on his friend because living in his memories was not going to help Bucky Barnes. Accepting reality, no matter how harsh, was the only way to help Barnes heal from his wounds. It would not be easy for anyone but it was the most beneficial. “You… think I’m the smartest and most clear headed of the group?” Tony asks, looking beyond shocked. “In that moment, yes. You are not without your mistakes but that was not one of them. Tell me more about why you chose to support the Accords,” she says. This time Tony pauses for a long time and she lets him gather himself. It was important to make an accurate judgment. Finally Tony looks up, “Steve was right about listening to people. Sometimes I go too fast and I don’t think things through right, I’ve done it time and time again, even when I was supporting the Accords. I’ll make a snap decision that looks good at the time but I don’t talk to the people I’m supposed to be helping, I just make a decision and assume it’s for the best when it isn’t. I had one hundred and seventeen countries telling me to slow down and stop and I didn’t think that was something I should ignore. They weren’t making unreasonable requests, they just wanted a say in how we ran things and you can’t help people if you aren’t willing to listen to what they need you to do. I’ve learned that now,” he says. “Rogers thinks the best hands are still your own, you do not agree?” she asks, curious. Tony rolls his eyes, “no, he thinks the best hands are still his own, not our own regardless of what he says. You saw what happened when someone said no, it didn’t line up with his beliefs and instead of reaching out and asking to change things, or asking why things looked the way thy did he threw the whole damn thing out. Besides, if we’re talking histories here I have a near one hundred percent fail rate. The best hands aren’t my own so I thought maybe if I had someone else vetting my decisions they might be better but if that person isn’t Steve Rogers Steve doesn’t think it’s good enough.” Harsh words, but they were mostly true. She, too, found the Captain too rigid in his values. “And the agendas he spoke of?” she asks. He was not wrong for being suspicious of the government. They were corrupt, as near all systems were outside of Wakanda and even there they had their issues. At this Tony looks down, “I put too much faith in a system I know doesn’t really work that well. But we aren’t apolitical people, we know what the UN’s agendas were, they were clearly written on paper and we could have worked with that, used it to our advantage. But the fuck if I know what their agendas are. Natasha flip-flops more than a fucking fish out of water, so does Clint, I have no idea what Wanda’s thinking, you already know what I think of Steve, and Sam… well he’s an alright guy. I think he’s an idiot for following Steve around like a lost bird but he’s a good man. I know I made mistakes but that bullshit letter Steve sent me proves he doesn’t care.” She did not read the letter so she is unsure what he is talking about, “would you care to explain?” she asks, trying to be gentle. The man was raw, in pain, and it was bound to end badly for him. She was sure she had her answers but she was curious about the letter and more information would not hurt. “Oh he’s glad I’m back on the compound, obviously I moved back out, but he doesn’t like to think of me being alone because the Avengers were more mine than his. Pretty sure the fact that they’ve all always hated me minus maybe Bruce indicates that that’s a bunch of shit but whatever. And he has faith in people, in individuals? Really? Because I didn’t see any of that faith when people, individuals, were reaching out to us to talk to them and he slapped them down because what they wanted wasn’t what he wanted. And he’s never had faith in me. Never. I find it really hard to accept that he gives a damn about hurting my feelings, especially when he’s always assumed that I didn’t have any. And his stupid ‘I wish we agreed on the Accords but we didn’t so fuck you’ at the end was a real nice touch. He might as well have wrote ‘lol everything before this was a joke because I don’t really care what you think was right, it wasn’t what I think is right so you’re wrong’. At least we can both agree that he was a selfish prick keeping my parents’ deaths to himself,” he mumbles. So Tony Stark fell somewhere in between his public image and someone she did not know. He was clearly emotional, in pain, and that was not going to go well for him but he was not a bad person. He was not what the Avengers thought he was either. “You’re parents’ deaths?” she asks. “Yeah, I mean I can’t keep secrets or so he reminded me about a million times with that Ultron bullshit, but he can keep the fact that Barnes killed my parents to himself. Guess all the shit I do is totally fine if he does the same damn thing. I don’t listen and accidentally create Ultron I’m a problem, and that’s fair, but he can ignore the whole fucking world and that’s totally A-Okay with him. I can’t keep secrets, but it’s fine if he does. I can’t be suspicious of government structures without being labeled ‘insubordinate’ and ‘arrogant’ but when he does it it’s fine!”
The Truth Never Set Me Free (I Did It Myself) by TenSpencerRiedPlease
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aizawaslovebot · 3 years
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NOW PLAYING: the ex factor by iwaizumi hajime
—reader pronouns: he/him
—warnings: curse words ; had to be cut into two parts bec i want it that way ><
—summary: desperate times mean desperate measures, and y/n l/n is definitely the embodiment of desperate. eager to make his ex jealous for reasons undisclosed (read as: he's just petty), he asks his long-time best friend, iwaizumi hajime, to pretend as his boyfriend.
—note: the second part will be out in 3 days! VERY SORRY FOR THE VERY LONG WAIT UHU
TAGLIST: OPEN ; send an ask to be added even if you've already sent an ask back then!! because all that i could recall is @ohmygodronnie2020 and @beyond-the-mxxn
<- the sweetheart playlist | part i | part ii ->
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Iwaizumi Hajime should’ve trusted his gut when it went crazy at the sight of you, Y/N L/N, whose eyes held a very mischievous glint that Iwa hated. He also should’ve turned you down immediately the moment you opened your mouth. Iwa definitely should’ve reprimanded you for roping him into this stupid plan.
Sadly, all he’s doing is crying over spilt milk.
He could remember it like it was yesterday. Years of dealing with Shittykawa meant that he knew when bullshit was about to happen. He thought going to California meant finally meeting someone who isn't an idiot on the daily. You were his contradiction. You were his idiot— basically like Shittykawa’s younger, much more mischievous brother.
Honestly, did Iwaizumi only attract idiots?
On the days you aren’t going on and on and on about why the government should be overthrown or why the both of you should buy a frog table for your shared dorm, he found you to be a nice guy. The people Iwa has met always had a hidden layer to them and you were one of them. Shittykawa was one too. Though Iwa wishes he didn’t introduce the both of you to each other— you become an unstoppable ball of everything annoying when you talk to each other.
But I digress. Iwa isn’t here to cry over why he only had chaos for best friends. Iwa is here because you, Y/N L/N, while you happened to be Iwa’s contradiction for all things he considered his norm, had asked him a very big favor.
