#I start missing someone who was awful to me simply because they were reliable in talking to me every day and at least sort of my friend

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 22: How I Met Your Mother

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“Okay, listen up my children!” Kiyoomi announces in the middle of the living room, the kids all looking up to him. “Your mother won’t be around for 3 days-”

Kin starts crying because of his father’s words, taking Sakusa aback. His boy must love you so much since he’s the only who seems affected that you are away. The girls... don’t care.

“Don’t cry! Don’t cry! We are only 30 minutes in and you’re already crying,” Kiyoomi sighs, picking Kin up from the ground.

“You should not have mentioned mama,” Kia scolds him. Kia takes a seat on the couch which Mina and Mira follows. She is their leader, not Kiyoomi. If a hierarchy is made in your house it would turn out like this:

You

Kia

Mina

Mira

Kin

Kiyoomi

Yes. Sakusa Kiyoomi, the provider and the pillar of the house, is at the lowest ranking in your house, simply because he isn’t around all the time. He only goes home once or twice a month, leaving all the childcare and managing of the house to you. The wedding planning is only the side dish of what’s on your plate. He has so much respect for you that he’s willing to lower his pride and hurt his ego.

Kiyoomi is more than happy to take care of the kids for you. You get to rest and he gets to spend time with your children. It’s a win-win situation for the two of you.

“Mama!” Kin cries harder, and Sakusa bounces him on his arm, hoping it will stop him.

“If you stop crying we will go see the fish!” Kiyoomi cheers and Kin stops crying. “We will change now and then go see fish.”

“Really?” Kia questions her father, already old enough to be aware of Kiyoomi’s fear of crowds and germs. She knows that there is no way that their dad will bring the four of them in the aquarium. Especially since it’s a weekend, so it’ll be packed with people.

And Kia was right. Kiyoomi didn’t bring them to the aquarium, but to a small fish market. Kia is disappointed but not surprised. At least Kiyoomi tried, right? “Where’s the fish?” Kin asks, looking around as he sits in his stroller. The place only has a few people and small stalls, which Kiyoomi really likes.

They stop in front of a stall where fish are laid on trays of ice, shocking the twins. Kia just face palms, and Mina is just standing there but is also in disbelief. “What? It’s fish.” Kiyoomi defends himself, shrugging.

“It’s dead,” Mina remarks as she stares at the deceased sea creatures in front of her.

“A fish is a fish,” Kiyoomi argues. Kia scans through the surrounding and spots a small tank with king crabs in it. She points at it so they go to it. Kin and Mira are now out of their stroller and are almost glued to the glass tank. The owner of the shop comes out asks if they’re going to it at the store. Kiyoomi says yes, since the kids look so excited to be seeing crab for the first time.

What he didn’t take in account is that the kids will recognize that the crab they were staring at outside is now their food. Cue the loud crying from Kin and Mira. The number of times Kia has face palmed because of her father is uncountable. Mina is chill, playing with the claws of the cooked crab, making her younger siblings cry even more.

“Stop crying. Try it!” Mina puts a piece of meat in Mira’s mouth and she stops. Kin halts as well, confused why his twin stopped wailing. Kia feeds him the crab and he falls in love with it. Kiyoomi sighs in relief, very thankful that he has reliable daughters.

One task done.

Their lunch finally ends and they head to the toy store. Kiyoomi has already planned to buy kinetic sand for the twins since he can’t bring them to the beach. It’s a scary place. He might be the most cautious guy in the country, but he’s still like any clumsy father. The chances of him losing one kid at that place is high.

“Do you wanna walk?” Kiyoomi asks the twins, not wanting to carry a stroller around. The two nod so he takes out the safety harness and puts it on them. Mina and Kia are holding hands, walking obediently beside their father. The family of 5 enters the store and the kids become excited immediately.

“We can buy anything we want?” Kia asks in awe, which Kiyoomi just nods to. “Let’s go Mina!”

“Don’t go with strangers, okay?” Kiyoomi tells them as the two run off somewhere in the store. He picks up tubs of kinetic sand, clay, and slime. Then, he follows the twins around the store, picking up whatever they seemed interested in.

“You want that toy car?” Kiyoomi asks Mira, picking them up from the ground so they can see a clearer view of the toys. Kin points at a toy gun at another shelf. “I’m sorry, buddy, but you can’t use that yet, and maybe your mama will shoot me using that if she finds out I bought you one.”

As Kiyoomi and the twins are picking more stuffed animals, Kia and Mina come running towards him. “Papa! Papa! Can I buy a bike?” Kia pleads, tugging on Kiyoomi’s pants. He takes a deep breath in before agreeing to his eldest daughter.

“Where are your toys?” Kiyoomi asks them, seeing that the two girls are empty handed.

“I only want a bike and Mina wants a picture book,” Kia answers. Kiyoomi furrows his eyebrows in disappointment, but in his mind he’s actually really happy that the girls seem to be taking saving into consideration.

“Are you sure?” Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow at them.

“Can I buy a skateboard too...?” Kia shyly requests, doing a cute pose. Kiyoomi chuckles and agrees with her.

“How about you Minari?” Kiyoomi asks the younger girl.

“I want paint,” Kia nonchalantly says and Kiyoomi does a thumbs up to her. After that, they start to run to wherever they can get their wants. Kiyoomi walks after his kids, the twins already asleep in his arms, their heads on his shoulder. He spots Kia, scanning through the wide catalog of bikes, a small skateboard already tucked below her underarms.

“Can I get the blue one?” Kia tells the employee who is assisting her, pointing at the baby blue bike she wants.

“You don’t want the pink one?” The employee asks, presenting the pink bike. Kia looks at him in disgust.

“Do you think girls only like pink?” Kia remarks, taking the employee by surprise. Kiyoomi smiles under his mask, amused by his daughter’s words. He internally taps the his back because he’s pretty much the reason behind her attitude. He’s proud to say that he has raised his children not to believe in gender norms.

Kiyoomi feels someone tug on his pants, so he looks down and sees Mina holding a small cart filled with coloring materials, picture books and papers. “Is that all you want?” Mina nods and holds his hand.

After checking Kia’s bike they head to the cashier to pay. Kiyoomi then realizes that he has done the one thing you told him not to do. Spend money on the kids. But you won’t know right?

One task has been failed.

As they reach the house, all the kids immediately go to the bathroom to wash. Kiyoomi knows that they adapted this habit from him, and he feels happy that they’re understanding his personality even at a young age. Kia even sprays alcohol in her sibling’s hand every time they come back to the car. It’s the little things his little kids are doing for him that makes him love them even more.

The four of them falls asleep after the bath so Kiyoomi arranges the stuff they bought. As he is arranging Mina’s books, he notices the abundant number of books that included dogs. “Does she likes dogs?”

Kiyoomi is tired. He has never felt this tired after intense games or practices. Childcare is a whole new level of tired. Just when he thought he can rest, Mina walks out of her shared room with Kia. “Hi, baby. Did you sleep well?” Kiyoomi asks Mina which she doesn’t respond to. Instead, she comes close to him and hugs his leg. Surprisingly, Mina starts crying. “What’s wrong?”

“I missed you, papa,” Mina explains. Kiyoomi sits on the foamed floor of the living room, giving Mina a hug.

Mina has always been quiet. She always waits for her turn silently. She never begs for attention even if she wants it deeply. Mina only shows affection towards you and Kiyoomi when she’s alone with you, but with her siblings around, she gives way to them. Sometimes, Kiyoomi feels guilty because of this. Unlike Kia, Mina has never spent time with you and Kiyoomi on her own. Plus, she was then followed by the twins when she was still a baby. He’s afraid that Mina might start thinking that she is less important than her siblings.

“I missed you, too, Minari,” Kiyoomi says back. He puckers his lips so Mina gives him a short kiss. He hugs her once again, calming her down from her cry. She calms down so Kiyoomi takes this as a chance to trim her bangs. “Should we cut your hair?”

The two of them go to your shared bathroom as quiet as they can, not wanting to wake the other kids up. Kiyoomi sits Mina down on the sink, then takes a pair of scissors out of the drawers. “Don’t move, okay?” He starts to cut her bangs, thinking he’s doing a good job. But once he lets go of her hair, the room becomes silent.

Sakusa messed up. Big time.

Mina checks her reflection at the mirror and giggles. “Weird,” Mina says in between laughter, causing Kiyoomi to chuckle as well.

“Your mom will be so mad at me...” He cuts some more length off, but no matter how hard he tries, it’s just an uneven. He then decides to stop, not wanting his daughter to look like an unidentified animal.

“I like it, papa. Thank you.” She doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t want to break her father’s heart. Mina hugs Kiyoomi after taking a look at the mirror. Kiyoomi kisses her cheek, then laughs at the result.

“You’re still cute.”

Two tasks done.

As they return to the living room, they see Kia sitting on the living room couch, staring at the wall emptily. She sees Mina’s new hairstyle and grimaces. “You’re bad at cutting hair, papa,” Kia says, unfiltered. Unlike Mina who is considerate like you, Kia is as blunt as Kiyoomi. He doesn’t say anything back since she was right.

“Can you teach Mina the alphabet while I make dinner?” Kiyoomi requests and Kia nods in agreement. Mina goes to Kia while Kiyoomi goes to the kitchen to make dinner. He’s thankful that he has such a reliable daughter. He would probably not make it without Kia around.

Three tasks done. Somehow.

At first, Kia was teaching Mina the alphabet, but then she had to go to Kiyoomi’s bathroom to wash her hands, and that’s when she saw Kiyoomi’s ripped jeans that he wore a day before in the laundry basket. She hurriedly called Mina and ordered her to bring paper and glue.

“Is papa poor?” Mina gasps as Kia presents the ripped jeans to her. They sadly look at the piece of clothing and feel bad for buying so much at the toy store while their father was wearing clothes with holes in it.

The older girl flattens the pair of jeans on the floor and starts to glue the colored paper over the torn parts. Mina mimics Kia and does the same thing to the other leg of the pants. Kiyoomi, still in the kitchen, wonders why he suddenly can’t hear his children. It’s never good when they’re silent.

“Kia! Mina! Where are you?” Kiyoomi shouts and he hears small footsteps coming from his room. He checks over the counter and sees his pants are now covered in decorative paper. He almost drops the knife he is holding from the sudden transformation of his pants.

“We covered the holes in your pants papa! You might get cold!” Kia reasons as she shows off their little project. How can he get mad at them when they are just worried about him?

“Thank you, Kia, Mina,” he laughs and snaps a picture of them on his phone. Things that his kids do that don’t make sense but is damn adorable.

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“Just go to bed. I beg you,” Kiyoomi pleads to his children who are still jumping on the bed. “It’s already almost 12AM. Please sleep.”

Kiyoomi is damn tired. How do you handle the four of them on your own? He suddenly feels bad for leaving you alone with them. And he hasn’t heard a complain from you even once. His love for you has become deeper just from taking care of the kids in one day.

“Bedtime story!” Kia cheers, putting herself inside the blanket, which her siblings follow. Kiyoomi sighs in relief. Finally.

“What kind of story do you want?” Kiyoomi tucks the blankets properly on their bodies, making sure that the four of them are comfortable in his bed.

“How did you meet mama?” Kia asks, causing Kiyoomi to smile.

“How I met your mother, huh?” Kiyoomi hums, thinking about how you first met. His smile grows, remembering every detail of how you met.

The first time Sakusa had met you was in Itachiyama. You were outside the volleyball gym, and he was on his way to practice. For some odd reason, you were smelling the roses by the wall. He thought you were the weirdest person he had encountered and judged you right then and there. After that, he would notice how you came to the same spot to smell the roses every single day. He didn’t even understand what smelled so good about them. He may or may have not tried smelling them after practice just to check why you kept smelling them.

It went on for weeks, but Sakusa never thought of talking to you. He just didn’t see see a reason why he should. Until one day, it rained so heavily that he became so worried for unknown reasons. On his way to practice, he stopped by the usual spot where you would smell the flowers and he didn’t see you there. Of course you wouldn’t be there, it was raining so hard. He didn’t care about you.

He was sure he didn’t care until he found himself carrying a bouquet of roses one morning to give it to you. He couldn’t believe it himself. But he couldn’t contain his feelings anymore.

You were a virus that slowly corrupted his mind that all he could think of is you. Maybe it be in class, during practice, on his way home, before he sleeps, after he wakes and sometimes he even dreams about you. Your virus then slowly travelled to his heart. He couldn’t explain it but every time he saw you, his heart would pound so fast he felt like he would suffer from cardiac arrest.

But it was also you who soothed him. When he was feeling down, he thought of your smile after you smelled the roses and he’s back up again. The calm he felt when he passed by you in hallways was enough to encourage him to do great in practice and in games. He didn’t even know your name but he already has a mission of taking your last name and replacing it with his.

You were his illness and his cure.

His cousin, Komori, wasn’t surprised to see him standing by the school gates with flowers in his hands. As the libero saw the roses, he immediately knew Sakusa was waiting for you.

Sakusa was never quiet about his feelings judgement towards you. Everyday the spiker would complain to the libero about how weird you were. Each day, Sakusa had something new to complain about. You cut your hair? He would say it Komori. You painted your nails a new color? Komori would hear about it. You were wearing a different bag? Komori definitely knew about it from Sakusa.

Komori had concluded that Sakusa had developed a liking towards you but the latter hadn’t notice yet. So when it rained hard the day before and Sakusa’s plays were bad, Komori knew Sakusa would do something about it. Sakusa was an honest man, even to himself, especially to himself.

You were on your way to school, when you saw Sakusa standing by the gates. Of course you knew him. He was famous in your school despite his too blunt personality and germaphobic tendencies. You had a little crush on him, but you also were aware he’d never like you back. You’d go outside their gym everyday to smell on the flowers and see him. He was a happy a crush. So, seeing him with flowers outside your school broke your heart.

‘So he had a lover, huh?’

You walked past him, head lowered in defeat. You heard murmurs and whispers as you continued to walk but you ignore them, head full of sad thoughts. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder so you turned your head and saw Sakusa standing before you, handing you the bundle of flowers. Everyone else was staring at you and Komori was hiding somewhere, taking a picture of the commotion.

“I think you got the wrong person,” you chuckled awkwardly, not knowing what to do since other students were looking at the two of you. And Sakusa Kiyoomi, the ace of the volleyball team, your happy crush, the man of your dreams, was handing you a bouquet of roses.

“You’re the girl who smells the roses outside our gym every afternoon, right?” Sakusa said as he pulled his mask down.

You literally short circuited. He was much more taller and more gorgeous up close. He smelled good, too. But what surprised you the most was that he lowered his mask to talk to you. Maybe you saved the world once in your past life to be able to experience this.

You nodded unsurely, glancing around you in nervousness, not able to look him in the eye. “Forecast said it’ll rain later in the afternoon so you won’t be able to smell the flowers outside the gym. So take this.” Sakusa explained to you.

You couldn’t believe it. The boy who you had a secret crush on since the first day of school had noticed you. You didn’t expect anything at all. Considering how he was with people, you thought you didn’t have a chance so you never made a move aside from stealing glances and watching from a far. To say that your heart was beating fast and that you felt butterflies in your stomach was an understatement. One more word from him and you would probably burst.

“Is that so?” A smile slowly grew on your lips, finally making eye contact with him. You were trying so hard to play it cool, but your reddening cheeks were giving you off. “Thank you. I’m (Y/N) by the way.”

“You can call me Kiyoomi.”

“And from that day on, I would bring your mother a rose everyday,” Sakusa tells Kia, fondly looking his children, the products of your love.

“So you liked mama ever since you met her?” Kia asks, seeing her father smile foolishly. A small giggle leaves Kiyoomi’s mouth and Kia teases him. “Papa is a simp.”

“Where did you learn that?” Kiyoomi gasps.

“Momo,” Kia answers and Kiyoomi takes a mental note to smack his cousin when he sees him again. “Papa, do you love mama?”

“We wouldn’t have the four of you if I don’t,” Kiyoomi answers with a chuckle. He checks his other kids and they have already fallen asleep. “Now go to sleep.”

“Good night, papa,” Kia greets him before closing her eyes. “I love you and mama so much. I am happy you are our parents.”

“We love you more.” He kisses their forehead one by one, before settling on the edge of the bed. He takes his phone out and messages you, hoping you were still awake.

All tasks complete.

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Facts:

Kia is already 5 years old at this, while Mina is 2 and the twins are 1.

Mina thinks dogs are cute because Komori looks like one and he is her favorite uncle.

Mira is the quiet twin while Kin is the more vocal one.

Kin likes fish because the last time Hinata came over, he showed him a picture of his gold fish. Hinata is Kin’s favorite.

Bokuto is Kia’s new favorite uncle/boyfriend because Atsumu has children and Kita is married. She doesn’t want to get in trouble.

Mira is loyal to Kiyoomi.

Taglist:  @elianetsantana​​ @aoi-turtle @ptv-hades  @aquzairus @a-applepi  @justoneofthefangirlsarianna-r13 @morenabambinii @chaelysian @loser-keiji​​ @mxngy @ne-kuroon1fangirlsblog @d-efend @missalicebaskervillemarvelousbakugou @agaashesmilktea​ @bonkyandloki @kimi09 @ntimacy @mkazuyuh  @ushi-please @minty-mangos-world @dearest-kiyoomi​ @yeehawslap  @onlyshinji @obsessedwhxre @adrasteiaxandromedaa @abuliawrites @song-of-storms162 @tnu-ree @keichainn  @bunnybitesthedust @lililiynx  @maitenight @prettyinblack231  @hyoonx23

[imaginethoseguys]

Liquid Courage

Hi, I need to submit a seminar paper in 10 days so naturally I wrote this 3k+ fic for Itadori Yuji girl, bye

Pairing: Itadori Yuji x fem!S/O Word count: 3.3k Warnings: fluff, drinking, drunk confessions, slight angst, au motifs Summary: No matter the chosen activity, Yuji would be equally excited to simply spend time with her. He didn’t even need her to reciprocate his feelings. He felt comfortable in his lovable bubbly state, and she most likely loved him as a friend, so all was well. Trying to take things further would be a risky move anyway and he would not dare take his chances at the expense of making things worse between them because the last thing he would ever want is to make her upset or uncomfortable. He still remembered all her stories about friendships she inescapably lost after the “I need to tell you something” texts in the middle of the night from guys who she felt comfortable enough to be herself with.

Yup, no way that was happening. a/n: Itadori's in his 20s (as well as s/o)

gif credit

It wasn’t Yuji who offered to spend the Friday night at a bar. He didn’t enjoy drinking that much, and there was some weird old movie at the local theatre that they could watch and make fun of together. But it was an unusual occasion, they were on a week-long mission, dealing with curse activity in Osaka, and, well, it was  her  who asked, so of course he agreed. He never went against her suggestions, he trusted her fully, maybe even too much. Possibly, it was her way with words. Somehow, she knew exactly what to say in situations where Yuji often found himself at loss for words. She was reliable and reassuring and had a certain kind of warmness to her.

Or, possibly, it was Yuji’s six-years-long crush on her that had him blushing and hyperventilating at anything she did, so opinions were divided on this one.

No matter the chosen activity, Yuji would be equally excited to simply spend time with her. He didn’t even need her to reciprocate his feelings. He felt comfortable in his lovable bubbly state, and she most likely loved him as a friend, so all was well. Trying to take things further would be a risky move anyway and he would not dare take his chances at the expense of making things worse between them because the last thing he would ever want is to make her upset or uncomfortable. He still remembered all her stories about friendships she inescapably lost after the “I need to tell you something” texts in the middle of the night from guys with who she felt comfortable enough to be herself. Yup, no way that was happening.

“Oh, look, they have homemade plum wine!” her exclamation brought Yuji’s attention back to reality. “And it’s in pitchers too. Lucky!”

“You do remember you can’t hold your liquor, right?” he said, propping his face on his right hand while watching her mumble giddily “plum wine and soda, plum wine and soda.” She lowered the laminated menu sheet and leveled him with an annoyed gaze.

“I am a grown young woman who earns a living by exorcising curses, I’m pretty sure I can handle a glass or two,  Yuji .”

“Including that time when you threw up on Fushiguro mid-conversation?”

“That was graduation! And we did shots.”

“Yeah, it was also 7pm.”

“Enough of you, mister.” She threateningly pointed a finger at him and turned around to call the waiter. Receiving an acknowledging nod in return, she turned back. “Besides, if we’re talking about you, everyone is terrible at holding their liquor in comparison.”

“I’m just heavyweight.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re just a beast machine who suppressed the King of Curses and can run 50 meters in 3 seconds,” she shook her head at her own description, “no wonder you’re Special Grade. Why do you bother drinking at all? Pretty sure it does nothing to you.”

“I don’t do it on my own. I like the company.” He said timidly.

“Aw, see? This is why I love you.”

Yuji’s eyes widened unintentionally, but she didn’t look at him long enough to see it, her attention swiftly taken away by an approaching waiter. He assured himself he was better at controlling his feelings, but it was all falling apart now, like a bunch of lies, because he could feel his entire face and ears pulsate from heat. He stared at the way her lips moved, making the order.

as a friend as a friend as a friend as a friend as a friend

“Yuji? Yuji!”

He snapped back, looking even more surprised.

“You wanted the Ginjo-Shu, right?”

His gaze lingered on her face, open and bright, with eyebrows slightly raised.

“Yeah.”

This is fine.

* * *

“Ah, see? This is exactly what I was talking about.”

Yuji furrowed his eyes helplessly and took the glass from her hand. She tried to down her drink in one motion but missed and spilled it over herself. Looking back now, he wasn’t sure if it was her being lightweight or her not stopping in time.

“When did that even happen,” he mumbled to himself, “she was fine a minute ago.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” she moaned in drunk annoyance, “because I  am  here.”

“So it seems,” Yuji smiled.

“And I may be many things, but there’s one thing that I am not, and it is deaf. Or stupid.”

“Yup, that’s two things though.”

She sighed loudly and leaned back on the wooden wall of their booth. They were surrounded by soft mixes of white noise: distant frying and sizzling from the kitchen, clinking of glasses, and giddy discussions of the upcoming weekend. They could almost feel like they belonged here, to the normal crowd of Osaka drinking their weekly stresses away, complaining about their bosses, bills, and personal dramas.

Is that what it’s like to be normal?  Both of them thought.

Yuji looked over at her and felt the heat returning to his cheeks. This drink spill felt too deliberate to be accidental. And her bra was very thin, and the bar’s AC was on and—

Yuji groaned and swiftly took his hoodie off, almost throwing it in her direction.

“Wear this, please.”

She didn’t really fight it and slowly put it over her head, beginning to crawl inside. She stopped somewhere in the middle and breathed in.

Ah, it smells so good. Smells like him.

She pressed the fabric into her face, taking in his scent. When did he manage to put on cologne? That’s just unfair.

“You okay in there? Are you stuck?” Yuji looked questionably at the wrinkly bundle that was now his hoodie with her somewhere inside.

“Listen, Yuji.”

“You’re just gonna talk to me like this, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured in a soft voice. “I know this isn’t how you would spend your night, but—I wanted to—you know. But in the end, I just—and—”

Suddenly, she felt a gentle tug, and her head popped out of the hoodie, revealing Yuji’s face lightened by a warm smile.

“I told you, I like the company.”

There was a needle prick somewhere around her heart, and she pressed her lips together, taken by a sudden wave of sadness.

“Let’s get back, yeah?”

* * *

Their hotel wasn’t far from the bar, but due to her condition, the walk back took longer than usual. Summer was ending, the air was still warm, but there was a tingling coldness with each wind blow,  a careful reminder of the approaching grey sky and smell of wet concrete, covered by tired leaves.

The path to the hotel entrance was hidden among the sleeping quarters, illuminated by floor lights, and framed by tall bamboo sticks. Yuji walked first and was right in front of the automatic sliding doors when he stopped and turned around to check on her. Instead of right behind him, he saw her at the beginning of the entrance path with her head down.

“Hm? Are you okay? Wait, are you sick?? Then stay right there, if you wanna throw up, do it—um—” he swiftly looked around. Seeing a gardening pot near one of the doors across the street, he pointed at it. “Here, maybe in this pot? Wait, no, this is a nice neighborhood, imagine waking up and finding vomit in your plants… ah, maybe in this bamboo? I’m not sure if it’s real though… ah, but this hotel allows hosting of jujutsu sorcerers because the owner is a friend of someone from the higher-ups, and if we vomit here—"

“Yuji.”

“Oh, maybe vomit in my t-shirt? And I’ll carry it to the nearest dumpster? No, that’s a horrible idea. Are you sure you can’t hold it until we get to our room? Then—”

“I’m not sick, Yuji!” she said loudly, maybe even too much so. “Although all this vomit talk is grossing me out.”

Yuji raised his eyebrows. “Then what’s wrong? Wait, did drinking uncover your hidden phobia of hotels? I read that somewhere…”

She smiled sadly. “You’re such an idiot.”

He bared his teeth, clearly offended. “Well, I’m sorry for trying to be helpful! Jeez, if you can’t walk – just say so, I’ll carry you to our room.”

“I don’t want to go to our room!” she yelled again. Yuji’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t say anything.

“Because then we go to sleep, come back to Tokyo and—I—” She squeezed the hem of his hoodie, “and I’ll never get another chance.”

There’s a short silence after her outburst. Yuji glanced over her hands that were clenched in fists and looked to the side.

“I mean, it’s not like this is our only chance to visit Osaka, we can always book a vacation and come back here.”

“Huh? Who cares about Osaka? It's—”

“I’m not very smart,” he interrupted her quietly, “so you’ll need to be straight with me, otherwise I won’t understand what you mean.” Then, his voice got even quieter. “Or I’ll start imagining things that aren’t real.”

