he's never gonna leave him

EXOHOUSEWARMING 2017 - kadi fics

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#1: Everyday is Fairytale 

Genre: Fluff, Hurt Comfort, Plot Twist
Rating: G
Word Count: 2,822
Summary: Jongin reads their son a story.

#2: Croquembouche

Genre: Fluff
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 9,220
Summary: Kyungsoo believes in Jongin as his best friend and dreaming secretly for him to be his lover. Jongin makes his dream come true, and brings more dreams that Kyungsoo never dared to dream before.

#3: You Look Spectacular

Genre: Smut
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,919
Summary: Jongin likes to wear contacts, while Kyungsoo thinks Jongin is sexy when he wears his glasses. Living together for a little under two years proves interesting when Kyungsoo keeps changing the passcode to the safe, which holds all of Jongin’s contacts, just to get Jongin to do whatever the older wants.

#4: Both of Your Hearts

Genre: Polyamory 
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6,174
Summary: Chanyeol comes home to the people he loves, the people who take care of him.

#5: Never Gonna Leave This Bed

Genre: Hurt Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Self-Doubt, Established Relationship
Rating: R
Word Count: 5,504
Summary: Kyungsoo will always be there to reassure and give Jongin all the love that he needs.

#6: Flowers in the Window

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Parents!au, Established Relationship
Rating: G
Word Count: 5,725
Summary: He met her and fate says she is the one.

#7: Whatever You Want (I Want)

Genre: Mpreg, Fluff (soon-to-be-parents, cheesy lines, grumpy!soo)
Rating: G
Word Count: 4,545
Summary: There are a thousand names Kyungsoo can choose, but he has the weirdest baby names he can think of and Jongin can only sigh.

#8: A Note With Love

Genre: Single Daddy Jongin, Family!AU, Fluff
Rating: G
Word Count: 4,371
Summary: Jongin’s goal: Make neighbor Mr. Do smile every day that he can.

Take Me With You

“I’m home.”

The door of their shared apartment clicks a soft thud as eager footsteps hurry themselves towards Chuuya. Before he can even respond with a “welcome home”, Dazai’s hand had already sneaked around his petite waist. His free hand grabs the redhead’s hair lightly, facing and luring him closer until both of them are staring eye to eye. His bandaged eye, although not seen, gazes intently at Chuuya’s blue locks, before leaning in to a tender kiss.

No words or whatsoever, just one Dazai and a Chuuya completely losing sense of everything outside their display of affection. The redhead’s hands creep behind his partner, playing with the hem of his shirt as his coat is now disregarded somewhere on the floor. Dazai’s hands move to cup the latter’s cheeks, steadying his face before nibbling his lips in way of asking entrance. Chuuya concedes, parts his lips a little, enough for Dazai’s tongue to explore the insides of his mouth, tasting like expensive wine and himself.

It has been six months and neither Chuuya nor Dazai knows how they fell into this some kind of pattern. Sure, they still fight and taunt each other like always, but right now, they’re obviously clueless of where they’re standing at all. Are they rivals? No. Rivals might be at each other’s throats, but not literally. Rivals don’t scream each other’s name at pleasure too, nor cuddle against one another when they have a room of their own. Certainly, they’re something else. Lovers? Well sort of. Although it wasn’t said verbally, both of them has this kind of understanding.

Chuuya tips his head back slightly once Dazai breaks the kiss to fill his lungs with air. His eyes is closed, yet he feels as if he sees Dazai panting to catch his breath, Dazai, only Dazai, not anyone else. Everything about Dazai is alluring and maybe with every second he spends with him, he falls in love more and more with the bandaged freak; but that’s something he won’t dare admit even in the afterlife.

When the brunette’s no longer deprived of oxygen, he places soft kisses on Chuuya’s neck, licking under the strap of his black choker. He bites the point where the shoulder meets the neck, marking him in a delicate bury of teeth. He trails kisses then, from his collarbone to his jaw and up to his chapped lips once more. The kiss is slow and gentle, unlike other kisses they’d shared during heated courses and intimate displays. Lips meet lips in a familiar rhythm, their tongue dances along with every sway of Dazai’s bangs tickling the tip of his nose. Just chaste, too pure and too innocent that it’s almost hard to believe the brunette initiated it.

Chuuya’s hands run themselves higher, drawing nonsensical patters on the other’s back. The way his partner brushes his fingers past his skin is far too arousing that Dazai feels himself weighing on the redhead more and more. Chuuya’s legs go weak against the executive’s intoxicating lips and Dazai takes the opportunity to lean him against the floor. Every touch feels more like whispers of promised forever rather than simple drive of lust. More like silent confessions rather than harsh eagerness. And it’s more like their home. This feels like they’re home. Beside each other.

Dazai belonging to him.

Dazai kissing him.

Dazai wanting him.

When they break off the kiss, Chuuya opens his eyes only to see the other staring deepy, as if trying to look right through him. His right eye might be bandaged but Chuuya still feels the same intensity, and is that sadness he sees on the other’s locks? His face shows no emotion, but it’s Dazai. And Chuuya knows him more than he knows himself. Dazai breaks into a soft smile, one that screams fake if you ask the redhead.

“Is anything wrong?” He asks, dusting off his coat. Dazai moves to stand up from his previous position. Chuuya follows, curling his legs before doing the same. The other speaks no word as he spreads himself on the couch. There’s darkness in his eyes, akin to something he’s seen when Dazai went home drunk and crying one night after Mori summoned him. That moment is still as vivid as ever, and Chuuya remembers cuddling beside him all night preventing him to break apart. The same night he soothed him to sleep as he promised he’s there and he’s never gonna leave him alone, no matter how much he hates his guts. Maybe that’s when Dazai first admitted he’s in love with Chuuya.

He has never seen that sight again, until now.

Dazai looks…so sad. He looks like a human for the first time in years. Something breaks inside the shorter man. Does he really know Dazai as much as he think he does?

The executive flings open his arms wide, pulling Chuuya to sit down on his lap. He buries his head on orange strands, nuzzling his nose in comfort. Chuuya feels so safe. The silence continues for ages, cold wind blowing their bodies yet the arms wrapped around his torso is enough to counter the chill. “Odasaku’s gone.“ He offers no explanation, just simply closes his eyes and lets his chest fall on a steady rhythm. Chuuya heaves a sigh and kisses his temple softly.

He releases himself from Dazai’s grasp and goes directly to their kitchen. He makes coffee then, not too bitter as per Dazai’s taste. He walks back to the executive with a cup of coffee in his hand, only to see him making his way towards the redhead’s bedroom. A forlorn expression on his face. If this is any other day, he would’ve thought that bastard has his own room, why does he keep sleeping at his? but today is not just an ordinary day. He has to be by Dazai’s side, has to remind him that’s he’s always there, and no—he’s not going to leave. He has to, because even if he has a choice, he’d still choose him over anything else. Dazai is still a bastard though.

Even so, Chuuya opens the door and finds Dazai sprawled against the bedsheet. He smiles again, fake, so fake that he wants to punch off that shitty look on his face. Nevertheless, he places the cup on their table, joining Dazai on his own comfortable bed.

He snuggles closer to his partner, breathing against his chest in perfect harmony. Not wasting any moment, Dazai quickly girdles his arm around his partner. Removing his unfashionable hat—in accordance to him of course—with another hand, he showers his lean chest with soft kisses up to his neck. Chuuya’s hands are moving around his body and it takes everything in Dazai not to devour him right there and then.

No, he can’t. This will be the last time, he tells himself.

“I love you.” The brunette breathes out. He brushes Chuuya’s hair to the side and fully kisses him. Their lips fit each other so much, first thing they noticed when the redhead used corruption for the third time and Dazai used his mouth to nullify said ability. Since then, they just knew they belong to one another. No labels on their relationship or whatsoever, just the two of them loving each other inhumanly possible.

“I love y—”

“No, Chuuya. You don’t understand. I love you so much it’s making me crazy. I’ve never felt this way to anyone before and I doubt I ever will besides you. You’re the only person I and will ever love, Nakahara Chuuya. I can never love someone the way I love you and I–I’m so glad you’re mine. I’ll live and die for you.”

