#CROWD CHEERING NOISE (its just all the cells in my body)

[robotsafari]

this is my guilty gear oc diamondback shes a bounty hunter who is also into the preservation of hundred year old videogames

[whumpy-daydreams]

Remember you are a knight

been thinking about rome and gladiators recently so here have gladiator whump about a lady knight

Writing masterlist

CW: lady whump, mild gore, forced to kill

The shouts from the arena were muffled by thick stone walls that kept the air cool. Ylja could picture what was happening by the cheers and screams and groans of the crowd, imagining how blood soaked into sand, bright at first before darkening into an iron-stained brown.

She paced, clenching and flexing her right hand - any way to relieve the rage filled tension building in her muscles.

Rage against being cooped up, rage against the costume she’d been forced into, at the crowd high above her, at the commander she’d failed to kill. The commander who had sent her to die for other people’s entertainment.

You are still a knight, she reminded herself. Remember your dignity.

Noise from outside the cell stilled her agitated pacing. Not the yells of other prisoners, nor the raucous noise from the arena itself, but someone walking, the sound deadened by the sand yet still echoing against the walls. 

One of the overseers stopped before her. Dressed in the simple tunic and leather cuirass that denoted him as one of the lower ranking trainers, he looked her up and down before unlocking the cell door.

“You’re next to fight. Follow me.” He moved back, already turning to walk back down the corridor. The way he seemed so sure she wouldn’t resist almost made Ylja say no. As if sensing her instinct to run he turned to give her a curious look.

With one look back at the safety of the cell, Ylja stepped next to him, silent as they passed rows of cells full of bait for the arena. Every step they took made the din grow louder, chanting and groans joining the cacophony until the first rays of pure sunlight streamed onto the ground through a barred doorway.

Ylja didn’t need to look through to know she’d see bloodshed on the other side. Instead she focused on the passageway she now waited in.

Rows of weapons lined the walls: swords and maces, axes and flails and spears. On the opposite wall were shields and helmets of all shapes and sizes, some still with dried blood half worn off.

“Any preferences?” the overseer asked, sizing her up. Ylja looked over the swords again but they weren’t what she was looking for.

“I want the sword you took from me.” The overseer just laughed. “You asked my preference - if I am to die, I want to be holding my own sword.”

“Then you’ll fight with your fists alone. We do not have your sword. Pick another or die unarmed.”

“Where is it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know - you should ask whoever brought you here. Choose a new sword.”

Biting back an insult Ylja reluctantly pointed to a longsword that looked as though it hadn’t been used in years. It was in the style of swords from the northernmost countries of the continent, the closest thing to her own sword she could see. It had a good weight to it, the leather handle perfectly worn to a soft smooth sheen.

“No shield?” The overseer seemed confused. Ylja wasn’t surprised. The grey tunic she had been given to wear had no protective qualities to speak of other than the thickness of the wool already making her sweat. She glared and he held his hands up.

A roar erupted from the arena as the last fight ended and the overseer pulled her forwards. 

For the first time Ylja could see the crowd. The bodies merged into a writhing mass of colour, protected from the early afternoon sun by billowing fabric sails that threw shadows onto the arena floor itself.

As the bars in the doorway began to move to the side the overseer spoke. “There’s a stake in the sand twenty paces forward. Stop there until the fight is started. There are no… rules, but you gain more favour for fighting fairly.” 

“Why should I need favour? I’m only here to die.” 

“The arena has its own mind. Slaves have become heroes here.”

“I am not a slave.” Ylja adjusted her grip on the sword and stepped into the light.

___

The sun was blinding, the heat bearing down on her like a fist, not the slightest breeze to ease the inferno. Ylja forced the world into focus. Three people stood in the arena with her, separated by a vast expanse of sand.

Each one weighed up the others, trying to determine who would be the easiest to defeat, who would be the victor at the end of the bloodbath. Ylja immediately dismissed the man to her right - a slender man burdened by a shield too large for him. To her left was a woman much burlier than Ylja herself, with an expression that implied a preference for cruelty over skill.

The last, the man directly opposite, was the only opponent Ylja gave a second glance. He was dressed in the uniform of the professional gladiators, the fighters paid to perform the most spectacular battles. If the crowd were betting, and Ylja knew they were, they were betting on him.

Ylja redirected her focus to the stands opposite her. In the centre of the rows of civilians was a large platform, a private gallery for the wealthiest and most important people in the empire. Seated at the front was the Emperor himself; the silk of his robes such a bright gold he could have been the sun itself. At his sides were people Ylja didn’t recognise, with one exception.

The commander stood just beside the Emperor, dressed in clothes that, while fine, would be more suited to a war room than the largest theatre in the world. Even from the other side of the arena Ylja knew he was watching her.

Well, if he wanted her to die in a spectacle she’d give him the performance of a lifetime.

Drums began to beat, the deep sound echoing Ylja’s racing heart, growing louder as the crowd became restless, all eyes on a crimson flag high above the centre of the arena. Ylja raised her sword.

Time slowed as the flag began to fall. The woman to her left braced her feet ready to run. The boy opposite looked ready to run. The gladiator only waited. The Emperor took another sip from his goblet. The commander remained deadly still.

The flag hit the ground like a pool of fresh blood.

The cruel woman was already running to the boy but Ylja turned her attention to the gladiator, who was walking steadily towards her.

He wore simple leather armour, hair cropped close to his scalp, and had forgone a shield in favour of two short swords. Ylja risked a glance back towards the boy and instantly regretted it, his now limp body a mangled mess, blood staining the sand all around him.

He was never going to survive this. 

She met the gladiators blades with the familiar clash of steel against steel, twisting away to disengage and regain the distance between them. They began to circle, each analysing the other’s movements, searching for patterns and weak spots.

The gladiator lunged first, a smooth flurry of movement that had Ylja retreating. Pain blossomed on her arm as a sword bypassed her defence. She retaliated in turn, her sword just an extension of her arms, deadly and beautiful as it danced.

A flail whirled and the pair broke apart, the woman joining the fray with a snarl. The dance became a hurricane of iron, the cheers and shouts of the crowd merging into a steady roar that drowned out the blood rushing in Ylja’s ears.

Sand began to fill the air, stinging Ylja’s skin as she lunged into a roll to avoid a wicked ball of iron. Somewhere in the chaos she met the gladiators eyes and a sense of understanding flickered between them,

The woman’s attention on Ylja, the gladiator moved, fainting to the side as Ylja threw a handful of sand up towards the woman’s face.

She stepped back, blinded, and the gladiator struck, his swords driving through her back until they emerged below her collarbones. Blood sprayed across the ground as he pulled them back. The flail hit the sand before the woman did.

Breathing heavily, Ylja stood, keeping her eyes on the gladiator. Both were tired now, exhausted from the heat. Again they watched each other, that brief understanding turning to the adrenaline filled hope of survival. The crowd erupted in bloodthirsty cries as their swords once again met.

You are a knight. Remember your skill.

The reminder felt futile as Ylja swung again and again, quickly retreating into a panicked frenzy. Steel cut into her hand, blood making the sword grip slick, the sharp cold burn proving what she already knew.

He was better than her. There was no malice in the gladiator’s eyes as he forced her back, only detached determination. Again and again he struck hard and fast, and the next time his sword struck Ylja cried out in pain.

It was only a matter of time. A wrong step and Ylja was on her back, hot sand sticking to her bloody hand, mingling with the deeper wound on her arm, the gritty taste in her mouth and eyes.

You are a knight. Go down fighting.

With a raw scream she forced his next blow aside. He stumbled, thrown off balance, one sword lost to the sand. It was all she needed. Rolling to her feet she kicked out and her foot found its mark in his stomach.

The gladiator hit the ground with a grunt. Before he could recover his breath Ylja was above him, sword poised over his throat. His eyes met hers, a gaze of admiration and sorrow and that same determination. 

Ylja panted. The crowd were screaming, rich and poor alike turned to bloodthirsty savages as they craved the next spilling of blood. Horror dawned on her like the clearest sunrise.

You are a knight. Remember mercy.

Ylja lowered her sword. She wouldn’t do it. Couldn’t do it. The man in front of her was not her enemy. He was just a man. Forced to compete in the same brutal games as penance for some unknown crime.

The gladiator lunged. A flash of steel, a determined look, and Ylja plunged her sword through his heart.

Shock drowned the adrenaline coursing through her. Ylja let the gladiator fall, the sword still stuck in his unmoving chest. She felt sick. For a moment she thought she was going to throw up right there on the sand but before her stomach could betray her the arena grew quiet.

Squinting against the sun, Ylja looked up at the gallery in the stalls. The Emperor had stood, walking to the front so all could see him clearly as someone entered the arena.

Ylja tensed, preparing herself for a new opponent, but the man carried no weapons, only a wooden sword. He beckoned her forwards and reluctantly she complied, wiping her bloody hands on the grey tunic designed to humiliate her.

“The Emperor has gifted you your life, if you choose to take it,” the man said, holding the wooden sword out to her.

Ylja looked up again, past the Emperor, to the commander. She had never seen someone look at her with such hatred, such anger. It had been his command that sent her to the arena. If he thought she would go down without a fight he should have killed her while he had the chance.

“Make your choice, girl.” She looked back to the man offering her life in a wooden sword. The crowd erupted once again as she gripped the handle.

You are not a knight. You are a gladiator.

[yourlocalfictionalenthusiast]

IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

PART THREE

Part One, Part Two

Warnings: just some swearing

May 1995

“We’re totally gonna get a record deal!”

Luke said for the tenth time in the past hour as he bounced in his seat.

It was Friday night and normally, you would all be messing around at the park, the beach, or just watching a movie in the studio. But when your phone rang and it was the booking manager for the Orpheum telling you that Sunset Curve is officially the new opener next month, the boys insisted on being there the second your shift at the diner was over.

So instead of arguing about having another Star Wars marathon or playing at the pier, you were all packed in your regular booth at Cece’s for celebratory milkshakes. You sat on the very edge of the booth, practically falling asleep on Alex. Ever since you got the call that morning, every cell in your body felt supercharged with excitement.

But now that the day was coming to an end, you could hardly stay awake enough to pay attention to the conversation.

Bobby, who was in your usual spot, pinched Luke’s arm. “Don’t jinx it, dude.”

“It’s not jinxing if you know for sure.” Luke said. “I mean, we’re awesome! And we’ve worked so hard to get to this point. It’s all gonna pay off.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you were still nervous. There was nothing you were prouder of than your music, and you knew that a crowd that big would be good for gaining a lot of new fans. But the idea of that many people seeing you perform and hearing your lyrics was nerve-wracking.

You could tell the others felt the same way. Bobby was biting his nails, Alex was bouncing his leg so hard it almost hit the table and Reggie was slumped against the wall. Luke just stared at all of you, his bright smile never fading.

He snapped his fingers so loud that you jumped at the noise, then he started digging in his pockets. “I know what’ll cheer you guys up.”

Luke pulled out a safety pin, then brought its point down into the table, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration. After a few minutes, he brushed off the table and presented his design proudly. It was four words in huge slanted letters.

‘SUNSET CURVE WAS HERE’

“Seriously, Luke?�� Alex said, his eyes wide. “Cece’s gonna kill you!”

Luke just smirked and handed him the pin, gesturing to the space under the words. “‘C’mon, man. You’re up first.”

It took a lot of convincing, but Alex eventually gave in, and one by one, you all signed your names.

‘Alex,

Bobby

Reggie

Luke

(Y/N)’

You heard the sound of Cece’s heels hitting the floor as she exited the kitchen. Panicking, you shoved the pin in your pocket just in time as she came up to the table. 

Before she could even see that anything was different, Reggie pointed at Luke.

“He did it!”

Cece frowned before inspecting the table, letting out a deep sigh and putting her hands on her hips.

“Are you vandalizing my diner, Patterson?”

Luke paled. “It was a group effort.”

“But it was your idea,” Alex said with a smirk, no doubt trying to pin the blame on Luke to keep his spot as Cece’s favorite. You had to bury your head into his shoulder to contain your laughter.

You could tell from the way that she was struggling to keep a straight face that Cece wasn’t actually mad but you weren’t gonna tell Luke that. He tried to kick Alex’s leg under the table but he hit yours instead. You hissed in pain and Luke paled even further.

“Shit, sorry, (Y/n).”

“And abusing my staff?” Cece joked, shaking her head.

Luke flashed her a charming smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, Cece. Just got a little excited.”

“I can see that.” She laughed then turned to you. “Hey. Get up. I got you something.”

You looked up at her in confusion but she didn’t offer you any answer as you dragged yourself up. Cece pulled a small blue box out from behind her back and handed it to you. “What’s the occasion?”

Cece rolled her eyes. “Just open it.” 

The first thing you saw was a folded piece of paper with your name on it, under it was a silver key. You picked it up and held it in between your fingers as you carefully unfolded the paper to see three words in Cece’s careful handwriting.

just in case

You looked up at her, eyebrows knitted together. “Cece?”

She just winked as she put her hand on your cheek. “Honey, you know that I couldn’t have more faith in you and your rockstar dreams. But just in case things don’t work out...well, I couldn’t imagine giving this place to anyone else.”

You flew into her arms and hugged her so tight it was a little painful. Of course, all you wanted was for Sunset Curve to get signed to a label and take over the world. But this place was like home to you and the idea of owning it some day made your heart swell. “Thank you!”

The booth erupted in cheers and Cece playfully glared at them as she tucked you under her arm. “But you have to promise you’ll keep these boys of yours from doing any more damage to the property.”

Bobby scoffed. “Hey, we’re not-”

You slapped your hand over his mouth before nodding at Cece. “I’ll try my best.”

The bell on the door jingled to announce the arrival of another customer, and Cece left to greet them. You twirled the key around in your hand and looked at the boys' smiling faces, unable to hide your own.

As you settled back in the booth and took a sip of your milkshake, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was coming together.

2020

L.A was somehow so different, yet exactly the way you remembered.

The way the bright lights flooded the streets, to the way that every surface you see was decorated with a piece of art, made you anxious to re-explore the city you loved so much. 

You couldn’t help but stare through your swinging legs at the crowds walking around below, listening to the soft buzzing of the Orpheum’s sign above your head.

An hour ago when Luke had suggested walking around the city, you figured you would end up here eventually. But now that you were actually here, you couldn’t help the hollow feeling that settled in your stomach.

It must’ve shown on your face because Luke launched into one of his motivational speeches. “C’mon, guys. I know being dead wasn’t our first choice. But you gotta admit, it is easier to get around.”

Reggie pouted. “Easy for you maybe. I lost my shirt on that one.”

You hadn’t even noticed that he was shirtless until it reappeared in a flash and he sighed in relief.

“So, why did you bring us here?” Alex asked Luke. “Just another painful reminder of where we never got to play?”

You smiled sarcastically. “Yeah, thanks, Luke.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Because, we’re not done yet!”

He slung his arm around Alex’s shoulder, and gripped yours as he poofed you all down to the sidewalk, pulling away from you as fast as possible once your feet were back on the ground.

“I’m telling you.” Luke said. “We’ve been given a second chance. Let’s go see how many clubs we can hit before sunrise!”

He started walking down the street and Reggie was quick to follow, leaving you and Alex behind. As you watched them skip down the sidewalk, Alex let out a sharp ‘hey!’ and you whipped around to see him rubbing his shoulder.

A man in a long black suit stared straight into your eyes before tipping his hat to Alex and disappearing down the street. Every hair on your body stood on end as you stared at the spot where he was just standing.

“That was weird.” You said, turning to Alex. “You okay?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m good.”

You could hear Luke and Reggie’s excited shouting as they ran down the street, but you and Alex kept your distance. He reached his arm out to you and you took it automatically.

Over the last six months, Alex had become your best friend. You had always been close but last summer when things got bad with his parents, he turned to you.

And when things started to get weird between you and Luke or you had a fight with your mom, Alex was the only one you wanted to talk to. 

“Alright.” Alex sighed. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“I know you’re dying to talk about Luke.”

“I am not!”

Alex raised his eyebrows, clearly not convinced.

“Besides, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing-” He took in a sharp breath. “(Y/n), for someone so smart, you’re acting like a dumbass.”

You put a hand on your chest, dramatically gasping. “Alexander Mercer! I had no idea you were capable of using that kind of language.”

He flashed you his middle finger before unlocking his arm from yours and pulling you into his side. “Seriously though. What’s rolling around up there?”

You were quiet for a few minutes as you rested your head on his shoulder. “I just want to know what I did, you know?” 

Alex nodded, but didn’t say anything, as he knew that you were just getting started.

“I mean, he’s always been there. He's always been my person. The one who I could count on for anything. Then that night in the studio, I thought…” 

You trailed off and Alex held you a little tighter. Even though he wasn’t there, he could probably describe that night in exact detail from the amount of times you had told him about it. “I just miss him."

“Yeah, I know.” Alex said, his eyes glued to Luke’s back. “But, hey, you know that he loves you, and that didn’t change because of one night.”

He started to say something else but cut himself off as he saw Reggie and Luke approaching, both with big, goofy smiles. Reggie took your arm that wasn’t around Alex’s back and locked it in his.

“What are you guys talking about?” He asked.

“Nothing!” You said way too fast, cringing to yourself as you dragged Reggie down the sidewalk. “Come on, Reg. Let’s go see if that old comic book shop is still around.”

As the night wore on, you became more and more thankful that you weren’t able to get tired.

You spent the whole night sneaking into concert venues, clubs, and pretty much any place you wanted now that there was no chance of getting caught. It wasn’t until you passed a small street-side café that you let yourself think about the one place you hadn’t been yet.

Cece’s Diner.

When Julie told you it had been 25 years, you assumed that it had closed down. That Cece had moved away. Maybe even reconnected with her son and lived out her life. It seemed like such a perfect thought that you didn’t want to ruin it with reality. 

But now that you had seen the way things had changed in the time you had been gone, you were now filled with a sense of urgency. You launched up the sidewalk until you were in front of the boys.

“Hey, guys?” You asked. They all stared at you curiously as a smile slowly spread across your face. “Anyone up for milkshakes?”

-

When you walked up to the diner - for only an instant - it was as if no time had passed. You felt the urge to run inside, throw your hair up in a ponytail, and make a beeline for the kitchen before you got in trouble for being late for your shift. 

Only as you got closer, you realized how much had changed. The building, which had always been a little ordinary and worn like a well-loved home, now felt about twenty stories tall. You dragged yourself forward toward the door, unable to look away.

The boys lingered behind you, but no one said a word. 

Your hand reached for the doorknob before you remembered that you wouldn’t actually be able to touch it.

I really gotta get used to that, you mumbled to yourself as you walked through the door.

It looked so different that you almost didn’t recognize it.

The bright blue paint had been replaced with brown on every wall, bookshelves lined the corners of the room, and long leather couches had replaced the booths and tables. The old jukebox had disappeared, and some old jazz song was playing over speakers over your head.

“Can I help you?” 

A voice asked from behind the counter. It was a boy that looked a little older than you, messy black hair and an uninterested smile. He dragged a blue pen across the margins of a book as he waited for your answer.

“You can see us?” Alex asked, to which the boy rolled his eyes.

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” He said, raising his eyebrows when you all failed to answer either of his questions.

“My, my. Aren’t we chatty.”

“Who are you, exactly?” You said, trying to mask your annoyance with a smile.

“Teddy.” He said, pushing himself off the counter and making his way around until he stopped just a few feet ahead of you. “And you’re (Y/n).”

A shiver ran down your spine. “How do you know that?”

“You were a friend of my grandma’s.”

Before you could ask what the hell he meant by that, a man came walking out of the kitchen. He looked so much like Cece that it made your stomach flip. It was her son.

And as you looked back at Teddy, your mind slowly connected the dots. “You’re Cece’s grandson?”

He nodded.

“Okay, this is just too weird.” You said as you rubbed your temples. There was no way that this was actually happening, right? Maybe you somehow fell asleep and are having some weird ghost dream. 

“Okay, well I definitely feel old.” Alex sighed.

Your head was spinning. “What is even happening right now.”

Teddy smiled. “Well, it’s too bad we’re dead or else I would buy you coffee and explain it to you.”

You internally cringed at his pick-up line but you couldn’t help but laugh a little. Normally, random guys flirting with you made you uncomfortable but behind his cocky attitude, he seemed like a genuine guy.

Maybe it was the way that he twirled his pen between his fingers the way that Cece used to, but something told you that there was more to him than meets the eye.

Before you could answer, Luke spoke up. “Well, it was nice meeting you. But we really should be getting back home.”

You could see that he was right as the pale light came in through the windows as the sky started to lighten.

But you couldn’t help but notice that this was the first time he had interjected in the conversation since you got there, and a small part of you wondered if that had anything to do with the way that Teddy was staring at you.

You shook those thoughts from your head, giving Teddy a soft smile.

“Maybe next time.”

Though you weren’t capable of getting cold, you still shivered a little as you walked through the door and back out onto the street. You could feel Luke’s eyes on the side of your face, flickering down to the sidewalk when he saw you looking.

You gave him a light nudge on the shoulder, and he gave you a soft smile that you couldn’t quite decipher the meaning behind.

That was pretty much all you got from Luke these days.

“So,” Luke said, his enthusiasm returning in full force as he threw his arms over Alex and Reggie’s shoulders. “I think it’s safe to say we’re officially back in business.”

-

The second that you landed in the studio, your jaw dropped.

Julie was sitting at the piano, her voice shaky but full of passion as she belted out the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard. Her fingers hit the keys expertly and you smiled.

You closed your eyes, listening to her voice echo through the room and getting lost in the warm feeling the lyrics filled you with. It wasn’t until she stopped singing and sniffled quietly that your heart dropped.

Both you and Alex surged forward to comfort her but Luke shook his head and swirled his finger, signaling to meet up outside. You wanted to protest. To stay and comfort your new friend.

But Julie sniffled again and you thought that maybe it would be a good idea to give her space. You made a mental note to talk to her later and poofed out of the garage.

-

In Life, In Death Taglist:

@ifilwtmfc @instabull @wanniiieeee @tenaciousperfectionunknown

JATP Taglist:

@caitsymichelle13

Let me know if you want to be added!

[outofsstyles]

i wish u would write a fic where reader is also a famous singer whos label sets up a collab with the two of them and they meet and write a love song and its a HIT and they PERFORM IT and realize they be SMITTEN with each other and the internet totally knew before they did and this is weirdly specific but it popped in my mind and i love your writing !!! okay bye 😎

Okay i’m actually embarrassed of how long it took me to write this but writer’s block hit me like a bunch of bricks this past month, still i’m so sorry!! But anyway here’s around 2.6k of famous!reader for you anon!! Hope you enjoy it!!

Also this is not really proofread cause i wrote it all in one sitting after a boost of inspiration so uh chile anyway so...

One could think that you’d have grown past the nervous set of butterflies that come by before stepping out on stage. They wouldn’t be entirely wrong, you like to think. Sure, there’s still an anxious feeling that bubbles up in the pit of your stomach like the drops of air in a sealed bottle of rosé (much like the one sitting inside a bucket propped on the center table of your dressing room). It’s normal, you tell yourself, part of the process, even. The clammy palms of your hand and the rapid thumping of your heart will soon be replaced by the thrill of stepping in front of a crowd of people, eyes wide, and voices loud. All waiting for you.

When Harry invited you to join him tonight, just for a song, there wasn’t a single ounce in your mind that thought of declining it. After all, you had spent months traveling around with him as his opening act of the American leg on his first tour. It’s not even the first time you’d share the stage with him, having joined him on a live cover of Eternal Flame at the very last date of the tour. His fans are also familiar with you, most of them seem to like you, even (and you don’t bother searching for the ones who don’t, much preferring to preserve your peace of mind). So there’s really not a reason for you to feel as if you’re about to throw up, is there?

Except this time is much different than all the previous ones you had to do this. No one out there is expecting you to step on stage. Much less for a song you’d thought you’d never sing it live.

It started as a forgotten draft you found in one of your old journals, and sometime between Chicago and Vancouver, after long nights and shared bottles of wine together, it turned into a duet. There wasn’t any intention of recording it initially, being born in hushed drunken confession at wee hours in the morning, and shared stories of heartbreak and yearning, you figured it would just stay between the two of you. It was a vulnerable song, after all, one in which both of you poured your heartaches in. 

But Harry loved the song. In fact, barely a month after the tour was wrapped up and everyone had tucked themselves back home to a well-deserved break, he invited you for dinner at his and, after one or two margaritas, you were standing on his home studio singing the words you’d written with him on quiet hotel rooms. And it didn’t take much convincing from his part for you to release it months later as part of your first studio album. Harry’s a charming man and he always finds a way to get what he wants. Not to mention the glimmer in his eyes and the set of dimples on his cheeks appearing as he heard the final cut were enough for you to convince you (not that you’d ever say this out loud).

So it’s not hard to understand why you agreed in a heartbeat to sing it with him on the opening night of his tour. 

Your leg is bouncing in a nervous tick, and you have to stop yourself from chewing on your bottom lip as to avoid another scolding from Amie who’s just applied a thin layer of lipstick over it. There’s a bundle of voices sweeping around the room, all much familiar to you, as they’re all part of your team. But you can’t help but zone out, pushing the noise to the back of your brain and letting it become faint background noise as you take in a deep breath to ease yourself down.

The concert has started around an hour ago, meaning you have just a few minutes before you have to head to the side of the stage, waiting for Harry to announce your name. He made sure to stop by your dressing room after soundcheck was done, greeting everyone from your team (they’ve all grown fond of him after the last tour, but then again, it’s hard not to) before making his way to you, a grin taking over his face as he approached, arms opening and not wasting a second before pulling you into an embrace. You smile to yourself, recalling his words from earlier.

“How are we feeling?” He pulled away, holding on to your shoulders and you can’t help but focus on the way his thumbs caressed you over the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Uhm like I could pass out at any second, but other than that I’m fine.” You let out a dry laugh as an attempt to mask the truth of your sentence behind humor.

“Nothing to be nervous about, love.” His hands squeezed you gently before dropping down and you chewed on your bottom lip at the warmth left from his touch. “S’just you and me and the guitar.” 

“And thirty thousand people.”

“You’ve played for bigger crowds.”

“I know, it’s just…” You sighed, gazing down at the champagne flute in your hands before shrugging. “Never sang something this personal, I guess.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” He moved a strand of your hair from your face, taking a small step forward as his voice droped down slightly so you’re the only one hearing his words.  “Know you’ll be brilliant, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“What if I cry?”

“Nothing wrong in crying, love.” He said in a beat, shaking his head softly. “I’ve shed a fair amount of tears on stage as well, just shows how much it means to you.”

Relaxing your shoulders you didn’t even realize were so tense, you exhaled. “You’re right.”

“I am.” He humored, dimples poking at his cheeks as he bumped his shoulder against yours. His expression softened, “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, okay?” He said truthfully, eyes flickering between yours to show you he meant it. “I don’t want you to do something you’re not comfortable with just for my sake.”

“Thanks, H.” You smiles. “But I’m fine, really, just nervous.”

His lips parted to answer you, but before he can do so someone shouted from the doorway, “H, you gotta go to hair and makeup.” 

“I’ll be right there.” He called over his shoulder, then turned his attention back to you. “I’ll see you on stage?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Hey,” he says as he started walking backward. “Just you and me alright?”

“Right.” You giggled watching him throw you a wink before turning around and stepping out of the room.

Downing the last bit of champagne on your glass, you rest it on the counter next to you before stepping up from your seat completely. A few pairs of eyes settle on you from the sudden movement, but they quickly turn back to their previous conversations as you don’t meet their gaze, only making your way o the full body mirror that makes the door leading to the bathroom. 

Your glittery eyelids call your attention first as you examine yourself, making you blink a few times just to see them shimmer. They match the two-piece that hugs your body in a lavender tone, the same one of the boost you slipped in just a couple minutes ago. You move your hips around softly, watching the way the skirt dances around your thighs and smoothing your hands on it to feel the soft fabric under your fingertips. You have time to adjust the top one last time before someone from production calls your name at the doorway, indicating it’s time to head out.

The whole way goes in a bit of a blur, you adjust your earpiece and try to smile at words of encouragement that are thrown your way as you walk towards the side of the stage where you’re supposed to make your entrance. Your heart thumps in your chest, almost loud enough to swallow the screams of the crowd that gets louder every step you take. Harry comes into view, along with the whole arena as you pass through a double door. His back is turned to you when you come to a stop but you can make out the guitar in his hands, his voice blending with the echo of thousands of others, screaming back at him the words he wrote. It’s Fine Line, one of your favorites from his sophomore album, and you can’t help but mouth along to it as the bridge comes up.

It helps to calm you a bit, the melody along with his voice setting the atmosphere of the whole place to a joyous state. It was clear at the glossy eyes you can catch in the crowd looking back at him, cheering as the song comes to an end, and Harry bows in gratitude and you watch as he steps back in front of the mic stand but doesn’t say anything. For a moment he just stays like that, you can’t catch his face from this angle, but you gaze up at the big screen and, just like you predicted, you can see the admiration on his expression as he takes in the crowd in front of him. You wish you could know his thoughts, but the smile that takes over his lips gives you everything you need to know, and you can’t help but let one tug on your face as well.

Before you know it, he leans into the microphone again, the screams quieting down as he starts speaking again. “I don’t think I’ll ever find enough words to thank you for your support, and sharing such special moments like this with me,” he begins, one hand moving to his chest as he pauses when the crowd roars again. “I love you all very much, and I thought maybe I could bring someone here that also holds a special place in my heart.”

You can feel every cell in your body freeze once you realize he’s talking about you, and it’s only when he turns around, eyes finding yours as he motions for you to walk in that you start moving. Keeping your gaze trained on his, you approach him, the hollering sound becoming almost faint in your ears as you focus solely on Harry. He pushes his guitar to the side so he can give you a quick hug before turning back to his mic.

“So, this lovely lady and I happen to have a song together.”

Your eyes scan the crowd for a moment, catching the awe in people’s faces before finding him again. Bringing your own mic to your lips you speak up, “We do, actually.”

“And we never sang it live before, is that right?”

“You’d be correct, yes.” 

“How do we feel about singing it tonight for the first time?” He asks more to the audience than to you, wanting to get a reaction, and as if on cue their screams take over the space at the mention of the song.

“I think they like the idea.” You smile, letting your eyes wander around the arena. Thanks to the bright spotlight set on you, you can’t make out most of their faces, but each one of them still makes themselves present, being with their flashlights turned on or their voices joining in with the others. A familiar electric spark shoots down your spine, the buzz making you forget all the previous nerves that were taking over your mind.

