#I looks at these and I know they’re gonna be painful to paint and render

[pinkiemme]

I’m bringing country back

(cowboy Halsin, Gale and Astarion wips)

Please send me the energy to finish them ✨

[kythed]

cold war

semi eita x reader

synopsis: how many degrees does it take to melt semi eita? (ficmas day 2!)

“Why would you ever apply for a job at an ice rink,” he says, tone thickly frosted with annoyance, “if you can’t even skate?”

You blink up at your co-worker from the ice, the seat of your pants growing uncomfortably damp. Giggling children and lovesick couples glide by, all far more proficient skaters than you are. You offer the boy standing above you sheepish smile. “It just pays better than babysitting, I guess.”

He doesn’t laugh, just exhales heavily through his nose and hoists you up by the forearm with an unnecessarily harsh grip.

“Ouch,” you say indignantly, but the complaint dies on your lips when he shoots you a glare steely enough to slice through marble. Though the obvious irritation clouding his angular features renders you unable to fully appreciate his good looks, he’s the definition of severe beauty, all fair tousled hair and slate grey eyes.

“Learn how. Or else.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and effortlessly skates away to go rescue a toddler hanging onto the edge of the rink, crying for her mother. You watch as he lifts her up gently and sets her on her feet with an affectionate pat on the head. Then, almost as if he can feel you staring, he whips around and narrows his eyes with an expression that sends a chill down your spine.

You frown, but the pout swiftly turns into a scheming smile.

Semi Eita is cold. But not so cold he can’t be melted.

--

Operation Melt Semi starts small. The next day, you get to the rink early and wait for him to arrive. When he walks through the door, shrugging off his heavy parka, you sidle up to him and offer him a cheery “Morning, Semi!” along with a beaming grin.

“Morning,” he says, not even sparing you a glance as he ducks into the men’s lockers. Your face falls. Damn it. This might be a little harder than you’d previously anticipated.

You try again that Friday when you catch him in the coat room while you’re both sitting on the bench and changing into your skates. He knots his laces almost aggressively, pulling them so tight they cut angry red lines across his palms.

“Your hair looks good like that,” you say tentatively. It’s parted down the middle today, and it really does suit him. “Very nineties.”

Semi gives you an incredulous look before briefly glancing into a reflective window. He turns back, reaches into his pocket, and unwraps a piece of gum without offering you one. You bristle with annoyance but keep the sunny smile plastered across your face-- your cheeks are beginning to numb.

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Um, yeah, kinda.” You cringe inwardly when your voice cracks.

“Gross,” he says, jumping up and leaving you to struggle with your laces. You sigh and slump down. Bastard.

On Saturday, however, and every day you see him after that, he has his hair parted down the middle. He doesn’t mention it again, and neither do you, but you do feel a small sense of victory every time he runs a careful hand through his silvery locks, setting them in place after lapping the rink.

--

A couple weeks later, you’ve just gotten off your morning shift, a little bruised and battered (both physically and emotionally). Semi had still been forced to save you from the cruel, slippery ice a couple times, of course, so you’d taken the opportunity to thank him profusely, and you swear you saw the corners of his mouth twitch as he pulled you up once. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“Hey,” you say, poking your head into the break room. Semi and a couple of other rink attendants look up from their phones. “Anyone want a coffee? I’m gonna make a run to the nearest Starbucks for a latte.”

“No,” Semi says automatically, face blank, and you roll your eyes internally. Of course he’d decline. As your other co-workers rattle off their orders (one small caramel mocha, one earl grey tea), you resolve to buy him a drink anyways.

If I were an annoyingly attractive asshole, you muse, squinting your eyes at the Starbucks menu ten minutes later, what would I order?

When you return to the rink, breathless and bearing a heavily laden, flimsy cardboard tray, you thrust a steaming paper cup of coffee into Semi’s hand. He stares at you, face painted with something resembling surprise.

“I said I didn’t want anything,” he says, taking the lid off to skeptically peer inside. He glances up at you.“Is this a blonde roast?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously. It’s all you can do to keep the smug grin off your face as Semi inhales the mellow, milky bitterness, letting the steam curl onto his face in the cold ice rink air.

“How did you kno--”

“I could just tell,” you hum, plopping down on the couch as you take a long drink of your own latte. The vanilla syrup generously pumped inside is almost as sweetly gratifying as the bewildered expression on Semi’s face. He just shakes his head, still staring at the cup in his hand.

“Well, how much was it? I’m paying you back.”

“It’s on me,” you say casually, smiling serenely at the way his mouth opens and closes like a shocked goldfish. “Don’t worry about it.”

Semi doesn’t respond as he sets the coffee down on the table, but later you see him sipping on it while he plays some little puzzle game on his phone. Mission accomplished.

--

You’re the last one to leave the rink that day, so you lock up and double check each door before skipping into the coat room to grab your bag. The fluorescent lights flicker sporadically, casting an artificial lightning over the benches. As you reach for the bag, squinting, you catch a little yellow post-it sticking out from its smallest pocket.

Thanks, it reads, messy script scrawled in blue ink. Folded beneath it is a slightly wrinkled five dollar bill.

Despite yourself, a small smile spreads across your face. The thawing has begun.

--

It’s an uphill journey, of course, but with each victorious battle you inch a little closer to winning the war. Semi isn’t invincible, and the cracks in his icy facade are beginning to show.

He’s a little more patient, a little more understanding. His small gestures betray his hand as he shows you how to angle your skates to stop on the ice, as he gives you a pack of tissues when you have a runny nose. He still manages to sneak in an eye roll or snide side comment, of course-- “Seriously, you can’t even brake? You’re hopeless,” or “You shouldn’t have come into work today if you’re sick. You’ll pass all your germs to me.” But still, it’s baby steps, you remind yourself, clutching onto his arm as you come to a grinding halt on the ice, snatching the tissues from his hand with a pained smile and a forced “Thanks, Semi.”

One day, you have to take a shift immediately after leaving a family friend’s wedding. It had been a lovely ceremony (with really, really good chocolate cake), but you hadn’t had time to change into work clothes, so you find yourself rushing through the doors still wearing a cocktail dress and heels, tugging your backpack onto your shoulder and praying your manager doesn’t notice you’re a few minutes late.

Semi is at the counter cleaning a pair of skates, meticulously wiping the blades dry. His phone rests beside him, some sort of pulsing electropop trickling softly from its speakers. He’s nodding his head slightly, keeping pace with the rhythm, and his face is calm, devoid of the irritation you’ve grown so familiar with.

You clear your throat. “Uh, hey.”

Semi looks up, and for a moment, time stops. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing painfully in his throat as his gaze shakily makes its way down from the tops of your bare shoulders, to your exposed neckline, to the skirt swishing just above your knees. The dress is a soft pink chiffon, more delicate and feminine than anything you’d ever worn into work.

There’s a sudden heat, a jolt in the pit of your stomach as he meets your eyes again, and you swear he feels it too. It seems as though the temperature in the rink has instantaneously risen twenty degrees-- you think you might start sweating.

“You look…” Semi breathes, but then he stops himself, choking down whatever his next words might’ve been. He furrows his brows and tears his stare away, looking back down at the forgotten skates.

There’s a brief beat of silence, dappled with only the occasional child’s shriek of joy from on the ice.

“You’d better get changed,” he says finally, pointedly looking anywhere but you.

“Okay,” you say, unable to come up with anything more sophisticated. Your mind is empty of anything but the memory of those cold grey eyes growing suddenly hot, gazing into yours with a warmth of indescribable magnitude. As you slowly walk into the womens’ lockers, something dawns on you. There might be a different way to melt the ice prince.

--

Work is different, after that. Your days are no longer characterized by torment, by rude jabs and scowls from Semi that poke at you right where you’re sore. Instead, they’re not-so-subtly woven with lingering glances, with “accidental” touches at just the right moment to send an unwanted shudder to the very tips of your fingers and toes.

Once, when you’re working the counter, fitting customers and renting out skates, Semi skids off the ice with a spray of snow and clinks his way over to you, blades meeting the tile floor metallically.

“I’m gonna change these out for a different pair,” he tells you, and you nod, acutely aware of his close proximity. As he slips behind you, he touches your lower back lightly, just enough so you know he’s there. A breath catches in your throat when his fingers linger just a little longer than necessary, leaving their imprints burning on your skin, even through the thick fabric of your sweater.

He doesn’t look at you when he comes back out, but the back of his neck is flushed pink. You catch a whiff of his cologne-- it’s woody and spicy, comforting like a distant childhood memory. You fight the sudden impulse to launch yourself into his arms and bury your face in his hair, inhaling that holiday-esque scent.

No, no, no, you scold yourself as you watch him slide back onto the ice. Not Semi Eita. Anyone but Semi Eita.

You’d set out to make peace with him, to make work life a little more bearable for the both of you. You hadn’t expected yourself to start looking forward to seeing him each day, to have your chest constrict, the air crushed from your lungs like a soda can underfoot every time he looked your way. All you’d wanted to do was melt his icy exterior-- not let yourself get scalded by his heat.

A week later, when you enter the rink, there’s an impossibly tall redhead leering over Semi, who’s idly filling in a timetable on the front counter. He’s chattering away in a lilting, sing-songy tone while Semi pays him exactly zero attention.

“--but the last episode was really of pristine quality, you know? None of that filler crap, just great writing, excellent animation, and-- oooooh.” When ginger giant notices you, a joker-like grin stretches across his face. “And who’s this?”

“I--”

“She’s nobody,” Semi cuts in, slamming the timetable shut and jumping over the counter. He glares up at his friend, looking a bit like a disgruntled house cat attempting to bully a tiger. “I think it’s about time for you to get going.”

The friend ignores Semi’s attempt at intimidation, instead turning his attention to you. He takes your hand in a way that makes it unclear whether or not he’s about to shake it or kiss it. You stifle a giggle. “Well, hello, ‘Nobody.’ Pretty name. My name’s Tendou Satori, but you can call me--”

Semi cuts him off with a sharp jab to the ribs and Tendou doubles over in pain, clutching his stomach overdramatically. “Not her.”

“Ouch, Semi-Semi,” Tendou gasps, though a few stray giggles escape with his theatrics. He glances at Semi, then to you, then back to him, apparently having some sort of silent epiphany. His face lights up as gleefully as a kid’s on Christmas morning. “Wait… is this the girl you’re always ta--”

Semi jabs him again, harder this time, and Tendou yelps, stumbling backwards. You cringe as he knocks over a stack of ice walkers— as entertaining as this squabble is, you’ll be the one to clean up the mess. Then Semi stalks over and drags him back by the wrist with the rough swagger of a sheriff arresting the town’s most wanted. He glowers at Tendou, face dark as a thunderstorm. “Tendou, I swear to God, if you so much say another word I will strangle you with my bare hands.”

“Never knew you were so kinky, Semi-Semi!” Tendou preemptively dodges any possible counterattack and turns to you, punctuating his next phrase with a wink: “Have fun with that.”

Later, once Semi has successfully ushered Tendou out the door, you turn to him, eyebrow raised. “What did he mean by ‘have fun with that,’ Eita?”

“Nothing,” Semi says, though his guarded tone leads you to suspect otherwise. He offers you a piece of gum before taking one himself and slipping the sleeve back into his bag. “He’s just like that. Also, since when have we been on a first name basis?”

You blush. You hadn’t even realized you’d called him by his first name. Then you smile a little, popping the gum into your mouth and folding the wrapper into a neat little square. “If you’d prefer, I could call you Semi-Semi as well.”

Semi pales, presumably watching as a vision of his life tormented by two Tendous flashes before his eyes. Then he looks back to you and clears his throat. “Eita is fine.”

As you go about your day, robotically hooking skates back on the shelf, wiping down the snack bar tables, stacking chair, and shivering the whole time, what Tendou was about to say rings in your ears: Are you the girl he’s always talking about?

You can’t help but wonder what exactly Semi says about you.

--

It’s a Saturday evening when you approach Semi to ask for a skating lesson.

“Please,” you say, trailing him around the edges of the rink like a lost puppy. He’s picking up stray bits of trash from beneath the benches— sticky pieces of candy wrappers and cigarette butts left behind by unconscientious skaters. “I just want to stop falling so often-- it’s embarrassing.”

“Yeah, it is embarrassing,” Semi says, suddenly standing upright and turning to face you. He leans close, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a sly half smile. “Sucks to suck.”

“Eita,” you say again, reaching out to tug the edge of his sleeve. He glances at your fingers tightly clutching the thick wool of his sweater and then back up to you. You put on your best pleading pout. “Come on, just for tonight? Just like an hour on the ice, tops.”

“I don’t know,” he says slowly. He glances at his watch and sighs. “I have to get home by nine… I guess we can stay for an hour. But only an hour.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

“Thanks, Semi-Semi,” you say with a grin, and he scowls.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Too bad.”

--

Semi is a surprisingly good teacher. He pokes fun at you, of course, mocking the way you cling to him when he tries to teach you to skate in a circle, or the way you clumsily flail your arms to keep your balance, but he’s patient. He’s gentle when he corrects your form, when he offers you a hand with which to pull yourself up.

It’s only the two of you now, twenty minutes after closing time. All the lights in the rink are off but the large one directly overhead, a spotlight that illuminates the pale, glassy expanse of the ice. The scrape of your blades over the ice echoes throughout the rink as Semi holds your waist lightly, trying to guide you backwards.

“I don’t understand,” you complain, shuffling backwards and trying your hardest to avoid stepping on Semi’s skates. “If I need to go the other direction, I can just turn around, can’t I?”

“Nuh-uh,” he says, tightening his grip on your waist as you wobble slightly. “Saves time. Just keep your toe pointed inwards and move your skates in curves. It’s not that hard.”

“It’s not that hard,” you say, imitating him in a squeaky, high pitched tone.

You hear him snort behind you. “That’s not what I sound like.”

“That’s exactly what you sound like,” you say, looking down at your feet. Toes in. Skates move in curves. “Hey, wait, am I doing it right?”

You glide backwards, slowly, hesitantly. Semi moves with you, hands still hovering at your sides just in case. “Almost. Bend your knees a little, that’ll make it easier to balance.”

“Oh, okay. I-- shit!”

In an entirely ungraceful lurching movement, you lose your balance, grabbing Semi’s wrist in a futile attempt to remain upright. The next moment unfolds in slow motion as you fall backwards, pulling a horrified, wide-eyed Semi on top of you as your back hits the ice, his entire body sprawled over your smaller frame.

You lay in stunned silence for a second, feeling your spine throb and the cold of the ice already beginning to seep through your clothes. Semi’s face is inches from yours-- his breath smells like the spearmint gum he’s always chewing, and, for the first time, you notice subtle green flecks in his grey eyes.

“Sorry,” you finally whisper, staring at him. “I didn’t mean to.”

He doesn’t shift himself off of you, just stares back at you with furrowed brows. Almost imperceptibly, his gaze flicks down to your lips and back up again. Your breath catches in your throat-- but then a wide, bright grin breaks across his face, and it’s like the sun, brilliantly slicing through a gloomy mass of storm clouds with its sharp golden rays.

“You-- you’re-- you’re such a shit skater,” he chokes out between guffaws. You can feel his chest heaving with each laugh, and an angry flush crawls over your cheeks.

“It wasn’t my fault!” you protest, attempting to shove him off of you. He doesn’t budge. “You weren’t giving me enough space to move!”

“You should’ve seen your face,” he says, dramatically wiping an invisible tear from his eye. “God, it was so funny.”

“Well, sorry I’m not as good at skating as you are, Mr. I Do Everything Perfectly The First Time,” you scoff, again trying to push him off. Semi cocks an eyebrow and smirks, settling his forearms on either side of your head. Your heart beats erratically at his nearness. “And can you please move? You’re crushing my lungs.”

“Nope.”

You scowl. The repressed irritation from weeks and weeks of trying to get on his good side strains at the boundaries of your self control. “Get off, Semi.”

“Make me.” His eyes gleam with silent laughter as you struggle for a moment, unable to do anything more than wiggle beneath him.

You huff, resting your head back down on the ice in defeat. “You’re fucking heavy, Eita. What did you do before this, eat a buffet out of business?”

Semi chuckles, and it’s a low, raspy sound that vibrates in your chest. He leans in close, angling his face slightly. His lips hover just above yours, and you can feel his breath fan over your mouth with his next words: “You’re so damn annoying.”

There’s a beat of silence. A heavy, stifling tension hangs in the air, a live wire with crackling electricity dancing across its taut line. You stare at him, unblinking. Daring him to do something.

And then he’s kissing you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other slipping under your shoulders to pull you flush against his chest. He kisses you hungrily, recklessly, like he’s been fasting and your lips are the first food he’s seen for months. You grip the back of his sweater as you kiss him back, fingers clutching at the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. He tastes like mint and something sweet; it’s messy, there’s tongue and teeth, and your jeans are wet from the ice— but at that moment, you think you’ve never been kissed better. A warmth spreads from his lips to yours, making its way down your throat into deep within your chest, where it burns your lungs and throbs almost painfully.

Though Semi Eita may be cold, his kisses are anything but.

When you break away he’s in quite the state, breathless with a flushed face and disheveled hair. You must look much the same, you think as you inhale deeply, blinking away the stars behind your eyes.

He sits up, resting on your hips. “Well, then.”

“Well, then,” you echo, propping yourself up on your forearms.

“You’re a shit kisser, too.” Semi grins when you gasp and punch him in the arm. You open your mouth to fire back, but before you can get a word out he leans down quick and kisses you again, soft and light. “It’s okay. We can practice.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“How generous of you.” You try to sound sarcastic but the words fall flat under Semi’s gaze. He smiles again and clambers onto his feet, offering you a hand.

“You wanna get dinner or something?”

--

You hold his hand on the walk out to his car, too, fingers tightly interlocked. He hums something under his breath, squeezing your palm every so often.

It’s freezing outside. As Semi fumbles with his keys, you rub your arms, trying in vain to brush away the stubborn goosebumps.

When you climb into the passenger seat, Semi lets you choose the radio station and, before he pulls out of the lot, he silently taps his cheek for a kiss. You roll your eyes but nonetheless lean over to give him a quick peck.

“Thanks,” he says, putting an arm over the back of your seat to pull out of the space. A slow acoustic song comes on, reminiscent of thick woolen blankets and cheerfully flickering flames.

The cold war is over, and you’re not quite sure who melted who.

“Mhm,” you hum. Semi offers you his upturned palm without taking his eyes of the road, so you slip your hand into his, enjoying the way his fingers envelop yours. There’s a light winter rain outside, washing away any remnants of frost on windowpanes and waterpipes.

But, frankly, you don’t really care.

[internalsealpanic]

Love Through the Ages (Tim Drake)

Summary:  Love like baggage needs to be declared.

a/n: This is part two of a series that is a fic rec list disguised as a fic. For these fics, most of the characters will be speaking different languages, so unless specified otherwise assume that the characters are speaking in the first language I mention. They’re all vampires with centuries under their belt. Why wouldn’t I make them all polyglots.  Also, thank you to the proof reading gang for putting up with my shenanigans.  I will have links to the fics I recommend in the fic itself.

Warnings: Everyone is dramatic.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist. 

You watch the rusty green of the warehouse wall disappear behind a spray of orange paint. There is nothing more satisfying than watching paint make old things new. 

A whistle interrupts your reverie, making the can slip from your hand. You swear, the harsh syllables echoing in the empty air. The can bounces down the scaffold and lands in someone’s hands. Tim’s face gets sprayed with a mist of orange. He makes a noise and rubs at his face. You bark out a laugh and he grimaces at you. The begrudging fondness obvious on his face. 

He waves at you, eyes still stinging from the paint. Giddiness flourishes in your chest. “I knew I’d find you here!” He shouts in a dialect of Mandarin that you hadn’t heard in ages.

It takes you a moment to understand him. You’re honestly extremely rusty. It takes you another moment to realize that it made no sense for him to find you. “How?” You shout back in Romanian. 

Tim shakes his head, throwing his hand over his shoulder. “Open canvas.”

You snort, looking down at him. Tim’s breath catches as he stares up at you, your smile. You’re haloed by sunlight. You look like an angel descending from heaven.

Tim’s forced to pick up his jaw when he hears your voice again. You’re tapping your watch. The words are lost to him.

“What?!”

You shake your head, strands of hair coming loose from behind your ear. “I asked...” You shout in a coarse frawl. “... Isn’t it a bit early for you to be here?”

It was. 

He was only 30 minutes early. No big deal. 

He shrugs. “I just wanted to watch you paint.” He says, trailing off. Oh God, Tim thinks. Does he sound lovesick? Is Cassie right? He pushes the thoughts down, opting to look at the building instead. On the side of the building was an immaculate portrait of the Red Hood rendered like a saint, haloed in golden light and surrounded by your orange marigolds. It would look at home in any grand cathedral. Your talents never ceased to amaze him.

“Should I ask why you’re defacing a building?”

You turn back to the building picking up a can of yellow paint. You tilt your head. “It’s a massive improvement, yes?”

Tim looks around. The pavement is littered with wet trash mixed. The buildings were rusted. Everything else is covered in grime. “You’re rude…  but not wrong.”

You preen, electing to ignore the first half. You turn back to your canvas before Tim can get another word in. He knows he’s lost you. 

“So, why *the* Red Hood?” 

You look away from the portrait, setting the can of yellow spray paint. It sprays your sweatshirt and Tim laughs. You stick your tongue out at his face flushing. You liked this sweatshirt. He gave it to you the last time you had meandered into Gotham. “Why not? We’re in the Bowery. He’s like a saint here.” You snip, switching to Russian. Ok, that made sense. You toss your sweatshirt into Tim’s face. The fabric is lousy with the smell of paint and of 5-hour energy drinks. It was an improvement over the pungent odor of garbage. 

He tries to rub the orange paint on his face away before he tucks your sweatshirt beneath his arm. You’re still looking down at him, wry amusement on your face. “I’ll paint your beloved Red Robin when I get to China Town. Heard he was quite popular in those parts.”

Tim’s heart flutters.  He stutters out his next question. “Why are you using spray paint for this type of illustration?”

“Kon said I couldn’t do it.”

Tim snickers, “As if Kon could tell the difference.”

You frown only realizing your mistake. You curse under your breath. Tim doesn’t stop laughing at you. “Shut up!” You snarl.

Tim dodges the next paint can you throw but the next one hits him square in the face. You grin triumphantly. Tim raises a middle finger at you and you giggle in response. You feel bad, seeing him wince in pain. You’d buy him apology tea later but for now, you clasp your hands and call out to him sweetly. “Sorry, Timmers!”

Tim, equally as mature and well aware that you’re only half sorry, blows out a breath, muttering something colorful before shouting back: “we should get going if we wanna eat out after looting the museum.”

At that, you launch yourself off the scaffolding, your body feeling weightless as it falls. Tim drops your sweatshirt as he holds his arms out to catch you. He catches you easily. You two spin as you wrap your arms around him. 

“You are certifiably insane.” He laughs. His nose smooshed against yours. 

“And so are you.” You snort, hugging him. 

