#it's not as angsty as I thought it would turn out but i stil cried

[icejello]

Chapters of Life: chapter 6

Characters: Satan, Twyla

Words: 2295

A/N: I didn't say this before but I actually got inspiration for this from a song so I think now would be a great time to link it to the song

The house is quieter now that everyone had left. All of them had stayed at Solomon's house for 2 days to comfort him and thankfully his house is big enough for al of them. He too was supposed to be leaving yesterday but one look at his niece's pleading eyes asking for him to stay for two more days, he had to say yes, he doesn't have the heart to tell her no.

Everyone has acted strong for her, putting up a smile whenever she's around, accompanying her and playing with her. Especially her father, putting behind his work to spend time with her, laughing with her when she needs it, she even got special permission to sleep in her father's room for comfort. The two of them cling to each other for comfort, now that the person they so loved has left them, they only have each other even with everyone else around them and he gets it. This is something just between the two of them. His niece too, had put on a smile to show that she's strong going through this, he admires her for that. How similar she is to MC.

Now with silence in this house, he was in his room reading. Although, his mind is anywhere but on the book in front of him. He has too many thoughts and yet his mind felt blank and empty. Most days, he find himself unable to think clearly. His niece constant presence around him kept him grounded but it's also too painful for him to look at her.

He wants to hate her. This constant and living reminder of what he had lost. The proof of the love that was stolen from him. The way she looks exactly like them, it hurts him. She was the spitting image of MC. A reminder of the death of the love of his life, the love that he never received, the love that never got. Sometimes he would find himself staring at her, thinking that maybe they're the reincarnation of them. But her eyes, Solomon's eyes, is all he needs to see to know that it isn't them. That they're dead, leaving behind a daughter, an exact copy of them if it weren't for the eyes, and a mourning husband.

He wanted to hate Twyla but he couldn't, he can't. He love her as his own daughter but he knows that she isn't his. He made a promise to MC, that he would protect her no matter what and he tends to keep that promise. He will keep that promise, nothing will happen to her, not as long as he is alive and he will keep her safe even if it meant sacrificing his own life. But he hopes that it doesn't come to that, he wants to see her grow up into the beautiful young woman she would be, even if it hurts him to look at her.

But being here, at this house, everything just feels so wrong without them around. Something feels missing, he feels lost. He no longer knows what he is feeling these days, often finding himself replaying the memories he had with them. Where had all those feelings that they had taught him went? He wish he could feel something, anything, but all he felt was numbness. Nothing feels real to him but he know everything is true and it's the harsh reality. Are the fates not done toying with him by now? They had taken his love, first putting them away from him and now taking them away from everyone.

A millions thoughts starts to haunt him and he push off the bed to stare outside the window. It was night time now which explained why his niece wasn't there seeking for his attention, she's probably asleep. He wasn't much of a stargazer compared to Belphie but he does know stuffs about stars. Devildom stars are different from human world ones, right? Staring at the night sky, he can't help but be reminded of the time he had helped MC and Solomon about their project on making the human world constellations which, of course, had turned into a disaster because his brothers were involved in it too, although he can't really say that he isn't to be blamed too. He did make a cat constellation too.

Thinking back on all those memories, all the happy times, it hurts him. Why can't it just stay like that? Where they were all together, where all of them are happy. He doesn't want this, this emptiness inside him, this lost feeling. He paced around the room in an attempt to clear his mind from all those thoughts, they were starting to irritate him, why is he suddenly remembering all these now? He stopped and looked to the side to find that he had stopped right in front of the mirror.

He stood in front of it, staring at his reflection, he looks the same and yet it's like he couldn't recognize himself. Did he even change all those years? Is this really him that he's looking at? He can't remember when was the last time he stood in front of a mirror to look at himself.

He took a deep breath and close his eyes. Hold yourself together Satan, MC wouldn't have wanted to see you like this. He opened his eyes and looked back at the mirror. Instead of his reflection, he saw Lucifer staring back at him. No no no no no. Thoughts whispered in his head. You are nobody. You're only strong because of him, if it weren't for him you would have been number seven. Everyone fears you only because of him. You were made from his anger, people feared his anger and that's why people fear you.

No, stop it, stop it. You know it yourself, deep down you know the truth, you know that you are nobody but you were so desperate on not believing the truth. "No, that's not true, I am somebody," he find himself whispering as he claws at his face and shutting his eyes shut not wanting to look at the mirror and trying to block out the voices in his head.

Are you? You know that's a lie. You will always be just a shadow of Lucifer, he would always be superior to you, all your brothers are, you are worthless. No, I'm not Lucifer, I am my own person, MC- They are gone now. They gave you meaning to your life but they are no longer around. They're gone and so is your meaning, your worth. "Stop it stop it stop it, just shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!"

Face the truth Satan, you are- "SHUT UP!" Without thinking twice, he raise his fist and punch the mirror in front of him. The sound of glass breaking echoed seems too loud as it echoes in his room. He open his eyes to see the mirror fully cracked because of his fist. Little bits of blood are on the mirror near his fist. He remove his fist to stare at his now bloody hand, he almost didn't feel the pain of it. Silence fell around the room like a heavy blanket and he just stood there looking at his bloody knuckles, he lost track of time as he stood there.

The voices in his head are silent now just like room. He went to the side of his bed and sat down on the floor, leaning against his bed, as he burry his face in the palms of his hands. Lost in the silence, he almost missed the soft knocking on his door. It must be around midnight now so who could that be? Solomon? He seem to be the only other person who would be awake at this hour. He didn't bother to answer it, knowing that Solomon would open his door either way. And his door did open but it was not Solomon behind it.

"Uncle Satan?" Twyla's small voice squeaks from behind the door.

"Twyla?" At the sound of his voice, she slowly peeks inside before entering and closing the door behind her. She's wearing the cat onesie that he had gifted to her during her birthday and it had since then been her favorite present among all of the gifts she had ever received. She stood there, looking at him, unsure of what to do. He opens his arms to her and she quickly went to him to sit in his lap and hug him. "What are you doing here? I thought you were sleeping," he ask her softly as he strokes her hair.

"I woke up when I heard you yell and I wanted to see you,"

"Did I wake you up? I'm sorry sweetheart," he kiss the top of her head and she looks up at him, her eyes filled with worry.

"Are you okay uncle?"

"Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?" He offers her a smile. Her eyes shift to look at something and he follows her gaze to see that she is staring at the now broken mirror. "Oh, that. I'm sorry about that, don't worry too much about it, okay?"

She ignores him and reach for his hand, he has to admit that she is smart for noticing which one is his dominant hand and immediately taking that one. Her brows scrunched up as she takes in my bloody knuckles. "Uncle, your hand is bleeding,"

"Like I said, don't worry about it, I'll be fine," he reassures her.

"No, you're hurt uncle," she frowns as she looks up at him again.

"I'm fine sweetheart, why don't you go back to sleep?" She shakes her head in refusal. "Where's your papa?"

"He's sleeping, he didn't hear it when you yelled. Papa must be really tired," her face fell as it turns upset and he wraps his arms around her.

"He must be, aren't you tired Twyla? You should go back to sleep or you would be tired tomorrow and then we can't play if you're tired,"

"But uncle, you're hurt!" He tries to reason with his niece again that he's fine but she jumps up and runs towards the bedside table. She opens the bottom drawer and takes out the first aid kit that he doesn't even know is there. She hurries back to him and set the kit on the floor.

"How did you know that was there?" he ask in surprise.

"I saw nari put it there before," she tells him as she opens the box and starts to work on treating his hand.

"Twyla, how do you know how to do this?" He ask in surprise and amazement of his niece. She's only four, four year olds don't usually know how to do this stuffs, right?

"I fell down once and watch how nari did it. I asked nari to teach me when papa accidentally injures himself so I could help them!"

"You're a good girl, you know that?" He tells her after she's done and ruffles her hair as she sits back down in his lap. Her work with the bandage isn't actually the prettiest one but it will work. Of course MC will teach their daughter how to treat someone's injury, they probably weren't worried about Twyla playing with the ointments and medicines at all.

"And your hand would is treated now! It might still hurt but it'll be better soon!" She reassures him and he can't help but smile at his niece. She reach for his hand again and kiss his knuckles.

"Why did you do that?"

"Nari or papa would always do it for me when I get hurt, they said it'll make it heal faster so I'm doing it for you too!"