The sound of the strokes on the guitar strings bring your attention back to Harry, and when you look back at him, he’s already watching you, a smirk threatening to poke at his lips as he nods at you. It’s a silent gesture of reassurance, and you’re thankful for it, smiling back at him.

Once the intro is over he steps towards the stand again, his lips brushing the mic but his eyes still glued on you. It’s hard not to feel the chills rise on your skin at the sound of his voice. You’re close enough that if you focus, you can hear him under the reverberance of the loudspeakers. The realization makes your hand come up almost instinctively, removing one earplug so you can listen to him better. He smiles midword at you once he realizes what you’ve done, his eyes closing for a moment as he feels every word that comes out of his mouth.

Joining him for the chorus, you realize how astute he was when suggesting doing an acoustic version. The sound of your voices together slowed down by just the guitar background sounds even more intimate. It’s gentler. Softer. And you can’t help the step that you take towards him, feeling an urge to get closer. 

You don’t dare to break eye contact going into your solo, he moves back from his mic just a bit, giving you your moment and nodding along to the words. Unlike you had thought before, you don’t feel a knot forming on your throat or burning in your chest as you proclaim words of an old broken heart. Harry’s face is enough to keep you at ease, his irises seeming so green under the stage light that you can’t help the stuttering of your heart. 

He melts his voice on yours again, bringing you back to all the sleepless nights you spent together, singing the same words to one another. 

You’ve heard people say about being with someone that makes you feel like you’re the only people in a room, and it’s always made you roll your eyes at the cliche aspect of it. But standing here with Harry, on stage, eyes set on each other as you sing the words straight from your heart, you start to understand where those people were coming from. There are thousands of other eyes set on you, but his are the only ones calling your attention. Everything else seeming unimportant as you find yourself stuck in a trance with him.

The last chorus rolls around and you only register him moving once he’s right in front of you. His guitar is the only barrier between your bodies as he leans into your microphone, and you move it down so it stands under both your lips. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your cupid bow. You could touch him with the smallest of movements, and you want nothing more than to rest your forehead on his and meet his mouth with yours. But you hold back, closing your eyes as you’re afraid of what the effect of his own can do to you, letting the last words come out in a breath.

The roaring crowd reminds you of the people watching you, and almost as if you’re broken out of a spell, you take a small step back, turning to the audience to give them a wave. You feel Harry’s arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you against him. His lips press a single kiss on your hair as you thank everyone with a smile, still taken back by what just happened. 

Turning to Harry, you give him one last hug, this time lingering for a beat too long, enjoying the feeling of his arms pressing you closer to him. He pulls away first, announcing your name again, and you spare him another look before waving your way out, with shaky legs and a speeding heart.

[pparkerpoetry]

Face Reality (Part 7)

Title: An Arena to Watch Your Sins Fight (will they ever be free?)

Summary:  Purpled wakes up, and they have a discussion on where he'd been. (he hates his past) Ranboo looks around and realizes that this family is the best thing to happen to its members. (he needs it, too) Puffy snitches on how much Sam actually cares. (she does, as well) (and sam? sam finally snaps. but they don't have to know about that)

Part 1 Part 8 Masterlist

_______

Purpled woke up a day later. It was unexpected, mainly because he just… woke up out of nowhere. It had been a pretty slow day until that point, then he stumbled out of the room that he’d been put in, eyes glossy and breath panicked. 

Sam stood up immediately. “Whoa, hey, buddy. Are you okay? What are you doing up?”

Purpled had just looked up at him, no recognition in his eyes. “What..? Where am I?”

“You’re at my base, in the Dream SMP. Do you remember who I am?” Sam asked, putting an arm around him and guiding him to the couch. He removed his arm quickly though, at the flinch from Purpled.

“Yeah… you’re Sam, but… how did I get away?” 

“Get away from what?” Ranboo asked, just entering the room. “Fundy and I were hanging out in the woods and you just collapsed in front of us.”

Purpled appeared to get agitated. “I… Why’d they let me go?”

“Who?” Sam said softly. There was no response. “Hey, just start at the beginning if you want to, okay? Where were you… let’s start with what you remember, okay? What’s the first thing you remember?”

He gulped. “I remember Tommy and Tubbo leaving to… to go fight Dream. They were going to say goodbye to everyone, but I didn’t show up.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. “Purp, that was years ago.”

The younger man nodded. “Yeah. I, uh, I left after that because I didn’t want to be there… I didn’t want to be there when Dream brought their bodies back.” Ranboo had left, and brought back the rest of the people who lived there. Purpled looked shocked to see Tommy and Tubbo. “How did you survive?”

Tommy shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I can tell you later. What’s going on?”

“He’s telling us where he’s been.” Sam said, and motioned for Purpled to continue. “Go ahead.”

“I… I went to the Bedwars server to try and clear my mind a bit, get some practice. Take a break from this SMP, and such, but after one of the games…” He started shaking a bit, and Sam wanted to hug him, but held back. If the other physical contact was any indication, Purpled wouldn't appreciate it.

“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.”

He still did. The memories were coming back, faster now. He almost wished they didn’t, because they weren’t pleasant. “After one of the games, a group of men approached me.”

____________

Purpled sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. It had been a tough game, and he was tired. He just wanted to go home, wherever that was. Did he even have one? He wandered over to collect his prize, though he’d probably end up giving it to someone else since he didn’t really need it. It’d just get stolen from one of his chests in the SMP, anyway.

After, he stumbled towards the lobby with the intent of joining another game. He probably should’ve stopped a while ago. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop what happened next. 

Three men went up to him while he caught his breath on a bench. One of them had a long beard, and he was the one who spoke. “You look pretty tired, ay? I saw you fighting though, you look like a pro for someone so young.”

Purpled straightened his posture in an effort to look somewhat lively. “I’m not that tired. Thanks, though, I appreciate it.”

One of the others, the one with a sick moustache, held out a water bottle. “Here, you want a drink?”

His mind was already foggy enough that he didn’t remember all of the warnings that he’d been told since he was young of the group that kidnapped Bedwars players to make them compete in illegal fighter rings. Purpled took the water, drinking it. Almost immediately, his legs started to give out. What kind of a potion was the water laced with?

“Whoa there, let me help you.”

Purpled didn’t know which one said that. He feebly tried hitting at them, but he could barely move. He wanted to sleep, but he couldn’t. His nerves were going haywire, someone was taking his arm, he had to move-” 

He blacked out.

He woke up in a cell, and as his mind slowly came back to him, the panic set in. He knew the answers to all his questions, but he didn’t like it. It seemed like ages, but at some point, someone finally came to see him.

“Purpled, ay?” It was the one with the beard. He chuckled at Purpled’s silence. “Not much of a talker, huh? Well, I hope you’re more of a fighter in the arena than you were when we grabbed you, otherwise I might have to get a new source for information.”

“What?” 

The beard-man smiled. “Ah, he speaks! Well, I’ve got a source that told me you were a formidable competitor, and wouldn’t be all that missed, so having a fighter from the famous Dream SMP will bring in the big bucks. I’m taking chances with you, none of the others wanted to nab a kid. Somethin’ about morals.”

Purpled scowled. “What happens if I refuse to fight, or if someone comes to find me?”

“I don’t think that you’ll find either of those an issue. We’re well secluded, and if you don’t fight, well,” The beard-man held a sword to Purpled’s throat. “Suddenly it won’t be much of my issue, anyway, will it?”

Purpled swallowed thickly and fell silent. He hoped someone would look for him, maybe. 

They didn’t. 

Each competition was it’s own little hell. He tried to fight the first time he was brought out of the cell, but they learned that it was just easier to drug him. He’d wake up in a base, in an arena surrounded by an audience, and when the shrill alarm went off, the fighting began. The first few times, Purpled would refuse to fight, but he learned that the pain that came afterward wasn’t worth it. He grew used to looking away from his opponents. He hated seeing the light dim, knowing what they would go through for failing to win.

Better them than him, though. In this world, it was kill or be tortured. He was never given the luxury of death to dull the pain. 

He quickly rose in the ranks, challenging the best fighters in this underground arena. As he improved, so did the security. He learned to only use enough of his abilities to win. He’d let them underestimate him, because if no one was coming to rescue him, he’d have to do it himself. 

The first time he tried to escape was during a competition. About half-way through, when security was the weakest, he barged through the doors and overpowered the guards. He got pretty far, but he was tackled and hauled back to his cell in a muzzle and a straitjacket. He wasn’t given food for a while. He wasn’t even visited. 

The next time he saw someone, it was when they grabbed him to fight again. They had kept him constrained, so they didn’t bother with the drugs, which he liked. He felt alive again. 

He tried to get away again, and though he was stronger, the security was better. He managed to exit the stadium, only to be shot down. He was dragged back to his cell by his hair, which was greasy and dirty by now. They’d taken the arrow out of his leg, but they weren’t too gentle about it and didn’t bother bandaging it. He spent that night shivering, hands still bound, wondering if this was where he died, in a puddle of his own blood.

A medic came the next morning. They couldn’t have their biggest source of money dead, but they could let him suffer. 

He won the next competition, and the one after that, and the one after that. He didn’t hesitate anymore. It wasn’t worth it. He was hurt for any pausing of his blade, and it was just easier to win. 

Purpled became the crowd favorite. The noise of their cheers hurt his ears, and soon, he was broken. He came out of his cell willingly, he wasn’t tied up for movement, he just walked with his guards to the arena. He barely remembered life before the fighting ring.

It was only after he blacked out during a competition, woke up surrounded by bodies and liked it, that he realized he needed to leave. He would lose himself if he stayed any longer, and he was all he had left.

He started putting a plan together, but it took time for him to finally escape. He started blacking out more, waking up victorious. He started smiling at the bloodstains on his clothes. He hated himself for it. He knew his opponents would just respawn, but the punishment they faced for losing would be worse than death. 

Everything started to be worse than death. Maybe even life. 

Purpled took a different approach to escape the third time. It was years after he’d been taken. He doubted anyone outside even knew his name anymore. He waited until he’d won the competition to start going through the doors. They only sent one guard, because they thought he was compliant. 

He walked slowly, as if defeated. When he saw the big double doors, he sprinted. He had a head start, and the guard was taken by surprise. He took out a knife that he’d bought and hidden, and when he heard the footsteps behind him as he approached the portal to leave the arena, he held it out.

He spoke for the first time in what felt like forever. His voice was gravelly. “I know how much I am to you.” He flipped the blade to rest against his side. A stab there wouldn’t be fatal, but anything else would. They wouldn’t be able to hurt him if he stabbed himself, because they would risk him respawning alone, while everyone was here. “No one get closer, or I’ll do it.”

Purpled stepped into the portal. He set his destination as the Dream SMP. Maybe he’d be safe there. 

He made it pretty far until he heard someone chasing him. He didn’t hesitate, and plunged the blade into his side. It hurt like a bitch, but he needed to escape. Adrenaline flooded his body as the blood flowed out, and he heard a voice yell at everyone to stop running after him. If he died and respawned, they’d need people back in the Bedwars server to catch him. 

Purpled ran into the nearest forest he could find, hoping to lose the people still chasing him. He must’ve succeeded, and then he was just running blindly with no destination. 

His side was bleeding still, and his head was starting to become fuzzy again. Distantly, he heard voices, but they sounded soft. Not harsh. He took his chances and stumbled towards them. 

He emerged from the trees, and could feel himself fall. The voices sounded miles away, but he heard his name. The darkness called to him, and this time, he had hope that it would be better when he woke up.

_____________

“And, yeah. Then I woke up here.” Purpled laughed nervously. 

Sam exhaled slowly. “I can’t believe no one noticed how long you’d been gone. I’m so sorry, I should’ve realized.”

Purpled shrugged. “Not really your fault.”

It was silent for a moment, and Ranboo couldn’t help but sympathize with Purpled. He’d heard stories of the illegal fighting, but he never thought he’d know someone affected by it. He was horrified. 

As he looked around the room, Ranboo realized that so was everyone else. He was a very good noticer, he liked to think. He saw that everyone in the room was messed up in their own ways, but their dysfunctional family was a place for them to find comfort, recovery, and peace.

He saw it in Fundy, in the way that he always made himself smaller when someone raised their voice, and how he never liked to be left alone in the house, but he loved to curl up at the foot of one of the beds in the bedroom that everyone shared despite there being plenty of others. 

He saw it in Tommy and Tubbo and the way their eyes would get glassy while they dreamed and show reflections of battlefields and violence. He saw every time Tubbo woke up with a gasp from dreams colored red, white, and blue, and reached for Tommy. Tubbo would begin preening Tommy’s wings for comfort, slow and meticulously. Tommy always let his family touch his wings, but anyone else would get snarled at. When Tommy woke up to Tubbo petting his feathers, he always would wrap one around the smaller boy and snuggle back into the blankets. Their breathing was softer after that, when they clung to the other as if they would disappear. 

He saw it in Purpled, especially, in the next few days. Purpled always froze when someone touched him, and insisted on getting his own food, but he fit into the family dynamic well. He liked movie nights especially, particularly stupid comedies that made him laugh. Purpled let down his guard in the walls of Sam’s house, and didn’t feel the need to constantly be armed. He wasn’t scared of blacking out or liking the smell of blood.

He even saw it in himself. He wasn’t worried about being abandoned again, he wasn’t scared of his powers. He might forget to speak English in the mornings every now and then, he might wake up crying and need help to stop, but he let himself fall into the embrace of his family when he needed the help. There was always someone to help me.

He maybe saw it in Sam the most. No one was completely sure of Sam’s past, but the way he hissed every time someone startled him, or tried to hide how he coughed up gunpowder occasionally probably had something to do with it. Sam was so focused on building, whether it be with materials or a safe family, that there had to be something in his past with destruction. No one asked, though. They just leaned against his shoulder whenever he wedged himself on the couch between them.

Ranboo’s mind wandered further. He hadn’t seen Puffy or Niki in a few days, and though he wasn’t concerned, he missed them. 

“I think I’m going to see Puffy this afternoon. Does anyone want to come with me?” He asked, breaking the lengthy silence that had settled over the room. They were all just lounging, but Sam was looking out the window towards the woods. He was letting out a soft sizzling noise, and walked towards the door.

“I don’t think so, Ran. You wanna walk with me a little bit, though?” Sam asked, and Ranboo got up to follow.

“What you looking at, big man?” Ranboo asked, trying to ignore how Tommy was rubbing off on him.

“Oh, just thought I saw something that I want to double check, and you’re going this way anyway.”

They reached the edge of the forest, and Sam held out a hand to make Ranboo stop walking. He looked around a little, then lunged towards one of the bushes. He came out with one hand grasped around the collar of a man with a large moustache. 

“So you were the one I heard the other day. Are you one of the people who were hunting Purpled?” Sam hissed, and Ranboo knew his throat was burning with the feeling of gunpowder. 

The man flinched at the harshness of Sam’s voice. “I was just looking for him. He’s been staying with us for a while and he ran off, we were hoping you knew where he went?”

Sam crouched and squinted. “How much of an idiot do you think I am?” Ranboo was surprised at the coldness in Sam’s voice. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you right here for how much you hurt him. You’re lucky I don’t just slit your throat for coming here and threatening the safety of my family.”

The man cowered. “He doesn’t have any family. I don’t even know who you are.”

Sam laughed, but it wasn’t the kind one that Ranboo knew. This chuckle was harsh and unforgiving. “You wouldn’t have a reason to. I tend to stay in the shadows until something needs to be done. I suggest you leave now, and I suggest you don’t come back.”

Ranboo liked to think that he knew what Sam was planning on. So, once Sam had stood back up and let the man go, he asked, “How long of a head start are you giving him?”

Sam laughed and started leaving. “Not long.”

(Sam was gone for awhile. They got the news a few days later that someone had gotten into one of the fighting rings and dismantled the entire operation. No one was sure how, nor who it was. One was dead: the man with the long beard. There were small holes from explosions, and the air smelled of gunpowder. No one would come for Purpled after that.)

Ranboo shrugged and continued on his journey, eventually finding himself on the steps of Puffy and Niki’s house. He knocked on the door, and Niki opened it with a smile and pulled him into a hug. “Hey, Boo! It’s been a hot minute, where’ve you been?” 

“Just hanging out! Tubbo, Fundy, and Purpled have joined us, so the bedroom is getting a little crowded.”

Puffy walked over as Ranboo was ushered into the house. “Didn’t he spend an entire day renovating his base to have bedrooms for all of you guys though? I remember he showed me blueprints and they all had names on them.”

Ranboo paused. “You mean… He planned on housing us?”

Puffy shrugged. “Yeah, it was either him or me. We figured all you guys deserve a break, some peace, after all you’ve been through.”

Ranboo hummed. “Interesting.”

“Just don’t bring it up to him, though.” Niki piped up. “He’ll never admit to it. Too humble. Tea?”

“Yes, please, dear!” Puffy said, and Ranboo said he’d have some too. It was incredibly domestic, just sitting at the dining room table, sipping tea, and talking about everything. Niki mentioned how she was working on a garden, and Puffy said she was going to make an apiary, so Ranboo sat and listened to them chatting. 

He told them about the new additions to the family, and they said they’d have to bake cookies for them or something. They ended up making brownies that afternoon, and Ranboo helped. By the time they finished, it was dark, so the two women convinced Ranboo to stay the night and they’d go with him to deliver the brownies in the morning.

When the group of three did go back to Sam’s house, they stayed for most of the day. Why would they leave, when the couch was so comfy, and the laughs were plenty, and Tommy’s wings needed preening?

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 4 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“By any chance, are you two available after class?” Sakura asked her seatmates.

“No.” The reply, while simultaneous, delivered contrasting connotations with Sasuke being gruff, adamant, eager to be uninvolved while Naruto’s was dripping with disappointment and missed timing.

“I have practice.” The blonde sank further into his seat. “But whatever is it for, Pres?”

Sakura grimaced at the monicker. “What’s up with that?”

“It’s what everyone calls you now,” Naruto replied. “You’re the youngest president too so that’s like a really big deal, you know. So anyway, if our schedules free up and coincide, maybe you can join us in this cute café.”

Sasuke discreetly flashed him a glare which obviously just flew past across the blonde airhead, but it was caught by Sakura who knew where this opening was headed.

“They served the best sweets but grumpy here ordered a tomato dish. Like what’s up with that? They also gave us free food before we left!” Naruto grinned widely, unperturbed by his next statement. “Moreover, there’s a cute barista who looks just like you.”

And Sakura decided to deliver the curve ball. With her chin on her open palm, she looked at Naruto directly. “So you’re saying I’m cute?”

Sasuke swore that was the reddest he saw Naruto turned. He tried to hide the bubbling laughter with his head down and his hand on his mouth, reveling in the blonde’s embarrassed stuttering, but he slowly registered her amused glance at him, and he wondered briefly why his face was also turning hot.

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

He shouldn’t be doing this. He should have come home after classes ended and not be entranced with Naruto’s rare offer of free dinner. Obviously, by free dinner, that meant their coach paying for the entire team’s meal as well as the roster of honorary members, which unsurprisingly included him.

So he was just napping the time away in the classroom, away from their go-to hideout because of the noisy dragonboat power yells, when he heard a scream and an ensuing crash of what seemed to be books and stacks of papers. His feet was already at the door before he could think this through, his body moving on its own accord like an innate response to a familiar voice.

Loose pink strands were splayed on the floor, surrounded with likewise loose pages from the confines of the folders.

“Did you hit your head?” he asked as he crouched beside her. “You seem to enjoy injuring yourself.”

“I didn’t hit my head. I landed on my butt which hurts a lot right now but thank God I’m wearing sweatpants because you would have seen such outrageous grandma panties.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose at the TMI. “Try filtering.” He proceeded to pick up the scattered papers and files on the floor and gestured for her to stand up already.

“I need a hand though.”

“My hands are full with your documents.”

“Then let me get your back.”

He muttered an annoyed protest under his breath, but he squatted low enough for her to reach the back of his uniform and pull herself up with accompanying ow-ow-ow-ow. They walked like that until they reached the student council office, her box of files safely tucked in both of his arms, her one hand on the edge of his shirt and the other on her lower back.

“Thanks, Sasuke! And with this, I pronounce you and Naruto my official runners!”

“He’s not even here.”

“He’ll agree. After all, I look like his cute barista.” Sakura winked, riding on the comedic atmosphere.

“But I didn’t even agree?” Sasuke protested, falling into deaf ears as she quickly took the folders from his arms and exited the office with a wave. He was sure warning signs kept flashing inside his brain.

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

He was set on keeping his distance, thus despite her informal announcement, it was mostly Naruto who accompanied her in most errands except in instances when he had to stay behind after class to wait for the blonde.

His latest task was to help write support banners for the preliminary matches of the baseball team. Personally, he found the game season a nuisance, but of course, he wouldn’t admit it to himself that the trainings were eating up most of his time with Naruto. If they weren’t practicing pitches during lunch, the blonde would discuss game strategies, a topic he actually exceled in. Sasuke theorized his brain cells operated most efficiently when used for kinetics. He wouldn’t admit it, but he felt sidelined – with his companion successfully finding something to keep the loneliness at bay – while he remained in the frontlines, waging an internal war between the thundering silence of his apartment, and the raucous chaos of his thoughts.

He stood there awkwardly on the side of the student council office as the rest of the council members hunched on the floor, painting the words haphazardly out of the outline patterns, the worst among them being Sakura.

Frustrated and driven by a compulsion, he grabbed a spare brush and blank canvas and started the lettering. Thank god for his childhood calligraphy classes. This feat earned him interested looks from the members.

“Wow Pres, you really reeled in a talented runner,” one member chided. “He’s still as grumpy as ever though.”

Sakura wasn’t entirely happy as she looked over his shoulder. “Oh come on. Our banners weren’t that bad.”

“If I were on the baseball team, I’d think you would want us to lose.” He finished one cheering banner and gave it to the nervous member beside him. Apparently, his presence intimidated them even though he was but a mere runner. “Can you give me the next one?”

“Why are we bothering though?” asked the vice-president. “Our school team never makes it past the preliminaries.” From the get go, Sasuke felt her slight annoyance of having been bypassed in the selection, and while this was valid, he also thought she shouldn’t project this to Sakura who was caught in the middle of the decision of the advisory board.

He needn’t worry however, as she carried the subtle dig effortlessly, her usual positivity dripping through. “Isn’t it better to put it your all and see everything through than to give up when the clock hasn’t even started running yet? I find regrets more troublesome.”

Flustered with her response, the vice-president shifted her gaze back to the canvas in front of her and started to paint again. Everyone didn’t see it, but he caught Sakura sticking her tongue out to her.

Such a child. He found himself smirking.

Naruto started skipping classes as the day of the preliminaries crept closer. A week of this behavior prompted Sakura to pry his address out of Sasuke. He found out days later that she started coming to his apartment and incessantly ring the doorbell until his neighbors in the complex complained of the early morning noise.

Sasuke’s part in this scheme was the notes he compiled and one-word reminders through texts when there were deadlines or assignments. Somehow, it evolved into a convoluted arrangement among the three of them to keep the baseball rookie MVP afloat in his academics. As compensation for their efforts, Naruto started to buy them convenience store rice balls for morning snacks.

“You idiot. You should save your allowance,” Sasuke said smugly to the blonde.

“And yet you’re swallowing it in full.” Naruto grinned. “You should chew, grumpy! Chew!”

Sakura took a sip of her cranberry juice and smiled fondly at them. “Are you ready for Friday?”

“We’re facing off a top ten school, and Captain Haru said we don’t have that much chance. I don’t believe it though. I think we’ll win,” Naruto replied.

“You have a strategy ready?” Sakura asked.

He shook his head and pointed to himself rather proudly. “No but the team has me.” Sasuke choked on the last bit of his rice ball at the latter’s pronouncement.

“I told you to chew!”

Sakura, in panic, gave her half-drunk juice carton to him, and Sasuke, also internally panicking, grabbed it and downed the rest of it.

“You okay?” Sakura patted his back and snuffled a laughter which Naruto joined with his loud, uncontrollable dry heaves. Sasuke glared at the two, but this only served to amuse them further. “Oh wow, that was the first time I ever saw you uncomposed.” She swiped the tears in her eyes with the back of her hand.

“But really, they have me so we’ll win,” Naruto insisted.

“I’ll wear a cheering uniform for you,” she chirped back.

“Gods, dumb and dumber,” Sasuke sighed, defeated.

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

On the afternoon of the game, Sasuke found himself surrounded with a large female following after Sakura got all the members and the runners cheering outfits, and by outfits, that meant olive green jersey tops and maroon sweatpants representative of the school colors. She also took advantage of his obligated presence by giving him the task to distribute the banners and flaglets to the benches. The genius orphan and the couldn’t-care-less Uchiha roaming the rows? That pulled the student crowd needed for the game.

“Go Naruto!” Sakura yelled beside him. A black bandana was tied around her forehead, and her ponytail was replaced with a high bun.

Sasuke inadvertently covered his eardrums. The noise was even louder when the student council started a yell routine in the bleachers. The side of the opponent was half-full, and surprise was transparent in the other team’s faces. Probably the first time that support with this magnitude was given to the baseball team. Also, it was his first time attending a ball game in person, not that he didn’t try asking his brother before.

He felt a light tap on his shoulders. He turned around to see a raven-haired girl behind him, dressed in a lilac midi dress and sporting the black bandana on her wrist. “Is this seat taken?” She motioned to the space beside him. Her face was familiar – he knew he saw her somewhere but also certain he never interacted directly with her.

“Ah Hinata?” Sakura’s voice squeaked in recognition. She gestured to him to exchange seats with her, and she immediately patted her to sit down. “Cheering for Haru?”

Ah, the Hyuuga, the captain’s girlfriend. They’re actually friends.

“I was actually planning to buy the whole team dinner regardless of the results,” she said to Sakura. He was not good at reading people, but this Hinata was soft-spoken and gentle with her mannerisms that he found it fitting for her to be with Haru. He was, after all, so steadfast and assertive with his members, and he could even get Naruto in line with a look. So much so like Sakura that this exact dynamic was playing beside him.

It was a weird thing though when he glanced at the two and saw that her eyes were not trained on Haru but on certain blonde bloke on the field.

“President Sakura.”

Great, another distraction. He knew that voice even when the entire field was already screaming.

Sakura whipped her head too fast he was afraid she was gonna break her neck. Even when she was already glowing, her face lit up brighter when Kakashi handed her two bottles of water. “Nice job rounding an audience. Here, Give one to your runner.”

It was evident she wanted him to stay as she started to look around and tried to find a space near her. Noticing this, Sasuke tried stand up and offer him his seat, but she placed a firm hand on his knee, followed by a slight shake of her head, and a soft disappointed sigh when Kakashi disappeared from the crowd.

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

He was walking out of the bathroom when the announcer declared the winner of the two-hour game. Of course, they would win. Naruto never backed down from his pronouncements, no matter how silly or unattainable they may be. He should buy him a stack of his favorite ramen as prize.

“Yo, Uchiha.”

Naruto’s bullies blocked the path leading to the bleachers – there were four of them, the same people who made fun of him in the hallway last time.

“Your people skills shot up after spending time with that orphan MVP and the chirpy pinky huh?”

“Birds of the same feather flock together.”

Normally, Sasuke would let these insults slide, if one could call them that. They were bigger and taller than him with faces that reflected experienced jabs in their scars and band-aids. To take them on alone, considering also the fact that he skipped gym for almost a year now, would be suicide. Nonetheless, he didn’t feel riled up as they expected him to be.

“Or should we say, they shot up in their society ranks because of you? After all, your dad was a member of the board.”

“Oooh my bad, dead dad.”

His hands started to clench into fists – an involuntary action out of their own volition. This slight shift in his body language gave them the go signal to surround him.

“Heard through the grapevine that it was actually your fault they’re dead. Imagine sleeping next to your dying parents and not looking for help?”

“Pathetic being.”

“Now he parades himself like an entitled son of a chairman.”

A kick to his shin. “Can’t really do anything to us, huh? Afraid to tarnish your dead daddy’s reputation?”

A punch to his side, and Sasuke clutched at the contact. Another right at the center of his stomach, and he doubled over, the water he drank threatening to hurl itself on the ground.

“You’re a better target than Orphan No. 1. You don’t really fight back.” The bully placed his foot on his hand, pushing him down further and making him bow. “You need to show you’re a model student. After all, your brother’s one of the shareholders of the school, and he has no need for trouble from his shunned sibling.”

Simultaneous kicks to Sasuke’s side. They were right, to an extent, but it was the whole process of explaining that would tire him out. Conversing with Itachi was a drag all on its own, like talking to the void, and hearing the senseless blame games all over again. This was all right, he assured himself throughout the whole encounter, since he was already numb. The other pain inside his head was stronger and sharper.

“Then again, you probably pulled some strings to get pinky that coveted position, didn’t you? Imagine a second year being president all of a sudden without going through the motions.”

The bile rose to his throat, and there was an entirely different metallic taste in his mouth. His fists were itching to fight back.

“Let’s destroy your pretty face this time, and we’ll come for the pinky next.”

Sasuke gained momentum to land a kick on the person’s crotch, the force and shock sending him reeling to the side. That was reckless, he knew that, because then he was exposed to the punches of the three others. And so he waited for contact but there was a flurry of bodies and that pink bright contrast in his line of sight.

One fist landed on Sakura’s face.

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 5

[jae-canikeepyou]

| smitten | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: au + fluff + idol!jaehyun & solo artist!yn

a/n: hnngg gosh i loved writing this request ;-; i combined this too!! it might not be well-written but i’m pretty sure my fluttery jeelings hit me so hard haha hope you all enjoy reading loves! ~j.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

aggravating clashes of utensils fell on the wooden floor, the impact squeezed chests and jolted the life out of those who heard it. they were finally having the relaxation they waited for until the corners of their eyes followed the fallen items to the source of noise. jaehyun leaning forward against at the kitchen counter; legs about to give in with his phone in hand.

jungwoo approached him, worried that fatigue might’ve taken over the guy. he picked up the kitchen wares and towels, placing them back where they were meant to be. “hyung, are you alright?” he touched his friend’s forehead since his ears were prominent red, hot to the touch. “you’re not yourself since you woke up. got anything to say?”

jaehyun could only press his lips like he tasted his own blood. no words came out of him and this only heightened everyone’s curiosity. he walked back to where the others were and put his phone on the table. how could he explain this news to them without letting them start to tease? they already teased him last christmas’ performance with naeun. he was sure they’d do the same for this one. and as far as he was concerned, his heart continued to drum heavily that he could feel its pulse against his skin.

should i tell them? he asked himself.

