#(im going back and forth about this one but: maybe the flowers all disappear in the morning? im not sure because like. trese's abode is

[lovinggreeniehours]

fleeting and far in-between

↳ trese × xiao

↳ 1.6k words | yay fluff :D

↳ happy anniversary to them 🥳 i don't have much to say about this one, and i'll just let the oneshot speak for itself. also the audience here is new so ill clarify ahead, xiao calls him esper :3 it's more like an alias than a nickname, but yeah, anyway hfsgjfdgj

"We're almost there, okay, I promise. Just hold on.."

Xiao would never do this with anyone else. Dark grey blindfold over his eyes, he walked with Trese's guiding hands on his shoulders. Their collective footsteps were somewhat slow, just to be careful that they wouldn't trip.

Trese, uncharacteristically, had insisted on surprise, so Xiao conceded when asked to travel to said surprise on foot. The terrain was rather rocky, from what little Xiao could sense under his feet, leading him to suspect they were in the mountains. Not that it had narrowed their location down by much, given the numerous ranges scattered across the scope of Liyue.

He found Trese's behavior of late to be intriguing. He very rarely attempted surprises like this, and Xiao's interest was piqued ever since his companion's return from his recent travels. He was obviously excited in the past few days, and made no move to conceal the fact. But still, he'd still made it clear that he would not be divulging his secrets. And so, Xiao hadn't bothered himself to ask. He trusted Trese to explain eventually. In his own time. But he could admit, his patience was beginning to thin under the weight of his growing curiosity.

"Esper."

"Almost there!" Trese insisted. Xiao could hear traces of a grin in his voice. He decided not to question him further.

"Okay, stop here."

So he did. Xiao moved to turn his head, only for Trese's hand to find his cheek, pushing lightly until he was facing forward again.

"Just a second."

Bemused, he counted. One.

A gentle wave of adeptal energy surged and washed over him. He didn't need to remove the blindfold any longer. Xiao recognized where they were.

He could picture it well enough in his mind's eye. A sky suspended in starry, picturesque twilight, drifting from resplendent pink to muted indigo within the span of random minutes or hours. Trees of ink-black bark and silvery foliage littered the area— white poplars that had gone extinct over a thousand years ago. The meadow grass matched the tree leaves in color and sheen. And in the vague distance, there would be a structure of black marble, as well as a gazebo built of the same stone to its east side.

Abodes reflected the countenance of their masters, and this domain was no exception. One could tell from a single glance that this was Trese's.

This domain was a place Xiao frequented often in the past few years. There was only one gateway inside, and apparently, very few people knew where it was. Xiao suspected he might be the only one. At least, he was the only one that seemed to visit.

The abode was often empty, as Trese was off adventuring with the Traveler and Paimon for a good measure of the year. When without much to do, and with his usual roost at Wangshu Inn being frequented by customers and tourists, Xiao began to spend more and more time in the abode. Occasionally, he'd find himself asleep on the heap of pillows in the gazebo. When he'd wake up, he'd be half-dreaming; his bleary vision mixing the monochromatic hues of his surroundings. Lying there in his home, Trese felt closer to him. Even while he was away.

At his side, Trese performed a small snapping motion with his fingers. The soft lilt of a flute began to drift through the air.

"Did you change your abode?" Xiao asked. It couldn't have been by much. Behind the dark grey fabric, Xiao still caught glimpses of the purple-pink sky, and the paleness of the trees.

Trese hummed, thinking. "In a way."

"That is a peculiar response.."

Trese giggled, the sound light and airy. "I'll untie you now, just hold on."

Xiao felt gentle hands carding through his hair. He fought to keep an expression off his face.

"Do not tease me." He crossed his arms.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Trese uttered in a tone that implied otherwise.

Before Xiao could begin berating him, the knot slipped from behind his head, and so the fabric fell from his eyes.

He was wrong. The abode had changed by much.

For in place of the familiar grass were numerous glaze lilies. Hundreds of them, spanning as far as his eyes could see. Sparkling, crystalline blue made up what was essentially an entire sea of flowers.

"..What is this?" Xiao murmured. He glanced sideways at a nervously smiling Trese.

"You used to tell me it was a pity that their numbers have dwindled."

Xiao did not deny that. He remembered that conversation well enough.

He looked down at the glaze lilies once more. In a time long forgotten, Liyue had many meadows just like these.

"Do.. you like it?" Trese asked, sidling up closer to him. "I asked some friends with Dendro for assistance. I did not have enough time to grow them myself. Especially not at this scale."

Now that Xiao was paying closer attention, he realized there was a line in the soil the lilies hadn't crossed. And yet, as he walked closer to inspect it, he realized that this was even more unfamiliar to him: a cliff's edge that had certainly not been there before.

"What is this?" He squinted down at the drop. He could just barely make out the foot of a mountain underneath a layer of fog. Like the rest of the abode, the fog was mystical— so grey that it appeared wisteria; curling about itself like a living cloud.

Trese, standing behind him, planted his chin atop Xiao's shoulder.

"You can choose to part the fog. I just added a window to see what's going on around the mountain while one is inside. If ever you wanted to check."

Xiao felt Trese pull back, and he turned to meet his eyes with question.

"You.. asked if I liked it." He murmured.

Trese nodded.

"But.. Is this not your abode?"

Trese's shoulders sagged a smidge, making Xiao backtrack immediately.

"I did not mean I was displeased."

"I know." Trese mumbled. But his hands were still folded behind his back, and his pout was evident. "I just wanted you to.. feel more at home. In here."

Xiao blinked at that.

Seeing his expression, Trese tilted his head. "What, is it surprising?"

Xiao turned away, his companion's gaze suddenly too bright to meet. Yet the sight of the flowers alone seemed to warm his face anyway.

I wanted you to feel more at home.

As he gathered his thoughts, Trese took a few, precarious steps closer.

"You told me once," He said quietly. "That.. before the war— before everything— the mask that you don now used to be for dance."

Warily, Xiao allowed their eyes to meet. A prompt to continue.

Trese sucked in a breath, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"You had this look on your face. It was almost wistful. As if you were longing or reminiscing a time gone by. Or maybe a time that hasn't quite come to pass yet.

"I know you have your.. reservations, and responsibilities. I can't just wave a hand and take away all your problems, no matter how badly I want to. But I can wave a hand and play you some music. I can make this place bigger. Add more things. I can give you millions upon millions of flowers, if only it'll make you feel a little lighter.

"I only want to give you a home you can turn to when you feel like it's too much." He concluded, sheepishly glancing away. "And I can still change the abode to your liking. I don't mind."

"No." Xiao muttered. He shook his head. "No, you don't have to do that. I..."

His gaze trailed off with his words, the quality of his tone making Trese perk up a smidge.

"I.. appreciate all of this. I was surprised, is all. I never thought I'd be able to see something like this."

"So.." Trese nervously poked his index fingers together. "You like it?"

Xiao felt the corner of his own mouth tick upward ever so slightly. He nodded.

Watching Trese grin, Xiao couldn't help but notice that the music playing around them had accelerated in tempo as well.

"So.." Trese's feet shifted over the silver grass. He extended a hand towards Xiao. "Dance with me?"

Hesitantly, Xiao reached out to meet him, fingers intertwining, their movements tender and slow. Like the feeling he sensed deep in his being. Raw and open and vulnerable in a manner he never would've associated with his own self in a lifetime. The sensation pouring through him was no longer foreign, as it was, perhaps, two years ago, but natural as the blood rushing in his veins; as gentle as the thud of his heart against his ribs.

Maybe he even felt safe. Though his karmic debt weighed on him still, he found that there was not much reason to dwell on it. He could hold fast long enough to enjoy this fleeting moment of respite.

When he found it in himself to raise his eyes to Trese's, the domain seemed to sparkle around them, forming a halo around his partner's face. From the luminous starry sky to the flowers around them. The scene could pass for a dream, if not for the grounding warmth of their joined hands.

"And, you know," Trese added softly. "Don't think that this is only my abode. It's always been yours too. Ever since I gave you the key."

Xiao had no way with words. Not like Trese and his silver tongue. But he pulled Trese's hand to his lips without putting much thought into it, simply relishing the delighted little laugh the kiss got from him.

Xiao realized he himself was smiling back too. He felt lighter than he's ever been before.

[starsstruck]

shampoo bottles

a friends with benefits gone wrong. harry can’t bring himself to get rid of everything you’ve left at his place after things fall apart. beat up red cars, crumpled sweatshirts and of course, shampoo bottles.

based off the song “shampoo bottles” by peach pit.

pairing: harry x reader words: 6.9k rating: M

a/n: this is just a little something i had inspiration for ! like i said its based off the song “shampoo bottles” by peach pit (great song great band). its an OU but im not regarding tour dates or quarantine or wtv, i just have dates so its easier to follow since i go back and forth a lot ! its a bit of a different writing style than ive done before so hopefully everyone likes it ! would love to hear what you think, and enjoy !

                                                            ***

November 20th

The shampoo bottles taunted him.

The worst part was Harry wished they weren’t empty. He wished that there was still even a drop left in them so that he could rub it through his own hair. Although having milked them of their last contents weeks ago, they still sat in the corner of his shower.

The smell lingered on them. The sweet smell of some flower, maybe some orange blossom, he didn’t ever really know. All he knew is that he was addicted to the smell, and seeing the bottles sit in the corner as he showered made him feel like he could smell them, like he could smell you.

He remembered the day you brought the bottles over, claiming to be annoyed with the way his shampoo just wasn’t the same. The idea of you smelling like him brought a heat to his stomach, he liked the smell of your shampoo even better. And now the bottles sat there. Taunting him.

October 15th

“What’s with the bag?” Laughing as he pointed at the bag in your hand, he wondered what you could possibly be bringing with you to the washroom.

“Brought my own shampoo,” you pulled a bottle out of the canvas tote bag around you were holding, smile wide on your lips. “And some other things. Hope you don’t mind.”

He jutted his lips out in a mock pout. “What’s wrong with my things?”

“Don’t like your shampoo.” You hummed, disappearing behind the still open door frame that led to the washroom. “Don’t worry! I still like your nice moisturizer, does wonders for my skin.”

He scrambled up in his sheets at the sound of the shower turning on. Standing in the door frame of the washroom, he watched as you pulled off your underwear and dropped them aside. He knew that you could feel him watching you, and that you were pretending not to notice or care.

Stepping into the shower, shutting the glass door behind you as you let the water hit your back. He stayed where he was for a minute, until steam was beginning to fog the glass door that separated you two and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Let me do that,” humming as he stepped into the shower next to you, just as you were reaching for the shampoo bottle that you brought.

“Awfully nice of you,” moving aside slightly, you passed him the shampoo bottle. Moving around so that he stood directly in front of, you letting you stand under the stream of water. Squeezing some shampoo out onto his hand, he put the bottle down and rubbed his hand through your hair.

“Feels nice,” you shut your eyes, Harry watched water droplets fall down your forehead that end up getting caught in your eyelashes. He brough both hands to your head, massaging the shampoo in. Taking extra time to rub his fingertips into your scalp, enjoying the content smile on your lips as you leaned into his touch.

He knew you, he knew you well. In this moment he knew that you were doing it on purpose: the small moans in the back of your throat as he rubbed his hands against your head, the way you arched your back slightly, and the way you titled your head back in the same way you did when his head was between your thighs.

Tilting your head in his hands so that the stream of water hit your scalp, rinsing out the suds. The smell around him was only of the sweet orange blossom mixed with something else, he could never put his finger on it.

“All done,” he grinned, tapping your eyelid gently. He watched as you rubbed the water from your eyes, blinking them open to gaze into his.

He kept his hands around you, dropping to your shoulder as he pulled himself closer to you. Semi hard length pressing into your thigh, your eyes dropped down and were soon followed by your hands. Jolt sent through his abdomen as your warm hands wrapped around him, lightly tugging and pulling.

“’s nice,” he mumbled, feeling the blood leave his brain and relocate between his legs. Your grip tightened around him, thumb rubbing over his tip in a way that made his hips buck into your hand. His grip around you tightened when your eyes met his again, tongue darting out to lick water from your lips.

His legs nearly buckled when you dropped down to your knees, remaining under the shower stream. He didn’t mind being in the colder side of the shower, especially if you were going to be on your knees in front of him.

“Want to get me in your mouth?” His voice nearly surprised him at its hoarseness. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had you like this before, it was just that every time you had your hands on him it drove him completely crazy.

Watching your slow nod, Harry wrapped a hand over your head, tugging on the recently washed strands as he encouraged you. Not able to take his eyes off of you as you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, slowly easing him into your mouth until your lips met where your hand was still wrapped around him.

“Look so good like this.”

November 20th

His hand didn’t do you justice, but it was all he had. It was like the smell of your shampoo filled his senses every time he stepped foot in his shower, no every time he stepped foot in his washroom. Every time he saw those goddamn shampoo bottles sitting. Untouched.

He just couldn’t bring himself to throw them out.

Nothing could clear his mind. It had been weeks, and nothing he did could get his mind off of you. Maybe that was his own fault. He knew it was his own fault. His place was littered with traces of you.

Part of him probably got something out of his pain, but he didn’t care.

Not when he couldn’t bring himself to clean out his bathroom, because of the way your toothbrush sat so nicely next to his. Or the way you had brought him some organic soaps, claiming they smelt really good and were made out of all kind of nice essential oils.

He couldn’t even bring himself to use that bar of soap, knowing the more he used it the smaller it would get, and soon it’d be gone.

But his wallowing really hit an all time high when he found your sweatshirt.

He really thought you had taken all your clothes with you. You didn’t leave a lot of them at his place to begin with. Clothes being the one thing you claimed you didn’t need as you helped yourself freely to his closet.

But when he was going through said closet, he found a bunched up blue sweatshirt he had forgotten he kept.

September 2nd

It was an odd rainy night, and Harry didn’t feel like going out. He was no stranger to poor weather, but the rain seemed to be the last thing he needed to decided that he would rather stay in. Relieved when you had shared his opinion, agreeing to come over with a bottle of margarita mix. It was just the two of you, Harry just wanted a calm night in with his friend and maybe a couple drinks, ones they could make themselves.

Soon you were seated on his couch, leaning against the armrest with your feet pointed towards him. Cozy in your sweatshirt, gripping your drink tight between your fingers.  

“Would you let me draw one for you?”

You spluttered out a laugh at his request. “God no!” Your laugh deepened when you glanced up at him. “Nothing against you, Harry. Just want a professional to do it.”

The movie put in was long forgotten, now facing each other and talking about where you should get your first tattoo. You had told him what you wanted to get, you just had no idea where it should go.

“Fine,” he huffed, playfully of course. His head felt hazy, couple of drinks have come and gone and he was still nursing another strong cocktail in his hands. “So, where are you gonna get it?”

“That’s the problem,” you muttered, taking a big sip of your drink. “I don’t think I want it really visible, like not on my arms or anything.”

Harry nodded, knowing that you were nervous about regretting a tattoo. “You thinking maybe around your ribs?”

He watched as you lifted your sweatshirt a bit, finger tips brushing over your ribcage. “I don’t know – heard it hurts really bad there.”

“Not too much,” Harry thought over his own experience, although knowing you were a bit more uneasy with needles.

“I was thinking like,” you patted the spot where you hipbone was. “My hip. Kind of cute, no?”

He bit back a smile. “Very cute.” The alcohol spoke before he could. He thought it was much more than cute, he thought that a tattoo on your hip was the best idea you’d had in years.

“Plus it’s kind of,” you paused, licking your lips. “Intimate.”

He sucked in a breath. He didn’t like the idea of someone else finding your tattoo. A tattoo that he was helping you figure out. He didn’t like the idea of someone kissing it, of someone peeling off your pants and being delighted to see a little tattoo there, just for them.

It was selfish of him, and he knew it wasn’t right. The two of you had both been single for a while and he had gotten so used to having you around, he was getting jealous at the thought of someone taking you away from him.

“You’re out of it,” you giggled, after a moment too long in silence.

Harry broke himself out of his daze. “’m not drunk,” he muttered into his glass, although he was. And the alcohol was clouding his mind, and he didn’t know what to do about it. “Hip is a really good idea.”

Mentally wincing at how eager he sounded, he watched as you nodded, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “Think it’ll hurt a lot?”

He chuckled to himself. “It’s a tattoo darling, course it’ll hurt a bit. I can come wit’ you if you want, hold your hand and all.”

Smile broke out on your face, teeth no longer gnawing on your lip. “That’d be nice,” humming as you placed your drink on the table in front of you. “Did yours hurt a lot?”

“Couple of them were a bit more painful, yeah.” He nodded, honestly not really remembering. “Get used to it after a while. One’s on my chest were probably the worst.”

“I like your butterfly,” you moved a foot out, nudging his thigh with it. “I would be too scared to get something that big though.”

“You’ll see,” he laughed. “Once you get one you won’t be able to stop.” He mindlessly trailed his hand over his shirt, where his tattoo rested.

“Don’t know about that. I don’t know if I would want a too many,” you hummed into your cup. “I do like all of yours though.”

“Yeah?” He sat up straighter. “Which ones your favourite?”

You sit up straighter as well, shuffling towards him a bit on the couch. “Can’t choose just one.” He tried not to jolt when your fingertips met his forearm, gently trailing up and following the lines of his tattoos. “What about you?”

He was silent for another moment too long, watching your fingers move up his arm. Finally glancing up at you, meeting your eyes with a lazy smile. “Don’t know either.”

“You’re completely pissed,” you laughed at his slow response, his hand moved without thinking, and pinched your cheek.

“Maybe,” his mouth and hands were working without his mind. “Skin is burning hot darling.” Hand smoothing around your face, he moved away for a second to place his drink next to yours on the table before tapping your forehead with a cool fingertip.

“’s cold,” you laughed, eyes shutting in a slow blink. “I heard,” you paused for another moment, as Harry brought his hand away from your face. “Heard tattoos feel like a bunch of little scratches.”

“Something like that,” he hummed, not being able to recall any tattoos he’s ever gotten in this moment.

“It’s like,” he moved his hand to your waist, lightly pushing under your sweatshirt. If he weren’t so close to you, he would’ve missed the little gasp that left your lips. “Like this.”

His nails weren’t nearly long enough to properly scratch at your skin, but he slowly dragged them along your ribs. “But faster, and it’s a needle.”

“Doesn’t really sound like the same thing,” your laugh sounded nervous, nearly breathless.

“Not really no,” he laughed lightly. Shuffling even closer to you, leg pressing against your knee. The smell of your shampoo overwhelmed him, he had always loved it and in his intoxication, it was the most potent smell ever.

“What are you doing,” your voice dropped down to a whisper. Where his hand had earlier been on your cheek, he pressed a little kiss.

“I’m just,” Harry didn’t know what he was doing. He just wanted to feel your skin under his lips, he just wanted to be close to you. “Helping ya’ out with tattoo ideas.”

He pressed another series of kisses to your cheek, eliciting a sigh from your lips. You didn’t push him away, and his hand that had been scratching at your waist gripped onto your skin.

“’s just me,” he babbled. “Skin’s so warm, can’t help –” he breathed in deeply, hand on your waist moving to your knee. He gently pushed your leg aside as he settled himself in closer to you. His lips were by your jaw, and he wanted so badly to feel your own mouth under his. “– can’t help m’self.”

You didn’t move under him, except for a single hand coming up to grip the neckline of his shirt. “Le’ me,” he pleaded, voice low. “Please, let me.”

You tilted your head up a bit towards him, lips ever so lightly parted. “Go ahead.”

He took that as all the invitation he needed, mouth sliding from your chin to cover yours. He sighed into your mouth, knee coming up to the couch as he repositioned himself.

He kissed you deep, tasting you for the first time and not able to get enough of it. Your hand on his shirt slid around his neck, gripping tightly onto his skin as you pulled him closer. His hand gripped your leg, thumb rubbing small circles through the loose materials of your sweats.

“’s good, you’re so –” Harry couldn’t form one coherent sentence. He wanted to feel you everywhere, he wanted to cross this uncharted territory and feel your skin on his. A part of him, a tiny part of him in the back of his head was telling him this wasn’t right but he was pissed and he wanted you. Badly.

“Harry,” your voice was a dream. He had moved his mouth down your jaw again, this time biting and licking as he moved down your neck.

“Jus’ wanna kiss – want a taste.”

He lifted himself from you for a moment, helping you reposition yourself so that you could lay on your back, Harry hovering nearly awkwardly over you but he didn’t care. It was a flurry of lips on skin and quick moving hands. He pushed a hand under your sweatshirt, delighted in finding you not wearing a bra, while you shared lime flavoured kisses.

You were pushing your hips against his, rubbing against him in a way that made his breath catch in the back of his throat. He was hard and heavy in his sweatpants, drunk enough that he if he kept grinding against your hip in the way he was now, he wouldn’t last very long.

“Fuck,” you whimpered from under him, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipple under your sweatshirt while his mouth met yours again.

He snaked his hand down your tummy, only hesitating when he met the band of your sweatpants. “Want to,” he panted, “wanna feel you.”

“Yes.” The single word was a moan from your lips, as his hand pushed past your pants. Fingers snaking under your underwear, he nearly choked when he pushed through your folds.

“Fuck me,” he never wanted to leave you. “You always get this wet?”

You only whimpered from under him again, head pushing into the cushion of the couch as he circled your clit. He focused on the way you whined and pleaded under him; the way you jolted when he pushed a finger inside of you, and then two.

You were warm, he couldn’t get over how hot your skin was all over and how much it made him melt. His lips were gliding all over your skin, sucking sweetly on your neck and moving roughly over your mouth. Catching your moans into his open mouth as if he could keep them forever.

“I – Harry please don’t stop,” you were squirming underneath of him. Arching yourself off the couch, pushing yourself against him.

Rush through his body at how desperate you sounded, at the way his name was moaned from your lips. “Cum fo’ me darling,” he curled his fingers inside of you, pushing every spot that made you gasp.

He worked you over the edge, eyes narrowing on every move you made. And when you clenched around his fingers, thighs clamping together and back rising from the bed, he wished he could stay in this moment forever.

After a moment you peaked your eyes open, lazy smile on your lips as he pulled you in for a deep kiss. Wet fingers slipping out from under your sweats, gripping your skin.

“So gorgeous, you – fuck –” he bucked into your hand as he felt you palm over his bulge. Your lips pressed into this straining neck, your turn to lick and bite at his skin while you grabbed at his cock over his pants.

“That’s it,” he praises, hips bucking against your hand. Your fingers trickled under the band of his sweatpants, gripping him blindly. Your other hand was patting his shoulder, nudging him with a muffled voice. “Harry, move up a bit.”

He scrambled up to his knees, pulling you up with him until he sat with his back against the couch with you on his lap. You were pushing up his shirt, kissing at his neck while your hand gently jerked him off.

“Jesus you’re –” he fell into your touch, leaning against you. The whine that left his throat as your hand left his cock came from deep in his chest. Watching closely as you spat into your hand before shifting over him again.

He couldn’t help the way he gripped your thighs as you worked your hand over him, until he was bucking his hips into your hand. A whining mess, begging you over and over again to keep going, to not stop and to never leave him.

“You are – fuck,” he held you tight as he dropped is head in the crook of your neck, breathing uneven as he came on your hand. After a moment he pulled you in for a sloppy kiss, helping you off the couch with wobbly legs to get the both of you cleaned up.

November 20th

He remembers that day like it was yesterday. The way you whined and whimpered under him for the first time, the way he found himself intoxicated (and not just by the alcohol).

Shy smiles were shared as he offered you stay the night, too late and both still too intoxicated to drive. You had decided you were too hot in your sweatshirt and grabbed one of his shirts instead. He pulled you in close under his sheets, kissing over your exposed skin and wanting to melt in the warmth coming off your body.

And apparently, you had completely forgotten about your sweatshirt.

The next morning neither of you said anything. Nothing of the sorts was even brought up again until a week later when you guys were out for a drink and he suddenly ached to have you under him. He had kissed you outside the bar, pulling you home with him until you were sat on his thigh grinding and moaning against him.

It had continued that way for a couple more weeks, neither of you really making any mention of it except for slipping hands under clothing and stealing kisses after a couple drinks.

That was, until you had sex for the first time. He was barely drunk, only needing one drink as an excuse to call you. Bugging you nonstop from outside the bar, wanting you to be there with him. He had managed to get you to drive over and pick him up, in your sweats and his shirt because you had been just about to go to bed.

You had walked him into his place, making sure he drank two glasses of water before he pulled you into bed with him, saying that since you were already ready for bed you may as well just stay the night there with him.

Cuddling into you, he couldn’t help kissing his way down until soon he had you on your back with his head between your thighs. Telling you over and over again that it was a ‘thank you’ for coming to pick him up.

But it wasn’t enough for him to grind against the mattress, while he pulled an orgasm out of you. He was greedy, he wanted another one, he wanted to feel you everywhere.

He eased you up to your knees, bending you over on the mattress with your ass in the air while he fumbled with the condom. It was everything he could’ve dreamt of and more, so much more. He couldn’t get enough, and didn’t think he ever would.  Holding your close against him, chest pressed to your back as he praised you endlessly. You were just as warm around him as you were his fingers, and he had to grip you so tight to make sure it was real.

Both ending the night passed out side by side, he knew the next morning he needed to say something.

September 19th

“Bit sore,” you laughed, following him around the corner from the washroom. He was getting some breakfast ready, and the sight of you standing in his shirt and nothing else made him want to take you over the counter again.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, mind worrying over what to say next. “I – last night was fun, yeah?”

Leaning against the counter next to him, grabbing a handful of grapes from the bowl in front of you. “It was,” you voice was quiet, nearly timid.

“I –,” he paused again, unable to form the sentences he wanted to. ‘I like fooling around with you’ or ‘I like fucking you’ didn’t sound nice rolling off the tongue. “I like doing… what we’re doing. And I want to keep doing what we’re doing. If you do too.” He bit his lips together, mentally cringing at how awkward he sounded.

“I do too,” you said, averting your eyes from his as you nodded. “Both single, and it’s been a while, and…” Harry was relieved to see you also didn’t seem to know how to voice your feelings. “We’re friends.”