“No,” Iwaizumi grunts, regretting even entertaining the male’s request. He could see your (h/c) hair bob as you groan out of frustration. Unbeknownst to the male, you were mulling over using what has to be Iwa’s biggest weakness: your very adorable puppy eyes.
“Iwa-chaaaan,” You sniff, putting on doe-eyes for Iwa to see, “I really want to make him jealous.”
Iwa sighs, subtly turning away so he didn’t have to see the tear-stained cheeks and the glossy eyes. The poor male was about to speak, pointing out that you had been influenced by Oikawa with the damn nickname, but he was cut off.
“He hurt me a lot, y’know?” You started to well up, for real this time, “I just wanted revenge…”
Iwa sighs again but he noticeably softens, opening his arms to let you cry while he hugs you. As you wept, you accepted his gesture and immediately let yourself be engulfed in your best friend’s arms. “You’ve yet to tell me why you two broke up, dumbass,” Iwa chided, though it was lighthearted.
“Zumi, is this your backhanded way of saying yes?” You asked, but your voice was muffled by his chest.
Iwa sighs for the nth time that day as he finally resigns to his fate, “Yes.”
That encounter was a week ago. You gave Iwaizumi enough time to prepare and regret his life choices. Honestly, he should’ve predicted that his idiot timed things perfectly so that your stupid plan would take place on the university-wide party the following week. Iwa could proudly say that most of his predictions were accurate and on point. Then again, his predictions were futile anyway— the best example could be his judgement on your then-boyfriend, Akuma Azamuku.
The brunette could clearly remember how he was able to discern more than enough red flags from just meeting the god forsaken guy. It was annoying how blind you could be when you’re heads over heels in love with the wrong people. Were you not really able to see how toxic this… Akuma guy is? Terrible name too, might he add. Iwaizumi would rather you date him than this devil spawn.
But he didn’t move a muscle. Iwaizumi didn’t move a muscle especially after that thought emerged from his head. What in Godzilla’s name was he thinking anyway?
Even if he could celebrate his on-point prediction on how much of an ass the spawn of Satan was, he couldn’t exactly bring himself to mock you with an angry ‘’I told you so!” Not when it meant that your damn ex-boyfriend cheated on you, covering it up by saying that he wasn’t actually gay. Not when it meant that you had been used. Not when it meant that you, his idiot, were hurt. His idiot was hurt.
“You’re being a martyr again, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa tutted through the phone, tactlessly commenting once the brunette finished relaying what was going on.
The male snorted, “What are you on, this time, Shittykawa?”
“Don’t turn this on me, you idiot.”
How the hell was Iwaizumi the idiot? No. He’s lived with idiots his entire life but he wasn’t one. If anything, both of his friends were the idiots. Not him.
“Selflessly complying with dear (N/N)’s outrageous request, regardless of how much it hurts you. Tsk, Iwaizumi Hajime. You’re one big idiot,” Oikawa sighed.
Iwaizumi scoffs at his friend’s claim, “Why the hell will helping him out hurt me? Shittykawa, did you leave your single brain cell in Miyagi?” The brunette growls, annoyed at the way Oikawa avoided giving him the straight answer.
“Iwa-chan,” Iwaizumi’s breath hitches as he hears the next words, “you’re in love with (N/N), aren’t you?”
Iwaizumi Hajime was, in fact, an idiot.
He was an idiot for realizing it much later than wanted; for allowing Shittykawa, of all people, to know this one fact before him; and for opening an avenue for bigger wounds because all he wanted was to help his best friend. He probably had to be the biggest idiot among the three— and that’s saying a lot… like more than a lot.
The soon-to-be trainer could hear his pro best friend sigh in response to his stunned silence. Iwa concludes that it was weird to be on the receiving end of a tired sigh but he doesn’t utter a word. Not even after Oikawa begins to speak again. “I can’t even bring myself to tease you tonight… or today… or whatever time it is there, Iwa-chan. What will you do now?”
Iwaizumi wasn’t the type to let himself get involved in petty things like this nor does he let himself go against judgement. That is, if you weren't in the question. The brunette was very sure that you were his contradiction— unknowingly forcing him to go against all the boundaries Iwa had set and done. You, also a trainer in the making, could easily be the death of Iwaizumi Hajime. But if it’s you, then he’d gladly embrace this death.
“I’m going.”
Those two words were a lot harder to say than the tired male liked to admit. So as he ends the dreadful phone call with Oikawa, he secretly hopes that next week will never come.
Even if Iwaizumi tried his hardest to deny, next week actually came. Not that it was a surprise. No one could stop the turning of time, the rotation of the Earth, nor the ticking of the clock. How the hell would he even stop next week from coming? Heck, Iwaizumi couldn’t even stop you from this stupid revenge quest that you had set.
Pretend to be his boyfriend, you said. It would be easy to do anyway, you said. We’ll be in and out in a jiffy, you said.
To hell with all the lies that you had promised. It was beyond Iwaizumi’s skills and strength to pretend to be someone you romantically loved when he actually wanted it to be true. The Aoba Johsai Iwaizumi would’ve dipped; Iwaizumi from last year would’ve never pushed through. But here he is, standing in front of the mirror in your shared dorm, preparing to do what he deemed an impossible feat.
You will always be Iwaizumi Hajime’s contradiction. And at this point, he isn’t sure whether it was a good or a bad thing. All Iwa knows is that this will soon end and like the way next week came, tomorrow will soon be today.
So all Iwaizumi could do is psych himself up to do impossible— the same way he had convinced himself he was an ace in volleyball or the same way he gave himself assurance with his college application— and push through with the plan.
I can do this. I’m Iwaizumi Hajime, former volleyball ace and soon, an athletic trainer. I’ve dealt with Shittykawa all my life. I was able to get into a college in California by myself. This should be easy. I can do this.
“Should I wear this, ‘zumi?” You call out from the bathroom, holding two slightly different tops for Iwa to see. The way the brunette spluttered at the sight of a half-naked you was embarrassing to say the least, but Iwaizumi was thankful that you had been too engrossed to even notice the reddening of his ears. ‘God damn it, Hajime. Half-naked Y/N isn’t new,’ he chastised himself mentally as he coughs. “Use the darker one,” was Iwaizumi’s curt reply.
I can do this.
You should not have lit up at his answer like that. The sight gave Iwaizumi more joy than he liked to admit. Nothing could ever top what you said next though.
I c-can do this...
“Oh! This one matches yours too! We look good together, huh?”
I cannot do this.