“Yuji, I—” she tried to speak fast, because she felt a betraying lump in her throat, “I never wanted to drag you into a bar. There was this old movie at the local theatre that we could have watched, but I—If I didn’t drink, I would have never gotten the strength to say the things that I’ve been meaning to say for a long-long time. And this trip felt like a perfect opportunity, and you’re right, I’m a lightweight and I overdid it, and I was so close to saying it, but I thought—I cherish you so, so much , Yuji, it hurts me to even think about it. I tried to tell you before, after graduation, but you distanced yourself from me that night, so I figured it was a bad idea. I still think it is, but I—Yuji, I—”

Yuji shortened the distance between them with a desperately fast sprint and grabbed her with both of his hands, squeezing her so tight that she could barely talk anymore, her face pressed into his chest. He was silent for a bit.

“I distanced myself from you during the graduation night because you looked so vulnerable. I thought you were doing things you would regret the next day, so I didn’t want to take advantage. Because when you’re like this with me, I,” his hands trembled, “It’s so hard for me not to be selfish.”

“Wait, Yuji,” she tried to move away from him, but no matter how hard she pushed, she would never win Yuji in a battle of strength. “Please, let me finish.”

“No,” he sounded uncharacteristically serious. He lowered his head and pressed his cheek to her forehead. “When you say that this is not the way I would spend my night… You can invite me to dumpster dive or read books about molecular physics in a public library, or lick poles in winter, and I’ll choose it over anything else. When I found out we would go on this mission together, I was so happy. I can be doing the grossest, most stupid, and pointless things, but if I’m with you – it would be the best way to spend all the time I have. I hate being alone, and it's all I ever felt for so many years of life. But when I met you—when I’m with you – I feel so warm. You make me forget about the bad stuff. When you’re next to me, I—I feel wanted. So please,” his hands weakened his grab on her frame, letting her lean back and catch a glimpse of his face. “Please, don’t give me false hopes.”

Their breaths were hot and shaky as they looked each other in the eyes, hypnotised by each other’s presence. She cautiously moved closer to him and cupped his cheeks. Yuji swallowed thickly, he had to stop himself, but her hand was soft and warm, and the number of times he dreamt about this exact moment didn’t let him move an inch of his body. She raised herself on her tiptoes and leaned to his lips. She smelled so sweet, and her body was so close to his that—

“Ghh, stop,” Yuji groaned and pressed his forehead to hers in agony.

“Why?” She asked breathlessly, “you don’t want this?”

“ No ! I mean, yes. God, I want this so much my head could explode, b-but,” he leaned back slightly, revealing his glowing red face, from the neck to the tips of his ears. “You’re drunk, and we’re tired and I,” he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I want this to be right. If you wake up tomorrow and don’t remember any of this, I—”

“Stop talking,” she moaned and pulled him back by the fabric of his t-shirt, crushing her lips into his, arms then moving up to snake around his neck. Yuji had to resist. He had to, but when she touched him like this, the taste of plum on her lips, and when her—

“Mhm,” Yuji groaned hopelessly, feeling her tongue explore the insides of his mouth. It was hot and wet, and he felt like his heart could stop. Suddenly, he was so putty in her hands, he would do anything for her to keep touching and kissing him like this. No, for her to do anything she wanted with him. He would make a pact with a curse and sell his soul to stay like this a little longer, or to never feel the need to breathe again, so her lips can remain sealed with his forever. Still desperate for air, however, he forced himself to pull away, a shining string of saliva stretching between their lips.

She breathed in, preparing to talk. “I—”

“No, please, don’t say it.” He pressed their foreheads together again, breathing heavily. “Allow me to be selfish. I—I want you to say it tomorrow, in the morning. So that—”

“—It’s real?” she finished for him.

“Yeah,” he smiled bashfully, looking into her eyes. He could see himself in the glassy reflection of her eyes. They were bright and kind, and they looked at him the way he never thought would ever happen. He never thought he would be close enough to her to have the chance of examining just how deep and gentle they are.

Yuji moved a hair strand away from her face. “C’mon, I’ll carry you.”

He lifted her in one motion and pressed firmly to his chest. She could hear the rapid pounding in his chest, and it made her heart race after it. Pressing her ear closer, she could almost hear his thoughts. She didn't really need to hear them, she got the general idea from how uneven were his breaths and how his fingers trembled around her form.

While they waited for the elevator inside, she looked at him.

“Can I keep kissing you?”

His face heated up for a hundredth time this night, as he diverted his gaze nervously. She could feel his hands now squeezing her a little tighter.

“Y-yeah. I would like that.”

* * *

Yuji did not know that pain can bring such an amount of happiness with it. There were two single beds in their room, but they ended up sharing one of them together, which resulted in soreness and numbness in different parts of Yuji’s body. His back ached from arching it so that he didn't fall, and he couldn’t feel his right arm anymore because he went to bed while hugging her. Not that he was complaining though. He could go to sleep on hot coals for all he cared if that meant she would lie on top of him. Feeling her body next to his sent vibrations down his spine. Suddenly, he heard her groan, and his heart fastened its pace.

Nanami Kento was right when he said that getting old is manifested in small things. One of them was getting morning sickness and headaches from any amount of drinking, moderate or otherwise. She hid her face in both of her palms and turned to the side, trying to hide from the morning sun. Sliding the palms down to her chest, she was met with Yuji’s glowing but anxious face: his hair was a mess, and there was a big imprint on his right cheek from the pillow wrinkles. She smiled softly, reaching out to fix one of his hair strands.

“Hi,” she rasped.

“Hi,” he responded, sounding relieved.

“Remind me to never drink again,” she said, turning on her back tiredly. “I lose years of my life from each hangover.”

“I mean, it’s exactly what I’m doing each time, but the strategy doesn’t seem to be working.” He chuckled, slowly getting up from the bed. “I’ll bring you an aspirin.”

Her eyes traced his features radiating in the morning sun as he made his way to the coffee table across the room. He had plenty of scars across his back and more on the chest. None of Jujutsu High students got anything close to normal school life, but Yuji certainly took the cake. And to remain so gratuitously giving and caring all while dealing with so much burden and pressure—her heart sank from just the thought.

She sat up as Yuji sat in front of her on the side of the bed, giving her a glass of fizzling water. She smiled in gratification and brought it to her lips.

“By the way, can you tell me what we ended up doing yesterday? I don’t remember shit,” she said nonchalantly before starting to gulp down the medicine.

The look on Yuji’s face filled with terror and chagrin; he felt his fingertips grow colder as he grasped the bedsheets beneath his hands. He lowered his gaze in silence, feeling the heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Meanwhile, she downed the glass and put it on her nightstand. Looking back at him, she lifted the corners of her lips.

“Kidding.”

He let out a questioning yell and grabbed a pillow, aiming a blow. “You’re so mean! Never  ever  do that shit again!”

He threw the pillow into her face, and she laughed, grabbing his hand, and pulling him on top of her. Yuji positioned his hands on both sides of her head and felt the familiar heat run up his neck to his cheeks, nose, and ears.

“Sorry,” she whispered softly.

“I’ll think about it.”

She lifted her hands and palmed his face, looking deep into his amber eyes. Yuji swallowed thickly, both of his palms twitching uncontrollably.

“Yuji.”

“Y-yeah?”

“I love you.”

The warmness from her hands went deep beyond his face. He felt her arms reach out gently into his chest and cradle his heart, calming its frantic heartbeat and holding it with such care that it sent lumps to his throat. He fought back the quivering of his lips as her thumb stroked across the scar right beneath his eye.

“I love you so  so much,” she murmured fondly, squinting from her growing smile. Yuji lowered his body closer to hers and hid his face in the crook of her neck, hugging her from behind.

“If you don’t stop, I might die.”

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t… feel this happy.”

She closed her eyes contently and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a slow kiss to his temple. “Well, that’s not for you to decide, dumbass.”

She played with his messy hairs, breathing in his scent.

“But if you don’t reciprocate, I might die as well.”

Yuji rose sharply on his hands and leaned forward, crushing his lips into hers for a quick second.

“I love you,” he said loudly after breaking the kiss. Then he leaned in and kissed her again.

“I love you. I love you I love you I love you,” he kept repeating after kissing her over and over again. “I lov—” She interrupted him mid-sentence and took initiative, thrusting into his lips and parting them with a twirl of her tongue. He moaned and gave in, moving his head to the side.

Please, don’t leave me

I’m with you until the world collapses

[novoaa1writes]

honest

pairing(s): daisy johnson x nb!reader, melinda may & nb!reader (familial)

summary:

coming out is never easy—even when you’ve got reliable people in corner.

contains: angst & fluff with happy ending

(also available on ao3.)

word count: ~2,000

rating: teen

warnings: sparring, self-doubt; anxiety (not chronic); muscle pains, bruises, and aches (from exertion); mild language; coming out; discussions of gender and sexuality

notes: 

in my head, this is staged at the playground somewhere in season 2-3ish of marvel’s agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

— —

disclaimer: this is in no way reflective of the experiences of all non-binary individuals everywhere. as someone who’s recently had the realization that i am Not Woman and Not Man and has been subsequently made to have some rather difficult conversations with those closest to me about changing up pronouns, this is simply based off of my own experience and struggles with my gender / sexuality. it’s a uniquely personal thing to come to terms with, and it’s different for everyone.

feel free to message me if you’d like to talk about it!

— —

You let out a long, slow breath, eyeing yourself critically in the bathroom mirror. 

Nervous eyes, shower-damp skin, lower lip swollen and puffy from biting it relentlessly—an obtrusive testament to the overwhelming abundance of unease ballooning in your chest.

Yeah. Seems about right. 

“C’mon, Y/N,” you grumble, taking great care to pitch your voice well below the hum of the fan overhead. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

The more insistent you become, the less you believe it. 

“It’s just Daisy,” you continue, silently willing yourself to remain undeterred by the crushing doubt that gnaws away at your insides. “She’ll understand.” 

... But will she?

You frown at your reflection, skin prickling with frustration. “And if she doesn’t…” you trail off, hating the quiver in your voice for betraying your weakness. “If she doesn’t, then you shouldn’t be with her anyways.” Your voice comes out stronger this time, even if the words themselves are enough to scare you shitless. 

You like Daisy. Could grow to love her, even. 

Being with her… it’s made you the happiest you’ve ever been in your entire life, and damn it all, but you mean that. 

“She’s going to understand,” you say aloud. “She will.”

God, you pray that that’s true. 

— —

7:00am sees you getting your ass thrown violently all across the mats by an ever-indomitable Melinda May, racking up bruises and scratches and aches like no one’s business. 

By the time 9:00am hits, you’re a wheezing mess, sprawled spread-eagled atop the sparring mats—lungs on fire, chest heaving for breath; sweat-drenched skin littered with technicolored bruising.

In short, it’s hellish. 

“C’mon,” May urges, tone curt and even. She looms imposingly down upon you from above, a decidedly unamused expression gracing her elegant features—and, get this: not a single hair out of place, nor a hint of labored breathing. 

You groan and squint up at her, searching for—

A-ha!

There, just above one immaculately-manicured brow and, like, two millimeters beneath her hairline—a tiny little droplet of perspiration. As you watch, it seems to absorb itself into her flawless skin—disappearing before your eyes like it was never even there. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you grumble. 

May just raises a single brow, offering you a hand up. “Up.”

You frown at her but don’t push your luck; rather, you accept the proffered hand and allow her to pull you to your feet. Your arms and legs and abdominal muscles all scream in protest as you lurch upright into a flat-footed stance, but you grit your teeth and bear it. 

Training with May—torturous (and often humiliating) as it may be—is voluntary. Something you chose, and continue to choose even despite the unadulterated hell it puts your body through with every swift kick and bone-jarring punch.

Not only that, you’re lucky to study opposite someone as fearless, skilled, and fucking terrifying as Melinda May. 

Even when your limbs are all ache-y and sore and burning with a pain beyond your years, you know that. 

Still… 

You probably could’ve done without this today. After all, getting your ass kicked for a solid two hours all across the mats doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. And, considering the conversation you plan to have with Daisy this afternoon, you’re gonna need to muster up all the confidence you can get. 

— —

“Spit it out,” May prompts, sidling up to match you stride for stride as you take a couple cool-down laps around the miniature track (¼ the size of a regulation model)... walking, that is. Not jogging. 

Honestly, you think that if you even tried jogging right now, you’d pass out. 

You spare her a sidelong glance as the two of you round the bend, perfectly in sync. “What?” 

May purses her lips, giving you a look. “You were sloppy today,” she remarks pointedly. “Distracted.” 

Her stare seems to burn holes through the side of your head. 

“Wow, thanks,” you mumble. The sardonic quip tastes funny coming off your tongue.

“You were off today,” May reiterates, sidestepping your wisecrack entirely. Her footsteps are soundless even as the soles of your beat-up Air Force Ones slap the tread audibly with every stride. “That doesn’t happen often.”

“Sure it does.” You shrug. “You kicked my ass today, same as always. If you ask me—” You hesitate briefly at the look on May’s face, which is plainly screaming ‘I didn’t’ “—today’s been anything but out of the ordinary.” 

“You’re a terrible liar,” May remarks without missing a beat. It’s like she didn’t even hear you (which you damn well know that she did). 

Still, you don’t do her the disservice of arguing the point any further. 

You walk another ten paces in perfect silence—no, twelve. You know because you count each one. 

Unsurprisingly, you’re first to break the immersive quiet. “I think I want to tell Daisy.”

May’s impartial expression doesn’t change. “About?”

You almost roll your eyes, but manage to curb the impulse at the very last second. “You know what about.”

Hell, May was the first person you told. You came to her quarters hyperventilating in the dead of night, tears streaming down both cheeks and a sense of such deep-seated discomfort swelling in your chest, your ribs positively ached with the force of it.

“I want to hear you say it.”

You bite your lower lip, apprehension gnawing at your insides. “About…” You trail off, internally scolding yourself. This shouldn’t be so fucking hard. “About me being… non-binary.” 

Non-binary. 

What a flimsy little term. So matter-of-fact… almost scientific in nature. And yet, the way it affects you is nothing short of visceral—all-encompassing and monstrous, compressing your very lungs in an iron-clad vice until it’s agony to draw breath. 

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts ; voicing this simple reality that’s plagued you since you were very small, looming malignantly in the margins of everything you do… and yet, the truth of it rings keen and strong in your ears—clear as a bell.  

It’s liberating and frightful all in one; a grating juxtaposition, to be clear.

“Yes.” The sound of May’s uncharacteristically gentle intonation cuts clean through the blaring noise in your head, yanking you out from a sea of inner turmoil with startling decision. “I’m proud of you.”

Her words—gently-spoken as they may be—hit you like consecutive sucker punches to the gut. “What?” you choke, forcing out a breathless chuckle. 

May—predictably—is staunch, unyielding… wholly undeterred. “You’re being true to yourself,” she insists, matching you step for step as you start in on lap two. Your chest burns something awful and your legs aren’t much better, but you pay it little mind. “That’s no small thing.”

“It’s terrifying,” you tell her. As far as you’re concerned, that’s something of an understatement.

She nods. “It often is.”

“What if… What if I tell her and she doesn’t like me anymore?”

May raises a single brow. “Daisy, a known bisexual who has stated on more than one occasion that the gender binary is ‘stupid’ and ‘exclusionary’? Daisy, who’s been on dates with more than one openly non-binary person in the past?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” 

May—bless her heart—doesn’t snort or sigh or roll her eyes, but you can tell it’s not for lack of wanting. Instead, she merely slants you a pointed look that says, ‘Exactly.’

You walk the next six strides in silence, your feet aching in your shoes.  

“I’m going to tell her,” you say eventually, a tinge of cautious certainty creeping into your tone. You don’t know who you’re trying to convince—yourself, or May. 

All the same, May is nothing if not steady and dependable amidst stormy seas; she always knows just what to say. (Or, what not to say, as it were.) 

There are no tears, no hugs, no flowery platitudes… nothing but a sharp nod of approval and the barest hint of a grin curving her lips, like she sees you for who you are and she approves—like she’s proud, even. You don’t know how else to translate the tender mercy in her eyes, the way it seems to warm you from the inside out. 

Yeah, you can tell Daisy. 

You’re going to tell Daisy. 

And May’s gonna be right there beside you the whole time.

— —

In retrospect, you definitely could’ve gone about this better. 

Like, you weren’t exactly going for the kind of heartfelt reconciliation you’d see in some coming-of-age sap-fest movie on the big screen; and it’s not as though there’s an exact script to follow for all this, but… 

Pulling away from a decidedly heated kiss to blurt out, “I’m not a woman”—and doing so while you’re half-naked and straddling the lap of a similarly scantily-clad Daisy in bed, no less—definitely hadn’t been your first choice. 

Judging by the expression on Daisy’s pretty features—which is caught somewhere between taken aback and genuinely concerned—she’s coming to the same conclusion.  

To her credit, though, she recovers quickly—though the crease between her brows (a testament to her lingering bewilderment) remains. “What?”

You swallow thickly, carding your fingers through her tousled hair—a nervous habit of yours you’d developed as of late. “I’m…” You sigh, apprehension building in your chest. “I’m not a woman.”

Daisy’s brows raise marginally even as she offers a shallow nod, wide attentive eyes steadfastly holding yours. “Okay…” she begins gently, rubbing circles into the bare skin above your left hipbone with a callused thumb—a subtle nudge for you to continue. 

“I just—I don’t feel like a woman,” you say, and this time it’s easier, even if the sheer measure of honesty in that statement is enough to make your stomach turn. “And I don’t feel like a man, either.”

Understanding flares in Daisy’s pretty brown eyes. “Okay,” she says again. “So, you’re not a woman…” She pauses, dipping her head to place a feather-light kiss upon your shoulder. “And you’re not a man,” she continues, lifting her jaw to study you face-to-face, the tip of her pert nose brushing up against your own. “Which means… ?”

“I’m, um,” you squirm a bit, shifting atop her bare thighs, “... non-binary.” Your cheeks are hot, burning with shame, and you have never been so grateful that your skin is tawny enough to conceal it. 

Daisy doesn’t blink. “Okay,” she replies, then leans forth to place a barely-there peck atop your lips. 

You frown down at her, lips tingling. “‘Okay’?” you repeat.  

Daisy grins, leaning in for another kiss—and you’re all too quick to indulge her even as your thoughts spin and disbelief wars violently with consternation within your chest. 

Her lips are soft and warm against your own; when her tongue flits out to trace your lips, you’re parting them in an instant to meet her halfway; the sensation of kissing her is nothing short of euphoric, and you surrender willfully unto it like leaves in the brisk autumn wind. 

Seconds pass, or maybe it’s minutes, but she’s catching your lower lip between her teeth and you’re sucking on the tip of her tongue and— 

Quite suddenly, the kiss has become nothing short of filthy—all open-mouthed and desperate and bruising just how you like, and damn it all, but you can finish the rest of the conversation another time.

For now… well. You’re preoccupied with other things.  

— — 

(Later that night, when you’re both laid up in bed and drifting off to sleep, Daisy asks if you’d like her to start referring to you as ‘they’ and ‘them’ rather than ‘she’ and ‘her.’

When you answer in the affirmative, telling her that nothing would make you happier, the sheer measure of honesty in your words doesn’t feel nearly as nauseating as it did before. 

In fact, it’s rather the opposite.

The way Daisy reacts—a murmured, “Okay”; a feather-light kiss upon your forehead; two strong arms pulling you closer in the dark… well. That’s just icing on the cake. 

Despite everything—the self-doubt, the second guessing, the aching soreness settling into the very marrow of your bones—you feel yourself break out into a broad grin beneath the pitch-dark cover of night.

You feel good; comfortable in your own skin. You feel… happy.)

— —

end notes: i want melinda may to be my friend.

LINK TO MASTERLIST

[lolabangtan]

Biting dogs seldom bark | jjk

You and your junior Jungkook decide to go to his room when you see the library is full. In the face of silence and concentration, one of your childhood habits comes back to haunt you, to Jungkook’s delicious dispair.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: is indulging a whiny virgin kookie considered something worth warning for? anyways, virgin boys are fun to play with when they submit and you encourage them to leave behind toxic gendered expectations. support your local virgins and stay at home if you can.

# biting kink, subby virgin!jungkook, college AU, dom!reader, soft femdom, Y/N eating some ass and licking some balls, a little bit of cum play, too, oral (male receiving), overstimulation, unprotected vaginal sex, the word noona appears a dozen times, Y/N is basically JK’s hot noona and he’s been dreaming of her fucking him for all eternity.

This is both inspired by Run BTS ep 30 where JK moaned a little when Jin bit his shoulder and the realization that some people do bite their friends according to a classmate I used to have in high school.

Well, we all miss jungkook. this is in his honour, although i hope he does never read it.

“Are you sure you don’t want my freshman notes?”

“There’s no need, noona. Thank you.”

Jungkook was tired. You could see it in the way he dragged his voice, the way he moved and picked up papers and opened his laptop—even the way he blinked, squeezing his eyes over and over again.

“Tell me if you change your mind,” you finally said, “I never got to sell them and they’re rotting in a folder on my computer anyways.”

Jungkook put away his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I can—I can do it. I just need some more time to do the research. Professor Choi’s presentations aren’t really useful… He said he’d share all the notes but there are only conceptual frameworks.”

As he was facing his first mid-term exams and you had to study to get into an internship in Tokyo for your senior year, you had tried to go first to the library closest to your residence, which, although it had a horrible Wi-Fi connection, was not usually very crowded.

You guys were so delusional! When you arrived, you thought about whether there were really so many people studying at your school. There was not a single chair, not a single bench, hardly any room on the floor free to sit and be productive.

Pressing your lips, you stared at him for a moment, silently, as you always did.

Jungkook and you knew each other from high school after he arrived from Busan right after you started eleventh grade. He was the new kid, handsome, quite cute, only fifteen years old, and your friends loved to welcome kids like that, so there was no way you could stop them from taking the poor boy as their protégé. Since he had turned out to be a really nice boy, all shyness and naivety, how could you not take him under your wing, too?

Even if many people said you were the cool type: silent, thoughtful, taking care of your friends from the shadows. And they were right—biting dogs seldom barked.

He relied on you as he relied on no one else. You were his noona, his older sister, his strong, confident friend on whom he could always count. And you loved it because you had always thought that Jungkook was your baby.

However, you had this small, slight, insignificant habit that you should get rid of one day, and which changed things a little bit.

Since childhood, you tended to bite people. It was nothing hard, not biting them in their necks and bleeding them to death. You never hurt them, and they weren’t even proper bites. Your mother once told that it was because of some pain in your teeth you had had when you were five, and you just had gotten used to it.

But you would never bite strangers—ugh, not at all. It was just a habit you started to do when you felt comfortable enough with someone, so you simply tended to bite your friends’ shoulders, or their wrists, or anywhere that was munchy and squishy.

You were about to graduate from high school the first time you bit Jungkook.

The loyal, hardworking kid he was, he had accepted to invite you to his place after school for the first time. His parents already knew you and they were really happy that he had a noona to help him (his mother was apparently a little bit older than his father, too), so they did nothing to stop him from taking a grown-up, hot girl upstairs to his room.

You were expecting something completely different when Jungkook turned his doorknob.

Being sixteen years old, you expected to find a deep smell of corn, a mess of T-shirts reeking of deodorant and sweat, bags of Doritos lying on the floor, posters of anime girls in microscopic bikinis. But the reality was simply a moderately tidy room, although it was populated by little Japanese cartoon figures, a huge computer with a microphone and a closet full of immaculate white tees.

“Are you okay, noona? You seem… shocked.”

His question made you chuckle. “I just expected something different…”

“I didn’t really have time to clean up this morning,” he said, “I didn’t know you’d ask to come over. Fuck, I even forgot to make the bed…” He hurried over to his bedside table and picked up a white round cylinder to throw into the bottom of the drawer. “Yeah, let me just pull out the sheets a little bit and we can… We can do it here. Studying.”

“I mean that I expected something worse, Kookie. You’re a really clean boy.”

Kookie, he loved hearing you say that. It made your lips pout and then it made you smile. The tenderness, the care, the cooing. He adored hearing you say it.

You both sat down on the bed, since the table had been invaded by the giant computer, and you took out your books to start studying. Silently, you bit the tip of your pen while he stared at you, and eventually, you noticed his eyes burning your lips.

“Sorry, is it yours? You know, I have this awful habit of biting,” you added.

“Don’t worry,” said Jungkook, “you can keep it. I have more. As long as you bite… things and not people,” he added with a mysterious smile.

You couldn’t hold the laugh. “Actually, I do bite people. But only those I feel close to. I don’t bite just anyone, you know. Half my friends have had enough of me, though.”

Jungkook frowned slowly, thinking that it made him less than a friend to you. Not even that. He could not even be the pathetic friend who was in love with you, it seemed. He was just the new kid you spoke to out of pity last year.

“Are you okay? You look worried.”

“Mm, yeah. I just feel sorry for all of your friends,” he muttered, grabbing the first book he saw and opening it by a random page.

“You’re my friend, too, you know that, don’t you, Kookie?” You pressed your lips when he kept silent and looked down at his wrist. He had such pretty hands, you thought. Maybe you had just been containing yourself since you knew all your friends except him since kindergarten. “See?”

Then you grabbed his wrist, smiling, and gently sunk your teeth into his soft golden flesh.

Jungkook whimpered as he pulled his arm away from you. “N-noona!”

It hadn’t been a whimper of pain. At all. You had had your fair share of physical contact with other people and you knew there was no pain behind his cute noises. The mere thought made you rub your thighs together, but you didn’t lose your shit and bit his wrist again, chuckling.

“Ah, noona, stop…” he moaned. His eyes shone with a weird glow. “Let’s… Let’s focus back on the study, please.”

How uncomfortable he seemed to be made suddenly you feel incredibly bad. You, his trusty noona, his reliable older sister, had been turned on by his voice, by his groans, when Jungkook was clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

“Sorry.”