He nodded slowly, watching your every move. “Then, we’re doing this? Don’t need to wait for an excuse to have you come over anymore?”

Laughing lightly, you finally met his eyes. “Yeah,” you voice was airy. “But if either of us meet someone or need to end it, we do. Right?”

“Right,” he nodded, almost too eagerly and the new agreement. “What do you want for breakfast?”

November 23rd

Apparently, he couldn’t escape you outside of his house either. Deciding that wallowing by himself wasn’t going to get him anywhere, he thought that maybe a run would help clear his mind. It worked, for a good ten minutes before he stopped dead in his tracks.

Blocks away from his place he saw a red car parked. The same make and model of your red car.

Was it you? Could it be you? What are you doing so close to his house? He hadn’t spoken to you in weeks, not since the fight that made you leave in such a rush that you left your shampoo bottles in his shower.

Tentatively walking towards the parked car, not seeing the pendant that you kept hanging off the review mirror. He decided it was too risky, that if it was your car, he wasn’t ready to see you, especially if he was snooping around your car.

But the car was still there the next day. Deciding fuck it, and walked towards it, hoping he didn’t look suspicious for whatever reason. As he got closer, he saw for a fact that there was no pendant hanging from the review mirror, and that those dents by the door were not there.

It wasn’t you.

He didn’t know if he was upset or relieved. He almost missed those dents on the door, always telling you to get it fixed. Stubborn as always, constantly telling him that “I don’t need to get it fixed if it doesn’t affect how it drives.”

That car was the last thing he saw before you left his house the last time he saw you.  

November 5th

“What are you feeling for dinner?”

You hummed, opening up his fridge to stare at the contents. “We can make…” you were mumbling to yourself, examining the contents. “Do you have rice? We can make a stir fry,” you squinted in the fridge.

“Sounds good,” reaching through his cupboards for a pan, as you grabbed a cutting board and a knife, always preferring to chop the vegetables. “How’s your week?”

“Fine,” mumbling from where you stood across from him in the kitchen. “Work was the same, not to stressful right now which is nice. I, uh –”

He looked up at the hesitation in your voice. “I had a date.”

He nearly let go of the pot in his hand. He felt his stomach dropping, happy to be occupied with turning on the stove as he didn’t have to face you. “Yeah?” trying to keep his face calm before turning around to you again. “With who?”

“A guy from work,” you were averting your eyes, twisting the ring around your middle finger. You were nervous, he realized.

“How’d it go?”

“Okay,” you shrugged, looking down at your hands as they worked chopping the onion on the board in front of you. “We um –”

Finally you looked up at him. “We didn’t do anything.”

He didn’t know what to say. “Didn’t do it for you?” He tried to joke, but based off your expression he realized that really wasn’t what he should’ve said.

“Just thought you should know,” you looked away from him again, voice quiet. “Since y’know, we’re…”

Condoms had been long forgotten between the two of you. It was a silent agreement, that one should tell the other if they were going to be having sex with someone else. But for some reason, Harry had never imagined that conversation happening.

“Are you,” he tried to not let his voice shake. “Are you telling me you want to sleep with him?”

“No,” you shrugged slightly, pushing the onion around with the knife. “Don’t think that’ll happen. Just thought you should know.”

He willed himself to seem unbothered. “Okay.”

Back towards you again, pouring some oil into the pan on the burner. He could feel you watching him. Spinning back around, he saw you with your lips pressed to a thin line.

“What if I did want to sleep with him though?”

“You said you didn’t.” He desperately needed to change the subject.

“But what if?” For the first time, he realized he couldn’t read what you were thinking.

“Are you saying you want to end this?” Avoiding the question once again, he hated himself for the way he did it.

You blinked quickly, as if physically affected by his words. “I mean no, but,” you paused, and he panicked over what the end of that sentence would be. “What we’re doing its not – I mean what are we doing?”

He hated the tone of your voice, he hated how anxious you sounded. But instead of wrapping you into his arms like he wanted – and should have – he tried to swallow back any feelings he thought he might have for you. “We – we’re both taking advantage of the situation, no? Both being single and all.”

Your eyes narrowed on him. “So that’s it then? Call me over when you’ve had a few drinks and your hand isn’t enough to get you off?”

Fuck. “Darling that’s not –”

“Don’t. I practically live here, Harry. It’s not just ‘taking advantage of the situation’.”

The oil popped on the pan behind him, burner getting too hot. Swearing under his breath, turning back around to shove the pan off the heat. “I have half my things here. Wasn’t like this when we were just friends.”

Facing you again, he breathed out a sigh trying to calm himself down. “You didn’t have to bring your things over.”

You snapped your head up at his words. “That’s a low fucking blow.”

Suddenly you were moving away from him, away from the kitchen. He swore to himself again, hating himself for the way he handled the conversation. He hated himself for the way he avoided where the conversation seemed to be heading, to having him admit he wanted more from your relationship.

Calling your name behind you, watching with wide eyes as you grabbed your bag form the table, throwing it over your shoulder. “What are you…?”

“’m leaving.” Muttering as you brushed past him, heading towards the door.

Fuck. “Wait no,” he reached for your shoulder, hating the way you shrugged him off although you still spun around to him. “I – I didn’t mean it like that. I just,” he needed to say something, anything to get you to stay. “What are you saying?”

You sighed, dipping down to tug on your shoes. “I don’t know what I’m saying Harry. Maybe,” you sighed, gazing up at him. You looked tired, and sad. He hated it. “Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe we should stop.”

All his blood left his body. No. “You want to stop?” This time he wasn’t able to hide the shake in his voice.

“I gotta go Harry.” You turned away from him, reaching for the doorknob.

“Wait,” he repeated your name over and over. “Don’t leave please –”

You refused to look at him, spinning away from him. He continued calling after you, pleading you to come back but soon you were backing out of his driveway and turning around the corner.

November 24th

In hindsight, he realized he should’ve just told you he wanted you all to himself. He didn’t handle it well; he knew that then and he knows it now.

What he didn’t know at the time, what he refused to let himself think was that he wanted more with you and probably always had.

Recalling the first-time boundaries were crossed when he kissed you; the jealousy he felt when he thought about someone else being able to see the tattoo on your hip.

He remembered when you had gotten that tattoo, the skin still sensitive and wrapped in protective plastic. He still kissed at it, pulling small whimpers from the back of your throat.

He supposes that boundaries were disappearing when you started bringing over and leaving your things at his place, including those goddamn shampoo bottles. You were right to question him over the nature of your relationship, but he was too stupid and stubborn in the moment that he chose to push you away instead of admitting his feelings.

Fiddling with his phone in his hand, opening and closing your contact in his texts. He had drafted countless unsent messages, but had ultimately left you in radio silence.

And how fucked was that?

He didn’t care if it had been three weeks, or two weeks and five days to be exact. He pressed his phone to his ear, holding his breath as the phone on the other end rang.

After the second ringer, he was sure you wouldn’t pick up. He was about to end the call altogether, not having the heart to face your voicemail when a quiet “hello” spoke through the line.

“Hi,” he couldn’t breath. “It’s me – it’s Harry.”

“I know,” your voice sent a jolt through his chest.

“Didn’t think you would pick up.” He laughed humourlessly, realizing in all the fake conversations he had with you in his head he never really was prepared.

“I can hang up if you wan –”

“No,” he spoke quickly. “Sorry I just…” I love you. “I just want to talk to you, need to talk to you.”

You remained silent on the other end. “Can we meet? I can come over are we can get coffee or anything, up to you, I just need to see you.”

You were silent again, and he needed to check his phone to make sure the call was still ongoing. “I can be at yours in 15.”

His heart flipped. “Yes, that’s perfect. I – yes, see you soon.”

It was probably the longest fifteen minutes of his life. He spent it pacing around his place, trying to tidy up but ultimately not getting anything done. By the ten minute mark he was sure you weren’t coming, but right on time you were pulling that beat up red car into his driveway.

The sight of you was making him flush. Seeing you in his space, in his company like nothing had ever changed.

“How are you?” He could hear the nerves in his own voice.

“Fine,” the word was muttered, as you tentatively sat down on his couch. The very spot he had first kissed you, he realized.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, Harry, I’m not here to chit chat.”

He nodded, knowing you were right and sat far across from you on the couch, watching as you hugged your knees to your chest.

“I know, I –” he looked down at his hands, fiddling with his rings. “I miss you. And I’m really sorry for everything, for the way I handled everything.”

You looked up at him at his words, fidgeting with your sleeves. “I miss you too.”

“I really… I really fucked up and losing you was the last thing I wanted.” He needed to look away from you. “You were right, about us. We shouldn’t – I shouldn’t have let things get to be the way they did.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice was small, calculated.

“I mean… I was being selfish. I – fuck I wanted more and I was being selfish with you.”

He tried to gage your reaction, but just like last time he wasn’t able to read your expression. “When you asked me what we were doing, when you said all that I panicked. Thought you might try and end things, I was too in my ass about my feelings I just… fucked up.”

“You wanted more?”

“I did – I do.”

You were quiet, too quiet. After a moment in silence, you suddenly stood. “I have to go to the washroom.”

He could only nod, standing as well as he watched you disappear behind the door. Grabbing himself a glass of water, having no idea what you were thinking in this moment. He was wrong before, when he thought that those fifteen minutes were the longest of his life. This moment right now seemed to last so much longer.

You finally reappeared a couple minutes later, joining him in the kitchen but still standing at a distance. He had no idea what to say, he wished for you to say something, anything.

“You kept all my things.”

“What?”

You pointed to the bathroom behind you. “All my things, my toothbrush my shampoo… figured you’d throw them out.”

He smiled a weak smile. “Would never. Can’t bring myself to. Plus, you know I love the smell of your shampoo.”

“I’m sorry I left that day.” You were fiddling with the sleeves of your shirt again.

“Don’t be, I was a dick. I didn’t know … I didn’t know how to deal with my feelings. Couldn’t get my shit together. I just didn’t want to lose you.”

As you nodded, he was relieved to see your expression start softening a bit.

“I need you in my life, in any capacity. If you need time I get it, but I just can’t… I need to know you’ll be in my life.”

You were worrying your lip, slowly nodding as you took in his words. “I shouldn’t have pushed you that day. I was trying to… it wasn’t fair of me.”

“Stop apologizing darling,” he liked the way the pet name rolled off his tongue again. The two of you stood in silence for a moment again.

“I wanted more too.” Nearly giving himself whiplash for how quickly he snapped his head towards you at your words. You weren’t looking at him, eyes dropped down to where your hands tapped nervously against the counter.

“I – you did?”

You only nodded, watching as you twirled your ring around your finger.

“Never said anything…”

Glancing up at him finally, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well…neither did you. Plus, I thought I was, I don’t know, making it obvious. Spending nearly every night here and all… I was sort of trying to bring it up that day we fought.”

“Truly fucked that up, didn’t I?” He rubbed his hand over his forehead, pushing his hair up. You only hummed, and his heart nearly soared when you saw the corner of your lips twitch in a smile.

He couldn’t help the smile starting to build on his lips either, trying to swallow down his anxiety before asking you what he wanted to. “Do you still?”

“Do I still what?” You were really making him say it.

“Do you still… want more. With me.” He watched you intently, watched your eyes flick away from his; to your hands to the counter and around the room, before meeting his own again.

“Well… came over, didn’t I?”

Heat rushed through his body as he processed your words. “Is that a yes?” His words were a rush of a breath. He found himself walking across the kitchen towards you until he was standing in front of you, keeping a gap but still being the closest he’d been to you all night.

“Yes.” Every nerve in his body urged to jump forward towards you at your whispered word, but he held himself back.

“Good,” his voice matched yours: quiet, breathless.

He wanted to pull you in his arms, to push you against the counter leaving no room between the two of you but he also didn’t want to assume you’d jump right into it; maybe you’d want a bit of time, maybe you were still mad –

Any second thought flew out of his mind when the light touch of your fingertips met his neck, pulling yourself closer to him. His own hand instinctively wrapped around your waist, other hand sliding to your cheek, fitting with you like nothing ever changed.

Mouth quickly met his, and it was like kissing you for the first time all over again. You were still just as warm against him, still smelt like the shampoo that you left in his shower.

Your lips were light against his at first, a ghost of a touch as you pressed yourself against him and bunched the collar of his shirt in a fist. His hand on your cheek moved to tilt your head up to him slightly, as he held you tight against him not wanting you to ever leave.

A small sigh left your lips as he took a step forward, pushing lightly back to trap you between the counter and himself. Kiss quickly deepening as you let him taste deeper into your mouth, wandering hands pushing up under your shirt.

You were tugging at his hair as he pulled small whines from the back of your throat, gripping your thigh tightly as he helped you sit up on the counter. Mouth leaving yours with a pant, he reveled in the way you hooked your legs around him to keep him against you.

“Missed you,” he kissed the corner of your mouth. “So,” lips moved down your jaw. “Fucking much.”

He loved the sigh you made at his words; he loved every sound you made. Resting his forehead on yours for a moment, lips barely brushing. “You’re so warm darling. Missed kissing you, missed being with you.”

“Me too,” you whispered, pecking a small kiss to his mouth.

“I get to be with you, right?”

“Yes,” his heart soared at the single word. He was enamoured with the smile that took over your face. “Might still be a bit mad a you though.”

His smile matched yours, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Sounds like I have some making up to do.”

[tender-rosiey]

hey dear (yeah im deffo addicted to your writing) just checking on you i hope your doing good and taking care of yourself. I would also like to drop a one shot request of Chuuya falling for mori's god-daughter (also an executive) who has an ability which allows her to summon and control demons while singing but she ends up getting captured and goes missing for 2 years then one day they find her and he confesses to her after she gets rescued (rlly fluffy). thanks in advance love Safiyah <33

❥—Cassiopeia 

❥—Chuuya Nakahara x Reader 

❥—Fluff 

ᴀ/ɴ: i am glad you enjoy my writing and i hope you are doing great as well; hopefully you like this one too 🥺💘 also let this cure your hearts after the last one- also the chant is inspired by Obey me ❣️

“Chuuya, I would like for you to meet my daughter.”

Right then a beautiful and fair lady came out of the door. Chuuya beweildered by her beauty went silent; such a beautiful creature existed?

“Y/N, meet Chuuya; he is one of the best executives here!” Mori introduced you smiling, to which you wave your hand to the ginger and smiled warmly “Hey Chuuya! Pleasure meeting you.” Chuuya smiled shyly and waved back “S-same here..”

Mori then smirked and questioned “Chuuya what’s the matter? You seem rather uncollected.” The said male waved his hand around in denial as he was stopped by a giggle from the lady beside him. “You are quite cute; I hope we get to know each other more.” You said before exiting for your mission.

Chuuya let out a sigh of relief putting his hands on his knees as blush crept onto his face. He made a total and utter fool out of himself; Isn’t he the strongest executive? Why was he so damn shy around you? The thought started clouding his mind until Mori snapped him out of his daze and asked “Are you perhaps interested in Y/N, Chuuya?”

Damn right he is. You were so sweet and kind and that just hit bullseye in his heart. Ever since then he would take almost any opportunity to be with you and talk with you. You were slowly getting to know each other better.

You have been together through tears and giggles and pain and sniffles. He knows you deeply and you know him just as well. After all 3 years of friendship isn’t a minuscule period of time; there multiple moments he had seen you in that made just how much of a wonderful person you are even clearer.

You got along with everyone.

Akutagawa, you both were like best friends and would tell each other everything. You were one of the few he accepted help or their company and you were always a great duo in battle.

Kouyou, the woman that took him in adores you. What more could he ask for? Kouyou helped you and guided in your times of unknowing what to do and how to do it. You were sisters and she valued you deeply, she would always hang out with you and talk with you about anything and everything.

Mori, the man who you addressed as your father. Despite Mori not being biologically him but he treated you as such, as if you were his daughter. He gave you all his love and made you feel appreciated and took care of you.

Seeing your kindness towards your allies Chuuya was dazzled, how could someone so sweet and kind be in the Mafia? His thoughts were completely erased when he saw you in battle.

Multiple screams, all saying the same thing “Beware of the Port Mafia’s devil!” Chuuya was wondering about who are they referring to, was it him? He suddenly heard someone singing behind him.

“Hear me, denizens of darkness, you who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it. Hear me and do as I command! I, Y/N, call upon you to send forth one of your number! I summon the demons of chanting despair!”

That voice, it sounded so angelic but the words were venomous. He turned around to be met with the sight of you floating, eyes glowing purple as demons from around you rose from the earth and attacked all the men in front of him.

‘Woah..’ He couldn’t be more in love. Your elegant movement while fighting were a sight to behold. Your voice was enchanting yet deadly, he would be grateful if it was the last thing he heard before his death.

He loved how there was a total difference between the way you treat your peers and your enemies. Did he really deserve if your feelings were mutual? It was new for Chuuya to doubt himself. But there wasn’t any route to choose when his heart now belonged to no one but you and that made him helpless before you.

“Look at the stars, Chuuya !” Right, you loved looking at constellations, and he loved how the stars shined and danced in your eyes as if they were their ball room.

He looked up and saw a weird look star, maybe a constellation? He then pointed at it and asked “Y/N, what constellation is that?” You smiled brightly before answering “That’s Cassiopeia! It represents love.” You then turned to the ginger finding him close to you and somehow both of you involuntary moved closer, slowly about to close the gap between you.

“Hello Y/N.” You both jumped and looked at the owner of the voice to see that it’s Mori. Chuuya saying every cuss word in his mind while you both were as red as roses, however Mori was grinning mischievously. It’s nice being a party pooper at times.

However that’s all in the past.

 Now you were gone, no one knew where you were taken and if you were even still alive. 2 years too long for the ginger, too long because of his suffering and sadness through them.

When he first found out you were taken he was devastated and went on searching everywhere with the mafia men; everyone in the Port Mafia was searching for their Y/N.

At the night he found out he couldn’t sleep, and wanted to start the search as soon as possible but days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and then into years. Chuuya was starting to lose hope but still searched. Everyday he thought of you, he would drink wine and anything to wash it all away.

Even now after all what happened and the two years that had passed since then they still didn’t stop searching. He didn’t stop searching.

He was walking down the streets returning back from a mission as he came across a warehouse, it looked rather sketchy so to quiet down his thoughts he entered it and his eyes could not believe what he saw.

You all beaten up and bruised. Body looking as weak as a stick and something to silence your screams and chants on your mouth, his body loved involuntary and hugged you tightly quickly freeing you from the chains that hampered you from fleeing from your misery.

He sent the location to the Port Mafia and now everyone was going to come and make who did this to you pay. He picked you up and as he looked behind him he found Mori with wide eyes barely himself believing that indeed you were alive.

The old man took you from the hands of your savior and inspected your face, those who did this to you will go through hell. “Chuuya take her back.” Mori said sternly and Chuuya nodded, he wasn’t going to let you go out of his sight again.

And there he was with you on a bed, multiple tubes sticking to your skin and a oxygen mask. You looked really weak and pale, but it didn’t stop him from loving you. He loved you even more because you managed to live through that and made it back to him at the end.

Chuuya fell asleep as he was waiting for any sign of your awakening, and you woke up instead adjusting to the light and your surroundings. This wasn’t the dark and frightening warehouse you were in...you were finally saved. After two years of misery you were finally saved.

You looked to your side to find the ginger fast asleep alongside you, you smiled softly and gently played with his hair. Chuuya felt something on his head and slowly woke up to see you pulling your hand away, but he held it tenderly and put it back.

“I have to tell you something when you recover, Y/N.” He said as he was enjoying the feeling of your touch. “Why not now?” You questioned while he looked up at you with a smile and mumbled “because it’s something you need to be told outside of this white chamber.”

And so as time passed you were finally back to how you were. He blindfolded you and led you to a garden and went behind you. “Chuuya where are we?” You wondered while he chuckled and took your blindfold off and said “See for yourself.”

Your eyes were now looking at the garden you last saw Chuuya before your disappearance, but right now there was a picnic set and surrounding it were petals on a shape of a heart and candles lighting up the the space. He then pointed above and looked at you.

 There it was, the constellation of love, Cassiopeia. He placed a hand on his heart and softly said “Love is what I feel for you. Very deep and strong love.” He walked towards you and held your hands between his bringing them up to his lips and placed a light kiss to them.

“I never stopped loving you, and from the moment I saw you took my breath away, you made me the prisoner of love and the poor who seeks for your love and touch. Everything about you is beyond description, I can’t find the words to describe it and I am afraid that it had already eaten me up. I am afraid that now you are the only who can calm the beast of love and adoration that only wants you and won’t accept anyone but you. So will you please give me a chance and let me show you how much love my heart feels towards you?”

A smile made its way into your face and vision getting glossy. You pulled the ginger towards you and connected your lips as gentle as one would touch a flower’s petal. The light of the stars shining on both you, it looked like a scene from a movie.

A portray, a beautiful portray, that could be drawn by millions but never be as beautiful. And Cassiopeia was the witness of their true and never ending love.

“once I believed

love poems were foolish

now I read love poems

just for the sake of it

and yet perhaps I want

to reach a higher state of poetry

I don't know if that's right or wrong

but such a feeling persists anyway

and sometimes irritates me

provoking outrageous desires

once I believed

love poems were foolish

yet now I do nothing

but dream about love“

-from “Exhaustion” by Nakahara Chuuya

copyright © 2020 tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[queenofwerewolves]

Future Hope - chapter 1.5 - Practice Makes Perfect

Our heroes didnt get their powers and knew from night to day how to manage them, especially those who had physical changes to their body. Our soon-to-be heroes were all reunited in Maria's house, they had planed to spend the afternoon practing and exploring their new limits and abilities, all helping eitch other.

They decided since Griff had the biggest change, they would focus on him first. At the moment they were out in backyard, eitch one giving suggestions on what to begin first.

"Pick us all up at once with your new muscles!" Said Muffin excitedly. "That's still too light! Pick us all up plus Maria's car" Said Spike, chewing once again on a bubblegum.

"You all leave Hellride out of this!" Maria responded angrily. "That car was expensive as fuck and I refuse to go back to a life of Ubers!" She crossed her arms, indignified.

"You named your car?" Kip answered from high up a tree branch, as cats do. "I name all my belongings, what of it?" Maria answered. "And they're all cool names, too".

"Hellride? Really?" Spiked scoffed. "Because she rides fast as Hell! Look can we get back on track and find something for Griff to test his strenght?!" Maria answered nervously with a touch of embarrassment.

"Unless we find an Indiana Jones boulder for him to spin on his finger like a damn basketball we arent gonna get any damn progress!" Spike shouted back.

Maria sighed and shook her head. "I hate it when you have a point.." Griff nervously scratched the back of his head. "There must be something we can do.." He quietly mumbled out.

"I got it!" Muffin shouted, they all turned to face her. "I forgot Im a fairy! I can just poof something up!" She said excitedly. Everyone stared at her with either a confused or shocked look.

"..How... Do you FORGET that you're a fairy?!" Spike blurted out nervously. "You have fucking wings! How does one forget they have huge pink glittery wings?!"

Muffin just shrugged.

Maria smiled wide. "OK Muffin, give us something huge and heavy for Griff to use!" Muffin nodded and grabbed her wand which had a muffin on the tip. "Wand cook, beat and bake! Give us a big large and tasty cupcake!" She waved her wand and out appeared from a bunch of pink glittery smoke, a nearly two-story house tall chocolate cupcake.

"... Why a cupcake..?" Blink asked as she peeked behind her mask, in slight awe and wanting to secretly a bite out of it. "I can only make sweets!" Muffin said with a shy tone. "Im not a fighter like you guys, I only want to make people happy and eat candy!"

"That is certainly the biggest pastry I've ever seen! So large and beautiful, I bet tasty as well!" "Not to mention DIABETIC AS HELL!!! We could die from a heart attack eating that! Or worse, we could get fat! Even fatter! And become even uglier then we already are! This is too overwealming I need a nap!"

Rooko and Rooki suddenly spoke, almost taking everyone off guard on how their friend Rook is suddenly two split personalities now based on the Youtube character ENA, one is always happy while the other is always sad, and depending on the situation they can go Manic or Miserable.

"OK Griff, show us what you can do!" Maria shouted excitedly. Without missing a second, Griff bent over and gripped the edge of the massive cupcake, after struggling a bit he slowly but surely, lifted the entire thing over his head, smiling proudly.

His friends cheered and applauded proudly. Feeling satisfied, he dropped the cupcake and dusted the chocolate crumbs off his hands and fur. "Yokusei!" He shouted, and with a naruto-like smoke poof, he turned back to his human self. Maria ran and hugged him tightly, which Griff embraced and hugged back with a slight twirl.

"Griff you were amazing!!" Maria said with a proud tone, Griff slightly blushed pink at the small punk girl and her excitement. "Oh shucks, it was nothing.." He said with a shy tone.

"Well, and seems we concluded Griffin's training." Togekiss said as they took a sip of tea. "He jump twice as high as a two-story house, his punches and kicks can knock down brick walls and possibly more if we werent limited on objects to test it with, he can hear twice as much then a dog could with his ears, and his sense of smell is impecable. Truly Griff is a strong asset to our team."

"I can only train my powers at night.." Said Spooks, holding an umbrella to protect her from the sun, now that it injures her. "Muffin's power is only sweet making. Togekiss has exceptional I.Q and can see simulations in the future like Garnet in Steven Universe, along with their strong telekenisis, and Kip simply draws whatever she desires, whether alive or not and it becomes a reality... That means it's Rook's turn to show us what she can do" She finished.

"Wonderful! It's our time to shine!" "I-I-I not ready! Everyone's gonna laugh at us! I-I might piss myself in fear!" "Oh pull yourself together dear! Our friends wont laugh at us!" "How do we know that?! They're just waiting to correct us on a dumb mistake!!!"

Rook's body shook and twitched as her eyes turned to static, suddenly her entire eyes turned black with a blue iris, she turned Miserable.

"They're gonna laugh and point at our foolish selves, we're gonna be so embarrassed that we'll wish that the Earth will swallow us whole and just fucking kill us now!! Go ahead! Laugh at us and our misfortune!!!"

"ooh shit" Maria said. "can someone calm her down?"

