#……curses mimic to walk backwards for a whole day or something

[handfulofmuses]

What if in the ghost au Smithy was thrown into the flow of failed phantoms because they tried to rebel against the chairman and the ghost council because no way would they have gone along with spreading misery

And since Smithy was the ringleader and the adult in this case they tried to make an example of him and Claire and Slinger go along with it but like - they bend the rules, loopholes and all that. They do their job and haunt but they only haunt villains

[shurisneakers]

harmless (vi)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: BUCKY BARNES IS BACK AND HAS A CONFIRMED PERSONALITY 

also omg everyone who’s been sending me ideas- ur the lomls. 

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Your place or mine? ;)

He stares at the text.

The right answer is mine. See you at the lair.

“Y’all are dating now?” Clint peeks over his shoulder. 

“Fuck no,” Bucky says indignantly. “God forbid.”

“Okay, man,” he retracts, giving Bucky space to turn around and face him. “What do you want to call your mini dates then?”

“Missions,” Bucky corrects him.

“No one wants to go on a mission. You volunteered to go back there.” 

“It’s for the good of the tristate area.” 

“I bet.” The snort he lets out contradicts his words. “Whole world is depending on you, Barnes. Go save them from the treachery of your crush.”

“Enemy.”

“Girlfriend.”

“Mortal nemesis.” Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “Go further, I dare you.”

“What are you gonna do? Choke me? Punch me with your metal arm?” Clint cranes his neck. “Bring it, big boy. I’m not scared of some kinky shit.”

He hates living here. 

The door is left open for him. 

This time, even though the lair is still illuminated by the green light out in the front, there’s a minor change. Sunlight streams in through a skylight in the roof. 

There’s a ladder there, leaning against the rim. It gives him an entrance to the roof, which, judging by the lack of any other presence in the lab, is where he’s supposed to go.

As he gets closer he notices there’s a note on one of the rungs.

‘Evil’ with an arrow pointing upwards.

He rolls his eyes, discarding it on the floor before swiftly scaling the steps.

“Ah, Mr. Barnes,” he hears your voice call out even before his head pops up above the surface. “We’ve been expecting you.” 

He pauses, looking around. “Who’s with you?”

Because other than the gigantic machine pointed up towards the sky, there’s only you with a visor and sunglasses. The  best way he can describe its design was that it was shaped like a pine cone, had a large antenna pointed towards the sky, two handlebars near its base to manoeuvre it with a large button in between them. 

“Just imagine I have my henchmen with me,” you urge. “I’m on a budget, man, I can’t afford them yet. Maybe when my cloning machine finally works-”

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s a James Bond reference,” you add when he doesn’t show any signs of answering. 

“Haven’t watched it yet.” Bucky shrugs. “We’re doing Star Trek right now.”

“You’re done with Star Wars?” you, receiving a nod in confirmation. “Nice. You’d find the spy shit ridiculous anyway, it’s way below your level.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He makes a mental note to add the Bond movies to the list. 

“Speaking of stars,” you begin, gesturing to the machine. “I’m going to harness the power of the sun.”

“For what?” He doesn’t bother asking how, he already knows you’ve figured out something. 

“There’s a science exhibition and my team’s stupid solar car experiment isn’t working and I need it for them to win.” 

“So build a better one.” 

“No, ours is the best and if Jeff and his stupid baking soda volcano beat us then we’re going to have a murder on our hands.”

“Your hands,” he emphasises. He has nothing to do with this.

“I said what I said, boy.” You glare at him. “This is our problem now.”

“How much power are you taking?” If it’s insignificant enough, it wouldn’t matter much. He thinks. 

“The whole thing.”

He laughs. He stops when you don’t.

“You’re taking all the energy of the sun to power your shitty science model.”

“Your face is a shitty science model,” you mimic him in a higher pitched voice. “I will do anything to win.”

He wonders which grade kid you stole that insult from was in. There’s no way they were anything older than 13. He could use it on Steve, maybe.

“Everyone on Earth will die.” He feels the need to remind you, even though there was no way it was actually going to take place. Eat shit, Clint. This superseded the tristate area.

“Not for eight minutes.” You look at your watch. “And, if Jeff dies then I win by default.”

“You’ll die too,” he points out. 

“I’ll die a winner.” You nod seriously as if that makes it better. 

He’s not that worried. Experience tells him that you’re not a mass murderer willingly. 

“You’ll die an idiot.” 

“Only if you don’t stop me.” Your lips curve into a smile. “And how will you when I do this?”

You yank the machine to point towards him and slam the button. His hand reflectively pulls in front of him to defend himself. Something hits him with enough force to send him skidding backwards slightly. 

He removes his hand carefully from in front of him, looking at you. 

Something feels off.

“You just-”

The knives strapped to his thighs suddenly feel heavier.

“Took your powers?” you finish his thought. “Yeah.”

He feels his body tip towards his left. He’s suddenly very aware of the weight of the arm. Had it been this heavy all this while? 

“You’ve barely changed,” you noted, “You’re just regular Bucky but like, 20% less beef.”

After all, he was a boxer when he was a teen. One of the best men the Howling Commandos had even before the serum.

His shoulder feels heavier though. And somehow he thinks he’s sensing things a little less. He can’t really hear the faint buzzing of the generator downstairs anymore.

“Yep, that’s real muscle.” He turns when you poke at his shoulder. He doesn’t know when you got there. “You’re like a modern day Schwarzenegger. Grade A beefcake.”

He can’t see the construction site near the horizon as clearly as he used to. 

Something about this situation makes him feel like he’s going to have a midlife crisis, even though he’s overshot the age by a huge number. No one has a midlife crisis at 106. 

“Now that we’ve established that this works,” you say, back near the machine again. When did you walk there? “Let’s show this bitch that I’m the brightest star allowed in this solar system.” 

He shakes his head to jolt himself awake, shoves aside his mental dysfunction and breaks out into a sprint when you pull the device down to aim it at the sky. 

He latches onto the side, using his left hand to pull himself up, straddling the machine.

“Excuse me,” you exclaim like it’s a minor inconvenience and he feels the machine sway wildly under him. “You’re weighing it down, get off my inator.”  

You’re shooting recklessly, trying to shake him off. It’s not dissimilar to the mechanical bull Natasha made him ride during a mission down south so she could win money off placing bets on him. They had lobster that night.

He reaches down to its side, hoping to feel maybe a panel he can rip off. He finds nothing.  

He hopes none of the rays are actually hitting anything. It’s a little harder to stay on than he’d imagined it would be, and he thinks that maybe this wasn’t the best plan. 

He changes his mind in a split second, swinging himself over so that he can climb the underside of the machine like a monkey bar. He feels like a fucking insect. How was Peter not mortally embarrassed? 

He factors in the fact that his hands are getting clammier and his grip is slipping faster than usual. Also, he can taste his lunch at the back of his throat.

“Motherfucker,” Bucky curses when his hand slips, leaving him to hold on only by his metal arm. 

“You okay?” you call out, not giving him a second to recover unless he really needed it.

He lets out a grunt, swinging his arm up and catching hold of the antenna, yanking it down and towards the machine itself. He pulls himself up so that he’s straddling the machine again. 

One more shot and-

“Very smart, Barnes,” you say dryly, letting go of the handles. 

He sends you a sly grin before sliding down the barrel, kicking the large button with his heel right before he jumps off. 

The beam shoots out, instantly meeting with metal. The device automatically gives a mechanical groan before powering down, turning off altogether. 

“I hate you,” you huff, before noting his paleness. “D’you want some water? An IV maybe?”

He dismisses it with a wave of his hand, inhaling heavily to catch his breath.

He’s tired, more so than he would have been under any normal circumstance. He feels a little dizzy, a little disoriented. 

“Don’t worry, your magic powers will be back in a few minutes or so.” You examine the bent antenna, pressing the button and sighing when it stands there lifelessly. “Once Jeff wins, I’ll send the dry cleaning receipt to you. You can pay to get the tear stains out of the kids’ outfits.”

“Your tears or theirs?” He’s relieved about the powers returning, he thinks.

“Both, bitch.” Your eyebrow quirks at his retort. Clearly, he had more energy in him than people realised; his brain seemed to be working fine. He was stronger than you thought. Good for him. 

“You’re smart. You’ll figure something out.” He lets out a final exhale before standing up a little straighter. 

“Thanks. It’d be better if you asked your billionaire tech genius to send us something, but okay.”

“It’s a middle school science exhibition. Make a potato battery or something.”

You tsk-tsk. “No points for creativity, Mr. Barnes.”

It creeps into his mind without warning. He wonders if he actually wanted the powers back. Wonders what his life could be if he maybe retired, settled down. For the brief time he feels like his pre-war self, he starts to think like his pre-war self.

“I’m not the one who’s about to lose to a baking soda volcano,” he finds time to respond, however. 

“Your face is a baking soda volcano.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I will not lose.”

“You’re running out of time. Chop chop.”

But the thought hits him. Who is Bucky without his super soldier serum? If he doesn’t have his powers then he can’t think of what use he is to the Avengers.

Who the hell is Bucky if he can’t provide a service to others? How else does he make up for being himself?

His, what he’s now deemed, afterlife crisis is starting to look more apparent.

He compartmentalises and stores it away in a box. He’ll bring it up with his therapist later. 

“I’m going to win and then you’ll be sorry you weren’t a part of it because you didn’t let me steal the sun.” 

“If you win, I’ll still be glad I didn’t let you.” He climbs back down the ladder, feeling the ache in his muscles reduce with every passing minute. 

True to your word, his powers do return a while later. 

And while he’s watching Avatar: The Last Airbender with Peter in the living room two days later, his phone beeps with a text. 

It’s a picture of a blue first place ribbon next to a toy car that looks like it’s powered by a potato battery. Beside it is an out of focus middle finger that is aimed at him. 

Congratulations, he texts back. Told you potato batteries always win.

Your face always wins, he receives in return. He can’t tell if you’re insulting or flirting with him. 

He just shuts his phone off and goes back to watching the show. 

Next part

[chibi-tsukiko]

COUNTDOWN TO TLBotW

Day 7 : Fluff

------------------------------------------------------

A Moment Captured

Alec’s phone lights up from where it sits on the counter.

He taps the screen, using his knuckle to put in the passcode.

Magnus ♥️ 5:47pm: Finished collecting the ingredients. I’m dropping them with Tessa and then I’ll be home. 😘😘😘

Alec smiles, wiping his hands on the dish towel before slinging it over his shoulder. He grabs his phone to type out a reply. 

Can’t wait to see you. Tell Tessa and her family hi for me. ♥️

He waits for Magnus to reply, smiling when he receives a short video of Magnus blowing a kiss, the bright lights of the market place flickering behind him. 

Alec replies, “🥰😘” before locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket. He finishes adding the last of the dino shaped nuggets to the plates in front of him and sets them on the kitchen table. 

“Boys,” he calls out, “dinner!”

He turns back to grab the juice boxes from the fridge, surprised when he doesn’t hear the pitter patter of feet behind him. 

He turns back to the table, Chairman Meow sits on one chair eyeing the plates.

“You’re not my boys,” Alec says

Chairman gives him a soft meow before leaping down off the chair and over towards his food bowl. He pushes it with his paw, mewing.

“Alright, alright, hang on,” Alec says opening cabinets in search of Chairmans food. Finally, he finds a can of wet food in the back behind a set of teacups. 

Alec shakes his head and grabs the can opener from the drawer. 

He scoops the food into Chairman Meows bowl. 

“We gotta remind Magnus to be better about leaving a stock of food here for you when he goes away,” Alec says.

Chairman rubs his head against Alecs knee. He sniffs the food and whines. 

“I know it’s not as good as what Magnus summons for you, but it’s all we’ve got,” Alec shrugs, giving Chairman a scratch behind the ears before walking back over to the kitchen table. 

“Boys!” He calls out again. What are they doing? 

Alec tosses the dishtowel on the counter and heads towards the boys’ rooms to investigate.

Half way down the hallway, Alec stops listening to the noises coming from Max’s room. 

“Behind you!” He hears Max shout, “Dis way!” 

“Estar atento!” Rafe calls

There’s a chorus of scuffling and giggles that follow, and Alec quiets his footsteps.

He lightly pushes the door to Max’s room and peaks his head in, his breath catching as he takes in the scene before him. 

Max stands on his bed, toy bow and arrow in his hand, black shapes drawn with marker on his arms. 

Rafe stands on the floor near the closet, he’s adorned with beaded necklaces, and Alec can see faint smudges of glitter on his eyelids. 

Rafe ducks down from the invisible attacker, punching out his arms to mimic blasting. 

“Hay demasiados!,” he cries, spinning in circles, punching the surrounding air. 

Max slings the toy bow over his shoulder, bending down to grab the marker on the nightstand. 

“Hang on! I use speed and strong rune!” He takes the marker, keeping the cap on, and retraces the shapes on his wrist and bicep. He jumps down off the bed and rushes to Rafe’s side. He helps him up and takes the bow off his shoulder. The two boys stand back to back as they fight the imaginary threat. 

Alec takes out his phone, holding it between the crack of the door and the doorframe, taking as many photos as he can. As he slips the phone back into his pocket, his elbow hits the wall, causing a loud thud sound. 

Both boys turn towards the door, arms and bow pointed at Alec. 

“Rafe look!” Max gasps, “Its Daddy monster!” 

Alec grins pushing the door open, his arms outstretched like Frankenstein, “Grrrrrr you’ll never defeat me” he says stomping into the room. 

Max squeals, “Quick Rafe! Quick!” he yells, moving to the side. 

Alec growls, leaning to scoop Rafe up in his arms. Rafe ducks out of the way, rolling on the ground in between Alec’s legs, just as Alec had taught them to do. He smiles with pride, forgetting the “monster” persona he’s supposed to be putting on. 

He turns around, just as Max stands back up on the bed, his bow stretched, aimed at Alec. 

“Gotcha Daddy!”, grins before releasing the string of the bow. 

Rafe throws up his hand, making a “psshhh” noise to mimic a blast. 

Alec grabs his chest taking a few steps backwards before dramatically falling to the ground “Arggghhh curse you,” he groans before flopping his arms out signifying his “death.” 

He squints his eyes open, watching the boys’ reactions. 

Max beams. He hops off the bed, running over to Rafe, “We did it! We did it!”, he giggles. 

Rafe smiles, giving Max a high five. 

They both glance at Alec and then back at one another, grinning. Rafe nods at Max and Alec recognizes the gleam in their eyes, he’s seen it in Magnus many times. He braces himself for what’s coming. 

“Get him!!” Max shrieks!

In an instant, both boys are on top of Alec, tickling at his stomach and under his arms. 

Alec squirms underneath, “oh no, no please, have mercy!” he pleads in between laughs. 

Rafe moves to pin Alec’s arms down while Max continues the assault. 

“Ah no fair! Two against one!,” Alec complains, although he recalls when this normally happens, Magnus will pin his arms and legs down with magic. His husband never was one for playing fair. But Magnus isn’t here this time. After letting the boys have their way with him, Alec shifts and wiggles his arms free from Rafes grip. In a swift movement, he scoops the boys up, one in each arm, and drops them on the bed. 

“Now you’re in for it!” he says.

The boys grab onto one another as Alec begins his tickle revenge. Soon Alecs ears are ringing with the sound of joyful shrieking. 

After the tickle fight ends, Alec reheats the boys’ dinners, and helps them get ready for bed. 

He uses one of Magnus’ make up wipes to remove the glitter from Rafael’s eyes, chuckling to himself as he notices the shimmering pieces that are caked into his eyebrows and bangs. 

After Alec finishes with Rafe, he instructs him to brush his teeth and get into bed. He then grabs a washcloth and soap and wipes off the “runes” Max had drawn down his arms. 

“All right Max, you’re all clean. Brush your teeth and then get into bed and I’ll be over to tuck you in, in a moment.”

“Can’t.” Max says.

“Why not?” Alec asks, prepping for the argument. Max has always been difficult at bedtime.

“Not clean”, Max says

Alec blinks at him, “What do you mean you aren’t clean?” He scans Max’s arms and legs for any trace of left over marker, but he can’t see any. 

“Forgot one!” Max smiles

And Alec just stares at him.

Max giggles, lifting his shirt to reveal what Alec realizes is the Wedding Rune, drawn over Max’s heart. Alec's eyes drift from the rune up to Max’s face, all dimples as he smile shines as bright as the sun. 

Alec ruffles Max’s hair, mindful of his horns, and presses a kiss to the top of his head. 

Alec reads the boys a bedtime story and tucks them both in, telling them that the faster they go to sleep, the faster Bapa will be home. 

* * * 

Alec lies on the couch,  flipping through the images he took earlier on his phone, smiling to himself. He’s just about to text Magnus to ask for his ETA, when he hears the familiar sound of a portal opening and closing. 

He locks his phone and sits up, just as Magnus walks over to the couch. Alec moves his leg so that Magnus can plop down next to him. 

“Hello Darling,” Magnus smiles laying his hand against Alecs cheek. 

“Welcome back,” Alec replies, leaning forward to kiss Magnus softly. “How’s Tessa and her family?” 

“They’re doing very well. Mina is getting bigger every day, and Kit is… he could give your Parabatai a run for his money.” 

Alec snorts. 

“Blondie jr.,” Magnus shivers, “I had hoped that Jem would have more of an influence on him.”

“Herondale’s are hard to tame.”

“Impossible’s more like it,” Magnus says, closing his eyes, and moving to lay his head in Alecs lap. 

Alec presses a kiss to Magnus’ forehead, laying a hand on his chest, “Everything else went ok though?” 

Magnus smiles, keeping his eyes closed, “Yes, yes. I am sorry it took so long, Tessa insisted I stay for tea since I ‘am terrible at visiting’, I hope the boys weren’t too disappointed, I know I had told them I would be back today.” 

Alec chuckles, running his fingers lightly through Magnus’s hair, watching as Magnus sinks into the touch. “They were alright, I told them the faster they went to sleep, the faster you’d be home.”

Magnus grins, grabbing Alecs hand “My genius husband” he kisses the inside of Alec’s palm, “I missed you.”

Alec leans down to kiss him, “I missed you too,” he smiles. “Do you want to see something that happened today?” 

Magnus blinks one eye open, “Oh?”

“Here,” Alec shifts to help Magnus sit up beside him, Magnus complies, groaning as he does. He leans into Alec so they are siting shoulder to shoulder. 

Alec pulls out his phone and opens the photo folder, flicking through until he finds the ones he took today. He clicks the first one open and holds the phone towards Magnus. 

Magnus’ eyes go wide. “Is that…?” he starts unable to process.

Alec grins, flicking through more photos, “It was right before dinner, it was a whole thing”, he looks to his phone continuities to flip back and forth between the pictures. “When I was cleaning them up, Max showed me he had a rune under his shirt. Right over his heart,” he smiles, remembering how Max was beaming about it. “They’re really something, aren’t they?” He looks to Magnus, whose eyes remain transfixed on the photo. Alec can see tears beginning to form on his water line. 

“Magnus?” 

Magnus blinks the tears away, reaching to lace his fingers with Alecs. “I love you Alexander “he says after a moment. 

Alec smiles, resting his forehead against Magnus’ temple. “I love you too.” 

Magnus cups his other hand behind Alecs neck to pull him into a kiss. 

“Now, if you’re not too tired,” Alec whispers when they break apart, “I’d like to show you exactly how much I missed you.” 

Magnus smirks, “Oh my love, I am never too tired for that”

Alec gives Magnus a quick peck, “good, shall we?” he stands, holding out his hand to Magnus who takes it. 

“Lead the way, Alexander.” 

---------------------------------------

Tag List : @lbotw-countdown-event​ @littleturtle95​ @legendofconsullightwood​ @thebxxkthief @tyblacthorn @tobeornottobetequila @louis-tomlinsxn @zafirafoxx @an-awkward-nerds-world @magnuslightwood-bane @bookworm-jedi @magnus-the-maqnificent @banesbitch

[chelsfic]

Leftovers - Part Five - Nandor the Relentless x Reader Fanfic

Previous parts: Masterlist

Summary: Nadja sneaks the reader to the vampire rave and things go--predictably--sideways. As in, the reader is in danger! Featuring more Nadja/Reader bonding and some snuggling with Nandor. The reader is feeling more and more at home with the vampires and maybe even starting to see the allure of the vamp life...

A/N: Hey guys! Really read the warnings here. This chapter has some serious angst! I Hope you guys enjoy it and thanks forever for commenting and reblogging--it means the world!

Warnings!!: Memory loss, Hypnosis, Drug use, vampire attack, angst, hurt/comfort

---

You’re seated at the top of the stairs resting your chin in your hands and watching the rest of the household bustle around the front hallway as they prepare to leave for the vampire rave. Nadja is dressed in a stunning midnight black gown studded with sparkling gemstones. You decide that you must have dreamed about her promising to take you because she doesn’t even glance in your direction as they start to file out the front door.

Nandor tries to catch your eye from below but you stubbornly turn your head. You don’t know how it’s possible after living here for such a short time but it hurts to be left out. Even Guillermo is tagging along. You’re the only one being excluded and it stings. 

Nandor refuses to let you sulk in peace. He walks up the stairs towards you and your treasonous eyes track his progress, drinking in the image of him in his tall boots with the cape flowing out behind him. His legs are long and thick and your fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and touch him. He stops a few steps down and you finally look up at his face. 

“Stop this moping around!” he orders with a whine in his voice. “The whole house smells like sad human.”

“Take me with you, then!” you demand, standing to your feet. For once you’re actually taller than him. “You’re taking Guillermo!”

Nandor shakes his head, “Guillermo is a familiar! They’re off limits to other vampires. You’re just…”

He stops himself from completing the sentence so you do it for him.

“Just...food?” you supply and you’re aggravated to feel tears stinging your eyes. 

“Yes!” Nandor blurts, somewhat oblivious to the way your face crumples. “And I’m not going to spend the whole party guarding you from other vampires!”

You retreat back towards your bedroom with a disgusted shake of your head. 

“You’re horrible!”

---

“It wasn’t really a punishment, not inviting the human to the rave party,” Nandor sits in a tall-backed armchair and looks into the camera. “I was more worried about another vampire eating her…”

He’s silent for a beat, looking off to the side in contemplation.

“But Nadja is a bad influence! The human is becoming very insolent!”

---

You’re deep into your sulk and watching Netflix on your laptop when a scraping sound from the window interrupts the gloom. You look up but, of course, you can see nothing through the layer of newspaper pasted over the glass panes to keep out sunlight. The scraping starts up again and this time it’s accompanied by the faint sound of something flapping up against the glass.

You creep up to the window, body tense with anticipation, and you slowly peel off a piece of newspaper to peer out into the darkness.

THWACK!

You flinch backwards as a bat flies into the glass, squeaking and flapping its wings to be let inside.

“...the fuck? Are you serious!?”

You’re either about to find out that vampires turning into bats is a real thing...or you’re about to get rabies. You heave the solid window open and the bat glides inside, exploding into a cloud of black vapor and appearing as Nadja, looking cool and completely nonchalant.