“Idiot,” Iwaizumi sighs to mask his flustered state, “just shut up and wear it already.” You only laugh in response, already used to Iwaizumi’s brash way of dealing with things. “Alright, puddin’. Just wait. You can’t rush art,” You reply sarcastically, using the other nickname that Iwa had begun to dread.
Iwa resorts to the comfort of his phone— or rather, he uses the phone to conceal the undying pink on his cheeks so you wouldn’t see. Maybe if he spared a minute before he did so, he would’ve seen that you were equally flustered; seemingly embarrassed to have said what you had in their conversation. But it is what it is, and Iwaizumi has to continue his emotional constipation without ever knowing that had ever happened.
You take Iwa’s hand in yours before you lead Iwa out of your dorm and to wherever the god forsaken party was. “What’s with the skinship?” Iwa asks, though the way he adjusts the grip so it would be comfortable didn’t go unnoticed. Maybe he had started to like the prospect of this whole fake dating fiasco because it let him taste of what could’ve been instead of just wondering how it felt.
“Nothing you’re not used to, puddin’. And uh… uh… this way we could look like an actual couple,” You stammer and avoid eye contact, your hand still in Iwa’s warmth though.
If Iwaizumi hadn’t been too distracted, too haunted by the reminder that this was just pretend, then he would’ve noticed that you had seemed unsure, seemed too engrossed in the feeling of your hands together that you weren’t able to make a great excuse. He once again resigns to what has been destined. “The Y/N L/N I know doesn’t do things half-assed,” Iwa claims as he drops their hands, “By that logic this should be okay right? So people would really think we’re together.”
‘It isn’t okay,’ You croak internally. Iwa decided to go against all things normal by doing this… this very compromising position that ensured the two of you looked like nothing else but a couple. Iwa decided, despite not knowing how much damage it would bring to your poor heart, to wrap an arm around your waist.
Unknown to the soon-to-be trainer, you were just as, if not more, smitten with him as Iwa was with you. You almost revealed the reason behind your bad break-up and even let Iwa see that he had this much of an effect on you. So this, to see Iwa be so into the role of his pretend boyfriend, both flustered and somehow hurt you.
You didn’t know why it hurt though.
“You okay there, dumbass? ” Iwa asks, getting too close to your face and being far too concerned than your heart could’ve handled.
Everything about this was confusing. Both of your minds were having their own storms as the both of you stumbled upon this new, confusing field in between friendship and romance. Closeness with Iwa wasn’t new to you at all. Him lightly calling you dumb wasn’t new at all. So why, in God’s name, did your ribcage feel like breaking apart from the very loud beating of your heart?
If Iwa had to ask himself the same question he asked you, he would’ve gotten a big ‘NO’ from himself. Initiating skinship to this extent made Iwa’s brain malfunction. Not only that, but the feeling of your waist was very much heavenly and mind-boggling. To put a cherry on top of the sundae called “Iwaizumi Hajime’s gay panicking,” the speechless and cute expression you had was too much for his heart.
Turns out that you would answer the same as Iwa, not that the brunette knew though.
This plan of yours started on the right course. Your dick of an ex did cheat on you and you wanted to make him regret ever even thinking of using you as a scapegoat from his problems. It was common sense to ask for the aid of your best friend, right? He, of all people, would know you and understand you best. So when did your fake dating extravaganza take its turn? At what point did this plan converge into something different?
In other words, did you still want to make your ex jealous? Or did you want to see how it would feel to date your best friend?
Time did not let you answer the many questions that formed in your pretty head. Before either of you knew it, you’ve arrived at the party.
You turn to look at Iwa, who was somehow already gazing at you with that intense fire in his eyes, and nod.
It’s showtime.
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—reblogging helps a lot !! thank you for reading !!
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pennyserenade · 3 years
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tags: nameless female oc x javier peña, nameless female oc x javier pena. rating: e ( explicit ) warnings: smut, language, talks of violence, unprotected sex, heavy angst, mentions of death, guns, pregnancy.  word count: 3k+ summary: not everything can be spoken the way it can be felt.  notes: i somehow managed to do this despite feeling entirely unmotivated all day, so that’s nice. this takes place during episode 3, season 2, near the halfway mark.   original gif by: @javierian
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una guerra sin piedad 
scene eight, scenes from a marriage
Javier is a good husband, or at least he tries to be. He doesn’t mean to do this--probably doesn’t even recognize that she knows he’s doing it. He is faced with so many objectives in a day's time, Javier doesn’t realize how easy it is to catch on to his lies. They are hardly coated, though, obvious to anyone who pays attention to him as much as she does, but that’s just it--he doesn’t pay attention at all.
He’s unaware that his fingers are shaking right now. It is a subtle act, a tremble hardly notable to the untrained eye, but these are the fingers that have been touching her for twelve years; she has seen them and felt them and come to know them better than her own. They have remained steady and nimble even after too many cups of coffee and one too many pieces of harrowing news, because they are trained to be fingers that don’t give way to anxiety. A stone body, a man meant to be unflinching in the face of the most awful of tragedies, but here with her, it allows his lies to leak out without his consent. It’s pleading, this body, asking for respite because he won’t go easier on it.
She holds his hands, keeping them steady before they can reach out and lay flat against her growing stomach. Javier looks at her and confusion sprinkles across features that are too pale to be normal, even to him. His eyes reveal an undeniable sadness, too, some sort of impact from war that he’s on the verge of losing simply because he refuses to ask for help. He is all alone in there.
“Me estás mintiendo, Javi,” she tells him, voice level and collected. “Te mientes a ti mismo también.”
He looks startled, and perhaps it is warranted. The glass case he enclosed himself in wasn’t so transparent or frail to him, after all. 
He takes his hands away slowly. 
“No,” he responds. “About what?”
“No sé. Not completely,” she shakes her head. “That’s why I said it.”
“I’m not lying about anything.”
“Javi.”
“What?”
“The cigarettes.” 
She watches his face fall. 
“You smoke them when you think I’m asleep but I do your laundry, and I can smell them when you get back in bed,” she shrugs. “You don’t hang out the window far enough either, and you always get ashes on the ground.”
“I can’t quit,” he confesses. “Not now.”
“I never asked you to.”
“Yo sé, pero…” he begins, but falters. “I wanted to.”
“I would rather you smoke than you lie.”
“Okay, but that’s all,” he confirms. “Only the cigarettes.”
“Javi.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“You of all people should know withholding information is just as incriminating,” she huffs, “I’m stronger than you ever give me credit for. You aren’t the only one who sees the blood in the streets, you know. I saw it too, still do, because we live here and that’s the reality and I’m sick of having to deny it.”