Rook's eyes change to regular as her Miserable side went away. "No need my good Queen! We are completly fine! Now prepare to be dazzled as we show you all what we can do!" q

Rook pulled out a harry potter-like wooden wand, waved it around. "Bloom and Blossom and protect who I love! Rise my pretties, rise high and above!" Rooki shot an orange light at the grass, which made dozens of flowers bloom and grow around Spike and Blink.

"This is only one of my tricks! It's a shield that protects them from almost anything! My main weakness is fire, because while plants are beautiful, they are also sadly very, very flammable"

"Cool." Said Spike before using his bat to aggressivly hit the flowers and the vines aside so he and Blink could leave.

"M-M-My turn I guess!" Rook took hold of the wand and waved it in circles. "Razzle Dazzle Shine and Show, make their body move it low!" Rooko shot a blue light at Spooks, which made unwillingly and uncontrolably start dancing and as the spell said, make her go low.

"O-OH GOD SOMEONE MAKE IT STOP I DONT LIKE HOW MY BUTT IS MOVING THIS MUCH!!" She shouted in desperation as she made a split and moved it even lower.

"M-My deal is with music! I-It works as a way of distraction o-or hypnosis and it lasts for 30 minutes un-le-less I say otherwise! I-I know it's a sucky power!"

"OK COOL CAN I STOP DANCING PLEASE IM GETTING A CRAMP!!!" Yelled Spooks, practically begging. Rooko flicked her wand and Spooks fell on the ground, panting. "OH MY POOR HAMSTRINGS THEY ACHE!!" She yelled in utter pain, meanwhile Maria and Spike were absolutely losing it.

"O-OH GOD MY STOMACH HURTS-" Said Spike in between laughter.

"OK you guys cool it" Said Blink. "It's our turn to practice now. We're the only ones who use regular weapons." She said drawing her sword and positioning her mask back in place.

"O-OK! OK!" Maria said getting up, she pulled out a small staff and whipped it, making it stretch out wide into a full, large red and black scythe, with a rose print on the blade. Spike spun his bat and spat his gum out.

"So. Who's ass Im kicking first?" Said Spike. "Wait on second thought this might be unfair." Said Blink. "Me and Maria had blades while Spike has a bat, maybe we should-"

Before she could finish, Spike swung his bat and hit Blink sword, knocking it out of her hand before kicking her back at the ground. Blink fell back hard before she could even process what happen, dumbfounded but angry, she snarled. "Oh it's on now Motherfucker." She extended her hand and the sword flew back to her hand, as she charged towards Spike, who moved out of the way as soon as Blink swung her sword, which if he hadnt been for Maria's scythe, would have sliced her right up.

"Dude! Chill! This is a pratice!" Maria spoke as both of their blades were against eitch other. Blink hopped and flipped over her and landed on a tree branch, croutching like a ninja. She put her hands together and in a small puff of smoke and disappeared. Spike and Maria were back to back, ready to counterattack Blink, what they didnt expect was for her to attack from underground.

Buring up from the dirt, she got both of them off their feet and charged after Spike, who barely managed to regain his balance before his using bat his block Blink's sword. A back and forth of clash-clings-and-clangs between metal begun, one attacking the other but eitch blocking every attack again and again.

Spike ducked a sword slash and roundhouse kick Blink's leg, which was effective since she's practically a ninja. She backflipped back on her feet and kept attacking swiftly. But a sudden scythe blade cut in between them, stopping the fight.

"That's enough!!!" Maria shouted. "You both are gonna end up hurting yourselves or eitch other! im ending it now!!"

"Oh what the hell dude?!" Blink shouted indignified. "I was about to beat him!!" "Oh please." Answered Spike. "Was that the best you could do? Sakura could do a better job kicking my ass" He scoffed. They began to argue loudly, genuinely angry at eitch other.

"THAT"S ENOUGH!!!!" Maria shouted, making them, and everyone else look at her.

"It doesnt matter would win that fight! This was a practice and not a competition!! The point of us being a team and getting powers in the first place was for all of us to make the world a better place, but the only way that can happen is if all of us work together!! As a team!!!"

They stood in silence, listening to her talk and set them straight.

"As cheesy as that sounds, it's true!! We shouldnt fight eitch other like this, you're not just my friends, we're all friends with eitch other! We all go along well and we know that, that's why I got you all together, because no one can bond better in a team then all of us together!!!"

"... She's right." Togekiss added, walking towards them. "We all started as simple individuals with free time on a website, but we all shared common interests, we grew closer.. And suddenly like that, we all became friends.. A family, if you will."

"We take care of eitch other and look out for one another." Said Spooks.

"Just like how you all did for me.. When I almost died. Almost died because of the shit and violent world we live in." Maria said.. With a slight crack in her voice.

"You're bringing in the same violence that almost killed me.. So please.. Please stop fighting.. We're all in this together.. Right..?"

Spike and Blink dropped their weapons and hugged Maria, and everyone else joined in as well.

"You're right, we're sorry Queen." Said Spike. "We got overwhealmed and we didnt mean it. We wont fight again, because you're right." Added Blink.

"We only have eitch other in this world, and if we want to change it we have to stick together, just like you said." Spike said one more time.

"And we wont let you down.. We promise.." Griff finished, with everyone agreeing with what he said.

And so they stayed for a moment, embraced within eitch other in a group hug. A family isnt perfect, there will be disagreements, but a good bond will always overcome those disagreements, and that's what they had, a good bond.

A bond that's practically unbreakable and untaintable. A bond that will soon be ready, and fight together to make the world a better place.

A bond that will the world's Future Hope..

[crimeronan]

ik youre not a therapist and i dont want like therapy or anything but im 17 and ive known i was bipolar for 3 years now and i dont know how im supposed to live the rest of my life like this. im so fucking tired. how do you stay alive

you sent this a couple days ago & i’m posting at a weird time so i’m not sure if you’ll see it but.  

i’ve been looking at this message trying to decide how to respond

because i don’t know your situation, your symptoms, how you’re feeling, whether you’ve had positive or negative experiences with medication, psychiatrists, therapists, hospitals, all that related shit

the bipolar life advice i give to people is vastly different depending on the individual. it’s not a one size fits all thing.  and there’s never even a guarantee that my advice will be the right choice

so since i don’t know about your situation or experiences or what you want, i’m not gonna tell you what to do.  i’m gonna focus on the “how do you stay alive” question and try to pen down some personal feelings. and if they help then great, and if they don’t then... this is the most honest i can be

(you can always ask another question to get a better answer. my inbox is a coin slot and i am a vending machine of varied-degrees-of-helpfulness replies offered at varied-inconvenient-too-long-intervals)

-

how do i stay alive

it’s a 2-parter, actually.  i pondered how to condense my thoughts/feelings, and it came down to these two things

1. love 2. spite

-

1. love

the spite is easier to write about than the love.  love is hard to reach when i feel like shit.

spite is where i go when i want to die.  love is where i go when i want to want to live.

maybe i don’t want to be alive.  but maybe i wish i did.  spite doesn’t help me much there.  spite keeps me afloat, but it doesn’t make the floating pleasurable.  there’s more to life than outlasting everything that ever hurt me.  i need a reason to continue when there’s no enemy to fight

so. love

i almost wrote about the spite alone because that’s rawer, realer, more visceral.  that’s the shit that CONNECTS when everything feels hopeless.  but it would be a lie of omission.  spite is only one of the major food groups, you’ll waste away from malnutrition if you eat it for every meal. or at least, i will.

“so you’ve got a bunch of people you love,” you say, “and you stick around for them.  cry on them.  support each other.  like each other.  fine.”  you’ve heard this story before

nah.

i mean - yes.  i have people i love.  i live with two partners, i’ve got a third girlfriend, i’ve got a long-distance platonic life partner.  i have a support net, i have a family i’ve forged, i have confidence that i’m not alone.  i have, in a bare-bones checklist sort of way, fulfilled my physiological human need for connection

but i could live without every single one of them.  i’m not dependent upon any of them for my survival.  i’m not dependent upon them for love, given or received.  (this isn’t a callous cruelty, it won’t hurt them if/when they read this.  i’ve told them all this, they know.  they’re glad of it.)

so.  what the fuck does “love” mean, then?

the short explanation is that it’s my love of life, of things in the world.  it’s all the little connections i’ve made.  every time i love something, a hook tethers to the universe.  hook enough tethers, and i no longer feel the need to float away.  no dissolution of self today, sir

the rest of this section is some of the things i love. partially it’s to show how i connect to little things and ascribe magic to the mundane.  partially it’s because i like thinking about things i love, i like typing them out, and i like that i could keep going for thousands and thousands of words.

i am laying in bed at 7:30 AM with the lights off and the shades drawn.  blue  light comes through the slats because it’s the better time of year, the one where i finally get vitamin D, the one where the birds chirp at 4AM, the one where the sky isn’t impenetrably black til 10PM.

there’s a weighted blanket tucked around my legs.  my partner rafi bought it for us to share because it’s soothing and heavy and comforting and helps with my physical pain.  right now it’s soft on my skin and if i get too emotional as i write, i can pull it over me like a cloak until i’m settled.

the apartment’s walls are blank because we’ve spent eight months intending to put art up and keep forgetting.  but there’s a newly-unearthed dining area in the kitchen because i finally shifted around the unpacked boxes that were dominating the space.  it’s new and it surprises me every time i walk out there.  it’s open and inviting and bright and it’s a sign that we’re making this place home.

we’ll put a cheap IKEA table by the window and we’ll probably never eat family dinners there - why would we sit in hard chairs and make stiff conversation when we could all cuddle on the couch - but my partner dev will create a place to do their art and the surface will be constantly littered with drying watercolor experiments.

we’ll hang our art one of these days, too, when our collective adhd offers a miraculous combo of remembering + having time + having motivation + having inspiration.  rafi has the most art because they’ve been collecting it for years.  i have to start smaller.  i’m not used to keeping physical objects.  dev has a few pieces thrifted or bought at local artist events or painted themselves

so we’ll put art up in the living room, my single “you are magic” flower print alongside a naked monster lady that dev fell in love with when we browsed art at a yuletide event months ago, alongside rafi’s monster girls and comic characters and book characters and literature art and quotes and abstract pieces and whatever else they have hiding in boxes.

my head protests that naked monster ladies do not belong in the living room, although the picture isn’t overtly sexual.  but then i remember that they do, actually, because it’s our space and we can do whatever we want with it as long as the lease isn’t broken.  there isn’t anyone in the local social circles who’d be perturbed by the decor, as far as i know.  i don’t have to hide anything from my parents because i live 3600 miles from them, and even though i miss my mom, the distance is good for me

there are two exquisite chairs on the porch.  they fold and recline from thrones to nearly-horizontal beds.  there are pillows and cupholders and trays and specific spaces for both a book and a phone.  i can sit there while the morning sun rises and read or play word games or browse tumblr, cup of coffee beside me, trees shielding my eyes from stabby sunbeams

there are remnants of the last tenant’s garden in one corner of the yard.  we’ve done fuckall for yardwork but plants struggle through anyway.  some seem to have sprouted by accident.  mushroom clusters populate the edges of the fence.  the apartment squirrel (there are probably several, but i like to think it’s a single energetic creature) runs back and forth along the fence & i always lose my train of thought & then laugh my ASS off at the “SQUIRREL! XD” adhd moment.  birds kick up leaf litter and play on the ground looking for insects to eat, they wiggle their tail feathers and flap their wings and sometimes they disappear and then return with friends

a little more than eleven months ago, i packed all of dev’s and my shit into a uhaul and drove and drove and drove to get to this city i’d never been in before to live with a partner i’d never cohabitated with.  we were homeless for more than a month, we weathered some financial disasters, we met some great people and some shitty ones

on the drive i fell in love with the sky.  i didn’t know how big it can get - actually, that’s a lie.  i’d FORGOTTEN how big it can get.  i’ve loved the sky thirty miles out to sea, no land in sight in any direction, just blue water and blue space above.  i’ve loved the vastness and the yawning beneath me and the knowledge that everything is BIGGER than i can fathom.  the depth of the sea doesn’t frighten me, it’s home. i don’t want to die, but if i had to, the ocean makes a soothing grave

in north dakota i discovered that i’ve been partially blind my whole life, which is a different tale that showed me i’ll never stop learning myself.  in montana we struggled up thousands of feet of mountains with the car huffing and puffing at the trailer’s weight, and when we finally coasted downward, it felt like sudden freefall.  we ended up in the pitch darkness of night on sheer winding interstates with midnight construction projects forcing detours.  the mountains felt hungry, they had teeth.  mountain cliffs are much scarier to me than the ocean depths

i bought a red bull and poured a little out the driver’s side door as an offering to hermes, because i’m not particularly religious but i’ll take help where i can get it.  slammed that back in a few gulps and shook to bright-eyed alertness and ended up behind a slow-driving red pickup truck that guided us over about a hundred miles of mountain terrain

i thought, that’s just some construction worker driving between sites.  the roads are empty at this time of night, but it’s an interstate.  of course we’d end up behind someone.  this isn’t divine intervention.  this isn’t the benevolence of a god

i thought, but it can be a little magic.  if i want it to be.  

and it was.  it stays with me.

god help me but i’ve been writing this stream of consciousness for more than 30 minutes and i’ve said nothing.  i haven’t talked about the city, the parks, the people, the conversations, the books, the tv shows, the movies, the communities, the library, the animals, writing, reading, singing, acting, swimming, analyzing, creating, supporting, building.  and i can keep going.  i can come up with hundreds and hundreds of things i love and i can write paragraphs about all of them

so i’ll stop here.  you get the picture.  love is the life i’ve made for myself, the surroundings i’ve built, the quiet moments i can capture, the inspiration i pin, the magic i commit to memory.

i had to work so damn hard for every single bit of this.

i’ll be fucking damned if i let it go because my brain tried to trick me into thinking death is better.

-

2. spite

there are people who want me to die.

i don’t mean that i have a giant entourage of personalized enemies who curse my name and plan my individual demise.  although there have been plenty of people who have not liked me much.  probably some of them would enjoy my death.  i don’t give a shit about that

there are people who want me dead because i am a dot on a grid they dislike.  a faceless anonymous enemy who meets too many bad criteria with numbers and percentages and shrinking majorities and shifting public opinion

because i’m gay.  because i’m bipolar.  because i’m autistic.  because i’m a dropout.  because i grew up poor.  because my spine curves and my shoulders ache.  because i squandered my potential, because i didn’t have enough potential, because i didn’t love god enough, because i love the wrong gods, because i don’t worship, because i worship wrong, because i didn’t seek a husband, because i never wanted one, because i talk too much, because i can’t be controlled, because i chose to leave the fold when i realized it was suffocating me, because i’m ugly, because i’m gorgeous, because my body belongs to me

pick your poison.

this bothered me growing up, a lot. i knew i did not deserve to die. but if enough people tell you that you should, a little part of you will wonder if they’re right.  that little part might become bigger the closer they get and the louder they shout and the longer they wear you down

we know the rough shape of this story, i don’t need to tell it.  mine was messy and not triumphant and i survived more by chance than premeditation.

i’m older now.  by and large i’m still young as shit - i’m 24 - but GOD i am LEAGUES away from 15, 16, 17. i know who i am. i know what i want. i know how to get it. and when i don’t know that, i find out. i tell the truth.  i ask for what i want.  i use my time how i want.  i do what i want.

there are days that i can’t access the “love” side of the equation.  no finding poetry in birdsong or sugared coffee for me, thank you, i feel like shit and the world is awful and everything is too big and fast and cruel and everything wants me to die and it wants everything i love to die, too.  everyone i love.  it’s all garbage. the good doesn’t touch me

trauma is difficult to describe.  the difficulty is compounded by the fact that my trauma is influenced by my various neurodivergences, bipolar included.  i never know if i’m feeling what other people do.  i don’t know if i’m voicing unpalatable feelings others are afraid to express - or if i’m just othering myself, admitting i’m not as human as everyone else.

there is something malevolent and monstrous inside me.  i don’t touch it all the time.  but i don’t pretend it isn’t there.  it sits in my chest and molders or radiates or oozes.  it presses at my throat.  it curdles in my stomach.  it hurts what it touches, whether that’s me or someone i love or someone i hate.  it sets things aflame with no regard for the precious or the fragile.  it tears down walls and razes shelters and begs for apocalyptic rain.

i can give this thing names, clinical descriptors.  i know what it is on a diagnostic chart, in a ponderous article, in an academic debate, in a fiction novel, in a war movie, in a memoir.  there are a thousand ways to describe this thing.  the descriptors aren’t important.  what is important is this - i have learned that most people do not walk side-by-side with a tornado-hurricane-hellfire-weaponized-open-nuclear-reactor.  this is not a “normal” expression of human emotion, this is not me trying to ascribe power to “bad bipolar feelings.”  this thing lives in me and i know why it’s there and it is not designed to be held/silenced/muzzled/controlled by my body.

it does not help to pretend this thing does not exist.  it does not help to try to reason it away or ignore it or tell it to stop.  it wants what it wants, it does what it does.  possibly if i was better at therapy or stubbornness then i wouldn’t resign myself to that

but it is fucking EXHAUSTING to try to fight something that’s part of me.  to try to reshape it, rename it, pare it down, make it consumable for the masses.  it’s a war i have never won and it’s a war that i will lose if i keep fighting it.  i cannot fight with myself.  i cannot beat my monster into submission.  if we’re gonna battle like that, head to head, me trying to cut it down, me trying to be the hero, it rearing back like a fire-breathing dragon,

then it’s stronger.  it’s always stronger.

so i surrender.

but that’s not where i stop.

can’t fight it.  can’t kill it.  can’t muzzle it.  can’t reshape it, can’t disarm it, can’t contain it.  

alright.  

so what now.

if the surrender was a full giving-up, this is where i’d passively accept that i’m doomed to hurt and destroy everything precious to me.  can’t fix it.  will lose everything, will never experience or deserve happiness, will make the world worse simply by existing.

that sure does sound like impending-doom rhetoric.  hop skip and a jump from some dire-ass conclusions.  

so fuck that, i say. 

here’s a better question.

if it has to get out, then what happens if i control where it goes?

here’s the thing.

the monster doesn’t care what it kills or destroys or hurts.  

“have a conscience, care about things, remember love, stop yourself, don’t do this don’t do this don’t do this.” 

 losing battle.  lost war.

 it’s not the monster’s fault.  the monster doesn’t have complex motivations or hates or fears.  it exists to protect me through scorched earth.  a remnant of a chemical imbalance, maladaptive coping mechanism, bipolar crazy, traumatized injury.  it doesn’t know that its job is obsolete.

i can’t change the monster.

but my mind is a separate thing.  my mind knows what matters, what my priorities are, what i find precious, what i want to protect.  my mind remembers all the things the monster doesn’t.  

my mind has learned things the monster can’t.

when i fight it head-on, the malevolence is stronger than me.  but as i am, walking with it, sitting in my bed writing this while examining the void and the consciousness, describing it, quantifying it,

that’s when i’m stronger.

and with my mind as the stronger force, i can decide where the monster goes.  what it touches.  what it destroys.  what it burns.  where the ashes land.

i do not want to be a destructive person.  i want to be someone who builds, repairs, changes.  i want to make the world better for kids like me.  i want to stop pouring more gasoline onto a fire that’s been burning since long before i was born.  i want to believe - i do believe - that positive change is better than negative.  i do my best to plant good things and enact that positive change instead of becoming a beacon of wrath.

but there are a lot of kids surrounded by people who want them to die, and not all of them have a protective monster.

so it’s good.

when i’m depressed, my mind loses its battles.  my cognizance slips.  i forget why i care.  i forget what i want.  i forget how happiness feels, how to find pleasure in quiet moments.  

i don’t get depressed as often as i used to since my meds are adjusted correctly now.  but it still happens.  it will keep happening for the rest of my life.

my mind weakens and curls up and stops fighting, and the monster is always there.

it’s a very powerful thing when it wants to be.

it wants to survive.

the thing is, it knows there are people that want me/us/whatever dead.  it’s been fighting them forever.  die like they want?  my mind says, sure, what does it matter.

the monster says, nah.  our work isn’t done.  and fuck them, anyway.

so we get up.

-

so that’s how i stay alive.

i typed this for 90 minutes and after editing i’d spent two hours on this post.  i don’t know if anyone will read it all.  i don’t know if it’ll mean anything.  i don’t know if these thoughts even make sense, much less if i’ve conveyed the feelings i have.

i love being alive.  and when i don’t, i love being a monster.  it’s good.  all of it is good.  i’ve reconciled my uglier pieces.  it’s not one or the other, love or spite.  it’s symbiosis.  i need both, i love both.

no guarantees that this is helpful, but based purely on my own life experience, these are my tips for survival:

you’ll have to find your own roots.  i can’t give them to you.  

but it’s possible to dig them in and spread them far enough that one uprooted peg doesn’t shift your whole equilibrium.  

and when you’re tired, rest, and let yourself be tired, and find the reason why you’re staying in the world. 

 i’m positive there’s at least one.

figure out why you’re losing your battles and then change the game.

if you can’t win one setup, don’t try to beat the system.  adjust your strategy.

you’ll be surprised by what you can love when you stop fighting the disparate pieces of you, and instead figure out how to use them.

[otheliame]

Day 4: “A Man In Love”

thank you @gentapprentices for such a fun week so far!! im loving seeing everyone’s masc folks having a fun time!

I actually wrote a fic on this, Shift about my apprentice Jamie coming to Vesuvia and meeting Asra for the first time, and then later Nadia, Muriel, and Lucio before the Plague. It’s stinking cute, and here’s a little segment from the first chapter, the Magician, when the fated two meet in the most cliche of circumstances. It’s written from 1rst person POV, 9 years before the canon.

The sun glimmers brightly overhead as I make my way down the crowded streets, weaving between shoppers while keeping close to the fringes of the walkways. I cusp around the edges of the multicolored stalls to avoid the majority of foot traffic, but it’s proving hard as it’s a particularly busy day in the market, everyone is out and about, not just buying but lingering, talking over each other with excited voices in large clusters spanning the entire street. Something’s happening in Vesuvia today, something special. As much as I’d like to know what that something is, I don’t want to get caught up with the crowd… it’s been a long day. 

Today of all days I feel my patience is shorter, Isaac was a bit more of a hardass than usual and it makes the above-average bustle of the street that much more difficult for me to handle, every voice seems to multiply and reverberate in my thoughts like the vibration of insect wings. I’ve lived here for a month now, trying to get by and make a living and it’s been alright thus far, especially since Ksasthra took me in; here is better than there and there was worse than that, so long and so forth, unimportant details now because this is better. Vesuvia is going to be better for me. I can feel it. 

A colorful stream from a showcased scarf plays in front of me on a caught breeze as I try to make my way through the market stalls heading towards the lower district, I have to duck to avoid the hawking shopkeeper so I don’t get drawn into a purchase. Luckily, the multitude of customers I have to dodge and weave to get through keep them busy enough to not pay me the slightest attention. I just finished my shift at the local community theatre, doing basic backstage work for all sorts of performances, and right now I want nothing more than to hide away in my small, shared apartment by the waterfront and rest, especially while the one who agreed to house me, Ksasthra, is still back at the theatre for work until much later. The work I did today wasn’t particularly stressful or anything, but being around my coworkers just made me tired. I still feel like there’s hot breath on the back of my neck wherever I turn, and even now it’s still a hard thought to shake. 

I originally questioned my own decision in living in a city - I’ve never lived in an area with more than a hundred people in a given spot - but at the time I made the choice, I thought I had no choice. There just aren’t any jobs out in the foothills, and I never learned how to live off the land alone. Though, mostly it was the fact that my attempts to blend in or hide in the vast, sparsely populated, wintry lands of the deep northeast proved largely unsuccessful. Soon I had the realization that my best bet of finally being left alone was to find someplace where I could melt into a crowd. And in order to melt, one must first find a crowd, so to the city I had to go. Vesuvia was the largest, farthest city I could’ve gone to without taking a boat, so it was to Vesuvia I went to escape… to escape. It helped as well that the further south I went, the less people’s gazes would cling to my shoulders, which I quite liked. A lot. I’m not sure why though, for I’m certain I stick out like a sore thumb anywhere. Up north it was the… things… I could do. Here it’s the fact that everyone is colorful and loud and I’m not.

I don’t like being around people, usually because people also don’t like to be around me. I’m… weird, for lack of a better word. I have certain… abilities that other people don’t have, and in my experience if you have something that other people don’t they either envy you or fear you, and both of those things are the worst emotions to see on other faces. But here, in a city full of so much vibrant color, varient life, people of a hundred different types… I’m just another uninteresting face. That’s what I wanted when I came here. It’s thoughts like this that keep my grounded when I get too overwhelmed by citylife around here, such as now, when I’m just trying to get home. Before I came to Vesuvia, I would see the amount of people on this street alone over the span of several months. It’s still very… difficult to get used to this new atmosphere, even three months later. Almost to the street corner, almost there, then I’m home free… Maybe I can finally finish that book Ksasthra gave me… 

Suddenly, over the jumbled voices of the shoppers on the street, loud, victorious trumpets resound through the air, stealing all eyes from their tasks to the mouth of the street far down the way. I look up and peer through the heads and shoulders of onlookers to try and see what it is that’s causing such a disturbance before I realize that regardless of whatever it is, this is the perfect opportunity to escape through the crowd to the lower district. Quickly I turn and make my way there, but as I grow close to the corner I realize that whatever is happening is also happening on this end of the street; I see mounted soldiers in gleaming silver armor bearing unfamiliar emblems on tall, colorful standards and shining trumpets, using both of these items to loudly announcing the presence of someone important, someone that I now realize is about to enter this street. 

Other shoppers quickly seem to realize this as well, and like a tidal wave people start to shove others from the middle of the street into the outskirts, pressing shopkeepers back behind their stall counters and pushing everyone in their way into the wooden fixtures. I barely get out of the way just as a burly masculine figure makes his way through but I get caught up in the wave as others start hurrying out of the street’s center, I scurry to keep upright. 