And at that moment, he's thankful for his niece. He knows kissing an injury won't do anything but seeing her trying to take care of him warms his heart. He really isn't worried about the injury, he is a demon after all and little injuries like that doesn't really concern him.

Seeing her still hurts him, even right now with how similar she looks like to MC. Hell, she even acts like them and that breaks his heart. But he made a promise and he will keep it and maybe this little ball of sunshine sitting in his lap will teach him more about life just like MC did once. The voices in his head weren't lying when they said MC was the one that gave meaning to his life but what they did wasn't giving meaning to his life, rather they had taught him what life means and teach him to feel and enjoy the little things in life.

MC was the love of his life because they didn't see him the way everyone else does, and they still are even now. He remembers a quote from the book MC had recommended to him, "and perhaps it is greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone". Yes, he had loved MC and now they are gone but he could use all that love to love this niece of his as his own daughter and protect her.

Maybe one day, everything will be fine, maybe it will stop hurting but for now he would have to just endure it. He wished that they were still there so he could thank them for everything they had taught him. Thank you MC, for everything you had taught me, for the love you gave to me and the love you taught me to feel. He almost didn't notice the tears that had started running down his cheeks as he cradles Twyla tightly in his arms.

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#Spotify #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me angst? #obey me satan #okay this one #i'm not sure how i feel about this one #Did I cry? Sure #but i don't really know i guess #did i actually just quote tsoa? yes yes i did #it's not as angsty as I thought it would turn out but i stil cried #maybe it's because i'm too soft for stuffs like this #idk #welp #also i didn't know any gender neutral names for parents so I searched google and there are a lot and just decided to go with nari #ocelwrites #mine

[lallemanting]

took the breath from my open mouth (2/2)

part 2 of this angsty prompt // also on ao3

Lucas wakes up on the floor to a sour taste in his mouth and weight in his gut that sends him running from the ground to the toilet. Even after he’s emptied the contents of his stomach, the weight lingers and then the memories flood in.

Oliver leaving. Vodka. A phone call. Eliott.

Lucas turns back to the toilet and retches again.

Fuck he called Eliott. He got drunk and called Eliott. What a fucking cliché. Then their conversation floods back too. Lucas can hear Eliott’s soft voice, laced with concern and confusion and frustration. I think we need to talk. 

Lucas can’t hold back the joyless laugh that escape his throat. Talk, yeah. He needed to talk thirteen months ago, but Eliott left before they could have that conversation.

And then, I’ll text you in the morning.

Lucas thinks of his phone, probably thrown aimlessly somewhere in his room and wonders if there’s a message from Eliott waiting. He’s not sure he can bring himself to look.

He sits on the cold tile floor of the bathroom for a few minutes, letting the coolness seep into his sweating skin. He throws up again, for good measure, flushing away the last traces of alcohol. But the tightness in this stomach remains, and Lucas knows it’s not from vodka.

He peels himself off the ground and turns on the shower, eager to be rid of the grime that clings to him – the remnants of the party, the alcohol, his own guilt. He steps under the scorching spray and tries to wash it all off.

When Lucas emerges from the bathroom, he checks the time on the oven. It’s only 11:30 and Lucas feels a little impressed that’s he’s already up and showered, reminding himself it was probably past 2am when he called Eliott. He makes his way into the kitchen and fills a glass with water, downing it with some aspirin, hoping that it takes the pounding in his head away. 

But the pain is a good distraction from the mess he’s made.

He returns to his room and sees the scarf that’d he torn from his neck when he woke up strewn across his floor. Next to it, his phone lies face down, taunting him. Lucas looks away, pulling on a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt and pulls his covers back as he climbs into bed. He’ll try and deal with that again in a few hours.

But as he lays there, willing sleep to take over, to make him forget everything for a few more hours, all he can think about is his phone, lying on the floor across the room. And Eliott. 

Always Eliott.

He lies there for a few more minutes, trying to convince himself he’s going to fall asleep, somehow halt the pounding of his heart, alleviate the weight in his stomach, enough to drift off. But soon it becomes clear that’s not possible. 

He pulls back the duvet, legs swinging, feet meeting the floor, and he walks cautiously, as if someone can see him giving up so easily, being pulled to his phone. To Eliott.

And then he’s leaning down and picking it up, clicking the button to make it come to life. He drops it, like it’s been taken red-hot from a fire, and then leans down and picks it up again.

There, bold and proud on the screen, is a message. And he shouldn’t be surprised, because Eliott had said he’d text him. But Lucas had learned a year ago that he couldn’t trust anything that came out of Eliott’s mouth. Except, apparently, this.

DO NOT ANSWER (10:15):

Hey. Hope you’re feeling okay this morning :) If you’re still up for it, I’d like to meet. When are you free?

––

It’s Thursday – nearly five days later – before Lucas can bring himself to respond. When he’d first read the message, he’d had to lock his phone and set it down far away from him for several hours, too anxious to even think about a response.

Then the guilt at not responding had started. Every time Lucas opened his messages, seeing Eliott’s text would send a jolt of panic through him. He knows it’s a little unfair that he’s ignoring Eliott since he was the one who called him in the first place, but now that he’s sober and has had a few days to think things over, he’s not sure he wants to hear what Eliott has to say.

And it’s because, as Oliver had so astutely noticed, Lucas has been harboring a hope, has been living in a cloud of denial for the past year. He’d try and convince himself that he was over Eliott, but that pain in his chest has never really gone away. The ache remained, becoming duller and easier to live with, but an ache all the same. 

And now that he’s let himself think about it, Lucas knows he’s in trouble. Because if Eliott so much as gives him a sign that he might not be over Lucas, Lucas would never be able to let go. 

But it also means that if Eliott has moved on, is actually over Lucas, his heart might officially crumble, leaving Lucas to face an even greater pain. It’s these thoughts that don’t seem to rest that make Lucas freeze every time he begins to type out a response to Eliott’s text.

It’s hard too, not knowing what’s going through Eliott’s head, when Lucas used to know him better than anyone.

But on Thursday Lucas finds himself standing in front of Yann’s apartment, banging on the door frantically. The scarf is wrapped tightly around his neck and his cheeks are red with cold. But his mind is so wrapped up in the message on his phone that he didn’t even feel the frigid air biting at his skin as he ran through the city. He hears shuffling around and then Yann opens the door, raising an eyebrow when he sees Lucas.

“Hey, can I come in?” Lucas asks, but he doesn’t wait for the answer, pushing past Yann and rushing into the apartment. He doesn’t stop until he reaches the sofa and then he sinks into the cushions, hiding his face in his hands. “It’s Eliott,” he moans.

“Eliott?” Yann asks and then he sighs. The air hangs heavy as he waits for an explanation. Lucas knows it’s because they’ve been here a thousand times before, that Yann is the only person who’s seen almost all the tears he’s spilled over Eliott. Maybe then, he’ll understand. 

“It’s just–” Lucas begins, and then he’s launching into an explanation of everything that’s been going on in the past month. Seeing Eliott at the restaurant, not being able to get him out of his head, seeing him again at the party, Oliver breaking up with him (and Lucas not really caring), and drunkenly calling Eliott. He’d kept it all to himself, afraid to bring up Eliott again with his friends, afraid of the way they’d look at him if they heard he was still hung up on his ex a year later. Afraid of what they might say.

But now, Lucas needs help. He needs someone who can help him figure out what to do, can help him decide what happens next, because his brain can’t seem to settle down and think and his heart hasn’t stopped racing since his eyes met Eliott’s across that restaurant. 

When Lucas finishes talking, Yann is there just looking at him, like he’s taking the time to actually process everything Lucas said. Lucas feels his trepidation at spilling everything to Yann fade away as his best friend smiles at him, a little sad, a little concerned.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Yann asks.

“I didn’t know what to say.” And it’s true, Lucas doesn’t know how to fit this in his mind, how to understand how a chance encounter a month ago has sent him spiraling. Yann seems to understand and he just nods. 

“Do you want to see him?” And there it is, behind his words, Yann’s knowledge of everything that happened, of everything Eliott put him through. Yann was the person who held Lucas as he cried when Eliott left. He was the person who helped him try and move on, who’d changed Eliott’s contact in his phone to a reminder that the past should stay in the past.

“Do you think I should?” Lucas’ voice is small because suddenly he’s realizing just how much he wants to see Eliott, how much he craves him, how agonizing that hole in his heart has become. And he wants Yann to tell him it’s okay to listen to that part of himself. But he also knows Yann would do anything to avoid Lucas getting hurt again. So maybe, for once, he’ll get the truth from someone.