“Baby,” he groans. “Please. I don’t ever ask you to postpone these things, but I cannot do this tonight. I cannot.” 
“What happened tonight, Jav?”
He shakes his head. Lips straighten into a tight line and his Adam’s apple bops. 
“It was nothing.”
“Please,” she pleads, in the same vein as his own. “You don’t know how bad I need to know what is happening in your mind.”
“Nothing.”
His eyes start going blank again, despite the small smile he forces onto his lips. It has gone quicker than it had come. 
She frowns. 
He senses that his control over this situation is ebbing away. Lies, denial, the cruel act of simply not telling—it oozes out of him. 
Deception ages poorly, if this is anything to go by. It is grotesque what the truth can do to something beautifully fabricated as their marriage has been the past few months. Those tiny cuts that had existed before are now bloody wounds, infected with the spoils of their selfishness.
He cups her face in his hand; she lets him. He swipes the pad of his thumb over the warm skin, and looks into her eyes; she lets him. He leans forward to kiss her; she does not let him.
She’s never done that. It hollows him out, digging deeper in the already sensitive heart he’s carrying around.  
“Te amo mucho,” she begins, taking the hand that cradled her face in her own, “but you are hiding from me and it hurts to see.”
He face twitches, as if he’s going to say something, but he grows hesitant. He realizes what he might lose, realizes what’s at stake. 
It is not that she hasn’t seen the violence, or that he thinks her too weak to handle it. He knows what she can bear, knows that before he ever met her she was reporting on what he found. Anyone in Colombia, reporter or not, knows, because this is what happens. Violence. She can’t not know. 
What she can avoid knowing is his involvement in it. Withholding the truth is just as incriminating, she is right, but she’s been here long enough to know that crime runs rampant. It infects the entire country with its allure—that promise of getting to better places faster—and he is someone who has been swept dangerously up in its tide. 
She does not need to know. Some things shouldn’t be told, just as those things shouldn’t have been done. 
Doesn’t need to know it had been a boy. Just a fucking mouthy kid who had been washed into a war he didn’t deserve to comprehend let alone contribute to. 
The gun was held by someone who should’ve protected him, too. Noble American hero he was, Javi stood by and watched. He hadn’t even wanted to tell Steve—was coerced out the way he refused to be with her. 
He swallows harshly and thinks once more about the line of English he muttered before it had happened. It was a plea the boy wouldn’t have understood or grasped, said because deep down Javier knew what was about to happen. He didn’t say it in Spanish, though. He has to reconcile with the fact that the plea was more for himself than it was the boy with the gun in his face. Has to reconcile with the fact that he won’t speak about it again, too, even though he knows it’s wrong. She doesn’t need to know that, does she?
“I’m not going to tell you,” he speaks with a harsh finality. Maybe it’s not so harsh; maybe it’s just the fact that it’s so final that really hurts.
She holds her breath, the pain of his answer sharp and sudden and irrevocably real regardless. 
“I can’t,” he repeats. 
There’s no way he doesn’t know he’s hurting her now, and she supposes he’s doing this for a good reason, but the ache of it still burns just as bad. 
“I know,” she says. Then, a sacrifice, “S’okay.”
Javier’s eyes shift down to her stomach. He has found an increasing need to keep his hands and arms wrapped around her nearly all of the time lately. Given, he has always loved the way she melts into his body when he wraps himself around her, but this is different; it is a sort of comfort that stems beyond liking the warmth of her. This is a need to protect. 
His feelings about the child still lean more towards confusion than they do anything else, but he’s begun to accept the fact that it is real. It’s hard to deny such a thing as her stomach begins to grow, but a part of him sort of likes knowing that it’s there now. He has given her something that isn’t pain, something that will be beautiful and innocent. He watches her, too, sees the way she holds her stomach and hears the way she speaks to it when she thinks he’s in a different room.
He remembers when she had told him that she was meant to be so much more than just someone’s mother or just someone’s wife. That felt like a century ago, those two people entirely different than the ones that lay here now and talk with each other. He doesn’t mourn for it, that time and those people, but he does think about them. 
She is still so much more than a wife and a mother, to be fair. Maybe she never accomplished everything she had envisioned when she had told him that, but there’s something so fiercely independent about her still, something entirely separate from anyone, even the one who grows inside her. 
She kept her last name. She reads all the time and piles books all over the house, adding personality in a way he never favored beyond his own shit until she came. She still writes. She’s compiled an entire record collection, full of artists and bands he’s never heard, and sometimes ones he has, the special sort that remind him of being a kid. She can sew. She is good at puzzles. She always burns her own toast but never his. She is good at oral because in the same way she had dedicated herself to a lot of things in life, she had also dedicated herself to learning how to suck a cock (her words, not his). She is filthy in a way that makes him ache sometimes, it’s so goddamn hot. She is kind. She is his everything. 
He isn’t happy or proud of the fact that he cannot find it in himself to admit what he has done. He knows she doesn’t deserve to be in a relationship filled with lies, ones so concealed she can’t even begin to find out what they are. Cigarettes are nothing in comparison to the things he witnessed tonight, and even those break her heart. 
His love for her is selfish, but it is still the very best part of him. 
“Let me touch you,” he whispers, hands ghosting lightly over her bare arms. “I just wanna make you feel good right now. Will you let me do that?”
She nods, and then, without him asking, she raises the slip she wears over her head, leaving her perfectly naked on top of him. He leans forward soon after and takes a nipple in his mouth. Her fingers rake through his hair as he runs his tongue against the sensitive flesh, but this time they do not tug. There is no rush or hunger in the way they are choosing to be with one other right now. Their bodies are too weak from emotional ware and tear, and their minds too numb from resisting the confrontation of the heaviness tonight has brought upon them. 
His fingers travel down to her core and when they find her clit, she pulls her back from her chest and kisses him, stealing a moan from his mouth. She breathes into him. After she pulls back, she rests her forehead against his own. Javi focuses more intently on her pleasure, measuring his success from the way her breath begins to quicken and the way her hips begin to rock up into his hand, desperate for more. He buries his face in the crook of her neck and she bites down gently at the skin of his shoulder, muffling herself as his fingers quicken the pace. She’s getting close, he knows. 
“That’s it, mi amor,” he tells her as she works herself on his fingers. “Use me, baby.”
It doesn’t take long until her lips part from his skin and find themselves letting out sharp moans, hips coming to a slow halt as she finishes working herself through the wave of her orgasm on his fingers. 