“I… Gotta go to the restroom for a second,” he muttered, rushing to get off the bed without even facing you. You nodded to his back. “I’ll be right back.”

But Jungkook took his time to return and, by the time he was back, his bangs a little wet, you had already finished with your homework and felt the urgent need to get away from his room—everything, from the sheets to simply the air lingering around, smelled like him, and it just fuelled the fire inside your guts.

That had been the first and last time you bit Jungkook, and not because you didn’t want to. On the contrary, it was incredibly hard to resist your impulses.

Back on that awful pre-exam day, with all the faculty libraries fully stocked and the dorm’s Wi-Fi getting weaker and weaker, you and Jungkook had plunged back into a bubble of concentration, though yours barely lasted a few minutes.

Once you looked away from your laptop, you turned to Jungkook, who, on his back, was working on his paper for Mr Choi. You could see his thick neck swallowing saliva from time to time, his eyes fixed on the screen with a small blue light alloy. Oh, this boy was so bad for your health, how had you even hold yourself for all those years? You had suddenly forgotten.

The repetitive sound of the computer keys, along with how little your last americano had woken up your brain, ended up bewitching you, and you slid into a relaxation bubble, absorbed by the way the words appeared on the screen at the same time his fingers typed.

You turned in his direction, sneaking one of your legs next to him, and barely noticed how he tensed up in front of you.

His T-shirt had a loose collar, which fell a little lower than his collarbone, and you ended up resting your chin on his shoulder to watch him write his soporific work in more detail.

However, attracted by his warmth, by his earthy scent that resembled the smell of winter sunshine, you slipped your nose into the skin of his shoulder and did not notice how your teeth gently dug into his tender flesh.

Jungkook’s chest reverberated with a soft moan covered by his mellow voice. Without realizing it, he had lowered his hand to your thigh during your lazy embrace and squeezed it the moment you bit into his shoulder. He threw his head back slightly and closed his eyes as his fingers dug into your thigh.

Fascinated by his reaction, you stuck your teeth into his neck again, this time dragging them a little before you pulled your head away from him. A shiny bite mark decorated beautifully his golden skin.

“F-fuck, noona, you can’t just…!” he whined.

That was quite a similar situation to that school day, but there was something about the way Jungkook whined, about the way he bit his lip, about the way he had thrust his hips—almost imperceptibly—about the way his fingers sank into the flesh of your thighs, that told you that no, that situation was very different.

Jungkook tried to laugh the whole situation off and reached out his hand, which had moved away from your thigh as if it were burning his palm, to grab a pillow and place it on his lap.

Fuck it all, I guess.

With remarkable physical exertion, you propelled yourself onto the leg that was prey to Jungkook’s hand and lay on his lap, landing your ass on the pillow that absurdly hid his erection. The friction made him hiss as the small bites throbbed on his skin.

Then you finally kissed him, grabbing the loose neck of his tee and sinking your face on his, fed up with all that nonsense you had been telling yourself of Jungkook hating your bites.

You deepened the kiss and stroked his lower lip with your tongue, warning him. Then, when he gasped again, you snuck your tongue in his mouth and finally began to devour him with all the passion you both had inside.

He was the first to speak as soon as you parted your faces, his neck reddened by the craving of passion, and he looked into your eyes. “For… for real? Is this really happening? I’m not dreaming again?” You could just laugh at his words. “I’m serious! Fuck, I’m so hard already, noona…!”

“That’s my Kookie, all hard and ready for me.”

You kissed him again, biting his earlobe first and dragging the soft skin with your teeth as you pushed him against the bedding of his messy bed. It smelled like him too, but why would you care about that when you had your golden honey boy in your arms, whining and moaning as you completely devoured him?

Jungkook coughed a little when he tried to speak, choking on all the saliva that was pooling in his mouth. “W-wait, noona… How far do you wanna go?”

“As far as you’ll let me,” you answered without looking at him, still absorbed by the way your teeth were digging into the other side of his warm neck. “Why are you asking? You don’t have any condoms and you don’t know if you’re clean?” You finally looked at him.

“That’s not it… I’m pretty sure I am…”

That made you smile. “That’s good—I’m on the pill and I’d hate not having you cum inside.”

You weren’t making it easy for him to confess that he had never had sex with another person, or that no one had ever jerked him off or given him a blow job. Listening to you talk so naturally about the way you would fuck him into madness made the hair on his nape stand on end in a mixture of erotic euphoria and the most outrageous fear of ruining everything.

“I’m a virgin!” he finally spurted out.

“What?” you asked, shocked. Then you rose from his chest to take a better look at his face. “How so? I can’t believe you’ve never had the chance to get laid. You had half the class whipped for you back in high school.”

Jungkook swallowed hard. “Well, everybody thought I was your boyfriend, and they kinda respected it… And I didn’t really meet new people outside school.”

You felt so bad for the poor thing, not having been able to enjoy sex during his teenage years because of you and your stupid, cool reputation. And you hadn’t even been fucking him.

“But I didn’t mind, noona, really… I liked that they thought so.”

“You don’t hate me? Why did you never tell me about it?” you insisted, “I can’t possibly be okay with this, Jungkook. I’m sure you would’ve liked to experiment in high school. This is ridiculous.”

Jungkook closed his eyes and ground his hips against yours. Suddenly his face looked no longer angelical and shy, but desperate, raw, needy. When he opened his eyes again, they glowed, watering, with pure lust.

“Noona, if you knew the things I’ve done behind your back. If you knew how many times I’ve touched myself at night thinking about what it would feel like having you bite me all over my body, you really wouldn’t be okay with it… I hated seeing you do it to your friends, they couldn’t enjoy it as I would have…! And when it finally happened the first thing I did was getting hard, like the horny virgin I am. So disgusting.”

You chuckled. “Should I leave you alone? You seem to be enjoying yourself a lot, Jungkook.”

“Call me Kookie,” he begged, “I’m Kookie. To you, I’m Kookie, noona, please.”

“Okay, Kookie.” And there was that pout on your lips again and the smile that preceded it when you called it that. “You asked me before how far I was willing to go, and I said as far as you would go. How far is that? What do you want us to do?”

His dick twitched the second you spoke. “Everything. Anything—I’m okay with anything you wanna do to me, noona, I’m so fucking okay with it… You left me so alone when you graduated, noona, and you’re going to Tokyo next year. You’ll forget about me. I want you to be my first, I wanna have marks from you all over my body, I wanna remember you—but I don’t want you to forget about me,” he suddenly whined, “I don’t want you to go.”

You let out a groan of compassion from your throat and took his face in your hands. Still lying on his bed, you kissed him again, deeply, trying to imbue the kiss with all the love you felt.

“I’ll only be away for a year. Then I’ll come back and stay in Seoul,” you said, caressing his cheeks.

“Will you be with me?”

“I will be with you. Now.” The expression on your face changed completely as an avid sly smile stretched your lips, and your hand went down under his shirt. “You haven’t answered me. What do you want right now? You’ve never been touched before by anything that isn’t your hand, Kook. I should compensate you.”

It was too soon, and you were too turned on to just sit on his lap and ride him, and if you sucked him off he wouldn’t last longer than a minute, and it’d also ruin is self-esteem, so perhaps it was better to start with the basics.

The sound the fly made as you carefully lowered it with your hand gave him a chill that went down his spine and ended up making his dick throb inside his underwear.

You were greeted by his tip, slippery and red and glossy, which peeked through the edge of his underwear. The contact with the cold air in the room made him shiver and pant, caged under your arms.

“God, Kookie, you don’t know what you’re doing to me…”

“Tell me,” he panted, “Tell me… what you wanna do to me.” Jungkook couldn’t hold back a whimper when your thumb circled his sensitive red tip. “Ah, please, noona!”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” you said as you pumped his shaft, making him shiver under your body. “You know, Kookie, I thought it’s too soon to just ride you until you’re on the verge of tears, begging me to let you cum inside my tight pussy, but if I give it a second thought… That’s fucking turning me on.”

“Yes, noona, ride me, please.”

You finally got rid of your sweatpants under Jungkook’s hungry, eager gaze and, before taking off your underwear too, you took his hand and made him caress your clothed cunt.

“I’m soaking wet, see, Kookie? Imagine what it’ll be like under my panties. Imagine what it’ll be like inside me.”

“So hot and damp. I’m sure your pussy is so tight, noona, so wet,” he moaned, thrusting his hips into the empty air. “I won’t last inside you if you’re like this, noona. Fuck, I won’t last a second.”

His voice had taken on a hint of worry, so you took his face in your hands and bit his cheek gently, gently, as you sat on his lap. “That doesn’t matter to me. In fact, I like it—I’m dying to see your orgasm face, so I’ll make you cum so fucking hard you won’t even be able to think about it.”

Jungkook didn’t really know how to reply to that, so he simply moaned when you took off your panties.

“I can feel how hot your pussy is…”

“And now you’re going to feel it even more, Kookie,” you laughed. Slowly, he got inside of you. Feeling the way his dick slowly stretched you out as you sank down on him, perfect girth and perfect length, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment. His breath had become heavy and shaky, his eyes tightly closed, and you could feel him shaking underneath you. “Breathe, baby. Don’t be so tense.”

Then the poor boy coughed again, choking on his own spit. “I’m just… trying not… to cum, noona, but you’re so tight and hot and wet and it feels really, really good…!”

“Should we go deeper?”

He nodded after a few seconds, still not opening his eyes. What a shame, you thought, not having the visuals of the first time his virgin cock was buried in your hot, wet cunt. But then he bottomed out, and it made him open his eyes with a moan that made you clench around him.

“I’m close,” he panted again.

You didn’t respond, but simply lowered your hand to your clit and massaged it at the perfect rhythm as you dug your teeth into his neck, pushing your hips against his.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” you managed to say, claiming his neck with your lips as your teeth gently bit on the soft golden flesh. “Are you gonna come inside noona, fill up her pussy? C’mon Kookie, I know you can. Let me see your cute face.”

Looking up at you, tilting his head to the side, Jungkook twitched inside of you and pouted as if he was about to burst out in tears. The poor boy was overwhelmed. So, you bent over him and kissed his lips, whispering against them that you were eager to see him come, to see him moan louder and gasp and sob.

Jungkook whimpered into your mouth, as you were still kissing him. “Yes, yes, noona, yes, I-I’m gonna-shit, please, noona, I’m so close!”

“Fuck, Kookie, you feel so good,” you moaned, caressing the hair of his nape, “Come for noona, let her see how you fill her up.” Then you bit him in the neck and sucked on the reddish mark your teeth had left on his honey skin.

That was the last straw for Jungkook, and let out a breathy whimper as you felt him rubbing his feet against the bedding, shivering underneath your body, overwhelmed by the intensity of his orgasm. The poor boy was on the verge of tears, and you were loving it, the feeling of his cum filling you up, even if you knew you weren’t going to make it despite being so close.

Then, with a jolt, you realised he had started bleeding from the nose, the glossy blood seeping through his parted lips.

“Fuck, Kookie, you’re bleeding!” you breathed, rushing to putting a strand of his fringe behind his ear, “It’s normal to bleed in your first time, babe, don’t worry… I’ll get you something to wipe it off. Anyways, the air in your room is so dry, you should get a humidifier…”

Jungkook nodded. He had started to come down from his high, but you were still sitting on him, dick buried deep in you, so the boy gasped when you moved your hips to fetch him a tissue.

You smirked. “Sensitive, are we? Are you going to help noona come?” you said then, heeling, leaning back and forth as Jungkook shut his eyes tight and grabbed your hips so you’d stop moving. However, he did not. In fact, his hands helped your sharp movements, lifting you until you only had his tip inside and sinking you down on him again, making him bottom out. “Do you like it, Kookie? Do you like it when I fuck your spent cock? Are you going to cum for me again?”

You couldn’t help it—your baby Koo was coming again with his cum-covered dick buried deep inside your cunt, heels rubbing against the blankets because it was too much. Yeah, you couldn’t help the knot unravelling inside your belly, making you clench around him.

Enjoying the last remains of your orgasm, both riding Kookie and rubbing your clit until it was too sensitive, you leaned with both hands on his sweaty chest with a smile of utter satisfaction.

“I know you said you were a virgin, Kookie, but tell me, have you ever watched porn? Don’t lie to me.” He nodded, barely able to open his eyes, frowning from all the overwhelming pleasure he had just begun to get down from. “I bet you love to watch girls being stuffed up with a man’s cum. Don’t you, Kook? Ever wondered what does it feel like? Having someone’s warm cum filling up your pretty little hole.”

You slid the tip of your finger up and down your labia, collecting his cum mixed with yours, and rubbed it against his ass hole, creaming its rim, your finger ghostly hovering over it.

“I-it feels good,” said Jungkook, “And nasty.”

You kept covering the skin of his butthole with his own load, taking your time to cover it so it wouldn’t fall down easily. “It’s really nasty, Kookie, you’re right. Better clean up the mess, don’t you think?”

Then you slowly went down his chest until you found yourself in front of his balls. The last thing he saw before you dived between his legs was a sly smirk, and then everything went white when your tongue found his sweet spot after digging for a few seconds. The pleasure of feeling your tongue licking parts of his body that he had not even thought of touching clouded his vision, and suddenly his world was only your tongue and his trembling body.

“Fuck! Noona, shit, shit…!”

Jungkook arched his back, stunned to feel his cock slowly hardening again despite having come just a few minutes ago.

You decided to give him a break by moving your lips away from him.

“Is it too much, Kookie?” He nodded without hesitation. “But here I thought I should compensate you for all those amazing orgasms you could have had if I hadn’t been in your way. You’ve never complained about me taking care of you, though.”

Then you kissed his balls and licked the thick vein crossing his dick to the tip before engulfing with your mouth all that fit in. You could feel it twitching over your tongue.

“Mm-please noona! I’m going to cum if- Ah, ah!” Jungkook’s eyes were watering already.

Smiling and bobbing your head up and down. You were ruining him—you knew it, this probably wasn’t the way he’d pictured his first time to be like—but he was loving it. Every moan, every gasp, every wet sob that shivered throughout his throat. Every unintentional jerky jolt of his hips that made him look down to you with the most blatant fear of having messed up, until you reassured him with a long kick up to the flushed tip of his dick to let him know that everything was okay.

“Mhf, please, noona, ple-please, I can’t, I-I…! I’m gonna come…!” The mere thought of the next words coming out of his lips could bring him to the verge of orgasm. “In your mouth, noona, I’m gonna cum… mouth! Shit, shit, please, let me!”

You took your lips off his shaft for a second. “Do you?” you purred then, licking on his tip with short strokes of your tongue. Your fingers slid into his already prepped hole and you rubbed your finger pads against his prostate until you set the perfect pace. “Come for your noona, c’mon, baby, Kookie, cum for me,” you breathed against his slit.

Jungkook barely gave you any time to swallow his dick again, so you almost missed his cum shot. The warm liquid went down your throat and you kissed his tip with wet lips, enjoying the way he twitched against your tongue.

“Stop, stop, please,” he begged you, pressing his things together beneath you, “I can’t, don’t…”

“It’s okay, Kookie,” you muttered before kissing his inner thigh.

His arms welcomed you with a mix of sweat and mellow, fluttery eyes, rushing to embrace you as if not having you against his chest was the worst thing that could ever happen to him. You smile, turning over to have him against your chest, and kissed his forehead after you covered both of you with his comfy blanket.

Jungkook smooched your earlobe, still breathing heavily. “I’m going to miss you so much, noona.”

“I’m going to miss you too, baby. Noona’s gonna feel so lonely without you…”

“No, you won’t,” he scoffed. It was hard not to notice the harsh pain in his voice.

You turned around to face him, and Jungkook moved over the bed with a frown, too fond of his previous position over your soft breasts.

“You’re gonna leave, noona, I get it. You’re gonna find a boyfriend in Tokyo, and you’ll forget about me. I know. But it’s okay, noona, I swear—I still have this moment to keep with me forever, and I-” You stopped him the second you saw an anguished tear rolling down his cheek. It shouldn’t be like this. He shouldn’t be crying. Was it your fault? “Sorry, I-”

“I’m not gonna leave, Kookie. I’m not gonna leave you, either. And one day I’ll be the one to see you off at the airport before you take an aeroplane to, I don’t know, the States, and I’ll miss you so much, baby, as much as I’ll miss you next year.”

He finally dared to look at you through his wet eyelashes. “You’re gonna miss me?”

“Every single second,” you muttered against his lips before kissing him, too engrossed in the earthy warmth oozing from his skin to notice drowsiness taking its toll on both of you. “I’m going to miss you every second I’m away from you, Jeon Jungkook.” And, being buried in each other’s arms, you decided to follow him and closed your eyes, leaving any worry behind.

A few minutes later, Park Jimin, Jungkook’s roommate, came into the room along with his friend Kim Taehyung and they watched them silently until the first one whispered, looking at his also shocked friend:

“I told you! You owe me twenty thousand won!”

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

“Biting dogs seldom bark” is copyright ²⁰²⁰ Lola Bangtan, all rights reserved

[spacegaywritings]

Little Tales (An age regression series) - Story 4: Stories

General Audience

Little!Patton

Summary: Patton felt the fuzzy feeling his whole day and now it is time to give in to his coping mechanism and prepare some nice things.

Tags: nostalgia mention, food, eating, snuggles, cuddles, self-care, babyspeak babytalk!, also I write like a smol at points, mom/grandmom mention, pasta, story, cartoons, hugs, blankets, comfort, Eurus the uwu snatcher!,neo pronouns, nb rep,

Please be mindful to not tag/ add any ships or shipping content - this is age regression and there are no relationships of any kind happening. Please respect that. Also don’t add any NSFW comments to this work. I appreciate this.

My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me

Note: If you miss any tags, have issues with links or any other concerns, please feel free to contact me. Anon is on and my DMs are open.♥ Links broken? Inform me, please!

Previous parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // ao3 1 // ao3 2 // ao3 3 // ao3 overview //  story on ao3 4 // masterlist.

 Story under the cut - Word count: ~2.7k

Patton snuggled up into his bed. It was time for a seriously calm time.

 In the background, his TV was running. It was a baking show with little kids and Patton smiled just hearing it. They had pretty things to bake with!

But he had used pretty things today and he had made special choccy cookies for himself. They had extra choccy because he really liked them.

 Patton snuggled up, hugging his favourite blanket. It had little cats and dogs on them and they snuggled and made him really happy! He smiled and cuddled the bundle of blanket in his arms. Another blanket was over him, covering him with its thin and rather cool fabric. It was patchwork and pink and had lotsa flowers on them. He had made it himself over a looooong amount of time.

 He smiled, satisfied with himself and brushed over his happy blanket.

 His soft blanket in his hands and his light blanket on his body had him snuggle up happily and just retreat into his pile of pillows. It was his soft happy place and he couldn’t feel better.

Well.. except he could because he had made himself happy tiny noods! His noods were perfect bc they were cut tiny for himself and they had nostalgia in them. He had made them like his granny and mommy used to make them for him when he was a kid.

 He pulled his bowl of pasta close to his chest and hugged it along with his little blanket. He had tiny cutlery ready. It was made of wood and for small hands and small people and he was more than happy to use it. Seeing the tiny pieces of kitchenware had him go all soft already.

His little heart was yearning for his time to come.

 Well, the time was now.

 The last bit he had to had was just this one thing..

 Patton pulled his phone up to him and opened a bookmarked website. His phone was put on “Do not disturb” which disabled all apps for him that he did not want to access or be notified about when regressed.

 “ ‘Cus ‘m a gud boi..”, he mumbled to himself.

 The praise left a reddish mark all over his cheeks and made his heart feel really soft and warm.

 Patton curled up on his side and slowly put the first spoon of tiny pasta into his mouth. There was so much cheese on it, it had to be good. Nostalgia exploded within him as the flavour hit his tongue. The familiar taste of childhood-impatience engulfed him and sparked the simple joy of being alive and having tasty food in his heart.

 “Aw..”, he mumbled to himself, nodding as if to show appreciation for the person who had made it. Neither his momma nor his grandma was with him but he routinely did so as a kid. So, now he did it, too, because he was small and a good and appreciative boy!

 Patton munched on his happy food, enjoying the savoury tastes.

 The regressed bean cuddled his food and focused on eating. No spill, no nothing but his light brain and simple mind made it harder to coordinate his hand movements in regard to his field of vision. Patton squinted a bit but the fact he got nostalgia food out of it made him more than compliant to the task.

 “Not the pretty blankie”, he reminded himself with a content smile.

 Meanwhile, the website he had opened was loading his favourite little gem. It was fanfiction, sure. It was not from his childhood like the happy cartoons he was watching (it was about little geometric figures befriending one another) but it was just as good in his opinion. It made him soft.

 There.

 He was done with his bowl of food and slowly put it aside, patting the bowl after resting it on the table. The bowl had done a good job in not spilling anything and holding the food for him. He, in turn, had done a great job in not spilling anything.

 “Gud bowl.. gud fud..”, he commented gently.

 The cartoon friends hugged and Patton cheered.

 “Yay!Frens!”

 He put his arms up, hands spread out as if to show his palms ever so proudly. The little beamed up at the TV and giggled along with Mister Triangle, Darling Circle and Miss Square. They were friends and he felt like a friend of them.

They turned to the viewer - Patton - and opened their hug to include him and the little squeaked into his room.

 “Fren!!”

 Patton giggled along with the geometric shapes who were his little friends. He hugged his blankie close and simply relished in the feeling of a warm and nice hug. Upon imagining this was what it was like to be snuggled at the moment, he focused on the softness of his blanket and its weight in his arms.

The regressed adult sighed out in relief, in contentment. A feeling flooded his insides like the ocean, waves rising and falling, breaking all over him with the sheer happiness of being “touched” and loved.

 He let out another squeak, mumbling to himself.

 “Fren ! Frens!”

 He giggled.

 His mind was fully smol. All adult worries and thoughts had slipped off his shoulders by now. The food, the cartoon, the happy blanket and the soft snuggles.

It was great, albeit not perfect.

 Patton clicked his tongue, thinking about his name. It was so soft! Pat pat - hihi. Patt-on. He giggled more and buried his face in the snuggle companion, rolling from side to side with his blanket hugged close to him. The soft bundle was tightly held by his arms while the little shook his body, thrashing around like an exited puppy out in the fields. The overwhelming urge to just roll and turn and wiggle around on his couch was strong and amplified his innocent joy.

 It was pure and it felt real and genuine in his heart.

His whole soul was taking the vacation of feeling and experiencing. Something he often abandoned in favour of being a reliable and fully functioning adult.

 But adult time was nu now! Bad adulting! It was nice time!

 “Nu adult, only baby!”, he assured himself.

  He bapy! He B A B Y !!!

 “b a p e y”, he repeated to himself.

Sometimes he had to voice his thoughts. It made him grin like a dummy but he liked it and it was happy feels for him! Gud feels!!

 Now that he was smol, there was the final step. Back to his story.

The website was fully loaded and Patton blabbered to himself in impatience, in childish, pleasant anticipation.

 “Euwus..”, he softly whispered to himself as he drew his phone close like the little treasure it was. To his mind, a smartphone was akin to magical power. He could watch cats and dogs and look at cute pictures of them, too! He could also just read and play anything and enjoy soft little games.

For now, he settled on reading.

 He wanted to read his favourite little story. It was content made by a creator called “Faeling”, someone using really fancy pronouns like neo-pronouns and such. Hence the name according to their primarily used pronouns: fae/faem

The story was written by faem and was about a hero stealing all the uwus! Or rather, making other people so soft, they gave faem these uwus. It was funny and cute and ended in a lot of nice smooches and cuddles and snuggles.

 Patton smiled and started scrolling.

 Prinxe Eurus was a well-liked person and so adorable and soft, everyone squeaked and said “uwu” when fae was around. There were happy pictures of faem with red hair. Fae walked around in funky gowns and hugged people who would say “UwU” and other things like that really loud. Then Eurus would reach up to snatch these things. The prinxe was young and short than others but fae was athletic.

 “Euwus has uwus..”, Pat observed happily.

 His heart was throbbing in happiness as he read. It was beating fast and hard with how excited he was, anticipating any action that had yet to happen.

This was the best day! Bes!!

 The story continued and Patton read.

Eurus was termed “Euwus” for possessing so many uwus. In fact, Eurus-Euwus had all the uwus of faer kingdom! Faer parents were upset but had no right to intervene. People had given their uwus to Eurus consensually and the people had risked getting their uwus snatched by interacting with them. A lot of people called to stop interacting with the prinxe but a lot of them only talked and were too captivated to stay away from faem.

The vicious circle continued.

 People worked hard to regain more uwus and feel the same rush of happiness when Eurus-Euwus did adorable things like giggle, do the happy stimmy thing or gently just get excited. Fae would gasp and make really funny faces. Sometimes, the prinxe would squeak out nice words, compliments and other things alike and absolutely rob everyone of their uwus.

 Pat hugged his blankie closer.

He was all soft for Euwus and was convinced fae had all his uwus. If not, he would make sure fae would get them.

 There was another illustration. It was the parents looking at Euwus while people secretly smuggled their uwus over under skirts, in bags and other things. It was a row of people, so so long that the queue reached faaaar outside of their castle’s realm. The window showed people standing outside, trying to juggle their uwus in their arms.

 Patton giggled.

There was a little dog and a snake bringing their uwus and putting them down before a delighted-looking Eurus-Euwus.

The little shook his head at the cute puns. They were adorable and made him tear up in happiness. All the good emotions welled up inside of him and piled up - stacked up - until he was full of all the good feelings.

It was called a “recharge” - at least he called it that when he was tol and realised he ran out of patience and adulting juice, so he knew it was time to be smol for a while.

 Without further worrying, the little scrolled more. The best part was yet to come.

 The prinxe soon had all the uwus and collected so many uwus that even neighbouring kingdoms were empty after people travelling from all the lands to come over and experience the lovely joy that was the younger royal.They all had lost their uwus to the charming giggles and delightful demeanour of Eurus. Still, they all hungered for more interaction.