“I think you need to.”

Lucas feels his mouth fall open a little because he hadn’t been expecting that – at least, not from Yann. Throughout this whole ordeal, Yann had always been the person encouraging Lucas to move on, to not let Eliott hold him back when he’s the one who walked away. 

“I think you need to hear what he has to say,” Yann is saying, and the blood is rushing in Lucas’ ears because this is really happening. “And...I think there are some things you want to say to him.”

And Yann is right, of course he is. There are things Lucas has been dying to say for months, from the moment that stupid suggestion left Eliott’s mouth. When the only thing that came out was okay.

“I think it will help you finally start healing,” Yann says. “Or...well, figure out another way forward.”

Lucas doesn’t quite know what Yann means, but Yann is looking at him like he should and Lucas finds himself just nodding his head. Time to be brave, time to just do it. If he doesn’t do it now, he never will.

Yann helps him draft the text.

Lucas (13:14):

hey sorry it’s taken me so long to respond

are you free tomorrow? the café by the park, 16:00?

It only takes a minute for Eliott to text him back, but Lucas’ hands are shaking as he and Yann stare down at the screen, the anxiety building when the three dots appear.

DO NOT ANSWER (13:15):

Perfect. See you there.

–– 

So when Lucas sees him again, on a Friday afternoon in February, he waves him over to a table in the back of the café and ignores the way his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. He tightens his grip around the hot mug in front of him, feeling the way the liquid burns through the ceramic so that the pain in his hands matches the fire raging in his core.

Eliott nods and quickly orders, grabbing the cup as soon as the barista sets it down. He makes his way over to Lucas and Lucas takes the time to look him over, really look at him. 

Eliott looks the same, but different too. He’s still wearing dark colors and that damn black jacket and his hair is still a mess, but his eyes that always stormed like the sea seem sadder and he carries himself with a little more tension in his shoulders, as if trying to compact his body down and make himself less noticeable.

But how every person isn’t drawn to Eliott, isn’t staring as he makes his way past, Lucas will never understand.

And then finally, Lucas is sitting in the corner of a café with his back to the wall, clutching at a coffee that is much too hot to drink, and Eliott is there, sitting across from him. It feels inevitable.

“Hey,” Lucas says. And there’s that word again.

“Lucas,” Eliott replies. 

There’s silence as they look at each other, allow themselves to look, allow themselves to acknowledge that half the reason they’re both here is just that they needed to see each other.

“I see you’ve had time to recover,” Eliott says, and Lucas can tell he’s trying to break the tension, but there’s real concern there, hidden beneath the sarcasm.

“Yeah,” Lucas says. “The hangover was pretty rough.”

Eliott lets out a small laugh. “I can imagine.”

“How about you?” Lucas’ voice comes out cold as images of Eliott and the other boy flash through his head. “I saw you at the party.”

“Ah, Imane said you might have seen,” Eliott says, shifting guiltily in his chair. “Look, it didn’t mean anything Lucas, really.” He pauses, frowning. Lucas wonders why he’s trying to justify himself to Lucas of all people. “Is that why you called?”

Lucas squirms, but can’t help that he feels a little lighter knowing the boy isn’t anyone to Eliott. “No,” he says quickly. “Well yes and no. It was more the seeing you again than anything else.”

They’re silent for a moment and Eliott is just looking at him, so Lucas goes on.

“But I do want to apologize for calling you like that,” Lucas says, his cheeks flushing red. “That, uh, was not one of my proudest moments.”

“It’s okay, Lucas.” Eliott smiles. Lucas melts.

“No, it’s not.” Lucas plays with the handle of his mug, chancing a glance up at Eliott. “I mean, I did want to talk to you, but you deserve more than a drunken phone call.”

“Maybe,” Eliott says, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off Lucas since he sat down. Lucas had almost forgotten what it was like to be looked at like that. “But I would have been okay with anything honestly. It was just good to hear from you. I haven’t heard from you in a long time.”

“I know.”

Eliott is still staring at him but then he sighs, leaning back in his seat, rubbing his neck. “I tried, you know? I really tried. But you never responded. I missed you, Lucas. I still miss you.”

Lucas clenches his jaw as the words hit him because it’s not fair, it’s really not fair for Eliott to say that and not mean it. At least not the way Lucas means it. “You can’t keep saying that.”

Because Eliott has said it before, or, at least, he’s sent it. The first text came two weeks after they broke up, late at night on a Sunday when Lucas was staring down another week without Eliott, still crying into his pillow every night. I miss you, typed out and mocking him on the screen, sent from Eliott to Lucas with such a careless disregard for Lucas’ heart that he felt it break again.

He hadn’t been able to bring himself to respond, showing Yann as soon as he saw him in the morning. Yann had taken one look at the text, sighed, and changed Eliott’s contact from Eli to DO NOT ANSWER and Lucas had nearly started crying again.

But he’s reaching out, Lucas had protested, clinging to the last bit of hope that Eliott might have realized his mistake. 

It’s not good enough, Yann had said. He needs to do more if he’s serious about it. And Lucas knew Yann was right, but to feel his hope splinter again, made Lucas hope Eliott never tried to reach out again. He wasn’t sure he could take it. 

(Eliott hadn’t heard that silent plea though apparently, because three more messages came in over the course of the next two months, all saying similar things. Lucas hadn’t shown anyone, then, but hadn’t been able to respond either. He wished Eliott would stop stretching it out, stop making Lucas heart race every time he got a little lonely, and eventually Eliott had. And then Lucas found himself wishing that his phone would ping again.)

But now, in the café, hearing Eliott say it again, to hear those words said again like it means something, Lucas wants to scream.

Now that Lucas knows that every pang in his chest at the sight of Eliott’s name, every time his mouth went dry at the sight of those words, the dull ache that never left, was his heart’s way of saying I love you even when he wouldn’t let himself think it, maybe it hurts worse.

Lucas thinks if that boy sitting there meant it the way he does, I miss you actually meaning I love you, he could have done something about it. But he didn’t.

“It’s true,” Eliott says, simply. “Why did you never respond?”

“I couldn’t,” Lucas says. It’s the truth, poorly explained.

“Why?”

“It hurt too much,” Lucas says, blinking away tears prickling at the corner of his vision. He has to hold it together. “So I tried to stop thinking about you. To try and move on.”

“Did it work?” Eliott asks, his voice small.

“What do you think?” The words land sharply. Lucas means the venom he spits. It helps him feel better for a moment, but it’s fleeting.

Eliott sighs and shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He hasn’t touched his drink. “I’m sorry,” he says, and then he pauses. “I’m sorry about a lot of things.”

Lucas can’t help the way he can suddenly feel his pulse, the way his face grows hot. It’s the first apology he’s heard slip past Eliott’s lips and he’s unprepared for what it feels like. “What things?” Lucas asks, because he needs to know, he’s always needed to know.

“Like everything from the moment I said we should break up.”

Lucas chokes and he can’t help the way he’s staring at Eliott, in disbelief.

“What the fuck, Eliott!” Lucas nearly shouts, anger building, slowly replacing the sadness. “You really can’t keep saying things like that, it’s not fair.”

Eliott looks just as near tears as Lucas feels. “I know,” he whispers. “But it’s the truth.”

Neither of them say anything as a moment passes, and then two. And despite everything, despite how Lucas has fought it, he feels hope begin to blossom in his chest. But he needs to know. He needs to understand.

“So?” Lucas asks, and the momentary burst of anger has left his voice ragged and shallow. “What happened? I mean, when did we go from us to that? What did I do?”

Eliott chews on his cheek and Lucas sees his shell cracking, the nervousness seeping through. “It’s nothing you did Lucas,” he says. “Or, at least, there isn’t a moment.”

“That makes it sound like it’s definitely something I did.”

“No,” Eliott says, firmly, looking at Lucas like he needs him to know. “Maybe there were things bothering me, but I should have talked to you about it. In the end, it was more about me than you.”

Lucas just looks at him, urging him to go on, and he feels a little nauseous because he’s been wishing for this conversation for months, but he’s still not sure he’s prepared.

Eliott goes on. “It’s just that you were so busy with school and everything. And it’s not your fault, but I felt like such a failure. I mean, I had no direction. I was trying to work just to make money so that I could be near you and then you kept asking about art school and I knew you were trying to be supportive but I just kept feeling like I was letting you down.”