“You can turn into a bat!?” you screech, forgetting your foul mood at once.

Nadja flips her wrist at you, “Of course, my cheeky darling. That’s, like, the most basic power for a vampire. Very simple.”

“Wow...” you marvel under your breath, eyes wide with admiration. Could she be any more cool?

“Now, come to my crypt, baby human. I’ve laid something out for you to wear,” she snaps her fingers and turns on her heel, expecting you to follow obediently. Which...you do.

Now that she’s really here to take you to the rave, of course, you’re awash with second thoughts. Maybe Nandor was right...maybe it’s too risky.

“I don’t know, Nadja...won’t it be dangerous? I mean, Laszlo said it’s basically a feeding frenzy, right?” you hate how diffident you sound but--hey--on the other hand you really like being alive.

“Pshh, don’t worry about that, human,” she scoffs. “I won’t let anyone eat you. Besides, most of those humans will be fine. You don’t want to drink too much drug blood. You only take a little sip and then erase their memory.”

You stay silent as she leads you into the crypt. You know from experience how disorienting “a little sip” can feel…

But your qualms fly out the window when Nadja holds up the dress she’s selected for you. 

“What do you think, darling? You will look like a real little baby vampire in this…”

It’s a floor-length gown in shimmery black and silver brocade with a high neckline and short sleeves trimmed in lace. It’s like nothing you’ve ever imagined wearing and your mouth drops open in awe. Nadja grins and pushes it into your arms.

“Put it on and then I will do something with your hair. Don’t worry about bloody, stupid Nandor. He’s just being a pig dick because he wants to do sex with you but if he does, it will ruin your blood.”

“Wha--how--?” you choke in surprise. “How do you know that?”

“Oh, sweet, stupid human,” Nadja croons and cups your cheeks in her hands. “Nandor is as obvious as a turkey strutting around and waving his feathers in your face. He smells like desire whenever you are near him. Very distinct, very nauseating. He’s just too dumb to know what to do about it.”

Your shoulders droop. It’s obvious Nandor is interested...it’s just a question of whether he’s more interested in you or your blood. You think you know the answer.

Nadja senses the morose train of your thoughts and she interrupts, “But if he sees you in this? He will tear the hair from his chest in anguish until you let him ravish you! Trust me, girly. I know what I’m talking about.”

---

Nadja tucks your hand into the crook of her elbow and leads you up to the doors at the back of the building. A burly vampire stands before the entrance and holds up a hand as you approach.

“Password?” her voice is deep and gravelly. Goosebumps course over your arms and you tuck yourself closer to Nadja.

Rather than respond verbally, Nadja flashes her fangs which seems to be good enough because you’re beckoned through the door right away. Once inside your senses are immediately overwhelmed. Music pours over you, the bass pulsing through your bones. It’s dark except for the flashes of strobe lights and the neon glow of dancers decked in glow sticks and covered in luminescent body paint. Before you’re even out of the doorway someone lurches up to you with a small tube of paint in their hands and presses a finger to your cheek, drawing a heart on your skin. Nadja shoves them away with a curse.

“Fucking, cheeky human! I should kill him for touching you,” she growls.

You’re too busy taking in the sights and sounds to be perturbed. You just pat her arm and yell over the music, “It’s fine, Nadja!”

The vampire shakes away her annoyance and leans into your ear with a giddy grin, “Let’s party, baby.”

Nadja moves through the throng like a queen, expecting the masses to part before her. And they do. You follow along in her wake feeling a bit like a fraud in your borrowed finery. But you suddenly flash back to your early derby days when you’d been petrified of actually going out and skating in front of a crowd of people. Your sister skater clunked her helmet with yours, spit out her mouth guard and said, “Fake it till you make it!”

You lift your chin and for a moment you imagine what it would be like if you were the predator stalking through the night in search of weak, mortal prey. And suddenly it feels like the crowd is parting for both of you.

“Oooo, this looks like a tasty little morsel!” Nadja exclaims, eyeing a petite girl in her 20′s dressed head-to-toe in blinding neon colors. Nadja glides up to the girl and waves her hand in front of her face as she drawls, “You will come with me into the bathroom.”

You trail after them, not wanting to let Nadja out of your sight knowing that there are other vampires here hunting within the crowd.

Nadja clears the bathroom with a wave of her hand and an imperious command. You stand to the side and watch as she takes the girl in her arms and buries her fangs into her soft neck. It should be shocking and terrible but...you’re not bothered. Why aren’t you bothered? Watching Nadja make her attack is like watching a lioness take down a gazelle. She’s powerful and deadly, yes, but also impressive. 

She throws her head back and her blood-stained lips part in a dazed grin. The girl in her arms starts to squirm away and Nadja tightens her hold, drawing the human in with her gaze and speaking just one word, “Forget.”

You watch the girl’s eyes glaze over as Nadja releases her. She stumbles out of the bathroom and back out into the crowd. 

“What if another vampire decides to bite her?” you worry. All these people--yourself included--seem suddenly so fragile and vulnerable in the face of a vampire’s power.

“So?” Nadja asks. She’s licking her lips and swaying a little where she stands, obviously feeling the effects of the drug blood.

“So?” you echo. “So...she could...die…”

Saying these words out loud to your vampire roommate sounds suddenly daft.

Nadja snorts and then she’s overcome with giggles. She leans into your side as you make your way back out onto the dance floor.

“My silly human...you feel bad because you’re still human. I get it. But...you’ll understand eventually,” she says the words directly into your ear so as to be heard over the music. 

“When we...you know,” she mimics biting you and then puts her own wrist to your mouth. You want to ask her what the hell she’s talking about but she’s suddenly dragging you into the center of the dancers and urging you to dance with her. 

The night flies by in a blur of dancing and stalking and drinking. Nadja finds you a “human alcoholic drink” after considerable pouting when you tell her you don’t want to do any party drugs. There are cases of beer and hard cider stacked in one corner and you lose track of how many drinks you have as the evening goes on. You feel pleasantly loose-limbed and giggly. At one point you see Colin feeding off someone in a quiet corner and he sends you friendly wave even as his eyes glow with hungry power. But more and more people pack into the space as the hours go by and it’s so crowded you don’t run into anyone else from the house. You certainly aren’t searching the crowd for a tall, handsome warrior standing head and shoulders over the others.

Certainly not.

Nadja’s just finished feeding from a yummy young man and you’re leaving the bathroom once more when you finally bump into Laszlo.

“My darling, ferocious beast!” Nadja cries, throwing herself at Laszlo, who’s wearing a crown of glow sticks.

Laszlo catches her in his arms and mauls her mouth in a lewd kiss.

“My goodlady wife! At last! Where have you been? I spent twenty minutes fondling a coat rack before I realized it wasn’t you!”

“I’ve been escorting my pet human,” Nadja giggles and reaches out to pat your head. “Cute little human.”

You’re as drunk as you’ve ever been so the insult flies over your head. You rub your face into her palm and smile. Nadja turns back to her husband with a feral snarl and bites into his lips. 

“Come and ravish me, husband,” she growls, pulling him back towards the bathroom. She turns to you as an afterthought, “Wait right here, human. This won’t take long.”

“Hey!” Laszlo complains.

They disappear into the bathroom and you’re left standing by the wall riding a wave of happy drunken delirium and watching the glowing colors swirl around you.

---

Something’s wrong. Something bad happened but whenever you try to recall the details your mind goes blank and a headache twinges at your temples. 

But you know in your bones that something is wrong. 

You can’t bother Nadja and Laszlo while they’re desecrating the bathroom and Colin Robinson is no longer lurking in the corner where you’d seen him. Anyway there’s only one person you want right now. Only one person who can hold you in his strong arms and make you feel safe but you can’t find him in this horrible, pressing crowd. Your face is wet with tears that you don’t even remember crying but now you’re crying again. Big, racking sobs that hurt your throat and you’re shouting his name, trying to be heard over the deafening music.

When you finally spy his broad shoulders under the blood red velvet cape you break into a sprint and collide with his back, wrapping your arms around him and clinging to him without a care in the world for how pitiful you must look.

Nandor stiffens and turns around in your grip. When he finally sees you, your face stained with tears and the collar of your dress torn and soaked in blood, his face darkens and he feels the loose, merry hold of the drug blood leech from his body as fury takes hold.

“Who has done this?” his voice is a low, angry hiss. 

You just shake your head and bury it into his chest. You don’t have any answers for him. 

“Guillermo!” you hear his voice shouting over your head but you’ve retreated, narrowing the world down to the feel of his arms wrapped around your body. Safe. A faint question stirs at the back of your mind. Are you safe here? With him? But...yes, of course you are.

You’re outside the building now, sitting on top of a stack of wooden pallets with Guillermo and Nandor standing before you. Your mind is still buzzing with alcohol consumption and the heavy, empty echo of hypnosis. Nandor tries to fix your dress. The collar is torn and it gapes open revealing the tops of your breasts. You’d surely be mortified if you weren’t currently retreating into your own psyche. He finally gives up with a huff of annoyance and unclasps his heavy cape, dropping it onto your shoulders and wrapping it securely around you. You clutch the fabric in your shaking hands and pull it tighter. It smells like him.

“I need to know who did this,” Nandor mutters to no one in particular. “I will unleash hell upon them. I will snap their neck and stab them with a thousand stakes. I will--”

“Master,” Guillermo interrupts. “She’s been hypnotized…”

“I can make her remember,” Nandor answers and turns to you with his hand raised in front of your face. 

A sudden, intense fear claws up your throat and you grab his hand with both of yours, pushing it away and shrieking, “NO!”

You scramble backwards and nearly fall off the pile of pallets in your desperation to get away. Nandor grabs your shoulders to steady you and you’re shaking under his hands.

“Leave my head alone,” you whisper. Your eyes are wide, haunted and unseeing. 

Nandor continues to hold onto you, rubbing circles into your shoulders and whispering nonsense comfort words. When you’ve finally calmed down he moves to raise his hand up once more and Guillermo shouts, “Master!”

“I can make her feel better, Guillermo!” Nandor shouts back. He looks back at you and the defeated slump of your shoulders and growls in frustration. “Fine! Fu-cking guy…”

He gathers you in his arms, tucking the cape more securely around you and bending his knees in preparation for flight.

“We’ll see you at the house, Guillermo,” he calls and then he’s launching you both upward and soaring into the sky.

The abrupt weightlessness is enough to shake you slightly from your stupor and you squeal in fright, clutching onto Nandor’s lapels for dear life.

“We’re flying!” you cry, looking down at the city lights below before screwing your eyes shut in alarm. “Don’t drop me!”

“I’m not going to drop you,” Nandor scoffs but he looks a little chagrined at the memory of his familiar’s fall during such a flight. 

You wind your arms around his neck and wrap your legs around his waist, clinging onto him like a koala and periodically shrieking like you’re on a rollercoaster. When he finally touches down on the front steps you’re still attached to him with a death grip.

“We’re home, human,” he murmurs, smoothing his hands over your hair. “You can let go…”

You shake your head against his shoulder and utter a muffled, “No.”

Nandor’s rage over what has been done to you is a simmering fire in his belly but now he also feels something unique: a swelling in his chest that feels like pride. You sought him out for safety and protection...and he wants to take care of you…

He walks upstairs to your bedroom, cradling you in his arms all the way. Once inside he lowers you onto the bed and you finally let your grip on him loosen. 

“I’m going to get your bite ointment and some towels to clean your neck,” he whispers and you don’t miss the way his lips curl back from his fangs at the sight of your blood spattered skin. But he ignores the urge to cover the offensive bite with one of his own. 

He leaves for a few minutes and when he returns his arms are laden with bath towels and bandages. You sit with your legs dangling over the side of the bed and mutely observe as he tends to the wound with a gentle touch.

His eyes stay on his work and his jaw clenches as he finally breaks the silence, “You disobeyed me, human. And I’m not happy about that.”

He uses a wet face cloth on your neck and shoulder, cleaning away the dried blood before he applies the antibiotic cream. Your head is still spinning and you can’t really say if it’s from the alcohol, the hypnosis, or the terrifying flight, but you don’t have the energy to reply.

He rips open a band-aid wrapper and continues, “But I’m sorry this happened to you. You’re...special to me. And... I’d be very sad if you died.”

Nandor leans back on his heels and you look into his soft gaze. He looks more open and vulnerable than you’ve seen him and you suppose this admission is as close to a declaration of his feelings as you’re going to get from the vampire.

“Thanks, Nandor,” you reply, tugging the edges of his cape around you.

“I’ll leave you to get changed…”

---

Nandor is standing by his open coffin looking a little lost without Guillermo to tuck him in. He turns in a circle and with the faintest exhalation extinguishes all the candles lining the room. He’s just climbing in when you appear in the doorway, dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and an oversized t-shirt. You hug your arms around you and lean against the door frame not meeting his eyes.

“Hey…” you trail off, unaccountably bashful about your request.

Nandor’s eyes trail down your bare legs before flicking back up to your face.

“Hello, my little one,” he greets you. “Do you need me to tuck you in? Guillermo isn’t back yet…”

Does he think Guillermo tucks you in at night? Oh, has he...ordered his familiar to do so? It’s kind of adorable and your lips tug up in a smile. He’s an ancient, all powerful vampire who needs to be tucked in every night...er, day?

“No, I--” you clear your throat and start over. “Can I sleep in your coffin? I don’t want to be alone…”

An increasingly familiar warmth floods Nandor’s chest and he smiles revealing his razor sharp fangs, which should really be more terrifying to you, but who are you kidding?

“Come, my mortal,” he stretches out his hand and you take it, stepping up into the coffin and settling yourself around him, no longer even pretending that this is anything other than some serious undead snuggling.

He turns onto his side and spoons up behind you, snuggling with his face buried into the crook of your neck so he can breathe in your sweet scent. He reaches up to take the handle on the inside of the coffin lid and gently closes it over you both.

“You’re safe now, my mortal,” he breathes, dropping a light kiss on your shoulder.

And...you are. With his arms around you and his comforting weight at your back you feel as if nothing can harm you. Nothing, that is, except maybe for him.

But somehow that doesn’t worry you. You bring your hand up and twine your fingers with his, lifting his hand to your mouth and pressing your lips to his knuckles as your eyes drift shut in exhaustion. 

“‘M safe with you, Nandor,” you echo and there are other words, unspoken, that drift through your thoughts as you fall asleep.

---

Tags--let me know if you’d like to be added to the list

@festering-queen​ @glitterportrait​ @kandomeresbitch​ @scuzmunkie​ @redwoodshadows​

[amythedvdhoarder]

Protection - Part 1

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warning: Mention of violence, swearing, angst and fluff

Word count: 2.8K

Author’s Notes: First ever attempt at writing anything, apologies for it being terrible 

series masterlist

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He ran his fingers through his long hair, he knew he needed a haircut but couldn’t bring himself to do it. His eyes are directed towards the training ring, he watches you studiously as you spar with his best friend. Bucky resumes his leg presses whilst keeping an eye nervously on what is happening across the gym.

Steve circles you and you mimic his actions. “Come on Captain, what are you waiting for” you tease softly.

“You Y/N” he smirks. You see his left hand drop slightly and in a blur of movement you are leaping at him, ready to swing around his neck and get him into a chokehold. But you don’t make it, instead you feel a massive force hit your chest as you are knocked backwards. You back thuds to the ground and your head snaps back and hits the mat, everything begins to fade.

Bucky is there in a second, sprinting across the room and jumping over the ropes at the side. His hands are gently on you, assessing the damage. He knows you are still recovering from an injury from your last mission, he curses Steve in his head and grazes his fingers over your cheek. He see’s you twitch slightly at the touch and slowly but surely your eyes flutter open.

Steve stutters from somewhere, still frozen in shock “Y/N? ...Y/N please … I’m sorry. Shit!”

“Lang…” you begin to mutter but then you become distracted. Your eyes are suddenly locked to the blue ones close to your face, you become aware that Bucky is straddled over your waist, his fingers still on your cheek. A blush begins to creep over your face, you squirm slightly beneath him and a sharp hiss escapes your mouth.

“Don’t move doll” he says softly “I am just checking you over, I can’t see any broken bones, you might have a little concussion though. What’s my name?”

“James Buchanan Barnes or Bucky” You are starting to feel uneasy now, you feel the dull pain in your head but the sharp pains coming from your shoulder are worrying you. You cannot get over how close he is to you, the concern in his eyes and the softness of the cold metal fingers tracing over your left shoulder. A gasp escapes you lips.  “My shoulder hurts”. Bucky nods in understanding, he can’t help the guilt starting to wash over him, he still can’t believe that he let this happen to you… Your face is pale and twisted in pain and he knows that even though Steve had been sparring with you, it was ultimately his fault.  

“Buck, we need to get her to the Medbay for a check-up, now”. Steve snapped Bucky back from his thoughts. “This might hurt doll” as he removes himself from your waist, he crouches beside you, his arm slowly reaches under your back as the other catches up your knees. You scrunch your eyes as he begins to lift you, you try to hold back the cry escaping your lips but don’t succeed. The sharp noise pierces the two super soldiers around you, both feeling a stab of guilt travel through their bodies. “I’m sorry doll, so sorry”. Bucky places a soft kiss on your sweat glistened forehead as he carries you gently from the room, down the corridor and to the Medbay. Steve follows closely not taking is eyes off you.

Tony stares at the two men as they carry you over. “What the hell did you do now Barnes?” he snaps. Bucky moves his eyes away from Tony to you. You look so fragile in his arms, he should have protected you, he knew that. “Put her down there, let’s have a look at you kid” Tony’s tone softens as Bucky lowers you slowly to the nearest bed. “You can go now, both of you. I will look after her” he turns to look at you “I will have you up in no time kid”.

Bucky and Steve glance at you and start turning away. “No wait ...” You called them, wincing slightly as you tried to shift yourself to see them better. They look back at you. “We’ll be outside doll, the whole time. Just the other side of this door” he points “call us and we will be there, Ok?” His eyes have found you and you can see the pain and tension there. You nod, you instantly regret it as another sharp pain shoots from your shoulder, there is a quiet intake of air through your mouth. You know they both hear it, you can see it as their shoulders slump further into their bodies. “We are right here” Steve softly calls to you as they both turn and leave through the doors.

You watch as they leave, you blink away the tears in your eyes. “Right, now I am going to scan your shoulder to check whether Barnes has done further damage to your shoulder” “it wasn’t Buck, it was Steve. We were sparring” you interrupt him. Tony tenses a little bit. You know he still hasn’t forgiven Bucky for what happened at the HYDRA base a month ago, you try ignore the memories thinking about it brings up. “Well whoever then” Tony says tightly “I am going to warn you now this is going to hurt. I need to sit you up and lift your arm out so I can get a full scan”

You nod in understanding as his starts to move you. A loud scream escapes your mouth, the you feel a sharp scratch as Tony injects you with some painkillers, the pain coursing through your shoulder starts to numb slowly. You look at Tony as if to let him know he can carry on. Tony begins moving your arm and then moves the scanner in front of you.

Outside in the corridor, Bucky and Steve are beside themselves. They hear your scream. Steve starts to inspect the floor next to his left foot. Bucky on the other hand loses it.

“This is your fault you jackass, what were you thinking, you know she is still recovering, then you hit her straight in the chest anyway? What the fuck man?” Bucky doesn’t remember moving but he now has Steve pinned against the wall by the scruff of his shirt. His left hand smashed into the wall to the left of Steve’s head. Steve stays quiet, shocked, looking at his best friend, he doesn’t try to move. His eyes meet Bucky’s hard glare, he can see the fight Bucky is having in his head to keep control. Steve’s look softens, Bucky slowly pulls his metal arm out of the wall, keeping his right arm firmly pushing Steve against the wall. “I’m sorry Buck, it was a reflex, I saw her coming at me and defended.” Steve tries to rationalise his actions, he knows he should have been more careful considering the circumstances.

Bucky’s grip loosens. He knows this isn’t Steve’s fault. It’s his. He can’t protect you in the way he needs to. He feels useless. You mean so much to him, more than you know. He can’t believe how lucky he is that you fell into his life over a year ago. Tony had seen what things you were doing at SHIELD in the UK, he had pinched you from them and made you an Avenger.  Bucky and Steve had been training you up, he loved watching you as you trained and gained confidence. He had studied you intently as you began to relax more into your role, your personality had come out. You had a sense of humour and he couldn’t get enough of seeing you tease people with your sarcasm.

Of course, there was something else; you were gorgeous, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, you moved with grace and had smile that made his chest tighten. It hurt him to be away from you, he was like an excited kid on Christmas day, always up early, eager to see you. He had learnt in the first few weeks that you like to go for an early run in the gym followed by a smoothie afterwards. He made it one of his main goals in life to be around you every morning. Bucky had bumped into you one morning when coming back from the kitchen with some water; you were walking down the corridor with a towel slung over your shoulder, tying your hair up as you walked, revealing a small section of your toned stomach as your tank top crept up. This was something that Bucky kept in his thoughts, the thought of slowly removing your top to expose more of your golden skin excited him. He had politely said good morning and asked you where you were heading. You hadn’t seemed surprised when his door opened the next morning as you walked past nor taken a back when he asked if he could join you in the gym. From then on you had been inseparable, you hung out all the time, watched movies together, you had been growing closer by the day. You would playfully argue with him about where to get lunch and tease him about his struggles with modern technology.

Steve had noticed how happy Bucky had become, the happiest he had seen him in since joining the team. Steve had a sneaky suspicion that Bucky was harbouring some pretty strong feelings for you, he saw Bucky snake his arms around you as he watched a film with you. He noticed how Bucky would look at you when you laughed or when you played with his hair. Steve had also noticed the way you looked at Bucky when you thought no one was watching. He watched as you waited for Bucky to return from a mission, you would nervously bite your bottom lip and twiddle your fingers anxiously. Bucky would call you on the way back from every mission and Steve would notice the grin and light that crept into your eyes. He knew that you felt the same way as Bucky.

Bucky let go of Steve fully now and dropped his head. He couldn’t stop the shaking that had started within him. Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky. “This isn’t your fault, you can’t beat yourself up about this. She is good at her job and she knows the risks around it. She wanted to start training again, you can’t wrap her in cotton wool Buck”

“I know Stevie, it’s just I can’t get the image of her on that last mission. Covered in blood, her shoulder smashed to pieces. That was my fault, she got hurt protecting me. I’ve let her down and she is still hurting because of it. I don’t deserve her; how could she love someone like me. I can’t even keep her ...” Bucky’s voice faltered, tears began rolling down his face.

“Buck, do you love her?” Steve questioned softly, he gripped Bucky’s shoulder softly. Bucky looked up at him and nodded slowly. A smile tugged at the corner of Steve’s mouth. “You need to tell her how you feel. She doesn’t blame you for any of it you know. She told me she would have done that for anyone. I know Y/N, she will be absolutely fine in a few hours, I think you and her need to chat. There are some things you need to sort out.” Steve fell silent, looking for a reaction. Bucky suddenly stood up he walked to the doors glanced in. He saw Y/N sat up, she had regained some of the colour in her face and was chatting away to Tony who was still inspecting the scans he had just carried out.