He hugs you back. You hum so softly into his hair that Tim wouldn’t be able to tell it from a breath if he were human.  Tim holds you close, hugging your waist tightly. He doesn’t really want to let you go. You don’t either.  You and Tim stand there for a bit when you hear his cell beep. 

“Why does your phone sound like a pager?” 

“Because Babs told me how to.”

“That literally explains nothing.”

“I’m not taking crap from the gremlin who had ‘Baby Shark’ as their ringtone for 12 months. WILLINGLY.”

You pout at him, your face so close to his. Tim’s only half paying attention to your defense. To be fair, it basically boiled down to ‘it isn’t that bad’ and ‘Bart’s ringtone is worse’. 

After a short shopping trip and a cab ride later, you arrive at the museum in fresh clothes and less paint on his face for Tim. 

“All the World’s a Stage. They botched it! The nerve! The barbarity of it all. It's just like when they botched ‘Words with Friends’ or ‘In Ice We Trust’ or even ‘Tomcat’. That last one was pretty much gift wrapped for them!” You say throwing up your hands nearly hitting Tim and whatever poor bastard was unlucky enough to be behind you. 

“For someone who isn't invested in modern media, you're getting fired up.” Tim chuckles, eyes flickering behind you. You had managed to miss the people behind you but you do have a rather conspicuous space behind you. 

“They had such good material to work with”  you say, gesticulating wildly. “And- and they butchered it.”

“You need a 5 minute breather?” Tim asks, resting a hand on your back. 

 “Shut up,” you laugh.

Tim grins at you as if he had no idea what this ultimate betrayal feels like. 

Determined to prove him wrong, you say : “C'mon, Timothy,  you ranted like this when they botched the star thingy.”

“It’s Star Wars, you heathen.”

“Star. Thingy.” You repeat, crossing your arms. 

Tim squints at you. You know he’s not gonna blow up at you but somehow that’s scarier. 

“You can pay for your own cab later.” He grumbles. 

“Star. Thing-Y.” 

Tim turns to leave. This always worked. Always without fail, you grab at his hand, lacing your fingers with his. Tim tries not to smile.

“Fine.”

“Was that so hard?”

“It was excruciating actually.”

“You're being dramatic.” He says, showing the woman behind the ticket counter your passes. 

“Excuse me, I left all my drama in the Renaissance.”

“Oh really?”

“Ok not really but admit that both Andromeda and Stars, Forgive Me have better writing.“ You bite out.

 “I- That’s unfair,” he says. You raise your brow in response. 

“...”

“Fine,” he sighs. “But admit that Andromeda should have been named ‘Space Whores’.”

You squint at him then smile. “Oh abso-posi-tute-ly.”

 “Have you seen this dirty old hockey mask?” You ask, tapping the glass as if the hockey mask would react if you just agitate it enough. 

 “What is that?” Tim asks, looking over your shoulder. His brows crinkles when he sees the mask. “How is that romantic?”

You hum. “Ask the curator?” You suggest, looking around. He was usually out and about. He could never sit still even if he tried. You lean down narrowing your eyes at the plaque. “Says here some dude called Jason terrorized 3 kids over summer.”

“That’s very romantic for our Jay to do.” Tim says, crossing his arms and switching to Cantonese. It was a weird habit but you knew why. Apparently for all Jason’s skill in languages he somehow could not get a handle on Cantonese. 

 “Not that Jason.” You say, smirking. 

“You sure?” Tim asks, leaning closer to you. 

You snicker,  “As in character as that would be...”

“True,” he says, edging closer and closer to you. You rock on your heels nervously at the proximity. “It’s a shame, I thought there would be a machete to match too…” You can feel Tim’s breath on your cheek. 

“OH LOOK AT THIS.” You say twisting away and pointing to a black and white photo. Tim’s hands leave his sides to grab for you, to pin you to his chest, but he has enough self control not to. Instead, he follows you.

“It’s just a man and a woman in business suits. Yanno something you can see in any metropolitan city.”

“Yes but,” you say, tracing a nonsensical pattern into the air, “I’ve heard a story about this, they were both extremely rich and heads of their companies, went from enemies to lovers - my all time favourite.” 

Tim looks closer at the photo of the man and woman with their backs to the camera just holding hands along the NYC sidewalk. It’s cute. “I thought your favorite was lovers to enemies.”

“Well of course, it is! The drama, the absolute tragedy. It’s better than any trope in existence. But I love that this is just black and white. You don’t need anything else to indicate they’re in love with each other.”

Tim is all too tempted to point out that that likely wasn’t intentional, that it was a limitation of the time, but the look in your eyes robbed him of his breath, so he swallowed his thoughts. 

Your eyes rove over the room frantically in search of something. 

“So is there any reason you wanted to go to this exhibit instead of watching lavalantula 10 in theaters?” Tim says, tapping another case. 

You turn to look at him, shock etched into your features.“10? We've seen lavalantula 1 through 9 in theaters? Why did I agree to that?”

“Cus you love me?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Probably not.”

Tim gives you a hurt look. 

You scowl at him. You have no idea why everyone thinks he’s the nice Wayne sibling. He is a manipulative little shit who plays you like a fiddle. And yet here you are falling for it. An absolute buffoon. 

You grumble an apology under your breath before continuing. “This is more cultural Timmers and lord knows we need more culture.” You wave sarcastically. 

“I think we've lived enough culture.”

“it cannot hurt to experience more Tim,” you snort. He rolls his eyes. You grab onto his arm and look up at him bright eyed. Two can play it at that game. “Please Tim....”

He scowls at you. “Fine-”

“Yes!”

“-but you owe me a movie marathon.”

“Fine. Fine,” you nod, “just don’t pick something dumb.”

“I just got the new star trek box collection.” He beams. 

“You could just shove me into a grave.” You sigh dramatically. 

Tim grins. “The Renaissance called-”

“Oh fuck you, Grackle.”

He snorts and you hate that you fall in love with him more every time he laughs. 

You cross your arms giving him a hard look. “Fine but we have to have an intermission of my choice.” You say, offering a hand. 

“Deal.” He says, shaking your outstretched hand. 

“Great, you've just agreed to watch the Great British Baking Show with me.” You say smug. 

Tim curses himself. 

"Are you still looking for that one painting?"

You tip your body back to look at him, your eyes wide and startled. It takes no time at all for them to shift to their usual angry shape. "Yes," you say quietly. It's Tim’s turn to be startled. Your hands curl into a fist. "It wasn't done and those bastards took it." 

Tim reaches out to put his hand on your shoulder. 

You cast your hands up to the sky dramatically.  "The barbarity of it all!"

Tim smiles, letting his hand fall to his side. You would be ok. 

You two walk on as Tim rants about StarGate  could have had a bigger fanbase if it hadn’t excluded so many people. You add StarGate to the list of things to not remember. 

You stop.

Your heart presses a bruise in your throat. 

Framed in  wood laden in ivy and marigolds is a painting that was painfully familiar.  Even unwashed, you can still see the bright reds of rose petals, the wild greens of the women’s skirts, the brilliant oranges of marigolds, and the blinding whites of cobble stones. The image was a practice in entropy made into perfection. The chaos of Valentine's day in a small town square reduced and captured in an infinitesimal moment.

Damian told you that people had started calling them Warsaw’s Faceless Sweethearts. You hated that.  A part of you wants to scream. You want to tell them that this wasn’t for them. This painting was made for one person and one person only.

You’ve been staring at it too long. Tim looks at you. You’ve known him too long to not know that he’s worried. That he’s feeling that stupid surge of protectiveness he always does when you go quiet. It’s in the cautious way he reaches out to you, slow and steady the way you approach a spooked animal. You want to lash out at him but he’s your Tim. Besides, too much of your mind is trapped in the painting, in the white gazebo, in between the couple who’s stuck in the moment before a kiss. 

Tim stands closer to you, his fingers lacing into yours with centuries worth or practice. He looks at the painting. “This painting looks familiar.” Tim says for the lack of anything better to say. It was yours. He knew that with only a few seconds of looking. 

“I… I don’t think so,” you say clumsily, “that’s definitely not the painting I’ve been looking for. Yup that one looks completely finished. Yup definitely.” You tug at Tim’s arm. 

He gives you a look, staying perfectly in place, before turning back to the painting. His gaze draws low. In a glass case sits scraps of paper lined with charcoal.  It takes an embarrassingly long time for Tim to realize that they’re sketches the artist did. Tim recognized the baker, the blacksmith, the seamstress, and even the constable. Most glaring of all he recognizes your marigolds.  His eyes drift to the sketches of the couple in  the gazebo. They were numerous, haphazard and unsatisfied. You were clearly frustrated with the groom’s face. Tim wonders who the poor guy could be. 

In the corner of the page in the center, he sees it.  “Wait… is that me?”

“NO!”

“Is that you?” He asks, pointing to the figure next to his. In the sketch, your lips are brushing against his. Tim’s lip tingles trying to replicate the sensation. 

You’re frozen stiff. You try to pull your hand away. You want to bury your face in them. Scratch that, you wanna be buried six feet under. Tim doesn’t let go of your hand. 

“That’s the umbrella you lost back in London.”

“I lost a lot in London, Timmy.” 

“Well...” Ok. Yeah, you did. Hence why he can’t get you to London even with the promise of letting you ‘improve’ Buckingham palace. But that isn’t the point. “(Y/n), this is gorgeous.” He says, turning to you. You look at him stunned and scared. He squeezes your hand.

You shake yourself out of his grip. Tim lets you. He knows when to back down. 

You step forward leaning on the rope separating you from your work. “I told you it wasn't finished.” You say, glaring at the painting as if willing the colors to move. 

“What happened?” He asks, bumping his shoulder against yours.

You bump your shoulder against his. “Warsaw.”

“I don’t follow.”

“That little town in Warsaw. It was kind of hard to finish the painting when soldiers were setting fires to houses. Ok, they didn’t do it directly but there was smoke.”

“Yeah kind of.” Tim agrees, smiling sadly. He looks back at the painting. “I want to keep it.”

“What?” You blink not quite following the shift in conversation. 

“Darling, I think we should have it. It’s ours after all.” Tim says holding your hand in his. Your mind is bouncing between too many things. He called you darling. He’s holding your hand. He’s smiling so sweetly at you. You’re addicted to that look in his eyes, pure unadulterated adoration. 

You cover your face with your free hand, feeling the smile on your face go uncomfortable wide. You feel something on your forehead, a kiss like a raindrop. It comes again and you feel like you’re going to collapse. 

“It’s yours..” He trails off hesitantly. “..if..” You look up at Tim, waiting with bated breath. Tim squeezes your hands. “...if you’ll be mine. ”

@batarella​, @anothertimdrakestan​, @lucy-roo​, @multifandomgirl-us​, @bungunz​, @birdy-bat-writes​,  @boosyboo9206​, @americasmarauders​ , @l-inkage​, @arestorationofbalance​ , @cloudie-skay​, @wunderstell​   @hyp-oh-critical​ @glorified-red​

[fieryfantasybooklover]

Cast In Shadow And Blood - A Clace fanfic

Consider this a sign that I am, in fact, alive.

Taggs: @lily-chen-deserves-better @blackthorn-trash @mithriel-of-mithlond @brotherhalal-ariahs @julieandthefandoms @themostawesomehuman @zfoxdraws @hands-dripping-ink @insane---chaos @rainbow-sheepofthefamily @girlwhohatesstuff @tessagraycarstairs @imherongraystairstrash

Note - Clary and Jace are the main characters here, the others are just mentioned.

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

Clary settled down into bed, sparing only one glance for the descending curtain of night that was chasing away the sun. Snow fell softly outside, silencing the world in a blanket of white. She turned to Jace, who had settled into bed beside her a moment before. “Good to see you here.” she said, grinning. “I was thinking you’d somehow managed to murder yourself using kitchen utensils, but thankfully you do seem to still be alive.” Jace grinned, handing her the bowl of snacks he’d gathered on his snack run. “You know me. I love to keep people guessing. You would know that most of all.” he said, chuckling. Clary, laughing, punched him playfully in the shoulder before leaning back onto the pillows. Jace grabbed the remote, settling in beside her. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Clary asked Jace, in that way where nobody could be sure if she was being serious. “I survived a literal hell dimension, I think I’ll be ok with some horror movies.” Jace replied, turning on the TV they had installed in front of their bed.

The next few hours speed by in a rush of buttery popcorn and melted chocolate and a myriad of scary movies. Some featured the paranormal or supernatural, others much more real fears like insanity and serial killers. By the time the clock struck 2 pm, they had watched enough scary movies for a lifetime and, though neither would admit it, were feeling quite on edge and jumpy. As the credits rolled for The Ring, Jace turned to Clary and exhaled deeply, letting all his nerves out. “Wow.” they said simultaneously, laughing in pure relief everything was right in the world. “I’m gonna go put everything away.” said Jace, standing, stretching, and grabbing the empty bowls. “Alright you do that. I’ll get everything ready for bed.” Clary replied, already flicking off the television and pulling the blinds shut. Jace returned within a few minutes, hands empty and tiredness gathering behind his eyes. It wasn’t long before both were settled under the covers with the lights off, facing each other and breathing evenly. “I love you, dork.” Clary said affectionately to Jace, kissing him. “I love you too.” he replied, hugging her close.

They fell asleep like that, happy and together and content that everything they had just seen was firmly within the realm of fiction.

Clary’s eyes fluttered open, making their way to the alarm clock. It read 3:05 am. Groaning, Clary slid out of bed and stood, making her way to the bathroom in the complete and utter black. It took her only a few moments to gather her surroundings and realize that something was very very wrong. What she saw gazing out the window was her first clue. There was absolutely no sign of life outside the Institute. No cars, or shop windows, or even a few people staggering their way home late. The snow was still steadily falling, blanketing every single surface. The pitch blackness of this time of morning covered the landscape, twisting and contorting it into something completely unrecognizable. By light, Clary could have navigated those streets with her eyes closed. But by dark, all her pleasant memories of the spot were gone and nothing could be seen or gleaned from the area. Put simply, the darkness hid things. And this darkness in particular seemed… dangerous. Parasitic. Permeated only by the faint glow of street lamps. And that light was certainly not enough to reveal anything the darkness could have been concealing.

The second clue that something was wrong was the silence. Outside the Institute and inside. Outside, the snow was silent as the grave and there were no night sounds. No animals, sounds of farawar life, or even the crackling of electric lighting. Inside, it was just as quiet. None of the sounds that were usually associated with a building so huge and old. The floorboards didn’t creak, no faint sounds echoed through the halls. The silence was eerie, and more than a little unnerving. By now, Clary had reached the bathroom and was quietly using the restroom and washing her hands. The splash of the water seemed deafening compared to the lack of sound. Darting out of the room and back to their bedroom, Clary realized the final factor in why everything felt so wrong.

The air. It was strangely... heavy. Somehow forceful, as if something was compressing it down. The air slunk around the halls, and Clary could not shake the feeling that not only was it weighing on her, but something was watching her. Trying to shake the feeling of unease, Clary slid back into bed beside Jace, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep. This attempt did not last long, and soon Clary popped her eyes open again. She quickly looked at Jace. He was still sound asleep. She sighed, flopping backward. “What I wouldn’t give to just be able to fall asleep and stay that way.” Clary thought, exasperated. It was just then that something shattered downstairs in the Institute. Clary sat bolt upright, eyes wide and heart pounding. Fear ran through every inch of Clary’s body. Pure, bone chilling fear that made her feel like she was disintegrating. Shook to her bones, Clary wrapped her arms around herself and tried to calm her shivering. “You’re just being irrational.” She told herself. “Maybe I left a window open and the wind knocked something over.” she rationalized, still shaking from head to toe. If the wind was the cause, you would’ve heard it from outside, a voice at the back of Clary’s mind whispered.

A chill descended on her then. Something so cold and gripping that it was like one thousand icy wolves howling to the wind before ripping you to shreds. Clary felt an icicle slip down her back and she launched to her feet, unsure of what to do. She felt her lips turning blue and her skin paling under the duress of the chill. Something thin and skeletal whipped through the room then, cloaked in a raggedy, torn robe. The terrifying sight of it burned itself into Clary’s eyelids. It was so quick and quiet that she could have convinced herself she was imaging it, except for the fact that the blinds were now thrown open and the window was cracked. Neither had been that way a split second before. Clary turned to Jace, shaking his shoulder and hissing his name repeatedly. “Jace! Come on Jace, wake up! I think there’s something here!” but he wouldn’t wake, and it seemed he was permanently stuck to the bed, Atleast, until he shifted and his neck snapped at an angle no human could survive. His face shifted to face hers. And that was when Clary screamed.

There was a painfully large grin on Jace’s face. His lips were stretched back from his teeth, and his face seemed to glow with an unholy light. He was unusually pale, as if all the color had been soaked from him. His eyes shone far too bright with something close to madness. All Clary knew for sure in that moment was that whatever was in front of her was not her Jace. Beyond that, she didn’t know. It must have read the question on her face, because it opened its mouth and hissed out something that was infinitely not human. Clary frantically searched her index of language knowledge for a translation, but found nothing. “See you soon.” it whispered, smile stretching wider. “You have summoned me with visages of horror, and now you must pay the price.” Jace’s body collapsed onto the bed. Within moments he was stirring, and Clary was frantically at his side. “Jace? Jace! Are you ok? How do you feel?” Jace pulled himself upright, rubbing his eyes and looking around confusedly. “What’s happening?” he asked, voice still thick with sleep. “Please just trust me. We have to go now .” Clary whispered, pulling Jace to his feet. He read the frantic nature of her voice and instantly snapped to alert.

The pair began running out the bedroom and down the hall. Jace knew little of the situation, but still flew through his brain for allies to call for help. “Simon and Isabelle? No, they’re on vacation in the countryside. Magnus and Alec? Fuck, they’re investigating a situation in Cincinatti there’s no way they’ll make it back on time.” as his list of allies ran dry, fear began to sink its claws into Jace. They were still running down the halls of the Institute, desperately trying to make their way to the doors. However, one blink of time and it was all over. Screams of anguish rang in both Jace and Clary’s ears, reaching a pitch so high both bent over in pain. There were brief flashes of blood, painting the floor, walls, and ceiling red. The entire building began to shake, as if something was gnawing away at the foundations. Wraithlike forms began to appear, empty eye sockets somehow still managing to glimmer with malice. Jace and Clary were desperate now, dodging the foes while still scrambling for the door. Then, one popped into existence right in front of them. They skidded to a halt, trying to turn around but it was too late.

The being reached one of its hands right through Clary’s heart and the other hand right through Jace’s. Suddenly, they were back in their bedroom, standing beside the bed. The room was cast in shadow and blood, faint rays of light revealing the room to be a horrible parody of its former self. Both Jace and Clary tried to move, but found instantly they were frozen and rendered completely immobile. They barely had time to exchange one glance that said so much before the specter appeared before them, reaching into their hearts again. And then, it twisted. Pain. Pain that made every past grievance seem like a paper cut in comparison. Blinding white pain, like a thousand explosions in one form. The pain of bones cracking and twisting and shattering into five million glass sharp shards. The pain of loneliness, of longing so deeply for someone to be by your side that you turned into a ghost yourself. The pain of helplessness, of being unable to move or cry out or scream or do anything as your death approached. So many shades of pain, twisted neatly up and forced right down into Jace and Clary’s souls.

The terrible finality hit them then. They were going to die. And nobody could save them. Eeking out a few moments of clarity, Jace and Clary turned their gazes to the other. “I love you.” the gazes said. “I love you, and I will love you from now until the moment time ends.”

And then, everything faded to silent, deep, nothingness.

Clary sat up in bed, sweat beading down her neck and terror whining in her head. Jace was safe asleep beside her, breathing softly and calmly. The alarm clock, the sole source of light in the room, read 3:03.

A scream built its way through Clary’s mind and body, working its way slowly up through her throat.

A voice slithered into her head, ominous and inescapable.

I am coming

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 25

Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears

Ao3

Summary: Early into Damian's run as Robin, he finds himself in the aftermath of a warehouse explosion.

-o-o-o-o-

Damian's ears are ringing. That's the first thing he's aware of. The high pitched chiming that's almost as grating as the bells sewn into the tips of Christmas hats. The next thing he becomes aware of is just… pain. Biting close to agony. He shifts, tries to cringe away from the pain, but all it does is tug at something crushingly heavy that lays over his body. 

It's a task and a half just to pry his own eyes open. They're crusted, with blood or just normal gunk he's not sure. All he knows is that when his eyes finally open, the only thing there is to see are blurry blobs of orange shooting up towards a black abyss. It's then when he realizes just how hot he is. 

Desperate to figure out what's going on and where he is, he brings his hands to the heavy pressure laying over his chest. It doesn't go anywhere when he pushes, but he really doesn't feel that strong, and he’s not sure he’d be able to push against the pressure even if he understood what was going on. He blinks his blurry eyes and licks his chapped lips, but nothing happens besides him being made aware of a pounding ache at the side of his head. 

He tries to relax his body now, maybe lay there and let himself calm down from the confusion of waking up disoriented, but the moment he lets his muscles go limp, he catches sight of a big, hulking figure approaching quickly through the orange blobs. 

Immediately, Damian's in fight mode. The figure stops before him, towering like a dark demon, before it kneels down. The second it's within shot, Damian lashes out, throwing out a fist to try and hit… hit somewhere. 

It's useless as his small wrist is easily caught in shadows. The fingers wrapped around his wrists feel tight enough to bruise. 

Something booms through the ringing in his ears. Something that sounds like the muffled sounds of voices on the other side of a thick wall. Damian tries to focus. Tries to tug his wrist. Tries to at least listen to the deep voice that almost sounds familiar… he just can't place why. He knows it. He can’t place anything at all.

"-eve it or not, I'm trying to help-"

And then Damian can't focus anymore, not as the figure leans over him and shoves off whatever is pinning Damian down. His entire world becomes one of vertigo as the strange person hefts him up and over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Damian's ribs scream in protest, and it's all he can do at least try to struggle. However, a strong arm wraps around his kicking legs with laughable ease. Damian's soon rendered helpless, hanging from the person's broad shoulders, his hands able to do nothing but weakly hit their leather jacket clad back. 

His vision sways. He's pretty sure he might be bleeding from his ears. And the pain only intensifies as he's carried.

Damian almost wants to cry in frustration. He has no idea who this person is… or what they want with him. What if they were the one who hurt him? What if it's them who caused Damian to wake up here? 

What if this was an enemy, and Damian couldn't even struggle. 

Pathetic. 

"-ot you- I got-" 

Damian blinks, or maybe falls asleep, and when he opens his eyes the world is speeding past him and his head feels heavy with a biker's helmet that doesn't belong to him. There's a large body pressed against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around their torso and somehow tied to stay there. 

The world tilts, and Damian loses consciousness again... which is better than throwing up like he almost does.

-o-o-o-o-

Waking up is even worse the second time. Mostly because Damian is more aware to feel just how much pain he’s in.

He groans and tries to shift, but once again he’s stopped. 

Only, this time it’s because his hands are zip-tied together and attached to his belt. His eyes fly open with a shot of adrenaline. He reaches into his utility belt and tries to find something to free himself with, but he quickly finds that there’s nothing there. His belt has been completely disarmed. 