There was an illustration of people lacking ALL the uwus to give to Eurus but they did nto look mad. They looked sad about not having the uwus to fully enjoy Eurus’ company.

 Meanwhile, the next page showed how fae was desperate too, in a way. Fae had so many uwus, it was hard to move around as they took up all this space. Eurus could not even stop taking the uwus as they seemed to just come over and stick to faem as soon as the others were so excited, they just revealed the happy feelings in the form of uwus.

 Patton gasped at the turn of events.

 Eurus had too many uwus and the villages and kingdoms had too little! Fae had become Eurus the uwu snatcher, known to all people in all the lands!

 The prinxe was a clever bunch of royal genes and decided to do something about the uwu situation. Fae decided to run tests while also silently smuggling the uwus back into faer people’s systems. Uwus were used to cook and everyone was invited to a special celebration. The extra sprinkles of uwus made the food even tastier. It was usually tasty because the royal cooks and bakers were great at their jobs and always made the best of foods, using the right ingredients. But this time, the food was astonishingly scrumptious.

 Patton nodded at the words, his mind slurping up the story like Euwus snatched uwus. It was his favourite part.

 He had to admit, he was silently blabbering little uwus whenever he saw them in the illustrations. The next illustration had some uwus too! There were uwus put into cooking pots, pans and other kitchenware. The cooks and baker were busy processing all the uwus in order to make the best of all the meals.

 The citizens deserved regular free meals via invitation of the royal family. This one meal was just a bit more special than usual.

 “Uwu uwu..”, Patton nodded.

 His lips were moving, slightly curved in euphoria. His fingers were wrapped tightly around the phone, his excitement flowing into holding the phone as if even the least bit of letting go could lead to the story vanishing forever.

 (To soothe this fear, he had saved it online, offline and had it ordered as a physical book.)

 Patton kept reading.

 Eurus had fed everyone these uwus and they all felt happiness filling them again but when fae announced this, they realised the change. They had interacted with one another so much, they were happy even without uwus! Being together was a delight and upon seeing the precious prinxe, people fell into a chorus of “aww”s anyway.

 “I snatched all your uwus!”, Eurus had said.

 The people were awestruck but oddly impressed. They agreed but everyone was delighted, still. Filled bellies and glasses provided a satisfaction that paired with the pure gift that was being around fae. But Eurus continued.

 “You are still happy to see me. I could feel your uwus even before I gave you the food.”

 They all agreed, a realisation slowly dawning on the faster thinkers among them. Eurus made sure to explain it to everyone for knowledge was important and fae appreciated faer clever people.

 “I gave you all your uwus back! I had them be put into the food and now you all have your uwus back. Order is restored. I now rule you to use your uwus on one another!”

 The people looked up at Eurus, still too stunned to react.

After a while, people clapped.

 There was another illustration.

Eurus was on the stage, before a few benches and tables of wood standing outside. It was a sunny day and people were dressed casually.Everyone had bowls of food and cups of drinks and seemed to laugh and enjoy all around them. There was a big uwu around faem.

 Fae continued and explaind how all were happy without uwus and that they had a wrong belief about it but had to learn and move on with the new knowledge. Still, as celebration, the prinxe explained fae would send and process uwus from everywhere to give to people who smiled less, so the uwus would be more evenly distributed.

 The people cheered and Eurus was crowned to be “Euwus”. Everyone remembered fae as hero and equaliser of uwus. The food festivals became more regular and the kingdom was the happiest and richest in all the lands.

Not to speak of, it had all the uwus and prospered in people and nature.

 Patton smiled contently and looked at the last illustration.

It showed the people being happy and the kingdom becoming exceptionally green and opulent. There was life everywhere and Euwus and faer family looked at them from their castle and they smiled, having all their own uwus.

 The little put the phone away and snuggled his blanket. Soft noises escaped his mouth. He was blabbering himself to sleep as some young beans did.

His mind was soft and his heart was heavy and all he kind think of was the story.

 “mmmuwu.. mwuwu..”, he mumbled deliriously.

 His head rested on the mess of pillows and he curled up a bit, eyes heavy and slipping close. It had been a successful little time and he was ready to nap in his little happiness now. His mind mind promised dreams of snatching uwus alongside Euwus, the heroic figure of his favourite story.

 “Mw..Euwuw..”

 Patton’s eyes were too heavy to open anymore albeit fluttering a bit for just a moment. He put his face into his soft blanket and curled up like a sleeping dog, innocence in his heart and dreams in his head.

[de-profundis-ad-astra]

WIP INTRO || WRETCHES AND KINGS Writeblr Masterlist

GENRE || Adult Urban Gothic POV || Third person omniscient STATUS || First draft completed, second draft in progress SETTING || Modern day THEMES/FEATURES || Modern mythology, criminal aesthetic, found family, immortality, death, revenge, grief cycle, moral crises, platonic soulmates

SYNOPSIS

An undeniable crime problem plagues the city of Easthold, an affluent city rife with thieves and bandits of all pedigrees. This in and of itself is not all that strange. What’s strange is the incredibly high volume of unsolved crimes, of acts no one has claimed, ones even the Easthold Police Department can’t even begin to find blame for. Even when committed in broad daylight, even when the police arrive on the scene in the middle of a heist, no one manages to catch more than unclear glimpses of the culprits, no bullets hit their marks, and when all is said and done there is somehow never any reliable evidence. No camera ever manages to catch a thing, no trap is ever successful, and never has a single witness managed a coherent report, like somehow none of them ever pay enough attention. Like somehow what they’ve seen can never be put into words.

Throw a stone in Easthold and you’ll hit a crook, from thugs to conmen to masked killers who all call the city home. They all know their place, yet somehow the balance of powers never really makes sense. Like something is missing. Like everyone is fighting to be the second best while the title of top dog remains empty. Not that the reluctance to take charge is all that surprising, considering the way any crew which starts to grow big enough to extend their hold over the city is cut down. Driven out or found murdered, often laying in the remains of what was clearly a vicious shootout, though the killers are never found. Like vigilantes, only not so altruistic; the spoils belonging to the defeated gangs are always taken, only to reappear at the scene of yet another unrelated crime.

There’s something deeply wrong in Easthold. Something strange and unsettling. Like a catastrophic event has knocked the whole city just slightly out of sync with the rest of the world. It’s in the way the EPD have cabinet upon cabinet of unsolved crimes that never manage to make their way into reports, years of unacceptably unpunished offences that would bring the might of a federal investigation if only they were disclosed. In the way a startling amount of those offences resemble crimes from days long past.

There are secrets in Easthold. Things no one knows, things everyone knows, and awful, impossible, inescapable reality they’ve all been trapped within. It’s in the way unease builds and dissipates without cresting, citizens never quite recognizing their own discomfort, never fully acknowledging the oddity of acting without reason, of crossing the street or averting their eyes, of taking the long way home simply because that one corner just didn’t feel right. In the way the city is beset by sudden explosions, the way gunfire rattles, the way streets echo with chilling laughter like the ghost of a memory, the phantom chill of a nightmare, the ceaseless loop of those who will not be laid to rest.

MAIN CAST

MARLENE WALCROFT || As the leader, Marlene has always has to present herself as reasonably level-headed, controlled outside the occasional snaps of frightful anger, a little overbearing in her need to dictate every plan maybe, but what criminal kingpin isn’t? What’s odd is the new fear kept behind closed doors, Marlene second guessing her own ideas to a degree that is wholly out of character, running over plans again and again, pulling them apart and looking for flaws, debriefing even after successful missions when everyone else just wants to celebrate, unconsciously pressing her hand to her heart like reassurance that it’s still beating.

SPENCER MCFARLANE || He may be happier in a no-holds-barred fist fight, but nobody could say Spencer isn’t good with a gun, an excellent shot with just about any weapon he can get his hands on. What’s odd is the little burst of panic he gets right after firefights, patting his own chest, checking again and again like he can’t quite believe he wasn’t hit.

HYRENE BRAEDEN || For all her quick temper and flippant attitude, Hyrene can be utterly pedantic about checking and rechecking the timers on bombs, which honestly isn’t an awful trait. What’s odd is the way Hyrene gets angry about it sometimes, storms about the penthouse yanking out every last alarm clock, the way she swears she can still hear something ticking with furious intention, like the last seconds of a countdown.

TERRANCE PHOENIX || Terrance isn’t wracked by guilt, doesn’t regret what he does the way some might; he’s a killer and he owns it, he chose it, and it truly doesn’t bother him. What’s odd is the way he still can’t sleep, can’t close his eyes some nights when the darkness squeezes close and he feels so cold, like the depths of the ocean are pressing down on him, stealing the air from his lungs. As Marlene’s second in command, he feels the responsibility to hold the crew together in the event that the kingpin finally snaps.

KYE || In terms of safety, Kye is as reckless as they come, all slapdash impulses and delighted disregard, chasing amusement at any cost when it’s only their neck on the line. What’s odd is that sometimes Kye walks around with a parachute strapped to their back and no intention of flying that day, utterly overzealous precaution without any real explanation as to why, like some part of them is always terrified they’re going to fall.

CAIM ROBINETT || Caim drives like he made a deal with the devil, like every vehicle is just an extension of his being, inherent ability paired with unmatchable knowledge of ever backroad alley in the city. What’s odd is the nightmarish daydreams he gets sometimes, when he looked back at his latest baby and sees flickers of crunched metal and shattered glass, the phantom scent of spilled gasoline and the unmissable click-swoosh of a catching flame.

ELIAN REED || There’s nothing odd about Elian. Just an unfortunate case of someone who got caught in the wrong situation at the wrong time. Or perhaps something is off. Every moment spent with her savior, the queen with hair like fire, it’s almost as though she’s in the presence of a ghost. They’re all like ghosts, and she can’t quite place a finger on why. She also can’t place a finger on why not just Marlene, but everyone in her inner circle, is so hellbent on making sure she’s never around them for just a moment too long.

EXCERPT

This job. Shit.

Terrance had his own suspicions about how aware the others were of how frequently he snuck off. Hyrene knew. And that didn’t necessarily mean the others did, too, but it left the possibility. That was enough to set his teeth on edge. Marlene asking him to play such a pivotal role in the job only made it worse.

If she knew about what he was doing now, then she was undoubtedly asking him to do it with the belief that he would not be walking away from it.

And for that alone, he would be sure to prove her wrong. How dare she disrespect him like this. Besides, when he died and woke up still in her home, then that would be cause for a great deal of fun.

He hadn’t been prepared for it all to happen so soon, though. He’d expected another few months to prepare to get rid of the threat that was Marlene McFarlane, but in that time she, too, had identified him as a threat, and was making the first move to see him taken off of the playing board.

“Terrance.”

Not a question of his presence. A statement. He heard the clacking of Marlene’s heels on the hardwood floor before she appeared.

Maybe the first punches would be thrown tonight, then.

“Yeah,” he said in answer, dipping his head in Marlene’s direction as she made her approach. She stalked forward with the gait of someone intent of making him into prey. He did not appreciate that.

“I had a question for you,” she said, positioning herself across the island from him. A smart move, if she really knew the extent to which he could harm her. If he tried hard enough, there wasn’t anything in the world that could bring her back.

But she didn’t need to know that. Not yet. Right now all she needed was the reliable second in command that he had dutifully played the role of for many years. The time for surprises would come later. Perhaps sooner than expected, but they could still wait.

“Go ahead,” he said invitingly, even going so far as to open his hands to her. Nonthreatening.

Her pale green eyes fixed on his mask, still settled near the corner of the island. Her eyes tightened. Okay, maybe a little threatening.

“How did you do it?” she asked.

Terrance laughed out loud. “I’ve done a great many things in this life you’ve given me. You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

Marlene kept her expression flat. Though emotionless, she somehow appeared angry when she asked, “How did you kill a god?”

Terrance paused in the middle of his drink, suddenly finding that he had to channel all of his focus into making sure he didn’t choke up what he’d already swallowed. Carefully swallowing what was in his mouth, Terrance lowered his glass to the counter with a quiet thunk.

“Who’d you hear that from?” he asked, his voice rasping slightly.

“People whisper,” said Marlene with a nonchalant shrug, leaning with her elbows against the surface of the island. “They spin the most splendorous tales out there, do you know that?”

“They’re also a bunch of crackheads who hallucinate half of the things they think they see,” Terrance countered. It certainly wasn’t false.

“But the imagery they spin is so vivid, wouldn’t you say?” said Marlene. “You haven’t heard the tales they tell about you?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“They whisper of the Renegade in a skull mask.” Another flicker of her eyes in the direction of the very same mask. “They worship the ground the Master of Death walks on as he mingles with the living.”

TAGLIST

@firefeatherx @goldenhour-goldenboy @mandoplease @mylifeliterally @phoenixhalliwell @havenforafrazzledmind @living-reminder @beatriz-silva-00 @pascalz @worldominatorx @givemethatgold @agirllovespancakes @lilacyennefer @dignityneeded @veuliee @briskywalker @davairys @aetherwrites @ryns-ramblings @teriwrites

[the-darklings]

Do you have more headcanons for OC!V ? 🥺🥺🥺

OF COURSE I DO, SHE’S MY BABY 🥺🥺🥺

These lowkey also include a lot of V/J & V/S, too. Because I’m trash for them. Also, this got very long oopsie.

Mumbles in her sleep a lot. Her nightmares/dreams are vivid so you can hear all sorts of interesting things being murmured. She often dreams about John and Santino so their names get whispered often. 😌

Adores going to gardens and smelling/inspecting different flowers/plants. One of the big reasons she loved Naples is because she could go and explore and do whatever in the gardens. Same for when she stayed with Camorra. She likes growing her own materials to use in her solutions/poisons when she can.

Santino infected her with the dancing bug. She’s not necessarily that good but she finds it oddly calming and it lets her focus her attention elsewhere and sometimes they do it casually just for a laugh (as if he would refuse lmao)

Back in the day, she used to try and crack John’s stoic demeanour almost daily by doing the dumbest/cutest shit just to see if he smiles/laughs. He liked her far too much anyway but always found her attempts endearing. He never used to have many reasons to be happy but she was like a ray of sunshine in his life.

Every time she does a job for Santino, he always makes sure to sneak in some time just for them. Be it shopping, dinner, visiting local landmarks etc. Even if it’s just sitting together with a glass of wine as long as they’re together.

Training with John always used to be hard and strenuous. He took her progress remarkably seriously (both because he wanted her to be a reliable partner and because he later genuinely didn’t want her to die on him) but she’s pretty ticklish, so there were one too many times when he used to put his arms around her to show her the right stance and she used to start giggling. Her smile could be so disarming, he lowkey just used to soak it up, silent.

She nibbles on her lower lip a lot when she works or is focused on something. You can imagine just how fun that is for John and Santino.

There have been a few times when money ran out for her because Tarasov took the whole cut (usually as punishment) but Winston never once kicked her out of the Continental. In fact, he always used to “summon” her for dinner and “discussion”.

Has a really bad sleep schedule but so does Santino so they often end up ringing each other at like 4am to simply talk. There’s been many times when she has called just so she has someone on the line with her when her PTSD flares up or after an especially draining job.

Sometimes she gets so exhausted that she ends up napping in random spots but only where she feels absolutely safe to do so. The first time she napped in Santino’s penthouse apartment, the man couldn’t wipe the grin off his face for two days.

She likes it when people play with her hair a lot though she’s unwilling to admit it. She always used to close her eyes and relax when John braided it for her, not even bothering to hide her fond smile from him. Santino has a habit of often twirling strands around his fingers and she never stops him, either. She has a bit of a fascination with his hair, too. The man is a smug feline when it comes to her affection.

She’s a big animal person even if she could never have any. That’s why she bonded so quickly with Cheesburger and adores Sofia’s murder bois, too.

The first job she ever did with John ended up going so well, so effortlessly brutal, that it ended up terrifying her. Hearing about John’s skill was one thing but actually seeing it chilled her and awed her at the same time. She ended up giving him a cold shoulder for a bit after, focusing on getting better. It was John that eventually reassured her that he doesn’t expect her to be him just herself but alive. It was the first time she realised she might have misjudged him. Though the comparison and expectation have always shrouded her, especially after John left and Tarasov needed that gap bridged.

One time when Santino was being an especially annoying shit, she texted him a casual, “I’m in trouble. I need your help to bury someone.” The man didn’t even hesitate, “Tell me where.” And she was like 🤡 she still sometimes messes with him though his responses often make her go “????”

One time, Iosef tried to make a pass on her and she promised him that no one will find his body if he touches her again. Iosef complained to his father of course but Tarasov laughed and asked her to have a drink with him instead, saying that making that boy fear something was actually a good thing. Hence the brat’s snippy attitude towards her in Ch4.

She sneakily found out Winston’s birthday from Charon and Charon’s birthday from Winston. She gets presents for both because they’re her family.

Used to really dislike the Albanian crime syndicates but after the blood feud between them and Camorra and V/S managing to secure an alliance, she made friends amongst the new generation of them.

She is!!! So!!! Protective!!! Of!!! Those!!! She!! Loves!!! She’s terrified of losing more people 🥺

Hates sun-dried tomatoes much to Santino’s silent despair.

She often gets involved in Camorra’s “let’s make a bet” game but she’s selective what she bets on because she uses her brains. One time she beat Hector into giving her 100k. The man is still salty about it because he was always the undefeated one.

Peaches are her favourite fruit. In turn, she doesn’t like bananas. They’re like mush. But she will eat them if needed because she’s not picky about food just has a preference.

She actually created Santino’s fragrance first. The idea came to her after Chicago.

While John always knew her name from Tarasov, she still told him properly herself and he only started calling her Clara after she told him. He told her his real name during their last mission together (Dublin job). When it comes to Santino, she told him after she got him back from the syndicate that took him in Prague. She promised him in his delirious state that if he pulls through, she would tell him. She did it when he first woke up.

Santino enjoys teaching her his local dialect of Italian (Neapolitan) if only because he enjoys seeing how her face scrunches up when she repeats the words. She always takes learning so seriously while he’s just there like “you are literally too beautiful right now for me to handle” and keeps grinning/teasing her if only for her to scowl and swat at him, grumbling at him to take it seriously.

She has sneaked a few photos of those closest to her over the years. They’re private and she keeps them with her stash of solutions/poisons in Continental vaults so no one ever finds them. They include: Winston and Charon, Santino and Ares (a few of them three altogether), one of John, her and Sofia and the murder bois, the Elites minus Hector because he’s an ass, Gianna and her, a very reluctant one of Cassian that Step helped her to sneak in amongst others. 🥺

She knew John liked her when he allowed her to drive his car. She usually always rode shotgun and liked opening the windows down to let the wind play with her hair. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine that they were both free and out driving due to enjoyment. John used to always drive just a bit faster, too—almost like he could escape the reality for a while with her.

She’s lonely. She’s very, very sad sometimes, too, but then she sees/eats dinner with Winston or gets a text from Santino or Ares, and remembers that she has people who care for her and her for them. She fights through the bad days for them.

Despite her grousing how irritating Santino can be, she does miss him when they’re apart though she won’t admit it. There have been a few, rare occasions when she’s hugged him upon reunion though, and there is that lingering need in her touch that for once clamps his mouth shut and he doesn’t tease her about it, just hold her close. Knowing that she needs him at least on some level is better than nothing.

[white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen]

Bite (Part Three)

Summary: Peter’s team is invited onto a big case in which their involvement will have serious consequences. (Part 3/3)

Word Count: 5,077

Warning: Some violence and not-so-subtle PTSD

Additional Note: Some prison slang is used in this chapter and explained here for clarity. Shiv = stab, smokes = cigarettes, “a dime” = ten years.

           “I want you to know that I didn’t intend for this to happen,” he said finally, lifting his head. His usually kissable lips were frowning. “And I tried resisting.”

           That made you frown. What was there to resist? Coercion? “Resisting what?” You asked him worriedly.

           That worry only increased tenfold when he answered, “Blood.”

~~~ Bite ~~~

           Of the hundreds, even thousands of things that you knew Neal could have said, what he actually did say hadn’t even made the list – but it sure was eerie, and if his goal was actually to pull your leg, set you off-kilter, then he had succeeded without a doubt.

           “Blood?” You echoed, recoiling and leaning away from him in your chair. His eyes darted briefly to your shoulders as they moved back before he looked to your face again, his mouth tightening unhappily. “What the hell, Neal, I’m being serious!”

           “So am I,” he responded, looking momentarily hurt. “I told you, I didn’t want this.”

           You still didn’t understand. “This – this being what?”

           Neal licked his dry lips and looked over your shoulder, his eyes fixated on a spot on the wall. “This goes back to the Brady case,” he admitted. You leaned back towards him, both to hear his quiet speech and because you had realized you’d moved away. No matter how unsettled you were, you knew your friend would never hurt you and there was no need to put distance in the way. “The last operation.”

           “The one that failed.” You remembered it well. The concern and fear when your team stopped responding, the anger towards Brady, and the sympathy and worry for Neal and Peter, who had both been through an awful experience. Not to mention the paranoia and distrust that had rocked the office in the immediate aftermath. “Someone had tipped him off.”

           “No,” Neal corrected you quickly, and you looked to his eyes sharply. How could he know what had happened? Not even OPR had managed to figure out why the operation took a nosedive. “There wasn’t a mole. Brady had already made us himself from the second Peter went to scare him.”

           How? Peter had worked many high-profile cases, but was careful to stay out of the spotlight, and the bureau had liaisons who did their best to make sure agents didn’t get their pictures out in the media. Did they miss one? Was that how Brady recognized Peter? But then, how had he tied Neal to Peter, and why risk going to prison when he could have simply cut ties with Nick Halden and fled the country?

           “If he knew it was a setup, then why did he call you back to his office?” You questioned.

           Neal sighed softly. “Spitefulness. Pettiness. Malice.” You took in a breath as you understood. It wouldn’t have been enough for Brady to just not fall into the trap. He had to make the feds regret trying to trick him. Neal looked down at his hands and stroked the thumb of one hand firmly against the palm of the other while he kept calm and recounted what had happened. “Peter could have been a cop doing his job. Me, I was clearly undercover, manipulating him.”

           You cut in with another question. “What I don’t get is how he knew you weren’t Nick.” You were very careful in the bureau to keep the identities of Neal Caffrey and Nick Halden separate. “How did he make the connection?”

           Neal hesitated and he looked down again, his beautiful blue eyes training on the repetitive movement of his hands. You decided to give him a count, and if he didn’t answer in ten seconds, you were going to say his name in a stern tone. You only got to eight before he looked up, mouth open to talk. He stopped himself short, swallowed, and turned his head to look towards the glass doors before he started again.

           “He knew I wasn’t who I said because he knew Peter and I had been spending time together.” Neal was shifty in a way you hadn’t seen before. There was his usual fashion of shiftiness, quick and deflective, when he was trying to get away with a lie of omission, particularly when he had come to a case lead through not-so-scrupulous ways. Then there was this – shifty out of discomfort, unease, like he felt squirmy just for thinking about it. “When Peter went to his office, Brady could smell me.”

           Neal stopped, giving you time to think, to catch up, and to understand. You looked at him and he was still facing away from you, so you just saw the hardness in his jaw as he gritted his teeth.

           “Neal, we aren’t dogs, people can’t smell other people,” you exasperatedly started to say, but slowed down. This wasn’t just Neal trying to spin a story. It was his freedom on the table, and if he wanted to lie then he could be much more convincing. It was true that people couldn’t smell other people – but maybe Brady wasn’t a person, wasn’t a human.

           Blood.

           “No,” you whispered, feeling petrified. Had Brady-?

           “People can’t,” Neal agreed softly, looking to his hands again. You could see his knuckles whitening as he pressed into his palm harder, relieving his stress and anxiety with pressure. “Vampires can.”

~~~ Bite ~~~

           Something had been off from the start, but Neal didn’t want to be hasty and pull the plug on a good operation. Though he was guilty of pressing Ruiz’s buttons, Neal understood the agent’s desperation to catch this shady businessman and wanted to do what he could to hold Brady accountable for murder. Brady didn’t have any extra muscle with him, nor did he change the meeting place to somewhere without people in shouting distance, so Neal thought that even if he was twitchy, he wasn’t completely sold on his paranoia. As long as he was careful, he would get out unscathed.

           It didn’t take long for Brady to bring up Peter, which surprised Neal slightly. Maybe the man was jumpier than he had thought. Neal was being cautious and calculating, but on the outside he made sure to be flippant and unruffled, like a pestering FBI agent was neither new nor troubling. Brady didn’t take the offered bait in Neal’s response, though, and instead asked a very pointed question.

           “And what experience would you happen to have with the feds, Nick?” Brady had asked testily, staring down at Neal from where he was sitting on the edge of his own desk. The man’s hazel eyes looked dark and thin around the wide pupils, and Neal decided right then that it was too close of a call. There was too much excitement in his system for it to be a hypothetical question, and a person couldn’t dilate their eyes on will.

           He almost missed the businessman’s hand moving into a desk drawer while formulating a response. “I’ve met a few,” Neal replied evenly, scowling, in character, not appreciating the insinuation that he cooperated with feds. “But none were a very hard sell.” He did see the motion as Brady took his hand out of the desk drawer, holding onto nothing. He was curious what it had been for, but mostly he was grateful that Brady hadn’t taken out a gun.

           “Is that so?” Brady asked, easing himself off the desk. He put his back to Neal, and while he wasn’t looking, Neal let out a slow breath, sure to keep it silent so that his relief wasn’t heard. The company founder circled his furniture and Neal willed him to stay on that side of it and keep the three-foot piece between them.

           “It is,” Neal said, cocking his head to portray Nick’s (earned) arrogance. He just had to wait another thirty seconds, maximum. The phrase ‘hard sell’ was the safe word. There would be at least one, but probably two or three, agents storming in before Brady had a chance to even go for the gun safe Neal knew was behind that framed picture on the wall.