Buck turned back to Steve “don’t let her go anywhere, I will be right back”. Steve watched as Bucky darted off down the corridor towards the elevator. Steve’s head snapped back when he heard the doors open, Tony glared at him. “You idiot, what were you thinking Rodgers? You could have done some serious damage to the kid” “Tony leave them alone, let them come in now” you called from the bed. Steve entered. You looked around for Bucky but couldn’t see him, you couldn’t hide the disappointment as the question formed on your lips. “He will be right back Y/N” Steve stopped you as you the words had started to form in your mouth. You sigh and twirled a few loose strand of hair around your finger. You noticed that Steve was staring at your shoulder “It’s fine Steve, we were training.  I shouldn’t have rushed back into training”. “You’re lucky Rogers, no sign of further trauma, will just be a bit sore” Tony said handing you an icepack to hold on your shoulder. “Stay here for 30 minutes with that on, then you can go, you’re not concussed but I just want FRIDAY to monitor you for a bit. Then you’re free to go”. You glanced at him and smiled, he was like a father figure to you. He was similar to your father who had passed 5 years ago, so immediately you had formed a bond with him when you arrived. You could spend hours with him whilst he tinkered with his cars and suits, you had even helped him design your suit. Your mind had drifted and when you became aware of coldness begin to sooth your shoulder your attention snapped back.

Tony said his goodbyes and muttered about being late for dinner with Pepper. Steve stayed with you. “Once Bucky is back I am going to head off, I have a mission to prep for, Buck will look after you. I am really sorry Y/N, I should have been more careful”. You shifted, groaning slightly as you moved your uninjured arm around him, placed a soft kiss on his check and muttered in his ear “it’s fine Steve, no harm done. I’ll get you back next time”. Steve chuckled at this and pulled you gently into a hug.

Both of you heard the door close and quickly separated. Bucky was stood there, he had a smoothie in his hand. You saw some unknown emotion flash over his face and then it was gone. He looked at you and started walking over. “Sorry to interrupt, are you alright?” he said in a low voice. “It’s alright Buck, I’m fine” you replied a little confused. “Just a bit sore, nothing some rest won’t fix” you added. You licked your lips at the smoothie “is that for me?” He nodded and handed the smoothie to you; his eyes didn’t leave yours and you felt a heat move across your face. Finally, as you took a sip of the drink you tore your eyes from his.

“Ok, I am off then” Steve said suddenly as he stood up. “Sorry again Y/N, you should be able to go soon though, see you later Buck. Will leave you to it” You weren’t sure whether you were missing something, but Bucky shot a quick look at Steve who smirked slightly as he left.

“This is delicious Buck, thank you” Bucky’s attention was back on you at these words, he smiled briefly. “I mean it, thank you for helping me today as well, you’re always there for me and I love hanging out with you, hell I think I …” You were stopped before you could finish, a pair of soft lips touched yours. He was so gentle, he pulled back slowly searching for your eyes, his fingers slowly pulled your chin up to meet his gaze. He looked torn, you could see him licking his lips and then he pulled back “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I shouldn’t get in the way of you and Stevie”. You were shocked, you had gone from blissfully happy to finally have his lips on yours, something you had been yearning for since the first day you met him, to hurt. “Steve?” you stammered “nothing is going on between me and Steve, are absolutely mad! Are you blind? Bucky urgh you are so infuriating sometimes!” Bucky didn’t know what to say, what did she mean ‘are you blind’? He quickly brushed aside the heat he could feel swelling in him, God you looked so beautiful when you were angry. “I saw you together when I came in. Clearly you feel something for him?”. “Friendship Bucky that’s it, me and Steve are friends, you’re so oblivious, aren’t you?” you snapped back. You swung your legs off the bed, wincing slightly. You ignored the worry on Bucky’s face and left without saying a word.

Bucky was stood, horror struck. He wanted to follow you but couldn’t tell his feet to move. What had he done?

[yeenybeanies]

i’m glad you guys seem to like devin too bc i love them & also one ( 1 ) cowboy. that’s a lie i love many ( n > 1 ) cowboys  don’t look at me; i haven’t proofread this one yet because i’m in a hurry rn but i’ll get to that later!! EDIT i have proofread & made alterations, so now it is good to go!! 

arthur morgan & devin clarke ( oc ) 

2506 words

language warnings

feel free to leave comments in the tags!! thanks!! 

" Rats. ”  The gunslinger curses under his breath. Literal rats. He nudges at a fallen peach on the ground with the toe of his boot. A large chunk is torn from its flesh, making its roll lopsided and left-curved. There is something strange, though. Most might not notice and dismiss it, just as he was about to, as nothing more than rats or mice, but Arthur Morgan has an uncanny eye for small details. Brows furrowed, he crouches down and takes the peach up in one hand, turning it about to better see the carvings. At a glance, they look like ordinary rodent teethmarks, sure. But under scrutiny––under Arthur’s scrutiny––they don’t hold up so well. The cuts are too perfect, too precise. The pattern of the hole in the peach is strange too; rather than a series of chewing that eventually wore down to the fruit’s tough pit, as a rat might do, it looks more like the entire chunk was removed all at once. Something cut out a chunk of this peach and ran off with it, while making it look like rats had gotten to it.

Confusion settles heavily on Arthur’s face. His first guess is that another member of the camp took a bite from the fruit, but the scoring in the fruit is too small for a man’s teeth or knife. Furthermore, why wouldn’t they just have taken the whole peach? Why take one chunk and leave the rest? 

The burlap sack housing the rest of the fruit and game he’d collected––all things he’d intended to deliver to Pearson––sits on the table adjacent to his bed. Arthur straightens, shifting to a more comfortable kneel, and leans over to inspect it. There’s a cut in the fabric, again, looking as if it’s to imitate the gnawing of rodents. As with the peach, though, it’s too precise. 

What the hell could have done this?  

“ Arthur! ”  His head snaps up and turns towards the voice. It’s Dutch. Apparently he’s needed for something. He’s about to yell back that he’ll be right there, but movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention. It’s barely perceptible, but something is scooting around inside the bag. Had Arthur already ruled out rodents, he’d guess maybe it was a mouse. Whatever it is, it’s sneaking towards the incision. Slowly, Arthur leans forward, eyes narrowed. 

That ain’t no mouse for sure. 

“ Arthur! Get over here! ”  

Arthur is frozen, stiff with surprise.  

“ Arthur! ” 

“ Wha––erm––I’m comin’! Be right there! ”  Jesus Christ. Arthur tears his stare away from the bag and looks towards the center of camp where Dutch is calling him. He can only give the bag another quick glance before he stands and starts walking. If he takes much longer, Dutch is bound to come over and drag him out by the ear. 

He must be seeing things, he reasons. Too many knocks to the head, too much drinking in his time. There’s no way he just saw a . . . a tiny lady’s face under the frayed burlap. 

Racing like a hummingbird, the borrower’s tiny heart pounds in their chest. Hidden inside of the burlap sack, they try their best to peek out and watch the human without drawing any attention to themself. From what they can tell, he’s crouched, looking at a peach. They curse themself silently; they’d cut a sizable chunk of that peach with their knife––really a makeshift tool made from the sharpened and carved canine of a fox––and had accidentally pushed it out from the sack when they’d yanked said chunk free. Oh, the lament they felt watching that perfectly good fruit fall to the ground below . . .. 

And now the human is inspecting the fruit. Their anxiety slowly starts to rise. Devin Clarke takes pride in their art––in the effort they put forth to make their borrowing look like nothing more than the work of mice and rats. It fools most humans. Most. 

Devin freezes when the human moves. They can’t see his face, but they can see the blue buttons on his chest, which tells them that he’s facing the bag, most likely inspecting their handiwork.  

A voice cuts through the eery quiet, making the borrower jump. They pray the human hasn’t noticed. That is their cue, though; they need to leave. With hopes that the human––Arthur?––is distracted, Devin slowly creeps towards the cut, trying their damnedest not to jostle the fabric or any of the food items around them. As they reach the fray, they freeze, blood suddenly going cold. 

He’s looking at them. There’s no doubt that he can see them. Beyond the cut fibers, Devin sees the look in the human’s bright blue eyes change from scrutiny to surprise. 

The voice yells again from somewhere in the camp, but Devin is too stiff to react this time. It feels like an hour passes, but they don’t move, and neither does the human, both too shocked to do anything. The third yell, however, does finally pull his attention away, and Devin takes the opportunity to scoot backwards into the sack, out of view. They panic, knowing damn-well they’re trapped if the human decides to inspect further. But he doesn’t. He yells back that he’s on his way, and he stands, and he . . . leaves. He leaves without trying to catch them. They listen to his footsteps as they grow more distant. Once they’re far enough away, Devin scrambles out of the cut they made and rush for safer cover, peach chunk they’d worked so hard for forgotten. 

God dammit! Every other tent and wagon gave them no trouble at all! 

Arthur hadn’t expected to see the would-be little lady in the bag again when he was finally able to return. He was prepared to dismiss what he’d seen as a trick of the light, but he wasn’t prepared to find a chunk of peach in the bag––a chunk of peach that, save for a few tiny nibbles––fit perfectly into the slot carved from the fruit. Carved. Not chewed. 

That was days ago. Since then, the gunslinger hadn’t seen any sign of small critters––mice or ladies or otherwise––around his tent. Today, though, he had heard Pearson muttering, grumpy as ever, about rats getting into the camp food stocks. He’d mentioned something about going into town to get some mouse traps. Arthur, after having inspected some of the  “ nibbled-on ” food ( same strange, too-precise marks as before ), had volunteered to find and get rid the rat himself. Or mouse. Or Whatever it is.

So now he waits. At Arthur’s recommendation, Pearson continues as usual with his daily routine. Sunset comes, and the camp stew simmers, and everyone eats. Arthur, though––he skips the stew and instead takes up post around Pearson’s wagon. The sun now practically gone beyond the horizon, he relies more on his hearing, listening for anything stirring around among the camp food supplies. The moon is nearly full, but he can only do so much with moonlight.

It takes about an hour before Arthur does hear something suspicious ( maybe he would have heard sooner, but Javier started playing his guitar ). There’s a rustling about, so faint that Arthur’s almost sure he’s imagining it. Carefully, quietly, starts to move, his ears straining to focus on the the sound. He does berate himself a little, calling himself a fool for volunteering to chase a rat, but . . . but a part of him still doesn’t believe that it’s a rat, that it wasn’t a trick of the light. That, or he really is just losing his mind. 

Arthur approaches a barrel brimming with fruit, he spots a peach on the ground. Sure enough, its flesh is carved to mimic a rat’s gnawing, just like earlier, and just like a few days ago. He turns his head to the barrel, where he can hear tiny movements within. Logic says it has to be some sort of rat or mouse, and Arthur just doesn’t know as much about rodent dentition as he thinks. Logic says it’s not a teeny tiny little lady. That’s absurd. 

And yet, from the cover of some of the barrel’s fruit, out crawls just that: a teeny tiny . . . maybe three inches tall . . . little lady. The moon’s light is plenty bright enough to highlight their little figure, leaving no room for doubt. They’re standing on two legs, wearing little clothes, and they’re staring at Arthur as he stares right back. The piece of peach in their hands falls, bouncing off of the barrel’s rim and dropping onto the ground.

Ever since the fiasco at the human––Arthur’s––tent, Devin had been avoiding that side of camp entirely. ( It’s unfortunate, since that side of camp usually has a good supply of feathers and scraps of fabrics and other useful things they can’t usually find anywhere else. )  It’s inconvenient as hell, since the main food wagon is such a pain in the ass to reach, what with it being made to keep out mice and rats and borrowers and other small creatures. Since they’ve been spotted, too, that means they have to leave, but they need to build up their supply stocks first to have any hope of survival away from the camp. 

Damn. Being seen sucks. 

It is a small blessing, though, that the human hadn’t tried to grab them. That doesn’t happen often. 

Here they are now, though. While the camp is busy eating their daily stew ( Devin almost feels sorry the humans have to eat that slop everyday ), the borrower is busy scavenging through the wagon. A few pieces of fruit would be a good haul for the night. Getting up the barrel was no small feat, but the peaches––Devin’s favorite––at the top are plenty worth it. Dropping that first one after pulling a chunk from it ( again ) was a tragic accident, but they figure they might be able to haul it away once they get back down to the ground. A whole peach would certainly be a win in their book. 

It seems, though, that the little borrower is fresh out of luck. Having been too preoccupied with taking more chunks of fruit, when they step out from behind an apple, they’re met with a heart-stopping sight. They drop the piece of peach they’d just pulled.

Arthur. 

It’s the same human! 

Devin feels the familiar chill in their blood and bones. 

There’s no doubt that he can see them, either. He’s staring right at them, and they at him, both of them caught in the moonlight. Time seems to stand still for several long moments, neither of them knowing what to do. 

The human does eventually move, his hands lifting. He does so slowly, but he seems to slow even more when Devin tenses, prepares to run. It looks almost like he’s . . . surrendering. 

“ Easy now, ”  he says, his voice low, soft. He’s trying to be comforting, but Devin isn’t feeling very comforted.  “ Ain’t gonna hurt ya. ”  

Devin’s heard that before. 

The human lowers himself to a crouch, his eyes not leaving them. One hand collects the fallen peach––the whole fruit, sans one chunk, they’d dropped earlier.  “ You, uh . . . you like peaches? ”  

Naturally, Devin opts not to answer. They’re still ready to bolt at any moment. 

“ Pearson thinks you’re a rat. I told him I’d take care of it, but––woah! Hold on, hold on! ”  Devin darted behind the apple again, spooked by those words. They don’t have any desire to be  ‘ taken care of. ’  But the human keeps talking.  “ Look––I give ya my word, li’l miss. Dunno if you can really understand me, but I ain’t gonna try n’ catch you. You just . . . well, ya can’t really be takin’ from the provisions wagon like this. ”  

Well shit. Now that the human knows without a doubt that they’re here and they’ve been taking food, Devin now has to leave immediately. They don’t have enough supplies to make it far, but what choice do they have? It’s too dangerous now to––––

“ But I can help. Ya don’t . . . you don’t have to run away, y’know? ”  Oh boy. Here he goes. Devin rolls their eyes and starts their descent down the barrel, staying out of sight.  “ I know ya don’t know me, don’t know nothin’ about me, got no real reason to trust me, but I ain’t gonna hurt ya. Don’t really want anyone else to hurt ya either. ” 

Yeah, yeah. He keeps talking, and Devin keeps climbing. 

“ I’ll tell Pearson I got the rat. Don’t you worry. ”  Oh? That does make the borrower pause. This human’s . . . going to cover for them. So he says, at least. That’s . . . a first. 

“ If you ever come around to my tent again, just ask me, ‘n I’ll give ya some food. Or whatever it is you need. ” 

Right. Okay. Devin huffs and resumes their climb down. 

Back at their home, after adding the scraps of food they managed to take away ( no peaches, unfortunately––damn that human ), Devin comes to the heart-dropping conclusion that they, in fact, do not have enough supplies to make it anywhere . . . that wouldn’t mean almost certain death. 

Fuck. 

The last time they put their faith in a human, it ended . . . poorly. 

Pearson seemed pleased last night with the news that the pesky rat was taken care of. That’s good. That means he probably won’t be looking around, knife in hand, for any little critters crawling around the wagon. 

That’s one relief. For now, at least. But Arthur still can’t help but feel some anxiety in his heart, knowing that the little lady is still running around out there. They’re so small . . .. 

Arthur reclines in his bed, arms resting behind his head. His hat is tipped forward, covering his eyes. Things are slow at camp today. Chores are already done, no one needs any errands run, and nothing . . . super pressing needs his attention right now. 

He figures he might as well take a nap, catch up on some sleep he’s missed over the . . . well, his whole life. That’s his plan, at least, until he hears a little voice. 

“ Arthur? ”  

The gunslinger breathes in sharply, eyes open, and pushes himself up to sit, looking around for the source of the voice. 

“ Down here. ” 

Down where? He rights his hat and scans low. What on Earth–––oh! 

Oh. It’s the little lady. Arthur removes his hat from his head, just as he might do for a normal-sized lady. 

“ That’s . . . that’s your name, right? ”  They look nervous, which Arthur supposes he can understand. He’s not sure he’d be the bravest if facing a giant. 

“ Yeah. That’s me. Arthur Morgan. An’ you’re . . .. ” 

“ Devin Clarke. ”  Sounds like a normal enough name to him. He wonders if they used to be normal-sized, but he can’t think of how they might . . . shrink. 

“ Well, Miss Clarke . . .––– ” 

“ Just Devin, ”  they correct quickly.  “ You . . . said you would help me . . .. ” 

Ah. He surely did. Arthur can’t help the smile that curves along his lips. Slowly, he moves himself to better face them, making an effort to keep his hands where they can see them at all times. 

“ ‘course. Devin. What can I do for ya? ” 

[thegirlwithwngs]

Bat girls - chapter 2

Find  chapter one here: https://thegirlwithwngs.tumblr.com/post/627502472423964672/bat-girls

 Again, please be nice. I’m learning as I go and English is my second language. And any tips on how to better write conversations are very welcome!

I heard someone chuckle behind me. “Girl, you fucked up.” I tried looking over my shoulder, but my wings blocked the view. My heart pounded in my chest. Was it someone from my camp? It had to be. But I didn’t recognize the voice. The possibilities were endless, but none of them were good. A lone traveler who strayed of the path, a monster who could mimic a human voice, or maybe other camps had started to look for me as well.

There was a rustle of leaves, a loud boom, and a thud on the branch where the talons of my wings had gotten stuck. The owner of the voice had somehow gotten up to the branch in one big jump. No, not a jump. One flap of their wings. I looked up to the Illyrian sitting on the branch, the huge membranous wings behind them,  looking at me with a smirk.  “Need a hand?”

Now that I could see her and heard her voice again, I realized that she was female. A female who dared to fly, and curse, and be alone in the woods. I was so shocked I almost forgot to grip her hand. She was strong, stronger than any female I’d ever known. With one pull she nearly flung me over the branch. The muscles in my back were in worse pain than I could’ve ever imagined. I tried to get my talons out of the wood, but in the time I had hanged there they had gotten in to deep.

The female was still looking at me with that smirk that seemed to be branded on her face. “Are you going to ask for my help, or have they cut your tongue out?” she asked me, clearly amused by my struggle. Everything about her threw me of guard. She reminded me of the males in my camp, after they had gone through the blood rite and had joined a war-band. Like she could take on the world, and she knew it.

“I…I…I cant get them out.” I said, my voice trembling. “So you can talk! Cauldron bless us all, that makes things easier.” The female said with mocking voice. I cringed a bit, part of me wanted to say that I was not some helpless little girl, but I knew the evidence was against me. The female did seem the notice. “I’m sorry, I’m just kidding. Are you okay with me touching your wings?” her voice softened and her hands hovered near my wings, waiting for my consent.

I nodded, and with a gentle but firm grip the female jerked my talons out of the wood. I realized that no one else besides me and maybe my mother had ever touched my wings, and only than it had ever been to bathe them. I never really paid attention to how sensitive they were, and even the slight touch of the female send butterflies trough my stomach.

My wings were free, but I didn’t have the energy to tuck them in, and I let them rest on the branch. The female grabbed  a pack from underneath her cloak and started talking. “I’ve actually been looking for you, you know? The others told me I shouldn’t, and that I would put myself in danger but I couldn’t help myself. Those bastards following you made it difficult, and you actually did a good job leading them away from you. I followed the scent of your blood as well, only to notice that you where going in to the opposite direction. How did you manage to do that?” she asked, while unpacking food and a bottle of liquid and putting it on the branch between us.

My cheeks heated at the memory, but she waited for me to answer. “It is my first bleeding.” I softly said, and I knew I was turning as red as the morning sun. “And I knew they could smell my blood, so I… I tied a piece of the cloth I had used to a piece of wood and threw it in the river.” I didn’t dare to look up out of embarrassment.

But the female laughed, she laughed so hard the branch shook. “That’s bloody brilliant! Emphasis on the bloody!” she said while trying to catch her breath. “You’re a survivor, I like it.”  She handed me a piece of bread and the bottle of liquid. I was suddenly very aware of the cracks in my lips, the dry scratch in my throat, and the rumbling in my stomach. Without thinking or even waiting I grabbed it and nearly drank half the bottle in one sip. The female look at me. “But you are pretty naïve for a survivor.” She said watching me swallow the bread without chewing. It was not until after she said it that I had taken food and drink from a stranger. And maybe I didn’t even care at this point. I had spent the previous hours dangling from a branch like an overgrown sausage for the monsters in this forest, and I had made my peace with whatever fate would kill me, if it was poison, then so be it. And almost as if in a dare I grabbed the next piece of bread and started chewing while making eye contact with the female.

She grinned at me. “Here’s the deal. I can leave you here with what is left from the food. It should be enough for two days, maybe three if you don’t swallow it whole like that. And after that it is up to you to survive, and maybe we will meet again. Or I can take you with me. I’ll leave at sundown, with or without you.”

“where will you take me?” I asked. “I can’t tell you that, staying hidden is a big part of survival. But I can tell you that your odds are better with me. For the rest, you will just have to trust me.” The female folded her arms in front of her chest, waiting for my response.  

I didn’t think she would take me back to my camp, or any other camp. No camp leader would trust a female enough to send them to retrieve me alone. And her wings weren’t clipped. I heard the High Lord had forbidden it centuries ago but with most camps there weren’t enough visits from the High Lords court to make sure it didn’t happen. And now, with a new ruler in Prythian, the one who called herself High Queen.  Nearly every camp had started to clip the wings of their females again.

No, there was no way this female belonged to a camp. But why had she been looking for me? And why be kind enough to offer me food and help? Maybe she belonged to something worse then an Illyrian camp. I couldn’t even imagine where she might be from. I had never set foot outside my camp until a few days ago.

She wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead she was scanning the forest around her, her head leaning back against the tree, while letting her legs swing from side to side next to the branch. I had never seen any female like her. Even with her cloak there was no doubt in my mind that she was very muscular. Her hair wasn’t long like the females in my camp, but shorn short enough that it was nothing more than a black shadow on her tanned skin. She had called me a survivor, but if anyone of us was able to survive it was her. Her eyes met mine again. Both our eyes where hazel, like most Illyrians, but hers were a bit more brown than mine.

The moment we made eye contact I realized there was no other option. I would go with her. I had no clue how to survive, and if I stayed her I would sooner or later die. Even if she had some devious plan with me, it was still an ‘if’ and not a ‘when’. “I’ll leave with you at night fall.”

The female got up and jumped down the branch, as if it we weren’t at least four meters high. “Come on, you might want to stretch your legs, we have a long flight ahead of us.” She called up to me. “I can’t jump down like that, and I certainly can’t fly!” Only the idea of being up there in the sky made me nauseous. “Yes you can, you are a badass Illyrian who managed to survive for four days while being hunted. You can manage a little jump. Just tuck your arms and legs in while you jump and bend your knees when you land.” She made it sound so simple, but I hesitated again. Fear colliding in my stomach. “Or you can climb down, but I’m going to look for a good spot to take off and I’m not waiting.” She started walking backwards slowly walking backwards. With the thickness of the forest she would be out of sight in seconds. I had no choice but to jump.