“nothing.” his glanced quickly. what he missed seeing were the sly smirks that began to spread around his friends’ faces.

johnny started to tease, a satisfied smile growing where it showed his pearly whites. “tell me it’s what i think it is.” because of this phrase it made jaehyun’s ears turned more red and gave johnny the impression knowing he hit might’ve the bullseye, right at the center. “no way, so it is!” he exclaimed repeatedly and the younger one hoped he would shut it.

their cheers went from one to another and at that moment he knew they shared the same brain cell. “ha? no. stop assuming, john.” jaehyun gulped from his cup, swallowing it like it was bottom’s up. he kept it by his lips so it wouldn’t reveal his actual feelings.

“stop denying.” yuta propped his chin for a better position. “your ears gave it away.” if it was yuta, everyone knew they were automatically knocked out in the battle. no one could stand a chance against his words or actions.

“damn it! don’t point out my ears!” jaehyun groaned and accepted defeat by slumping on the table. he unlocked his phone then sliding it across the furniture.

they crowded upon the device and scrolled to see what nearly made the dude fall on his knees. it was only one word and that was enough to lit the light bulbs floating on top of the others’ heads. “oh well what’s the tea?” taeil asked, clearly pretending to be innocent since they were all interested now that jaehyun reacted sooner than expected.

mark shoved spoonfuls of cereal before seeing the entire digital conversation with their manager, he grumbled and hit johnny continuously as he reacted with his mouth full. “you‘re doing a duet with y/n?!” he asked that he nearly spat milk everywhere.

jaehyun exhaled, brushing back the strands of his hair and wore his headband. “yeah. the agency told me to collab a cover with her and said we start in two days.”

“you don’t sound excited. you nervous?” taeil opened a bag of granola bars and laid them at the center, soon devouring them like it were the last ones.

“up until now we’ve only collabed with boy groups.” he showed them the rehearsal pictures from that time. his shaky hands were proof that he was probably nervous.

johnny poked the guy’s chest to come back to reality. “shouldn’t you be less worried? she’s from the same label as ours.” his laughs have made all of them giggle.

the dimple boy wasn’t nervous or worried, it was incomparable to a grain of sand nor those two words were in his dictionary. he was perfectly fine with practicing with you. however, have his friends forgotten about what they did to him during pre-debut days?

he recalled the time you both first met, and that became the most-discussed topic within nct. it spread to all like wildfires. how that started was during trainee life. popularity votes were common and each had to choose the first place female trainee votes by male trainees and vice versa. the results came out, you and jaehyun ranked first. they made you both stand next to each other and this was when it got messy.

everyone tends to pair the firsts, so they began by teasing because they believed this was where the “developing” start. jaehyun knew what they did was a natural thing to do, all have experienced the hot seat and the endless snickers. if there was anything jaehyun would like to change in his body, it has to be his ears. they turned red the moment the ooh’s and yeee’s echoed the rehearsal studio. of course he did like you, but it was just like every person in the agency did.

you were a new artist who debuted under the same label as the said group; doing mostly of your orginals, small ost’s and covers. they knew you. in fact during trainee days, they’ve heard your name countless of times as there were praises towards your angelic vocals and coaches would use you as an example. nct 127 never heard anything from you since they debuted, but knew you were still in the label.

“it’s been years, hasn’t it?” jungwoo turned the television on. “from what i know, that was the last voting we ever did.”

wait what? jaehyun stepped out of his dazed mind and couldn’t believe what he was hearing. they didn’t forget? he looked at his friends as they light up in realisation.

taeil popped a snack in his mouth, entertained with today’s topic. “ah! right right! we did vote! y/n was voted as the first once!”

johnny waved his palms and shook in excitement now that the memory from years ago was brought back. “man, i’ll hug whoever came up with this idea. they’re smart. we should make them do a throwback picture too.” he said as he quickly dove into the deeper files of his laptop to look for pictures for proof.

jaehyun rubbed his face in annoyance that they remembered that time. his phone vibrated as it indicated a new message from an unknown number on the lockscreen. he was about to reach it when yuta’s reflexes were faster.. always* faster; swiftly taking it like they were carkeys. yuta loved teasing and scaring the life out of his friends. among them he loved seeing jaehyun fluster the most.

he put the phone in front of jaehyun and made the lad think he was showing the message to him. this was proven false when the screen unlocked from the face i.d., and yuta laughed devilishly, typing away in a jiffy, which jaehyun panicked and tried to take the phone back.

“dude let me just press ‘send’!” yuta screamed, his smooth movements were impossible for the affected boy to catch up to.

“what were you typing?” jaehyun got hold of the phone and stared at the screen, his eyes adjusting to the fonts within the message bubble.

[16:08] from unknown: hyemin, this is y/n. stop changing your phone #! are u even my manager why did you say i agreed? :/

[16:09] from unknown: oh whatever i’m calling you rn >:(

he jogged out of the dorm when it began to vibrate crazily, your digits calling him. his friends’ yells were soon muffled to a silence as the door behind him clicked to a close. he pressed the green button to answer. “hello?” his voice greeted.

a hitched breath followed by a gasp heard from the other line. he let out a low chuckle, making you more nervous than usual because you recognised the owner of the voice and you hadn’t talked with him since his group debuted.

he backed himself into the door, one hands in his pockets whilst he waited for the caller’s response. soft thuds hit the door and he felt it often the more the whispers behind the wooden partition. his friends were indeed listening, actually, they were eavesdropping.

“j-jaehyun?” you closed your eyes, then cursing at yourself for being too careless and straight-forward with your actions.

“hyun. jae.” he chuckled. uh-huh. did he just tease you? “i’m kidding. it’s jaehyun. you thought this number was hyemin’s?” he laughed over the phone.

oh boy, he was just as you remembered him to be. a humble person who caused a positive uproar within the walls of the girls’ rehearsal room. co-trainees of yours always mentioned his name; saying he was kind and a gentleman. you never saw him until you both stood in front of everyone as firsts. “i- uh.. sorry, a phone number was anonymously given to me. manager hyemin’s been playing pranks and..”

“i see, it’s alright y/n. don’t pressure too much because of this. i’ll see you soon though?” his voice pitched higher as if he was interested and looked forward to the duet. maybe a lot more higher when he called you by your name.

“mhm, yeah.” your toes curled from feeling your chest experience a good panic. “see you.”

jaehyun didn’t know why he nodded despite the short conversation being a phone call. he said a gentle goodbye and once you did too, he ended the call, swinging the door open and caused the boys to fall to the floor like dominos. “i’m not helping a pile of idiots. you did this to yourselves.” he singsonged and stuck out his tongue and prepared to take his leave.

the monotonous beeps ringing through the phone somehow calmed the waves of your uncontrollable heart beats. you laid on your bed defeatedly, face down to the pillow. the entire noise of your apartment was nothing but the sound of your drumming heart, pulsing against your flesh and you could feel it in your veins. “so what they (co-trainees) said is true.. jaehyun does make you feel things.”

little did you know, he was on the same boat.

whether or not it was from the results of being the firsts from the trainees’ votes or that he began noticing your presence often in the company building at every recording schedule of nct’s, jaehyun was shocked at himself that he couldn’t concentrate at all. you, a girl super laid back during trainee life blossomed to be a professional artist everyone came to adore. maybe including him too.

the venue you both were told to go was perfect for the duet cover. staff members already prepared two instruments and were placed at one corner with the wall of plants. jaehyun sat at the table, earphones plugged into his ears as his head matched with the rhythms of the song. he then caught sight of you approaching him and removed one of the buds. “hi.” he stood to pull out a chair, a smile creeping on both of your lips. “last listen before we start?”

“sure.” you took one and looked at him; an ethereal person in casual clothes, boyfriend material worthy. it’s no wonder people called him their first love. and this attire of his probably got you under his spell too.

trying not to sing out loud, you lip-synced the lyrics for the final time and swayed to each word. jaehyun took a good look at you, his eyes forming crescent shapes when he saw how embarrassed you felt— because you were caught by him. it hasn’t been a minute, the staff asked to be on cue and you both head to where the instruments were; a piano and an acoustic guitar.

instinctively, your hands reached for the edge of the piano, it was one you could play. however, jaehyun too, had his hands on it and simultaneously you both retracted. “you want to play the keys?” you hear him asked, immediately nodding at his inquiry.

he let out a nervous chuckle which was followed by his cute, jutted lips. “well i could play the guitar but it’s been ages since i last held one. my strums might sound rusty.”

“no problem.” you twirled on your heels and grabbed the guitar and saw an electronic finger drum pad beside the keyboard, pointing at it as well. “i’ll play these two and we’re good to go.” your giggles had him all feeling fluttery inside and he fought so hard to not be exposed.

he wasn’t going to lie. jaehyun’s heart did skip a beat. you were only doing final tunings for a better sound but the way you looked so dedicated with this field of work, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. sunlight appeared like it was your own emitting aura, almost identical to an angel that was heaven-sent. the light current of wind added to your source of elegance and the plants behind became your world. took him a second or two to fathom out that he was dragged into your beauty.

were you always this gorgeous?

because it has been days since he was told to do a duet with you, sometimes he felt his breaths trying to catch up with his racing beats of his heart. they were lacking behind, so far back that you being there or just sitting.. had him awestruck.

“jaehyun?” you waved small that he twitched in his seat, his thoughts cutting short from your sweet voice. “they’re signalling to test the camera. are you alright with one practice?”

he turned to the staff and said the cue. jaehyun did stretches before placing his hands lightly on the keys. you sat straight to not appear tired as you palm muted the strings, soon harmonising with the sustained chords he played. a duet rendition of say you won’t let go.

the camera panned sideways along its dolly track rail, your eyes followed the lens as you began to set the mood. you took a deep breath before singing.

“i met you in the dark, you lit me up. you made me feel as though, i was enough. we danced the night away, we drank too much. i held your hair back when you were throwing up.”

he was amazed that you quickly brought your hands out for a while to tap the buttons for percussions, each beat matched with the rhythm of his playing.

“then you smiled over your shoulder. for a minute i was stone cold sober..” his baritone followed suit. it was hypnotic that you couldn’t resist to stare at him as dimples subtly reveal themselves on his smooth skin on each word.

jaehyun’s eyes grew at the sweet soulful tone while you sang the verse that he forgot to sing with you at the next sentence. “i pulled you closer to my-” you continued in a harmonised key and later stopped, a giggle bubbling out of you.

his admiration for you was interrupted upon your laugh. the frazzled boy lifted his fingers off the keys, hands clasped together for an apology. “ah, i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright. don’t pressure too much because of this.” you said with assurance. “i get nervous sometimes too.” yeah of course you were. you got to collab with him despite your busy schedules.

the dimples on his cheeks deepened. did you use the same sentence as he did few days ago?

“you looked fine to me.” he licked his lips. “pretty too.” and he mumbled to himself, but you were too occupied with the guitar in your hand that you didn’t hear what he said. “can we start from the top?” clearing his throat, he was glad you didn’t hear it. or else he would be embarrassed.

singing with you was like coffee. jaehyun had this particular, specific impression as he spotted a café prior to coming here. he knew fans loved his voice, a unique baritone that was very prince-like. if he were to reference it, his vocals alone was like americano. people would get addicted to the taste despite it being uncommon in the kpop industry. although they enjoyed it, the staff thought it would be better to include you in the duet.

so you became the sugar to his vocals, a pleasant timbre that was as calming as the rain’s patter. voices perfectly blended together in different ranges, both delicate and careful. you have sung with other artists through covers and orginals, however jaehyun stood out the most in all of those, in which made you think this collab was the one you enjoyed.

[ both harmonising ]

“..and you asked me to stay over i said, i already told you i think that you should get some rest.”

“i knew i loved you then, you'd never know ‘cause i played it cool when i was scared of letting go.”

“i knew i needed you i never showed but i wanna stay with you until we’re grey and old.”

“just say you won't let go, just say you won't let go.”

jaehyun felt giddy inside hearing your voice fit with his. as you both enjoyed each other’s presence during the cover, he could sense that after today, he definitely took a liking for you— but his heart knew him better than he thought.

he fell in love with you on the spot.

—

hours have passed and a total of five takes were recorded, majority of which three of them were slightly messed up because either jaehyun forgot his lines or you needed to be quenched or vice versa. jaehyun fixed his brown outerwear as he observed you from afar, tying a low bun to prevent your hair adding heat from the scorching hot weather. eyes extremely focused on the camera from the second last cover video.

all was finished for the day yet there was half an hour left until you both separate ways. jaehyun decided to buy drinks and got one for you as well.

the table you sat on slightly shook from the impact he did to place the ordered beverages. “i didn’t know what you like, so i got you latte.” he pulled the chair to sit, sliding the cup to you.

“hm, you sure about that?” you raised a brow and appreciated his effort to go out his way for this. “latte’s like my go-to drink. thank you.”

jaehyun kept himself composed, he had to hide his smile behind the cup. it was dying to show. he hoped you didn’t see him. your arms almost meet when he scooted closer to view the video together. the frame was perfectly placed at the center and you couldn’t believe you both sounded well together.

you heard his soft tsk’s, there were small amount of water rolling down his cup from the ice inside. he got up to get extra tissue. as you waited for him, you checked the device and clicked on its previous button. it was a video of him holding a wireless camera lavaliere microphone and with your mind full of curiosity, you played it.

it contained his ending ment and if you listened closely, it was for a vlog you were familiar with, a channel where he documented his daily ‘yuno’ vlogs for his fans. the motion automatically played and he spoke through the wireless mic.

something about this had you rewinding it twice. he was staring off into space as he spoke, his eyes trailing— actually following someone. he gave a little twitch and pout of the lips, that was the same when he forgot to harmonise with you. the wind blew his hair, revealing his dusted pink ears and eyes enlarging the more he followed where you went.

the thought of his reaction caused you to shy around him once he came back and had two desserts in his hands. maybe if the winds answered your prayers to confirm what you saw in the video was true, it could convince you enough.

the said boy handed you the utensils and as you had your first bite, he loved how the café’s lights became your glow, the music became your introduction. heat eventually spread his entire face.

yes, nature heard your calls,

and yes, his heart told him that

he’s so smitten with you.

[abluescarfonwaston]

Shapeshifter Au - 9

Here is our very long Reunion chapter! Part 8 Part 7 

TW for blood, violence, mind control, and temporary memory loss

There were advantages to traveling alone.

He could spend as much or as little time in a town as he wanted- or at least his purse allowed. If he met a pack of wolves or a flock of birds or a herd of deer he could enjoy their company as long as he liked because no one was waiting for him.

He enjoyed the company of every manner of creature that would tolerate another’s company. He made friends and they cared for him and he did his best to care for them back and it was almost enough.

It was almost enough when the crowd beat their feet to his songs and cheered.

It was almost enough when the pack near Oxenfurt greeted him with open mouth kisses to confirm his wellbeing.

It was almost enough when the barn cats curled around him in the stable, rumbling their contentment.

Then winter came- as it always did. The birds flew south, the bears disappeared into their dens and the wolves grew too lean to feed what they all knew was an outsider.

They didn’t say as much. He didn’t wait around to hear it.

He knew what he was.

The animals all knew on some level. That on the edges he wasn’t quite right. Wasn’t quite the same as them.

So he did what he did every winter- because he’d never survive it on his own.

He answered the letters from court bidding him to play.

The Countess de Stael had requested him back this year and he was seriously tempted by the offer but he’d heard rumors of a mage at her court.

He could resist Yennefer’s call so whoever they were was unlikely to overwhelm him. But Yennefer had also never tried to.

Best to stay away. There were other offers.

He accepted a very generous offer from a southern family that lived on the coast. The sea called and maybe in the spring he’d walk out into its depths. Maybe he would love it so much he’d never walk the land again and the hollow space in his chest would fill with the sea.

“You are as beautiful and youthful as the stories say Master Jaskier.” His skin prickled at the young lady’s attention. They were alone in the dining hall, aside from the staff and numerous guards. “There are even rumor you’ve elven parentage. Tell me, have they any merit?”

Even people knew he wasn’t quite human.

“I’m afraid not Lady Nadia.” Where was the rest of her family? The war may have emptied the house somewhat but her mother, her unwed sister, or her brother who should have been far too young for service should have been there. “A good skin care routine can work wonders though. I could show you if you’d like? Not that much could be done to further enhance your radiance.”

He smiled brightly and sent her a quick wink. In her bedchambers there was a chance they’d be alone. He could ask what was wrong.

If not he would leave tonight. No amount of gold was worth his life. Every shape screamed at him to flee.

He hadn’t lived this long by not listening to them.

“Oh come now there must be more to it than that. There are rumors the White Wolf lent you his time in exchange for your company.”

He forced a brilliant laugh and took a long but shallow drink from his glass. “Such is not an ability of Witchers I’m afraid.” Even if it was Geralt wouldn’t share it with him. “But if its stories about The White Wolf you request I am more than capable of providing.”

“Firsthand accounts I hope?” Her voice coy but her shoulders ridged and her knuckles white where they gripped the spoon.

He stood and made his way to her, offering a hand as he quickly bowed. “Shall we retired to a more private local? I promise to tell you all my best stories about him.”

Her eyes met his and he saw the desperation there. A wolf who’d lost her pack. Her eyes flickered behind him and he knew. Knew this day ended in shackles.

He let the performer fall away and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. She was so young. He’d seen countless people do far worse for far less.

“It’s alright dear. Make sure my lute gets back to Oxenfurt will you?” Tears brimmed in her eyes, tremors shaking her small frame. He pressed a kiss softly to her forehead. “I know what we do for the people we love.”

He stood as apologies cascaded from her turning to the guards. Really an unnecessary amount of guards. He knew he had a reputation for being slippery. For leaving empty cages and locked shackles in the night. But really. This was an unnecessary amount of soldiers.

He offered his wrists out to one of them with a smile.

“I do hope you’ll be returning her kin once this is over. I mean really? All this fanfare for a bard? Your higher ups must really need some music. Is the war truly so dull they’ve stooped to holding nobles hostage to kidnap innocent bards?”

One of the other soldiers walked over and snapped the shackles around his wrist. Dimeritium shackles.

“Expensive!” He whistled. No one had ever bothered with Dimeritium shackles before. He wondered if they’d work. “Someone thinks I’m a sorcerer! I must admit, I’m very flattered but my skill and good looks were a blessing of hard work and luck, not magic.” The man yanked the chain, pulling him along.

“I hope they keep their promise Nadia! Care of Oxenfurt University! Don’t forget!”

“Shut up.” The soldier demanded, accented heavily.

He jabbered at him in Nilfgaardian. “Oh you just expect a bard to shut up do you? Want that blessed silence? Well guess what? Never really gone in for that so you can just-“ There was a sharp pain on the back of his skull and the world went dark.

 The floor rocked under him and he suspected it wasn’t just the blow to the head. He was curled in a cage on the rocking seas. Hands still shackled. Feet bound in silver.

They were really overdoing it.

“He’s finally awake. Go get the sorcerer.” Someone whispered from behind him. He curled in tighter and ignored the growing thrumming of a song. It wasn’t as pleasant as Yennefer’s. Not as strong, even when he entered the room. It just made him feel gross.

“So sorry for the harsh treatment Master Jaskier.” The sorcerer stood over him. Voice assuring him that they were not sorry at all. “You’re rather known for being a difficult man to keep and we wanted to make sure you didn’t leave before I could make your acquaintance.”

“Could have just asked. I’m sure Nadia would have been glad to show off her bard.”

“That was the plan but it sounded like you were getting cold feet for your performance.”

I would perform for you any time. It drawled, barely even convinced of the man’s merit itself.

“Did you let them go?” The man made a questioning noise. “Nadia’s family.”

“Why of course we did!” He lied. There was nothing to be done for that lie, so he choose to believe it. “And nothing bad will come to you either if you help us.”

The man crouched in front of him. He curled tighter hiding his face in his knees. “I’m sure.”

“Look at me Jaskier.” He curled tighter. Digging his hands into his legs.

Look at him.

Look at him.

Look at him.

It chanted over and over and over and he curled tighter and tighter and tighter.

“Look at me.”

There was power in those words and his body uncurled to lax. Knelt in front of him with hazy eyes as he beat at the magic manipulating his mind.

Their eyes met.

The man gasped.

He reached his hands through the bar, cupping his face. “I didn’t think there were any of you left.”

Cold dark sludge poured in. Cooling the distant memory of lightning in his veins. Covering the broken tapestry in his heart in something vicious and unpleasant. He did not move.

“Are you the last unclaimed familiar? There are so few of you in this world and you landed right in my lap. Destiny has truly blessed me today.”

The cold flooded him. Chilling every cell to the brittle bone. The hollow in his chest never filled. It Froze and never filled.

“You are mine now. I claim you.”

“Yours.” Someone said.

“Unlock the cage I want to see what he can do.” The others hesitated. He barked a command and they leapt to do as ordered. Do as ordered.

Doors unlocked somewhere and locks dropped free. The man bid him follow. Follow.

He followed.

There was sun beating on the deck but it didn’t warm him. The cold was there and the hollow and the man and that was all. The thick ichor sliding through his being.

“You need a better name familiar. You are no flower are you?” The man stroked his hair.

What are you then?

“Transform for me. I want to see what you can do. What you really are.”

What are you?

The cold was power. He was not helpless. He was not prey.

He spilled into a mountain cat. A predator. Claws long and sharp. Fur dense against the cold that filled him.

He was never enough of any one thing to truly be them.

Wings split from his back covered in long feathers. Claws into talons. Muzzle into beak. Size growing as more and more waves of cold chilled his mind.

“An Arch Griffin.” Awed a man. Hand on his beak. “The things we will do together.”

‘Griffins mate for life.’ A different man’s voice said to him. He didn’t know that voice. But he knew it was right.

His chest was hollow. His mate was gone.

He opened his beak. The cold man smiled.

He closed it and the man smiled no more.

There was blood and screaming and pain.

He collapsed in a clearing. Pulling out bolts that pierced his hide.

They bled. It joined the blood on his face and claws. It stuck his fur together in clumps. Feathers of his wings stuck up at the wrong angles.

He didn’t bother fixing it.

He flew in a random direction. When he was tired he slept. When he was hungry he ate.

Distantly he thought it was sheep’s blood in his mouth but he didn’t care if it wasn’t.

His mate was gone and the world would pay for it.

The smell of death drew him in.

Force knocked him from the sky.

The cold seeped from a crack jarred opened by it.

He shrieked scrambling out of the way of the hunter’s blade. He spit at him and the hunter rolled away quickly.

“Fucking arch Griffin. Not getting paid enough for this shit.” He said dodging around his claws landing a blow to his shoulder.

It burned with cold that rushed out with his blood. His beak snapped closed around the hunter’s white hair as he slipped away.

“How do you like that silver?”

He didn’t.

He leaped to the skies away from the hunter.

Force blast his wing and he spun into the dirt.

He’d broken that wing once. Someone had helped him then.

He spat at the Witcher, acid burning his throat on the way up.

“You’re not much of an arch griffin are you?” He said easily side stepping it. “No wonder your mate’s dead."

He roared talons and sharp beak seeking to tear him apart.

His mate wasn’t dead! His mate just-

The silver opened a fresh river of cold on his chest.

His paw slammed into the Witcher’s side hurling him backward.

Just didn’t want him.

The cold sludge slowed to a drip. His body was warm. Warm but cooling as red heat flowed from him.

“Getting too old for this.” Geralt cursed, standing. Preparing for another attack.

He didn’t move.

His mate didn’t want him. There was no blood to drain from the earth in retribution for their death. He just wasn’t wanted.

Geralt’s face twitched. “How long are you going to make me wait?”

He laid down on his side, stretched his neck long and tried to remember them. The mate who wouldn’t even greet him on the other side.

He remembered Gentle hands on a broken wing.

Geralt stepped forward, blade raised.

He remembered hands gently smoothing down long brown ears.

Geralt eyed his unmoving limbs, stepping around the blood crusted talons.

He remembered a hand in his on a sunny rock by a lake.

Geralt raised his sword above his ribs to plunge it in for one final blow.

He remembered a song. The notes escaping his beak one last time.

Toss a coin to your Witcher.

The sword didn’t come down.

Oh valley of plenty.

“Jaskier?”

That was his name wasn’t it? His chest trilled. Jaskier. A flower.

Maybe that’s what he should be. That way he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

The sword clattered against the dirt. Silver was delicate Geralt would never-

He raised his head to look and Geralt’s arms buried themselves in his thick mane.

“Jaskier.” Geralt said it again. “Jaskier.” Like a desperate prayer finally answered. “Jaskier.”

This form couldn’t purr technically but he didn’t let that stop him.

Geralt sobbed as the rumbles started. “I thought you were dead.”

How long had it been? Weeks? Months? Years?

What was time anyway?

He ran his beak through the tangled mess of Geralt’s hair. Blood chipping off his beak into it.

Geralt shoved his face away. “You need a bath.”

That felt very fair. Everything stuck together and was covered in grime and he stunk.

He nudged Geralt’s shoulder. So do you.

He huffed a laugh and collapsed into his side. “Fuck. I really needed that bounty.”

He screeched as if in the throes of death. Gagged dramatically and flopped into the dirt, sticking his tongue out to really sell it.

“Hm.” He considered him. “Somehow I doubt that would work.”

He gave them a look and then returned to being dead.

Geralt shoved him. He glared at him. Fuck off I’m dead.

Geralt shook his head. Hand running through his mane. The last of the cold sludge slowly sealing the silvered gashes near to closed.

The form was bowing in the center, like it might snap under him, even though he didn’t particularly mind staying in this form. It was a new sensation.

“Shouldn’t have yelled at you.” His hands clung tightly to his mane like he thought Jaskier might run away. Which was stupid. He’d never run from Geralt. Not really. Even in the forest as the bear. He hadn’t run from Geralt.

He rumbled his agreement. Seemed like a bit of an overreaction.

“I didn’t mean to bind you.” Geralt muttered into his coarse, sticky fur. “Believe that I never meant to bind you to this life Jaskier.”

He could feel the form splintering under him. He purred louder. Bound. He wasn’t the one Geralt had wished for. Wasn’t the child of surprise accidentally claimed.

He was Jaskier. He’d chosen this life. He’d loved it. Even when it was awful he’d chosen to love it.

He rubbed his, frankly disgusting, – how did he let himself get so disgusting? - face against Geralt’s back. Soothingly. He hoped.

“I never meant to bind you to me.”

The form cracked out from under him. Geralt’s knees hit the ground as his supporting Griffin shifted into a bard in his arms.

Geralt squeezed him to his chest. “I didn’t know any other way to break it. I got to the bottom and you were gone. Really gone. I knew I’d never see you again. Because you only stayed-“

He reached his blood crusted hand to Geralt’s face – tried very hard not to remember whose or what’s blood it might have been – and cupped the thick stubble of his jaw cutting him off. “Because I wanted to.”

“Geralt that’s why I stayed. Because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be with you. We’re not fucking bound by magic.”

“Yennefer said-”

“Yennefer doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.”

Geralt glared at him and he buried his face in Geralt’s armor to avoid it.

Yennefer knew what she was talking about.

Didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Yennefer said you’re drawn to magic. That you. Were bound to mine. I swear I never meant to.”

“Geralt.” Geralt wouldn’t look at him, eyes locked on the horizon even as his arms crushed him in his embrace. “Geralt look at me.”

Geralt allowed his head to be turned to look at him. He knew he must look terrible. Hair long and matted. Coated in grime and blood and who knows what else. Fresh blood still dripping down his chest.

There was a tapestry of tiny threads, only made strong by how they were tightly woven together.

There was a question forced from his mouth once. Long ago. Because he wanted to stay by Geralt’s side.

“Geralt you did not bind yourself to me. I bound myself to you. Because I never wanted to leave your side.”

“You left my side all the time.” He tried to jest. Face soft with sadness and longing.

“And I always found my way back didn’t I?” He leaned up. Tried to get closer to Geralt’s face. He wanted to be close in every way.

“You did.” He agreed before his face shuttered closed in pain. “But magic. Yennefer said it could compel you to do anything. Love anyone if it was strong enough.”

“Geralt, dear heart?” Geralt’s embrace didn’t let him close enough to his face, so he settled for burying his face in the junction of his shoulder. “I think I bit a man’s head off for trying to use magic to make me love him. And he was far stronger than you. Fuck Geralt you don’t even set off the singing.”

“Singing?” Geralt shook his head slightly before burrowing into the muck of his hair. “Thought you abhorred violence.”

“I do and once we wash this off me I’m going to try very hard never to think about it again.” He was honestly feeling a bit nauseous from even mentioning it. The way his-

Ugh. Don’t. Don’t think about it.

“You do smell awful.” He buried his nose deeper. “Absolutely disgusting.”

“Well I feel even worse so can we maybe go get me a hot bath? I’ll tell them you saved me from the griffin and killed it.”

“With how you look right now they might actually believe it.”

“Hm.” He agreed trying to refill the space Geralt once resided with his scent. With the warmth under his fingers and the too tight embrace. “Geralt I’m sorry.”

“You owe me no apologies Jaskier.” Geralt continued his nuzzled wandering through his hair.

“I’m sorry for binding you to me. For” For the child of surprise. For the djinn. For everything. “For staying when you didn’t want me.”

His mate was gone. Not dead. Just didn’t want him.

“Jaskier I didn’t want you to go.” Geralt’s grip crushed the air from his chest before easing only slightly. “I just didn’t want you to have to stay.”

Tear tracks cleared clean creaks down his face and he turned up towards Geralt. Forced an arm free to turn Geralt face to his. “Can I stay? I want to stay.”

He nodded. “Please.”

Geralt relaxed his grip enough to press their foreheads together. “Please.” He said again.

“What do you want me to be?”

Geralt’s eyes widened slightly, recognizing the musically magical tint he had missed the first time. Or maybe just recognizing the words from all those years ago.

“Jaskier.” He hummed. “I want you to always be Jaskier, no matter the form you take.”

He closed his eyes enjoying the tapestry reweaving itself over the hollow in his chest.

He slowly opened his eyes to Geralt’s soft smile.

His mate wanted him.

He slowly angled his face, closed his eyes, and kissed him. Gently kissed his mate.

He eventually withdrew just a breath. Taking in his mates softly closed eyes and serene face.

His mate. The griffin trilled.

His mate? Oh fucking instincts he’d just kissed Geralt- not even for the first time- because of his inhuman instincts.

And his mate?

His face and neck and ears went hot with blood. Geralt eased his eyes open and chuckled, resuming his scenting nuzzle now over his jaw and face. “I have something of yours.”

“Hm?” He squeaked as Geralt’s lips ran over the pulse of his neck.

“You’ll have to explain to the university I didn’t steal it next time your there of course.”

His lute?

“My lute? She’s safe?” He begged of him.

Geralt’s eyes turned up to him and he nodded before resuming his self-appointed task of scenting every inch of his grimy neck.