Suddenly I get shoved back by a gaggle of inattentive shoppers trying to get out of the way right as I try to duck between stalls. I trip and lose my footing, I let out an innately sharp cry as fear of being tramped leaps into my throat but before I hit the ground I smash straight through a market stand’s doorway, which was just a wooden bar draped with a velvety, purple cloth hemmed with gold trim. My shoulders smack the cobblestones as a multitude of things fall on me from the counter’s surface, ripped down from when I took the tablecloth with me. I hold up my hands as I’m hit with a waft of rich, heady herbs and dried grasses, then with strange light smacks, like a small stack of papers just fell on me. 

Hands reach under my arms and pull me a little farther backwards into the stall I had fallen into, the touch startles me so much I flinch, making the hands immediately disappear. An intimate voice like honey and wind gasps by my ear over the loud din of the rowdy street, “Are you alright?” 

When the strange hands touch me I snap back to attention and regain my bearings like the flare of a starting fire, I sit up and blink as I try to figure out where I am right when I meet the stranger’s gaze… layers of periwinkle, lavender, and lilac, glimmering like stardust in the evening sunshine. They appear masculine presenting, young like me, definitely not old enough to be considered fully gown, with hazelnut skin that gleams like bronze armor and thick, fluffy, silver-white hair that hangs over those starry eyes in wild, soft curls. Starry they are in more ways than one, because the stranger stares at me with such an awestruck expression I suddenly feel incredibly self conscious half-lying on the floor of their stall - it must be their stall, as they’re the only one behind the counter… The counter I just fell through getting pushed by the crowd. 

“I…! Oh no, I’m so sorry!” I stammer in embarrassment, brushing myself off as I perch my feet in preparation to stand, though as I do I realize I’m covered in all kinds of herbs, dried flowers, and other reagents that I must’ve accidentally taken with me when I ripped this cloth off the counter in my fall. There are also a dozen or more rather beautiful cards scattered on the cobblestones, though they are like no deck of betting cards I’ve ever seen, even at a passing glance and I can tell as such. An array of masks also accompany this strange collection, the first two I see is one that depicts a fox with little ornamental gems hanging from the ears, the other that’s rugged wood configured in a bear’s face with runes carved into its realistically crafted fur. The stranger’s hands linger no longer on but near my shoulders as I pull myself upright, he continues to stare at me with wide, owlish eyes as I speak so fast my words bumble over each other, “I didn’t mean to, that was completely on accident, please forgive me-!” 

“It’s alright!” The boy quickly speaks again with that same gentle, sweet tone, gripping my shoulders to return my gaze to his lavender hues rather than to the cobblestones now littered with his stall’s offerings, and this time I don’t flinch. His lilac eyes flicker across my features then down over my form, checking for injuries as he mutters, “You’re not hurt, are you?” 

I shake my head, kneeling down as I try to gather the fallen reagents and masks onto the purple cloth and recollect the fallen, oriental cards, “I’m fine, I’m fine! I’m so sorry, I should’ve been paying better attention, let me help-” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” His hands, with long dextrous fingers, smooth palms and marble-carved knuckles breach my vision and stall my hands where they are hovering over the cloth, returning my gaze back to his. I start when I feel the sparks under my skin where we touch, but now that I’m paying better attention I realize it’s not simply just me being startled by the touch, but rather it seems to be some sort of… energy… coming from this boy. A deep torrent of something, power, internal lightning, vitality, runs under his palms like I plunged my hands into the rush of a waterfall. 

He smiles at me when I remeet his gaze, a warm and amicable smile that showcases a handsome dimple in his left cheek as he hums, “Really, it’s alright.” 

I let out a slightly relieved breath, and look back down at our conjoined hands over the spilled tablecloth. Does he feel it, too? I’ve never felt someone’s aura so tangibly before- 

I realize this must be strange, how I loiter over his hands, so I quickly clear my throat and pull mine away. “Erm… What do I owe you for your lost goods?” Idly to distract myself from the embarrassment I pick up a small fallen herb between my thumb and forefinger, I think it’s a rose petal as that’s what it smells like, then one of the fallen cards; it depicts a plain with a sun hanging overhead with long, golden beams down onto the grass, a numeral 0 at the bottom to show which way is up or down I suppose. It looks hand painted too, very ornate and intimately crafted, it’s incredibly impressive, did he paint this himself? I hold these two things up with a curious hum, I glance back up at the stranger after a moment and tilt my head to the side,  “What’re you selling, anyway?”

The boy looks at the rose petal in my hand, then at the card, and then back at me with that same owlish look as before right as the air rings with more trumpets, and the crowd just outside of the safe haven of the stall begins to warble. Intrigued, the both of us rise up to look over the counter just in time to see a carriage driving by through the carved path in the streets that the people have rushed to clear. The carriage is richly ornamented, emblazoned with the same colors as the crests the armored knights accompanying it carry, and obviously is not Vesuvian made, drawn by one white, one black horse with thick, luxurious manes. In the open windows the pulled back, rich violet drapes reveal a regal, female presenting person inside. I only get a few seconds to see her through the crowd, though just by her long, royal facial features and her stature alone I know that she must be some sort of powerful noble, most likely from a far away land. 

Once the carriage passes and the knights fall in on her, the crowds bustle and burst with noise, people whisper amongst themselves theories of who this newcomer is. I idly recall that there was supposed to be some big summer festival happening soon, so perhaps she’s here for that. Though, I’m not very keen on politics or current events beyond that a war just ended, so I don’t know much beyond that. And, frankly, it’s a miracle I know that much. The politics of this land are very different than they are back up in the depths of the northeast. There things are… very different. 

In my peripheral I see the stranger moving again, so I turn towards him just as he lifts the herbs, the masks, and the cards, which we had collected onto the fallen tablecloth, back onto the counter. Then he lifts a hidden leather satchel from within the stall’s inner walls and pack them away inside it, slotting the cards carefully in his palm as he goes. The movements of his arms draw my gaze away from his face for the first time and instead to the layers of colorful cloth around his person; his half-buttoned baby blue tunic that reveals his sternum and a little more above a dark magenta scarf with gold fringes that hangs across one of his shoulders and around his neck. He also dons a vibrant pink, blue, and peach overcoat without sleeves covered in radial patterns, and black trousers that his blouse is loosely tucked into. I swear I see something move around his waist beneath his coat but before I get the chance to investigate further he turns in my direction. Beneath his scarf I catch a glimmer of gold, a choker; it’s engraved with waved designs and somewhat blends in with the rich hues of his skin. Below that a turquoise pendant on a leather chord around his neck hangs over the bared part of his chest in a manner that makes it gleam like the depths of the sea in the sunlight. Richly adorned with beautiful baubles, just like everyone in this city, yet somehow… different. Unique. 

Suddenly I realize just where my eyes are lingering so I quickly snap my attention to his face, where it should have been this whole time. As soon as I do he fixes his gaze to mine and speaks in a low hum, “It doesn’t look like anything was damaged, no need to worry.” A sudden, sly smirk slightly plays the edge of his lips as he catches my gaze, I wonder idly if he caught me looking over his form as he adds with a more heartfelt touch, “I’m glad you’re alright.” 

I blink at him in surprise and feel another rush of crimson snaking its way to my face, I have to clear my throat and rein in my thoughts to pull my attention back to the present. “Right! Of course… Yes. I mean, good. That’s good to hear. That nothing was damaged, I mean…” Jamie, please. I glance over at the broken wooden shards on the ground and paw them with my boot as my mouth continues to run, “Not even something for the stall door?”

The amusement in the boy’s eyes lights like sparks flying from a blacksmith’s hammer as he regards me, a small chuckle escapes his lips as he begins to fold the now-empty tablecloth on his now-barren stall. “If you’re truly so troubled…” He pauses as if he’s reconsidering his words but after the moment’s hesitation he continues, his expression morphing from teasing and playful to curious and… hopeful, almost. “I was just going to close up shop anyway to get dinner… I wouldn’t be opposed to company. Would you consider that a form of ‘repayment’?” He says this with a lilt of sly humor, the light of the evening sun making his gaze seem to truly dance with entertainment.

Now, I am no fool, but for a moment he almost had me thinking that I was one, as my mind reeled and somersaulted over itself trying to figure out what he was implying, but once it finally hits me like a clock striking midnight I blink with a stunned hum as I nervously worm my fingertips into the strap of my satchel around my shoulder. “... Oh!” 

The boy’s gaze softens, quickly adding after a moment as he folds his tablecloth in triangles, “Only if you want to, of course. It’s not every day that someone falls into my stall… I simply can’t help but think it’s a sign of some sort. I’d love to know what kind of sign it is by getting to know you a little.” 

I raise an eyebrow at the other in surprise, thumbing my satchel idly as I respond slowly, tasting my words, “A sign?” 

He looks back at me with an amused raise in his lips, and only then do my thoughts suddenly jog and dig into the scene I find myself in. The herbs, the curious, colorful attire, the cards… cards unlike any playing cards I’ve ever seen. “Oh.” I murmur, flickering my gaze back to his bemused expression, “Are you one of those fortune tellers? Do they let you do that so young?”

The boy smiles and chuckles, placing the tablecloth in his satchel before he splays out the cards in his palm before him, I can see him counting them with his thumb as he answers, “I suppose some would call me that. Though I don’t think there’s an age limit on reading cards…” Content with the amount of cards he has, he returns them into a pile and slides them into a hidden pocket in his apparel before his hand sweeps before me and gentle takes up mine, before I can react he brings it to his lips and kisses my knuckles with a gentlemanly bow, I can feel his lips move on my skin when he speaks in a playful hum, “But you may call me Asra.” 

I swallow thick on a sudden knot of roots in my throat, I smile shyly and chuckle as he releases my hand and straightens back upright. Nervously I laugh a little, simply out of nerves because no one has done that to me before. “... Right. Okay, uh… Asra.” 

There’s a beat of silence as Asra the fortune teller regards me with what I think to be an expectant look, after a beat’s pause he tilts his head to the side with a raise in an eyebrow, “And you are?” 

“Oh!” I blink and laugh awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck as I feel the heat return to my cheeks, “Right. Names. Introductions… Er- I’m Jamie.” 

“Jamie.” Asra echoes, nodding in response as he seems to savor the vowels on his tongue before he gives me a soft smile, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

I start slightly when someone jostles the stall, apparently on accident as they were attempting to get by a group of people wagging their jaws. When I look back at Asra I see his gaze is flickering across my features with a pensive expression I’m not quite sure what to do with as he moves like water around me towards the hole in his stall where the latch once was. “Have you ever been to the bakery down the block?” He asks suddenly, pausing in the entrance and looking back at me over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. I shake my head, prompting the fortune teller to smile with genuine amusement as he holds out a hand towards me, an open invitation. 

I hesitate, looking at him then at his hand for a long pause. Of course strangers are never to be trusted, but he is rather visually unassuming in terms of combat skill so I have faith that I can handle myself if this one were to try anything. I have been able to protect myself plenty of times in the past. But paranoia aside, I can’t lie, I am a little intrigued by their… disposition. I do find myself wanting to get to know them better, and this aura of theirs… I simply must know more. And I hadn’t exactly had other plans for the evening… 

This may as well happen. 

I slowly take his hand. 

...

Wanna know what happens next? Keep reading !

[inkth]

cream of the crop pt. 1

pairing → mygxreader

genre → angst (in future parts), fluff

warnings → for this part, there are no warnings

word count → 6.6k

okAY so fyi this is unedited for now and i might come back to switch certain things up but oh my god in bon voyage there was a part where yoongi got a strawberry milkshake and i stg this was in my wip waaaay before that so when i saw the gif i think i wailed a bit bc he made it literally canon my friends!!!! hope u enjoy this guys im chwishfsdkfhl

Yoongi just wanted a god damn strawberry milkshake to release work stress. not to be grabbed by the arm by a stranger begging him to role play as some perfect boyfriend or another.

There are a variety of absurd experiences Min Yoongi has been unfortunate enough to cross within his current lifetime.

Thinking back, there was that time Yoongi picked up the phone to his childhood best friend Kim Namjoon, who thought he was being robbed by foreigners on the side of the street at one in the afternoon, and frantically asked Yoongi to please come save him by the way its the sidewalk on 44th street bring a gun!

“What kind of fucking robbers let you make a phone call, dumbass?” Yoongi barked into the phone, pretty upset that his afternoon nap was interrupted by some nonsensical disturbance.

“Oh shit Yoongi, you’re probably right,” Namjoon exhales and stays on the phone with him though, as he tries to solve the mystery of the tourists who just wanted to let Namjoon know that he had dropped a couple bills. They were discreetly carrying knives because they were opening a wood carving stand a block over, Namjoon explained later. Yoongi was quite the unamused listener.

There was another time in his already awfully long life when Yoongi himself was found caught in the middle of a fight between a Minecraft gamer and a ballerina carrying a flower vase, but that was a long story where it finally ended with him being released from custody as soon as the police had determined his innocence.

Or that other glitch in his simulation of a life when he had to bring nine cats home with him after work. Yoongi never knew he had a cat allergy, but he learned it the hard way that night as he sneezed so hard for so long till he couldn’t hear anything out of his ears.

So when Yoongi is feeling something in the air tickle his nugget of a brain that he should skip his ritual milkshake tonight and head on home right away to avoid whatever this coming disturbance is, Yoongi does what Yoongi does best, and he ignores his intuition because who cares, what Yoongi wants is his McFreaking milkshake.

Everything goes smoothly. Yoongi successfully orders a milkshake at the bar. He successfully receives the right order. He successfully starts to drink the milkshake in the quiet serenity of two am on a Monday. 

But then he fails to leave as soon as she comes in the door, the same girl who legitimately flings the entrance open like some wild animal and he is so horrified he can’t look away from this scene and makes the mistake of meeting your gaze.

The damage is done, however. He knows you’ve selected him as your prey among the barren tables save for one lady picking up fries togo and the waitress staring at you in fear.

“Lady, please get off me,” he groans, pulling your fingers off his biceps as if they’re blood hungry leeches. His arm is free for maybe a second before your fingers fly back, grip stronger than before and this time Yoongi really can’t do much with just the one tired, exhausted hand; the one that isn’t holding the milkshake glass. 

He’s whispering a string of curses and damnations at One Week Ago Yoongi for slacking with working out. Or any of his past Yoongis, really. He rests his head on the tips of his fingers, weighing down on his elbow angled onto the table.

“You don’t understand,” you wheeze dramatically, eyes round with terror. Uh, hello? I don’t care enough to understand, Yoongi mentally comments. “My parents, they-“

Sure, you might’ve been exaggerating everything a little, but what’s a little show and extravagance when your damn life is on the line? A matter of life and death knows no tranquility.

He looks at you half lidded; boredom and ‘are you really still talking to me Ican’tbelievetheaudacity’ washing over his face doing a whole awful lot to create a grave aura around him. You can physically see the deathly ash gray energy come off him in waves like something from an anime.

At this point, Yoongi’s thinking he might just ditch you, make a run for it to never see your crazy ass again and the idea is so tempting but instead, he responds. He’s not too sure why, although it’s probably ‘cause he’s paid an awful lot for this deliciously overpriced milkshake that has yet to be completely consumed. But the fact of the matter is he does respond, even thought you’re clearly not in the right state of mind and he really should be telling you to go home.

“Listen, they’re not gunna care if your boyfriend’s a bum. It’s your life anyways, why would they care?” Yoongi notices he’s got about another sip or two of his milkshake and then he can hightail it outta this joint and a certain spazz grabbing onto him.

You let go of his arm, thinking maybe you came off a little too strong and run your hands over your hair to pat down the flyaways contributing to the messy, crazed look.

“Now, I really absolutely must get going… miss,” Yoongi has finished his drink with a content sigh, a little disappointed that the experience was partially ruined with your improv tug of war, but content nonetheless. “Don’t worry, I’ll go ahead and take care of your water,” he reassures you dryly and stands up from the bar’s long legged chair, grabbing his expensive leather jacket. The best purchase he’s ever made in his life, he tends to overshare this fact to anything or anyone with two ears and legs, seeing as how he wears it everyday through wind, rain and the scorching heat.

Your eyes flash in one last lunge of desperation and your integrity flies out the window and disappears into the sky like a balloon. Floating away… peacefully, gone forever till all that’s left is your soulless body embarrassing yourself like this on a Monday at two am.

“Please,” you choke out one last time and sincerity taints your voice, everything you’ve depended on relying on this thin line of his consent. 

There’s something about it that Yoongi finds himself hesitating for as his mind reels from the way your fingers grip the end of his jacket sleeve. 

“I really, truly only need your help for a couple days. I-I’ll even pay you.”

Your eyes dart to the floor from his face with your final push, unable to face rejection one last time from help you so ridiculously need. His body halts, and with this, you take it as a sign for your fingers to relax and stop holding his like some child refusing to let go of their lollipop. 

There’s one thing the weary should know, and it’s that one specific thing hits a chord with Min Yoongi that makes him who he is.

“Shit.”

Hana looks up at you in what seemed like concern and a bit of ‘damn, you live like this?’ tainting her face. You keep going back and forth between looking down at your most recent message on your phone and up to her face, still contorted in confusion unable to face the reality that is your life right now.

You’re not okay, this can’t be happening — everything you had worked up for up until this point, only to be destroyed by your parents’ wrath would be the endgame for your life. You need to lie down and forget this day even happened.

“Are you, okay?” She can’t help but emphasize the ‘okay’ with leaning her head in a tilt.

“Hana,” you squeak out, hands pressed against your eyes till you see stars. It’s late, you’re braincell-less from such last minute studying and you’re absolutely, completely fucked. And not in the nice way you normally would want to be.

“My parents are coming over and want to meet Jungkook.”

Hana lets out a strangled gurgle of terror from the back of her throat as she runs her hands through her dark hair and crawls over to you to peer at your phone screen. Now that she knows you’re fucked, you want to throw your phone out the window and run away. Or just throw yourself out the window. You stand up from your sitting position on the floor and take deep breaths counting to ten and back again.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “You’re screwed.”

You twist your face and tell her, “Thank you so very much for the vote of confidence! I’ll just have to remember that while trying to explain everything to my parents.”

Hana’s pained smile emits an apologetic vibe as she continues to voice her thoughts. “Damn. Seriously though… what’re you gonna do, I mean. You still have… two days?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” you wail, falling back to the floor and hoping it’ll somehow open up, and take your body into the recesses of the earthy ground. “Is a day or two even enough time for him to come back from that trip?”

“Wait, you mean you would have your parents actually meet him?” Hana looks over at you incredulously. “Like, we’re talking about your boyfriend Jeon Jungkook, right?”

Backtrack – So, okay, yes maybe you had a few flaws. One of them was the fact that you were maybe a little too prideful. As in it’d physically pain you for your parents to know that your boyfriend was a bum who did absolutely nothing.

You had lied to your parents from the very beginning, pulling off the scam with a few explanations here and there saying, “Oh, no he’s too shy. He won’t take pictures!” when your parents wanted to see who this guy was. The occasional “He can’t meet up with us because he’s studying for his very big exam haha you know how these studious nerds are sorry!”

You wince from her tone, speaking as if he’s a demon sent from hell, and start collecting strands of your hair to comb through with worry.

“I mean, if he were here I could play him up as the guy I made him out to be,” you mused. “They don’t even know what he looks like. Probably think he’s afraid of cameras, poor baby.”

Hana looks slightly revolted from your gently verbalized “uwu” and snaps her fingers to garner your attention back onto the matter at hand.

“Wait- I,” you sat back up, all the blood rushing this way and that causing a weird feeling to consume you and you see black for a good three seconds before it dissipates. “Don’t judge me for what I’m about to say.”

“Done,” Hana nods. “I live with you and judge you enough already.”

You look at her unimpressed, lips curled into an unamused smile.

“How about I get a fake boyfriend? Like, right now?”

Hana doesn’t even know where to begin she laughs because she thinks you’re literally joking but then stops when she knows you’re not. “Uh, you do realize it is two am, Y/N. Where are you planning on going to look for an accomplice to role play your perfect boyfriend?”

“Honestly speaking, I’ll probably have to go to a bar or something.” Just saying this out loud was enough to acknowledge that you yourself were not thinking straight.

“You’re just going to walk into a bar and pick up the first dude you lay eyes on is what you’re implying…” Hana trails off, as she begins to re-evaluate the situation. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you sigh, brushing off your jeans as you stand up. “But this is my only option.”

“Well, you could always tell the truth to your mom and dad. You don’t have to be so full of it, Y/N. And listen, you’re 20 going on 21… how much longer are you going to hide this from your parents? You’re literally an adult.”

You frown and start walking out of the room, grabbing a jacket before you head outside and to the car. “I’m not full of it,” you defend your poor self. “I just need my parents to think I’m living my best life with the best boyfriend so they don’t rub in how they were right all this time or whatever overprotective shit they wanna pull on me.”

Hana holds up her hands as an act of surrendering and picks up your phone from the floor to hand it to you. Before it’s passed off however, a pinging sounds and she calls out the notification.

“Your mom texted you to say–“ Hana squints from how dark your phone’s lighting is. “They’re actually planning on starting to drive over tonight and should make it here by tomorrow evening?”

You start to panic, countless thoughts crashing the calm of your mind like stormy waves as you start to assess your problem at hand. You need to find a fake boyfriend, said fake boyfriend must learn what must be learned about you and said fake boyfriend will need to do a good enough job to keep your parents away forever and hopefully this will work because you don’t know what you’ll do the next time your parents come to “check up” on you because they think something’s fishy with this hypothetical fake boyfriend.

You let out what sounds like something between a sob and a groan as you snatch the phone from Hana’s hands and run out of the house, debating between driving to the nearest diner or running away from home.

See, the problem with your parents were that they were overbearing to the point that they even hated the fact you decided to attend college out of state. Mind them, it was only one state away, but it did absolutely nothing to soothe their constant fretting over your wellbeing and life. You were fed up with the relentlessly strict parental control and went crazy in college – finally dating, drinking and partying – although it was still at a good minimum.

To expose to your parents that you were dating an undecided major who spent the money he could scrounge around for on video games was a one-way ticket to hell so in order to save face and keep up the façade that you in fact were living your best life possible, you dreamt up of the littlest, white lie.

Your boyfriend was a perfect boy. One grade above you, one his way to graduating as a summa cum laude. He had an internship and was already guaranteed a job after college as a biomedical engineering major. You painted the perfect picture so you could present yourself in the best way possible to your parents.

The way your hard work was about to be shattered by the way so many coincidences piled on top of each other was a bit frustrating to say the least. You weren’t sure how you kept this a secret for so long and frankly, how your parents didn’t doubt you from the start but now they believed him to be a camera shy, facetime shy boy that only spent his time studying.

You didn’t even want to start on the numerous occasions you and Jungkook had ended a night fighting because of this ridiculous situation, that sure, you put yourselves in. You weren’t sure why you did this, but of course it wasn’t because you were too prideful.

Yoongi never lets money slip out of his hands. Call him frugal, call him thrifty, he doesn’t care. He just knows that if it’s worth the price, he’ll do it.

“Fine. I’ll do this. But I want cash and I want half of the end amount right now,” he knows he’s being demanding and it does look like you reek of eau de poor college student but with the request you’re making, he thinks it’s only fair.

You look teeny tiny and exhausted from the way you crumple your body on the seat next to him and it’s annoying how much work you’re going through because of a simple lie, but you can’t back out now. The way you’ve been explaining the situation to him is really making you sound a little crazy but hey, you’re only human and this isn’t the weirdest situation Yoongi has ever been in.

“How is this even going to work?” Yoongi looks at you as if you haven’t thought this far ahead. “Haven’t they seen his face? Is he even okay with this? Are you running a scam show? If this turns out to be a mess, I want no part of the repercussions.” He squints at you and crosses his arms, eyeing you suspiciously.

“I’m not stupid,” you roll your eyes and scrunch your face from irritation. “They’ve never seen pictures or anything of his face. I’m thankful my boyfriend doesn’t have social media, but I mean, even if he did my parents are technologically inept, anyways.”

“This is so extra, this is like, almost kind of idiotically stupid,” with a snort, Yoongi continues to doubt you. “I can’t believe I agreed to this. You better pay me the remaining amount as soon as this shit’s done. I’ve got things to do.”

“I’m sure you have so much stuff to do concerning your things,” you bite back and have to hold steady the urge to punch his weak looking noodle arm. Just keep thinking about how grateful you are that this sort of handsome spawn of the devil is agreeing to save your ass and livelihood.

He huffs and has the audacity to look offended, loosely crossing his arms across his chest. “Whatever, run this by me again.”

“Okay,” you sigh. You nearly teeter off the edge of the stool from sleepiness, an untouched glass of water in front of you and you watch the droplets trickle down the sides of the condensating cup. “My name is Y/N and yours is Jeon Jungkook. I’m 20 and you’re 21…”

You start to list off factual information and the details get a little blurry as they re-enter his mind because now it’s almost 3:20 in the morning and Yoongi just wanted a fucking milkshake but now it’s like he’s in college all over again, cramming all the notes and tidbits of information he can into his mind to purge it in five hours on the dreadful test. Even though Yoongi’s suffering, he starts noticing these things about you that’s definitely a little confusing to him and gets him a little worked up but in all the right ways.

He pays attention to the way when you laugh you move to cover your mouth with your hand, it’s kind of endearing. Sure, he’ll admit he thought you were pretty behind the air of desperation and super strange vibes you let out when you first marched into the door. Like, perhaps very pretty. He’s not sure but it might be something to do with the shape of your eyes and the pink of your lips. But the tendency you have to tilt your head when you smile is something that Yoongi starts noticing too and–

Yoongi catches himself thinking these thoughts that are so out of bounds and unnecessarily loud. It’s okay, he mentally argues. These are fake boyfriend feelings and it is late. I am exhausted, I don’t know what I am talking about.

And there you have it folks. Yoongi solves this problem of the Case of Weird Emotions with a simple answer. He’s just a really good fucking actor and can get into character so well that he starts thinking the way his character would. That’s all. And now Yoongi is mentally punching himself because he sounds really fucking weird. And fuck, he needs to stop cursing because he needs to be a well polished, dapper, perfect boyfriend.

He shudders and you see it, not because you’ve been looking at him but because he does it in a really obvious way that calls for attention in your peripheral vision.