I got up, balancing on the branch with my knees trembling. Arms and wings in tight. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. And another deep breath. And another. And I jumped.

I didn’t have time to think about opening my eyes, or being afraid. It all went so fast. Too fast. I was waiting for my body to hit the ground, probably breaking some bones. But my fall was interrupted. The female had caught me mid air and put me down slowly. “You didn’t bend your knees.” Was all she said before walking off again. I stumbled after her.

“I still can’t fly!” I said, catching my breath while trying to keep up with her tempo, and wrapping my mind around what just happened. “Don’t worry, I’ll carry you tonight. And just so you know, learning how to fall is the first lesson in learning how to fly.” She didn’t even look at me. It was almost infuriating. She seemed to know exactly what was going on and I was absolutely clueless. I was like a baby deer trying to keep up with a mighty stag.

I had always learned to keep my calm. Anger and fighting was meant for males. Just as flying. I was reminding myself of my composure, not looking where I put my feet, and I fell face first in the muddy leaves on the forest floor. The female in front of me just snorted a laugh and waited for me to get up.

And I was done. I was completely done with all this. “You could just help me you know? Instead of laugh. I spent the last four days in absolute horror, running away from my home and my family and my friends, all alone in this horrible forest. I smell like a sewer. My entire body hurts. I’m so desperate I’m following you without even knowing your name. And you are laughing at me.” My talking had turned in to yelling at  some point, and there were tears running down my face.

The female had turned to me. “Aïda. now you know my name. But the ones whos names you know, the ones you call your family and friends are out to kill you right now. If I have bad intentions, you knowing my name will not stop me.” She reached her hand to me and I grabbed it. “Keep that fire burning, girl. You will need it to survive. But make sure the right people are getting burned by the heath.”

Night was falling while we made our way through the forest, looking for the right spot to take off. I had a big clearing in mind, but Aïda stopped at a spot where the trees were just a bit further apart, and you could see the sky through a small opening in the roof of leaves. The bright crimson of the sunset was slowly fading into a deep purple.

“You can fly through that?” I asked her. “I like a challenge.” Aïda said, that smirk again on her face. “Are you ready to go to my secret liar of torture and pain?” I almost stopped breathing, but then I realized this was just her twisted sense of humor, so I just gave her a look. “Good, you are a quick learner. Let’s go.”

She stepped closer and put one hand around my waist and the other underneath my knees, ready to lift me of the floor. “I just realized. I never even told you my name!” I said to Aïda. “Oh no! You’re family must be shocked and ashamed of your lack of good manners! Lucky for you girl, I already know your name. I heard your father call you over and over again two nights a go.” again that sarcastic tone in her voice that I slowly began to get used to. “Then why do you keep calling me girl?” “Until you stop acting like a little girl, and start being the bad bitch you actually are, I will keep calling you girl.”

And with that she lifted me and we shot to the sky.

[thepartyresponsible]

so, as it turns out, maybe fluff isn’t my natural habitat. but there’s still sweetness in this one, even if it gets a bit murky in spots.

this is for the anon who just watched under the red hood and really, really wanted something with jason todd being happy.

he’s not happy all the time, but here’s a story about dick grayson taking young jason to the circus and introducing him to clint barton.

There’s a circus in town, and Jason doesn’t care, would rather be on patrol, but Dick shows him the tickets with a weird, uneven sort of smile, and Jason figures what the hell. Bruce won’t go, and Alfred’s sick with another cold, but Gotham can make it one night without a Robin.

“Oh, shit,” Jason says, later, when he’s shoving popcorn in his mouth. “Can you do that?”

“Language,” Dick says. He’s leaning forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, watching with professional assessment as a woman does an actual, no-shit, one-handed handstand on a horse. “And I probably can, yeah. Depends on the horse.”

“Shit,” Jason says, a little louder, just to prove a point. Dick flicks a look his direction, mouth pulled into a frown, eyes lit up with amusement, and this is probably the thing Jason likes the best about Dick Grayson. Bruce’s training only ever made it skin-deep. Underneath all those defined muscles and set jaws and grim frowns, he’s bright and loud and quick, like water running under ice.

Jason feels the same, sometimes. Except if Dick is water, he’s fire. And he knows all that danger’s gonna bubble up in a bad way someday, but, for now, he’s keeping it under control.

And, anyway, it’s not like Dick isn’t dangerous, too. It’s not like Jason can’t feel the anger on him sometimes, leashed and quarantined and safe, but still there, thrumming along, right below the surface.

It’s nice. Feels human. Makes him feel better about how he compares to Bruce’s marrow-deep cold calculation.

“This is great,” Jason announces. He’s never been to anything like it. Bruce takes him to things for the benefit of his ongoing cultural education, but everyone at this place looks like someone Jason could talk to on the street.

“Yeah,” Dick says, shoulders settling a little lower. “They’re pretty good.”

Jason snickers and nudges his knee into Dick’s. “Such a snob, Grayson,” he says, but he can’t keep the approval out of his voice.

Of course Dick’s the best. Of course he is.

It’s a strange, stinging thought, the idea that Dick Grayson could’ve been down there. If his parents hadn’t died, if Bruce hadn’t found him.

If Bruce hadn’t found Jason, he’d be dead by now, or near enough. But Dick could’ve been shining under the lights, flipping and spinning to the roar of the crowd instead of the yelps and muffled curses of all the criminals they fight.

Dick gets quiet when trapeze artists start up. Jason presses his elbow into Dick’s ribs and leaves it there for the whole act. He doesn’t look at his face. Some things are private. And, anyway, Jason doesn’t like Bruce looking at him when they walk through Crime Alley.

The next guy is an archer, and Jason’s not ready to be as impressed as he is. “Holy shit,” he says, the loudest he’s been so far.

“Right?” Dick says, brow furrowed. “I mean,” he adds, dutifully, “language. Jason, please.”

“Dick,” Jason says, gesturing, “come on.” He hesitates, eyes narrowed. “Is it a trick?”

“No.” Dick’s thoughtful when he says it, tipping his head, giving it some consideration. And Jason’s new enough to things like this that he can still be fooled by lights and flash, by any damn thing that glitters bright enough, but Dick’s not impressed by anything fake. “He’s just really, really good.”

Jason shifts forward, squinting. The guy in question is young, or maybe just small. He’s wearing a lot of purple. He is, allegedly, the Amazing Hawkeye.

“Damn,” Jason says, watching arrow after arrow land perfectly in their targets.

“Yeah,” Dick says, and nods slowly. He glances over at Jason, and a soft, indulgent smile tips up one corner of his mouth. “You wanna meet him?”

“Meet him?” Jason says, incredulous. “How’re we gonna—Dick, you can’t flirt your way into someone’s dressing room.”

“First of all,” Dick says, smile growing into something smug, “of course I can.”

“Okay, fair. But that’d be weird, though,” Jason says. He’s not shy. He’s just got a healthy respect for bothering other people. Where he comes from, strangers expressing too much interest tends to be some kind of threat.

“Not that weird,” Dick says, with a shrug. And he sounds like he knows, so Jason figures he probably does.

“Besides,” Dick says, a second later, “I know him.”

  There’s so much sparkle and rush after the show that Jason almost wants to grab the back of Dick’s shirt, just so that he doesn’t get carried off by the tide and delivered to some unknown, glitter-and-sequin shore.

He probably should’ve grabbed hold of him, honestly, since he gets stolen away immediately. A woman about Dick’s age squeals “Dick Grayson!” like he’s some kind of award she’s winning and grabs hold of him. She practically climbs him while Jason stands there, gaping.

“Alex!” Dick says, like he’s just as excited, and Jason gets elbowed out of the way by a man who is maybe just legitimately too big to see Jason standing there.

“Oh, hey,” a voice says, “you know Grayson?”

Jason turns and blinks. The Amazing Hawkeye is standing behind and a little beside him, blocking the stream of people with his shoulders. He’s blonde and blue-eyed and has a faint accent that makes Jason think of TV shows about farms and fields and places far outside Gotham city limits.

He’s Jason’s height and looks closer to Jason’s age than he’d expected. He’s definitely younger than Grayson, maybe sixteen or seventeen.

“Um,” Jason says, staring. “Yeah.”

He’s not starstruck. He works with Batman. He’s Robin.

It’s just that, thirty minutes ago, hundreds of people were cheering for Hawkeye, and Robin does all his work in the dark.

Hawkeye smiles at him, friendly and maybe a bit unnecessarily gentle, like he can tell that Jason’s nervous. Which Jason isn’t. He’s just--- there are a lot of people to track in this crowd.

“I’m Clint,” he says, holding out his hand.

“Hey, Barton,” Dick says, and he hasn’t even set the girl down. She’s got her legs locked around his hips, and he’s smiling over the top of her shoulder, and he looks so happy. Jason thinks that’s probably how it’s supposed to look, when you get to go home after a long time away. “That’s Jason. He’s got questions about archery. Be nice.”

“I’m always nice,” Clint objects. “Grayson, c’mon, I’m always nice.”

He shakes Jason’s hand under Dick’s watchful eye and then laughs outright when Dick points a grave finger at him, balancing the friendly blonde with one arm. “Blunted arrows only, Barton. I mean it.”

“Sure,” Clint says, wide-eyed, innocuous, “blunts for Jason, got it.”

“Not,” Dick says, sputtering. “Not what I said, Barton. Don’t you--”

“I’m from Crime Alley, Grayson,” Jason says, because this protective act is making him feel young and stupid and embarrassed and oddly, unexpectedly happy.

Dick squints at him and then grimaces in surrender. “Don’t do anything Bruce will exile me for later.”

Clint snorts and shakes his head, stepping backwards. “C’mon,” he says, casting a knowing look at Dick and the girl in his arms. “They’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, falling in beside him, “seems like maybe she already caught him.”

Clint laughs. “Yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Seems like.”

  Clint’s nice and affable and easy to impress. Jason shows off, just a little. Not with archery, since he’s not actually that great at it, keeps rushing through things, doesn’t like the hanging moment between pull and release. But he does some of the flips Clint did in the show, mimics them back perfectly, and Clint lights up like he’s found one of his own.

“Damn, you do know Grayson,” he says, approvingly, after a long exhausting round of trying to one-up each other with their respective acrobatic accomplishments. He yawns and stretches, working muscles that were probably sore before Jason practically dared him into a half hour of additional work.

“Yeah,” Jason says, trying not to stare at the way Clint’s muscles flex under his shirt, “couple years now.”

Clint hums, head tipping back. “He doing alright?” he asks, after a beat. “We worried, you know. After his parents. Tried to get him to join up with us, but I guess some rich guy decided to accessorize with a sad orphan, and--”

“Hey,” Jason says, match-strike of annoyance flaring up in his chest. “Bruce Wayne’s a good man.”

Clint blinks. His face freezes for a second, and Jason feels wrong-footed and uneasy. He wonders where Dick is, if he’ll find him soon.

“Sorry,” Clint says, carefully. And then he laughs, easy and calm, approachable all over again. “I guess that was just another thing we worried about. Figured, maybe. I don’t know. He should be with people like him, not…whatever the hell Bruce Wayne is.”

“Nice,” Jason says, loyally. “Bruce is nice.”

Except Dick almost always times his visits for days he knows Bruce is out, and the few times Jason’s seen Batman and Nightwing work together have been frosty, cold-blooded, hyper-efficient affairs. Except, after Dick left, Bruce replaced him with Jason, and maybe that’s not as unforgivable as it sounds, but it sure as hell wasn’t very nice.

“Okay,” Clint says, with another shrug. “You know him?”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “I know him.”

Clint gives him another thoughtful look. “Alright,” he says, “well, then you’d know.”

It’s so easy. It’s not even an argument. It’s not quite a surrender, either. It’s just a shifting and resettling, like Clint respects him enough to take his word for it. Like Jason’s someone he knows, and trusts.

“Hey,” Jason says, “can you do a handstand on a horse?”

Clint hesitates for a second and then laughs. It’s a troublemaker’s laugh, and Jason finds himself grinning back, ready for whatever they’re headed for. “C’mon,” he says, “let’s go get Lissa, and see how far we can push things before Dick shows up to kick my ass.”

  In the end, Dick doesn’t kick anyone’s ass. He shows up at midnight to find Clint, Jason, and a scowling, terse woman named Lissa crowded around the world’s gentlest, sweetest horse, and Jason’s awed by Butcher’s size and strength and the careful way he eats a carrot out of the palm of Jason’s hand.

“Dick,” Jason says, after they’ve said their goodbyes, and Dick’s walking him back to the car, arm thrown around his shoulders. “I want a horse.”

“Sure,” Dick says. “Bruce’ll probably get you one.”

“Maybe,” Jason says. But it won’t be the same.

With Bruce, everything’s some kind of work, some kind of mission. It’s all training. It’s all part of being better at what they know they have to do.

It’s lonely, Jason thinks. Their work is lonely. He’s never really thought of it that way before.

But there’s not a place in the world he could walk into and make someone light up the way Dick made Alex or Clint or even Lissa light up. There’s nobody that knows what he can do, or who he is. Nobody that worried about him, when Bruce took him in.

“Take care of yourself, Jay,” Dick says, when he drops Jason off outside the manor.

He doesn’t come in.

Well, Bruce might be home by now.

“I will,” Jason promises. His clothes still smell a little like the circus, and he can almost feel the lights on his skin, even in the cool dark of the late Gotham evening.

“Hey, Dick,” he says, leaning back into the car, “thanks for taking me to the circus.”

“Sure,” Dick says, with a warm, wistful smile that’s starting to pick up all the sharp edges it lost when they walked into the circus. “I mean it, Jason. Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, “I will.”

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t, and he doesn’t, and he keeps not taking care of himself until the Joker catches him, and then it’s just blood and pain and laughter, crawling to his mother, trying to shield her.

He doesn’t take care of himself, and then there’s nothing left to take care of.

  Years later, a lifetime later, he’s spitting blood after a bad fight with another mentor Talia recommended. The building’s on fire, because he thought he was making some kind of point, and he’s so close to the exit that he can almost touch it when his legs finally give out underneath him.

He should’ve been more careful about that knife.

Too late now.

“Whoops,” a voice says, oddly familiar. “Here, let me help you out with that.”

Someone drags him to his feet and then through the door, down the sidewalk, into an alley a block or so away, and Jason’s shaking off the worst of the disorientation, starting to get it into his head that he should fight back against all this manhandling.

“Here we go,” the man says, setting Jason up against a grimy brick wall. “Now, let’s have a chat about---- oh, shit.”

Jason blinks his eyes open, focuses. That voice. That faint, half-hidden accent.

Those blue eyes, and blonde hair. That face.

“Hawkeye?” he asks, slurring it more than he expected.

“Oh shit, Jason,” Clint says. He’s staring hard at Jason’s face.  The hands holding Jason up have gone all gentle and cautious, and Jason doesn’t know what to do with kindness anymore, doesn’t know if he can even tolerate the way it feels. “Jason. Dick said you were dead.”

“I was,” Jason says, because he was. “I am,” he adds, because he is. Because he might as well be. Because everyone and everything moved on like he’d never even existed.

Clint swallows. He lifts Jason’s chin with his fingers, runs careful, assessing hands down Jason’s chest and arms, checks him over like he’s something fragile and important.

“God,” he says, low and pained, “Dick’s been a wreck over you.”

Jason blinks. “What?” he asks. It hits like a virus, replicating in his brain, in his heart, in that small, compressed place in his chest where he’s been shoving everything that makes him weak. “Dick’s been—he has?”

“Jason,” Clint says, staring right at him, eyes serious and voice tight. “He was a fucking mess after the accident.”

Jason closes his eyes.

Bruce replaced him. But Bruce replaced Dick, too. And Jason hadn’t even thought about Dick, hadn’t thought about what it might mean for Dick, having to bury Jason.

Hadn’t thought about what he’d feel, the guilt he’d carry. The way he’d look at a hole in the ground and think: Should’ve been me.

“Oh,” Jason says.

It hurts more than it should. He only got stabbed a couple times.

“C’mon,” Clint says. He winds an arm around Jason’s waist and starts toward the street. Jason leans into him and thinks about bright lights and popcorn and arrows and horses and homecomings.

He hadn’t thought about Dick. He’d been so focused on Bruce.

Well, what the hell did Bruce Wayne deserve from him anyway? And who’d know more about that than Dick Grayson?

Clint’s grip on him is strong and sturdy and unnecessary. Jason could walk on his own. But he doesn’t want to. He thinks, maybe, that was always the problem.

“Hey,” Clint says. He’s talking into a cell phone, head hunched forward, tone troubled, arm wrapping even tighter around Jason’s waist. “Hey, Dick? I found something that belongs to you.”

[flakandforay]

Catcher in the Rye Theory

overall: The Catcher in the Rye is a classic literature book written by J.D. Salinger. The plot roughly talks about Holden Caulfield, a youth who goes through adulthood etc.

warnings: spoilers of the book, mentions of death; please read discretely

theory: the reason why i am talking about this book is because of this quote ‘while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for once’ that appeared in the Run JP MV; it was in the form of graffiti on the walls in Taehyung’s room. 

The original quote ‘The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.’ by Wilhelm Stekel, a psychoanalyst which is found on pg 101.

“It was written by a pyscoanalyst named Wilhelm Stekel.”

“Here’s what he said: ‘The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.”

-Pg. 101

this was the conversation between Holden and his ex-teacher Mr Antolini. I have mentioned before in this Run Jp. theory, this quote roughly means as such.

The meaning behind Mr. Antolini saying this to Holden is very important. First, Mr. Antolini may think that Holden is contemplating suicide. If Holden is, in fact, contemplating suicide, Mr. Antolini may think that by giving this advice to Holden then Holden may reconsider taking his own life.

Outside of that, the quote itself refers ti the fact that once a person is dead they can no longer fight for anything, if Holden does have a cause to fight nobly for, it would be immature of him to die for that one cause. Instead, Mr. Antolini is hoping that Holden wants to live for his cause. When one lives for a cause they are more likely to make things which would support their cause.

In essence, Mr. Antolini is hoping that Holden see the difference between dying for something and living for something. It is only through living that a person can make a difference. Once a person is gone, the changes they have tried to make can revert ( given they are no longer around to fight. )

out of all the interpretations, this one speaks to me the most and is the one most appropriate for the HYYH series as i have explained in the Run Jp. theory ; hence some resemblances to Taehyung who gives up on his life yet Holden here seems as if he is contemplating to. 

but moving on, i managed to actually finish the whole book and personally, i have never hated a main character this much since i enjoy reading novels etc. but aside from that, i must say that this book actually contains a lot of hints relating to the whole HYYH series which i would begin now.

see, based on Wikipedia, the plot mentions this.

When asked if he cares about anything, Holden shares a selfless fantasy he has been thinking about (based on a mishearing of Robert Burns's Comin' Through the Rye): he pictures himself as the sole guardian of thousands of children playing in a huge rye field on the edge of a cliff. His job is to catch the children if, in their abandon, they come close to falling off the brink; to be, in effect, the "catcher in the rye". Because of this misinterpretation, Holden believes that to be the "catcher in the rye" means to save children from losing their innocence.

Reference: Wikipedia; Plot

again, we see the idea of ‘innocence’ coming out. as i have mentioned before about the symbolism of lilies and of butterflies as seen in their HYYH series.

lilies to represent the restored innocence and that butterflies were meant to be souls of the dead people; even white feathers being used to symbolise innocence.

again, the HYYH series being revolved around the concept of ‘innocence’.

asides from this, i realised later on in the book, probably around the last 40 pages or so, about the similarities between the book and the HYYH series. 

the main plot of the book talks about how Holden Caulfield, a normal teenage both, is getting kicked out of school yet again and wants to return home for a while to say his goodbyes to his sister, Phoebe before actually not returning home for good. 

the fact that Holden gets kicked out of school, but then again, not as if he wanted to stay anymore, already reminds me of Yoongi, based on the HYYH: the notes, O version of Yoongi and Jungkook.

Yoongi 7 April YEAR 22

I came to a stop after hearing the sound of a piano. The only sound that could be heard at the empty construction site was someone popping an oil drum. I knew the sound of the song that I had just played, but why did I think of that? My drunken footsteps stumbled. I closed my eyes and walked even more carelessly. As the heat of the fire grew stronger, the piano sound, the night air, the drunkenness fading away.

I opened my eyes at the sound of horn as a car grazed dangerously past me. In the confusion of the blazing headlight, the wind of the car’s passing and my drunkenness, I stumbled helplessly. I could hear the curses of the driver. As I came to a stop to curse back, I could no longer hear the sound of the piano. In spite of the sound of the blazing fire, the wind and the silence left after the car, the piano sound was gone. It stopped. Why did it stop? Who was playing the piano?

The sparks from the fire picked up its pace towards the oil barrel with one sound together. I could only look at the scene blankly. My face became flushed. Bang, it was at that moment when I heard a fist slamming on the piano keys. Instinctively, I looked behind. For a moment, my blood rushed that my breathing became uneven. The nightmares that I had when I was young. That was where I heard the sound.  The next moment, I was running. It wasn’t of my own will that I ran towards the music shop and instinctively looked behind. This was something like I had done numerous times. It was a feeling that I had forgotten something important. The music store had a broken window. In front of the piano, someone was sitting there. It had been a few years yet I still recognized the person. The person was crying, fists being clenched. I didn’t want to be concerned with anyone’s life. I didn’t want to comfort anyone who was lonely. I didn’t want to mean anything to someone. I couldn’t protect the person and I had no confidence. Until the end, I had no confidence. I didn’t want to give pain. I didn’t want to receive pain. I slowly moved. I wanted to go back but before I know it, I started approaching the person. Just then a wrong note was heard. Jungkook lifted his head and looked at me. “Hyung”. This had been our first meeting since quitting high school.

Jungkook 25 June YEAR 20

I stroked the piano keys and smeared the dust. I put some strength in the finger, but the sound was different than of Hyung’s playing. It has been 10 days since Hyung stopped coming to school. I heard the rumours of him getting expelled. Namjoon Hyung, Hoseok Hyung didn’t say anything, I was afraid to ask. Two weeks before, Hyung and I were the only ones in the hideaway classroom when the teacher opened the door. It was a day for the parents to visit. I didn’t want to be there, so I went into the hideaway one. Hyung didn’t bother to look at me and kept on playing the piano, I took 2 desks and lied down and closed my eyes. Hyung and the piano seemed different but yet they seemed like one. While listening to Hyung’s playing, I wanted to cry.

The tears threatened to fall then the sound of the door slammed open and the piano playing stopped. I was hit in the face, stumbled backwards and eventually fell. As I crouched to withstand the violence, the voice stopped. When I lifted my head, I saw Hyung standing in front of me and pushing the teacher’s shoulder. Over Hyung’s shoulder, I saw the teacher’s shocking expression.