Tears stream down against the redhead’s face. Something he doesn’t notice at first drop and even the second, third, fourth, up to the last. Because right now, all he hears is Dazai. All he sees is Dazai. All he tastes is Dazai. All he feels is Dazai.

All he knows is Dazai.

Just the two of them sharing warmth under the white blanket, shielding them away from the cold the night brings.

“I’ll always love you.” Dazai ends with his lips on Chuuya’s forehead. A promise.

Chuuya tucks his head under his partner’s chin, smelling the faint yet unique scent of Dazai. He ignores the fact that although Dazai expresses his feelings a lot better than he can, he’s not the type to blabber all those things to him without any reason. Maybe it has something to do with Oda’s death? He doesn’t know. But what matters now is Dazai loves him and he loves him as much as well. There’s still wedding of their own to look forward to, so his vows can wait a little. He’ll tell Dazai how much he loves him; and together, they’ll spend forever in each other’s arms.

One day, Nakahara Chuuya will no longer be Nakahara. Something, he knows he won’t ever regret.

So in silent hum of the night and the monlight illuminating their figures, Chuuya succumbs to slumber.

Dazai Osamu leaves the Port Mafia an hour later, forsaking all his promises he knew he would break the moment he made them and a sleeping Chuuya—unaware of the missing warmth beside him.

Joining the Armed Detective Agency from a faraway country, Dazai supposes he has a good life now—away from scent and taste of iron, or tantalizing grins imprinted on his ex-mentor’s face. Away from screams of torture, from his subordinates fully consumed in darkness and maniacal laugh of suffering. Away from his weakness, a man in form of short 160 centimeters and blue eyes.

He’s learned to live a normal life, life in the side of light as per Odasaku’s last words were. The side that saves people, he remembers. It might not make a difference but at least, he’s not standing on corpses or crimson red anymore. Instead, he’s gifted with everyday smiles from people he has helped, oblivious of the number he killed back in the Port Mafia. He still hasn’t found a reason to live, so he searches and searches, even if it might sound impossible to the likes of him.

Well, he found it a long time ago, but he let it go, thinking that reason was too much and was undeserving of him.

And now, listening to Kunikida’s same old sermons brings a yawn out of him. Kunikida Doppo, his new partner, is reciting his weekly report in front—words echoing on the four corners of the room though they don’t reach him. Tormenting him is way more fun than listening to his blabberings after all. It’s too boring, Kunikida’s words are boring. The only thing interesting in this place is how he can make fun of them all he wants and get away with it just fine. No thrill, but at least, he’s found some people to protect and is following Oda’s words. This is enough, right?

This is his new home.

A home where people accepted him regardingless of his past, when there’s a lot of reasons not to.

Yet during times of sunsets and tranquil nights, he still finds himself cold and snuggling closer to his pillow, before getting disappointed that none of the things he has can fill his chest with warmth. In times, he even finds himself crying, and lips aching for one’s mouth that he used to know so much. A little more than usual, he holds his phone to his ear, desiring to dial his digits just to hear his voice one last time. He can’t though.

How are you, Chuuya?

I bet you’ve already moved on.

Well, Dazai can’t blame him. Surely, the shorter man loathes him so much now. Who wouldn’t though? When he just said all those cheesy lines only to leave first thing in the morning. As if Chuuya didn’t matter to him. As if he’s nothing but a toy he had fun playing with. As if they never happened at the first place. After all, those are the most logical conclusion, right? It isn’t surprising that the redhead will think of his love as nothing more than pretend. That Nakahara Chuuya is nothing more than a pawn to Dazai Osamu.

Which he isn’t. Because he is so much more. Because he loves Chuuya more than anyone else. Because Chuuya is his weakness and strength at the same time. Because Chuuya is his life. His reason to live.

Mori-sensei had already gotten rid of Odasaku, knowing full well that Dazai Osamu, in fact, treats the guy as his closest friend. In plan of driving him out of the Mafia, his former boss sets everything up, to which Dazai doesn’t notice until it’s too late. Then what about Chuuya? He might be powerful but what will Mori do to him if he learns that Dazai, of all people, holds some romantic feelings for the redhead? He’ll use him of course, which is why he left before that can even happen.

He doesn’t mind getting hurt, but Chuuya, he won’t let anyone hurt Chuuya. So the most conventional way of doing so, is leaving. After all, he can’t let Chuuya get hurt because of his love. He can’t let Chuuya suffer because of his existence.

He let him go, but it’s alright.

It hurts but he’ll be alright.

It’s not alright, but it will be.

It has been four years after all.

He wants to hear his voice so much, wants to feel him again so badly—and ask if they can try again when eveything’s over. When Mori’s gone and no hindrance can ever stop them from falling in love with each other. When the time comes that the both of them can finally be happy and whisper soothing worlds to lull the other to sleep—wrapped in his own body of bandages and scars—he’ll promise to never leave again. A promise he won’t break anymore. It’s not possible, but he’ll wait.

“Oi, are you listening?” Kunikida’s voice breaks his train of thoughts. He’d forgotten that he is, in fact, in a meeting with all staffs of his new found home, tackling about some important matter that everyone needs to hear. It completely slipped his mind though, as images of a certain redhead lingers around his mind a while ago.

The blonde glares daggers at him, even Fukuzawa is looking at him with hint of disapproval. He’s in trouble now but he can get away with it, of course. He flashes his most charming smile and says, “But this is sooooo boring, Kunikida-kun. Just like you.” He adds with faint mockery.

“Why you—“

“Enough now.” The president of the armed detective agency dismisses them with a raise of his hand. Kunikida scowls before continuing his report. Everyone sighs then, returning to listen at the blonde’s words after thanking Dazai for a few seconds off. The brunette just let himself fall to his chair, another sound which irks the blonde more than ever. Though, with the threatening eyes of Fukuzawa-san glaring at the both of them, Kunikida knew when to shut up.

“Dazai.” Edogawa Ranpo calls him from behind. The great detective flashes him a grin, something which screams warning at first glance; but Dazai is unfazed. The shorter man sheers his glass bottle—some toy he finds amusing, to Dazai’s confusion—before staring at him when the words fall off his mouth. “Call him.”

Which is why after their supposed meeting, Dazai hurries back to his apartment; a dead and plain cold house, with no redhead around to pepper him with light kisses and hungry ones. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and lies at the king-sized bed, too wide for him alone. He has never looked at anyone since Chuuya, after all.

Considering he has never said anything about the redhead at anyone in the agency, Dazai supposes Ranpo figured out what was bothering the brunette on his own. Well, they may or may not have noticed his usual spacing out whenever the words short, blue, hat and wine are mentioned. Or how he’s never interested at anyone flinging themselves onto him, politely declining them by saying he has someone waiting for him at his home—a lie, obviously. Or maybe it’s just too damn apparent that he longs for someone not with him anymore, someone he shouldn’t be missing when he’s the one who threw their love and partnership away.

Someone he left alone in the darkness to bathe himself in light.

He flips his phone open and types his number, now strange to the way his fingers press the screen ever so lightly in a familiar pattern. He hears three rings and almost hangs up, when a voice, his voice, blooms through the confines of his room. Dazai notices the light shake of his hands.

Disappointingly, it sounds like a voice message—but Dazai’s silently grateful for he doesn’t know what to say at all. Should he start with “Hey it’s me, Dazai.” and follow with “I’m the traitor, do you still remember me?” Well, of course someone with a brain wouldn’t say that, but he still finds himself chuckling at his own humour.

The person on the end of the line speaks. “Hello, this is Nakahara Chuuya. I’m out on a mission right now so I can’t get to you.“ His voice resounds against his room. “I’ll be gone for a few days but I’ll call back when I return on Thursday. If this is Akutagawa, fuck off don’t go into my room and mess with my things again. The last time you did, you fucking left the door open you asshole.”

