#also i can’t recall the last time i drew normal clothes

[crypticmoth-art]

I got a new pen display today! So I’m going to attempt to line and colour this sketch tonight while I finish watching Frankenstein.

#my phone is much too small for me to draw on anymore #henry clerval #victor frankenstein #frankenstein #frankenstein fanart #art wip #sketch #my victor is based off of josé pablo castro cuevas #and my henry is designed after dan stevens #also i can’t recall the last time i drew normal clothes #i always draw regency and victorian era fashion #AND nearly all my ocs that i give a damn about are set in the 1800s

[chaoticpuff17]

Suga, We’re Going Down

part 13

masterlist

hello, my darlings! I have another update for ya’ll! the moment you have all been waiting for! *laughs evilly and slinks back into my cave*--- chaotic puff

Eun Jae was either more upset by the incident than she had realized, or more likely, he had picked up on how shaken she was. The little boy had been glued to her side since she’d gotten off the phone with Yoongi. All he wanted was cuddles, and she wasn’t quite sure if it was for his sake or hers. 

They’d both turned in for an early evening, after an afternoon of Pororo,  coloring, cuddles, and bath time for the toddler. 

The next day found the pair in much the same  position. Y/N hadn’t even bothered getting them out of comfy clothes. What was the point when it was just going to be a lazy day with her favorite little guy? It was a normal day for them for the most part, until there was a knock on the door. 

A quick glance told her that Eun Jae was thoroughly invested in the opening of Finding Nemo with his favorite stuffed dinosaur firmly clutched in his little arms, and she went to the door, expecting to find Nina on the other side. 

She opened the door, shocked to see Yoongi standing on the other side. Hadn’t they agreed that her home was a private space? What was he doing here? Why hadn’t he called first?

“Yoongi?”

“Y/N.” he greeted, eyes darting over her figure. “Are you feeling better?” 

“I’m fine.” she stuttered eyes wide with shock. 

He sighed in relief, a slight smile spreading across his features only to fall away as a little figure poked its head out from behind her legs. She hadn’t even noticed Eun Jae following after her?

“Who’s that, Eomma?” the little voice called, staring up at Yoongi with wide dark eyes.

She pasted on a smile of her own, placing a hand on the little boy’s head reassuringly. “He’s a friend of Eomma’s.” he tugged on her leg, frowning in disbelief, and she responded immediately by lifting him up and resting him on her hip in a move that was so easy, so natural, that Yoongi knew she had to do it often. 

“Like the weird man?” he asked, curling his fingers into the neckline of her shirt. 

“Not quite, baby.” 

“Bad man?” he asked, eyes wide and worried. 

“No, baby. He’s not a bad man.” the last thing she needed was for Eun Jae to be more stressed after yesterday’s events. 

A million thoughts were racing through Yoongi’s head.

An eomma? Why hadn’t any of his research shown this? She had a child. There he was staring back at him trying to figure him out just as much as he was, both of them confused by the current situation. 

He had to admit that there was something of Y/N in the child’s face, but how could there be a child? She’d been a virgin up until fairly recently. There was no way that the child was hers. He couldn’t be, and yet he looked so much like her and someone else though Yoongi couldn’t quite put his finger on who it was yet. 

There was a sister. Wasn’t there?  And if he remembered correctly, there might have been a vague mention of a pregnancy, but he couldn't recall exactly what the circumstances were. He hadn't really been focused on the sister, especially since the woman didn’t seem to be in her life. But what was the child doing here? And why was he calling her eomma? 

The child gave him one last distrustful look before burying his head in Y/N’s neck. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked swaying gently on her feet, a calming motion for both her and the little one. 

“I came to see if you were alright. You said you were sick.” he answered still a little stunned by the sight of the child. 

“My home is off limits.” she reminded him, voice strained. 

“I can see why.” he huffed, eyes still glued to the little boy. 

She stiffened, her grip tightening around the child. “You should go.” 

“Eomma!” the little one called out, still hiding his face in her neck. “Nemo?” 

“Sure, baby.” she smiled, setting the kid down and moving further into the little apartment. 

The child paused, staring up at Yoongi for a moment before he seemed to come to a conclusion. 

He reached up a little hand and grabbed Yoongi’s tugging him into the apartment. 

The apartment was small but cozy. It bore the evidence of both Y/N and the child’s residency. There were textbooks next to coloring pages on the table, and toys scattered across the floor, not to mention Finding Nemo playing on the TV. Y/N herself looked more comfortable, almost disheveled, more so than  he had ever seen her before. She looked far more like a mom than the cellist he had first set eyes on. 

Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, with her glasses perched on the end of her nose. She was dressed in a baggy pink sweater and a pair of leggings. Clearly she hadn’t been expecting guests, but Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to care about that right now. There was a child.  

The little boy plopped back down letting go of his hand and picking up a dinosaur plushie turning his attention back to the children’s movie. When he noticed that Yoongi hadn’t joined him on the floor, he looked up almost offended. There was a quick tug on his pant leg, and Yoongi sat down without a second thought. 

Both boys noticed that Y/N wasn’t with them though. She was staring from a few feet away, stiff and frightened. Eun Jae wasn’t having that though. 

“Eomma!” he called, reaching out to her with the hand that wasn’t clutching onto the dinosaur. 

She responded immediately, coming to stand beside them. “Do you want to sit on the couch or is it floor time?” she asked, waiting for a response before she sat down. 

“Floor.” the little boy chirped, sending his mother a wide, scrunchy grin that wrinkled his little nose. 

“Okay, Jae Jae.” she smiled fondly, sitting down next to him on the side opposite Yoongi.

“Jae Jae?” he asked, still trying to figure things out. 

“Eun Jae.” the little boy piped up. “This is Bambam.” he grinned holding out his dinosaur. 

“I’m Yoongi.” he introduced himself awkwardly, not sure what to do with this revelation. He wasn’t used to children, and he certainly wasn’t expecting his angel to have one. “That’s a nice dinosaur.” 

Eun Jae’s face scrunched up in thought again before he thrust the plushie into Yoongi’s hands. “You can cuddle Bambam. I’ll cuddle Eomma.” Without further ado, he flopped into his mother’s side, making himself comfortable there, and Y/N’s hand immediately went to his head, gently combing through his hair as they all settled in to watch Nemo and his classmates go off on their first day of school. 

Neither adult said anything. Y/N wasn’t sure what to say, and Yoongi was still trying to make sense of it all. By the time that the fish had made it to the dentist’s office, Eun Jae had become restless, as toddler’s are prone to do, and moved over to the coffee table to start coloring again. 

After a few minutes of that, Eun Jae looked back at Yoongi holding out a crayon to him in a silent invitation to color, one that Yoongi knew better than to refuse. If this was her kid, he needed to be on his good side. If the kid was willing to reach out, he was going to take full advantage of it. 

“Can you draw a shark?” the little boy asked him, tilting his head to the side. 

“I can try?” he offered reaching for a black crayon, only for the little boy to stop him with a frown. 

“No! A purple shark.” he demanded. 

Yoongi didn’t quite understand why the shark had to be purple, but he wasn’t going to argue with the kid about it. 

After a while of silent coloring, he presented his finished purple shark to the kid. “That’s a bad shark.” the kid deadpanned, earning a laugh from his mother and a scandalized look from Yoongi. “It’s okay.” he patted Yoongi’s arm sympathetically. “Eomma can’t draw good. You’re better.” 

“Hey!” Y/N called offended. “See if I ever draw a dinosaur for you again.” 

“Can we have snacks?” he asked, looking at her innocently. 

“You insult my drawing skill and now you want snacks?” 

“Yes pwease!” 

“What do you want to eat, buddy?” she asked, rolling her eyes at her son. 

“Jajangmyeon!” he called.

“That’s not a snack buddy.” 

“But, eomma!” he whined, lips trembling as he pleaded. 

“How about we have it for dinner instead?” Yoongi suggested, shocking both himself and Y/N.

The little boy thought for a moment, brow scrunched up as he contemplated the offer. “Okay. Promise?” offering his pinky to the man. 

“Promise.” Yoongi agreed, sealing the pinky promise.

“How about gamjajeon for a snack?” she asked, still a little startled by how well her toddler was getting along with a complete stranger. He didn’t usually like strangers. There was also the fact that Yoongi had basically invited himself for dinner as well, but that was a problem for a different moment. 

“Okay, eomma!” he smiled. “Can Yoongi have gamjajeon too?” 

“Sure, buddy. Yoongi can hav gamjajeon too.” she stood up, giving her son a kiss on the head before moving over to the kitchen to whip up the snack. 

The little boy ignored her, having already gotten his request for a snack approved, turning his attention to Yoongi instead. “Can you draw a whale? Sharkie needs a friend.” 

“Sure, kid.” he nodded. “Purple whale?” he asked, earning an enthusiastic nod and a scrunchy smile from the kid. 

After a while, Y/N came back with two small plates of the fried potato pancakes setting them both  down in front of the boys. 

“Eomma, look!” Eun Jae held out the picture Yoongi had drawn for him. “Sharkie has a friend now!” 

“Wow!” she cheered, her awe a little over exaggerated, but that’s what you did with kids. “That’s so good, buddy!” 

“Yoongi drew them!” 

“Did you tell Yoongi thank you?” 

“Thank you, Yoongi!” he cheered diving into his arms to give him a big hug. As quickly as the hug came, it was gone, leaving Yoongi reeling. “Juice, eomma?” 

She nodded, already headed back to the small kitchen. “Would you like anything to drink? We have tea, juice, water, banana milk. I think I still have some coffee left. It’s not as fancy as your coffee, but it’s coffee?”

“Tea would be great.” 

She nodded, moving into the kitchen to prepare drinks for everyone while Eun Jae demanded that Yoongi draw jellyfish for him. 

Snacks eaten and several more demands for various sea creature drawings later, Eun Jae began to nod off, unsurprising given that it was reaching that point in the afternoon. But if she mentioned naptime while Eun Jae had his new ‘friend’ there, she was bound to get a tantrum, and she didn’t really want to deal with that. So she settled herself on the sofa with a blanket, and Eun Jae made his way over to bury himself in her lap, draggin Yoongi over to the sofa as well. Soon enough, the toddler had drifted off to sleep, leaving the apartment silent except for the last dramatic moments of Finding Nemo. 

She would have been a fool not to notice the tension in the air. Yoongi had been great with Eun Jae, taking it all in stride and not demanding answers in front of the child, but the child was asleep now, and there was nothing stopping him from demanding those answers anymore, but she could delay it for a few more minutes. 

Making sure that Eun Jae was really out, she scooped up the little boy and moved him to the bed, tucking him in for his nap. The only problem was, now there was nothing left to do. 

“I think we need to have a talk, angel.” 

part 14

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts suga #bts yoongi #min yoongi #bts fanfic #yandere yoongi #rapper yoongi #yoongi x reader #suga we're going down #suga #yandere suga #suga x reader #agust d #dark romance #sugar daddy au #yandere #soft yandere

[aomine-ryo]

Can you do a scenario where the s/o has a really bad day and people from the school were bullying them and once they get home they break down for a while. Then the GoM (and kagami if you can) come to their house to give them cuddles and do whatever they can to take their mind off of everything that happened that day. (Srry if it’s really specific it happened to me recently and it sucked).

This kind of took some time to write, but I hope you feel okay now!! I hope you like this too :) x

Scenario: GOM + Kagami comforting their s/o who had a bad day

• Kuroko •

You weren’t exactly having the best of days. You had woken up late that morning and you looked like an absolute mess because you didn’t have time to get ready. You also accidentally left your homework that you were up all night doing on your desk at home, so you had to spend your recess in detention as a punishment. You didn’t have any classes with Kuroko that day and recess was the only time you would’ve gotten to spend time with him, so that just added onto your frustration.

There was this group of girls in your class who hated you for absolutely no reason than to boost their ego. Normally, you didn’t really mind whatever they said or did to you because you learned that all they wanted from you was a reaction. However, when you got back to class at the end of the day after speaking with one of your teachers and found your notes with important exam prep on it on your desk, completely covered in scribbles of insults and horrendous doodles, you couldn’t help but break down. You were absolutely exhausted that day and this was the last straw.

You quickly grabbed your things and rushed out of class, ignoring all the snickers and snide comments. You did your best to hold back your tears as you headed back home, stopping yourself from just completely losing it on the way by telling yourself that you can cry all you want at home without getting any judgemental stares. And that’s exactly what you did.

The moment you got through that front door, you let out all the wails and cries of frustration that had been building up throughout the day. You say on the floor by the door doing just this for a while before you eventually gathered yourself together and dragged yourself to your bedroom.

You pulled your notes out of your bag and tried to see if you could somehow salvage your work, but almost everything had been obscured by their awful work. You tried to redo those notes, but your experience that day had clouded your thoughts and you found yourself on the verge of tears yet again.

Just as you were about to go for round two of your breakdown, you heard the doorbell ring. Confused, you quickly rubbed your teary eyes and answered the door. Standing at your doorstep was Kuroko and Nigou, who let out a cheery bark upon seeing you which brought a small smile unto your face. “Hey, what are you guys doing here? Don’t you have practice?” you questioned, your voice sounding more strained than usual.

“Yes I did, but you didn’t come to visit and I got concerned. Also Furihata told me that you didn’t look too good in class today,” Kuroko explained as you let him and Nigou in.

“Sorry, I’m just not having a good day,” you sighed as the two of you took a seat on the couch.

You tried to explain what had happened, but you didn’t get very far as recalling the memories caused tears to stream down your face yet again. Kuroko pulled you into a hug almost instantly, holding you close and shushing you to calm you down.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to explain anymore. How about we do something to get your mind off of it?” Kuroko suggested softly as your tears began to stop.

“Like what?” You sniffled.

“Have you ever built a fort before?” He asked and you shook your head no. “Well, let’s do that. We can sit in it, relax and play some board games. How does that sound?”

“That sounds fun,” you said, a faint smile appearing on your face.

You and Kuroko spent about half an hour setting up a fort in your bedroom, using all the cushions, blankets and pillows you could find to make it as comfortable as possible. You drew the curtains shut and lit up the inside of your fort with fairy lights- it was truly magical. Once you were done, the two of you crawled inside excitedly, with Nigou following closely behind and making himself comfortable on your lap. Building the fort alone was able to make you slowly forget about your day, and after a few rounds of board games with Kuroko your mood had completely lifted.

“This was such a good idea. Thank you for coming to check up on me,” you smiled gratefully at your boyfriend.

“Of course. I’m glad you’re feeling better, Y/N-kun,” he smiled before placing a light kiss on your cheek.

• Kise •

Wednesdays weren’t your favourite days by a long shot. For starters, you had three periods of your least favourite subject and absolutely no free periods. On one particular Wednesday, you hadn’t gotten a good sleep the night before so you were extra exhausted during classes. It didn’t help that you had a headache that day too.

Of course, the bullies in your class didn’t help make the situation any better. They’d often pass snide remarks at you whenever the opportunity presented itself but you chose to ignore it, though each comment pushed you closer and closer to losing it.

The only good part of that school day was during recess, when you got to spend time with Kise, who managed to cheer you up slightly. However, your conversation kept getting interrupted by your bullies, who kept trying to pull Kise away from you, even though he didn’t seem even the slightest bit interested in them.

You thought you had managed to survive to the end of the day, but when you took your seat to pack your things, you felt your skirt get wet. You immediately stood up and realised that some girls in your class had poured a puddle of water onto your chair.

“Guys look, Y/N wet themselves,” one of your bullies pointed out, making everyone around them burst into a fit of snickers as your face began to heat up.

“I didn’t, there was water—“

“I can’t believe a loser like you is dating a model,” another snorted, causing tears to well up in your eyes.

You quickly grabbed your things and ran out of the class, not noticing Kise who was waiting for you by the doorway, witnessing the entire thing.

Kise shot them a glare, “You guys are so immature,” he scoffed at them before rushing after you.

Meanwhile, you were heading towards your house as quickly as you could, trying your best to contain yourself as well as avoid any eye contact with the passersby. You just wanted to get home, where no one could see you and your soaking wet skirt.

“Y/N-cchi!” you heard Kise call out from behind you, which only made you walk faster because you didn’t want him to see you like this. He easily caught up though. “Hey I saw what happened back there—“

“Please don’t talk about it,” you flinched immediately, tears now streaming down your face.

“Sure. You can tie my jacket around your waist if that helps,” he offered and you accepted, feeling a bit better about the situation now that no one could see your skirt.

“Thanks,” you sniffled as the two of you approached your house.

Kise waited for you in the living room while you went to have a shower and change into a fresh set of clothes. You weren’t crying anymore, you just felt numb, and Kise could sense that when you dragged yourself to the couch with a pitiful look on your face.

“Hey, why don’t we go out and get some icecream? My treat,” Kise suggested in attempts to get your mind off of things as you began to cuddle up next to him on the couch.

You lightly shook your head, “No thanks, I don’t feel like moving,” you mumbled.

“Alright, then what about a movie? We can watch your favourite!” he said, hoping the cheeriness in his tone would somehow improve things. And to some degree, it did, as a faint smile creeped across your face at the idea.

“That would be nice.”

So the two of you spent that afternoon cuddled up on the couch watching a movie of your choice. The smell of Kise’s cologne brought you comfort as you began to lose yourself in the plot of the movie. As his fingers began to mindlessly play with your hair, you felt your mood slowly get better, the way he held you close making you feel loved and cared for.

Kise had this habit of not being able to hold himself back from making commentary during movies and TV shows. It was one of the main reasons you didn’t take him to the cinema with you. However, his stupid questions and lame jokes definitely played a role in your mood improving that day as you found yourself in fits of giggles every now and again.

“You have the most adorable laugh, Y/N-cchi,” Kise pointed out halfway through the movie after hearing you laugh over one of his awful jokes.

“Your jokes are terrible but thanks for making me laugh— I needed that,” you said as you looked into his eyes gratefully.

“I’m glad you feel better, but my jokes can’t be terrible if they make you laugh that much,” Kise said with a smile, his fingers still playing around with your hair

“I’m laughing because they’re terrible.”

“So mean, Y/N-cchi,” Kise pouted, making you giggle.

“I’m sorry. I love you,” you said softly, the smile returning onto Kise’s face.

“I love you too.”

• Midorima •

You had been working tirelessly on schoolwork for the entire week that by the time Friday loomed around, you were absolutely exhausted. You weren’t able to have breakfast before you left the house that day so you were in a really bad mood. You kept telling yourself that you just had to make it to the end of the day, but it seemed so out of reach that you had began to slowly feel discouraged.

By the time the last lesson came around, you had fallen asleep at your desk, causing you to miss out on important notes during the lesson. The sound of the bell caused you to stir awake, and it took you a moment before you started to panic over the missed notes. Although your problems didn’t end there.

Everywhere you looked, your classmates kept staring at you and giggling. You didn’t look too much into it at first because you were far more concerned about your notes, however, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the window and suddenly your notes became the least of your worries. The words “I’m a loser” were written across your forehead in permanant marker.

“You look like an idiot, but at least you’re self-aware,” one of your bullies who was clearly behind it said to you, causing some people around them to snicker.

Normally, you would’ve snapped back at her with some clever comeback, but you were just so exhausted that the whole situation was utterly overwhelming. Between this and the fact that you had missed out on the lesson, you felt yourself on the verge of tears. Before you knew it, you were running out of the class as fast as you possibly could, desperate to escape the awful atmosphere where you were the object of ridicule.

As soon as you got home, you rushed into the bathroom, using all sorts of makeup removers, soaps and cleansers to get the marker off of your skin as tears of frustration streamed down your face. Eventually, you were able to get it off, though a faint trace of it still remained, making you feel pathetic and defeated.

You headed to your room, where you laid face-down on your bed, balling your eyes out into a pillow. You just wished this day had never happened.

You were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, forcing you to wipe your tears away before you answered. It was your boyfriend, Midorima. “Oh, h-hi Shintaro,” you croaked, avoiding eye contact as you felt timid.

“Hey, you weren’t there when I came to your class after school. What happened?” he inquired, knowing not to ask if you were okay because wit was evident that you weren’t.

“I’m just not having a good day,” you muttered, “I don’t think I want to talk about it right now.”

“That’s okay. Is it alright if I hang out with you?” He asked, not willing to take ‘no’ for an answer as he didn’t plan on leaving your side until you felt better.

“Yeah,” you nodded, opening the door wider to let him in.

The two of you sat on the couch in the living room together and you were unusually silent, making Midorima feel pressured to do something to fill the silence and make you feel better. When nothing came to mind, he just pulled you into a tight hug because your face was practically screaming for one. You had been able to hold yourself back for some time, but the second his arms wrapped around you, the tears started flowing yet again.

Unsure of what to say in order to calm you down, Midorima just hugged you tighter and began to rub your back, feeling useless for not knowing any better way to help. “I’m not too sure about what happened, but I know that it’ll be okay,” he whispered to you. “I’ll be here for you.”

Hearing those words began to make you feel a little more at ease as you cried into his shoulder. He figured that his best bet was to distract you from your thoughts.

“Hey this might cheer you up,” Midorima said, perking up and reaching into his bag. He pulled out a slice of red velvet cake that was packed into a cute little plastic package. “Takao gave it to me, but I don’t really want it. Would you like to have it?”

You nodded, making Midorima feel a sense of triumph as he wiped the tears away from you cheek before getting up to grab a spoon from the kitchen. The cake was absolutely delicious, and you began to feel better and better with every bite. “Thanks. It tastes really good,” you said to him, your voice still a bit raspy.

“No worries, I’m glad you like it,” Midorima smiled.

Once you were done, you and Midorima remained cuddled up on the couch together. Now that you had finally gotten all the tears out of you, the exhaustion from earlier began to hit you. Nothing was more comfortable to you than being wrapped in Midorima’s arms, so you eventually ended up fast asleep on him. Midorima noticed that you had fallen asleep with a smile on your face and he couldn’t have felt more glad. He was happy to see you so at peace that he didn’t dare move a single muscle to disturb you. He swore that he would stay like this forever if it meant that you’d feel better.

• Aomine •

You had been in a lousy mood ever since you had woken up that morning. You ran out of milk so you couldn’t have your usual cereal for breakfast and you even managed to get caught in the rain on your way to school. By the end of the school day, you had become a ticking time bomb ready to explode.

To your dismay, your teacher had given you the duty to take the garbage out at the end of the day. You reluctantly followed instructions, telling yourself that the faster you got it done, the sooner you’d be able to go home and nap.

You were walking across the courtyard, heading towards the garbage disposal when you accidentally bumped shoulders with one of your bullies. “Oh sorry about that—”

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass,” they scowled before aggressively shoving you so that you’d fall onto the hard concrete. It had caught you offguard and one of the trash bags managed to rip open, which caused the trash to start spilling out. “Better clean that up, trash,” she sneered before walking away all high and mighty.

Just like that, you were ready to break down right then and there. You told yourself not to though, because you didn’t want to feel the judgemental stares of the other students on you. Fighting back tears, you quickly cleaned up the mess and threw the garbage away before washing your hands. You quickly grabbed your things and headed out of school as the tightness in your throat became harder and harder to ignore.

Eventually, you managed to get home, where you immediately broke down into a fit of tears. You cried so hard to the point where you ended up getting a headache. You felt silly for crying so much over something so trivial, however you couldn’t help it. Everything had just built up to that one ticking point and now you had just become a pathetic mess.

Just as the tears began to come to a halt, you heard the doorbell ring. You did your best to wipe your tears away and look presentable, though you weren’t fooling anyone. “Hey Y/N, I didn’t feel like going to practice today and I missed y— wait are you crying?” Aomine said once you answered the door.

“Oh, um, not anymore—”

“Who hurt you? Where are they? I’ll fight them,” he questioned, concern spread across his face.

“No Daiki, it’s fine. I just didn’t have a very good day,” you said, causing his shoulders to sink.

He pulled you into a tight hug, surprising you at first but you quickly melted into his touch. “Hey why don’t we play some video games to get your mind off of things?” he suggested, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“That would be fun,” you nodded slightly against his chest.

“Great. Don’t expect me to take it easy on you though,” he challenged, making you smile. You liked how he didn’t change how he acted around you in times like these. Aomine being this cocky, playful person brought you much more comfort than if he were to be soft and quiet out of pity.

The two of you sat on the floor in front of the TV, playing. You sat between Aomine’s legs and his arms were wrapped around you, making you feel as though you were in a safe, warm cocoon of love. Although it felt like a cocoon of love, it certainly didn’t sound like one if anyone were to overhear. Both of you were quite competitive so there was lots of yelling and swearing, though it was often followed by fits of giggles.

It only took about ten minutes of being with Aomine until you began to feel much better. You had slowly forgotten about what happened at school to the point where it felt like a whole new day altogether. Every now and then, Aomine would place light kisses on your neck, almost as if to remind you that he was there and that he cared for you. It never failed to make you grin like an idiot.

“Ha! I won!” you celebrated, throwing your arms in the air triumphantly.

“That doesn’t count! You just got lucky,” Aomine tutted. “Let’s play again— I’ll win this time.”

“Sure, if you say so,” you said in a condescending tone, which made Aomine’s competitiveness burst through the roof. You giggled before turning slightly to face him and pressing your lips against his. “Thank you for coming over. I really needed this,” you smiled.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said, blushing over the kiss that took him by surprise. “I’m just glad you feel better.”

• Murasakibara •

It was a difficult day for you. You had woken up late so you were forced to skip breakfast in order to make it to school on time. Furthermore, when you did get to school, it was so hard to keep up with the lessons because you were tired and found it difficult to concentrate. You thought that having some food from the school canteen would possibly improve your mood, but when you went during recess, it was incredibly crowded there. After nudging your way to the front, you found out that they were sold out on all the food that you liked, so you just settled for a box of chocolate milk for lunch.

After recess, you had to give a presentation for one of your classes, much to your dismay. You found it a bit difficult to be presenting because all you could think about was how hungry you were, but you managed to pull through. However, in the middle of another classmate’s presentation, your stomach let out the loudest growl you had ever heard. Everyone’s heads turned to you and the teacher had to order the rest of the class to stop snickering as your face began to glow red in embarrassment.

The school day finally came to an end and you couldn’t have been more glad to be able to go home. You thought that you had survived the worst of it and you could go home and eat as much as you wanted. However, as you were heading towards the school gates, you were passing by a group of classmates who didn’t really like you. You didn’t think too much of it until your foot got caught by something, sending you toppling onto the concrete. They tripped you. You let out a small yelp of pain as you hugged your scraped knee.

You clenched your jaw in pain as you heard them laugh and say things like, “What an idiot,” to each other. Each passing moment was absolutely awful to you.

You managed to heave yourself up and you did your best to limp all the way home as quickly as you could so that you could clean up the wound as well as cry where no one could see you. You couldn’t help but flinch whenever there was a gust of wind as the air only made the stinging worse. You finally got home and cleaned yourself up, doing your best to do so through teary eyes and shaky hands.

You were about to go to your bedroom and cry into your pillow when you heard the doorbell ring. When you opened the door, you found Murasakibara standing there with a snack in his hand, as usual. His neutral expression quickly turned into a frown upon seeing the state you were in. “Y/N-chin, what’s wrong? Your face is red,” he questioned, not even bothering to greet you.

“Oh I tripped and hurt my knee, so I was just crying a bit over it,” you explained, not wanting to bring up the bullying because you very well knew that Murasakibara would threaten to ‘crush’ them.

“That doesn’t seem like all the details though,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to deduce what was wrong.

“I’m just a bit hungry too I guess,” you shrugged.

Murasakibara’s face lit up at the sound of those words. For once, he knew exactly how to help. He quickly put his snacks in his bag and turned his back to you. “Let’s go to that cafe you like. Here get on my back,” he said.

“What? I could just walk.”

“No, you hurt your knee right? Let me carry you. You weigh absolutely nothing to me anyways,” he said.

It took you a moment, but you sighed, “It’s just a scrape but if you insist,” before hopping onto his back and wrapping your arms around his neck while his hand gripped your thighs.

The two of you chatted along the way, though there were far more silences between you than usual because you still weren’t in the best of moods. The two of you managed to gain a few stares, being a 2 metre tall giant with a smaller person on his back, though neither of you cared too much. You never liked being stared at, but when you were with Murasakibara all you really seemed to focus on was him, which was a rather calming experience.

You two finally got to your favourite cafe, where Murasakibara lowered you onto the floor. Both of you ordered quite a lot for yourselves because you were starving and Murasakibara was, well, Murasakibara. It was your favourite cafe for a reason- the food and drinks were absolutely delicious and each bite and sip made your mood get better and better.

“This stuff is delicious,” Murasakibara exclaimed with a mouth full of food, making you giggle.

“Oh right, it’s your first time here. Yeah, this place is great,” you nodded.

“We’re gonna come here every day from now on,” Murasakibara declared to you.

“Sounds like a plan,” you smiled, seeing how much he was enjoying himself filled you with joy of your own.

You two continued to talk like you usually would, which made you realise how Murasakibara’s very presence improved your mood. He didn’t need to try to comfort you, he himself had a comforting aura that seemed to impact those around him. He’d often sprinkle in little compliments into conversation. They weren’t too elaborate, and they were mostly along the lines of a simple, ‘You look cute, Y/N-chin,’ or, ‘I like your hairstyle,’ but they were filled with so much adoration that you couldn’t help but feel warm whenever you were around him. It had a much more significant impact on days like these where you felt quite apathetic; it never failed to make you grin.

“Are you still hungry? Do you want me to order you more food?” Murasakibara inquired.

You shook your head no, “I’m alright.”

With that, the two of you left the cafe and began to head back home, however this time you managed to convince Murasakibara to let you walk.

“Thanks for taking me there. I feel much better now,” you smiled, the way your small hand fit in his enormous one bringing you joy and comfort.

“Hm? That’s good to hear. You’re cute when you’re happy,” he said, bending over to place a quick kiss on your cheek. You felt nothing but content in that moment with him, and you knew that only he could make you feel so loved and appreciated without even having to try.

• Akashi •

Your midterms were around the corner and the stress was eating you up more and more every day. You were up late the previous night so you found it quite difficult to stay awake during class. It didn’t help that you had a pounding headache as well. You did your best not to stay up late because you knew that it could only impede on your mood the next day, however the damage was already done and there was not much you could do to fix it. All you could do was suppress it and try to make it through the day.

Of course, it was days like these that the bullies in your class chose to pick on you the most. Throughout the day, you’d hear their usual insults and rude comments, but you learned to tune them out. The only time you managed to escape them was during your recess, where you hung out with Akashi. It was like his presence had put this protective shield around you and no one dared to approach you or pass any comments.

The last lesson of your day was PE, which wasn’t too bad because the teacher didn’t exhaust you with too many activities. Once it was over, he gave you the task of putting away the equipment in the storage room. Reluctantly, you did as you were told and heaved the things into the room. Just as you were finishing up, you heard the door slam behind you.

Engulfed in the darkness, your claustrophobia began to kick in, setting off a wave of panic within you. You rushed to the door and tried to pull it open, but it wouldn’t budge- you were locked in. “Hello? Could you please let me out? I’m really claustrophobic!” you called out as you pounded your fist on the door.

You received no response, but you could hear the familiar sounds of snickers and giggles on the other side.

You continued to pound on the door and let out cries for help, hoping that at least someone would hear you. Your breaths started to become heavier as your panic grew larger. You kept at the banging for a good ten minutes before the PE teacher finally came to your rescue, though it felt like years. The second the door opened, you sprinted out of there, not stopping to explain what happened to your confused teacher.

Your vision was limited with the tears in your eyes and you could hear nothing but the sound of your footsteps as you ran towards your house. When you finally got to the comfort of your own room, you collapsed to the carpeted floor, hugging your knees for dear life as you tried to catch your breath. Of course, crying didn’t do you any favours and you just sat there gasping for air as tears streamed down your hot cheeks. You haven’t had a breakdown like this for ages. It was like every time you closed your eyes, you were back in that storage room with no one to help you.

It took you some time, but you eventually began to simmer down and you finally picked yourself off the floor. Your cheeks were still red and your eyes were still bloodshot, but the tears finally ran out. The doorbell rang and you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down before going over to answer it.

To your surprise, Akashi was standing in front of you, with your backpack in hand and a look of concern on his face. “Oh hi Seijuro,” you greeted, doing your best to muster a smile.

“Y/N, what happened? You left your backpack in class,” he said as you let him into the house.

“Oh I must’ve forgotten it,” you mumbled. “Don’t you have practice today?”

“I do, but Reo told me that he saw you running out of school crying so I decided to skip and come check on you,” he explained as the two of you took your seats on the living room couch.

“These girls in my class locked me in the storage room of the gym and I got panicked,” you said softly, hating having to revisit what had happened earlier.

“Who were they? I can complain—”

“No, don’t do that. I don’t want to explain what happened again. And it would only cause more trouble,” you interrupted, feeling a familiar tightness in your throat.

Akashi was quick to notice your lack of eye contact and dejected expression and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. “I won’t say anything until you feel ready,” he said, reassurance in his tone.

“Okay,” you said, nodding into his shoulder.

Akashi scanned the room in search of ways to get your mind off of things. A bulb lit up in his mind as his eyes landed on the stereo set by the TV. He pulled away from the hug and headed over to connect his phone.

You watched his movements with a confused expression, but as soon as he began to play your favourite song you began to smile a bit. He walked over to you and held his hand out expectantly. “May I have this dance?” he asked smoothly, with a small smirk on his face.

Akashi very well knew that you wouldn’t refuse because you absolutely adored that song. The next thing you knew, you were slow dancing with him in the living room. He especially loved spinning you around out of the blue because it often resulted in you erupting into a fit of giggles, which he enjoyed more than anything.

“Are you having fun?” Akashi questioned, once the third song made its way to an end.

You nodded with a grin, “Yes I am. Thank you for coming and checking up on me. This really helped.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Akashi pulled you into a hug once more. With his arms around your waist and your head on his shoulder, the two of you swayed along to the music, simply enjoying each other’s company. In that moment, all your troubles seemed to fade away as the only thing that occupied your mind was the fact that you were nothing but loved and protected in Akashi Seijuro’s arms.

• Kagami •

Waking up late and skipping breakfast wasn’t a new experience for you. It happened almost every other day. So when it happened to you yet again, you weren’t surprised and it didn’t really affect your mood in the beginning.