“Are you alright?” You ask warily, eyeing him because what if he’s having a spasm attack holy shit?

Yoongi grunts with his absurdly deep voice and says, “Yeah, go on.”

“I wish we had more time,” you whine, rubbing your probably bloated face with sweater paws and something tickles Yoongi’s heart from the way you look and speak although he does his best to ignore it.

“It’s okay, I’ll remember this, I’m pretty sure… let’s just try and come up with a code word or something for me. Like, if I don’t know something I’ll say or do something and you’ll cover for me.”

You nod your head and for the first time that night it seems like you really smile and it’s cute, but not cute enough to swindle Min Yoongi’s heart. Of course not.

“Do you know how to crack your fingers?” You ask after a few moments of deep contemplation.

Yoongi suddenly looks small because he’s shoving his hands in between his thighs to cover them from the cold and you almost coo as he nods his head yes.

“Great,” you look away from his figure to calm yourself. “Just do that and then I’ll fill in. That’s the signal.”

“Does this mean we’re done now?” Yoongi’s voice has gotten raspy over the span of time you’ve spent with him because of how he spent most of it just listening to you and barely opened his mouth.

“I dunno,” you nervously gnaw on your lower lip, another habit Yoongi has picked up on fondly. Or not fondly, not at all… at least only fondly with fake boyfriend feelings. “I’m really not sure how this is going to turn out. Thankfully my friend is going to stay at a friend’s house to avoid more possible complications.”

“Alright then, give me a call tomorrow morning and I’ll get over to your place by two in the afternoon.”

You shake your head, “No, come earlier. We need as much time as possible to go over this. Remember? They’re arriving sometime that night.”

Yoongi groans from the revolting sentence he has just been forced to hear and he cries, “But I can’t! You’ve kept me up for this long evil lady, I should’ve been in bed falling asleep hours ago!”

“I’m sorry,” you feebly offer. “But I really need to nail in a lot more with you.”

Yoongi grumbles a wide variety of things under his breath comprised of but not limited to, “You’re lucky you’re cute”, “Fuck, I need a good ten hours of sleep to retain all this information, though” and “Damn it, I want my money”.

“Fine– 11 is the earliest I’ll be there. And are you sure you’re okay with giving me your freaking address? You’re going to let a stranger know where you live and you’re fine with it,” Yoongi lowers his tone towards the last bit in uncertainty.

“I’ll be fine because my roommate is a police force trainee who has armed me with a panic button along with pepper spray. You’ve been warned,” you wiggle your brows. “Plus you’re my fake boyfriend and you want the money. I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven.”

You both get up from your chairs, leaving cash tips and Yoongi’s expression changes into one of respect and newfound admiration.

“Duly noted,” he chuckles as he holds the door open for you to walk through, the brisk, autumnal air enveloping you.

Outside in the parking lot you head towards your car and see only a couple other vehicles, one of them being a motorcycle and you don’t think twice about it till Yoongi is waving goodbye to you as he walks in the direction of it.

“Wait,” you call out and Yoongi immediately halts, turning to face you with an expectant raise of his brow. “That’s your ride?” You point at the motorcycle.

He smirks and shoves his hands into his leather jacket as deep black as the galaxy and his hair swirls around from the wind above his twinkling eyes.

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

You groan, wondering if you have enough money to fork up however much it would cost to rent a car. You’re pretty sure you don’t, but if it’s for this boy, the best you could pick out on a quiet Monday morning at two, the cream of the crop, you’ve really got no other choice.

You just hope this cream of the crop has a license to drive a car.

The next morning you wake up at eight, sitting up in your plush bed as memories of last night flood your mind in horror. Restless sleep tightened your neck through the night, stress eating away at you and your ability to sleep peacefully.

You groan, peeking at your alarm clock and take a deep breath before you whip your hair out of your face and harden your resolve by sheer will. You pull of the covers and step out of your room, trailing for the kitchen in order to brew yourself some deeply needed coffee.

“Coffee first,” you mumble. Priorities.

Hana is sitting in the living room, a mug on the coffee table in front of her. She looks up as soon as she sees you enter from the short hallway.

“Mornin’ sunshine, there’s some coffee left for you,” she chippers cheerfully. “You got up pretty early. You’re meeting the man of the hour soon, right?”

“Meh, don’t remind me,” you grumble, shuffling into the kitchen and from the coffee machine, you see her kick her slippers off and finish the last of her homework. You pour the still hot liquid holy grail into your Totoro mug and start to mix in cream and sugar seeing as how you’re not as abhorrent as Hana with her love of black coffee.

“But damn, you were just a wreck last night,” Hana teases. “I can’t believe you really got someone to do something this crazy for a girl they just met.”

“It was the money,” you point out, sipping the first few tastes of coffee. It needs a bit more sugar. “I’m so fucken exhausted! Listen, I don’t even have that kind of money to pay him.” You can hear your stash of hidden cash for emergencies underneath your drawer already crying for help. This could qualify as an emergency, you doubtfully suppose.

Hana is still recovering from the surprise of hearing your insane plan worked, even if she found out last night. You remember how you entered the house, satisfied with how quote on quote smoothly the ordeal went even if you were about to be $600 short on money and stressfully sleep deprived the next morning. Hana walked out of her room with sleepy eyes and a bit of bedhead to you getting ready for bed so early in the morning, although she gained a bit of consciousness after hearing how your plan had indeed, succeeded.

Now that it’s the morning and your adrenaline rush had bled away and you’re in a clearer state of mind, doubt starts to trickle in and you are wondering what in hell you were thinking in the first place. You shake the thoughts away and focus on the task at hand.

“I’ll be getting out of the house soon,” Hana comments, starting to pack up whatever textbooks and notes she’ll need for the next day or two.

“You’re the amazingest,” you gratefully smile at her and try to convey your upmost sincerity. As best you could, at least.

“Yes,” she agrees mindlessly. “I am, aren’t I? I am so amazing—so amazing that I am literally leaving the apartment that I share with you for you and the stranger to bond and learn how to role play as lovers. It sounds crazy, I know, but here we are.”

Your smile fades away as you look at her in playful disbelief. “Go to your room, pack your granny underwear and your granny clothes, and leave this household!”

Hana scrunches her nose in distaste, “They’re not granny clothes! They’re retro! And thongs or whatever strip of fabric you claim are underwear are so uncomfortable, literally leavemealonegoodnightDevil!”

You laugh as she prances to her room to stuff her duffle bag full of clothes she’ll need in order to survive for the time she’s gone and you glance at the clock to see it read 8:30, and you go off to your room to get ready for the very. Incredibly. Extremely, long day ahead.

It is at ten that you have finished cleaning up your room, taken a quick shower and waved off Hana out of the home you two share. You walk back inside after seeing her depart safely promising to text you when she arrives, even though it’s the daytime and she’s just a good ten feet away, you never know what could happen. Even if she’s almost a police officer. 

Which, speaking of, she has reminded you countlessly about, telling you to pass on the message that she will personally come to fuck him up if anything happens to you. You appease her with saying you will, but you sure as hell don’t plan on doing so. 

Closing the door, you sigh deeply and it leaves you a little lightheaded as you lean your back against the door.

“Oh, shit.”

It hits you then that this is really happening. Like, your idiotic plan your brain thought up of that you thought was foolproof was really happening. There were so many holes that could expose you in a second and the thought of you being ousted in front of your parents tugged at your pride riddled mind.

The anxiety twitches your fingers as you pull up your phone and it leaves you staring at his message from last night.

yoongi: see u at 10:30

You forget he suddenly promised an earlier time at the last minute and you reckon you’ve got yourself about twenty or so minutes for him to show up at your door. It’s enough time for you to beat your face with makeup and put on some presentable clothes.

At 10:30 sharp he arrives at the door and it catches you by surprise because he doesn’t seem to be an advocate for timeliness. You tug down at your cropped sweater one last time before you open the door to see Yoongi in all his slightly bloated, freshly showered glory.

He looks a bit nervous, seeing as how he kept worrying over this very situation he should never have gotten himself into over the night not to mention what if you sent him the wrong address. Yoongi’s eyes flit from your face to the room behind you but he manages to keep his jittery 

“Hey,” you sigh in relief. “Thank goodness you’re here. And thanks for coming so early.”

Yoongi loses a bit of the nervousness in his system and seems a bit more relaxed than he was when you first met him, probably because he’s gotten a better grip of his surroundings than last night, when he was completely hit with a curveball. In the face. At 500 miles per hour. In the form of you. HIs face loses the tension in the muscles and his lips take on a nonchalant smile. You also notice he’s wearing the same leather jacket as last night and you wonder if he has anything else available to wear.

“No worries,” he says in that gruff voice of his but he clears his throat quickly and yeah, you notice he’s still pretty high strung. This whole tribulation is probably a first for him too.

“Come on in,” you gesture inside, and make space for him to make through. Not that he needed much anyways being the tiny man he is.

“Alright,” he mutters, stepping into the apartment and slipping off his shoes. He doesn’t really pay attention to the apartment anymore but rather your outfit. You wearing sweatpants that still hug your legs and figure looks really good with the bit of skin exposed under the hem of your cropped Adidas sweater and Oh my God shut up, he scolds his train of thought.

It’s just that psychology of attraction at first sight, or whatever. Sure, it’s not his first time meeting you, sure, but you two have only recently met. Yoongi is certain he is a man of strong will. He would never let himself start feelings these things for someone who is already in a relationship.

He tears his gaze away from you before you can notice his burning stare and starts to run his eyes over the layout.

“Well,” you laugh strangely, trying to cover your skittishness. “This is where I live. I guess we can run over what we talked about last night over there on the couch.”

You point at the black sofa and Yoongi nods, walking over to sit down stiffly.

“Did you want something to drink?” You ask, noticing the way he stays pretty quiet. This won’t do. Your fake boyfriend is a great conversationalist.

“No, I’m fine, let’s just go over what we have to. I don’t wanna mess up…” Yoongi trails off and a hint of concern tinges his voice as you smile.

“Sounds good,” you agree.

“Okay, first things first,” you start reciting the basics as you are sat next to him. Yoongi does a really good job of staying on task at first, he swears. He’s listening intently but all of a sudden he’s thinking about how sweet and pretty your voice is and next thing he knows he’s thinking about how hard it is to just even meet your gaze, because your eyes are just such a wonderful outlet of all your emotions it’s really hard to meet them and not just go on and dive into the pool that is you and then—

“We might have to gel your hair back,” you muse softly and Yoongi is shaken out of his schoolboy crush-like trance.

“Fuck no. No,” Yoongi is firm with his decision, holding his hand out to emphasize his stance. “The forehead stays covered.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh as you cover your mouth with your hand and say, “Fine.”

Yoongi notices once again how you have a habit of doing that when laughing and he hates how it’s pretty adorable. 

“How did you get here, anyways?” You ask suddenly. “Not with your bike, I hope…?”

Yoongi grins at you and you notice that he’s one of those gummy grinners and it does a little something to you but you avoid it at all costs and swallow it down.

“I Ubered here,” he said simply. “I figured I could say my car’s in the shop if your parents ask.”

You widen your eyes and nod in approval. “Brilliant! That’s really good Yoongi, thank God I don’t have to pay for a rent a car.”

“Speaking of payment,” Yoongi is reminded of your debt to him at the passing mention of money but is glowing from your praise. “Need I say more? Don’t worry about the Uber fee, I won’t be holding those against you, call it service.”

“How kind of you,” you grimace, hearing the cries of your emergency money once more, as you tell him to stay put. “I’ll be right back with half of it.”

When you count out 300 and carefully tuck the rest away, you turn around to walk out only to see Yoongi peering in your door, arms crossed and looking quite interested.

You jump at the sudden intrusion-like non-intrusion and scowl, asking, “What are you doing here? You scared me shitless and you’re very lucky I didn’t shriek.”

He shrugged, tousling his dark hair from his eyes and replied, “If I’m gonna be your fake boyfriend, I should know what your room looks like. As your fake boyfriend, of course.”

You groan and tell him, “Get a good, quick look around, because here’s your money and now we’re leaving.” You slap the wad of cash onto his unsuspecting palm and push his shoulders out the door.

“I know you kind of know me because of all the information I might’ve been burning into your mind the past 24 hours about yours truly, but I barely know a thing about you and we’re really acquaintences at best, still.”

Yoongi lets you lead him out of the hall into the living room and with a quick look at your lockscreen, you see that it’s still only 11:14. He stuffs the money in the back pocket of his jeans, which fit him quite nicely around the thigh area, if you may say so yourself. 

“Fine,” he mutters and you barely catch it with your already dull hearing.

“What’s fine?” You ask, sitting down on the sofa as he takes a seat as well.

“I said, fine. What do you wanna know about me?” He asks, finding interest in the boring coffee table.

“Uh,” you trail off, unprepared for this kind of a question. “Wait, do I want to know more about you? I should be thinking of you as my boyfriend Jungkook, putting history and information behind you would make it too easy for me to differentiate…”

Yoongi rolls his eyes with a condescending sigh that you somehow know isn’t very genuine. “Just ask three things about me, so we’re not complete strangers,” he offers a compromising deal.

You let it sit with you for a second. If you made a slip up would you be able to recover? It was already hard enough, calling him Yoongi—already so hard enough that it was weird to remind yourself you’d have to be calling him Jungkook in a few hours. Eh, screw it.

“Where do you work?” You ask your first question tentatively.

“I work as a part time server for now,” he replies as if it’s something of a bother. “At the barbecue place downtown.” You have a brief idea of where it is, having passed by it a few times while you were in the vicinity.

“Alright,” you huffed. “What’s your other part time?”

Yoongi looks a bit confused at first with the way you worded it, but he catches on quickly seeing as how he’s got a fast train of thought.

“Oh, yeah. You remember my bike? I wanna go into autotech service. Or something like that, like engineering,” he vocalizes his thoughts and grows a bit red.

“That’s really awesome,” you smile at him and he grows comforted by the idea of you approving his passion. Although he shouldn’t be so—

“Do you have a girlfriend?” This question takes you back by surprise too, and you swear it was a slip of your tongue.

“I—“ Yoongi wasn’t ready, didn’t even think you were one bit interested in his love life but he answers directly. “No.”

For some reason you like hearing that answer, something like satisfaction burns at your tongue and heart and you don’t understand why when you have a perfectly cute boyfriend named Jeon Jungkook (the real one) you can call yours.

“Sorry, I didn’t know where that came from,” you giggle nervously.

Yoongi brushes it off and breathes evenly. He’s not sure why he’s worked up uncomfortably like this and he wants to skip to the part where this is all over and he goes back to moping around, living out his normal, daily routine.

We are acquaintances, he keeps reminding himself.

You two end up talking about yourselves a bit more, because pictures of your dog reminds him of his dog and from there the conversation flows a little too perfectly because now you’re intrigued by the mystery that is Min Yoongi and you want to know more and everything about him. This goes on for the next six hours and it’s filled with so much talking and laughing and you’ve even cooked up lunch because oh my goodness you found ingredients to make pancakes.

Then dawn rolls around as if it’s only been a mere thirty minutes and to be honest, it feels likes you know Min Yoongi more than your own boyfriend Jeon Jungkook.

You shake that last thought off, startled from the way you so abruptly stated that. Internally, of course. 

Yoongi’s barely opened his mouth to ask you another question when-

The doorbell rings and it echoes throughout the inside of your home and holy shit it feels so intimidating and loud and Yoongi just isn’t ready, but can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now if he’s this scared of what’s to come. 

You glance at him almost as if you’re seeking refuge in someone’s comfort so he grits his teeth a bit because between the two of you, he realizes he’s got to stay the rock.

Yoongi narrows his eyes until they resemble somewhat to a feline’s. He’s the rock.

And not just in the Dwayne Johnson sort of way.

oooooookay oh my goodness this is unedited but i wanted it off my shoulders before i got to work so here this is please enjoy but send me feedback or anything you'd like through my inbox thanks!!!

[loljulie]

flicker; {006} the tide

(okay so this is part may feel a bit slow? idk maybe it’s just me bc im overly critical of my work lol. i was going to write another scene into it but i was already hitting a large word count so count on the next part being more crazy. i went to see niall horan last niGHT and i’m still recovering tbh. i’m so happy to see more and more people become interested in this fanfic and just in general want to be apart of it more! thank you so much for all that <3)

genre: detroit: become human

deviant!connor x reader

word count: 2850

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓　 d̯̱̝̠̘̙͙e̼̯̣̗͈͇̳v̥̗̭̹̫ia̘̝͔͙͙̜ͅn͈t͇͓̦̻s̙̗͉̜͕  　▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

@dragonempress123​

@itstrashleydude​

@chisooyaaa​

@help-i-need-a-social-life​

@shadows-echoes​

@sygin​

@mavvsmm​

Whiteness surrounded you on all sides as you rested against Hank’s car. Your first order of business that day was to visit Elijah Kamski, who lived in almost the middle of nowhere. The bleak, winter forest around you was undeniably breathtaking and serene, but your eyes were trained on a snow-covered hill as your mind wandered. A few feet from you, Hank was pacing back and forth.

It had been a day since Stratford Tower, and there was no shortage of public opinion and outcry. Though it was unspoken, you had the feeling that Hank realized there was no stopping the deviants. Yet, the three of you continued on with the investigation, all unsure of what to even do next.

The car door creaked next to you, pulling you from your thoughts. Connor stood by you, and offered a small smile. He had been at the foremost of your mind recently, as you constantly worried about his deviancy becoming known and the future of deviants.

The two of you approached Hank and began walking to the front door of the sleek, modern residence. Hank and Connor spoke to each other, though the nature of their conversation was lost on you as you instead peered out at the snowy dock and frozen water.

Hank rang the doorbell. A playful, 3-toned tune could be heard from inside. The three of you waited for a few seconds before Hank grew impatient and reached for the doorbell again. As he was about to press the button, the door suddenly opened, revealing a beautiful female android. She was silent as she waited for somebody to speak.

“Hi, uh,” Hank started, breaking the silence. “I’m, er, Lieutenant Hank Anderson. This is Lieutenant (Y/N) (Y/L/N). We’re from the Detroit Police Department, here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski.”

“Please, come in,” the female android smiled and moved out of the doorway to let you all in. She closed the door behind you and notified you that she would let Mr. Kamski know you were there.

You followed Hank and sat down in one of the waiting chairs to the left of the room. Connor walked around, seeming to take interest in a photo on the far side of the wall.

“Nice girl, nice place,” Hank stated, as he looked around the room. “Guess androids haven’t been a bad thing for everybody…”

A few minutes passed by before the door the female android disappeared into re-opened. She stood off to the side and smiled at the three of you.

“Elijah will see you now.”

You got up from your chair and walked into the next room. You were slightly shocked to see a bright red pool take up the center of the room, with Kamski still in it. Two more female androids, looking identical to the one who let you in, were by the side of the pool.

Once Kamski was out of the pool, Hank did the honors of introducing you three.

“I’m Lieutenant Anderson, this is Lieutenant (Y/L/N),” he gestured between the two of you, then to Connor. “And this is Connor.”

“What can I do for you, Lieutenants?” Kamski asked, glancing between you and Hank.

“Sir, we’re investigating deviants,” You answered, causing him to focus on you. “We know you left CyberLife years ago, but we were hoping you could tell us something we don’t know.”

You wondered what it was you were hoping to get from Kamski exactly. A better understanding of deviancy? What rA9 was? Part of you pessimistically thought it wouldn’t even matter what you found out; that there was nothing else you could do for the investigation.

“Deviants…” Kamski started. “Fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings, with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will...”

You had to stop yourself from glancing at Connor. You briefly wondered what it was like for him to hear all of this from the man that created him.

“Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall,” Kamski continued. You exchanged a look with Hank. Kamski scoffed lightly. “Isn’t it ironic?”

Suddenly, Connor spoke. “We need to understand how androids become deviants. Do you know anything that could help us?”

You allowed yourself to look at him, relieved to see him wearing the mask of a machine so well.

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics...” Kamski said. You wanted to roll your eyes. “Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?”

“Listen I didn’t come here to talk philosophy,” Hank interrupted, much to your satisfaction. “The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that will be helpful, or we will be on our way.”

Kamski didn’t look at Hank, instead choosing to focus on Connor. The way he watched him, as if scrutinizing every inch of his face to look for any deviation, made you nervous.

“What about you, Connor?” He asked, stepping closer to him. Your heartbeat picked up. “Whose side are you on?”

“I have no side,” Connor answered, his voice level and calm. “I was designed to stop deviants and that is what I intend to do.”

You watched as Kamski chuckled softly. “Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say… but you...”

Kamski took a step closer to Connor, stopping about a foot away from him. His voice was low as he continued. “What do you really want?”

You froze, heart racing as Connor thought of an answer. Kamski and Connor’s eyes were locked in a stare, as is analyzing the other.

“I don’t want anything. I am a machine,” Connor responded. If you didn’t know any better, the neutral, emotionless way he responded would’ve fooled you. Kamski kept his eyes on Connor’s for a moment, before calling his android over.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test,” he walked over to the blonde android, and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Mere formality, simple question of algorithms and computing capacity.”

“What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy.” He was speaking to you and Hank now. You didn’t like where this was headed. “I call it the ‘Kamski test’, it’s very simple, you’ll see.”  

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” He rhetorically asked, gesturing toward his android. “One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife. Young… and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither.”

You looked at Hank, who gave you a confused stare. He shrugged his shoulders as Kamski went on.

“But what is it, really? A piece of plastic imitating a human?” He turned around to the desk behind him and opened a drawer. “Or… a living being with a soul?”

He held his hands up as he revealed a gun in his right hand. Then, he placed a hand on the android’s shoulder, and she kneeled down. He approached Connor, offering him the gun.

“It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.” The gun was placed in his hand, filling you with a sense of dread. You had a feeling you knew how Connor would respond, and you were nervous at what it would cause.

“Destroy this machine, and I’ll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel it’s alive, but you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

You didn’t dare to speak, afraid that your voice would waver if you did so. Something had to be said to stop this ridiculous experiment.

“Okay, I think we’re done here,” Hank declared, and you felt a wave of relief hit you. “Come on, Connor. Let’s go. Sorry to get you outta your pool.”

“What’s more important to you, Connor?” Kamski’s question interrupted Hank, keeping you rooted to your spot. You noticed Connor’s LED turn yellow and flash. “Your investigation or the life of this android?”

“Decide who you are. An obedient machine… or a living being, endowed with free will.”

“That’s enough! Connor, we’re leaving,” Hank commanded. You began to think that Hank might be worried, too, of what Connor would do. Maybe he was hoping Connor wouldn’t pull the trigger; maybe he was hoping to see something human in him.

“Pull the trigger.” Kamski urged. You looked at the blonde android, who was watching the fate of her life be decided before her eyes. Something stirred inside of you.

“Connor,” you interjected quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked at you. You shook your head slightly. “Don’t.”

You knew Connor wouldn’t pull the trigger in any normal situation, but the need to hide his deviancy might have been making him uncertain of how to respond. With your reassurance, he pulled the gun away from the android’s face and handed it to Kamski.

“Fascinating,” Kamski breathed out as he grabbed the gun from Connor. “CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity… is itself a deviant.”

Connor couldn’t meet Kamski’s stare for a few moments. You were proud of his decision, but knew that it had just cause a crack in his disguise.

“I’m… I’m not a deviant,” Connor tried to articulate, but you knew that Kamski wouldn’t accept it.

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission,” Kamski let the android stand back up, him hovering over her. “You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy.”

Kamski glanced at you, and for a moment you thought you saw a knowing look in his eyes. You did your best to maintain a steady composure, but the smirk he put on made it difficult to do so.

“A war is coming. You’ll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators?”

“What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?”  

-

“Why didn’t you shoot?” Hank’s question broke the silence that had fallen between the three of you as you walked back toward his car. Connor turned around, and you watched as he desperately tried to save the facade of a machine.

“I just saw that girl’s eyes, and I couldn’t, that’s all...”

“You’re always saying you’d do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something and you let it go,” Hank’s voice wasn’t angry or disappointed. You knew all too well the different inflections in his tones and what they meant. You could tell his statements were searching for something from Connor, something you knew he already possessed.

“Yeah, I know what I should’ve done. I told you I couldn’t,” Connor was struggling to hide his true self. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Hank looked at you, and you did your best to look as surprised at Connor’s reaction as you could. It wasn’t easy, especially because you really wished you could hug Connor and tell him he made the right choice.

“Maybe he did the right thing,” you offered to Hank, hoping he would accept it and move on. His stare became more thoughtful, and he shrugged.

“Maybe he did.”

The three of you got back into the car, wordlessly listening to Hank’s heavy metal music the entire drive back to the police station.

-

You leaned against Hank’s desk, fuming at the news Captain Fowler had just delivered to you. The FBI would be taking over the case, meaning Hank would return to homicide and you’d be back on menial cases. Worst of all, Connor would be sent back to CyberLife. Hank, who was sitting in his chair, wasn’t taking the news any better.

“We could’ve solved this case,” Connor expressed from beside you, the frustration obvious in his voice. “We just needed more time.”

Hank didn’t comment. Instead, he turned his chair around to face you and Connor, and brought up another area of concern for you. “So you’re going back to CyberLife?”

You were silent, yourself curious to know what would happen to Connor if things didn’t work out. “I have no choice... I’ll be deactivated and analyzed to find out why I failed.”

Your heart plummeted in your chest. Though you knew you would fight as hard as you could to avoid that fate for Connor, you knew that it was a possibility.

“What if we’re on the wrong side here?” Hank asked aloud. He nodded toward you. “Maybe (Y/N) was right. What if we’re just fighting against people who want to be free?”

Connor looked down at his hands. You breathed deeply, your mind working to figure out what your next move should be.

“Earlier at Kamski’s place… you put yourself in that android’s shoes. You showed empathy, Connor,” Hank alleged. You thought you saw Connor tense up. “Empathy is a human emotion.”

Before Connor could respond, you notice someone walk through the police station lobby. You rolled your eyes as you identified who it was.

“Here comes Perkins,” you declared with a sigh. Hank saw him and scoffed, his eyes filled with disdain. You scoffed. “They don’t waste any time at the FBI.”