Dazai cracks into a soft a laughter. Seems like his subordinate adapted one of his everyday habits, a deed he used to do a lot back then. The brunette’s lips curve a little, it’s touching how Akutagawa and Chuuya have gotten closer during the four years he’s gone. Not that he blames them though. Maybe a lot of things had already changed. Such a shame he wasn’t there to see them grow.

“If this is Tachihara, for the last time I’m on a mission! I’m not in some kind of bar again drinking my ass off those heavenly liquors. Damn it! Mori-san sent me here, don’t fucking insist I’m just trying to get myself drunk. If this is Elise, sorry I can’t play with you right now, but when I get home I will. Well if this Kouyou-nee-san, sorry for not telling you I’m leaving for a few days. I didn’t get the chance to talk to you yesterday, but I’ll be back. If this is anybody else, wait for the tone and leave a message. I’ll call you back.” Chuuya says, in a way Dazai’s so familiar of.

So fond of.

Nakahara Chuuya sounds better without him, so who is he to ruin him all over again?

But that doesn’t stop him from missing his touch though.

Just as he’s about to hang up, the voice sounds once more after mere seconds of silence. Dazai almost drops his phone. Almost. “P.S. If this you bastard Mackerel, I still love you.” And he hears the beep.

The brunette doesn’t notice himself crying. Doesn’t notice the phone slipping away from his hold to the hard floor beneath him. Doesn’t feel his legs anymore and doesn’t see anything at all due to his blurry vision. The bandages around his torso are all wet now, tears drenching every part of it. He feels himself shaking wildly, clawing his fist enough to draw blood.

I still love you.

How can Chuuya hang onto him for so long?

Even after four years?

Dazai shakes his head roughly. No, no this can’t be. He can’t go back. He can’t hurt Chuuya again. Chuuya’s fine, Chuuya’s a lot better. And maybe just one more month will help him get rid of his feelings for Dazai. Chuuya should hate him, should curse his existence for leaving him without saying anything. He doesn’t deserve Chuuya, the redhead’s far too good for him.

He can’t break him again. He knows better.

So with that thought, he falls asleep. Cold and alone in the darkness of his room. The words I still love you followed by his own please stop loving me still ringing in his ears.

Four months later, he tries again.

It’s more of a gravitational pull rather than rational thinking. Or is there even rational thinking on the first place? He’s not so sure anymore. Dazai doesn’t give a damn and all he knows is that he yearns for someone else’s voice and it might be a bad idea but he’ll try anyway. He might break again and lose focus on his work just like what happened months ago, when he first called the redhead, but it’s okay. This time, it’s for goodbye. He doesn’t call to bring anything or anyone back, just a closure. Just for one last time. For the sake of his stammering heart, too stubborn to let go.

Four years and four months, surely he would have forgotten about him, right?

He doesn’t know what he’d say, but it takes five seconds when the other end of the line picks up. “Hello, this is Nakahara Chuuya.” The other starts.

Another voice message.

“Mori-san summoned me and I think he’s giving me another mission so I can’t talk with you right now. However, I’m certainly going to be back at Sunday so I’ll just call you then. If this is Q, damn it stop breaking into my room! My hats are not fucking toys, you got me? They’re my collection! Collection! And no, my wine isn’t bitter milk either. If this is Higuchi, stop pestering me into helping you with Akutagawa, that guy has no heart to begin with. Just give up.” Chuuya says as a matter of a fact.

I hope you’d given up on me too. Dazai wishes he can respond.

“If this is Kouyou-nee-san, sorry for not telling you again! Mori-san was in a bad mood earlier so I had to go immediately. I’ll drop by and talk to you next time, I promise! If this is anyone else, wait for the beep and leave a message. I’ll call you back.”

There is soft silence, until, “P.S. If this is you bastard Mackerel, I still love you.”

The tone sounds and Dazai recites his own number.

All things he’d said about closure and other damn lies he can’t keep up with anymore now off from his system. Now, all he thinks of is Chuuya, his orange hair and blue locks; and the way his name rolls off his tongue as if they’re meant to be.

Chuuya still loves him and he loves Chuuya more than ever. So what’s stopping them? Mori? No. It was never Mori. His cowardy is to blame. If he truly loves Chuuya, he’ll fight for him. He’ll save him. They’ll escape together and be happy in confines of their own affection. Because if he truly loves Chuuya, he’ll come back. And that’s why this time, he’s not going to let him go again.

To hell with being meant to be or not! Whatever happens, not even fate can drive him to give up on the redhead again. If Chuuya has waited this long, who is he to refuse? This time, he’ll make sure it will work out. He’ll give Chuuya the love he deserves. He’ll make him happy and make sure he pays for the four years the brunette had hurt him.

So Dazai smiles, a real one, waiting for Sunday to come.

Saturday night and Dazai doesn’t expect his phone to start blinking and vibrating, rummaging under his pillow at such an ungodly hour. 2:30 AM, he checks, as he rubs his eyes sleepily at the noisy piece of trash below him. He grips the small piece of device and flips it open, surprised at the words twinkling and maybe even mocking him at his groggy state. Chuuya’s name flashes at the screen.

Dazai’s heart skips a beat.

No more than a second later, he slides over the accept button.

“You bastard is this fucking you?! How dar—“ No doubt it is Chuuya. Same old angry Chuuya.

“Chuuya. Listen first I’m—“

“HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?!” The other breaks into sobs, resounding clearly at the end of the line. The sounds claw Dazai’s heart more than ever. It hurts, hurts him more than anything, hurts that he’s the reason the man he loves is breaking apart, hurts that no matter how much he wants to, he cannot be there to comfort him and tell him everything’s going to be okay.

It hurts that he cannot kiss his pain away.

“Chuuya, I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry for everything, really.”

“You’re not.” There is agitation on Chuuya’s voice and the brunette feels himself sinking down the Earth. He hates himself, hates himself for leaving, hates himself for making Chuuya suffer, hates himself for not telling the other to move on before disappearing to shadows.

Hates that Chuuya never unloved him, when he thought he would.

“If I had my way,” A hiccup. “I would’ve gotten over you.” Dazai notes the desperation on his voice. His phone is threatening to slip from his hold, but the little strength he has left is preventing the piece of technology from hitting the tiled floor. Dazai Osamu is crying, he’s crying that even after four years, he still misses Chuuya, no one but Chuuya.

He’s crying, realizing how much of a horrible person he is to hurt the only one who would never think of hurting him, the same way he did.

And that’s when he realizes, there’s still some human in him.

“Chuuya.” He whispers ever so softly. His lips are quivering in agony. He feels so empty, so hollow, so incomplete, without his partner by his side. It’s been four years but Chuuya’s name still hurts the same as it rolls off his mouth. Too familiar, as if he hadn’t avoided saying the other’s name since the night he left him.

“Please come back, Dazai. I want to go home.” Chuuya’s voice sounds so fragile.

Because Dazai is his home.

Because no house can ever give him the warmth he dreads, If Dazai is not inside.

Because a home is being wrapped in Dazai’s embrace.

Because home is wherever Dazai is.

A small smile plays on the detective’s mouth. Tears stream down his face in queue, happy—joyful even, to hear those words coming out from the man he loves more than anything. Maybe it’s time to go home. Maybe four years is enough already and the time has come for them to reunite. Maybe they weren’t even meant to stand on different sides. Just beside each other, partners. Always beside each other.

For twenty-two years, Dazai had never been wrong, not even once— but he realizes, the day he left Chuuya was the first time he had ever been.

The first mistake he’s ever done.

“Just so you know, bastard. I’ve tried going out with other people, but you just have to mess me up every time. Do you plan on making me alone for the rest my life?” The redhead’s words cut his thoughts.

“Same here, my cute little hat rack. You know I can never love anyone, if they’re not you.”

Chuuya curses, throws profanities at him while tears are still obviously escaping his eyes. His muffled voice just confirms Dazai’s suspicion and he wants nothing more than to hug his redhead and make love with him again. Only to show the other how much his love never changed after all those years.

“I’ll be home.” Dazai promises, and he’s never been this happy during those four years the redhead wasn’t by his side. “And P.S. I still love you too.” The former executive grins, maybe teasing Chuuya a little—but he’s too goddamn emotional right now to even retort in mockery.