She presses her lips onto his, panting gently as she does so. When she allows herself to rest against him, he can feel how wet she is through the fabric of his boxers. 
He grabs onto the back of her neck and deepens the kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck and begins to rub herself against him, and he lets her for a few moments, enjoying what he can of her like this, before he rests a hand on her hip to stop it. 
“I want to taste you,” he tells her. She just looks at him. “Por favor.”
She nods, beginning to get off of him, but he grabs at her again, stilling her. Her eyebrows raise in confusion. 
“Sit on my face.”
“Javi, I’m too—“
“No you’re not,” he assures. He begins to lay down, pushing a pillow beneath his head. “C’mon, you like it.”
“Baby,” she hesitates. 
Javi tugs gently on her hand, urging her forward. She sighs, but caves in. 
He helps her, guiding her forward on his chest and she goes, but he can feel how nervous she is still.
He nips at her thighs before he adjusts herself over him. “I like doing this,” he tells her before he guides her forward the last few inches, and immediately he can feel all the tension ease from her as his tongue dips into her. 
She grabs a handful of his hair and licks between her folds, lapping up the last bit of her previous arousal. His nose grazes gently over her clit every so often and she cannot help the moan that escapes from her when it does. He is losing himself in her, transforming all the lies into nothing even for the briefest moments. 
He may not be the best husband, but he can make her feel good. He likes it too, genuinely enjoys the taste of her on his tongue and the accomplished, satisfying feeling of knowing he makes her legs weak and is the cause of the moans that part from her when she truly gets lost in this. And God, how they fall now as he sucks her clit. She unintentionally moves her hips forward. 
“Sorry,” she says, but Javi is quick to gently shake his head, not wanting to lose her. His hands wrap around her ass and he encourages it, going as far as moaning into her when she begins to develop a good pace. He gropes at her ass and she cums again, twitching gently this time. Javi cannot help the grin that forms on his lips as she does this. 
She guides herself off of him, collapsing next to him in the bed. Before he has the chance to wipe her arousal off his lips, she’s pulling him into a kiss. 
She loves this man. He may hurt her and hide from her, but she never feels unloved in his presence. Maybe that is enough. Maybe asking for any more than that is wrong. He is a good man. 
She kisses a trail down his chest, moving back in between his legs before she reaches the halfway point. 
“No,” he says, holding out his hand. 
“Why?” she questions.
“You don’t need to just because I did,” he says. “You don’t have to touch me at all.”
“I want to, Javi,” she tells him, hands shimming down his underwear. 
She kisses down his happy trail, then peppers light kisses around the base of his cock. His breath hitches, anticipating her next move, and he is delighted to find it is her tongue licking the underside of his sensitive member. He nearly jolts out of her hand, the sensation of her feels so good. 
He cannot help but tell her, saying, “Fuck, you do it just right.”
Despite all the ache still present in her, she manages a soft, unaffected laugh. He notes that, feels just as moved by that as he does the way her mouth wraps around his member and begins to be worked. 
She twirls her tongue around the top each time she comes back up, and she moves back down slowly, drawing multiple moans and “fucks” from his lips. He cannot look at her while she does it, unable to refrain from coming in her mouth if he does. He’s already dangerously on the edge as she includes her tongue when she’s going back down on his choke, running across each vein and causing his hips to twitch just as hers did. 
“I’m gonna—“ he pauses, fighting the urge to release with all he has in him. “I’m going to cum soon and I want it to be in you. You—“ he pauses again, breath leveling, “—you gotta stop or I won’t make it.”
“I don’t want you to,” she manages, before returning to his cock, going up and down at an increased rate. His fingers clench the sheets beneath him as she does this, losing it when she moans against him. He can’t stop it, can’t resist the urge any longer and doesn’t truly want to, knowing she’s not going to let him. 
He opens his eyes and watches her wipe a line of his arousal from her chin before she swallows down the rest of it. Tired and spent as he is, he still manages to rise from his back quickly to kiss her. He can taste himself on her lips, but he does not mind it. The kisses are not as lust filled, more tender and caring, and he is all the more pleased when she guides him backwards again, before settling next to him and wrapping one of her legs around his. His heart beats rapidly and his mind is not yet void of thought (he isn’t sure if it will ever be), but the tension between them has dissipated. Even if it is temporary, and even if it is something that is going to come back ten times worse, Javi values this for what is now and appreciates her submission once more into this fantasy land with him. 
She herself wonders, despite all the unspoken heartbreak, and despite all the unknown truths, what their baby might look like and what qualities it might possess from him as she lies silently next to him. Wonders because what she has learned is that the future is her friend and that imagining it does no harm.
It is a place where nothing is broken or harmed, the future. A place where she can cling to the vestiges of hope she’s granted even when he holds her and doesn’t tell her what he’s done or seen. It’s a place beautifully untouched by the unfair quality of truth and pain; a place where he stands in the doorframe of their bedroom with a small, newly born child and looks happy in a way she hasn’t seen in so long; a place where she will never have to fret about whether she will ever get that from him or not, because it is hers and she does. 
The future has always been kind to her, kind in the way the present never, ever seems to be. She clings onto Javi and even manages a sad sort of grin at the thought of a child who’s hair curls the same way his does when it gets too long. 
She doesn’t share these thoughts with him, though—hardly ever does—because she needs things for herself. Admitting these notions into the world is to corrupt them, or to corrode the meaning they have to her now. She loves him, but these are her thoughts the way whatever he battles are his. 
This is a scene of a war without mercy; this is scene eight from a marriage. 
javi tag list : @wyn-dixie , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @disgruntledspacedad , @melaniermblt , @walt-breslin , @theorganasolo , @amneris21 , @over300books
forever/everything tag list : @astroboots , @frannyzooey , @wyn-dixie , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @melaniermblt , @theorganasolo​ , @amneris21​
scenes tags: @gravegoth​ , @sarahjkl82-blog​ , @cmonkeepmoving​
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mxvladdy · 3 years
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heyy i just read your fic Case of the Munchies on ao3 and im Loving it!!!! its amazing!! i was wonder if youre accepting requests and if you haven’t done it could you write the same for the rest: mammon, levi, satan, belphi, dia, barbatos and smth for simeon and luke (ofc platonic) like how angles have a true form and that means they can never relax around mc and how solomon has so much power at his fingertips he can just snap and end them or smth like that? pretty please and thank you!!!!
A/N: Of Course! Of Course! I already did Mammon and Levi HERE so I’ll do the other four in this request! You sent me a lot of good ideas and I’ll sprinkle them out into other requests soon!