Lucas thinks back to that, to their last few months. It had been hard for Eliott, he knew, when he first tried his hand at university. After struggling with high school, and having to repeat his last year, Lucas had always known Eliott’s confidence was a little shaken. He’d done one semester at a university, unsure of what he wanted to pursue, but he’d hated it and it had been hard on him. So he stopped, took a break to figure out his next move. 

When Lucas graduated and decided to go to university for pre-med, Eliott mentioned that maybe he’d look into art school. So Lucas had sort of latched onto that, trying to be as supportive as possible, trying to make sure Eliott knew he could do anything he wanted. But now, looking at the sad curve of Eliott’s eyes, hearing the hitch in his voice, Lucas can see how maybe that all felt like pressure.

“You weren’t letting me down,” Lucas says, softly, restraining himself from grabbing Eliott’s hand. “I just wanted you to know I believed in you.”

“I know. But you wanted an explanation, and this is it. I’m not claiming that it makes sense,” Eliott says, his eyes training themselves on the floor next to Lucas’ seat. Lucas is afraid to move, desperate for Eliott to go on, to give him more. Eliott swallows harshly and continues. 

“All I could see was my boyfriend taking everything that had gone wrong and turning it into something good. And there I was, in the same place as the year before and I couldn’t find my thing. There’s so much pressure, you know, to have grand plans, to have something that you’re working for, but everything I tried just kept falling apart. I felt like I was ruining everything I touched. And then there you were.”

Lucas feels a hot tear escape down his cheek and he quickly wipes it away. He aches to reach out and hold Eliott, like he used to.

“You were doing so well and I became convinced that one day you were going to wake up and realize that you were too good for me. That I was holding you back,” Eliott says, his voice shaking. “I tried to talk to you about it, but you were stressed and your mom had been having a rough time and we started arguing. And I convinced myself you were getting ready to move on.”

“Eliott…” Lucas tries.

“No, let me finish,” Eliott says, taking a deep breath. “So when we were sitting there, and you wouldn’t look at me, I made a stupid decision. I told myself that if you loved me, you would fight for me and that if you were getting ready to leave me anyway, then it wouldn’t matter. So I said we should break up. And you just said okay. You didn’t even try to fight it. And all I could think was that I managed to leave you before you left me.”

Lucas feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

“I regretted it. Almost immediately.” Eliott says, looking up at Lucas again. There’s something braver now, in his eyes. “All I could think about was how stupid I was, how much of an idiot I’d been. So I tried to reach out. But you wouldn’t respond to any of my messages and I took it as a sign.”

Lucas knows what it’s like when your heart breaks. His has shattered – been crushed – first by his father, and then by Eliott. But, now, sitting in a café across from the boy who used to make him feel alive, his heart breaks in a new way. The kind of breaking when you realize someone you love has been fighting demons that you didn’t even notice were there. And there’s guilt too, that somehow, in the cacophony around him, Lucas had missed this – a quiet call for help.

“You never told me you felt like that,” Lucas says finally, weakly.

“I didn’t know how to say it.” Eliott’s eyes are red, his cheeks wet. “You were getting everything you always wanted. I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

Lucas looks at Eliott, and wonders how they got so off-track, how Eliott couldn’t see how much he meant to Lucas. “For the record, you were always what I wanted.”

And maybe the longing has lessened slightly, now that Lucas has some kind of answer, something to point to. But the pain is still there, and it's a pain that Eliott caused. It’s good, Lucas thinks, to know where he went wrong. But Lucas knows there are some things he still needs to say, some things Eliott needs to hear too. Because, as is often the case, neither of them is blameless.

“I am sorry, Eliott, that I didn’t see what was going on.” Lucas sighs. “And I’m sorry if I did anything that made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it. But I need you to know how much you hurt me when you left like that.” 

And there it is, finally, the sharp sting surfacing. “I mean, I told you how scared I was of people leaving, how everyone had left, and then you still did it. Without telling me why. Without trying to fix it.”

Eliott looks at him, regret marking up his perfect face. “It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” he says. “And I am so sorry. For everything. I miss you, Lucas.”

This time the I miss you sounds different to Lucas’ ears. And since they’re telling the truth today, Lucas can’t stop himself. “I miss you too, Eliott. So much.” His voice is quiet. The words are strong.

Eliott smiles softly, a quiet moment just for him.

But sitting there, feeling his heart soar, looking into Eliott’s sad eyes, Lucas knows that this is a moment for healing. And it’s overwhelming really, just how much letting go of that anger, letting it slowly fade away, is doing for his gentle heart. The heart that was never meant to bear the brunt of other people’s mistakes and yet has, all the same.

“Are you okay?” Eliott asks then, and Lucas realizes he hasn’t said anything for the past few moments, too lost in his own head. Eliott’s hand makes an aborted movement toward where Lucas’ rest on the table, but he seems to think better and pulls back.

Lucas notices. “Yeah, yeah I am,” he says, reaching out and catching Eliott’s hand in his own. And there it is, the familiar roughness, the callus on his fourth finger from how he holds a pencil, but the touch doesn’t send nervousness coursing through Lucas’ arm. Instead it feels like coming home.

“And you?” Lucas asks, tilting his head as he takes in Eliott’s flushed cheeks and the way he’s trying to both look at Lucas and hide the emotions flashing on his face. “Are you okay?”

Eliott pauses for a moment, and Lucas sees something spark in that deep gray-green storm in his eyes. “I will be.”

They stay resting in their chairs, just looking at each other, for a few more minutes. Their hands stay clasped across the table and Lucas revels in the fact that he can look at Eliott’s face without feeling physical pain. 

Eventually they stand to leave, go their separate ways, but it lacks finality. As Eliott turns towards the door, he stops suddenly, spinning around on the spot and grabbing Lucas, wrapping him in a frantic embrace. Lucas feels himself lean into Eliott’s warmth immediately, relaxing under the familiar touch that he’s craved for months. That’s all it is, warm arms around his shoulders, Eliott’s face tucked into his hair, and it feels even better than Lucas remembered.

It’s quick, the embrace, barely there and then gone again. But Eliott’s face as he pulls away, as he whispers I’ll see you, as he turns to leave, is enough to keep Lucas warm long after Eliott has left. And the ache in Lucas’ chest is fading.

And so, in the end, it’s undramatic but necessary – that day when they meet again in the quiet corner of a café on a February afternoon. And even though it’s supposed to be the closure Lucas needs, it feels more like a beginning than an ending.

–– 

The next morning Lucas awakes feeling more well-rested than he has in months. From the way the sun is fighting through his curtains, he knows it’s late. But it’s Saturday, and Lucas has no plans, so he lets himself lay there, sinking into the comfortable warmth of his blankets.

He lets his mind wander and, as it so often does, it drifts to Eliott. Only this time, Lucas doesn’t feel the sharp pang beneath his ribs, doesn’t have to force himself to think of something, anything, else. Instead, he revels in his memories, Eliott’s face etching itself on the backs of his eyelids.

Eliott’s smile when Lucas says he missed him. The feel of Eliott’s hands in his own. The press of Eliott’s chest and the warmth of his arms wrapped around him again. Lucas can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. He laughs to himself and buries his face into his pillow. He hopes Eliott is thinking of him too.

He realizes then that he wants to talk to Eliott again, he needs to hear from him, needs to know if things have changed in the light. He looks over towards his desk where his phone is plugged in, debating if he should text Eliott.

His room is slightly messy, his shoes kicked in the corner, an empty mug on his desk, his coat strewn across the back of his chair from where he had haphazardly thrown it the night before.

And then he notices the folded piece of paper lying on the ground by the legs of his chair, as if it had fallen out of the pocket of his coat.

His heart picks up the pace and he leaps from his bed with such enthusiasm he almost falls from being tangled up in his sheets.

He nearly runs across his room, kneeling to pick up the square of paper, and he can’t help but feel a little lightheaded in the anticipation. Because Lucas recognizes it. Eliott had used this tactic before when he couldn’t find the words to explain himself in person. It’s Eliott’s way of reaching out when he’s afraid of being hurt.

Hands trembling, Lucas gently unfolds the paper and smooths it out, taking in the lines drawn there.

It’s a drawing, like the ones Eliott used to make for him. A raccoon and a hedgehog. Lucas hasn’t seen them drawn together in so long that he almost starts crying right there. He thinks about the other drawings Eliott has given him tucked safely in the bottom drawer of his desk. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to look at them since they broke up, but he couldn’t throw them away either. Now he’s infinitely glad he didn’t.