However, as the school day progressed, your lessons got more and more challenging and you were finding it quite difficult to keep up with whatever was going on. You couldn’t help but internally groan, knowing that you would probably have to devote some time after school to try to understand the content.

It was exhausting, but you managed to get through to the end of the day. All that was left was for you to pack your things and leave. Although, your bullies weren’t going to let a whole day go by without picking on you at least once. You were hunched over your bag, trying to organise your belongings when suddenly, freezing cold water was being poured over your head.

With a gasp, you quickly stood up, their laughter sounding menacing. Your mind desperately wanted to tell them off for doing something so crude, but all your body could do was shiver. You were more so filled with frustration rather than sadness, but tears quickly began to well up in your eyes.

You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry, so you quickly grabbed your belongings and rushed out of class, desperate to get home as soon as possible. Of course, being soaking wet in the middle of winter wasn’t ideal, but you did your best to endure it on your way back.

“Y/N!” You heard a familiar deep voice call out to you as you walked along the pavement.

Turning around, you saw Kagami approaching you with a confused look on his face. “H-Hi K-Kagami,” you said through chattering teeth, quickly wiping your tears away with the back of your hand.

Upon seeing your state, Kagami immediately reached into his bag and pulled out his jersey, wrapping it around your shivering body. “What on Earth happened? Why are you soaking wet?” He questioned.

“S-Some girls in my class poured water over me,” You muttered.

“What? That’s awful. Are they stupid? It’s the middle of winter! Come on, let’s get you home,” Kagami said, putting his arm around your shoulder in attempts to provide you with more warmth as you walked.

When you finally did get home, you immediately changed out of your clothes. As you did that, Kagami prepared some hot chocolate for you in order to warm you up. “Thanks Taiga,” you said softly as you sipped on the beverage that filled you with warmth.

“No worries. Did you have breakfast today?” Kagami asked, knowing your history of waking up late.

“Nope,” you shook your head, “I didn’t have time.”

“Yeah I figured. Okay, why don’t we cook something together?” Kagami suggested, hoping that it would get your mind off of today.

You flashed him a small smile, “That sounds fun.”

You’ve cooked with Kagami a few times before and you always had a good experience with him. He liked to fool around a lot with you as he cooked, leaving random kisses on your cheek and neck and flicking water onto you every time he washed his hands. Of course, this didn’t change this time round either and you appreciated it.

After about an hour of giggles and preparing, the food was finally done, and it looked and smelled absolutely delicious. In fact, the first mouthful filled you with so much glee that you had managed to completely get the incident in school out of your mind.

“This is so good. We could be professionals,” Kagami said, a hint of sarcasm laced in his tone.

“I 100% agree,” you giggled.

Once you were done eating, Kagami took it upon himself to do the dishes, even though you insisted that you’d help.

“Are you feeling any better?” Kagami asked you as he rinsed the soapy plates.

“Yeah. I feel much better thanks to you and your professional cooking,” you said.

“Hey, you were cooking too- give yourself some credit,” Kagami replied, finishing the last of the dishes and wiping his hands on a towel before making his way over to you. He placed a light kiss on your forehead and gave you a gentle smile. “I’m glad your feel better. Also, tell those girls that the next time they pull something like this, they’re gonna have to catch these hands,” he added, his serious tone making you laugh. You couldn’t have asked for a better person to be there for you.

#kurokos basketball #kuroko no basket #generation of miracles #kuroko tetsuya #aomine daiki #kise ryouta #murasakibara atsushi #akashi seijūrō #midorima shintaro #kagami taiga #kuroko no basket x reader

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Escape

Summary: The Red Room haunts you, from the moment you stepped foot inside to long after you’ve left. Truth is, you don’t think there is any escaping it.

Warnings: 18+ Violence, Depression, Mentions of Death, Smut

Chapter 2

******

The rain outside falls harder, seemingly each time lightening strikes.

Said rain pounds against your body, drenching your clothes even more, as you nail the tarp into the ceiling. Another bolt strikes through the sky, providing the perfect light to hammer in the last nail.

Watching the rain roll off the tarp instead of inside the house, you slide to the edge of the roof and jump down. Quickly going inside.

The lit fireplace heats the room perfectly, but you still shiver from your wet clothes.

The annoying sound of water splashing into a tin bucket is no longer there, so you contentedly move the bucket from the middle of the kitchen.

Admittedly you should’ve fixed that hole when you first got to the safe house a month ago, instead of waiting for a storm to hit.

But you’d been distracted and on edge and there wasn’t much else for you to do at 2 a.m.

Which is proven as you look around the wooden house with a sigh.

Before your thoughts could run wild and your paranoia could set in, you decide to go shower.

The hot water rushing down your bodies soothes you as much as it can. Yet it also makes you think.

Think about everything that’s happened in the past month.

Having travelled all the way from Germany, where you last saw Natalia, to Switzerland, to now Italy.

You didn’t really have any reason to leave the first two safe houses. But you swore HYDRA had found you, or the KGB.

Laying down each night, eyes locked on the ceiling, not an ounce of sleep greeting you. Only to jump up in a panic at the first uncommon noise and rush out of the safe house.

You’re determined, this time, to stay until it was rationally and genuinely necessary to leave.

Finally getting out of the shower, you get dressed, and go to find something to eat.

Your kitchen is horribly stocked.

Still, you manage to pull together a peanut butter sandwich.

It brings a nostalgic feeling to you. You recall all the moments you’d shared with Natasha over this very small, minuscule, snack.

******Flashback******

“Shhhhh.”

The red head beside you giggled again, this time slapping her hand over her mouth to muffle it.

With the shorter girl behind you, you peaked around the corner. Not finding any threats, you tugged her forward with your laced fingers.

The two of you slipped back into the shadows of the hallway and down to the only way out of the building(that isn’t guarded).

Having snuck this way about a hundred times, you and Natalia got to the mess hall easily. And you also easily found the food you were looking for.

With the peanut butter thickly applied, you slapped the bread together, and ripped the sandwich in half. Then offering half to Natalia and biting into yours.

“Is it good?” Natalia asked quietly, voice and eyes dripping uncertainty.

You smiled at the girl,“ try it Natty, I promise you’ll like it.”

Trusting you with her life, and blushing at the nickname, Natalia bit into the sandwich.

She chewed as you watched her cautiously. And the most beautiful smile lit up her face.

She instantly loved how salty and sweet it was. It was nothing compared to the bland soup and bread they had always served.

“This tastes amazing Y/N/N.”

You nodded, finishing your half,“ I know. You promise to keep this our little secret?”

Again the girl blushed,“ I promise.”

*****End Flashback*****

You shake your head, clearing your mind of the memory and thinking how childish it is to feel nostalgic over a sandwich.

“There better be a half for me over there.”

Knife in hand you whip around quickly at the sultry voice.

“We both know you aren’t gonna use that.” Natalia says, pushing the point of the knife away as she grabs half of the sandwich.

Heart slowing to a fairly normal pace, you lower the knife.“ What’re you doing here Natalia?”

“You don’t sound too happy to see me” The slightest hint of disappointment hidden with a playful smirk.

Standing up straight, you quirk an eyebrow,“ answers Nat.”

“I need your help.” She comes clean.“ I’ll explain on the way.”

You don’t move, which she expects.

“Natalia do you know how unsafe it is to just follow me here? I know you know they could be watching.”

Natalia frowns and truly takes in her surroundings.

The cabin in the middle of nowhere. A chair and table set in front of the fireplace, not a single decoration in sight, and your bag by the door.

She knows now how scared you still are. Even though you saw the HYDRA base blow up, and she told you it was the last, you’re still afraid of them.

You haven’t settled in and it’s clear you don’t plan to.

She can’t say she blames you. After escaping the Red Room, thanks to you, she’d always looked over her shoulder. At times, even now, she still does.

Sighing, she steps closer. You freeze up entirely when she takes your hands in hers.

How is it that years and years later, she’s still the same. Her hands are still as soft as you remember.

“There’s no one watching you Y/N. I told you before, HYDRA is done. You. Are. Safe.”

Believing her is almost a natural instinct. With her eyes boring into yours with nothing but conviction you need to believe her.

“It-” she watches you look down at your hands in hers,“ it can’t be that easy.”

She squeezes your hands,“ it wasn’t easy, trust me. But it’s true.”

“Nat I-”

“Jesus Christ! I’m sorry but Steve turned the jet off and it’s freezing out there.”

You push Natalia against the wall beside the door, knife in hand, as the figure approaches.

“Y/N-”

Natalia doesn’t finish, not in time. You’ve already trapped the intruder’s hands behind his back and held the knife to his throat.

“Hey woah, what the hell is this?” He exclaims wiggling against your body to get free.

You here someone else coming in so you kick in the back of the first intruders knees and hold the knife toward the other.

A tall blonde man walks through the door with his eyes on the ground, a cold breeze blowing past him. His hands shoot up in surrender when he looks at the current situation.

There’s a frown deeply set on his brows.

“Natasha I thought you said she was a friend.” He says to the red head.

“She is.” Natalia snips, walking towards you and taking the hand you have wrapped around the other guys neck.“ Y/N it’s okay. They’re with me. They’re friends.”

Looking from the blue eyed blonde man, your eyes connect with Natalia’s green ones. And you let the guy go.

He drops to the floor. One hand rubbing his neck as he breathes raggedly and the other holding him up.

“You-you’re lucky,” he wheezes,“ I didn’t whoop ya ass.”

“Right.” You reply after an eye roll you say,“ sorry.”

Natalia raises an eyebrow at you. It’s not often, if ever, that you apologize to people. Especially a stranger.

The blonde steps further in, finally shutting the door and cutting off the cold.

“Y/N I’m assuming.” You nod.“ I’m Steve, that’s Sam. Natasha tells us you have a skill set that could help us.”

“I’d say I do but I’m unaware of the situation.” You say, shaking his outstretched hand.

He says he’ll explain on the way which causes you to glance at Natalia. Her eyes tell you how serious this is, so you nod.

After you scoop up your bag and shut the power off, your’rewalking on to the jet with the three. To find two others inside.

The man is tinted red, clad in a tight green suit, and stretched out on a cot. Beside him sits a brunette, hand caringly rested on his shoulder.

They’re both beaten up and stuck in their own world. You leave them that way.

Steve goes straight to the pilots seat and Sam is still eyeing you and quite frankly it’s starting to make you uneasy.

Natalia sits down and pulls you down beside her. Sam sits across from you, brown eyes narrowed.

“Are we going to have a problem?” You ask leaning forward.

Sam does the same,“ I don’t know, you’re the one that choked me.”

You scoff,“ you’re supposed to be a soldier and you’re upset over a minor choking?”

“Minor choking? Is choking really considered minor to you?”

“Seeing as I could’ve stabbed you, snapped your neck, or simply slit your throat? Yes, I think choking is minor.”

“News flash, it isn’t.” He snaps.

You roll your eyes, and sit back into the chair, arms crossed,“ did you die?”

“Wh-” he stops to fix a glare at the giggling blonde beside you.

“Stop glaring are her.” You glare at him.

This catches his attention even more than your altercation did.

He smirks and leans back,“ am I sensing a little something here? Like, I don’t know, you two were more than just friends.”

Natalia stops laughing instantly and begins bickering with Sam about minding his business.

But your mind is stuck on his words.

‘You two were more than just friends.’

It couldn’t be more true.

The red head was the love of your life. She still is.

From the second they brought Natalia in and assigned you to train her you knew you were screwed.

You had trained dozens of girls before but there was something about the red head that drew you in. Maybe it was her fascination with you that hid behind her scared confusion. Or the beauty in the smiles she allowed to slip when she was with you.

Whatever it was, it was strong enough to make you ignore/forget all the teaching, beatings, and brainwashing.

Having her in the Red Room made all those incredibly shitty days a million times better.

And even after you helped her get out from under their thumb, the memories of it all kept you from losing your sanity. Or at least all your sanity.

“Hey,” a warm hand on your knee pulls you from your thoughts,“ you okay?”

When you look into her eyes, you’re hit with just how much you felt towards her. How much you still feel.

You gently place your hand over hers,“ yeah, I am.”

“Good,” her eyes search yours,“ cause I should fill you in on what’s going on and why we need you.”

******

“Uhhhh what?” You chuckle in disbelief.

Sam mumbles ‘that’s what I said’ as Steve tells you he doesn’t know much else.

Apparently Steve, Sam, and Natalia has gone to get the two other passengers, who you now know to be Wanda and Vision, when they found them being attacked by “aliens”.

The story isn’t at all far fetched, but you’re curious as to how this should involve you.

“So, aliens,” you gauge everyone’s very serious expressions,“ showed up and attacked Vision and Wanda and threatened to come back. On top of that you got a distress call from your friend and you think the two are related.”

Everyone nods.

“Right, well, I’m just trying to understand where I come in with whatever is about to happen?”

Steve shuts the jet off and stands,“ the call from our friend was a lot more distressing than you think. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

With that he walks off the jet.

Frowning, you look to Natalia, who can only nod and gesture for you to follow her.

You take in your sorroundings as you walk. The large buildings, the expanse of trees, and what you assume to be a lake in the back.

You also notice all the people. Everyone dressed in uniforms moving around. It puts you on edge.

Anxiety already struck you on the jet with these people you didn’t know, sans Natalia, and now there are dozens more strangers around.

“Hey,” a familiar hand slips into yours,“ there’s no reason to get anxious.”

For the first time in years, you crack a smile. Nothing major, just a little smirk almost. But it incites a smile from Natalia as well.

“I’m gonna need you to stop reading me so well, it’s a slap in the face to my training.” You joke.

“The same training I had? It works. I just know you too well to fall for it.”

You wonder if it’s possible to die and come alive all at once.

Being reminded, once again, of how important Natalia truly is to you makes your heart pound. It coming from her makes all the difference though.

There was never a moment when you hadn’t thought of Natalia. That includes wondering if she thought of you as well. Maybe, just maybe, she had never stopped thinking of you either.

You’re pulled from those thoughts when Natalia’s hand leaves yours.

You watch as she hugs the darkskin man with metal leg braces.

The man eyes everyone, gaze lingering on you, before he say,“ you guys really look like crap. Must've been a rough couple of years.”

Not having a clue what he’s referring to, you just watch the interaction. Eyes snapping to the new voice that joins

“Uh, I think you look great.” The shorter man wrings his fingers nervously,“ uh, heh, yeah. I'm back.

Silence.

“Hi, Bruce.”

You now look at Natalia, not able to read her expression as her back is to you. But her body language gives away the tension she feels.

The guy, Bruce, also tenses, eyes boring into Natalias’s,“ Nat.”

Behind you, Sam whispers,“ this is awkward.”

You frown at him, then at Natalia and Bruce,“ why is this awkward?”

All eyes fall to you.

No one says a word.

“I’m sure you guys could use a shower and some food, we’ll talk after.” The darkskin guy says, hoping to break the tension.

As everyone starts to break off, he looks at Steve then you.

“James Rhodes.” He introduces himself.

You shake his outstretched hand,“ Y/N.”

“She’s a friend of Natasha’s.” Steve explains.

Rhodes chuckles,“ didn’t know Nat had friends.”

“I take offense to that.” The blonde seemingly appears beside him, Bruce standing close behind her.

“Funny, I’m beginning to think Natasha has a lot of friends.” You remark, not even glancing at her.

Truthfully you don’t know where that quip came from. Well you do. It’s because you’re hurt.

Granted, it was unrealistic of you to think Natalia hadn’t been with anyone since you, but that didn’t stop the glimmer of hope you had that you had been her only one. Cause she’s yours.

Not once had you ever been with anyone else. You couldn’t. No one could compare to Natalia for you so it made no sense to attempt to be with someone.

But you now realize how stupid that had been.

“Would it be possible to use one of those showers you were talking about?” You ask Rhodes.

He nods, but Natasha speaks before he does.

“I’ll show you to one.” You notice her hand move toward you but she stops, instead nodding for you to follow.

“Uh Nat,” Bruce speaks,“ could we maybe talk later?”

Natasha nods to him, glancing at you first.

The silence sets over you two immediately. It lasts all the way through the halls and into a bedroom.

“Y/N I know you’re upset and I-”

“I’m not upset Natasha.”

And that gives you away faster than anything else could have.

The blonde stands up straight, hurt flashing in her eyes,“ what did you just call me?”

You sigh,“ Natasha. Because that’s who you are,or at least who you’ve become.”

Which is a fact you should’ve accepted before.

She isn’t your Natalia anymore. And it’s clear that she hasn’t been for years.

Holding on to the ideology that she hadn’t changed is why you’re so hurt. You saw how differently she moved and you know she took down HYDRA, or at least assisted. But that hadn’t necessarily meant she was completely different.

Still, you saw the way she interacted with everyone, how she spoke, and acted, and in the back of your mind you knew she had changed. But she held your hand and smiled at you the same way she used to.

Every thought you had made your head hurt and it confused you. So you stopped thinking about it.

“What’d you mean?” Green eyes shine with building tears.

“Don’t cry. Please.” You face her completely,“ you’ve changed- we both have. I should’ve known when I saw you on that rooftop.”

Natasha steps closer,“ some things have changed but I’m still me.”

“Do you really believe that? After all these years, everything you’ve been through, can you say you’re still Natalia?”

“Yes,” her hands squeeze yours,“ I’m the same person you used to sneak peanut butter sandwiches with, who you used to hold at night when the guards finally went away, the same person you kissed right before you snuck me on that train.”

She sighs at the hesitance in your eyes.

She isn’t in the least bit surprised at your reaction to all of this, but she never thought you’d doubt her.

“Admittedly I have been through a lot that has affected my character but I’m still me.”

There’s no time to reply as someone knocks at the door and Steve leans in.

His blue eyes flicker between you two and your hands.

“Sorry to interrupt but we need to talk.”

Natasha nods.

Steve disappears, leaving the two of you alone.

“I should uh, shower and suit up.” You finally say and it’s the last thing Natasha wants to hear from you.

The blonde woman needs to know that you believe her. That you still see her as your Natalia. But she doesn’t get that from you.

She just gets a lingering gaze and your retreating form.

******

Taglist: @thelastavenger-3000

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romonova #natalia romanova #black widow x reader #black widow #marvel x reader #marvel #mcu x reader #mcu #reader insert #Escape

[sombreboy]

Mused obsession (4)

Written by @sombreboy​​​ as Jungkook & @chimoona​​​​​ as Jimin Banner by @carly-bean-blog​​​​​

[ masterlist ]

⇢Explicit (18+) ⇢Pairing: Jungkook & Jimin ⇢Genre: yandere, smut, mxm ⇢Word count: 9k ⇢Ch.warnings: profanity, jealous jk, tattooing, light descriptions of blood/pain, exhibitionist jk oh boy, graphic desc. of piercing jk's cock (I'm no piercer so don't take this literally it's fiction, infections don't exist in this world pls be sanitary.), more intense sexual tension because why not, jk is a total sadomasochist and this you need to remember forever for every damn chapter. xo

Industry famous Jeon Jungkook of GJK photography takes an interest in a model and up-and-coming fashion designer, Park Jimin. After an opportunity to study the man behind his trusty lens, he thinks he may have just found his new muse.

The next morning Jungkook’s alarm went off early, and he groaned out curses. For once, he didn’t want to wake up. The quality of sleep he’d gotten was a rarity in his life, all thanks to the man laying next to him. Jungkook turns the alarm off before clinging to Jimin, pressing soft kisses on the crook of his neck, wishing he could stay in bed forever.

It isn’t the alarm that rouses Jimin but the motion of Jungkook behind him. Gentle kisses tickle his neck and strong arms hold him close—a kind comforting touch he hasn’t felt since his ex. He turns to face the man, pressing his parted mouth to his, still groggy with sleep. “Good morning,” he coos, brushing his plump lips down Jungkook’s flushed neck before resting in the indent of his collar.  He slept well enough, but the unfamiliar setting caused him to wake a couple times throughout the night. Even then, Jungkook’s warmth and protective hold coaxed him back to sleep. “What day is it?” He wonders out loud, not ready to sit up and check for himself. The mixture of liquor from the night before doesn’t help his focus in the slightest, feeling slightly hungover and lethargic. “Have you seen my phone?” He dreads the many messages he probably has from his manager, or even Tae.

Jungkook hums, ignoring every single question being thrown at him. He just wants to hold Jimin forever. But eventually, he reaches over to the nightstand where he’s placed the elder’s phone and hands it over, then cuddles up close to get a look at the screen as well. He’s extremely curious after all—does anybody miss Jimin? How easy would it possibly be to just...keep him?

No, that’s too early. Things take time.

“I don’t know, but there’s breakfast ready whenever you’re hungry...” Jungkook murmurs with a raspy morning voice.

“Mm, sounds good…” Just as Jimin suspected, ten messages and four phone calls. Most are from his manager, a couple from Taehyung apologizing, and one from… interesting. Jimin flicks off the covers from his side of the bed and wriggles out of Jungkook’s arms, regrettably.  “Breakfast sounds great,” he picks his robe from the floor and wraps it around himself in a hurry, “I just need to make a few phone calls.” He leans onto the bed and gives the younger a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll make it quick, promise.”

Before Jungkook has a chance to reply, Jimin steps out onto the attached balcony and closes the door behind him. First thing’s first, he definitely needs to let his manager know he’s not dead in a ditch. However, more importantly, he’s dying to know why his ex messaged him out of the blue after so many months of silence. He’s a vague man. The only thing his text said was “Proud.”

Jungkook’s lip twitches as he watches the blonde close the balcony door in a hurry. What is so important? He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a bit curious...and frustrated. He doesn’t like secrets, even if Jimin doesn’t owe him anything... technically . Jungkook wants to know, and he will, eventually. The photographer lays low, gets out of bed to puts on a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. He grabs his own phone and sits back down, scrolling through social media... Jimin’s show was a hit, trending, both photos and praise, on the news. Of course, there were the photos of Jungkook, smiling as he was enjoying the show—which also drew a whole lot more attention towards the blonde, as if making Jeon Jungkook smile was an achievement. Jungkook scoffs, but nonetheless happy about the many pictures available of Jimin, saving several to his phone as he continuously glances over at the balcony.

Who is he calling… Kook cranes his neck to try and decipher Jimin’s facial expressions, but can’t quite make it out...

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. No, Jeon didn’t kidnap me and hide me in his basement. No—GOD, what kind of man do you think I am? Yeah…yeah…okay, thanks for covering. It went really well? Trending? Goood…okay, yeah, thanks for calling. Sorry to worry you…bye.” Jimin checks in with his manager. They’re annoying as hell but they mean well. He shoots Tae a quick text, telling him to sleep it off.  Then Jimin flicks through his contact list until his thumb hovers over the one name he didn’t think he’d ever call again—Seung-Ho.  The man started as a lifestyle influencer, wearing Lululemon shorts at Machu Picchu or casually eating the latest novelty hipster food with a bright smile on his face. Now he’s the brand ambassador and face of Jimin’s biggest competitor.

“Jimin, baby…,” he coos over the receiver. “I’m so proud…”

Inside, Jungkook grows restless, bouncing his leg with clasped hands as he stares at Jimin through the glass door. Who is he talking to? Why is it taking so damn long? Why did he hover over the screen for several seconds before pressing the call button? He didn’t want to wait any longer—who is more important than Jungkook? Normally, the younger is extremely patient in every other aspect of his life, but when it comes to Jimin giving somebody else his attention, it runs out quick. He gets up to saunter over to the balcony door, carefully sliding it open to eavesdrop.

“Seung-ie—“ Jimin catches himself, “Seung-Ho.” He rolls his face in his palm. It’s too early in the morning to have this conversation with the ghost of his past. Regardless, he’s very curious to know why he reached out after all this time. “Why did you text me? To say you’re proud?” He can’t help but smile a little when the man on the other line praises his clothing collection. Apparently Seung was in the audience the whole time, absolutely loved Jimin’s little speech, and even took note of how well the model looked on stage under all the glowing lights. He laughs, recalling the last time he took Jimin out on a date—how he spilled slushie all over his pure white button up and they had to make an emergency stop at Neiman Marcus for a spare.

“I miss you, Mochi,” he says lowly from the other side, deep and seductive. “When can I see you again?”

Seung-ie?… Seung-Ho. Why does the name sound familiar?  Jungkook rolls his tongue against the fleshy inside of his cheek, listening for merely a minute before he decides it’s enough. He announces his presence by snaking his arms around Jimin’s waist, placing his chin in the crook of the elders neck, placing soft kisses against it.

Mine…

Kook leans in to whisper into Jimin’s ear, “I’m hungry…”

It distracts Jimin’s train of thought to have Jungkook kissing his sensitive neck. One ounce of attention from the man and he is absolute putty.

“Who was that?” Jimin hears Seung-Ho chime from the other end.

“I’ve got to go, but thank you for coming to the show,” Jimin replies, wrapping up the call. He presses the end button and turns in Jungkook’s arms to face him. He looks annoyed to say the least, but he doesn’t blame him, he would be too. “Just a stupid ex,” Jimin whispers before melding his lips to the other man’s. “Let’s eat…”

 Jungkook grasps and guides Jimin’s chin between his long, tattooed fingers to face him. “Why’d they call you?” He’s no longer subtle with his concern, the mere mention of an ex causes his eyebrows to furrow. “They bothering you?” He continues, his fingers tightening ever slightly around the blondes chin, his face so close that their lips graze together with every word spoken. His other hand remains wrapped around Jimin’s waist, keeping their bodies tightly pressed together, as if the elder would disappear if he didn’t hold him.

Jimin rolls his eyes and tries to shake off the goosebumps still prickling from Seung-Ho’s compliments. “He’s probably bored,” he covers, still not entirely sure why the man reached out. He said he was proud, but why should Jimin care what he thinks? As Jungkook’s hold tightens, Jimin feels the need to be honest, as if the truth is being squeezed from him. “He liked the show. Wants to see me again, but...,” he squeezes Jungkook back, “I’m far too busy.”

“Too bad for him.” Jungkook mutters, a small smile tugging at his lips as he feels Jimin’s reassuring squeeze. He feels his stomach rumble, looping his fingers between Jimin’s as he pulls the elder with him inside towards the dining hall.  If the blonde isn’t already constantly reminded by the wealth the young photographer possesses, this would be one of many reminders. A large table filled with all kinds of breakfast delicacies greet them, way too much for one, two or even three people. This might as well be a buffet for a party. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so...I got everything.” Kook shrugs, as if this isn’t his everyday life anyway, zeroing his eyes in on the fridge filled with his favorite beverage.

Jimin never has to leave. Every little thing that could possibly accommodate his needs is right here in the photographer’s house. “There’s so much to choose from...” Jimin’s hunger increases the longer he looks. He doesn’t even feed himself most of what’s available, but he almost feels like he’s on vacation, so he grabs a pastry and quickly devours it before the guilt sinks in. The flakey, sugary taste is sweeter than sweet as it hits his lips. “Here…” he lifts the danish to Jungkook’s mouth and coaxes him to take a bite without a second thought. The instinctual domestic nature is less and less jarring the longer he stays.

Jungkook’s eyes widen a tad bit in surprise at the sudden gesture, but quickly grasps Jimin’s wrist to guide the pastry to his mouth, chomping off a large piece. His eyes flutter shut with a quiet hum in content—his adoration for sweets so strong that one would wonder how the hell he has the physique he does. “You’re a man of taste,” he chuckles, bringing the straw of his drink to his lips to wash the pastry down. He could definitely get used to having Jimin here, seeing the elders' reactions to his everyday life, so adorable. Having somebody here is a nice change. Sharing this with him is all Jungkook starts to crave. “Try the fruit. Get me some grapes.”

The grapes grabbed Jimin’s attention right away—so ripe and juicy. He lifts a vine from the table and plucks off a single grape, popping it into his mouth and biting down with a satisfying crunch. A light moan tickles his throat, unable to contain how much he enjoys every bit of this.  “Want one?” He plucks another grape and grasps it between his teeth, bringing it up to Jungkook’s lips to feed him directly.

With a smile, Jungkook leans in to bite the exposed half of the grape and within the same movement, grasps Jimin’s waist to push their hips together. “Want you ,” he shamelessly admits, digging his long fingers into the blonde’s sides, tipping his head forward to press a soft kiss on his plush lips. Jimin is already acting more and more in the manners that Jungkook wants; so sweet and almost domestic, like they’re actually together. He really likes it...and in his own mind, they might as well be. He has no eyes for anybody else since he saw the blonde step into his photo session.

Jimin’s hold tightens, digging to be grounded in reality while his mind floats somewhere else. He doesn’t know what’s come over him, feeling so clingy and lustful since the second Jungkook called him “baby.” “N-need you,” he says quietly. His eyes fall away from the other man as his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He isn’t sure what exactly he needs, but every little facet of his time with the photographer is so overwhelmingly euphoric he can’t imagine being apart.

One of Jungkook’s hands moves up the elders body until he reaches his neck, carefully sliding down the robe on one side to expose his small shoulder. “Yeah?” He nuzzles his nose into Jimin’s neck. Fuck, he smells so nice... A deep inhale follows, unable to resist the urge to brush his lips against Jimin’s soft skin. This man is the human embodiment of a drug.

“Yeah,” Jimin replies, weak in the knees. He pushes his robe down further for Jungkook to feel and breathe in any part he desires. He does the same to the other man, tugging the robe loose until it hangs slack around his back. He kisses his way up his built arm, paying close attention to the tattoos that decorate his skin.  “Didn’t expect you to have so many,” Jimin notes with lips pressed lightly to a dark tattoo engraved in his shoulder. “I’ve always wanted more. Love the way they look.”

“Want a tattoo?” Jungkook muses. The mere thought clashes in his mind. Jimin’s skin is precious , not just any tattoo would be good enough. He sighs at the sensation of the elders lips and knows exactly who he’d choose to fulfill his wishes, if he wanted. There’s nobody he’d ever trust more than his personal tattoo artist, Kim Namjoon. He’d lie if he said he wasn’t anticipating the sounds the blonde would make as soon as the needles graze his tender skin... “What would you get?”

Jimin lifts the hem of his robe, exposing his naked thigh. “It would need to be special. Maybe something small. I’m thinking here...” he motions to the taut muscle, pure and unmarked. Jimin surveys Jungkook’s expression as he rubs a thumb over the flesh, “Wouldn’t it look pretty here, Jeon?” Clearly the younger appreciates body markings. It’s only fair his input is taken into consideration. He is, after all, the one who unknowingly influenced Jimin to finally do it.

Jungkook crouches down in front of him, allowing his slender, inked fingers to smooth down Jimin’s thigh until he reaches the part that’s meant for the tattoo. He takes a short moment to just admire the firm, untouched skin before gazing up at the blonde. “It would look gorgeous...I have the perfect person for the job. Maybe after today’s fitting?” He tilts his head in question, wondering if the model would truly be up for it. If Jimin mentions he wants something, Jungkook can’t get it out of his mind until he has it. Was it a small comment in the heat of the moment?

For Jimin, it’s so easy to just say yes when Jungkook asks a question. His wide bambi eyes sparkle with intrigue, and who is Jimin to strip that joy from him?

“Yes,” he answers, a little hesitant. He was just playing around to get a rise out of the younger man, but the idea of getting permanently marked while Jungkook watches is even more exhilarating. “But after the fitting. I need to be in top shape if I’m going to get down on my knees and measure you properly.”

Jungkook’s expression lights up—a yes is definitely what he wanted to hear. He knows he’ll have to set the plan in motion, because Jimin wants it.

“That I agree with,” Jungkook coyly replies with a crooked eyebrow. The playful spark in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed as he leans in to kiss the blonde’s thigh. He plants a soft peck before standing up to cup Jimin’s cheeks. “Have you eaten enough? We should get ready.”

Jimin quickly devours another danish before his body tells him not to, living just a little longer in the fantasy world Jungkook created. It really is too good here, and with the other man adoring every facet of his being, it’s very hard to leave. Leaving Jungkook to finish his breakfast, Jimin finds his way to the nearest shower and instantly gravitates to the shampoo Jungkook lathered him with the night before. It’s a comforting smell that is now regrettably faint on his skin from a deep sleep. He hurries to coat himself in it, head to toe, blissing in the cloud of humidified scent blooming under the warm cascade of heat. After a short while, he steps out, feeling like a new man, ready to give Jungkook the suit of his dreams and repay him for everything.

Jungkook doesn’t bother with a shower, but simply gets dressed and waits. He runs his hand through his messy locks. The ruffled look adds to his childish yet not so innocent charm, juxtaposed against his black dress shirt that fits his firm physique, paired with black jeans. It’s a casual look, yet his adorning jewelry showcases that he is anything but ordinary, with many shiny rings and an expensive necklace that rests at the base of his neck.  While waiting for Jimin, Jungkook lays down on his couch and contacts Namjoon to make sure he’s available and ready after the fitting. He’s giddy to surprise Jimin with the news... later .

All the while, Jimin wrapped back into his robe and padded down to Jungkook’s studio in hopes of retrieving his clothes, however, he found them neatly folded on a decorative console table just outside. The studio door was shut and locked tight, which he found slightly odd for a mere photography studio. Regardless, he was sure Jungkook had his reasons. He changed into his clothes from the night before and finessed his hair into a presentable style with a bit of product he found laying around. It’s not best practice in the world of fashion to be seen in public wearing the same thing twice, but he made an exception for the day.

Eventually, Jungkook grew bored and decided to go find the blonde roaming around his house, only to find all ready in yesterday's outfit. Cute.

“Ready to go? Car’s waiting outside for us.” He reaches out with grabby hands for Jimin, waiting for him to get the hint; to run to him. The younger wishes for the domestic feeling to never go away, and he was curious how the blonde would act among other people.

Luckily for Jungkook, Jimin got the hint right away and walked towards him quickly, still taking the time to admire his fit as he approached. Today is going to be difficult— how can he build upon perfection? It’s hard not to implode by how cute Jungkook is, looking the way he does, so effortless and cool; truly a muse fit for the occasion. “Ready,” Jimin nods, smiling widely and snuggling into Jungkook’s arms to enjoy a few last moments in this fantasyland before transitioning back to Park Jimin, the supermodel and fashion aficionado.