Hope you like it!!
Case of the Munchies prt 3!
Word Count: 4.2k
Characters: Satan, Belphie, Diavolo, Barbatos
TW: Mentions of eating and cook humans, very mild gore
Satan
As the only full-blooded demon of the seven, he has thought about it...just hypothetically of course. When you were new to the Devildom he did find your scent more appetizing than the others. It’s a good thing he has the most restraint and control of all his kin, especially when it comes to his more base urges.
He doesn’t hide this knowledge from you. It’s readily available in the library and his own room in the history books. He just won’t bring it up. So if you don’t say anything, he won’t either. What would he say anyway? “Yes, I’ve thought about it, up until it was outlawed it was a staple of our diet after all…” Ye, probably not the best thing to say.
When you finally brought it up he was exasperated. Did you have to bring it up during the few hours he had alone with himself? He wasn’t going to lie but the thought of hurting your feelings would just about do him in.
He will alleviate your worries if you have any. If Satan was anything, he was genuine.
Mini Fic
His wine curdles in his stomach, turning sour along with the take-out he had nabbed for the two of you to enjoy tonight. Drinks and dinner were becoming a staple in your T.V. night tradition. If one of you had had a rough day you would drop by your favorite shop of the hour and pick up a meal to share while you vent.
Today in particular had been a shit day for him. Failed experiment after failed experiment, and one bottle that didn’t explode on impact with the potion he dropped. Sigh. At least your comforting words soothed his wounded pride a little. You chuckle at his escapades glad to see he is not hurt at least. It was nice to have someone to see the humor in something that normally would have dampened his mood.
“You’re a pest.” He laughs at you while snapping his takeout chopsticks in half to use. “I need sympathy-hours of work wasted.” You snort into your own bowl of udon.
“You need words of praise like Beel needs another stomach.” Satan gasps in mock insult pointing a sauce stained chopstick at you.
“How dare you insult your host! After I toiled over this meal of-” What did he get exactly? Honestly, when he placed the order he was near boiling with rage at his careless fumble. It was to be a surprise for you, something to give you a bit of magic while supervised by himself. He knew how frustrated you were with your lack of magical ability in class so he wanted to gift you something grand. Now he has to wait months to try again.
Ah, well...nothing ventured nothing gained as they say.
You watch him sulk over his soup dumplings, his mile away from the comfort of your company and his room. “Come on blondie.” You poke him with your foot before burying them under his pajama-clad thighs on the couch. “Eat your ‘hard earned’ meal before I do.” You snatch up his D.D.D forgetting your own food for a moment to set up your favorite streaming service to cast to his small T.V. “Want to watch a bunch of humans fail miserably at baking?”
"I thought you would never ask."
Satan feels you stiffen in his arms two hours into your bake-off marathon. Your takeout boxes are cold and forgotten on his coffee table, a bottle of wine gone between the two of you. He glances down at you curious.
You were transfixed on the screen. The novice baker on screen was struggling to keep his monstrosity of a cake upright. It was the annual Halloween episode and this fool went for a Silence of the Lambs inspired cake. A good concept really, but very poorly executed. The fake body parts and sugar blood weighted the pastry down dangerously. If he were, to be frank, the cake was also tacky as hell. Heh, he'd have to try to make this for Lucifer.
"Does his abuse of the piping gun offend you that much?" He jokes wrapping an arm around you.
Your laugh is breathy and lacks its usual warmth. "It is excessive isn't it?" You look up at him. "Hey, Satan-have you ever eaten people before?"
"Uhh…" Great, how eloquent. This came out of nowhere, did Lucifer set you up to this? No-no you wouldn’t. Would you hate him if you knew? “I have.” He admits through clenched teeth waiting for your reaction.
“Didn’t Diavolo ban it?” He can tell you are doing the mental math in your head.
He chuckles dryly. “Well, you never asked if I did it legally.” You move away from his touch and pause the show. “I mean...I did it legally! ” His mouth runs freely, his brain screaming at him to shut up.
“Satan.” You cross your arms unimpressed.
“It was a new law and I never meant to eat it for the most part. It was at a time where I was still struggling to control myself.” Young and stupid as Lucifer had said defending him every step of the way when he would slip up. Was it sold on the black market now? Yes. Did he know how to get it? Sure, but he would never nor would he tell you about it either.
You nod thinking about his words. “I can empathize.” Oh, thank the Devil. “Have you thought of eating me?”Ahhh. “Oh my God, you have.” You chuck a pillow at him with a laugh.
He catches the pillow and clutches it to his fiery hot face. “Everyone did at first!” If he was going down then he was going to take every one of his brothers down with him. “I wasn’t going to act on it! It was a spur of the moment-why are you laughing!”
“Sorry, sorry.” You wipe at the tears in your eyes wishing you had your phone to take a picture of his blushing face. “I kind of figured you did.”
Satan looks at you incredulously. “Shouldn’t you be a bit more torn up over this?”
You shrug. “After everything we’ve been through? I admit it was a shock to think at first but I mean, you would have done it by now right?”
“Well, thank you?” He flops back on the couch, still clutching the pillow to act as a barrier between you two. He’ll take it as a compliment.
You scoot close, nudging his knee with yours. “You ok?” He nods. “Can I touch you?” He nods again eagerly. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and squeeze. “Sorry, I made you uncomfortable.”
Satan chuckled, dropping the pillow to hug you back. “It’s ok.” He peaks your forehead. “Now, with that out of the way. Shall we finish this?” He swipes up his phone to hit play. You nod, flinging your legs over him to snuggle closer. “Good, I’m dying to know how he tries to save that thing. I’m putting money on icing.”
“You know.” You break the silence once more, unable to stop yourself. “I wouldn’t be opposed to being eaten...in some ways.”
Belphegor
After your first *ahem* encounter, he doesn’t bring up the whole food thing. He is afraid that if you learned about it, it would be the last strike for you and his relationship. Perhaps it’s paranoia on his part but better safe than sorry.
In all honesty, he didn’t eat it that much anyway. Killing humans was something he did often in his youth as a demon. A stupid attempt at revenge on his part. It filled the holes in his hearts to hurt those he believed killed his sister.
But to eat their flesh? Disgusting. He tried it a few times and it turned his stomach with every mouthful. He just hated them too much to even stomach them. He’s mellowed out with time but still never got a taste for it.
When you asked it was a shock but welcomed in a way. Like he could finally get this weight off his shoulders every time he looked at you.