“Stop moving around so much,” a voice suddenly growls, but it’s muffled. Like Damian has cotton stuffed in his ears. He’s now awfully aware of a persistent and sharp ringing right behind his eardrums. “I worked hard on your stitches.”

Damian opens his eyes and while nothing goes into focus, he’s still able to direct his eyes over to who he least expected to come to his rescue, but who he supposes he’s now the captive of. 

Jason Todd. His big, muscled form sits across whatever small room Damian’s in with his hands across his chest. His helmet is nowhere to be seen, but the vague outline of red over his eyes suggests he’s wearing a mask. Damian forces his body to relax and compose itself as he does his best to study his surroundings. All he can really make out is the vague walls of the room—painted a distasteful brown—and the bare, hard as a rock mattress he lays on top of. He tries to shift into a better position, to not look as vulnerable in front of the enemy, but he’s quickly stopped by two different things.

One is the plastic bindings around his ankles. The other is that the movement makes him very aware of those stitches Todd was talking about.

Instead of risking making a fool of himself by wriggling like a caterpillar, nor risking tearing his stitches, Damian glares at Todd through the haze of blurriness.

“What-” Damian starts, but he’s cut off as his chest explodes into fire. His chest hurts.

Todd stands up as Damian desperately tries to get a hold of himself. He tenses as the villain gets too close and reaches to the side to grab something blurry. 

Damian tenses as Todd holds out whatever he’s holding out to Damian’s face. Damian cringes back, but Todd has none of it. He grabs Damian by the shoulder and hefts him up so he’s sitting, his body haunches over slightly as his hands remain trapped just under his belly button. He hisses at the smarting the movement causes and blinks spots from his eyes. 

Todd lets go Damian, unfortunately, has to catch his breath as a seed of confusion settles at the back of his skull. Even though being lifted like this hurt… Todd was shockingly gentle.

Before he can even try to consider what that could mean and how that ties into whatever crazy plan Todd had up his sleeves, the thing held out to him earlier is once again shoved under his nose. Sitting up may have rubbed every single one of his injuries the wrong way, but it’s also somewhat cleared his head; enough so that he can tell that the item held to his mouth is…

An opened bottle of water.

Damian scowls. “How do I know it’s not drugged,” he growls. Or gurgles. It feels like someone took a blade to his mouth and carved the inside of his esophagus apart. 

“Because,” Todd says, sounding insultingly amused, “I have a syringe filled with actual sedatives that I’ll give ya if you keep being difficult. Drink.”

Damian is almost tempted to turn down the water out of spite. But his chest… feels like it’s on fire. Even the thought of speaking another word gives him the feeling that something red hot and unpleasant is dripping down his throat. Instead of saying anything, he opens his mouth and shoves any embarrassment he would normally have somewhere else in his mind. Todd rather… carefully… pours the water into Damian’s mouth. At first, the liquid stings, but soon enough Damian doesn’t even care about how undignified it is to be given water like this. It feels cold and refreshing going down his throat. Soothing. He tells himself that it’s just him accepting help. Grayson says accepting help is never shameful. 

Granted, Todd is the one who has tied him up and made him helpless to quench his own thirst. 

But he’ll worry about the details later.

Once the plastic bottle is empty, Todd puts the cap back on and then begins to crush the plastic between his hands, twisting it at the middle mindlessly as he regards Damian. Damian regards him as well as he tries to figure out what exactly is going on and what will happen from this point forward.

He clears his throat. “Why am I here?”

“Cuz you almost got yourself blown up in a warehouse,” Todd says back, his voice sharp.

Ah. Damian remembers now. He snuck off away from Grayson during patrol after they had an argument about Grason not trusting Damian to go off on his own. He found… some sort of shady deal going on by the docks and… while the rest of the details are a bit harder to recall, he still knows that it quite literally ended with a bang. Todd must have been close by.

It doesn’t explain why he helped Damian though. Nor why he took Damian back here. 

Instead, he glares at the fuzzy outline of Jason Todd. “What do you want from me?”

Todd shrugs. Leans back, twists the annoying bottle in his hands some more. “Nothing. I’m just waiting for the sedative to kick in.”

Damian freezes. Then glares. Of course. Of course he’s drugged Damian anyways.

Almost immediately after that, he feels a wave of dizziness take over. Damian sways against his will, but before he can completely fall over, Todd grabs him by the shoulders and lowers him back onto the mattress. 

“Don’t take it personal, squirt,” Todd mumbles, his voice becoming very far away. Damian’s blurry vision begins to swim. “It’s just gonna be easier to deal with big bird while you’re knocked out. And you can’t try and fight me if you’re asleep.”

Damian blinks hard and tries to make sense of the swirling world above him. “Wh… what…”

“Just wait, next time you wake up, you’re gonna be back home with everyone worrying bout’cha.’

The end of Todd’s sentence becomes nothing but words bouncing around uselessly around Damain’s skull. Before he knows it, his eyelids are unwillingly closing and everything becomes silent.

-o-o-o-o-

Todd is right. The next time Damian wakes up, he’s in his bedroom, Grayson immediately perking up to attack him with... unwanted?... cuddles and worries. Time has definitely passed, and he’s painfully aware of every stitch, bruised rib, and burn on his body. He explains to Grayson once his stomach is no longer rolling that Todd hasn’t done anything to hurt him besides drugging him.

Grayson then explains that he got a note from Todd to meet him to pick Damian up and then didn’t get a single explanation as to what Todd’s intentions or plans were once he got there. Apparently, Damian was handed over willingly and without much tussle besides some sass. Todd left before Grayson even got Damian to the car, saying to forget about the safehouse they were at because he’s not going to be using it again.

Damian can tell Grayson is trying to find reason in Todd’s recent actions; it’s like he’s trying to convince himself that Todd is still some version of a boy he knew long ago, before he went off the deep end and started killing anyone he saw problematic. 

Damian doesn’t tell Grayson of Todd’s shocking gentleness. He doesn’t want to give his hopes up.

Because while Damian, too, finds Todd’s behavior odd tonight, he also knows that perhaps seeing Robin go into an exploding warehouse brought up specific memories for the man. Damian is aware of the circumstances of his demise. He probably just didn’t want to see someone go out the same way he did with the same colors and name.

One thing is for sure, Damian will continue to treat Todd like an enemy until he can prove himself to be trustworthy.

Until he can prove that gentleness isn’t reserved for accidental kidnappings and ransoms. 

Weeks pass, and Damian is reluctantly cleared by Pennyworth to rejoin Grayson into the city for patrol. They run into Todd then, and if Todd happens to not hit as hard as he normally does… well… Damian keeps that to himself.

For now, at least, they’re enemies. But Damian has known Grayson long enough to know that nothing is set in stone, even a bloody warpath. 

[monchikyun]

VII. wanna be yours

Gavin has gone over the speed limit plenty of times before, but never because he was just hurrying to meet someone he personally cared about. A first that makes him worried about his ability to stop his feelings from ruining everything before it gets too late. And it’s not like Connor is in any immediate danger, he would be a lot more panicked if that were the case since he has trouble regulating his natural responses - unfortunately so. Still, the poor android deserves better than to suffer through distress with no one around who would keep him above ground. A job he is more than willing to accept. He’d even go full-time if there was an opening, because none of his demons could ever prevent him from handing a helping hand to the person who lives inside his heart, just as long as their interactions stay platonic.

He clutches the steering wheel as he makes the final turn, wondering how on earth has he managed to fall this deep.

A part of him is really glad he did, but the rest is too busy wallowing in self-hate to take his feelings outside the confines of his polluted mind. He’s afraid they might be contaminated too, that he’d infect Connor with his foulness.

It’s still snowing with no signs of stopping any time soon, which might make their future trip rougher than he plans, but he welcomes it nonetheless. Grateful for the pleasant chill provided not only by the snowflakes that land in his hair and on his leather jacket as he exits the car. 

Because he knows something warm is waiting for him inside.

Connor lives in a comparably small apartment tucked behind walls of a building resembling a cardboard box dotted with square holes more than anything. Not the kind of place he would associate with the android were they a little less familiar with each other. It was the only available location that would tolerate his beast of a roommate while being relatively close to work, Connor told him the first time he visited him. Come to think about it, he has only been here just two or three times. Not nearly enough, considering he’s supposed to be his biggest friend, (as far as he knows.) Though it’s difficult to imagine the android having a separate social life outside of work, bearing in mind how isolated he has become since the awful day in March. It took so much effort just to cut through his defences with harsh words that were meant to remind him that at least some aspects of his life are not going anywhere. A genius plan that got turned on its head as time went on, putting him right here, about to press Connor’s doorbell.

 One wordless buzz and he’s already rushing up the stairs, ready to get rid of the aggravating anticipation that is making him sweat in the coldest day of the month.

Connor opens his front-door right as he’s mentally preparing himself to knock, beckoning him inside with a tear-stained face instead of greeting.

After he’s sure they’re in complete privacy, he checks Connor over for any physical damage before he can focus on the emotional one, just in case.

“You ok?” he asks like the stupid idiot he is and makes three long steps towards him. An automatic reaction that requires no additional thought.

Connor answers by slumping against his chest, once again making good use out of his shoulder. Luckily, Gavin is strong enough to stabilize their bodies before they tumble to the ground. While he tries to calm his shocked heart down, two warm arms envelop his back, fingers grasping his jacket like it’s the one thing keeping him from crumbling to pieces. At this point, Gavin has lost all hopes of holding himself back, because he finally completes the embrace while painting comforting circles onto the android’s own back. The quiet whir of Connor’s inner machinery is resonating through his body, easing his piled-up anxiety.

He feels the need to say some reassuring phrase just so he can claim he tried his best to fully soothe Connor’s pain, but even breathing is an exceptional achievement for the detective in this hazy moment. So he just closes his eyes and lets himself lose inside his damaged friend’s warmth.

The smell of fresh laundry clinging onto the android lulls him to some transient sense of tranquillity, and he almost lets his hand wander toward the inhumanly soft hair when he realises he is enjoying this too much and gets thrown back into the grim reality in which Connor needs him because he’s sad and lonely and doesn’t know how to handle psychological pain, not for any other reasons.

Then he gets impolitely reminded that the android owns a dog half his size by a damp snout getting too acquainted with his behind. It at least elicits a small chuckle out of Connor and the next second he’s left with an irrational void strangling his insides, begging him to get the pretty heat-source back into his arms.

“Sorry about that.”

He really doesn’t want to see the sad smile again, but he’ll take it over those anguished tears any day.

-

“It’s still weird. Don’t know if I’m ever gonna get used to it.”

He reaches for Connor’s bare temple, being very careful not to accidentally brush his fingers against it. He can’t afford any more mistakes tonight.

“You don’t like it?”

They are sitting side by side on a surprisingly comfortable sofa, trying their best not to breach the awkward status quo that hangs between them. Small-talk isn’t his favourite thing in the world, but if it’s with Connor, he might even grow to like it. He’s learned much superfluous information about Sumo and all his weird quirks, which he’s exchanged for stories about his late feline friend who had left him a few days before Connor first appeared in the office.

“I do.. it’s just… uncanny.”

“As in you could forget that I’m not a real human being?”

“No-“

“It’s fine.” He turns his head so he can look directly into Gavin’s soul. “Actually, I have a very android-like favour to ask of you.”

Yet again rendered speechless, he just nods, never losing the intense eye-contact.

“Just promise you won’t freak out.”

“I won’t.” He most certainly will.

Connor takes a deep breath, which is nerve-racking enough already.

“I’d like you to register yourself as my legal owner.”

As if on a cue, Gavin’s heart leaps in his throat, making him unable to exclaim his disbelieve.

“Just hear me out before you interpret it in the wrong way.” Like he has any other choice.

“There might come a time when my proc-… when my consciousness gets compromised, and I’ll lose control over what happens with my body… In other words, I might die one day.” Connor must see the horror projected onto his face, because he quickly adds, “I’m not saying I will, it’s just a possibility.”

Well, that has done absolutely nothing to make him feel less unnerved.

“And seeing as I have no relatives, being a machine and all that, it would be the assigned owner who decides my ultimate fate.”

Gavin conjures an expression that is meant to convey understanding, despite having no clue about how he should feel about this sudden request.

“I want it to be you. I want you to have a piece of me left if I-“

“Okay, I’ll do it. Just stop talking about your death like it’s something I’ll ever have to deal with.”

The relief emanating from the whole of Connor alone would be worth agreeing to this insanity, but the fact that the prospect of it all somehow makes him unreasonably happy pushes him over completely.

He just hopes it won’t further complicate their already complex relationship.  

@a-convin-new-year

[iya5rt]

Kalopsia Project [Bakugo Katsuki x Reader – Tokyo Ghoul AU]

Chapter 4 – A Day of Encounters

Chapter Summary: Between two ghouls attempting to kill you, men dressed in white uniforms that you knew all too well, and even a childhood friend – it was a day of encounters to remember.

Kalopsia Project Masterpost

***

Glossary:

Bikaku – one of the four types of kagune; typically has a tail-like appearance and is released around the tail-bone. It is good for medium-distance attacks and has decent offense, defense, and speed.

(excerpts taken from the Tokyo Ghoul Wiki)

***

Great. Fantastic. Absolutely perfect.

I swear there has to be some law that claims after encountering a ghoul once, you start running into them every day for the rest of your life. And I’ll personally murder whoever came up with this.

Sure, sarcastic commentary in your head was anything but a normal person’s first thought when they were cornered by two very deadly men. Then again, your life had spiraled far out of the realm of normalcy the moment Monoma had revealed himself to be a ghoul.

Sarcasm was always a good way to make yourself seem braver and prepared to commit. Only on the inside though.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, you were still trying to push your back harder and harder against the door. For all you knew, with enough force it was going to cave in and open the wrong way even. What a dreamer you were…

“Now, sweetheart,” the blond man spoke. The “pet name” made a shiver run down your spine. What was up with ghouls that wanted to eat you and pet names anyway!? “How come we haven’t seen you here before, huh? We make sure to swing by quite regularly too...” He faked a pout. It suddenly dawned on you – they must’ve seen you at the cafe and decided to wait for you out at the back. Had they known you would have been there? And why hadn’t you seen them?

“Oi, don’t turn around but there are two creeps staring at you. Just ignore ‘em.” Bakugo’s words echoed in your mind.

Thank you for looking out for me back then, Bakugo-kun, but I’m afraid we have a bigger problem now…

“You just gonna stay silent? I prefer meals when they’re feisty but the temptation’s too great.” He leaned closer and in that moment, something creeped around your hand. You flinched and looked down, as your captor straightened with a satisfied smirk – he knew you had nowhere to run anymore.

After all, he’d managed to release his kagune and wrap it tightly around your arm. Your heart sank.

He managed to keep his bikaku low while keeping my eyes on him. He’s smarter than he looks… And I’m more screwed than I thought I was.

Your mind was drawing a blank. You had to escape his grasp somehow. Either that, or signal one of the less hostile ghouls working at Yuuei with you for help.

A sudden cry in pain broke you out of your racing thoughts. There was the sound of something akin to flesh being sliced in two, as a few droplets of blood hit your cheek. The men in front of you backed away, glaring somewhere to the side, the face of the blond in front contorted in pain.

That’s when you noticed.

Your arm had been freed.

Well, not exactly freed – the kagune was still wrapped around your wrist, but it had been severed from its source and owner.

And one look to the side told you all you needed to know.

“The hell do you think you’re doing, shitheads?” came a gruff and familiar voice. And with it, your chest was filled with a sense of relief. “This is Yuuei’s territory and you got no business snooping around on it.”

In an instant, Bakugo was beside them, aiming a kick at the drunk black-haired man, causing him and his companion to knock heads and stumble as they groaned.

“Shit,” the sand blond muttered and grabbed the other, jumping off into the distance. Your eyes trailed them, as they soon disappeared beyond the roofs of a few buildings.

Bakugo was standing with his back to you and his shoulders slumped as he let out something of a mixture between a sigh and a groan. He lifted a hand to run through his messy hair.

“Oi, you good-” he turned to look at you, but paused upon witnessing a peculiar scene.

Your eyes seemed to be focused solely on the kagune protruding from his back, this childish sense of awe and wonder making a small light flicker in them. Watching it carefully, you seemed to be studying every change in hue, every little shape. Your hand, now free from the intruder’s kagune, which had soon lost its grip and fallen limp to the ground, was inching closer to your object of observation, almost touching it, before you felt a pair of eyes on you and turned to find Bakugo staring at you silently.

You jumped and retracted your outstretched hand, a faint red hue rising to your cheeks. “Ah, I-I’m so sorry, I got a little careless there for a second...” You rubbed a hand behind your neck, looking somewhere of to the side. With a nervous laugh, you awkwardly played with your hands, waiting for Bakugo to get annoyed, upset, even angry – you’d just have to grit your teeth and bare it. What were you even thinking, really? Sure, they’d welcomed you in nicely but you had no business getting all cozy like that with Yuuei’s ghouls. Not yet, but probably not ever either.

“Whatever, I guess...” Bakugo cleared his throat and turned to look away from you again, making his next words come out a little muffled. “You can touch it if you want, doesn’t matter,” he muttered and, though he couldn’t see it, your eyes lit up.

“Wait, r-really?”

Bakugo shrugged. You all but jumped in glee, moving a step closer, where the bright and colorful kagune was. There was a brief hesitation in your movements, as you reached out a hand once more, this time a lot more conscious of it, as though you were waiting for Bakugo to give you a sign that it was alright. He never moved though, so you inched your hand closer and closer.

You’d heard about the different types of kagune from your parents – what their strengths and weaknesses are, how to evade them, wound them, render them useless. It was, much like everything you’d ever heard about the ghouls themselves, all told as if the picture of this elaborate story was painted purely in black and white. And the ghouls and their kagune were the deepest darkest shades of black in it. No wonder the ghoul investigators’ uniforms were white then.

Why had no one thought to ask what kagune looked like? How the colors all blended together and created those marvelous gradients? What it felt like just to touch it with your bare, human hands?

Of course you would be surprised upon witnessing one up close. All this time, for you kagune had been a grisly weapon of a grisly murderer. You wondered if perhaps your stance was changed too quickly after only two days spent at Yuuei.

The moment your fingers touched the kagune, Bakugo visibly tensed. He let himself relax a little when you began tracing all the different shapes you vaguely saw the colors form. It was much like staring at a cloudy sky – you could make out anything among those colors, so long as you would let yourself believe that it was there.

The surface beneath your fingertips was soft, yet hard. Smooth, yet textured. It was simultaneously like the feathers of a bird and the smooth skin of a snake. To put it simply – it was like nothing you had ever felt before. Which only made it all the more fitting – a seemingly unreal feel to the kagune belonging to a seemingly unreal species.

For a minute or so, the only sound was that of the nearby traffic and the occasional clanking of cups and muffled conversation from inside the cafe. You were the first to break the silence.

“What does it feel like?” you asked, voice low and almost as quiet as a whisper. With how you were standing, there was need to speak much louder anyway.

“Just like another limb. A bigger and more dangerous limb. But a limb nonetheless,” he explained, cranking his head up to gaze at the vast sky above you.

It was late in the afternoon and the sun was slowly but surely hiding away behind the horizon. With it, vanished the bright blue up above, only to be replaced with a beautiful harmony of yellow, orange, and red, much like the colors of the kagune which you were still gazing endlessly at with that same sense of wonder in your eyes. Soon those bright and pretty hues were going to be replaced by the darkness of the night though.

“It’s getting late. Let’s head back inside,” Bakugo ushered and stepped away, then turned to face you. In the blink of an eye, the kagune disappeared, and the only tell that something had ever happened were the few suspicious drops of blood still splattered on the ground, and the small chunk of your attacker’s kagune left at the scene.

You nodded and moved to open the back door, while Bakugo, walking right behind you, threw the lone piece of evidence into the dumpster with the cafe’s other garbage. Just before you swung the door open however, you paused and turned to give him a smile.

“It was really beautiful!” With that, you practically skipped back inside the much warmer and safer building. Bakugo, on the other hand, was forced to reason with himself that the small blush he had felt was only his imagination.

Darn you and your clueless compliments awaiting him at every corner.

***

That evening, you’d been advised by just about everyone to take a long and proper rest. Shake off everything that had happened since your fateful and unfortunate “date” and let your body take a break.

You showered Midoriya with gratitude, realizing that your shoulder was healing incredibly fast and well. It had given you little to no trouble all throughout the day, and if it weren’t for that nasty scar it bore, you might have even let yourself forget that it was ever there in the first place.

Of course, going to bed always brought about this new wave of overwhelming thoughts and crippling anxiety that swallowed you whole. You couldn’t shake them off even if you tried, so you chose to go along with them instead.

How long were you going to stay cooped up in there and hide from the rest of the world? It had only been two days – the weekend, nonetheless, but that annoying voice in your head told you that you didn’t want to make that change. You didn’t want to put an end to your mundane but satisfying life.

Sure, the other day’s encounter had thrown a small wrench in that plan – namely, you were now involved in a particularly big and dangerous secret, but did that really mean you had to vanish off the face of the earth too?

No. No, it didn’t.

What was all that about the second chance that you’d been given? No way were you going to waste it hiding away for your remaining days.

It didn’t take much reasoning to figure it out. You’d never thought you’d conceive such a sentence. Ever. But even still.

You wanted to go back to class.

The next morning, you woke up bright and early, opting to help clean the tables, as Ida’s classes started much too early. Half an hour later, everyone who was still free got to work, while you ran back to the room upstairs (the one Aizawa had been so nice to offer you to stay in while you were still healing and requiring the occasional check-ups), and gathered some necessary items.

With that, you headed out for class (much to the surprise and even protests of your new-found friends).

Needless to say, Bakugo had not been happy when you showed up either. Though he’d opted only for some silent looks, since, to the rest of your classmates, you two were nothing more than acquaintances, at least the last time they had seen you.

You were faced with a handful of concerned questions when Monoma never showed up. And all through them, you had to fake some sadness and explain how you hadn’t seen him since your date on Friday. A few girls gasped and worriedly whispered how the news claimed the second ward’s binge-eater to have taken yet another victim.

So it seemed they had already written Monoma off as dead. You scoffed to yourself. You wished.

When classes were over, Bakugo had finally taken to scolding you for being reckless yet again, though you reasoned that nothing bad had happened and, now that he was with you, nothing bad was going to happen. He had only groaned in response.

The two of you soon made your way back to Yuuei and with that, it was time for yet another shift.

You were quickly becoming used to this new job, though the occasional screw-ups still occurred. Like for example today, when you had accidentally gotten the order of a regular a little wrong. The old lady had fortunately offered you a warm smile with a dismissive wave of her hand, and assured you that you’ll get it right next time. She mused she wanted to try something new anyway.

Your day was going by. And it was surprisingly normal. Still way out there, compared to what life had been like for you up until just recently, but much better by the unfortunate standard you had somehow set over the past three days.

And then, of course, something came around to shake it up.

As you prepared to bring an order of two coffees and a sandwich to a couple laughing with each other on one of the tables outside, Aizawa approached you and pointed towards the back room.

“[L/N], go to the back to help out Todoroki and Midoriya.” You opened your mouth to question the sudden decision, but was interrupted. “Now.”