In the drawing, there are two panels, both with a racoon and a hedgehog sitting in a café. In the first panel, the hedgehog and the racoon sit across from each other, the racoon looking visibly distressed. Underneath the caption reads: Eliott n.25473 missed his chance.

In the second panel, the hedgehog and the racoon are sitting on the same side of the table, arms around each other, a heart drawn neatly between them. The caption reads: Eliott n.36542 was brave enough to fight for you.

Lucas feels his legs go numb and suddenly every touch, every look runs through Lucas’ head like fire. This, the drawing in his hands, is proof that Eliott hasn’t moved on either, has been harboring hope like Lucas close to his chest. It’s his way of reaching out, of saying here is what I can offer, please take it. And Lucas wants to, oh he wants to. 

And then every reason why he shouldn’t is running through his head – the pain, the heartbreak, the feeling like he was drowning in something he’d never be able to get out of. But there, at the end of it, at the end of all of it, is Eliott. And Lucas knows that despite the past year, he’d do all again as long as it meant he’d get to know life with Eliott in it.

He’s suddenly frantic then, because it’s been hours, almost a full day since Eliott placed that note in Lucas’ jacket pocket and he’s only just noticed it now. Maybe Eliott has already given up, has already decided that Lucas doesn’t want to take that leap again, and then all Lucas can think about is getting to Eliott.

Because here’s the thing that’s been bothering Lucas, running through his mind since Eliott and him parted the afternoon before. It’s nagging at him because he realizes there’s a mistake he’s made that he wants the chance to remedy. It’s Eliott, with his sad eyes and quiet voice saying I told myself that if you loved me, you would fight for me. Because Lucas should have fought for him, should not have let Eliott walk out that door without so much as a discussion.

It’s not that Lucas wouldn’t have let Eliott go if that’s really what he wanted. But Lucas can’t help but think that if he’d only pushed a little, prodded at the reason Eliott was trying to leave a little more, they wouldn’t have had to face a year apart. 

But now is not the time for regrets. All Lucas lets himself think is Eliott and how quickly he can get to him, how quickly he can stand there in front of him and be brave enough for the both of them. To do what he needs to do to get them to where they’ll both be happy.

Because with this drawing, it’s like Eliott had put his heart on the line, offering it up to be broken again. He’s been brave. And maybe Lucas is already too late, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

So Lucas sprints to the bathroom, washing the sleep from his eyes and brushing the staleness from his mouth, pausing to comb his hair because he can’t help but feeling like he needs to put some effort in to win back the love of his life.

He folds the drawing carefully and places it back into his pocket. And then he’s hopping into his jeans, pulling on a sweater and then his jacket and scarf and bolting out the door while he’s still trying to tie his shoes.

He steps out into the frosty winter, but for the first time in a long time, the cold doesn’t sting.

–– 

And so it goes like this: Lucas is running, running faster than he probably ever has before. 

(And maybe it’s a little funny that he’s running again for Eliott, but he would do it over and over if it means he gets to be with the boy at the end.) 

He stopped, only once, because there was a nice shop with beautiful flowers in the window that reminded him of Eliott and then he’s running again.

Soon he’s in front of Eliott’s building and his breath is coming quickly and he’s trying to calm down before he faces him. He contemplates buzzing Eliott to let him up, but he really doesn’t want to ruin the romantic gesture he literally just ran for so he begs to some spiritual entity to help him out.

Luck seems to be on his side, because someone is leaving and Lucas is rushing through the door and up the stairs until he’s standing, for the first time in over a year, in front of Eliott’s apartment.

He thought he’d be nervous, standing there like that, hand poised to knock against the dark wood. But he’s not, not really. This was inevitable. They always have been.

He raps sharply on the door. 

When the door opens, all Lucas can see is Eliott’s eyes grow wide as they flick between Lucas’ face and the flowers in his hands. And Lucas can see that Eliott is cautious, unsure of what’s going on, because he hasn’t heard from Lucas in almost 24 hours.

“Hey,” Lucas says.

They stand in silence for a moment and Lucas can’t help the wide smile that breaks across his face as he looks at Eliott – the boy with black t-shirts and messy hair and ink-stained hands. His boy.

Finally, Eliott speaks. “What are you doing here?”

“Fighting for you,” Lucas says, his voice loud and clear and strong. “I’m trying to be brave.”

Eliott looks at Lucas a fire sparking in his eyes, but the caution is still there. “What about Oliver?”

And Oliver, well, Lucas has to stop himself from laughing out loud because he’d completely forgotten about Oliver. It had been so far removed from his mind that he’d even forgotten to bring it up when he saw Eliott the day before. The last Eliott heard, Lucas still had a boyfriend. 

“Oh, Eliott, we broke up,” Lucas says, not trying to hide the smile that can’t seem to leave his face now that he’s standing there looking at Eliott, allowing himself to love Eliott and allowing himself to hope he loves him back.

“You broke up?” Eliott’s voice is quiet, but Lucas catches the hint of hope in the words. It’s the brief, flickering stuff he’s been harboring in his heart for a year.

“Yeah,” Lucas says, stepping closer to Eliott in the doorframe. “You want to know why?” he whispers, standing so close to Eliott now that Lucas is forced to look up to meet his eyes.

“Why?” Eliott murmurs.

“Because he thought I was still in love with you,” Lucas says, and he hears Eliott’s sharp intake of breath. “And you know what? He was right.”

“Oh yeah?” And then Eliott can’t hold back his smile anymore and it only grows wider as Lucas pulls out the drawing from his pocket and shows it to Eliott as if to say I got your message.

Eliott reaches out a hand to trace Lucas’ cheekbone and Lucas feels himself leaning into the touch. “Well that’s good, because I’m still in love with you too.”

And then Eliott is cupping Lucas’ jaw and drawing him close and his touch is like a trigger to Lucas’ heart and it feels like it’s restarting, finding the rhythm it lost when Eliott left. Lucas leans towards Eliott and then their lips are meeting and it’s not the first time, definitely not the first time, but it feels new all the same. 

It’s tentative at first, like Eliott isn’t quite sure that this is his for the taking, but then Lucas is wrapping his arms around Eliott’s waist and tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Eliott gasps into Lucas’ mouth as they find themselves again, because they’ve done this before, but now it’s them beginning again, wiping the slate clean of the sad history they’ve carried around. 

They stagger back into the apartment and Eliott breaks the kiss to close the door behind them. Lucas, unable to be separated from Eliott now that he’s just gotten him back, latches onto Eliott’s jaw and then his neck, kissing him gently on his exposed skin. Eliott laughs and Lucas thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. 

And then their lips are on each other again and the kiss is sweet and comfortable but also strong. Lucas feels Eliott everywhere – the way his lips are pressed against Lucas’, the way his fingers caress his cheek, the way his arm wraps around his neck. He holds Lucas like he’s afraid of letting go. But that’s okay, because Lucas never wants him to.

“I want to try this again,” Eliott manages between their kisses. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Lucas feels his heart soar, his hope thundering as it turns into the real thing.

“Eliott,” he gasps, Eliott’s lips finding the place just below Lucas’ ear. “I want that too. I love you too. I want you, in whatever way you’ll have me.”

Eliott is smiling and laughing and kissing Lucas’ face all over, any place he can reach.

“I want to be with you,” he says. “I want us to be together.”

“Together,” Lucas repeats, and so something new starts and something old continues.

And there will be talking later, plenty of it, because Lucas is determined to never let anything like the past year happen again. There will be discussions of logistics and moving forward and what they need from each other. But right now, in the golden haze of Eliott’s apartment, Lucas just wants to kiss Eliott, to hold him, and know that Eliott wants him too. It’s intoxicating, being desired, especially by the one person you’ve been longing for.

And even though Lucas will never admit it, there’s something, he thinks, to the idea that someone could share your soul, could be made of so much of that same stuff that it hurts to be away. Because the minute Eliott is his again, the ache in his chest disappears and he can breathe again.

And so it starts like this – on a bright Saturday afternoon in the middle of February, thirteen months, one week and five days after they broke up – Lucas and Eliott find each other again.

#skam france #elu #elu fic #she's a long one y'all #but hopefully i did it justice and wrapped it up okay #anyway it's angst but here's the happy ending #so enjoy!! #my writing

[miraimisu]

Can I request 83, 52, 38 or 18 (I'm in angsty mood for some reason). If you don't feel like writing angst today then maybe something from: 3, 4, 85 or 60. Since i'm writing this I might as well say that I loooooove your writing and I hope you have an amazing day!