I pushed the piano key. It was supposed to mimic Hyung’s playing. Was Hyung really expelled? Will he come back? Hyung said it was okay if he was beaten up a few times. What if I wasn’t there, would Hyung not stand up to the teacher? What if I wasn’t there, would I still hear Hyung playing the piano?

but of course, in the end, he ends up going home and staying there after much persuasion from his sister. Hence, this reminds me of Taehyung in which he would listen to his sister, and protect her at all costs, much like Holden. 

yet, asides from this story, it also talks about underlying themes of being an adult etc, Holden is now at the age where he transits from being a teen to an adult; and as stated from wikipedia:

A classic novel originally published for adults, it has since become popular with adolescent readers for its themes of teenage angst and alienation.

The novel's protagonist Holden Caulfield has become an icon for teenage rebellion.

The novel also deals with complex issues of innocence, identity, belonging, loss, and connection.

first off, here, it shows Holden who went to visit his ex-English teacher, Mr. Antolini for a house to stay for a while, considering he ran away from his home and school.

‘Among other things, you’ll find that you’re not the first person who was ever confused and frightened, and even sickened by human behaviour. you’re by no means alone on that score, you’ll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You’ll learn from them-if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It’s a beautiful reciprocal arrangement.’

-Pg 102 

Mr. Antolini begins to give advice to Holden as such. notice the words that Mr. Antolini gives him. 

i feel as though this applies to bangtan as whole, if given that the story revolves around Taehyung originally, and how Seokjin is trying to save him etc, Taehyung can find comfort in bangtan because they are all like him ‘troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now.’

see, based on the HYYH notes ( masterlist here for translations ), one could see how all of bangtan struggled morally and spiritually;

Seokjin - he already struggled in his teen years with his father, had to 

Yoongi - his mother most likely died and his father became miserable, often drinking etc, Yoongi gave up playing the piano that his mother taught him, might have gotten expelled from school

Hoseok - he was abandoned when he was younger and often got intimidated by adults including Jimin’s mother, had some kind of addiction

Namjoon - thinks lowly of himself, often caught up in his thoughts, did vandalism with Taehyung

Jimin - has some sort of disease/condition hence having to be in the hospital for long periods, had to transfer schools frequently therefore unable to forge real friendships for long till he met Hoseok

Taehyung - had an abusive family background, with his father being an alcoholic, had a knack for vandalism to sort of escape

Jungkook - didnt have the will to live, had an abusive stepfather and stepbrother, his mother didnt do anything, nobody helped him at all. 

hence Taehyung could relate and find comfort in them. bangtan learns things from one another and that’s what makes them stronger and happier when they are together. 

moving on, this situation in which Holden starts being slightly delusional as he imagines that he would never see the end of the streets. he then begins to talk to his dead younger brother, Allie. 

‘Every time I came to the end of a block and stepped off the goddam curb, I had this feeling that I’d never get to the other side of the street. I thought I’d just go down, down, down, and nobody’d ever see me again.Boy, did it scare me.’

‘Every time I’d get to the end of a block I’d make believe I was talking to my brother, Allie. I’d say to him, ‘Allie, don’t let me disappear. Allie, don’t let me disappear. Allie, don’t let me disappear. Please, Allie.’.

-Pg 106

here, it reminds me of the song ‘Butterfly’; specifically in their lyrics. 

난 아직도 믿기지가 않아 이 모든 게 다 꿈인 것 같아 사라지려 하지마

=

I still can’t believe it All of this seems like a dream Don’t try to disappear

Reference: Colour Coded ©

if i put this in the context of the book, you can imagine Holden telling his brother Allie to not disappear, even though in reality, Allie is already dead. it seems as though he hasn't fully grasped that Allie was long gone for a few years. Hence, he began to believe as though Allie was there with him and would help Holden to not disappear at all. 

not to mention that in the book, Holden was actually quite fond of Allie who also had a baseball glove that he wrote poems on. 

then you see at the bottom of pg 106, Holden talks about moving to the West and getting a job.

“I figured I could get a job at a filling station somewhere, putting gas..”

-Pg 106

then at pg 107, it completes it.

“and oil in people’s cars.”

-Pg 107

this already reminds me of Namjoon.

but later on, one would see how Holden talks about building a cabin near the forests.

“..and I’d build me a little cabin somewhere with the dough I made and live there for the rest of my life. I’d build it right near the woods, but not right in them, because I’d want it to be sunny as hell all the time.”

-Pg 107

this already reminds me of bangtan’s photoshoots for HYYH pt.1 and 2. 

more importantly, it reminds me of Namjoon in Run MV, and looking at this concept photo of Hoseok; it’s right near the forest.

also, i found it interesting that Holden Caulfield has been associated to some kind of mental hospital etc, since he stopped smoking as much and has been getting regular check-ups here. 

From Holden’s perspective, the reader knows that he has been ‘sick’, and earlier he mentions having to ‘rest up’. The fact that Holden has been having regular visits from a psychoanalyst suggests that Holden might be on the receiving end of some psychiatric care, regardless of whether he is in a regular hospital, sanitarium, or a mental hospital. Since the reader knows that he has been an extended care patient for quite some time, it seems likely that Holden is ‘resting up’ at a special facility. Not to mention that his parents are very wealthy, they could afford to out Holden in the best possible place to recover. 

Reference

this already reminds us of Jimin and Hoseok. 

but lastly, on the last page, i find the last 2 sentences intriguing. 

“Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.”

-Pg 115

i really love the last 2 sentences really. it just reminds me of the friendship of bangtan especially when the boys didnt meet each other after some time, they will miss each other; constantly searching for them after confiding in each other for a long time. 

this could be seen in the HYYH notes that was released before the love yourself albums.

Seokjin 13 June YEAR 22

we were all alone after returning from the sea.

we didn’t contact each other as if we planned it. we could only assume our existence by the graffiti left on the street, the brightly lit gas station and the sounds of the piano in the old building. that was when everything comes back to life. taehyung’s eyes were ablaze, the way they looked at me as if they heard something unbelievable, namjoon’s hand that tried to stop taehyung, i couldn’t take it and threw a punch at taehyung.

we couldn’t find taehyung after he dashed out, not even at the beach or guesthouse after i returned. broken glass cups, bloodstains that began to cling, smashed cookies that reminded me the incidents that happened a few hours before. a picture had fallen. we were laughing and smiling together in the picture with the sea as the background.

today, i just passed by the gas station. there will be a day when we will meet again - the day when we were all laughing just like in that picture. there will be a day when i would be able to gather courage and confront myself. whoever, now is not the time. today, just like that day, the wind was blowing strongly. and in the next moment, just like a warning, my handphone rang. the picture that was hanging on my room mirror shook. hoseok’s name then appeared on my screen.

‘hyung, jungkook got into a car accident that night’

so here, does it mean that inevitably, the boys miss each other then? 

overall, i do believe that this book did drop some hints on the whole timeline of HYYH; not to mention with the main character already having similarities with the boys, especially Yoongi and Namjoon and a bit of Taehyung. i believe Holden Caulfield is the perfect representation of all bangtan boys at one stage or another. 

truly, i love a group that makes me read. an interesting choice of book to convey their message. 

[Photo Source] Bighit Entertainment  Credits: maxine ☕️ DO NOT REPOST ©

[jestdrabbles]

Every Hurdle, Every Chasm - Chapter 01

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Warnings: none Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Iida Tenya, Uraraka Ochako, Asui Tsuyu, Todoroki Shouto, Iida Tensei, Tenya’s mother, Ochako’s parents Relationships: Dekusquad friendship | Pining Tododeku & Tsuchako Other info: Dekusquad Roadtrip AU ; Fun times ahead but also some tough emotional times so I should definitely warn about that!; MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS.

Words: ~8,000 | Chapter: 01/14 | Language: English

Official first day of the roadtrip! Each chapter spans the course of a day, so their length will vary depending on what happens. Some are more eventful than others, but hopefully everything rounds out all right!

Day 01 : Christmas Eve [December 24]

“Todoroki, you look awful,” Ochako tilts her head toward him on the commute to the station. Even if the sun has been out for a few hours, their morning has only started from the cacophony of yawns and eye rubs. They’re all a little sluggish in their steps save for Tenya who could probably handle a jog if it weren’t for the rest of them straggling behind. Shouto blinks to her in a delayed, deepened grunt.

“Yeah.”

“And this is why we plan ahead! I’m sure Todoroki has learned his lesson and will not let this happen again,” Tenya handles the scolding gently as he pats his very sleepy friend’s shoulder. Shouto’s engulfed in his blue scarf, lowering his chin to yawn into it as he conveniently avoids Ochako’s pout. Izuku glances down at his thermos of the morning’s coffee, then hesitantly extends it to Shouto as a quiet offering, but he fails to register it in his delirium. “Uraraka, do you need any help with your bags?”

“It’s not too heavy,” she shrugs her shoulder holding the duffle bag and keeps careful not to let the suitcase rolling behind her stray in an awkward direction as it bumps over the sidewalk curbs. He accepts her resolve and eyes over the others to double check their moods.

Tsuyu is bundled most of all with what appears to be a fashionable blanket draped over her torso, a knit hat on her head, and her hands are covered in thick mittens. She notices him looking and lifts her hand to offer a thumbs up to reassure that she’s fine, just drowsy. They all know the cold is rough on her, so he takes a few steps backward to place his hand on her back, and she naturally leans against his touch to accept his extra warmth.

Meanwhile, Shouto’s only just accepted the thermos and seems to be staring at it as if he’s embarrassed. His attention can only focus on so much right now, so he fails to notice the way Ochako eyes Izuku, and Tenya keeps his own amusement to himself.

“Thanks,” he says after a sip and returns it before he’s tempted to take another. Izuku accepts it with a smile and nod; he quickly shelters his oncoming influx of words with his own gulp and nearly burns his tongue on the coffee. Smooth, Deku. He fans his tongue with a groan as Ochako rolls her eyes into a snorted snicker.

“So Iida, what’s your house like? Should I prepare myself like with Yaomomo’s, or even what I imagine Todoroki’s?” she asks with curiosity, and he waves his hand quickly before she can even mention the latter.

“No, no, nothing like Yaoyorozu’s estate, I assure you! I can understand your assumptions, of course, but we live in a normal house,” Tenya tenses in his hand motion, still conscious of Tsuyu at his side. Ochako pats his arm as she covers her mouth with her other hand to stop herself from laughing.

“Is your whole family going to be there?” Izuku asks, and Tenya shakes his head.

“Unfortunately, my dad couldn’t take off, but my mom and Tensei will be there.”

“I wonder if we’ll get to see any pictures of tiny Iida,” Ochako imagines it the best she can, but it’s hard to picture their tall and earnest friend as little kid.

“Wait, what about my house?” Shouto belatedly joins the conversation.

“Huh? O-oh! I just mean that you’ve mentioned your family has an old Japanese-style house, so I assume it’s big?” round, chestnut eyes almost look back to him apologetically if she’s accidentally offended him. Sometimes his tone or expression can be hard to read, but he mouths an oh as if he’s finished processing the rest of the topic.

Also, your father is the Number One Hero.

Thankfully, they all have enough tact not to say it.

As soon as they take their seats on the train, Shouto’s out like a light with his head leaned against the window, and Tenya takes the seat beside him. Tsuyu sits in the window seat across with Ochako stealing the aisle seat before Izuku has a chance. Accepting his solo seating, he takes the row in front of Tenya and Shouto.

“I thought he’d be more of a morning person,” Ochako points toward their slumbering companion; Izuku and Tenya do their best to suppress their laughter. “What? Is that weird?”

“No, no, it’s not,” Izuku’s voice squeezes through the chuckle and crack in the seat, “I thought so too, but I think it was one of our training trips? I don’t remember exactly, but yeah, no, he’s almost like a zombie in the morning unless there’s something important.”

“He seems to have two methods of sleeping: like a corpse or constantly tossing and turning,” Tenya mimics the motions as if he’s acting the part of his friend, and Ochako bursts out laughing and has to muffle it in Tsuyu’s shoulder. “I’m serious. One time when we all had to share a room, I got up to use the restroom, and I swear, his feet were where his head should have been!”

“Wait, you never told me about this!” Izuku’s smile spreads, but then it hits him that Tenya may have more secrets about them to share. “Please tell me I’m not embarrassing when I sleep.”

“I bet Deku mumbles in his sleep.”

“Actually--”

“Oh no,” Izuku buries his face in his hands as he dreads what nonsense his unconscious spills when he’s already muttering embarrassing thoughts in his wake. He spreads his fingers to peek through at Tenya from the slit for reassurance, but only confirmation awaits him in the form of near-pitying nod. “Fuck,” he groans. Tenya’s jaw drops at the curse as if he’s never heard it from his nice, freckled friend, but he’s cut off before he can give the proper lecture.

“Hey, don’t worry about it! It’s like talk radio! Maybe it’ll help us sleep better,” Ochako pumps her fists.

“I croak sometimes,” Tsuyu exposes herself without shame, “and Ochako gets clingy.” The gasp of betrayal is quelled with a lighthearted bump of shoulders. To be fair, most of the girls in their class feel comfortable enough sprawled across one another.

“I think I’m the same way. I like hugging my pillow,” Izuku comes down from his own embarrassment with everyone else sharing their sleeping habits. “I drool a lot though.”

“If I don’t have my nasal strips, I snore rather loudly,” Tenya admits, “otherwise, I believe I’m fairly still.”

“Oh! And I have to wear these mittens for my hands so I don’t touch anything,” Ochako holds up her hands and wiggles her padded fingertips. Izuku almost bumps a passerby in his lean as he studies her hands from his seat, and the quirk-loving cogs in his head begin to turn as he realizes that he never thought about a detail like that. People with a touch-based quirk are certainly at a disadvantage in that regard, but that problem is probably more troublesome during development when they’re not quite sure the specifics regarding their quirks, so to worry about control and care at this point is a bit moot. “Deku, it’s not that deep,” she reaches across to tap his seat and jog him from his train of thought.

He’s teased himself about perhaps having been born with a mundane quirk like excessive muttering or extreme emotional response, and he almost wouldn’t doubt it at this point. Whoever is to inherit One For All from him someday is in for some possible word vomit or waterworks.

“I think something like that would be more troublesome,” Tsuyu points across to Shouto’s visible breath slipping between his slightly parted lips. Tenya takes it upon himself to unbutton his own overcoat and drape it over him without waking the sleeping beauty.

They resume the ride with idle chit-chat, tossing and returning commentary as Izuku finishes the rest of his coffee, cool enough to gulp down without fear of burning again. Sometimes the caffeine worsens his jitters and mumbles, but he knows he wants to keep awake and energized for the car ride ahead. Tsuyu indicates his bouncing leg and asks if he’s nervous or excited, and when he answers the second, she smiles and ribbits in agreement.

They’re practically shoved to and fro on their way out the station to switch lines, and through the denser crowds, Izuku reaches his hands out to connect with his friends to be sure no one gets pulled away in the foot traffic. Thankfully, keeping behind Iida’s broad shoulders helps the smaller members of the group keep contained well enough, and Shouto is alert enough to worm his way through without bumping into anyone. Izuku thinks he may be a bit too good at avoiding them.

The following ride feels like mere moments compared to the last, so they stand with their belongings close to their chests if they can help it and try not to get too carried away in a conversation. Once free of their train prisons, they exit the station with unified exhales and stretches -- a very worn out choir harmonizing in sighs.

Thankfully, journeying to the Iida household isn’t so bad, and they all appreciate a good walk after sitting and standing still for so long. Tenya leads the way with Izuku and Ochako behind him and Tsuyu keeping at Shouto’s left, hesitant to walk too close but still near enough to bump arms if she bends.

“Oh wait, Iida!” Ochako reaches forward to pat his back a couple times. “Is there a convenient store by your house?”

“If we take a small detour. Why, did you forget something in your luggage?”

“We need to stock up on snacks for the road! It’ll be better if we do that beforehand, don’t you think?”

“Excellent thinking, Uraraka!” he grins, and the others perk up at the suggestion.

He leads them through the residential area near some local businesses and shops. Stopping at the corner store, they immediately scatter to different sections once inside. Ochako and Tsuyu spend time narrowing their preferences down to a few fruit snacks and sweets while Izuku shies away from the spicy snacks as if he’s had an awkward past affair with them. Tenya prioritizes stocking up on some orange juice, and he turns to see Shouto with an arm full of bags ranging in types of different snacks and their flavors. With a word of admiration, he appreciates his friend treating everyone, but Shouto only wears confusion as he makes his way to the checkout counter with his plethora of junk food.

Ochako and Tsuyu follow suit with their haul of packaged mochi, gummies, and pocky -- things that are easy to share with others -- and they notice that Izuku has some sweet bread and chips. His logic is that they can ask Shouto to warm the buns, and Ochako points both fingers at him like barrels of a gun as she praises his genius. They consolidate everything into as few bags as possible, pass most of them off to Shouto’s offering hands, and follow Tenya en route to his very welcoming abode.

Tenya Iida can certainly shove his own key into the door to welcome them inside, but he rings the doorbell so his family can greet them more readily. It only takes a few moments before the lock clicks and the door opens to Mrs. Iida’s gentle smile, her eyes obscured by her glasses’ shine. Without hesitation, she presses on her toes to wrap her arms around her much taller son, giving him a pat on the back before she turns toward the rest of the house.

“Tensei! Your brother and his friends are here!” she announces, and she steps back to welcome everyone inside to remove their shoes. One by one, they thank her for her hospitality and follow Tenya to the kitchen where his smile spreads upon seeing his older brother finishing setting the table. He scoots back from the table and turns his chair to meet them grinning as he wills it forward.

“Long time, no see! I can’t believe my baby brother’s already taller than me,” he jokes and accepts the oncoming embrace. When they part, Tensei looks over his friends and sees how Izuku’s fingertips mask a wobbly smile and can’t help but chuckle. “He okay?”

“I think he’s excited to see Ingenium in person,” Tenya clarifies, and it breaks the dam loose of Izuku’s brief exposition of past achievements and admirations. It continues on until Ochako nudges him that he’s getting a little carried away, and he lowers his head in a flustered apology. Tensei can see the pride shining through on his little brother from his friend’s praise, and his smile softens.

“Well, he gets to see Ingenium every day, doesn’t he?” Tensei bumps his fist lightly against Tenya’s arm and turns to face Izuku. “Nowadays, I’m not doing so much heroics.”

“That doesn’t change anything,” Izuku’s wide grin remains. “Heroes, active or retired, still have so much to teach us. All Might’s my favorite hero, and he’s been retired for a couple of years now.”

“He’s right. I still hold onto what I’ve learned from you,” Tenya agrees, and he’s satisfied to know that Tensei doesn’t necessarily need the encouragement. If anything, Tensei’s concerns lie with his little brother’s expectations for himself; he’s keeping the hero name alive, but he understands well the burden it brings.

“You’re going to make me blush,” he chuckles to both his brother and Izuku. “You all are on a schedule, right? Go ahead and take a seat at the table. I know it’s closer to lunch, but I hope you’re fine with a late breakfast instead.”

They all comply gleefully and gather around the table, but Tenya offers to help serve the food with his mother and brother. The three return to the table with bowls of rice, soup, vegetables, and separate serving plates for the fish. Once Mrs. Iida has placed the pitchers of water and orange juice, they all sit together and help themselves to the nice breakfast with words of warmth and gratitude.

“I’m so happy U.A. is giving you kids this break,” Mrs. Iida speaks softly. “Tenya has always been such a diligent worker, but even heroes need holidays.” Izuku watches how her gaze lingers on her sons, and he can understand the sentiment from a hero family like theirs. “And Tensei has been so busy at the office that I hardly see him anymore. I didn’t even know that he stopped seeing that nice--”

“Ah, we don’t need to talk about that!” Tensei pipes in a bit flustered, and she sighs.

“It’s a shame it didn’t work out.”

“It’s no big deal,” Tensei retracts a little in his nervous smile. The others chuckle, and Izuku sees from the corner of his eye as Shouto pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his pictures, chopsticks still guiding food to his mouth, and as he finds what he’s searching for, he turns the screen toward the older Iida.

“I have a sister.”

“T-That’s not necessary, thank you!”

“Oh, let me see,” his mother adjusts her glasses and takes a look. She places her hand on her cheek fondly, “She’s lovely! Tensei, isn’t she cute?”

“Mother, please,” he waves his chopsticks at her in a lighthearted scold.

He pockets his phone and addresses Tenya with the same neutral expression, “A shame. We could have been in-laws.” The group laughs at the joke but apologizes to Tensei for having it at his expense. They have to explain that Shouto is just like that with his humor. Mrs. Iida’s worries wash away in the company of her sons and their friends, and Tenya catches himself in its flow. The fear she’s gone through from almost losing her sons is far more than she should have to bear.

They finish their meal through lively conversation, but they know better than to dawdle too long in their post-breakfast coffee. Everyone but Shouto and Izuku take a cup, so they attempt to down it quickly without risking a burn. Tensei breaks from the table to grab something from the living room, and he returns to Tenya’s side to gently place the keys on the table in time for the rest of them to stand. The former hero knows how to predict timing better than Tenya can remember; his skills never truly stop improving just because they’re applied a tad differently now.

Mrs. Iida wishes them all a safe trip, hands holding themselves over her stomach as she bids them farewell, and Tensei follows behind to give his brother one last hug. Before they leave, Shouto steps forward, leans down a bit, and mutters something about having brothers, too. Tensei waves his hands exclaiming that that isn’t the issue here.

Ochako holds out her arms toward his back and groans that he can’t keep getting away with it, and the rest laugh, apologize again for their friend’s comments, and tug him by the arm on their way out.

“Seatbelts, everyone! Be sure to leave the strap in front of you, even if you find it a bit uncomfortable,” Tenya adjusts the mirrors once he’s fastened his own, and he takes a glance to the backseat where Tsuyu sits with snacks occupying her lap and Ochako and Shouto on either side of her. Izuku occupies the passenger seat of the boxy white van, practically bouncing in excitement as the real start to their trip feels ready to roll.

“Todoroki, don’t lean against the window if you’re going to sleep -- don’t give me that look -- it isn’t safe. You can recline your seat if you need to.” Tenya uses his hands to indicate the motion, and Shouto blinks slowly as if debating the argument before complying to his friend’s wishes. With that out of the way, Tenya starts the engine and pulls out from the street to start navigating toward the highway.

Traffic interrupts their forward motion so long that Tsuyu entertains the idea of making the car float until Tenya lists every possible reason why that is a horrible mistake, and she settles him down to tell him she’s only joking. Izuku keeps himself turned around in his seat to face the back and make small talk between the rest of them still awake. He volleys conversations about Christmas lights displays and that one year when All Might appeared dressed as Santa Claus for a charity event. Ochako is relieved that she doesn’t have to halt his eagerness this time, so they listen soundly as he recounts memories until they approach the highway.

Once they disperse from the cluttering cars, Izuku reaches a stopping point in his story and asks if anyone has music to play while he takes a sip from his drink. Ochako gladly connects her phone to the speakers and sets it to a playlist created specifically for their winding adventure.

There’s something about the open road that makes a voice belt until it cracks.