Jungkook cups the blonde’s cheek and guides his face to look up at him—a last close up look before their one-on-one dynamic would be broken, momentarily. His butterfly truly has a duality to him that is admirable, however the way the elder can easily crumble for him is incredible.

“Okay, let’s go.” He flashes his signature toothy smile and turns to guide them to the waiting car. His arm tightly grips Jimin’s waist until he has to let go to hold the door open for him.

~

Preparations were made on Jimin’s part during the ride. It seems his assistant is used to last-minute bookings since he started his Be Your Light collection. Last-minute tailorings for industry events and spontaneous all-nighters when inspiration struck. For this occasion, he requested that all the materials be ready for him to use alone—No assistants. The attention would be purely put on Jungkook. Just like the photographer’s preferred work style, Jimin wanted no distractions.

It was go-time the second they arrived—Jimin’s assistant guided the two men into a secluded wing of his studio where a myriad of patterns, leathers and fabrics were laid out.

“This is perfect, thank you,” Jimin nods his approval and flashes a sparkling smile, then begins to pull together his measuring tools. “Jeon, please, take a look around and tell me if anything catches your eye.”

Jungkook begins to stroll around the different materials to work with, fingers smoothing over the fabrics tentatively.  His eyes keep looking back and forth between the black silk and leather. He always tended to like darker, edgier themes, but the soft and shiny material is so comfortable to touch. Jungkook grasps it in his hand and holds it up for Jimin to see with a lopsided and challenging smirk on his lips.

“Could you make me something with this?”

“There’s a lot I can do with that.”

Jimin strolls up to feel the smooth silk beneath his fingertips. Leather would have been a fine choice for its stability and durability, but he likes a challenge. “Black silk,” he notes, plucking the swatch from Jungkook’s hands to inspect it further, “it can be very complimentary to your skin tone.” He rubs his thumb over the rise and fall of the fabric’s exterior—a faint textured brocade, so unique and fitting for the man—dark, yet subdued. “If I tailor it just right, it can hold your shape or flow loose, if you choose.” His designer mind flicks on and he plots the form internally. “What kind of event do you plan to attend in a silk suit, Jeon?”

“I don’t know yet,” Jungkook shrugs, a smile mixed between sheepish and coy replacing his challenging smirk. His eyes follow Jimin’s delicate fingers as they smoothe over the fabrics, already wishing they were on him instead. Growing impatient, he jumps a bit in his position. “I want the silk, make it fitted…” He muses for a moment. “And a low front?”

“A low front, huh?” Jimin glides a hand down the front of Jungkook’s shirt and tugs a little to reveal his defined collarbones. “A very wise choice,” he smirks, releasing the shirt with a snap, “take this off, I’ll need to get close to your body for the tightest fit.” He takes a couple steps back to give Jungkook space, itching to rid the shirt and everything else. However, this is a big opportunity to make something neoteric and special. The process will be the greatest test of his patience.

“Everything?” Jungkook coyly replies as he pulls his shirt over his head, shamelessly exposing his upper body to Jimin. He kind of likes this side of Jimin. No, scrap that–he really likes it. The photographer is rarely ever told what to do, and the elders' confidence and passion for his work is just adding to the younger's growing infatuation.

Jimin bites his lip at the question. “Eager, aren’t we?” His fingers fall to Jungkook’s waist, gliding across his exposed hips and down to his belt buckle. “No, Jeon, just the shirt for now.” He gives the buckle a light tap and then steps behind the photographer, releasing a soft sigh at the smooth expanse of flesh he’s blessed to dress any way he likes. “We’ll start with the top and work our way down. Now stay nice and relaxed, I want to make sure the measurements are precise.”

Jungkook’s coy pout matches the mischief in his eyes as he glances over his shoulder at the blonde. “Yes, Mr. Park.” He turns his head back to look straight forward, letting his arms dangle loosely on his sides. “Take your time with me.” Jungkook really dragged out the way he said the elders last name, as if they weren’t already past the point of formalities.

Jimin takes his time to touch and measure Jungkook’s torso until he has every inch of muscle definition saved to memory. The younger’s enthusiasm encourages him to work with full concentration as he daydreams about the low neckline and how he’ll form it. However, he’s easily snapped from his thoughts whenever he is referred to as “Mr. Park,” like he’s never been called the name before. When it rolls off of Jungkook’s tongue, it’s no longer a name given at birth but a name given to tease. He drapes the measuring tape around the back of his neck and pauses, taking one last second to admire all of Jungkook’s tattoos, fully exposed just for him. What a predicament he’s gotten himself into. He doesn’t want to rush the process, but once the pants come off, he may need to pick up the pace.

“Now the pants, Jeon,” Jimin instructs with the firmest tone he can muster, “take them off for me.”

Jungkook cocks a playful eyebrow at the elder male, letting his hands work his belt to slowly unbuckle it. “You’re so cute when you’re bossy.” He unzips and peels his pants down, letting them fall and pool by his feet before stepping out of them, standing in nothing but his boxers. It’s new, being the one to follow orders. But, the way Jimin tries so hard to remain professional is the best part. So the photographer plays along, curious as to how long the blonde can hold his mask before it crumbles.

Jimin continues to act like he doesn’t want to take advantage of Jungkook’s vulnerable state, which is even harder than it looks.

“I’m always cute,” he responds just a little too late and winks at the younger man. He doesn’t know what he’s saying at this point. His brain switches to autopilot once Jungkook’s thick thighs become visible. All he can think to do is take a deep breath, bend to his knees and measure.  Measure, measure. He jots down his findings on a small notepad to keep his hands busy. The process is almost complete—just one more measurement and Jungkook can get dressed. Jimin places his palms on Jungkook’s inner thigh to hold the measuring tape in place for the inseam.  “Hold still,” he asks quietly, feeling small and meek under the younger man’s gaze, “I’m almost done.” His hand soothes over the expanse of his exposed flesh, lingering a little longer than professionally advised.

Jungkook firmly places his hands on his hips as he gazes down at the blonde from above. His potent stare along with the confidence practically oozing off of him is sure to make just about anybody nervous. However, it is Jimin that he wants to bring to his knees, and conveniently enough, he already is. Before Jimin could properly measure his inner thigh, Jungkook playfully reaches his hand down to brush the blonde locks away from Jimin’s face, then runs his long fingers through it, giving a light tug before withdrawing.

“Done?”

Jimin shudders from the tug at his roots, causing his muscles to tense from the pleasure and proximity of the man above. He can’t resist the effect Jungkook’s beautiful hands have on him, especially when they’re carded through his soft hair, caressing him any way they please. “Almost done,” he says in a low tone, aching to deflect attention from the growing tent in his pants. “But if you keep distracting me, we’ll be here all day.” He glides his hand higher up the younger man’s inner thigh until it touches the hemline of his briefs. “Would you like that, Jeon?”

“Is that a question or a proposition?” Jungkook’s light smirk doesn’t go unnoticed. His hand doesn’t leave the blonde’s curls as he twirls the light ends between his fingers. God, did he love to tease the model, who’s eyes seem to dilate with lust as they gaze up at him with innocence. But Jungkook knows by now that he is far from the angel he initially presented himself as.

Jimin replies with a smirk of his own, dragging his small fingertips down the younger’s inner thigh to take the last measurement. He purposefully brushes the back of his hand against the bulge in Jungkook’s briefs and teases him through the fabric for just a second, then withdraws completely as if nothing happened. “I’ll pass my notes to my assistant so she can begin the preliminary steps—shouldn’t take long.” He stands to his feet and steps so close to Jungkook that their bodies nearly touch. “You did great, Jeon. You can get dressed now.”

Jungkook scrunches his nose in a small, toothy smile. The blonde really tried to play him at his own game. Well, if that’s what he wants... He nods lightly before turning around to bend over and pick his clothes up, slowly putting the fabrics on one by one without a word. Maybe Jimin expected a different reaction, but Jungkook wanted the blonde pining rather than simply giving him what he wanted.  As he is fully dressed, he turns back to face Jimin and reaches out to caress his cheek with the back of his hand. “I'm thrilled to see what you come up with… Now, are we done for today?”

“That’s a wrap,” Jimin nods, internally cursing himself for encouraging Jungkook to dress so quickly. Regardless, it wouldn’t hurt to show some affection now that the measurements are recorded.  He melts into Jungkook’s caress and curls his arm around the small of his waist to guide him to the door. He peeks up at the taller man beneath his blonde fringe, feeling more relaxed now that he doesn’t have to focus on drafting the suit.

“So, about this tattoo...”

Jungkook’s face lights up at the mention. “Yes! Do you wanna go now?” He is a tad bit over excited about the fact, as he’s made sure that Namjoon was ready to clear his schedule the very second he made the call.  Kook wraps his arm around Jimin’s shoulder to pull him close as they head towards the waiting car. He may have asked, but his mind is already made up—Jimin is getting that tattoo.

“I’m a little nervous,” Jimin confesses, grasping the car door handle and hesitantly tugging it open, “It’s been a while.” He slides into his seat and gets comfortable next to Jungkook. He’s a little out of his element, but he trusts the man, surprisingly enough. He can’t pinpoint why, but he finds solace in his touch—a sense of calm that makes him feel like he could tackle anything. “I don’t even know what I’m going to get,” he laughs, “Shit, Jeon, what did you talk me into?”

“Do you trust me?” Jungkook’s eyes fall on Jimin as he says so, repeating the same words he once said back at their first photoshoot. Without a response, he gives a vague wave of his hand and the chauffeur begins to drive. He places his hand on Jimin’s thigh and let’s it rest there, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze.

It’s not just Jungkook’s words or his touch that pulls Jimin closer—it’s the undivided attention, and his tranquil gaze. Every now and then, Jimin swears he can see the man’s soul in his dark irises. They’re so receptive and kind, but piercing and cool, all at once.

“I trust you,” he speaks above a whisper. Just as he did at their first photo shoot, Jimin places his full and complete trust in Jungkook’s hands. He’s a proven visionary—not only a renowned artist but a man with true vision. If he wants this permanent marking to have the greatest meaning, he’ll leave the final decision up to Jeon Jungkook. That moment in the glass room changed Jimin—seeing his faults fall between the cracks of those mirrored shards, scattered across the floor. He owes this to him. Everything that’s come from that moment has only made Jimin stronger—a better version of himself. “I want you to choose what I get.”

‘‘Really?’‘ Jungkook’s doe eyes widen before they squint in a smile. Small wrinkles appear in the corners of his eyes, adorning his skin. He feels butterflies erupting in his chest at the way Jimin willfully gives his trust. He seems entirely head over heels, and that’s exactly what he wants. Jungkook cranes his neck to close the last bit of distance between their lips in a sweet kiss. He pulls back just enough to stare at how Jimin gazes back in awe, only to lean forward and place another kiss on his plush lips...and another, and another. It’s like a drug. Lips, intoxicating, the way they envelope his with loving care.

Jimin presses back firmly to Jungkook and unbuckles his seatbelt to get closer. There’s far too much pent-up energy and nerves in his body to resist. He moves his hand to the back of the younger man’s neck and guides the kiss. He pulls him deeper, gliding his velvety tongue along Jungkooks, crawling into his lap and straddling him face-to-face.  “Really,” he breathes against his hot lips, “Want you to mark me, sir.”

Jungkook can tell that Jimin’s words have double meaning, which causes him to smile.  The plush of his bottom lip grazes the blonde’s. “It’s a promise, butterfly,” he whispers smoothly as his hands settle in a firm grip on Jimin’s hip bones, squeezing lightly to feel the soft flesh push out between his fingers. Jimin always seemed so fragile when he was like this, yet the innocence in his eyes is nowhere to be seen when he’s slowly becoming corrupted by Jungkook’s various temptations.

Jimin soaks in the feeling of Jungkook’s hands on his hips and allows them to hold him close for the duration of the ride. He wants them to hold him everywhere at once, but unfortunately, Jeon Jungkook isn’t Vishnu with four arms. However, at least in Jimin’s mind, he is god-like. Is it odd for him to think so highly of a man he’s known for less than a week? Life moves quickly in the world of fashion—working partnerships are just another part of it. In the words of Heidi Klum, “one day you’re in, and the next, you’re out.” At this point, he’ll do anything to stay in.

The model cards his fingers through Jungkook’s soft hair as he slides off his lap, giving him a small peck on the lips before settling back into his seat. The car pulls up to the curb of the shop; Jimin instantly feels his tingly heartbeat in the tips of fingers as they wrap around the door handle.  A moment of pause, then... “Lets get it,” he breathes out in a wisp of a laugh.

Jungkook smiles as he leans over Jimin to place his long fingers on top of the blonde’s, unlocking the door with him to push it open. As they head inside, the bell to the shop chimes.

“Jungkookie!” They’re met with a dimpled smile greeting them across the room, pen in-hand, working on a sketch. The man stands up to approach the two and gives Jungkook a hug before doing the same to Jimin.

He surely isn’t shy.  

“Is this Jimin? I’m Namjoon.” He takes a step back to observe the blonde, shooting a quick glance at Jungkook that basically says ‘nice.’

Jimin straightens his posture to give the best impression as it seems this man is not only the one about to stick needles in his flesh, but also a good friend of Jungkook’s. As he’s quickly gathered, it’s a rare occasion to meet anyone Jungkook would call a friend. Jimin can only imagine what he makes of his relationship with the photographer. Namjoon’s dark-lined eyes hold firm on Jimin’s, almost softening to put him at ease. “Park Jimin,” the model smiles, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Namjoon smiles back, his prominent dimples on display. He heads towards his desk to pick up the sketch he was working on, beckoning for the others to come closer, “Check this out.”

Jungkook steps beside Namjoon to take a look. “Perfect,” He coos, doe eyes observing the beautiful flower that Joon had sketched on the paper.

“Great,” Namjoon smiles wider, showing Jimin the sketch. It's a delicate drawing of red petals from the sage flower—the meaning behind it being ‘Forever mine,’ which is sketched in a short note at the foot of the page for reference. Joon already knew this is what Jungkook wanted for this one—always something floral, and always different meanings behind them. This one is the most meaningful one he’s ever done...and not just one more flower to be added to Jungkook’s collection on his arms.

Even on the paper, the red petals seem to burn off the page. It’s as if they’re begging to escape the confines of 2D and become immortalised forever, sunk permanently into Jimin’s flesh. He’s lost for words as he scans every detail even though he’s already set on having it on him for life.

“It really is perfect,” he smiles at the cheery dimpled man. He turns to Jungkook and is pleased to see he’s equally enthralled with the finished product. “You’ve chosen well, Jeon.” He drops his hand down onto his own hip until it lands high on his thigh. “Are we still thinking here, or…somewhere else?”

Jungkook’s eyes rake down Jimin’s body in thought for a long moment until they land on his upper thigh. It seems like the perfect spot, and watching the process will be the most enticing part of it all.

“Right here is perfect,” He agrees, placing his hand on top of Jimin’s to apply light pressure onto the firm muscle.

“Splendid,” Namjoon nods before gesturing towards the large, comfortable chair in the room. “Please remove your pants and have a seat.”

Joon heads over to his chair and rolls it over to his desk to gather necessities while waiting for the blonde to get ready.

Mind over matter—Jimin slides his pants down quickly like he would at any runway show. In a situation like this, modesty flies right out the window. In a matter of minutes he’ll be poked raw while Jungkook watches, and the thought alone makes him hastily take his seat in front of the artist, eager to begin.

“Jungkook?” Jimin asks, looking up at the tall man while he towers over him protectively, “You’ll stay here, right? You won’t leave?” His hand itches to hold his as he hears Namjoon whir the machine a couple times to prep the needles.

“I’ll be here every second,” Jungkook promises with a small nod, reaching to brush away Jimin’s fringe from his forehead before grabbing a chair to take a seat next to him, “I chose the piece after all.”

Namjoon smiles to himself at the sweet exchange, noting just how well Jungkook has Jimin wrapped around his finger. It almost reminds him of how he himself used to feel the same way, once upon a time. “Alright, take deep breaths and don’t move. Let me know if you need to take a break,” Namjoon says as he scoots closer in his chair to place the stencil on Jimin’s upper thigh. He observes the placement before giving Jungkook a questioning look, rather than giving the decision to Jimin. Once Kook confirms with an approving nod, Joon gets to work, whirring the machine as he draws the first line. Both men glance at Jimin between strokes, attentive to see his reaction.

The stinging sensation of pulsing needles on Jimin’s soft flesh is not foreign, yet they feel sharper this time around. Deeper. Joon does not have a light-handed approach, likely as a stylistic choice for bold line work, but it makes the fine hairs at the back of Jimin’s neck stand on end. The artist’s attention to detail reminds him of the perfectionist in himself. He acted similarly when he sketched his clothing designs for the BYL collection, so he respects the process. He grits his teeth and bares through the pain. He can feel Jungkook’s gaze land heavy on his thigh as the needles stitch into his skin and embed vibrant ink. The younger man’s investment in this spontaneous decision is enchanting. The design he chose is brilliant and thoughtful. Jimin wonders if he’s devoted this much of his undivided attention to anyone else besides himself. Surely a man of his prestige has better things to do than this with him .

Nonetheless, Jimin pushes his insecurity aside and places his hand on Jungkook’s thigh for assurance.

Jungkook observes every stroke of Namjoon’s wrist with deep focus to make sure there is not a single mistake done to Jimin’s precious skin. He’s more invested in this moment than he has been with anybody else. Luckily, he knows he can trust Namjoon to do a job that is nothing but absolutely perfect. Watching Jimin’s skin slowly gain lines and colors with a design he chose...it’s a feeling unmatched by any other. ... Well , possibly matched by the way Jimin is obviously struggling to keep a straight face. The light twitches in his plush lips are so endearing. Jungkook grabs Jimin’s small hand and gently strokes his knuckles with his thumb, holding it like that the entire time.

Then, after what feels like forever, the buzzing of the machine finally comes to an end. Namjoon places the needle gun back on the desk before cleaning Jimin’s thigh off, inching forward to inspect the finished result. “Alright, we’re all done. Take a look by the mirror over there if you want a proper view.” Joon directs his words towards Jimin, but his eyes flicker to Jungkook’s.

Standing on his feet is a raw task, but Jimin does it with a brave face, placing weight on the leg until it feels comfortable enough to walk on. The mirror doesn’t do the piece justice—up-close it is perfectly placed on his toned thigh and brilliantly shaded. He ghosts his fingers over the fresh ink, hovering just above, slightly bewildered that it’s a part of him forever.  He turns to Namjoon and nods his approval, then looks to Jungkook, trying to assess his reaction. From what he could tell, then man is just as pleased, maybe even more. It is his design concept, after all, and he should be proud. Jimin rests his hand at his side but can still feel Jungkook’s hand—thumb working in soothing circles. It makes him wonder if perhaps he’s relaxed enough to take the pain as well.

“While we’re here,” Jimin says confidently, feeling the dopamine pulse in his rosy numb flesh, “are you getting one too?”

“I am, actually.” Jungkook's small smirk tugs at his lips as he remains still, eyes still admiring the work on Jimin's thigh. Forever would he be marked with the piece that he had chosen. And now he’s about to get one of his own.  Kook guides Jimin to have the seat next to him as he gets himself ready, extending his arm to expose the ink-free piece of his skin on his lower arm. Meanwhile, Joon prepared another set of needles. He rolls up to the youngest to place his stencil, raising his eyebrows in a silent question of 'Good?'   With an approving nod from Jungkook, the familiar buzzing sound of the machine echoes once more. Joon marks Jungkook with a similar design as the one on Jimin's thigh; however, slightly different. While Jimin's is a work of red petals, Jungkook's is the flower itself, with petals falling off of it. As with every other piece Namjoon had done on the photographer in the past, he marks Jungkook's flower tattoo with a barely visible number. It’s a sly way of tracking each time the man has brought someone in to tattoo themselves for him. Why? Who knows. It is a mystery only known to the man himself.

Jimin notes the small number as Namjoon etches it onto Jungkook, not even sure if it is a number he’s seeing or just another part of the blooming bud. The photographer’s silken skin beads with fresh droplets of blood, obstructing his view of the design. He doesn’t even wince when the hairpin needles pierce his skin over and over, like he’s done it so many times it’s as casual as a monthly haircut.  Jungkook is a seasoned professional in Jimin’s eyes. He admires the painless way he endures Namjoon’s heavy-handed pricking in what he assumes to be a sensitive part of the body to mark. He can’t pretend he isn’t shocked the photographer had the foresight to plan matching tattoos, and was too bold to assume Jimin would want it. But Jeon Jungkook's bold decisions are what attracted Jimin to him in the first place.

“You’re doing well,” Jimin assures, soothing his hand over the wide expanse of Jungkook’s back. “You’re doing really well...”

Just as the tattoo begins to form into a coherent piece of art, Jimin’s pocket vibrates. He pulls his phone free and stares down at the notifications, quickly hiding it at his side once he realizes who messaged him.

Jungkook smiles at the sweet words coming from the elder, but it fades just as quickly when he notices the slight tilt of Jimin's phone screen to keep it just out of his vision. Kook can't help the curiosity that gradually morphs to swirling annoyance in his gut. He just can't help it—he hates secrets when they’re kept from him. Could it be the same person Jimin was on the phone with earlier? The younger isn't oblivious, and he really wishes this wouldn't cause any trouble. But before he can comment on the split second, the phone is shoved back into Jimin's pocket, and Namjoon chimes that he's finished.

“Alright, we're done here,” Namjoon clicks his tongue and wipes Jungkook's arm clean, observing the masterpiece with his squinted eyes. He rolls his chair out and stretches his back until his spine pops. “Good, Jungkookie?”

“Perfect.” Jungkook approves as he gets up off his chair, looking down at the new piece of art on his skin. A mark just for Jimin. He displays it for the blonde, a crooked eyebrow following with his toothy grin, “Now we match.”

Jimin tries to muffle the sound of incoming text messages as they continue to vibrate in his pocket. If it isn’t Seung-Ho, it’s surely his manager on behalf of Seung-Ho. The man is persistent when he wants Jimin’s attention—but why does it have to be now? Jimin doesn’t have the nerve to check his phone, especially not when Jungkook proudly displays his fresh ink.

“It’s—” Jimin leans closer, grasping the man’s bicep to steady his body. He squints to take in every little detail, down to the faint number etched at the center of the design—but is it a number? It very well could be, but what does it mean? Jungkook doesn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest, so Jimin pushes his curiosity aside and examines the rest of the tattoo. “Not to be biased, but I think It’s the most beautiful flower.” The delicate way the red petals seem to fall down from Jungkook’s arm and onto Jimin’s thigh is wholly picturesque. Jimin would be lying if he said it didn’t excite him, knowing the two of them will share this for the rest of their lives. If anything, let it serve as a reminder of their working partnership and the bond they shared shooting Jimin’s first solo collection. Give it time and perhaps the tattoos will increase in value. It’s not even a day old and it’s already Jimin’s new favorite piece of art. He lightly taps his tender thigh and savors the sting, flicking his eyes between both tattoos until they are melded in his mind as one. “It’s been a long day, Jeon,” he winces, tapping his tender flesh a little too roughly. “Ready to head out?”

Jungkook shakes his head with a mischievous, toothy grin growing on his face. “Not yet, I have one more thing.” He speaks as he stares at Namjoon, who suddenly seems to shrink where he stands despite being the tallest of them all.

“Are you sure? It'll hurt.” Joon asked with his eyebrows raised high, feeling the itch in his fingers. He really wants to do it, but he also wants to make sure this was truly what the younger desires. He does hope for a ‘yes’ though. There is nothing else he wants right now than to feel and see Jungkook, even if it's in a professional setting.

“Yes, I've planned this for a while now.” Jungkook's hands travel to the hem of his pants, tugging at the waistline as his grin grows wolfish, “And I want it right now.”

“O-okay...” Namjoon's voice strains, his heart practically bursting within his rib cage with excitement. He loves tattooing, but if there is anything he loves more, it’s body piercing. There is just something about the adrenaline he feels rushing down his spine when he feels the needles easily penetrate through flesh, to be adorned by a piece of jewelry. Joon would be lying if he said it didn't make his face heat up a bit.

“Alright, take a seat,” Namjoon clears his throat, sitting back down on his rolling chair and patting the client seat.

Jungkook doesn't hesitate to pull his pants down along with his underwear, shameless and confident in his body as he sits down, half laying in the seat, eyes fixed on Jimin's. He notes how the blonde's eyes immediately find exactly what Kook expects.

“Don't stare so intensely, I'll get excited,” Kook teases Jimin, then flickers his gaze down to meet Namjoon's, who is also seemingly swallowing tightly to keep his professional mask on.

This is too much fun.

“A-are you—” Jimin’s voice weakens as Namjoon grasps Jungkook’s flaccid length and lines up a small barbell at the tip, measuring for size. He very clearly is, no doubt about it. If he was confident going into the tattoo, Jungkook is beyond confident going into this. Jimin wants to ask permission to watch, but can tell right away that it’s Jungkook’s full intention that he do so. He really does like to put on a good show, and, well, Jimin is captivated.

Namjoon finds the perfect piece of jewellery and sets it aside to ready the needle. It’s much larger than Jimin would have imagined—it looks hallowed throughout and incredibly sharp. It’s difficult to understand why in this moment, but Jimin feels his skin heat with arousal at the mere thought of seeing Jungkook’s tip gleam with a pretty stud through it. He takes a seat beside him, aching to be as close as possible. He crosses his legs, already feeling his cock stiffen at the sight. Jungkook seems to be affected as well, gradually growing thicker, unabashedly, right in front of his audience of two.

Jimin nips his plushy bottom lip and focuses his curious eyes on Namjoon’s hand as he grasps the hardening cock, ready to pierce. “Be still,” Jimin warns, nearly salivating at the sight. “I want it to be perfect.”

“Namjoon knows what he's doing, it'll be nothing but perfect,” Jungkook sighs out his words when Joon's warm fingers wrap around his length, already half hard from having two sets of eyes immersed in him, and him only. “Right, Joonie?”

“Right…”' Namjoon whispers through his teeth, his eyebrows tightly knit together in focus. It’s not easy to keep himself collected when Jungkook's cock is literally within his grasp. It’s heavy, and the all too familiar feeling of it makes his gut stir. “Just take a deep breath and don't move,” he warns as he brings the needle closer. His other hand keeps a firm grip around Kook's length, twitching once Joon's fingers tighten around it.

“Just do it before I get too hard…” Jungkook groans quietly. In all honesty, the photographer doesn’t care if he’s rock solid while getting pierced, he’s too much of a glutton for pain to mind it. Maybe he'd even prefer it that way. To say this is arousing would be an understatement.

Namjoon doesn't need to say anything else, and finally presses the needle through the flesh. For other professionals, this might've been too slow, but for the two of them, this was just the perfect torture. The needle is so sharp it practically melts through Jungkook's cock, and it has Namjoon foaming at the mouth when he hears Jungkook's audible moan echo in the studio.

“Fuck, hyung!” Jungkook curses through gritted teeth. His hand instinctively reaches out to grab Namjoon by his hair, tugging harshly. “All the way through, keep going.”

Namjoon's lower lip is tightly clamped between his teeth as he holds back the vibrating groan in his chest, finishing what he started as he finally pushes the needle through entirely; the bloody sharp tip of the needle sticking out on the other side. It’s gorgeous.

Jimin’s body feels hot and electric as the pain of his tattoo dissipates and is replaced with pure exhilaration. He watches every movement with wide blown-out pupils. His mouth is impossibly parched, he can’t will himself to swallow out of fear he might blink and miss a millisecond.

Namjoon loops the barbell through the hallowed tip of the needle and threads it through as the needle glides free of Jungkook’s stiffening length. It’s set aside, freeing a small bead of blood to trail down his shaft.

Jimin tears a fresh sheet of paper towel from a neighboring roll and dabs the wound gently. The younger man’s reddened tip swells under his touch and only spurs Jimin on to dab with excess—more than what’s needed, but selfish and satisfying for his own pleasure. He nips his bottom lip roughly until he’s sure he might draw blood of his own, then looks up at Jungkook with nothing but urgent need, silently begging to leave straight away. Jimins needy look doesn't go unnoticed by the younger, giving the blonde a reassuring wink.

“You did well hyung.” Jungkook leans in to press a light kiss on Namjoons forehead before he stands up, observing the little addition on his length. The pain is delicious, stinging and amplifying the throbbing pulse rushing from his heart to his cock.

Yeah, he needs to put it to use...there was no way around it.

Jungkook pulls his underwear and pants on, nonchalantly clasping the button on his jeans before he beckons Jimin to follow him like a puppy. “We will be back when I want some additions to my butterfly.” Jungkook grins at Joon, knowing the man knows exactly what he means, and that he'd have to be prepared. Soon.

The bell chimes loudly as Jungkook holds the door open for Jimin, giving Namjoon one last silent look before he walks out.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

#fic: mused obsession #yandere jungkook #jungkook x jimin #jikook #yandere bts #bts mxm #jikook fic #sombreboy #chimoona

[ververa]

“Everyone Finds True Love Or At Least A Dancing Partner” part 2

Part 1

A/N: Thank you for all the comments and reblogs!! Your kind words motivate me to keep writing and make me really really happy. So, please don’t stop <3

Sorry if this is boring or bad. I didn’t rewrite this part - this is the first and the only version of it that I have. But I decided to post it without making corrections or any changes, mainly because I feel kind of guilty for taking so long finishing my works. Hopefully it’ll do. 

Also this whole story is going to be longer than I’ve initially planned, but I regret nothing. 

@misssmephisto​ once again THANK YOU SO MUCH for helping me with everything!!! <3 

Hope you enjoy it!!

Cordelia Goode x fem!reader

Word count: ~4,000

Cordelia might not have realized how loud her thoughts were. But you did. For you they were as loud and clear as if someone had been whispering into your ear. As a matter of fact, you were sure Elliot was talking to you, though you obviously were wrong. Much to your dismay it was Cordelia’s mind that you heard. You tried hard to make it stop, to get the control over it and somehow shut it off. But nothing worked.

It was disturbing and made it hard for you to follow the music. If it hadn’t been for years of practice and the proficiency  you acquired, you most likely wouldn’t be able to keep dancing. It was hard to finish the performance and Elliot could tell you were struggling for some unknown to him reason. Yet you managed to do it. You managed despite your mind being derailed by the other woman’s alcohol intoxicated subconsciousness. 

It made you confused. You were a witch, of course, and it shouldn’t surprise you. Though it had been years since you had used your powers to the fullest. You had almost completely stopped using them and you were quite content living without them. You didn’t necessarily appreciate the fact of you being a witch. Of course, it wasn’t the end of the world and you would be lying if you said that they weren’t useful at times. Yet still, you wished to be just like everyone else and not have any supernatural powers. You wished there was some cure, but you were aware there was none. Whether you liked it or not, you had to withstand it. And so you kept pulling through no matter what, except you had never even considered meeting the Supreme, the most powerful of all witches and you definitely hadn’t thought of what it could do to you.

But there you were - at work, in the middle of the performance, struggling with figuring out what was actually going on and what was the reason for the sudden awakening of your gift. You tried to act as natural as possible, while you were discreetly looking for the person whose thoughts kept flooding your already crowded mind.

You scanned the room and finally spotted her - the stunning blonde stuck in the crowd with one of very few people you actually despised. If you were being honest Adam’s company was the only thing you didn’t like about her. He just didn’t match with her. She was the embodiment of elegance. A walking poem, a perfect beauty. Her skin was flawless and pale. So pale that against the light it seemed as white as porcelain. And there was that glow. As if all the magic was floating around her enclosing her in some kind of halo. You had never seen anything like that in your whole life. Probably no one had, it appeared to be just you - the privilege of being a witch, one would say. And maybe this one time, you would be willing to compromise with them and admit it was a positive trait.

You didn’t know her at all, but one look was enough for you to be able to tell she wasn’t like the others. If you’d have to compare her to anything, you would definitely compare her to a butterfly. She was like one of those rare butterfly species. Surrounded by all those rich and second-rated people, she truly seemed flawless. A butterfly among moths.

But even though your eyes were blessed, your mind was still burning. All her thoughts added to your worries and problems were like a lethal mixture. It was a lot to take, yet still something was dragging you to her. You kept watching her out of the corner of your eye, wondering why she had such a strong impact on you.

You didn’t mean to interfere or do anything about the whole mind reading situation - hoping it would solve itself, praying for it to stop and for your powers to subside again, so that you could come back to your normal life. Though you couldn’t just watch Adam trying to walk away with her. For some odd reason you felt incredibly protective of the woman. Was it the unexpected access to her mind that made you feel obliged to help her? Or maybe the fact that you knew Adam well enough to know what he was capable of? You didn’t know. It was an instinct.

You escorted her to her room. You made sure she was safe. And that was it. You didn’t plan on meeting her ever again - for your own good.

She was absolutely perfect and adorable and funny, especially in her drunk state. But meeting her was overwhelming for your mind. Your powers were all over the place. You thought that maybe it was just her presence. Though ever since your meeting you were unable to make it all stop, you couldn’t shut your powers off no matter how hard you tried. Whatever she did to you wasn’t fixable. Apparently, she was a gasoline to your fire. And as much as you wanted to, as tried as you might have - it was impossible to ignore it. It was impossible to just like that ignore and forget the fucking Supreme Cordelia Goode.

 _

Cordelia with no doubt was a master of organizing things. Order and neatness - the governing principles, were supposed to bring nothing, but peace and quiet. And she never went against her principles. Not until that one evening. Not until all those drinks she had. 

It was truly incredible she didn’t have a hangover. In fact, the only malfunction her disheveled self could register in the morning was that... she didn’t remember.

Cordelia put her hand on her head and closed her eyes trying to focus, trying to recall the events of the previous night. But everything was so blurry and confusing. She couldn’t say what was for real and what was just a dream. It felt as if half of her mind faded to oblivion.

Cordelia liked things to be crystal clear, but at that very moment it wasn’t even close to comprehensible. Nothing made sense as her mind was full of incoherent images. She was a mess and it caused her a lot of distress. She knew very well that she was far from innocent and flawless, but for God’s sake it was only the beginning of her stay there and somehow she already made it even harder and more complicated.