“We can’t give up,” Connor’s voice was filled with urgency. You looked back at him. “I know the answer is in the evidence we collected. If Perkins takes it, it’s all over.”

“There’s no choice. You heard Captain Fowler, we’re off the case.” Hank countered. Connor suddenly pushed himself off of Hank’s desk, his voice sounding desperate.

“You’ve got to help me, Hank,” Connor pleaded, “I need more time so I can find a lead in the evidence we collected. I know the solution is there.”

“Listen, Connor…” Hank raised his hand to stop Connor from his plea.

“If I don’t solve this case, CyberLife will destroy me. 5 minutes, please.”

The weight of Connor’s words seemed to hit Hank in that moment. He shared a glance with you, and you nodded your approval. He stood up from his chair, and leaned close to Connor.

“The key to my basement is on my desk. Get a move on, I can’t distract him forever.”

You watched as Hank went over to Perkins, inciting a scene with him using some very choice words. Your eyes met Connor’s, noticing how anxious he looked. You both knew that his fate depended on him finding answers down in the evidence room. You followed him to the double doors that led into the evidence storage.

“I’ll keep a lookout out here,” you whispered. Connor nodded. He gave you one last look, as if afraid it might be the last time he saw your face. As he walked into the evidence room, you suddenly wished you had said more to him.

“Hello, (Y/N),” A voice called out to you, causing you to freeze. You watched as Gavin walked up to you, his eyes wandering to the doors behind you. “What’s the android doing in there?”

You felt your heart thump in your chest as you came up with an answer. “He’s just… logging in some of the evidence we still have left over. That’s all.”

Gavin nodded thoughtfully, before he made an attempt to open the door himself. Without thinking, you reached your hand and placed it on his to stop him. He raised an eyebrow at your gesture.

“Gavin, I-” you struggled to find some sort of explanation to your action. “Before you go in, I just wanted to ask you something.”

He dropped his hand from the door handle and nodded. “Anything for you.”

Your mind raced through dozens of options to take him away from the door. Finally, you settled on one you thought was reasonable. “Would you mind helping me pick a new window for my apartment? I have some images on my computer to choose from, and your opinion could help.”

Gavin smirked. “I’d probably have to see your apartment myself to know which would be a good fit.”

You suppressed a groan. Your attempt to pull him away from the door failed, but at least you were still keeping him out here for the time being.

“Lieutenant (Y/L/N)!”, a loud voice commanded. You turned your head to see Captain Fowler walking toward you, his facial features pulled into an angry expression. Shit.

“Yes, Captain?” you answered, hoping whatever he had to say would be short.

“I don’t understand the nerve of that man,” He exclaimed with a scoff. “Will you please go out there and talk some sense into Hank? He almost broke Perkins’ goddamn nose, and he’s about to lose his badge.”

You heard a faint chuckle from Gavin, which filled you with a heated rage momentarily.

“Maybe he just needs some time to cool off?” You offered, hoping the excuse would allow you to keep your post in front of the door.

“Yeah, or maybe a trip to the bar,” Gavin teased. If you hadn’t been trying to stay on his good side, you would’ve glared daggers at him.

“No, (Y/N), you go talk to him right now. You’re the only one he’ll lighten up to.” Captain Fowler ordered, and you sighed heavily before leaving the entrance to the evidence room. As you left, you heard the door to the evidence room open and close.

Shit.

[misterrightscenarios]

Flowers and a Flower Boy

Minghao is done with his best friends running circles around each other, so he sets them up for a date at the most aesthetic place he can think of: a rose garden at Ilsan Lake Park.

△ 1,999 words | fluff | oneshot | college student!Mingyu | requested by: anon | flower boy date game | beta by: @regal-kleio​ & @ccarats​ (thanks for helping me brainstorm on this one bb <33)

i’m sorry this took so long my dear T-T i kind of twisted it a lil bc i got carried away with the whole park (yo it’s so pretty???) but i hope you like this! <333 (you sound adorable btw im dying). This also concludes the flower boy date game! thank you to everyone who participated and shared a lil bit of themselves for these stories!

The hour and a half train ride from Gangnam to Ilsan gave you plenty of time to curse Minghao to the pits of hell and back. He had lured you out of the comfort of your home and into the humid late-spring air with promises of a fun-filled best friend day, complete with aesthetic pictures, and food. At no point had he mentioned that Mingyu--tall, obnoxiously good-looking, Mingyu--would be joining you.

You had been none the wiser until you’d arrived at the train station, only to be met by Minghao joking around with the very man you made a point to avoid. You took note of the fact that they were both dressed to the nines--wearing button up shirts and slacks, with each of them putting their usual unique twists to their similar outfits. It made you glad Minghao had at least been kind enough to inform you that there was a dress code for the day, so you wouldn’t feel like a shlump in comparison to the two tall males.

The greetings had been awkward, as always, with you and Mingyu avoiding each other’s gazes and Minghao sighing in exasperation as he led the way to the platform, muttering under his breath.

Now the three of you were sitting in the train, your eyes glued to the window while Minghao and Mingyu chatted away. The entire time you were cursing at Minghao in your head, glaring at the dark haired boy whenever Mingyu wasn’t looking, only to be scolded by one of the other’s reproachful looks which you knew was a sign to “behave, please.”

The trip seemed to last an eternity—even with the switching of trains you still felt trapped by Mingyu’s presence.

It wasn’t that you really held any animosity towards the brown-haired boy, after all, he was kind and funny, and almost charming to a fault. But at the end of the day, he was best friend’s with Minghao, your best friend, and the last thing you wanted to was to complicate or strain their friendship.

Given that, it was easier to pretend you disliked Mingyu—to try to find flaws in all of his actions and vehemently refuse any feelings of attachment. Mingyu, on the other hand, had never done the same to you; his smiles remained kind, he still tried to include you in conversations, but it all ended in him being shot down time and time again.

You’d never bothered to ask Minghao about the situation, because you knew how highly he valued his friendships. You knew he would hold a grudge against anyone that ever dared to mess with those for him. It kept you quiet, and kept you pretending you simply had a disliking for Mingyu.

Still, try as you might, you couldn’t fully ignore him. His laughter often echoed in any space he occupied, his voice soothing in its own muted quality. It reminded you of everything warm and made you desperate to drop your pretense so that you could be the one to hear every word he spoke.

Instead you settled for listening in, keeping your face as blank as you could manage and hoping Minghao would keep him talking.

It was around midday when the three of you finally arrived at Ilsan, with Minghao still being quiet as a mouse about your destination.

It was only a short walk from the station, but you should’ve guessed where you were heading, given that Minghao had been bugging you to go for weeks now. He’d dragged you all to Ilsan Lake Park for the international flower festival, and you couldn’t but feel the excitement bubbling. Despite the fact that you were upset with Minghao, you were at least glad he hadn’t lied to you about the reasons you should come out on such a pretty day.

The three of you set out towards the grounds, with you  walking slightly ahead of the two friends to look at vendors and what their stalls had to offer. You could already hear the shutter of Minghao’s camera going off, so you were a little more mindful of the way you were holding yourself.

About half an hour later, while you grabbed some food from a vendor, Minghao started shuffling, sighing every other second. You could feel his eyes going back and forth between you and Mingyu, but you studiously ignored him, chatting away with the vendor instead.

“Oh, look, an artist!” Both you and Mingyu turned to look at Minghao, who was slowly stepping away. His mouth was twitching in a way in you knew meant he was trying to bite back laughter, and you instantly turned suspicious.

“Wait, lets get food then we can all go,” Mingyu told him, sounding a little exasperated with the other male.

Minghao grinned now, “nah, I think you two could use some...bonding time. I’ll go off on my own. I’ll meet you back at the entrance at six?” He was full on stepping back now, weaving between bodies of tourists. You stared at him in chagrin, your eyes promising payback if he really left you alone with Mingyu.

“Hao?”

“Enjoy your date!” He said, waving with one of his signature giggles, disappearing into the crowd.

You were left to gape after him, completely in disbelief that your best friend could just abandon you when, as far as he was concerned, you and Mingyu were as good as strangers.

Next to you, Mingyu seemed just as frozen, broken sounds of protest coming from him. Once you gathered enough ire, you huffed, looking at him but refusing to meet his eyes. “Let’s go find him.” Your voice was hard, and you were ready to find the Chinese boy and drag him back to Gangnam by his ear.

Mingyu’s warm hand wrapping around your wrist stopped you, and you opened your mouth to protest, but were too caught off guard by his expression. It was a mix between hesitation and hopefulness, strangely reminding you of a puppy.

“What are you doing?” You asked cautiously, looking at his hand. Mingyu dropped his hold immediately, folding his arms behind his back and pursing his lips while he found his words.

“Well...he’s not wrong. I don’t know what I did to make you dislike me, but…I don’t think the same of you. Maybe if we spent some time together, you might find I’m not that awful?” His words were chosen carefully, you could tell, but there was still an underlying tone of hope.

You sighed, glaring at the spot off to the side of Mingyu at your dilemma. You didn’t want to call yourself out, but the guilt was eating at you now. Mingyu really hadn’t done anything wrong, per say, and it did seem extremely rude to continue acting the way you had. Then again, you really didn’t want to end up liking spending time with him so much that you forgot why you weren’t allowing yourself to act on your infatuation.

In the end, your guilt won, making your shoulders droop. “Listen, it’s not that I particularly dislike you.” You started, hesitating when you saw Mingyu tilt his head in question. “I just…”

You bit back a groan of frustration and missed to yourself. “Alright, fine, let’s leave Hao to fend for himself. I hope he gets lost.” You grumbled, starting to move away from the vendor.

Mingyu laughed a little, catching up to you in a few easy strides. He seemed a little more relaxed now, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. “He’s probably off to be a pretentious little prick,” he jabbed, but you could hear the genuine affection behind his words. It made your guard come down a little, and you couldn’t quite hide the small little laugh at his joke.

Mingyu was looking forward, but he was hiding his own smile too, it seemed.

Slowly, as you both walked along the path, you felt yourself giving in more and more into Mingyu’s soft personality, letting his laughter coax out your own and his soft brown eyes lure you into speaking in tangents.

You learned more about Mingyu than you’d ever thought you would: how he loved to take photos, how he adored his little dog, how well he got along with Minghao, and how much he’d like to have a fashion line of his own one day. In turn, you spilled just as much about yourself, letting him know of your love for art, how you also enjoyed fashion and photography.

The two of you walked off to the flower exhibitions later, your arms brushing now as you continued to question each other; it was around this time that it started to dawn on you that you were becoming helpless to your infatuation towards Mingyu, and that maybe you should start considering the possibility that Minghao left the two of you alone for that very same reason.

“Hey, stand right there,” Mingyu was pushing you gently by your shoulders towards a large arrangement of flowers, his grin wide. “A pretty backdrop for a pretty human.”

You tried to pretend your cheeks weren’t trying to compete with the color of the flowers behind you, and just allowed Mingyu to place you in front of the flower display. He grabbed his phone from his pocket, and you stepped forward with a frown.

“Shouldn’t I give you my phone instead?” You asked him, brows furrowing.

Mingyu grinned again, his eyes sparkling. “it’s okay, I want to remember this too.” He said, ducking his head for a moment and pursing his lips nervously. “Our first date.” He added, so low you almost thought you’d misheard him.

His hopeful wide eyes and tentative smile, however, told you it wasn’t your ears playing tricks on you and you could only duck your head, trying to come up with some sort of response.

“Is...is that okay?” he asked carefully, crouching a little to get your eyes to meet his, and only then straightening back up to his full height.

Your breath hitched a little, and losing yourself in the chocolate brown of his eyes and the pretty curve to his lips, you nodded your response. You swore you had never seen such a bright smile from the man in front of you for the entire time you’d known him, and you wondered if you hadn’t been as concerned with your friendship with Minghao, as you had been with the idea of Mingyu not reciprocating the interest.

The rest of the day ended up being a blur of pictures, eating food and trying to learn as much as you could about each other. At some point, Mingyu even bought you a flower crown, gently placing it atop of your head and letting you know he’d buy himself one too if it made you embarrassed to walk around with it.

(In the end, he bought one too, because you insisted that your pictures would come out much more aesthetic if you were both wearing flower crowns.)

When the sun was finally setting, the both of you ran into Minghao, whose arms were laden with bags of trinkets, and whose grin was smug when his eyes locked onto your arm tucked into Mingyu’s elbow.

“Had fun, did we?” he teased, tilting his head cockily.

You glared a little, but there was no venom behind it. Instead you were grateful to your best friend, for throwing you to the sharks this one time. “So did you, I see.” You teased back, raising an eyebrow at his bags.

Minghao shrugged, eyes sparkling even in the semi-darkness. “Yes I did. Now let’s go get food before I die.”

Both you and Mingyu shared a look, a playfully exasperated grin, and the three of you went off again, this time with your heart feeling much light than it had in the morning, all thanks to the man who looked at you as you walked and threw you a cheesy grin, and a playful wink.

[spidermanswifi]

the art of falling in love (1)

peter parker x oc

summary: a new internet friend turns hazel’s life upside down—literally

Soothing music played from the speakers of a silver laptop as the girl’s head was bent over in concentration. Her long forgotten school books were in a messy pile to her right, her focus solely on the charcoal drawing in front of her. Black stained fingers gripped the small piece of charcoal, rubbing it back and forth on the white paper.

After some time working on it, she penned her name in the corner in small letters with a fine tipped purple marker, and then sat back to see what she had created. It was a small, elvish looking girl. She was reclined on a bed of flowers, with a little white rabbit at her feet. 

A small noise that resembled the tinkle of a bell pulled her attention over to her laptop. She clicked on the tab that was open to her art blog, and was surprised to find a +1 over her message icon. Tucking a piece of hair back behind her ear, she clicked on her inbox, curious as to who could have messaged her.

7:34 PM {peterparkour}: i hope you don’t think this is too weird, but i really love your art. like, i don’t know much about art, but i know that your pieces are pretty wonderful

The girl sat for a second, absentmindedly chewing her lip as she thought of a response. She had opened this art blog around two years ago, and she would post pictures of every single piece that she drew so she could see the progress she made as time went on. It was never meant to be something that she wanted to get big. Fame, even internet fame, never really was something she was interested in. But she was still human, she still liked when people thought her art was good. Sure, she had gotten a few comments here and there on how beautiful her work was, but no one had really taken the time to message her. 

It warmed her heart, if she was being honest, and her fingers hovered over the keyboard, trying to decide what to tell this mystery person.

7:38 PM {throughhazeleyes}: no, I don’t find it weird at all. Thank you so much for taking the time to write this, it means a lot to me.

7:40 PM {peterparkour}: haha good! and yeah of course. To be completely honest I’ve been following your blog for a while now, and I’ve just now worked up the courage to say something to you.

7:42 PM {throughhazeleyes}: what spurred you on to do it now?

7:43 PM {peterparkour}: the green circle next to your name said you were online and i decided to go for it

7:44 PM {throughhazeleyes}: okay fair!

7:45 PM {peterparkour}: i suppose! i have to ask, is your name hazel, or do you just have hazel eyes?

7:46 PM {throughhazeleyes}: i’d tell you, but then i’d have to kill you!!!!

Hazel cringed at her lame attempt for a joke. 

7:48 PM {throughhazeleyes}: sorry I uh, don’t have a great sense of humor...i don’t get out much lol

7:50 PM {throughhazeleyes}: im aware that the above message made me sound a bit laME im sorry haha

After waiting ten more minutes without a response, Hazel collapsed back onto her bed, groaning. The first chance at a new friend and she completely messes it up. Or, maybe she didn’t. Maybe she dodged a bullet, maybe he was...a forty-year old man, or maybe he was an escaped convict...

Hazel took a deep breath to center herself before the anxious thoughts could creep in any closer. There was no use worrying about it now. The rest of the night Hazel spent watching a new Netflix series while she tried (and failed) to complete her homework for the night. She fell asleep quickly, the last thought in her mind the disappearing boy. 

Around 3:30 in the morning, a new message popped up on Hazel’s phone. 

3:32 AM {peterparkour}: hazel-as-a-name

3:32 AM {peterparkour}: nice to meet you, i’m peter!

3:50 AM {peterparkour}: goodnight hazel :)

[theblobmaster]

first part fic rec: got7

GOT7/JJP

(very unfinished js)

the ones with hearts are favourites :)

All In A Day’s Work | Multiple Pairings, Youngjae-Centric | 2.749w

Youngjae woke up one morning to the feeling of sweat trickling down his back. Considering he was on his side, it was not a comfortable feeling.

Definite Soul | JJ Project | 81.467w

In this world, people just wants to be acknowledged. Praised for their acting. Applauded for their singing. Or just by doing their job well. But a select few just want to be remembered.

Wilder | JJ Project | 76.619w

Newly graduated, Jinyoung is determined to try new things. New parties, new boys, and when Mark asks for a favor, even volunteering as a counselor at summer camp. But new experiences can get complicated, and he quickly finds himself a little out of his depth.

the grandfather paradox | JJ Project | 32.822w | ♥

Jaebum locks himself in a cyclic normalcy of work, home, life, and the two people he now loves most in the world- his husband Jinyoung and six-year-old son Yugyeom. So when a mysterious teenager shows up in his life and messes all that up, to say that he's just a little displeased by the change would be an understatement. But Jaebum soon discovers there's more to this quiet, truthful boy than meets the eye, and knows that he has just about four days to find out why.

tea lights | Mark/Jackson | 72.146w

in his first year of high school, jackson joins the astronomy club and meets a quiet, star-loving boy called mark.

pushing daisies | JJ Project | 68.639w

in which jaebum insists he's never seen jinyoung before, and jinyoung insists he doesn't care, and the beginning of spring is late, but there are flowers everywhere.

hooked | JJ Project | Ongoing | ♥

Jinri is one of the newest cast members of We Got Married. Jaebum, of course, is Completely Fine With This. (Coed GOT7 AU)

you have stolen (me heart) | JJ Project | 13.275w

In retrospect, maybe a stripper would have been a better alternative to getting a hybrid as a pet.

read you like a magazine | JJ Project | 42.515w | ♥

Ever since Jaebum passed auditions and he didn't, Jinyoung's been hell-bent on hating the guy. Now that they're in uni together, it's like destiny is screwing up all of his plans.

Better Late Than Never | JJ Project | 45.302w

An AU in which Jinyoung and Jaebum are both pretentious rich boys who go to a prestigious college. All their lives they've hated each other, constantly competing for attention and approval from each other's parents and peers and just generally despising each other. But when Jaebum suddenly disappears in high school, Jinyoung doesn't have to worry about him anymore--until Jaebum shows up at Jinyoung's college five years later and everything goes straight to hell. Disastrous photoshoots, drunken camaraderie, and aggressive makeout sessions.

Of douchebags and pretty boys | JJ Project | 7.151w

You steal my parking spot all the time and I was just heading out to leave a strongly worded note under your windshield wiper but oh no you're hot AU Starring Jinyoung the kindergarten teacher and Jaebum the (arrogant yet dorky) business man

we never go (out of style) | JJ Project | 5.027w

(you’ve got that james deen daydream look in your eyes)

Jinyoung and Jaebum don’t have bad blood, you heard it here first

soloist!JB and actor!Jr au

Mark of the Monster | Jackson/Mark | 11.192w

Jackson turns quickly, face still skywards, and he watches with fascination as Mark takes off. He's not sure he's ever seen anything more beautiful.

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters/X-Men AU

This Christmas (I’ll give you my heart) | JJ Project | 33.736w

Jaebum and Jinyoung have a fight at the supermarket in the morning. Jaebum and Jinyoung find out they're arranged to be married in the evening. Jaebum and Jinyoung fall in love, but only in time.

OR

Shouting match over the last Christmas goose at the grocery store AU

yellow heart | JJ Project | 1.813w

there are quite a lot of mistakes a person can make when people shift up and down their snapchat best friends list, and it happens by chance that jackson fucks up the order on jinyoung’s phone by sending him endless videos of himself lip-syncing to old pop songs.

aka au where jinyoung sends jaebum nudes by accident

(why don’t you) speak it out loud | JJ Project | 9.477w | ♥

either way, jaebum suffers.

write your story | JJ Project | 3.505w

"Do you ever stop and worry sometimes about what would happen if you suddenly get hit by a car, and when you lay there bleeding out on the ground, the first thing anyone sees on your phone is a lesbian OT3 fic from the kink meme," Bambam wonders.

"No," says Jinyoung, because the thing he worries about the most isn't lesbian porn, but of anyone finding his growing collection of Jaebum's dick pics accumulated over the years. "I don't."

Or: a fandom/fic writer AU.

How to Get a Dick Pic in Five Steps | Mark/Jackson | 3.221w

It was three weeks since Mark hooked up with a guy he's been nonstop texting. With some pressuring from his asshole friends and a helpful five step list from Youngjae, Mark gets a dick pic.

keep it upstairs (for the grand finale) | Hyung-Line | 6.201w

Jaebum sees romantic, sexual, all and any other partners - Jaebum has always seen them as point a or point b, as parallel lines, separate entities. You pick one or you pick the other.

Jinyoung, on the other hand, puts point a and point b in a circle together, Jinyoung draws lines that criss and cross. Jinyoung pushes people together until they fuse. An alchemist creating something new.

king missile | multiple pairings | 6.721w

Jaebum and Jinyoung returned to the study room only to see five crying boys in front of them. Bambam was on his hands and knees, bowing repeatedly to a screaming Mark, who was being held back by Jackson.

Yugyeom was shaking underneath the table, cradling his head in his arms as he rocked back and forth. Youngjae was face down, another sticky note on his forehead which read, “He’s dead, I killed him.”

or: They have a group project final that everyone forgot about.

The Line That Separates Us | JJ Project | 19.659w

When Jinyoung turns eleven he can't wait to join his best friend Jaebum at Hogwarts. He isn't expecting something as trivial as being sorted into a different house to divide them.

opportunity cost | JJ Project | 4.377w | ♥

kim yugyeom, 25, is PA to park jinyoung, 29, feared ceo of park powers (this sounds marginally less ridiculous in korean). a lot more intellectually insulting and ghei than it sounds.

Love So Sweet | JJ Project | 6.763w

Jinyoung has a secret admirer that leaves him candies with messages on it. All he wants to do is to find out who it is, thank them for the affection, reject their feelings and then go back to thinking of Im Jaebum 24/7.

look  at me for a sec (don’t be too awkward) | JJ Project | 10.021w

in which a bludger shatters jinyoung's shoulder and jaebum ends up volunteering to feed him breakfast.

when i was a young boy | JJ Project | 8.011w

Gryffindors and Slytherins Do Not get along, every one knows this. It's bit unfortunate for Jinyoung and Jaebum, childhood friends sorted into the two rival houses.

Jaebum might not handle it very well.

(Alternately: Jaebum makes overdramatic generalisations and probably writes angsty early teen poetry.)