Ochako and Izuku exchange harmonies and duets, hands extending in theatrics as if playing the part of dramatic pop songs about love and longing. When they aren’t serenading each other, they’re flipping between Tenya and Tsuyu as their objects of adoration; the former flusters far more easily than the latter, especially with Izuku’s hand extending to grip his shoulder and beckon eye contact that sends the ever responsible driver into a sputtering safety lesson in maintaining a loving gaze with the road.

Tsuyu is the first to break open the snacks as she helps herself to one of the green tea mochi, and out of the corner of her eye, she can swear she sees a sleeping Shouto scowling. Her large finger points to him with a ribbit to the others, and Ochako, without needing any other word, plucks her phone from her lap and snaps a picture. While she’s at it, she takes a selfie with her froggy companion with a declaration that she wants a group photo as soon as possible.

A moment of crisis can feel like a lifetime, but between the laughter and loosening of responsibility, the same could be said for its serenity. Izuku rolls his window down despite the cold air whipping through to feel the wind pull back his curls for once without danger on the other end. Maybe it’s his sunny disposition or the sheer freedom of the feeling, but he almost doesn’t notice how winter sinks its teeth into his skin. Almost.

When he’s turned back around to face his friends, he sees Tsuyu leaning against Shouto’s left side with her arms burrowed beneath her thick poncho. Only an hour and a half on the road so far, about four remaining until they reach Ochako’s hometown. He decides to spare his friends the cold and rolls up his window and runs his hands through his hair to settle it back into its organized mess.

“Does anyone need to stop?” Tenya asks as he takes a quick scan through the rearview mirror. There’s an unanimous no until Ochako notices that their snack pile has sufficiently decreased. She follows the trail of open bags to see the garbage pile around Shouto’s feet, still and motionless in his sleep.

“Are you kidding me?” She stretches her arms across and cannot resist the humor of it as she laughs. “How is that even possible?”

“I take credit for the mochi and fruit snacks, but…” she ribbits, “he would make a good stealth hero.”

“So no one needs to use the bathroom or restock on drinks?” Tenya asks again, and he’s met with the same response, so he continues without paying exits any mind. The next few songs pass in a humming calm; however, when a familiar, catchy beat starts up, Ochako commands Izuku to turn up the volume so they can return to their second round of dancing in their seats.

This time, they aren’t the only ones singing along.

A third voice joins almost too harmoniously, too perfect. Ochako knows for a fact it isn’t her, so she lowers her own volume to try and hear, and Izuku naturally does the same. With both of them ruled out, they look to Shouto, still asleep, and finally arrive to hear Tenya singing solo before he catches onto their gazing. He fades out and stiffens his shoulders, wondering if he’s missed some sort of cue for a pause, but both of them are trapped in their own bewilderment until Izuku raises the volume and returns singing at his natural level.

The three of them finish the song, then Tenya is bombarded with their joined praise.

“Iida! Why didn’t you tell us you could sing like that?!” Ochako exclaims as his face melts into a proud smile, and he chuckles.

“I never thought it would come up,” he admits, “it has nothing to do with hero work, after all.”

“The Singing Hero, Ingenium,” Tsuyu comments with her finger to her mouth, tongue sticking out in a lighthearted manner.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he says as checks the road behind and merges into the other lane, using both his blinker and a hand signal as if the car behind would see, “but I think there’s a great charm in how the both of you put so much energy behind your voices.”

Freckled cheeks blush from the acknowledgement, a certain shyness coming from knowing that someone with a smooth baritone voice has to be subjected to his own inexperienced yodeling. It doesn’t stop him from singing along to the next few songs, of course. If anything, now the trio can mentally agree on who sings what harmonies, and their dramatics now get to target a snuggled up Tsuyu Asui with her large hand cupping the side of her face.

After another song or two, Izuku turns in his seat to face Ochako and asks her to pass that AUX cord, and she eagerly rips it from the jack to hand him. He plugs it in, adjusts the volume to not completely blast their ear drums, and smashes his thumb on the play button to welcome All Might’s signature I am here! introducing one of his interviews.

Have mercy, they should have known this was coming.

Ochako may have taken it back from him then and there, but the way his face lights up is enough to reach an agreement to let their fluffy haired nerd listen to his favorite hero and share interview highlights with his friends. He gushes throughout, explaining references between questions and answers. When the first one ends, he follows it up with an old news report, then leads it into a second interview.

“…That’s right! Children inherit quirks from their parents,” All Might’s voice explains, and the car is quiet as they listen until a low voice almost talks over him.

“Can you turn it up?” they turn to see Shouto Todoroki’s eyes still closed, but his lips are turned slightly in a quiet smile. Izuku complies without question.

About three hours in, they pull into a gas station for a pit stop. They stretch and shuffle into the the convenient store as the attendant tends to their gas. Izuku finishes up his business and finds Shouto in the pre-packaged lunches, and gives him a bump of their arms.

“I can’t believe you’re a ninja,” he jokes, and Shouto turns to him, perplexed. “Still hungry?”

“Always,” he answers flatly as his hand hovers between rice balls and pickled vegetables.

“Do you feel more awake now?” Izuku asks as a cold right hand picks up the vegetables, and he’s met with dual colored eyes making contact with his own now, and he nods. Before they can continue the mundane conversation, Tsuyu locates them and taps Izuku’s shoulder.

“You should get whatever you need. We’re wanting to head out now,” she relays the message, most likely from Tenya waiting at the car. Then without even looking at him, she addresses the empty-handed teaser. “Pants, Izuku.”

“What!” he immediately checks himself and notes the dampness on his thigh with a contained shriek, “I swear, it’s not what you think!”

She parts from them without another word, and he hangs his head and promises that it’s from washing his hands. Shouto makes his purchase and passes Izuku a can of green tea from under his arm, and when they return to the car, Ochako has already claimed the passenger seat for herself.

“It’ll be easier if I can direct us when we’re in the area,” she clarifies before anyone can try debating, but no one questions it. Shouto readjusts his seat when he slips in after Tsuyu, and she cozies herself between the two with an obvious preference leaning toward her right.

“Tsuyu, do you need us to put on the heater?” Ochako asks once they merge back onto the road, and before she can answer, Shouto shrugs his shoulder to keep it pressed a little closer to her side.

“I can keep the car warm. Just pass me your jackets if you need me to heat them up,” he clenches and unclenches his left hand. Almost immediately, Ochako tugs off her varsity jacket and tosses it at his face, earning nothing short of an Ah before he pulls it down and regulates the heat around his arm. Izuku watches like he’s preparing for a quirk application lesson, and soon enough, the jacket is thrown back to its keeper in the same manner.

“Thanks, man!” she catches it and immediately nuzzles her face into the warm fabric with a an almost operatic note. “It’s like it just came out of the dryer! This is amazing!”

“If you’re sure you don’t mind, is this okay?” Tsuyu asks before linking her arm around his to feed off some of his body heat. He nods, and a noticeable smile spreads on her wide lips as she ribbits and presses her cold nose on his sleeve for a few seconds until it’s warm enough to loosen her hold on him.

“Is everyone else okay?” he asks, both charcoal and cerulean eyes passing over each passenger. When Izuku and Tenya tell him not to worry about them, he brings his attention to his lap to open his container of vegetables and start eating.

“Okay, so before you all drop me off at my parents’ apartment, I need to stop somewhere to change,” Ochako starts the rundown of her scheme. “I guess we can check you into the hotel first and then head over? That way I can get ready, and it isn’t like all of you have to be there to drop me off.”

“Are you kidding? Of course we’re all going to be there!” Izuku protests, and before she can wave her hands to deny, Tsuyu chimes in.

“You’re stuck with us, Ochako.”

“You guys,” her cheeks redden, and she presses her palms to her face. Tenya glances over with endearment plastered over his features. If he wasn’t so dedicated to keeping both hands gripped at 10-and-2, he may very well reach over to touch her shoulder.

“How do you think your parents are going to react?” Tsuyu asks.

“I don’t know! I’m sure one or both of them will tear up,” she giggles. “I may end up needing to call you back to do some immediate first aid if I surprise them too much,” she turns to Shouto with his mouth full of pickles. He chews and swallows at least before responding.

“For you or for them?”

The car is quiet before she cracks up laughing, interpreting the question as an indirect jab at her own explosive reactions. “For them! I’m not that bad!” He accepts the answer without any further comment or question as if he’s caught himself.

“Does your family have any sort of traditions for the holidays?” Tenya asks in a lighthearted tone.

“Nothing outside the house,” she mulls over memories. “If Mom had time, sometimes she would pull out these cute cookie cutters and we’d bake together. Oh! And hot pot when it’s really cold!”

The rest of the car shares a fantasy of hot pot, and she catches herself joining into the hum.

“How about the rest of you?” she turns in her seat to get a better look.

“Because we wouldn’t have school, I’d have to find ways to keep my siblings entertained,” Tsuyu explains. “I used to take them out to see some lights and decorations if any shops or streets put them on display, but mostly we’d try to stay inside as much as possible with movies.”

Her voice catches in her throat as a memory interrupts her thought, and her tongue slips past her lips. “I remember one year Samidare was dead-set on having a snowball fight until Satsuki hit him right in the face with one. We didn’t last long,” she laughs, and Izuku’s face brightens at the story.

“Sometimes I forget you have siblings,” he admits, and she turns to him with her cheek leaning on her fingertip.

“Sometimes I wish I could, too.”

“How about you, Deku?” Ochako prods him next for traditions, and he catches himself in a nervous laugh as he fidgets with his hands.

“Mom always supported my interests, so I must have gushed about Christmas after seeing a few specials because she started picking up on some of the traditions. We have this fake tree that we’ll decorate, we bake cookies, and she likes to make custom sweaters for us that seem to get tackier and tackier every year,” he scrunches his nose as if embarrassed, but he finds it hard to fight the smile.

“You wore one last year,” Tsuyu points out, and he points back.

“Yeah! She actually mentioned making one for All Might this year,” his bright smile softens.

“Woah, Deku. I didn’t know your mom and All Might were close,” Ochako pokes at his leg from her seat, and he chuckles.

“I didn’t either. I just found out that she visits him pretty regularly!”

“Midoriya, are you sure you aren’t All Might’s l--”

“I’m not!” Izuku cuts Shouto off with a break in his voice, always comical in nature. Tsuyu ribbits curiously as if asking about this inside joke, but his flustered face waves away any possible questioning.

“What about you, Iida?” Ochako asks the original topic starter. He ponders a moment as he decides what constitutes holiday tradition as opposed to cold weather tradition, and he decides that it essentially boils down to the same thing.

“We exchange gifts with each other, and some years, my father takes the night off to spend with my mother. Tensei and I might call each other, but there weren’t too many chances for us to all be together when I was growing up.”

“A hero family must be pretty busy, huh?”

“Busy, but not lonely,” he clarifies with genuine pride. He looks in the mirror toward Shouto and opens his grin as if to relate the sentiment, but he quickly tightens his lip when he sees his friend turned toward the window. “Even if we couldn’t be together, we would find ways to make it up. That’s the kind of sentiment I hope to carry for those around me, as well.”

“Aw, I definitely feel it!” Ochako nudges his arm gently with her fist.

“What about you, Todoroki?” Tsuyu glances over to see his head still turned away, and his right arm drops from the car door to return to his lap, but she feels his left arm heat up a little more. As he turns his head toward them, they watch carefully until his expression reveals itself as something akin to Class B’s Neito Monoma in all his petty glee. They lose it in a blurt of shock, save for Tsuyu who bluntly tells him he’s making a scary face and that he needs to stop.

He intends to leave it at that, but Tenya Iida needs a bit more of a real answer since he almost slammed down on the brakes from everyone’s shrieking. His expression eases down into a typical-Todoroki-scowl, and he sighs.

“Sometimes Fuyumi comes home with candy from her students,” the answer doesn’t match his expression, but they accept it in fear of deviating down an uncomfortable path. Still, they cannot help but wonder what that almost victorious sneer was about. Only Izuku can possibly imagine it has something to do with Endeavor, but he keeps it to himself as they remark how the students must adore her to send her home with treats for the holidays.

The season calls the sky back down so much sooner than before, and they catch sight of a peeking moon overhead despite daylight hours still too stubborn to give. They drive onward in softer tones and dryer throats, but spirits rise at sundown. As the sun descends lower in the flurries of pinks, oranges, and yellows, Izuku watches with a sparkle in his eyes and fingertips pressed to the glass as he takes in the colors and changes. He pulls out his phone and preserves the feeling to his memory, sending a copy over to All Might; he wonders if the sky back home looks quite this vibrant.

Unbeknownst to him, Ochako has taken a picture of him, as well.

Nightfall takes over the city as they unlock the door to their hotel room and drop all their bags near the desk table. Tsuyu leaps onto the bed and rolls over onto her back with a series of relieved ribbits while Ochako begins digging through her bag and shoving a set of red and white clothes into her arms before making a beeline for the bathroom.They hear the lock click, and everyone else settles in the room with their own curiosities.

Izuku pulls the curtain apart to take a look at their scenic view of the neighboring building’s wall, and Tenya unpacks his thicker overcoat from his luggage to lay out on the unoccupied bed. He spreads his palms over the front to even out the folds and wrinkles, then tackles it with a wrinkle release spray drawn almost too swiftly from his bag. Satisfied with its freshened aesthetic, he takes it to the closet and hangs it loosely.

“I suggest we bundle a little more when we drop Ochako off,” he turns his attention to the other three, and Izuku deviates from the window to retrieve his knit cap and fingerless gloves from the plethora of folded hoodies that seemingly take up the bulk of his belongings. Tsuyu doesn’t need much reminding, but Shouto makes no movements to wear more than his sweatshirt and scarf.

“If I wear too much, I’ll get too hot,” he explains as he casts his eyes down to his left hand before Tenya can lay it on him. He looks back up with an unwarranted amount of seriousness for whatever nonsense he’s about to joke with, but a loud burst from the bathroom door cuts him off.

“Ho ho ho!” Ochako bellows, decked in full Santa gear including a thick, snow-white beard. “I am here!”

“That’s not what Santa says,” Tsuyu corrects, but Izuku is already fanboying at the reference with wide eyes and hands pressed to his mouth.

“And you’re positive that your parents won’t believe you to be some sort of intruder or possible threat?” Tenya asks after his initial exclamations and claps of Bravo!

“Our first year, they came crawling at me when I opened the door to my apartment like they were monsters in a horror movie,” she tugs the beard down to talk more clearly, “I think they can deal with a nonthreatening Santa suit and gifts.”

“Is everybody ready?” dark, wide eyes scan the hotel room for anyone still rummaging through folded clothes. Affirmations cross their lips, one by one, and Tsuyu ribbits in her own on her way toward the door, sure to hold it open for Ochako and her bag of presents.

Her bubbly disposition nearly intoxicates everyone as they catch themselves in smiles on their way to the car; even the hotel staff wish them a Merry Christmas with a chuckle upon seeing her march proudly with one black boot in front of the other. Tsuyu walks along beside her long enough for Ochako to sling a crimson sleeved arm around her shoulders as she gives another hearty laugh into the wintry night air.

The boys walking behind don’t know if they’ve ever seen her so proud of herself.

Ochako Uraraka doesn’t realize how loud a car door slam resounds when she’s standing outside her parents’ apartment complex in the quiet evening. Wind catches hold of her so quick that she has to press her palm onto her hat to keep everything in place, and she shivers one last time before she hears the window roll down with a car full of friends cheering her on in their own ways. She turns with her mittened hand on her heart and converts it to a fist she can pump back at them. A quick pivot on her heel, and she trudges onward toward the stairs up to the third floor with her sack of presents slapping against her back.

If she’s lucky, her parents won’t be home quite yet. Maybe she could exact her vengeance with giving them a little scare; however, when she unlocks the door and slips the keyring back into her pocket, she sees a light kept low from down the hall. Ochako kicks her boots off as quickly as she can and announces herself before anyone can come see what all the noise is. Instead, she hears no response and decides to investigate the source of the light.

Upon peeking through the entryway of their living room, she sees a small, illuminated tree kept on the end table of the small room. No decorations or natural scent, but she takes a seat beside it on the sofa and feels the soft glow in her eyes as she relaxes from excitement into a mellow calm. Padded fingertips tap the lights as she ponders when they decided to start decorating and why, but this appears to be the only one. Perhaps a co-worker gifted it, or maybe a client. She doesn’t know, but part of her can’t help but miss her parents even more.

These past three years have shaped her into the confident heroine she is now, but how much have they changed that she couldn’t perceive through calls and videos? Do they still bake cookies without her? Do they work later hours without a daughter to rush home to? At least they’ve seen her hair’s growth over the years or else she may worry that they won’t recognize her. A fleeting thought that forfeits her blank, half lidded eyes into rest as she sighs contentedly.

She pulls her phone out to let her friends know that they can head out since she’s still waiting on her parents to return. They wish her well and tell her that if she needs them for anything, they’ll be there without hesitation. Another wave of emotion washes over her as she reads over their individual responses in the group chat, and she can’t help but laugh a little when even Shouto sends his support when she knows well he’s supposed to be driving.

A clock’s tick occupies the living room in her absent-minded scrolling through social media until she hears the drop, lift, and jingling keys from behind the door. Quick to her feet, she lifts her bag of gifts and decides to make use of their small tree decoration as if she’s been caught in the middle of her Kris Kringling duties. Holding her position, she keeps her face turned toward the entryway to their den, and hearing her mother’s voice question the black boots at the door starts up her heavier pulse.

Waiting proves to be far too much for one eager Santa to handle, so she springs to her steps and meets them halfway in the hall -- her in the red and white suit with a clutched sack of gifts over her shoulder and them with their best horror faces ready to terrify whatever foolish intruder dared enter the Uraraka household alone. All three shriek upon seeing one another, but Ochako’s merges into mirthful laughter.

“Merry Christmas!” she extends an arm, and they recognize her voice immediately and practically sprint toward her with their own latching around their daughter. She yelps into their tight grasp and nearly drops the bag. Mr. Uraraka’s arms wrap around the two of them and lift them momentarily before he has to set them back down and stretch a little; euphoric energy can only do so much after a long day’s work.

“Ochako, what is all this?” Mrs. Uraraka holds her shoulders and rubs the red fabric of the Santa Suit as she eyes her down. On the way back up, her hands move to the curly beard, and she tugs at it with laughter as tears well up in the corners of her eyes. Ochako can hardly formulate the words, so she smothers her mother’s hand with her own mittened one and leads them both to the living room where she sits them down on the sofa.

Ochako Uraraka coughs and lowers her voice to mimic an idea of the iconic character.

“For the last eighteen years, you’ve both been very, very good to your daughter. And every year, she’s written me a letter pleading for even one small token to repay them. Finally, we worked out a deal, she and I,” she laughs and sets the bag down, rummaging through and holding out a present addressed to both of them. She takes a shuddering breath as she tries to keep up her character and composure through the emotional surge sending sparks within her heart. “If she worked hard and never gave up, then this would be the year she could deliver them herself.”

Her mother is already crying, hands covering her mouth as the tears slip down her cheeks, and her father’s jaw hangs loose once he’s said her name. They’re rendered speechless in their daughter’s charity, and they graciously accept her present and unwrap it together.

Within the box is a tropical themed postcard, and they turn it over to read:

I’m sorry I can’t take you to Hawaii yet. Personally, I don’t know if the sun out there can compete with the three of us. We’ll be here soon. I promise.

Mr. and Mrs. Uraraka cannot fight their smiles; they turn the card over again and again, watching their daughter pull out various gifts from her bag and placing them on their corresponding sides. An even amount: three packages for each parent.

With her hands empty, Ochako dons her beard in full and urges her parents to indulge with her sparkling stare. Only after she claps her mittens do they chuckle and comply. The gifts aren’t especially flashy or expensive, but they’re thoughtful. Nice fragrances, coffee and mugs, small appliances, accessories, anything she could squeeze into a few bags and boxes within her budget. They comment and compare, especially with a set of matching mugs, and she watches as her parents hold their gifts carefully in their overworked hands.

What she wouldn’t give to offer them a real holiday.

They set the gifts aside, and Mrs. Uraraka holds out her arms. Before Ochako can bend closer, her father tugs her into them, and the three meld into each other’s embrace. They haven’t had time to turn the heater on between all of this, yet they don’t even notice the chilly air when they’re together.

“We love you,” her mother tightens her hold, “so much.”

“I know, Mama,” Ochako sniffles into their shoulders, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” her father pets her hat affectionately, and they stay a little longer until he tugs it off and wears it himself. Before their daughter can protest, Mrs. Uraraka snatches the beard and snaps it around her own face with her hands coming together in a playful clap.

“No, my secret identity!” she jokes and covers her face as she sinks to the floor. Her parents imitate her laughter from earlier with their hands on their bellies, and one pulls her up while the other fetches the light.

“Honey, can you grab those mugs and the new oven mitts?” Mr. Uraraka calls from the kitchen once he’s turned on the light. Mrs. Uraraka calls back gleefully and beckons Ochako to follow them, brightly patterned mitts in tow. He’s already pulling out sugar, butter, eggs, and other ingredients, and it doesn’t take long for the other two to catch on to his plan. ���I know our Santa’s already come, but we can’t let her leave without some cookies.”

“Santa accepts your offering,” she beams with rosey cheeks blooming darker.

The three of them work together to mix the dough, roll them into balls of varying sizes, and nearly watch the oven like it’s the season finale of their favorite drama as they all bake into one unified mess. Ochako decides to cut them apart using the old cookie cutters, and once they’re cooled off, the family shares their snacks with mugs of hot chocolate and a gratuitous amount of marshmallows scattered atop.

She knows it isn’t magic because she’s worked hard, but Ochako Uraraka doesn’t mind sharing the credit with all the support her family and friends have offered her to get here. Every word of praise, every hand reaching out, and every shared smile, invaluable; she knows she wants to be the type of hero who can let those around her rest easy.

And if the three of them snoozing through their own sleepy snores is any indication, then she’s well on her way.

[fortunesrevolver]

Commission: Start Simple

Alternate Title: The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively... *shot* Series: Persona 5 Request: Ann and Ryuji bonding at the gym; much like a social link. Platonic. For: @lloyd-irving

This one... was tons of fun too. I love the Persona series to pieces, and this was a story where I got to write two characters I don’t write for that often. It’s only my second time writing either one of them, so I’m really hopeful that it turned out well. Still, I am proud of this one and it was a total blast to write. :)

Thank you again for the commission!

“So… why’re we here again?” Ryuji murmured as he made no effort to conceal a loud yawn and rubbed his eyes.

With a small growl, Ann tossed her towel and water bottle onto a nearby chair and turned, arms crossed. “I told you before! I was serious about wanting to slim down and tone up!”

“Mm… that’s great and all, but why the hell are we here so damn early? It’s like… the ass-crack of dawn.”

“We get up this early for school every day,” Ann pointed out, her jacket joining the pile next. “Besides, I’ve read like… three articles saying that the morning is the best time to train! It wakes up your body and gets you ready for the day.”

“...more like put you to sleep. The hell sort of articles have you been reading?”

“Good ones,” Ann chirped and waved her hand dismissively. “Does it matter? You said you’d help me out, sooo… Show me your secrets, oh guru gym master!”