She really tried to remember, but no matter how deep inside her subconscious mind she thought she managed to reach - the only things she could recall was sitting at the bar and dancing with Adam. And that was the kind of stuff she wished she could forget.

The thought of his hands wandering on her body made her sick. She wanted to rub it all out, but she knew there was more than that. Something more had happened the previous night and she could feel it. She found herself longing for something she didn’t even remember. But she knew it wasn’t just her mind deceiving her. It was real and she was desperate to find out what it was.

Cordelia kept thinking of all the options she had. She was getting ready for another day, which - she already knew, was going to be hard. She started with cleaning, collecting her clothes, when suddenly a vivid vision, of a man with a beard carrying her, hit her. It lasted only a few seconds, but made her remember, not everything, but definitely the presence of someone that affected her. She looked down at the material in her hands - her dress. She smelled it and a distinct scent of cigarettes mixed with female perfume overtook her for a moment.

You were there with her - she established. Yet the memory of you was more like a wind. She couldn't see it, but still felt it. And her intuition was telling her that you were closer than she thought.

Cordelia made up her mind rather quickly - she was going to find you and figure everything out. Considering how her powers worked with the dress, she decided to use them around the hotel, hoping they would help her find the answers she needed. Though it wasn’t all that simple. She spent a few hours wandering around the hotel and nothing happened. Well, except for people looking at her as if there was something terribly wrong with her. Yet she wasn’t going to give up. There was still one place left - the restaurant.

Cordelia wasn’t happy going there. She really didn’t feel like meeting Adam again, but that was the only option left. She walked to the bar. The place full of people, was now empty. Cordelia sighed with relief. She was about to touch the counter, when a male voice drew her attention.

“They’re still closed” he stated

“Excuse me?” Cordelie turned to face him and almost immediately recognized him - the man with the beard “It’s you!” she exclaimed standing up

“Me?” he asked confused 

“You carried me to my room yesterday”

“Ooooh. Yeah, I did. I mean I carried you to the hotel and Y/N took you to your room” he shrugged

“Y/N…” Cordelia repeated after him “And where is she now?”

“Look, don’t get me wrong… but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to tell you. You caused her enough problems. You know, you did that thing to her head…”

Instead of answers she needed, there were only more and more questions. What problems? What thing…?

“Wait. I hurt her?” Cordelia asked already worried

“No! I mean not physically… I don’t know. You’re a witch, you should know such things…”

“That… That makes no sense”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help you, but I really can’t, Miss Goode”

Cordelia just nodded, making her way back to the hotel. She was frustrated even more than before. She was so close, yet so far. 

She could use her powers to make him do whatever she wanted - just like Fiona had done. But was she really able to do it? Could she use her powers in such a way? She was nothing like Fiona. She was nothing like any of the previous Supremes. Or maybe she was? Cordelia still didn’t know it. That was something she still hadn’t figured out. Where were the limits? What were her limits? And were there any limits at all? Any boundaries or certain rules? Any guidelines she was supposed to follow? You either were or weren’t the Supreme - that was a fact. And as the Supreme you were supposed to take care of the Coven and protect the witches. That was it. All that she knew. But there was no one to tell her if she was doing all of it the right way.

 “Miss Goode!” Gerald’s voice brought her back to earth “Are you enjoying your time?”

“Yes” she lied offering him a small smile

“I’m glad. If you need anything, you know where I am. Just ask and I’d be more than happy to help”

“Actually, there’s something…”

“Yes?”

“Yesterday, there was the performance at the restaurant. There was a couple dancing there”

“Yes. Y/N and Elliot. And what’s with them?”

“Well, I want to know where I can find Y/N”

“Ahhh, Y/N. Our sweet Y/N” he chuckled sitting down next to Cordelia “I know her since she was a little kid. I watched her growing up. Her grandma - Helen. She’s absolutely amazing. She brought Y/N and her brother up and taught them how to dance. She used to be a dancer herself. And let me tell you, when she was dancing… watching her was a pure bliss”

Cordelia couldn’t help the smile on her face. Listening to Gerald was probably the nicest thing that happened to her that day.

“She’s gifted”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s like you…”

“You mean she’s a witch?”

Gerald nodded.

“And where is she now?”

“She died a few years ago and ever since then things seem to keep falling apart, especially for Y/N. Now she’s the one who takes care of everything and everyone. She’s our star. People come here just to watch her…”

You seemed so mysterious and Cordelia kind of liked it. You were a mystery woman, almost like a phantom. Her own enigma. 

“And to think she almost became one of the Castle’s. Ahh, memories… Anyway, what were you asking about?” Gerald’s voice brought her back to earth

“I… I was asking where I can find her”

“Oh, she should be in her studio. I can ask Adam to take you there”

“No, no, no” Cordelia protested, repulsed by the idea “I’ll find her on my own, but thank you”

“Whatever you need, Miss Goode”

-

Cordelia managed to find the studio quicker than she thought she would, but she didn’t enter. She stood in front of the building suddenly engulfed by uncertainty. Why was she even doing it? Why did she want to meet you? Maybe she didn’t really want to know what happened? If only she knew what was that something dragging her to you, maybe then she could just walk away. But she didn’t. She didn’t know what it was and so she didn’t walk away.

She could hear a music coming from inside and noticed a slightly ajared window. Taking a look wasn’t a crime, right? She thought to herself coming closer. Peeking seemed to be just slightly inappropriate and maybe a bit disturbing. But only a bit. Just one look - it wasn’t that much. It wasn’t any invasion of privacy. It wasn’t illegal either. It was just Cordelia’s inner curiosity, that you awaken. Whether it was reasonable or not, Cordelia was standing there, unable to walk away.

There you were - laying on the floor with a cold pack on your head. 

“Uhhh. Shut the fuck up!” you growled standing up

Cordelia watched your every move. You slowly came to the stereo and turned the volume up. You closed your eyes taking a deep breath. It seemed to be your way of tuning into the music, because soon you began moving to the beat. Cordelia watched you dancing again, though this time she was sober and you were there alone. You looked tired. You were a bit sweaty, your top was sticking to your body and a few strands of your a bit damp hair were sticking to your face. But despite it you were still dancing.

Cordelia felt like she could watch you like that for a whole day. Only then Gerald’s words hit her for real. He was talking about your grandma, but apparently it was something that run in your family - watching you was a pure bliss. 

Watching you swaying with your hands above your head - one could think that dancing wasn’t hard at all. You made it seem so easy. And she was entranced. It felt as if her mind was spiraling. Sinking in the temptation to know you, to feel you, to touch you.

Cordelia wished she could stay there just to admire, but more and more people started appearing - as their course with you was about to start. And so the Supreme made her way back to her room. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Elliot. Cordelia bumped into him and was forced to come back to not so delightful reality.

“You really want to meet her, huh?”

Cordelia nodded looking at him. And if Eliot did pay attention he would probably notice a little blush on her cheeks.

“You’re quite stubborn, but that’s good. It’s not easy to get to her”

“Any advices?”

“Don’t disturb her while she’s working and if you want to keep her, you better know how to dance”

“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. So, when does she usually end work?”

“That’s a good question. Listen, we’re having dinner tonight… Y/N will be there, so you can come and talk to her if it’s really that important to you”

“Thank you”

“Oh no no. Don’t thank me and forget this conversation happened. She’d kill me”

“Then… why are you doing this?”

“Do I know? You just seem nice and already have that effect on her. Who knows maybe you’re the one”

-

Cordelia couldn’t help the smile that remained on her face for the rest of the day. She was filled with the kind of excitement she hadn’t felt for a long time and she couldn’t say why she felt that way. She didn’t know you and yet she was longing for you. Longing for that power you were supplying. The kind of magic she couldn’t even name. All that she knew was that you made her recall the thing that was gone from her. She was moved. Moved in the ways she had never been before. It felt funny, but it would be a lie if she said she didn’t like that feeling, that thrill. It was divine.

She didn’t know what to expect and if she even could expect anything. But despite it she made sure she looked presentable. She definitely failed to make a good first impression, she did realize it, and so she wanted to at least try to make up for it. Cordelia was sure all her nervousness was gone, but as she made it to the given place the feeling of uneasiness was back. But she was an open-minded woman. She was the Supreme and there was nothing she couldn’t take, right?

The place wasn’t as fancy as the whole hotel, but it was its crowning glory, the biggest asset. It was so cozy and had that nice aura, that made her relax as soon as she entered. She walked down the long corridor, towards the sound of conversations. She made it to a big room, but before she made her entrance she heard your voice.

“What is she doing here?” suddenly all the eyes were on her, everyone stared at her - everyone except for you. You sat there, among a group of people, your friends probably. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Well, I guess she’s here for you, bug” Elliot stated

“You don’t say!” you rolled your eyes at him and put down your knife and fork

The Supreme was frozen in her place. She didn’t move even a bit, waiting for what you’d do next or just any sign at all.

“We’ll leave the two of you alone” Elliot said standing up, giving the others a signal to follow him “We’ll see you later, at the party”

You nodded looking at your plate. Cordelia waited for the rest to make their leave, before approaching you and sitting opposite. You didn’t say anything and neither did she. You just sat there in complete silence. 

Cordelia watched as you began eating again, completely ignoring her presence. A small grin appeared on her face. She wasn’t used to watching girls close to your age eating, not like that at least. They all seemed to have really tiny appetites and rarely eat together, almost as if they were ashamed of it. And you - you weren’t even slightly bothered by her presence and kept chewing on your food. It was such a simple thing, but she found it absolutely adorable. She watched you for a moment, before taking a notice of your mug. There wouldn’t be anything extraordinary about the vessel if it hadn’t been for a teaspoon in it. The teaspoon that was stirring the beverage itself. Cordelia smirked at that small sign of your powers. 

“So… you’re a witch” she stated and watched as you swallowed hard before replying

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

Instead of arguing and giving all her reasons to proved her point, Cordelia only glanced at the mug - drawing your attention to it. You immediately placed your hand on it, making the teaspoon stop. You straightened up and looked at her.

“What do you want?” you asked examining her face

Cordelia already knew that you could see right through her and that made her even more nervous.

“First of all I want to thank you for helping me yesterday. And... I want to apologise"

"What for?" 

“My behaviour?”

“What kind of behavior do you mean? Your attempt to flirt or creeping earlier this day?”

Your response definitely wasn’t what she had expected. 

“I…” she couldn’t even find the right words. She didn’t know what she should say. How was she supposed to explain her spying on you? As she sat there and thought about it, she realized it was kind of disturbing and pretty weird actually. Cordelia began nervously playing with the rings on her fingers. She looked everywhere, but your eyes. Could things get even more embarrassing than that? Well… yes. They could and they did.

“Where did that bold Supreme ready to help me with getting laid down go, hmm?” you teased standing up and moving towards one of the windows.

Cordelia’s eyes widened. She had absolutely no idea what you were talking about.

“I… I guess I was just curious” Cordelia gulped watching as you lit a cigarette 

“Don’t you know that curiosity can get you in trouble, Miss Supreme?” you asked pulling at your cigarette

Cordelia slowly stood up and followed you to the window. She stopped right next to you - leaning against a windowsill.

“I couldn’t help myself. You just seem to be quite interesting person”

“As a matter of fact, Miss Supreme” you starter pulling at the cigarette again “I’m exactly the kind of girl you would not be interested in” you finished letting out a puff of smoke

“I beg to differ”

You raised your eyebrow as she moved closer. Your eyes locked with hers, as Cordelia leaned in -  dangerously close to your face. Your gaze shifted to her hand, when she took the cigarette from you, her delicate fingers gently brushing against yours. She brought it to her lips, your eyes followed the movement of her hand. Cordelia put the cigarette in her mouth, glaring at you - still focused , intently observing her actions. She was waiting for your reaction, but your face remained unreadable. You seemed so stoic… until she pulled at the cigarette. Her eyes filled with tears as the smoke tickled, irritated her throat. She tried to hold it back, she couldn’t. Cordelia choked. She began coughing abruptly. A few tears escaped her eyes and flew down her cheeks - breaking the tension. That didn’t go as planned.

You chuckled watching her the tears with her palm. It was hilarious, but also kind of adorable. The way she tried to get your attention and impress you so badly. And why? What for? You were nothing special. There was nothing you could possibly offer her. She probably already had everything anyway.

Cordelia took a few deep breaths - trying to ease the weird feeling, to get rid of that kinda bitter, awful taste in her mouth. So embarrassing. She looked down, refusing to meet your eyes.

You pretended you didn’t hear her thoughts and smiled sympathetically. You felt bad, maybe even a bit guilty - knowing it was her attempt of getting your attention. You slowly leaned in, the same way she did before. Cordelia looked at you again. She glared at you expectantly.

“Smoking is not your thing, Miss Supreme” you said taking the cigarette from her

Cordelia crossed her arms across herself once again watching you exhale a puff of smoke, before you stubbed the cigarette on the ashtray.

You moved ready to walk away and get back to your routine, though something made you stop. You couldn’t stand seeing her so perplexed, biting on her lip nervously. She got so shy around you that you couldn’t help and wanted nothing more, but to take care of her, embrace and hide from the whole world as if she was the most precious thing you had ever seen.

“If anything...” you spoke up drawing her attention back to yourself one more time “it was adorable. Yes, maybe a bit embarrassing, but still cute as fuck” you winked at her, seeing a small smile forming on her face.

You mirrored her smile and for a moment, just a few seconds her eyes lit up.

“Come on, you still owe me a dance, Miss Supreme”

Tag list: @midnight-lestrange​, @natasha-danvers​, @stopkillinglilyrabe​, @welshdragonrawr​, @saucy-sapphic​, @yang12e​

#cordelia goode #cordelia goode x reader #AHS #ahs imagine #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #american horror story #sarah paulson imagine #sarah paulson #ahs fanfiction #everyone finds true love or at least a dancing partner #part 2

[lokidiabolus]

Last Resort - Chapter 2

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Thomas x Newt

Warnings: ex boyfriends, AU

Summary: Three years after breaking up with Thomas, Newt finally thought the past of hating each other was behind them, until Thomas asked him for a favour - pretend they got back together for a week while staying at his parents’ home. Because it was an absolutely dumb idea, Newt was inclined to refuse, but then found himself in the house he used to visit when he was in love and happy and the bitter reality of only pretending for people he always liked made him miserable. But it was nothing against dealing with Thomas himself for a week straight and trying not to fall back in love that hurt them both.

Or: Prompt ch. 192 with added spice. Or something. I just needed to write for a while :’)

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: I think I never did so much rewriting like I did with this chapter. I'm still not satisfied with it, but I swear my brain just can't come up with anything else. Scrapped like 6 pages asdfjslfjslfjsdl. Now it's short :c

Anyway, guess I just wanted a bit of Thomas' insight for it. He's complicated lol. Or maybe not really, just trying to keep up. Don't we all though lol.

Oh and @izzymultifan (actually remembered)

Unbetad!

EDIT: (17. 5. 2021) I edited the ending with a lil continuation of the scene I previously deleted, because I thought it was unnecessary, but then I returned to it after few days and thought it should stay. It's not very long but I guess it's kinda important.

***

Thomas woke up disoriented, thirsty and definitely not rested enough, like when his alarm goes off on a workday and he only slept for four hours. But here was no alarm, no work, just him waking up with a flinch and realizing he wasn’t in his flat, and he wasn’t alone either.

The blond hair right in his face immediately pushed him into realization he was holding onto Newt like he was his lifeline, one hand under the shirt on his belly, other on his chest clutching the fabric, and an unmistakable morning hello tenting his pants, digging right into Newt’s backside. In retrospect there wasn’t much worse Thomas could have done to him, except maybe having a hand down his pants (which admittedly he used to do sometimes when they were together, but then again, that situation definitely didn’t scream murder like it would now).

In a sleepy confusion that hazed his just-woken-up-brain he searched the foggy memory on how this situation came to be, no matter how familiar it felt to him. Newt made himself pretty clear about sleeping together, so the sudden closeness – well, more like an absolute merge, unless he’d slip in – no, no dirty thoughts, bad Thomas, bad – didn’t make much sense.

The night came back to him embarrassingly slow – he got drunk because for some reason his dad decided to decimate his super precious whiskey, even though normally he hoarded it like a dragon his gold. He could only think of Newt being the incentive, drinking the whiskey so fast in his dad’s eyes, while Thomas downed it all to save him from barfing (Newt’s alcohol tolerance never existed in the first place, he disliked about any kind of it, and as far as Thomas remembered he got drunk only once with vodka mixed with orange juice on Aris’ wedding, because he could barely taste the vodka in it until it was too late). Then the world started spinning, Newt dragged him to his room somehow… which sounded farfetched, so maybe dad helped, he drew blank around that area honestly, probably because he stood up and all the alcohol began circulating faster. Then they talked… probably, and then Thomas fell asleep, since that’s all he could recall.

And now his hard-on was trying to get some, and he held Newt against himself with sheer ferocity of an obsessive hugger off his meds and the realization dawned on him like tons of bricks. Was he going to wake him up if he let go? Newt always woke up at the slightest noise before, there was no way of going to pee at night without getting back to the blond blinking owlishly at him, asking what happened. Was this Newt he barely knew anymore still the same? Still twitchy and light sleeper and grumpy and slow to rise when getting up?

Thomas didn’t have much choice anyway, did he. He just had to let go either way, and preferably remove his hips from Newt’s back and act like it was no biggie to be hard when in bed with his ex. He slowly untangled his hand from the front of Newt’s shirt and retreated from under the shirt as well with the other hand and managed to roll onto his back without Newt visibly stirring, which was a success. Unless he pretended to be asleep to avoid talking to Thomas about pushing into him like a horny teenager, which also worked.

Not like he hadn’t been doing that in the last month of their relationship anyway, just... ignoring the problem until it went away (a problem named Thomas) and well, ultimately it succeeded. It would work now too, and Thomas refused to poke the wasp nest this early in the morning – judging from the clock at 8:04 – and just went with the flow.

Need coffee, he thought unhappily when the headache set in. And water. Maybe some alone time in a bathroom first.

Newt didn’t stir until Thomas slinked out of the bedroom, which was a complete lie.

***

“Dad, just drop it,” Thomas repeated for fourth time when his dad couldn’t stop haggling him about his childlike alcohol tolerance the moment he appeared in the kitchen, asking for black coffee. He couldn’t tell him he drank Newt’s portions and without that argument nothing would sound plausible anyway, so he just dodged it with an increasing headache. Newt got up about half an hour later and didn’t speak a word to him – Thomas would even say he avoided his eyes several times, which meant he was absolutely awake in the morning to witness all of Thomas’ struggle to even exist around him peacefully. Which he couldn’t for years, really, so this only proved it.

It was fine. Thomas learned how to deal with it, despite taking him two years to come in terms of being hated by a person he loved since he was 17. Well, everything around the breakup took a lot from him, but he dealt with all eventually, right? He could finally look Newt in the eye without having all the incoherent anger and frustration pile up and he could talk to him fine as well unless they breached one of the thousand forbidden topics. Like them. Like family. Like love. Like sleeping. Like breathing, existing and fucking just trying to live.

Anyway. All dealt with, of course. No hard feelings.

(Lots of them.)

“You dealt with the drunkard just fine, right Newt?” his dad chattered towards the blond, patting him on his back and Newt forced a smile and a nod. Thomas saw this particular expression too often to not recognize it and huffed while sitting down at the counter with his own coffee.

He was used to being a bad guy anyway, no matter how much of the blame he genuinely deserved. They both knew he didn’t get drunk because he wanted to get wasted enough to drop unconscious on a spot and Newt would be a hypocrite to badmouth him when he was pouring all his whiskey to Thomas’ glass with thankful expression yesterday. But then again, not even he could tell Thomas’ dad about it, so they just had to have this unspoken oh yes, Thomas is a real piece of work as always.

Which sort of sucked. But Thomas couldn’t care less what his dad thought about his alcohol tolerance, it wasn’t like he threw up everywhere or broke mum’s precious bowls set (again). Not that he expected Newt to defend him anyhow, but he could at least say nooo, he was fine, he just fell asleep or something. Not that it surprised him he didn’t, but…

“He used to drink majority of guys from my work under the table and now look at him,” his dad delivered his fifth Thomas can’t drink for shit jab. He sure loved to milk that. “At least he has you to look after him, huh.”

Thomas stared at Newt’s back with mild annoyance the more the blond refused to elaborate on anything, just smiling at his dad while making himself a cup of coffee, and then Thomas’s eyes suddenly fell on the nape of Newt’s neck with a vicious, red mark near the hairline, and his whole body seized up like he got paralyzed.

A hickey? Since when? From who? What? Wait, was Newt already dating somebody else?

Saying already like three years were short amount of time… Thomas mentally scolded himself and his body raised up on its own volition, like being pulled in by some invisible force towards the blond. He had no clue if it were a twisted need for revenge or vindication or just him being unable to come in terms of not being told or warned, or maybe all of it together, he just couldn’t stop and plastered himself all over Newt’s back, trapping him between his body and the counter, circling his thin waist like a vine (he got thinner for sure).

“Of course I have you, don’t I,” he purred into Newt’s ear, loud enough for his dad to hear perfectly, and felt how Newt’s whole body froze, his hand mid-stir of the coffee. Thomas could see how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped. “Looking after me when I get hammered into unconsciousness.”

“Yeah.” Newt’s voice sounded small, and Thomas wanted to bite down at that red, angry place on his nape like an animal. His dad probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but his ego sure would. He let his hands slide lower, to Newt’s hips, grabbing a handful, and the habitual movement made him restless. He did it zillion times during the time they were together. He did less, he did more, naked, clothed, lying, standing up, in whatever situation, touching Newt was his privilege.

And some fucking horny prick just took it?

Just marked his boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, Thomas, ex-boyfriend for three years, pull yourself together, you’re not 17 anymore – like a property and he didn’t even fucking notice?

Newt’s breath hitched and the spoon he was holding dropped into the coffee, splashing the black liquid around it, dribbling down the drawers under, making the blond curse under his breath.

“Sorry,” he immediately said towards Thomas’ dad who was handing him a cloth to wipe it with, and started squirming. “Thomas, leggo. Can’t reach.”

“Don’t wanna,” Thomas refused, squeezing Newt even tighter. “I’m hangover and miserable and you’re supposed to take care of me.”

Thomas’ dad snorted but took the hint and retreated while calling at his wife the boys are being rowdy again, Anna! And the kitchen fell back into silence, except of their breathing, with Thomas plastered against Newt’s back like he wanted to topple him over (he sort of did).

“Do you enjoy being a bloody prick?” Newt finally broke the spell, pawing at Thomas’ hands to get them off, his voice an angry whisper. “What’s your deal, for fuck’s sake!”

“Hangover,” Thomas huffed, not letting go and to be completely honest, Newt wasn’t really trying as much, just slapping his hands half-heartedly. “Could’ve at least said I didn’t give you any trouble, I covered for you the whole night.”

“You gave me loads of it!” Newt started wiggling, and Thomas had to fight the urge to just bite down, mark any piece of skin available, to make the restlessness go away. “You were heavy as fuck, I had to carry you all the way to your room!”

“Yeah, and?” Thomas grabbed him lower, and Newt pinched his hand in revenge, which finally made him let go with sharp breath.

“Fuck you,” the blond barked at him with fiery eyes. “I don’t know what you are trying to prove but groping me is not on the bloody table, get it?!”

“Mhm,” Thomas rubbed the place Newt pinched him at. “Sure. No fun allowed, got it.”

“Fuck off!”

Thomas hated how Newt turned away and the hickey was so visible it made his insides churn. He used to talk about his problems a lot these past few years, so he could finally let go of whatever was holding him in place, unable to forget, and he thought he reached that point, that he was free.

Looking at Newt marked by another man… no. He was not. Still stuck, still the same.

Still angry and miserable.

Still… there.

***

The fact Newt refused to talk to him completely was an understatement. Thomas blamed his unsteady approach on the alcohol, because what else he could blame it on – his own feelings? He sodealt with those already, there was nothing that would make him see red.

Except of a hickey on his ex-boyfriend’s neck, that would do it. Apparently.

But still – it was the hangover that made him stupid, right. If he’d be completely sober and not aching anywhere and his mind clear, he would just… shrug at it. It was Newt’s business who he slept with or not, or who he let bite his nape like a dog (some young fucking idiot who thought hickeys are still sexy? Stupid shit).

Not Thomas’. Not anymore.

The more he tried to push it away from his mind, the more his mind pushed back, just pointing it out loudly every time he glanced towards the blond sitting on the couch in the living room, bundled in a fluffy blanket, fiddling with his phone.

He was fiddling with his phone a lot actually. Texting somebody?

The guy who left the mark?

Thomas felt the irrational anger seep into his consciousness again and he forced it back down with a frown. He knew asking Newt to help him to get his parents off his back wasn’t exactly a great idea (asking ex to be your bf again for a show just screamed trouble), but at the same time asking anybody else just felt… wrong.

Thomas had to admit he’d be able to go along with this only with Minho, probably. Because Minho was a born actor, he’d be able to breeze though this with ease and Thomas’ parents would like him for sure, because, well, everybody liked Minho, honestly.

Asking Teresa or Brenda was just… desperate. Because other than them it would be Newt and getting back together with Newt… well. Thomas could tell from the moment he saw him getting into his car in front of Newt’s workplace it was going to be tough for both of them.

Not much of a surprise so far climbing Mt. Everest would be easier than keeping his chaotic feelings under control.

“You need some fresh air,” his vision of Newt got obstructed by his mum in a frilly apron she wore unironically and he looked up to her with half-lidded eyes.

“I think I need chicken soup, actually,” he offered in response, because dragging himself through the snow outside now sounded like a death penalty.

“Air first,” she insisted, adamant, and turned towards Newt like an executioner. “Right, Newt? A walk would do him good.”

Newt looked at Thomas and Thomas just knew. He was doomed. Newt was going to betray him like Scar did with Mufasa and he’d enjoy it, he could see the glint in his eyes, just shining there, spelling revenge in big, neon letters.

Please, he mouthed at the blond in desperation and Newt tilted his head to the side and then his mouth curled up.

“Sure, that’s a great idea, Anna,” he signed the death certificate without an ounce of shame and relished in it.

Fuck you, Thomas mouthed again, and Newt sent him a condescending smile. Fuck him especially.

***

“You’re unusually quiet,” his mum casually pointed out like she didn’t just drag him out to cold ass weather while holding a knife (butter one, but that’s what made it scarier), despite his very vocal (or vocal sort of, too loud and his brain wanted out of his skull) protests.

“Hungover,” he reminded her bitterly. The snow under their feet crunched sharply and the noise was tearing his brain to pieces, like walking on a broken glass and he had no idea how much longer he’d be able to act like it wasn’t killing him.

“Well, it was nice of you to cover for him,” Anna shrugged like she didn’t just blew their cover with a killer one liner and Thomas probably shouldn’t have been as surprised. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink.”

“That’s cuz he can’t drink for shit,” he mumbled with a frown. “Did dad notice?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He was too busy boasting about the partnership. It’s been some time since I’ve seen him so happy, you know how he hoards the whiskey otherwise.”

“Yeah, cheapskate,” Thomas snorted, and the noise sliced his brain painfully, like an instant karma.

“Think he was happy about Newt being back too,” she hit the nail on the head a bit too close to home and Thomas hated how his stomach lurched at it. “Well, you know him.”

“Sure is happy for not getting any grandkids,” he just grumbled and Anna patted him on his back.

“We still have Hannah,” she reminded him sweetly. “Maybe one day she’ll feel like having kids and force you to babysit for her two times a week.”

“Me? You’re going to be the grandparents, it’s your obligation to babysit!” The idea of taking care of Hannah’s kids made him scared for life, and they didn’t even exist yet.

“Pretty sure Newt wouldn’t mind,” she chirped happily, and Thomas loathed how right she probably was. Newt never really showed any kind of real interest in having kids or anything, but he never minded babysit for his own sister, and generally all the kids liked him.

Not that thinking about that had any merit anyway, since they split up with a point of no return. Maybe Newt already planned kids with the new person who left the distasteful hickey on his nape, or the person who he kept texting, and the more Thomas thought about it, the more his chest burned.

“Cherish him a bit more, would you,” she poked his arm. ��Don’t think I didn’t notice you have some beef between you. Had an argument before coming here?”

Why the fuck is she so perceptive?

“A bit,” he answered quietly. “No biggie.”

“Set things right,” she plainly ordered him like he was ten again and had do her bidding. “I don’t want another sad Christmas.”

There isn’t going to be any Christmas for us, he wanted to tell her, but kept his mouth shut. At this rate, there wasn’t going to be anything for them, at all.

I really need some sleep.

***

Not very often did the morning come so peacefully, like a gentle spring washing over tired soul, leaving it invigorated. Thomas basked in the pleasantness of it, a quiet, warm and relaxed moment where he slowly woke up from a dream into reality still welcoming and soft like he never left the fantasy realm.

He took a deep breath, stretching, slowly coming to realize of contours of another body pressed into him, and under his hands and around his legs and under his chin. The soft blond hair came to view when he opened his eyes, with Newt draped around him needily, and his heart melted.

The first night in their flat. Their home. A place that only belonged to them, these walls and floors, and small kitchen and big windows, for them together. It came true, finally, inevitably, for Thomas to have Newt all for himself, to share his mornings, his evenings, his life with him. Nothing else could make him happier.

“You already up?” came a sleepy rumble from Newt’s chest, the hands holding Thomas’ waist slowly moved up, to his back, pushing them even closer together.

“Just woke up,” Thomas kissed the top of the blond strands, his own hands traveling over Newt’s back, right onto his butt, kneading it.

“Mmmm.” Approving sound doubled his endeavour and then Newt was slowly grinding to him, lazily, his lips stretched in a smile, reaching to pamper Thomas’ neck with small kisses. “This sure is nice, huh.”

“Love it,” Thomas agreed with the sentiment while grabbing Newt’s thigh and hiking it up over his hip. The blond softly moaned at the contact and Thomas pushed more into it, completely awake and needy and allowed. There was nobody that could hear them, scold them or gasp in shock like a puritan at them making out – just them, two lovers in their home, free to make love any time they wanted.

And Thomas wanted too much.

***

He never stopped wanting.

He woke to his room bathing in shadows, with the blanket twisted between his legs, his headache still present, even though in weaker state than in the morning, and his body wasn’t any less sluggish. The walk with his mum didn’t help him much, just added to his misery with freezing cold and nagging reality he couldn’t play this game any longer, which made him feel empty and unhappy.

He didn’t feel this unhappy in a while, it usually only came back when he heard of Newt about a year after the breakup. Every time his ex came back to his life, even when somebody only mentioned him in a passing conversation, Thomas’ chest set off that painful pang in it, like a trigger just waiting to be pressed, and he fell back into hollow kind of depression.

He got rid of it, somehow. He built walls around himself, he locked all of his twisted personality traits and pushiness and hateful behaviour away, he spent years searching for more he could fix, for all that made Newt unhappy with him, what made him leave Thomas after seven years without really talking about it.

He thought he managed to become a better person. He believed he could change the way he acted. He hoped if he ever talked to Newt again, at any point of their lives, he would be at least able to show him he wasn’t that ungrateful, lousy boyfriend anymore, that they could at least be friends. Somehow. Just talk normally. Just… exist in the same room without… Newt making that anguished face, like it hurt him still.

Thomas tried. But failed. Maybe it was just recurring theme of his life – to touch something wonderful, to taste true happiness, just to fuck it all up and lose it.

Maybe he was just obsessive. Suffocating.

Maybe making mistakes were rooted too deep in him to get rid of.

Maybe… it was simply impossible.

***

Newt was playing games with Hannah in the living room when Thomas came back down. Hannah made fun of him for sleeping all day like an old guy and his mum said something about hoping he didn’t catch a cold and gave him a bowl of chicken soup.

The strange, unattached feeling stayed with him since he woke up, and only doubled when he saw Newt’s neck marked by some fucker on display. His stomach churned at the implication there was this unknown guy waiting for Newt to come back home, who kept impatiently sending him texts that made Newt frown and smile in turns, like he just slowly sunk back into the problem they never resolved. Thomas felt disgusted with himself, and angry, and, when it came to it, immensely tired.

“Oh, you have the whole week free?” his mum asked suddenly, breaking Thomas’ bubble of trying to eat the soup like a mental case of lobotomy, and he realized there had been a conversation going in meantime and he didn’t catch any of it. Newt wasn’t playing the game anymore, though Hannah still furiously pressed buttons on her controller, and instead of it sat on the couch, turned towards Thomas’ mum at the table.

“Yeah, thought getting out of the city might do me good,” he answered her with a soft smile and the idea of another week like this sent Thomas into desperate mode. Even though it was him who forced Newt to take whole week off, because… he only had bad ideas, obviously.

“But there’s bit of a rush now, right?” he entered the conversation impulsively and Newt glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “At work. Christmas and all that being close.”

“Yeah, it’s… a bit hectic,” the blond admitted, making Thomas’ mum go aww. “There’s lots of people taking vacations they didn’t spend yet, so we usually work crunch time.”

“Yeah, kind of same,” Thomas added. It wasn’t really a lie. But not the truth either. “And I know I said a week, but I’ve got some texts from work already, thought of going back tomorrow instead.”

Newt stared at him with an evident confusion, but Thomas knew at this rate they were going to crash and burn again if they stayed, and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t even trust himself to keep it civil when his blood boiled like in a bull taunted with red flag.

Except the red flag was an unknown nobody on the other side of the line of Newt’s phone.

And bed.

“Uh,” came from the blond. “No, wait. What? You…”

“We can visit again during Christmas,” Thomas offered a big fat lie, he almost bit his tongue at it. Christmas were a taboo, he knew mentioning it were already risky, but it gave him an out with his mum, so that worked at least. “When it’s calmer.”

“When is what calmer?” Newt still stared, Thomas said almost disbelieving, and he just prayed for him to play along and not act like he knew nothing about it.

“Work,” he answered stiffly. Too stiffly, he realized, since Newt’s eyes narrowed.

“Uh oh,” he heard Hannah interject, which meant he already failed in the mission to make this believable. Fuck.

“I need a smoke,” the blond announced instead of reacting and stood up sharply. Then shot Thomas a badly masked glare. “Keep me company?”