“Well then you definitely did steal her because I said care of Oxenfurt not Geralt of Rivia who wouldn’t know proper lute maintenance if his best friend spent two decades explaining and demonstrating it to him.”

“Would you rather I’d left it? You’d have to wait until spring to play it again.”

“And why is that?”

“Because we’re going to Kaer Morhen.” He buried his nose in the crook of his neck and took a long drag of his scent before finally standing them up. “Can you walk? There’s someone you need to meet.”

He leaned against Geralt as the dizziness of standing slowly subsided. “I think so.” He assured.

“If you want me to carry you-“

“I want to stay human a little longer.” He interjected. It had been so long. It felt like it had been so long.

He smirked cheekily. “Then I can. You’re not heavy.”

“Oh.” He leaned on Geralt for a few moments more. “Just an arm for now. I want to walk.”

Geralt nodded hooking an arm under his.

“So who’s this mystery person I need to meet?”

Geralt smiled, leaned over and told him.

[boundlessnerd]

The Chase

Jackson x reader, Mafia au

violence, blood, injury, cursing, a lil fluff

The men had tailed you for at least two blocks. You could feel their stares as you slipped through the bustling city. No matter the crowd or your tactic, they would reappear in a few paces. Your heart quickened with panic as the busyness began to thin. Soon the streets would be empty save for your pursuers. You needed to think of a plan and do it quickly.

Your feet sped up and you spun around passersby, trying your best to gain distance. You slipped your phone from your purse, settling the strap across your body and fumbling with the fasteners. Running was becoming your best option. You slipped around a group of teens stretched in a line across the street and took off. The footsteps behind you shuffled, knocking bodies aside before giving chase. By the sound of it, there were more people following than you first perceived. There was no way you could take them all. Your eyes swung wildly, searching for a way out. You turned a sharp corner and picked up speed. The footsteps were louder now, traveling through the darkness. Another turn. Then one more. You found yourself on a nearly empty stretch of stores. You slid through the door of a boutique and crouched behind a display to catch your breath. The attendant peered at you from behind the counter, eyebrow raised. You smiled and pretended to look at the merchandise, picking up a blue leather clutch and turning it in your hand.

Your eyes flicked up to the glass, glancing at your followers that were now combing the street. The name of the first person you could think of to call flew from your fingertips onto your phone screen while you continued to watch the large window. You brought the phone to your ear, trying to listen above the noise your heartbeat made. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. You felt yourself go cold with the thought that he wouldn't pick up and began to look around the store, eyes settling on a glowing red exit sign.

"Hey baobei. What's up? I thought you were shopping downtown today for that dress you wanted..." Your boyfriend's cheerful voice rang through the speaker. You watched as a man in a black suit peered through the glass, studying the store and its blank-faced attendant. You let the bag slip from your fingers and froze. "Jackson," you whispered, interrupting his happy ramblings, "help me." The line went silent for a moment before movement was heard. "I have your location. Stay on the phone. How many are there?" You could tell he was running around your shared apartment by the heavy puff of air that left with each word. "I don't know. Too many." The man turned his back to the store. You slowly began to back yourself towards the exit, staying low to the ground and keeping your eyes on the street. 

"Damn it y/n! I'm coming with the boys. Don't you dare hang up this phone." He was yelling now. You could imagine his furrowed brow as he gathered whoever was home and made his way to your rescue. "Hurry." You breathed into the mic as the attendant shifted her gaze to stare at your crouching position on the floor. "Ma'am?" She asked in a far too loud voice. You hurriedly shushed the attendant. "Is everything alright ma'am?" You shushed the clueless woman again, eyes fixing on the man outside. "I need you to look at your counter. Don't speak to me, don't look at me. Pretend I'm not here." The attendant followed your stare to the man who stood outside. She sighed. "Ma'am, if you aren't going to buy anything you should leave." The man shifted. Your eyes widened. "Shut up. Please. They can't know I'm here." "Should I call-" "No! Just be quiet! Sit still. Stop looking at me and be quiet." Silence filled the store. The man glanced over his shoulder at the attendant who stared at her folded hands, cheeks heated. He raised an eyebrow and turned his head again to study her. Damn it. He had to have known. The attendant was too obvious. He had to have known.

He turned away again. "Honestly ma'am, I can call-" you had lost patience with the attendant's meddling, though now her words were whispers. "Quit your blabbering or I swear if I live through tonight I will come back here and choke you to death with a handbag." You glared at the woman to complete your threat, attempting to scare her into silence. The attendant clamped her lips together, eyes welling up and face on fire. You swung your eyes back to the man, only to find him squinting in your direction. You held your breath - maybe he couldn't see you. He stared for what felt like forever before looking up at the attendant. Damn this woman. She met his gaze for a second before staring back at her counter. He continued to burn a hole into her skull before taking a step towards the door.

She flinched at the sudden movement and glanced at you. "Eyes. On. The. Counter." Your words were hard whispers. His stare carefully searched the store.. "If he comes in here, act normal. If he sees me and I ... do something, don't move a muscle or make a sound. Your eyes are glued to that countertop and your lips stay shut. Blink twice to say you understand." You glanced at her for confirmation before returning to stalk the man. He stood just outside the door. 

"Jackson," You unzipped your purse, quickly ripping out the knives and tiny revolver hidden in its lining. "Hm? I'm coming. I hear you." His rough voice was farther away, meaning he was driving now. "I'm gonna have to take one out. I don't know what will happen," you shuffled to conceal the weapons on your person - gun in your waistband, one knife in your shoe, another tucked into your hair tie that held up your messy ponytail. "There's glass and an annoying woman here," You glared up at her while shoving a switchblade down your shirt. "I will probably be seen." You could tell he was speeding by the silent focus you felt on the other side of the line. "Jackson, I love you." You pushed your last throwing knife into the front pocket of your jeans and continued to watch the door, fingers rubbing the golden band that sat on your left hand. You tucked your body behind a display, out of sight of the counter. "I love you. I'm coming. Wait for me and don't hang-"

The door swung open and the man stepped in. You slid the phone from your ear, listening to his footsteps. "Good evening miss," he watched the attendant before lightly grazing the floor with his gaze. The woman was finally listening to instructions. "Is everything alright in here?" He stared her down. "You look distressed. Is there any way I can help?" She fidgeted. No, you thought at her. Don't do it, he's just trying to make you break. 

"I..." Damn it. You reached into your back pocket for a throwing knife. "Yes, miss?" He placed a hand on her folded ones. She glanced over at your hiding place. Damn it. "Well," her voice caught. "Do you mind if I look around? Just to be sure everything is alright. It isn't safe for shopkeepers so late at night." He coated his words in sugar, luring the woman into his trap. The false sense of security loosened her lips. "She..." Damn it. "She?" He repeated. Her doe-eyes met the man’s gaze. You could almost hear the trap snap shut. She whispered, just loud enough so he could hear, "she has a gun." 

You slid from your spot, knocking the man off his feet and ripping your knife into his legs to limit his mobility. He kicked at you, struggling against the pain. You quickly crawled up his body, dragging your knife with you and used your body weight to pin down his arms. "What did I tell you?" You covered the man's mouth with your hand and tore into his throat with your blade. His screams, which became gurgles, were muffled by your palm. The woman sucked in a breath. "Scream and you're next." You met her eyes and sighed. "You need to learn to listen better. If you would have been quiet, I probably could've just knocked him out and been on my merry way.” You tipped your head at the twitching man, emphasizing your point. 

“Turn around and put your hands on the wall." The woman whimpered and complied. "I can't trust you not to get me caught so just sit still for a moment." Once the man's gurgling and twitching stopped, you stood, wiping the blood from your knife and fingers on his suit jacket. She was crying now. You rolled your eyes, scoffing. "Honestly. I'm not actually going to kill you." You moved your cross-body purse over your head and slid it from your shoulder, gripping the strap. "Now, do you know how to do a push-up?" 

She looked confused, but no less afraid, as she nodded. "Good. Let's pretend we're doing push-ups. Put both hands on the wall, feet shoulder width apart. And down..." Her body moved towards the wall and back as her arms bent awkwardly. "Well done. Now two." Her elbows bowed again. "Three." You pressed your body against the counter, quietly sliding on its surface. "Four." You reached your arms out, torso stretched over the counter. "Five." She bent once more. As she straightened her arms, you swung the purse strap around her neck. Her legs caught her before she could fall into the counter. You gripped tighter, watching her struggle and scratch at your hands. "Shhh now," you pulled her closer by the neck and wrapped a hand around her face to cut off her airway. Her teeth gnashed at your skin as she choked on her saliva. In seconds, the poor woman went limp, tear-stains marking her cheeks. 

You hopped over the counter to lay her body on the ground, then disconnected the store phone and hid her cell. That would only hold her for a few moments. You dragged the man to the back of the store by his heels and dropped him out of sight of the counter. You removed his jacket and wiped at the blood trail that led to your hiding place with the dark cloth. Then you jogged back to your victim and searched his body for weapons. Despite your efforts to keep his death quiet, his colleagues were bound to notice a man missing and come back for him. You had to move faster, especially for when sleeping beauty came to.

You heard shouting from across the street. Your stalkers had returned. The voices moved past the store. They were loud and upset, but not distressed - they hadn't noticed the missing man yet. Your mind ran through your options. You picked up the phone, looking to see the screen still green with the phone call that never ended. It had been almost 10 minutes since you called him.

You decided to sit and wait for Jackson as you put the phone back to your ear. He was whispering curses, still driving to save you. You breathed a laugh, imagining the men in the car gripping onto the seats and handles in the vehicle to gain a semblance of security while your boyfriend endangered their lives with his reckless driving. 

"Hello? Y/n? Are you there?" He jumped at the sound of your breathing. You opened your mouth to speak, then settled for a hum as a response when you heard shuffling from behind the counter. He sighed in relief. "We're almost there. Just wait for me. Hold on, baobei." You could feel the tension in his voice still. You knew he hated that he wasn't at your side yet. It was taking too long for his taste. He never liked being out of control when it came to your safety. You hummed another response.

The voices returned. You sat back on your heels to be sure you were out of sight. Just hold on, you thought to yourself. Jackson would be here soon. The woman's quiet cries echoed through the store, snatching your attention from the window. She was really trying to get you killed, poor thing. There was silence on the street as her sniffles grew to hiccuping, then to hysterical wailing. You rolled your eyes. She really will get you killed. They could probably hear her from across the city. Damn this woman. You listened and waited, crouched and ready to move for the door. There had to have been at least four of them and if they all entered the store, you wouldn't be able to take them all. The corpse only had a gun and a knife on him, but you couldn't guess how prepared the others would be. Your best option would be to run. 

You slowly moved for the exit, placing your back on the wall nearest to the door and turning your eyes back to the street. The woman's sobbing never ceased and you almost felt sympathetic, but the reminder that her crying was making you vulnerable to attack killed any feelings you had for her. "Baobei? Is that crying? Are you hurt?" Jackson must've been able to hear the hysteria occurring across the store. You sighed. "I'm not crying. It's the attendant." You whispered, holding the phone to your lips to be heard over her wails. 

A handful of men and women in black walked up to the glass, peering in. You stared at them wishing they would keep walking. The door swung open and five pairs of shiny black shoes stepped inside the store. They gathered around the counter. One of the women struck up a conversation with the endless fountain of tears that sat curled in the corner. The other four looked around the store, heads turning, but bodies unmoving. 

"Ma'am, are you alright?" Her question was met with incoherent blubbering. "Slow down. What happened?" She tried again. A series of hiccups and sniffles left the attendant as she tried to collect herself. Almost in unison, a chorus of sighs and rolling eyes passed around the group. One of the men left his post beside the counter and began to take interest in a rack of pastel wallets. He moved around it, slowly observing every inch. You cowered further into the wall. "Th- there was a hic a hic wo-sniff-man." The attendant went back to crying. The group exchanged glances.

The man's eyes flitted across the back of the store. You held your breath, waiting for a sign that you'd been seen. He paused before turning to another rack of bags just a few feet away. One of his colleagues made eye contact. The man continued to look through the bags, one thumb hooked into his belt loop. Almost like a signal went off, your other followers shuffled around, looking at each other then returning to normal. You shifted, feeling uneasy in the newly tense room. They slowly moved their hands into their pockets while the man nearest to you slid one palm beneath his jacket. 

Shit. 

You were out the door before he could draw his weapon.

The exit led to a dimly lit alley. You pushed your legs to go as fast as they could, knees crying at the hard impact of your feet on the ground. Get out. Your brain frantically screamed everything you learned as a child in the mafia. Open areas are better than enclosed spaces. You ran harder, trying so hard to focus on your shoes meeting concrete. Tight spaces - small rooms, hallways, alleyways - make you an easy target. Ignoring the complaints of your lungs, you pumped your legs ever faster. All you had to do was outrun them. Just outrun them. Outrun them. Outrun -

Bang.

A sudden shockwave of pain in your torso made your steps stutter. Your running was slower now. Still you chanted: Just outrun them. Outrun them. Outrun them.

You heard someone grunt from behind you. A mass collided with your back - then you were falling. Panic set in. You landed on your elbows, quickly trying to turn to face your attacker. Your legs kicked erratically at the man who was still attached to your body. Anxious noises left your lips as the fear and adrenaline gripped your throat. His nose met with your knee, slamming his skull into the wall, and you were freed from his grasp. You scurried backwards, elbows and hands burning as cuts and scrapes appeared on the skin. 

Two of the man’s colleagues came to join him. A woman lifted the man to his feet; the other man brandished a knife. He was on you in a heartbeat. You cried out as your back slammed into the ground. Your arms moved to hold back his weapon. When you gained an inch of distance between the knife and your body, you pushed with all your strength and sank your fingernails into his face. The man screeched and reeled back, giving you time to pull the small knife from your hair, snapping the band and releasing your hair to fall haphazardly. 

The man grasped your leg, squinting down at you. He kneeled on your calf, planting one knee firmly on your own, and pushed his body weight into your joint. Your back once again hit the ground with the new pain. You lifted an arm to toss the knife at the man, but the woman came from behind him and firmly placed a foot on your wrist, halting your movement. Your fingers twirled the blade around and sliced at her shoe. You could feel her toes shift in her shiny, black loafers. She turned her attention to her teammates. Once her eyes fully left your figure, you switched your grip on the blade and slammed into her shoe with as much force that you could muster. “Shit!” She screamed, reflexes forcing her foot off your arm. You placed your elbows on the concrete, digging in so you could gain leverage on the man who still clutched his face atop your leg. You tried to shake him off, kicking at him with your free heel. “You’re done, bitch.” A click reached your ears. You snapped your head up, eyes wide, to see the woman pointing a pistol at you.

Bang. Bang. 

She fell against the wall before sinking to the ground. Your eyes flicked over to your now-shocked assailant. You kicked him once more with all your strength then sat up fully and grasped the gun that pressed into your back. With two shots, he slumped over, dead. Still high on adrenaline, your neck twisted to look behind you at whoever shot the woman. A sigh of relief left your lips and you let your body relax as you saw Jackson’s familiar figure running from the other end of the alley. His worried voice reached your ears and you wanted to cry from the sheer comfort it brought you. 

“Y/n! Y/n!” He clumsily fell beside you, hands shaking your shoulder. “Hm?” You blinked up at him. “Are you okay?” You felt his fingers skimming your body, gentle but frantic. You let out a tired laugh. “Just a few scratches. Nothing too-” “Oh my god! Is that a bullet wound? Did you get shot? Who shot you? Where are they?” A million questions rushed past his lips and flew at you in one long, barely understandable string. “Babe,” you interrupted his queries. “Can we go please?” The adrenaline was replaced by exhaustion and you were beginning to fully feel the pain of your many injuries. “Oh! Yes, of course baobei. Let’s get you some help.” Your sweet boyfriend shoved the dead man’s body aside and stared down at you. “Can you stand?”

You could only blink in answer, internalizing the question. Could you stand? You tested your uninjured leg feeling no resistance when you bent it. Now the other one. You visibly winced and let out a pained squeak. Jackson was back to speaking faster than you could comprehend. “Okay, okay, okay. Stop, stop. Don’t move y/n. I’ll help. Hold on. Don’t move.” He moved behind you and gently pushed your torso up into a sitting position. The pain of your gunshot wound moved through you in waves. Jackson’s words became a series of noises that increased in volume as he realized the movement was hurting you. “Okay baobei. We’re gonna get you up on your good leg. Just let me do it. I’ll hold you up, okay? Don’t try to move a lot.” His hands moved to grip beneath your arms, pulling your body up. You groaned, eyes shutting as you were placed on your feet, Jackson’s hands moving to keep you upright. You heavily leaned on your boyfriend, panting slightly. “Good job baobei. You’re bearing it so well. I love you so much. We’ll be home soon.” You breathed in the familiar scent of the love of your life and smiled. 

“That’s the last of them.” One of Jackson’s men, Mark, walked towards you and Jackson from the direction of the store, thumb coming up to swipe at the blood on his face. Jackson’s tone was ice cold, cutting through the night. “Are there any who are still alive?” Another one of Jackson’s men, Jaebum, dragged a man by the collar as he made his way over. You recognized him from the bleeding nose as the first man who attacked you in the alley.  “Just this one,” Jaebum shook the man’s collar to punctuate his sentence. “There’s one more inside, but Jinyoung is playing with him. He’ll be dead soon.” Bambam called from the backdoor of the store.

Jackson glared at the dazed and bloody man who struggled in Jaebum’s grasp. “Bring this one home and lock him up. I’ll talk to him later.” Jaebum nodded and dragged the man back down the alley. Jackson’s eyes moved back to you, softening immediately. “Ready to take a step?” His fingers tightened around your waist. You nodded in response and allowed him to lead you forward. Your small hop didn’t match his stride and you slipped, forcing Jackson to save you from falling. When your boyfriend managed to get you back to standing, he thoughtfully rubbed circles into your side with his thumb and peered down at you. “This won’t work, huh?” You shook your head, exhaling in a laugh. “Then there’s only one thing left to do.” You cocked an eyebrow at your boyfriend. “Just breathe okay? It’ll probably hurt at first.” His words made you more concerned. “Jackson, wha-”

He slid his arm further around your waist and gripped tightly. Then he carefully bent and hooked his other elbow behind your knees, sweeping you off your feet. You gripped at his shoulders in surprise before settling into his arms. You clutched onto his shirt and let Jackson carry you from the alley. His warmth soaked through your clothes and into your soul. You knew you were safe with him and allowed your eyes to close, simply feeling the gentle sway of Jackson’s steps.

“Yah!” Youngjae yelled from the store. “I found your purse, y/n!”

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Sweet Escape (Kai x Healer!Reader)

Summary: you meet Kai in the slave ship. He’s a fighter, you’re a healer. Both against your will. Being together is a solace against the horrors of the world.

Author’s notes: this was requested by an anon who wanted some smut with Kai from 47 ronin. Never wrote for him before. It’s hardly one of my favorite movies with Ke, but I did what I could. Hope you like it. As usual, feedback is appreciated.

Wordcount: 2530

Warnings: mention of canon violence, but not especified. wounds and blood. smut

You felt the ground shift beneath your feet, making your stomach queasy. The ship always rocked harder down here and you hated it. You were not made to be on water vessels, but it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. Your last owner sold you to the captain to settle his debts. Once the captain found out your particular gifts with healing, he had you taking care of his fighters, making sure they were up and ready for the next round of barbaric fighting the following night.

Most of the fighters refused you care. Calling you witch, the word being either hissed in distaste or spit in your face as they all but shoved you out of their cells. You rolled eyes and left, unfortunately, used to the abuse. You didn’t know anything else and all because of the black mark in your left eye that made your dark iris bleed and consume part of your sclera.  

It wasn’t something you could control. You were born like that and it didn’t mean anything, but it wasn’t like you could explain it and even if you could, no one was willing to listen. So, you kept your head down, did what you were told. At least the captain didn’t keep you chained or flogged you for just existing. That was already better than your previous owner.

Once again, the ship shook and you hurried to grab at the walls, pressing your lips together to fight your nausea. This was the thing you hated the most about this place: the unsteadiness beneath your feet. As soon as you felt it was safe to move, you walked to the next cell with quick steps, knocking quietly on the half-opened door. A low voice bid you entrance, and you peeked your head inside to look.

At first, all you saw was a pale back marked with lashes. Some old and healed, others reddish and bleeding. Probably consequences of his combat early that night. He was the captain’s newest acquisition and from what you heard, an excellent fighter.

“Captain sent me to tend to your wounds,” you said making him tilt his head your way.

You couldn’t make out his features, his dark hair covering most of it, but he nodded shortly, and you walked further into space. You set your things on the cot and started your task of cleaning and dressing the wounds on his back.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He shifted slowly, turning to face you, his soft brown eyes devoid of any emotion as he exposed his chest to you, two bleeding lashes crossing his torso. “You fought Tran?”

“I don’t know his name,” his voice was raspy like he was unused to speak.

“He’s the one with the blades on his chains,” you explained, getting to work. “Well, was,” you corrected. All the fights were to the death.

The man only hummed in response, barely flinching as you pressed the ointment on the gashes so they were no longer bleeding, before you inspected them, making sure he wouldn’t need stitches.

“Thank you,” he said, once you were done and moved to the door. You only nodded once in reply, leaving the room.

The days stretched and mingled together in the ship since they were always the same: you would wake up with the first rays of the sun to break your fast away from the rest of the crew. They were uncomfortable with making meals with you. Fortunately, the cook was nice enough to let you eat in the kitchen before you brought the captain his own meal, helped him get dressed and ready for the day.

At first, you were afraid he would try to force himself on you, but thankfully, despite the fact he would let you treat his fighters; the captain wasn’t about to risk himself laying with a witch. Just to be sure. It was a relief.

Once he left his quarters for the day, you stayed behind reading and watching the sea through the small window in his cabin since the crew whispered and fretted whenever you tried to go to the deck. When night fell, you would join everyone else and watch the fights. Most of them you could only bear to look through the slits of between your fingers, the level of violence making you even more nauseous than usual.

When the fights were over, you gathered your kit and made the rounds between those who survived. Most of them refused your services, a few didn’t really have a choice, wounds so severe that if gone untreated, they would fester and kill them, but they would always look at you with suspicion, follow your every move, threating to slit your throat if you cursed or tried to poison them. Only one person would receive your care without a word. You almost dared to say he welcomed it really. That was Kai.

In the time that he had been in the ship, Kai had emerged victorious from every fight, mostly unharmed, but sometimes it was a closer call and you would have to visit him. He never spoke much, never complaining or trying to dodge your touch. At most, he would let out a long, drawn-out sigh when your fingers first connected with his damaged skin, but sometimes you wondered if it was a sigh of relief instead of pain or disgust.

His eyes remained hollow, melancholic, aiding to your curiosity. His features were of a white man, but he behaved with the care and poise of a samurai, which you knew he could not be.

“Where are you from Kai?” you asked once as you set his shoulder back in place after his latest fight, earning a small grunt as the bone popped back into its socket.

“Nowhere.” His voice remained soft despite his pain.

“Everyone comes from somewhere,” you pointed out, wrapping his arm to his chest to make sure it would remain immobile for the time it would take to heal.

“Where do you come from?” he asked, intense gaze boring into your eyes. You thought back the several villages and cities you had been through your life, never being allowed to belong anywhere.

“Nowhere,” you replied with a chuckle, earning a small smile from him. He understood better than you thought he could. “Rest and heal.”

“Thank you.”

Kai's latest fight was brutal. The captain pitted him against a huge man, his muscles thick and menacing, his size twice of Kai’s. You held your breath through it, flinching at the clank of steel against steel. Squeezing your eyes shut at the sound of flesh hitting flesh and bones cracking, Kai grunting and gasping as he fought.

You heard the crowd cheer a second before the ground shook, the heavy noise of a large body thudding against the wooden floor drowned by the shouts and celebrations. You dared to look, and Kai stood in the center, his katana still raised, his body shaking and covered in red blood. He won.

As soon as you could, you slipped away from the captain, heading straight for Kai’s cell, finding it with the door ajar and you called out his name softly before you stepped inside. He was frozen in the middle of the room, dripping on the floor, body tense like a taut bow.

“Kai…” you called his name again, this time with a soft touch to his shoulder.

In a blink you were against the wall, all breath gone from your lungs as he held you with a hand around your throat, his eyes wide, the blood of his opponent making a gory mask on his handsome face.

“Kai,” you whispered his name almost soundless, but it snapped him from whatever trance he had been in because he let you go, shaking and cowering back, breath coming in short pants.

“I’m sorry,” Kai mumbled, curling into himself. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you assured, crawling closer, hands hovering over his large arms, but still afraid to touch. “I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.”

“You should leave,” he said in a sob, his voice trembling. “I’m a monster.”

You sighed heavily, your heart aching for him. You knew all too well how it felt to hate yourself like that. To have everyone else hate you.

“You’re not a monster, Kai,” you said softly, reaching for the bucket of water and the washcloth. “You’re just surviving.”

He finally met your eyes and for the first time, they weren’t hollow, but haunted, afraid of himself.

You brought the cloth to his face, wiping away the blood, until you could see his handsome features again before dipping the cloth in the bucket, the water turning pinkish and trickling down your arm as you worked on his neck and the exposed skin of his chest.

You pulled away long enough for Kai to take his shirt off before returning to your task, cleaning him up under his watchful eyes. His gaze slowly shifting from terrified to grateful. Setting the washcloth aside, you examined his torso, a myriad of bruises blossoming on his skin, his breath hitching as your fingers grazed tender ribs, but other than that, Kai was fine.

“Thank you.”

The words were spoken in a low voice, his brown eyes still tracking your every movement as you knelt between his legs and for this first time you realized how big Kai was and you wanted nothing but to crawl into his arms and stay there.

Instead, you cupped his jaw in your hands, your thumb rubbing against his untamed beard as you gazed into his eyes. You never felt this before, but you wanted it… something. Not sure exactly what.

You pressed your lips against his, tentative and soft at first, but as Kai welcomed your touch, you grew bolder, nipping at his lip, pressing your tongue against the seam and he opened up to you, letting you explore, lick into his mouth. His tongue pressed against yours in a slow dance that made something in the pit of your stomach warm and tight.

Moving closer until you were straddling his lap, you deepened the kiss, one of your hands exploring his shoulders and chest while his hands found their way to your hips, his touch soft, hesitant as they settled over the fabric of your clothes.

You moved away from his mouth to kiss his neck, the hollow of his throat, his smooth chest… Your hands foreshadowing the movement of your lips, moved down, to the ties of his breeches and you looked up at Kai, finding him once again watching you.

“Yes,” it was all he said and as you undid his breeches, he tugged at the knot holding your kimono closed, baring your skin to his gaze, along with the scars that adorned your body.

His palms were warm and rough as Kai guided you to lie back before his lips traced and kissed each mark on your skin. His tongue lavishing it right after, making you arch and writhe beneath him, your hands tightening and tugging on his long dark hair as he moved lower and lower until his breath tickled your sex and you were heaving and shaking.

Your skin was on fire; every touch of his making you alight with want, and you could feel your arousal dripping wetly between your legs, your walls pulsing in need around nothing and you never felt empty before, but now your body clamored for Kai.

“Please,” you gasped, and he covered your body with his own; his weight grounding you, his scent surrounding you as Kai reached between the two of you, guiding himself in, pushing slowly.

You whimpered against his neck, the stretch like a sweet burn making your fingers dig into his shoulder blades as Kai finally settled, completely sheathed inside you, panting and shaking with the effort of remaining in control.

He rested against you for a moment, letting you adjust, and you felt his heart rabbiting against yours, his breath warm and wet against your collarbone. You cupped his face again, brushing his hair away so you could look at him. There were wonder and affection in his eyes and you brought Kai for a kiss as you rolled your hips against his, encouraging him to move.

With your lips still together in a deep kiss, Kai started thrusting in and out of you, slow and steady and you could feel every inch of him rubbing against your walls, rekindling the heat in the pit of your stomach and stroking it until it set your entire being blaze.

You moved against Kai, your legs wrapped around him, heels digging on his back, your breath mingling with his as the two of you panted against each other mouths, your chests sliding against one another.

You could feel your desire growing and expanding, overtaking your body, making you arch for more, harder, faster. Pushing lightly against his chest, Kai took the hint and rolled on his back, bringing you on top of him in a surprising smooth motion.

Taking him inside you again, you rested your hands on his chest and started rolling your hips, grinding on his until Kai was grunting and gasping, his hands tightening around your thighs, moving upwards until he was cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples lightly.

The sharp bolt of pleasure made you buck and increase your speed until you were bouncing on his cock, ecstasy clouding your mind, overtaking you completely as you rode him until you reached your pleasure, coming with a loud moan, before you fall back on his chest, heaving and grinning, your entire body tingling and quivering.

Kai held you tight against him, his hips snapping up at a fast pace, his grunts and groans rising as he finally reached his own climax and you felt him spilling deep inside you, his embrace tightening slightly before he relaxed, but without letting you go.

You stayed wrapped around each other for long moments, just breathing and listening to each other’s heartbeats. You felt like you could stay like this forever and you would be perfectly happy.  

“I should go,” you said, lifting your face to look at him. “Before the captain sends someone for me.” Kai only nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “Maybe I can come tomorrow night?”

“I would like that,” he smiled, bending down to meet your lips.

However, there was no tomorrow. The next night, Kai fought a ronin, Ôishi.

You saw him go into that same nothingness of before leaving only an ugly beast of violence. You saw the ronin saying something to Kai, something that snapped him out of his daze and the pair united to fight their way out as the crew tried to contain them.

Your senses were drowned by the confusion and you didn’t know what was happening, not until you felt a hand wrap around yours. You looked up to see Kai, his eyes shining like you had never seen before. Shining with purpose.

“Come with me,” he mouthed, his voice lost in the cacophony of sounds.

You went. You had nothing left to lose.

xxx

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[interesting-blog-name]

Björk DISCOG REVIEW Part 1

One of the most recognized avant-garde singers in the world, Björk Guðmundsdóttir is an Icelandic artist who has been releasing critically acclaimed albums since the early 90s, and an icon in the experimental music scene. I thought it’d be an exciting experience to dive into her discography to find out if her music resonates with me, and to understand what this revered singer is all about. I decided to start with her major studio albums first, then moving on to her early work with Icelandic band The Sugarcubes and whatever else she has out there.

 Debut

Björk’s properly titled debut is a wild amalgamation of sweet love songs, upbeat house music inspired by the UK’s early 90s scene, a hint of jazz, and of course, Björk’s enchanting voice. I won’t pretend to be a music university graduate or whatever, as I know close to nothing about what 90s music sounded like, what could have potentially influenced Björk on this album, nor will I try to give some sort of lecture about what is going on here; I’ll just cite what I enjoy and what I don’t, and why.