“If I knew helping you meant getting up this early, I’d have just told you to find a trainer.” Despite his grumblings, Ryuji tossed his own belongings next to Ann’s and bend forward, releasing a low groan of satisfaction as his shoulders popped and his muscles warmed to the familiar movements.

“That’s just mean…” Ann huffed, “And gross. Get your butt outta my face.”

“I’m not showing you my ass, dummy.” Ryuji straightened, bending to the side. “I’m doing stretches. You need to do them before and after a workout.”

“Really…?” Ann blinked, moving closer to observe his movements and began to try and mimic them. “Does it help?”

“Helps if you don’t like cramps. It--what the hell are you doing?”

“Um,” Ann looked up from her twisted position. “Stretching?”

“Do you even pay attention in gym class?” Ryuji frowned, pausing mid-stretch.

“Of course I do!” Ann gasped, trying to force out as much of a scandalized tone as she could. Pay attention she might, but memorize she’d never bothered. They rarely started with more than one or two before they go to whatever the task of the day was. “Geez… even after getting hurt, you still make this look so easy.”

“I’m gonna assume that was a compliment.” Rolling his eyes, Ryuji straightened himself and moved over to Ann. “You’re just gonna hurt yourself twistin’ around like that.” That’s the last thing he needed. An injured girl -- let alone a friend -- in a nearly empty gym. He really didn’t want to have to deal with the assumptions that would follow him out the door. “Here, look, split your legs like this. Keep your legs straight and bend at your waist.” He placed his hands on her hips to guide her to the proper stance. “Bending your knees is just cheatin’. Don’t worry about reachin’ your toes. Ain’t important right now. You’ll get farther the more you stretch.”

“Wow, Ryuji,” Ann grinned, wiggling her fingers as they stopped just short of her toes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d almost call that a smooth move.”

“...no thanks,” he dead-panned. “I like my girls a little less… violent.”

“E-excuse me?!”

“I’ve seen you with a whip,” Ryuji shrugged. “I don’t need that in this world anymore than I need it in that one. Now do the other leg. I’ll count.”

------

By the end of stretching, Ann’s mood had taken a surprisingly steep upturn and Ryuji wondered if he should bother trying to get her to save energy. He had been just as bad the first time he’d gone to the gym -- confident, energetic, and ready to take on any machine he could get his hands on. Which had been a horrible mistake. At least he could keep Ann from having to spend a day covered in ice and heating pads.

“Alright!” Ann cheered and looked around the room. “What’s first? Weights? The… uh, bench push? Oooh, what about that one?” She pointed toward an elliptical. “That looks like it’d toughen me up.”

“Uh, no.” Ryuji shook his head. “No way. You’re gonna kill yourself if you just go runnin’ around half-cocked. We’re gonna start easy.”

“Whaaat? But that’s boring! I’ve gotten plenty of muscle from--”

“You ain’t got your persona here to help out,” Ryuji shook his head, “or… weird… fancy armor clothes. Start simple or don’t start at all.”

“...fine, fine. What’s first?”

“Treadmill.” Ryuji jerked his head to their right. “Come over here, walk for five minutes and then I’ll show you how to bump up to a jog.”

“...wow, when you said simple, you really meant simple.” Ann sighed, but complied as she climbed up onto the running platform. “Sooo, I just push this button here a couple of times?”

“Yeah, and then--shit! Ann, not that many--” It was too late. The machine burst into life. Startled, Ann yelped and tried to steady herself against the sudden fast-paced thrumming of the belt, but after only a few steps she’d lost her balance and careened backwards into Ryuji’s chest and sent them both to the floor.

“O-owwww…”

“Shit… Dammit, Ann! This is why I said start easy. You’re gonna hurt yourself!”

With a frown, Ann pushed herself back up, rubbing her rear as she huffed at the still-running treadmill. “...geez, I didn’t think it would be this hard.” She turned, guilt tugging at her chest as Ryuji stumbled to his feet. “Um, are you--”

“...walking first,” Ryuji waved her off with a flick of his wrist. “Like this. I’ll tell you when to speed it up.”

“...right, okay. Walking. I can do that no problem.”

Not bothering to answer, he wasn’t about to intentionally set himself up for getting hit, he reset the machine and helped Ann up onto the belt, showing her the proper movement for switching her feet to the sidebars when she needed a break. “Now just… walk for a few minutes. I’ll be right next to you.”

“Right!”

True to her word, and Ryuji’s relief, Ann kept her pace slow and steady. Her face was drawn tight with focus and Ryuji had to admit, her motivation was admirable. Somewhat scary and possibly dangerous for anyone who got in her way, but admirable. It reminded him of when he’d first started track.

“Alright, now hit that button twice. It’ll take you to a jog.”

“Woohoo! Levelling up!”

“...sure,” Ryuji snorted, “just make sure you pay attention.”

“P’shaw, this is easy-peasy.”

“Yeah, say that to the chick who nearly knocked me out a few minutes ago.”

“...that’s just mean,” Ann pouted, but soon returned her focus to the treadmill as she speed reached its maximum speed for her setting.

Beside her, Ryuji was upped his own to a slow run. Jogging was an easy enough start, but if he wanted to keep getting better, he had to push himself at least a little bit. Ann had the right idea, wanting to improve so quickly. Mementos and all the Palaces they’d found helped a lot, but there was no way all that ‘crazy shit’ would last forever. He’d have to get better on his own terms if he wanted to pull his own weight.

How had so much happened in just a few months? It was like Akira arriving had been some sort of big boom that triggered more events Ryuji ever thought possible. Not to mention, now they had Yusuke and Makoto and things were getting even more crazy. Both in that world and in their own. What the hell was he going to do about the track team and--

“W-whoa, uh, hey, Ryuji…!”

Ryuji blinked, jerked out of his daze in time to realize he’d sped up his machine just a little too much and he was limping. Badly. His leg throbbed in protest and he stumbled, cursing in alarm as he pitched forward, barely managing to grab the arm rails to keep his face off spinning belt.

“Holy crap…!” Ann leapt forward, slapping her hands over the controls in a blind panic. The belt briefly sped up, making Ryuji shout again before she successfully hit the power button and the whole thing came to a slow stop.

“...shit,” Ryuji coughed, dropping to his knees. “Shit, ow, damn.”

“H-hey…” Ann frowned, concern evident on her face as she glanced around. “Here, I…”

He took her hand gratefully and stumbled his way over to the chair she’d cleared of their things. Maybe he was the one who needed to pay more attention to his own rules.

“Are you… okay?” Ann asked, holding out his bottle of water. “You weren’t answering me at all and your leg…”

“S’fine,” Ryuji slumped against the back of the chair. “Just got lost in my thoughts. Wasn’t payin’ attention.”

“Want me to go see if they’ve got ice?” Ann paused, then pointed to his leg. “You’re shaking.”

“...it’ll be fine,” Ryuji shook his head, a wry smile on his face. “Guess I was the one pushin’ a little too hard.”

“...I guess that means it still hurts, huh?” Ann stood up, grabbing her towel as she took the seat beside him. “I remember back in middle school… you used to be the fastest kid I knew. I was totally convinced you’d end up being some running star. Like in the olympics or…” she trailed off, wincing. “...sorry, I guess I’m not helping.”

Ryuji laughed. “I’m used to that.”

“Hey!”

“Seriously though… I’m alright. Not a big deal. I’m usually here with Akira and he calls my ass out when I zone like that. So… thanks.”

“Sure…” Ann nodded, still worried. “Are you… going to join the team again?”

“Huh?”

“Akira said you’ve been working really hard lately,” she motioned around the gym. “Here and at school. I was wondering if you wanted to join again.”

“Maybe before,” Ryuji shrugged and gulped down a swig of water. “Think I wanted to at some point, but… then I just decided I wanted to do it for myself. Don’t think I’ll ever join again. I just… wanted to prove to myself I could do it. Get back to somewhere close to where I was, you know? Not feel so…”

“Useless?”

“Something like that.” He took another drink. “What about you? Why so serious about this all of a sudden? That agency of yours ain’t giving you shit for your weight, are they?”

“No, no…” Ann shook her head. “Surprisingly, I’ve never had trouble.”

“...damn, with all those sweets you eat, I kinda thought you were already a gym-nut.”

“Oh shut up. I’ve got awesome metabolism, that’s all.”

“That what it is? Here I thought you just burned it all on nagging.”

“Haha,” Ann rolled her eyes and tossed Ryuji’s towel at his face. “I guess… maybe it’s for modelling? I’m not sure. I think that’s part of it, but…” she trailed off, and Ryuji said nothing in response, waiting for her to continue. “I think… I want to get stronger for myself and you guys. And Shiho too. I just… after what happened, I felt so weak. And now we have that other world and… I don’t know. Maybe I felt like I wasn’t trying hard enough? Or just…”

“Like you wanted to do more?”

“Yeah…” Ann nodded. “Akira does so much for all of us. I mean, he’s our leader and all, but he takes care of us here too. I think… maybe I just want to help him carry all his weight. The same way he helps us.”

Ryuji nodded. Akira did seem to be a driving force for all of them. Even Makoto, an already determined and fighting spirit, seemed to have changed after meeting him. Or maybe it was just after accepting themselves and meeting their Persona that it had all changed, but that had come after Akira too. It was weird to think about it, all that motivation stoked by one person but spurred on by their own desires.

“I think you’ve been getting better,” Ryuji murmured. “Fighting, I mean. We all used to stumble around pretty bad, but… I’ve noticed when we fight in Mementos, you’re getting a little faster. And you, uh, whip harder… n’ stuff.”

“...wow,” Ann snorted. “For a moment there I actually thought you were going to say something sweet. But you’re just a mess as always.”

“You know what--”

“...but thanks,” she smiled, a softer look in her eyes. “Really. And for coming today.”

Ryuji shrugged. “No big deal. Helps me too. I’d be here alone anyway. Might as well go with a friend.”

“Sooo, if I said I wanted to come again tomorrow…?”

“Hell no,” shaking his head, Ryuji dabbed at his face. “Tomorrow is a day off. Don’t push yourself too hard or you’ll just collapse.”

“But--”

“Wednesday,” he cut in. “We’ll come here twice a week while you get started. Once you’re used to it we’ll turn it up.”

“You’ll keep helping me?! Really?”

“Don’t see why not. I need the gym, you need it. Together we can make sure nothin’ goes wrong.”

“Woohoo! You’re the greatest!” Ann beamed. “This is great--we’re gonna celebrate. We’re gonna get cake on the way home! My treat.”

“Cake? Really? The hell sort of post workout food is that?” Ryuji shook his head. This girl really didn’t get it. Not yet, but she’d done well for her first day. A little treat couldn’t hurt. Probably. “I thought you wanted to slim down.”

“Oh, shut up. We’ll get something healthy. Like cheesecake with fruit! Fruit is healthy.”

“Uh, yeah, when it’s not on cake.”

“Shut uuuup,” Ann whined, “I’m offering you food. Just take it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryuji stood up and tested his weight on his leg. It still hurt, but at least he wasn’t shaking anymore. “Set your stuff down. We gotta finish off with stretches.”

“More of those?”

“If you wanna cramp up--”

“Ugh, ew, no, fine, stretching.” Ann stood, looking hopeful. “...then cake?”

Ryuji smiled faintly. How Ann managed to have the same level of motivation for working out as she did for obtaining cake was wild. “Yeah, sure, then cake.” He bent down, reaching for his toes. “Hurry up and bend. I’ll count.”

[dunmerofskyrim]

16

Words turned in Simra’s mind. Words turned and worked themselves over.

The gait of his shaggy-maned mud-brown pony almost made a poem of them. The gentle jolt through the hips, the floor of his body, and out into travel-vexed thighs. An abdomen sick of bending to keep sitting a saddle. The muffled knocking that beat through his spine and set his neck to aching. That was its metre. It was also three-fifths of what he hated about riding.

No denying though, it had halved the second half of their journey. This leg of it, at the least. They had ridden along the nameless stream til it paid out into the Dathan. A wide pale-watered river, but it sat shallow and flowed slow between its deeper sloping banks. That was one thing for which they could thank the coming Winter. Mountain headwaters, back to the west — they’d be lying cold and lazy now, in mountains already gone bleak with frost, bleached with snow.

Simra was wary of river-crossings. Had any number of reasons to be, and most of them good ones too. But crossing the Dathan at the ford they found was scarce enough to wet Simra’s boots, or wash against the ribs of his pony. No great trial, he told himself, as his heart clenched and the eyes behind his eyes remembered. And then they were over.

They dismounted to let the guar bask a moment in the cool bright sun, and the pony roll dry in the grass and the dust. They ate mouthfuls of wood-dark bark-stiff jerky from the saddlebags of the dead Vereansu.

Simra’s stomach still took uneasy to treating meat as a staple not a luxury. It growled and fidgetted, unquiet as they rode on.

In the nights, the mornings, and what stops they took to water and rest their mounts, Simra found time to write. He’d folded the parchment he bought in Bodram til he could see pages in each crumpled gather. Not a book nor quite a scroll, but he numbered each page as he wrote, planning for the day when he’d refold and cut and stitch the whole mess together — make it what it was meant to be.

Sixteenth months with no way to write, then thirteen more with scarce any time to do so — not like this, not for himself. The habit came back hard – harder on some days than others – but the one thing more bitter than writing badly was not writing at all. And all the rest was a chaos of peaks and pits, and misbegot conclusions. One day it would seem that, in silence, he’d somehow gotten better. The next, it seemed neglect had lost him whatever scraps of skill or talent he’d once had.

But the habit was there now, at root and at work. Even without paper or ink, in empty times, some part of his mind would start writing. Words turned. Words turned and worked themselves over.

Simra rode with Tammunei to his left.

His was a hunched shape, low and sloped in the saddle, contrasting the long straight spear slung across his back.

He’d taken the spear from among the fallen Vereansu, who had used it for both a lance and bannerpole. A shaft of reddish-dark wood with a strange and twisting grain, a little longer than Simra was tall, wrapped in leather at the middle and bored with holes at either end to take a carrying strap. Its point was a narrow taper of iron with a second straight spike hooking backwards off from it.

It rattled against his saddle, shoulders, and side as he went. A blighted inconvenience and a sly cruel reminder. Useful, no doubting that, but he’d told himself that he’d never rely on another blighted spear again as long as he lived. Not after all he’d done for the chance to make it so. So don’t rely on it, he told himself now. Use it when it suits you, and don’t when it doesn’t. Sell it when you get the chance for all you give a shit. Still, it felt like an indignity. Another piss poor joke the world was playing at his expense.

Noor went ahead of Simra and Tammunei on her grey and tan guar, the ambling point to their formation. She’d taken a bow from the Vereansu dead and it nestled unstrung, like a little horned moon, at rest in a sheathe by her saddle. Arrows rattled in a nearby quiver. Short and light and softish-spoken, fletched to bring down prey. Longer and heavy, fewer in number, three war-arrows grumbled in their separate compartment. Her long hair streamed idle behind, more wind than speed in its motion.

She sat her saddle upright. Flowed somehow with the jerking two-foot gait of her guar. Flowed somehow with the way its walk veered side to side with every step, as much as it rambled forward.

All motion on two legs is falling, Simra decided. Falling and catching, falling and catching. The kind of thing that if you ever thought about, instead of doing it thoughtless, you’d fail or falter in it — fail the fall, miss the catch.

A steppe-pony was a smoother ride – a more familiar one for Simra – but that didn’t make it a far cry better. Noor was maddening-perfect in the way she rode. Tammunei, natural and smooth, clicking and cooing to their guar all the while. Simra found it easier to slouch. He’d never be mistaken for a good rider. The next best thing was to be a poor but comfortable one, he reckoned. Not that there was any blighted danger of that. He could urge a fair smooth Riftfolk tolt from a horse like this, but any pace slower or faster would jar him. Most of their journey went on at a grating walk, while Simra fought to keep a mouthful of complaints behind his teeth.

The shadow of something winged hung black in the sky.

“One of yours?” Simra pointed it out to Tammunei. “Hired on to catch us dinner?” He’d seen Tammunei sing a hawk from off its glide and down to catch them a hare. Hoped this might be the same.

Tammunei gave a vague smile and shook their head. “I’m listening to the ground, not asking favours of the sky.”

“Alright…”

For all the haze and mystery when Tammunei talked of their magic, the aim was often practical, the goal a fish or scrib or marmot for the pot, or some sense of nearby water. Simra waited for Tammunei to explain.

“I can hear mushrooms,” they said. “Not far. Hiding in the tall grass. We might have missed them otherwise…”

“What does a mushroom sound like?”

“One mushroom? Don’t know. Too quiet. But lots? It’s… Hm… One thing, lots of voices, lots of senses, all talking to each other, but — No. Talking to itself. Like — Like if a spider’s web could talk, strand to strand, corner to join, then…it might talk like this.”

Simra raised his brows, slackened his jaw. He was never sure whether to be amazed or appalled.

“But…you don’t know? Because you’ve never heard a cobweb before?”

Tammunei smiled again. Remembered to nod.

“Fucking Princes…” Simra breathed. A soft curse that turned into a laugh. “Swear, if I could write like you talk…” Even after the laugh had ended, Simra felt a lingering smile twist his scarred lips.

The mushrooms weren’t far, only hidden.

Tammunei made a cooing noise and turned off their course, leaving Simra unsure if the sound had been for their guar or meant for Noor and him. Any case, they followed.

Slinging one leg over the guar’s big sad-smiling face, over the horn of their saddle, Tammunei slipped down onto the plain. Nothing to see. Only the grasses, almost an ordinary green here and hushing high against Tammunei’s shoulders.

Noor curled her legs under her, coming to sit her saddle cross-legged. Frustrating ease, unlimited patience.

Simra kissed his teeth and followed Tammunei. A clumsy mimic of how they’d dismounted, and Simra’s boots hit the ground. Landing, falling, at least, he could do. “Stay,” he told his horse, turning his head back to fix it with a stern frown. “Stay.” Again, sterner, in the closest thing his tongue would come to Deshaan Velothis.

There was no comprehension in the way it stared back. A single sidelong preybeast’s eye. Eerie how it put him in mind of talking to Tammunei sometimes. Same opaque angled look. Same hard time telling if they’d really understood.

The horse stayed, but more from its own will than Simra’s command, he reckoned. It dropped its head to champ at something on the ground, disappearing into the grass save the peak of its saddle and height of its withers.

Simra kissed his teeth again, planted his spear in the dirt with its blunt iron buttspike, and followed Tammunei a short ways into the overgrowth.

With a careful hand, Tammunei parted a wall of grass. Beyond it, the growth was shorter. Between the blades, a ragged circle of fungus grew, in yellow-white and spotted scab-red and the occasional tall spire of blue. Like soapbubbles, heaping over each other. Like a Telvanni town, sprawled in miniature.

“How many of those are any good to eat?” Simra peered through the parted curtain of grass, hesitant to step inside. He’d read stories about forest spirits, marking their sanctums with spirals or circles of small smooth stones, or else with rings of toadstools. Cradletales, but they still put an apprehension in him.

“The white parasols,” Tammunei said.

“The pale frilly ones? Good. That’s most of them!”

“The red spotted ones too. Only the stems though, and only if you plan to sleep soon.” Tammunei crouched, brought out a small sicklebladed knife, and set to harvesting the white mushrooms from off their stubby jaundiced stalks.

From behind them, Simra heard Noor begin to sing. A low quiet drone of noise, familiar by now as the moaning wind or whispering grass.

“What about the blue ones?” Simra asked.

“Bad to eat. Slack muscles, swollen ankles and wrists. A stronger extract locks the joints if you mix it with hackle-lo tea, boil it down…”

“And the reds if you eat the caps?”

“Bleeding gums. Bad dreams. There’s no virtue in them.”

“Less you’re cooking for someone you don’t like, or you need to play ill…”

“The second — why would you..?” Tammunei looked up, some small dismay on their face.

Simra shrugged. “Don’t know. Never know what you’ll need to do. Not til it’ll help to do it.”

Tammunei didn’t respond, but must have understood. Red spots and blue spires, they picked a little of both.

Simra brought out his notebook. Purple, clothbound, pretty, seldom used except to cram full of sidelined thoughts and things to remember. Not since he’d bought the parchment and started thinking bigger. He took out a twisted charcoal pencil and started to scribble down what Tammunei had told him.

“What are you writing?”

“Notes. What you’ve just said, mostly. About them.” Simra pointed with his pencil down at the mushrooms.

“Why?”

“So I don’t forget. So next time I’m hungry and have my choice of mushrooms, I’ll know which way to choose.”

“But why write? Might you forget if you do? Your mind won’t have as much need to remember.”

“Might do. Then I’ll have my notes to look back at, right?” Might do, Simra thought again to himself. Might do, but probably not. For one thing, the notes let him pretend it was otherwise. “Best to have them. Just in case.”

“What about the other writing?”

“What?”

“On the other paper, with the pen. That’s different? Different tools for different tasks.”

“That’s different.” Simra nodded though his gut sank, like being a child again, caught out in some secret mischief. “Kind of. That’s for remembering too, but for other people. Just in case.”

“Other people? To help others remember what?”

“Me, I reckon… Y’know, for if they need to.”

“Oh.” A sad thoughtful pause. “Can I read it?”

Simra had known that was coming. It brought a further sinking  with it. Colour burnt up hot across his cheekbones. “Maybe.” He forced calm into his voice. Attempted an easy smile. “Maybe when it’s done. Or if I don’t finish it. Maybe then.” The smile faltered. “Didn’t know you could read. Just assumed… After what Noor said…”

“Only slowly. Loudly. If I try to read your secret just-in-case memory-papers, you’ll hear of it.”

Simra’s lips parted. His throat choked up a laugh, catching the fact that Tammunei had made a joke a moment before his mind. Laughter was good. It hid the fear he felt for what he’d already written. How it was for everyone and no-one at all; strangers but perhaps never friends; for Tammunei, yes, but not for them to read themself. It was a book braver than he was. In that moment, braver than he felt by far, and off to the point of foolishness.

A thought came. He could burn it, every page, leave no trace. No thought had ever been so tempting or so unbearable both at once. He couldn’t.

When they sat later at their cookfire, cloaked to the night by magic and eating a fry of soft tart-tasting white mushrooms, Simra didn’t. Though the thought came back and the fire beckoned all the same.

[shinido-blog]

                  SUNDAY DRABBLE FOR @kairoba.   5 TIMES KISSED.   

I.     SILENTLY  UNLOCKING  HIS  FRONT  DOOR   the detective   quickly    moved inside his home ,    clothes   soaked    by the heavy rain that has surprised him on his way back   &    hair    unruly.     Stepping out of his shoes ,   his coat dropping with an audible sound to the ground ,  the detective    yawned.    It has been a   bad  day ; a  bad  case.   A  terrible  case.  Crimson soaking into walls ,   a body brokenly draped on a once rose colored ground   &      classical   music playing   discretely    in the background.  Cursing under his breath the heisei holmes rubbed with his palms over his orbs ,     shadows    curling around his frame  &    weighting    him down.  He  was  tired.    He was   out of    breath ;  it was no physical exhaustion           it  was  his  heart ,  his mind that sang in pain  &     whispered  about  the  horrors  he  saw.  