He wanted to say no but couldn’t when his whole family watched them like during tennis match. So he just nodded and followed Newt outside of the house while feeling like slapping himself.

***

“Care to explain or am I supposed to guess.”

The cigarette was lit, its fiery tip shone bright in the darkness of the porch once the automatic light shut itself because they weren’t moving like they rooted in the wooden floor. Newt was wearing his coat and Thomas only stood there in the long-sleeved shirt, which in retrospect was probably a mistake.

“I did explain,” Thomas said. “Just thought about work-,”

“No, you didn’t,” Newt stopped him immediately while crossing one of his arms on his chest while other held the cigarette like a weapon. “You said a week, so I took a week off. I’m not bloody leaving now. It’s my vacation.”

“I also said three days would probably be enough,” Thomas asserted. “And they are. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Why?” the blond demanded. “It’s not like I suffer here. I like this place. What’s your problem?”

That kind of question had no easy answer and Thomas held Newt’s eyes only for few seconds, before looking away.

“Am I the problem?” came another question, even sharper. “You just can’t stand me anymore, so you want to leave?”

“You know that’s bullshit,” Thomas scoffed. “Since when did I ever-,”

“No, I don’t know!” Newt interrupted him with raised voice and Thomas flinched. “I don’t bloody know anything about you anymore! You brought me here and expected what? War? Did you want us to fail?”

“Why would I want us to fail?” Thomas’ eyes widened in a shock. “What kind of fucked up logic would that be?!”

“I don’t know!” Newt barked. The cigarette he was holding was slowly fading away, the ash falling everywhere how he moved his hand. “But something’s up since this morning, so obviously you’re lying about work and I want to know why!”

Well, finding out his ex-boyfriend had a lover, or a sex friend or whatever the other person was definitely served as a wake-up call. Thomas couldn’t overlook it – he thought he’d be fine with anything, it had been years, but one fucking hickey and some fleeting texts and he just had the rising urge to tear the walls he built down and get angry and make Newt inevitably miserable, which he despised.

He fucking loathed it. And himself. And everything around him.

“Why did you even agree to come here?” he couldn’t help but demand. “Why did you even bother playing this stupid game when you have somebody home? You trying to make him jealous or it’s just your thing?”

Accusing – stupid Thomas, fucking idiot, just talk normally, what’s wrong with you – as always.

“What?” Newt’s eyes shot up, wide in honest surprise. His cheeks were red from the cold, or maybe embarrassment, Thomas didn’t know. “What are you talking about?”

“About that hickey on your neck?” Thomas pointed towards the incriminated spot and Newt’s whole body went rigid.

“A hickey…?” Newt’s free hand was touching the place now, his voice shocked. “You… ugh.”

“Look, it’s not my business, clearly,” Thomas rubbed his eyes tiredly, desperately trying to make an excuse for his own consciousness why he couldn’t look at Newt. “But obviously it’s causing you trouble with him, so. As I said. Three days are fine, we can leave now. Go back home. Forget about this.”

And forget about me trying to corner you, and me getting hard in the bed with you this morning, and me sounding jealous and lame, and me… just for being me.

“Are you fucking with me?” Newt’s voice sounded disbelieving. “Are you bloody serious right now? A hickey from some random guy appeared over night here? That’s what you’re saying?”

Overnight…?

“Overnight?” he asked a little dumbly, which forced him to look Newt in the eyes, where he saw hell unleashed. It made his throat squeeze almost hard enough to suffocate him.

“You think I just popped back home for a quickie, then back to your bed in the morning like a bloody Cinderella?” the blond seethed, the cigarette in his hand morphing into a protentional weapon of choice. “Where did that even came for, for fuck’s sake? You’d been seeing me for two days, never noticed anything, and then suddenly your Esmeralda syndrome got cured or what?”

“But-,”

“You bloody drunk fucker,” Newt took a step towards him and Thomas found himself hitting the entrance door with his back, when he automatically tried to back out. “Should have known your bird brain won’t remember anything.”

The realization hit Thomas like tons of bricks right in his face, able to cause heavy concussion if it were real.

“I did this?!”

“No, the bloody sucker behind you, who the fuck do you think?!” Newt’s voice was harsh, but Thomas could only hear the bare fact he made a hickey of size of Texas on his ex-boyfriend’s nape while spending the next day being jealous… of himself.

“What the fuck,” he breathed out with an ugly relief flooding his veins, which was all sorts of wrong. Being relieved over attacking his ex at night definitely did not count as a good point in anybody’s book. “What the fuck.”

“Calmer now?” Newt sighed in exasperation and Thomas couldn’t say he was. It just opened door to another set of bad he had to deal with.

“I attacked you when drunk?” he asked quietly, and Newt blinked in surprise.

“Attacked?” he repeated and then barked out a laugh. “No, you really didn’t. You were drunk out of your mind, for fuck’s sake.”

“I see.”

“Didn’t think it left anything,” the blond sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if in memory, which was kind of hot – no Thomas, it was not hot, but embarrassing, shut up -. “I mean you just munched on me a little, then fell back asleep. No harm done.”

“You made a fuss about us sleeping in one bed but it’s no biggie when I leave a hickey?” Thomas couldn’t help but laugh a little and Newt’s face showed signs of hesitation.

“Look…” he tried after a moment, the cigarette in his hand nearly gone. “I… don’t know, you were just sleeping while holding me, it doesn’t mean anything-,”

“And that’s fine with you?” It was Thomas’ turn to interrupt him, and Newt looked a little lost for a moment.

“I suppose that’s fine with me, yeah,” he admitted slowly.

Thomas looked at his shoes, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t deny the knot forming in his belly over the day already started easing off, for purely selfish reasons he had, but at the same time his head became even a bigger mess than before.

“So what does it mean?” he asked after a while. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, I thought… you’d rather leave than stay with me longer, after today, but…”

“I want to stay,” Newt answered immediately. “Unless you really don’t want me here. Then no, of course. I had the same problem the first day, feeling all kinds of weird and jumpy. I guess I just sort of dealt with it. Stepped out of my comfort zone and all that.”

“Sorry you had to.”

It wasn’t like Thomas wanted Newt to change anyhow by doing this favour for him. But he’d also be a hypocrite if he didn’t admit he wished Newt to feel good here. With him. Selfishly, hopelessly. Like before, like they were okay. Like they still… liked each other. At least a little.

He knew that kind of hope was self-destructive and harmful, but he didn’t stop loving this man three years ago, after going through an immensely rough patch, so he wouldn’t stop loving him now for no reason either.

“No need to be sorry,” Newt interrupted his thoughts with much softer tone than Thomas expected. “I mean even despite it’s you, you didn’t really do anything bad yet.”

“Wow,” Thomas snorted. “Way to ruin the mood, boyfriend.”

“I try,” Newt grinned, and it seemed like the tense mood dissipated and they both relaxed enough to breathe easier. Thomas possibly wouldn’t even notice he had been so strung up until now, if the huge boulder of irrational fear of fucking up didn’t fall off his shoulders with a bang.

“And just for the record,” Newt added while finally inhaling the last puff from the already burned-out cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “I noticed you digging into me in the morning.”

“Of course you did…” Thomas banged the back of his head against door in utter shame. “Because universe hates me, and you had to fucking wake up.”

“Yeah, well,” Newt let out a small shrug. “I got hard at night, if it makes you feel any better. Let’s call it even.”

“What.”

“Had a real nice dream,” the blond casually announced like he was ordering pie with no filling and Thomas was a stupefied cashier at Costa Cafe. “Woke up with you being handsy with me. Tried to scramble away, cue for you to make the hickey and fall back asleep.”

“Uh.”

“1:1, right?” The sly smile Newt’s mouth produced did things to Thomas’ underbelly and before he even caught himself, he automatically reached out and grabbed Newt’s side.

Fuck.

“Pretty lousy score,” he just said – bad Thomas, stop making a pass at your ex -, “That’s no match whatsoever.”

Newt glanced at his hand resting on his waist and then back to Thomas with a thoughtful hum.

“I’m not that good at sports,” he just said, looking back into Thomas’ eyes. “But you might be onto something.”

Thomas took a deep breath and risked the second hand grabbing other side of Newt’s waist, pulling him closer. The layers of clothing made him dissatisfied, no matter how cold it was and how his skin already felt like ice, he just wanted to get under the coat and the sweater and the shirt and make Newt react somehow. The blond just silently watched him, let him do whatever he wanted, and somehow it felt like a test and Thomas was scared of failing it.

“That’s it?” Newt broke the tense silence around them when Thomas just stood there, holding him.

“Thinking,” the brunet mumbled with a frown.

“About?”

“How to touch you without it being classified as groping,” he moved his hands a little lower as an experiment, getting no reaction. “Since it’s off the table.”

“Pfff.”

He hesitated, then gingerly let go of one side and reached for the zipper lodged under Newt’s chin, keeping the coat closed like a fortress. His hand barely cooperated with how frozen it was, but Newt still didn’t stop him and that encouraged him unfairly.

“Newt.”

“Yeah?” the blond’s voice was quiet and close to his face.

“What’s with all the texting?” He kept holding the zippier between his fingers like he couldn’t decide, and Newt made a soft huh? noise in the back of his throat.

“You were on your phone the whole day,” Thomas lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Is there somebody…?”

A sigh. Thomas let go of the zipper.

“That’s Alby,” came a reply and if Thomas wasn’t already propped against the door, he’d take a step back. There was nowhere to run now, so he just let go of the blond completely, nodding.

“He’s my partner,” another string of words Thomas comprehended but wished he didn’t. “A bit demanding one.”

“Sounds like it,” he just commented, staring at his feet until Newt’s shoes came into view as well when he stepped closer.

Seriously testing me. That’s-

“A bit cruel,” he breathed out with a puff of white smoke and Newt pushed further and pressed his mouth against Thomas’. His cold lips lingered for a moment before parting, their breaths mingling, and Thomas’ heart fought really hard to get out of his chest and run away. The proximity was non-existent, Newt stood so close their chests were touching, and his eyes were so dark, and pupils blown wide Thomas got easily lost in them.

He always did. Nothing had changed.

“You look cold,” Newt whispered to his lips, hovering so close their mouths gently touched when they took a breath.

“Freezing,” Thomas answered in daze, holding back only by a miracle. He wanted to reach out and pull the blond man flush against him, to grind into him, to kiss him so deep his toes would curl, and he’d buck up, he just wanted so much it made him suffer.

“Alby’s my colleague,” Newt dropped quietly. “Funnily… you weren’t wrong about work being in a rush now. He’s struggling a little. Wanted to know my opinion.”

A colleague. And nothing else?

“Nothing else,” Newt answered like he could read his mind and then sagged against Thomas’ body like the energy just left him, resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder.

“I thought I can handle being this close to you,” he heard him mumbling into his shirt. “But the more I am, the less I can fight it.”

“I thought I can handle you dating somebody else,” Thomas added to it while letting his head fall back against the door with a dull thud. “But obviously not. It’s scary. I don’t want to fuck it up again.”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed with him. “Me neither.”

He wasn’t sure if this had been some sort of consensus they reached, or just a fling that happened because they were both lonely, but Thomas didn’t want to let go – even though he should have, logically, to protect them both. The pain they caused to each other three years ago was still there and festering under their skins, but the more Newt was pressed into him, breathing softly, the more Thomas noticed his reason slowly creeped away, like a thief in the night disappearing with loot.

But he wanted. For fuck’s sake how he wanted to just hold him close and promise him love and eternal happiness, and the scary part was he couldn’t promise shit. His love was real, but not unconditional, happiness was fleeting and simply relying on both of them and the rest of the world deciding whatever to fuck them up or not.

But…

“I give up,” he mumbled, weary to the bone. At Newt’s soft hm? he just sighed. “It’s fucking cold.”

The blond barked out a laugh, but nodded and let go of him, immediately taking all the warmth away.

“Then shall we assure them we’re not breaking up again?” he nodded towards the door and without waiting for Thomas’ reply he already reached for the handle. “Or not leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” the brunet conceded. “Hannah’s going to be milking this for the rest of the week…”

“Serves you right,” Newt laughed quietly while opening the door and Thomas kept the answer to himself.

We’re not breaking up again rang in his head like a bell, deafening his reason even further. Newt didn’t protest when he reached for his hand on their way inside, and he wondered if his heart was ready for another trial.

He ignored the uncertainty and took a leap of faith.

#newtmas #tmr #the last resort series #the maze runner #izzymultifan #edit 17. 5. 2021

[kousin-itt]

I Got Your Back - Part 5

The final chapter of this short fanfic! Glad you guys seemed to like it! Enjoy!

Also, bonus points to anyone who could catch the numerous obscure references to shows, Youtubers, etc. that I also enjoy. :)

Part 5

He smoothed out his trousers and adjusted his bowtie. Was that a stain on his pristine white collared shirt? Wait, no, that was a smudge on his glasses. He clutched his book closer to his chest and ventured onto the recreation area. There were children playing on the playground. There were children kicking a ball around. There were children standing in groups and catting happily. He approached group after group of young people his age, but they turned their backs on him.

“Nerd!”

“Who brings a book to the playground?”

“Loser!”

“Why would we want to play with you?”

“Four-eyes!”

“Why can’t you just be normal?”

“You’re so weird. Why are you bothering us?”

“Nobody likes you.”

“You’re not tough enough to be like Professor Time. He was awesome, a hero. You’re nobody.”

Balthazar eventually gave up. He was beginning to miss playing with his toddler sister, even though he used to complain about not having a friend his age or gender.

“I don’t need a friend.” Balthazar finally decided. He went to the empty baseball field, not noticing the playground and children disappearing around him. He picked up a stick and drew a circle in the dirt. “This is my circle. Nobody can be in here except me.” He stepped into the circle and sat in the middle of it. He looked around.

Completely alone.

“I like it like this.” Balthazar told himself. “I like being alone. I don’t need friends.” He opened his book and began to read. He readjusted his glasses, but his eyes were still blurry. Then, he realized tears caused the wetness on his face.

Nobody comforted him.

“It’s not my fault!” Balthazar sobbed, his face red with embarrassment from being so emotional. He rubbed his fists against his eyes, desperately and silently pleading for them to stop producing tears. “I want a friend. I can’t…..I just can’t……”

A shadow appeared in his circle.

Go away, shadow. Balthazar thought for sure this was a trick of his water-filled eyes. But when his eyes finally cleared, he realized the shadow had a more definite shape. The shadow was attached to someone: a child his age, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and a pair of glasses with orange-tinted lenses. He had a mess of wild curls for hair.

“Hi there!” the boy greeted with a wide smile. His enthusiasm seemed to startle Balthazar. “I’m Vinnie! Can I come in there, too?”

“No, stay back!” Balthazar pleaded, jumping to his feet.

Vinnie’s smile turned to a look of confusion. He even tilted his head to one side like a perplexed puppy. “Why?”

“This is my circle!” Balthazar insisted. “Nobody can cross that line!”

“Why not? I don’t understand.” Vinnie took a few steps forward, crossing the border to stand in the circle.

Balthazar stared in shock. “No. How can you cross that line? You can’t be in here. This is my circle.”

Vinnie looked to the circle in the sand. “Why can’t I be in here?”

“I don’t know how to make friends. No one wants to be my friend, anyway.” Balthazar hoped he wouldn’t start crying again. “I’m better off alone.”

“I’ll be your friend.” Vinnie offered.

“You don’t want that.” Balthazar sighed. “You can’t be in my circle. I’ll just stay here by myself.”

Vinnie went to the edge of the circle and kicked the sand, breaking the line. “See? We can erase the line!”

“No!” Balthazar pleaded as Vinnie kept kicking the sand. “Don’t erase my circle!”

Too late. The circle was gone.

Vinnie dusted off his shorts. “Now can we be friends?”

Balthazar slowly shifted his gaze from where his circle used to be, locking his turquoise eyes onto Vinnie’s cocoa brown ones. Then again, he couldn’t really tell Vinnie’s eye color with those tinted lenses. “Why would you want to be friends with me?”

“Because I like you. I think you’re cool.” Vinnie held out his hand. “What do you say?”

Balthazar smiled a little at last. He reached out to take Vinnie’s hand.

The light blinded Cavendish, and he flinched. He let his eyes adjust a bit before he opened them fully. Of course, without his glasses, the world was a blur.

“About time you woke up.”

Someone moved into his line of sight and put his glasses on his face. He blinked owlishly. Cavendish took in his surroundings to fix the disorientation: he lay in a hospital bed, Morgan stood beside him, and he was hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV. He felt mentally alert but physically exhausted. The room was too bright. He felt sick to his stomach and hungry at the same time. Morgan’s hair was messier today. Or maybe her cowlick was just acting up and refusing to let her hair lay neatly. Cavendish wondered why he would bother noticing that. He sat up and hissed in pain. He looked down and under the collar of his hospital gown. Bandages coiled around his torso from hips to armpits. Bruises graced his knuckles, and he touched the skin around his eye where shards of his previous pair of spectacles cut into his face. He accepted the water Morgan handed him.

“When did I get here?” Cavendish asked. His voice was hoarse. He drank more water.

“You’ve been out cold for a day and a half.” Morgan explained. “Surgery took a few hours. I delivered the Triton’s Amulet to the Preservation Department to take to the Jewelry Museum. Cobalt is dead, but Block doesn’t blame you or Vinnie for it since it was in self-defense.”

“Vinnie?” Cavendish suddenly felt a flood of memories rush back to him. “Where is he?”

“Over there.” Morgan jerked a thumb behind her. “He hasn’t left that spot since you got out of surgery.”

Cavendish saw Dakota in cushioned chair near his bed. Dakota had the seat reclined, and he slept soundly. He long since replaced his blood-soaked clothing with jeans, sneakers, and an old band T-shirt. His glasses sat crookedly on his face. Cavendish took note of the bandage on Dakota’s head, the busted lip that scabbed over, the bruises on his knuckles, and the largest bruise that went across his neck.

“Is he all right?” Cavendish asked.

“He’ll be fine. You’re the one who almost died.” Morgan assured. “You wouldn’t be here right now if Vinnie hadn’t remembered my training. I’m sure you’ll find a way to thank him while you two are on medical leave. Rest. I’ll have Vinnie get you something to eat.”

“I don’t want to wake him.” Cavendish said. “He’s probably exhausted.”

“Nah. He’s practically narcoleptic.” Morgan stole the pillow from under Dakota’s head and hit him the face with it. “He’s awake. You can get up now.”

Dakota yawned and set his glasses more comfortably on his face. He noticed Cavendish and immediately jumped to his feet. “Hey, Cav! How are you feeling?”

Cavendish watched Morgan leave the room. “I’m sore, but I’ll be fine. You?”

“Bumps and bruises compared to you!” Dakota’s laugh was forced. “You really had me going, Cavendish.”

Cavendish gingerly touched his ribs, where the bullet entered him. “Thank you, Dakota, for saving my life.”

“It was nothing.” Dakota shrugged.

“It wasn’t nothing. It was something.” Cavendish insisted. “I would not be here if—”

“But you are here! It’s no big deal.” Dakota assured. “Besides, you saved my life first. I was getting strangled to death and you came running in and you just—BAM! Smashed right into Cobalt and knocked him off me and saved my life. So, naturally, I had to save your life, too! So it’s no biggie.”

Now, Cavendish understood why Morgan made a point to mention that Cavendish needed to thank Dakota for the rescue. She didn’t say that to make Cavendish feel guilty. She wanted him to make sure Dakota didn’t sweep this traumatic incident under the rug. Dakota had a smile on his face but pain in his eyes. He had been scared, surely, that things would not work out like they did. Cavendish promised himself he would follow Morgan’s command and find ways during their time off to make it up to Dakota.

Just one thing bothered him.

“Dakota…..what you did…..”

“I did what any partner would have done.”

“But you did more than that. You made me talk about my hometown. I could imagine the trees, and you helped me remember the fond times I shared with my baby sister. You did more than administer first aid. You kept me calm and helped me gain a sense of peace when I thought for sure I would die. That sort of thing is not expected from a partner, a work colleague. It’s something that…..something that….”

“What?”

“It’s something a friend would do.”

Silence overcame the pair. Dakota’s grin became genuine. “Whether you like it or not, Balthazar T. Cavendish, I consider you my friend. I knew you were scared, so I tried to make you smile. I did everything in my power to save your life, and to keep your hopes up; because if you didn’t make it for whatever reason, I didn’t want you to die scared.”

Cavendish rubbed the hem of the blanket draped over his legs. “Why would you want to be friends with me?”

“Because you’re cool. Because you’re an awesome time traveler agent. Because it’s fun to mess with you. Take your pick.” Dakota smirked playfully. “Hey, your sister’s single, right?”

Cavendish frowned. “Yes, and she’s bisexual, but she is still out of your league and would never date you.”

“We won’t know until you take me to see your hometown, like you promised!”

“I recall much of the mission, and I did not say I would take you home for a visit.”

“Come on! You take me to see your family, and I’ll bring you to my grandma’s house for a proper Italian dinner.”

“I will consider it.”

“I’m not hearing a ‘no.’”

“I’m not saying a ‘yes.’”

Dakota laughed, and Cavendish smiled. The tension cleared between them at last, and Cavendish felt they could move forward from this experience.

“But, seriously, don’t think you owe me anything.” Dakota said. “You saved my life, I saved yours. We’re even. Equals. Partners.”

“I think I like ‘friends’ better.” Cavendish realized he said that out loud without meaning to. But Dakota smiled wider, so Cavendish didn’t bother mentally berating himself. Cavendish held out a hand. “Thank you, Dakota. Truly.”

Dakota took Cavendish’s hand in a firm grip. “I got your back, Balthazar, as long as you got mine.”

“Always.” Cavendish promised.

“Good. Hey, you hungry? The food isn’t horrible here, but it’s still hospital food.”

“Tea and a scone, if they have any.”

“Oh, like a proper British gentleman?”

Cavendish rolled his eyes. “Is this what our friendship will be? You poking at every little thing I do?”

“Yeah, and you poke fun at everything I do, and that’s what makes us a great team.” Dakota shrugged. “Okay, tea and a scone, I’m on it!” He marched from the room, a man on a mission.

Cavendish sighed and shook his head. He still smiled. I suppose having Vinnie Dakota as a friend isn’t the worst thing in the world. He rubbed his ribs and laid back in his bed. What more could I ask for in a friend?

#milo murphy's law #balthazar cavendish #vinnie dakota #fanfic

[alchemist-shizun]

Darkness falls in time

Read on Ao3!

Word Count: 2,699

Characters: Deceit, Remus (minorly) and a new boy. (Ophis is Deceit’s pet snake gifted by the other sides)

Pairing(s): Either none or open to interpretation

Warning(s): Major character death, suicide, self-harm implication, one mention of knife, relapse, sort of panic attack, poisoning, blood mentions, pet death.

Summary: Deceit was failing and he wasn’t able to admit it to himself. What the others weren’t aware of was that it wasn’t entirely his fault.

A/N: OH BOY Y'ALL this idea came from this post my dear friend Lance made, and I thought why not make a sequel to “As soon as the curtain is raised”? You don’t really have to read the other one to understand this one, just know that Deceit went too far with trying to be accepted and all the rest of the sides ultimately noticed and helped him. Please be mindful of the heavy topics of this fic and stay safe. Hope you enjoy! Is this my take on the orange side who knows maybe not oops

✾

❝ Close your eyes, scoop the wind, dissolve yourself, ring the bells.

No matter how many times the thunder hits, I will go beyond the darkness while singing. ❞

Relapsing.

Worsening. Deteriorating. Degenerating. Sickening. Weakening.

Failing.

Deceit was failing and he wasn’t able to admit it to himself, let alone the others.

Erosion, a natural, gradual and undetectable disaster now applied to all the improvement he had reached in such a long time.

Useless steps forward against an enormous jump meters back, as if startled by his own progress.

His fingers trailed over his left cheek, barely brushing the uneven path his scales left; normally when he did that, Ophis would appear between his hands in all his grace, reminding him how blindingly charming snake skin looked with his bright yellow pigment.

Were he able to move in that particular moment, he would’ve checked on him.

Instead, his eyes seemed to widen from the perpetual frowning gaze and fixate on the rug.

Just like one of those alluring energies that pulled you towards an unknown destination, Deceit was unconsciously being dragged back into the dark pit of his own tragic fall.

Urgings of all kinds piled up on top of each other, resulting in nothing but chaos as he moved his eyes regretfully to his hands.

Held up at chest level, he could barely make out the outline of those trembling sunny gloves that he would have been able to rip apart into shreds at any given moment.

It wasn’t himself. It was that again. Testing and trying him so that could seek delight in his decadence.

Deceit parted his lips and focused all of his strength in his throat, forcing out any sound that could have made sense.

Which didn’t happen immediately.

Instead, a choking sensation pervaded his body and he forgot how to breathe altogether.

Not even gasping for air, he waited until he was so devoid of oxygen that he sucked in a short breath in a tick.

« Rem, » he knew Remus was on the other end of the couch, busying himself with whichever object he had previously created.

« Dee? » the duke had been eyeing him from that exact spot for a good minute by then, preparing for an eventual need of assistance.

That was the case, indeed.

Remus studied his friend’s complexion: his focus completely on himself, the realization that he was not going to steady himself without help. Deceit kept staring at his hands, the unstoppable visible shaking setting dread in his insides, all while hunched over himself.

He watched him meet his eyes with a careful movement of his head.

« Stop me. »

That was the cue.

Stop me, or I won’t be able alone. Stop me, or I will rip off the skin from my face again. Stop me, or I will scream until my voice is soar and I will hate myself.

Stop me.

Or I will regret it.

Dark Creativity moved, impossibly cautious as he laced his fingers around Deceit’s wrists in a loose lock.

Frantic heartbeats coming from the trembling side were all that separated them.

Remus drew ghost lines on the other’s arm, so to give him some sense of grounding reality; he pulled both to each other’s feet, beginning their journey towards their usual destination during severe episodes of relapse: the Imagination.

Roman and Remus had found their hangout place to be an effective solution, as futile as it could sound.

Despite it being the literal embodiment of unreality, it helped Deceit visualize his damaging memories and destroy them altogether.

Once they left the room, a young petite snake shifted ever so slightly in his aquarium: Ophis was used to being a comfort pet for the troubled side, but was always kept aside when the most urgent relapsing struck.

It was crystal clear already that Deceit hadn’t been doing well.

Ophis was there so he reminded himself of a daily routine, so he would feed him and check on him constantly and set himself back on track with his tasks.

Yet, in the last few weeks the days in which Deceit would forget to give the tiny pet his food would increase, he would carry through the hours without allowing himself a break to pet him for a while, sinking deeper in his melancholy state instead.

If only Roman had also given Ophis the ability to notify them when things were going downhill.

Even if he had been able to, he wouldn’t have probably had enough strength to do it: it wasn’t like none other than Deceit cared about him, but lately events had been so shaky and everyone was rushing to get Deceit to calm down, ending up with innocently failing to remember Ophis would get ill.

And getting ill he did.

The worst case scenario: he represented the deterioration his owner’s mind was being subjugated to.

Which meant ultimately that was only little time left before the inevitable.

Because of that, that destroyer of psyche.

In another side of the Mindscape, Remus was still leading his friend toward a worn-looking door he crossed everyday; he’d recall memories here and there, making sure Deceit was focused on the present reality.

« Go on, then, » once inside the Imagination, they stopped in the middle of nothingness. « Relinquish it all. »

Deceit hadn’t found it difficult the first time he tried to bend the landscape to his will, it seemed his willpower to recall disastrous events outweighed Remus’s own creative flow.

He had his eyes closed out of habit, preparing himself to the blight he’d caused.

« Uh … why is it all dark? » the duke called at his side, looking around himself for any of his usual ferocious creatures.

A reminded that was still there.

« Please no, leave me alone. » Deceit muttered under his breath, looking towards the sky in defeat.

« What are- Do you want me to leave? »

He looked at his friend, who had misunderstood who his interlocutor was.

And nodded.

Facing that alone it was, then.

Remus raised an eyebrow, unconvinced and hesitant as he headed for the door.

« Just shout something lewd when you need me. »

Deceit let himself chuckle. « As per usual, will do. »

Then Remus left.

Then he started running.

Ophis watched as the duke made his entrance with no trophy: doom hovered upon them as the snake remembered that everytime Deceit was left alone in the Imagination, his condition would unfathomably worsen.

« He said I had to leave. » he mused whilst pacing towards the pet. « It’s not like I don’t trust him, but this whole ordeal is kinda suspicious. »

Ophis watched with half-lidded eyes as Dark Creativity brushed part of his skin.

« But what do you know? » he shrugged. « I don’t think there’s anything dangerous in the complete nothingness anyway. »

The snake was barely able to keep staring at the bright green and pitch black of his clothing.

« This little guy seems sleepy, huh? » Remus took a step back from the aquarium.

« I’ll leave you be, too. »

Deceit had started running.

In the deepness of the obscurity left by his mind’s amalgamation of perceiving and memories, now become the reality around him, he slowed only once a moonlit spot sparkled between what appeared to be leafless trees blackened by trauma.

He halted to look around himself multiple times.

« What do you want?! » the desperate called out at the sky, hands curled into fists as his arms were slightly raised. « Just tell me what you want and leave me alone, please! »

Low chuckling came thundering like an ancient deity upon preying a hopeless faithful mortal.

Deceit shook his head, holding it between his hands only to glance back at the dark clouds descending before him.

An anthropomorphic figure he recognized all too well distinguished itself from its smokey frame, two arms crossed over a chest, a finger tapping eagerly.

An open-mouthed mischievous grin embellished the ever-changing shape of that face.

Two eyes opened and a pair of orange, almost golden irises pierced through Deceit, as bright as the incandescent steel of a soon-to-be weapon.

His feet touched the ground, sizzling the grass until it disintegrated in grey ashen particles, becoming one with the trail of obsidian mist left behind every single inch of his outline.

He looked like he was about to fade away at any given moment.

Deceit had already been wearing a worn expression by the time he approached, leaving the air heavy around them, as if a bubble of destruction had just encaged them.

The figure widened its smile.

« Get out. » the side muttered, finding breathing an overbearing task all of a sudden. « Why are you finding this so funny? Just- get over yourself! »

He stepped forward until only a few inches separated them, chuckling again as fingers acuminated like a knife cupped Deceit’s face, cutting his cheeks with evanescent fog.

« Oh, angel, you know I can’t simply do that, »

« Don’t call me that. » the side lowered his eyebrows, squinting.

« There’s no fun in waiting around … Why not just strike at once every now and then? » a fabricated pitiful gaze met disgust. « You know how I am, after all. Who I am. »

« I’m tired of playing your idiotic games, » Deceit leaned in with venom on his tongue as he sputtered out his name. « Decay. »

Decay made a sound in the back of his throat. « And yet you seem to still fall for them. How peculiar. » he let his arms fall to his side, eyes lingering on the other’s face as the black vapour left his cheeks gradually. « Why? » taking a step backward, his voice grew louder. « Can you not resist me, angel? » a lopsided smile framed his last word.

« You know exactly the reason why. You’re doing dirty work you’re not supposed to out of spite. » Deceit referenced in his mind the countless times his conditions had kept decreasing to a point of no return, especially when he had started picking at his scales, months prior.

And Decay knew that.

Because he had been the cause of it all along.

« You know, sometimes I don’t understand. » as he paced around the side, anything he touched dissolved into the void of non-existence. « You’ve been rejected, and I was, too. »

That had happened a long time earlier.

Decay had strived for so long to become a side, but never succeeded as his sole purpose served as a mean of deterioration of Thomas’s mind. His actions had been purely destructive and they had to keep him at bay to protect the entirety of the Mindscape and Thomas’s brain itself.

His was one of those overwhelming powers not even he could control, or rather, he didn’t want to control them; destruction was something that needed to be slow and progressive, while Decay was not one for patience at all.

They made him let off steam by keeping him in the Imagination and having the two Creativities deal with him, letting him damage catastrophically anything they built.

Remus was the best at keeping up with him, but there were times in which both he and Roman came back from their encounter absolutely devastated, pushed over their limit.

It was then that Thomas was the most stressed out, so they all teamed up to make sure they would get some rest and a break.

But Decay would eventually come back, eager to unleash his energy even stronger than before, getting worse by the days.

None of them would have been able to stand a chance against him in the long run.

And now, tired of the monotone fights with Roman and Remus, he decided to strike his blow on Deceit, making only him pay for the grudges he held against all of the sides.

« So I wonder … » he stopped to rest an arm on Deceit’s shoulder, who believed for a moment it would fall right through him.

He felt his clothes almost burning, Decay’s eyes stabbing the side of his face, pleading to be taken into consideration.

« Why are you still in my way? »

Deceit bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the self-destructive urges such closeness with the other caused; were he to move, he would have fallen to his knees.

« Our circumstances differ for one detail: the only reason why I’ve been “rejected”, as you put it, is because of a misunderstanding between me and Thomas, which I will resolve in due time. »

« Yeah, that’s it. » Decay’s fingers dug in his skin. « Is that the line you learnt by heart to appease yourself? » it felt like Deceit’s own venom had started circulating in his thoughts instead of his blood. « Is that what you tell yourself everytime a hint of doubt crosses your mind? » the pitiful tone came back.

Decay chuckled and placed a hand on Deceit’s left cheek. « Oh, angel, » he carefully moved his head so the other looked at him. « It doesn’t work like that against me. »

All Deceit wanted was to push him away, yet he hurt all over, so all he could fathom to do was comply to that tedious monologue and refrain from punching that delicate face that was way too impending on himself.

« You of all people should know that lying isn’t necessary in this situation. So why do you keep trying? »

« Can we skip this futile blabber and get to the point already? »

« How long has it been since you started trying to convince yourself you might make it? »

Deceit shuddered. « Shut up. »

« They accepted Remus before they even considered you. »

« Shut up. » he curled his hands into fists at his sides. « I’m not falling for your trap again. »

« Oh, are you sure about that, angel? » Decay stepped aside to stare him down: he was met with a trembling body, as shaky as a winter’s leaf, eyes about to spill some tears and mind on the verge of a serious breakdown.

Decay was surprised he had endured his presence that long.

Two different coloured irises bored into intensely orange ones, between fear, determination and the will to wreak havoc.