What the fuck, why would I ever reject an angsty prompt? I am the angst duchess and fuck my life if I cant live to write sad, heartbreaking thingies. Or at least I try? And thanks for the kudos, I don’t know how do I deserve all of this when you guys deserve all the credit. I love this fandom so much.This prompt was a bit hard tho, and it turned out kinda short?… I just hope it lives up to your expectations ♥ Gonna make #18 for forbidden love shit.

Uraraka was no commoner. Uraraka Ochako was all but your regular friend that helps you with your bags and books– even if she possibly would help out with these matters, she was all but your normal stand-by friend.

Everyone knew that. If one took the opportunity to know her, they would see her true colors behind those common eyes that shone with unhidden curiosity and enthusiasm. It was hard for one to squeeze air out of her, and sometimes, even get a true emotion out of her.

Bakugou knew this, out of all people. Of course the pyro genius would see her for her true colors and not the ones she wore in front of everyone. He would notice when her hands trembled a little when laughing, a sign of feigning stupid glittery glee– he hated it. He hated her, sometimes. The way she sparkled while her heart trembled with the weight of a little lie that would later tie her down to her bed in a night of endless cries.

She could see right through him, too– and he was, somehow, perfectly fine with that. If someone could see the good in him, that would only be her and that stupid redhead he had for best friend. Kirishima was one of the very few people who could stand his random fits of anger, but Uraraka… that bitch. She was too good for her own good. Always hugging people, always smiling and–

He grasped his desk in agitation. She was always by that bastard’s side and it drove him up the wall.

Uraraka didn’t know this, of course. Whenever she was cheering her friend up, Bakugou would let out a good old colorful piece of goodness, but she deemed it to be in his nature. He was aggresive, a bit of a jerk, but it was him after all.

And somehow, there was a moment in time and space– like, two days ago in the middle of an encounter with him, when something shifted in her heart.

This spar had been anything but planned beforehand. Uraraka had seen him going for a walk in his training clothes and the idea sparked in her. She had ran to him inmediately with the objective of touching his shoulder, surprising him, and making him go weightless– of course, we are talking about Uraraka and she couldn’t do sneaky.

She had coughed just before reaching his skin, what prompted a big curse out of him and made him blow her away out of instinct. She landed a few meters behind him and when he realized it was her who had tried to, in his eyes, probably annoy the shit out of him– he at first scoffed at her futile attempt of a sneaky stance and helped her to her feet.

“What the fuck, Uraraka.” and he swung her arm around his shoulder, no petition needed. “Your leg is still peachy and you are planning surprise attacks on me? You must be a sucker for pain.”

“What… are you doing?” asked she, letting herself be dragged to wherever he wanted to drop her. It was true that planning such risky thing was reckless from her considering what a bad beating Iida had given her the previous day.

Oh, his face when he had seen her so beaten up. He had been apologizing while punching death into her.

Bakugou grunted beside her. “I’m taking you to a damn infirmary. I have burnt your left arm and honestly, every one will give me the stinky eye if they get to know I almost blew your ass up.”

Because everyone loved Uraraka, even his best friend. And he knew damn well that Kirishima would give him a good piece of mind if he came to find out that he had been the one to injure her. He would never mention, but he also felt a bit bad for harming her without a reason but stupid instinct.

Why did she… matter so much? She was just a damn pebble. How was he going to focus on his career when Bakugou had this woman by his side constantly hogging him to make nice with Deku so that bastard would be happy?

Bakugou had many reasons to make that boy’s life miserable: 1) he was a bragger, 2) he was a loser, and most recently 3) he had Uraraka’s undivided attention– he had his best battle buddy’s attention and again, it was driving him insane. So he walked to the infirmary with the intention of dropping her there and pretending nothing happened, because he was starting to be fed up with her and those butterflies she carried around her.

Why did she have to always come by and mess with his life?

He hated that feeling. He hated feeling like he needed to protect her when all he should be doing is focus on himself and– god, she was too in love with Deku, what good would it do to him to develop a silly crush on her and– at this point, when he came to terms with his feelings, he was a blushing mess and wanted to blow up the whole school.

Worst of it all, those silly summersaults his stomach did when she was near had been there for way too long before this realization and he felt it dawning on him, crushing him alive. There was no turning back now.

Uraraka didn’t let it pass, though. When Bakugou eventually and literally dropped her in a hospital bed, something stirred inside of her, making her heart warm in a pleasant manner. When he left her wordlessly to Recovery Girl’s aid, she smiled at him knowingly. Kirishima truly had had a gooD effect on him– and the thought carried her through the day, but as soon as Deku came into view, he had all her attention again.

Her heart still fluttered after the newfound kindness Bakugou had in him. And something changed that day. She would realize this change too late.

When Bakugou saw her laughing along with Deku, he started biting his knuckles. The feeling that bubbled in his chest squirmed uncomfortably, the very same feeling that had him wide awake all night after dropping roundface at the infirmary. A part of him told him that he had been rude as fuck for letting her on her own after almost setting her on fire, and another part told him that he had been stupid for almost setting her ablaze to start with.

No matter what he tried to come up with, he had made a mistake. He had made a mistake for allowing himself near her, for having left her at the infirmary bed when what he should have done is just leave her in the dust to tend her own injuries.

So he sucked it up and, as soon as class was finished, Bakugou waited for her to come out of class. Whatever he was feeling for her, for that strong and small stupid pebble he couldn’t step upon– all that was ending as soon as he set things clear with her.

He knew she would never pull away from green bastard, and he was aware of the fact that he couldn’t force her to stay away from him. He could hope for her to grow up from his fucking shadow, but he wasn’t scum and would never force her out of it. Whatever made her happy was fine for him. People he respected deserved their space and, albeit reluctantly, he would give it all to her.

She stepped out of class alone, always the slowest one to pack her stuff– her jump when he came into view was fucking hilarious. “What are you doing there, Baku–”

“Your injuries,” spat he, stepping near to her. Her proximity felt wrong and sinful to him when she was too far from reach, but he stil invaded her injuries til she was against a wall. “let me see them.”

Uraraka blinked at him once, twice, but didn’t flinch at his agressivity, unfazed as she always was by his forward demeanor. Her eyes wide as saucers for his intoxicating permating sweaty and riany spark, he let himself fall into the galaxies of her pools, and almost forgot what all this mess was about until he saw her remove her jacket and show him her reddened arm.

“It’s patched up and in good condition. You at least had the decency to take to Recovery Girl.”

He looked to his side, and his voice sounded remorseful for a second, connecting with all the thoughts that had rattled inside his head during the previous night. “It was my fault in the first place.”

“Are you… apologizing?”

“Hell no, you damn woman.” growled he, his scarlet glare boring into her purity once again. “You shouldn’t have tried to sneak up on me when you know I can damn well tear you to pieces.”

Uraraka, far from offended, giggled at his brash retort. Her breath got stuck in her chest as beams of sunset streaked through his golden locks, and she had this silly urge to thread her fingers through them. She ended up deciding against it because she appreciated her life.

“Is there anything else you need?”

He looked at her even more intensely. There was a moment in which she noticed how she had changed in his eyes, but knew she remained the same for everyone. The colors she wore had turned scarlet, adorning her cheeks and inking her in desire and passion for that woman he would worship in the darkness as long as he lived, because he knew that sunlight wouldn’t let him speak out his secret devotion– not when she loved somebody else.

She loved Deku. She loved a quirkless bastard and not him, the great Bakugou Katsuki. And he was dying to know why.

So his hands trailed up her arm to end up gripping her jaw, her head crashing against the concrete. “Why him?”

Her cheeks muffled by his rough hands and chords malfunctioning due to the embers of his eyes, passion and anger– it all reduced her to ashes and suddenly, she couldn’t muster a decent answer. Mostly because a part of her didn’t know what he wastalking about while the other pretty much could see in his eyes what this was about. The notion just left her speechless and a mess of goo in the ground.

His flames kissed the chocolate of her irises– and boy, didn’t chocolate melt good and pretty against heat.

His mouth came devastating hers in a helfire kiss,as his hands tried their best not to roam around her body– one that didn’t belong to him, staying put on the wall so she wouldn’t escape– because of course she was shaking, probably fearful, needing to pull away. The way his mouth was twisting hers in such burning embrace, embers of passion consuming her thoughts and rationalities– but she didn’t want this.It was all sorts of alluring and deliciously wrong. His teeth trapping her lower lip, trying to recover all dominance on the kiss, eliciting a throaty moan from her– he opened his eyes for a second, frustrated, and yearning to hear more of that. She attempted to pull way, her hands fighting against his chest to stop his sudden rampage, earning her a head crash against the wall as Bakugou only pushed her in.His hands travelled all the way to her neck and waist, nails digging in her skin– oh, her gasp, that may have hurt a little. He took the opportunity to come crashing to her mouth, his tongue entangling with hers while she wiggled in his hold, trying to either get away or hold herself in. And none of those things were gonna happen.