Something in his voice told you this was urgent. You nodded and called for Uraraka to take over your position for a second. As you swiftly made your way to the back room (appointed as the small kitchen), you caught a glimpse of two men clad in white and carrying a briefcase each. You closed the door before you had been spotted though.

You knew what you had seen.

Those uniforms. The briefcases.

You’d spent eighteen years of your life seeing them dressed much the same way too. Thought their careers had been cut a bit too short. But for those guys to show up at Yuuei? This could not have been good.

Surprised by the unexpected visitor, Midoriya and Todoroki looked up to find you gazing at the door, as if you were hoping to see through it somehow.

“[F/N]-san, is everything okay? I thought you had a shift right now?” Midoriya motioned for Todoroki to continue working on the small pastry, as he walked up to you. He was probably worried that your wounds had opened up again, so you were coming in to ask him for help. You shook your head.

“The investigators…” The two boys suddenly looked at each other. So that’s why you were sent here. “Do they come her often?” You finally turned to face them, as they thought for a moment.

“Not really,” Todoroki said, moving back to fetch some new ingredients. “They come by every once in a while, though not often enough for us to suspect they know something.” Midoriya nodded along too.

“Yeah. They just see a nice cafe and sit down for a break, I guess. Aizawa-san probably sent you here to make sure you aren’t seen though.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Even if we’re doing a good job keeping our secret here at Yuuei, none of them are very used to working beside another human yet. He probably didn’t want them messing up and letting something slip.”

You cocked your head to the side.

“Them?” Midoriya’s eyes suddenly widened.

“Well, I mean – us! But also, uh, them! Because, you know, I’ve met and talked with a whole lot of different people so I’m kinda used to it? Yeah, that’s it...” he awkwardly trailed off. You figured out he must be hiding something but decided against pushing his hospitality. If he deemed it important, he was going to tell you the moment he trusted you enough. It’s not like you were being all that transparent either – you doubted anyone beside Bakugo was aware of what your parents used to be and what had supposedly happened to them. And you hadn’t even told Bakugo yourself.

“Is that so...”

For the next half an hour (those investigators were sure taking their sweet time chatting it up in there – weren’t they supposed to be working!?), you had helped the two with whatever you could manage. In the process, you’d been taught a little about what went into making Yuuei’s adorable small pastries, though you still had a long way to go before you hoped to even match Todoroki’s decoration skills. When you’d inquired about this curious interest of his, he’d mentioned that his mother taught him. There was a fond smile as he spoke, so you smiled along with him. For the ghouls to have a loving family (or so you had assumed anyway) – how nice that sounded.

At the worst of times, the door had practically slammed open, as Bakugo called you back. Needless to say, he didn’t seem too pleased to find Todoroki helping guide your hand in placing some fragile chocolate decoration accordingly. You wondered why he had seemed so upset and had snapped at him without a second thought.

You were only left to sheepishly apologize though, as Bakugo dragged you out of the small room and back to your duty. With a desperate need to leave the awkwardness behind, you quietly spoke up.

“So, what were they looking for?” Bakugo looked up at you, and his eyes might or might not have been criticizing you for ignoring work and settling for lazily conversing with him instead. Though he went along with it. It was now affecting you too, so you deserved to know.

“Dunno. Maybe they were slacking off from work like a certain someone here,” he emphasized, while you pretended not to hear that last part. “If anything, they should be feeling more relaxed with one less active binge-eater.” You hummed in agreement.

“I guess. Though they’re probably still looking for him.” You leaned your cheek on your hand resting on the counter, and looked out the cafe’s windows at the busy street. There were so many people just going about their lives out there… “If you say he’s still alive, he probably still needs food too. Meaning, he must be out there somewhere.” You found your eyes trailing to the tray Bakugo had put up in front of you, as he produced two coffee cups from underneath the counter and, along with some cream and a few small packs of sugar, placed them on it. “I wonder where he might be.”

“Don’t concern yourself with that shit. Trust me, you don’t need to know. And neither do I, not to mention that I don’t really care.” He motioned with his hand for you to stand up. “Now, go take this to that loud-ass group over there,” he gestured to one of the bigger tables beside the wall. You could hear the loud conversations and excessive laughter coming from them, though you only giggled.

Aw, Bakugo-kun’s getting annoyed at a group of fellow students. He’s like some old man or something.

You complied though, and brought the tray to them. You counted four people, some with interestingly colored hair. You were sure at least two of them had dyed it, while a blond was still in question.

As you stopped beside them and opened your mouth to ask who the coffee was for however, a surprised exclamation came before it.

“[F/N]-chan!? I haven’t seen you since middle-school but – it’s you, right?”

You looked up to find a redhead with a big toothy grin and excited red eyes looking back at you. Of course your recognized him too. You had a habit of remembering faces, and especially those of your friends, regardless of how long you hadn’t run into each other. Your smile mirrored his.

“Kirishima-kun! It’s been a while, huh?”

Seems like the new encounters were still far from over.

***

[CLASSIFIED INFORMATION]

Protocol K78152112

Subject #22

Real Name: N/A

Background: Death row inmate.

Results: Disfigurement, particularly around the face. Subject lost control of his limbs and had to be restrained.

Signs of success were overwhelming; Subject successfully developed a k***** but damage to the rest of the body was too great, leading to his death just 17 hours later.

(scribbled in pen) That thing was horrific to look at, just get it out of here already. Younger subjects it is.

***

Author’s Note: Encounters, encounters, encounters. And they’re not even over yet, just you wait.

This was a bit of a transitional chapter I feel like, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Let’s be real, were it not for the threat of being murdered, everyone would be crazy for the chance to look at a ghoul’s kagune up close – those things are beautiful.

I hope you had a great week! Please drop a comment and share your thoughts with me – I’d love to hear any theories or ideas you guys might have! Thank you so much for reading and I’ll see you all again next week! Bye~

(Psst, @afuckingunicornn  @creativedogs  @chims-kookies  - thank you for the support and here is the next part!)

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Need You Tonight - Part 3

The skinny man hurls the controller on the stony ground, a useless piece of hardware now that the drone is ruined, then kicks the shattered remains away, letting it roll down into the dark brush. Achieving this, he drops to sit cross-legged, chewing his fingernails in frustration.

“I don’t believe this…!” he mutters under his breath. “I don’t believe this…! Piece of shit…!” On his laptop, the screen now displaying camera footage from the drone now only shows static, leaving him with no indication of Kilo and Trish’s exact position. 

“The black guy turned out to be craftier than I thought. I can’t believe he got the pigs and his thug pals to fight each other! Not to mention, he’s managed to keep up with NEED YOU TONIGHT this whole time! The rate they’re going, they’ll find me before long…”

Something abruptly catches in his throat and his facial expression crumples. A high, ululating wail escapes from his lips, accompanied by a flood of tears spilling from his eyes and hunching over as if he had some great pain in his gut. “It’s not fai-ha-ha-ha-hair~!!” he declares at length, “Why does my life have to be so hard all the time~? Nobody ever understands, not my parents, or my teachers or anybodyyy~! All I want is a pretty girl to fall in love with and look after me, but all the girls in schools just went after jerks instead of nice guys like mee~!”

He devolves into ugly, wordless sobbing, his body shaking with each tear-sodden moan. The cool breeze blows down the hills, and NEED YOU TONIGHT returns. It hovers a few feet off the ground, its ragged coattails fluttering in the wind. Shizuka is drugged, not dead, but you would not know it. Completely limp, her mouth hangs slightly open, her eyes shut tight. She may as well be on a different planet.

As quickly as he started, the skinny man stops crying and sits upright. Sinister intent glimmers in his completely dry eyes. “So you’re finally back, NYT.” He stands to inspect Shizuka, lifting her face. “Why the hell is there all this trouble over one little blonde chica? Why is she wearing face-paint? It’s not Halloween, or Spring Break!” Something brushes his face and he looks to see a golden thread emerging from her head. “This is… so this is how they kept up with NYT, huh? Damn it! This isn’t the black guy’s power, it must be… Damn it!

“At the rate they're going, they’ll be upon me in less than ten minutes. Is that enough time? I got no hope of standing up to that negro’s power. Who are you to him, anyway?” He asks, turning to Shizuka. He receives no answer. “A sugar mommy, or something? Hmm, doesn’t matter. He’s come a long way and gone through a lot of trouble, to save you. That much is obvious. So it’s gooood~...” He grins, formulating a plan. He reaches for a backpack and pulls out a pair of night vision goggles. “I can beat him. As long as I have you, I can beat him. And then, me and my darling Trish will finally be together~...”

                                                        ---

“Stop the bike!”

Trish releases the grip of the motorcycle. The vehicle rolls to a stop on the dusty forest trail. “What is it?” she asks. Since escaping the freeway, they had taken the winding road into the Hollywood Hills. 

Kilo gets up from the backseat and points to a spot in the distance, taking a few steps towards. To another hill, where an icon sits: the Hollywood sign, the fluorescent emblem of the LA’s glitz and glamour.

“I saw something up there! A twinkle of light, like from binoculars or something. There, behind the H! Which way is the thread going?” 

Trish checks the yellow hair around her finger. It trembles in the breeze, and leads straight to the sign. “She’s up there, I’m sure of it. He must have been up there the entire time, watching us from on high. How theatrical of him.”

“You gotta be kidding…” Kilo groans, rubbing the back of his neck. The rings in his hair clink together. “Why do these guys always gotta be so dramatic?”

Trish stares at him for a second, but lets it slide. “We should go on foot from here,” she says, stepping off the motorcycle.

“What?! You just said she’s up there right now. That’s gotta be half a mile away, you want us to walk? Leave her up there with the user?!”

“She won’t be harmed, I’m sure of it.” She begins to walk up the dusty trail. Kilo follows.

“You don’t know that for sure,” he says, “We don’t know this guy, or what he’s capable of.”

“I know his Stand. A Stand is a reflection of the user’s heart, and it’s obvious that we’re dealing with a skittish, desperate person. There’s no doubt he’ll use Shizuka as a weapon against us, as he did before. He won’t dare to harm his best weapon.”

“What if he just runs? Splits, taking Shizuka with him into the night? Then what?”

“I don’t think he’ll do that either. He may be a hostage-taking coward, but he’s no fool either. Whatever he wants with Shizuka, he must know he can’t afford to have us on his tail all night. No, he’s lying in wait for us. Waiting to eliminate us before making his escape. We can’t afford to spook him by speeding up there.”

“... So, we gonna catch him by surprise? Take him out before he can hurt Shizuka.”

“It’s the safest choice. That Stand doesn’t look built for combat, but that doesn’t matter. The worst thing you can do when dealing with Stand users is underestimate them.”

Kilo scoffs. “I wasn’t planning on it. Soon as I find this bastard, I’ll kill him before he has a chance to even squeal.”

With that, he starts running up the road and overtakes Trish. She runs as well, quickly matching his pace. The trail is dusty and poorly lit, with some areas being covered in total darkness. They do not use any lights, for fear of giving away their positions. 

Trish easily keeps pace with Kilo, but halfway up the track, one foot falls out of place and twists. “Ahhh!!” She gasps in pain as she stumbles, losing her footing and beginning to fall.

“Trish!” Kilo shouts as he rushes quickly to her aid. Before she can tumble off the side of the cliff, she reaches out with SPICE GIRL. SATURN BARZ extends its hand, and catches SPICE GIRL by the wrist, then quickly pulls it and its user off the edge of the cliff. 

Kilo steadies her, sitting her down. “You alright?”

“Nnh, I’m fine. It’s just a sprain, I think. Nothing serious. I never was the outdoorsy type,” she says, grinning ruefully. 

Kilo can’t help himself. Half a smile forms on his face, and he pulls her to her feet. “We’re ain’t got much further to go. Let’s get this done.”

Above, on the hill displaying the Hollywood sign, the skinny man watches the trail through advanced night-vision goggles. But these too are rendered useless, as the pair leave the trail entirely, cutting across the rough terrain. It matters little to him. His preparations are complete. He slinks into the shadows once again.

It takes time, but eventually Trish and Kilo reach the top of the hill and crouch beneath the shadow of the radio tower. There’s no-one there. They can see no-one, no user, no Stand. No Shizuka. Approaching the spot behind the giant letter H, they find the remains of his little camp. A water flask, a laptop, bits and pieces of a controller and a dark grey backpack.

“Where’s he hiding?” Kilo mutters, squinting at the surrounding area. Grumbling, he begins rooting through the backpack, before tipping it upside down, allowing the content to spill out onto the dirt. The first thing he notices is a collection of Trish Una CDs. “What the hell?”

Trish looks around, careful this time to keep her footing. It is a long way down if she should fall. She checks the thread around her finger, but it seems to lead straight south, right off the side of the cliff. A silent dread builds in her. 

She sighs in relief when she finds that the thread has merely been tied around one of the support beams holding the sign up. She quickly unties it, and walks ahead to see where it leads. She is passing between the two giant Ls. Trish doesn’t realize, though, the dementedly hollow stare of NEED YOU TONIGHT gazing at her, its rusted needles aimed right for her throat.

It appears in her periphery, hanging in the air, its mouth agape, its eyes staring in either direction. SPICE GIRL immediately deflects the syringes and fires a volley of punches at its body. 

“Kilo!” It proves too fast however, as SPICE GIRL’s fits hit nothing but its rags, NYT flying backwards out of reach. They give brief pursuit, stopping at the final letter of the Hollywood Sign. “Over there!” Trish shouts, pointing at the shadow of the ‘D’.

He turns in time to see the user curling his lip at him. In one hand, he holds a silvery knife in his long, spidery fingers. The other hand he wraps around a limp, unconscious Shizuka. Kilo rushes to his feet, but a sudden rush of air behind him makes him freeze. NYT hovers slightly above, behind the master. The user of NEED YOU TONIGHT: Ricardo Cone.

“Don’t move, you bastard! You take one step forward, and I’ll slash this bitch’s throat right open!!” To make his point, he presses the blade against her neck. A small stream of blood runs down to her collarbone.

Kilo clenches his jaw, but remains still. Cone scowls at him, as NYT floats closer to its user’s enemies. “That’s a good darkie! You stay absolutely, perfectly still like that. Don’t move, not even an inch! Don’t even turn around, you hear me!? NEED YOU TONIGHT is coming, you know why? I’ll tell you why…” His eyes flick upward to where NYT descends. Kilo can sense it behind him, but he doesn’t move.

[zayashmaya]

Gods and Monsters - 3 - Off to the Races.

Other chapters here!

Marvus x Reader; SFW

Your favorite clown comes to your rescue.

My ... man is a tough man But he's got a soul as sweet as blood red jam And he shows me, He knows me Every inch of my tar-black soul

- Lana Del Rey

You didn’t see Lanque for the rest of the evening, which was all fine and well once you were two drinks into some serious shit on the dance floor. Remele certainly knew her audience — the purplebloods in attendance had quickly taken control once they trickled in with fashionable lateness, and everything had been set up for the ensuing clownery that followed. With Marvus at your side and your veins flooded with dubious alcohol, you felt nigh unstoppable, letting loose your inhibitions among a sea of trolls who would have killed you on the spot in a fit of capriciousness.

But a few of the clowns had come by to ruffle your hair and honk at you in recognition for having been a frequent presence in the church. You’ve certainly come far from the days of running for your life and getting trapped in an alleyway with a purpleblood seconds away from bludgeoning you to death. You kind of like them now.

And you definitely liked the way Marvus watched you as you swayed to the dizzying rhythm of pulsating music. Even his hands caressing your bare skin sent ripples of ticklish excitement throughout your body. It felt so different from when you had danced with Lanque. More on your terms, so to speak, and thus more thrilling. All in good fun, you thought. It’s not like he was serious about his flirting, anyway.

The purplebloods finished off the party with a frenzy of rapping that Marvus felt compelled to join. Stelsa had found her way to your side and eagerly followed your lead as you both giggled and danced your sanity away. You recognized some of Marvus’s lyrics from a few performances you had attended, and screamed your head off with the crowd as you sang along, feeling the heat of the lighting and the blurring colors collapsing all over you in swirling synesthesia, until you embraced the euphoric sensations and became one with the music.

Chucklevoodoos, a voice whispered through the cracks of your fraying mind.

Who cares, you answered back. I want this. I want this.

I feel whole.

Marvus was watching you. You felt compelled to direct your entire attention solely to him, not to any other highblood or to Stelsa but to him and him alone, and for a moment you heard the cheers of partygoers distorted into screams of pain before he beckoned you over with his arms spread out in theatrical showmanship. You clawed your way through the masses and into his waiting embrace, laughing for no reason and yet there was every reason to laugh —

“Snap out of it babe,” he said as he directed the microphone away from him, and even though the cracks were suddenly breaking and collapsing like shattered glass, all you could think of was how he said it just for you, only you, only you —

“What if I don’t want to,” you whispered, but nobody heard your admission.

As your fingers dug into the lapels of his jacket, you pressed up against him and scanned the crowd in a moment of clarity. Stelsa. Was she safe? Did you imagine all of the blood and death and fire?

Marvus’s arm was wrapped around your back as he held you close during the madness. You ran a shaky hand through your hair and wondered where the night would lead, because the highbloods were getting a little too rowdy. A gentle pat to your behind pulled you out of your thoughts, and you threw a scandalized look to Marvus as he grinned down at you. With the microphone poised before him, he called out to the partygoers, “Hey.”

That simple word held all the weight of an important command. The crowd fell silent, and a shiver rolled down your spine. You pressed your forehead to his side and tried to make yourself seem as small as possible, conscious of being stared at by so many people.

“Yall havin a good time??” The crowd roared to life in answer. “Lemme hear u give it up for the mutherfxxer who made it all happen, ufeelme?!”

Amidst the chorus of cheers, Remele bounced up to the clearing where Marvus waited for her, snatching the microphone out of his hand and baring her fangs in a wide smile as she addressed her attendees. You huffed a quiet laugh as you listened to her shill out her latest art pieces and advertise her gallery.

“ — and I woulde like to thank one of my best supporters, my very goode friend and my darling muse!"

You jerked your head towards Remele as she zeroed in on you. “Please, no — “ you begged, but she already grabbed hold of your upper arm and snatched you out of Marvus’s embrace. You looked back at him in a silent plea, but he only winked at you and flashed his toothy grin.

Remele whirled you around to face the crowd. The spotlight was on you now.

You meekly waved and prayed for the ground to swallow you whole. “Tonighte, dear guests, I have a confession to make,” she dramatically said, her eyes flashing in excitement. “Were it not for our resident alien, my gallery might never have gotten so muche recognition! Because she was responsible for the gruesome murder of a highbloode mere steps from my gallery, all of those perigees ago!"

”Remele!” you screamed in a whisper, withering away from the crowd as it erupted into bewildered laughter and indiscernible heckling. “What are you doing?! They’re going to kill me!”

And not just the attendees, but Marvus, too. God, you could hardly bring yourself to look at him, because even though Remele was technically the one who killed the purpleblood, you were still pathetic enough to get yourself into trouble in the first place, and the last thing you ever wanted was for him to catch wind of your fucked up escapades, and now your mind was racing a mile a minute but Marvus was just looking at you with raised eyebrows, and he didn’t look angry, just thoughtful —

“Oh, relax,” Remele cut into your mental breakdown, ignoring your attempts to claw your way out of her grasp — she was ridiculously strong — and continued her speech. “In honor of my muse, I have channeled my inspiration for that fateful nighte to create — “ She threw her arm out in a wide arc and directed everyone’s attention to a covered canvas mounted to a wall. ” — this!”

A rustblood scuttled over as if on cue and tore down the white fabric covering the canvas. All eyes were on Remele’s latest painting. Perhaps now was your chance to abscond? Maybe you could use this precious time to find Stelsa and hightail it out of here with one last ‘fuck you’ to Lanque —

Except your attention was entirely captured by the painting as soon as you dared to glance at it.

You were the subject, pressed flat against a dark wall and limbs splayed out like a cheesy damsel in distress, gripping the brick behind you as you stared at the viewer, all wide-eyed and afraid. And, much to your mortification, you were naked — or rather, lacking any sort of clothing while retaining no bodily features characteristic of your sex. Remele had never seen you naked, after all. Rather imaginative of her to paint you completely sexless and alabaster white, with red and purple stains blotched over your figure as though you were covered in blood.

What the fuck, Remele. Did you really look that pathetic to her that night?

Your mouth simply hung open in shock while the audience ascertained the painting with thoughtful murmurs. Remele waited with baited breath, whispering to you, ”Just you waite and see, I’m gonna be fuqueing loaded after this!”

Suddenly, a voice rose high over the crowd and called out what appeared to be a price.

Remele squeeled. You felt your soul leave your body. That better not have been Zebruh.

As if on cue, an intense bidding war began over the painting. You closed your eyes and hung your head, letting Remele flop your arm around like a limp noodle in joy as the price rose higher and higher still. This was it — your lowest point. Your cowardly self on display for other people’s pleasure, awaiting a lifetime of being gawked at by a privileged highblood. And worst of all, you weren’t even going to get a cut of the profits.

Within minutes, the haggling price had skyrocketed to what you imagined to be astronomical numbers. Most of the bidders had dropped out as well, with just a select few voices trying to outbid each other. A small part of you was surprised that they hadn’t attempted to resolve the conflict with good, old-fashioned murder and mayhem. Judging by the growing agitation in the bidders’ voices and the heckling of the crowd, that outcome might not be far off from the future.

And indeed mayhem ensued. Four highbloods had rendered each other into a pile of limbs and — and bicycle horns — before Remele threw her hand into the air and called out, “Looks like it’s time to wrap this shitshowe up! Going once, going twice, to the gentlemane with the facepaint and broken horne — "

A hand came down over your head and ruffled your hair. Somehow, you knew everything would be okay.

“Na b i’ma take dat home tonite,” Marvus cut Remele off. “I’ll take it for dubble tha price k :o)“

”Solde!” she shouted into the microphone, and you breathed a sigh of audible relief.

Yet your momentary reprieve was ruined once you realized that Marvus had spent a ridiculous amount of money on a scandalous painting that he had no need for. A sense of guilt hung over you as Marvus waited for the canvas to be brought to him, keeping a steadying grip on your shoulder and commanding someone nearby to hand over the payment on his behalf.

“You really didn’t have to do that, Marvus,” you quietly said, tugging on his sleeve to catch his attention.

He merely grinned. “I did dis for a more selfish reason than u think.”

“Why? Don’t tell me you actually wanted that thing?”

“Fxxk yea i did brohime, i wanna b lookin at dis erry day to remember i got one dangerous lil mama who could knock me flat on my azz n paint da walls w my blood. Shit’s hot yo.”

“I’m sorry to break the fantasy, but Remele was pretty much embellishing her story. I didn’t actually kill anyone, I would never do that!” you whined.

“Mebbe not then,” he said, his eyes staring straight through you as though he knew more than you let on. “But u prolly did a whole lotta damage to otha ppl jus by being on dis planet. A wicked shorty like u can’t survive here for dis long w/o causing sum mischief. Basically, u iz one dangerous lil alien.”