« Yes, » Deceit turned, finally faced him, and focused his strength on lifting one of his arms to grip at Decay’s shoulder. He remembered they were in the Imagination, which permitted him to bend it to his own will, too.

« Want to know why? »

At once, Decay’s misty presence became a perfectly distinguishable body and, as he was too busy being astonished and looking at his solid self, Deceit opened the button on one of his gloves and brought his wrist to his teeth the moment Decay’s glance fell back on the side’s face.

Ophis felt it.

He knew when Deceit dipped his teeth in his veins and let the venom pour and infect his blood, he knew when Deceit squeezed his eyes shut like it was all an ineffable nightmare.

He knew when they were both about to die.

So Ophis let himself rest in his lonely aquarium, while Remus was sharing his doubts with Roman in the other living room, unknowing.

« Because, »

Decay’s disbelief didn’t falter as Deceit reached him, his feet slithering on the disintegrated grass.

The side portrayed a tight lipped sad smile, but with a hint of triumph.

« I’m taking you down with me. »

Deceit pulled Decay’s arm to his mouth, stabbing his skin open with his canines and crushing Decay’s own degeneration with the most catastrophic poison.

Black and purple painted their veins: wide eyes accused the snake-faced side, the same eyes that stared down at their owner’s newly acquainted body fading away into the wind the same way he had dissolved the grass around him before.

And when those same two eyes disappeared the way they came to be, for the last time, Deceit allowed himself to rest.

He fell to the ground and slipped into eternal slumber.

#purp's writings #deceit sanders #remus sanders #ts deceit #ts remus #imma give a name to the new character #ts decay #ts ophis #there the snake too #sanders sides #fanfiction #ts fanfic #angst #read the warnings #tw major character death #tw suicide #tw blood #pet death

[aliceslantern]

Give/Take, a Kingdom Hearts Fanfic, Epilogue

Ienzo has been too busy since the war to be overwhelmed by the past. But with little progress to be made in his work with Kairi, old nightmares start to invade.

Riku is a glorified housesitter. Lonely and faced with no choice but to wait for a way to find his friends, he eagerly accepts when Ienzo asks him to help do repairs around the castle. Before long, the two strike up an unlikely friendship, united by their dark pasts and their attempts to be better people.

But just as they begin to consider something more... Kairi wakes up.

Ienzoku (Ienzo/Riku), post-Melody of Memory, slow burn. Updates Thursdays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo moves on from Radiant Garden.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Still, Ienzo was sad to see Destiny Islands fade from behind them. It was raining here, too, and despite his initial worry about visibility Riku seemed nonplussed. “I’ve flown through worse,” he said. “Try to relax.”

But it was nearly impossible. The thought of going to the basement had his heart beating hard, a slick anxiety chasing away the joy and freedom he’d felt the past month. Ienzo took slow, deep breaths. After so many days in shorts and sandals, his normal clothes felt constricting, and Riku looked odd in his adventure wear.

The flight was both too long and too short. He’d accumulated a small bag of things in his time there--mostly weather-appropriate clothing--but he’d also brought along a few souvenirs that Kairi had helped him pick in an attempt to placate the others of his absence. And some foodstuffs he couldn’t get here. He couldn’t help it.

The day was clear, though cloudy, when they landed, and, Ienzo noted with a strange irony, when he disembarked it felt cold. He scoffed to himself.

Dilan was standing guard at the entrance. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said dryly. “Wasn’t sure we’d ever see you again. With a bloody tan , too.”

Ienzo rolled his eyes. “Good day, Dilan.”

The castle felt massive and brutal, though Ienzo noted Aeleus had made some more progress with the paint. Though he’d cleaned his bedroom before he left, it smelled a bit dusty. He set down his things.

Procrastinating wasn’t going to help.

Riku squeezed his shoulder. “Ienzo?”

“I’m… I’m alright.” He found himself glad he hadn’t eaten much at breakfast. “Right. If you would just… give me a moment to change.”

“Change?”

“Yes.”

He nodded once. “I’ll be right outside.”

Ienzo took a deep breath. Took two. He went over to his wardrobe, took out the black slacks, the white shirt, the sweater vest. The boots, the ascot. With shaking hands he took his lab coat off of its hanger.

The apprentice garb felt heavy on him, and its fit was different; he must’ve gotten more exercise on the islands than he thought. He looked at himself in the mirror. “Right,” he said softly.

Riku appraised him when he came out. “Ready?”

“...As I’ll ever be.”

The walk down to the lab felt long. He realized he hadn’t even checked to see if Even or Ansem would be down there, but when they got down it was empty, the computer asleep, the room in semidarkness. Ienzo didn’t realize he was almost gasping for air until Riku squeezed his shoulder. “Are you sure about this?”

Wearily, Ienzo nodded. He approached the keypad. He typed in the default password, and the door slid open.

He wasn’t sure what he expected--darkness rolling out, running at him--but nothing happened. “I don’t smell or sense much,” Riku said. He drew his Keyblade. “Stay close, just in case.”

They walked down the long, long ramp to the second lab door. The air smelled musty, stale, but not much worse than that, the lights flickering unevenly down the hall. Ienzo felt shaky, weak, already choked up. At first he wasn’t sure if he were seeing things, shadows flickering. Riku surveyed the space warily.

He took slow, shaky steps. The offices were all the way at the end of the corridor, past all of the cells. Their doors were open, unoccupied, but the whole place was in disarray; mattresses torn to shreds, gouges taken out of the floors and walls, sinks and toilets ripped from their joints. “You kept people here?” Riku asked, in a neutral voice.

“...Yes.” He swallowed. “It takes some a long time to fall to darkness.” He imagined, not for the first time, how his subjects might have felt. Dazed, terrified, in pain. He did remember them screaming out--either in anger, in fear, or in grief. He remembered himself giving them psychological profiles as a child--some had thought he, too, was a victim and tried to save him, only for their horror to grow that much more when they realized he was apart of it.

The pain he’d inflicted echoed heavily around the room as the memories poured in. Xehanort, or Even, or Dilan gently nudging him to do this, that, or another awful thing. Wanting to do it without their prodding as well. Seeing his family members do so in turn.

“How many?” Riku asked.

Ienzo swallowed. “A little over a hundred. But… what we wrought here… spread across the world--the seeker of darkness’s artificial Heartless--”

Riku rested a hand on his back. “You were a child. If you were anything like me… they used you.”

Somehow Ienzo made it to the office. It was a large space, with filing cabinets to one side, a few computers to another, a printer in the far back. Chemistry supplies, glassware, and a fume hood were to the center right of the back wall. Black-topped worktables were also towards the back, a Bunsen burner left out connected to the gas line. In a lot of ways it looked untouched, like it was that hectic and horrifying day they’d been turned. A coffee cup sat on the table in the center of the room, its contents long evaporated. Papers were still spread across the desk, someone’s old, moldering lab coat on the back of a chair.

Ienzo’s knees gave out.

“Ienzo!” Riku cried.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. It was all so… casual. Mundane.

This had been his normal. School days spent here, torturing other people, other kids, because he thought it was for the greater good. What were a few sacrifices for knowledge? To understand human nature?

He made an odd, guttural noise. “I’m sorry.” He sounded like a wounded animal. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Ienzo?” Riku knelt next to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Look at me.”

The tile floor was cold and dusty under his hands. He wanted to rip the file cabinets from the walls and destroy everything--

“Look at me.”

Ienzo did so, breathing through his teeth. Despite it all, there was still somehow tenderness in Riku’s eyes.

“Apologizing can’t help them now,” he said. “But what we can do to help is to preserve the memory of who they once were.”

He felt so incredibly heavy. “I killed them.”

“Xehanort and the darkness made you. Weren’t these guys your only family? If you hadn’t listened, what would’ve happened to you?”

“I’d be alone.” His chest hurt. “I’d be an orphan.”

“It was all you knew. What happened to the Zo who forgave himself on the island?”

Ienzo looked down.

“Huh?” he prompted.

“Do you think I deserve forgiveness?”

“Yes. I do. I think you were a victim too. Just like I was one of my Ansem’s.”

Ansem had said the same thing. The pain bled out of him. Riku let him cry, and mourn the person he could’ve been if not for all this. “Alright,” he said at last. “Alright. Alright.”

Riku helped him to his feet and wiped the tear from his face. “Better,” he said gently. “Where are these files?”

“Over… over here.” His knees were still shaky. He pulled open the drawer. “Help me…” He hefted them over to the scanner. “Digitize them. So they never get forgotten.”

“Right. Of course.”

It was a tedious, annoying task, but seeing the images, the people , get uploaded into the system, Ienzo felt something like relief. Once it was all--finally--done, he checked with his phone and the network that the data was safe. “All these years,” he said softly. “We kept the results, the data, but this was all left here to rot.”

“Easier to forget the price that way,” Riku said. “We can do something with this.”

“I’ll talk to the others. See how they feel. But seeing as all this--” He spread his hands, “Is due to my influence… I think I can guilt them all into agreeing.”

“For some reason I don’t think they’ll need much persuading.” Riku kissed him once, lightly. “Are you ready to leave?”

He looked around the room. He noticed a document on the table with his childhood self’s handwriting. He touched it once, turned it over. “I think so,” he said. “I think so.”

---

“Ansem? Can I speak to you?”

The man looked up from his writing desk, startled to be called his name. “Oh, Ienzo, it’s so good to see you,” he said. “I feel as though it’s been ages. You look so wonderfully well. Did you have a good time?”

“I truly did,” he said. “There was a lot I learned. But I’d…” He exhaled. “I realized something.”

Ansem gestured for him to sit in the opposite chair, so he did.

“I recall you telling me I am one of the victims of what happened here,” he said slowly.

“Yes. I believe that is true.”

“Staying with Riku’s family… seeing what type of life he used to have, what I could’ve had… it… so much of it shifted my perspective.” Ienzo cleared his throat and knotted his hands. “I think I’ve started to forgive myself, but moreover… I… I want to do something to honor those we destroyed.”

Ansem’s face slackened a little.

“Riku helped me digitize the personal files of the victims. I feel like… by accepting responsibility openly… we can give the townspeople closure. Ensure their memories aren’t lost. We can’t bring them back, but using what we’ve learned… we can help the people here move forward. Help heal their hearts.” He spoke quickly, not at all encouraged by his expression. “Please, master. This is because of me. I want to do something--even if it is so simple as a memorial.”

A long pause. Ansem tapped the tips of his fingers together. “That is very wise, Ienzo,” he said at last. “I think it’s a good first move. I think myself, and the others, agree heartily.”

He took a deep breath. “Moreover… I think I would like to leave Radiant Garden.”

Ansem’s eyebrows shot up.

“I know it probably seems selfish--” He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. “I have so much to atone for. But being there, in Destiny Islands, I… I just need time, I need time to figure out who I can be, before I’m truly emotionally able to do all the work here that I need to. I’d like to move there and attend university.” He bowed his head and realized he was asking for permission. “I want to heal, and experience normalcy, and in order to do that in any meaningful way I have to leave. The memories are too painful. There’s too much unsaid.”

Ansem smiled kindly. “Ienzo,” he said. “Why are you trying to convince me?”

He looked up.

“I think that would be wonderful for you,” he said. “I always thought you were so young to be weighed down by so much. I’m your father. Of course I’m going to support whatever you think you need.”

“Thank you.”

“I just have to ask…” He chuckled a little. “This isn’t just because of the boy, is it?”

Ienzo blinked. “I do love him, but no,” he said. “I’m not going just to be with him. ...Though that will be a perk.”

“You have no idea how much it soothes me to know you’re beginning to move on,” Ansem said. “For the longest time I felt like I’ve damned you. Whatever I can provide--money, an official letter, name it.”

“I still have to figure it all out. They just barely know of other worlds. How would they deal with an immigrant? I don’t think forged papers would be good enough.”

Ansem sat back. “I seem to recall a good friend of your beloved has sway with the mayor,” he said.

“Kairi,” he said. “I completely forgot.”

“You may want to start there. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to introduce you.”

“...Yes.” Ienzo was dizzy. “Yes. That’s a good place to start.”

---

“You’re what. ” Even’s nostrils flared.

“I’m leaving, Even,” Ienzo said. As much as he’d braced himself for this conversation, he was still not looking forward to Even’s reaction. “I just… I need time. I need space. I need to learn how to be me… and I can’t do that here.”

Even sniffed. “The boy’s been too much influence on you. All of the tenderheartedness, the ideas… Life won’t be easy, Ienzo.”

“But it will be normal,” he said. “I think that’s what I need in order to begin to heal. A… controlled environment. A vacuum.”

This made him soften a little.

“ I need to have control,” he said. “And if I stay here, for now, I’ll only be reminded of when I didn’t have that. It’s not forever. Or maybe it is, that is yet to be determined.”

Even sighed. “I see,” he said. “Ienzo… child… there’s so much I have to do to make up to you, and you’re just leaving ?”

Ienzo smiled. “Then support my decision,” he said. “Moreover, with the phones… it’s not as though I’ll never see you again. And we can still work together, as well. I think… one of the things you can help me do is spearhead the memorial with me.”

Even took a breath.

“I know you want to atone just as much, if not more, than I do. Help me accept their pain, Even, and make sure they don’t get forgotten. And that nothing like this happens again.”

“Yes,” he said softly. “Alright.”

“Thank you.” He turned to leave, but Even spoke.

“It is… easy, to get caught up in the guilt and the grief,” he said, “And let it paralyze one. So often I feel as though I’ll never have enough time to even begin mitigating the damage I’ve done to this world.” His green eyes were sharp, reddened at the edges. “My mistakes were mine more than yours were yours. Yet…”

“In the end you chose to give up everything in order to stop Xehanort,” Ienzo said. “You deserve to be here. You deserve life too, Even.”

He chuckled. “You have gotten soft, child,” he said. He squeezed Ienzo’s shoulder. “It suits you. But don’t let go of all that bitterness just yet. Use it. Build your new life just to spite us all.”

Ienzo nodded. “I likely shall.”

Even sighed. “I will miss you,” he said. “But I understand.”

“And I you, I think,” Ienzo said.

“Though if you’re going there we must come up with a way to protect your complexion,” he said, snapping into brightness, though Ienzo saw his eyes watering. “I’ll get to it at once. We can’t have you end up with… moles, or worse, you’re so fair.”

He chuckled. “Thank you, Even.”

“You’ll… you’ll take care of yourself?”

“I will if you will.”

Even smiled.

“Truly, Even, you lecture me for working too hard, yet I’m not sure you sleep.”

A beat, a moment. “Take care, Ienzo,” Even said. “I do hope this new life treats you well.”

He nodded. He nearly left, but acting on impulse, he hugged Even once, quickly. “I’ll be back to collect that sunscreen, I’m sure,” he said. “I’ll see you before I leave.”

“Yes, yes, leaving me with more work, as always.” A smile.

---

The apartment had come pre-furnished, but was cramped. The sink leaked. Most of the microwave buttons did not work, and the electric stove heated unevenly. If Ienzo was not quick to shower in the morning, the other flats in the building used up all the hot water.

It was run-down, but it was his, and he loved it.

Riku groaned a little when he got up. “Why,” was all he said.

“I have to get to work,” Ienzo said. “I told you last night I’d be getting up early and if you wanted decent sleep to go home. I warned you.”

He sighed heavily. “To be fair, after what we did, I didn’t think I could move.”

He rolled his eyes and went to go shower. He’d made it for the hot water, though under the wire. When he came back out to get dressed Riku had pulled the blanket over himself, like a burrito. “Don’t you have class to get ready for?”

“Yes, and if I don’t go now I’ll be late.” Still, he didn’t move.

“The last thing I want is for you to become a ne’er do well on my watch,” he said. He grabbed his apron from the closet door handle.

“ Fine. ” He got up and started putting on his discarded uniform. “As long as I can be the first customer. You’re not going to make me wait outside until open again, are you?”

“The last time I didn’t my manager was unhappy.”

“You are the worst sometimes.”

Ienzo smirked. “You still keep coming back.”

The left the apartment together, down the rickety narrow staircase. The sun was just starting to rise. The days, lately, seemed long; but they were full, and Ienzo no longer dreaded them. He found the keys in his bag and unlocked the cafe’s door. “See you in half an hour,” he said breezily to Riku, who just rolled his eyes and sat at one of the outdoor tables.

Most days he didn’t mind this work. Opening the cafe meant he got out of work early, leaving the day open for his classes, or seeing people, or simply existing in this strange city. It wasn’t forever--he had reason to believe he’d be offered a student research position at university, and that would cover most of his living expenses. Ansem had given him money, but he didn’t want to touch it unless he had to.

Sometimes admittedly if he was having a frustrating day--if customers were awful to him or the espresso machine was on the fritz yet again --Ienzo felt his genius was being wasted being a barista. But most of the time, he liked the work, baking and making coffee the most. It was objective, harmless. I wanted normal, he’d think.

He counted in the drawers, put the breakfast pastries in their displays. Warmed up the machines and made coffee. He’d been promoted to keyholder when the manager saw how efficiently he was able to work, and that meant opening shifts. Sometimes on breaks he’d sit with a book and watch the people go by.

He hadn’t realized life could be gentle.

He saw Riku making faces at him through the window, and though he knew it was unnecessary, Ienzo waited until it was six on the dot to let him in.

“You’re a horrible boyfriend,” Riku said.

“Sure I am. Your usual?”

“You’re bankrupting me.” He placed a note on the counter. He made Riku’s latte and handed him the usual buttered croissant, and before the morning rush, sat with him to have his own breakfast. “So, later,” Riku said. “Couple of us are getting together at Sora’s. You in?”

Ienzo sighed. “I’d love to, but I have to finish that paper. I’ve procrastinated enough.” He seemed to be angling towards a degree in psychology with a minor in literature. He could use this to help people--he was trying to help Sora, who seemed to at least be more willing to open up. It was a start.

“Come anyway.”

“Then I’d have to stay up all night.”

“...Like you haven’t done that before.”

“Anyway, don’t you have a test to study for?”

“So?”

Ienzo sighed. “I’ll come, but I’ll be late.”

Riku leaned over and kissed him. “I should try to grab the ferry. Looks like you’ve got customers.”

---

There were already a few people over at Sora’s by the time Ienzo had done enough schoolwork to justify going. “Oh, you made it!” Sora said.

“And I brought snacks.”

“Yay, snacks!”

“Easy to please, as always,” Ienzo said, and Sora stuck out his tongue.

All of this wasn’t easy, but it was slowly getting easier. Sometimes Ienzo felt he was living a lie, not disclosing his past to everyone he met. As he made true, real friends here, it became apparent that this would be something he had to figure out how to deal with. Darkness still poked out from time to time.

There was some kind of movie playing on TV; Sephie and Tidus were arguing over what to watch. “But this is the good part!” Sephie said.

“I don’t care, it sucks.”

Someone had put on music, an upbeat pop song. Only Riku and Ienzo were of age to drink, but somehow someone had brought some wine. A normal Friday. His phone chimed with a text; a file from Even. Call me. Ienzo sighed and went onto the balcony. “Do I even want to know what time it is for you?” he asked, as prelude.

“This is what we’ve come up with,” Even said. “Can you let me know what you think? If it passes your muster?”

“Even, you know it’s better if these things are symbolic. It’s more meaningful that way.”

“I know, I know, I know, I’ve heard enough from your father.”

“I do look forward to seeing it,” he said. “The notes from the committee were helpful, at least. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Out and about, are you?” Even asked.

“Ah--quite.”

A pause. “You’re eating well, and all that?”

He smiled. “Yes, Even.”

“Because you know I raised you to--”

“I promise I’m getting all my fruits and vegetables.”

“Right. Ah.”

“Go sleep, Even. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“As long as you do.”

He hung up. The moon was full, and it was glinting on the ocean. Ienzo heard the back door slide open. “What are you doing here, all alone?” Riku asked.

“Even called me. He has a new draft of the memorial.”

“Oh,” he said softly.

Ienzo smiled. “It’s alright. I think we’re getting close.”

He offered him a glass of wine, which Ienzo took. “Are you glad you came after all?” he asked him.

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“I just… I dunno. I want to make sure you’re happy.”

“Well, I am.” He chuckled a little. “As much as I can be. It’s just that… sometimes the darkness still… comes out.” They both nightmared, occasionally. Sometimes Ienzo heard Riku cry out in his sleep for Sora or Kairi.

“It… does.”

“Are you happy?”

“As much as I can be.”

Ienzo nudged him. He rested a hand on Riku’s waist.

“I’m just glad to… have time,” Riku said. “I think I’m understanding that… it’s not all gonna get snatched away.”

“Good. I told you as much, though I know why…” He sighed. “Sometimes I still feel like I’m going to wake up in that… stark white castle. But then I wake up with you.”

Riku kissed him. “I can’t wait to figure it all out together.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

The door opened again; Kairi was smirking. “Alright, lovebirds. Do you want to want to play dominoes or what?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Ienzo said, “I’m going to wipe the floor with you all.”

“Easy there, killer,” Riku said.

And they went inside, to the rest of their lives.

#give/take #ienzoku #ienzo/riku #ienzo #riku #ansem the wise #even (kingdom hearts) #ienzo is trans

[irontinystar]

“Hi, Tony”, Steve croaked, his hand now resting on the cold surface of a marble gravestone, “were you waiting for me?”

His words came out clear in the silence of the moment, broken only by the swift waves that crushed on the water edge.

Tony’s grave was something that for a long moment he didn’t even want to think about: the mere thought of the cold body of the man laying under a ton of dirt in the obnoxious darkness of a coffin used to cause him a deep and piercing pain in his old heart, that usually led him not to sleep for several nights straight.

But that early morning, when he had finally decided to go visiting Tony, Steve knew it was the right moment, that perhaps waiting was worth it, because he had not previously been ready to actually see and feel what was standing near him; a pale and glacial marble commemorative plaque erected among scrubs with a few sentences engraved on its surface:

“In loving memory of Tony Stark A fond husband, a caring father, a goodhearted friend.”

(...)

Goodhearted friend: yes, yes he was.

“Tony”, Steve screeched, looking at the ocean “for so many years, so much time, I convinced myself you had said meant to be. I know you did, did you?”

He sniffed a little “but what about now? It looks like we weren’t after all…” A seagull flied upon his head, in the middle of that painfully clear sky.

“Do you remember our first kiss?”, he muttered now smiling softly, “I still recall it when I feel sad. I think that is one of my happiest memories”.

It was a late evening when it happened. He was standing on the rooftop of the Avengers’ tower, looking at the night sky and the few stars that were slightly shining in the darkness. He had heard someone approaching him, and when he had turned around he had found Tony standing beside him.

Lately they had got along very well, and Steve had discovered that they were really a powerful duo when they decided to cooperate instead of arguing and fighting over everything.

He had learnt to understand Tony, the reason why he always had to laugh everything off with a joke just to prevent himself from getting hurt; the way his look darkened whenever someone hyped up the accomplishments of his father; how he was able to deliver motivational speeches when things seemed to be hopeless. He actually enjoyed finding out little details of Tony’s personality that no one else seemed to notice.

For the first few moments they talked about the mission they had undergone that day: Tony was really enthusiastic and while he was describing some particular scientific project he had found in the lab that they had to sequester, Steve found himself caught with the way the man was moving his hands, and how his eyes seemed to sparkle. He smiled involuntarily in complete awe as he felt his heart growing three sizes.

“Cap’?! Hey! You listenin’?” Steve came back to his senses and tried to shake off the expression of amusement he must have had on his face.

“What?”, he asked in confusion “yeah, of course. Keep going”.

Tony frowned “Were you listening, Cap’?” For a moment he seemed concerned, as if Steve was really minding his own business.

“Yes, I told you so! Coordinates, numbers, technological stuff… go on”, he mocked, then added “just, you know, don’t call me Cap’. You can call me Steve.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Tony apologised, laughing a little “I thought only friends were allowed to call you by your birth name.”

Steve shook his head now grinning, “we are friends, Tony”. He rolled his eyes, asking himself why the man always pretended to humble himself.

A brief silence followed Steve’s reassurance, then Tony raised his brow looking thoughtful. “Really? Friends?”, he asked, absorbed “thought friends didn’t look at each other like this”.

Steve’s heart lost a beat as he nervously mumbled “like what?!”. At the same time he regretted asking.

“Like you want to take off my clothes”.

Steve blushed intensely and his heart began racing at a very high speed. He felt like he had been caught off guard as he began stuttering “I don’t- I do not- I don’t want to-”

“What?” Tony asked innocently trying to force Steve into explaining himself further “what is that you do not want?”

“I don’t want to- you know what”, he affirmed angrily, his cheeks burning like fire.

“Actually, I don’t” Tony kept on teasing him.

Steve rolled his eyes once again, this time with a sense of frustration “Why do you always have to act like this, Stark?!” He was feeling really annoyed by his attitude, but at the same time his heart was beating faster and faster as he tried to calm down himself, also hoping Tony wouldn’t notice his quite undeniable blush.

“Oh, so now we’re no longer friends?” Tony looked clueless, while pointing at the two of them “Stark seems quite of detached, if you ask me”, he mumbled thoughtful.

“You know what I meant”, Steve repeated. He drew closer to Tony with an expression of annoyance and lowkey anger because of the embarrassment he had put him in.

Tony approached him too, his brow still raised “You keep saying it but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckled a little, then proceeded further “honestly, I don’t even get why you’re always so stiff: just relax a little bit, perhaps?!”

Steve got now more irritated as he kept on pointing his eyes upon himself or on the ground just to avoid looking Tony in his eyes “I’m not stiff”, he stated angrily “Actually, you are the problem, you know?”

Tony looked interested in this change of pace so Steve added “Yes, Stark. You are the problem. Wanna know why?”

Tony mumbled out an enlighten me, but Steve was already talking without waiting for his permission “Things wouldn’t be so complicated if you just acted like a normal human being, you know, just knowing when it’s the right time to laugh or- or- to joke about a situation, or, I don’t know, make a pun or something. No, you always have to make fun of everything, always have to embarrass people just to make your ego grow bigger as if it was some kind of accomplishment.”

“Huh- looks like someone is stressed out”, Tony teased once again.

“This! This is it! You’re doing it once again!” Steve snapped, opening his eyes wide “I can’t stand you!”, he almost shouted, and he seemed so out of himself that he started to ask himself what really was the problem.

“I swear I do not understand what is that I’m doing!”, this time Tony raised his voice, getting closer to Steve and actually looking like he couldn’t get what he was getting wrong.

Steve looked him in the eyes, not able to look away now that the man was standing so close that he could almost feel the heartbeat of Tony and not just his own.

“You-” he stuttered “You’re always- flirting or something”.

“Flirting?!” Tony chuckled “I was joking! You know, two friends kidding around. Nothing sexual, buddy.” He looked really satisfied with his reply, and he grinned naively when Steve flushed once again.

“Well- I don’t like this kind of jokes, so I’m asking you to stop.”

At this point Tony got rid of his look of innocence and just straight up snorted “You know what, Rogers? I’m tired of you, you’re so boring. People can’t even dare to say something funny around you because you’d look them with that look of disappointment of yours. When you enter the room, we have to cut off every fun we were having and just pretend to be all serious and focused on whatever the hell of a mission we are doing because God forbid we’re enjoying ourselves.”

Tony looked a little heated up as he was pointing his finger at Steve’s chest “Wanna know what more? I have tried so so hard to entertain you, to make you laugh or something, even smile, but nope! You can’t even do that, because everything -everything- is deadly serious to you!” He rolled his eyes and kind of laughed in distress “And now you have just made me be so rude to you, you have created this whole drama just because you couldn’t repeat -as a damn joke- that you wanted to rip off my clothes!”

“What-?! No!” Steve yelled “That is not true!” He felt quite hopeless, almost shaking with his face burning.

“Yes, yes it is true!”

“That is not- I-”

“Then what, ‘Cap?! What?! What is it?” Tony approached him even more, as he kept pointing at him with a kind of rage in his voice “Huh? Wanna tell me what it is? Or am I making you uncomfortable?!”

“Shut up!” Steve shouted, now so close to the man in front of him.

“Make me”.

He looked into Tony’s eyes for a second, wanting to punch him in the face just to show him who was the boss down there, so he pulled Tony by his shirt, and for a moment the man seemed kind of concerned, but Steve erased that look of dismay from his face when he pressed his lips on his mouth with such rage that he amazed his own self.

At first Tony startled but once Steve opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, the man just let it go and surrendered to the blonde’s tongue.

Steve’s rush was something unexpected to Tony and in any other time he would have not allowed him to take the control of the situation, but the way that usually prim man was now grabbing his legs to lift him on his hips made him forget any purpose of standing up for himself.

Steve seemed astonished too by his own initiative, considering that until the very last moment he wanted to just straight up hit the man in his face, and now, while he was tasting Tony’s mouth and holding his back with his hands, he quite thanked himself to have sticked to a more peaceful way to assert himself.

“I was actually hoping for you to do this a long time before, Steve”, Tony mumbled, his lips red because of the heat of the kiss, his eyes glimmering of lust.

Steve grinned, looking him in the eyes: he had fantasised about this for so much time, but he had always admonished himself that it was not going to happen, that they were just friends and that the man was friendly with anyone so he shouldn’t let it go to his head.

But being able to actually feel Tony on his own lips; to look him in the eyes at such little distance; to hear Tony’s heartbeat racing that fast and knowing that he had caused that rush, made him understand that perhaps, sooner or later, he would have found himself in that situation no matter what: it could have been a year before, or it could have been a day after, or even in a remote future, but the two of them would have found their way to each other anyway.

“Why you standing there just smiling and looking at me like I’m some kind of a baby?!” Tony pouted, faking grudge “act like a man and kiss me again, damn!”

Steve cackled and looked him in the eyes once again glad that he could deal with such a touchy man. He kissed Tony softly, then changed his look into a more resolute one. “I’m gonna take off your clothes” he stated, and while Tony was heavily letting out a thanks God, they were kissing once again.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20414500

#stony fic #stony #stony fluff #stevetony #stevextony #steve rogers #tony stark #iron man #captain america #tw: major character death #marvel #endgame #post endgame

[the-delta-42]

Taken to be Returned

Inspired by This by @lenoreofraven

This one-shot will have mentions of torture, death and assault, read at your own risk.

Taken to be returned

“M’Lady, I know that this may be a bad time, given we’re in the middle of dealing with an Akuma and,” Chat dodged a rock thrown at him, “My Girlfriend and I were talking and we were thinking of expanding our relationship.”

“That nice.” Muttered Ladybug, ducking a rock, “Why are you bringing it up?”

“Well, she and I were talking and there’s this other girl that we both like and we don’t know how to tell her.” Said Chat, jumping from roof to roof.

“Have a normal conversation with her, ask her if she wants to join you two.” Said Ladybug, ignoring the sharp pang in her chest.

“Do you think Marinette will really want to?” Asked Chat, making Ladybug stumble and nearly fall off the roof.

Before Ladybug could recover, an arm wrapped around her neck. Her blood ran cold as the mocking laughter of Hawkmoth rang out.

“Oh, this was too easy.” Sneered Hawkmoth, as he started to drag Ladybug away.

Ladybug thrashed and screamed and bit Hawkmoth, who only tightened his hold around her neck, squeezing until she passed out.

TtbR

Ladybug woke to a cage inside a big plastic cube, inside another cage. Her hands immediately went to her ears, finding them bare. A lump started to form in Marinette’s throat, Hawkmoth now had Tikki. Marinette’s heart then froze when she realised that Hawkmoth now knew who she was, he could target her friends and family at any time.

“I hope you find your accommodations suitable,” Said Hawkmoth, as he walked into the room, “Having this built wasn’t easy.”

“Where’s Tikki?” Demanded Marinette, jumping to her feet, “What have you done to her?”

“It is where it belongs, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.” Said Hawkmoth, as the door unlocked, allowing him to stalk towards her, “If I were you, I’d be more concerned about myself.”

Marinette smirked at him, “I guess that was sets us apart, you only care about yourself and how it’ll benefit you, I much prefer to have others experiencing things with me.”

Hawkmoth Glared, before drawing his hand back and hitting Marinette, knocking her on her to the ground.

“Where’s the Miracle box?” Demanded Hawkmoth, as he stood over her, “I know the Guardian left it with you and I know it’s not in your room, because I would’ve found it.”

Marinette suddenly felt violated, having Hawkmoth tell her that he’d been in her room. It also told her that he didn’t look very hard.

“You really think I’d tell you?” Asked Marinette, her face set in complete defiance.

“You will.” Said Hawkmoth, as he drew his leg back.

The beating Hawkmoth gave her lasted at least three hours, Marinette was satisfied that she had managed to get a few hits back on him.

A couple of hours later Mayura walked into the room, presumably to continue Hawkmoth’s work.

The next day the beatings continued, then the next week they started to electrocute her, burn her, cut into her, stripped her, jam two very hot needles into her back and near drown her. Marinette coughed up water, as Mayura stared down at her. Hawkmoth had to leave because Marinette bit down on him.

“You know that if you just tell us, all this will stop.” Said Mayura, running her hand along Marinette’s back, “Just tell us where the box is, and we’ll let you go.”

“Fuck off.” Marinette grumbled, trying not to shiver.

“Well, you can’t say you weren’t offered an alternative.” Said Mayura, drawing her hand back.

TtbR

Marinette lied on her side as Mayura entered the cell, she had been stuck here for over a month and yesterday they made the mistake of giving her a metal knife and fork. If she recalled correctly, Mayura was bringing her food today. Marinette heard a tray be set down.

“You’re lucky.” Growled Mayura, “Hawkmoth is on a business trip, so you won’t be getting your usual treatment this week.”

Marinette heard Mayura walk closer, before she quickly rolled over and jammed the fork into Mayura’s ankle. Mayura screamed as her leg buckled, allowing Marinette to repeatedly punch her in the face, before she grabbed the Peacock Miraculous and tore it off her. Marinette then slammed her head against the wall, until she was certain Mayura wasn’t going to get up again any time soon.

Marinette looked down at herself, before she decided to take Mayura’s clothes. Marinette rolled Mayrua over and recoiled at the sight of Nathalie Sancouer, Gabriel Agreste’s Assistant. Marinette quickly put the pieces together in her head and started removing Nathalie of her clothes and putting them on herself.