Debut feels authentic, it’s a finely crafted album, from its musical styles to its production to its songwriting. What spiked my interest immediately in it were the drums, and how fresh and varied they were; this is a very percussion-heavy album, the UK beats Björk implements are all about the infectious rhythms that enter your body and seem to control it, but even on tracks not so influenced by the nightclub life, the percussion is very good, in songs such as the opening Human Behaviour, with its fat bass drums, or the iconic, soothing Venus As a Boy, featuring tambourines, strong kicks, some rattle instrument, a prominent sampled echoing sound and a hint of bongos; these are all alongside various other rich instruments, violin passages that flow with the track perfectly, what sounds like xylophones peppering the track, all of this making this the best song in the album, in my opinion.

And when these instruments are not there, of course Björk herself makes up for it. Like Someone In Love is a beautiful ode to, well, love, comprised only of a harp, the singer’s eye-watering performance, and some ambient noise; it reminds me a bit too much of her cover of I Remember You, mostly because they’re both based on harps, but it is still very beautiful on its own. The Anchor Song is the emptiest on the record, closing the album up with some tension and overall introspection. It features only one verse from Björk sung two times, and like three saxophones? Definitely two at least, I’m not sure how they work, but it makes for a great, simplistic finisher (even if latter editions include Play Dead, a beautiful song, but not exactly fitting after the song before it).

Throughout the first handful of tracks, the pattern of “inward emotionally potent song sequenced by urban-life dance anthem, and back again” became apparent to me, but then broke after One Day did not transition into a dance track. Basically, my instant perception was that the record was this rollercoaster showcase of the hopeless romantic experience in a metropolitan, nocturnal city, and it may be, but if it is, it’s not as in-your-face as I initially thought. What catapulted these thoughts was the live version of There’s More To Life Than This, probably the most commercially-adept instrumental tune in the record, performed by Björk in a version purposefully awkward and weirdly personal, where she sings her second verse directly into a mic while the beat faintly plays in the background, fading further and further until the song flawlessly transitions to Like Someone In Love. It really makes you feel like your are at the Milk Bar, the night is packed, and Björk just pulls you into the bathroom and starts singing the rest of the song (for some reason); it reminded me of all those YouTube videos where the uploader takes a popular song, adds some background chatter, and soaks it all in reverb to give you the experience of listening to the song from the bathroom of a party. It is a distinct, creative way of spinning the original dance track around into something more, something that conveys this feeling of slight loneliness, even when surrounded by people, the central topic of the second song, Crying. The lyrics describe the big city, the huge crowds, but conversely the feeling of solitude and missing your loved one, or maybe even a place, it’s not explicitly told who or what Björk misses.

Romance is ever-present in Debut, through many incarnations. Big Time Sensuality, one of the most upbeat tracks here, is about a fresh romantic relationship, and the growing sensation of “something important (...) about to happen”, assumingly between Björk and whoever else. The house beat paints the scenario for this relationship as a club, by default. It brings you into this exciting nightlife, only for you to be pulled away immediately after by One Day, a track so cheerful it’s irresistible, and holding tight to the theme of romanticizing a loved one, then reaching Aeroplane in yet another beautiful transition. I have to admit this is the first song I don’t love in the album, I think it is good, and in the context of the album, definitely brings something new. What sets it apart is, this time around, the bongos are being used to their full extent, paired with birds chirping and a comfortable bass, incremented by occasional saxophone passages, this track ends up very tropical. After this, Come To Me is another passionate song, this time, Björk sings of comforting her partner and nurturing them, which naturally creates a super chill aura to the song. Accompanied by the violins and the lowkey guitars, it makes for a solid track, which in the context of the album I think eases the mood a bit too much, but is appreciated as a solid production, and closes out by bringing out the bongos once again, in a very nice outro (I should also note this is the first appearance of a real drum set on the album [I think]) (I should also also note the bassline sounds a little like early studio versions of True Love Waits by Radiohead, just some trivia).

Violently Happy right afterwards is the least interesting of the house tracks, with a mostly simple instrumental, and vocals Björk seeming to be compressed, or dowsed in some other effect. It’s not a standout in the tracklist to me, but the beauty of Debut is that the worst song is still solid as fuck. I think it’s a very consistent album, that delivers a unique and one-of-a-kind experience.

I didn’t expect this type of sound from Debut, but I was pleasantly surprised. It took me a while to like, but it definitely grew on me on with this 4 a.m. listening session I just had. I look forward to everything else I will listen to by Björk.

 FAVORITE TRACKS: Venus As A Boy, Like Someone In Love, One Day, Big Time Sensuality, Human Behaviour

LEAST FAVORITE TRACK: Violently Happy

 8.7/10

“Lately I find myself gazing at stars, hearing guitars like someone in love.”

 Post

Going into Post, I was aware this would be quite different from Debut. I had listened to Army of Me and It’s Oh So Quiet before, seeing as they’re two of Björk’s biggest songs, and they obviously sound nothing like the acid house beats and soft, calming ballads in her debut, and that’s what is good about it, the sudden shift from a relatively safe musical environment to aggressive, chunky electronic production in Army of Me and Enjoy, and the absolute turnaround that is It’s Oh So Quiet.

The bold production decisions are what make this album exciting and surprising, in tracks such as I Miss You, mixing a synth-line with super loud bongos and some addictive synthesized drums, and trumpets at the end of the song, or the famous use of the Locrian mode in Army of Me, creating this menacing, dissonant melody, which perfectly fits the song and serves as an appropriate intro to the album that succeeds it. But they don’t always have to be out there to be notable and great: what I can tell from around the internet is that you can ask every single Björk fan ever what their favorite track by her is and it feels like at least a quarter will answer Hyper-ballad, and (even though I’m not nearly done with her discography) I can I say it’s with very good reason, as it is an amazingly composed song; same with Possibly Maybe, an enheartened slow jam which progresses from a cute love song about desiring to be with the one she’s flirting with, to disappointment in how they treat her, to the breakup, where she states she started wearing lipstick again, sucking her own tongue in remembrance of her once lover.

The album is very love-centered, specifically focused on the desire to be physically with someone, with how Björk mentions her love interest’s touch in plenty of tracks, such as I Miss You, a song about missing someone she apparently has never been with, where she literally asks her significant other “when will I get my cuddle?”. uwu.

(also what is this cover art lmao)

Also including this thirst for deeper contact are the songs Enjoy (“I wish I’d only look, and didn’t have to touch”, “How can I ignore? This is sex without touching?”) and Headphones (”They start off as cells that haven’t been touched before, these cells are virgins”), but the subject matter isn’t always literal and spelled out, as the tracks Isobel and Hyper-ballad seem to play with the idea of a hermit lifestyle, whether it’s at the top of a mountain or in the heart of a forest, with different meanings between the two, however. In Hyper-ballad, she’s isolated from the world alongside her lover, while in Isobel, she’s completely alone, married to herself, as she says. I enjoy the theme, but I think the vocals and instrumentation, while interesting, aren’t as good as many other examples from the album, same with the track previous to it, You’ve Been Flirting Again, which employs very faint and uniform violins under some soothing yet stagnant lyrics by Björk; it serves mostly as an interlude, I suppose, but it could go a little further, in my opinion.

To end the album, Cover Me and Headphones subdue the atmosphere by a lot. They’re very toned down, the first features some really nice windy background noise, and what I think is an oud. It’s an amazing section of the album, and from what I can gather, seems to be about her own experimentation with her music, describing a journey into what I think is this very album, a big departure from Debut for sure. It then transitions seamlessly into Headphones, which, on par with its title, is a much better experience if you are wearing headphones. The buzzing bass, Björk’s nearly ASMR vocals turning into gibberish at the end, and bubbly percussion are all super pleasing to the ears, and it continues the theme of her own musical creating process, singing how her headphones saved her life, and how nothing will ever be the same; it’s almost prophetical, and definitely one of my favorite songs here.

Post is much more colorful, daring and wild than Debut, but I don’t know if I like it better than its predecessor. I feel like Debut is obviously much more comfortable and pleasing than Post, and that even though Post has amazing tracks like Hyper-ballad, Enjoy and Possibly Maybe, as an album, I’m not really feeling it as much as the last one. The sense of cohesion in the last one, and how it used the UK beats to the best of their potentials, mixing them with much more soothing tracks and beautiful vocal performances is what attracts me to it so much. I really appreciate the direction Post took, as I don’t suppose many people were doing anything close to this in the 90s or before, and it certainly has its highlights, but I think Debut just got a tighter hold of me, and I just enjoyed it more, if looking at it from a purely superficial standpoint. The experimentation here is great, but I enjoy how fresh Debut sounds slightly more.

 FAVORITE TRACKS: Hyper-ballad, I Miss You, Army of Me, Headphones, Possibly Maybe, Enjoy

LEAST FAVORITE TRACK: You’ve Been Flirting Again

 8.5/10

“This is really dangerous, cover me. But worth all the effort, cover me.”

 Homogenic

Alright shit got real.

This is way better than the last two albums, and they were amazing to begin with. But this album is insane. It’s focused, but also so loose and free. It’s an amazing experience, and I think Björk in her most comfortable style yet. She doesn’t miss the mark in one track of this album, they’re all at the very least good.

It starts off with the delirious drum patterns and violins in Hunter, and I tell you, I haven’t seen a better streak of amazing songs in an album yet: from the intro to 5 Years, all the songs between it are fucking fantastic, and that is only broken by Immature, a track which I don’t think is supposed to be much more than an interlude anyway; then it’s right back with Alarm Call.

I really don’t think I have anything to complain about in this review apart from 5 Years and Immature. On the first listen, I thought Howie B’s version of All Is Full Of Love was inferior to the original, which I had heard and loved a while ago, but I can’t even say that, because this one is perfect as an outro. With the drums gone, the track feels like a goodbye from Björk as you slowly descent from heaven after listening to this album; plus, it comes right after Pluto, by far the most aggressive song in Homogenic, with the singer yelling over her glitchiest production yet. Then it suddenly gives way to that incredible outro. Other amazing transitions include Unravel to Bachelorette, decorated by the overlapping violins, and from 5 Years to Immature. The serene, gorgeous sound of Unravel against the energetic, cinematic Bachelorette orchestra is easily one of the best moments in the album as well.

I find that whenever I find an album really good, I have problems describing why, but I promise this time I’ll try harder than when I listened to MAGDALENE. To start, Björk’s singing and the instruments backing her have never been more in harmony with each other, mainly due to Björk’s and her producers’ focus on maintaining a homogenous sound throughout the record, as its title implies, and this style is the mix of strings and other orchestral instruments (including an accordion at some points) with the odd, sometimes glitchy (All Neon Like, 5 Years, Pluto) other times fleshed out and bulky (Hunter, Immature, Alarm Call) production of Mark Bell, Guy Sigsworth, Howie B, Markus Dravs and, of course, Björk herself. Jóga and Unravel are my favorite Björk songs so far, and the fact that they come back to back, right before Bachelorette, is still crazy to me.

Alarm Call is a beautiful song about how your music impacts the world, and just an anthem of euphoria basically, which might be a little out of place surrounded by the very specific sound the album goes for, with its bop qualities and dance rhythm, but I appreciate it a lot just for how easily Björk can pour her feelings onto a track and make it work out of seemingly nowhere. This song demands happiness from the listener, and it’s extremely difficult not to give in to its groove (“I’m no fucking Buddhist, but this is enlightenment”).

In my opinion, All Neon Like is the perfect embodiment of Homogenic’s atmosphere: it’s not as brilliantly and enormously produced as the songs before it, but it is frigid and ethereal, the lyrics are sung fairy tales, continuing the genius metaphors in Bachelorette.

It’s slightly futile for me to try and dissect Björk’s lyrics one by one, but they do stand out more than in her previous records as well, even though the focus on Homogenic is mainly in its aesthetic. 5 Years is the first song that features lyrics that point themselves against someone, a former love interest of Björk, accusing them of not being able to handle her, and while Immature’s lyrics don’t go anywhere due to them consisting of a verse repeated twice, they follow the theme of abandoning a lover, and this time, the questioning is to herself, wondering how she thought her significant other was a cure to all her personal issues. Hunter, an amazing intro to an amazing album, centers its lyrics around some of the same topics as the outro in Post (Cover Me and Headphones) which describes a voyage into the unknown that was Björk’s musical endeavors at the time, her will to go the distance to create something brand new and exciting. In this intro, she compares it to hunting and bringing the food to the table. It starts: “If travel is searching and home what’s been found, I’m not stopping”. It’s fucking brilliant man holy shit.

Now that I write this, I realize, from 5 Years onward, the songs cease to be about idolizing another person, with tracks such as Immature and Alarm Bell being introspective looks at Björk and her current feelings, and Pluto being about batshit self-change. Even All Is Full Of Love, with its first lyrics being “You’ll be given love, you’ll be taken care of”, seems to be addressing more of the ambient surrounding the person than the person themselves, as if they’re a placeholder for all the angelic ambience around the listener. Maybe the song is literally about placing the listener in this scenario, who knows.

Definitely best album I’ve heard yet, and what excites me is that people praise the next album so much, I’ve never seen someone talk much about Homogenic. I literally don’t know how Björk can top this, but I’ll see.

 WORST TO BEST: 5 Years, Immature – Mark Bell’s Version, Hunter, Pluto, Alarm Call, All Neon Like, Bachelorette, All Is Full Of Love – Howie’s Version, Jóga, Unravel

 Fuck it, 10/10

“I’m a path of cinders burning under your feet. You’re the one who walks me, I’m your one-way street.”

 Vespertine

I am pleased.

This is insane, man. I think I’ll be a huge Björk fan after I’m finished with this discography. Vespertine is meticulous, it’s enchanting, it’s all-around wonderful. You can tell Björk and her team put incredible effort into this album, for it to sound as effortlessly beautiful as possible; not one idea or song here sounds forced, out of its element, or simply put bad. They unite to create one of the most astounding listening experiences I think I’ll ever get in my life.

Vespertine is proud, but introverted. As a sequel to Homogenic, it serves as its lighter half: where Björk described Homogenic as “confrontational”, “active” and “warrior”, Vespertine flips that upside down, and brings microbeats, music boxes and harps to the table. This is a very effective alternative to songs such as Jóga and Bachelorette, where the instrumentals and the singer seemed to try and outdo each other, creating these grand, empowering songs; in this album, they merge together into living, breathing and deeply personal lullabies. One of the most impressive talents of Björk is that she seems to take the identity of her album to heart, and mixes her unique songwriting and singing talents and her otherworldly personality into the project’s own personality, becoming an artform much greater than the sum of its parts.

Songs like Hidden Place, It’s Not Up To You and Pagan Poetry are Björk to the bone, with their more elaborate and ear-catching production, their humongous vocals, and would be comfortable if they were to be pulled from this album into another; however, deeper cuts such as Aurora, Cocoon, Undo and An Echo A Stain are the embodiment of this album’s aesthetic, its frigid atmosphere and tiny, fragile surroundings. They are like symmetrical, unique snowflakes when softer, or huge, arctic blue glistering caves when grander. They’re precise; stable, but at the same time would not work if they weren’t organized exactly how they are.

It’s easy to get too comfortable listening to Vespertine. The tracks are almost spiritual in a way, they convey an unparalleled bliss to the listener, and getting lost in the album is almost part of the experience. Especially in the second half of Vespertine, where things get real lowkey. Songs merge into each other, starting with the wonderful music box interlude Frosti into Aurora, which features one of Björk’s strongest vocal performances, proceeding to An Echo A Stain, a standout for its weird, suspenseful and eerie instrumental, evoking a dark vibe, it sounds like a deep underwater exploration into the darkest abysses of the ocean or some shit. The lyrics are also uniquely confrontational, they don’t portray the undying passion of songs before it, instead proclaiming “Don’t say no to me. You can’t say no to me. I won’t see you, denied.”. With all the vague and spacey lyrics, and the uneventful instrumental, it’s impressive this song progresses so well, mainly due to its weird, unsettling tone that sets itself apart from the rest of the songs. In a way, these odd and abstract lyrics mixed with the ethereal and bittersweet instrumentation remind me of some Radiohead songs, such as The National Anthem, How To Disappear Completely and Ful Stop, and I’m realizing this is a style of music I’m prone to liking.

Sun In My Mouth is not much of a standout topically or sonically to me, as it doesn’t do much to expand upon the sexuality of the album, with lyrics once again referring to inserting fingers into wherever, and closing with “Will I complete the mystery of my flesh?”, the themes seem to have nowhere to go. Heirloom depicts a reoccurring dream about Björk losing her voice, and having her mother and son pour a glowing oil into her mouth, which is a cute and artsy way of saying they’re her fuel for continuing with her craft, I guess. The lyrics don’t go anywhere with themselves after this though, but the instrumental is very creative and memorable, it creates a neat little bubble of involving, resonating synths.

Employing some heavy strings for Harm Of Will, Björk doubles down on the romance of the album, in a rather stripped-down song, with a few vocal highlights from her. It finds its place in the tracklist, I guess, although the oral sex line comes off a bit too strong for the smooth sentiment of the song.

To close Vespertine off, Unison, the longest song in the album, lays back on an ambient sample by Oval, and features one of Björk’s most unique vocal harmonies on its chorus; overall a nice, upbeat outro for a wonderful album.

I will say I felt more excited listening to Homogenic, as I think Vespertine’s romantic, sexual aura doesn’t expand into much after some of the many heavily sensual verses, while Homogenic wasn’t as tight and claustrophobic for me. Vespertine, however, was freer and left a bigger impact on me, It’s Not Up To You succeeded in making me cry. At the same time, none of the songs here felt like they didn’t belong, like they took away from the experience; every sound and line collaborates to make something bigger, something I don’t think I’ll get from many other albums in my lifetime.

 BEST TO WORST: It’s Not Up To You, Pagan Poetry, Undo, Hidden Place, An Echo A Stain, Unison, Aurora, Heirloom, Cocoon, Harm Of Will, Frosti, Sun In My Mouth

 It is a 10

“I can decide what I give, but it’s not up to me what I get given. Unthinkable surprises about to happen, but what they are, it’s not up to you.”

 Medúlla

Björk’s 2004 Medúlla is, surprise surprise, an acapella album. And to further surprise, I liked it.

After Homogenic and Vespertine, I guess there was nowhere to go but towards the more experimental. You can’t really outdo those two albums in their own game, so you gotta branch out, try different things; and trying different things is exactly what Björk excels at, apparently. With Medúlla, all that wild, bombastic or serene instrumentation her previous albums were peppered with is gone, giving way to backing vocals ranging from super deep male bass to angelic choirs, beatboxing, and occasionally an isolated instrument. The album is rooted on the most primary form of music: barely any instruments, almost no effects or audio manipulations, just many voices uniting to become one; lyrics about childbirth, the human body, oceans and, of course, love.

Listening to Medúlla is interesting because it is very familiar, while also being a completely different experience from Björk’s previous albums. Songs like Who Is It and Mouth’s Cradle are unmistakably her, while at the same time being coated with an extra layer of experimentation, and with this new direction, Björk and her team are able to channel an energy that stands shoulder-to-shoulder with some of her best production. Where Is The Line? and Oceania are intricate and complex, showing just how much can be done with only the human voice. The low male vocals and beatboxing structure the songs, the choirs in the background give them depth, all the sounds link with themselves to amount to some incredible songs.

On the flipside, however, few songs fail to achieve that, in my opinion. Desired Constellation is notably bare and empty, with few aspects to its composition. The mystical lyrics that characterize Medúlla are still here, describing Björk playing routinely with stars to form whatever she desires, but apart from that, there isn’t much to experience. Mouth’s Cradle and its successor Miðvikudags are also not of much significance to the rest of the album, as they drift from its acapella compositions by employing some pleasant, but unnecessary synths as the basis of the songs. The simpler, shorter interludes that are peppered through the album are pretty much the standard sound for this record, fleshing it out with small little vocal passages and, of course, gibberish. Show Me Forgiveness, from my interpretation, is Björk apologizing to either herself or her daughter (as implied by the last line, “The girl might live”), for letting her interior voice be drowned out by the exterior; Öll Birtan is a simple buildup to the aforementioned Who Is It, but the best of the bunch are Sonnets/Unrealities XI, the poem it may not always be so; and i say by e. e. cummings over some of the best backing vocals in the album, Vökuró, where Björk sings a traditional Icelandic song in a very intimate and gorgeous moment in the album, and Ancestors, which features some passionate, odd and intriguing growls all throughout it.

It’s remarkable what Björk came up with in this album, the mystical aura surrounding it and forming its lyrics, in particular the verses in Oceania where she takes the role of the Ocean, exploring its perspective of Earth, time and the continents, Pleasure Is All Mine, which describes motherhood and childbirth for a sublime intro, and Submarine, featuring Robert Wyatt, evoking a sense of rebelliousness and urgency. Great album.

 FAVORITE TRACKS: Oceania, Sonnets/Unrealities XI, Where Is The Line? Pleasure Is All Mine, Vökuró

LEAST FAVORITE TRACK: Mouth’s Cradle

 8.8/10

“When in doubt: give”

Outro

I postponed ths review for like 2 months or something, I don’t even know. Basically, from Debut to Vespertine was probably a one-month span of time, while it took me about double that time to actually write about Medúlla, because of what I think was a depressive episode. In the meantime, I started just reviewing shit on RateYourMusic (my username is fantaguarana, if anyone cares). I thought of stopping, I had this feeling that the whole “writing about everything I listen” thing was really forced and starting to become a chore, but now that I actually got to it, I think I notice how much it helps me organize my thoughts on music, compared to just listening to an album and never really reflecting on what it really means.

I’ll probably stop writing about everything I listen to, and leave this blog for the albums that really change me as a person. Have a good day yall.

[oohfluffy]

TIHM Ch.7 | BBH

Group: EXO

Member: Byun Baekhyun

Theme: Angst | Fluff | Rated M | University!AU | Football!AU

Word Count: 2,383

chapter 7

"Come on! Give it a shot!"

You hesitantly looked at who your best friend was pointing at, and saw him. In the midst of the dizzying lights in the crowded place, you can see his bright smile as he talked to his friends on the other side. He was wearing that tight white shirt that holds his toned body for its dear life, and a pale blue jeans to pair his rubber shoes. He has this denim jacket that matches his pants too.

So handsome and neat as usual.

"I don't think I can—" You blushed as you see his eyes caught yours. You quickly turned away.

"If not now, when will you ever get a chance to do this?" Yong Sun grabbed your shoulders with a cheerful smile, making your nervous heart go calm for a bit. "He might be waiting for you to approach him, you know. Guys can be shy too."

You bit your lip as you thought of what to do.

Do I escape or do I go for it?

"Go for it, Saejin." Her smile was too encouraging that you sighed in defeat, making her smile wider. "Yes! I knew you would!"

"If he says no, I'll back down pronto, okay?" You let out a breath as you turned your head to where your first college crush was.

He wasn't there now though.

"I think he went up?" You heard Yong Sun saying as you walked away from her. "Fighting, Jin-ah!"

You waved at her before looking around, trying to find him. When you got to see the bar full of alcoholic beverages, you thought of getting one just in case you lose your confidence, which kept on depleting as seconds pass by.

"Nope. You're not drinking, Saejin." You mumbled to yourself as you turned the other way. Your eyes drifted up the stairs and saw a guy in white shirt trudging in the second floor hallway. You tried calming your loud beating heart before taking steps towards the staircase.

Here goes nothing.

You sighed in relief as you got to get out of the dance floor, patting your aching arms from the pushing you got in the middle. Your eyes were restless as your feet landed on the second floor ground. Compared to the noisy environment downstairs, it was peaceful here.

Is he escaping the noise as well? Is he that kind of person? Is he like me? Or is he—

"Hey."

You almost took a step back to the staircase when you heard a deep voice on your side. Your eyes widened as you saw him with a drink in his hand, his jacket was dangling on his arm. You darted your eyes away from him, trying to keep breathing as he stared at you.

"Uh... I'm—Am I intruding—"

"No! No..." He almost exclaimed as he looked around the empty hallway behind him. "It's just me here, and this floor is an open territory as the first floor is. You're free to roam around."

"Oh, that's..." You bit your lip as you shyly nodded. "...great."

A few minutes has past and you were still standing in front of him as he took sips on his glass, eyes were restless but kept on coming back to you. 

Damn, what was I supposed to do?

"Do you want to sit somewhere, Saejin?" He suddenly spoke, surprising you. Not only because he talked all of a sudden, but he knew what's your name. 

HE KNOWS ME!

"I—"

"We can stay at the living room at the end of this hallway, less noise and peaceful." He kindly smiled as he gestured the well-lit hallway behind him, probably where he came from. "It's alright if you're not comfortable, I'll just be there if you need something."

GO FOR IT, JIN-AH! You can almost hear Yong Sun's shout in your brain.

"I'll—" You let out a sigh as your eyes met his once again. His round eyes twinkled under the calming lights around you, allowing you to drown within his gaze. "I'll come with you, Hyoseop sunbaenim."

His grin was contagious as he tipped his glass towards his back. Your heart swelled at his kindness, even though you're probably just one of those juniors that he has showed his generosity to. He turned his back on you as he waved towards the way. 

"Hmm. Let's go then."

—

Your eyes closed as you leaned your head back on the couch, your book was within your grasp but was slowly slipping from it. It's fortunate that your first class starts in the afternoon, not in the morning, or else your mind would not be in its best state after a hangover. Jiwon already left after breakfast though, not even saying goodbye to you. 

You figured she was still upset about you attending that damn party with those girls.

"Argh." You groaned as you closed your book before looking up at the clock on the wall. 10:30 it says. You decided that you'd prepare earlier to get coffee in the nearest cafe, and go to the library, maybe to pull yourself together before class.

A cold shower truly woke your senses, your warm skin tingling under the shower head. Your mind went over to what happened last night as you gently scrubbed your arms with a mesh sponge.

Shouldn't I thank Baekhyun for last night? For the comfort he gave me when I was out of my wits? I think Jiwon mentioned that he gave us a ride home too.

Your eyebrows scrunched as you thought of how you should approach him today if you'd see him around. Wouldn't that be embarrassing?

He saw me in my weakest state.

"He'd forget that, wouldn't he?" You mumbled as you frowned at your arms that hugged his body— "I couldn't forget though." You groaned as you turned the shower on again to rinse yourself.

You decided to thank him when you see him today.

Closing your locker door, you looked around to seek for a familiar puppy face. It was ten minutes before lunch break ends. Not being able to see anyone familiar among the students around the hallways, you thought that you'll just search for him after class. You tugged your bag straps down as you walked up the stairs, preparing your short message of gratitude for the guy.

"Thank you for last night, Baekhyun sunbae." You mumbled to yourself, feeling a bit weird about what you said. "That doesn't sound right."

"Thank you for comforting me?" You shook your head in disapproval. "Thank you for bringing us home last night, sunbae."

You tsked at your awkward thank-you's as you turned to the corner of the hallway at the end. You were about to go straight ahead when you heard something weird on the restroom area on your right. Your eyes widened as your skin had goosebumps.

Was that a gasp?

Your feet halted as your eyes went to the dark restroom area by your right. It was an empty hallway as it was under construction, so nobody enters there.

"Did I hear it right?" You whispered as you desired to run away already. You just couldn't move your feet. "I should probably just—"

"Ah!"

Adrenaline rushed through your nerves, and without knowing, you were in front of the girls' restroom door. It was opened a bit, and a dim light shadowing behind it. You peeked at the space, and saw the reflection of the huge mirror. You squinted your eyes at it, forehead almost bumping the door.

Is that a person? 

You should probably run now, but your eyes remained focus on that back—

"Yes, Baekhyun. Just like that! Keep on doing that, hmm. Shove those pretty fingers in me."

Your eyes widened as you got to see the gray hair of the guy that you owe a sincere thank-you. His back was on the mirror, hips moving forward sensually as if he was rubbing himself onto something—someone rather. His head was tilted on to the woman that is plastered against a wall behind her. His shoulders flexing as he did something below him. They were clothed, but that doesn't make the scenario any more innocent.

"Are you hard, baby? Will you fuck me here, Baekhyun? Please do! Please give it to me." The woman wailed desperately as she gripped on the said guy's ass, squeezing them as she pulled him closer. You see Baekhyun's head jerk away from her, making her shut up.

You stepped away as you heard the woman moan, probably against his mouth as it was a muffled one. Your legs almost gave up on you as you did. 

Get the hell out of here, Saejin. Keep yourself together. 

You quickly snapped your body towards the main hallway and ran away from that sinful area. 

"Thanking him is probably not for today, huh." You shuddered at the thought of seeing him today. You wouldn't stand thinking of him as a good guy for now. After doing some things at that dark room, you couldn't bare to sincerely thank him without a hint of disgust.

Why does that matter though? He helped me last night, so he deserves gratitude from me. Why does it matter that he's currently making out—or more with some girl?

"No, not today." You decided as you opened the door to your first class, away from that dark hallway.

You thought that having caffeine in your system would keep your mind sane in class, but a single scenario kept your mind away from the lecture your poor professor was teaching. 

He is truly a freaking playboy, huh? Does he not get tired of doing that every day?

As the bell rang, you guiltily stood up from your seat as your mind was as empty as it was when you entered the class. You mumbled to yourself to self-study later to make up for this lecture while you packed your untouched notebook and pen. 

"Why's he here?"

"Is he playing around with someone from this class?"

"Oh my god, he looks so damn hotter every day."

"He said he's just waiting for someone."

"You don't think it's her, right?"

"Let's hope not."

You barely had any of your woke brain cells right now until you stopped by the front door of the room. You could hear whispers behind it, meaning something that you wouldn't like to see is happening.

Your feet were quick to decide to leave the room by the back door of the room. Your consciousness probably sensed some bad aura outside of that front door. 

I've got a bad feeling.

You quickly opened the back door, and didn't bother to look back at the crowded space on the front. You walked briskly with your eyes in front, alert and—

"Lee Saejin?"

Your walk just turned into a full blast run, swiftly turning to the corner and almost smacking into a person. You just muttered an apology before going down the stairs—

"Hey!" A hand took a hold of your arm, stopping you from taking a step down. You didn't know if it was your instinct, but you slapped away that hand that touched you. Your eyes were glaring as you looked back at the person.

Your bad intuition about that aura was absolutely right.

"Woah, sorry to startle you." Baekhyun breathed out, surprised by the glare you welcomed him with. His hand hanging mid-air. Those sinful hands. "Are you alright? Why do you look mad?"

"Don't touch me again."

Those words were like sharp knives that pierced his heart, not just his confidence. His shoulders slumped in disappointment. He thought you'd be happy and thankful to him the moment you see him again. Despite feeling that way, he smiled at you.