Discomfort gripped your heart. Marvus was right; you were inadvertently responsible for a few deaths. Thankfully none of your friends suffered from your magnetic ability to welcome danger —

— Karako bleeding out from his stab wounds, seadwellers laughing in the distance —

— Daraya engulfed in flames as she fought through the pain —  

— Boldir’s life withering away right before your eyes —

— Zebruh’s limbs torn apart in a frenzy of bloodlust —

You jolted and blinked through a haze of phosphenes coloring your vision. What were you thinking about again?

“Hey, it b ok u know.” Right, Marvus. Focus back on him. The painting is under his arm now, mercifully covered up so you didn’t have to look at it again. You welcomed the cold seeping into the skin of your shoulder from his touch. “U ain’t gotta b lookin so sad, doll. It just b dat way around here.”

You sucked in a shaky breath and mustered up a smile. “I know. And I guess if there’s anyone who I’d rather keep the painting, it would be you.”

Marvus lightly papped you on the cheek with the back of his hand. But before he could get a word in, Remele suddenly draped herself over you from behind. “Hello my sweete muse, please text me whenever you’re free againe; I’m going to make a livinge off of you!”

“Of course," you hastily replied, eager to worm your way out of her grasp and disappear. “I’m so … grateful that you painted such a — a charming rendition of me. You’ve truly outdone yourself!”

“It’s fxxn aces,” Marvus pipped up.

“Thank you so muche!” she gushed, and you had a sneaking suspicion she was amping up the charm for his sake. Her tactics were so shameless sometimes, but you loved her for it. You weren’t that much different from her in that regard.

“By the way, Remele, have you seen my friend Stesla anywhere around here? You know, the  tealblood who speaks without stopping to breathe.”

“Ummm,” Remele hummed, tapping her cheek with a finger as she looked around. “She shoulde be lurking somewhere in the back, methinks. Thanks for introducing us, she’s gonna be so fuqueing useful in the long run. Juste like you!”

“How kind of you to say,” you humorlessly said.

“Mhm! Anyway, I muste get going. Goodbye, sweete muse!” And off she went, gone in a flash to conduct more mischief.

Marvus tapped you atop your head. “Hey.” You looked up to his sneaky face. “U lookin about as done w all dis as i b. Wanna bounce?”

Oh you sure as fuck did. The weight of tonight’s eventful party was finally starting to come down on you. “How do you always know? I’m starting to think you have some sort of savior complex.”  

“Juss for funny lil hornless aliens who hang around weirdos.”

“Are you a weirdo, too, Marvus?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Hellz yea fam, but maybe not as much as u.”

“I am not!" you laughed, lightly swatting his forearm as you two walked towards where your instincts told you Stesla might be. “But seriously, thank you for getting me out of here."

“Don’t b thankin me just yet lil mama — maybe I got sum nefarious plans cookin in my think pan,” he teased and winked.

You chuckled. “I’m sure whatever you’re thinking of would be a million times preferable to being mobbed by frenzied trolls.”

“Ye tru. Lemme take u home, babe. Need me a lil bit of company in my sicknasty limo.”

“Oh, you didn’t come here with the other purplebloods?”

The corner of his grin turned up higher. “Sure did, but they ain’t who i’m lookin’ to take home tonite.”

You furrowed your brows at the strange phrasing — why would Marvus be so eager to take me back to my dilapidated hive instead of enjoying his friends’ wild company — but Stesla’s fashionable physique was in sight beside the restrooms, dabbing her face with a small powder puff while looking into a compact mirror. You called out to her in greeting, and she instantly perked up, hiding her cosmetics away in her purse before skipping up to you.

“OH MY GOODNESS DARLING THERE YOU ARE I THOUGHT I WOULD NEVER GET TO YOU TONIGHT HOW ARE YOU DID YOU SEE THAT INCREDIBLE PAINTING MY IT WAS SIMPLY EXQUISITE I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT THE MARVUS XOLOTO ACQUIRED IT — “

You practically pounced on her with a killer hug that would have knocked the air out of a human. But Stelsa was a force of nature in her own right, and as such, merely squeaked and hugged you back.

“I am feeling a little overwhelmed right now, Stelsa,” you confessed, murmuring into her chest before slinking out of her grasp to look at her. “I think I’m ready to leave now. Did you want to stay a little longer, or can I drop you off back home?”

“I SIMPLY CANNOT LEAVE JUST YET THERE IS STILL MUCH TO DISCUSS WITH REMELE AND SO MANY NEW POTENTIAL CLIENTS TO MEET HERE I WILL HAVE TO STAY BUT DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME PLEASE HURRY ON HOME AND REST YOU MUST BE EXHAUSTED AFTER THAT BIDDING DEBACLE AND I SEE THAT A CERTAIN SOMEONE IS WAITING FOR YOU — “ Stelsa peered over the top of your head in the least discrete way possible. Unbeknownst to you, Marvus waved back. “MY OH MY IT’S A GOOD THING I MANAGED TO PRIMP YOU UP BEFORE THE PARTY JUST LOOK AT YOU GETTING LUCKY HMMM?”

Your mind had wandered during her monologuing, so it took you a moment for her last statement to shock you back into reality. “Th — that, that isn’t what’s happening!” you hissed in a quiet whisper, blushing brightly at her implication. “He’s just my ride home, don’t be preposterous. Anyway, are you sure you’ll manage on your own here? I’m worried about leaving you with all of these highbloods around. What if you get caught in another deadly moshpit or whatever?”

Stelsa giggled and placed her hands on her hips. “DON’T BE SILLY I CAN HANDLE MYSELF JUST FINE I DON’T WORK OUT FOR NOTHING YOU KNOW.” Oh, that’s right. You forgot Stelsa was ripped.

“I’ll trust you … but I’m not letting you go that easy!” You fished out your phone and quickly got to texting. “I’m going to let Tyzias know that I need to leave you here. And you better send me a message when you get home, or else I’ll go looking for you, and you know what happens when I have a mission in mind; things can either go horribly right or horribly wrong — “

“YES YES DARLING I WILL BE SURE TO DO SO THANK YOU FOR BEING SUCH A LOVELY FRIEND NOW DON’T KEEP YOUR OTHER FRIEND WAITING TOODLES AND BE SAFE!”

She urged you along before you could get another word in, and you nearly stumbled like a clumsy fool if not for Marvus catching your fall. “Reddy reddy, buddy?”

“Ready ready,” you breathlessly replied, graciously allowing him to lead you away hand-in-hand.

The crowd parted for the both of you on your way out. You caught a glimpse of a few glares and reddened eyes being thrown at you, and if you had a death wish, you might have stuck your tongue out at them. But you were a flimsy human with too much to lose now, so you stared straight ahead and focused on matching Marvus’s quick strides.

The quietness of the outside was jarring to your senses after enduring the loud music and boisterous socializing. Alternia's twin moons cast their colored rays onto your shimmering skin, lighting it up in a dazzling shine that could not meet its full potential under artificial light. Your vibrant glow must have caught Marvus's attention — he turned to look at you with widened eyes and paused his step. “Damn, lil mama,” he smoothly cooed, beckoning you into a twirl as he admired you from all angles. “Now I know I said earlier that u be lookin good an all dat, but dis is sum wild shit.”

You giggled. “It’s just the wicked glow of the Mirthful Messiahs watching over me,” you said and pointed to the sky with a smile. “Get it? Two moons, two prophets.”

“Amen, baby. The messiahs are errywhere and in errything,” he replied, guiding you towards the limo with an arm swung around your shoulders.

The driver was waiting patiently, bowing in respect as he opened the door for you. For a brief moment, you spared Lanque one final thought and wondered how his night had gone after your mini feud got cut short. But with Marvus hot on your heel as you clamored into the limo, you decided that your mental energy had better trolls to focus on.

[rosegardentwilight]

Don’t Miss a Beat

Summary:  Marinette didn’t know what Alya said to convince her to join greek life. But here she was about to be called up as part of her initiation and karaoke in front of all these strangers- the only comfort was an alcoholic drink for courage and the stimulating conversation with a blond guy in a black cat hoodie.

A.n.- The second I got this as my summer santa, I went to work and I really like how this turned out. Hope you enjoy it!

Thank you to Whim, who betaed this! You are amazing!

Pairing: Ladynoir

This was crazy. Marinette didn’t know what she was doing here, dressed ridiculously about to get on a stage and sing in front of a bunch of people. The blame belonged solely to Alya, who dragged her along for moral support, but now it was growing on her. Marinette had to admit some parts of Greek life were fun, and she had met some great friends. After this week, all of these ridiculous hazing tasks, she would be welcomed into the sorority with open arms. With any luck, she wouldn’t have to barge into a cafe and recite her ABC's, or grab a random guy at 10 pm to and bring him as a date.

She walked into the bar, at least by the sound of it; she wasn’t the only one making a fool of herself. The girl on the stage was singing an off-key rendition of Dancing Queen. Marinette grabbed an open table towards the middle of the bar while Alya headed straight for the bar to buy them drinks.

“Nervous?” Marinette turned her head to see a college-aged blonde holding two drinks in his hands and a smile that stretched for days. “Do you need some liquid courage?”

“My friend is getting me some.” Although cute, Marinette didn’t make a habit of taking drinks from strangers.

“The redhead at the bar? This is from her; she asked me to deliver this for her.”

Marinette’s eyes wandered past him in time to see her best friend flirting with a guy at the counter. Even with the distance, she could see the blatant motions for her to make a move on the guy standing there.

“Thanks.” Rules were made to bend sometimes, and she did need the help. With one motion, Marinette downed the drink.

“So your sorority decided to use animals as part of their torture?”

Marinette winced, she thought the makeup was a bit over the top, but her future sister applied it, and she was hardly in a place to protest.  

“I can say the same about you,” she shot back playfully,  glancing at his black hoodie sporting cat ears.

“Guilty as charged,” he grinned, taking a seat across from her, “So, are you a fan of Ladybugs then?”

“Oh.” Her skin flushed with heat, but thankfully part of the face was covered with red paint. “They’re cute, but I mainly got Ladybug as a nickname because I brought luck to a greek competition and I guess the name stuck.”

“Well, it would be too forward to say that you’re the cutest Ladybug I’ve ever seen.”

“My, my, someone’s a flirt, Kitty.” The nickname rolled off her tongue in confidence. With a hoodie like that, he probably had heard the name hundreds of times. Although, Marinette did enjoy seeing the tables turned as his cheeks dusted pink.

“What can I say, I’m a trebled man.”

Marinette held back a giggle. “So what song are you singing?”

“Just some random pop song that they pulled out of a hat. It could have been worse. You?”

“I don’t know,” Marinette confessed, “My big picks the song for me and rates me on my performance.”

“Sounds like you have to be pretty sharp to accomplish that successfully.”

“I’ll just be thankful when my turn is over.”

“What if we made it interesting.” His eyes sparkled mischievously. “Whoever gets the most applause for their performance wins. If I win—I get to take you out on a date.”

“And if I win?” Marinette asked.

He opened his mouth to respond-

“Please put your hands together for Ladybug!”

Marinette pushes herself up, might as well get this over with. All eyes were on her as she made it up on the stage. Music started playing, and she couldn’t help but smile, she could work with this.

Nice to meet you, where you been?

I could show you incredible things

Magic, madness, heaven sin

Marinette scanned the room for a mark to look at; otherwise, her anxiety would kick in. Unfortunately, Alya was too far back that the darkness entrapped her. The second set of eyes she immediately latched onto were the familiar green eyes of her blonde company.

Saw you there and I thought

Oh my God, look at that face

You look like my next mistake

Love’s a game, want to play?

The smirk on the blond’s lips edged her on and gave her more confidence on the stage.

I'm dying to see how this one ends Grab your passport and my hand I can make the bad guys good for a weekend

All her nerves started the fade, and she began to work the stage. Dare she say this was- fun? So it's gonna be forever Or it's gonna go down in flames You can tell me when it's over If the high was worth the pain Got a long list of ex-lovers They'll tell you I'm insane 'Cause you know I love the players And you love the game

Marinette knew the song well enough that she could play to the strengths of the crowd. There was a bet to win after all. Not that she wouldn’t mind going out with the guy, he seemed nice enough, and handsome to boot.

Towards the end of the song, Marinette was sure that by the hoots and hollers she gained that not only was her performance enough to make her a shoo-in for the sorority, but also win the bet.

Her beaming smile could not be dampened as she settled back into her seat.

“Not bad, but I think I still have a chance,” he coolly replied. “Besides, you got the words wrong.”

What? Marinette had heard the song enough from Alya, and if she did need help, then the words were plastered on the screen.

“No, I didn’t.”

“I’ve heard that song before from one of my friends, and it definitely mentions Starbucks in it.”

Marinette could only blink in response; he had to be wrong. The mention of the coffee joint would make no sense in the context of the song.

She opened her mouth to correct him-

“Next up we have, Chat Noir!” The announcer’s voice boomed.

What a weird name. Who would name themselves after a black cat? Marinette’s question was answered when the blonde stood up from his seat.

“Hold that thought.” He winked, “I’ll be right Bach.”

Marinette’s eyes followed him up onto the stage. He certainly had the charisma to win; she could hear the gushing from the other tables almost instantly.

“Hey everyone, I’m Chat Noir of Sigma Thêta Pi. And I’d like to dedicate this song to the beautiful lady that has kept me company all evening.” His words were paired with a wink.

She slipped down a little as some darted heated gazes prickled her skin. But what caused further damage was the intense green stare coming from cat boy on the stage; it rendered her cheeks heated and colored. He only broke contact for a second to nod to the DJ to cue the music.

Hey, I was doing just fine before I met you

I drink too much and that's an issue but I'm okay

Hey, you tell your friends it was nice to meet them

But I hope I never see them again

His lips broke out into the biggest smile as he took over the stage and made it his own. But no matter what he did, his eyes met hers every couple of seconds.

So baby pull me closer in the backseat of your Rover

That I know you can't afford

Bite that tattoo on your shoulder

Pull the sheets right off the corner

Of the mattress that you stole

From your roommate back in Boulder

We ain't ever getting older

He started to pull off some dance moves, and the crowd went wild.

He had said that they pulled this song randomly out of a hat; what were the chances that it was one of her favorite songs at one point. The longer the thought lingered, the more she remembered that the song was a duet.

Her head shot up to find his eyes on her, and she knew what was about to happen. In a blink of an eye, he grabbed the other mic and jumped off the stage mid-performance.

He wasted no time making his way to her table and held out his hand. If she stood, then she would be relaying a message to not only her partner but a crowded bar. Her feet found their footing, and she grabbed the extra mic from his hands in time to start singing in sync with the highlighted words.

You look as good as the day I met you

I forget just why I left you, I was insane

Marinette’s lips split into a smile as she turned her head back to look at him while walking to the stage. What she didn’t expect was Chat to brush past her to help her up on stage. The strength he used to pull her up, Marinette tried not to yelp. A wave of cheers escaped the crowd, and the realization hit her; they were eating up whatever was between them.  

Stay and play that Blink-182 song

That we beat to death in Tucson, okay

She circled Chat Noir, allowing her fingers to graze over the fabric of his hoodie. When she crossed to the other side, his green eyes immediately snapped to hers and caused warmth to twist inside her chest.

The rest of the song they fell into sync, mirroring a countermove to their partner. People would have a hard time believing they only met today, Marinette mused. She could hardly believe it herself.

They ended the song facing each other eyes locked. Marinette found herself breathless, but only time would tell if that was the result of the performance or the stranger. The cheers were muted as Chat Noir reached out to push some hair back into its place.

“Thank you for singing with me,” he mumbled, allowing his hands to linger longer necessary, not that Marinette minded.

“You’re welcome, Kitty.”

They made their way back to their seats, everything the announcer said lost on them.

“You know,” he purred, “I’m pretty sure I won our little bet.”

Marinette’s mouth dropped open to argue, but remember that they never said their performance had to be a solo one. He had her there. She reached into her purse to pull out a pen. Grabbing his hand, she scrolled several numbers on it.

“My number, text me tomorrow, and we can set something up.” Although, in theory, she would love to go somewhere now, time had slipped away from her, and it was already past midnight. She had a study session in the morning she couldn’t miss.

“How do I know this isn’t some wrong number?” He argued.

Marinette leaned in close enough that a kiss was inches away. “I guess you’re going to have to trust me, Minou.”  She shot up from her seat purse in hand, winked, and then made a beeline for Alya.

“Time to go,” she grabbed her hand and tugged her away from a prolonged goodbye kiss.

Once they reached the outside, Marinette’s head stopped spinning. She turned her head back to see Chat Noir, still staring at her. The two exchanged smiles before Alya hailed a cab.

“So I want details with you and lover boy,” immediately spilled out of her best friends mouth and Marinette felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

“I gave him my number, and he’s going to text me and figure out when we can meet up.”

Alya’s fangirled giggles drowned to the sound of her cell phone buzzing.

Unknown: I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to text you. Sweet dreams, I know I will; revolving around Ladybugs.  

Marinette tapped her phone to her lips, thinking of a reply.

Marinette: You sure are confident, how do I know you don’t say that to all the Ladybugs you meet?

Unknown: You caught me. But in my defense, you’re the only Ladybug I’ve met ;) Her smile widened.

Marinette: Fair enough. Meet me at the Starbucks on 13 Boulevard Saint-Michel at 11 am where I can inform you proper lyrics of Blank Space.

It took seconds for a response.

Unknown: it’s a date, My Lady.

A blush stained her cheeks with color as she shoved the phone in her pocket and turned her attention back to her best friend. If this was how they bantered after a first meeting, who knows what will happen. She realized that she had never got his real name, but if she texted him now, they would talk all night. It would have to wait until tomorrow. His last text flashed in her mind again, causing her stomach to tie itself in knots.

Dumb Cat.

[feargender]

in the woods somewhere

read here on ao3

“You’ve truly never been camping? Even as a kid?” Magnus asks, dead leaves crunching underfoot as they walk, pack slung over his shoulder jangling against his back with every step.

Alec, nose crinkled with distaste as he navigates the knobbly roots and brambles that Magnus seems to practically glide over, takes a moment to respond. “No. Shadowhunters aren’t camping people,” he says, gesturing around him, “There are no demons in the woods.” And, he thinks, even if they were, who goes out into the middle of nowhere for fun? A mosquito buzzes in his ear, only punctuating this thought. He keeps it to himself, Magnus had been so adamant about it. And they haven’t even reached the campsite yet, he could give it a chance.

“Better late than never, I suppose. Builds character,” Magnus replies jauntily, jumping over a fallen tree, mostly rotted with white mushrooms blooming from the soft flesh of it. Alec scrambles over it after him, gracefully, but with considerably less enthusiasm.

He has a backpack as well, along with a newly purchased sleeping bag and pair of hiking boots, which are still stiff on his feet. “Yeah, nothing makes a man like sleeping amongst the bugs and dirt,” Alec grumbles, the smell of wet leaves filling his nostrils. Spring has broken, creating a damp forest which teems with life. But a chill still lays over everything, the clammy air creeping into Alec’s clothes with him.

“Almost there,” Magnus announces cheerily, and yes, Alec can hear the babble of running water nearby. They’re making camp in a clearing by a brook, several miles too far from the nearest sign of human life for Alec’s comfort. Definitely way too far away from the noise of New York, the chirping of wildlife all around him making Alec’s skin crawl.

“You know there’s a reason horror movies take place in forests,” Alec says, speeding up to fall into step with Magnus, who has gotten a little ahead. “Ever seen Cabin in the Woods?”

“We’re not renting a cabin, we’re pitching a tent. And anyway, I’ll protect you from any wandering blood-thirsty vagabonds we happen across,” Magnus beams toothily, and Alec can’t help but smile back. The only upside to this whole camping thing is seeing Magnus in a red and gray plaid flannel and hiking boots. His hair is down and his face is bare of makeup, rendering him almost mundane. It’s unusual, but not at all unpleasant.

After a few more minutes, they reach the burbling stream, and Alec has to admit that it’s a nice sight. Sunlight streams through the forest canopy and just reaches the floor, painting their word shades of shining green. The stream only adds to the picturesque beauty, cold and clear with mossy rocks and tiny fish. Birds call overhead and there’s a moment of serenity before Magnus throws his pack down and says, “We have to make camp.”

Alec blinks at him. “What?”

“Camp, Alexander. We have to make camp. With a firepit and tents,” Magnus says patiently, the side of his mouth pulling up in a barely restrained smile.

“I thought you were just gonna, you know,” Alec makes a dramatic hand motion and waves his arms in an imitation of wielding magic, and this time Magnus does laugh.

“Not this time, my love. We’re doing it all the mundane way. Better hurry, too, if we’re going to have time to make traps,” Magnus says, unpacking the tent they will, apparently, be assembling by hand.

“Traps?” Alec echoes, kneeling beside Magnus.

“Of course. Unless you plan on eating acorns,” Magnus replies. Alec swallows, but says nothing else, in case Magnus decides to impart more disturbing news like the fact that they will be catching their own dinner.

Pitching a tent is close to the worst activity Alec has ever participated in, including the time he hunted a slug demon through the New York sewage system. He cracks himself in the face with a pole twice before it’s finally securely assembled and they set about making a firepit. This is easier, scraping away a layer of dirt and leaves and surrounding it with rocks. It gets harder when Alec discovers most of the wood around them is damp due to the spring rains.

After several frustrating minutes of fighting with the fire-starter and cursing God himself for creating rain in the first place, Alec allows Magnus to help. Magnus, infuriatingly, gets a decent fire going in a matter of moments, crackling and eating up the damp wood like store bought kindling. Alec glares at him, but Magnus leans over and places a chaste kiss on his lips, effectively quelling his increasingly poor mood.

“Do you know how to skin a rabbit, Alexander?” Magnus asks casually, pulling a pocket knife out of his pocket and whittling away at a stick, sharpening it to a point and setting it aside, beginning on another.

“No,” Alec says with a frown, watching Magnus’ movements. “Are you planning on chasing one down with spears?” he asks doubtfully.

“No, silly, these are for the traps. Unless you’d rather eat earthworms. They’re chewy, but not nearly as filling,” Magnus looks up from his sharp sticks in time to see Alec’s completely desolate expression. There are a few more seconds of agonizing eye contact before Magnus cracks, breaking into full-bodied laughter, setting the stick and knife aside to hold himself.

“Your face,” Magnus gasps out, cracking open a teary eye. Alec scowls at him harshly, cheeks burning. Magnus reaches for his pack and pulls out a bag of turkey jerky and also reveals several cans and bags of food. “Oh, you really believed me!” he says when Alec’s eyes grow wide and then his glower grows even more poisonous. “Alec, I’d never make you skin a rabbit or eat bugs. Come here,” Magnus reaches out to Alec beseechingly, grabbing his hands and pulling him in close, kissing the side of his angry face and chuckling into his neck.

Alec eventually forgives him and they eat a dinner of canned soup and trail mix, all the while Magnus goes back and forth between laughing and apologizing.

The sun disappears beyond the trees and immediately the temperature drops, until Alec is pressed tight into Magnus’ side and slapping vaguely at creepy crawlers which emerge with the moon. The fire keeps most of the bugs at bay, however, and Magnus is happy to wrap Alec up in an embrace, although Alec gets the vague sense that Magnus is laughing at him still.