Marinette though she looked ridiculous, since the clothes were slightly too big for her, before holding the Peacock Miraculous tightly in her hand and limping out of the cell. Marinette wandered through the labyrinth of corridors, before she came across the door. She struggled to get it open, carefully ramming her shoulder against it, until it suddenly swung open before she could make contact with it again.

TtbR

“Okay,” Said Alya, as most of the class and Kagami sat in Gabriel Agreste’s office, “so, Ladybug has been missing for what, six weeks?”

“Six weeks, three days, 12 hours, nine minutes and seventeen seconds.” Said Max, looking up from his laptop.

“And Marinette’s been ‘on a trip’ for roughly the same amount of time.” Said Alya, “We can’t look for Marinette because,”

“The Police don’t know she’s missing and will try and fine us if we walk around with her picture.” Said Sabrina, her arms folded, ever since Chloe had been placed under house arrest, Marinette had been her main friend.

“And someone will eventually realise that maybe there’s a correlation between two missing girls and say ‘Hey, I found Ladybug’s identity!’.” Said Alya, as Adrien looked up from his father’s safe.

“Alya, I had to tell you and even then, you didn’t believe me.” Deadpanned Adrien, as he started looking back into his father’s safe.

“Along with the official story of Marinette being on a trip to her aunt being a reasonable cover, seeing how we met her Aunt Maeve a couple months back.” Said Mylene, before Alix shushed her.

“I hear something.” Said Alix, as a soft thump came from the other side of the painting of Adrien’s mother.

“Okay, that one leads to a safe, where does that on lead to?” Demanded Alix, pointing at another portrait of Emilie Agreste.

“No idea.” Said Adrien, as he slowly approached the painting. A few more thumps sounded, before he grabbed the corner and tugged at it, before he quickly grabbed the other side and tugged, making it swing wide open, allowing a certain French-Asian girl to topple through.

“MARINETTE!” Yelled a multitude of voices.

“Wow, she looks like hell.” Said Alix, as Marinette struggled to get up.

“Earrings.” Marinette rasped, as she tried to look around.

“Hey, hey,” Said Adrien, fishing the studs from his pocket, “I have them here, see?” He held his hand out, presenting the earrings to Marinette, which flickered as she touched them, allowing Tikki to take form.

“I already told you, I’m not going to serve someone who- MARINETTE!” Tikki shrieked as she caught sight of her chosen.

Marinette’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and her world went dark.

TtbR

The heart monitor that was linked up to Marinette held a steady beat, as orderly’s and other medical practitioners walked around the room.

“Multiple burn wounds, possible nerve damage,” One orderly listed for the doctor, “There seems to be some tearing around her genitals, but we haven’t checked any further. The x-rays show that she’s had some broken bones, along with some severe fractures along her arms and legs, some minor internal bleeding. The police are going to want a full report on this, since it’s doubtful that she was alone.”

The doctor frowned, casting an eye over the girl, “Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, 18 years old, currently studying at College Francis Dupont, at least that’s what I’ve managed to find out about her. Is she a frequent patient?”

“No, the last time anyone remembers seeing her here was ten years ago when she broke her arm falling out of a tree.” Replied an orderly, “She’s had quite a few visitors, mind you, Classmates, friends, extended family, I hear that even her brothers and sister have come back.”

“You’re familiar with the family?” Questioned the Doctor.

“Yeah, Toby and I go way back, long before he caught the travelling bug from his grandmother and took off to see the world.” Responded the orderly, before they cast a quick look around and leaning towards the doctor, “Although, mind you, there have been rumours that this girl isn’t, um, how do you say it? Not all there.”

Before the doctor could respond, a nurse stuck her head in the door, “The police and Dupain-Cheng’s are here to get the diagnosis for the patient.”

The doctor sighed, he hated being the barer of bad news for families.

TtbR

Everyone was packed into the lounge when Tom and Sabine returned, the door closing with a slam, making everyone jump.

Tom stormed past them and towards a cupboard, while Sabine shuffled into the room. Her eyes were red and swollen.

“What’s the damage?” Asked Alix, her tone sombre.

“Marinette might not be able to see or hear out of her right side anymore,” Snarled Tom, “She’s going to have some trouble standing once her leg’s fixed and that’s not counting any of the psychological issues she’ll have to deal with.”

“T-they also believe that she m-may have been r-r-” Sabine was cut off by Ivan.

“They think she was raped.” His tone was level, but his face showed a storm that was brewing underneath his wall.

Sabine let out a choked sob, as the air in the room grew thick.

“Where did you all find her?” Asked Tom, looking at the class.

Everyone was silent, unsure how to break the news to the pair.

Adrien broke the silence, “My father made alterations to the mansion.”

Tom stilled, before he slowly turned and looked at Adrien.

“Your father,” Said Tom, slowly, “had her?”

“Nathalie knew, although I haven’t seen or heard from her all day, which is weird,” Said Adrien, his mind deviating slightly, “but she was being kept in a room hidden by a painting of my mum, we wouldn’t’ve found her if Alix wasn’t there.”

Tom looked at Alix, before looking back at Adrien, his expression darkening.

“If I find out that you knew, I’ll-” Tom was interrupted.

“Adrien didn’t know about the doorway,” Alya interrupted, making Tom switch from Adrien to Alya, “he was the one that actually started the search, especially considering the little fact that he told us.”

“Fact?” Demanded Tom, his gaze back on Adrien.

“In my defence, I only found out by accident, I saw Marinette de-transforming and-”

“De-what?” Asked Tom completely lost.

“Wait, you don’t know?” Came Adrien’s response.

“Know what?” Asked Sabine, looking at the boy.

There was a continuous silence, which was broken by a cackle.

Everyone jumped at the sudden noise, before a small black cat floated out of Adrien’s chest. The noise was almost nasally, cackling away as they floated to the centre of the room.

“I have to say, kid,” Laughed the creature, “telling the Ladyblogger pigtails is Ladybug is one thing but outing her identity to her parents takes the camembert.”

“I thought they knew, Marinette has a great bond with her parents, she would’ve told them!” Adrien protested, his face going red in shame and embarrassment.

The creature only continued to laugh, while Adrien tried to hide in his own shirt.

TtbR

Marinette took a sharp intake of breath, she cast her eyes around the room she was in. It looked like a standard hospital room, completely filled with flowers, chocolates and other gifts. What drew Marinette’s attention was the sight of Kagami sleeping in the chair next to the bed.

Marinette tried to sit up, only to get a sharp sting racing through her nerves, making her let out a grunt of pain. Kagami jump and looked straight at Marinette.

“You’re awake!” Cried Kagami, throwing her arms around Marinette, who let out another grunt, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

“What happened?” Rasped Marinette, making Kagami disappear and reappear with a cup of water.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Asked Kagami, leaning forwards.

Marinette thought back, “Tikki.”

Marinette froze, before she started looking around the room frantically, moving to get out of the bed.

“The earrings are safe, they’re with Adrien.” Kagami exclaimed, trying to get Marinette to lie back down, “Adrien is with your parents and they’ll be here later.”

There was a cough from the doorway, making the two girls look over. Adrien stood awkwardly in the door, looking as if he had a gun placed against his back.

“H-hi, Marinette.” Stuttered Adrien, making Marinette cock her head.

“Adrien,” Stated Marinette, “is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah, everything’s fine.” Adrien stammered, “W-why do you ask?”

“Because you look like you’ve had a vibrator set to its highest setting shoved up your butt and you’re trying to hold a conversation.” Came the deadpan reply.

There was a little giggle behind Adrien, which then turned into a snorting laughter. Marinette looked behind Adrien, spotting the majority of the class standing behind him. Alix was snorting away, while Adrien tried to keep his face from going red.

TtbR

“Okay, so,” Said Marinette, looking around her, “you guys couldn’t look for me, because I wasn’t listed as missing, Adrien found out my identity and blurted it out to Alya, who in turn told everyone else and then they found out Agreste was Hawkmoth.”

“More or less.” Said Nino, who shifted uneasily, “Luka wanted to be here, but his job wouldn’t let him.”

Marinette absently nodded, before her eyes widened, “Shit, Adrien, you need to get home, Nathalie has a concussion from when I smashed her head against a wall.”

Adrien was silent, Nathalie had been removed when the Police had searched the house and it’s many hidden areas, he didn’t have the heart to tell her that Nathalie was dead, Marinette’s mental state was fragile enough as it is.

Marinette picked up on the shift in tone, “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Everyone remained silent, not sure how to respond.

“W-well, the police are classing it a self-defence a-and aren’t going to charge you with anything.” Said Sabrina, trying to sound optimistic.

“Are you alright?” Asked Rose, staring at Marinette with concern.

“Y-yeah, I, um,” Marinette whispered, “I think I’d like to be alone for a while please.”

No one wanted to leave but allow themselves to be herded out when Marinette had repeated her request. Marinette was staring down at her hands while everyone left the room. She’d killed someone, sure it was one of her captors who had violated her on a personal level, but she didn’t want to kill her. Her hands had turned red, Marinette first thought that it was her suit, only to notice the lack of spots, then she saw how it smeared. Marinette then knew what it was, blood. Marinette started rubbing her hands together, slowly picking up the pace, until she was frantically scrubbing away at her hands, everything was becoming blurry, then the world went dark.

TtbR

Marinette woke up to her parents next to her, how could they look so calm? Why weren’t they repulsed that their own child was a murderer?

Marinette started to curl up into a ball, as her frame started trembling, her mouth speaking without her thinking, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” repeating continuously, until they could get a doctor in to sedate her.

Tom and Sabine shared a look, this was going to a long and painful process.

Adrien had heard Marinette from outside the room, he had agreed to helping the police try and get his father back into the country. They hoped that he’d fall for it.

TtbR

Kagami and Adrien were sat on the bed next to Marinette, with Marinette in between them, they found that Marinette slept better when someone was with her. Adrien didn’t know how he was going to bring the relationship idea up to her again, since he didn’t know how she was going to react. Marinette stirred slightly, Kagami scooting down to place and arm around Marinette, who started to settle back down.

“Have you told her yet?” Asked Kagami, looking up at Adrien.

“I told her who I was, and I think she connected the dots on her own.” Adrien replied, “I don’t know what her answer is, though.”

“Did you tell her that I knew?” Kagami questioned, making Marinette sit bolt upright.

“WAIT, WHAT?!”

Adrien and Kagami winced and covered their ears, while Marinette gaped at them.

“Marinette,” Squeaked Adrien, his face pale, “I thought you were asleep.”

“You revealed your identity to a civilian.” Said Marinette, her jaw agape.

“Actually, she figured it out on her own.” Adrien lied, getting a thump from Marinette, “OW!”

“Don’t. Lie.” Marinette seethed, rolling over, facing away from Adrien.

“Are we going to get an answer?” Asked Kagami, looking down at Marinette’s head.

“Yes.” Came the muffled reply, before Marinette tugged them down.

TtbR

Marinette nervously shifted as the car pulled up at the Bakery, she had just been discharged from hospital. The doctors had said that most of the issues now were psychological and had arranged for a counsellor to be placed at the school for her. There was the odd stare from a random passer-by, apparently someone had leaked that she had been missing. Which of course blew up with theories and speculation, with no one willing to give any answers.

Marinette let out a little whimper, as the paparazzi photographed the car.

“Well, this is going well.” Kagami commented, idly, “Let’s wait for the crowd to clear up.”

There was a sound reminiscent of a gunshot, making everyone duck.

“That’s our que.” Said Adrien, he and Kagami grabbing hold of Marinette and running into the Bakery, where Marinette saw Michael holding a rifle.

The door closed rather noisily on a reporter’s face, with Michael giving a smug grin and wave to them.

“Idiots.” Muttered Michael, as Marinette was guided up the stairs.

Adrien pushed the door open, Kagami gently ushered Marinette in, everyone getting to their feet. Alya rushed towards Marinette, wrapping her arms around the French-Asian girl, it wasn’t long before Marinette broke down.

Adrien’s phone buzzed with a text message, glancing down, his father was demanding where he was and where Nathalie was. Cold hatred coiled in Adrien’s gut. Gabriel had kidnapped Marinette, beaten her, assaulted her, tortured her within an inch of her life and performed unspeakable acts on her, just because he felt he had the right over everyone else.

Adrien ignored his father’s text, quietly sending a message to Officer Raincomprix, telling the Police Officer that his father was at the Mansion.

Kagami held onto Marinette, gently caressing her hair.

“Can someone turn the tv on?” Asked Adrien, “I want to watch the news.”

“Why?” Demanded Alix, “Marinette’s just come home and the news is going to be in the paper tomorrow.”

“I think this is something Marinette is going to want to see.” Said Adrien, as the tv turned on.

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just news,” Said Nadja, as she appeared on screen, “Earlier this evening, Police received an anonymous tip that the location of Hawkmoth has been found. Hawkmoth has terrorised Paris for the past five years and has managed to evade both the Police and our resident Super-heroes, Ladybug and Chat Noir, he has also killed thirteen people in the past two months, since he abducted Ladybug during one of his Akuma attacks.”

The room was tense.

“It is unknown if Ladybug is still alive, but Police are converging on the docks of Paris, in the hopes of cornering Hawkmoth, with the intention to bring him to justice. Chat Noir has refused to give a statement on the matter, as have the three new heroes who arrived to assist him since Ladybug’s abduction.” Nadja looked directly into the camera, “I say this now as a citizen of Paris, not as a News caster, Hawkmoth, if Ladybug isn’t alive, then there will be blood.”

“The fun fact is, the Police aren’t going to the docks,” Said Adrien, leaning back in his chair, “Gabriel isn’t going to know what hit him when he gets home.”

“Unfortunately, more of Hawkmoth’s minions are being routed out, as well as the number of dead growing.” Said Nadja, “The list of Hawkmoth’s minions now includes Andre Glacier, Lila Rossi, Samuel Marcus, Richard Allen, Felix de Graham-Villani, Hector Damocles, Simon Jonas, Jalil Kubdel and, the now deceased, Nathalie Sancoeur.”

Marinette flinched, making Kagami and Adrien wrap an arm around her.

“Nathalie Sancoeur was killed when a previous captive managed to break free, that captive has not been named, nor will they be prosecuted, as they were acting in self-defence, they were found in an alley not far from College Francis Dupont. They are currently still in hospital with both Police and Medical professionals monitoring them, as of yet, they have not woken or shown any sign of waking up. Sancoeur’s body was found not far from where the captive was found, with a Miraculous in her possession, Chat Noir has been reported to believe that Ms. Sancoeur was Mayura and aided Hawkmoth in his abductions.” Nadja continued to report, “The List of the dead now include Otis Césaire, Rolland Dupain, Andre Bourgeois, Amelie de Graham-Villani, Christopher Lahiffe, Fredrick Haprele, Wang Fu, Marianne Lenoire, Wang Cheng, Man-Manon Chamack,” Nadja’s voice cracked, “and Xavier Ramier. Marlena, Nora, Etta and Ella Césaire are still in hospital in critical condition, and Tomoe Tsurugi, Gina Dupain, Caline Bustier, Audrey and Chloe Bourgeois and Anarka Couffaine have all be stabilized and are recovering.”

“Hawkmoth’s started planting bombs.” Said Kim, “Every time a minion of his is found, another one goes off. The most recent one was at School, during the PTC.”

“And that’s not counting those attacks in the streets, that’s how they got Ramier.” Said Alya, bitterly, “How they got my family.”

“Apparently, Lila had been feeding Hawkmoth information, when she was caught, the number of attacks reduced, but not enough to save more people.” Murmured Nino, “They say the full list is a good fifty-one-hundred and fifty people, they actually brought the army in.”

“Lila’s parents have practically disowned her, given her connections with Hawkmoth.” Said Rose, her voice quiet, “This is possibly the best news we’ve had since all this started.”

“What is?” Asked Marinette, looking at them.

“You came back.” Said Mylene, “We all thought that you were one of the first victims, but Adrien said, ‘no body, not dead’, every time it was brought up.”

“They’re talking about setting up support groups to help the traumatized,” Said Michael, leaning into the room, “And anyone else who’s been fortunate enough to survive, although they may not see it that way.”

“Do we know who else is missing?” Asked Marinette, looking at the class.

“Madame Mendeleiev, Marc, Mirelle, Aurore, a couple of people from Adrien’s fencing group and some others from the higher and lower years.” Responded Alix, “We think they were taken because they either tried to intervene or because they’re close to you.”

“He was demanding to know where the Miracle Box was.” Marinette murmured, “He didn’t look very well, since he said he couldn’t find it in my room.”

“Because it’s not there.” Said Adrien, “After you were taken, Kagami and I snuck in and hid it somewhere.”

Marinette stared at the two, “Where did you hide it?”

Kagami looked over at a basket next to the sofa. Marinette shuffle-limped over and lifted the lid, spotting the Miracle Box, unopened.

“Your room was trashed, by the way.” Said Kagami, moving to stand next to Marinette.

“I think I’m just glad it’s still here.” Said Marinette, looking down at the box.

“News just in,” Came Nadja’s voice, making everyone look at the screen, “Gabriel Agreste has been arrested in the charges of being Hawkmoth. Police observed Mr. Agreste entering a hidden room in his home, before he became Hawkmoth, Police were alerted to Mr. Agreste being Hawkmoth by his son, Adrien, after he stumbled across the room whilst exploring the house. Adrien alerted Police and Emergency Medical services after he discovered one of the missing people, as well as the body of Ms. Nathalie Sancoeur. Mr. Agreste has been loudly protesting his arrest, claiming that he needed the Miraculous to being back his wife. Mrs. Emilie Agreste has been missing, and presumed dead, for six years, more information will be given as the situation unfolds.”

“Game, set and match.” Said Adrien, folding his arms, “What do you think will happen to him?”

“Life in prison.”

“Give everything up.”

“Get a light slap on the wrist and placed under police protection.”

Everyone looked at Alix.

“Alix wins?”

There were mutterings of agreement.

“Now what do we do?” Asked Marinette, making Adrien and Kagami appear either side of her.

“You go up to bed and get some rest.” Said Adrien, as he and Kagami linked arms with Marinette and led her up the stairs.

TtbR

Marinette looked around the school.

“They’ve redecorated.” Said Marinette, looking at a poster, “I don’t like it.”

“I’m amazed that they pulled everything together so quickly.” Said Alya, making Marinette blush, “You had something to do with that, didn’t you?”

“Well, I couldn’t bring the dead back, so I figured that I could at least help with the repairs.” Mumbled Marinette, twisting her fingers together.

“I suppose Adrien and Kagami couldn’t stop you.” Stated Alya, “How long have you been helping out?”

“…three and a half months?” Came the sheepish reply.

“Girl, you are going to be the death of us all.”

“I hope not, I like you being alive.”

“Hey.” Marinette and Alya turned around and spotted Chloe as she wheeled towards them.

Chloe had been rendered paraplegic from the explosion that killed her father, ironically it had been the same explosion that pushed Chloe and her mother closer together.

“Did you see what happened yesterday?” Asked Chloe, as Sabrina hurried up to her.

“If you’re referring to Adrien almost killing Gabriel, I was there in person.” Said Marinette, “Luka still has the black eye.”

“Adrien punched Luka?” Asked Sabrina, cocking her head.

“No, security punched Luka, he was helping Adrien.” Said Marinette, folding her arms, “Kagami wasn’t sure whether she should punch them or if she should kiss them.”

Chloe nodded, “And, how are you?”

Marinette nervously shifted from one foot to the other, “I’m getting better, I’m still relegated to behind the scenes work, since the last impression I left on that guy.”

“I heard his brains were leaking out.” Said Alix, as she appeared next to them.

“No, they weren’t.” Said Marinette, folding her arms.

Everyone was silent.

“Do you think anything will happen?”

“To what? The school? The city?”

“To us.”

Marinette was silent as she pondered on Sabrina’s question.

“I think that past few months have shown what would happen, and besides, we still have a few more things to clear up.” Said Marinette, “I hear that we’re merging with another school.”

“Makes sense, since our Principle preferred to bend over backwards for the rich and the Head of IT was a paedophile,” Said Alix, “I heard that they were going through with this because they were broke.”

“building wise or money wise?” Asked Alya, looking at the pink haired girl.

“Dunno.” Shrugged Alix, folding her arms, “I just know that all the teachers are doing a refresher course to bring them up to date with the common practices.”

They were silent.

“So, what happens now?” Asked Alya, as the rest of the class started to file in.

“We move on, rebuild,” Said Marinette, leaning against Adrien as he sat down, “We heal.”

Okay, I just spotted an error in this, I listed Marinette's age as 16 but then said Hawkmoth had been active for five years, which would have then made her 18, so I changed Marinette's from 16 to 18 to keep the continuity, because otherwise it would mean she became Ladybug when she was 11

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #Kagami Tsurugi #adrigaminette #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #sabrina raincomprix #chloe bourgeois #alix kubdel #tom dupain #sabine cheng #class #luka couffaine #tikki #plagg #delta writes #rewrite history #tw; non consensual touching #tw; violence #tw; panic attack #tw; character death #tw; torture #tw; mentions of torture #tw; mentions of rape

[translator-chan]

3rd person pov:

There is nobody on the rooftop of this school, it was the most isolated part of this school.

Minjoo Cha walked to the edge of the rooftop and closed her eyes. Sweaty clothes were sticking to her back while she was climbing the stairs. The hem sticks to her back as she grunts in frustration. The hot sunlight shines your eyes as always making your eyes sting. The woman wore an angelic face as if it contained all the loveliness of this world. Whenever she was shy, her cheeks will be painted in a red hue, and her long and fluttering eyelashes all went well along with her facial features. Of course, that face didn't look lovely to Minjoo.

Cha Minjoo pov:

Bang!

I heard the door being slammed open behind my back. I went up the stairs in a hurry as I heard the sound of breath also catch up."Hey, Minjoo Cha!" I looked back at the calling voice. I saw a face that was hated so that my teeth were gritting. "Min-Ju, wait!" The woman who was following me found climbing up the staircase hard as she breathed rather hardly. I began to tremble with a pale face. The lips that call my name are red and thick. "Are you really trying to jump off the school building(aka suicide)? Or did you just send a letter to surprise me?" The woman took the letter out of her arms and held it.

3rd person pov:

It was a letter left like a will. The face of the woman who was evil while she held the letter slightly with her index finger and thumb as if holding a dirty object.

"Do you think I'm scared of you doing this?" "Lee Soo-Yeon."The democratic name was low. Soo-Yeon shook her shoulder. She turned away from all her evil deeds and fell into self-pity. The anger crouched deep in the stomach as it wriggled its way in dynamically.

The resentful heart which bore resentment soon becomes anger.

Anyway, there was no one besides democracy(a law I guess?). Minjoo had no parents to protect and friends to protect her."Do I need to live by grinding my teeth? 'Can we happily dream of the future as long as we pass this period safely?'

Minjoo shook her head while asking herself a question. "You know, I thought that way too."

But now Minjoo did not have the confidence to continue live.

Cha Minjoo Pov:

There was no regret to follow this ditch-like life. If life is a novel, I wanted to complete this book and leave for the next story. If God existed, I hoped to do live another life once more. "If I was born again, I want to be born in the same world like you, and ask that you live and eat in the same place as me." Every time she connected, Soo-Yeon trembled less. Minjoo smiles and hopes so much that she could take her revenge in her next life. I whispered an oath I didn't have. "So I can take revenge on you." The wall touching my back was very low hence it was an easy height to jump down. Suyeon face turned pale as if she noticed it "wait!Wait!"

"Soo-Yeon, listen carefully. Now, remember this moment. Never forget it. I shall wait for the day where you will definitely pay for everything you did to me."

"Even if you live, I hope you die miserably."

With the last curse, Minjoo took off her last ounce of control of her body and collapsed quickly so as not to make any mistake. You have to smash your head first you will definitely die.

What was unexpected was Lee Soo-Yeon's behavior.

" No! "I thought she would laugh as usual, but she ran away with her teeth clenched and grabbed my hand. I wonder if she is afraid of dying herself."Let go of my hand!"She completely leaned against the wall as I was trying to shake her hand off with all the strength I had. Unfortunately, Lee Soo-Yeon doesn't have the strength to stop her but she still held in her arms causing them to fall off the building together. While falling together, Lee Soo-Yeon's scream did not disappear from her ear. After that all was blank. Dahlia's body started suffering from intense heat and air pressure. Just before she opened his eyes in, what she wondered was what Cha Min-kyu had suffered.

****************************

Evil woman.

It is a word that refers to a woman with a bad temper.

And Dahlia Margaret, the first daughter of the Count Margaret family, was a wicked woman who was said to be the innermost woman in the empire.

Beautiful appearance, cold atmosphere, vicious personality.

Everyone in the empire was afraid of her.

That was the fame of Dahlia Margaret that Cha Min-Joo knew.

"Madam, can I help?"

The maid who came in drove in politely drew her head.

" Okay ."

Dahlia responded nicely and kept her expression as cool as possible.

If I'm staying quiet as if I'm dead, or if I have a careless attitude,

It was.

When I lived as a second democracy in Korea, I always lived like that.

'If the whole earth is rumored to be a vicious and wicked woman, how much evil do you have to commit?'

But now it was a world in a novel.

Besides, the world is in a novel she had read before she died!

'Should I say that I'm glad I've read the contents of the book?'

Dahlia touched her fingernails hiding her impatience.

When I first opened my eyes in this world,

I thought I couldn't die badly and had a seizure.

There were many people wearing strange clothes around, so I was surprised to make more sauce.

"Dahlia!Dahlia, my daughter! Are you okay?"

'Who, who....... Who are you? Your father, Dahlia!"

But when a man named father came and we had some conversations, I could quickly find out where who this was about.

Floret. Was born to be loved> '.

As you can feel from the title, the main of the novel.

Dalia turned to the sound of someone knocking on the door.

The maid who finished the dressing also stepped back one step.

It was an old butler who appeared from the open door.

"Lady, the Count is waiting for you, and I will guide you to the parlor when you are ready.

"All right so stay out."

Dahlia deliberately threw a chilly answer.

Read as much as she can build

There was also a lovely face.

" Yeah?

"

However, the butler looked surprised.

Dahlia kicked her tongue because she wanted everything upset.

' What?

Should I have thrown that candlestick?

You must have done something bad to know!

'

This was the biggest challenge currently given to Dahlia.

Dahlia Margaret was the best beauty and evil woman in the empire, but Cha Min-jung was not a bad woman.

She was just a high school student who devoted herself to her studies in a normal and modest manner. I couldn't regret that I didn't see one of the common weekend dramas because I was focusing on my studies.

If I had watched the last drama, I would have been able to see how badly to do it in this situation.

All that was bad behavior for her, at best, was to raise her eyes or scream.

"My, can't you hear me? Get out!"

Dahlia, whose face was half-blushed, squeezed her voice hard.

"Oh, okay, sorry, baby Seed."

The butler hurriedly closed the door and went out.

Even after being left alone in the hallway, confusion continued.

'It is true that the rumor that the lady has become weird!

Even when he was five years old, he couldn't stand it without throwing things.

'

The butler groped his forehead with a depressed face.

There was still a scar from Dahlia torn by a candlestick threw when she was five years old for knocking on the door while taking a nap.

It was unbelievable that a young lady who had a high snot on her back with the prestige of the Count's family suddenly became so gentle.

Besides, on a day when an unwanted sister came in, like today, you would have been expected to run wild more.........

.

The butler trembled lightly, imagining what was going to happen soon.

Dahlia, after finishing the dressing, finally calmed her mind and went out into the hall.

The butler standing quietly in the corridor found her and came straight to her.

'I was a little annoyed earlier, but...

...

.

'

Dahlia hesitantly looked at the butler's face.

The feeling of guilt increased when I saw his gray hair and a forehead full of wrinkles as if proving his old age.

'am I being a little different from the original?

These aren't big trunks.

'

In the end, Dali, who could not overcome the guilt, whispered little to the butler.

" there ...

...

.

"

Couldn't finishing the sentence as I couldn't remember what the butler's name was.

"Yes, lady, do you have anything to order?"

The old butler quickly noticed and looked deeply.

It was an attitude that he was used to instructing like this.

"Before I... shouted ....... "

What should I apologize for?

How can I properly relieve the guilt of the villain without having a big crack on her reputation?

" ... sorry . "

" Yes ?

"

Dahlia, whispering with a new red face, quickly escaped.

The left butler froze with a face that seemed to pop out of her eyes in shock and looked only at her empty spot.

Dahlia Margaret is apologizing!

While working for the Count, he

never received an apology from the people of the Countess family.

But the first apology, no other way, I hear from Miss Dali.

'Madam, I...

...

I will never forget this day!

'

He trembled with excitement by himself, and ran after Dahlia, who had run away late.

That was why I remembered that I had to guide her to the parlor.

Dahlia recklessly ran the hallway.

The moment I apologized, I saw the frozen man's face and couldn't stay there.

In the novel, I just said that the evil deed was severe, but I didn't know it well, but I still couldn't get a sense of how much it was.

"Oh, huh.

"

Dahlia took a quick breath and entered any room.

The scent of old wood and books.

It Took her nerves to enter.

She put her hands on her rising and falling chest and raised her head.

"Is this... the library?" "

The densely packed library greeted Dahlia.

There was a chair in the distance by the window.

She tumbled back and sat down on the chair.

"Ha...."

A month has passed since I have been in this body.

It was a way to get used to it, but the attitude of the servants who were surprised no matter what they did was a surprise.

"You have to do bad things to know, I know."

Dahlia briefly recalled her previous life.

I remember when I was used to being bad, but I wasn't used to doing it.

'Would I be okay if I act like Lee Soo-yeon?

'

When I think of a woman from a previous life who continued a damn bad relationship, I feel somberly lost .

It was the moment when I became dissatisfied with the body I entered again.

'Hope...

...

Unlucky enough to enter Dahlia body out of many and many characters.

The evil woman who dies terribly.

'

I would have lived a new life at all if it had been just the beginning with no role.

The world did not change no matter how much resentment was expressed.

Even when I opened my eyes to pray, there was still a woman with silver hair and violet eyes standing in the mirror.

Fortunately, I was a reader who had read this novel until the end of the story.

"If you keep talking in moderation and fall out, I can save your life, right?

"

Dahlia had no intention of appearing on stage.

Because, the moment she becomes a character, she knows well that the stage will lead her to death.

Unlike Floret, Dahlia wasn't the main character, but was only the enemy of the main character.

"Dahlia!"

At that time, a thick voice hit my ear

All.

Dahlias get upset

Raised.

Someone pops open the door and thumps

And moved.

Her father, Videl Margaret Bag

#novel #korean #korean novel #translator #discord server #female #evil dead

[maitranslations]

[ENG Translation] =LOVE Takamatsu Hitomi - HUSTLEPRESS interview (2020.10.12)

“Appearing in their personal clothes!” Serialization part 1 - Takamatsu Hitomi

Note 1: It is her first interview with HUSTLEPRESS since her return.

Note 2: There are bound to have mistakes so I apologize for any errors.

Switching from lazing around at home to deciding to return took one day.

--Upon returning, how did it felt at the dressing room waiting to perform for the 3rd anniversary concert in September? It felt the same as last year, the usual.

--It was your first stage in one year, were you nervous? Nope. I have always been the type who doesn't get nervous. But on the actual day, time was tight, and we all had to get whatever we need to confirm right into our heads. So when I saw Sashihara (Rino)-san from the stage during the rehearsal, I got nervous.

--During the preparation lesson, you find the choreography for 'CAMEO' which was released during your hiatus, difficult that you cried even though you rarely do...... I heard this story from Sasaki Maika-san's radio show on YouTube. It was difficult, or rather, I didn't know the choreography when we were working on the 12-people version, so I was supposed to learn it while doing it with everyone else. But then I didn't know the choreography plus I had no idea where my position was, I was like, "This is impossible after all. I'm sorry."

--During your hiatus, you were "at home almost everyday" so what did you do at home? Nothing (laughs). For one year, I was sooo out of it (laughs).

--Did you watch Ikorabu (=LOVE)'s activities? Yes. From my perspective, Ikorabu has become more and more popular and famous, and I think that's great.

--At some point, did you go into "I can't wait to return" mode? I had the feeling of "I will definitely return" ever since I went into hiatus, but there were days where I couldn't think like that. During those days, I tried not to force myself to think that "I must return".

--During your hiatus, Sashihara-san commented, "I want you to have a wonderful experience that you could only have while you're on break". Did you get such experience? I wanted to, but because of the self-restraint period (Note 3: most likely referring to the ‘lockdown’ period due to COVID), I didn't go anywhere, and I hardly did anything. At most, I met up with my friends from my hometown in October when I started my hiatus.

--Hitomi-san, you like movies, right? Did you watched all sorts of films? I watched quite a lot on streaming services.

--Did you watched whatever movies that was on "Recommended"? I searched for what I want to watch. I watched a lot of Japanese movies, but what I looked forward to every week wasn't a movie nor drama, but "Gout Temps Nouveau 2". It broadcasts every Wednesday, I hardly can wait every week (laughs).

--To that extent huh (laughs). The casting of the guests is superb, I never get bored because I get to listen to opinions of different people each time, and I love that the talks are interesting. Topics about romance are a lot, so there are some things that I don't understand. I even went for the public recording (laughs).

--You bought a ticket normally? I applied for it. I was close to the stage, the casts were all so beautiful.

--Hasegawa Kyoko-san, Tanaka Minami-san, Takizawa Karen-san, and Nishino Nanase-san, right? Their talking ability were so great that I was overwhelmed.

--Anyways, it seems that you decided to return 2 months before the 3rd anniversary concert, were you able to immediately switch your life and mind back? Yes. I called and talked to a staff a while back. All this while I was just lazing around, but my life completely changed in one day. I thought I should do my best that I switched really quickly.

--Perhaps your mind got into the "it's about time" mode. I did get into it, but I couldn't take any actions with my feelings alone. When I needed someone to push me, I felt like I got it.

--Did you devote yourself into self-training for dance? I did some self-training, and had a one-to-one lesson with the teacher to sort of help me recall the steps for everything from '=LOVE'. In case I might have forgotten.

--So even when you didn't dance for so long, your body still remembers? There were times where I went "huh?", but I'm fine.

--Do you feel different now compared to before you were on hiatus, and when you made your debut? I think so. I feel much more positive than ever.