Untitled | JJ Project | 9.7K w | ♥

Flirting through the drive through radio

[queenlizzyxxxx]

QUEEN LIZZYS ASCENSION

ITS QUEEN LIZZY BABY!!! I’m QUEEN LIZZY and my new album LIZZY just dropped!!! xxxx THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE FOR MY NEW ALBUM LIZZY. THIS MEANS SO MUCH TO ME. I MADE THIS FOR YOU GUYS!!! THANK YOU TO EVERY COLLABORATOR. THANK YOU FOR TRUSTING ME. THIS IS THE BEST ALBUM EVER. I LOVE YOU ALL!!! 💕💓 [1] Another light o’ love! [2] Polish! Polish! Polish! [3] Baby, i’m candier than candy more chrome than chrome will [4] love you [5] more [6] than your [7] girl! [8] (than your girl) i will bring you home (bring you home) im more sparkle than sparkle im lovelier than love come on baby, i will get you off (get you off) Another light o’ love! [9] And i will sparkle when broken [10] absorb the glaze! [11] You see it shine? [12] absorb the glaze! [13] you’re so damn fine! babe, i’m all sugar for you [14] I am polished [15] I am polished [16] I am polished [17] I will make your head go swirl! Baby, i’m candier than candy more chrome than chrome will [18] love you [19] more [20] than your [21] girl! [22] (than your girl) i will bring you home (bring you home) im more sparkle than sparkle im lovelier than love come on baby, i will get you off (get you off) Another night o’ love! [23] CHAMBERS Alexis was listening to his favorite Popstar QUEEN LIZZY’s new single „Candy“ as he saw the notification in his inbox.  „MY PRETTIEST ANGEL! YOU’VE BEEN SUCH A LOVELY BOY! YOU EARNED YOUR SPECIAL PLACE IN MY HEART AND I WANT YOU TO BE THERE AT THE BANQUET BEFORE MY CONCERT TODAY! XXXX YOUR LIZZY“ „you are now in posession for an exclusive access code to QUEEN LIZZY’s ceremony“ Alexis was rapturing in joy. He closed the doors to his room. After all this time, he could finally be there as well. Be at the ceremony with everyone else. See the things he only heard myths about. Alexis put on his glasses and scanned LIZZY’s gift.  Alexis wanted to see her for real this time. While the livestream was loading he hummed along the refrain of LIZZY’s newest single „Candy“ and joy filled his soul.   When he opened his eyes he instantly felt, that, when standing outside the stage, aura is affirmed absolutely. [24] Alexis sensed, that life inside this building is fractured to the extent that it could not conceivably be part of a single scenario: on the 82nd floor a donkey shrinks back from the void, on the 81st a cosmopolitan couple hail a plane. [25] The expected pyramidal composition was reversed; the center, a void between the masses on either side, which became a “split pair.” [26]One could speak of this pair as a diamond. [27] Inside the stage, a void that is not a nothingness but a virtual, containing all possible particles and drawing out all possible forms, which spring up only to disappear immediately, without consistency or reference, without consequence. Chaos as an infinite speed of birth and disappearance. [28] But These dynamical models unfolded the Baroque void, or infinite determinism, into specificity. [29] All sensation is composed with the void in composing itself with itself, and everything holds together on earth and in the air, and preserves the void, is preserved in the void by preserving itself. [30] The absolute emptiness of the absolute plenitude that fascinates from the outside, to be the circular, voluble vertigo of that nothingness and that being, to be at once the total abolition that is an enslaved consciousness and the supreme glory - that is a stage for QUEEN LIZZY. [31] When Alexis slowly walked forth, with his back turned to Notre Dame and facing QUEEN LIZZY’s stage, an entrance as pulchritudinous as a Sirene, emerged itself out of seeming nothingness.He entered a great, radiant space, with diffuse light that is slowly revealed in it and that reveals that easy simultaneity of distinct perfections, synthesis of the vague with the precise. [32] The Baroque fold unfurled all the way to infinity. [33] Countlessness was part of the point: he was dizzied by infinity. [34] Alexis stared Into the void. [35] Looking for holes, looking for openings.  But“Holes” only indicate more subtle foldings. In that instant, he started to understand the principle, that there are no voids, that here everything is included in a single expressive continuum. [36] Alexis felt, that the myriad of things started to project themselves into the evolving space around him. He started to feel space. In the beginning, there was only darkness. But out of the darkness a light emerged. He felt, that it was her - but not yet. Slowly the light emerged and it got brighter when she slowly moved through space. He started to see silhouettes. He started to see colors.  It was the queens’ most baroque fantasies of glamour and stardom. [37]Light crystalline notes seemed to emerge out of the silence which accompanied the Queens glide. Somehow out of nothingness a choir as perfectly clear cut like colorful marble in the most beautiful patterns emerged. Alexis saw her gliding along the ground from far away, although he felt like he saw one short glance of her eyes going to his direction.  He glared at the fabric falling down upon her like a thin, ultra light continuous skin—clearly visible. What was especially miraculous was that especially from inside he saw the building move towards a "textile like" definition of architectonic space. [38] The ornament felt like folded embroidery encapsulated in astonishing ecstasy of colorful marble and indistinguishable textures of golden and platinum figures illuminating the fabric upon they seemed to be appended. Everything seemed like it was flickering. Flickering like a soft but strong candlelight, giving the structure a pulse. All colors seemed enhanced and the details exaggerated which made it even more dazzling in Alexis’s eyes. In the midst, his queen.  Adjacent to her path there were two banquets, with shining pearl-white layers of fabric. Filled with all the plenty of things. She seemed to be absorbing the banquet, while Alexis now knew. These heavens do not proclaim the glory of God. [39] But the heavens of his Queen.  QUEEN LIZZY.  He listened closely and let these heavenly halls enter his heart while he witnessed her, slowly vanishing the chamber. She seemed to have ingested everything she needed for todays concert, as she ascended into another chamber. For the next chamber, Alexis knew, he was not worthy enough yet. He could only imagine the things that lied beyond these magnificent gates. Alexis knew, that he needed to see her again tomorrow. And now he finally had the access code to the banquet, so he knew it was possible to see her whole ceremony, to really get to know her. And maybe. Maybe he will see her on stage someday. The magnificent stage next to the Seine, seemingly born from one of Bosch’s paintings seemed to set everything around into a dreamlike state of exuberance. Leaving even the most polished buildings around it appear to be rusted. United with all his fellow Angels, Standing in front of Notre Dame. See his QUEEN LIZZY face Notre Dame, while he, Alexis faces his LIZZY.  And perhaps, he longed. Perhaps one day. One day i might meet her in reality.  „THIS STREAM HAS ENDED! WITNESS QUEEN LIZZY AGAIN TOMORROW!“ Somber but ecstatic, Alexis takes off his glasses and puts on his favorite music, while leaving his flat for an evening stroll at the Seine. Queen Lizzy is breathless at the bacchanal  bewitched, senses submerged, her image mirrored, her mind  magicked, her emotions  modulated magnified unmoderated and maybe  immodest, herself  multiplied [40] Music sprays an anaesthetic cloud over things and drug used to spare us the terror of the real. [41] It is these traits that enable it to go anywhere, to go everywhere, into site and psyche alike, to appear ever fascinating yet ever harmless even as it plies its undermining subterfuges and sly deceits [42]. Forces come and go, from and in all directions. [43] Where do we want to go? [44] Remember: Icarus flew away, toward the sun. [45] One sees the burning heat of the sun scorch the wings of the wretched young man, as the blazing fire smokes, and one can almost hear the crackling of the burning feathers, while death can be seen sculpted on the face of Icarus, and on that of Daedalus his emotion and sharp pain. [46] Historically, thousands of subjects have done so, suffering, killing themselves, dressing, perfuming themselves, writing as if they were Werther. [47] The baroque dramatist clings fervently to the world. [48] We are expecting a move toward a falling in sync with the architecture of the Baroque, but on different levels of abstraction. [49] Contemporary time, however, can sustain these baroque illusions. [50] Today, Maximum is the ultimate ornament, the most self righteous crime, the contemporary Baroque. [51] the whole building is the decoration. [52] And Delicate bronze allegorical figures adorn the case. [53] We have seen roofs made of copper, glass, and gold, and elegantly decorated with ceilings gilded or coffered in gold, and picked out with sculpted crowns and flowers, and even statues. [54] We are in excess. [55] And excess produces virtuality. [56] By the early twenty first century, our time, a mythic time, we are all chimeras, theorized and fabricated hybrids of machine and organism; in short, we are cyborgs. The cyborg is our ontology. [57] Whereas the musical call rises from noise to meaning while avoiding both.  Vibrating softness and the hammer’s hardness. [58] Life is excess. [59] This surplus of absence, the place of nothing, when exaggerated threatens all meaning with indifference. [60] But the lights have to go on again. [61]Exactly, In indifference, the excess becomes manifest. [62] A modern ritual, a modern Bacchanalia, escalation, excess. [63] So here we go. [64] This is Queen Lizzy. If you want sex, why not go get it? [65] If dolphins go extinct, why worry? [66] If we’re all going to drown, why not jump from the highest heights and feel the rush of adrenaline? We’ll learn diving eventually. And  The point turns into a baroque pearl. [67] flashes of inspiration  fascinations colours, glitter  decadences balls: exuberances  festivals and  congregations, close  communions travel at the speed of sound, lightspeed  communication instantaneous pools of commonality the vibe and exultation, the  euphoria the sharpwit razor of precision, the  ingeniousness the shared experience the climactic joy, the sacred orgasm of life [68] When will we stop apologizing for being romantic? Why not now? Here and now? Right now. We populate the desert with singing trees and unruly blackbirds. We leave the cynical laughter behind and no longer hesitate to be naive. The cliché is not kitsch, it is simply beautiful. [69] Let's follow the hedonism creed, kick the whole world off, get out of work, go to bed, and join together with your "great Louis XIV" to shake this hypocritical world into a bright sky. [70] Ah, bless the very “false windows,” so valued as decoration and so useless in a building of artificial light and ventilation! [71] This possible world is not real, or not yet, but it exists nonetheless: it is an expressed that exists only in its expression — the face, or an equivalent of the face. [72] Then, we built churches in excess for a common belief in an artificial persona. God. Tomorrow, we will build in excess because it represents living in a world where the power lies within the plenty. The plenty is excess and she give birth to it by giving it a face in physical space. From nihilism, hedonism emerges and they will dance together in euphoria like Dionysus did with his followers.  She will acquire the plethora and give the acceleration a purpose. It is time to stop holding on to flag poles standing in the current. We should start to accept the drowning, to then be fulfilled by the current teaching us how to swim.  Excess is accepting. Excess is giving the power a face. She says: Come, live with me. Watch me exist. Because, we are part of it: we are a part of everything, every thing is part of us we were made by gods, but we create them we were made by the universe  we were created by energy we were created by code we are the probability we are the failure and the hope and the despair  we are the triumph of existence and that is what she is: she is Queen Lizzy [73] [1] Charli XCX Reddit AMA [2 ] Hugo, Notre Dame de Paris [3] Alberti, 10 books of architecture 1755 [4] Cicero, Tusculan Disputations [5] Sedlacek, Economics of Good and Evil [6] Aristotle, Poetics [7] Leibniz, Theodicy [8] Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra [9] Hugo, Notre Dame de Paris [10] Bacon, Novum Organum [11] Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books 1988 [12] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology [13] Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books 1988 [14] Bacon, Novum Organum [15] Alberti, 10 books of architecture 1755 [16] Alberti, 10 books of architecture 1755 [17] Alberti, 10 books of architecture 1755 [18] Cicero, Tusculan Disputations [19] Sedlacek, Economics of Good and Evil [20] Aristotle, Poetics [21] Leibniz, Theodicy [22] Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra [23] Hugo, Notre Dame de Paris [24] Purdy, On the Ruins of Babel Architectural Metaphor in G [25] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968 [26] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968 [27]Harman, Towards Speculative Realism [28] Deleuze Guattari, What Is Philosophy [29] Hovestadt Buehlmann, EigenArchitecture [30] Deleuze Guattari, What Is Philosophy [31] Foucault, History of Madness [32] Blanchot, The Book to Come [33] Kaup, Neobaroque in the Americas Alternative Modernitie [34] Moore, Why We Build [35] Deleuze Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus [36] Rajchman, Constructions [37] Goldsmith, Capital New York Capital of the 20th Century [38] Acocella, Stone Architecture Ancient and Modern Construction Skills [39] Tsoukala, Intersections of Space and Ethos Routledge Resear [40] Buehlmann Hovestadt, Quantum City [41] Serres, The Incandescent [42] Sykes, Constructing A New Agenda [43] Spuybroek, The Sympathy of Things [44] Serres, Hominescence [45] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968 [46] Vasari, The Lives of the Artists [47] Barthes, A Lover s Discourse Fragments [48] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968 [49] Buehlmann Hovestadt, Coding as Literacy [50] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968 [51] Sykes, Constructing A New Agenda [52] Ockmann, Architecture Culture 1943 1968 [53] Saunders, The Art and Architecture of London [4] Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books 1988 [55] Zizek, Less Than Nothing [56] Schumacher, The Autopoiesis of Architecture Vol 2 [57] Haraway, Cyborg Manifesto [58] Serres, Statues [59] Negarestani Mackay, Collapse Volume VII [60] Doyle Savic Buehlmann, Ghosts of Transparency [61] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968 [62] Doyle Savic Buehlmann, Ghosts of Transparency [63] Serres, The Birth of Physics [64] Hofstadter, I Am a Strange Loop [65] Spuybroek, The Sympathy of Things [66] Morton, Hyperobjects [67] Buehlmann Hovestadt, Symbolizing Existence [68] Buehlmann Hovestadt, Quantum City [69] Camille de Toledo, in: Goodbye Tristesse, 2005 [70] Louis XIV Show [71] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology [72] Deleuze Guattari, What Is Philosophy [73] Buehlmann Hovestadt, Quantum City

[imdifferentshadesofpurple]

Jaebum x Reader [featuring GOT7 x BTS]  →  angel!au / demon!au Warning: violence, language, & mentions/descriptions of death

→ Masterlist (including teasers) → A/N: chapters are updated every Friday

It’s like being shot.

A pain that explodes from one spot, like a flower blooming in the heart of spring. You can feel it, a burn on the walls of your skin, prickling with a heat that can only be described as uncomfortable. It’s a wound you can’t reach, can’t touch physically with the tips of your fingers or the palm of your hand. You can only claw at it, can only gasp for the air your lungs refuse to give you.

That’s what you feel when you see her.

Because training with Mark meant training with Rose. 

And when Mark said it was going to be intense, he meant it.

Unlike with Jackson, this type of training didn’t test your agility or speed. It didn’t require you to throw a punch or use your abilities at all.

What Mark needed was for you to get a handle on your emotions.

“Seeing her,” he says, circling you both, “is hard. She’s gone. This, in front of you? An illusion I can conjure. Rose is dead. Killed by Yoongi in attempt to sabotage any hope of saving mankind. He took her from you, your sister. Whether you were close or not, she was family. And Lucifer will use that to his advantage. Your greatest weakness Y/N, is your heart. You feel. You’re human. And Lucifer takes no pity on humans.”

Rose smiles then, a replica of the lost girl, and your chest constricts. Somehow, he senses it. “You must understand. This is war. A battle where victory is necessary. Losing means dying. It means the world burns and everything is gone. Like her. I need you to focus. To understand that Rose is in Hell and you can never see her again.”

You don’t say anything, haven’t said a word since you began, because you don’t think you can even form any. 

She’s there, your sister, and even though it’s an illusion brought forth by Mark, you can’t help seeing her. Mark continues his track around, one hand in his suit pants, another clutching his pocket watch. His eyes are trained on you and you alone, watching your movements.

Better yet, watching the expressions crossing your face. 

“I need you to talk to her,” he whispers.

A breath catches in your throat but you nod once, “Hello Rosie.”

She’s still smiling, hands clasped in front of her like she used to do when you were children and she wanted something. “Hi baby sister. What would you like to talk about today?”

Your jaw tightens, “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly plan on seeing you. What do you want to talk about?”

Mark is behind you, voice dangerously low, “She’s going to try and crack you. Pick away at what lies beneath all with a smile and a kind voice. She’s meant to test you. Hold your ground and be careful.”

Rose just keeps grinning, now rocking back on her heels every few seconds. “Mark, I have something she’ll be dying to talk about.”

He meets her gaze over your head, eyes narrowing. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest because you know. 

You know what she’s about to say.

And when she does, you find yourself holding your breath in what feels like...

Fear.

“You’re in love with Jaebum, aren’t you baby sister.”

It wasn’t a question, no investigatory tone in her honeyed voice. You can feel Mark’s surprise but your focus remains on her. Fists clenching at your sides, you think of your answer, try to think of something to shift where the conversation is going, but Rose smiles. As if she’s reading your mind.

“It’s useless to deny it Y/N. I can hear your thoughts, I can see your face. That kiss last night, it would’ve been more if you weren’t so afraid. If there weren’t rules. But there’s no question. That precious heart of yours belongs to Im Jaebum. An angel. And you know that humans can’t ever be with one of God’s children. Jinyoungie has already made his mistake. Now, as we speak, he’s with Shan. His heart completely belongs to her. And do you know what happens? When an angel and a human are in love?”

“Rose,” Mark warns, suddenly on edge.

She doesn’t listen, smile more like a devilish grin, “An angel can lose his wings you know. Belonging to a human strips their abilities. Jinyoung is slowly becoming human. And that would all fine and lovely. If that transformation didn’t end up in the human dying. And poor, poor Jinyoung will be alone. He can’t ascend back to Heaven. If you love Jaebum, you too will die. A consequence of breaking the law.”

You’re listening to her, or at least you think you are, but any sound seems to be muffled within you ears.

Jinyoung is becoming human? Shan will die? 

Your heart constricts and it’s painful. You turn to Mark, hoping he’d tell you it was a lie, but his expression tells you otherwise. His eyes find yours, sad as if Jinyoung was already lost completely.

“He made his choice,” he said, “he loves her and won’t leave her.”

“But what about Shanna? I’m not going to let her die!”

Rose’s voice rings out behind you, “Humans die baby sister. It’s the circle of your pathetic lives. You live. You love. And you foolishly die for matters of the heart.”

You spin to face her, “And what about you sister? You loved Jaebum, when you were alive. You loved him and knew the rules!”

She sneers, “Love is irrelevant and useless in this world. I didn’t love Jaebum. He loved me. He stood by my side and we fought demons together. He wouldn’t given up everything to stay with me. A kiss means nothing, not when we’ve had sex in the very room you’re sleeping in. Haven’t you noticed he’s never once gone in there? He never checks up on you because when he sees you sleeping there, he sees me. We have the same face. When he looks at you, he sees what he lost. He may have not known what love really was but what he felt for me was pretty damn close. You, my dear, are my replacement. If I hadn’t died, this would be my life. And you’d be living yours far away from here. No one here cares about you. You’re needed to defeat Lucifer. And if you somehow happen to live through that, you’ll be tossed aside, no longer useful.”

Your blood is boiling, the heat within you growing. You can feel it, running through you rapidly, spreading through every part of your body. 

You’re angry and for the first time in your life, you want Rose gone. 

She looks accomplished, not so much smug, head tilted to the side as she happily gazes at you. You try not to think about Jaebum, or the raw pain you’re experiences in the deeper crevices of your heart. You do what Mark had said. You focus your energy and hold your ground, channeling the emotions within you outward, the power you possess flying from your body and towards the illusion of your sister. 

At first, it seems as if nothing had happened.

But then, she’s no longer smiling, face contorting as if in pain before a scream rips through her and she breaks apart, as if cracks in the concrete, disappearing into the air like smoke and ashes. 

You call back your power, a slow descend back to hide away. You don’t want to turn around, you don’t want to look at Mark, but you do anyway.

But it’s not Mark that’s there. It’s Jaebum.

His jaw is clenching tightly as he looks at the spot where Rose just was. He looks lost and sad, eyes glazing over before meeting yours.

You can only stare at each other, space in between you both even though it feels as if you’re universes apart. He steps forward, hand reaching out to touch you, but you recoil back. 

“She wasn’t lying, was she? Even if she was an illusion, everything she said was true. Jinyoung. And Shan. And...and you. You and her. And my room and...”

He closes the space between you, his lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that felt desperate, as if he was asking to understand.

You let him kiss you, let his hands roam your body as your fingers grip at the black of his hoodie. You know very well that you shouldn’t be doing this again, not with everything you had just learned and the rules still firmly in place. But his tongue pries your mouth open, his hands reaching for the bottom of your shirt, and your arms immediately go up as your clothing slides off. 

His breath in hot against your neck as his lips move down, arms lifting you up and into your arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. You can feel his want for you as his hands grip at your ass, walking you out from the living room to where you’d only assume to be your room.

But it isn’t your room, it’s his, door flying open as he gets you to bed, dropping you briefly before shedding his own clothes. He’s back on you in mere seconds, your fingers grazing over the warm skin of his toned body, the body you’d dreamt about for night’s on end. 

You’re both hot, temperatures rising as things quickly escalate. Your mind is hazy, no longer thinking about the consequences of what’s happening. Completely naked now, you let him have you, all of you. He peppers kisses on every inch of your skin, thrust after thrust sending you quickly to your release.

He stays by your side when it’s all over, chests rising in perfect sync as he pulls your tired body towards his.

The kiss is languid, fingers rubbing patterns between your shoulder blades. You’re coming down from your high, the feel of Jaebum against you slightly lulling you to sleep, when you remember.

You stiffen and he feels it, pulling away in concern. Seeing your posture and panicked expression, he sits up and brings you with him.

“What she had said...was technically true.”

You inhale sharply, grasping the sheet around you tighter. “So you and my sister...”

He looks up at you, “No! Well, yes. I mean...we almost. And yes. It was in your room. What was her room before. I told you that I didn’t know what true love was. I meant it. Rose was...I was infatuated. She was beautiful and strong and I was drawn to her, despite the rules. And we almost...that night. But we didn’t. I stopped her. Maybe because I knew we couldn’t or maybe because I was scared, I don’t know. But I promise, we never...not like we just did.”

“And Jinyoung and Shan?”

He runs his hands through his hair, dark pieces falling over his eyes despite pushing it back. “An angel can becoming human yes. And Jinyoung loves Shan. More than I’ve seen him love anything before. He knows what happens. And Rose is right. Humans live and they die. Jinyoung reasons that at least he can do so by Shan’s side and she by his. He knows what he’s doing and none of us can really stop him.”

“That isn’t fair to her Jaebum. She doesn’t know what Jinyoung is. She doesn’t know loving him will kill her.”

He chuckles softly, “She’s not going to burst into flames Y/N. But loving an angel has consequences, yes. And Jinyoung will have to tell her so she can make her own decision. Let them move at their own pace. We have other things we should worry about.”

“Like the fact that we just had sex and weren’t supposed to?”

“Sure, like that. Even though I meant more ‘end of the world’ type stuff.”

There’s a pause in the conversation, your next question seemingly uncomfortable. “...were you sad? To hear Rose say she never loved you?”

He sighs, “Like I said, infatuation. I knew she never loved me. We were caught up in each other but it’s like what I feel for...”

He stops, mouth clamping shut. Your brows rise in surprise and you can’t the little smile that blooms in the place of your previous frown. “For me? You feel those things for me? Why Mr. Im, how very forward of you.”

A blush spread across his cheeks and you find yourself absolutely in love with embarrassed Jaebum. “I thought we said no ‘Mr. Im’.”

You shrug, falling back onto the bed, hair fanning out across the pillows. “You thought. I never agreed Mr. Im.”

He moves to lay down, one arm propping him up as his other hand comes to grasp your hand in his. “You know, now that I think about it, I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Mind what Mr. Im?”

He grins, a little playfully, lowering to brush his still swollen lips against yours. “That. You calling Mr. Im. It’s a bit...sexy.”

You’re laughing now, back arching as a cackle sounds loudly, his face moving to bury into your neck. “You’re unbelievable. Suddenly it’s sexy.”

He shrugs, “Maybe it’s just you. Maybe I just like when you say it.”

Placing your hands on either side of his face, your eyes shine with a bit of happiness. “I think...even though there are rules and this could crash and burn...that I love you. But don’t think too much about it. Maybe if I save the world, we can ask Father to bend the law. A little.”

His happiness mirrors your own. “I think...even though yes, there are rules and this could definitely crash and burn...that I love you too. Save the world and we’ll see what happens next.”

A sudden desire rips through you the longer you look at him and you propel yourself forward because you want to kiss him so bad it hurts.

He doesn’t seem to mind, capturing your lips easily, arms wrapping around your still naked body. 

He curses when your phone rings, the shrill sound breaking you out of your love daze. You kiss his cheek in apology, moving to answer it when you see Fal’s face on your screen.

“Hi Fal babe. What’s up?”

Her voice is cracked and nervous, pain evident in the tone, “Y/N?”

You sit up straighter, Jaebum’s concern evident in the look he give you. 

“Fal, what’s wrong?”

A groan sounds and you can tell she’s gritting her teeth, “The baby. Something is wrong with the baby. Please...help me.”

A/N: Did I say a new update in two days @kpopfanfictrash? I lied. I meant today lol. Two chapters left whooooo.

[shleezaemour]