           “Mm. Funny.” Brady commented coolly, staring at Neal like he thought the conman would be easily intimidated. It was almost insulting, really – if a good stare were all it took, Neal would still be a starving street scammer. “Because, see, I know from a reliable source that you’re all buddy-buddy with Agent Burke.”

           It was truly a test of self-control not to give away the mounting anxiety. Neal played it off while counting down in his head. “Sounds to me like you need to get better sources,” he snarked. Twenty seconds.

           “Based on what you’re saying, I can’t trust anyone these days.” Brady just sounded angrier now. Neal wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have just made a move to excuse himself and taken his chances, but it was too late now, and Brady had less than twenty seconds left.

           “It’s a very disappointing world we live in,” Neal hinted stoically. Fifteen seconds.

           Brady opened up a desk drawer and Neal shifted his feet slightly, prepared to get up if the businessman took out a firearm. “Not even myself,” Brady growled lowly, and Neal did hear a growl under the words, like he was in the room with an angry bear and not just a slighted crook.

           “What are you saying?” Neal challenged him coolly, and immediately regretted it, because Brady took out a long dagger with a curved scythe on one side. Suddenly, ten seconds seemed like an awfully long time to wait, so the conman decided to give his team an incentive to hurry up. “That’s an awfully big knife you have there,” he casually remarked while standing quickly from his seat.

           Brady shut the drawer by hitting it with his knee. “I could smell you on him the minute he walked into my office,” the man hissed, a low, animalistic growl emanating from his throat between words. “You’re working for them. You came in here thinking you could take me? I’m the one doing the taking.”

           “Who said anything about fighting?” Neal put his hands up to show that he was unarmed and harmless while backing away. The man was inching around the desk and Neal was still counting two seconds in his head, but now he couldn’t afford to wait patiently. “Listen to yourself. This is insane!” He laughed nervously. Anyone would be nervous when someone was angrily threatening them with a knife that looked like a cross between a dagger and a filleter. “I’m in cahoots with him just because we wear the same cologne?”

  ��        “It wasn’t cologne!” Brady shouted, his forehead turning pink as it crept up his ears and the side of his neck. He took a sudden, lunging step forward and Neal dropped his arms, pivoting on his heel to sprint for the door.

           He hadn’t cleared three paces before a hand caught the back of his shirt and yanked him by the collar. The pressure of his tie knot yanking up into his throat made him cough and splutter while being manhandled towards the left wall. The artist stumbled, feeling an ankle slip and twist, and Brady, who had somehow moved twice as fast as Neal, threw the younger man to the ground with strength not remotely suggested by his frame.

           A kick to the side had Neal on his hands and knees, groaning through gritted teeth and trying to focus on the way out. It had been long enough. There were three agents already in the suite – if they weren’t here yet, then it had to be either they couldn’t hear or they had been trapped, too. Neal prayed for the former. If they heard radio silence for too long then they would know something had happened. Wouldn’t they? Right?

           “It’s not a bad plan,” Brady chuckled, seeming to be over his sudden rage. The growling sound had stopped. “Might’ve worked, too, if I didn’t have this extra ace.” He moved his right hand with the dagger.

           Neal flinched back, ducking his head to protect his face, waiting for the sting of a cut or the pierce of a stab. Neither came, and the apprehension had his hands trembling on the low-height rug. He looked up despite his better judgment and dropped his jaw in shock. Brady had sliced open his own wrist and was letting his blood drip down his hand.

           The man gave him a nasty smile when he saw Neal’s surprise. “This?” He waved the knife carelessly. “It isn’t for you. This is.” He put out his bleeding hand near Neal’s head and he cringed away, keeping far from the blood.

           “What kind of sick game are you playing?” Neal panted, eyes going to the office door, begging it to open. He didn’t care who was on the other side – just someone sane. Someone who would help him.

           “Don’t be such a priss,” Brady snapped irritably. “You’ll have to get used to blood.” He put the dagger slowly down towards Neal’s right side, holding the blade uncomfortably close to the artist’s cheek. Neal gritted his teeth. “This’ll be for you if you don’t. Make the better choice, Nick. Survive.” Neal didn’t answer. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be choosing and didn’t want to give Brady the satisfaction of knowing that he was ignorant and confused. He just stared down at Brady’s hard, polished shoes. “Come on,” Brady coaxed lowly, the growl beginning again. “Play along. It’s eat or be eaten.”

           Neal swore his heart doubled in pace right then as he understood, no further questioning necessary. It was all lining up. It was impossible. It was obvious. The sense of smell, the growl, the speed, the strength, the blood. What did he want more? To stay human or stay alive? Did he even fully know what it meant, to be something other than human in this time? Surely the last time a person made this choice, it was in the days of Salem.

           “Tick, tock.” Brady’s voice had a chilling edge that Neal had only heard come from Adler before. The cold flat of the dagger was pressed into Neal’s shoulder and the clinging drops of Brady’s blood soaked into his suit jacket. “It’s been a long time since I was this generous. I don’t like being ignored.”

           Life or death. Half-life or death. Whichever it was, it was something other than death. Neal didn’t want to die. He had the home he was making for himself during his work-release, and he intended to keep it once he was free. The entire world was waiting for him when he was free. He had friends, good ones, people he loved, that he wanted to see again. Neal didn’t understand why anyone would ever choose death, so truly, regardless of what Brady said, it had never been a real choice to begin with. He had to accept that help wasn’t coming. Not this time.

           Neal didn’t choose to live. He had to live, and he did what he had to for survival. Brady kept the knife on his shoulder with the scythe turned towards his neck, just in case he got any ideas.

           How much? How long? He felt choked by the thick blood in his throat. “Stop,” he pleaded in a cough, muffled by the vampire’s split skin. “No, no.” He started to turn his head but a hand grabbed his hair and yanked him back while the wrist at his mouth pushed harder on his lips. The pain lancing through his skull made his eyes water. The flat of the knife pressed harder into Neal’s shoulder, reminding him how close the blade was to his throat, forcing his obedience.

           As he drank more blood, Neal felt increasingly sick. Like he was forcing down spoiled milk, his stomach twisted and clenched. His face felt hot. This was supposed to turn him? It felt more like poison. The cramping was so bad that it made him lightheaded and he could almost stop tasting the iron on his tongue. The slamming open of the door didn’t register at all in the side of his vision, but Neal did hear Peter’s voice from far away.

           “Drop the knife!” His partner was screaming. The knife pressed harder into Neal’s shoulder and the artist felt the hand leave his hair. “Drop it!”

           The wrist was moved at last. His lips still felt wet. Neal swallowed and gagged, shutting his eyes tightly and pressing his hand into his abdomen in pain.

           “Should’ve known you’d come back for more, Burke. You don’t know when to quit,” the vampire snarled above him.

           The pressure at his shoulder was released and suddenly the legs were gone from in front of him. Neal slouched forward, barely catching himself with his free hand. The colors were blurring and turning feverishly bright. Whatever Brady did whilst Neal was staring sickly at the carpet, Peter didn’t like it; the gunshot sounded like a bomb, like another exploding jet, right in his ears. Neal screamed as he collapsed onto his side. It was too loud. Too loud. No more bombs. He was so hot. The white of the walls was so hot. It all burned his eyes.

           Peter’s voice was angry – no, well, yes, angry but also scared – and there was another bomb right behind him. Neal sobbed, curling in as much as he could to protect himself. His insides felt like they were on fire and he could see, again, the flames of the jet on the backs of his eyelids. He thought he could smell smoke. Explosives.

           All he could think was how it was happening again. He had lost Kate and now he was losing the people he loved, again, in more explosions. They took Y/N, they must have, that must have been the first – now second – bomb. And he couldn’t hear Peter anymore, not since the second – third overall – why did this keep happening -

           “Neal. Neal!”

           A hand shook his shoulder, digging in as tight as claws. “Peter,” Neal gasped, barely able to breathe through the pain and the grief.