(     oh ;   what   cruelty    you learned to study    /   your  eyes  dead ;   &  hollow    )     RUMMAGING  THROUGH HIS  kitchen   &   searching   for some pain killers ,    another yawn   escaped   his velvet lips and he shivered.  The soaked clothes clinging to his frame ,   white dirtied by crimson   and    dust.  Finally   finding what he   desperately   needed the detective swallowed two pills dryly ;   not bothering   to get water for it.  It was   sad    how used he was to it ;   sad how   broken   he looked in nights like this.     (      broken   wings    ;   scattered   feathers   /    the darkness   embracing   each word you spoke    )    Leaning down   heavily   on the sink for a few minutes and exhaling   calmly ,  trying to ban the memories from his mind ,   the man felt his chest tighten    more and more.   It  was  not  enough.   Not enough    anymore.    He  felt  like  a  mess ,    his skin hot  &     breath swallow.     He   wasn’t   enough.       Wasn’t   enough   anymore.  

THE  GUILT  GREW  AND  GREW ,  knuckles turning white and breathes morphed into    little    sobs and   soundless   cries.  It was at nights like this that Kudo Shinichi    once more   realized    how   small   he   was , how   small and shattered.    Suddenly ;   strong arms snaked around his waist    &    lips were pressed against his neck.  A  voice  whispered  softly  his  name ; hands wandering   down   to lift the soaked shirt and   caress    pale  &    cold   skin in their wake.  Kisses were pressed along his shoulder blade ,    his  neck   ,    his jaw    &   Shinichi let go.    Let  go  of  the  darkness ,     let  go  of  the  world  on  his  back.       He  fell  ;    fell  and fell  again.     Warmth    spread through his chest as he titled his head backwards ,   eyes revealing an   endless  ocean  of  love    (      oh ;  my home  /   my   heart   &   soul  aching    for your touch      )           velvet  lips  parted ,   his tongue darting out to wet them as the coldness of the cruel reality left his bones   &   body slowly.   Arching forwards  he captured Kaito’s lips with his ,  heart pounding in his chest  &   he felt not so small anymore.    He felt like a part of     someone ,   something.     He   felt   at   home.

II.     FORCING  A  NEUTRAL  SMILE  on his face the detective   nodded    at his neighbors as he walked through the gate of his house ,   his bandaged shoulder   hidden     under his shirt    &     his eyes cold   like ice.      The moment he had entered his house though ,   he found himself suddenly   pressed    against a wall in his doorway and trapped by a body pushing against his.  The heisei holmes felt   panic    rising in his chest ,    air pressed   painfully    out of his lunges when his back had collided with the beige colored surface.  It took him   only   a mere moment to     identify   the   culprit           his scent   alluring    and    reassuring.    The thief suddenly attacked his neck ,   teeth    marveling    over his sensitive skin rather   roughly    while he kept Shinichi pinned to the wall.    Instantly    titling his head to the side ,  a moan was forced from his lips    &    his  body started seeking for more friction.       It  was  addicting                     (      oh ;   what  desperate  want   /     teeth sinking deeply into soft flesh to mark    /     imprint his meitantei     )                    he  found  himself  slipping  away ;    his mind lost in the   need   rushing through his veins    &      his body    asking    for more.   Whispering his lovers name ,      breathless   and   wrecked   he got rewarded with a   soft    kiss along his jaw and hot breath teasing his ear.    Words   were   whispered   into   it  ,    (  YOU IDIOT ,  YOU COULD’VE BEEN KILLED... !    )    each syllable rolling down deeply and darkly from his phantoms tongue   &    each word spoke about the worry that was still digging its claws into his   frantic   beating   heart.    

BLINKING  WIDELY  AT  his boyfriend   &    taking a few   heated    breaths to cling on the last   remands  of  his  intelligence    that   threatened    to slip away in the heat ,   the detective let out a little sad laugh before pressing a kiss of his own on Kaito’s nose.    He  knew  it  had  been  stupid  to  jump  ;   but a kid had been in danger and    Shinichi   would   never   stand   back                never    watch    someone get hurt.  He still could hear the sound of the shot going off and     feel    the metal piercing through his shoulder  but  it was fading away    quickly ,      fading into the mess of memories he called     his own.  Searching his lover’s gaze ,   his blue eyes    wide   and     soft ;    oh   so   soft               he whispered an apologize coming from the bottom of his heart    &     let emotions   lace    his voice ,     pure and strong.     He wasn’t sorry for what he did ,    he was sorry because he knew     he’ll do it again if     the time   asks    for it.   His thief knew though ,   indigo gaze turning desperate for    just  a  moment     but   he  felt  the  same   (     they both knew each fraction of the other   /     knew about each little crack   &     curve    /      they hated and cherished it    /     respected what made them into what they are   /     understood each other      )       &    suddenly   they   were   kissing ,    lips hungrily titling and mouths pressed together wetly and sloppily.  Shinichi felt teeth digging into his bottom lip and    mewled ,    his  mind  gone  and  body on  fire.      Bucking his hip into Kaito’s and rubbing against him   needy ,   the heisei holmes became   a  mess  for  his  thief. 

III.      COLD  AIR  HIT  HIS       sensitive    skin as he brushed bangs out of Kaito’s face ,   hands combing through his thief’s    soft   and   messy    locks.  Ignoring the gazes others directed at them Shinichi found his eyes drawn     more   &    more     to his boyfriends chapped and uneven lips.  He felt    warmth    rising in his chest ,   his lunges    filled       with his lover’s scent     &    heart   full   of   love.   He had   never    thought he’d be able to love someone like this one day ;   unconditionally  and  storm like.      It   was   like   constantly   drowning      (     Kaito was the ocean   /     waves crashing against a shore    /     he sank deeper and deeper      )    There was    nothing  calm     about what they shared ,   each day brought something new and their gazes always seeking each other.   They were like   fire   &    water ,     light    &     shadow                  one     can’t   exist    without the other one ,  their hearts beating in the same staccato.  Leaning in to place a   soft    kiss on those    addicting    lips ,   arms circling around Kaito’s neck since he was a little bit taller than him ,   he wasn’t    surprised    as the whisper of a kiss turned into a   passionate    one.  His tongue greeted by an    equally    eager one    &      hands warm and heavy on his hips.    Oh ;   how much he    loved    being kissed    thoroughly    by the phantom would never be express able in words ,   a   soft   noise   leaving   his   throat      &      teeth digging   playfully   into his lover’s upper lip. 

IV.     IT  WAS  PAST  MIDNIGHT   as he walked    past   their bedroom ,   his mind still wrapped around his last case     &      mimic thoughtful.     Smiling    fondly     at the figure he spotted sprawled out on the bed ,   the heisei holmes leaned    carefully     against the frame of the door.  His thief looked tired    &   younger.  His face   peaceful    and    serious ,    hair disheveled and more messy than usual while his lips were slightly parted.   Shinichi  fell  once  more ;   his heart racing rapidly in his chest.      It  was  embarrassing  but  he  kept  falling  in  love  with Kuroba  Kaito       again   &   again ,       his heart   full    of his thief  and   his  smile a mirror of the    happiness    the magician had brought into his life.   Stepping closer to the figure of his boyfriend he carefully sat down on the edge    (     his eyes   telling    a story    /     a story his heart    sang      &     his soul    played       /      a story of love and promises    /     a   story   of   a   forever      )             placed a palm on Kaito’s cheek before   pressing    a kiss to his forehead   on a whim ,      the   soft    sound of his lips pressed against skin the   only   thing breaking the silence for a    mere moment   before he shuffled down.  He didn’t knew why he did it but his kisses traveled farther down and down until he   reached    lips    &    was    greeted    by them.    It   was   a   sleepy   and   soft   kiss ,    a kiss that filled both with    peace.     He could hear the phantom   laugh   breathlessly    during a short break     &    laughed as well.    He  was  an  idiot  in  love.   

v.    IT  WAS  LATE  AS     he entered the restaurant ,  their friends voices   carrying    through the whole lobby and their laughter    happy and carefree.    Smiling   sadly    the heisei holmes once more went through his   mental  note  for the  apology     &    took  a  deep  breath.    He had been called to the station and had spend the   whole   day solving a case.  Ran would   surely    get angry again and Sonoko would make sly comments.  But ,   what    really hurt   was the idea of   Kaito   being   angry   at   him.     It was Aoko’s birthday   after all    and he had    once more     ruined it.  Freezing ,    his feet glued to the ground and heart beating in   horror ,    the detective felt   panic    rising in his chest.   He   remembered    the face of the little girl who’s mother had been murdered     &     remembered     how often his friends had judged him and   gotten   angry   at   him              broke.    He had    bottled   everything   up   again ,    the    bitter     taste in his mouth   intensifying     and the    desperation     clear in his eyes.  He wasn’t aware of the waitress asking him if he was alright     &     calling  out  for  him  as  he  started  shaking  uncontrollable.  All he knew was that his feet suddenly worked on their own ;   so he ran and ran until he reached a little park.   Sinking  down  to  the  ground ,      his hands   uselessly    and   heavily   on his lap and     eyes   unseeing ,     Shinichi   didn’t hear    the steps behind him nor his friends voices as they   caught    up and found him.    He   was   tired.     Blood was   suddenly    everywhere and he let out a   strangled    sound ;   hands   digging  painfully  into  the  ground.   He didn’t   saw  how Ran placed her hand in horror above her lips to silence her voice  nor   how Sonoko took    a step back.   

       ALL  HE  SAW  WERE     his  failures ,   blood ,    sickening  violence    &    cruelty.   He was so   engrossed    into the shadows haunting him that he didn’t hear Kaito’s voice calling out his name    softly ;   gently.   But as arms were wrapped around his middle    suddenly ,      he started to fight   back    at first and his breathing stumbled.      His  eyes  were  wide  in  fear   &      everyone  saw  it.    They   saw    what ghosts he   fought    with on daily basis and they understood.  Kaito   meanwhile   held   him   close ;    close  to  his  beating  heart   &     his lips as he kept whispering secrets and promises only Shinichi heard.  Finally ;     finally    the detective    stopped     trashing and breathed out a sob.     A  kiss  to  his  lips  stole  the last  remands  of  despair  away  from  him     &    he     kissed back    with all he got ,   soft    and gratefully.      His lips   telling    a story and eyes    whispering    about the bond    they shared    as he drank in the sight of Kaito before him.  How much he    loved   his    incredibly     long lashes and the indigo of his eyes            he   lost    himself in the warmth.    He   was   home   in   those   arms.    

[5hfanfiction]

Come Back, Be Here - Chapter 8

Lauren puts the finishing touches on her make up and slides on her black pantsuit. Today, she has a job interview for the Applied Arts Instructor position at Miami Arts & Design Education. The woman she co-owns the art studio with in Venice mentioned that she had a friend in the Miami area that worked at M.A.D.E and last night she called Lauren to tell her that she has a job interview at 5 pm.

After applying her red lipstick and fixing a few stray hairs, the artist grabs her car keys and heads to the door. She turns off her music and finds herself humming the last song that was playing while she was getting ready.

“Crawling back to you. Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few? Cause I always do.” The brunette sings as she exits her apartment and turns around to lock the door. “Maybe I’m too busy being yours…” She abruptly stops singing when she turns around and comes face to face with an amused Camila. A blush rises up to settle on the green-eyed girl’s cheeks.

“Never took you as an Arctic Monkeys kinda girl.” Camila smirks as she slings her guitar case on her back.

“They are a hell of a band.” Lauren comments, praying her face isn’t as red as it feels.

“Agreed.” Camila smiles. “So where you headed, business woman?” Brown eyes scan the beautiful girl in front of them.

“Job interview at Miami Arts & Design Education.” She smiles while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Guess you are headed to a gig?” Lauren points to the guitar case sitting on the former teacher’s back.

“Yep and I probably should go. Don’t want to keep the fans waiting.” The brunette chuckles as she sends Lauren a quick wink and starts to descend down the stairs. Lauren laughs and follows Camila down the stairs.

“See ya, Lauren.” Camila waves when they hit the bottom of the stairs and Lauren frowns when she notices that Camila is walking away from the parking lot.

“Are you walking there?” Lauren blurts out before Camila can take another step away from her.

The brunette turns around. “Yeah.” She sighs. “The medical bills after the attack were fairly expensive and I just got them all paid off a couple of months ago. I guess a car has been the last thing on my mind.” She shrugs. “Dinah usually drives me anywhere I want to go, but she’s at work and the bar is only a mile away so I just walk.”

The young teacher looks so small to Lauren at the moment and all the green-eyed girl wants to do is scoop her up in her arms and protect her from the world. She knows she can’t do that, so she brings her hand up to fiddle with the wedding band around her neck. Camila’s eyes fall as she watches Lauren toy with the ring around her neck.

“Is that um…” The young brunette points to the round piece of jewelry.

“Yeah.” Lauren breathes out. “It was… well is yours.”

“Oh.” Is all the former teacher mutters. Camila never knew something so little could be strong enough to send the muscle in her chest all the way to her stomach. But it was.

Lauren scratches the back of her neck, unsure of what to say as well. She has a lot to say, actually, but Camila wouldn’t be comfortable hearing it. Not yet anyway. Lauren despises awkwardness so she quickly tries to relieve some of it. She bows down and extends her hand to the girl in front of her. The former teacher quirks an eyebrow up at Lauren’s weird gesture, but doesn’t say anything. “May I be your chauffeur for the day, Ms. Camila?” Lauren tries out her best British accent and Camila doubles over laughing. When she finally composes herself, she sees that Lauren is still bowed down dramatically.

Rolling her eyes playfully, Camila slides her hand in Lauren’s and tries to mimic Lauren’s horrible British accent. “I would be delighted if you would.” Lauren just shakes her head in amusement as she escorts Camila to the car, relishing in the feeling of Camila’s hand in hers again. After the two get settled in the Charger, Lauren plugs in her phone and turns on another song she knows Camila likes. The Arctic Monkeys remind Lauren of Camila, considering the younger girl introduced Lauren to the band.

The mirror’s image

Tells me it’s home time

But I’m not finished

‘Cause you’re not by my side

Camila shrieks when the music fills her ears and reaches to turn it up louder. Camila ends up belting out the whole song and Lauren would have joined in, but she couldn’t stop laughing at Camila. The young brunette would use her right fist as a microphone each time she would sing the chorus and Lauren found it extremely endearing and quite amusing.

The green-eyed girl brings the car to a stop outside the bar and a frown washes over Camila’s features briefly when she sees that they are already at her place of work.

“You give me a ride and I repay you by practically busting your eardrums… and your speakers.” Camila chuckles. “Sorry about that.” She smiles sheepishly at the driver of the car.

“You never have to repay me for giving you a ride and you can bust my speakers and my eardrums anytime you want.” Lauren laughs as Camila slides out of the car and leans down in front of it, propping her elbows on the open window so she can make eye contact with the older brunette.

“Goodluck at the interview, Jauregui. I hope I didn’t make you late.” Camila pats the car once and starts walking backwards toward the entrance of the bar, her eyes still locked with Lauren’s. “Thanks again for the ride.”

Lauren waves and waits until Camila enters the bar. As she watches her walk in the door, Lauren realizes that the lyrics “I hate to see her go but I love to watch her leave” were written just for Camila.

That ass. Lauren thinks. She could write a million songs about it herself.

Lauren quickly glances at the clock and sees that it is only 4:30 pm. She mentally high fives herself for her smart decision to leave the apartment an hour early.

The interview goes fairly well, considering that she is hired on the spot. The woman who interviews her is very pleased with Lauren’s resume and mentions that their mutual friend put in a good for for the green-eyed girl.

After the interview, she decides to make her way to the bar, in hopes that Camila’s set hasn’t ended. As soon as she enters the dimly lit place, her ears are immediately graced with the sweet voice that gave her a private concert only a few hours ago. Lauren’s heart flutters when she hears that Camila is singing the bridge of “Do I Wanna Know?” She wonders if the song was on her set list before their encounter this morning or if it was added after. Lauren hopes it’s the latter.

The brunette plops down on a bar stool and informs the bartender that she wants an Angry Orchard. She laughs when she remembers how Camila used to always tell her that her beer of choice was “too sweet” to be a real beer. As soon as he hands her a bottled one, Camila starts strumming a different tune.

“This is an original.” Camila informs the bar patrons.

Honey you are a rock

Upon which I stand

And I come here to talk

I hope you understand

That green eyes

Yeah the spotlight, shines upon you

And how could anybody deny you

Lauren almost chokes on her beer when she hears Camila reference green eyes in yet another one of her songs. She places her beer down and spins around on her stool to give Camila her undivided attention for the rest of the song.

I came here with a load

And it feels so much lighter

Now I met you

And honey you should know

That I could never go on without you

Green eyes

Honey you are the sea

Upon which I float

And I came here to talk

I think you should know

Camila looks up and allows her eyes to roam the crowded bar. Her breath hitches when she sees a pair of green eyes staring back at her. She allows her mind to drift for a second as she wonders if her writing about green eyes and her fascination with green eyes stemmed from Lauren, from her past with the girl. No, she couldn’t remember the brunette who is currently watching her from across the bar, but maybe those green-eyes had such a huge impact on her that no man could beat the memories of them out of her head, no matter how hard they tried.

That green eyes

You’re the one that I wanted to find

And anyone who tried to deny you

Must be out of their mind

Because I came here with a load

And it feels so much lighter

Since I met you

And honey you should know

That I could never go on without you

Green eyes

Honey you are the rock

Upon which I stand

As the song ends, Lauren wonders if Camila wrote that song before or after she came back into town. And once again, Lauren hopes the latter.

She breaks from her thoughts when she notices Camila walking her way. As soon as she makes it over to her, she immediately points to the beer in Lauren’s hand.

“Angry Orchard. I never really considered it a real beer. Too sweet.” She states casually, completely unaware of the butterflies that she just released into Lauren’s stomach. The green-eyed girl clears her throat and smiles fondly at the musician,

“We used to have endless arguments about that. Playful arguments of course.” She chuckles as she sets the 'fake beer’ back down. Before Camila can respond, a body collides with the table behind Lauren, effectively knocking it and all of it’s contents over. This startles both of the girls and Lauren turns to watch as another man crouches down next to the man laying on the floor and quickly grabs a fistful of his shirt to bring him to a sitting position. When he does,  he collides his fist with the man’s jaw. After the third punch is thrown and one of the bartenders finally pries the man off of the bleeding man on the floor, Lauren turns back around to see Camila’s reaction.

She curses herself when the brunette is no longer beside her. Of course something like this would set off a panic attack within the fragile brunette. Lauren frantically turns back to the bar and locks eyes with the bartender from earlier. He points to the back door, understanding the silent question that Lauren’s asking him with her eyes. She immediately takes off to the back door and swings it open. Her heart breaks when she sees Camila curled up in a ball with her back against the brick wall of the bar.

Lauren slowly steps forward, Camila’s sobs becoming more apparent the closer she gets to her. The green-eyed girl slowly crouches down in front of the brunette, careful not to startle her.

“Camz.” She whispers. The younger girl slowly raises her head and locks eyes with Lauren’s sympathetic ones. Her breathing is still ragged and her eyes are wide. Lauren reaches her right hand up and places it on Camila’s tear stained cheek. “Slow breaths, babe.” Lauren slows down her own breathing in attempt to get Camila to follow her lead.

Lauren watches as she struggles to slow it down, but after about a minute of the green-eyed girl coaching her, Camila’s breathing finally returns to normal and her tears subside. The older brunette slowly brings her left hand up and when it comes to rest on Camila’s other cheek, she uses both of her thumbs to wipe tears away.

“You’re safe. You’re okay.” Lauren cooes. Camila nods and offers Lauren a small, grateful smile. The older girl stands up and for the second time today, she offers Camila her hand to take. The brunette accepts and allows Lauren to pull her to her feet. The green-eyed girl’s hand reflexively lands on Camila’s lower back as she is leading them both back into the bar.

Once they return to their previous spot, Lauren notices a familiar brunette boy sitting on the bar stool. Camila stops in her tracks and Lauren feels the girl tense up. The older brunette drops her hand to her side and protectively takes a small step in front of Camila just as Austin turns to face them.

“What’s wrong with you?” Austin asks as he takes in Camila’s disheveled appearance.

Camila looks down at her feet. “I had another uh panic attack.” She mumbles.

“Seriously? It’s been a year, Camilla. I can’t believe you are still having those.” Austin rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his beer. Lauren has to restrain herself from beating this Oompa Loompa to a pulp. The only thing stopping her is her wife’s well-being. Camila comes first. She always has.

“Yeah I know. I’m sorry, Austin.” She whispers as she takes another step to stand closer to him. Lauren wants nothing more than to just pull Camila away from him and tell her a million times over that she has nothing to be sorry for. She wants to drive her away from here, from him. Unfortunately, she has to just stand there because that’s all she can do. Right now, anyway.

“It’s okay. I just wanted you to be in a semi good mood tonight when we bang, but I guess that’s out of the question, huh?” He chuckles bitterly as he downs the rest of his beer and stands to his feet. Camila just stands there, her eyes trained on the floor beneath her. The shame and embarrassment she feels rendering her completely speechless.

Lauren’s stomach comes up in her throat as she clenches her fists tightly. She feels blood trickling from her palms, but the pain she feels in her chest far outweighs the pain she is unconsciously inflicting upon herself.

Austin slaps a five dollar bill on the counter and grabs Camila’s forearm. Lauren’s eyes narrow in on the grip and she realizes that he is gripping her on the exact part of her arm that Lauren inspected yesterday. The same part that is discolored from the previous times that he has forcefully grabbed her.

Camila shrugs him off. “I uh had plans with Lauren tonight. We were going to grab food after my set.” She trains her eyes on Lauren, pleading for her to follow along.

“Yeah that’s not happening. C'mon.” He jerks her again.

“She said she has other plans.” Lauren speaks up and steps forward, her shoulder lightly brushing Camila’s.

“Do you have a problem.” Austin steps forward and gets in Lauren’s face. “You need to butt out of my relationship.”

Camila’s heart races when she thinks about Austin hurting Lauren. He has a temper and she doesn’t want the whole bar to see it. Especially Lauren. She doesn’t want her to see it or feel the repercussions of it. So she does what she has to do. Even though its not necessarily what she wants to do.

“Austin.” She places her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go with you. Just calm down.”

Lauren’s eyes flicker from Austin to Camila, silently pleading for her not to go with him. Camila looks away from the green eyes because she knows if she looks in them a second longer that they will convince her to stay.

“Maybe we can go get lunch another time.” Camila offers Lauren a small smile. The younger brunette just hopes it looks more reassuring than it feels. Lauren just nods and runs her fingers through her hair. “I’ll be seeing ya, Lauren.” The younger girl finally surrenders to Austin and lets him take her away from the green eyes that are still pleading for her to stay. The green eyes that she could write a million songs about.

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Song: “Green Eyes” By. Coldplay