Because Chuuya, for the first time in years, learns that when Dazai says he’ll be home, he will be.

“I’ll wait for you.” A promise.

Promises they will never break again.

random thoughts s5 e7
  • how many languages does lucien speak, and how well? we know he has a good understanding of several asian languages and french and he seemed to know most of what his italian friend was saying. he may know german, too, since he was in berlin playing drums for a while
  • ‘she was never gonna leave him, no matter what he did’ - subtle
  • loved how lucien made it halfway down the hall before jean's comment stopped him, then she made up the distance to say good night
  • drunker than usual lucien was fun to watch, even though the trainwreck was inevitable
  • nice to see CM showing lucien was still injured several times in this ep 
  • love jean saying she’d use something much more flammable to burn down the farm. maybe seven-dragons is right about her always being the culprit
  • all this show over lucien needing to be right no matter what but how much will they actually change him? no alcohol, no hubris? it would be a whole different  show
  • the pic of lucien in munro’s paper was nicely mangled
  • typical of mei-lin to send the letter too late to do any good (i kid)

anonymous asked:

One of the best things about the Darkpath au is that, despite everything Hiro has done, Tadashi never thinks of him as an enemy. He's a little brother acting out. At this point, I wonder if Hiro already knows Tadashi isn't an impostor. He's just waiting for Tadashi to do something. Maybe not save him but definitely change the game, somehow.

Pretty much! Hiro’s still wavering on that line of indecisiveness of if this is the real Tadashi or not, but he knows something’s a bit off about this guy. He has the feel the other imposters didn’t, and everything from his voice/touch/actions are super familiar to the kid. 

Tadashi, on the other hand, while he can’t remember a whole lot about Hiro, also feels that familiarity that’s pushing him to want to protect him no matter what. 

anonymous asked:

how will the 2ps react to their soldier!s/o who died in a war?

Cries himself to sleep every night until his depression kills him: Matt, Gilen, Flavio, Lokki, Egill, Torvald.

Moves on because he knows they were gonna leave him anyway: Francois, Andres, Magnus.

Never moves on or stops grieving, but finds a way to keep living: Oliver, Xiao, Lutz, Luciano, Bernard.

Is in agony every second until he ends his own suffering: Allen, Viktor, Kuro.

The Lonely Blue Box
Author: atimelordswife
Country: USA
Team: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Event (rating): Conservative Curling
Words: 1,011
Summary: After saying goodbye to Jackie after the Battle of Canary Wharf, the Doctor learns a lesson.

Written for the 2014 New Who Fic Olympics.

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Doflamingo reacts to his S/O who wants to have a baby

This is a request 



-Forget it. 

-Officially : It’s because he is a famous pirate and gangster, close to the most dangerous people on earth, and doesn’t want a baby to live in his world. 

- unoficially : He is scared to be the worst father ever and makes the baby in danger because of his work. His past was so traumatic that everything about “baby, family…”, he doesn’t want to lhear about this.

- But deep in his heart, sometimes he wish he has a normal life with his wife and have a family. But he knows that because of his selfishness, it’s never gonna happen. 

- he will understand that his S/O wants to leave him because of that, and that’s the only reason he will let his S/O leave. 

Originally posted by okami-fr

Never Gonna Leave - Bucky Barnes

Requested by anonymous. Prompt: “I’m never gonna leave you.”

“He can’t just be gone,” you said after Steve told you the news.

“He was here last night. We’re doing everything we can to find him,” Steve said.

“What would anyone want with Bucky?”

“He still has unfinished business with Hydra. He has information they need.” 

“When you find him, I’m going with you. Don’t even try to argue with me.” Steve nodded and left you with your worry.

About a week later, Steve finally located Bucky. He tried to argue with you about coming along, but you wouldn’t let him. 

“There’s no way you’re going without me.”

“Y/N, we don’t know what they’ve done with him.”

“I don’t care what they’ve done. He’s still Bucky. I love him, I’m not going to just leave him there. I’m going after him.”

“Okay,” Steve said, nodding.

When you got to the base, you followed closely behind Steve, looking over his shoulder, hoping to get a glimpse of Bucky. It had only been a week since you had seen him, but you had no idea what the Hydra operatives had done to him. In just a few short days, Bucky could lose everything about himself.

“Y/N,” Steve said when you ran into him. 


“Don’t worry. We’re gonna find him.” You nodded and continued to follow Steve through the building. You waited as Steve took out two guards blocking a door. After that, you rushed forward and opened the door before Steve could stop you. 

Bucky was strapped to a metal hospital bed, a gag over his mouth. You gasped and rushed down the stairs. 

“Y/N!” Steve said, trying to stop you. You ran up to Bucky and removed the gag from his mouth. You began fiddling with the restraints when Bucky moved.

“Y/N?” he mumbled. You stood up and looked at him. You brushed hair out of his eyes and smiled at him. 

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here,” you said. 

“You need to go,” he said more firmly, looking at Steve now. “You both do.”

“No, we won’t leave you,” you said immediately, reaching for the restraints again. 

“Y/N,” Steve said, trying to pull you away. 

“No! I won’t leave him!” 

“Y/N, please,” Bucky said, touching your hand as much as he could. “I can’t control myself.” 

“I won’t leave you like this,” you said. Bucky sighed and looked over at Steve. 

“We’ll come back for him,” Steve tried again.

“We don’t have to come back for him if we don’t leave.”


“Stop! Stop saying my name, stop telling me what to do, stop try to get me to leave Bucky!” Steve stopped and sighed, sitting on the ground near you. 

“How long did you look for Bucky? Would you have ever left him when you finally found him?” 

“No,” Steve said finally.

“So you’ll help me?”

“Steve-” Bucky started.

“No, you don’t get a say,” you said. 

“We’re gonna get you out of here, Buck,” Steve said, helping you with the restraints now. Once he was released, Bucky touched his wrists and grimaced at the two of you. 

“You both should leave,” he said. You rolled your eyes and looked at him.

I’m never gonna leave you.” Bucky smiled slightly and sighed. 

“If we’re leaving, we need to do it now,” Steve said, nodding at the both of you. You stood up and Bucky grabbed your hand. 

“Y/N, stay behind me.” You began to argue but Bucky put up his hand. “I’m serious. I will protect you, but I don’t know what I will do. Please. Do this for me.” You nodded and Bucky kissed you softly. 

“Let’s go,” Steve said. You followed behind the guys, your gun in your hand. It was clear that the Hydra operatives knew you were here, because there were twice the guards than before. 

Steve fought of the ones he could on his own, but eventually he was being over powered. Before moving towards them, Bucky looked back on you. You nodded at him and loaded your gun. 

You watched as Bucky fought like he never had before. He broke the men apart like they were nothing. You had never seen Bucky so vicious. He threw them and punched them and kicked them with no effect on his own body. Steve looked at you and frowned. 

“It’ll be okay,” he said, guiding you down the hallway. You looked back and saw Bucky still fighting. “Y/N, he’ll be okay.”

“I know,” you said. You raced down the hallway towards the jet, and started the engine as Steve and Bucky raced out. They were both nearing the ship and you were ready to let out a sigh of relief when a bullet hit Bucky’s leg. 

Steve stopped and raced back to Bucky, and wrapped Bucky’s arm around his shoulder. He led him back to the jet and called for you to take off.

“Is he okay?” 

“Go!” Steve shouted. You switched on the controls and began to take off. 

“What’s going on back there?” you called. 

“Don’t worry,” Steve said, walking to the front of the ship. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, but we need to get him back as soon as we can.” You nodded and let Steve take the controls for a little while. 

You walked to the back of the ship to where Bucky was lying on one of the beds. He smiled when you walked in but you could see he was in pain. 


“Hey. I’ll be okay,” he said, looking at you, seeing how nervous you were. You nodded and sat down on the bed next to him. He took your hand and squeezed him.

“How’s your leg?”