Mini Fic
“It’s gross.” Belphie yawns, jumping up to sit on the high garden wall. He bends down to help you up placing you gently next to himself. The wind catches you by surprise threatening to topple you back from the wall before he rights you. He tosses his sweater over you with a nod of satisfaction.
You snuggle into the fleece lining burying your nose into the fabric. It smelled of elderberries and honeysuckles. Belphie watches you curl up into his side with a fond smile. “Seriously, you all are nasty.”
“Ouch!” You push his shoulder with a grin. “I feel like I should be offended on behalf of all humans.”
Belphie snorts, looking up into the bright colors of the night sky. “Good. Be offended. You, humans, are slimy.” You squawk indignantly. “It’s true, never in all my years would I willingly ingest it.” He shudders theatrically.
“Rude.”
“Shouldn’t you be happy? Lest I eat you?” He growls playfully, taking a swipe at you. He pulls you close to kiss the pout off your face. He stops only when your face is hot and your smile threatens to pull a muscle. “I’ll keep you safe, always.” He vows resting his chin on your head.
“Do you think other demons would try to eat me?”
“Have you met my twin?” He teases. He takes your jab to his ribs with a smile. “But if one of those lesser demons even tries to breathe in your direction I’ll kill them.”
“Ok, Mister sleeps till dinner.” You joke. His vow warms your heart a little, chasing away the small bit of fear that had rested itself in your chest. You saw how some demons looked at you at R.A.D, the longing and hungry looks got to be a bit much sometimes. A few older demons would discuss it loudly when they knew you were close by. Apparently, it was a long standing tradition of demons eating humans both body and soul when a pact was concluded.
Imagine what those brothers would do to them…
You shake your head hugging Belphie closer. You had nothing but his word that he would keep you safe, yet that was enough for you. Besides, he wasn’t one to follow the rules even at the best of times.
“I’m serious. You're off limits for everyone.”
You nod into his shirt, closing your eyes to enjoy the peace of the moment. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Diavolo
It is so far from his mind that when you say something it is like a rug was taken out from under him. He could be diplomatic about it, but you deserve better than a half-truth.
He was a wild child in his youth. Sometimes he would overindulge in his father’s heritage and gorge himself on his newfound powers and privilege. He would dine with the elders and eat with abandon under their proud eyes.
He regrets it now, in your company it brings up a slurry of emotions. Sometimes when he looks at you he sees flashes of his past behavior.
The urge is stronger in him than the brothers, a constant nagging tug in his guts, but he is strong. Stronger both in willpower and sheer physical prowess than them so the pull is more of an annoyance than a burning need. He can temper the hunger in other ways if need be *wink*
He fears what you might think of him if you ever found out the truth, but however you take it he will handle it in stride. He loves you too much not to.
Mini Fic
Dinners, when Diavolo could eat alone, were a rare and special treat. The solace of just being allowed to exist without constantly checking his posture or presentation was a blessing, just him, his thoughts, and a good meal. It was nice to have no paperwork to worry about staining this time or a tedious meeting where he couldn’t savor his meal. No, no this was good. He looks down at his heavily laden plate and smiles. Well, almost… Pulling out his phone he snaps a quick picture and sends it to you with a simple question. Join me?
Private meals were wonderful, but with you, they were perfect.
You arrive faster than he expected, flushed face and clutching a stitch in your side from rushing over. He almost felt bad before he saw the eager look in your eyes. Barbatos helps you with your school bags and coat before placing another plate of food across from the young lord. He winks at the prince before disappearing back through the door.
“Thank you for the invite!” You beam taking your seat across from him. “I hope you don’t mind that I'm not dressed for the occasion. I was just wrapping up a study session with the boys.” You look down at your rumpled lounge clothes.
Diavolo waved his hand disregarding your concerns. “I would emulate you if I had the time.” He looks at his own pressed school uniform. He had another meeting this evening, much to his distaste. “You look rather comfortable.” You smile in delight before tucking into your own plate.
You eat in a comfortable silence reading the room well enough to tell that he wished for some company but not needless chitter-chatter. Barbatos arrived moments after you put your fork down and left with the plate leaving behind a delicious smelling hot drink. You couldn’t put your finger on the flavor but it tastes spicy like cinnamon and coats your throat like warm honey.
Whatever was in the drink seemed to work some magic on the prince. His shoulder droop, his back sinking into the chair as his legs stretch out till they are close to brushing against yours. He starts talking over the drink, eyes slowly lighting up with delight. You drink, nodding along with him as he builds up steam. It was nice to see him so unguarded and light. You listen to him talk about simple innocent topics. You knew how he tried to have these conversations with the others to no avail. The brother’s always tried to stay clear of him, and Lucifer simply dismissed these things most days. Barbatos and the angels were a bit better but still listened mostly to placate him.
“Ah!” Diavolo stops mid-sentence as his door opens once more Barbatos holding a small platter in his gloved hand. Dia claps his hands in delight. “I’ve been wanting to have you try this with me for forever. The human palate is so different, but I hope this is tasty.”
“What is it?” You eye the covered plate curiously.
Dia says a word in infernal. It is harsh and guttural in his throat but his delight was evident in his tone. “It is like...a roasted nut? Sorry, it is difficult to explain but it has been a favorite treat of mine since I was a boy. I hope you like it too.” He opens the lid with little ceremony and tilts the bowl to you. Inside were several golfball sized pods piled on top of each other. Even from across the table you could feel the molten heat radiating from the porous black shell. It looked...ugly. Like a hunk of dried lava. You eye it suspiciously as Diavolo picks one up with his bare hands and bits it. The shell cracks under his sharp teeth, a fang catching in a weak spot with a noise that makes you shiver. Underneath the thick casing, you could see a dark red and fleshy core. He hums in delight pulling put the meat of the seed and discard the shell pieces onto an empty plate. He makes quick work of the innards already reaching for another by the time you casually pick up a seed.
The seed itself was dense and warm to the touch. You squeeze it, noting that the porous coating felt like a mass of steel in your hand. “Dia-how do I open it?” No way you could bite it, not without breaking your jaw in the process.
“Allow me.” He takes it from you and effortlessly cracks it. “It is a tradition to break them with teeth, instead of hands or utensils. Something about a show of strength. I just find it fun.” He shrugs, handing you the broken seed.
“Fun!” You marvel at his pearly fangs. “Those are some big chompers.”
“All the better to eat you with my dear.” He chuckles.
You blink in shock, eyes widening. “Would you? Eat me?”