“You really are a city boy, aren’t you?” Magnus asks, leaning into Alec and taking one of his cold hands.

“I’m from New York, what did you expect?” Alec grunts.

“Nothing. It’s endearing, really. Can’t go a day without electricity or cell service,” Magnus teases, and Alec huffs.

“If you’re going to be mean to me, I’ll just walk back to civilization by myself. Leave you out here with the bugs and the bears,” Alec threatens with no real intent behind it.

“Oh, be my guest. You wouldn’t make it a quarter of a mile,” Magnus shoots back and Alec rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree.

Magnus reaches behind him and switches on an electric lantern, handing Alec a flashlight. “Shall we retire to our tent and tell scary stories?” he asks ominously, the lantern casting his face in stark shadows.

“Oh, sure, our very romantic tent,” Alec drawls, getting to his feet and dusting off the seat of his pants, grabbing a long sleeved thermal shirt and thick fleece sweatpants out of his pack before shoving it into the tent. He changes while Magnus tamps out the fire and packs away the supplies, shivering in the chilly night breeze before ducking into the tent and climbing into his insulated sleeping bag. Magnus follows a few minutes later and gets into his own sleeping bag, which displeases Alec greatly.

“Can’t even cuddle properly. I’m never coming camping again,” he says, worming his way toward Magnus until he’s pressed as close as he can be with the puffy layers of fabric between them.

“I’m sorry it’s been such a hardship,” Magnus reaches an arm out unzips Alec’s bag enough to reach in and wrap it securely around Alec’s middle.

“You’ll make it up to me,” Alec says, turning to face Magnus in the dim.

“How so?” Magnus asks, teeth gleaming with his smile.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Better be good though, after all the pain you’ve caused me,” Alec warns, leaning in to kiss Magnus gently before launching into some story Shadowhunters are told coming up about ghosts.

[urwarriorangel]

‘anything you want’ (bellamy blake au, part vi)

Prompt: You never thought this day would come. Never in your darkest hours of your darkest days did you think he would die, and not in this way. You couldn’t seem to stop crying. Everything around you reminded you of him, of one of your best friends. You never thought he would kill himself, yet here you all were. It’s the morning of his funeral and you couldn’t bring yourself to get up. You figure if you just stay in bed, he wouldn’t be dead. Maybe if you just rest, he would still be with you. Because fuck, facing the fact that he’s dead would be the thing that kills you.

Pairings: Bellamy Blake x Reader, Linctavia, Raven Reyes x Wells Jaha

Warning(s): holy fuck, the angst! character death, Bellamy and reader reconnecting, language, mentions of suicide 

A/N: hi loves! I know it’s been a while and I’m back with some fucking angst, but man I hope you guys appreciate it! also please keep in mind that I haven’t watched s4 of ‘the 100′ so some of the things in this fic might be incorrect and I’m okay with that! I really hope you guys like this part because it’s dear to me and I love it so much. the next part will be a continuation of this and it may be the ending! still deciding! either way, please enjoy and lmk what you think!!!! (no gifs are mine)

just want to say I love you all. depression is a bitch, and I’m proud of all of you who go through your everyday life with it. suicide is a real, heavy issue and if any of you need someone to talk to, know that I’m here and that there are professionals who are much better suited than I who are willing to help you. HERE is the post with a collective list of National Suicide Hotlines around the world. I love you all xoxox

PS: to anyone who thinks that Bellamy and Angel have made up too fast, they haven’t. they’re Nyko’s godparents and they’ve made their peace with one another. they’ve become slow friends. this is one and a half years after Nyko’s birth, fyi.

‘anything you want’ masterlist

You came back home to celebrate his birthday, excited to see everyone for the first time since Nyko’s first birthday. It’d only been a few months and you kept in touch with everyone, but holy shit it would be good to see them all. It’d be great to see Jasper especially though, to finally give him a long, hard hug and remind him just how much he meant to everyone. You and Jasper had always been good friends, both bonding over drinks as you poured out your depressive hearts. He was the first person you called when Finn broke your heart. You were the one he’d reach out to when his thoughts were especially dark, and when you couldn’t physically be there, you’d make sure Monty was. The two peas in a bod, as you all liked to call them. It was gonna be amazing to see your friends again.

You were a little surprised when O texted you the day before your flight and told you everyone was busy and couldn’t pick you up. Jasper was supposed to pick you up, you were his distraction for a few hours while everyone else got the party ready. But you shrugged it off, thinking maybe he’d found out about the surprise party and now there was another plan.

You were a little surprised when you got off the cab outside of Octavia’s place and were met with silence: the apartment was empty and try as you might, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong. The lights were off, asides from the one in the kitchen. There were no birthday decorations.

You were surprised when Bellamy walked in and grabbed your bags, making his way to the kitchen almost as though this had been rehearsed.

You were surprised to find a note on the counter-top, addressed to you and Bellamy, who’d gone upstairs to put your bags away. The note read,

Y/N, sorry we’re not home. There are some things that need to be taken care of, but we’ll all be together soon. Bell, if you’re there, help Y/N get situated. We’ll be home soon. We love you,

L+O

“Bellamy,” you whisper, turning around to look at your friend, now standing behind you. “What the hell is going on? You guys didn’t forget about Jasper’s birthday did you? It’s today!”

“No, Y/N. We haven’t forgotten about anything. I promise,” he whispers and now that you’ve gotten a better look at him, you can see the bags under his eyes and the red rims around them.

“Bellamy what’s going on?” You whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady as Bellamy takes a step forward and you take one back. You hear the door open and shake your head a little, unable to keep your thoughts intact.

“Y/N, please--”

“It’s okay, Bellamy. I’ve got it,” you hear Monty’s voice and you walk around Bellamy, coming face to face with Monty, with Octavia and Lincoln, with Clarke, with John, with Raven, with Wells.

“W-what’s going on?” You could feel the tears fill your eyes as you take note of everyone but Jasper. “Where’s Jasper?”

“Y/N,” Monty whispered, knowing that by this point you’ve figured it all out.

“Where is he, Monty? You know how much Jas loves his birthday! And c’mon, he’s gotta be missing me. It’ll be a great surprise!” You nod excitedly, the tears streaming down your face as Octavia starts crying, unable to hold herself together. “O, it’s not that bad of an idea. Oooh! Is that what we’re doing? Are we gonna go surprise him? He found out about the party, didn’t he?”

You shake your head in disbelief as a red-eyed John walks over to you.

“You guys all look like a wreck, oh my god. I mean I know we agreed the dress code would be casual, but I was thinking more “game day” casual not “I’m high and haven’t slept in days” casual,” you laugh softly, the tears continuously running down your face as you grow tired of everyone’s silence.

“Why is noone saying anything?” You laugh a little and go over to Raven, who’s now crying. Your one friend who showed very little emotion in public was now openly bawling her eyes out. “Guys, please. Someone say something,” you whisper, rendering everyone silent with the evident heartache in your every word.

“John?” You turn to him and he shakes his head, walking away as the tears made their way down his face. “Monty?” You walk over to him, laughing painfully through the tears as he shook his head and looked down, unable to speak.

“Bellamy?” You whisper, a soft smile painted on your face as the never-ending tears glisten in their tracks. “Bellamy, please. No one else is saying anything. They just keep crying and walking away. Please,” you whisper and he looks up, his heart breaking at the frail sight of you. “Please say something, anything.”

“Y/N,” Bellamy whispers, wiping the tears out of your eyes and brushing the hair out of your face. He presses his lips against your forehead and holds you close, body shaking as he tries to find the right words. “Jasper’s gone.”

The last thing you remember is a piercing scream escaping your mouth and shattering every person’s heart even further.

Today is the day, and everything hurts. Every bone in your body aches, every breath you take tears your lungs apart, and every moment you spend awake shatters your heart because all you can think of is Jasper’s lifeless body being being lowered in the cold, hard Earth.

Octavia had tried to get you out of bed repeatedly, but nothing was working. You couldn’t get up. You couldn’t face it all.

“Y/N,” you hear Bellamy’s whisper, you feel his hands gently rubbing your shoulders. Still, you make no move to get up. “Y/N, get up.”

“Bellamy,” you whisper and turn to face him, tears falling once again before you can even properly wake up. “Everything hurts.”

“I know, sweetie, I know,” he whispers and brushes his fingers against your forehead to calm you.

“I don’t know how to make it stop,” you whimper and keep your eyes shut, Bellamy’s heart aching at your broken state.

“Let’s start by you waking up, okay?” He wipes your tears and gently raises you, pressing his lips against your forehead as you slowly open your eyes. “There we go.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a baby,” you whisper and look down, wrapping your arms around yourself as Bellamy furrows his brows. “I just miss so much by being away. I can’t help but wonder if any of this was my fault.”

“What? Y/N what are you talking about?” Bellamy sits next to you on the bed and you sniffle, shaking your head before resting it against his chest.

“I was the person he came to every time he was feeling down. Every time, he came to me. The last time he called, I was a little busy and I had to call him back but something felt wierd. What if I hadn’t had to hang up?” Your bottom lip trembles and you start sobbing as Bellamy holds you close. “Bellamy what if this is all my fault?”

“My sweet angel,” Bellamy wraps his arms around you, tightening his grip on your fragile body. He kisses your forehead as you sob quietly against his chest, his heart racing at the thought you of you ever doing what Jasper did. “Y/N none of this is your fault, I promise to you. This is none of our faults, least of all yours. Jasper loved you. And that love transcends everything. This is the first time I’m mad at Jasper, you know?”

“What?” You look up at Bellamy and you can see all the pain in his voice.

“I’m not mad at Jasper, you know? He was in pain, and while it kills me, I’m happy that he’s at peace. He said his goodbyes to us all, left his note to you. I miss him, and it hurts,” Bellamy finally breaks down, his shoulders shaking as he holds on to you.

The man who has been able to keep you and everyone else together and alive for the past week is now breaking down in your arms. He’s sobbing uncontrollably, the tears running down his face as the realization hits.

“Bellamy,” you whisper and stand up, holding his face in your hands as you watch him physically crumble. You hold him close, his arms wrapping around your thighs as his tears soak the front of your shirt. “Jasper loved you too, you know?” Your bottom lip trembles as you speak up, a soft chuckle escaping you. “Remember when he and Maya broke up? He hated just about everyone but you, Bellamy. Jasper looked up to you, you inspired him.”

Bellamy looks up at you and you wipe his tears, sniffling as you give him a wobbly smile.

“And like you said, that love transcends everything,” you lean down and kiss his forehead, letting your lips linger until you feel him calm down. “And you should know,” you whisper and straighten yourself out, your hands still gently holding his face. “I can’t thank you enough for how strong you’ve been for everyone. We wouldn’t have been able to go through this without you. Thank you, so much.”

“I hope none of us have to go through this again,” Bellamy whispers, his hands still wrapped around the bottom of your thighs.

“I know, baby, I know. I hope so, too,” you whisper and your eyes meet Bellamy’s, heart aching for him. “How about you get some rest. It’s my turn to take care of everyone.”

“Why is it that you and I always take care of everyone else?” He whispers, pulling himself away from you and slowly getting into bed.

“Because we take care of each other, too,” you smile and run your fingers through his hair.

“Thank you,” he whispers, holding your hand and pulling you to sit on the edge of the bed. “And can I please say one more thing?”

“Of course,” you nod, smiling at the way he absentmindedly intertwined his fingers with yours.

“I just want to say I’m sorry, for everything. I know this seems like the easy way out, but I’m so incredibly sorry. It won’t make everything okay, and I understand that. I just think it needs to be said. I think more than anything, I just need to say it. It doesn’t make me feel any better, it won’t make things better right away, but fuck am I sorry,” he whispers and your eyes meet his, both glazed over as the two of you think of the past, of how stupid everything seemed. “And everything I did was terrible, it’s not a small thing to get over. I get that,” he sighs as tears fall out of his eyes again, bringing your hand to his lips as he places a gentle kiss on each of your knuckles. “Now go,” he chuckles softly and lets go of your hand, his thumbs quickly wiping any trace of tears off your face. “O is in bad shape. She stinks a little, I think.”

“Hey,” you playfully slap his arm, laughing a bit yourself. “You stink, too. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to shower, okay?”

“Alright, okay,” he smiles at you and you kiss his forehead, slowly getting up and heading out to see the others. Bellamy slowly closes his eyes, and you watch from the doorway.

“Hey, Bell?” You smile as his eyes quickly open up. “I love you.”

“I love you, Y/N. I love you,” he smiles back, a feeling of hope rushing into his heart for the first time in years.

He lays down on his back, looking up past the ceiling and smiling at his friend who he’s sure is there laughing down at him and saying ‘I told you so’.

“Okay, maybe you were right, Jasper.”

[sagexbrush]

This is a playlist of songs that goes along with the six of crows book, pretending that six of crows is a TV show and what songs they’d play to what parts.

so I saw this done somewhere with the foxhole court and wanted to give it a go! If you were the creator of that post (I can’t for the life of me find it) just send me a message and I’ll totally give you credit for the inspiration. I just really couldn’t help myself from doing this with Six of Crows. Enjoy!

intro. railroad track by willy moon. yeah ‘cause i’ma go down on a railroad track and i ain’t going back and no i ain’t going back.

 kaz defeats geels. wires by the neighborhood. “you’ll get what’s coming to you one day brekker.”/ “i will,” said kaz, “if there’s any justice in the world. and we all know how likely that is.”( page 32) the wires got the best of him all that he invested in goes straight to hell.

 kaz accepts the deal. wicked ones by dorothy. “you’ve seen what this drug can do. i can assure you it is just the beginning. if jurda parem is unleashed on the world, war is inevitable. our trade lines will be destroyed, and our markets will collapse. kerch will not survive it. our hopes rest with you mr.brekker. if you fail, all the world will suffer for it.” / “oh it’s worse that that, van eck. if i fail, i don’t get paid.”(page 57) ain’t no sleep when the wicked play

 kaz walks through the barrel. lone digger by caravan palace. “the buildings of the barrel were different from anywhere else in ketterdam, bigger, wider, painted in every garish color, clamoring for attention from passerby – “ (page 69) your head has no right to say no, tonight it’s ‘ready set go!’

 matthias fights the wolves. stronger than ever by  raleigh ritchie. “but kaz hadn’t lied: matthias was much changed. the boy who looked back the crowd with fury in his eyes was a stranger.” (page 90) ‘cause i’m a big boy an adult now, well nearly, if i pull the wool back from my eyes i can see clearly.

 nina and matthias reunite. do i wanna know?by  artic monkeys. “her eyes filled with tears. ‘shhhh matthias. we’re here to get you out.” before she could blink he had hold of her shoulders and had pinned her to the ground. / “nina,” he growled. then his hands closed over her throat. (page 99) crawling back to you. ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few? cause i always do.

 jesper and wylan team up. panic station by muse. “close your eyes!”/ “you can’t kiss me from down there, wylan.”/ “just do it!”/ “this better be good!”/ he shut his eyes. “are they closed?/ “damn it wylan yes they’re – “ there was a shirll shrieking howl, and then bright light bloomed behind jesper’s lids. when it faded, he opened his eyes. below, he saw men blundering around, rendered blilnd by the flash bomb wylan had set off. but jesper could see perfectly. not bad for a mercher’s kid. (page 147) ooo 1 2 3 4 fire’s in your eyes, and this chaos it defies imagination.

 inej is stabbed. cold arms by mumford and sons. one night, as he’d passed her in the parlor, she’d done a foolish thing, a reckless thing. “i can help you,” she’d whispered. he’d glanced at her, then proceeded on his way as if she’d said nothing at all. the next morning, she’d been called to tante heleen’s parlor. she’d been sure another beating was coming or worse, but instead kaz brekker had been standing there, leaning on his crow-head cane, waiting to change her life. / “i can help you,” she said now. / “help me with what?” (page 153) but i know what’s on your mind, god knows i put it there.

 kaz kills oomen. beast by nico vega. kaz leaned in so that no one else could hear when he said, “my wraith would counsel mercy. but thanks to you, she’s not here to plead your case.” without another word, he tipped oomen into the sea. (page 159) stand tall for the beast of america, lay down like a naked dead body.

 matthias gives nina the cup. blood bank by bon iver. “but a short while later the druskelle returned with a tin cup and bucket of clean water. he’d set it down inside the cell and slammed the bars shut without another word. (page 171) well i met you at the blood bank, we were looking at the bags, wondering if any of the colors matched any of the names we knew on the tags.

 inej is sold to tante heleen. killer by phoebe bridgers. “she’d turned away to barter with the sailers as inej stood there, clutching her bound hands over her chest, her blouse still open, her skirt still hiked around her waist. jump she’d thought. whatever waits at the bottom of the side is better than where this woman is taking you. (page 190) can the killer in me tame the fire in you?

 kaz tells inej about his brother. long way down by tom odell “what do you want then?”/ the old answers came easily to mind. money. vengeance. jordie’s voice silenced in my head forever. but a new reply roared to life inside him, loud, insistent, and unwelcome. you, inej. you.(page 205) she stands on a ledge says, it looks so high. you know, it’s a long way down.

 nina and matthias begin to trust each other. first day of my life by bright eyes. “there was a long pause and then he said, ‘i thought about it. just for a second.’ nina laughed./ ‘it’s okay,’ she said at last, ‘i would’ve thought about it too.’. he got to his feet and offered her his hand. /‘i’m matthias.’/ ‘nina,” she said, taking it. ‘nice to meet your acquaintance.’ (page 241) this is the first day of my life. swear i was born right in the doorway.

 jordie dies and dirtyhands is born. a rush of blood to the head by coldplay he’d heard there were sharks in these waters, but he knew they wouldn’t touch him. he was a monster now too. (page 276) because i’m gonna buy this place and see it burn, do back the things it did to you in return.

 inej climbs up the incinerator shaft. shake it out by florence + the machine. she wanted a storm – thunder, wind, a deluge. she wanted it to crash through ketterdam’s pleasure houses, lifting roofs and tearing doors off their hinges. she wanted it to raise the seas, take hold of every slaving ship, shatter their masts, and smash their hulls against unforgiving shores. i want to call that storm, she thought. (page 311) and i am done with my graceless heart, so tonight i’m going to cut it out and then restart.

 inej and kaz on the roof. run by daughter. “if we don’t survive the night, i will die unafraid kaz. can you say the same?” his eyes were nearly black, the pupils dilated. she could see it took every last bit of his terrible will for him to remain still beneath her touch. and yet, he did not pull away. she knew it was the best he could offer. it was not enough. (page 334) and if i try to get close, he is already gone.

 jesper fights the grisha. human by rag’n’bone man. he wasn’t a good fabrikator, but they didn’t expect him to be a fabrikator at all. he thrust his hands forward, and bits of metal flew from his uniform, a gleaming cloud that hung in the air for the briefest second then shot toward the tidemakers. (page 388) i’m only human after all, don’t put the blame on me.

 matthias opens the door to nina’s cell. i want to love you by lenachka. she ran to him, and he swept her up into his arms. he buried his face in her hair. she felt his lips move against her ear when he said, “i never want to see you like this again. / “do you mean the dress of the cell? / a laugh shook him. “definitally the cell.” (page 389) i want to love you, the corner’s of your heart no one’s been to.

 kaz rescues nina and matthias. immigrant song by led zeppelin “this is going to sting a bit,” said the druskelle holding the whip. his voice was rasping, familiar. his hands were gloved. “but if we live, you’ll thank me later.” his hood slid off, and kaz brekker looked back at them. (page 397) we come from the land of ice and snow from the midnight sun

 kaz is drowning. open your eyes by andrew belle “but all he could think of was inej. she had to live. she had to to have made it out of the ice court. and if she hadn’t, then he had to live to rescue her. the ache in his lungs was unbearable. he needed to tell her… what? that she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. that he was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her. (page 403) she’ll be a star now, i will follow her lead. she’ll be a scar now, i will still let her bleed all over me.

 jesper wylan and inej acquire a tank. legendary by welshly arms. wylan clutched his middle, still snorting lafter. trailing behind them was a banner, caught in the tank’s treads. despite the smears of mud and gunpowder burns, inej could still make out the words: strymakt fjerdan. fjerdan might. (page 414) cause we’re gonna be legends, gonna get their attention.

 nina takes parem. believer by imagine dragons. nina flexed her fingers, and the druskelle dropped their rifles, hands going to their heads, screaming in pain. “for my country,” she said. “for my people. for every child you put to the pyre. reap what you’ve sown, jarl brum.” (page 426) and it rained down, it rained down like – pain.

 kaz asks inej to stay. million reasons by lady gaga “i will have you without armor, kaz brekker. or i will not have you at all.” speak, she begged silently. give me a reason to stay. for all his selfishness and cruelty, kaz was still the boy who had saved her. she wanted to believe he was worth saving too. the sails creaked. the clouds parted for the moon and then gathered back around her. inej left kaz with the wind howling and dawn still a long while away. (page 434) i’ve got a hundred million reasons to walk away, but i just need one good one to stay.

 nina starts to go through withdrawals. 5am by amber run. “stay,” she panted. tears leaked from her eyes. “stay til the end.” / “and after,” he said. “and always.” and you don’t know how to feel until the moment’s passed. i wish you’d live like you’re made of glass.

 van eck goes back on his deal/kaz goes to pekka rollins for help. seven devils by florence + the machine. “none of you will leave this island, mister brekker. all of you will vanish, and nobody will care.” (page 446) seven devils all around you, seven devils in my house.

[tamadwriter]

No Regrets

Genre: Angst

Characters: Taeyong and his ex-lover.

Love is such a beautiful experience, but reminiscing the memories after a painful break up leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. So when will these bittersweet memories turn beautiful?

Italicized words are flashbacks.

♢♢♢

"Taeyong let's break up."

Those words kept echoing in his mind every night, rendering him sleepless. Months had passed but for Taeyong, he felt like it was still yesterday whenever he reminisced about it. It was still fresh in his mind and their sweet memories were still vivid as the day.

The pen he is holding right now, it was the same pen that she used to mess up his old white shoes, which is currently stored on the bottom of his closet.

Taeyong called her out in a stern voice, however, the girl didn't heed his strict tone and continued to doodle on his clean white trainers.

He sighed loudly, he doesn't know if she was too focused on dirtying his shoes or was just lazy to pay him attention, the latter seemed to be the most plausible reason. She knew that he hated having his things dirty but she still did it, he loves her but it doesn't mean that he would tolerate it.

"Look, your shoes doesn't look boring anymore." She said, gesturing Taeyong to look at her 'masterpiece', it was a doodle of two people together, it was difficult to recognize because of it's poor drawing, but he was sure that it was the two of them. His heart softened a little, it was kind of rare for her to do 'romantic' things like this but still, she needed a good lecture.

When Taeyong saw that she was half-heartedly listening, he stopped, "Did you even listen?" She gave him a lazy nod. He scoffed, "Then what did I say?"

"I don't know, I just listened to hear your voice." The female shamelessly admitted, those words that she spoke made Taeyong's heart skip a beat and redden his cheeks. She clearly knew how to caught him off guard.

"Continue talking, I'll sleep."

"You!"