There was a moment when he felt her give in a little. Her pushing became less frantic, the haltered, and her eyes shut completely close–

But he couldn’t– couldn’t let a good kiss get the best of him and build illusions on an impossible relationship. He couldn’t keep this up when she was in love with another man. He gave her waist a little push and disconnected the sickingly euphoric lock, a trail of saliva connecting them. 

He caressed her lower lip with his thumb as softly as he could, frown adorning his chaotic features, irises trembling as she stared at him, unbelieving.

He wasn’t the man for her. He breathed deep, then stepped back, their bodies missing each other– but this was wrong.

“I shouldn’t love you.” murmured he, making her features constrict into a painful grimace of realization. “But I fucking do and I’m scared shitless.”

He would die to hold her as she shook and almost fell, would love to possess her against the very same wall and make her forget about Deku. However, he wasn’t scum, and he couldn’t let her make him drop so low.

She didn’t deserve the pain he carried with him, or his falling hopes. So he marched away, shoulders tense in realization.

Bakugou saw the true colors in her, and she would always see his and cherish them as a precious treasure. But his colors weren’t the ones she was searching for, or the ones she dreamed and sighed for.

And no matter how blaring and blinding her colors were, he couldn’t let them paralyze him. No matter the heartbreak, he did what he deemed to be right– not knowing he had left a dounting girl at his wake, who realized now why his kindness had struck her so much.

He walked away. And this was the first time Bakugou realized he was human and couldn’t be more than that, no matter how much he loved her.

#request #kacchako #kacchako fanfiction #fanfiction #i dont know why im always so angsty omg #im sorrrrryyy

[fortheloveofpearlet]

pearlet: matt and jason start making out but because matt is jealous and frustrated at how much jason is flirty in and out of social media he left the other finish himself off. they end up fighting and then having angry reconciliation sex

Thank you darling! I got a bit carried away with this one, pretty angsty until the end 🙊

Send me sentence prompts and drag race pairings and I’ll write you a little drabble!

Flesh melted together, limbs tangled and lips never leaving the others. Hands were grouping at skin, any bit of skin they could reach. They found each other lengths and started pumping in a perfect rhythm. Jason was moaning, giving himself over to the feeling of Matt’s hand wrapped around him. Matt on the other hand had other things on his mind. He didn’t know how he came with all the thoughts swirling around his head but somehow he did. But after his orgasm hit, all the things that had been bothering him tonight came to the surface. He pushed himself away from Jason and sat on the edge of the bed.‘What’s going on?’ Jason panted, still yet to reach his climax.'I’m not in the mood anymore.’ Matt grumbled.'Are you fucking kidding me?’ Jason raised his voice a little. 'You can’t just get your rocks off and leave me with blue balls.’'You’ve got hands don’t you?’ Matt growled and pushed himself up from the bed. He threw his clothes on and fled the room without another word. Jason would go after him, he should have gone after him. But he was so close to the brink he needed his release. He was mad at Matt for just leaving him like that but he’d give him an ear full later. He wrapped his hand around his shaft and started pumping himself. He closed his eyes and let the feeling wash over him.