"Sorry, I forgot you're not like my girls."

My girls? Of course, plural form.

"Of course not." You snapped, not able to control the irritation flowing within you. Your eyes drifted at the piercing he's got on his right ear. There's a short silver earring dangling, making him more attractive to look at. Instead of becoming feminine with an earring, he looks more masculine.

"Are you forgetting something to say to me?" He said while looking into your eyes, hopeful that you'd still say kind words to him. He couldn't believe he'd be like a child waiting to be praised by his mom. "Like a simple thanks or some—"

"I appreciate what you did last night, but you didn't have to do that." You cut him off as you looked back at him. "I would have been alright by myself."

"Are you hearing yourself right now? You could have been taken by that douchebag if I didn't see you!" Baekhyun almost shouted, his eyes suddenly stern and mad. "You were vulnerable and drunk—"

"I wasn't drunk! They probably placed something in that drink they gave me—"

"You knew that, but you still drank it?!" Baekhyun incredulously asked with a new fire burning in his eyes. "What kind of stupidity is that, Saejin?!"

You stopped talking at his shout, eyes dropping at his feet. His shoulders heaved up and down as he breathed heavily. He sounded so concerned about you that you almost believed it.

"Just..." You struggled finding words that wouldn't end up with you choking. "...don't bother yourself worrying about me, I don't need pity. You don't even know anything, so stop it."

"Then tell me!"

"I don't need you, Baekhyun sunbaenim."

You did not mean to hurt him in any way, you just needed to get him off of your back. He's not supposed to be entering your mess of a life. He should just keep on fooling around, especially it's his last year of college. He doesn't need to worry about a person like you.

You don't need him.

"So don't bother trying to be friends with me." You turned your back at him, heart feeling heavy as you quickly took steps down the stairs. Leaving him there with a blank stare felt bad. When you glanced at him at the last step, he was still looking at the space where you were earlier.

Maybe he's just trying to get into my pants. You thought.

But you were just convincing yourself, you knew.

"What a great way to thank him."

—

♫ Ch.8

[i-write-sometimes-blog]

Earth Girl (Rey x Reader)

Request: Can I request a Rey x reader fic where reader is from our world? Thanks for such great writing and responsiveness!! By anon

Words: 1, 659

A/N: I totally forgot I finished this yesterday and I didn't post it. Anyways, I wrote this at 4 a.m. hope is not that bad.

The stars were shimmering that night, the deep night sky above you always made your heart beat faster. Leaning on the railing of the rooftop of the tall building you contemplated the city on the most quiet hours, you did it often when you felt your life was bored, and it kept turning more and more bored because you were in the rooftop every single night, gazing at the stars and wondering if there could be something else out there, something better than just your regular life. You chucked at yourself for your childish thoughts.

“Now go back to reality” you whispered, it was weird to hear your voice after long hours of silence. The cold was hitting your skin, it was a very cold night, so you fixed the scarf around your neck preparing to go back to your apartment. You turned and found a mask in front of you that covered your mouth before you could scream, with a quick move they placed something on the side of your body, a weave of electric pain ran over your body making you felt to the ground. The last thing you saw before fainting was a kind of vehicle floating in the sky.

You didn’t know for how many time you were unconscious but you were sure it was a really long time. Your body ached for what you think it was an electric shock as you got on your feet, touching behind your ear your realized there was something, like a round piece of metal in your skin that made you shiver. Then you noticed the strange place you were into. It was a small metal room, the only way in and out was a kind of door in one of the walls that had a circular window. Panic rushed through your mind as you remembered how you ended up here, you’ve been kidnapped. You didn’t knew who or why they had take you, you didn’t have much money or an important work, but most important it seemed impossible to you how they came in the middle of the night, to one of the tallest rooftops of the city but they came… in a spaceship?

“I’m dreaming” you said “Yeah, that’s it. Just a very weird dream, I’ll wake up soon in my comfy bed.” you told yourself trying to calm you down. But as the time passed you were still there, maybe it was not a dream and if it was it seemed oddly real, it felt extremely real.

“Is anyone there?” you yelled looking through the small window that leaded to what looked like a simple hall. “Let me out!” you yelled and kept yelling for a time until a man walked your direction.

“Shut up!” he yelled at you.

“Let me go!” you begged.

“No way, sweetheart.”

“What did you put in my neck?” you asked him as you tried to show him.

“Universal translator” he said “You don’t speak galactic basic, do you?” He said, galactic what? he kept speaking “Or binary. If you didn’t have that you and me weren’t having this conversation”

The door opened in front of you, the man took your arms and placed in what looked like some sort of handcuffs and you didn’t fight much, you thought you were still dreaming or at least hoping. He leaded you for the strange hall made of steel with more doors just like the one you came from, you heard some people screaming for help and also some noises you had never heard before, you walked in silence until you arrived to a tent where more people awaited with their hands held as yours. Outside the tent you could heard some people cheering and a man’s voice saying something by a microphone but you weren’t sure of what he said until the same man that brought you there guided you to a stage where a big fat man was announcing the next sale.

“My friends, you know I always do my best to bring you the most rare, unique and exotic creatures of the galaxy” he said and the crowd bursted in joy “But today I pushed my limits, I sent my boys to a forbidden place, a very special place just for you”

You could saw the big man having a good time and also you could see part of the crowd, there were women and men dressing in very exuberant clothing, some had feathers in some big hats and dresses of vibrant colors but then you saw a light between the people, a girl that had some kind of white hood covering most of her face, she was different compared with all this persons.

“Walk to his side” the man said and confused you followed his orders.

“Here she is” the big man said. The crowd exchanged glances and murmured things until a woman in a red dress spoke.

“A human?” she mocked. By this time you were debating yourself if this was a dream or not, and it terrefied you how much this didn’t look like a dream nor a nightmare, but you were still figuring out.

“Not any human” said the man.

“Then where does she come from? I didn’t come here just for a human” said the woman in red, while you stood in the middle of the stage, looking how the girl with the white hood turned around and started to leave the place, she had caught your attention since you saw her for the first time but you couldn’t tell what.

“Earth” The fat man smiled and as he said with a dramatic tone, causing a collective gasp from the audience. The girl stopped and turned around to met your gaze, you felt yourself beginning to blush with just her eyes focused on you.

“Let the offers begin, how much would you paid for a Earth girl?” said the fat man and the people started to yelled things you didn’t understand. You realized they were selling you and it scared you to death. The girl seemed to know your fears somehow, you could feel her in your mind and you begged for her help.

She closed her eyes for a long moment and when she opened them again the ground trembled, then again, the crowd frozen as they felt the move. And then it trembled again but you finally got to see what was causing it, it was a huge beast that looked very close to what you knew as a rhino except this one was bigger and its horn was so much bigger than the ones you’ve saw.

“Boss” yelled a bad looking man “The mudhorn escaped"

"I see that, idiot!" He growled "get that shit in a cell or I'll feed you to the rest of them"

The scared crowd started to run as fast as their luxurious clothes allowed them as the beast came closer, your head was beyond confused but as an instinct you jumped out of the small stage landing gladfully on your feet, dream or not you would save your life from that.

Suddenly a hand wrapped around one of your arms and scared you almost hit that beautiful girl you saw before, she was even prettier now close to you, her soft features and brown eyes made your heart skipped a beat.

"I'm here to help" she said as she took of the cuffs from your hands "I need you to run with me, okay?" She told you not getting an answer from you, you were amazed by her. "Can you understand me?" She asked.

"I really wish you're not a dream" was the only thing that left your mouth.

"I'm not. Now move" she said before she held your hand and ran, you almost fell to the ground impressed by her strength. You rushed with her outside the tent, looking around you the place you were was really close to a desert, everything seemed kinda orange, it was fun.

Then you saw the ship. A big thing in the middle of the desert that looked like some si-fi spaceship or a house, you weren't sure what it was but sure it was big. The girl took you inside and closed the door.

"Poe, we need to go!" She shouted as she walked you through the strange place. Two men emerged from a circular hall and glanced at you.

"Who's she?" Said one of them.

"Just turn the engines on, Poe" the girl said. "There's a mudhorn out, we have to hurry"

"I'm not taking a stranger into the Resistance, Rey. Why did you bring her?" Rey, so that was her name. She and Poe kept talking as if you weren't there with them, the other man noticed it and gazed.

"Are you okay?" He asked, you nodded. "Where are you from?" You doubted the response, you were going to say your city but then you remembered that they had call you Earth girl so maybe that was the right answer.

"Earth" you murmured.

"Earth?!" Said both men. Suddenly the ground started to tremble just like before, the rhino was coming closer. Without any other questions the men ran and moments later the whole shit started to rumble.

"Are we really gonna fly" you asked Rey as she guided you to a round table not yet letting go of your hand.

“You don’t have ships in Earth?” she said.

“Well, we have planes and helicopters” you told her and her face lighted with curiosity.

“Planes” she giggled “You have to tell me what’s that later, Earth girl” she said finally letting go of your hand as she turned to go to what you assumed was a cockpit.

“I have a name” you said making her turn her head to look at you. “I’m Y/N” she smiled.

“Rey. Welcome to the Millenium Falcon” she winked “Your world is about to get a whole lot bigger, Y/N”

[milstrim]

Mutant in the Mirror

Chapter 6: Recognize

Tony swallowed anxiously as he watched the two overly self-sacrificial superheroes in front of him, his left arm reduced to a shaking mess. Flashes of a shield against his chest and the pounding of metal against metal blinded him, and suddenly it wasn't him encased in destroyed armor, it was Penny who was the one beaten to a pulp. Penny on the cold floor, bloody and hurt with tears in her eyes.

He was broken from his nightmare by a soft touch on his shoulder. He tore his eyes away from the two gaunt figures in front of him, looking at Rhodey instead, searching for his familiar warmth of his friend, but finding it interrupted by the foreign face he wore. At least it was something, though.

He turned away from his friend, his heart thrumming anxiously as the announcer declared the beginning of the fight.

Steve and Penny didn't start at each other right away, instead circling around each other in harried, nervous movements, in Penny's case anyway. Steve's face was cold and passive, while Penny's was open to the world. She always had worn her heart out on her sleeve. She was nervous, he could tell, her eyes dark and jittery, every step unsure. Clearly, fighting Captain America hadn't been what she'd expected of tonight.

What Tony hadn't expected, was for Steve's demeanor to completely change for barely a microsecond. He changed from cold and stoic to reassuring and heartfelt before slipping back into his earlier mask. But it was enough, and suddenly Penny looked better. Her eyes didn't dart around in fear, her steps and face nervous, instead she grew confident, holding her ground. He wondered what had happened the past few weeks.

Penny leaped.

Tony had known that Penny was quick, but he barely saw her as she darted across the cage, landing a kick on Steve's stomach. She attempted to take the momentum and jump off of him, but Steve grabbed her ankle and swung her into the wall. Penny stumbled, but only for a moment, gripping the chains and swinging herself to the top.

They fought and fought and fought. It felt as though it would never end.

Sometimes they swung off of chains, using the cage as a jungle gym, other times they did quick hand-to-hand combat, moving so fast their limbs were nothing but a blur. Tony's arm shook the entire time, even as he noticed something peculiar about their movements.

Despite the intensity of their fight, nothing had really happened. There had been pushes and strikes that knocked each other back, but neither showed any hint of truly being hurt. Steve was refraining from hurting Penny. The most obvious show of it was when Steve launched to strike Penny in the face--which was bruised deeply around her left eye and the bridge of her nose--and then his posture changed. Painfully obviously, he slowed, allowing for Penny to grab his arm and throw him.

Tony's chest loosened.

Steve was protecting Penny. He shouldn't have expected any less. The man didn't think the soldier was perfect or the most morally upright person, but he was Steve. He was Steve who protected those who needed his help. He was Steve who was known for his goodness and his support. That might not have been extended to Tony, but it clearly had for Penny.

He knew he needed to get on with the plan, but with both Penny and Steve out here, there was little to do until their fight ended. He couldn't just snatch them out of plain sight. This was a stealth mission, and he hadn't shaved for nothing.

Still, Derrick and Collis made an effort to get closer to the bar, doing their best to stay under the radar. And, all Tony had to say, was that not being noticed had never been his forte.

He looked away to glance back at Penny for a fleeting moment, which was apparently long enough to smack right into Norman Osborn.

Collis recovered first, practically pushing himself in front of Tony as if he knew that the man was straining from attacking Osborn, "Excuse us, sir. I'm very sorry, we didn't see you there."

Norman squinted, but then he plastered on a smile, his gaze lingering on Tony for a second too long, but he held out a hand to shake all the same. Collis and then Derrick, who felt as though his hand were burning the entire time, "It's no problem at all. Are you enjoying the show?"

"Of course, sir," Tony forced out, biting his cheek, "They both know how to pack a punch."

He hummed, "There's a little too much dodging for my taste. I'll have to see about getting Parker's cell changed."

Tony and Rhodey glanced at each other. Rhodey asked, "What's wrong with their cells?"

"Parker and Rogers were placed together a few weeks ago. We were hoping for some infighting, but they've grown very close. Much too close, if you ask me. Which you should, since I run the place."

"I think it makes for an interesting dynamic," Tony dared, accepting a beer from a nearby waitress as he turned back to watching the fight. This time trapped next to Osborn.

Penny and Steve's fight lasted for what felt like hours, but when he glanced at the watch on his wrist, hadn't been more than ten minutes. The crowd was clearly enraptured by the two's battle, every eye hinged on every kick and every right hook. Cheers erupted at every punch, and, as Tony found out, the two could only protect each other for so long.

Eventually, Penny began to stumble. Her moves became slower, her whole body trembling with the effort of staying upright and continuing to fight. The length of the fight and her stay at the Starry Lights Hotel were clearly taking a toll on her, something that Osborn clearly didn't appreciate.

When Penny went down, sprawling onto her knees and then dropping to the ground completely, one billionaire's face was filled eith malice, and the other's with strained sorrow.

Tony hated himself for taking advantage of this, but now was the time, maybe the only time he'd get. He nudged Rhodey, who gave him a nod, moving forward to distract Osborn as he dashed to the bar. The door behind the counter was practically within his reach, but the bartender would be too suspicious if they watched Tony go through it. He doubted it was open to customers.

"Hey!" he called out to the bartender, forcing an angry customer into his voice, "Someone threw up over there. Are you going to clean it up or not?"

"Yes, sir. I'll go get it now."

They grabbed a mop and ran off, the side door swinging open. Tony dashed through the counter, slipping through the door and into the next room. Well, hallway.

It was bright, glaringly so, yellow lights lining the long hallway all barely a foot away from each other. Clearly, they didn't want anybody to be able to hide.

Tony pulled his glasses out of his pocket, tapping them awake and watching as the building was broken down in front of him. There were so many rooms, and so many filled with people, hunched over or splayed on the ground limply or slumped against the wall of their small closet-like rooms. He swallowed, beginning to make his way across the hall.

"Which way, Fri?"

"I cannot, at this time, detect Miss Parker, but a heat signature matching Captain Rogers is in the hallway to your right."

"Good. Lead me to him."

He took the right turn, flinching at the echoing sounds of his footsteps. They must've already had Penny moved to a different cell then, but why couldn't Friday detect her? Surely they wouldn't have moved her out of the building already? But the way Osborn had squinted at him, suspicious, didn't assure anything in him.

Tony had been walking for a couple of minutes before he ran into anyone.

He heard the footsteps echoing behind him, making his heartbeat pick up. He picked up the pace, scrambling to find an open door to slip into. He jangled one knob and then the other, but they refused to budge. He thought briefly about his gauntlet watch, but that would create too much noise. It'd bring more attention to him than if the people in the hallway noticed him.

He tried one last door before the owners of the footsteps rounded a corner, spotting him immediately.

"Hey! What are you doing back here?"

Tony turned around, glad that at least he wouldn't be recognized, "I got lost. I've been looking for a bathroom for the past ten minutes!"

The two exchange doubtful looks. The first one said, "What's your name?"

"Derrick Coleman," Tony answered immediately, holding out his hand to shake, which they did on instinct, "CEO of Coleman Associates up in Chicago. We provide the trucks down here for transporting the cargo."

"Colemen?" the second one asked, "I thought Osborn had banned you from coming down to the hotel. He said you were a scamming snitch"

Well, shit.

Before the men could rip the guns off their hips, Tony had already drawn back his fist, landing a heavy punch on the blond one's face. The man stumbled back at the hit, and Tony flicked his hand at the pain of the punch, though he didn't let it stop him from kicking the other one in the crotch.

He groaned, dropping his weapon and reaching down on instinct. Tony punched his nose, knocking the man to the ground, and snatching the dropped weapon off the ground.

As his hand clasped around it, he realized it wasn't a gun, but rather a shiny spear, electricity thrumming underneath it. It extended into its full size at his touch, and he could feel the power the rather simple looking tool possessed. Clearly, these people had some access to that flying vulture guy Penny had been so concerned about.

With no time to be wistful or guilty, he swung the weapon at the blond man, who had stood up and was attack ready but dropped immediately as the spear touched his skin. Like a sack of rocks, he was on the ground, down for the count.

So. That hadn't really gone how he'd hoped it would.

Tony swallowed, thinking quick as he tried to find a place to hide the body, but he could already hear more footsteps. Either more people were coming down route or he'd caused too big of a commotion. Either way, Tony couldn't stay here and figure it out. The man took a moment to retract the spear and then dashed off to Steve's cell, following Friday's instructions as quickly as possible.

Which was made even more fun as a shrill alarm began screeching through the hallways, reminding him of a school bell. So much for the stealth mission.

"Take a right here," his glasses instructed, "Take another right. And then the third door on the left."

God, this place really was a labyrinth.

By the time Tony approached the door that supposedly led to Steve, he was out of breath with how much running he'd been doing. He never had liked cardio, and he could hear more footsteps still. They thundered throughout the halls, quaking.

Tony extended the spear, twisting it in his arms as he stood in front of Steve's cell. It thrummed with power, the tip glowing a bright blue. He placed it against the doorknob, which sparked and flew off at the touch. It was actually a pretty interesting weapon, and an image of placing it into the tips of the Iron Spider suit crossed his mind.

If Penny would ever want to speak to him again, that was.

The force of the doorknob flying off cracked the door open, revealing nothing but pitch black inside. He hesitated as he pushed the door open, stepping in. He moved to click his glasses, wanting Friday to light up the room in front of him, but was stopped as a hand grabbed him.

The hand clutched a fistful of his shirt, tearing him through the door and against a wall in the damp, dusty room. He was lifted against the wall, his head knocking against it and making him see bright colors. It was the only thing that was different than the smothering black of the room.

Escaping from the darkness, he heard the low growl of Steve's voice, "Who are you and what the hell do you want?"

"Well if you would turn a light on and put me down, maybe you'd find out," Tony snarked back on instinct. The grip on him loosened, disbelief evident in the way the soldier's breath caught.

"Tony?"

"Yeah, asshole. Now put me down." Steve let go instantly. Tony dropped, grunting as he made contact with the ground once again and squinting as a lightbulb was flicked on. Steve glared at him in confusion, an eyebrow raised as he took in Tony's appearance, "Oh, yeah. My bad."

Tony pressed his finger to the invisible button above his ear. The face he wore melted away, and Steve's face softened. Humor tickled in his eyes, and Tony knew it had to do with the loss of his goatee.

"You, uh--you look--"

"Yeah, yeah," Tony interrupted, "Now you have a beard and I don't. Get over it, Hagrid."

"Okay, okay. Sorry," Steve placated, taking a step back.

Tony glanced around the small cell that was nothing more than a broom closet. Was this where Penny had been the past few weeks? Stuck here in this small space? She must have been losing her mind. He'd seen the footage of her in the Storage Vault where she'd had practically a mansion and an entire suit to play with. This place would've been hell for her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Partying," he snapped, "I came to get Parker. Do you know where they put her?"

Steve shrugged, his face darkening, "They started taking her away about a week ago for experiments. I don't know where, just that she won't be back until morning."

"We don't have until morning. Are you good to fight out of here?" Steve hesitated, "What? You said they're experimenting on her! Put whatever arguments we have aside because I'm not letting her go through any more pai--"

"It's not that," Steve snapped, his brows furrowing in frustration, "I don't want that kid here any more than you do, Tony, but I didn't just randomly get kidnapped. This is a mission. I've been collecting evidence against this place. The team isn't here yet and if we don't get the rest of these people free--"

Tony pressed his glasses, "Friday. Get a message to the rest of those assholes to get over here. And to Rhodey and Vision too. We're raiding, right now."

"Tony--"

"It's the best possible time. Osborn's here, right next to Rhodey. He'll keep that asshole here, you have names that I'll take a list of later, and we can get this entire place cleared out. Besides, I'm not leaving Penny here any longer, and you can bet your mission is over once they realize Iron Man has taken one of their prisoners back. Either we work together or we don't."

Steve sighed, "Fine. Let's go."

 ---

 Norman had known something was terribly wrong once he'd run into Derrick Coleman.

Coleman was an arrogant man, not exceedingly smart, but even he knew better than to return after the billionaire had explicitly cut him off. Not only the man but his entire company. He didn't tolerate people messing with his business.

So when he'd ran into him again, he'd forced on a smile and pleasant friendliness. He was sure the man with a poorly covered interest in Captain America and recent failure Penelope Parker, and a voice that was too familiar was bound to cause some trouble. No need to make a scene about it.

But then he'd been gone, and barely ten minutes later, the intruder alarm had gone off. As he'd dashed off--not noticing the pursuing figure of Collis Jones--he'd known instantly where he'd recognized that voice.

Tony Stark.

He should've prepared better for this. He should've known that Stark wouldn't abandon his little pet, even if he had been mad at her. Parker was too powerful to just let go, and she was especially too powerful to let the competition have. Though he'd expected sooner resistance.

Stark must have taken his sweet time finding the secret of the Starry Lights Hotel.

"Send as many guards as we can to Dr. Octavious' room. Nothing gets through to Parker, do you understand me?" he ordered to a group of men surrounding him. They nodded and rushed off to follow his orders, a handful staying behind to escort him to said room where Parker was being held.

He grit his teeth.

Nothing would take his Little Spider.

 ---

 Penny grit her teeth at the sound of the alarm ringing around the room, wishing she could bury her head underneath a pillow and try to block it out. That's what she usually did with sensory overloads anyway, not that it had ever held much success. Still, the prospect of being to lay in her bed beat her situation now. Even cuddling up next to Steve would be better, no matter how embarrassed she always was when she woke up.

Steve was warm, but the metal table she was strapped to was cold. Her entire body shivered with dreadful anticipation, waiting for whatever they were going to test on her today. She wondered if it had something to do with the alarm going off, but she couldn't think. She was too tired, her body too racked with pain to think about anything other than: When will I be safe?

The answer didn't seem to be soon.

With a tremble up her spine, Norman Osborn strutted through the doors.

It had been a few days since she'd seen him, though she'd heard him during her 'tests' yesterday, while on a call with the Man in the White coat. He was the one who usually injected her with things or cut out pieces from her body. She hated every second she was in the room with him. Not that Osborn was much better.

The room felt like it shook with the force of his anger, and Penny shrunk back the best she could, her wrists clanging against the metal cuff. She wanted to be back with Steve. She wanted to go home.

"Mr. Osborn," the Man in the White coat greeted cautiously, closing out of a hologram that showed some interesting details about an octopus. She always tried to read whatever glimpses she could catch. Octopi were pretty cool, "What's going on? I was just about to administer--"

"Forget that serum. Today we're testing that little sixth sense of hers."

"That one isn't ready! We haven't even finished examining its effects on our rats. It could kill her."

She swallowed down a fearful whimper, making her eyes a stony glare as the two glanced at her. She could be brave. She could be brave. She could be brave.

"Then it'll test out her healing as well. Go get it."

"Mr. Osborn," the Man in the White coat consoled, "This is the only test subject we have. If something happens to it, we won't be able to carry on--"

Osborn shoved past the scientist, pushing the man aside, who stumbled and barely caught onto his desk. The billionaire tore open a cabinet in the wall, pulling out a pink bottle almost half a foot in height and attaching a too long and too thick syringe to it. Penny had always hated needles, but she'd only ever had her flu shot or blood drawn by a butterfly needle. Before this place anyway.

Whenever she got out, she hoped she'd never have to see a needle again.

Penny shivered away, but couldn't escape the man as he stood beside her, not a sliver of emotion on his face. She tried to twist away, but his hand gripped her face, forcing her cheek against the chill of the table. She flinched as the cold metal pierced her skin, swallowing forcefully as it dug into her neck, the contents of the vial emptying into her blood stream.

Immediately she felt woozy, her vision drifting and the alarms around her fading. As her vision dimmed to nothingness and her ears felt as though they were filling with fuzz, there was a clang! of the doors opening, the force knocking the doors into the wall and reverberating around the room. Neither she nor Osborn moved a muscle, the needle still in her neck as the vial emptied, and, while her vision was gone, she could hear well enough to make out a familiar voice.

"Let her go, Osborn."

Mr. Stark?

No. It couldn't be... She'd been here three weeks. No way Mr. Stark was here. She wasn't his responsibility. She wasn't his mentee anymore, not that she really had been to begin with. Why was he here?

Osborn still hadn't let go of her face, but she savored her ability to still hear at the moment. She hoped that the serum's abilities would allow her to keep her hearing. Her vision was already gone--her chest shook with fear and adrenaline, tears biting at her eyes. She didn't like dark--but she could still at least hear. However fuzzy and vague it sounded.

"Stark. Rogers," the man responded coolly, and she could practically feel his smile, "I wouldn't take another step. I am the one with a needle in poor Penelope's neck."

"Hiding behind a child. Real brave move there," Mr. Stark spat, "Now move away from her."

"It's too late, Stark. You gave up the little spider. If you'd wanted her more badly you should've protected her more. Besides, you didn't create her."

"Neither did you," Steve said.

"She became mine when she destroyed my spider. I spent millions on that. Gone in seconds. But she's still got the spider in her. So, tell you what, once I've got what I wanted, you can have your pet back."

"You'll kill her first," Mr. Stark said. She shivered, "So step away and tell us--"

She couldn't hear. What was he saying? Where had he gone?

"Mr. Stark?" she felt more than heard herself say, flinching at the pain of the needle as she talked. But it didn't stop her, "Steve? I can't--"

The hand on her face gripped harder, his nails biting into her skin. She stopped talking immediately, reduced to waiting. She was a superhero. And she was waiting like some kind of damsel in distress. She waited for what felt like hours, occasionally interrupted by flashes of pain, but, in her panic induced haze, was probably nothing more than a few minutes.

Her spidey sense ran up her spine once again, but this time it didn't feel like a threat. It felt like safety. Was she safe?

A moment later, the needle was taken from her neck, and the sense of danger receded. Osborn must have stepped away. Or been knocked out. Either worked with her.

The feeling of safety grew closer, like a warm blanket, as she felt a hand touch her hair. She leaned into the touch, which disappeared quickly only to be replaced around her wrists, breaking the metal clasps holding her down. Two different hands encased in metal shattered the equally cold metal around her ankles. And then she was free. Well, free of the table.

Penny immediately sat up, swinging her head around as she tried to make sense of the world. She couldn't see and she couldn't hear, but she guessed Osborn had been right. Her senses lead her.

She reached out a hand, "Steve?"

Calloused hands gripped her own, a calm thumb rubbing up against it. She could feel the vibrations of him talking, but his words were lost upon her.

"Steve? I can't--I can't hear. Or see. Are you okay?"

The thumb paused, and she thought Steve and Mr. Stark might be talking. She still didn't understand. Why was Mr. Stark here? Did he know about the mission?

One of the hands clasping her own let go, tracing up her arm and eventually onto her cheek, clearly in an attempt to not startle her. She thought it was Steve's hand, it felt familiar. He had warm hands that were twice the size of her own, and this one covered nearly her whole cheek. The other hand took her own and placed it up to his face, her fingers brushing up against a bushy beard.

Steve.

She clasped his hand tighter, "Hi, Steve. Sorry I had to kick your ass earlier."

She felt a ghost of a smile pressed against her hand. Both of them knew it was total bullshit, but neither mentioned it out loud. After a moment, he let go of her cheek, her hand pulled away as well, before someone else replaced him.

These hands were smaller and rougher, but no less gentle as they followed the same motions as Steve had. They traced the bruise underneath her eye, stopping immediately when she winced at the pain. When her hand was placed against the cheek of who she assumed was Mr. Stark, she pulled back in shock.

This wasn't Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark had a goatee. This person didn't.

Her face twisted in confusion, reaching back out, "Steve? Who is...?"

Steve retook her hand after a moment, tapping against her hand. It took her a moment to recognize that it was Morse code.

T. O. N. Y.

She furrowed her brows, "What? No. Mr. Stark has a goatee."

Steve shook with silent laughter beside her.

S. H. A. V. E. D.

"What? Why? What?"

Steve started to tap something else out, when he stopped suddenly. She felt a tremble of danger run up her spine. They weren't safe.

She felt herself release a yelp of surprise as she was suddenly scooped up, hugged close to Steve's chest.

They ran.

 ---

 Tony glared at the man in front of him, the spear held aloft in one hand and his gauntlet whining in the other. Steve aimed the gun he'd looted from one of the many men they'd taken down on the way here. Tony's ribs ached even thinking about the amount of fights they'd gotten into on the way here, and his heart tightened as he glanced at Penny.

She lay stiff on the table, her head pressed roughly against it, and so clearly afraid. The needle pressed in her neck had yet to leave, Osborn still pressing the pink liquid down.

Osborn scowled, "She became mine when she destroyed my spider. I spent millions on that. Gone in seconds. But she's still got the spider in her. So, tell you what, once I've got what I wanted, you can have your pet back."

"You'll kill her first," Mr. Stark whispered, putting as much cold threat into his voice as he could, "So step away and tell us what the hell is in that via--"

"Mr. Stark?" Penny called out, her voice wobbling with fear as she flinched, "Steve? I can't--"

She cut off as Osborn's hand pressed up against her face violently hard. They took a threatening step forward.

"It's okay, Penny. We're right here," Steve tried to assure, but Penny didn't acknowledge the man's reassurance.

"You're cornered, Norman. What's in the vial?"

"Hm? Oh, this? Y'know, I'm not completely sure. Dr. Octavious?" Norman lied through his teeth, a twisted smile shining through his teeth. Tony hesitantly shifted to look at the so called scientist, glaring at the man.

Dr. Octavious shot Osborn an angered look, but with no other options, he complied, "It's an experimental sensory tamper. It should make her blind and deaf, if it doesn't kill her."

"Excuse me!?" Tony demanded.

"Temporarily, temporarily!" Dr. Octavious rushed, "It's not permanent! Probably just a day or so."