“It hurts. But it’s okay.” You nodded and looked at Bucky. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m a little kid you need to protect. You don’t have to worry about me”

“I am worried about you.” Bucky kissed your hand and smiled.

“But you don’t have to. You saved me, Y/N.”

“No, Steve saved you.”

“Shut up,” Bucky said, sitting up. “You were the one who convinced Steve to save me. You.” 

“I would do anything to protect you,” you said. Bucky smiled and put his hand on the back of your neck and brought you in for a kiss. 

“I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

Fix You

Request: will u do one where ur parents are getting divorced and Harry comforts you.

A/N: So I was gonna wait before posting this, but since it already took me so long to actually do it, here ya go! fyi I was listening to Fix You by Coldplay while writing this. 

This could not be happening, you felt like your whole life was one giant lie. Growing up you always thought you had the perfect family, sure you guys fought, but you always stuck together through everything, until now that is. You just got off the phone with your mom, what you thought was her weekly social call turned out to be “Your father and I decided to part ways” call.

You couldn’t believe it, in your eyes your parents were the perfect couple, they were soulmates. All your life you’d looked up to them, wishing that someday you could find a love as strong as theirs, and now they’d gone and ruined everything.

If their love for each other didn’t last then how are you supposed to believe true love exists? You can’t breathe, your whole body is shaking and your vision is blurry with unshed tears, so you do the only thing you can think of, you reach for your phone and call the one person that always makes the pain go away.

“Hey, Love,” He answers after a few rings, “I’m actually about to leave for yours, did you need me to pick anything up from the store?”

“Harry,” You whisper, your voice cracking, “I need you.”

“Baby, what’s wrong,” He questions his voice full of concern, “Talk to me, are you hurt?”

“Please, I can’t, just, please,” You blubber into the phone, your words barely understandable.

“Okay, calm down, Love, please,” He pleads, hating himself for not being with you right now, “You’re scaring me, you need to breathe. I’m almost there, baby, I promise.”

True to his words, a few long minutes later, Harry comes rushing through your door, out of breath and looking absolutely terrified, “It’s okay, baby, I’m here now, I’m here,” He consoles you, bringing your shaking form into his arms.

“Tell me you love me,” You beg between sobs, looking up at him with pleading eyes, “Please don’t ever leave me.”

“I love you so much, baby,” He croaks, your grief making him get emotional, “I’m never gonna leave you, I promise, nothing’s ever gonna tear us apart.”

“My parents are getting a divorce,” You finally tell him, your voice muffled by his shirt.

“Oh, Love, I’m so sorry,” He backs up towards the couch, pulling you to sit on his lap, “Everything’s gonna be okay, I swear.”

“You don’t know that though,” You mumble stubbornly, looking away from his face to play with his fingers, “They stopped loving each other, maybe one day you’ll stop loving me.”

“Never,” He swears sincerely, turning your face so that you look at him, “I am never gonna stop loving you, you can’t compare our relationship to your parents’, baby, you just can’t.”

“I feel so broken, Harry,” You whimper, your bottom lip trembling, “I’m so scared.”

“Listen to me,” He tells you forcefully, holding you even tighter against him, “I’ll fix you, baby, I know you’re sad right now, but I’ll make everything better, I’ll take the hurt away.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Harry,” You confess, his presence already making you feel better.

“You’ll never have to find out ‘cause I am never letting you get away from me,” He promises, “I’ll love you forever.”

Preference #44 - Your Daughter Is Worried About Something

A/N - I did write another preference last night but it didn’t save before I closed the internet down, ugh:-( I haven’t wrote one in sooooo long!xxx


“Daddy?” The small voice emerged from the door to the bedroom, looking up at him with her chocolate brown eyes. 

“Hi baby, are you okay?” Ashton asked the six year old, scooping her body up into his arms and kissing her head. “Everything okay with my little girl?”

She glanced over to the suitcase on the floor next to her and looked down, trying to hide her tears, not wanting her Daddy to see her upset.

“Hey, what’s wrong baby girl? You can tell me.” He murmured, rubbing her back reassuringly. 

“I don’t want you to leave again.” She sniffled, sobbing quietly into Ashton chest as his heart broke into a thousand pieces. “I’m scared you won’t come back Daddy. I need you.”

Ashton sat silently for a moment, just holding her and trying to comfort her, not knowing what to say yet. He always knew in the back of his mind that his little girl felt this way, but somehow he was still shocked to hear her say it.

“Hey, Y/D/N, I need you to know that i’m always gonna come back to you. You’ll never ever be on your own, okay? I promise i’ll always be here for you. I have to go work with your uncles, but i’ll still be right here, okay?” He said, holding his large hand over where her heart is. 

“I love you Daddy.” She sniffled, nuzzling closer to his chest like she never wanted to let him go. 

“I love you too baby.” He replied, cuddling her closer to him. “I’m never gonna leave you forever.”


Y/D/N Hood sat at her computer desk, her head in her hands, flicking her eyes over the multiple textbooks in front of her. Biology, Spanish and Philosophy work jumbling around in her head. 

She hadn’t eaten today. She couldn’t; she was too stressed and anxious about her exams to have time or the ability to eat. 

“Snuggle bug?” Calum called, opening her bedroom door and carrying a plate of takeaway Nando’s. “I brought you some food.”

“Thanks Dad.” She replied, sighing deeply and attempting to smile at him. 

“Baby, you look so stressed.” He said, rubbing her back as he knelt down next to her chair. “You need to relax, go take a break.”

“I can’t.” She refused, resting her head on his shoulder. I need to revise.“

"No, baby. You’re gonna do amazing in these exams, but only if you focus. You need to eat and sleep, keep yourself healthy. Come on, come eat with me and we’ll watch a movie, okay?” He offered, kissing her temple.

She nodded and stood up, wobbling over and she became quickly light headed.

“You definitely need to eat, c'mon.”


She hopped down the stairs and peeked round the corner of the lounge, seeing her Daddy sat watching TV alone because her Mummy had gone to bed earlier, exhausted from recently having her baby brother. 

“Daddy?” She whispered, so quiet that he could barely hear her. 

“Hey sweetie, what are you doing up?” He asked, pulling her to his chest, and smoothing her hair over. “You need lots of sleep ready for school tomorrow.”

He felt her body start to shake as she began to cry into his chest, all the anxieties and worries coming out all of a sudden.

“Shh, shh.” He soothed, rubbing her back rhythmically and kissing her head multiple times. “You’re okay." 

"Do I hafta go to school?” She asked sadly, looking up at Luke with her mirroring blue eyes. “I wanna stay home with you and Mummy." 

"I wish you could too baby.” He sighed, feeling guilty that he didn’t realize how scared she was before. “But you need to go learn things and make lots of new friends.”

“What if they don’t like me?” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes as the tiredness and tears washed over her body. 

“They’ll love you, I promise. Because you’re a special little girl and they’ll all want to be friends with you!” He smiled, trying to reassure her. “You just remember, Mummy and me will always love you the most though, okay? And your baby brother too. We’ll always be here no matter how big you get, or what happens, an-”

Looking down, he realized that she had fallen asleep pressed up against his chest, and he knew that he’d always need to be there for her and protect her for the rest of her life. 


“Can you watch Y/D/N whilst I go rest? I’m so tired.” You rubbed your forehead and then your 8 month pregnant tummy, needing to take the weight off your feet.

“Of course, you go rest.” He smiled, as you thanked him and went to sleep. His daughter was sat at the other end of the sofa, cuddling her Dolly and yawning every so often. 

“Are you excited to be a big sister?” He asked the four year old, putting his Xbox controller down on the table in front of him. 

Her lip trembled and quivered, her eyes filling with tears and her hand quickly going to wipe them away. 

“Baby?” He said, going to sit closer to her and wrap his arm around her small waist, pulling her into his lap. “Go on then, tell me what’s wrong.”

“You and Mummy won’t love me anymore.” She mumbled, fresh tears streaming down her face. “You’ll have the new baby instead of me.”

“Oh dear.” He whispered, finally noticing why she had been so quiet recently, and not being interested and talking about the new addition to the family. “You’ll never be replaced, you’ll always be my first baby! And he’s a boy, you’re my special princess.”