He found Matt sat on the stoop outside his apartment a little later. He was smoking a blunt and staring up at the starry night sky. Jason sat down next to him on the top step.'You gonna tell me what the fuck that was all about now?’ Jason frowned at Matt, more the side of Matt’s face because Matt wouldn’t look at him.'Who was that guy?’ Matt asked softly between drags. Jason frowned.'What guy?’'There’s so many you don’t remember?’ Matt scoffed. 'The one at the club. The one you were hanging all over.’'I was not hanging all over anybody.’ Jason rolled his eyes. Matt dragged heavily on the blunt and watched the smoke drift up into the sky.'You were. I’m not blind Jason.’'Were you wearing your glasses? You’re kinda blind without-’'I know what I saw.’ Matt finally turned to look at him, there was an anger in his eyes. 'I know what I always fucking see.’'What the fuck are you talking about?’ Jason frowned.'You’re always hanging off some guy! You’re always flirting with any guy that so much as looks your way. And don’t get me started on all the flirting you do online.’'What flirting online?’'Twitter Jason.’'I do not flirt on Twitter.’ Jason folded his arms.'Bob? Katya? Adore? Any of this ringing any bells?’ Matt frowned at him. 'And they are just the tip of the fucking iceberg.’'Well I’m sorry you can’t handle a little bit of harmless flirting.’ Jason stood up and went to go back inside. Suddenly Matt jumped up and grabbed his arm.'Is it harmless though Jason? Tell me, if I hadn’t been there tonight would you have gone home with that guy?’'What?’ Jason spat. 'Are you for real right now? You think I’d actually cheat on you?’ He was shouting a little but he was trying to cover up his hurt at Matt’s words. What did Matt think of him?'Wouldn’t you?’ Matt tossed the blunt and folded his arms.'I can’t believe you would even need to ask.’ Jason felt tears in his ears. He had no idea Matt thought so little of him.'Well I’ve see the way you flirt with people Jason, it’s not a big leap to think-’ Matt was cut off by Jason’s hand colliding with his face in a hard slap.'Fuck you.’ Jason spat. 'I would never do that to you.’Matt held his face and groaned a little in pain.'Flirting and cheating are two very different things Matthew.’Matt knew Jason was mad, he only ever called him Matthew when he was.'I don’t like you flirting Jason.’ Matt confessed. Jason just rolled his eyes.'You’re the one that wanted to keep us a secret Matt. I flirt with these guys because if I didn’t they would know something was up. So I can stop flirting with them, but it won’t take them long to figure out why. They aren’t dumb.’'What a bullshit excuse.’ Matt scoffed. 'That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.’'Asshole.’ Jason only just refrained from slapping Matt again. 'You know what I’m glad you didn’t want to tell anyone. At least now I don’t have to explain to people why we broke up.’ He stormed off inside. He went to slam the door closed but Matt just managed to get inside. Matt followed Jason to his apartment. Jason flung the door open and as he was about to slam it shut Matt put his foot in the way. Jason slammed it anyway, his foot getting squashed between the door and the jamb.'Son of a fucking bitch!’ Matt cried out in pain. Anger swelled in his body and gave him a bout of strength and he shoved the door open angrily. Jason only just managed to jump back before he got hit by it. 'Do you think I’m just going to leave after you say something like that?’'I wish you would. It’s over Matt, I can’t be bothered with this anymore.’'With what?’'With you being jealous all the fucking time. When will you realise that I’d stop all this if you’d finally be ready to tell people about us. Do you know how it makes me feel when you keep telling me you don’t want people to know? I don’t want to be some kind of dirty little secret Matt. Sure it was hot at first, but it’s been months and now I just feel like your ashamed of me.’ Jason was willing himself not to cry. He didn’t want Matt seeing him like that.'Jason I’m not ashamed of you.’'Yeah well it sure feels that way.’Matt should feel bad, he knew he should and normally he would. But he was still angry at Jason for his relentless flirting so he couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad.'You knew the deal when we got together Jason. I told you I didn’t think it was a good idea to go public because then we’d have everyone sticking their noses into our business. You told me you were ok with that!’ Matt sounded exasperated.'And I was!’ Jason yelled. 'Months ago. I was ok with it months ago. Now I’m just sick of it.’'Yeah well I’m sick of your flirting.’ Matt scoffed. Jason bit his lip, was this a break up? Were they breaking up?'What are we saying then Matt? Is this…are we…’ Jason swallowed, struggling with the words. 'Is the the end?’Matt sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He wouldn’t look Jason in the eyes because he knew Jason would be tearing up and he couldn’t bear to see him sad.'I don’t know.’ He shrugged. 'Maybe.’'You’d rather lose me than tell people about us.’ It wasn’t a question.'And you’d rather lose me than stop flirting for two minutes.’ Matt countered. He fell down to the couch and put his head in his hands. 'This is so fucked up.’Jason fell down next to him, determined to keep his tears at bay.'Yup.’ He agreed with a sigh.'This was never going to fucking work, we should have known that. I should have known you wouldn’t change.’'Excuse me?’ Jason’s anger came back fast. 'What the fuck does that mean?’'It means that even though you’re dating someone you can’t stop flirting with every fucking guy with a pulse! I don’t even know why I’m surprised Jason!’ Matt raised his voice, jumping back up from the couch. 'I thought you might change if we were together but I was wrong and that was my own dumb fault for thinking you would. I’m riddled with fucking insecurities Jason, I can’t be with someone that flirts like that. Every time I see you talking to another guy it makes me feel like a insecure teenager all over again. I can’t keep putting myself through that. It’s not fair.’'You never told me that.’ Jason got up and came over to Matt. He put his hand on the older man’s shoulder but Matt stepped out of his touch.'I shouldn’t have had to. When I told you your flirting bothered me, that should have been enough to make you stop.’ Matt spat clearly still angry.'You know what, I don’t even know why I’m bothering.’ Jason scoffed, his anger coming and going quickly. 'If you can’t accept me the way I am, fuck you. I have a flirty nature, so sue me.’ He turned his back on Matt and grabbed his keys from the coffee table and stormed towards the door.'Where are you going?’ Matt called after him.'I’m leaving.’'Jason this is your apartment.’'I don’t care. I need to clear my head. And you better be gone by the time I get back.’ He flung the door open but there was a hand on his wrist pulling him back. Matt spun him around and pushed him into the wall next to the door.'You aren’t going anywhere.’ Matt’s eyes were dark. 'And neither am I.’Jason was momentarily scared but then Matt pushed his body into Jason’s and he kissed him ferociously. Jason was angry at him but Matt kissing him had a way of making him forget about that. He opened his mouth to let Matt’s tongue in and the kiss grew heated really quickly. Matt grabbed Jason by his collar and pulled him away from the wall, their lips still attached. Jason kicked the door shut with his foot as Matt roughly pulled him towards the bedroom. Matt practically shoved Jason onto the bed and then climbed on top of him. Matt’s eyes were really dark now, Jason figured it was a combination of anger and lust. He didn’t care though. He let Matt strip him of his clothes, he was a little rough but Jason didn’t mind that. Once Jason was naked Matt sat back so he could undress himself. He didn’t look at Jason as he did so. Matt found Jason’s stash of lube and condoms and knelt over Jason as he was coating his fingers. Again he didn’t look at Jason. Jason wasn’t sure what this was, was this goodbye sex? Was Matt going to fuck him and then this would all be over? Jason didn’t want that, but he didn’t want to ask Matt. Matt was clearly still angry and Jason didn’t want to make his mood worse. Also Jason was already painfully turned on and he didn’t want to do anything to make Matt stop. Matt parted Jason’s legs and roughly thrust two fingers inside of him. Jason yelped a little but Matt didn’t seem to notice. Matt was always so careful with Jason, as though the younger boy could be made of glass. Not today. Matt was thrusting his fingers in and out of Jason hard and scissoring him roughly. And it felt incredible. Jason’s hand found his own dick and he started pumping himself a little. Normally he would have touched Matt but he didn’t think Matt deserved that. Matt didn’t even seem to notice, he just inserted a third finger into Jason’s hole and thrust harder. Jason was panting and moaning. He hoped Matt would fuck him soon, he needed him more than ever. Matt suddenly pulled his fingers out and he surprised Jason by wrapped his hand around Jason’s neck. He pulled the younger boy up so their faces were close and Jason thought he might kiss him but he didn’t. Matt suddenly flipped Jason over so he was on his stomach on the bed.'I can’t even look at you right now.’ Matt growled, pulling Jason by his hair to his hands and knees. This was so different to any of the times they’d been intimate before and honestly, Jason was loving it. Matt might not want him to love it though so he didn’t tell him that. Jason heard the distinctive sound of a condom wrapper ripping and then it being rolled over Matt’s length. Matt stroked a little lube on and then Jason felt him behind him. He wasted no time and thrust straight into Jason with force. Jason yelped a little again but Matt ignored him and started thrusting. He grabbed Jason’s hips and held them tightly, his nails digging into Jason’s flesh. He easily found Jason’s prostate and started slamming into it, making Jason moan. Matt was grunting as he thrust in and out of Jason, muttering things under his breath that Jason only just caught. He was muttering things like, ’I wish you would understand how much you piss me off sometimes,’ and ’you make me so fucking angry.’ It bothered Jason a little and he almost said something but Matt seemed to stop muttering after that. He picked up his pace, pounded harder into the younger man over and over. Jason knew he would be sore tomorrow, there was no doubt about that. His dick was already leaking with pre-come so he stared stroking himself again. Jason’s head felt hazy and he felt he was close to his orgasm when Matt took hold of his hair again. He pulled Jason’s head back and sunk his teeth into Jason’s neck. Jason growled at the feeling, it hurt a little and it would leave a mark. But it also felt really good and it pushed Jason over the edge and he came. Matt kept pounding into him, even harder somehow. He kept hold of Jason’s hair in his hand like it was leash or something and he would tug on it every so often. His thrusts eventually started getting lazier and Jason knew that meant he was close. Matt came close to him and Jason felt his hot breath on his face.'I wish I could hate you Jason. Do you have any idea how much easier this would be if I could hate you?’ He panted. He didn’t sound angry, not anymore. Jason thought he scarily sounded close to tears. 'But I don’t hate you, of course I don’t. In fact I…I…I fucking love you Jason.’ Matt moaned Jason’s name as he came. Jason’s heart skipped several beats. They’d not said that to each other before. Jason didn’t know what to say or do, he was taken so off guard. Matt pulled out and got rid of the condom before he fell to the bed. He turned his back on Jason and curled up into a ball. Jason heard sniffing coming from the older man. Oh god, he’s crying, Jason’s heart skipped another beat. He’d never seen Matt cry before. Jason had no idea what to do. He bit his lip and rolled closer to Matt. He put his hand on Matt’s shoulder blade.'Uhm…Matt?’ He whispered.'What?’ Matt tried to sound angry but he just sounded pathetic.'Did you uhm…what you just said…did you-’'Pretend I didn’t say anything, it was dumb.’ He sniffed, wiping his face on the pillow. Jason gripped Matt’s arm and gently rolled him over so he could look at him.'You didn’t mean it?’ Jason whispered. Matt wiped away the rest of his tears on the back of his hand. He looked so innocent and vulnerable as he looked at Jason through large watery eyes. Jason had never seen this side of him.'No. Yes. I don’t know. I don’t want to feel that way about you.’'Why?’ Jason bit his lip again, Matt’s comment hurt.'Because this isn’t going to work is it? We were doomed from the beginning and we were idiots to think it was ever going to work. What’s the point in me feeling that way about you when this is over?’'Why does it have to be over?’ Jason placed his hand on Matt’s cheek and stroked his skin with his thumb. 'Who said we were doomed to fail? Sure maybe this was never going to be easy, but who wants easy? There are two people in this relationship Matt and I say it’s not over.’'And what if I say it is?’ Matt bit his lip now.'Well then that’s one against one. So one of us needs to change their mind and isn’t going to be me.’'What’s the point in trying to fight for this Jason? It’s not going to work.’ Matt sighed and took Jason’s hand off his cheek but Jason put his hand straight back and cupped his face.'Because I love you.’ Jason shrugged. Matt’s eyes got even wider as he stared at the younger man. 'I love you and I think this is worth fighting for. I’m not giving up on you Matt. Say you won’t give up on me?’ Jason was pleading Matt with his eyes. Matt knew that he and Jason would have to work really hard at this, it wouldn’t be easy and maybe it would be easier in the long run to just throw in the towel now. But Matt had never been a quitter, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now. A smile suddenly appeared on his lips and he wrapped Jason in his arms.'I’m not giving up on you pumpkin, not now or ever.’ He kissed Jason softly. 'But please say you’ll cool it on the flirting a little? At least in front of me.’'Of course baby. As long as you’ll at least think about letting us tell people. Even if it’s just our close friends for now.’Matt cupped Jason’s face and kissed him again.'I want the world to know.’ He spoke into Jason’s lips. 'I want the world to know I’m in love with Jason Dardo and by some stroke of luck he’s in love with me too.’Jason smiled and kissed Matt harder than before.'It’s nothing to do with luck baby, its fate.’ Jason pulled him closer and they held each other. Jason had never been a believer in fate, not until he met Matt. But he knew as soon as he met him that Matt was his fate, his destiny. And nothing was going to stand in their way.

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