That pen, he treasured it so much that he only used it for songwriting, but now, it was almost empty, he could see the broken lines of ink when he tried writing.

He glanced at the notebook on his lap, written on it were all the unspoken words that he wanted for her to hear, but he didn't managed to say it at all.

"What do you think should be the next word?" Taeyong suddenly asked her, tapping his pen on the place where the next lyric should be written. A heavy head was leaning on his shoulder, eyes drooping and ready to sleep but she fought it when Taeyong called her.

"Beach volleyball." She murmured, too sleepy to even read what's written in his notebook and think of a decent lyrics. She finally succumbed to sleep, thinking that Taeyong is not stupid enought to take her absurd suggestion. She snorted, who's gonna put beach volleyball as a lyrics in a love song?

But what she didn't know that Taeyong did really wrote it down. Yeah, he's that stupid, stupid in love.

He was reading the lyrics that had her words, it's a good thing that he really wrote down her suggestions. Even though it's seemed nonsense or odd, it's precious because it specially came from her. A small smile was painted on his lips when he closed his notebook, however his mind wandered again as he stared at his hand.

It's one of those days, wherein she was surprisingly active while he was the opposite. Specifically, its a day where he was drowned in his worries and insecurities and what he needed the most was comfort from his beloved.

She was sitting between his legs and her back was pressed against his chest. Taeyong had his head in the crook of her neck, his left arm firmly wrapped around her waist while his other one was loosely circled on her since she was playing with his right hand.

Along with her soft touch, he felt a cold sensation spreading over his hand. He slightly lifted his head and saw that she was rubbing hand sanitizer on his hand, she kept pouring the liquid and he was puzzled, "You're overdoing it."

"Hmm, just hoping that you will stop biting your nails when you taste this hand sanitizer." She continued, "It's bitter by the way." Taeyong smiled and laughed when she heard her reason.

He knew that she was never good at finding the right words to comfort him so she only expressed it through her actions. Once she spoke, it was straightforward and might be a little crude, it's a bit annoying but he could still find comfort in it.

Taeyong hugged her closer, moving his face to nuzzle on her neck and planting little kisses on her nape, mumbling words of appreciation.

"Thank you."

Taeyong continued to stare at his hand, longing for the soft touch that he used to feel. He shook his head and decided to seriously go to sleep. He grabbed his notebook and opened his bedside drawer to put it away. However, he stopped when he saw a light pink pouch lying in the bottom of the drawer.

The boys was having a rest time from practice yet Taeyong is still working hard, practicing his dance routine. He usually join them to rest but he didn't which earned him a look, but they also thought it was normal since it's Taeyong ㅡ that boy is really a hardworking person. They're right but there is also something else, and that he is currently upset and is venting out his emotions through dancing.

He had a fight with her. The usual ones where she was irritated by something then he also got annoyed too, yet she was being indifferent to fix it up and that really upset Taeyong. He hated how she looked so unperturbed when they fought, it's like that she doesn't even care about him or the relationship at all. That thought alone gave him a lot of insecurities, he was worried that they were losing touch with each other.

Taeyong finished his routine and plopped down against the wall, trying to catch his breath. When he reached out for his bag to grabbed his bottle of water, he felt something off because it became heavier. He hurriedly unzipped it and saw a packed food with a pink note on it and a pink pouch on the side.

"Eat, I can't finish it all." The handwriting was familiar when he read it, it was her. He looked at the dish inside and saw little clams in it, it was kalguksu, his favorite dish. It didn't even looked like it was consumed and who she was trying to fool? Taeyong knew that she wasn't fond of eating seafood. Next, is the pink colored pouch that contained a bunch of pink colored macarons which he assumed was strawberry flavored because of its smell.

Taeyong was touched. He knew that she isn't fond of baking because it was time-consuming and she rarely gave away her favorite food freely. He can feel his worries melting away, knowing that she was still thinking of him, even putting much effort and care in doing all this stuff.

He got carried away again by those memories because of that pink pouch. Exasperated, Taeyong harshly pushed it further inside the drawer to keep it away from his sight, but what he didn't expect is the thing that was revealed when he pushed the pouch away.

It was a photo.

It was always like this, Taeyong thought, staring down at the girl who was comfortably snuggled on his chest, breathing softly.

He was annoyed, they rarely got alone time together because of trainings but when they had it, she always slept most of the time. When he was talking, she often drifted to sleep mid-way and he had to wake her up. However, there are times he gave up too and just let her nap peacefully, but today, he wasn't going to have it.

"Wake up.." He gently tapped her cheeks, she stirred up and slightly opened her eyes but it slowly closed again. When he saw that, he called her out in a loud voice and it worked when she fluttered her eyes opened and looked up at him.

Taeyong felt a little guilty but it was worth it because her face looked so adorable. She yawned and slowly straightened up from his embrace and he took it as a cue to talk again.

"No more slee-" Taeyong was cut off when a pair of small hands suddenly cradled his face and saw her leaning closer, soon he felt a soft sensation pressed gently on his own lips.

It lasted long but his mind didn't seemed to work as he had no idea if it was seconds or minutes that had passed.

Afterwards, she let go of his face and shifted back to cozy up herself in Taeyong's embrace. The latter just froze, trying to gather his shit together from just what happened.

Did she just initiated their first kiss? He was shocked because she rarely initiated skinship, but a kiss? Taeyong thought it was unimaginable, he snapped out from his train of thought and saw her peacefully napping like she didn't just kiss him.

"You can't just leave me hanging like that." Taeyong whined. Once tasted, it was addicting and so he crave for more, he tried to calm down his raging hormones.

"Okay, I let you go this once, we still have plenty of time to kiss." Taeyong laughed, fishing out his phone to take a photo of this memorable moment. It was really fortunate that he was able to got some memory of it.

Since it was their first and last kiss.

No matter how Taeyong tried hard to stop himself from remembering that painful day, the memory still played on his mind.

Taeyong was running out of ideas to change her decision, he already tried all the means. He tried talking to her seriously, getting angry, shouting and even pleading. He doesn't know what to do anymore, with his head buried in her neck, he enclosed her in a tight embrace, holding her back from leaving.

Did he do something wrong? He was so confused, she just said those words casually, out of nowhere. He was willing to work it out, even compromising but she said that her decision was already set in stone.

"Taeyong, listen to me." No, he doesn't want to listen, he had already heard the same words, same phrases that she said earlier and for him, it was bullshit. That he was going to debut soon, that there will be less time since he was going to be busy and that a rookie can't date. For him, it's all nonsense, they could still work it out. It's the best for him? No, it's not, what's worse than her leaving?

"I made my mind Taeyong, let's break up."

They said that he is the most forgetful member, yet he could not even forget about her.

Ruthless, she was aware that he was in a difficult time when he was preparing for his debut but still broke up with him. He suffered a lot and he doesn't even had time to grieve about his broken heart, he had no choice but endured the heartache while working hard prior to his debut.

In order to cope up with it, he focused his mind in preparing for the big day, practice in the day until late at night and all of their hardworks had paid off when they debuted.

Happy?

He was happy, but why does he felt something is still missing?

Of course no one could fill up the void in his heart.

He's busy to the point that he doesn't even have time for himself, yet when the night comes where he had nothing to do at all but to sleep, that's the time when the memories will start haunting him. He tried to ignore it by fixating himself in writing lyrics, but the heavens was harsh and didn't even let him off.

Because what he wrote, was also something about her, fuck it.

In the outside, he looked fine but deep inside he was so lost. Even months had already passed since that day, it was still difficult for him.

Tears kept falling, hands can't stop writing, his heart is still hurting.

'It's painful, what should I do?'

♢♢♢

What about her?

She was sleeping peacefully at night.

Or that's what everyone thought. The boys in the company were so close to each other that they knew what happened between the two, they also tried to intervene but alas, she was stonehearted, she wasn't even swayed by their words.

They tried at first but now, they were also lost on what to do. The other one is obviously pained but when they looked at her, it was like the break up did not even happened because she was still the same.

She's doing well, eating well and sleeping well.. like she was not even affected by the break up at all. There was not a bit of sadness in her, maybe she was really cold-hearted, that's what they thought. They respected her decision but they can't help but be displeased by her, but there were still some mature minds who thought of it deeply.

That's what they thought.

She knew it and she was glad that they were thinking of that way. It is better because Taeyong would know that she's doing well.. without him. Hell would break loose if Taeyong heard something about her being unwell, she knew how he would jump at the slight opportunity to fix their relationship.

However, she was also far from being fine.

She had no problem in sleeping but when the sun rises, she would wake up in a slightly moist pillow and a face wet by her fallen tears. She would wipe her face clean and spent most of her morning staring at the mirror.

Ever since that day, she did not cry, not even a streak of tear, it's not that because she doesn't want to cry but because she could not cry at all.

She wanted to cry so much, vent out her feelings and all, she wanted it badly yet her eyes won't create the water fall of tears that she wished for.

But lately, she found out that she had been crying in her sleep, she could not remember anything about her dreams but she was certain that if it made her cry, then it was just one person.

Taeyong.

She wondered if someone had ever notice her slight changes in behavior. It's good if no one took note of it since she tried so hard to kept herself the same.

It may look like she was still sleeping around the training room but no one would know that she was awake the whole time because her eyes were closed.

She feared that once she slept, she would wake up with tears in her face and she could not risk it.

That she still have the love for her food because there were still a lot of snacks in her bag, but they would not know that it's been piled up inside due to having no desire to eat it all.

That she becoming more 'less' lazy. It's obvious but it's a positive thing, they would not know that she'd just practice for her to have a peace of mind and not think of Taeyong.

No one would know, and it's a good thing.

"Stop it, you're doing it again, more than a year has passed." It was difficult for her roommate, which is also her bestfriend, to see her behavior, every single morning.

Vulnerable, the roommate could see clearly the lost look in those eyes. Afterwards, she will be that nonchalant girl again, aloof and cool, far from her frail state that she saw every morning.

"Don't be like this, I hate it." Why was she doing this to herself? Why was she's that self-sacrifing? Can she be more lenient towards herself? The roommate knew that she was doing well, the only thing she was afraid of was the day she's going to fall apart.

She's too self-sacrificing, she hate it, hate it every time she remembered her words that day.

"I can't take this anymore, I'm going to tell him." It's been a month since the news broke out that they were already off. The roommate hadn't felt anything weird with her, not until yesterday when she woke up too early and saw blank eyes staring at the mirror.

For the roommate, it was alarming, she hadn't seen her looked so sad and miserable, her eyes were clear as crystal, there were loneliness in it.

"No."

"Why break up with him if only causes pain to both of you?"

"He's going to debut soon."

"It's natural, we're trainees, we are going to debut and be idols, your relationship can be hidden in the public-"

"I'm not going to risk his career because of that." She said sternly, despite the sad eyes she was having to stare at her roommate, it has a hint of hardiness.

"He hasn't yet debuted but Taeyong already suffered a lot, once he debut, do you think he still have time to see me? No, It was rare for us to even spent time together so what if he debut? He's going to have a lot in his hands. More importantly, he's going to have a dating ban, you think SM didn't know about us?" It was a rhetorical question and that she didn't dare to answer.

"They knew a lot than everyone else think. If we tried to keep our relationship hidden from SM and public, you think it will do good? No, one wrong move and we will get caught and exposed to the public, Taeyong's gonna suffer, I will also suffer, their group may also be implicated and for sure, that SM will do something about it to appease the public." She kept her voice strong to continue, she heaved a tired sigh.

"I'd rather end this relationship early than let other people break us apart in the future." Her voice wavered, "If we are already hurting now then what if it happens? It's much worse, more painful," The pain from her tone was evident, it was unbearable, "I'm afraid that we will be ruined and I'm not going to let that happen, this is going to save both of us but not the relationship." She was already trembling, but there was still no tears falling from her eyes.

"I don't know if I'm doing the right thing, but I know that I should do this."

Her roommate thought deeply, is it really necessary to sacrifice this much? Love can be too painful ah.

♢♢♢

Year 2020

The man on the screen had a fierce expression, she could clearly see the sharp jawline and his well-defined features. He is still very handsome ah.

She unknowingly let out a smile, still immersed in watching the handsome man in the wide HD screen that she haven't notice the sound of rushed breathing that arrived beside her.

Suddenly, a warm thing hit her cheek that made her jumped in surprise and look at the culprit, who laughed at her shocked reaction.

"Had enough?" Taeyong teased her and she rolled her eyes, grabbing the warm drink that he just pressed on her face.

Taeyong laughed and then smiled at her, drinking on his ordered drink.

"Tried looking for hot strawberry drink but there's none."

"Shut it." Taeyong laughed when she tried to look pissed at him.

Who would have thought that this grown up man whose face looked like could kill a person is the same boy that she had loved in their trainee days.

Yes, loved.

"What are you laughing at?" Taeyong asked curiously, he reached out for her hand, holding it and started dragging her along the empty streets.

"What the hell, if we got caught by dispatch, I would not pay the half of the money Taeyong." She pulled back her hand and Taeyong shrugged, her eyes narrowed at him, trying to reprimand him.

"Careless as ever, you still haven't change."

"Cautious as ever, you still haven't change."

The two kept walking along the paved road, bickering about nonsense without a care about their enviroment or forgotting that they were in the middle of a public space.

"How many years it has been?"

"Fucking 5 years? 6 years? I don't know."

They lost time on how long they have been walking and now they were in front of the han river, basking on the evening breeze. The female pulled her scarf tighter and clutched on her hot drink to keep herself warm. Taeyong noticed and was about to transfer his thick coat to her.

"Try it and I will throw your coat to the river." She warned as Taeyong sighed at her guarded attitude, he was sure that no dispatch would be awake at 3:00 am in the morning.

"Remember our promise?" Taeyong asked as he marveled at the lights from the afar.

"What promise?" Taeyong snorts at her words and carelessly put am arm around her shoulders.

"We promised to eat ramen along the han river." Taeyong pretended to whisper in her ear but shouted instead, she grimaced at the volume of his voice and glared at him.

If he wasn't that too handsome, she would want to punch him the face.

"That's when we are still together! We are over now!" She pushed him off and took a few steps away to distance herself.

"Harsh.." Taeyong paused as he remembered something, he chuckled, "Ruthless."

Annoyed, she gave him a deadpan expression, turned back and started walking away but was stopped when Taeyong pulled at her scarf.

"Don't fucking choke me." She slapped his hand away, why did she agree to meet this shit again?

"No leaving, we're here for closure right?"

"If you get straight to the point instead of annoying the shit out of me then I would not leave- aw stop!" Taeyong flicked at her forehead, "Your mouth grew more crude, stop cursing." He scolded her which she grumbly agreed to.

After a few seconds of silence and regaining their composure. Taeyong decided that it would be a good start of their so-called closure.

"Honestly, I hated you after that break up." Taeyong started.

"Thanks for stating the obvious, your stares are unbearable and you look like you could kill me so I transferred to another company." She stated, staring dead at his eyes.

"What? Really?" His eyes widened at her confession but she shook her head.

"That's not the only reason, I know that I hurt you so much-"

"Yes, you did."

"Let me finish first! Yeah, I hurt you so much but I am suffering too, seeing just a glimpse of you is painful so I left." She sighed heavily, trying to keep his eye contact with Taeyong.

"Then why broke up with me?" She inhaled deeply, trying not to punch Taeyong for being dumb.

"Damn it, are we going over and over this again, huh Taeyong?" Taeyong closed his eyes and opened it again to stare at her, intensely.

"You broke up with because I'm going to debut, that you don't want to get us caught, and that hiding relationship is a burden to me who is going to have a dating ban." He said in a mocking tone and she felt a pang of pain that bit her, but of course, she wasn't having any of it.

"Actually, dating for an idol is a disadvantage." She bluntly stated, sipping on her now lukewarm drink, her eyes now moving away from his face. She was trying hard to hide emotions from the man infront of her.

An awkward silence followed after that and Taeyong just trained his eyes on her. Just when she wanted to walk away again to avoid his uncomfortable stare, he opened his mouth.

"I got it, I know you all did it for me." She stood frozen on her spot, her eyes looking at the ground. She wasn't expecting his words at all, she stayed silent, not knowing what to say.

"I'm sorry if I could not understand your reasoning that time." Her fingers tightened at the base of her drink, trying to keep her emotions calm from bursting out.

"If not for you, I would not be the Taeyong today." She can feel her nose becoming sour and tears prickling in her eyes, just when she thought that he was done, he continued.

"Thank you."

And she cried. She could feel the familiar embrace of the man she once loved. His hand pushing her head against his warm chest, gently rubbing her back as he softly hushed her. When was the last time they hug again?

"I'm sorry that I caused you so much pain, I just, I just don't want to ruin it for you, I want you to debut safely, I want you to reach your dreams and.. our relationship at that time is not helping at all." Despite her cries, Taeyong understood all of her muffled words. He smiled bitterly, he can also feel the rush of emotions as he listened to her cries.

"You suffered, we both suffered." As he spoke that, droplet of tears can be seen falling down from his face, he hugged her tightly and the girl in his embrace looked up at him.

"Why are you crying too.."

They lost the time again.. and had no idea how long they have been crying on one another.

They sat near the slope, and with just one push, one of them could have been swimming now in the han river but they don't want to die yet of hypothermia. Both were peacefully looking out on the horizon, the changing color of the skies indicates that the dawn will soon arrive.

"If we weren't trainees that time, maybe we are still together now." Taeyong chuckled, and she gave him that deadpan expression again.

"If we didn't aspire to become idols and become trainess then we would not meet." She said in a matter of fact tone, implying that he's thinking stupidly. Why would he think of that?

"Did you know why I asked for a closure?" He turned to looked at her, his eyes seemingly shining as he waited for her answer, which is just a shook of her head, meaning that she had no idea.

"It's that because our memories are too beautiful to forget." Taeyong started, staring deeply in her eyes. The latter showed a little bit of surprise but waited for him to continue.

"It's beautiful, our relationship is beautiful and it made us a better person now." She couldn't resist looking at him with a bewildered expression. How it did became beautiful?

"I don't want my heart to dwell on the ugly feelings and pushed back those memories, the fights, the misunderstandings, even the break up, everything, it's all beautiful and I want to treasure it instead of hating it." After he spoke those words, she felt like her heart is going to burst any minute, everything he said is.. beautiful and made her warm, she can feel Taeyong's sincerity.

She can finally heaved a sigh of relief.

Her heart is free, she now got the affirmation that Taeyong doesn't hate her anymore.

"Yes, it's beautiful!" Taeyong watched her break into a big grin and laughed happily. Her voice sounds melodious to his ears. It's been a long time he heard it huh?

"Did you regret it?"

"Huh?"

"Did you regret breaking up with me?" Taeyong had no idea what possessed him to asked this kind of question. He just wanted to know, what would be her true feelings.

They didn't break the eye contact. They stayed silent as they looked at each other with deep emotions swirling in their eyes.

She think through of everything that happened from their relationship up to now. Their happy memories, fights, problems, that heartwrenching break up too and right now the closure. She take a glance at the horizon and saw that the light will shine on them soon.

She gave Taeyong a genuine smile.

"No, I have no regrets."

[goblinmin]

vmon!!

Kiss Meme Drabbles : Vmon : 14. Hips

note: this drabble (lol) is highkey kinda unofficially from the universe this is set in, so I’m gonna tag @namseok too bc this would be of special interest, i’d imagine :3 the tenses are kinda weird but they’re meant to be, just go w it.

Taehyung saw him from across the room like one of thoseslow-mo movie scenes except a lot less romantic with Yoongi slurring in his earabout the A.I. revolution or some shit. Taehyung can’t even quite remember whathe was saying, just that it made a lot less sense filtering out through his fourred cup beers than Taehyung imagines it did in his head. Anyway, he saw thisguy standing there by the kitchen doorway, with a bottle in one hand and a deepblush across his cheeks, the sweetest thing. Dusky, dark purple hair and anupsettingly fitted shirt tucked into jeans, one of the longest humans Kim Taehyunghad ever laid his eyes on. (Also one of the prettiest, this soft, glowy qualityto his entire being, even standing right next to a whole Park Jimin – a movewhich would render most members of the human race visibly obsolete.)

Of course, that deep blush across pretty guy’s cheeks wasall to do with that whole Park Jimin, too. Jimin was leaning in close with hiseyelashes low, hand raking through his hair in that one way every 3.5 secondsas if he was actually flirting.Taehyung rolled his eyes watching them, wondering if pretty guy had noticed yethow Jimin’s gaze kept flicking into the kitchen to where Hoseok was hanging outwith Seokjin, trying to look like he was having a good time even though anyonewho knows them would place a solid bet that he was almost certainly whiningabout his and Jimin’s latest spat.

A waste, Taehyungthought to himself, pouting into his own cup as he took another sip of hisbeer, watching pretty guy’s face light up in a laugh. It made his neck arch ashe tipped his head back, a fucking glorious sight to behold, but Jimin took theopportunity to chance another glance into the kitchen. It was painful to watch,if Taehyung was being quite honest with himself, so he stopped, reluctantly,turning as much of his attention as he could spare back to Yoongi.

Leaning heavily into Taehyung’s side at that tender point inthe night, head practically on his shoulder, Yoongi was still blabbering halfnonsense, the alcohol bringing out the very worst in his usually subtle lisp.His free hand was flying about animatedly, brows pulled tight together, eyesnarrowed at the immense concentration required to make words at that moment.

“And one day they’re jus’ gonna—gonna fuckin’ crack a codeor run some fuckin’ numbers, I don’t fuckin’ know, whatever the fuck they do inthose fuckin’ labs – it’s just gonna be a normal Monday morning and—well… Iguess it could be Tuesday or Wednesday or… or like any day of the week… maybenot even Monday because who the fuck makes history on a Monday, but like—couldjust be a normal day that’s not Monday and they’re just gonna discover thething – the fuckin’ one tiny thing –that makes the robots like ten thousand million zillion times more inter—interall—inteller—” Yoongi paused,squinting even harder down into his cup. “No… No, intellect—intellegant… in-intelligent?Intelligent,” he repeated it, veryslowly, as if he was making quite sure it did, indeed, sound like a real word. Hepaused a moment afterwards, still thinking about it, before a triumphant sortof smile washed all woozy over his face. “Yeah. That’s the one. Intelligent.” He nodded to himself for acouple seconds, looking very satisfied with his achievements, taking anothersip from his cup before he turned to Taehyung.

“What was I saying, Tae?” he asked, blinking hard, eyes wideand bleary.

Even with half an eye on Jimin reaching up to touch prettyguy’s purple hair, Taehyung couldn’t help but smirk at his roommate. “You weretalking about how you’re finally drunk enough to hit on Jin-hyung,” he toldhim, but Yoongi wasn’t far enough gone yet for that to work, no quite.

“That doesn’t sound like me,” he muttered, eyes narrowingagain, shaking his head. “There’s no such thingas drunk enough to hit on Kim Seokjin. To get drunk enough to hit on KimSeokjin, I’d have to, like, fuckin’ tequilamyself to death and… and just hope my ghost is then drunk enough to find him and hit on him, maybe.” Yoongi sniffed,lifting his cup halfway to his mouth before he stopped, making some pointedgesture with it instead. “But thenI’m a ghost, so I’d be, like… like, Idunno the word. Y’know, not solid?I’d be unfuckable. If I still can’teven get fucked by Kim Seokjin I’d have… I’d have died in vain…” Yoongi trailedoff, blinking, brow furrowing as he seemed to think about that for a bit, butTaehyung’s eyes were across the room again, wholly distracted. “That’s fuckin’ tragic, Tae.”