Tony grit his teeth. Osborn smiled.

"Perfect. Should be long enough to move her."

"You're not going anywhere," Steve said, his voice steely.

"Oh, and you're going to stop me? One wrong move and..." Osborn fiddled with the needle, and he saw Penny squirm in pain, a low whine escaping her throat. His eyes darkened and he couldn't stop himself from looking away, forcing himself to take a deep breath.

Tony caught a door at the other end of the room slipping open out of the corner of his eye. He refused to give any indication of his relief, instead glaring down the billionaire in front of him.

"You're trapped, Osborn. Let her go," Tony ordered.

Osborn scoffed, "You and what army, Stark?"

The click of a gun rang across the room. Osborn froze, his face dropping comedically.

Rhodey's face melted into view, the blue mask disappearing with a soft click, revealing Rhodes' stony expression, "I think you should be asking yourself that question. Now, take the needle out and put your hands in the air."

Tony and Steve both approached, weapons raised, as Norman did as told, his face sour with defeat. Rhodey called Octavious over as well, and together, the billionaire and the colonel tied the offenders up. Steve stepped over to Penny. Tony heard the soldier mumble, 'Hey, kid,' as he dumped the two men against the wall, promptly knocking them out.

"Tony, come help me with her cuffs," Steve said, and he marched over, using the gauntlet around his wrist to shatter the metal holding the kid down.

Once free, she immediately sat up, her head swinging around in confusion. Clearly the serum had worked. Her eyes stared around emptily, though they hadn't lost their usual sharp intelligence. Penny reached out a hand towards Rogers instinctively.

"Steve?"

He grabbed her hand gently, rubbing it soothingly, "Hey, kid. It's okay. Me and Tony are right--"

"Steve? I can't--I can't hear. Or see. Are you okay?"

Steve paused, glancing up at Tony and Rhodey with a lost expression, "Is there anything we can do to fix this?"

Tony picked up the vial, breaking off the needle and examining the last of the pink liquid inside before shoving it in his pocket, "Not here, not now. We're just going to have to lead her out of here until I can get her to the Medbay. Or for whatever this is to wear off."

The soldier nodded, and Tony watched with sharp eyes as he traced one hand up her arm and then onto her cheek before taking her other hand and placing it on his own face. Her eyes widened with recognition and comfort, squeezing his hand tighter.

"Hi, Steve. Sorry I had to kick your ass earlier," she murmured, tilted humor in her voice.

Steve smiled.

Tony's chest panged with guilt and regret. He'd known Penny for three months, and he hadn't even been able to give her a compliment without the kid dipping away from him and not asking for help. She'd known Steve for three weeks and reached out for him as though she'd known him for years. She felt safe with him. The Avenger knew it wasn't Penny's fault, but rather his own. He hadn't been the mentor she'd needed, a good mentor. He'd been proud of her from afar. He'd kept her safe from afar. Not that she knew any of that, or that he'd even done a particularly good job.

After a moment, Steve stepped away, gesturing to him. Tony looked at him in confusion.

"She said your name too. And I think she'd be glad to know you're here."

Not sure how to react to Steve's kindness and sappiness, he rolled his eyes, but stepped to kneel in front of Penny nonetheless, taking her hands just as Steve had. He followed Steve's motions, letting Penny know where his hands were at all time as he traced up to her cheek, his fingers resting just below a bruise on her cheek. He traced a cut that rested below it, small and precise. Surgical.

He lightened his touch when she winced in pain, moving onto letting him know who she was by placing her hand on his cheek. Unlike her reaction with Steve--filled with trust and recognition--she instead pulled back, as though burned. She called out for Rogers once more.

"Steve? Who is...?"

Steve gave him a wary look, uncertain, but retook her hand, tapping against in Morse code. He recognized his name as it was typed out, and so did Penny, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"What? No. Mr. Stark has a goatee."

Steve shook his head while Rhodey barked with laughter. Even Tony couldn't help but huff out in amusement as she sputtered in confusion. Steve tapped her arm again, but Penny only looked more confused.

"What? Why? What?"

Humor bloomed in the room, but it was stamped out quickly by the sound of moving troops. All heads turned towards the door at the sound of thundering footsteps and the charging of weapons.

Rhodey poked his head out, immediately retreating with a panicked expression, "We need to go."

Previous ///

[prism-sakura-s]

Saltwater Brew

A/N: So um... @sliceofmaggpie idk if you remember but I said I wanted to write a fic inspired by one of your mermay drawings and I know it’s been seven months but I finally finished it so. here it is.

Warnings: murdering/drowning/eating people mention (the cannibalism is more brief though), mentions of loved ones going missing, pain (?)

Word count: 7k (yeah I... kinda went crazy w this)

Pairing: Paulkins

~

Emma blew a stray lock from her face, growing bored out of her mind. Honestly, curse the gods with making her the way she is. They made a siren who hates sitting and singing all day long. Who does that?

A sadist, probably, thought Emma. Which is, accurately, what most of the gods are. That's what she's learned anyway.

Sure, she would admit, when you first start out as a siren you have fun watching the male sailors plummet to their deaths, or drowning anyone who managed to survive. But after a few hundred years or so it becomes boring. At least, to Emma it does. The other sirens don't seem to tire of it at all. She wonders why.

Oh, and there's the fact that killing people isn't exactly the best hobby to do in taste. In Emma's opinion, the sailors should be grateful they're being spared from living any longer, but she recognizes the fact that, strangely, people would prefer to live a little longer in this cruel world.

"Emma!" a cheery voice called.

The siren in question groaned. Gods, not another one, she pleaded uselessly.

"Emma!!!" The voice was louder and much more urgent, though somehow, it still kept its chipper tone.

"I'm coming!" Emma called back, exasperated. She promptly turned her tail into legs before standing up. She took her time making her way to the strangely smooth cliff.

Upon arriving she saw the rest of the sirens looking and grinning in the direction of a ginormous wooden ship sailing towards the direction of the rock. Emma sighed and walked towards the crowd before plopping down and stretching her legs. She still didn't understand why they had to show them off instead of just keeping their tails. Not that she didn't like the legs, she really saw them as a convenience, but seeing as the songs did the trick anyway, there seemed to be no need.

"Men are most likely to jump if we show them off," Zooey had explained with a big, dumb grin that Emma wanted to punch.

"But men will jump if we sing anyway," Emma had argued.

"So? They will still be more likely to jump if we have legs," Zooey insisted. Emma had left the conversation at that, worried that she would lose more brain cells if she kept it up.

The ship wasn't too far now, and the chattering around Emma grew more frantic and excited. She saw Nora and Zooey climb on the highest rock.

"Alright everyone!" Zooey called in her high, joyful tone that Emma oh so despised. "Let's go get this one!”

Everyone except Emma cheered. Emma, in turn, groaned, grateful that it was drowned out in the noise. If anybody heard her, they would surely her ask if there was something wrong, then continue to talk for a long while Emma slowly dissociated.

"Okay everybody!" Nora called. "Ready?”

"READY!" the crowd yelled.

"ready," Emma slurred.

"Let's sing!" Zooey yelled.

Emma took a deep breath and sung.

Their voices immediately blended together, creating a single tune that flowed seamlessly through the air. The harmonies wove together and made their way to the unassuming sailors. The melody captured the men as a net would catch helpless fish.

Emma saw the men jumping off and cringed inwardly, but didn't stop singing. If she did, the song would break, and she would get in trouble. So she had to wait.

Suddenly, Emma saw something. A man had walked off the mast and fallen, but he had plummeted straight down. Her eyes lit up; that meant that sailor was still alive.

Please end soon, Emma thought.

Thankfully, the gods had mercy on her, the first in a long time. The ship seemed to have a small amount of sailors, so the song ended about a minute after the man Emma saw jumped.

“Okay girls!" Zooey said, her legs morphing back into a tail, "Have fun!”

Emma took a running start and dove right off the cliff. She heard a chuckle from Nora as Zooey exclaimed, "Looks like Emma's excited!”

You absolute buffoons, Emma thought, snorting as her tail returned. She plunged head-first into the water.

It didn't take Emma too long to find him. He was about 20 feet away from the cliff's face, thrashing and flailing around in intense panic. Emma caught him just as he was trying to swim back to the ship.

"Hey!" Emma said, trying to catch his attention. The sailor whipped his head towards her with wide eyes. There was a beat of silence before the man spotted Emma's tail. His eyes grew impossibly wider as he screamed and tried to swim away.

"Wait, hey hey he- oh." Emma stopped as she saw the man was gasping and coughing. "I think you swallowed some water.”

The man's movements became more sluggish, and Emma realized that she needed to act soon. And that she needed to sing. 

Emma wasn't concerned with making him too entranced, she knew that without the others the song wouldn't do much. She just needed to make him drowsy or knock the guy out so she can easily drag him to her cave.

Emma sighed and took a breath. "Hey Mister Business, how do you do?”

She continued singing, watching the sailor's eyes droop. She quickly made her way to the foot of the rock, careful as to not stop singing or let go of the man.

As soon as she saw the hole on the side of the island, Emma moved ever faster. She only slowed the once she reached the mouth. She crawled onto the small patch of land in front of it and through the small entrance and turned her tail back into legs once she reached the dry part.

Emma laid the man down onto the cloth bed on the floor of the cave. She found the flint and lanterns she had salvaged from dead sailors and shipwrecks and quickly lit all of them. Emma then scrambled back to the sailor. He didn't seem to be breathing.

"Oh come oooonn," Emma said under her breath.

She pressed her hands to his chest and started to pump it. Water came spurting out of his mouth and the man began to cough and sputter. Emma quickly withdrew her hands and sighed in relief.

"Hey," Emma said, a relieved smile on her face.

The guy sat up and looked at her for a few seconds, trying to register what he was seeing. In this time Emma noticed his bluish-grey eyes, filled with wonder and fear. 

Pretty, Emma thought, barely noticing it.

The sailor suddenly realized what was happening and yelled again. He scrambled to the wall and shrunk, hugging it desperately. He stared at Emma with more panic in his eyes than the actual personification of Panic.

"Hey, hey, don't scream!" Emma whispered desperately. "They'll hear you!”

"Are you gonna eat me?” he asked, his voice meek.

Emma blinked and laughed at the assumption. She failed to notice the blush that suddenly appeared on the sailor's face. "No, I'm not going to eat you," she said. "Really, you are already funnier than most humans I find. 'Eat you,' that's cute. No, I won't eat you, I promise." Emma stood up. "The others might if they hear you though, so I suggest you keep quiet." She walked over to a tarp covering something sitting on a high rock. She pulled it off to reveal a large chest. Emma opened it. "What can I getcha?”

"...so you're a nice siren?" the man asked, calming down considerably. He straightened his back and muttered, "That's new.”

"Yeah, well this doesn't happen a lot," Emma said, rummaging through the chest. "I've only saved about... well, more than ten sailors over the course of a decade... or so." She made a face. "I wouldn't really know, I kinda lost track of time over the centuries.”

"How did you know I was alive?”

"Experience, buddy," Emma replied. "The sailors who fall straight down survive the most.”

"Uh huh," the sailor glanced around, then looked back at Emma since there wasn't much to look at. "So, the other sirens are going to eat me?" He made an uncomfortable face. "I don't want that to happen.”

"Well, maybe." Emma took out a pot and dry firewood. "Soup?”

The man was surprised. "Yeah, sure.”

Emma took out more utensils and ingredients. "You see, we sirens choose what we want to do," Emma explained. "All of us lure sailors to their deaths. Although I-" She turned and tapped a ladle to her chest. "-am sick of doing so." She turned back to the food. "But some choose what to do with the bodies, just as they choose whether to live under or above water." Emma walked over to the water trickling in and filled the pot with it before walking back to the chest. "Some just take the sailors' stuff, either from their bodies or the shipwreck, or both." She put some firewood on the floor. "And sometimes... they eat the bodies.”

"Oh," the sailor scrunched up his nose, which Emma thought was adorable. "Well, at least I was saved by you." He looked up at Emma. "Thanks, I guess.”

Emma smiled. She turned back to the fire she started and started to cook the soup.

"No problem." She chopped up some onions and dropped them into the pot. "What's your name?”

"Paûlos," he said, "but I met a guy on my travels who called me Paul, so I've been going by that since.”

"Paul. That's a nice name." 

"Thanks," Paul said, and smiled a little. "What- what's your name?"

"Emma," she replied. She then turned back to the soup. "I'll be working for a while, so...hm.”

Emma got up and took a stone bowl and a cup from the chest. She went out of the cave and returned shortly after, the bowl now filled with water. She then heated it and added some black grains. Paul tilted his head.

"What is that... Emma?" he asked.

Emma shrugged. "There was an Ethiopian guy who gave me this, said I should put these in hot water. I haven't tried it until now, so…"

"Wait. How long have you had that?" Paul asked, concerned.

Emma frowned at the bowl as she poured it into the cup. She was silent as she stared at it, trying to remember, then gave up and handed the cup to Paul. "A while," was all she said.

Paul looked into the cup, then back at Emma.

"Don't worry, I don't think you'll die from that," Emma said, adding more ingredients to the soup. "Those grains still seem to smell the same as when I first got them.”

Paul nodded and glanced back at the mug. Taking a leap of fate, he sipped the black concoction and savored it before it disappeared down his throat.

"This... is actually pretty good, Emma," he said, surprised.

Emma looked back at him, seemingly pleased. "Well, that's good then." She turned back to the fire. "Soup's done." 

Emma poured the soup into a different bowl and put a silver spoon in it. She handed it to Paul.

“Thank you," Paul said, putting down the mug. He downed a spoonful and hummed in delight. "This is delicious!”

"Thanks, I learned it from this Spanish sailor I saved once.”

Paul nodded again as he ate a bit more. "Say, what made you want to start saving people? It's not a trait I've ever heard of from a siren.”

"Well, Paul," Emma said, "I got bored.”

"Bored of...?" Paul pressed.

"Sitting and singing all day.”

"...that's all?" Paul was confused.

"Oh, and killing people is, I've heard, not exactly tasteful for your species.”

"You say that as if killing people is a minor setback to you." Paul noted, concerned. He momentarily glanced at the entrance.

Emma sniffed. "Don't judge me, we were trained from birth to kill, we're much less skittish with it than you human folk.”

"That's understandable." He went back to eating the soup. "But you won't kill me... right?”

Emma looked at Paul and softened. "No, I won't.”

Paul nodded, still slightly on edge. He continued eating, taking a sip from his drink every now and then.

"What gave you the impression I was going to eat you in the first place?" Emma asked.

"Your teeth," Paul answered, his mouth full. He quickly swallowed. "They're very sharp."

"Oh, yeah they are. We're all born with them for some reason.”

After saying this, Emma realized that Paul was still quite wary of her, though why she failed to see this until now was unclear.

"Hey, look," she said, "I swear, if I wanted you dead, you would be dead by now. Normal sirens are barbaric in their own right. But I'm not normal. Hell, everything about me indicates that. I hate singing, and I hate causing other people's deaths against their will." She paused, and sighed inwardly. "Look, I'm trying to help, okay? And for me to do that, I need you to trust me. You're a smart human, you can do that, right? Wait-" she snorted, "-that sounded threatening. Sorry. Just... just know that, if I wanted to, I could just knock you out and kill you whenever I want, so resistance is futile, alright? But please assume-" she closed her eyes and held up her hands, "-I'm perfectly safe.”

Paul nodded. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense," he said softly. He paused before handing the now empty bowl to Emma. "Can I just... have more please?" he implored sheepishly.

Emma smiled in relief and nodded before taking the bowl and refilling it.

She gave back the bowl. “Anyways, you’ll be staying here a few days, so get comfy.”

“Wait what?” Paul suddenly stood up, nearly spilling the soup and knocking over his mug on the floor.

“Careful with that stuff, they’re about a hundred years old,” Emma said, removing the pot and adding more wood to the fire.

“I can’t stay here a few days, I have to go back!” Paul exclaimed, panicking.

“If you go back now, the others will see you.” Emma stood up and faced him. Her face was serious. “Then they’ll kill you. The safest thing to do is to stay here while I build a raft for you.”

“But I-“

“No buts, buddy.” Emma grabbed his arms. “Listen Paul, think about the implications if you go out there. Think about them.”

Paul stared at her, afraid.  Emma wasn’t sure what he was afraid of.

“Paul, I’m perfectly safe, remember?” Emma reassured. “They’re not."

Paul finally sighed and nodded. “Okay Emma,” he said. “But I need to get out as soon as possible.”

“Agreed,” Emma said. She let go of Paul’s arms. “Now, stay here, I’m going to get supplies from your ship.”

“I don’t suppose I can take the ship, can I?” Paul said, sitting back down.

“Nope,” Emma said simply, standing at the entrance. She crouched down and took one last glance at Paul. She smiled. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

Her legs morphed back into a tail and Emma crawled through the opening, leaving an open-mouthed Paul.

☆

A few days passed as Emma built the raft. Over time she and Paul had time to bond. Strangely, Emma felt endeared to his personality. He was a shy guy, very polite. He seemed to be afraid of offending Emma, though there was really no need. Paul, on the other hand, soon became aware of the fact that, just as Emma said, she would have killed him in at least the first few days if she really wanted to. So he grew more relaxed around her, growing to appreciate her company. Paul even told bits and pieces of his life. He had hailed from Athens and was interested in theatre as a kid. 

"Theater? Like, the thing Zooey organized one time?" Emma said.

"What thing?”

"It was like storytelling, but everyone randomly sang and made weird movements sometimes," Emma explained.

Paul made a face. "That sounds weird. And terrible.”

"It was," Emma agreed.

"Well no, I just like storytelling in general," Paul digressed. "I loved watching the plays in the Temple of Dionysus and the festivals. I wanted to become an actor one day. But my dad said no.”

"Why not?”

"He wanted me to become a sailor. Said it made more money, or whatever. So I honored his wishes. I got a job shipping different supplies abroad. There was just one thing I overlooked." He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I was not sea compatible.”

"What do you mean?" Emma asked, eating some grilled steak.

"I got seasick easily," Paul said. "And I'm not the adventurous type, really. I'm not even that willing to move from Athens. I'd be content staying in my hometown.”

"But does it make you happy?" Emma inquired, taking a large bite out of the beef.

She chewed for a while before she realized Paul hadn't answered. She looked at Paul, who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.

"Does it make me happy?" he asked. After a while he shrugged and settled with, "Well, I don't really know, Emma, I guess I never questioned it. I had a home, a dad, an interest, although I never really acted on it... well, I had a life. I never asked for anything else.”

"Did you have anyone else?" Emma implored. "A girlfriend, a boyfriend...?”

"Definitely not,” Paul said, laughing at the idea. "I liked people but... I'm not exactly the ideal male.”

"Well, you seem like a nice guy, Paul,” Emma said. “You probably deserve to follow your own passions.”

“Well thank you Emma,” Paul said, smiling a little. He continued to eat his own slice of cow. 

Conveniently, Paul had decided to help Emma with the raft as he had some experience with woodworking. Emphasis on the “some.”

“I tried it out once,” Paul said, tying together two planks. “Got several splinters and they hurt a lot, so I ended up quitting.” 

“Seems like you’re not exactly the type of guy to do anything dangerous,” Emma teased. 

Paul chuckled. That was another thing Emma liked about him for some reason. It was probably unrelated to the fuzzy feeling in her chest.

Oh Tartarus, she’s not stupid. She knows it’s probably directly related to the fuzzy feeling in her chest. 

“No,” he said, finished tying together the planks, “I guess not.” He aligned it to the rest of the tied wood. “The only reason I’m doing this is to speed up the process.”

Oh great, there was a pang in Emma’s chest. As if this could get any better.

 ☆

On the night they finally finished the raft, the two sat side-by-side on the tarp Paul had been sleeping on for the last few days. They stared at the raft and the oar sitting on top of it. The raft honestly wasn’t that impressive. It was a bunch of wood tied together securely in the shape of a rectangle. But there was a sense of accomplishment nonetheless, and the two appreciated it in silence.

“It’s… bad.”

They both nodded in mutual agreement.

“Well,” Paul noted. “If this kills me then you’ll have accomplished your actual purpose.”

Emma snorted. “Well, if this breaks it will probably break early on, so I might be able to save you.”

“Let's hope for the best,” Paul said. 

Emma nodded. “So, you want to go now, or…?”

“You know,” Paul yawned, “I think I need some proper rest before I go. Don't want to collapse while in view of the island.”

“True.” Emma stretched. “Well Paul...” She stood up and smiled down at him, though there was an underlying emotion behind her eyes. Paul couldn't quite identify what it was though. Emma, on the other hand, knew exactly what it was, and hated it so, so much.

“Let’s get ready for tomorrow.” 

Paul settled down as Emma blew out all of the lanterns. As she reached the last one, she glanced back at Paul, who was lying down on his tarp, a folded piece of cloth under his head. He glanced back at Emma.

“Goodnight,” she said, smiling at him.

Paul smiled back and closed his eyes.

As Emma lay down on her own cloth, she had the desire to rip that weird feeling out of her chest and beat it up. It was unnatural. She had never felt this before, and if she did, it was a long time ago and she didn't remember.

Emma sighed and lay silently in the dark for a few hours, unable to sleep. Tiring of the effort, she got up, deciding that maybe a late night swim would not be unfavorable. 

She exited the cave and regained her tail. Emma plunged into the sea. She recalled a man who told her once that water was cleansing. Perhaps he was right. Emma felt some weight lifted as she swam freely through the warm water. She ran her hand along the seafloor, disturbing some fish along the way.

“Sorry,” Emma mumbled. She lifted her hand and ascended a bit.

Emma circled the island, growing a little weary. But still, the exercise was freeing in a way. She wondered why she didn’t do this more. 

Emma closed her eyes, letting the feel of the water flow around her. She twisted her body through the sea, marveling at how easy it felt. 

Someone abruptly grabbed ahold of Emma’s shoulders. Her eyes shot open to see a face grinning widely, hair like tentacles swimming around wildly as if it had a mind of its own. Emma yelped, startled, and swam off as fast as she can.

“Emma! Wait!”

Emma halted. She knew that voice, despite having not heard it in a century. Could it be…?

Emma turned slowly. She saw a figure of a woman with… normal brown hair with black highlights. Similar to hers, though longer. She seemed taller than Emma. Her eyes were a deep dark brown. 

Emma couldn’t believe it. It was her.  

“Jane?” 

Jane smiled and swam towards Emma, who was trying not to cry. 

“Hey Emma,” she said.

☆

“I see your little crib hasn’t changed much,” Jane joked, looking around the cave. “Except of course, a raft and a guy. Who is not dead.” 

“Yeah,” Emma replied, plopping down on her makeshift mattress. Jane followed her. “What happened to you anyway? You’ve been gone for a century!” 

“Ah.” Jane plopped down beside Emma. “About that.”

“You didn’t tell anyone. You disappeared without a trace. We all thought the worst.” Emma couldn’t contain herself any longer. “Why did you leave? I was afraid! Afraid I’d never see you again! I-“ Tears spilled out and she started sobbing. 

Jane enveloped her in a hug, rubbing her back. “Hey,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

“I missed you so much,” Emma sobbed into Jane’s chiton. 

Jane only sighed and nodded. Guilt was starting to weigh on her shoulders. 

After Emma had calmed down a bit, Jane had offered to make something for her. Emma had asked for tea and guided Jane through the steeping process. 

“So, I’m going to explain why I disappeared, but to be honest? I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Jane confessed, leaning on the platform where the chest was. 

“That sounds promising,” Emma said sarcastically. Now that her sadness was taken care of, all that remained in Emma was light bitterness. 

Jane sighed and chewed her cheek. “So, truthfully…” She inhaled and looked Emma in the eye. “I… met someone.”

Emma raised a hand. “Stop, stop. I want you to stop right there.” She looked at Jane with an unimpressed raised eyebrow. “You left because you met someone?” 

“He washed up in my cave!” Jane protested. “He caught me by surprise. And besides-“ She walked over to Paul, freaking out Emma a little, and gestured toward him. “-I don’t think you have the right to question it.”

Emma’s face reddened madly. Jane smirked, a little amused and feeling victorious. 

“Oh shut up,” Emma snapped. “He’s not the first one I’ve saved.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jane said, checking the water in the pot. 

“Yeah, well- wait. You know?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I’d see you zoom underneath the water carrying some guy in your arms. Then I’d hear some grunts and you talking to a deeper voice several nights later. My cave’s not far from yours, you know. And I had nighttime swims too. Or walks, depends on what I felt like. Oh look.” Jane crouched down next to the pot, where the water was boiling. “The water’s ready.”

Jane grabbed a ladle and poured the water into two mugs with tea leaves. She handed one to Emma, who fumed silently. Jane sat back down and blew on her own tea. 

“But from what I’ve gathered, this guy right here-“ She looked at Paul, then glanced back at Emma with a smile on her face. “-is very different.”

“Why did you come back anyway?” Emma said, trying to steer the conversation away from the present topic. 

Jane’s smile disappeared immediately, and Emma almost felt bad.

Jane looked into her cup. “Mortals don’t last very long,” she muttered. “I should’ve known, but… I don’t know, I thought they’d live for at least two hundred years? But they don’t. Xanthos, he became… old and wrinkly at a much faster pace than I was expecting.” Jane shivered. “But I still loved him in a way. So I stayed by his side until he… died.”

“Oh,” Emma mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

Jane chuckled sadly and shook her head. “Don’t be,” she said. “It happens to all humans, I just wasn’t knowledgeable enough. Not…prepared.”

Emma took a sip out of her mug and patted Jane on the back, unable to recall any other types of comfort. 

“Thank you sister,” Jane said dryly. 

“Don’t thank me,” Emma snarked back. 

Jane giggled and smiled at Emma. She took another sip of her tea and glanced back at Paul. “So,” she began. “What’s the deal with him, huh? He seems pretty cute.”

Emma nearly choked on her tea. She ended up spitting some of it back out. “I-I guess? I mean,” Emma cleared her throat, trying to ignore Jane’s grin. “He’s like a… calf. Fragile.Sweet and shy. Polite.”

“You seemed pretty endeared by him,” Jane said, still grinning. 

“You had a lucky guess!” Emma exclaimed. 

Jane chuckled. “True, you got me there.” She drank her tea. “I just wanted to get back at you.”

Emma sighed and tried to finish the rest of her tea in peace.

“You probably want to go with him, don’t you?” 

“What makes you think that?” Emma said.

“Well, have you ever felt like this with any other poor sailor you’ve rescued?” Jane asked.

“…no,” Emma admitted.

“I imagine it must be disconcerting for you.”

“It’s terrifying. And unnatural. I’ve encountered so many other people before, why did this-” she stabbed herself repeatedly with her finger, “-only come out now?!” 

“You become attached… sometimes,” Jane stated, drinking more tea. 

Emma took in the sentence, moving it around her head and getting the feel of it. “Yeah… yeah I guess you could say that.” 

“Trust me, I know what you’ve been through,” Jane assured. “When I met Xanthos, the feeling I had… well, I actually had a similar reaction to you.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Emma asked. 

“I… didn’t want to risk anyone knowing.”

Emma felt hurt from that. “You didn’t trust me enough to tell me?”

“Look Em, I’m sorry-”

“No, don’t bother,” Emma interrupted. “I’m too tired to get mad at you. So I forgive you, though that was a jerk move.”

“Thank you Emma,” Jane sighed. She went back to drinking tea.

“Okay, well, maybe I do want to go with him,” Emma admitted quickly, “but what if the same thing that happened to you happens to me?”

Jane shook her head. “It won’t happen to you, Em.”

“What do you mean?”

“You hate the island.”

“Undoubtedly,” Emma agreed.

Jane snorted and continued, “All of the siren’s lifelines are connected to it, tied to it. Like… there are strings on us that are also attached to the island. As long as we stay here, that string won’t break, we won’t grow old. I never hated my life, so my string never broke, just became longer. But your string…” She gently took Emma’s wrist and traced an invisible thread from it. “It’s already frayed.” Jane made an exploding motion with her hand. She put Emma’s wrist down. “If you leave, you become mortal. So you’ll just be dying slowly with your fella over there. Hardly any emotional pain.” 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to handle that,” Emma said, uncomfortable. 

“I think you have a while to get used to it.”

Emma huffed and set down her mug, folding her arms. “How do I know you’re not just getting rid of me?”

Jane chuckled. “I’m telling you this so you can do what you want. I’m not telling you to leave, that’s up to you. But I do know that you want to leave this life, you just needed a reason.”

Emma glanced back at Paul and sighed inwardly.

Jane noticed this. “See? You agree.”

Emma glanced back at Jane. Technically, all of the sirens were sisters, but Jane was the only person Emma really regarded as a sister. They were very close, and when Jane left, Emma felt like she had lost something important to her. 

“What about you?” Emma asked softly. “I mean, I could visit you from time to time, but… if I go, I’ll be gone for a long time.”

“I realize that, and I’m not entirely happy with it,” Jane said. “But I know you, Em, you want to be free. You started saving sailors just to defy what you were created for. You hate being a siren, and nothing would make you happier than simply not being one. And then you meet this guy that you may really like and want to spend more time with him, so maybe, you think, you want to go with him. And you’ve found your chance Em! This guy-” She gestured wildly to Paul, “-is your chance! To be truly happy!” She took Emma’s hands in hers. “And you should be happy! Honestly… that is something everyone should have.” 

“True happiness, huh?” Emma said, bowing her head. 

Jane nodded, smiling. “Well, if he turns out to actually be a jerk or becomes too boring, you can always come back.”

Emma chuckled, then nodded back slowly. “I… do want to go.”

“Then you go with him tomorrow. You fulfill your dream.”

“But… you just came back.” Emma looked at Jane with sad eyes. 

“If you get homesick, you can always visit,” Jane assured. “Your little sailor friend can help you. But you definitely won’t regret leaving, I know it.”

Emma smiled, relieved. She chuckled and lightly punched her sister’s shoulder. “You better miss me.”

“Oh trust me, I will,” Jane promised.

The two sisters embraced each other. 

☆

Paul opened his eyes blearily. He yawned and sat up, trying to process the sight. To his surprise, Emma was still asleep, and seemed well-rested. And even more surprising was the presence of another woman hugging Emma in her sleep.

Well, in Paul’s case, surprising, yes, but also terrifying. 

Paul screeched.

Emma immediately woke up and stood facing Paul. “What is it?” she screeched back, panicked. 

Paul pointed at Jane. “Who is she?” he whispered desperately.

Emma relaxed and looked at where Paul was pointing. “Oh, Jane?” she asked. 

Paul nodded fiercely. 