           “It’s me, buddy.” His partner’s face was suddenly there and Neal realized he’d opened his eyes. When had he closed them? Peter was swimming. His skin was all bright. Something was very wrong and even though his brain felt like it was baking, Neal knew the problem was with himself. “Keep your eyes on me, okay? Help is coming.”

~~~ Bite ~~~

           Vampires were largely thought to be extinct. If they had survived the periods of hunting and slaughter, then they had opted to keep to themselves in remote locations. Brady must have been one of the few left, and somehow slipped under the radar for decades to avoid being detected. That explained why he was so hard to find a history on. While they were best known (and most feared) for relying on the blood of others to survive, most folk stories said they had superhumanly keen senses. Some reported abnormal speed and strength, but those accounts were relatively new to the folklore; whether or not they were true was anyone’s guess.

           Except for Neal, who didn’t need to guess. Who had learned, firsthand, how quickly those keen senses had set in, and who had torturously learned while his mind was suggestible, terrified, and hazy from the illness and agony of an unwanted mutation. You couldn’t even imagine how horrifying must have been to smell the gunpowder, hear the explosions so intensely, and attach a feverish heat to the brightness of the colors. It was no wonder Neal had called out in the following days.

           “Help did come,” Neal murmured, not meeting your eyes. “But I don’t remember much after that. My memory’s in and out until a couple days afterwards.”

           “So… you’re a vampire now?” Was the first thing you quietly asked him. Neal looked at you and nodded once, jaw tight, eyes looking dark. You couldn’t imagine how angry, scared, cheated he must feel for having this virus shoved onto him. “So that means you need blood,” you continued, talking through your train of thought. Neal had seemed to rebound awfully fast between the first and second weeks after the incident – maybe because he had stopped starving. “The prostitutes,” you realized. “You’re not paying them for sex, you’re paying them for blood.”

           “There’s mutually-assured destruction if they report me,” Neal claimed almost defensively. His shoulders were still open but you could see how badly he wanted to just turn away and fold his arms protectively around himself. “To say how they know what I am, they’d have to admit I hired them. Sex work is still criminal. And, because of their work, most of them get screened every three months.”

           “But you don’t know what they’ve caught in the meantime, or what they might do to you or tell other people,” you said, dismayed. Neal was putting himself at risk in many different ways, and the worst part was it wasn’t his regular brand of headlong overconfidence. He truly did not feel he had any alternatives. “Neal, you could have told us, we’re your friends, we could have helped.”

           “Helped how?” Neal scoffed so harshly that it sounded like it hurt his throat. “This isn’t reversible. I have to live with this for the rest of my life. If I told, and the bureau decided that being this thing makes me a liability, or a public safety issue, then I go back to prison. Being a snitch and a vampire? The first guy to shiv me would win free smokes for a dime. I wanted my friends. I hate what I have to do. None of it was a gamble I could afford to take.”

           You looked down for a minute, understanding. It hurt that he thought his team, you included, might do anything that put him at risk. The last thing you wanted was to see him in prison. He had to have been scared. Upset. Angry. Frightened for his safety and his future, and his health. And what was he going to do if he couldn’t afford a hooker’s prices every week? You were so hurt that he didn’t trust you enough to come to you after you had been so close to taking that step into being more than friends, but as you tried to see it from his perspective, you couldn’t fault him for it.

           “I wanted my friend, too,” you admitted to him, looking up guiltily. If you had pressed sooner, maybe you could have convinced him to tell you everything weeks ago.

           Neal’s face softened in response as he finally loosened up. Strands of dark hair tumbled out of his coif and into his face as he shook his head gently and reached for you, putting a hand on the side of your thigh and leaning towards your chair.

           “It isn’t your fault,” he promised you in spite of his frown. “No one would have guessed. How could you? Vampires are supposed to have died out. I didn’t want to risk myself, and I didn’t want to scare you.”

           “You wouldn’t have scared me,” you promised immediately. There wasn’t even a thought behind it. Neal had never, could never scare you; this you had known for what felt like forever. Even when you finally connected the pieces and knew what he was telling you, there hadn’t been fear in your system. Just shock, and fear on his behalf, and so much sympathy that you almost cried.

           “I scared myself,” he disagreed, implying that you would have been scared, too. He stroked his fingers down to your knee before pulling his hand off. “That first week, everything hurt so badly I could barely speak. Everything was so much brighter and so much louder. Nothing I cooked satisfied the hunger, and then I had to spend eight hours a day surrounded by dozens of bodies of fresh blood.” The conman swallowed hard while thinking about it. “It would be like if you hadn’t eaten in days, then sat for hours in a steakhouse and couldn’t order anything.”

           It should have been chilling to hear Neal compare his coworkers – yourself presumably included – to steaks, but oddly, it wasn’t. You couldn’t pull a Dahmer comparison out of your hat and you still didn’t feel remotely threatened. However desperate he may have been, Neal had never caved. He had never hurt anyone. You had always loved his pacifism and no matter how his biology may have changed, his recount only seemed to prove that his self, Neal, had not.

           “Every time I think I know how strong you are,” you told him, amazed and impressed. “It turns out that I’m still underestimating you.” To be so hungry and so in pain, and to keep to himself for fear, and still be able to function in the office? He had been quiet, sullen, out of character, but functional. That was a feat.

           Neal’s eyes widened just a touch before he blinked and tried to reign in his surprise. The more you talked, now, the more you could see the tension draining from his body. The negative reaction he had anticipated failed to occur, and the artist was beginning to see that there was no need for all his anxiety. His shoulders and back were less straight and he sat more comfortably, more openly, to continue conversing.

           “Ah…”

           Unsure how to respond to your compliment, Neal looked at the matching mugs of coffee still on the table. You now wondered why he had brewed himself one when he had already said that he needed blood to be sated, but then again, Neal had always been a creature of comforts, not just necessity.

           With his left hand, he rubbed the back of his neck. The informant had to think for a moment and figure out where to resume his story. “Right, well…” Neal looked so young with relief and uncertainty on his face. It took a lot of self-control not to just reach out, cup his cheeks, and kiss his forehead with a promise that everything would be okay. He cleared his throat. “At the end of that first week, I realized I couldn’t put it off any further. Nothing was working, and I don’t think I could forgive myself if my stubbornness and my hunger meant I lost control and hurt someone. I found a streetwalker for discretion, and…”

           You put your hand up there. He was clearly uncomfortable with what he had resorted to, and you had already covered his means of sustenance. Neal moved around in his seat to reposition himself.

           “They’re not all willing to be bitten,” Neal said warily. “But someone I talked to knew a friend who charges extra for people who like blood.” You raised your eyebrows. Something told you that the kind of work she charged extra for was different from what Neal was asking, but at least he had found a source. “She was willing, and she’s who you saw last week, too.”’

           “I’m so sorry you were alone,” you told him, reaching out yourself. Neal didn’t pull away from your hand, but he eyed it until you had been touching his arm for a few seconds without moving. “But you were alone. You aren’t now.”

           “I’m used to keeping secrets… keeping to myself… because of my choices.” The artist lifted his head and looked up your arm to your face. He chose his words carefully and spoke haltingly, worrying his bottom lip between phrases. “I’m used to choosing a guarded life... there’s no choice in this.” His eyes looked so deep and so sad. “But I can choose not to bring you down with me.”

           Before you could object that Neal would never “bring you down”, as he put it, or even say that he still had choices he could make to keep his life his own, Neal looked down from you and his shoulders shuddered noticeably while he inhaled an uneven breath. He had to work hard for it, and couldn’t keep it, and had to try again, keeping everything he was feeling held at bay long enough to keep up his strong face and hold a level tone. You wanted to surge forward and wrap your arms around him and hold on until sunrise, and you equally wanted to scold him for acting like a martyr. Before you could choose which to do, he looked up again and his expressive eyes were filled with water that just hadn’t fallen yet. The air was punched out of your sails by that vulnerable, lost look. It was the look of a man who had had everything ripped away from him.

           “I wanted our later,” Neal whispered sadly with a quaver.

           “Later.”

           “I’m going to hold you to that.”

           If Neal thought all it took was one tragically traumatic, life-changing event to rip that away, then he must not realize how serious you had been when you acknowledged his promise and made it your own. You couldn’t fix everything that was broken, but you weren’t leaving him alone. He had made a promise, one he still wanted to keep, and like hell were you going to let him decide for you that the promise needed to be broken.

           His health, safety, security – the two of you were clever, resourceful people. You would find a way. As for his found home, though he thought he was helplessly losing everything, Neal had every right to the life he had earned and he was surrounded by people who cared for him more deeply than he realized.

           You squeezed his arm gently while taking his other hand. Eyes on his, you said solemnly, “I still do,” and forced his hand open so that you could interlock your fingers with his. “And you know what?”

           Neal swallowed and his voice scratched in his throat while he struggled to hold back the tears. “What?”

           You stood up from your chair, took a step to his, and bent down to his level. Neal lifted his head as you moved to follow your actions and when he blinked up at you, his eyes cleared and teardrops swiftly rolled down his cheeks. Ignoring them, you tilted your head to press your forehead tenderly to his. Neal blinked again before shutting his eyes and tightening his grip on your fingers.

           “Later is now,” you told him quietly.

[sireswhore]

Elephant in the Room

Requested? Yes! “imagine a day at the beach with scott before anybody knows you two are together and getting caught by jason and his kids at the beach when they ask ‘isn't that y/n and scott?”

Summary: you and Scott have been secretly dating for a while, your little secret gets exposed by the vlog squad...

Warnings; language, alcohol usage?

“How about this spot?” Scott asks, looking at an empty site on the sand.

“Oh my gosh yes! Perfect, let’s lay this blanket down,” you said eagerly.

You and Scott have secretly been together for about two months now. None of your friends know, and you both were experts at keeping everything under wraps so far.

You guys were so good, that even the fans didn’t suspect anything between the two of you. You both agreed to keep it between each other until the secret simply couldn’t be contained anymore, after all, secrets do have to eventually come out someday.

But today, in this beautiful weather, the two of you were having a date on the beach. Sunglasses were on at all times so you wouldn’t get recognized, although that isn’t 100% reliable, you still felt like the characters on “Starstruck” and that was good enough for you.

After the two of you finished setting everything down, the first thing Scott did was pull out his sunscreen. And before he could open it to squirt some into his hands, you snatched it.

“I’ll do it for you!” You rushed, just wanting an excuse to let your hands run over his upper body. He smirked while laying down, getting ready to let you get to work.

Scott hissed at the coldness of the product on his chest, making you giggle as you kept spreading it evenly on his tatted skin.

Your hands worked on thoroughly rubbing it in, while your fingers traced over every nook and cranny available. You were definitely having a great time, and you haven’t even done his back yet.

“You’re so pretty,” you said as you admired him, finishing the last of the areas you haven’t covered.

He scoffed, “Says you, gorgeous,” Scott tried to wink but forgot that you couldn’t see it, so he smiled instead.

The two of you spent your day vibing to your favorite music, eating, and cute cheesy shit like writing your initials into the sand and piggyback riding to the shore.

And absolutely nothing could go wrong, right? Wrong.

You guys chose the right day but the wrong beach to visit as you both unknowingly came to the same one that Jason comes to with his kids.

He mentioned he was going to rent a house for that same weekend. That detail must’ve slipped your minds because you both were lounging with each other carefree.

You sat in between Scott’s legs, your back against his chest while his arm hugged across yours. Both your eyes focused on the colors of the sky, watching the sunset and talking about how gorgeous it looks.

You turned your head to look up at him, he looked down at you. Scott smiled when he saw your sunglasses had slid down to the tip of your nose, revealing your eyes to him.

Scott lightly placed a finger under your chin before he leaned in you kiss you.

Except it didn’t happen because both of your sunglasses bumped together instead, causing the two of you to laugh.

“Maybe let's take them off for a few seconds, yeah?” he asked.

You nodded, both of you pushed your glasses to the top of your heads and finally met with a warm embrace, reveling in each other's lips.

From a distance, someone could spot them and their whole cover could be blown.

Except someone did spot them, and that someone might’ve blown their cover. That someone was Charlie.

“Daddy isn’t that y/n and Scott over there?” She pointed Jason to where you both were.

Jason saw exactly what she saw, and he couldn’t believe his eyes. He had no idea what to say.

“No Charlie,” he laughs trying to play it off, “that’s not them, they do look like them though,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his head nervously.

“No daddy, it looks like his tattoos and everything,” Wyatt chimed in.

Jason knew they were right, but he just figured to change the subject so they wouldn’t go around saying that to people.

“Guys come on, Scott literally sent me a picture 5 minutes ago saying he was working out in the garage. There's a lot of people out there who may look really similar to the people you know, it’s not them I promise,” he laughs, “c’mon let's go get ice cream before they close,” he rushes as an attempt to distract them from the thought.

And that they did...

_____

A couple of days after, Jason was already spilling the tea.

“...and there they were, on the beach making out and cuddling,” he was telling Carly and Erin in the car, and their mouths hung open like a flytrap.

“NO WAY,” they both said in unison, both in absolute disbelief.

“Deadass,” Jason finalized, and the girls looked at each other.

“Oh my god,” Carly said.

“Who would have thought...,” Erin chimed in, sipping on her drink.

Then shortly the girls broke the news to Matt, who had an even more exaggerated reaction. Soon he told Todd and Zane, Todd telling Natalie, who told David. Zane telling Heath and Mariah and so on and so forth until the entire friend group knew.

Boy that was a lot.

All of them kept in contact with each other, and soon enough they created a separate group chat just to talk about it.

They exchanged thoughts and tried to connect the dots and figure out when this has started going on. All of a sudden they went from Vlog Squad to Scooby-Doo.

Shortly after that was going on, Scott was over at your place, you both received texts from the original group chat saying that we’re all invited to a get-together at Heath and Mariahs the next day.

“So cute! Its been a while since everyone has hung ou- oh my god what if this is an occasion? Do you think she’s pregnant??,” you immediately jumped to conclusions.

Scott chuckled, “Nah I don’t think it’s that serious, they probably just literally want to get everyone to ‘get together’,” he explained.

“You’re no fun,” you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Oh yeah?” next thing you knew he gave you a tickle attack which sent you into a laughing frenzy until you begged for him to stop so you could breathe.

You guys had no clue about what would happen the next day...

__________

“I’m excited for today, I missed having all of us together. Usually, there’s like about half of us hanging out,” you told Scott who wasn’t in the same car as you but he was on speaker as you both drove down to the house.

“Yeah me too, but I’m gonna miss not being able to *be with you* be with you,” he pouted, you couldn’t see him, but you could hear the disappointment in his voice.

“Aw baby me too, but you can be with me after okay?” you told him.

“Ugh fine,” he said playfully.

You giggled at him, “Okay baby I’m almost here I have to hang up,” you said.

“Nooooooooo,” he groaned.

“Yessssssss, I love you bye for now,” you laughed.

“I love you....see you soon,” and you said ‘bye’ again before you hung up on him.

You and Scott both pulled up separately, like you’ve been doing all this time for the past two months.

Scott goes in first, then five to ten minutes later you arrive and come in like it wasn’t planned.

But this time the vibe in the house felt so strange.

Ever since you were let in through the door, you felt as if everyone was glancing at you a little bit longer than usual. But nonetheless, you took it with a grain of salt and shrugged it off.

You all spent time laughing at jokes, telling stories, and whatnot.

After a while, everyone thought it was a great idea to play a game of truth or dare.

“Alright alright, everyone in a circle! Let's play truth or dare,” David shouted.

Everyone who was already sitting on the couch scooted forward, and the rest found a spot on the carpet or on a LoveSac.

You went and found a seat in between Jonah and Jeff, while Scott found a seat next to Todd and Zane. Everyone was surprised at how good you both were at keeping this up, you didn’t sit next to each other, bravo.

Zane had just finished another bottle of corona, and you all used that to pick people at random.

Natalie gave it a spin because she was the closest. The first person to get picked was Corinna, and she was dared to remove her panties and give it to whoever the bottle landed on.

Hilariously enough, the bottle landed on Todd, while the room echoed with ‘oooooh's’ and laughter. What are the odds...

Second was Ilya, and he was dared to lick Jason's toe for a minute. He spent a good five minutes arguing with David trying to negotiate the time, while Jason argued about how he didn’t even get a say in it.

Ilya still did the dare, he did the deed for a good ten seconds at least. David just wanted to see how long he would go.

And finally, the one who everyone has been secretly waiting for, ....you.

The bottle pointed at you and for some reason, your palms started to sweat, and you looked at Scott for a split second before looking at David, who was asking you to choose between truth or dare.

You knew that it was best if you stood on the safe side if David was the one determining your dare, so you chose truth even though it would be equally as bad.

Scott took a swig of his drink to prepare himself for whatever David had in mind.

“So out of everyone here, who’d you fuck?” David smirked, you obviously felt so put on the spot.

Everyone had eyes on you, waiting for the answer they were hoping to hear while Scott slightly choked on his drink.

“Oh um,” you looked around trying to find someone to pick, but more realistically a way out.

“I’m not gonna lie, probably Ilya...,” you lied, you didn’t even believe yourself at this point.

“Oh really? You’re sure you wouldn’t pick Scott?”Zane asked in a daring tone.

All of a sudden your heart skipped a beat before it started racing while your face felt hotter than a teapot.

‘What do they know?’ you thought to yourself.

“W-What are you talking about?” you still tried to act like you had know idea of what they mean.

“Well Jason found you and him at the beach together and since you guys are obviously dating we’d be sure you’d pick him,” David said.

And there it was. The elephant in the room finally has it’s time to shine.

You genuinely had no idea of what to say this time.

Scott was sitting comfortably in his seat quietly while you were getting all the heat.

“Uh, don’t just look at me! Look at him!,” you pointed at Scott to ease the tension off of you.

Now he knew what that felt like.

“Alright alright, we’re together. We’re sorry you had to find out this way…” he confessed.

Damn he cracked quick...

“Baby but why did you keep it from us? You know we wouldn’t judge you for it. We’re here for you baby,” Zane said to the both of you.

“We know, we just wanted to wait for the right time to tell you,” Scott explains, looking at you.

The both of you made eye contact with each other for a little longer than a second before looking away.

“Well don’t just sit there girl, be with him baby!,” Heath scolded, and you blushed, getting up to sit on Scott’s lap.

Everyone cheered when you wrapped one arm around his neck, and he had his wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a small kiss.

Jonah was already over it and he yelled at David to continue the game.

You all laughed before Natalie spun the bottle again, resuming the game.

Scott loved how he could be closer to you now that everyone was focused on something else. He bought his lips to the spot behind your ear, getting chills from his slight touch.

“So Ilya huh?” he whispered, sounding a little jealous but he was only half-serious.

“Oh shut it, you know it’s not true,” you giggled, squishing his cheeks with one hand.

I guess finally talking about the elephant in the room wasn't as bad as you thought...

<3

[thinkyoureholy]

Fragile Figures [1]

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Pairing : Choi San / [fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Some Fluff, Smut, Character Death?, Mafia! AU, Hired Assassin! AU

Words : 3.1k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9. Pt 10. Pt 11. Pt 12.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

I ran through the long corridors of the mansion, Yunho following closely behind as Hongjoong led the way. I cursed at needing these two to protect me like this but we had no other choice. The place was being raided and we needed to get out of here before they found us. I could hear the others fighting their way out from a few floors down, I just hoped they all got out in one piece. Being on the third floor we didn’t have many escape routes to choose from. We couldn’t go down the flight of stairs because we’d be caught for sure so...the only way out was through a window. 

“Shit.” Hongjoong cursed out, coming to a stop at the corridor. 

“You can’t seriously be thinking about jumping from the third floor.” Yunho said, a frown on his face.

“What other choice do we have? We have to make sure she gets out of here and this is the only option.” Hongjoong argued, turning to Yunho.

I ignored the two as I went straight for the window, sliding it open, “Whenever you two are done would you mind joining me on the ground?” 

I lifted myself onto the window sill, crouching onto it. I looked over at the tree that was about five feet away from the house. I gripped onto the window frame tightly for a second before jumping. My hand barely managed to grab onto a branch, leaves falling off the branch at the sudden pull. I grit my teeth as I raised my other arm, grabbing onto it with both hands before looking down. The ground wasn’t too far away from me now so it should be safe to jump down from this distance. I loosened my grip ever so slowly before letting go completely. I cursed when I landed, a sharp pain shooting up my left leg. Fuck, I didn’t bend my knees in time. I put weight on my leg to test how badly it was injured. I let out a sigh of relief when it didn’t hurt much which meant I could still walk on it...for the time being at least, it could be the adrenaline in my system keeping the pain at bay. 

“Y/N...long time no see old friend…” A familiar voice said from my right.

I froze at the sound of his voice. I should’ve known he’d be behind all of this.

“Kanda, you bastard I should’ve known.”

He smirked, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walked over to me slowly, the smirk on his face growing into a full blown grin, “Aw come on now...that’s no way to talk to a friend now is it?”

I scoffed, clenching my hands into fists at the mere sight of him, “You and I know we’re anything but friends. Friends don’t betray each other you back stabbing snake.”

He chuckled, taking a step towards me. I could tell he was trying to intimidate me but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction so I stood my ground. 

“I just saw an opportunity to surpass you and I took it. I was tired of coming in second place,” He said, all traces of a smile now gone, “Once you’re out of the way I’ll be able to run this city the way I want to.”

Before I could respond Yunho jumped down from the tree, landing directly in front of me. He landed so gracefully I was a bit jealous that he could do that. All I could see was Yunho's back as he stood in front of me, blocking Kanda from my view, but that was enough to show me just how angry he was. His shoulders and back were tense like I had never seen before as he stared Kanda down.

"While I'm still around you won't ever get close enough to even touch her." Yunho all but growled out.

"Yunho...I see you're still glued to her like an annoying dog. When will you tire of following her every last command like a good little servant, hmm?" 

Yunho's hands shook with rage, his shoulders much more tense than what they used to be. I took a step forward to put Kanda back in his place, angered by his words. Out of all my people Yunho was the one that had been with me from the start. I'd even go so far as to say he's the most loyal man I've ever met, more loyal than all the others I had taken in. Hearing Kanda call him my servant made my blood boil. He was anything but my servant. Yunho was my equal, nothing more and nothing less. I couldn't get too far as I felt a hand grab onto my forearm tightly. I looked over my shoulder at Hongjoong who had come down just as quietly as Yunho. He gave me a serious look, shaking his head.

"Trust me I want nothing but to rip that traitor's head right off his body but we need to go." Hongjoong said through gritted teeth, his hand squeezing my arm.

I set my jaw at his words, knowing he was right. We had no more time to waste here and I was in no condition to fight, not with my leg the way it was. Sure I wouldn't be able to feel much but I'm sure Kanda saw me land, knowing I was hurt. I knew he'd take advantage of that and go for my leg. I cursed, yanking my arm out of Hongjoong's grasp but didn't make a move to go after Kanda.

"Get going, Y/N. I'll catch up to you soon." Yunho said, his tone lighter as he looked over his shoulder, giving me a gentle smile.

I clenched my hands at my sides, speaking through gritted teeth, "You give him hell, Yunho."

He grinned at my words, giving me a wink, "Yes, ma'am." 

-

"I said give him hell not come back looking like hell." I scolded him, sitting by his bed.

That very night Yunho came back…but not on his own two feet. Mingi and Seonghwa had carried him in, the others filing in after them looking like they had seen better days. Yunho was the only one that was badly injured and after running some blood tests we found out that he had been poisoned. The knife wounds on his body showed traces of venom belonging to a black mamba, Kanda's favorite snake. It was a miracle that we got the antidote in his system in time...if they had arrived even a minute later I would've lost him.

"You should've seen how I left him. I would've killed him if the venom hadn't kicked in when it did." Yunho grinned, looking over at me.

I rolled my eyes at his words, punching his arm softly, "Well as much as I would've loved to see that sight...I'm just glad you're alright. I don't think I would've been able to handle burying you…"

I stared down at my hands on my lap with a frown. I was unaware of Yunho's eyes staring at me with an unfamiliar gaze as I lost myself in my thoughts. I always hated losing anyone from my team. It was my responsibility to keep them safe since I brought them into this dark and twisted world of back door deals, drugs, murder, torture...the side of the world no one wants to acknowledge. I stepped into this world without knowing anything, simply wanting to get a better life for myself. I had tried everything and this life really was the only thing I could do to help pull myself out of the miserable life I had been living until now. I had climbed up in this world, picking my people up along the way. Some betrayed me, some died along the way, and some ran when the going got tough. These seven guys...they were the only ones I had left. And Yunho had been with me the longest so losing him would be too much for me to bare.

"Next time you run you lanky idiot." I mumbled out, keeping my head down to hide the tears that had come to blur my vision.

Yunho chuckled softly, sitting up in his bed as he reached over to pat the top of my head gently, "I needed to buy you some time."

I scoffed at his excuse, wiping away a tear that had managed to escape. We sat there in silence for a moment before the gears in my head started turning. Kanda was a brave one but he surely isn't working alone. I'm sure someone put him up to it and his long history with me made him jump at the opportunity. I sighed heavily, thinking of all the enemies I had made along the way.

"My enemies just keep piling up." I said, rubbing my hands over my face in frustration.

"I already told you we can hunt them all down if you want."

"No," I said quickly, shooting down that idea like all the other times he's mentioned it, "I can't put you all at risk like that, it's not worth it."

Yunho frowned, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at the wall across from him pensively, "I know a guy. He's as reliable as they get...for a paid assassin anyway."

"Can you get in contact with him?"

"Yeah...he should be in the area." Yunho said, pulling out his phone, "The guy owes me a favor too so I might as well use it now."

I sat quietly as he put the phone on speaker, the phone ringing for a few seconds before he picked up.

"You picked one hell of a time to call me, Yunho." The voice said through what sounded like clenched teeth.

Yunho chuckled, a grin spreading across his face, "San! So great to hear your voice, man! What have you been up to?"

"Get to the point, dipshit."

"I need to ring in that favor you owe me. The boss is in need of a hired hand that's as good as you are."

There was a pause before he spoke up again, "How much are they willing to pay?"

"Double whatever you usually ask for." I said, leaning in closer to the phone.

"I ask for quite a lot, miss, you really willing to pay double that?" He asked, a smirk clear in his voice.

"I am."

He chuckled softly, "Fine. Yunho send me the address of your place and I'll be there tonight."

Yunho looked over at me with a raised brow, silently asking if it was okay to send him the address of our safe house. I gave him a nod, trusting his judgement.

"Be here by eight. Don't be late."

He chuckled once more, "I never am," he said before hanging up the phone.

-

I sat in my office, Yunho standing by the door with Seonghwa, the two of them standing guard. I argued earlier with Yunho about this, wanting him to get more rest but he wouldn’t listen to a word I said. I usually only have one on guard but in case he grew too weak from standing on his own  I had Seonghwa join him. I leaned back in my chair, placing my feet up on the desk as I stared at the ceiling. I had just finished going over the numbers for the sales of our drugs for the month, going over the quota I had set up by a large margin. Now we were just waiting for this San guy to arrive. 

Just as I had that thought a figure jumped in through the open window, rolling over his back once before coming to a stop on one knee. We all sprang into action at seeing the intruder. Yunho and Seonghwa both pulling out their guns as I quickly put my feet back on the floor, springing up from my seat as I pulled out my own gun. The intruder lifted their head to look up at Yunho and Seonghwa, their back turned to me so I was unable to see their face. At seeing their face Yunho’s eyes widened before he let out a string of curse words, lowering his weapon. He reached over to lower Seonghwa’s arm, the intruder rising to their feet.

“San what the hell?! Can’t you use the front door like a normal fucking person?! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Yunho yelled out, punching San’s arm none to gently.

San chuckled, doing the same to Yunho but gentler, “You know I’ve never been the normal type. Besides...I wanted to see if you were still on your game like all those years ago. But you seem slower…” 

He trailed off, giving Yunho a once over and took in his condition, “You’re injured…”

“Long story. Anyway before she kills you for scaring us like you did I think you should turn around and meet the one who will be hiring you.”

I threw my gun onto the table, setting my jaw as I crossed my arms over my chest as I waited for him to turn around to give him hell for scaring us like that after the last few days we’ve had. But as soon as he turned around all the words I had on the tip of my tongue disappeared, my eyes scanning him from head to toe. His eyes widened as he made eye contact with me, as if shocked or startled by me but he was quick to recover. I couldn’t stop my eyes from going over his entire body, staring from his black and red hair down to those sharp cat-like eyes of his, over the mask he wore on his face and down to his chest that was clad in black clothing. I looked away for a second, shaking my head before looking back up into his eyes to see him already staring at me. Even with his mask on, I could tell he was smirking underneath it. 

“Ah...a mistake on my part, miss. I should’ve used the door like a proper gentleman.” He said, his tone light.

I tilted my head to the side when he called me ‘miss’, a frown forming on my lips, “Just Y/N is fine...and you should’ve. Had Yunho taken a second longer to recognize you we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“My apologies, miss-” He started but cut himself off, at seeing me raise a brow. He chuckled before bringing a handing up to the strap behind his ear, pulling off his mask, “Y/N. But I was invited. Yunho should’ve warned you of my ways before I arrived.”

Yunho scoffed but didn’t say a word, a toothy grin spreading across San’s face.

“Choi San...is that correct?” I asked, ignoring his words and getting straight to business. 

He nodded, that grin still on his face as his eyes shined brightly, staring into my own.

“I didn’t invite you here to talk about your manners...or lack thereof. I have a job for you...one amongst many.”

“Oh? That’s going to cost you quite a lot of money. You have that kind of cash, darling?” He asked with a smirk, clamping his hands behind his back.

I poked my tongue against the inside of my cheek, my annoyance growing, “I have what you ask for and more. So long as you do a good job I’ll pay you for your work.”

He looked down at his feet for a moment before taking a step forward. The smirk he had grew into a grin once more, a teasing grin. His eyes shined with an emotion I wasn’t familiar with but the mischief was as clear as day. He placed his hands down on the desk and leaned forward, his eyes giving my body a once over before he gazed into my own eyes intently.

“I’m the best this business has to offer, darling, so I can assure you you’ll be more than satisfied with how I do my job,” He said, swiping his bottom lip with his thumb seductively.

I gave him a bored expression, ignoring his obvious advances. I scoffed to myself, men.

“I do require half of the money up front though. So before I can bring you the heads of your enemies I need you to cough up some of that money now.” He said, pushing himself away from the desk, looking around the room absentmindedly.

I looked over to Seonghwa who pulled out a chunky envelope from his back pocket. He chucked it over to San who wasted no time in opening it up and counting the bills inside. The corners of his lips twitched when he finished counting, a small smile tugging at his lips. Just as he was about to stuff the envelope into his coat pocket I spoke up, stopping him.

“How do I know you won’t just run off with my money?”

He chuckled at my words, turning to face me once again, “Every time you give me a job I use my life as a sort of collateral. I have a little tracking device embedded in my arm that can also shock me, and you get the remote,” He said as he pulled out a small device.

I took it from him hesitantly, looking down at the little screen. Wordlessly I pressed the little blue button on it, surprised at hearing a groan fall from his lips. I looked up to see him doubled over in pain, my finger leaving the button immediately. A few seconds after I did that he straightened out, a frown on his face.

“I didn’t think you’d actually press it now. Fuck I haven’t felt that in awhile.” He said, a drop of sweat rolling down the side of his face.

“Why would you give something like this?”