And Taehyung wholeheartedly agreed, watching pretty guysmile again as Jimin said something no doubt charming and hollow, making prettyguy’s pretty teeth glint under the coloured lights. His smile was so big evenTaehyung was impressed, the kind of smile that made his cheeks puff up huge andhis eyes disappear.

“So tragic,” Taehyung murmured, reaching to catch Yoongi’swrist. “C’mon, hyung.”

“Where we goin’?” Yoongi asked, dropping his half full cuponto the floor and stumbling up onto very wobbly legs, though Taehyung wasquick to get an arm around his waist.

“To get you some water,” he told him, half dragging him acouple steps to get him started on the whole walking process, prompting musclememory to kick in. “And kick Park Jimin’s ass.”

“Okay,” Yoongi mumbled, letting his head loll over ontoTaehyung’s shoulder.

“Okay,” Taehyung echoed, using his free hand to give Yoongi’scheek a gentle, encouraging pat.

The walking thing didn’t turn out so good for Yoongi, but itwas fine, they were fine, they made it through the crowds, the obstacle courseof furniture hidden amongst bodies, and they made it with all four shinsintact, a fact of which Taehyung is very proud. They were only a little wayfrom the kitchen when Taehyung spied Seokjin on his way out, Yoongi too busywith his head tipped back staring up at the patterns a cheap old-school discoball was painting on the ceiling to notice anything.

“Hey, hyung,” Taehyung called out, hobbling the last couplesteps to catch up to Seokjin and tipping Yoongi forward to prop against him,holding onto his waist till Seokjin got an arm around his shoulders. “Takethis.”

‘Is he okay?’ Seokjin asked, ducking his head a little totry see Yoongi’s face. Yoongi chose that moment to look up, blinking inconfusion and probably also to clear a little of the blur. Taehyung couldalmost pinpoint the moment that he did, bleary eyes going wide, cheeks flushingpuce.

“He needs water,” Taehyung said, then winked at Seokjin whowas looking pretty flustered himself, as he tends to get every damn time hemakes eye contact with Yoongi. “Maybe some light making out, but be a gentlemanabout it. I’m gonna get another drink.”

“Tae, no—” Yoongi began, half reaching out in some dramaticattempt to catch at Taehyung’s shirt as he backed away, but then Seokjin spoke,said something perfectly inane, and Yoongi went right back to gazing up at himlike he was seeing god.

“Talk to him about robots,” Taehyung suggested, beforeleaving them to it, passing right by the kitchen doorway with a deep sense ofpurpose that he knew for a fact was coming 100% from all that liquid courage.Kim Taehyung is scared of the dark and bees and at least 47 other things; he isno knight in shining armour, but he saw a situation in which he could mayberescue many hearts and dicks just by tapping a beautiful man on the arm, and hewent for it.

“Hey, is this guy bothering you,” he asked, plastering onhis best concerned frown, but pretty guy barely got a chance to open his mouthbefore Jimin was growling.

“Tae, fuck off.”

Taehyung turned to him instead, leaving pretty guy to lookconfused – very prettily confused. “Go talkto him,” he ordered, pointing into the kitchen. They could all see Hoseokclearly through the open doorway, still standing by the fridge, slumped againstthe counter, alone and plucking miserably at the label of his beer bottle.

Jimin refused to look, though, jaw set solid, veryimpressive, very scary, but he had on the same sad eyes as Hoseok. It wasridiculous. They’re ridiculous. “Stay outta this, Taehyung.”

“Jiminnie, I fixed your eyeliner three times tonight becauseyou kept blubbering about how much you miss him, don’t tell me to stay outtathis.” Taehyung glanced into the kitchen where he caught Hoseok looking theirway before abruptly dropping his gaze to his sad, half-peeled bottle again. “He’salone now and miserable looking, go talkto him.”

Jimin looked like he wanted to argue, looked very much likehe was going to argue, squaring upthose shoulders of his, but he finally chanced a side look at Hoseok. The wayhe deflated was almost comical, hissing a curse under his breath and castingpretty guy a guilty sort of glance before he (none too gently) pushed pastTaehyung into the kitchen.

This left them both standing there, Taehyung himself andpretty guy, watching Jimin go with a strange, mixed sort of silence hangingheavy over them both underneath the din of music and party noise.

“Sorry ’bout that,” Taehyung murmured.

Still frowning, pretty guy shook his head. “No, it’s… it’sokay,” he said, though he seemed a touch uncertain, turning to look atTaehyung. “Thanks, I think? I don’t know.”

Taehyung shrugged, moving to lean against the wall next tohim. He really was tall; Taehyung considered himself pretty tall, but he wasspoiled living so long with a literal hobbit. This guy was a whole elf bycomparison. “He was flirting with you to get at someone else,” he explained. “It’smessy. They’re messy. It’s, like, their thing.”

“Yeah, I figured there was a catch,” pretty guy murmured,and he really didn’t seem so surprised, considering how flustered he’d lookedwith Jimin showering him in all the niceties. Maybe he just really likes being complimented, Taehyung’s brainsupplied helpfully, making him bite his lip against as grin as pretty guyturned to look at him. “He kept mentioning some Hoseok guy? He wasn’t subtle.”

“Yeah.” Taehyung nodded, grimacing a touch. “They’re havingsome problems.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he murmured, and he seemed to meanit so sincerely, soft eyebrows pulled in close together, eyes very warm. What the fuck, Taehyung’s heart demandedin that moment, sputtering strangely in his chest. What the flying fuck?

“Oh, don’t worry, they’ll be on each other’s dicks again bythe end of the night,” he assured him quickly, overtaken with a sudden urge tomake certain this boy next to him never felt a negative emotion ever again.“They’re totally soulmates, just… messy ones.”

Pretty guy’s frown took a suddenly different tone, rightback to confusion with a touch of mild concern. “Oh,” he mumbled, lips formingan O so round and precious that Taehyung couldn’t help the giggle – the literalgiggle – that bubbled up from his chest.

“What?” pretty guy asked him, starting to smile slowlyhimself. “What’re you laughing at?”

Still grinning, Taehyung shook his head, shrugging gently. “You’recute,” he said simply.

“And who’re youtrying to get at?” he asked, with a dry edge of humour Taehyung would neverhave expected from such a sweet face – a very welcome surprise.

He shrugged again, a touch more on the demure side this time.“Well, you, hopefully,” he admitted, handsdown the smoothest thing he’s ever said, then leaned over a little closer tostage whisper, “This is sincere flirting, I promise – why d’you think I savedyou from the marauding Park Jimin?”

Pretty guy did this thing where he looked surprised for amoment, eyes widening, before he ducked his head a little as he smiled, dimples– dimples – popping in his cheeks, both of them. “Ah,” he murmured, andwhen he blushed that time, it was entirely Kim Taehyung’s doing and he wasfairly certain he’d never felt more proud in his life.

Namjoon. His name was Namjoon – is Namjoon because the sweet boy he met an hour ago with theblushing and the soft cheeks is the same boy currently tugging on Taehyung’shair and cursing through his teeth as Taehyung sucks on his aforementioned glorious neck. The bathroom is the coffin kind, tiny, boxy,about three centimetres of space to move around in, but with Namjoon – it’s apretty name, too, Taehyung thought – pressed up tight against the closed door,it’s fine. It’s too hot, too stuffy, almost impossible to breathe with themirror already fogged up, but it’s great. Namjoon’s neck tastes like salt andpeaches and actually, that’s pretty fucking intriguing.

“Why—why d’you taste like peaches?” Taehyung pants out, resurfacingfor just a moment to frown at him and peck at his lips again. He can alreadyfeel sweat slipping down his back, but the raw heat he can feelbleeding through Namjoon’s thin shirt makes up for any unpleasantness.

“Roommate,” he mumbles, word muffled by Taehyung’s ownmouth, because it’s kind of hard to keep it off Namjoon’s, even when he’s meant tobe talking. See, he’s got these squishy lips, thick and soft in a way thatshould not be allowed; Taehyung feels as if he’s stealing something preciousand decadent every time he nibbles on one.

“Your roommate, he’s peach-flavoured?” he asks, dipping downagain to brush kisses along Namjoon’s jaw. “Lucky. Mine’s more like the spicepackets in the shin ramyeon.”

Namjoon laughs, but Taehyung feels him shake his head. “Hemakes me moisturise,” he explains, low voice all breathy as Taehyung nipsgently at the red mark he’s left underneath his ear. “He bought the productsand everything, I didn’t choose this life.”

Taehyung hums against his skin. “Thank him for me,” he says,reaching down to start tugging Namjoon’s shirt out from his jeans, lickingagain over the mark before giving it a curious sort of look. “Hey, you think Ican get this thing the same colour as your hair?”

Namjoon snorts. “Are you kidding?” He sounds as if he trulydoes not know what to expect – he learns fast.

Taehyung nods decisively. “You’re right, I’ll come back toit.”

Another soft huff of laughter ruffles Taehyung’s hair as hestarts kissing lower down the front of Namjoon’s throat, fingers fumbling withhis nasty, awkward little shirt buttons. It’s homophobic, really, how theystand so firmly in the way of Taehyung’s mouth getting on the rest of Namjoon’sinexplicably glowy skin, but when he does finally get them undone, it’s worthit. For the sight of all Namjoon’s chest, because there does seem to be a lotof it for such a narrow guy, for the sharp lines of his collarbones and the wayhe sucks in that harsh breath through his teeth when Taehyung runs his tongueover his nipple – yeah, it’s worth it alright. He stores that particular pieceof information away for later as he drops down onto his knees on the cooltiles, tilting his head back to meet Namjoon’s eye.

He looks woozy, several beers more drunk than he looked whenthey stumbled in here, lips a swollen mess, skin flushed and shining under theharsh bathroom light. His purple hair – “grape hair”, he called it, he was veryspecific – is all mussed up out of that cute gently quaffed style he sportedearlier and Taehyung swears he’s never seen a thing more gorgeous, certainlynot one that’s mattered enough to stick. He’s a sensitive creature, too,Taehyung’s noticed, kinda sappy, like just now when he brushes Taehyung’s toolong bangs off his face then lets those endless fingers trail down his cheek,all tender. He brings his thumb around to brush over Taehyung’s lips andeverything in the world wouldn’t be worth the look on Namjoon’s face whenTaehyung opens his mouth, letting his thumb slip right inside.

“Shit,” hewhispers, hoarse, as Taehyung rolls his tongue around it, sucking gently,smiling slightly when Namjoon brushes the pad of his thumb over his tonguepiercing. He was pretty intrigued by it during all that hallway making out andTaehyung thinks he’s about to be even more intrigued in just a moment.

“You got real pretty hips, hyung,” he murmurs, glancing upat him through his lashes as he starts to undo Namjoon’s jeans. “I can call youhyung, right?”

Namjoon’s still flushed deep, but Taehyung can see now it’sspread all down his neck and chest, too, the sweetest rosy flush. (He wondershow far it’ll have spread by the end of the night.) “Yeah, I think we’re pastformalities,” Namjoon sighs.

Taehyung hums in quiet agreement as he leans in to press akiss to one of Namjoon’s hipbones. They really are pretty, jut out just alittle too far because he’s a skinny thing, a beanpole, but that only makes iteasier for Taehyung to nip with his teeth, make him jump and whine, handscoming back to weave in through Taehyung’s hair. He continues, right down thepretty slope of Namjoon’s right hip, sucking wet, teasing kisses above thewaistband of his boxers, and running his tongue up the dip of his left hipbonepulling the most incredible moan from him. He seems sensitive there, more thanmost, all but squirming only for the firm grip Taehyung has on his thighs.

“C’mon, Tae—Taehyung,” Namjoon groans, knocking his headback against the wood of the door.

“You can call me Tae, y’know,” Taehyung tells him, lipsstill pressing kisses onto the bony jut as he tugs Namjoon’s jeans down aroundhis upper thighs. “S’okay, all my friends call me Tae.”

“We’re friends?” Namjoon asks, laughing softly, and Taehyungmight be offended only for the fact the he sounds genuinely curious.

He pulls his lips away without warning, leaning back to pinhim with a very serious look. “Hey, I only get on my knees for my best bros, KimNamjoon,” he informs him, under no uncertain terms. “You know what they say, nobro, no blow.”

“No one says that,” he mutters, but this Namjoon sure is asmart guy, holding up his palms in a quick surrender the moment Taehyungnarrows his eyes at him. “Okay then, we’re friends,” he agrees, hands loweringslowly to push his fingers into Taehyung’s hair again, this pretty, cheeky sparklein his eye. “Best friends, definitely, yes.”

Taehyung hums dubiously, eyes still narrowed, consideringthis for a brief moment, Namjoon looking amused despite his gentle squirming. “Bestfriends,” he finally says, nodding once to himself as he curls his fingers intothe elastic of Namjoon’s boxers, breaking the act to give him another grin. “Yeah,I guess I can work with that.”

i wasn’t rly happy w this, but i didn’t wanna leave it another night without posting, lmao. i’ll clean it up before it goes on ao3, so hopefully it’ll be better then! i hope u enjoyed a lil anyway, dear

[kokos-story]

Sports Festival: The final fight

Yamada Hanako sat on a locker room bench, meticulously wrapping her MMA wraps around her hands and wrists. She was glad she had the foresight to request fireproof hands wraps as an allowed tool, despite the committee's initial confusion. "I wanted my bo staff, too, but noooo." She muttered sarcastically. " 'That is a weapon, Miss Yamada, you could seriously injure someone!' " She quoted bitterly, lifting her finger as the snobbish head of the committee had done.  Her hand dropped back into her lap and she gave a huff of annoyance. "But the living flamethrower I'm up against is perfectly safe." She added, resuming her task of wrapping her hands, letting her mind focus on her upcoming fight.

It felt like only a heartbeat later when a knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. Not looking at the poor soul who was sent to fetch her, she stood.

"Yamada-san, they're ready." Said the girl, who was holding the door for her. Hanako nodded, took a breath, and followed her to the match that would decide her fate here at UA.

Hanako could hear the muted roar of the stadium she was under as she made her way to her assigned entrance. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath before opening them, running out onto the field when told. The once muted noise suddenly grew without the protection of concrete and she spared a brief glance at the Jumbotron overhead, whose feed was panning over the excited crowd. The sudden boom of Present Mic's voice forced her to focus on what was ahead of her.

"AAAALLL RIGHT LISTENERS! The moment you've been waiting for! The best of the newest batch of our future protectors are finally going toe to toe. Who will come out on top?" He said, leaning forward in his seat, "Will it be the dragon that's been draggin' everyone down? Here he comes, the powerhouse of the Heroics Course, Class 1-A's very own: Kanna Tatsuo!" The aforementioned teen flew onto the battle area, landing with his leathery wings flared behind him. He grinned cockily and riled up the crowd some more, a scaled fist in the air.

"Or will it be the fleet-footed fighter who has yet to use her Quirk? Here she is, the mystery girl of General Education, Class 1-C's surprise contender: Yamada Hanako!" The girl stepped onto the field, giving one last look of determination at the camera, which was now displaying her face on the screen.

She looked back at the boy in front of her, slightly narrowing her eyes now that she had a brief chance to study him. He held himself in a deceptively casual stance, but her well-trained eyes saw the ripple of muscles preparing to fight and the smirk of a boy who thought he knew how to win.

Tch, he's only fought with people who abide by the same rules as him. She thought, subtly shifting into a balanced, defensive pose. He doesn't know the free for all that comes with street fighting.

"BEGIN!" Yelled Midnight with a crack of her whip, with Kanna immediately leaping at her with a snarl, claws out to snatch up the girl that was right in front of him.

Only, she wasn't there.

Yamada sprang to the side, rolling with her momentum and turning to face him, a teasing smile on her face.

"Is that your special move? Battering Ram?" She called mockingly, receiving a snarl and a jet of flames in reply, which she smoothly dodged.

"Goodness me! What kind of halitosis caused that?!" She exclaimed, fanning in front of her nose. "Because whew! I think you should see a doctor about that!" She quipped, smirking as she neatly performed a back handspring out of his path, followed by a pivot away from another punch. "What's wrong, Big Boy? Do you need me to paint a target on myself?" She asked, eyes wide with false innocence. "Because all you'd have to do is ask! There's no shame in needing help!" She added, smiling sweetly.

" Why don't you use your damn Quirk?" He snarled, wings flaring.  

"Well, it's much easier to dodge when all you're doing is running at me and acting like Puff the Magic Dragon! Why waste my energy?" She explained.

He growled and crouched, preparing to take flight. "Well, let's see how easy you find it to dodge aerial attacks, you Quirkless freak!" He snapped, shooting into the air and chasing her with a long-range spout of flames from his mouth.

She dodged skillfully, waiting for a break in the flames that pursued her. However, one dodge happened a bit too slow, and the flame caught her on the arm. "Hey! I really liked that sleeve in particular!" Yamada pouted, glaring up at him.

"Then fight me! Or do you not have a quirk?" He taunted. "Why else would you keep dodging?" He asked, resuming his onslaught.

"Because," She said, backflipping out of the way. "Not using a quirk doesn't mean I don't have one!" She explained, pivoting out of the way of another burst. "It just means" She added crouching to prep her leap as he paused his fire to take a breath. "I don't solely rely on it!" She yelled, leaping high in the air as he spat out more flames. The spectators seemed to be holding their breath, waiting to see what she would do. She grinned as she started her descent back to the ground, relishing in the shocked gasps of the crowd as she unfurled her wings and rode the thermals created by the heat.  

"Incredible!" Yelled Present Mic, throwing his hands in the air as the girl soared up to meet the dragon mutant. "Not only has she finally revealed her quirk and shocked everyone, she's throwing him off by being his first rival with a flying Quirk! What a twist, ladies and gentlemen!" He cheered, excited by the turn of events.

The teens faced each other as they hovered in the air, silent as they waited for the other to make the first move. Suddenly, Kanna blew a burst of flames at the now airborne girl, who had no time to dodge and caught a face full of flames.

"Rewind!" She coughed out, unheard through the roar of the flames, and everything reversed to the moment before he struck. This time, she took that second to tuck in her wings, dropping like a stone as the flames shot over her head, the radiating heat still burning her skin and the fire singeing the tips of her hair.

"Amazing reflexes from Yamada! If I didn't know better, I'd say she had a foresight quirk!" Commented Present Mic, turning to Eraserhead. "What do you think of her, Eraserhead?"

"Well, though rare, some mutant quirks have a weaker, secondary quirk that presents itself at the time most kids show their quirk," Eraserhead commented casually. "Even rarer is there being a powerful secondary quirk, so I'd say it's always a possibility." He finished, now focusing on the puzzling girl who had managed to get this far into the fight without throwing a single punch.

Back on the field, Yamada kept dodging, until Kanna managed to successfully feint a punch and catch her in the side with a vicious punch, causing a resounding crack to be heard as he connected with her ribs. She dropped lower in surprise, brushing off the pain, but looked up too late as she saw his feet coming at her. Almost too quick for the naked eye, he shoved his feet into her sternum and kicked down, sending her hurtling back to the ground, the force making a crater when she made contact. The dust billowed up around her, obscuring her from view. Kanna didn't stop there, letting out a swirling vortex of fire that he aimed at the crater, the entire stadium watching in mute horror.

Yamada knew she couldn't rewind again when she felt another crack in her ribs and a snap in her right forearm as she made contact with the ground. My injuries are too severe to be fixed in that little time, they'd ask too many questions. She thought with a grimace, closing her eyes against the grit that swirled around her. The sudden roar of flames above her made her throw up her arms and turn her head away, protecting her torso and face. The flames burned through her shoes and pants, burning most of arms and legs.

After what felt like an eternity the flames stopped and she stood on painfully blistered and burned feet. There was an almost feral look in her eyes as she waited for the smoke to clear.  

Kanna landed a small distance away from the crater and waited for the smoke to clear so he could be declared the winner, an almost manic grin on his face as he began to taunt her. " You aren't so strong now, are ya? You idiot Gen. Ed piece of trash! You're gonna wish you had never tried to join the Hero Class. You'll NEVER become a hero!" He yelled, snarling the last bit. His next words died on his lips as he heard a dark chuckle coming from the crater. The dragon-winged teen's eyes widened in fear as the last of the smoke cleared to reveal Yamada in nothing but her gym uniform top, the arms burned off, and the spandex she had been wearing under her pants. The spectators could see through the fresh burns the plentiful scars that patterned the entirety of both legs, leaving them to wonder what caused them.

" How is she still standing?" Murmured Aizawa, eyebrows furrowing with concern. "Even without the burns, she has multiple broken bones for sure. What has she been through that makes it so easy for her to brush off such serious injuries?" He wondered.

The burned girl smiled darkly. "You'll regret saying that." She growled, shifting to spring into action.

She took a breath.

And when she leaped at him, it was like the world stood still.

To all those who watched, the girl became a blur, hitting the boy from every angle. All he could try to do was block the endless onslaught of attacks. He was suddenly swept off his feet by a leg kicking them out from under him and he fell. She stood over him, bare foot on his chest, smiling sweetly down at him. "I think you should admit defeat and surrender." She said. "Oh," She added when he glared up at her, refusing to speak." I wouldn't try fighting back if I were you. When I was hitting you, I wasn't throwing punches like you might have thought. I was pressing the pressure points that could render you temporarily immobilized." She said cheerfully when he belatedly tested to see if her words were true, his eyes widening when he truly couldn't move. She tsked at him, shaking her head with mock sympathy. "I would press the one that undoes the effects, but ooh," She said, looking down at him, eyes going wide with fake innocence and hand going to her mouth with equally fake shock. "I couldn't possibly know how to do that! I'm just an idiot piece of trash from Gen. Ed! What could I possibly do against the big strong boy from the Hero Course?" She asked rhetorically. Her eyes turned cold.

"Yield and I'll undo it." She said, her face hard. "It's as simple as that!"

"...I yield." He said, and she smiled, picking him up with her right hand and propping his immobilized body against her. " Isn't that nice! Now say it loud and clear so everyone can hear you!" She said.

"I YIELD!" He yelled, eyes closed in shame.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" She said, that smile still plastered on her face as she pressed a spot on his lower back and he crumpled to the ground as his body unfroze. She bent down and picked him back up as they came on the field with a stretcher. Right before she lowered him onto it, she put her mouth to his ear and whispered:

"Who's weak now?"

She straightened back up and looked up at the stunned audience and Midnight called out. "The winner of the first-year tournament is 1-C's Yamada Hanako!"

Snapping out of their silence, the crowd began cheering for the girl who beat all the odds.

Hanako smiled and raised a hand to her bleeding nose as she was ushered off the field and into the tunnels by Midnight, where she was approached by Principal Nezu.

"Miss Yamada, after you're fixed up and finished with the award ceremony, I'd like to talk to you about a change in your class schedule..."