Diavolo’s smile drops. “No.” He lies on reflex, his political nature kicking in. “No-no wait.” He shakes his head. “I...at a time would have without hesitation.” He feels you recoil. “It was common practice back in the day. To the common demon it was a great meal and for the ruling class a show. He looks down at the broken fragments of shell on his plate. Breaking the shell was far too reminiscent of other things. He squashes the unwanted wave of memories coming up. Instead, he looks up at you.
You sit quietly mulling over his words. You haven’t run yet. “Why did you stop?”
He leans back with a loud exhale. Why did he stop? There were many reasons, none he wished to divulge into at the moment, but he had to say something. “I grew up, and began to resent and regret it.” He used to read human stories of demons and his kind. They hurt their characterizations of him and his people. Yet, they had all been scarily accurate. He wanted to prove that they weren’t stagnating beasts, slaves to their desires. Even if it wasn't a popular opinion.
“I see.” You pick up the seed again. “Thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to.”
“But I wanted to, and to apologize… such admissions must have ruined your appetite. If you wish to retire-”
“Is it weird if it didn’t?” You cut him off. You felt-not apathetic to the knowledge but close to it. It confirmed a lot of things for you and put certain things in perspective. You still felt safe with him even with this new bit of knowledge. Without a second thought, you pop the treat into your mouth. You gasp in delight. The flavor and texture were not what you were expecting, but was delicious all the same. “Can you open another for me?” You push your plate over to him.
“Of course!”
The food was as wonderful as his company.
Barbatos
You knew he cooked it. He probably knows a million different ways to prepare a human. He is also very blunt about his dabblings in the market.
He doesn’t eat it, hasn’t ever. He sees no reason to, especially since he doesn’t need to eat anyway there is no temptation. He did find the meals he created beautiful though.
Once he lived for the praises of the courts and his young lord. He was a master at all mediums he cared to work with. Time, decorum, or of the flesh.
He is 100% unashamed of his past with the dark side of the Devildom’s history. In fact, he is damn near proud of it. He is a demon and it was a part of his life, if that frightens you, well there is nothing he can do about it.
He’ll entertain your questions and will try to put any lingering worries at ease. Just don’t expect to be coddled when he does.
Mini Fic
Barbatos had very few personal pleasures in his life. His schedule simply didn’t have the space for such things. So why even bother looking for a pastime. It wasn’t until Diavolo gifted him with an old worn cookbook did he find it.
Cooking was a necessity for his prince, but with that little book, it became something he looked forward to doing. Slowly, he began to seek them out, filling his growing quarters with cookbooks and loose-leaf slips of paper. He enjoys reading them. Each book was a little time capsule into the cook's life and memories. Could a mix of spices really remind someone of the arid heat of their motherland? Or does following a certain way of aging meat really honor the writer's late grandfather’s memory? He tries them all, each recipe a little invasion to a happier time.
He wrote his fair share of cookbooks too in his day. Simple modifications to things the young lord liked to the odd machinations of his own imagination. He got good at experimenting with flavors and textures over the years, mastering certain cooking techniques and flavors just for fun. He didn’t share many of them, a lot of his recipes were just too complicated for most. Luke was allowed to look at his pastry books only. The little cherub was enamored with his techniques and wanted to learn as much as he could in the short amount of time he was in the Devildom. Admirable, but he made sure to keep some of his...less savory books away from the boy. He shudders to think what Simeon would do if he scarred the young angel.
You are the only one who has full access to his collections. Whether you liked to cook was inconsequential to him. He simply enjoyed sharing this interest with you. Some nights you would take it upon yourself to be his “sous-chef”. Which meant you sat in the corner of the kitchen and read out the ingredients and steps for a recipe he knew by heart. Sometimes you would add in extra steps in an attempt to stump it. Cute...but ultimately failed each time. So, most nights when you tagged along to the kitchens you just flip through his collection, reading his immaculate scribblings crammed into the corners of the pages or where he scratched out certain ingredients for more demon-appropriate foods and more sustainable options.
You had gone through many beautiful books before you found it. The cookbook was small and inconspicuous compared to most. Just a simple black cover with a well-worn spine. What made you take notice of it was just how dusty it was. That wasn’t like him to do. Barbatos would never let something get so dirty. You wished you never had opened it. You weren’t stupid by any means, but after reading a few pretty graphic recipes it had unsettled you. So you withdrew from Barbatos trying to forget about the book tucked away deep in the bowels of your school bag.
“You’ve been distant.” You choke, hand flying up to your chest as you swear your heart skipped a beat. Damn demon. Should put a bell on him. “What’s wrong?” His eyes are piercing, cutting away at your feeble defenses.
“Nothing…” You fiddle with your bag’s strap. Your eyes drop to the floor taking in the differences between his polished shoes and your scuffed boots.
“Of course not…” You could hear the skepticism in his voice. “I trust that if there was something wrong you would feel safe enough to confide in me.” His words hit like a ton of bricks on your shoulders. He sighs seeing that his words got no reaction. “Please?”
Wordlessly you rummage in your bag and thrust the book into his chest. “Sorry. It shook me up more than I thought it would.”
Ah. He knew this book all too well. For a time it had been his favorite, one to pull out with Diavolo had guests or a deal that needed to be sealed. He accepts the book, noting how much your hands shook. “I understand.” He slips the book into his breast pocket making a mental note to hide it in one of his lesser used rooms. “Would you like to discuss this? In my room perhaps?” You follow with a timid nod.
“Where shall we begin?” Barbatos asks the moment he closes the door to his room.
“You don’t seem perturbed.” You frown. Barbatos shrugs, pulling the book out and opening it. He had a lot of good memories stored here. Some of these were still considered signature dishes, oftentimes a visiting dignitary would lament to him about the good old days when he could show off his craft when flesh was plentiful. He takes pride in that still to this day even. For as much as he loved you, he would not be ashamed of this.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” You shake your head when he says as much. “It just confused me. Do-do you see me as food?”
“I never saw humans as food, no more than I see demons or angels as it.” He picks at an imaginary bit of lent from his pant leg. “As for seeing you as food no. No matter how sweet your lips are, or how honeyed your words can be.” He smiles, taking impish delight in your squirming. “I merely did my job as a butler for my lord.”
“Oh- sorry for not coming to you sooner.” You felt foolish now. Barbatos waves it off, pleased to have this issue put aside so quickly and cleanly. “Wait-" You gasp as his words finally sink in. “Have you prepared angels before?”
He flashes you a mischievous smile putting a single finger up to his lips. “Perhaps~ do you wish to read that too?”
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