“Oh, she’s my sister. She went missing a long time ago. Apparently-” Emma shot a stink eye at the sleeping figure, “-she ran off with a cute sailor who washed up in her cave,” she said in a mocking voice. 

Paul snickered, and Emma smiled again. You know, she mused, Jane could be right.  

“I might follow in her footsteps in a while,” she said. “Coffee?”

“Yes please,” Paul said, sitting down again. “Wait- what?”

“What?” 

“‘Follow in her footsteps?’ You’re gonna run off with someone? Who?” 

Emma processed his words for a second as she collected water before bursting out in laughter. “Who else do you think?” she said. 

Paul reddened. “Wait, you want to go with me? Why?” 

“Well Paul,” Emma said, starting a fire, “I don’t think it’s gone unnoticed by you, but I hate being a siren very much.” 

“So much so that you’re willing to run away?” Paul inquired, surprised. “I didn’t think you hated it that much.”

“Well I do, and I…” Emma thought of what to say. “...decided to leave for once, with you.” 

“Can’t you go on your own? You don’t exactly need a boat to leave.”

Emma didn’t reply. She only sat by the heating water, desperately trying to think of an excuse. 

“Weeeell… I guess… some things are worth it,” she said, turning to smile softly at Paul. “And, I mean, I kinda had a job rescuing sailors, but Jane has graciously offered to take over for me,” she quickly added. “I’m free. So I guess a little adventure won’t hurt.” 

“You know I’m not fond of adventure, Emma,” Paul pointed out, a little amused. 

“If you go anywhere in this great expanse of water, you are asking for adventure,” Emma said, sprinkling in the black grains. 

“I… guess that’s true,” Paul muttered. 

“So, I believe-” Emma poured the drink into a mug and walked over to Paul, “-I’m going with you.”

Paul couldn’t help his smile as he took the mug. Emma saw this and felt the return of the fuzzy feeling. 

Goddammit, she thought, but didn’t make any other internal comment. 

Emma heard a grunt from the other side of the cave. Jane was awake.

Emma looked back to see Jane sitting up and yawning. She looked over at Paul and Emma watching her curiously. Jane grinned. 

“Well good morning, you two,” she said, standing up. “What’s this you got here Emma?” She stared at the brew in the pot.

“It’s a concoction… of sorts,” Emma explained. “Paul, this is Emma.”

“Hi,” Paul greeted quietly. 

“Hello there, human.” Jane greeted back. “Emma has told me quite a lot about you.”

Emma blushed. “Jane!” she hissed. 

“Sorry,” Jane said teasingly. “Mind if I have some of this drink?”

Emma huffed, the heat retreating from her face. “Sure.” 

The day went on normally, Emma collecting fruit and vegetables for them to eat. Paul took some and placed them in an old purse from a shipwreck for the travel. Jane hung out in Emma’s cave, striking up small conversations with Paul while Emma salvaged for supplies just in case. She cooked stew and found bread from the most recent ship. 

The sun settled below the horizon and turned the sky dark, allowing the stars to come out. Emma peeked out of the cave, hoisting the raft behind her. Paul held the other end back in the cave as Jane carried their supplies behind him. 

Emma glanced towards the top of the island. She heard the chattering of the sirens die down and the lamps going out. She saw a few of the others diving down into their own caves underwater. Soon everything had quieted down and the moon was in the sky. 

“Alright, everyone else is gone,” Emma whispered. “Push!”

Paul grunted as he heaved the raft out of the hole. Jane followed after them, watching the environment waringly.

“Everyone’s asleep?” Paul asked. “No one will hear us?”

“Well,” Emma grunted, pulling the raft fully out of the hole, “if we’re quiet enough. Some of them could still be awake, but they’re pretty far from us so… no. Hopefully.”

The raft plopped into the water with a quiet sploosh. It bobbed up and down as the waves pushed it around. Paul turned slightly green. Emma caught his expression.

“Paul?” she asked, seemingly concerned.

“Yeah?” Paul squeaked, turning to look at her. 

Emma smirked and jumped into the middle of the raft, wobbling slightly. 

Sploosh, sploosh. 

The raft bobbed more frantically. Paul gulped.    

“Come on,” Emma said, walking to the edge. “Or would you rather stay here with the murder maidens?”

“Of course, I can take care of you if you choose to stay,” Jane offered, shrugging. Emma shot her a dirty look and she chuckled. “Seriously though Paul, it’s not so bad. Try to suck it up. Or if you can’t, just puke into the ocean.”

“Don’t, you’ll inconvenience the fish.” Emma held out her hand to Paul and smiled comfortingly. “Let’s go.”

Paul nodded. “Okay,” he muttered, still slightly unsure. He took a deep breath and took her outstretched hand. Paul stepped onto the raft. 

Emma smiled wider. “Alright, and the other foot…”

Paul did as he was told and put his other foot on the raft. Immediately the vessel was put off-balance, making Paul yelp and flail his arms, staggering backwards, threatening to fall. 

Emma panicked, grabbing both of Paul’s arms and pulling him to the middle of the vessel, determined to keep balance. She gasped and tried to calm her breath. Emma looked up at Paul. 

“Are you okay?” Emma asked. 

Pau’s eyes were wide and he was breathing hard. He was panic-stricken. Paul looked down at Emma’s concerned face. 

“Y-yeah,” Paul said. He was starting to calm down. His mental stability was that of the raft, slowly going down to gentle bobs on the sea. Paul realized he was clenching Emma’s arms too tightly and relaxed them.

“Oh sorry,” he apologized.

“Oh no, no it’s okay,” Emma assured. 

After saying that sentence, Emma realized their exact position. They were grasping each other’s arms and staring at each other blank in the face. 

Emma blushed and awkwardly detached her arms from Paul’s. “Um, alright then,” she said. She took another glance at Paul before walking over to Jane, who was watching them amusingly. 

Jane, thank god for the small sliver of mercy in her, merely held out the bag of supplies and smirked, but otherwise said nothing. Emma very graciously snatched the package from Jane.

“Thank you,” Emma said.

Jane’s smirk morphed into a genuine smile. “You know, Emma, I’m actually really proud of you.”

“And that’s a surprise, now is it?” Emma joked. 

Jane chuckled and sighed. She looked at Emma and smiled, a little sad. “I hope you have a good journey. And a good life.” 

Emma smiled a little. “Thank you, Jane.” 

Jane spread her arms, inviting Emma. The latter accepted and hugged her sister tightly. 

Once they separated, Emma put down the bag of food and picked up the oar. She smiled, then grinned at Paul, feeling a little confidence build up within her. She grasped the oar tightly and lowered the paddle into the water. Slowly, but surely, she pushed it through the water.

The raft bumped against the land.

“Uh…” Jane said, “you’re supposed to row the other way.”

Paul, who turned a little nauseous again, nodded weakly. 

“Right,” Emma quickly corrected, a little flushed. 

She quickly pushed the oar behind her, and the raft started moving away from the island.

Emma truly smiled this time, and pushed it again. 

And again.

And again. 

Emma whooped happily as the few inches between her and the island became a few feet, then a few meters. She looked back at Jane, who was grinning too.

“Goodbye, Jane!” she called, waving happily.

Jane whooped too and waved back.

Emma grinned wider and glanced at Paul, ignoring the sudden yank in her gut. He seemed calmer now, and happier now that he was leaving the island and going back to his home. Emma was happy too. She felt it throughout her, leaving a warm feeling in her face, her chest. 

Yank. 

Emma grinned at the moon, feeling the wind brush her face. They were leaving.

Yank.

Emma was rowing a raft away from the island she hated with a man she felt some sort of strong connection with. 

Yank.

It felt great. Emma was invigorated. 

YANK. 

In a rush of joy, Emma suddenly turned towards Paul and took a step towards him. 

SNAP!

Emma screamed as pain overtook her body. It flooded her mind. Some part of her - she wasn’t sure what - was being pulled from her body. 

“Emma?” she could faintly hear Paul say. “Emma!” he yelled. 

The siren screamed as the pain throbbed, spreading throughout her body. Emma’s vision dimmed and Paul’s panicked face started fading until all she could see was black. 

☆

Emma’s eyes opened to a dark night sky. The stars twinkled overhead, greeting Emma and her headache. 

Emma sat up and groaned. Most of the pain was gone, but some had apparently remained. She clutched her head and shut her eyes, hoping that it would help dull the migraine. 

“Oh my gosh Emma!” Paul exclaimed, dropping the oar he had been holding and rushing over. The raft wobbled, and Paul immediately halted to steady himself. 

“Sorry,” he apologized, now walking slowly towards Emma, “I’m still not used to how unsteady this is. An actual ship is much more stable.”

Paul gently kneeled down beside Emma’s propped-up figure and gently smiled at her. He clasped his hands. “Are… you okay?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, my head hurts like Hades, but otherwise I’m alright.” 

Paul frowned and turned towards the supply bag. “Just lie down, alright? I’ll get you something to eat.”

Emma nodded again and lay down. She felt the bobbing of the raft as Paul moved towards the pouch and observed the speckles of light dotted across the sky.

“How long was I asleep for?” she suddenly asked. 

“Oh, um…” Paul, tight-lipped, tapped the rim of the bowl he held in his hand. “I think it was… two days.”

“What?!” Emma shot up and immediately yelped at the sudden sting in her skull. 

Paul turned to look at her, eyes wide. “Emma, don’t do that!” he squeaked. “Just lay down, please?”

“Mmhm,” Emma responded meekly, eyes closed. She lowered herself again, feeling the ache swirl around. 

Emma sniffed, then asked again, “Was it really two days?”

“Well, it might have been three,” she heard Paul reply. 

Emma sighed. “Zeus damn it. And we’re not near land?”

“There’s only two of us rowing this raft- well, one of me in the last few days,” Paul said. Emma heard a delicate trickle into a bowl coming from his direction. “And this is a very small vessel, so it’s no surprise we’re moving slowly. Here.”

Emma felt a nudge on her shoulder and opened her eyes. Paul was handing her a stone bowl filled with soup. 

“Get up slowly,” Paul implored. 

Emma did as he asked, propping herself up. She gratefully took the bowl from Paul’s hands and began drinking it. It was cold, but she wasn’t to complain - they had been in the middle of the sea for a few days, after all. 

“So… what happened to you?” Paul asked, his voice tinged with worry. “I was… really afraid you were dying. As if a god had smitten you.”

Emma lifted her head, licking some of the soup around her mouth. “No, I think…” She furrowed her brow. “Jane said that once I would leave, the connection between the island and I would sever.”

“Connection?” Paul inquired. 

“She described it like a thread, tying me to the life force of the island. It was already loose since I hated it there, but it wouldn’t fully cut off until I left for good.” Emma winced. “Which means… I’m not immortal anymore.” 

“Wait, you’re not?” Paul blurted. Emma detected disbelief as well as guilt in his voice. “I- are you going to be okay?” 

Emma shrugged. “I suppose so. Being a mortal can’t be that bad. I mean, you’ve turned out okay.”

“Barely,” Paul mumbled, worry lines still etched into his face.

Emma noticed this, and quickly tried to reassure: “Hey, don’t feel bad about it. It’s certainly not your fault. I asked for this, and it’s honestly better than my crappy life as a siren.” 

Paul nodded, a relieved smile making its way onto his face. 

“Well, get some rest,” he said, carefully standing up. “I have to man the raft and see if anything wants to, uh, eat us.”

Emma smiled up at Paul. “Sounds good to me.” 

Paul lingered for a bit before walking over to the oars at the other end of the raft.

Emma finished her soup and put the bowl back into the bag. She gradually laid back down, hearing the gentle splish, splish of the oars as Paul began to row. She took a deep breath and took in the sight of the stars twinkling down at her. She processed the fact she was now free. 

Emma was free.

Slowly, as the boat rocked her like a baby in a cradle, with the comfort the stars provided and the calming sounds of the ocean clouding her mind, Emma soon drifted to sleep.

Maybe, just maybe, the gods were kind sometimes. 

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader-”The One That Got Away” Part 1

The terrorist attack targeting Wayne National Bank nearly three years ago left only one survivor behind: Y/N almost died from the injuries, but she was lucky enough to wake up at the hospital days later. It was so hard to cope with the news: on top of losing her eyesight, the young woman lost her co-workers also and strangely enough the one responsible for the entire tragedy wasn’t The Clown Prince of Crime.

“They told me you’re here again,” you smile and there’s no answer. “Are you going to come in or do you want me to bring you something to eat? We’re closing soon, it’s almost 10pm.”

The blind Y/N extends the cane until it touches the recipient of her visit.

“I understand that you’re shy and there’s nothing wrong with it; you just need to tell me.”

“I’m not shy,” the deep tone interrupts.

“So are you coming in this time?” Y/N asks while the man grunts and she correctly guesses he’s getting up from his spot. “Follow me,” you encourage and he pulls the hoodie on his face, steadily walking behind the woman leading the way. “Today we have chicken soup and spaghetti with red sauce. That that I want to brag, but it turned out pretty good,” you giggle to lighten up the atmosphere: you’re aware it’s not easy for some living on the streets to acknowledge they require help.

“Mina!” you shout as you enter the spacious room. “Another portion please!”

“Sure thing!” the assistant’s energetic reply is perceived from beyond the counter.

“You can take a sit at any table, she’ll bring the food shortly,” you let him know and then loudly inquire: “Who else is here?”

“I’m here,” Silvia answers, slurping on her hot soup.

“Me too,” you hear Walter. “I also see Dave, Russell, Angie. The rest I’m not sure,” the 70 years old informs, pointing at the newcomer.

“Hey new guy, you have a name?” Angie licks her fork, digging in the pile of pasta afterwards.

The man is silent for a few moments, then mutters through his teeth:

“Jay.”

“You’re lucky there’s still food left, son! It’s crazy busy all the time,” Dave huffs. “This is the best Soup Kitchen in Gotham, and the lady standing in front of you a true angel!” one of the regulars states with such conviction it prompts cheers from the others left in the cafeteria at the end of the busy day.

“If only,” you laugh amused at the affirmation.

“Here you go; enjoy,“ Mina brings over a bowl of soup and a plate full of spaghetti to the man that’s been lurking around for the past two months but didn’t step into the building until today. Jay mumbles something resembling a “thanks” and by the sounds he makes slurping on the hot liquid one could say it’s very appreciated.

The volunteers would tell you if they spotted him outside the premises and you would usually take food to him, offering a place at a table which he refused; not the first or the last to show restrain when shown kindness.

You’re a bit surprised he decided to finally join the crowd; maybe he doesn’t like being around people.

“Mina, are you ok closing with John and Sandy? I have to open the bakery in the morning,” you explain although it’s not necessary.

“Yes, of course; told you should have went home an hour ago. They’re almost done with the dishes and we won’t have that much left to do after the last guests finish their meal. We’ll be fine, don’t worry. OK?” the young woman gives you a soft nudge towards the door and you feel the ground with the cane, eager to take a shower after the long day.

“Good night then,” you smile,” see you guys soon.”

“Good night!” several voices respond back.

The apartment is just three blocks away, conveniently situated on the top of the bakery you own: “Sweet Temptations” is one of the most popular bakeries in Gotham, slowly becoming a contender for the first position.

Once outside you stop for a few moments to enjoy the silence and the soft breeze on your cheeks before reprising your walk. Police cars alarms start blaring in the distance and you sigh, annoyed: quietness never lasts for too long in this damned city.

You turn left on Glissan Avenue and halt, carefully listening: you could swear you discerned some snickering ahead of you. Maybe not?...

A few more feet and your cane is abruptly yanked out of your hand, almost making you lose balance:

“Hey pretty girl, can I get a kiss in exchange for the stick?”

You straighten your shoulders, frowning:

“Randy, is that you?!”

“Umm…it’s possible,” he chuckles and you feel the air around, trying to find his body.

“I’m exhausted and not in the mood for your crap!” you admonish and want to continue but you get interrupted:

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You know my brother’s an idiot!...Hey…Hey!!!! What the…,” the other young man yells and the noise of a loud punch and broken bone startles you. “Hey, leave my brother alone!!!!...Oh shit!” the turmoil of a struggle and more ruckus indicating a fight make you frantically search for your cell in the purse.

“What’s going on?” you ask, scared at the moans of pain.

“I think he broke my nose,” Randy manages to utter still dizzy from the unexpected attack. His sibling Steve is trying to defend himself from the aggressor, apparently without too much success since the thud reaching your ears indicates he got thrown on the concrete pavement.

“If…if you’re The Batman, I can assure you I’m not in any kind of danger!” you pant, scared about whatever the hell is happening. “I know them, please stop!”

“It’s not…it’s not The Batman…” Randy gags, the taste of his own blood making him nauseated.

“I’m calling 911!” the cell phone is taken out of the bag and Randy shrieks:

“He’s running away…”

“Please don’t call the cops,” Steve mutters, not having the strength to get up yet. “I’m sure they’re not gonna like the fact that two teenagers fresh out of the juvie already got involved into an altercation.”

“I can testify you got assaulted!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t see anything,” Steve groans while his brother helps him up. “They might twist it against us and I don’t want to go back to detention.”

“Me neither,” Randy grumbles, wiping his bloody nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Did you see who it was?” you inquire, placing the phone in your pocket; you sure don’t want to create any more trouble for them.

“No,” the cane is returned to the anxious Y/N. “His mug was covered with a hoodie.”

***************

Next morning, 5:43am

The bell dinging makes you aware someone entered the bakery.

“I’m sorry, we’re still closed until 6am,” you announce to the customer while brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

“Hello Y/N, it’s me”, the familiar voice makes you smile.

“Good morning Mister Wayne; your box is ready,” you slide the package on the other side of the counter. 

“Thank God! I hate early corporate meetings and this amazing stuff makes me wake up a bit, enough to seem like I’m interested, you know?” he soundlessly yawns and you burst out laughing.

“I’m glad it helps. Coffee?”

“Please!”

“The usual?”

“Naaah. Surprise me,” Bruce smirks and watches Y/N quite fascinated as she puts together his drink. Even if she can’t see, she moves with such ease and he takes a remorseful deep breath, wishing he could share his thoughts.

“Here you go Mister Wayne, triple shot. I think you need it today,” you hand over his cup and he takes a sip, smacking his lips in the process.

“This is very good,” Bruce praises your skills because lingering around the bakery for a few minutes it’s so much better that the dreadful meeting he’s about to attend. He takes a big stack of money from the inside pocket of his suit and hands it over to you.

“Are these…are these hundreds?!” you inquire, puzzled.

The lack of an answer confirms it.

“Mister Wayne, you don’t have to do this each time you come in. This is just... a lot again and the total for your box is only 46 dollars.”

“If I want to leave a tip, then I will. Share with your employees,” the stubborn heir suggests because this is how he usually convinces you to accept the money.

You want to protest but he keeps rambling on:

“There are also two checks in there: one for my monthly contribution to your charity, the other one you could say it’s an investment. Entirely up to you of course, but I would love for you to expand your business: a location next to the Wayne Tower would make me very happy. Every time I’m there pretending to be working I could run and get me a delicious treat to make my day better. ”

You blankly stare at him, deciding to speak up.

“Mister Wayne…You don’t have to do this… It wasn’t your fault…”

Bruce is grateful you can’t see his painful grimace at the candid words meant to alleviate the guilt of an event he failed to predict as both the main shareholder of Gotham National Bank and as his alter ego.

“You are not responsible for the lives that were lost. You just owned the bank, nothing more. It was very unfortunate, but please stop blaming yourself.”

He doesn’t comment yet, oddly enough paying attention to Y/N’s advice.

“You might not realize it, but you make this city a better place Mister Wayne; your generous donations truly make a difference. With your aid, my charity allows me to literally assist hundreds of those in need. That wouldn’t be possible without you. Take The Batman too for example; because of him this town is safer: he can’t get rid of all the rotten evil eating away at its core, but his watchful eye is a tremendous boost of hope for the rest of us. One person can’t do everything and he is not accountable for every bad action he cannot stop. You’re not more responsible than he is for the fate of others.”

Bruce sniffles, somehow relieved by the sudden monologue.

“You’re a good man, Mister Wayne. The tabloids might depict you as a carefree playboy, still they should mention your achievements also. Or at least bring up some details about that nice cologne you wear,” you giggle and his body relaxes at the small joke after being tense throughout the whole speech.

“It’s Dior,” he admits with a grin meant to alleviate the seriousness of what you just told him. And Bruce certainly appreciates it since he had no idea how much he craved to hear a confirmation of his own flaw: he is human after all, either as the rich billionaire or as The Batman. “Thank you…” he briefly touches your fingers while taking the box from the counter.

“I meant it Mister Wayne.”

“I know…” he sighs. “Think about the business proposal, OK?”

“I will,” you promise although you are not convinced it’s such a great plan on top of the numerous projects you’re involved in.

“I’ll see you next week,” Bruce promises and exits the pastry shop, abandoning its owner until their upcoming rendezvous.

You feel sorry for him, you really do. You hope what you told him stuck in the back of his mind: remorse is a strong poison Bruce Wayne should stay away from at any cost, especially when he’s in the center of attention due to his social position. Plus, he’s not liable for the tragedy that occurred nearly three years ago, even if he believes otherwise…

You were working as a teller at Wayne National Bank for eight months and that day was nothing special until the shift was almost over. The 25 year old Y/N went downstairs with her drawer in order to go over her daily transactions and make sure there were no discrepancies. Moments later, a powerful explosion shook the building and leveled it out in a matter of seconds, taking down walls and people alike as it sunk into rubble.

The only survivor was you since you happened to be in the vault; the metal crate protected you from the blast and you were lucky the emergency response team dug you out from under the debris in time: Y/N nearly perished and woke up at the hospital days later blind and unable to cope with the news: on top of losing her eye-sight, she lost her co-workers too.

Bruce Wayne felt responsible: he took pride in having the most sophisticated and advanced security system in place, yet nothing is fool proof, including the engineers that built it and sold out the secrets to the wrong people for the right price.

The terrorist attack was claimed by the Triple Star gang, another one of their attempts to take over Gotham in the never-ending battle for the top spot with The Joker. And Gotham’s citizens got caught in the crossfire. Again.

Bruce paid for everyone’s funerals and handsomely rewarded the grieving families along with his public apologies; the media tried to shred him to pieces, dragging his name in the mud again. It all died out once the family members of those killed in the attack sided with the billionaire: there’s nothing more off-putting to the press than dust settling over sensationalism without backup evidence.

You used the share you received from your ex-employer to open the bakery and start the kitchen soup, both venues flourishing under your patronage. Bruce was a constant customer and donor from day one, which aided raise awareness to the point of Y/N becoming some sort of local celebrity: despite her blindness after surviving catastrophe, she found the strength to rise above the shattered pieces of her life and help the less fortunate, which gained her the nickname of Angel of Gotham.

“Y/N,” Shane gets you out of trance, “do you want the chocolate croissants on top shelves today?”

“Yes, by the apple fritters and blueberry muffins,” you answer while the rest of the opening shift brings out the trays with freshly baked pastries from the kitchen.

The bell dings and Andy rushes in, frantically repeating:

“I know I’m late! I know I’m late!”

“AGAIN!!!” almost everyone teases in the same time, the choir urging more clumsy excuses:

“I know, ok? I’m deeply sorry. My car died out!”

“AGAIN!!!” the crew mocks and the poor guy sniffles, flustered to the maximum and you decide to give him a break.

“It’s fine; go wash your hands.”

“Y/N,” Andy halts in front of you. “Mister Wayne’s limo is parked outside and his chauffeur said he wants to talk to you.”

“He’s still here?!” you grab your stick and walk around the counter, heading outside the bakery.

“This way Miss,” the driver holds the limousine’s door opened until you get inside, slamming it shut as soon as you are next to your former boss. But something is off… the man doesn’t smell like Bruce’s cologne.

“Mister Wayne?...” you hesitantly mumble and the weird chuckle makes you cringe.

“Nope. Just rented a limo like his and waited until he left so I can take over. Luckily enough we saw an employee rushing in and he had no clue that the rich, pretty boy is not the one requesting a meeting.”

You panic and try to exit the car but it’s already moving and the door won’t open.

“Calm down, would you? If I wanted to hurt you I would have already done it.”

You exhale, nervously adjusting yourself in the comfortable seat.

“Who are you?” Y/N carefully stirs the conversation.

“A philanthropist interested in bestowing my fortune upon those in need,” the strange snickering comes to an end. “Here’s my business card,” your hands are placed on the person’s face without any warning. “Well, can you guess?”

“Umm…” you gulp, anxiously touching the skin. “Maybe mid-thirties…”

“Wow, that’s pretty good,” the man snorts, somewhat amused. “Go on.”

“Handsome…”

“Nailed it!!” he snarls and it gives you goosebumps.

“Green hair…”

His crazy silver grin diminishes a bit.

“Blue eyes,” and your eyes focusing on his astonish The Joker which is not an easy thing to accomplish.

“You…you can see!” he growls and your hands slide off his face. The King of Gotham had you on surveillance for months before he made contact today and nothing indicated the revelation he witnessed by pure chance.

“I was wondering if you‘ll show up,” your change in attitude baffles the usual emotionless King of Gotham. “Are you interested in money laundering throughout my charity?” you cold tone skips to the main topic. “Others have asked and no, I don’t do that; I don’t care about how much it would put back in my account. Dirty money has no place in my…”

“Says the perfect Angel lying to the world about her handicap,” The Joker sarcastically cuts you out.

“I’m not lying,” you mutter. “My vision comes and goes, it’s a neurological anomaly after the injury I sustained. I was warned that might happen and frankly I don’t have to announce it on TV or to my doctor when I’m blind and when I’m not. It’s easier to deal with it since at one point I might find myself in the blackness forever.”

“Interesting,“ The Joker huffs, crossing his legs. “I couldn’t care less about your sneaky ways; I’m not here to negotiate a deal. I’m here to get what I want. Money laundry will bring you more funds to do whatever the hell you do, help people and all that,” J flares his arms around, done with the charade.

“Yes, I help them and you kill them,” Y/N gives The Clown a mean glare. “Or beat them up for no reason,” you hint at the two teenagers he attacked since you actually saw him do it.

“Somebody gotta keep the balance,” he jokes about it like it’s some kind of funny topic.

“Mister Joker, I am here to help people and that’s it, “an apparent serene Y/N grumbles even if her heart is pounding out of her chest. “Can you please drop me off at the back entrance of my bakery? If I go missing or end up dead, people will notice. My disappearance or demise wouldn’t go unnoticed and you don’t need more unwanted attention, do you?” you play the best card you have because frankly you have zero aces in your sleeve.

The Joker sucks on his teeth, debating upon this dumfounding outcome that didn’t ruin his day; from time to time he loves a good challenge and the opportunity basically jumped at him so to speak. He gets easily bored and shit, this little project isn’t boring at all. Turned out to be quite interesting.

“Hey Frost!” The Joker shouts. “Let’s take McGillivray Street and return this lost Angel to her business. We don’t want a poor blind woman to get lost in this huge city; we’ll consider this our good deed for the year!”

“Of course sir,” the henchman switches lanes and you strive to remain composed because showing weakness could mean disaster while in the company of the unpredictable psychopath.

The limo takes a left and in a few seconds you reach your destination since Frost basically just slowly drove around the block. The fancy vehicle stops and you get out, preparing to bail when The Joker interrogates:

“Who are you really, hm?” J suspiciously squints his eyes.

You bent over to look at him, cautiously choosing your words:

“I’m the one that got away, Mister Joker. The only one.”

He puffs, signaling you to close the door.

“Good for you, sugar. We’ll keep in touch,” and he yanks the door out of your hand since he doesn’t have patience to wait for you to close it.

Oh my God, you think and reprise your stroll, sensing the concrete with the walking stick. What was that?! you shiver, just a few feet away from the back entrance of the pastry shop. How am I… but you can’t continue the argument since a van slams the breaks right by you, five guys quickly running out and pulling you inside.

“Did you see that boss?” Frost inquires, still waiting at the red light while watching the rearview mirror. “It was so fast nobody noticed.”

“It’s them,” The Joker sneers.

“Do we… … do anything?” Jonny throws the option out there for the heck of it.

“Do you have to fucking ask??!!” his boss shouts. “This is my goddamned town, not theirs! I decide who lives or dies, who gets kidnapped and who doesn’t. ME, not the Triple Star gang!!! I am sick of them interfering with my plans!”

“Call for reinforcements and discreetly follow?”

“No, tell the guys waiting to escort us on Andresen Avenue to intercept the van and follow it. We need a plan.”

“Yes sir,” Frost smirks, craving to take on another invigorating assignment since today was quite a dull day.  

Back in the van, the men keeping you captive in between them didn’t articulate a single sentence yet. They have no clue you can see so they didn’t bother cover your head with a cloth. You know The King of Gotham is not present but you have to go on with it; what other choice do you have in this dangerous situation?

“Mister… Mister Joker?” you plead. “I’m sure we can…”

“The Joker?!” somebody laughs, finally talking and everyone snickers like it’s the best stand –up comedy act they ever heard. “No honey: this is the competition.” **************

Five days afterwards, 6pm

Everyone at the soup kitchen is eating in silence, the usual cheerful chit chatting absent from the premises: Y/N has been missing for five days, gone without a trace and despite all the efforts, her whereabouts are still unknown.

“Something bad happened,” Mike shakes his head, worried. “I can feel it,” he wipes his teary eyes.

“She wouldn’t just abandon everything and flee…” Clara whispers to her fellow table mates. “I’ve been homeless for a long time and this is the first place I found some real help, you know? Thanks to her I have a job interview next week,” the woman’s voice breaks. “Nobody would give me a chance and she put in a good word; I might have an opportunity to actually…” Clara blows her nose in a tissue, unable to finish her confession.

“We’re in the same boat,” George turns around from the nearby table and his eyes get big when he recognized who the man entering the establishment is. “Holy…”

The Joker is holding Y/N in his arms, both looking like they escaped a war: dusty, ripped clothes and visible bruises to match the unusual view seen by the 137 souls eating there for the moment. You are unconscious and a few people try to get up, startled.

“SIT DOWN!!!” The Joker screams, lifting you higher in his arms.

“Mister Joker, we gotta go!” Frost advises while keeping the door opened; the other goons temporarily blocked the traffic at The Clown’s orders. A few onlookers on the street are already dialing 911 and J is aware he can’t linger, but he won’t ignore an outburst either:

“Tell everyone The Devil brought your Angel back !! ME, not The Batman!!!” the insane green haired man barks. “Not all heroes wear capes, huh?!” he addresses everyone as he places you on an empty bench and hurries outside, taking one last glance behind to see a weary Y/N barely opening her eyes that cannot focus.

And The Joker knows that after the events he whiteness too, The Angel of Gotham is in complete darkness again.  

Also read: MASTERLIST 

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