“Really? I’m special?” She asked him, her eyes brightening in the hopes of being different to her baby brother.

“Of course! Daddy’s have lots of love in their hearts to give to all of their children.” He said, but then leaned in closer to her ear to whisper, “You’ll always have the most love.”

Fire angel Michael was born from a family of water angels.  He was unusual and considered an abomination considering the rivalry between the two elements.  His parents had tried accepting him for who he was although it was tough.  They’d found that a strand of his hair was blue laced within his charcoal black hair, signifying that there was in fact some water within him.  It was mostly overcome by flames though.  No one would want to even associate with them anymore simply because they gave life to “a curse”.  They begged until they were allowed to keep him in this world and not send him to where he belongs.  

No one understood how it was possible for such a thing to happen, neither his mother or father were in any way related to anyone of fire blood.  They called him “the child from hell.”  But he was so much more than that.

Growing up, Michael had difficulties getting along with the other children.  It was a miracle that they even let him into the school but somehow his parents convinced everyone that it’d be a good thing.  The children were all terrified of his red and golden wings, they were taught never to communicate with anyone of such colors.  Michael was a loner and for some reason, he was alright with that.  

Kids would make fun of him for being different, they told him that he didn’t belong in their world.  In return, Michael would set fire to nearby objects such as the crayon sitting on a child’s desk.  He had a temper and it often got him into trouble.  But along with that temper, he held a soul filled with kindness.  He just never was able to show that side, no one ever cared enough to bring that side out in him.  

Once he reached his teenage years, he became rebellious and dark.  If no one was going to accept him then he’d do his own thing, despite his parents’ pleas not to.  At school the same kids still made fun of him but more on the down low now that Michael learned to do more than he could before with his powers.  He was powerful but he was also in control. 

School was pointless to him.  Some of the classes were never going to help him considering they only taught about water power.  He often ditched class to roam off campus and overlook the layer of clouds that supposedly lead to a world of mortals.  That’s where he wanted to go.  He didn’t want any of this angel bullshit that was forced upon him, he wanted to discover other things.  He wanted for once to go somewhere where things could be different from him, where someone might love him for who he is.  That’s all he ever wanted.

He couldn’t see anything below the heavy white clouds but he sure as hell knew that he was going to leave someday soon.  He was ready to leave behind everyone who ever made him feel worthless.  

Curious greens eyes scanned along the sky searching for an escape route.  He was planning everything out in his mind.  He learned from overheard conversations that if someone were to ever go to the mortal world, they had to use a certain kind of magic to hide their wings.  The magic wasn’t hard to obtain, it was common for angels to travel to and from other worlds but it was his parents he was worried about.  They would never approve of him leaving which was why he was just gonna do it.  He knew he wanted this for himself and he wasn’t going to let all the people who taunted him for years hold him back.  

Days went by and his plan came into action.  It was late at night, the stars and the moon gave off a natural light as he snuck out of his window, a bag full of his things in hand.  With one final glance at the town he never came to love, he ran toward the edge of the world he knew.  

He dove head first into the clouds, his wings fanning out against the wind as his eyes closed in anticipation.  This is what freedom felt like.  This is the feeling he’d been searching for all his life.  As he reached near the ground of an open field, he landed with a slight tumble, not used to flying around.  He became familiar with his surroundings and realized that it wasn’t much different from where he came from but somehow it felt…better.  There was a road in the distance which he began to follow, leading him straight to a city, nothing like he was used to.  He grew up in a quiet and small town area.  Now for the first time, he was experiencing millions of lights and buildings, a city just as alive as he was.  He was mesmerized by the many sights in front of him.  There were shops lined up and down the street without a space in between, there were large street lights and pay phones, there were even planes.  He heard of planes but he had never seen one.  It fascinated him how there was a type of car able to take flight.  The city was glowing in comparison to the night sky and he had never seen anything like it.  

Finally snapping out of his trance, he began walking along the sidewalk, still staring up at the unusually tall buildings that shot up into the sky.  Everything was new and no one knew who he was or what kind of monster he used to be.  Yes he still had his wings but he had a lifetime of magic in his bag to keep them hidden.  This was his new start and no one was going to take it away from him.

Moments passed by as he admired the scenery of everything he’d never seen before.  He eventually found himself behind some type of building, chasing a cat that ran near the dumpster.  The dim light from nearby street lights led him to the strange creature.  They didn’t have these kinds of creatures where he came from and he was intrigued.  

Its fur was orange and striped and although it had showed some teeth toward him an annoyed manor, Michael was persistent.  He always loved to learn by touching and right now, he was in a completely different world, curious about this little being.  Once he was finally close enough, he let his hand gently pet the fur on its back, gaining trust from the creature.  Just as he was becoming more familiar with his new friend, his magic wore off and his wings sprang out from his back, making his eyes go wide.  Quickly, he reached in his bag for the bottle of magic, hoping that no one had seen a thing.

Your jaw dropped as you watched from your balcony, wings grew from that boys back.  You knew it happened, you weren’t just seeing things, you weren’t.  He was deeply infatuated with that cat and suddenly two big golden and red colored wings emerged from his back.  You were just doing your laundry, collecting your clothes from drying when this strange boy appeared in the back alley.  And strange he was.  

He drank down a substance and the wings had shortly disappeared and you were in more shock than ever.  He stood up, looking as if he was about to run away but he tumbled backwards, the cat scampering away while he lost his balance and fell to the concrete.  “Are you okay?!”  you instinctively called down, mentally kicking yourself for drawing attention.  His eyes grew large once he realized someone saw him as he struggled to stand back up.  “Y-yeah.”  he mutters as you make your way down the stairway.  “Are you sure, it looked like you fell back pretty hard?”  you question, approaching him as he stumbles to his feet.  “I-I’m fine, really.”  he seems nervous.  He’s avoiding eye contact and struggling to form sentences.  “It’s kinda late what are you doing out?  I’ve never seen you around here.”  you inquire.  His eyes stay looking at the ground, knowing he could’ve blown his cover so early.  “I-I’m new here and uh, I dunno I guess I got lost.”  he says, his face tinting pink out of embarrassment.  “Well do you know where your going?  You can come in and I can help you figure it out.”  you offer.  He looks as if he’s contemplating his options as his emerald eyes take a moment to glance up at you.  “I don’t… I don’t know.”  he mumbles, his face showing stress.  He can’t tell if you know about his wings or not and he can’t seem to pass up your offer.  “Here, c’mon I’ll help you figure out where you need to go.”  you tell him with a friendly smile, gesturing for him to follow.  He’s hesitant as he steps behind you, following you to your apartment.  

He awkwardly walks in, standing by the door.  “My name’s Y/N by the way.”  you stick your hand out for him to shake.  “I um, Michael.”  he shakes your hand, his palms sweaty.  “You can make yourself at home.”  you tell him, sitting on the couch.  Shyly, he sets his bag down next to the door, taking a seat a comfortable distance away from you.  “So um, I don’t know if I sound crazy or not but…”  you trail off.  He squints his eyes as he awaits to hear the rest of your sentence, knowing very well what you’re going to say.  “I-I saw something… like-”  “Did it happen to be something related to wings?”  he rushes out, his eyes still shut.  “Yes!  So I’m not crazy!  What was that!?  How!?”  you ask, sitting up straight, wanting answers.  “Guess I’ve already ruined my cover.”  he mumbles under his breath.  “I just… you can’t tell anyone okay?”  he pleads tugging at the ends of his hair.  “I promise.  I don’t have friends anyway so who would I tell?”  you assure him.  “Okay, alright.”  he begins, taking a deep breath.  “I’m an angel and I left my home to get a new start but honestly it’s probably gone to shit now.”  he confesses.  “An angel!?”  you gasp.  “Hey wait angels aren’t supposed to swear are they?”  you question with a smirk.  He rolls his eyes at your comment.  “Don’t believe everything you hear.”  he sighs.  “So why’d you leave?”  you ask.  “I don’t really wanna talk about it right now.  But to sum it up, I didn’t belong.”  he replies.  “I respect that.”  you nod.  “Hey let me ask you something, since you saw what happened, what was that little creature that kept running away from me?”  he questions.  You laugh thinking it was a joke but his face shows curiosity.  “Wait really?”  you ask as he tilts his head out of confusion.  “You don’t have cats where you come from?”  you raise your eyebrow at him.  “A cat.”  he says to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips.  “Are you for real?”  you ask.  “No we don’t have anything like a cat.  When I saw it I just wanted it, I’ve never seen something like that before.”  his eyes sparkle just thinking about it.  “Wow.  You’re something special aren’t you?”  you giggle.  “Is that sarcasm?”  he questions, eyebrows furrowed.  “No, no you’re actually something special like, your an angel and I’m still in shock.”  you tell him.  “Oh.”  he responds.  