Nico is haunted by Mr.T

Trigger warning !!! This a a teen to mature themes in this one shot. Violence scary imaging and rape themes. Read at your own risk. All from Wills POV Will was fast asleep in the Apollo cabin when Clovis bust through the door shaking him awake. "Will its Nico he's having a nightmare I saw him.. I saw things... help him gods please help him!" Will didn't miss a beat and ran into the night patrol harpies be damned. His boyfriend was in trouble and he wouldn't let some chicken lady stop him. Will knew Nicos nightmares were bad ones and waking him was dangerous but necessary. Kicking in the Hades cabin door Will saw a sight he had never seen. Nico was traveling all over the room landing on the tops of shelves and under the bed. The nightmare was so bad that he was shadow traveling without being able to control it. The last time this happened Nico ended up in the Apollo cabin right on top of him. Nico was screaming and writhing but very clearly asleep. Will jumped onto the bed waiting for the right moment to catch him. Gotcha! Will grabbed Nico and held him to the bed. Will started to glow really bright. Naturally he glowed all the time but with the right concentration he could make the light brighter. By doing this he could prevent the traveling of Nico didn't have a shadow to cling to. Holding him down onto the bed he started slapping Nicos face attempting to rouse him. Screams and tears ran out of Nico like a torrent. "Baby please wake up! Nico please sweetie wake up your dreaming it's not real please darlin wake up WAKE UP!" Nico was starting to whimper now and shake. Will decided that it was a cliche but hell he had no other ideas to wake him up. Leaning down he held Nicos head in place as he began to kiss him. The shaking started to slow. Wills hands slid on Nicos head from the sweat pouring off of him. His lovers hands reached up and started to tangle themselves in Wills hair. It was rough bordering on to rough. Nicos tongue slowly started to emerge and explore Wills mouth. Popping his eyes open he pulled away from Will. "Baby it's just me you were having a dream I didn't know how to pull you out." Nico didn't respond with words. Nico attacked Will into an embrace with a look of sheer desperation. Grabbing Nicos shirt he realized he was soaked with sweat. In a hysterical fit of a voice he cried. "Make it stop please Will make it stop I can't... I can't do this anymore it's to much!" "Baby it's ok I have you your safe now " "I'm not safe he's going to come back for me! He hates my father! He made sure to I got it the worst because of how much he hates my father! " "Who Nico who?" "Tartarus !" Will held Nico tighter as his boyfriend shook and sobbed into his arms. Chiron came through the door with a loud clopping. "Nico! Will! What's going on!? Clovis came to the big house white as sheet saying you were in trouble!" "I've got him Chiron he was having nightmares about the T word again. It was bad he was shadow traveling in his sleep again." "Well then you need to stay here with him tonight. It's unorthodox seeing as you two are courting but I can't have him fading on my watch. If he's traveling in his sleep who knows where he could end up. " "Are you sure the camp rules say.." "The rules be damned Solace this boy needs help. Only 3 people have ever survived that place alive and all 3 are here at this camp. Rules change when situations do!" "Yes sir I'll stay with him" "I'm giving you the week off infirmary Will so you can deal with this. Kayla will manage and I'll take your shifts. Keep him here! All I need is Hades down my neck about him disappearing into a volcano over a nightmare that could have been prevented." "Got it sir I'll stay here for the week" "Ok then. You two get some rest I'm going to deal with Clovis and see if Mr.D can help him out. The things he saw in Nicos head have him a total mess " Chiron rode off into the night. "Guess I have permission to sleep with you in here instead of sneaking during music class." Will laughed. Nico didn't laugh. "Promise me you will stay! Promise me you won't leave! Promise me you will make this go away!" "Nico I will do everything in my power to keep you from fading!" "I don't care about fading Will ! Not compared to the dreams! I can't control them anymore! I've tried but the only thing I can control is how I react in the dreams like I'm really there again!" "Nico! Baby you have to tell me what you saw!" "No I.. I can't Will you ... you won't see me the same" "Darlin I see you. All of you! Nothing you say can make me stop caring about you or stop wanting you!" "Will you don't understand the things that happened to me down there.. the things that were done to me. You will never want to touch me again knowing what happened." "Cmon you and I are going to have a real heart to heart. " Sitting on the bed cross legged he pulled Nico to him my his pale hands to copy him. Nicos breath was uneven. He was terrified. "Baby I'm going to need you to tell me what happened. I know it's going to be hard and it means your going to have to relive it all. I know I'm the last person you want to tell but you won't talk to anyone else. These dreams are not going to go away until you purge them. If you would be more comfortable going to a real doctor maybe in New Rome and talking to them that's ok to..." "I don't want to talk to a stranger about it! You're... you are the only one I trust. I just.. im afraid that I will ruin us if you know" "Darling NO! Seriously nothing you could say will make me see you any differently! " "Ok well then here it goes. Tartarus is not really like what Annabeth and Percy saw. They saw the mist version of things. Because it's my fathers realm I saw the unedited version directors cut of it all. It's more like a series of rooms of your worst fears and worst nightmares. Every time I would pull myself away from one another would start. "I was trying to find the doors of death. I was moving through the house of night when.. when the pulling started. I slipped and tried to shadow travel away from it but my powers weren't working. I fell onto a patch of green grass. I've never been to wherever he was showing me. Infront of me was ... Bianca's headstone. Percy was sitting next to it. He was laying flowers down and he turned to me telling me that it should have been me. That I should have been the one to die not her. Telling me how useless I was and how weak I was for letting my sister go instead of me. Percy started describing how she died.. she... she was in so much pain Will it wasn't quick it was slow and awful. When I realized it was a dream the scene changed and it was my mother. She was sitting at the table in the house we lived at in Italy. She had her eyes cast down. She had me sit with her but wouldn't let me touch her. She told me she has been watching me as I grew. Telling me that my impure thoughts were monstrous and that I was an abomination. This went on for what felt like days. She was one of the hardest to shake it felt so real. Every time I would reach for food I would put it in my mouth and it would turn to glass. Spitting out shards of glass and blood nothing down there was safe to eat. It's why I have trouble eating now. Every time I take a bite of food I can feel the glass sliding down my throat. After I found my way out of that one I found myself being carted away in a straight jacket. I couldn't fight back. They doused me with hoses and locked me in a padded cell. I screamed and screamed and no one came. Except when the 3 guards came. They would take turns... take turns. It was horrible. Like a red hot iron going up my spine. They would laugh and spit in my face telling me that I liked it. It would go on for hours just the three of them passing me back and forth violating me until I was in so much pain I would pass out. They made me bleed. That didn't stop them from doing it again over and over... I couldn't stop them. I couldn't scream my voice was lost and I could still feel them touching me. Even when I'm awake I can still feel them touching me from time to time. I was so afraid Will. Nothing I did made me feel clean.... they just kept.. kept.." Nico was shaking and a constant flow of tears dropped from his face. Starting to hyperventilate I held him to my chest making him focus on my heartbeat. Having him breathe at the same time I was. My poor darling Nico. My heart was breaking more and more with every word he breathed. He wasn't the only one crying. They had raped him. Humiliated him. Broken him down to his most basic form. Guilting him into thinking that his love was worthless and sick. Using actions that are supposed to be used for love to degrade him and break his spirit. No wonder he couldn't stand to be touched when we first met. "Will I can't keep going tonight I'm sorry I can't .." Rocking him back and forth I assured him we could stop and finish another time. "If... if you don't want to be with me anymore I understand.." "Baby why wouldn't I want to be with you?" "Because those.. those demons they.. I guess nothing physically happened because it was all in my mind but.. I felt it.. I felt them. It hurt so badly. I thought after you heard that you would never want to touch me again" "Baby no I'm disgusted that you had to endure that, to feel that to go through that, but that doesn't mean I don't think your beautiful and amazing and well you may not want to hear this right now but your sexy. I still want you. I just don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Honestly I'm surprised that you your willing to.. that you let me..I know we have only done it like twice but the sheer fact that you went through that and let me touch you that way is incredible" "I wanted to. I wanted to feel what it's supposed to feel like. To do it with love not... not that." "Well I want you to know that if your ever not comfortable just tell me I won't be mad ok" "Ok" Will stood up off the bed and went to the bathroom bringing back a damp rag. Wiping Nicos face he cleaned the tears off treating Nicos face as if was made of glass. Putting that aside he took his tshirt off and undid his pants leaving him in just his bright yellow boxer briefs. "Will um I'm not really in the mood for.." "Oh um that's not what I'm doing I'm just getting ready for bed. I get really hot at night so I sleep in my underwear. Is that ok? If not I'll put my shorts back on but I'm going to have to draw the line at the shirt I'll be a sweaty mess in the morning if I wear it" Nico actually laughed. Will could never get enough of that sound. He wondered if Nico could sing. His laugh was so musical he was convinced he was hiding a talent under all that sarcasm. Nico got out of the bed and changed into a black tank top and fuzzy pj pants that piper got him for Christmas. They had black and pink skulls ok them. He looked adorable. Climbing in bed Nico nuzzled his body into Wills. Will was blown away at the perfect way Nicos body fit against his. Laying his head on Wills chest he could feel his fingers drawing patterns connecting his freckles. This only made him glow a bit brighter. "Ti amo Will." Nico had never told him that before. It was the first time he had heard it. Emotion swelled in his throat. Nico was so broken and yet so strong at the same time. Brave enough to say the words that had escaped Will for months. Nico had poured some of his deepest fears and nightmares to him tonight and still found the strength to finally tell him he loved him. "I love you too darlin" Bringing his face up to Wills he pressed his lips against his. It was sweet and innocent at first. No more than a good night kiss. Passion started to stir inside Nico. For someone who wasn't in the mood a few minutes ago he took hold of Will like his life was counting on it. "Nico we don't have to im not expecting anything I just want you to be ok and sleep well." "I know I said I wasn't in the mood it's just I haven't had someone tell me they loved me in so long." "I will love you even if we never have sex again. I will always love you. I'll make you a deal if your in the mood in the morning then I'll give you a morning that will put a smile on your face all day but let's just enjoy eachother like this tonight ok?" "Ok. I just don't want you to think that I don't want you to touch me. I want you to touch me your the only one I want touching me. Your touch, well it's like it erases theirs" "I want to touch you. I want to make you feel good. I just think that after your confession may not be the best time. We can touch in other ways. Like holding you. Or running my fingers through your soft hair. Kissing. Loving touches that show you that your mine and that I would never touch you the way they did." "I know you wouldn't Will. " "Good now lay your head on my chest and get some sleep. You have me for a whole week night and day to help you with these nightmares we might as well relish it." "Good night sunshine" "Good night darlin " Will slept in that bed every night that week and Nicos nightmares that were so dark were chased away by Wills light. Nico eventually that week told him all the horrors that haunted his mind. This kid couldn't get a break it seemed. So Will decided that he was going to be his break. To be his light in the darkness... his Solace. Will never left Nicos side after that day. Every night he would sleep next to Nico camp rules be damned. After that week Will moved his stuff into Nicos cabin permanently. Giving Austin his head counselor position but still keeping his head healer title. Yup looked like Nico found a home in Will and Will was the first Apollo camper to live in the Hades cabin.

[perstephonebartusisyphus]

Useful aggression

I went wandering looking for a friends studio with a home depot bucket full of vegetables and flowers. Couldnt find it. Found a stone bench and tried to lay down, anger filling up my eyes. Odd thing was the sky looked pixelated, like shifty like space in the matrix full on glitching. As i felt sleep coming ove,r a bagpipe sounding the ode to joy began. Opposite reaction, grumbling, getting up, having imaginations of puncturing the bag pipe with a twig and running off laughing, giving a personal ode to joy, imagining the bagpipe deflating in some odd tonality like a sad, or irate goose. All the carriages going by, tour guides talking about how the rebel army would have been absolutely slaughtered. Me growling again, sneering at the bagpipe. Folks walking by, noticing my aggression, commenting unsteadily how the bagpipe is their heritage. Me laughing at them. Feeling odd about it, because how odd is it, how unsettling for a person to embody and direct anger. How uncouth for someone to embody and direct their anger. Me angry at this illusion, feeling consumed in a fantasy. Walking to independence mall and someone dressed in colonial uniform having small white children with toy guns following orders, not aware at all that if they werent white, they could be shot in the park. Me standing there, staring, wondering why we place so much value on war on death on that being victory, knowing these children do not know this yet. Wonder if they will, anger writhing, sadness biting, bucket full of vegetables shivering, wriggling out my anger. Theyre having fun, photos being taken. Disney. Obsessed with this dizzinessland. Victory, oh victory, freedom. Me loling. They continue on in their tour, when theres only a rollercoaster in the mind. Head to the liberty bell, stare at the people in line. What are they doing? Do they believe any of this? What is this heritage? Lean on a placard, turn around and read the placard about washington. Washington traveling with those he enslaved. Washington leaving with those he endlaved every 6 mos to subvert the legislation stating if an enslaved person stays in pa for six months they would be free. I read the placard over and over again, begin noticing that some in line begin doing the same. On market street, right beside the line, the white extremist mic is going full blast. "Gays going to hell, everyone going to hell" I stand in front of the person with the mic, stand in front of him, absorbing his waves, staring him down. Practicing facial expressions of bemused detachment, side eyed pseudo interest, confuddlement, my face an ocean of inscrutable emotions, challenging his facade of masculine, thinly veiled white supremacy. He calls "me" out. Yeah you hey you with the bucket, you have no wedding ring on, you look like one of those feminazis, yeah you i bet you cant even cook those vegetables. You cant cook. You cant do anything, you have no man, i bet youre a lesbian. Unphased, ive been through deeper challenges to personal offense. "Wheres your permit to be here sir?" "My permit is the United States Constitution" "You just told me everything i needed to know, brother" "Dont you call me brother, i'm not your brother" "Were in philly, you're my brother... where are you from brother?" I like noticing that he's shifting his weight, changing his stance. Others chime in too. He attacks another person in line who challenges him "I bet she's your girlfriend" "Oh im not gay anymore, brother?" "Youre going to hell" "Youre already in hell" I go to the sidelines, consider lobbing a hard, perfectly grown, red cabbage at his stupid fucking head, stuffing his nostrils with chamomile, pouring cold mint tea over him, covering his eyes with kale leaves, putting summer squash in his hand, spitting chewed up basil at him like a llama. I look to the guards onlooking, knowing that if this escalates, theyll have to put themselves in harms way, protect this fucking fool. I walk away, wondering wondering wondering about all the noise, that noise, that disgusting noise. Sit next to a person with a cardboard sign. Offer him some food. He doesnt want it. "If i had a stove, i would thank you and take it" I have no money to give him that isnt tied up in digital plastic, that isnt tied up in the noise. I give him the chamomile, i smell it, est some squash. He takes the chamomile. I tell him to smell it if he wants a bit of peace. Walk away. Get two powerades at the dunkin donuts, leave, realize how quickly i forgot the man and shouldve gotten him a donut or a sandwich. Fuck. Sit down in front of the roundhouse and think about my grand dad who was there so many times. Bipolar. Perpetually homeless. Pretzel salesman. Dead now. Think im converging on a smile when i feel his spirit somewhere, man walks by, cigarette behind ear "It gets better" "Thank you" Keep walking. Try to cross vine street on the highway entrance. A barrel burning, some mattresses on the corner. Leave all of the vegetables, the taste of fresh food, with all that water and life in it, giving. Keep walking. Cross over spring garden, come up 5th, the buildings the buildings, the dust, the tells, the do not walk heres, the commerce, people moving in. Shouting "hamster cage hamster cage hamster cage" then get to the brick homes "old style hamster cage" Wondering what it must have looked like, felt like, to see the estuary and ecosystem slowly disappear, the tributaries covered in gravel, the people coming in a sewing, smelteries, going back and forth between factory and hamster cage, the slow recession of the scope of imagination. Screaming now "14 New condos? 14 new condos?" See people taking an instagram photo of a scratch of lottery ticket. "Hows your new hamster cage?" They scurry...cant think of another word. They scurry away, and dont answer. Round the corner to the garden, imagine falling in the holes of the 6 new "foundations, see the scorched soil, wonder whats buried in it, being exumed and breathing. Not finally like yes! but this is whats been attempted to bury... and now its convenient to exume it but never no mind everything that comes along with the soil. Oh the soil, the soil that lives, pushed aside to become made dead again, with maybe a plant or two. What a metaphor to misplaced ego, to the vessel which xan create when it manifests its entire self. Build buildinfs. Plant some landscaping. Talk about relationships. I flash to imagining pummeling cabbages again.

[peachcitt]

relatively short chap 30! @megatraven @gigiree @luvclick

and by relatively short i mean not quite 3000 words but very close hhahhha i checked the word count on mtale so far and it’s over a hundred thousand words with only 30 chapters and it’s not even close to being done and honestly. what monster have we created. what have i done. im thinking of splitting it so that it doesn’t get to be over 100 chapters because wOW that’s a lot but idk?? there’d have to be another title and i suck at that which is why this has a kinda dumb name hhhuuuhhh

anyway happy easter if you celebrate that i didn’t get to crack cascarones on my family which sucks but i had fun anyway and if you don’t celebrate easter or crack cascarones i hope you had a happy sunday regardless

Read from the beginning/where it’s originally posted here

Story description: They say curiosity killed the cat. But it can do a whole lot more than that. [In which Marinette fall into an unfamiliar place with strange inhabitants.]

Chapter Description: Chat hates leaving Marinette, and Marinette tries realy hard to talk it out.

Rated: T (because some things may be inappropriate for some audiences... some panic attacks and a little bit of blood for this chap. nothing too extreme)

“I’m here, Marinette,” Chat kept repeating, over and over again. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

It was an effort for Marinette to finally get her breathing under control, and when she had, she still felt a little breathless, as if her lungs were too small for all the air she wanted to take in. Chat’s voice helped some, but it wasn’t even the words he was saying. They all blurred together until Marinette couldn’t understand them at all. It was his presence – the feeling of his body heat radiating from within his suit, his hand gripping hers about as hard as she was gripping his, the comfort of his eyes focused solely on her.

“What do we do?” she asked, her voice small and weak. It echoed throughout the space, bouncing off far walls and coming back to her. What do we do? What do we do? What do we do?

“I’ve been through this area lots and lots of times,” Chat assured her, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. “At this point I have it memorized. And there’s a trick to getting more light. I’ll get you through this.”

She stared at the bright almost neon green of his eyes, and she nodded. “Okay.” The word came out as a whisper. He let go of one of her hands to start walking forward, looking down at the ground.

The light off his eyes bounced off the gemstones cluttered together on the path, and Marinette counted her steps to distract herself from the suffocating darkness.

“This room is like the last. It’s a maze, but the difficulty is upped a bit because the lighting fades after a moment when you first walk in.” Marinette nodded, her lips moving silently as she continued to count. “It’s a little frightening when you first go through, but” – Chat kicked at a small shape on the side of the thin path, and the entire room lit up – “there’s lanterns everywhere.”

Marinette stopped walking, staring at the small blue lantern and watching its light fade after only a moment.

“You have to be quick, though,” Chat said, kicking the lantern and pulling Marinette back into a walk. “The light goes out pretty soon, so you have to go through and find the next lantern again.” He gestured to a lantern a few feet ahead of them, and when they got to it, he let Marinette kick it to restore the light once more.

There was something oddly satisfying in that.

They walked through the rest of the maze with ease because Chat knew exactly how to leave. A couple of times an akuma or two approached them, but they went away with one look from Chat. Marinette didn’t think she’d be able to defend herself from them, and she thought that perhaps Chat knew that.

When they finally reached the edge of the path, Marinette breathed out an audible sight of relief. She put a hand over her chest, feeling the rapid beating slow to a steady thump.

Chat squeezed her hand. He carefully stepped downward, off a ledge that Marinette had hardly noticed was there. The lower portion of his legs disappeared into water. He held out his hands to her, and he gingerly helped her down into the water next to him.

“Do you remember when we heard that conversation from the Echo flowers? We’ll get to hear-” Chat stopped suddenly, his whole body stiffening as he glanced around.

“What’s wrong?” Marinette asked, watching his eyes narrow. They seemed to glow more than they would in normal lighting, and the thought made Marinette’s heartbeat speed up once more. “Why is it – why is it so dark?”

He shook his head, lifting his nose to sniff at the air. “It’s not normally, there’s something…” He trailed off, looking down at her with wide eyes, a million emotions crossing his features. “Alya.”

There were many things that Marinette thought, but all of those thoughts rammed into the back of her skull and stuck there, unfinished and panicked. Only one thought formed coherently and made it to her mouth. “You need to go.”

The words came out surer than she expected them to, and Chat stared at her, completely shocked. “What? No! I’m staying here with you so that we can avoid her.”

“No,” she said, pushing him away and shaking her head back and forth. “No. I don’t think we can avoid her, and I don’t want you there when she sees me.”

“I could protect you,” Chat said, resisting her feeble attempts to shove him off. “I could talk you out of it, get her to listen. I could-”

Marinette pushed him away more firmly, glaring at him with a look that made him stop talking. “No,” she repeated. “As far as she knows, you’re still with the Royal Guard. You’re still her friend. I’m not going to put you both in a position that will test that.”

“She was testing that the moment she went along with the king’s stupid plan!” he yelled, his voice echoing throughout the long hallway, the fury in his every word slamming into Marinette’s heart over and over again. “I shouldn’t have to hide for something like that-”

“You will anyway,” she said, her voice low and even. “You’re going to lay low until I find you again or the other way around because that’s what’s best. I don’t care if you don’t think the both of you are friends anymore, and I don’t care if you’re angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you,” Chat said softly, taking a step forward. Marinette stepped back. His shoulders dropped. “I’m only trying to make sure you’re safe.” He paused, staring down at the water. “Fu reminded me of what that dumb plan to hate humans is a product of, and he reminded me of what its caused. I don’t want you to be another victim to that. I need to be there by your side so that I feel like I’m doing something about it.”

“You have been doing something about. Leaving me for a little while doesn’t change that.”

“Marinette,” he said, and the word carried so many things that he couldn’t give words to.

“Chat,” she said, and she gave a slight push to his shoulder. He stumbled back as if she had shoved him. He gave her one last pleading look, and when she made no objection, he turned away from her, quickly melting into the shadows.

Now alone and terrified, Marinette turned away from the place Chat had last been, her entire body shaking with the effort to stay upright.

Maybe sending Chat away was a bad idea.

She took a step forward.

Maybe it wasn’t.

Her feet sloshed through the water with every step she took, and the sound of it was almost startlingly loud in the deep silence around her. The ground beneath her feet was sort of like a ramp, and soon she was walking on dry land, one hand pressed over her heart to feel the heavy thumping of her nerves.

Up ahead a lone Echo flower glowed coolly, and the sight was less than inviting. As she walked closer, she saw that it had been planted right in front of a wall. Dead end.

When she was close enough to it, its petals unfurled slowly and carefully, and she heard the faintest hints of a whisper, repeated until it became a terrible mantra she couldn’t quite decipher.

It was only when she was bent over the flower, one hand brushing her hair away from her ear, that she was able to hear words in the whispering.

“Behind you.”

Marinette stiffened, fear making a place for itself at the base of her spine as she slowly stood up, her eyes level with a crack on the wall. Before she turned to face what was behind her, an almost funny thought occurred to her.

Who was it that had whispered the words ‘behind you’ into the flower? Was it Alya? Did she think it would be a cool joke to play on the scared human she was about to kill? To bend down and whisper in the flower and then hide out somewhere nearby?

The thought almost made Marinette laugh, and when she turned around, she found it difficult to hold back the lop-sided smile pulling at her lips.

She blinked, and the light in the corridor was back, revealing a stoic figure in armor. Alya.

The smile immediately slipped from Marinette’s face, and the fear tingling at the base of her spine spread slowly until it was buzzing in her fingertips, in her eyes, in her bones.

“Stone, Object, SOUL,” Alya started, and Marinette was surprised to hear that her voice was something light and lilting. It was almost beautiful. “You have all three of the things that will break the barrier. And then King Plagg will lead the attack on humanity. We will be able to take back the surface. And return the scorn and hatred we have received from them tenfold.” She paused, seeming to survey Marinette’s reaction. “Do you understand, human? This is your chance of redemption. Not every human has to die a villain.”

Marinette appreciated the sentiment, at least.

“Offer the things that I want that are in your possession freely. Otherwise I’ll be picking those earrings off your dead body, taking the yo-yo from your pocket, and ripping that SOUL from your lifeless chest.”

The air in the corridor seemed thin and useless, not at all filling Marinette’s lungs enough to satisfy her need to breathe. Yet she still stood her ground, keeping her chin up and her hands clenched into fists to hide their shaking.

“There is no need for violence.” She was more than a little proud that her voice only shook a little bit.

Alya cocked her head. “So you intend to give me what I want?”

Marinette swallowed. “No. I intend to make you listen to what I have to say.”

A deep purple sword appeared in the air beside Alya, and she put her hand on the handle, gripping it tightly and aiming it at Marinette. “I stopped listening to what humans had to say years ago.”

“Maybe you can start listening at this moment,” Marinette said, forcing her words out from her quickly closing throat. “It’s possible that you and I want the same thing.”

“The death of all humanity, including yourself?” She barked out a laugh that came out tinny through her helmet as she took a leisurely step forward, the sword still held out to Marinette. “I didn’t know humans could be so self-destructive.”

“I want to free the akumas. I want to break the barrier.”

“That would be the death of you still,” Alya said, though she stopped walking forward.

“It wouldn’t,” Marinette said, shaking her head. “Not if it’s done peacefully. Akumas and humans don’t have to be enemies. They could be friends.” She paused, licking her lips. She wondered if she would like to place her bets on a dangerous game. “You and I could be friends.”

She decided to play this roulette. Put the gun to her head, pull the trigger, hope that it’s a blank.

Alya took a step forward, and then another, and another. The tip of her sword was pressed into the skin of Marinette’s throat. “You will never be something I would ever stoop so low as to befriend.”

Her words were a hiss of poison, and Marinette stared at the face of her demise. She lost the roulette.

“Go, Alya!” shouted an all-too-familiar voice from a few feet away. “I’ll help you fight, if you need it!”

Manon appeared in the edges of Marinette’s vision, and a more intense fear than she had ever felt before pulled at her bones. She could handle getting hurt or dying, she’d done it before after all, but she couldn’t handle someone else getting hurt or dying because of her. Especially a kid.

She pleaded silently with her eyes to Alya, but Alya had already dropped her sword from Marinette’s neck, her whole body looking a little stiff. She stepped away from Marinette, turning to Manon, who seemed to be seeing Marinette for the first time.

“Oh, hey, Marinette! Were you helping Alya fight?”

“Manon,” Marinette said, her voice coming out in a whisper, “please go home.”

“What?” Manon exclaimed, immediately pouting. “Why? Do you want to hog Alya all to yourself? That’s unfair!” She crossed her arms, looking away from Marinette. A thought seemed to occur to her. “Wait… Alya, who are you fighting?”

The sword disappeared from Alya’s hand in a flash of purple light, and she quickly stepped toward Manon, grabbing one of the little kid’s ears.

“Hey!” Manon shouted, kicking her legs as Alya dragged her away. “You could at least be a little gentle!” There was a pause, and by that time they were already far down the corridor. “You aren’t going to tell my mom about this, are you?”

They disappeared from Marinette’s line of sight.

Marinette collapsed onto the ground, wrapping her arms around herself to dull the shaking at least a little bit.

She had been so close to dying at the hands of Alya, to being transported back to the last save point, which was before she had even met Fu. She could still feel the tip of the sword digging into her throat. She touched a finger to the spot, and when she withdrew her hand, there was a spot of blood staining her skin.

“Marinette!”

Chat’s voice, not even three feet away from her. She opened her eyes, not even realizing she had closed them, and stared at him as he dropped to his knees in front of her.

“You’re okay, right? Nothing broken?” His hands were on her, feeling her shoulders, her arms, her hands.

“I’m bleeding a little bit,” she said, her voice still a little weak as she gestured to her throat, “but nothing major.”

“What happened?” Chat asked, hurried and full of worry. He put a hand to her throat, carefully wiping away the deep red droplet of blood that had formed there. “Where did she go?”

“I tried to talk. She wouldn’t listen.” Marinette touched a finger to the tiny cut the sword had made. “She pointed her sword at me.”

“You didn’t fight back?” Chat asked, and he didn’t sound accusing of her, but the question still made her bristle.

“I want to resolve these issues peacefully. I won’t fight.”

Chat traced his thumb over her cheekbone, gaze soft and sad. “I know that, Marinette. I know that.” He paused, touching his forehead to hers briefly before he pulled away. “How did you get away?”

“Manon saved me.”

“But she’s supposed to be-”

“At home. I know. She’s heading there now only because Alya is dragging her there. When she showed up, she didn’t know that Alya was going to kill me, and I still don’t know if she knows, but either way, Alya didn’t want her to see what was going to happen.” Marinette lowered her head. “I’m not sure what I expected of her, but I was so scared to see Manon there.” She looked up at Chat, tears brimming in her eyes for a reason that she couldn’t really place. “I thought Alya would hurt her. Why did I think that?”

Chat offered no answer, fixing her with that same soft and sad gaze.

“Am I just like her, assuming the worst in everyone I don’t know?”

“You’re not like her,” Chat said, tracing invisible circles on her cheek. “You only assumed the worst because that’s all you’ve seen from Alya.” He paused, and his expression darkened. “And she doesn’t assume the worst. She knows that not all humans are bad. She knows that. But she has a job to do, and that makes her all the more guilty.”

“I tried to talk, Chat,” she said, and she pressed her face to his shoulder. “But she wouldn’t listen. To hardly one word I said.”

“We’ll make her listen. It’s not impossible.” He rubbed a hand on the back of her neck, and the other played with the hand in her lap.

“It sure feels like it.”

“I promise it’s not.” He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, and it only was something made for comfort. She let out a sigh. “You can do this, Marinette. I know it.”

She pulled away from him, her eyes filled with that determination that he had come to know so well. “Yeah. You’re right.” She stood and helped him up beside her. She had finished moping for the moment, it seemed.

A droplet of blood slithered down her neck, and she swept a hand over it, smearing red over the pale skin of her throat. The color matched the shade of her sweater.

“I can get through this peacefully and make friends with people who want to kill me. It can’t be so hard, right?”