--We would like to ask you about the theme, "Whatever moves you has a meaning" for this interview. Hitomi-san, is there anything that moved you recently? The moment I saw the audience during the 3rd anniversary concert, I got really excited. It went straight to my heart too, I could feel it pounding hard. It's been a while since I felt that, I knew it I would feel nervous, but I was so happy.

--Were the audience cheering louder than you expected? The audience weren't allowed to let out their voices, but when my name first appeared on the screen, I could feel everyone let out a "Woahhhh!".

--Were you touched that during your hiatus, Oba Hana-san made a flipbook-like animation of you dancing to '=LOVE' in the ending card for the official YouTube channel?   I was so touched. I only got to know it as a surprise when I watched the video, so I immediately texted "Thank you" to Hana-chan on LINE. She was still working on the drawings at that time, so she told me, "I'll do my best".

--Did you watched it when it was completed? It was perfect. The animation is so cute, it does feel like Hana-chan's work. I was also happy that she drew me with a ponytail.

--What is the most impressive thing that happened in your life so far? At our first stage in 2017 at TIF, where we performed outdoor at a very large venue, two of my friends came down to watch us while wearing cooling pads. They screamed my name, "Hitomi-!".

--They didn't tell you beforehand? They were like, "We might come down". They were right in front among the audience, so I was like, "EHHHH!?". One of them came all the way from Hokkaido. I remembered being so happy that it gave me the energy, so I was able to work even harder.

--Looking at the other Ikorabu members, anyone impressed you? After being on hiatus for a year, I started looking at Ikorabu in an objective manner, and I realized the effort everyone put in behind the scenes. Especially (Takiwaki) Shoko-chan and Hana-chan. I didn't go and watch their performances during my hiatus, I only listened to the songs from their CDs. Listening to their live singing for the first time since my return, I realized they really improved. When I asked them, "What did you do?", they told me they went for voice training, and sang a lot. I'm so impressed.

--Okay, any food that left you a good impression? I'm into eating imo-kenpi recently. Also, I started cooking for myself every day ever since I decided to return. I was like, "Eh? This is delicious!" loudly when I tried the sesame soymilk noodles that I made (laughs). I was so impressed by how delicious it was then.

--Is the cooking of high difficulty? It was rather easy to make. I just looked at the recipe and made it, and the spiciness and seasoning was just how I like it.

--Do you usually cook before this? Not at all.

--No wonder you got burned while cooking. I got burned at two areas. Both times were when I was trying to take something while using the frying pan, it hit my arm and burned me (laughs).

--In the first place, what's the link between returning and cooking for yourself? I didn't take 3 meals a day before this, I ate and went to bed whenever I want, to the point where I became pretty chubby (laughs). I felt like I need to lose weight before I return, so I started cooking healthy meals for myself.

--So you completely changed your eating habits. I did a complete 180 degrees change. I eat a lot for breakfast because I get hungry, I basically skipped lunch for two months, and eat light food such as fish for dinner.

--2 meals a day huh. I was often told that if I'm going to have 2 meals anyways, it is better to have breakfast and lunch, but I can't hold my hunger in at night. I still can tolerate not eating lunch, so I choose to eat breakfast and dinner.

--Have you ever been moved from looking at beautiful sceneries? I can see the sky from my room, so during my hiatus in January, February and March, I often get to see beautiful sunsets that were like pink and light blue. Whenever I open the curtain and watch the sunset. I feel soothed.

--Hitomi-san, you will be turning 20 at the beginning of the new year, right? I used to feel like I still want to stay in my teens, but recently I want to turn 20 as soon as possible. There are more members who are legal to drink, so I can't wait to mix around with them.

--You will be able to do more things. There are various places I feel like going, but with the situation right now, it's hard. Thinking about it now, I really should have gone when I was still on hiatus (laughs).

--What kind of places do you want to go? Overseas. Like Taiwan or Italy. I was planning to go to Italy with my mother and older sister, but we couldn't go abroad at that time, so it got cancelled. We did talk like, "We should use the money supposedly for the overseas trip to go somewhere within the country", but couldn't go anywhere eventually due to country being in a state of emergency.

--What do you look for if you could go? I want to eat authentic pizza and pasta in Italy, I want to eat while walking around the night market in Taiwan. I would look for food if I could go (laughs).

--You are waiting for the day to be able to go...... right? It is precisely at this time that we, =LOVE, would like to be given more chances to make everyone happy.

#equal love #=love #ikorabu #takamatsu hitomi

[chrysalispen]

a very rough bit of sappiness from a WIP i have on the back burner, just so y’all know i’m not dead LMAO

====

Standing frozen before her bedchamber door all but vibrating with anxiety, trying not to grab handfuls of the Doman dressing robe that had been a nameday gift to herself last year, Aurelia found herself wondering what in all the seven hells she was thinking.

While still a student at the Valetudinarium she had attended a bridal shower for a young woman whose mother had been a friend of her aunt's. The majority of the gifts bestowed upon the bride had been of the practical variety, but she recalled in particular one carefully wrapped box passed amidst the flurry of gifts and foods and the nigh-unending flow of Dalmascan merlot. It had come with a knowing wink and a "to be shared with your husband." 

That message had been as cryptic to her as an Allagan hieroglyphic, until the moment the box’s lid had been removed and a chorus of piercing shrieks had erupted in scandalized delight at its contents: a sheer lacy black corset and a matching scrap of fabric that barely qualified as smallclothes.

A maid of seventeen winters not long in the capitol, she had never seen its like before. Her shocked reaction had prompted a fresh wave of laughter and not a few mutters about "rustic sensibilities" as the giggling bride placed the box on the hearth along with the piles of other gifts. She still recalled her own wide-eyed stare and the embarrassed heat in her cheeks, as she'd caught sight of both in the reflection of the mantelpiece mirror.

Over ten years later, peering into a hallway mirror to view the results of painstaking preparation, she felt the same distressing sense of acute self-consciousness. This set covered far more skin than that remembered bridal gift, but the delicate-looking straps of the garter belt supporting her thigh-high silk stockings somehow seemed every bit as salacious as that bare scrap of cloth. They peeked slyly beneath the hem of her robe like a half-revealed secret, no matter how snugly she wrapped it about herself for some semblance of modesty.

She was, if she were entirely honest, about two seconds away from hiding in her closet for the rest of the night.

Oh, for the gods' swiving sake, Laskaris, you can face a bleeding legatus on the battlefield but you can't be seen in some frivolous Thavnarian frippery? Gird your loins - with that ridiculous robe if it please you - and get on with it.

Unclenching her fists, Aurelia quickly opened the door- and paused, lingering small and shy and hesitant at the threshold. Nero still sat in her chair at the writing desk where she kept her journals, awaiting her return. His normally straight and exacting posture was a relaxed forward slouch, the laces of his fine shirt loose and open, chin braced upon his knuckles and his elbow upon the desk's well-worn surface. 

She could follow that characteristically hawkish gaze of his through the gap in the gauzy curtains of her bedroom window to their idle contemplation of the night sky beyond, if she cared to do so. She might have done in truth, were she not so charmed by the look of him in the moonlight, strangely serene and for once quite untroubled by the workings of the world.

A peasant's face, her aunt would have sniffed: its features were what the aristocratic sensibilities of the capitol would call ‘coarse.’ Broad and strong and quite often haggard- although as he sat lost in whatever thoughts held his attention in that moment, the angles and lines of his face were nearly smooth, and the watery light lent an almost dreamlike cast to high cheekbones and strong nose and square jaw. Even his ever-present shadow of a beard seemed lovely to her eyes. It gleamed in soft shades of aurum and auburn upon alabaster, deliberate suggestions of a painter's sponge upon a canvas. 

No matter the time of day, it was a face she privately loved to look upon, especially when he seemed to be happy- or, at the very least, content. She wasn’t all that certain she had ever seen him genuinely happy, and the thought was both saddening and sobering. 

But, she thought, it was accurate. Nero was possessed of a quick mind, a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. He was also an intensely private man - as secretive about his true self as he was his personal junkets - and so unguarded instances like this one were so few and far between that she had learned to appreciate them. He’d notice her silent perusal quickly enough, of course; he would let fly some witticism or other and she would respond in kind. This soft window would fall shut before her eyes like all the others and perhaps it might resurface at some later date and perhaps it would not. 

It was all very predictable- and probably, Aurelia thought, also for the best. She feared these moments as much as she cherished them, for she was always afforded the briefest glimpses of a man she knew it would be possible to love were he ever to allow it.

And were you ever possessed of sufficient courage to wish for it.

--but tonight was not the night for such somber considerations. She had made a promise, one she intended to keep.

The sound of the falling latch at her back wrested his attention away from the window, and the moon's spell was broken. 

Even so, he nearly returned to his quiet contemplation for all of a brace of seconds before her sigh caused him to snap sharply upright in his seat, startling at her presence in a double take that might have been comical were the entire situation not so nerve-wracking.

She offered an uncertain smile, arms still folded over her chest. "Did I interrupt?"

"Not at all. You were on that call for quite some time." She didn't have to see his smirk to know it was there; she heard it in the teasing note of his voice. He was humoring her, knew she was dancing around some subject or other, simply wasn't sure what or why. "I was half-minded to send a search party."

She was very aware of the thin silk of her robe's hem whispering against flesh, perhaps an ilm or two higher than the lacy tops of the hosiery. The straps on her thighs and the metal clasps that braced her stockings would be visible the moment she stepped into the golden corona of light cast upon the floor by her lamp.

Anxiety nearly overwhelmed her again and she froze in place, uncertain how to proceed.

"I-..." Her mouth felt as dry as the dunes of the Sagolii. "Yes, I suppose I was. I..."

She made her slow approach on near-silent feet, hands clutching at her silk: staring at the floor, at the window, at the wall, anywhere but his face. Above all, she was afraid to see the sardonic amusement that must surely be writ large in his eyes. She knew she could not possibly be the least bit enticing, stammering and sweating mess that she was. She didn't need the reminder.

She drew up short when her shin struck the lip of the chair.

He'd shifted his knees, spreading them apart to allow her space. One of his hands settled over one of her white-knuckled fists where it grasped a handful of silk and curled so tightly into the weave that her fingernails had distended the fabric (a distant part of her mind fretted over it; she'd probably ruined the godsdamned thing).

"....I had something to give you," she began. With a deft touch his fingers wound into the curl of her grip as if it were a piece of malfunctioning machinery and gently divested it of the silk she'd clutched. "It's... it's a surprise, so..."

"Not the robe, I assume."

There it was again, that smile in his voice, the one that put her in mind of a cat playing with a mouse it had caught. She paused, an idea blossoming to life in the back of her mind.

"No, not the robe. It's- actually, can I borrow your hands for a moment-... oh hells." She'd caught the unintentional innuendo a moment too late to take it back, and as if on cue, she saw the white flash of that toothy grin in the heartbeat before Nero began to cackle. "Damn it, no! I meant-"

He was openly laughing now. His hands had dropped to brace her hips, squeezing affectionately through thin silk.

Aurelia was so annoyed at her own clumsiness that she quite forgot her anxiety, and released a loud and irritable sigh, her posture drooping with disappointment like a wilting flower. "This was not my intention, I shall have you know."

"I am quite aware. Were you attempting to seduce me? Gods know I'm flattered, I'm just trying to figure out why the deuce you're acting like a bride on her wedding night." Playfully he tugged at the now quite rumbled panel over one of her breasts. "Are you naked under there or are you hiding contraband? Is that it? Diamonds? The imperial crown? A very small basket of coeurl kittens?"

Hells below, now she was laughing, hard enough to make her legs wobble. The whole mishap was too bloody ridiculous not to find humor in it.

"I'll keep guessing if you don't tell me," he warned. She swatted at his fingers, tried to scowl, ruined the effect by shrieking with laughter when he began to tickle her sides. "Is this some sort of extremely specific roleplay? Am I meant to be punishing you for a smuggling infraction-"

"Smuggling infraction," she chortled, gasping with laughter, "Scaeva, you pillock-"

"Oh, Tribunus, I've been a very naughty girl," he trilled, "perhaps if you would let me go I might show you the kitten in my pocket-"

She took the opportunity to attack his sides, cackled when he yelped and tried to grab her wrists. They mock-wrestled for a handful of moments, until her legs gave out beneath the force of her own mirth. Nero caught her as she pitched forward and buried her face against his chest, howling with the absurdity of it all.

It felt good, cathartic even, and all her low-level terror vanished.

Mutual accord came about when each abandoned their efforts in turn. Aurelia sat upright to see the other Garlean smiling at her, his hair already tousled, still chuckling.

"Contraband," she scoffed aloud. "Honestly, this robe barely covers my arse let alone aught of substance."

Put at her ease and amused by the night's misadventure despite herself, Aurelia paid little heed to the fact of her modest weight seated astride his long legs- until the friction of warm, rough palms skimming over the tops of her stockings served as a sudden reminder. The lower hem of her robe had slipped out of place during their tussle; the Doman silk sat bunched nearly at her waist, leaving her thighs exposed to his perusal.

Deft fingers continued their lazy exploration, pausing just long enough to catch in the garter belt's suspenders and give each ribbon a cheeky little tug, until their owner was bestowed with two generous handfuls of backside, neatly wrapped in soft lace and satin.

He gave a slow and experimental squeeze, and any retort she might have made died upon her lips before it could form.

"Contraband," the one-word observation was delivered with such a deadpan blandness that it would have been simplicity itself to miss the avaricious gleam in his eyes. His smile had turned from playful to wickedly speculative.

A soft laugh, this one ever so slightly tremulous, spilled forth from her throat - not nervousness, but anticipation.

His hands gave her rear another squeeze before retreating: calloused fingers tracing patterns in the lace and dragging against plush smoothness, coming to rest upon the tops of her thighs. She could hear her heart hammering in her ears. His eyes were the color of a clear Coerthan sky, wintry and bright.

"May I?" He leaned forward until he was close enough to rest his head against hers, the soft heat of his breath whispering against her cheekbone. She could feel the slight indent in her skin: his third eye pressed carefully against the smooth ridge of her brow. It was a gesture as intimate as any kiss. At length, she was able to whisper: “I was rather hoping you would.”

#chrysalispen writes #just some sappy shit with idiots in denial

[gra-sonas]

The Soldier and the Alien

Pairing: Malex, Alex Manes/Michael Guerin

Words: 4.2K | Rating: T | On AO3

For @beamirang​ who asked for Fictional Kiss Prompt 12: a hoarse whisper “kiss me” | eternal thanks to @insidious-intent for the beta!

Warning: Mentions of Michael drinking a lot/being drunk in the past. He sought help and is already better when this story takes place, though.

🎖️💚👽

Michael fell sick on a Wednesday. 

It was an ordinary day. There were no threats, no fights, he hadn’t even seen anyone in two days. No one knew why or how it happened, or how it was even possible. He’d been working on the alien spaceship console in his bunker until late the night before, trying to figure out whether a different looking piece of iridescent glass he bought from a contact on the Dark Web was part of it, but when he woke up the next morning, he felt like crap. 

Max came by, but his attempt to heal Michael with his powers turned out to be fruitless. Isobel insisted on calling Kyle, who in turn consulted with Liz. The two were now working in Liz’s lab at the hospital in an attempt to figure out what had caused Michael to catch what seemed to be a common cold. 

He couldn’t breathe because his nose was stuffed, his throat felt like he’d swallowed sandpaper and his entire body hurt. He was lying on his bed in the Airstream, wrapped in three blankets and a sleeping bag because he was so cold. Cold! He’d never been cold in his life. Like Alex had pointed out correctly, Michael does run hot.  

Alex. Thinking of him caused an entirely different kind of pain to flare up deep down in Michael. He sighed. Alex had always been fond of Michael’s human-shaped heating blanket qualities. 

Isobel dabbed at his forehead with a wet cloth and it made him shiver. She didn’t look confident if this was in any way helpful or would speed up Michael’s recovery. 

“Do you feel any better, Michael?” 

Michael’s eyes were closed and his voice was merely a croak. 

“Not since you asked me just five minutes ago. I’ve never felt so terrible in my life. And I’ve been hungover a lot. What is going on with me, Iz?” 

“I don’t know, Michael. Liz is working on your blood samples. I could call her again?” 

Michael blinked his eyes open to looked at her, but even though it was dim inside the trailer, the light made his eyes hurt. 

“Why don’t you drive over and see how far they’ve come? I’ll sleep for a bit.” 

Isobel looked down at him. 

“Are you sure? What if you need something and I’m not here?” 

“I have my phone, Iz. I’ll text you in case I need anything.” 

Isobel got up and reached for her handbag. 

“Okay, but really try and get some sleep, Michael. I’ve heard it helps when people are sick.” 

Michael closed his eyes and nodded, his breathing slowly evening out. 

Isobel took one last look at him before she left the trailer and walked over to her car. Liz better had some results, seeing Michael look sick and small in his bed made Isobel’s heart clench painfully in her chest. 

-- 

Michael had been asleep for a while when he woke up from someone knocking on the door of his trailer. His first impulse was to open it with his mind because he could barely speak, but of course he didn’t. Instead he tried to answer. 

“Come in, door’s open!” 

He was prepared to get up and shuffle over to open the door because there was no way the person standing outside could’ve heard him, but he was spared the effort.  

The door opened and Alex climbed up the steps and entered the Airstream. Michael’s breath caught.

Alex was without his crutch, and he was carrying something that looked like a picnic basket on his right arm. Michael had a hard time keeping his eyes open, but he still took his fill of looking at Alex.  

He was wearing black jeans tight enough to leave very little to the imagination, a forest green v-neck Henley that put his chest hair on display, and a black leather jacket. He was also wearing Ray Bans he took off once he'd closed the door behind himself. He put the basket on the kitchen counter before he stepped closer and squinted at Michael, his eyes only slowly adjusting to the lack of light inside of the Airstream.  

“You look like shit, Guerin.” 

Michael snorted. 

“Thanks, guess my exterior matches how I feel.” 

Alex face softened a little when he heard Michael’s rough voice. 

“Wow, you really are sick. I thought Isobel was joking when she called earlier and asked me to make a sick bed visit.” 

Michael attempted a shrug, but Isobel had wrapped the blankets around him so tight, he had very little room to move. He nodded instead. 

“Yes, I’m really sick. You shouldn’t come any closer, I might be contagious.” 

Alex came closer regardless, until he was right by Michael’s side.  

“I went to war, Guerin. More than once. I can handle a cold.” 

He reached for Michael’s forehead and pressed his flat hand against it. It was cool and although Michael was cold and shivering, it felt heavenly. Alex’s eyebrows drew together in a concerned frown. 

“Seems like you’re running a fever.” 

Michael shook his head. 

“We run hotter than the average human, are you sure it’s a fever? Besides, I’m freezing. I can’t even feel my toes anymore.” 

Alex turned around and rummaged in one of Michael’s drawers. When he returned to the bed, he lifted the blanket pile, reached for Michael’s legs and put woolen socks on his icy cold feet (it was a pair of socks Michael had bought for Alex years ago, after he’d complained how cold it was in the trailer when he visited Michael while he was on leave). Afterwards, Alex was careful to tuck the blankets around Michael’s feet properly and Michael felt a little less cold already. 

“Thank you.” 

Alex smiled at him and walked over to the kitchen area. Michael’s eyes hurt, so he shut them and just listened to Alex taking things out of the basket. He heard the clanking of pots, then the snick of a lighter when Alex turned on the gas stove. 

Michael dosed off for a while. 

-- 

When he woke up from his nap, he forced his eyes open and looked around the Airstream. Alex had made himself comfortable at the table across from the kitchen unit. A laptop was open in front of him and he was scrolling through something on his screen. When he heard Michael shift, he looked up. 

“Hey, how do you feel?” 

“Still like crap but a little better, I think?” 

Michael noticed steam coming from a pot on his stove. 

“Are you trying to burn down my trailer, Private?” 

Alex chuckled, got up and moved over to the stove. He took the lid off the pot and stirred. 

“I’m making soup. It’s my mom’s recipe. She used to make it when we were sick, and we were usually back to normal the next day. Maybe it’ll do the same for you. If not, you’ll at least eat something that will be easy to swallow.” 

Warmth spread through Michael. No one had ever taken care of him like this. Not that there had ever been a reason for it, he’d never been sick after all. But now that he was, Alex was here. Even though they weren’t on the best of terms at the moment.  

Too much happened. First Caulfield and the immeasurable loss of that day, then all the shit that went down with Noah. Followed by Max healing Michael’s hand against his will, and Michael playing guitar for the first time in a decade. Feeling a moment of peace in all the chaos, before the pain of Max’s death had ripped through Michael like a knife. 

He’d been a mess afterwards, and for much longer than it took them to bring Max back. He still doesn’t recall what happened during some of that time because he’d been drunk out of his mind for most of it. Until one day he’d realized he’d have to face his demons and claw his way back into the world of the living. Today, it was over three months since he last had a drink. 

Alex didn’t know about that, though. They’d barely been in touch since the night Max brought Rosa back. That fateful night when Michael went to the Wild Pony and Alex’s best friend let him kiss her. The night Michael had ruined things between him and Alex for good. In his desire to make the pain stop, he’d not only hurt himself worse, he’d also hurt Alex. 

Alex had left Roswell shortly after hearing about him and Maria. According to Liz, the reason he’d left in his car had been to “take care of important Project Shepard business”. It had kept Alex from Roswell for a couple of weeks, according to Liz longer than planned because Jesse Manes had been kidnapped from the hospital and Alex had worried about Flint’s and possibly at least one of his other brothers’ involvement. 

When Michael had heard that Alex left town, he’d ignored the part about Project Shepard, though, and given into the righteous anger bubbling up in him because “leaving’s what Alex Manes does best.” At the same time, it had felt like the most vital part of Michael had finally died, the part that still had hope. The part that had always made him believe that there was still some good in the world, and at least one man on this godforsaken planet worth living and fighting for. 

Needless to say, he hadn’t taken it well. The downward spiral he’d been on since Caulfield had turned into a bottomless fall. He’d barely managed to keep his job at the junkyard, and they probably would’ve been able to bring back Max earlier, had he not decided to drink himself into oblivion on a daily basis. 

Until one day, he’d received an envelope in the mail. It had contained a USB stick and a detailed note in Alex’s neat handwriting, telling him that Alex was on a mission to shut down Project Shepard for good, that he’d found another facility where more aliens had been held captive by Jesse, and that he was currently busy relocating them somewhere safe, but he wanted Michael to have all the relevant information he’d uncovered so far.  

Michael had stared at the note with wide eyes, his inebriated brain unable to process most of the information in Alex’s letter. He’d plugged the USB stick into his computer to see what Alex had sent him. He’d skimmed through some random files first, feeling oddly detached when he looked at numerous elderly faces of people, who were very likely also aliens. When Michael had opened the first picture in a folder labeled MARA, though, he'd felt like watching Caulfield burn to the ground all over again. 

Mom! 

Michael’s first instinct had been to drink until he’d be able to forget, but then he’d clicked through the entire folder. Looking at pictures of his mother from 1947, when she was as young as he remembered her from that one magical moment in Caulfield, was what brought him to his knees. 

He’d dropped to the floor, his body wrecked by hard sobs, and he hadn’t been able to calm down for a long time. He had no idea how much time had passed, when he’d finally managed to sit up. He’d sat on the cold floor of his lab, arms curled around his legs, head placed on his knees. He’d gotten up from the floor eventually and dragged himself to the bathroom, where he’d stared at himself in the mirror for the first time in months. 

He’d barely recognized the man staring back at him. And not just because his eyes were blood-shot and puffy from heavy drinking and crying for hours. He’d looked awful. Thin, almost haggard, his hair unwashed and much longer than he preferred, his clothes tattered and stained. 

It had been a cruel awakening for him. In that moment, he’d realized he'd hit rock bottom, and if he didn’t manage to pull himself together, he’d likely drink himself to death, alien physiology be damned. He’d also realized that he wouldn’t be able to get out of this on his own. 

If someone had told his teenage self (or even his adult self, prior to Max’s death), that one day he would call Kyle Valenti and ask for his help, Michael would’ve dismissed it as utter bullshit. But that’s what he did, because he knew that neither Isobel nor Max were equipped to give him the help and support he'd need. 

Kyle had been nothing but kind and professional about it and monitored his detox closely. Even when Michael had tried to rile him up when the pain of going through withdrawals had been almost blinding, Kyle had kept his composure and treated Michael like he’d treat any of his patients. 

Three months after that fateful day in his lab, Michael was doing better. He’d put the weight he’d lost back on, he was working more regular hours at the junkyard, and at Kyle’s insistence, he saw a therapist several towns over two times a week. Even though it bothered him that he could never reveal the whole truth to her, he understood that - regardless of the fact that she didn’t know that he’s an alien - talking to her was a vital part of his recovery.  

Which lead Michael’s train of thought back to the here and now, and the fact that Alex Manes was currently in his trailer, cooking soup for him. Right now, Michael wasn’t physically able to hold a longer conversation because of his sore throat, but he knew they had to talk.  

“Why did you come here, Alex?” 

Alex looked at Michael. 

“I told you, Isobel called. She told me you were sick and asked me to look if you were ok.” 

“You’re making me soup.” 

Michael couldn’t see it clearly, but it looked like Alex blushed. 

“Well, it’s what you do when someone’s sick. You make them soup.” 

“What else?” 

“You make them tea. Read them a story. I don’t know, whatever keeps them warm and makes them feel better.” 

“I’m buried underneath a pile of blankets but I’m still freezing. Looks like you’re not doing a very good job at keeping me warm.” 

Alex snorted. 

“What do you expect me to do, Guerin, come over and climb into bed with you to warm you up?” 

“Good idea.” 

Michael had overused his voice and he started coughing. 

Alex grabbed a bottle of water and walked over to him. He helped Michael sit up and take a few sips. Michael hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. It was painful to swallow, but drinking water made him feel better. 

When he had enough, Alex took the bottle and put it within reach on the floor beside his bed. Then he handed Michael a small bottle of acetone. Michael hesitated. 

“I don’t use acetone anymore.” 

Alex looked surprised. 

“You don’t? Since when?” 

“Since you sent me the USB stick.” 

It seemed to dawn on Alex what that information implied. 

“That can’t have been easy. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you looked through those files.” 

Michael closed his eyes. It still hurt to think of Caulfield, of his mom, but the pain no longer threatened to tear him apart. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Kyle told me some of the things you’ve done for me, for us, over these last few months. That can’t have been easy either. Working against your own family.” 

“You are my family, Guerin. I know you don’t believe me, and that you only associate me with pain and misery, but for better or for worse, you are my family.” 

Michael swallowed hard. It hurt, and not just because his throat was sore. 

“I do believe you, Alex. I’ve been working on myself while you were away. My therapist and Kyle’ve helped me to put a lot of things into perspective.” 

Before Michael could continue, his body was wrecked by another coughing fit. Alex stepped closer and rubbed soothing circles across Michael’s back while Michael tried to catch his breath and grabbed for the bottle of water. Alex pulled out his phone and tapped away on it while Michael took tiny sips of water until the urge to cough subsided. When Alex’s phone beeped with a notification, Michael looked up. 

“Everything ok?” 

“Yeah, it’s from Kyle. He tells me that I can give you some acetone for medical reasons.” 

Michael was still hesitant. 

“It’s ok, Michael. He says as long as it’s just one sip and you don’t down the entire bottle, it will help you with pain relief, but it won’t put you back to square one.” 

Alex uncapped the bottle of acetone and handed it to Michael. He took a cautious sip and sighed in relief. His throat and head didn’t hurt as much all of a sudden. Instead his stomach rumbled. 

“Thanks, Alex. It helped. When do you think the soup will be ready?” 

Alex smiled. 

“Should be ready by now. I’ll get some for you.” 

Alex filled the soup into a bowl and brought it over to Michael. Since his throat was currently not killing him, he was able to eat without pain. He couldn’t taste anything, but the soup was warm and his stomach stopped rumbling eventually. Alex returned to the table where he ate some soup himself. When he came back over to Michael to take the empty bowl from him, Michael managed a somewhat suggestive smirk. 

“How about you’re telling me a story now, Private?” 

Alex walked back over to the kitchen area and put Michael's bowl in the sink. He turned around to Michael.  

“What kind of story do you want to hear?” 

Michael pretended to think for a moment. He knew what he was about to say may very well blow up in his face, but he had to risk it. 

“Uhm, how about the one where the soldier and the alien are madly in love with each other and figure out a way to be together?” 

Alex walked back over to Michael. Michael scooted into the corner of his bed and offered Alex a place to sit.  Alex didn’t sit down though. Instead, he leaned against the opposite wall of Michael’s cot and looked at him with sad eyes. 

“I thought there’s only the one where the soldier and the alien were madly in love, but somehow they both managed to fuck it up?” 

And there it was, the rejection in the form of a Past Tense that hurt so fucking much, Michael struggled to breathe. He closed his eyes when he felt tears pricking at them and he considered feigning another coughing fit so Alex wouldn’t notice that Michael was falling apart on the inside right in front of him. 

When Michael had finally decided to get his life back in order, he’d made an effort to sort through his complicated feelings for Alex with the help of his therapist. He’d learned to differentiate between his unwavering love for Alex Manes, and the pain connected to all the back and forth they’d gone through over the course of a decade. At some point, he’d allowed himself to hope that Alex and him would find a way back to each other one day. 

The logical thinker in him understood that it may be too late, that he’d let Alex walk away one too many times. (This was something his therapist had pointed out to him: yes, Alex had left him more than once – oftentimes he didn’t have another choice, though, the Air Force didn’t treat deserters kindly - but Michael had also never gone after him when Alex could’ve stayed. They'd both used unhealthy coping mechanisms, they both had abandonment and trust issues several miles deep. Unraveling their behavior had helped Michael claim half of the blame, and even though it had been hard to admit his mistakes to himself, it had also made him feel lighter). 

The emotional part of Michael had refused to give up hope, though. 

The realization that it was indeed over, hurt more than anything. When Alex talked again, it startled Michael and he blinked his eyes open. 

“The thing is, the soldier is actually still madly in love with the alien and would love nothing more than to figure out a way for them to be together. If it’s not too late?” 

Alex’s voice was soft and his expression unsure. His hands fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Michael’s heart fluttered in his chest and all the pain inside of him evaporated for the moment. He made a grabby hand gesture at Alex and Alex slowly sat down on the edge of Michael’s bed. 

“Alex, the alien wants that, too. I want that. You have no idea how much I want for us to give it another shot.” 

He ran out of breath, and tears he couldn’t hold back any longer started streaming down his cheeks. He flung himself forward towards Alex, who caught him and wrapped his arms around Michael in a tight embrace. 

“I’ve got you, Michael, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” 

A pained sob escaped Michael’s mouth and then he collapsed. Physically and mentally. He cried and cried and cried, interrupted by painful coughing fits, but the tears just wouldn’t stop falling. Alex held him the entire time, his shirt soaking up most of Michael’s snot and tears. He didn’t seem to care. He continued to rub soothing circles into Michael’s back and whispered his affirmation to stay into Michael’s ear over and over. 

After a long time, Michael’s body couldn’t take the dual strain of crying and coughing anymore. His tears dried up eventually, but Alex kept rubbing Michael’s back in an attempt to further soothe him. When Michael’s breathing slowed down to a normal speed of in and out, Alex pulled the bottle with acetone from his pocket, uncapped it, and encouraged Michael to take another sip. 

The urge to cough faded and Michael sank back onto the bed, utterly exhausted. 

He blinked at Alex, his eyes puffy and red. 

“I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d ruined it all and that it’s too late. Alex...” 

“I know, Michael. Me too. You have no idea how many times I wanted to reach out to you since I came back a while ago, but Kyle kept telling me to wait. He didn’t give me any details - “doctor patient confidentiality, Alex, you know what that means” - but I understood that you were doing something for yourself, and I didn’t want to jeopardize that. You deserve being better like no one else. I won’t lie though, staying away and giving you space has been harder than serving three tours.” 

Michael shook his head. 

“And I thought you hated me, that I had finally managed to destroy the one good thing in my life for good.” 

“Michael, please. We both made mistakes, big and small, and too many of them over the years. We’ll talk about everything when you’re feeling better, not today though. You’re exhausted.” 

Alex bent forward and placed a kiss on Michael’s forehead. 

“I’m just so grateful Iz called me earlier and asked me to see you,” he whispered. 

“Me too.” 

“You should sleep, Michael, you can barely keep your eyes open anymore.” 

Michael closed his eyes for a second while he held onto Alex’s hand. 

“I’m afraid that when I fall asleep, you’ll leave and I won’t see you for another three months.” 

Michael sounded and looked so small when he confessed what seemed to be his biggest fear, and it almost ripped Alex’s heart out. 

“Michael, please look at me.” 

Michael blinked his eyes open, his pupils were blown wide in the twilight of the trailer. Alex took Michael’s hands in his and looked into Michael’s eyes. 

“I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere. That’s a promise. You have me, Michael. For as long as you will have me and even beyond. I’m yours and you are mine. We’ll figure out the details later, we’ll talk, we’ll talk some more, just, whatever it takes to make this work. I want to be with you, and unless you tell me to go, I won’t ever leave you again.” 

Alex caressed the side of Michael’s face, and Michael nuzzled into the touch, his eyes falling shut. Alex ran his other hand through Michael’s sweat-damp curls. 

“How about I’ll now take you up on your invitation to warm you up?” 

Michael’s eyes flew open and he nodded. He shuffled over into the corner of his bed to make space for Alex. Alex got up, opened a drawer across from the bed and pulled out one of Michael’s sweaters. He stripped out of the soggy green shirt he was wearing and pulled the soft sweater over his head. Then he sat down and unlaced his boots to take them off. He didn’t take off the prosthetic, but he adjusted his jeans and socks to ensure the cold metal was covered, before he climbed into bed with Michael. They were facing each other and Michael managed a small smile. 

“I can’t believe you’re really here. I’ve missed you so much.” 

Alex searched for Michael’s hand underneath the blanket, and when he found it, he laced their fingers together. 

“I’ve missed you, too, Michael. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” 

Michael didn’t manage more than a hoarse whisper when he asked: “Kiss me?” 

And Alex did.

#malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #roswell new mexico #my fic #h/c #beamirang