“Well I should probably leave now.”  he begins to stand up.  “Wait!”  you say loudly, blushing as he looks at you surprised.  “You don’t have anywhere to go do you?”  you ask.  “Well… no but-”  “You can stay here if you want.  I don’t mind, I’ve got no one else around and you don’t seem so bad.”  you laugh.  He thinks for a moment before speaking again.  “I just really don’t think you’d want me around.”  he admits.  “Would you rather someone else find you in a back alley falling in love with a cat?”  you giggle.  He laughs along, shuffling his feet on the floor.  “Alright you got me.”  he smiles.  

“Is this really all you brought with you?”  you ask as he lays his things out along the floor of the guest room.  “I mean yeah, it’s all I really need.”  he says, taking a seat next to you on the floor.  He’d brought his clothes, some necessities and a couple photos.  The photos contained some of him when he was a child and a few with what you assumed were his parents.  You began helping him settle his clothes into one of the drawers when suddenly you glanced over and your eyes were met with a pair of flame and sun colored wings coming out of Michael’s back.  “Wow.”  you breathe out as he looks at you with confusion.  Before you can say anything he realizes that his magic wore off again.  “Dammit.”  he huffs out.  “They’re beautiful.”  you whisper, staring at them in awe.  “What?”  he asks in disbelief.  “Your wings.  They’re beautiful.”  you repeat.  He seems conflicted as you return to glance at his face.  “Whats wrong?”  you ask.  “It’s just…I’ve always been told they were ugly.”  he shrugs.  You can’t believe his words.  His wings were a gorgeous shade of golden that faded into a rainbow of oranges and reds.  You’d never seen anything like them before.  “They aren’t ugly at all, I don’t understand why anyone would consider them ugly.”  you tell him.  He slightly grins, his cheeks tinting pink.  “Thanks.”  he says, his voice small.  You continue admiring the soft feathers emerging from below his shoulder blades, baffled by how amazing they are, how each feather is like its own design.  “C-can I touch them?”  you quietly ask.  He nods, his eyes watching you as you reach your hand out, running your fingertips gently over the delicate feathers.  His heart flutters at the feeling, not quite understanding his own emotions.  All he knew was that you were the first one to ever say that his wings were beautiful.  The first one to ever accept him the way he was.  

Robert being Aaron's reason :'(
  • Chas: Can you not see the effect he's having?
  • Aaron: Mum, that's not how it is! Alright yeah, maybe, maybe I did overdo the training, yeah alright it was, it was helping me but I made my own decisions, Robert didn't force me into anything
  • Chas: Yeah, you might see it that way
  • Aaron: He was the one who kept me going!
  • Aaron: There!
  • Aaron: I could have just closed my eyes and given up, but I didn't! Because of him.
  • Chas: He's never gonna leave Chrissie
  • Paddy: Don't you wanna be more than just a bit on the side
  • Aaron: Yeah, yeah I do but... he's not offering anymore is he. So I'll just take whatever I can get

anonymous asked:

You mentioned something about Bahorel being frustrated about Feuilly not letting him know what he needs, so now all I can picture is Feuilly always pushing away from Bahorel when he's upset because he has such a hard time trusting people and although he'd never admit it he's a little afraid that Bahorel is gonna leave him like so many people have before, especially if he admits his insecurities and is 'too whiny' and then Bahorel figures/finds out and is horrified and they just cuddle

Bahorel didn’t know anything was wrong until he heard the crash.

“Babe, you okay?” he called, not looking up from his laptop where he and Grantaire were trying to kick pixelated ass.

When no response came Bahorel didn’t waste another second, not even to message Grantaire – he tossed the laptop onto a pillow, sprang from the couch and rushed into the kitchen.  Upon entering he found Feuilly next to the stove where he had been reheating himself dinner after a late shift at work.  Instead of how he had left it though, Bahorel saw the pot tipped over onto the floor, and hot stew splashed over the linoleum and Feuilly’s bare feet.  Feuilly himself was hunched in on himself, trembling and holding his hands close to his chest; he wasn’t making a single noise.

“Fuck, shit, are you okay?” he asked, picking his way around the mess so he could get to Feuilly.  “Did you burn yourself?”

“I’m fine,” Feuilly forced through grit teeth.

Bahorel pursed his lips.  Because that was definitely a voice that just screamed “fine”.

“Whatever you say.  Move out of the mess, I’ll get something to clean it up with.”

“I said I don’t need help,” said Feuilly stiffly, stepping back, making small, aborted kicks to try to shake the mess from his feet. “I did this, I can clean it up.”

“Sure, and I can help you.  Teamwork and all that bullshit.  I probably let Grantaire die just now so I might as well make sure I pull my weight somewhere, right?”  He gave Feuilly a nudge in the ribs – he was trying to lighten to the mood, make Feuilly laugh or huff or slap him away.

Instead Feuilly just looked stricken.  “You shouldn’t have stopped just for this–”

“Dude,” said Bahorel, cutting him off.  “R can suck it up.  I needed to make sure my boyfriend didn’t break himself.  Here, let me see your hands, that shit looked hot…”

Feuilly physically pulled his hands away from Bahorel’s, hard enough that he nearly stumbled back into the counter.  “I. Am. Fine,” he said with such force that Bahorel took a conceding step back.  “I just…”  He wasn’t facing Bahorel anymore, his face turned down towards the ground, chin tucked to his chest.  He was still clinging to his own hands, like they hurt.  “I’m going to clean myself up and then I’ll be right back and I’m going to fix this and everything will be fine.  Go sit down, Bahorel.”  And with that he marched out of the kitchen.

For a few minutes, Bahorel stood in the warzone of a kitchen and mulled over what had happened.  It hadn’t been a fight, exactly.  He knew how to handle fights, he and Feuilly could get into some great ones if they were both feeling stressed and annoyed with the other.  This had been… something.  And Bahorel didn’t like it.  It made him think of the way Feuilly would try to deny his colds up and down, try to convince Bahorel to let him go to work and stop fussing, I don’t need another mother, Rel, I’ve had enough over the years only to start throwing up an hour later.

So for the time being he left the mess as it was and crept quietly down the hall to the washroom, where he could hear the bath running. Poking his head in revealed a sad sight.  Feuilly was sitting on the toilet lid, his feet stuck in the tub under the tap; his hands had a wet cloth around them, but Bahorel could still see red peaking out from under it.

“You did get burned,” he said, entering the room and closing the door with a soft, decisive snk behind him.

Feuilly started, half turning with a frown on his face.  Bahorel just grinned cheekily at him and strolled up, kneeling next to Feuilly and carefully taking one hand.

“Sick burn, bro,” he said, grinning up at Feuilly, only to get a frown in return.  Bahorel shrugged, unrepentant, and then turned the hand he was holding around so that he could press a kiss to Feuilly’s bare wrist.

“Bahorel…” Feuilly started, but Bahorel pressed a finger to his lips and shushed him.

With single-minded purpose, Bahorel continued to deliver kisses up the inside of Feuilly’s arm until he’d gotten to his inner elbow.  He then took the other arm and repeated the ministration.

“You’re being ridiculous,” said Feuilly.

“Shh, I’m kissing my boyfriend’s hurts all better.”