“I told you, it’s collateral. While you’re paying me...my life is yours. This is how I got my reputation and why I’m the best of the best.”

“Dude that’s a little twisted even for you.”

San glared over at Yunho, “It’s how my contractor and I develop trust. It’s worked so far and as you can tell I’m still very much alive. That also tells you how well I do my job."

I couldn't help but smirk at his words. He's very thorough with his work. He's diligent and seems to be a man of his word...I like that. With a small smile playing on my lips I sat back down, bringing my feet back up onto the desk leaning back as I looked up at San.

“Well...it seems like we’ve got all the formalities out of the way. Why don’t we talk business now?”

San smirked, that same mischief from before burning in his eyes so intensely I couldn’t look away. I didn’t know much about him but I knew just from this little encounter working together would be interesting to say the least.

[kittae]

Bittersweet

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Genre: Fluff, romance, angst, fantasy, Mermaid!reader, Hotelier!Seokjin

Words: 2222

Summary: A ‘The Little Mermaid’ x ‘Cinderella’ crossover variation. After dreaming of the human world for almost all of your life, your first night as one of them has finally come. You discover and do so many things for the first time! You also meet someone special. It comes to an end much too quickly again, however, leaving your feelings scattered all over the place and your memories bittersweet.

Your heart has never beat this hard in your entire life. This is it. This is why you’ve risked it all. The exuberant energy seems to make the air vibrate, your senses overwhelmed in the best ways possible. Everything is so unfamiliar, yet so exciting! You vaguely recognize some items in the room, though it’s your first time actually discovering what they are for. As it turns out, the things with sharp ends are used to stab food with, so it’s easier to navigate it inside your mouth! Who would’ve thought?! And this...this sound. You can’t place it, but it’s so pleasing to hear. You keep looking around to see where it comes from, but it seems to be everywhere. People are standing up and moving their bodies to it in a way that fits. You have an urge to do what they do, because it looks fun, but you don’t. You haven’t even mastered walking properly yet and what they’re doing looks hard...

You admit, you feel a tad bit guilty about stealing garments, but you had no choice. Humans apparently can’t go without covering their bodies, so you knew you would stand out way too much if you didn’t follow their example. By now, you know the thing you’re wearing is called a dress and you’ve also tried wearing...wait, what’s it called again? Shoes? Or was it heels? They were impossible, though. They made your already wonky legs even wonkier, so you left them behind. You’re relieved to see other people also going barefoot. They like the feeling of sand between their toes, just like you do. Toes. Isn’t it crazy? You have toes! Toes, feet, ankles, knees, legs! You can walk and run and… Maybe one day, do that thing people do to this fun sound!

Maybe it’s too risky to attend a human party on your first day being transformed, but you just couldn’t help yourself. You saw an opportunity and you took it. After always wondering what it would be like, this just really exceeds all expectations. There are colorful lights, delicious food and so many new sensations for you to discover! A new world is opening up to you and nobody suspects a thing. Perched on a chair at a table, you observe everything and everyone with big eyes. Nobody questions who you are or what you’re doing here.

Too engrossed in your surroundings, you barely notice the waitress going around and balancing as many drinks as the tray can fit.

“Excuse me, miss?” She gently demands your attention, “Would you like a glass?”

You can barely contain your excitement as you shyly nod and take one from the tray, marveling over it as you hold in in front of you. You gasp when you notice that it sparkles, tiny bubbles rapidly rising from the bottom of the glass to the surface! Is it really okay to drink this?

Almost pressing your eye against the glass trying to inspect the bubbles more closely, you break out in giggles when you notice everything looks funny and distorted. You look around the room this way, laughter bubbling in your throat the whole time. You could spend all night just doing this!

The night seems to have other plans for you, however, when you spot a tall figure in the corner. You lower the glass so you could see normally again, to get a better look at the person who caught your attention. He’s not just tall… He’s incredibly handsome, too. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a face like his before.

His eyes fold adorably when he laughs, lips full and plush when he speaks, forehead peeping out teasingly when he shakes his head and his dark brown hair sways a bit. You’ve gone completely slack-jawed without your knowledge as you stare at him in awe, mesmerized by his little mannerisms. You wish the music would stop for a moment, just so you could hear the sound his laughter makes when it’s accompanied by his shaking, wide shoulders. It’s quite contagious, seeing as you can’t help the corners of your own lips from curling into a smile as well.

You quickly avert your gaze when he turns his head in your direction, face heating up while you wonder whether or not he caught you staring. You take a large gulp from your bubble drink to give yourself some posture, yet that backfires when it goes down the wrong way. Coughing and with tears in your eyes, panic rises when you watch him approach until he stands right in front of you.

“Is everything alright, miss? Do you need a glass of water?” He asks, a worried tone lacing his voice. It’s dulled by the loud bass of the music, but it still sends shivers down your skin.

Shaking your head, maybe a bit too vigorously, you dismiss his concern even though you continue to gasp for air in between heavy coughs. He reaches for the carafe with still water anyway, plucking a clean glass from a table and filling it before handing it over to you.

You gratefully accept, chugging down the water in mere seconds and relieving the ache in your throat.

“Better?” He smiles, content to see you’ve stopped coughing and are breathing normally again.

Nodding quietly, you try to figure out how to keep your heart from beating so fast. You feel embarrassed and entirely too self-conscious to speak.

“Good!” He beams, his eyes crinkling in that cute way again. “Are you a friend or family of the bride?”

“I- what?” You ask, a bit caught off guard before you quickly recover, “Ah- yes! Yes, I am. A...friend. And you are…?”

He gives himself a knock on the head, “I’m so sorry! I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Seokjin, I own this hotel. Also the groom’s best friend. And the world’s best looking man.”

“Wow, really?” You gasp, “How impressive!”

Seokjin chuckles. “One of those three things is not entirely true, though. Can you guess which one?” You shrug, not a clue which one to pick. All of them sound plausible.

“I’m the groom’s cousin, not his best friend. The rest is nothing but the truth, though.” He winks and your heart stutters. “I don’t think I caught your name earlier…?”

“___,” You give him your name, your hand flat on your cheek in an attempt to cool it down.

“___,” He repeats, you name suddenly sounding much more beautiful than you’re used to. “I haven’t seen you dancing tonight, ___. Do your feet hurt?”

Dancing….dancing? Is that what these people are doing? You decide to take the risk and be honest. “Ah, no… I just… don’t really know how to…”

He notices your embarrassment, “That’s okay! I’m not exactly a dancing prodigy either. I took some classes, though. Want me to show you?”

Beyond relieved that ‘dancing’ wasn’t something all humans naturally knew how to do, you nod eagerly. You’ve been wanting to try it all night!

Seokjin leads you towards the open space in the room, where other people are twirling and hugging each other as they move.

“Don’t let the dancefloor or the others intimidate you, okay? Don’t look at what they’re doing, let’s just focus on each other at our own pace.”

His hand moves to curl around your waist, eyes seeking yours and silently asking if this is okay. You smile in lieu of an answer, which he takes as a confirmation. He then gently places your hands on his generous shoulders, the heat in your face increasing even further.

Leaning over to reach your ear, his lips only a hairbreadth away, he says, “Just follow my lead. I’ll go slow.”

It’s hard not to interpret his words in a less innocent way, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you simply nod, lost for words. Luckily, it seems talking isn’t really necessary when you dance. Seokjin starts with some simple moves, his hips gently swaying and his feet stepping back and forth. You assume you need to mimic what he does, and you’re surprised to find how naturally it comes. Still, your legs aren’t experienced yet and even standing straight sometimes proves to be a challenge for your brain that’s used to directing the movement of fins in water.

This slight anxiety slowly ebs away, though, when Seokjin appears to be a reliable dance partner as he pulls you close and holds you tight, as if he silently promises he would never let you fall. You don’t know why you trust him this much, but you do. You feel free.

“See? You’re a natural!” He laughs when you’re twirling across the dance floor almost effortlessly within a couple of minutes.

You’re having so much fun, you almost forget how intimidatingly handsome Seokjin is. Almost. Because when you lift your head up after watching your feet move in fascination, you’re reminded of that fact once again. Up close, his beauty is even more dizzying. You make out small details, like the color of his eyes, the length of his eyelashes, how flawless his skin is. He smells so nice, too.

Distracted by his stunning facial features, you miss a step and lose your balance. Seokjin catches you in time, as expected, eyes wide in surprise as you lay back in his arms.

“Are you okay?” He asks, “Did you get hurt?”

“I- I’m fine! I just slipped…”

Seokjin carefully helps you upright again, suggesting you’d both take a break. As you stroll out of the large party tent, the beauty of the beach reveals itself in all its glory. The full moon stands bright and tall amidst the dark night, guiding the waves of the ocean you know so well.

“Aren’t you cold?” Seokjin asks after a few minutes of walking next to you as you talk about the evening, about yourselves. You mostly listen to what he says, since you’re not sure about what you should tell him about yourself and you just enjoy hearing about him.

You shake your head, gesturing with the large scarf you’ve draped over your shoulders, “I’m okay, I have this.”

He hums, but suddenly stops walking. “___, I- I’ve had a wonderful night so far and I think you’re really great...um… I’d like to see you again after this and I was wondering–”

A ringing sound abruptly interrupts him, making your ears perk up in curiosity. Seokjin apologizes as he fishes a weird, small box out of his pocket to press it to his ear. He even speaks to it!

“This better be important. You- what?! Right now? Okay, I’ll be there in a moment. Try to keep things under control until I’m there. Yeah.”

You don’t understand a single thing about what just happened or why he was talking to this strange object, but it made you even more curious. Seokjin, however, looks distressed. Did the box do something to him?

“I’m so sorry, ___, I need to go back to the party to solve a problem… Would you… Would you mind waiting here for a couple of minutes? I really won’t be long, I promise.”

You nod, “No worries! I don’t mind waiting.”

“I’ll be back in no time!” He smiles, grabbing your hand a leaving a swift, cheeky kiss behind before he dashes through the sand in the direction where you came from.

You stand perplexed, staring at your hand like it’s suddenly no longer a part of your body. This entire night feels like a dream, an incredible, wonderful dream. One you never want to end.

Sadly, reality hits you hard, and your feet are being put firmly back on the ground when you notice how the moon isn’t the only thing reflected in the dark ocean anymore. The sun has started to rise, shyly peeking out above the horizon and creating a dark blue gradient inside the black sky.

You start to get anxious, knowing it’s only a matter of minutes now. Having had so much fun, time has flown by so quickly you hadn’t even thought about it. You can’t stay here. You can’t wait for him like you told him, and it’s already breaking your heart.

This is the hardest Seokjin has ever run in his entire life, he believes. The minor problem was resolved quickly, so he could return to you fast, as he promised. Early mornings at the beach can be very cold this time of the year, so he grabbed a coat before he left. He imagines the scarf probably doesn’t do much keep you warm.

Confusion strikes him when he arrives at the place he left you only fifteen minutes ago. You’re nowhere to be seen, not even in the distance. Your scarf, made from a thin, pink fabric, got caught on a pole and bellows in the wind. He takes it in his hands, frantically looking around the beach in hopes of catching a glimpse of you. The wind carries his voice as he calls out your name while he runs across the length of the beach, not knowing you could hear him from inside the water, further in the ocean. Hot tears join the sloshing waves as they retract together with you, away from the beach, away from Seokjin. Until the next full moon.

[himbowelsh]

Hello! Can I please request the Valentine‘s Day Alphabet for Malarkey please? That would be wonderful, Thank you in advance!!! 😍

valentines day alphabet  ( accepting! )

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

He’s a hugger. Just a very physically tactile person  ---  like, Don speaks about three love languages at once, and honestly loves giving affection more than he likes recieving it? While he thinks very little of clapping people on the back of hugging them, he’s also very eager to do things for the people he loves, in order to show his devotion and dependability; he might not be able to fix the leak in his mom’s sink, but he really wants to try! And spending time with someone, making memories, is very important to him, so Don loves having people whose company he can just be comfortable in.

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

Don has a very healthy appreciation for flowers, and a keen eye when picking them out; bouquets are his go-to for any family celebrations, and he’ll usually find them pre-arranged at the florists and pick out whatever appeals most to him. He’s tried to look into flower language, but found it overall goofy, and didn’t felve too deep into it.

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

Chocolate! Literally just  ---  chocolate everything. It’s got chocolate on it, he’ll take it! Actively despises white chocolate’s existence, but would beg on his knees for a Snickers bar.

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

Don...  would love to do something unique. Fun and unique. Maybe go to a dog park, even if you guys don’t have a dog. Maybe go roller skating! Maybe rock climbing, or to a weird museum exhibit...  something exciting, where he and his partner can both enjoy themselves, laugh, and learn something new about each other. More than anything, he wants to make some memories to smile back on later.

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Please give him hugs. He relishes them, he cherishes them, he needs them. Don will usually be the one to initiate, but if someone hugs him first? Ooh, he just loves it. His hugs are very secure, very warm  ---  sometimes a little too enthusiastic, if he grabs someone while excited, but he always means well.

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

He doesn’t try that hard, to be honest. Don’s got a straightforward, good-natured manner; while he’s not a talented flirt  (if he tries to hard, he inevitably says something ridiculous)  his milkshake still brings plenty of takers to the yard.

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He doesn’t always get it right, but he definitely always tries. Don’s got a proud record of never missing a birthday or holiday, even if his gifts are...  questionable sometimes. (”Why did you give me a used toaster for Christmas? Where did you get it? Is it yours? There’s still bread inside ---”)

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

Quick  ---  dangerously so. Don is a lover, not a fighter, and he’s got such a big heart; his capacity for love is outstanding, and he gives it freely without a clear understanding of how ephemeral it is. He doesn’t think things through, like, “I shouldn’t fall for this person because they’re dating someone already” or “I shouldn’t let this guy become the best friend I’ve ever had because he could get blown up in a Belgian forest tomorrow”. Don doesn’t let himself care for people. It just happens, and he’s really helpless to stop it.  

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

He has to get to a certain point in the relationship....   but he’ll probably be the first to say it, and once he’s started, there’s no stopping him. He wants to say it all the time, just to feel the words bloom like a flower inside his chest. He loves his partner, he loves them, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

Here’s the thing  ---  Don needs trust in a relationship. That’s one of his biggest things. His partner is a confidante, someone he feels safe sharing his emotions with, and he can’t do that if he doesn’t believe he can trust them. Don’s not the type to overreact if his partner goes out with friends, or if he spots another person flirting with them. He’ll take it in good humor. As long as they have that bond, he trusts them completely...  and would be devastated if it were ever betrayed.

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Don’s kisses are 97% concentrated emotion, and that translates through his every action; he’s hesitant, he’s eager, he’s tender all at once. He pulls his partner close, a hand firmly planted on their waist; the other’s likely to find the small of their back, steadying him, because Don’s the sort of person who needs to anchor himself while kissing. Gentle is the best word, because he would never want to overstep a boundary  (he’s a gentleman); he is very in-tune with his partner’s feelings, going only as quickly as they’ll let him.

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

So many people!! So many!! Don loves his family deeply, and has such a wide circle of friends that he cares for with devotion. Don is just the sort of person who loves people easily, and when he does, he puts it all on the line for them. 

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   is morning or night a more romantic setting?

What’s wrong with afternoon? Cozy, not to hot, not too cold, some nice sunshine...  and he still gets to sleep in.

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

A lot of energy, not much finesse. Don is extremely eager to please...  which can be a great thing, but also cause problems at times. He’s not clumsy, but does tend to take more risks than he should. If he thinks he can lift his partner up? Let’s try it. If this surface looks stable enough? Let’s hop on! This has led to some...  mishaps. Thankfully, Don knows how to appreciate an absurd situation. He’s not afraid to laugh at himself in the middle of the act, and this makes it easy for his partner to feel at ease as well. It’s very important to Don that his partner feels comfortable; he would never enjoy anything too rough, anything that would leave them in pain in any way. Enjoys being told what to do. Probably pretty into body worship? He just...  loves to admire his partner, loves to make them feel good, and is willing to devote all his energy towards the cause.

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

He’s a pretty simple guy, but is well-spoken in his own way  ---  not a poet, by any means, but has a particular way of getting his point across that resonates.

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Someone who loves to laugh, who brightens any room they walk into; who can be gentle and gregarious in equal measure; someone who doesn’t mind silence, and who understands that some days are not always good ones. They absolutely have to be an animal lover. If they like music, wonderful! If they can bake...  like, Don really likes baked goods, so that’s amazing. If they have a kind heart? That’s an absolute must. He’s got a weakness for bright eyes and dimples.

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He’d ask, and actually be quite firm about it  ---  he doesn’t want to be asked, he’s got a plan, and it’s going to be great. Don’s the sort of guy to recruit his friends on a whole elaborate proposal, and would love public proposals  ---  but before doing anything, he’d test the waters to the extreme, dropping hints left and right just to see how his partner reacts and if they’re open to the idea. He wouldn’t propose unless he was 99% certain of their response. Frankly, Don’s not the most subtle about it, so by the time he finally drops the question, his partner probably sees it coming a mile away.

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s sure got a romantic soul, but life’s out to prove him wrong.

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

Don had his fair share of elementary school girlfriends, and was the favorite of a few teachers  (he was an adorable kid, okay?)  but none really stole his young heart.

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

He wants to, so desperately. He wants to believe in love, to believe that some people are right for each other and simply meant to be. He definitely believes that love is the strongest force in the universe, and that once someone enters your heart they can never really leave it... but true love will always be a question, until he experiences it.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

...  my man...  lost five of his closest friends in the span of a week...   his heart has been stomped on, smashed, steamrolled, ground up, and used as seasoning for someone else’s soup. The last thing he needs is more heartbreak.  (Outside of that, like...  Don’s the sort of person who takes things very personally, and awful things...  wear on him over a long period of time. His heart is very strong, but it is tired.)

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

Definitely doesn’t take it seriously, but he enjoys it! It’s a good opportunity to go on a romantic date, if he’s got a willing partner, and to get creative about it  ---  because whoops, he forgot to book a restaurant in advance, so now they’re going to have to go to the park and feed ducks or something.

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

Yes! Absolutely! He’d love to get married! Like, it’s not something he’s ever given much thought about, but the idea of a happy family really appeals to him  ---  not to mention, having something reliable and stable to come home to at the end of every day.

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

He doesn’t use them prolifically, but he’s been known to whip out the occasional “sweetie” or “honey”...   or something goofy like “sugarbuns”, when he wants to get a laugh out of his partner.

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

He’s...  I mean, it depends on which stage of his life you’re talking here. Pre-war Malarkey, who doesn’t really know what it’s like to lose someone? More likely to go with the flow, just laugh things off if someone’s encroaching on his partner. (Again, he trusts his partner very much, and that’s a huge component in their relationship.) Postwar Malarkey? Ooh man, absolutely protective. He’ll jump if it seems like anyone’s making his partner uncomfortable, and has no problem getting in their face about it. Depending on the situation, he’ll either politely but firmly suggest they back off... or tell them to, or else.

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

Look...  he’s a social boy. He’s not shy. If someone’s willing, and they’re flirting with him, and they want to...  he’s also a very active young man who is honestly never not in the mood, so...  there have been a few. A good few. Maybe he’s lost count.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #122

UPDATE 122: Kill the Endbringers

Last time Dinah had been taken to a hospital, and there was a very good chance Skitter would get everyone in trouble by letting her desires and ‘I know what’s good for you’ attitude cloud her judgment. Thankfully, she realized that before it was too late! Now what? Let’s find out.

Well looks like Dinah is convinced she won’t be accepted back into her home. Wow, the chapter has barely started and things are looking pretty rough already. Reminder Dinah is young. This kind of thoughts must hurt, wow. Skitter, trying to smooth things over, promises she will be received with arms wide open. Welcome home, Dinah!

“They will want you.  Just wait,” I said.  “They’ll welcome you with open arms, and there won’t even be a hint of fear.”

Oh dear. Don’t make promises that are out of your control, Skitter. Seriously, if this doesn’t go like she is saying it will...that’s going to scar Dinah so badly, and completely break her trust on Skitter. This is not good at all. I hope Dinah’s fears aren’t rooted in reality, I really do.

She even is worried because she looks pretty bad, consequences of Coil’s mistreatment and also the drugs. She thinks it’ll remind her family she has powers and freaks people out with predictions. Hmmmm...with some luck seeing her so...um, emaciated may invoke feelings of pity, perhaps some guilt if they’re aware Dinah feels so out of place. I almost would suggest she takes a look at the odds she will be welcomed back, but...but I fear they may not be favorable. Oh, geez...ignorance is bliss?

I’m not even human anymore.”

“You’re definitely human, Dinah.”

“Then why do they call us parahumans?  Doesn’t the ‘para’ part mean half?  Paraplegic, only half your body works.  Parahuman, half human.”

Hmm...is that really what ‘para’ means? I mean, paranormal sure doesn’t mean it’s half normal, it’s way above that. Paragliding is...um, it sure isn’t half gliding. Parasite doesn’t mean half a site, it’s all about adding an intruder into a body. The conclusion I’m getting is that ‘para’ is not really a reliable prefix. Thank you for coming to my linguistic discussion, was it too noticeable I have no idea what I’m talking about?

The next paragraph is Skitter making the point I was making, that ‘para’ doesn’t really mean ‘half’. She even brings up the word ‘paranormal’, like I did! Aaah, same wavelength! And she finishes her argument by saying her parents can’t judge her for stuff she didn’t choose. To that Iiii will have to disagree. They certainly could. They shouldn’t, but they could. Nothing to do but hope they don’t. I wonder if perhaps Skitter will get to talk to them before they see Dinah? I’m not entirely sure it’d be a good idea or not, but...perhaps she should consider that. Maybe.

The reason why Skitter is so aware of things like prefixes and semantics is because her mom used to be an English teacher. She has continued paying attention to that sort of things as a way to remember her. Honestly that’s pretty sweet of her. It’s...it must be nice to have something to remember your deceased loved ones by, like that. I’m glad. Speaking of family! She also mentions how she has a father, and how he is, well, not someone she has seen for a while because she puts him in danger.

As expected, the effects of Dinah’s withdrawal happen pretty quickly. Dinah is already heaving, with Skitter holding her hair. Damn, I hope she’ll be okay – but she says she won’t, the painkillers didn’t help at all. Afterwards, she says once again there’s no way her parents will accept her. You know, from how many times she’s saying it, I’m starting to fear she’s right. I want to think they will, but...with how much she has repeated it...I fear she’ll do something that’ll force the futures where they don’t accept her.

“And even if they do take me, it’ll be weird, because they can’t ignore my power now.  They pretended I didn’t have one.  Pretended I was an ordinary kid.  Pretended the headaches didn’t mean anything, like they pretended the heart disease wasn’t a thing.”

“Heart disease?  You?”

Dinah shook her head.  “Not me.”

She didn’t elaborate.  Related to her trigger event?

Oh. There’s that too. It’s going to be impossible to pretend things are fine and back to normal when Dinah was kidnapped because of her powers. I mean, measures will have to be taken so something like that doesn’t happen again, right? That’s got to include some sort of tinker technology, or guards, or something. Also, they’re a former mayor’s family. That could be used as a cover story of sorts for any noticeable security measures.

Reassuring Dinah this is the drug withdrawal talking, Skitter gets a comb and tries to make her look more presentable, so at least the parents don’t have a first sight of a young, haggard girl in the middle of the throes of withdrawal. Golly, I get shivers just from thinking about how Dinah will look. She’s feverish, she’s sweating like crazy...this won’t be pretty at all, obviously. But surely Dinah’s parents would look past all that and take her back, right? At least because seeing her like that will make them worry. Right?

...right?

Dinah asks Skitter to go knock on the door and bring her parents out. It’s time to face the music, let’s see how this particular subplot ends. Crossing fingers for a positive result! Skitter goes to the entrance and rings the bell, it doesn’t work. Instead she knocks on the door and lets a pair of flies go inside, she finds Dinah’s parents. The father takes a frying pan and gets ready, in case it’s an attack.

...

Skitter still has her costume on, doesn’t she? Cripes, what a thing to find when you open the door. No wonder the father closed the door right away! Damn! Still, I’d like to think that, if villains were to attack a residence, they wouldn’t be politely knocking on the door. Not that this fact is going to make the dad lower his guard, is it.

Of course, their first reaction is to think Skitter is trying to extort them – a reasonable thought, given she’s a villain and the first thing she says is that she has their daughter! Well, she said she brought Dinah, but still. Skitter hurries to make things clear, and doesn’t mince any words. Better that way, probably. Better for them to be aware of what Dinah is going through, than seeing her sorry state and then fall into more despair. I mean, the blow will be hard, but it’s...easier when you’re aware of what’s coming, no?

...

Gosh, that must be a nightmare for any parent.

“She has abilities, then?” the dad asked.

Oh. They didn’t know? If they didn’t, then that really adds to Dinah’s fears, then. Would they accept her, even though she has a power? Honestly, I had interpreted it all as the parents trying hard to pretend she didn’t, but...there’s really no point to feign ignorance here. Even if Skitter is a villain, she already has Dinah in her clutches.

Even though Dinah is still afraid, she accepts Skitter’s help and steps out of the car, being brought towards her family. Contrary to what Dinah was predicting – and much to my relief – her parents don’t hesitate to approach. The mother immediately hugs her, the father comes behind just a second later, which I’m sure was more out of caution towards Skitter than because of anything from Dinah. There we go! A family reunited, and there doesn’t seem to be even a bit of trouble brewing. Times will be hard for them, given Dinah’s withdrawal, but I’m sure they’ll be fine. I hope.

The father even thanks Skitter! Which she tries not to acknowledge. The guilt of having been indirectly responsible for the kidnapping in the first place, you see. There’s also something else, something that’s somewhat selfish, but perfectly understandable, in my opinion:

I wasn’t sure I felt good about that.  I’d gotten this far by making the most out of every resource I had available, and by being smart about things.  This was throwing away a resource, tying my own hands.  The decision felt dumb, even as I knew it was the right thing to do.

I know, right? It’d have been so tempting to try to convince Dinah to stay and give advice about how to fight the end of the world. Dinah herself saw that in the cards, so to say. If Dinah hadn’t said it, I think Skitter would have kept her, justifying that with how it was to prevent the end of the world. She’d have promised herself that she’d return Dinah once the end of the world was averted, even if that took two years, no? I don’t know what the rest of the Undersiders would have said, but I doubt they’d have tried to return Dinah to the family. All in all, Skitter has done the right thing, even though it may feel dumb right now.

With nothing else to do there, Skitter asks the driver to get going. She also finds two pieces of paper, probably left by Dinah. I hope they’re not meant to be private, because Skitter will have to ask someone else to read those for her. Perhaps they’re little predictions about odds? Possibly about the end of the world?

Scene cut!

Heeeere’s the team! The team and also Ballistic, who isn’t part of the Undersiders, but personally I’m not discarding he may join in some manner. The situation kind of demands it. Parian is also here.

I turned to Parian.  “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Tattletale got in touch.  I… I apparently missed a lot.”

“You’re up for this?”

“No.  But I want to know what’s going on, in case it affects my territory.”

Oh dear! I’m pretty sure it involves the entirety of Brockton Bay. Welcome to the Noelle situation, Parian, we’re very screwed right now. There’s only one hour and forty minutes until dawn, and then it’s showtime. Probably.

There’s been one sighting of Noelle. What’s she doing, I really have to wonder. Is she just wandering around aimlessly? Either way, Parian makes a wiener dog for everyone to ride, which is simply hilarious. Here comes the cavalry, riding a wiener dog! Hah! Awesome.

“This is so lame,” Imp said.  “How are you supposed to build a decent rep if you’re caught riding a wiener dog?”

Aw, come on, Imp, it’s great! Don’t be like that.

There’s some nice banter that ends in Imp having to settle for the plush wiener dog, while Skitter rides on Bentley with Heckpuppy. Along the way, Tattletale asks if everyone is okay with she taking charge, and they all ask Ballistic for an assessment of how dangerous Noelle is. Give the deets, pal!

“It’s why I’m here.  Consider Noelle a triple threat,” he said.  “She’s strong, she’s got nothing to hold her back, now, and she’s smart.”

She’s a natural tactician, he says. I’m going to have to doubt that a little, not because I doubt Noelle isn’t smart, or able to come up with plans. I’m doubting it because, well, she was in a gaming team. That’s completely different to something like this. Skills usable there may not transfer to other things. Still, it’d be bad to underestimate Noelle. It has been said a lot about how she’s very dangerous, I’m sure she’ll be a genuine threat.

Whooops, Ballistic is sitting out of the fight. So is Parian, but that one isn’t really terribly surprising, Parian has nothing to do with any of this beyond protecting her territory. The reason why Ballistic is sitting out is because he’s sure Noelle will use him against them somehow. That’s...a reasonable concern, really. It can happen.

...is Skitter seriously underestimating Noelle right now? Come on, you can’t be serious. Ballistic says the reason why Noelle was fooled with all the lies she was told was because she trusted Trickster blindly. Even though he got her into this situation in the first place, technically? I guess that, although she blamed him, she saw him as the only one who could help her. He being the only one visiting her must also be a factor, I’m sure.

“He became team leader more because he’s fast at thinking on his feet than because he’s good at making the right call.  He took it on himself to make a whole lot of wrong calls.  I let a lot of that slide because he used to be a friend.  And maybe because they weren’t blatantly wrong.  Just a little wrong, a little disagreeable.  But at some point every call was a disagreeable call and every word out of his mouth became a white lie.  He started lying to us for what he saw as our own good.  Not Noelle with her delicate state, but us.”

I read earlier Noelle was good at being intuitive and making moves because she read the situation well. This paragraph here makes it sound like they named Francis the team leader because he was the closest they got in terms of skill.

Speaking of Trickster! He may make things much worse, or he may be of help, depending on if he’ll help them or not. Personally I think he won’t help. Tattletale just said his focus would always be on Noelle and himself. No way he’s going to do a thing if it’ll hurt Noelle, even if it’s to save Brockton Bay. What does he care, if this isn’t even his world?

There’s some briefing about what Noelle can do, I don’t really see anything we don’t already know. What’s important to remark here, at least the way Ballistic says it, is that they have to get this all done before Noelle makes clones. Parian tries to say those clones are people, Ballistic quite reasonably says they’re not. And yeah, they’re not. The way those Cody clones were acting...yeah, I doubt they could be considered people. Oh boy, there’ll totally be some clones going on, right? I bet some if not all of the Undersiders will have to face clones of themselves.

As a general rule I still don’t like clones, but...honestly, the way Worm is doing it, it seems like it could be interesting to read! Neato!

The regeneration will be somewhat troublesome, especially since it’ll make it much harder to kill her. Skitter right away says she doesn’t want to do that unless there’s no other choice. Hum.

Ballistic turned my way, and he had a funny tone in his voice as he asked, “How do you think you’re going to handle this?”

“Containment,” I said.  “If I get enough spiders together, I could try to surround her in web.”

Hum. You know, I’m not sure containing her will be a terribly good idea. She has gotten stronger; the kind of long-term containment she’d need would have to be carefully planned in order to work. She can’t just be shunted into the Birdcage, after all! And anything can happen in the time it takes to finish a vault or something to contain her. It’s way too dangerous, way too risky. I’m not sure it’s worth it. I hate to admit it, but...maybe lethal force has to be considered? Because Noelle is pretty close to being too dangerous to not subdue lethally anytime soon.