“You’re actually the most ridiculous,” said Feuilly, but Bahorel could hear the reluctant happiness creeping into his voice – if he looked up now Bahorel was sure he’d see that shy smile of his, the one he he got when he was trying to hide how pleased he was.  Bahorel counted it as a quiet success.  Until Feuilly’s body stiffened again.

“Okay, I feel better now.  I’m going to clean up that mess,” said Feuilly, pulling his hand away.

It was amazing how attuned you could get to a person’s emotions, because Bahorel could swear he felt it get colder just then, as if he could feel the walls being carefully built back up.  Except the thing was, he didn’t know what had made them start to crumble in the first place.  Feuilly could be convinced, with enough tenderness and intimacy, to open a gate in them occasionally – more and more frequently, Bahorel liked to think, now that he was used to Bahorel’s open affection, to being able to give and receive it as freely breathing – but when they actually fell it meant that some sort of pressure had been building up.  For a while.  What Bahorel was seeing was only the aftermath, the fallout.

“Nope,” he said, letting the P pop in the way he knew drove Feuilly nuts. “What you’re doing is going to bed.”

“What– no, I’m not going to bed,” said Feuilly.  “It’s not even eleven. I haven’t eaten yet. The kitchen is a disaster.  I have so much work I need to do, Enjolras is expecting work at the next meeting, and I’m reading a book Combeferre lent me and I…”  He trailed off, face set and determined, but he seemed to realize he wasn’t helping his case. “I’m not going to bed, Bahorel.”

“You are,” said Bahorel.  Because this was exactly like when Feuilly was sick and all Bahorel knew to do then was force Feuilly into bed until he got better, and that was all he knew to do right now and pray it worked.  “It’s already eleven.  I’ll bring you supper – that stew’s done for anyways, I’ll find something else, and I’ll clean up the kitchen.  I am capable of that on occasion, I’m a big boy now. And the work will keep.  If Enjolras looks mad we can just shove Grantaire in his line of fire instead and buy ourselves some more time.”


“Nope, bedtime now.”

Argument made (quite eloquently he liked to think, his law profs would be so proud), he decided it was time for enforcement and in a single movement stood and scooped Feuilly up from the toilet lid.  He gave a squawk and kicked out, sending droplets of water from his wet feet splashing over both of them.  Bahorel ignored him, turned the water off, and began carrying him out.

“I can walk, I don’t need to be carried around,” said Feuilly, but his tone wasn’t quite as strong anymore.

A sarcastic quip sat on his tongue, the temptation to tell Feuilly that he had lost his walking privileges, but when he looked down to deliver his line with the appropriate cheeky grin he saw Feuilly’s face was pressed entirely against his chest and he just looked so… small.  And sure, Feuilly wasn’t the tallest bloke, especially not standing next to Bahorel, and he was skinny as sin, but this was a different sort of small.  He looked like a man trying desperately to hold everything inside, to drag himself into the smallest possible space, but was failing, could barely stop it from exploding out in every direction.  Bahorel thought of the splattered stew and the way Feuilly’s shoulders had trembled in the kitchen and how just maybe it hadn’t been just from the pain of the burns.  So instead of being snarky he stopped and held Feuilly all the closer.

“I know,” he said to Feuilly’s curls.  “But I like carrying you.”

Feuilly made a small, tight noise in the back of his throat but didn’t fight him when Bahorel angled them out of the bathroom and down the hall. He even let himself be placed onto the bed, where he stayed while Bahorel tugged the blankets out from under him and tucked himself in beside Feuilly.  After pulling Feuilly right up against his chest he pushed himself up and pressed a kiss to the bit of Feuilly’s jaw he could reach.  He could feel the muscles tense under it, like he was clenching his jaw.

“What happened?” he asked.  He wasn’t sure what to do, so he did away with the preamble.  Something was wrong, and he couldn’t make it better until he knew what it was.

“I was distracted and I accidentally tipped the pot over,” said Feuilly.

Bahorel just sighed.  “Okay,” he said, “but what happened?  Why were you distracted?  Why is it such a big deal?”

“It isn’t, it’s just…  Nothing happened.  Stop being an ass.”

“Fine. But if you won’t talk about it we’re staying in bed and cuddling.”


Bahorel just focused his attention on pressing kisses over the back of Feuilly’s neck and shoulders.

For a while they just lie there like that, in perfect silence, with Bahorel’s arms rubbing long, soothing strokes up Feuilly’s arms and his lips pressing against any bit of skin he could reach. Eventually, he became aware of the fact that Feuilly, while still silent, wasn’t simply lying there; his shoulders were trembling again and Bahorel had a sinking suspicion that he was crying.

When Feuilly spoke next Bahorel’s fear was proven right, his voice thick with unheard tears.  “Last week I got an email from one of my old foster sisters.  Lyssa.  She was nice.  Younger than me, we didn’t talk a lot and I didn’t stay long but she was sweet.  We kept in touch, I’ve helped her with teenage drama things.”  He sounded like he was choking now and Bahorel hugged him tighter.  “Her sister’s in the hospital.  They don’t know if she’ll…  It was a hate crime. She’s trans.  She came out a year ago, Lyssa emailed me to tell me, it was–  And some guy just… and Lyssa saw it all happen, she couldn’t do anything though, she’s tiny.  And I don’t know what to do,” cried Feuilly, voice breaking.  “And that’s all I’ve been able to think about, if she’ll be okay, if either of them will be okay, and there’s just been so much work to do and I can’t focus on any of it.  And I haven’t been able to sleep properly and I’m so tired and work was awful today and then the stew…” Feuilly trailed off, bubbling little sobs coming to replace his words.

“Fuck, man,” said Bahorel, when nothing more clever came to mind.  “Fuck. I’m so sorry.  Shit, man, why didn’t you say anything, I could have, I dunno, helped.”

“How?” demanded Feuilly.  “It’s my problem.  You didn’t need me ruining your week too, and I just… I didn’t want to, I could…”

“I could have done more of the housework, you could have gone to nap. Or like, I could’ve told Enjolras to fuck off and give the work to someone else this week, since god knows you wouldn’t say it to him. Or just like… held you, man.  God, you’re allowed to need help, Feuilly.  You know that, right?”

“I don’t… don’t want…  You don’t want to hear about all this.”

“Dude, I love you.  Like kind of a lot.  I want to be able to help you with sucky shit like this.”

Feuilly just sniffed loudly.

“You don’t have to do this all alone, Feuilly.”

“I don’t want you to get tired of me, don’t want you to leave.”  It came out all in one breathe, like something desperate, something that’s been kept knotted up tight, hidden deep, only just now allowed to burst free, lifted away on a tide of exhaustion and desperation and tears.  “I don’t… don’t want to be annoying, not when it’s something… stupid.”

“Fuck” said Bahorel softly.  And then he sat up very deliberately and pulled Feuilly into his lap.  “No.  You are not stupid.  Never.  And I’m not leaving.  I’d never leave if you fucking asked me for help, how shitty of a boyfriend do you think I am?”

Feuilly didn’t say anything, just pressed his face into Bahorel’s shoulder, but even then Bahorel had a suspicion that Feuilly didn’t believe him, not wholly at least.  There wasn’t much that could change that though but time, and fortunately he intended to give Feuilly all the time he had to give.  

“We’re definitely going to have a talk about this,” said Bahorel severely, as he rubbed one big hand up and down Feuilly’s trembling back.  “But right now, I’m going to cuddle the fuck out of you and tell you that everything’s going to be okay.  So lie back down and get comfy.”

Feuilly nodded against Bahorel’s shoulder and, to both of their genuine relief, didn’t put up any sort of argument.

- - -

I definitely feel like Feuilly thinks he has to be, like, the most self-reliant person ever.  And it’s not wholly a bad thing!  He’s really productive and self-motivated, which is great, he’s just so use to doing everything by himself that he doesn’t always know when it’s appropriate to ask for help, or even how to do it.  Which is probably actually really hard for Bahorel to deal with, because I feel I like being able to help and protect his partner is huge for Bahorel. idk, i just really like their dynamic