I mean, personally I think it’s not impossible the characters will figure a way to defeat Noelle without killing her, but...given the situation...I admit lethal force is more and more like a necessity here. Oh well! Skitter has been really resourceful in the past, it’s not really impossible she’ll figure something out!

Still, Tattletale accuses Ballistic of having no consideration towards Noelle because he’s suggesting to kill her, and needless to say, Ballistic didn’t like that at all. Geez, Tattletale. That could have been handled waaaay more tactfully. I can’t blame Ballistic for deciding to leave right away, he doesn’t even wait for the sausage dog to stop moving before he gets off. Welp! There gooooo all the chances of Ballistic joining the Undersiders. No way it’s happening now, or at least it’s much less likely.

Then again...maybe I’m being too callous about Noelle? I just think she is a huge danger, given everything that’s been shown. It’s always possible I’m just taking it waaaay too callously. After all, it’s way easier to make these calls when they’re fictional characters in a story.

In what’s another possibly bad move, they try to convince Parian to fight. She refuses, asking what she can do to protect her territory. She’s not interested in dealing with Noelle.

“I really don’t think we have a choice.  You fought Leviathan,” I said.

Parian shook her head, “I almost wish I didn’t.  I only did it because I promised myself when I was a kid, when I first learned about the Endbringers, that I would fight them if I ever got powers.  That’s why I did it, because I didn’t want to betray the kid version of myself.”

“Wouldn’t your child-self want you to do this?”  I asked.

“I don’t know.  But I didn’t make any promises to myself about this.”

Honestly I can’t blame her for not wanting to get involved in that. Leviathan is an Endbringer who threatens to destroy so much of the world. Its name makes everyone tremble in fear. Noelle is...well, for now, she is more of a domestic affair for the Undersiders. I don’t discard the possibility Parian will have to fight at some point, but right now? I think it’s fair she doesn’t join the fight.

Not really any time to discuss it further, because they encounter the heroes. They’re right over there. Hi! Guys, there’s a pseudoEndbringer about to destroy the city! It’s another day in Brockton Bay – and I’m so making that the slogan for Worm: It’s Another Day in Brockton Bay.

Miss Militia is here, and her immediate reaction is to aim at them with a rifle. How welcoming. There’s some wreckage here, and Miss Militia wants to know if the Undersiders had anything to do with it. Skitter very truthfully replies they were indirectly responsible, which...is that really the best thing to be saying?

...maybe, because it’d be coming out at some point, anyway.

Miss Militia’s reasoning is that there are reports that fit with what the Undersiders have done in the past, and a hero has been kidnapped. Huh. Noelle is already making her move, it seems! How screwed are we?

“Vista,” I finished Miss Militia’s thought.  “You’re talking about Vista.”

Huh. That so? That’s one versatile combatant out of the fight, indeed. I remember Skitter had mentioned earlier that they should ask the heroes’ help so they could bring containment foam and also have Vista use her powers to help. That’s going to throw a wrench into Skitter’s hopes for containment. Right now, though, the priority is explaining to the heroes they didn’t do this...directly, and that Noelle is a huge threat. That shouldn’t be hard to convince, right? I hope, at least. Time to take a look!

...or not. It’s an interlude. Well, I guess that was a time for a cliffhanger, but it certainly wasn’t what I wanted to read, I admit. I wanted more of the current situation. I hope this interlude will be worthwhile, because...yeah, I wish I could skip it to continue with the story. But hey, let’s tackle it. Onwards!

Kevin Norton, hm...the name doesn’t sound familiar. Then again, it’s likely it has been a while since I read it, so it’s not impossible I just don’t remember him. Hell, it’s possible a Norton was already shown and this is a relative. Who could this man be? He has a dog, too.

“I’ve saved millions of lives.  Billions.”

Another hand signal bidding another small woof of agreement.

He’s making some hefty claims, too. I won’t be surprised if he’s telling the truth, though. A lot can happen in Worm. Who knows, maybe he singlehandedly prevented a widespread tragedy, by foreseeing it or something. Who knows.

Nobody’s paying Kevin Norton any heed. Some parts of his clothing are pretty much falling apart. Kevin talks to the dog he’s with, saying he’s not getting much money and calling himself ‘the most powerful man in the world’ when asking for money. There’s not really much success here, so instead he decides to give the vital backstory info for the reader’s benefit. Just who are you, Mr. Kevin Norton?

Seems like he was in this area ages ago, and so much has changed since then. Kevin reminisces, remembering people who treated him well, and hopes they’re okay. Meanwhile, he gets some comfort for himself by saying he has a lot of responsibilities and he hasn’t shirked them – in fact, he makes it sound like the mere thought of having left them aside is the worst thing that could ever happen.

Also, he’s very alone. Nobody to support him, it seems. As if the world wants to make things a little worse for him, it starts raining.

Seems to me Kevin has regrets. There sure is a lot of talk about courage and cowardice here. Perhaps it’s related to he being the most powerful man in the world, according to himself? Maybe if he had been a little braver, he wouldn’t be in that position – like being the most powerful man in the world ruined his life. It’s one of those ironic things so popular in fiction, no? I wonder what’d be Mr. Wildbow’s take on it.

A woman gives Kevin ten pounds. So this is England, most likely. Quite a distance from Brockton Bay. Kevin braces himself for the judgmental scolding people who give him a lot of money usually give, and the woman doesn’t do anything like that. Instead, she makes conversation, praising the dog and asking why it’s called Duke. Kevin brings up once again he’s the most powerful man in the world. Boy, he’s fixated on that.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Hm?” he perked up, withdrawing his hand.

“You had a look on your face.”

“Just wondering when the last time I had contact with another person was.  Might have been a few years ago.  Pastor gave me a hug as I left his shelter.”

“That sounds so lonely, Kevin.  Years without human contact?”

“Not so lonely.  I’ve got one friend,” he said, scratching Duke’s head.

Lisette nodded.

“But you shouldn’t forget.  The little stuff.  Even a handshake?  That’s something special.  Meaningful.  Value it, even if you get it every day.”

A lonely existence with many, many years without contact. Meaningful contact that wasn’t, say, the brush of fingertips when giving money. Makes me wonder what kind of life Kevin used to have before. So much melancholy in his tone, that’s for sure.

Kevin asks the woman – Lisette, is her name – to walk with him while he talks about himself. While the woman comes with him after some hesitation, she keeps her distance because hey, no harm in being cautious. Kevin starts talking. The beginning of his problems happened when he got into a relationship with a woman who in the end wasn’t really the right one for him, but he doesn’t blame her for his trouble. In the end, Kevin realized he’s gay. Still, that wasn’t the cause for the destruction of his relationship, anyway. It turned abusive in pretty much all ways possible, and Kevin left after a while. Since then he’s been living on the streets.

The place he has taken Lisette to is where he slept first. A bit of nostalgia there – I guess...we all look to our beginnings, huh.

Lisette is asked to hold Duke’s leash for a moment while Kevin got to the water’s edge, splashing some on his face. The situation takes a turn for the unexpected when suddenly there’s a golden man floating there. Huh. Parahuman, no doubt. Duke seems a bit...hm, ears flat against the head is a sign of apprehension, right? And Lisette is speechless.

You know, unless something changed very drastically in Worm and I don’t recall/didn’t notice, there’s only one golden guy floating around untouched by debris and dirt. Is this Scion? Did Scion just...appear out of nowhere to hang out here?

“Hello old friend,” Kevin said.

The only answer was the pouring rain.  The golden man didn’t speak.

“Wondered if I would see you here,” Kevin continued.  “Been a long time.  I’d nearly convinced myself I’d imagined you.  That old dog over there, he wasn’t even born when I left, and he’s on his last legs now.  Twelve years old.”

Apparently he did, and it’s not the first time. Kevin had met him before, in this same place. Probably after leaving that abusive woman. Kevin nonchalantly returns to Lisette, and reveals Scion wasn’t ever that guy’s name. An alias, really, like all parahumans have.

This here is the reason why Kevin is the most powerful man in the world. Oh, please give more details! I’m actually intrigued by that. What’s up?

So, looks like I was right in that he met Scion shortly after he fled, encountering him and finding out Scion is sad – even if golden man’s face never changes, he’s sad in the inside, and has always been. Kevin hadn’t liked that and went to shout at him for being more miserable than Kevin was back then. Since Kevin wasn’t instantly vaporized with a laser beam back then, I guess Scion didn’t take offense to that.

In a fit of frustration, Kevin shouted at Scion why doesn’t he go and help someone. Why doesn’t he do something useful with his powers like save people or something. I guess he didn’t use to do that before, hm. And so, since then, Scion has been the hero everyone knows...because that’s all Scion has, it seems. He’s empty, according to Kevin. Saving people is...pretty much all he has. So that’s why Kevin says he has saved billions – he gave Scion the push to go be a hero, and therefore countless lives have been saved. Good thing it was Kevin who found him, then. If Scion was as easily influenced as Kevin is making it sound, then someone coming and telling him ‘hey, go commit crimes’ could have happened too, and things would be so much different right now. Maybe there’s an alternate universe fanfic with such a premise, it could be interesting to write and/or read.

According to Kevin, Scion understands, he just...doesn’t say a thing or react much or even does anything. He marches to the beat of his own drum, except when Kevin gets his hands in the way and makes him stop the beat for a second.

“It’s almost like he’s autistic,” Lisette said.

“How’s that?”  Kevin asked.

“Too connected,” Lisette said.  “Too much in the way of stimuli, drowning everything out.”

“Enhanced hearing, hearing the whole city at once?”

“Maybe.  Or maybe he senses things we don’t,” she said.  “The most powerful person in the world, and looking at him now, he’s like a child.”

Huh. Interesting thought. I wonder if that’s what’s going on. Sensing too much at once, and willfully having to cut the connections to things – or perhaps even unconsciously as some sort of protection mechanism for his psyche. Could be, no? If so, it’s a bit of a miracle Kevin got through to him at all. Hmmm...lucky, that was.

“Why?  Why avoid him?”

Kevin didn’t take his eyes off the golden man.  “He scares me.  He chose me to listen to, of all people.  I’m the most powerful person in the world, just because of that.  Because I can tell the strongest, most capable man in the world what to do.”

Hmmmm...yeah, that sounds like it can be kind of unnerving. Scion is...a mystery. His origins are unknown, all that’s known is his actions, and those are thanks to Kevin. Kevin’s nudging is what has built Scion, pretty much.

At this point I just have to wonder if maybe there’s something up with Kevin and he doesn’t know it. I mean...there’s always the possibility Kevin is being deceitful in some way, but...I don’t know, something about him seems kind of sincere. I don’t think he’s hiding something. Why is Scion listening to him, of all people? There has to be a reason, no?

Still, that’s...such a scary thought. Because since Scion doesn’t even give any indication what he’s thinking, or how he’s interpreting things, if Kevin says a wrong word some bad stuff could happen, and I think Kevin is well aware of that. Honestly, anyone would be terrified. I know I would.

It seems Scion returned every once in a while just to listen to Kevin talk. Kevin just...tended to oblige, not really minding it much, until one night Kevin said something. Something that somehow got a reaction from Scion, and given how it was established he doesn’t bother reacting to anything, that’s very significant. Kevin doesn’t say what it is, but later Scion said it and the entire world latched onto it. That scared Kevin to no end. Okay, what was it? No way this intermission won’t say it! With all that’s been said about it, Mr. Wildbow just has to, no? I want to know!

“What did you say, if the word wasn’t Scion?” Lisette asked.

Ah, I see. So, I don’t really remember the details about Scion’s one and only word, but I faintly recall it was, well, ‘Scion’, and that’s why they’re calling him that. It seems Kevin said something and Scion latched onto it, but it actually was a word similar to that one.

Shenanigans ensue when it’s revealed it was actually Xion, because Kevin is a huge Kingdom Hearts fan and wanted to share some theories he had been building.

Okay, no, hah! Just joking. That’s just what came to mind when trying to think of something similar to ‘Scion’. I got nothing, I admit. Can’t think of a word.

“Only realized later.  Was talking about home, religion and family.  Talking about a memory from my childhood.  Don’t even remember it that well, now.  But the word he paid attention to was Zion.”

“That’s Hebrew, isn’t it?”

I went to search ‘Zion’ in Google, of course. The first result is Zion, a reggaeton singer, but unless Scion here is about to bust out some urban rhythm, that can’t be it. The next result sounds more like it:

Zion (Hebrew: צִיּוֹן‎ Ṣîyōn, LXX Σιών, also variously transliterated Sion, Tzion, Tsion, Tsiyyon) is a placename in the Hebrew Bible used as a synonym for Jerusalem as well as for the Land of Israel as a whole (see Names of Jerusalem).

That’s from Wikipedia, of course. So, as I see it, maybe it can be a hint about an origin. Nothing indicates Scion popped up into existence twenty years ago or whenever Scion first appeared floating in the air, maybe he has existed for way longer than that and heard that word before. Could be a hint about origins? Hm...

The other possibility is that it’s not so much something related to him, instead it’s something he’s familiar with. Or maybe he’s searching for it. I don���t know. Something’s up with that word, that’s all that’s plainly obvious. Doesn’t seem Kevin here has any ideas, either.

The reason why Kevin came here was to talk to Scion, and make a request. Seems that Kevin once told Scion to go fight the Endbringers, but he fears he wasn’t specific enough, that maybe he should have said to kill them so they couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. That because of that, Scion just...wasn’t bothering to try all he could to kill them, and that because of his bad choice of words, a lot of people have died. Boy that’s terrifying. It’s pretty much what I had said earlier. Part of me almost hopes this doesn’t work, if only so Kevin doesn’t blame himself for all the death and destruction.

Kevin is close to death. He came here to get his affairs in order, which he’s doing by telling Scion that about the Endbringers, and also by telling him to come to Lisette here if he ever needs anything.

Kevin sighed.  “I’m here to get my affairs in order, and you’re most important after Duke.  I want you to keep doing what you were doing.  Help people.  Try to communicate with the good guys more.  I told you to do that before and you didn’t listen, but you should.  And if there’s a problem, if you need someone to listen to, someone to visit from time to time, look for this young lady.  Lisette.  Because she’s good people.  She’s a better person than I am.  Braver.  Has to be braver, if she’s stopping to talk to a homeless motherfucker like me, following him someplace.”

Wow. That’s got to be pretty awful for Lisette. Here, Lisette, you deal with the superpowered guy who doesn’t even give any indication he wants to listen to you. Honestly, it’s a bit of a curse, given how much grief that brought Kevin, and how Lisette, who is privy to why exactly it made Kevin so antsy, will have to undergo it too. It sucks for her, honestly. Goodness gracious.

I’m not sure if Scion will come to her or not, but...what’s done is done, no? Guess she...well...will have to deal with it, if he does come. I know it’s not like Kevin could have asked her permission because really, who’d say yes? But still, wow, that’s rough for Lisette.

Of course, Lisette seems kind of panicked about this. With good reason!

Kevin didn’t turn around or stop walking as he raised his voice to respond over the sound of the pouring rain.  “Good deal, isn’t it?  Ten pounds to become the most powerful person in the world.”

Methinks she may be regretting giving those ten pounds, honestly. That’s pretty rough.

That’s where the interlude ends. I see the tags here, where the character names usually are written, only has ‘Scion’. I guess that means Lisette won’t appear anymore, which is...understandable, honestly. What are the odds she goes to hang out in Brockton Bay for no reason at all? As I see it, it’s possible she’ll appear in a future interlude, but that’s it. I hope she’ll be okay, even if she was given this burden to deal with.

So, the intermission was...it was interesting. Somehow, although half of the time I’m annoyed by intermissions, Mr. Wildbow always manages to deliver. I can’t remember an interlude I ended dissatisfied with. I guess next time the story continues! But for now, this update is over.

[patandpran]

The Nuisance and the Handsome Prince - A Sarawatine Medieval AU - Chapter 7

Tine is an aspiring Squire who has been training his whole life to work alongside the Kingdom’s finest Knights. Sarawat is a Prince who, on the outside, seems fierce and unapproachable. He is disinterested in any of his royal duties, namely his Knight training. What happens when Tine is assigned to be the fierce and handsome prince’s Squire?

Find the Masterpost here Read on Archiveofourown here.

It was the morning of the Ball when Tine realized he had nothing remotely appropriate to wear. Since they did not have morning training, Tine and Ohm were lounging in one of the castle gardens, basking in the sun when Tine sat up straight and blurted out, “What are you wearing to the Ball?”

“Mil lent me something.” Ohm explained nonchalantly and pulled out a few tufts of grass to roll between his fingers. “Did not ask ‘Wat’ if you go borrow something?”

Tine elbowed his friend in the ribs, “Would you please leave that? Also, I can’t exactly ask the Prince to lend me some of his formal wear. It would be worth more than my family’s home.”

Someone cleared their throat from behind a rose bush and both Ohm and Tine quickly jumped to their feet just in case it was someone of higher rank than them that would give them hell for doing nothing of value on their morning off even though both of their Knights had suggested they relax before the Ball that evening.

A stranger emerged from behind the flora wearing the most extravagant robes that both Tine and Ohm had ever seen. The two friends were so in awe that both of their jaws dropped simultaneously as the stranger approached, a very amused look on his face.

“So, you are the Squire that I have heard so much about…” The stranger purred before holding out a hand to Tine and Tine was not sure whether the man wanted him to shake it or kiss it. Tine received it awkwardly and shook it slightly before bowing his head in respect as it was clear this man held higher rank that he and Ohm.

Ohm stifled a laugh at the exchange and the stranger retracted his hand before continuing as he circled the two Squires, “My name is Sir Green. I am the Royal Outfitter and I was just making my daily wander through the Garden when I couldn’t help but overheard someone might just need my services.”

Tine swallowed slowly. “I am sorry to refuse your services, Sir Green, but I do not have the means to pay for an outfit made by someone of your stature.”

Green laughed so intensely at Tine’s words that Tine started to wonder if he was a Court Jester instead of a Squire. Ohm’s eyes widened in discomfort as Green settled in front of them, looking them both up and down.

“I have already personally designed your mask for this evening’s Ball, Tine, as per the Prince’s request.” Green explained, clasping his hands together. “I only need your word to fit you for the robes I was imagining to go with them. The Prince assumed that you would want to wear your own attire but I am more than happy to outfit you for this event…. if you will have me.”

Tine looked at Ohm to seek approval or advice from his best friend and Ohm simply smirked at Tine in return. Tine turned back to face a very expectant looking Green and answered, “How could I possibly refuse?”

+++++++

Phukong wondered how many potential suitors his parents had invited for Sarawat to meet. He knew that Princess Pamela would be in attendance but Sarawat was likely in for a very exhausting evening. Phukong did not envy his brother and his current position. Just as his parents did not pressure him to pursue Knighthood, Phukong also had much more freedom when it came to his romantic endeavours, not that he had every actively or openly pursued anything.

The moment that he walked into the Ball, Phukong felt like his senses were overloaded and it does not help that his vision was slightly obscured by the mask that he had made himself. It was an eloquent but simple design that he had hand-painted to look like rippling water. He wore light blue to match his design and hoped that his movement on the dance floor that evening would match the water that he was trying to emulate.

The room was full to the brim and already Phukong felt like a shadow wandering through the darkness. People rarely paid the second Prince much attention, mostly because Sarawat was mysterious enough and while Phukong was a bit more social than his brother, he also preferred smaller crowds to large throngs of people that this kind of event called for.

Phukong made his way toward his parents who were perched on their thrones in the far North corner of the ballroom. They both looked quite focused so they were likely watching to see if his older brother would find anyone suitable enough to take the throne next to him someday in the future.

“Magnificent.”

Phukong was stopped in his tracks by someone murmuring the word in his ear. He turned quickly to see a figure wearing a fierce looking bear mask so realistic that it made Phukong stumble a few steps backward.

“Your mask is magnificent, Your Highness.” The figure expressed. “I apologize as mine seems a bit too fearsome for you…”

It took a moment for Phukong to realize that the person complimenting him was Lord Mil. Phukong blurted out, “No, no, it’s fine. I just didn’t realize it was you, Lord Mil.”

An amused smile appeared on the Lord’s face, “I have heard from your brother that you are quite the accomplished artist. Did you make the mask yourself?”

Phukong was thankful for the mask on his face as it concealed the blush that was in full force on his cheeks. “I did. Thank you for your kind words.”

“Seems as if I should have asked you to make me one.” Mil responded before looking around anxiously as if he was suddenly aware of how public of an exchange they were having. “I… uh… must be off, Your Highness, but I hope you enjoy your evening.”

Just as the evening before, Mil was gone before a greeting could even pass through Phukong’s lips. He turned to watch Mil disappear into the crowd and hoped that he and the Lord would cross paths again at some point that evening.

+++++++

Ohm and Tine had spent the last few hours with Green poking and prodding Tine as he altered the robes so they fit Tine like a glove. Ohm had briefly taken a reprieve to change into the fine robe that he had borrowed from Mil and Tine had been surprised by how put together and handsome his best friend looked in formal attire. Ohm and Tine were also pleasantly surprised with their discovery that the more time you spent with Sir Green, the more likeable the man became. He had very keen sense of humour and was as a gossip like Fong but his information seemed a bit more reliable than Fong’s. Tine was glad that he had crossed paths with the Royal Outfitter.

Once Green had finished the alterations, Tine put on the robes and were shocked by how comfortable and light they were. Green did not have any mirrors in his alteration quarters so Tine had to rely on Ohm’s reaction to gage whether the outfit worked or not.

Ohm’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked Tine up and down. Tine worried that it was too much for a moment before a smirk spread across Ohm’s lips and his best friend declared, “I don’t think a Lord or a Lady in attendance tonight will be able to resist you.”

There was a light knock on the door and an excited looking Fong popped his head into the room. “Please excuse the interruption but unless you three want to miss the whole Ball, you ought to get your feet moving.”

“Sir Green is always fashionably late.” Green explained dramatically. “I make a statement with my tardy entrances and my extravagant outfit reveals but tonight I was selfless and poured my heart and soul into Tine’s ensemble. I am sure you will be the talk of the Ball, Tine.”

Green attempted to shoo Fong away but Fong kept his ground, staring past both Tine and Green at Ohm. Green rolled his eyes and disappeared behind a curtain to put the finishing touches on his own outfit. Tine followed Fong’s intense gaze and realized that he had not introduced his two friends.

“Fong, this is my childhood friend, Ohm.” Tine shared, looking between the two young men. “He is working with Lord Mil as his Squire but I’m sure you already knew that…”

“It’s always nice to put a face to a name.” Fong murmured and Tine could not believe how mesmerized Fong looked.

“Ohm, this is Fong.” Tine expressed and Ohm bowed his head to Fong who was utterly taken aback by the respectful gesture. Ohm greeted Fong by saying, “Lovely to finally meet you, Fong. I have heard only good things about you from Tine and you already seem to live up to his word.”

Tine watched in fascination as Fong became flustered by Ohm’s compliment and Ohm beamed at the castle servant in return. Green appeared suddenly wearing a mask that was topped with peacock feathers and announced, “We will be off!”

“I hope to see you again. I am sorry that you cannot attend the ball. You deserve a night off more than any of us.” Ohm shared with Fong before Green, Tine and Ohm made their departure.Tine took one look back at Fong and saw a lovesick look on his friend’s face. He could not wait to talk to Fong the next morning about what he thought about Ohm.

It did not take long for the trio to make their way through the castle halls to the Ballroom. Ohm and Tine ascended the staircase to the main ball room entrance with Sir Green only a few steps behind, Green’s long cape dragging up each step as they walked up. Tine was sure it was going to be a tripping hazard but if it brought Green attention, it was likely intentionally constructed to make crowds part.

Tine’s breath was swept from his lungs when he reached the top of the stairs and saw just how extravagant the Ball was. The periphery of the room was lined with tables heaped with decadent food and linens that Tine was sure were softer than he had ever slept on. Curtains hung from the windows with thick embroidery honouring the colours of the royal family. Chandeliers shone with candles and crystals that looked as if they were dripping icicles from the ceiling.

The true spectacle was the sea of dancers in the middle the ballroom. They moved in such beautiful synchronicity that Tine could not bear to look away. The ebb and flow of their waltz could lilt a baby to sleep just upon viewing it, like a visual lullaby. While Tine did not plan to partake in the dancing, he was more than happy to spend the evening observing the intricate patterns of choreography that the members of the court made with their bodies.

“They really did not cut any corners with the decor, did they?” Ohm leaned into whisper the thought in Tine’s ear so no one could overhear it.

“Truly.” Tine murmured in agreement.

Green walked directly through the two friends, causing them to spring apart in surprise. He handed the Announcer their name cards as made his way to the top of the stairs, ready for the ballroom to react to his melodramatic entrance.

Tine loathed that his presence to be announced in such a public fashion but it was the way of such events. He wished there was some sort of side door that he could have snuck through instead but Ohm coaxed him ahead as Sir Green’s outfit received thunderous applause.

“Why don’t you go first?” Tine hissed reluctantly to his friend.

“Fine, you scaredy cat.” Ohm teased and pointed to his namecard as the Announcer clearly did not recognize him. Ohm turned around and winked at his best friend before walking to the top of the staircase to make his entrance.

As soon as Ohm left him Tine’s ears filled with a buzzing noise, fuelled by his nerves, no doubt. Everything went out of focus and he felt as if was going to faint. He did not like attention on a good day, especially if it was off of the training field, and he knew that the outfit that Green outfitted him in was sure to catch the crowd’s attention. As he had been instructed, he pulled up the crimson hood of the robes before he stepped forward to the top of the steps…

++++++++

“Squire Tine Teepakorn.”

Sarawat turned quickly at the announcement of his Squire’s name. The hustle and bustle around him came to a standstill as the entire crowd seemed to suddenly fall under the spell that Tine’s entrance made, even the dancers paused mid-step. The Prince could not believe his eyes. There was no denying that Tine was handsome but that evening was utterly captivating.

The Squire wore a hood made of crimson red that resembled blood pouring from an open wound. As grotesque a sight as it might be, it somehow complimented the natural rouge of Tine’s lips perfectly and made his moon pale skin stand out in stark contrast. The mask was just as deep of a red as the hood and the fitted cloak that accompanied the robes. The robes themselves were such a deep black that it made Tine seem like a living shadow that was floating down the stairs as Tine made his descent into the ballroom. At the end of the robe’s sleeves was red lace that fell elegantly against Tine’s wrists in a way that made Sarawat grit his teeth.

Sir Green had truly outdone himself. Not one person in the Ballroom could look away from Sarawat’s Squire and the Prince felt a protective feeling blooming inside of his chest that he had to fight to keep from acting upon.

The silence held for a moment until Sir Green called out, “It looks as if the court approves!”

Tine looked completely mortified by Green’s words but they helped to resume the happenings of the ball as the members of the court gossiped and discussed the mysterious man’s outfit. After a few moments, the flow of the Ball continued on as if no interruption had ever occurred but the effect of Tine’s entrance on Sarawat was seared into him permanently.

Sarawat wished he could seek out his Squire immediately but he had his duties to pretend to attend to so that his parents would believe that he was at least ‘trying’ to find a suitable person to spend his life with even though there was only one person that Sarawat could not seem to get out of his mind.

++++++

Phukong watched from his post next to his parents as Lord Mil clapped a hand down on his Squire’s shoulder jovially. Phukong felt his stomach lurch in protest at the sight but he scolded himself for the action as he knew he had no right to be jealous over Mil and his Squire’s relationship. Their connection was, of course, stronger than his and Mil’s but it didn’t hurt any less to see them together.

Before he could control himself, Phukong found himself crossing the ballroom to them without a shred of plan of what he was going to say when he got to them. He did not have much time to think about it either as crowds tended to create clear pathways for you when you were part of the Royal Family. He quietly cursed his ranking and his heart sank completely when he noticed that Mil had left his Squire on his own. Phukong wished he could backpedal but the Squire was already making eye contact with him.

“Your Highness.” The Squire greeted and Phukong was instantly irked by how kind the young man seemed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Was Lord Mil not with you?” Phukong blurted out before he could stop himself. He winced at how rude the words were before continuing, “I apologize, Squire Ohm. That was rash of me. It is also a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“You know my name?” Ohm sputtered in surprise and a lopsided grin appeared on his face.

Phukong saw what Mil liked about the Squire. The man had a lighthearted spirit about him and his smile was undeniably infectious. Phukong quickly realized why Mil liked him so much and an envious feeling flooded him that made his fists clench, not that he would ever use them for such a petty purpose.

“I know of you.” Phukong answered carefully before noticing the robes that Ohm was wearing and recognizing them as a part of Mil’s wardrobe.  The realization caused the fire already lit in Phukong’s chest to blaze even stronger.

“Lord Mil talks about you quite often.” Ohm shared with the Prince and Phukong was surprised to hear it. “He tells me that you are quite the artist…”

“I dabble.” Phukong responded, almost defensively and played with the edge of his mask self-consciously.

Ohm noticed that Phukong seemed to be somewhat uncomfortable. The younger Prince was much more open and approachable than his older brother but they both seemed to struggle somewhat with social interaction.

“It was lovely to meet you.” Ohm nodded gently. “I am going to try my hand at some dancing but I am sure we will cross paths at some point again.”

Phukong watched Ohm disappear into the crowd and a truly ill feeling consumed him. He didn’t want to feel this way and the fact that his jealousy was making him loathe someone he barely even knew was enough to inspire Phukong to keep his distance even more from Mil.

Caring for someone so deeply was turning him into a creature that he would be more than ashamed of if he were to truly look at his reflection. Phukong needed to embrace the reality that Mil did not see Phukong the way that Phukong saw Mil before it caused the darkness that was already spreading through Phukong to reach any further.

+++++++

Tine wandered through the crowd. He was not sure where is exact destination was but he wished he had never agreed to wearing Green’s outfit as there were far too many eyes on him when he would much rather be on the invisible side of things. Blending in was not an option.

He wanted to find Ohm but his best friend had started off without him. The ballroom was so full that it was difficult to decipher who was even a few feet in front of you and with the added visual distraction of wearing a mask, it was nearly impossible to locate anyone that he remotely recognized.

Tine saw the King and Queen up on their elevated platform. They both looked incredibly put together and Tine noticed parts of both of them in Sarawat. The Prince had his Mother’s striking eyes and his Father’s sweeping locks. Both of Sarawat’s parents looked as if they were greatly enjoying themselves and it was a bitter reminder that, despite their higher class, they were still very much human.

Tine realized he had not seen the Prince yet, despite the evening being mostly about him. Tine did not know what mask design Sarawat had gone for but it was seemingly disguising him quite well as Tine had yet to recognize the Prince amongst the crowd. Tine was sure they would encounter each other at one point but he would have to make an effort to see the Prince or he would never hear the end of it from Wat.

He found a spot at the edge of the ballroom and leaned against the wall, the fabric of his cloak pooling around his feet. From there, he could watch the members of the court mingle and watch the dancers without having too many eyes on him.

Tine listened as the music came to a resolution and the dancers paused to see what the next song would be. He watched as a few new court members took the dance floor and a murmur spread through the crowd as two people made their way to the floor, a beautiful young woman wearing a white mask that made her resemble a delicate swan and a young man wearing dark grey.

When the young man turned, Tine recognized Sarawat immediately and his breath was stolen from him when he saw that the Prince’s mask was the same design as the Wolf Insignia that he often surrounded himself with. It was both striking and terrifying at the same time, making Sarawat look like a predator that was about to make the Swan his prey.

The music resumed and Tine realized that the young woman that Sarawat was dancing with was likely Princess Pamela based on the King and Queen’s reactions of delight. Tine was sure that it was a relief to Wat’s parents that he was pursuing their suggestion of a suitor.

Tine, on the other hand, felt something rising in him that he didn’t quite know what to name. A part of him wanted to walk out onto the dance floor to correct Sarawat’s dance technique, the other part of him just wanted to be the one dancing with the Prince.

Tine knew he could not act upon either impulse but he also knew he could not watch the scene any longer without feeling sick. He took his leave and made his way out to the castle garden. The fresh air hit Tine’s face and he was instantly relieved by it.

His sanctuary was immediately interrupted when he heard a set of footsteps behind him…

[asexual-hugger]

3 YEARS AGO

Early the next morning after her phone conversation with Detective Ernest Sinclaire, Allison McQueen hops on her bicycle and heads for Ledford Park Detective Agency.

What she finds is completely unexpected. It’s not a small office building at all.

“Holy crap. It’s a bloody mansion!” She can’t hold in her surprise.

She begins to walk her bike up to the front porch to knock at the door.

“Hey, do you live here?” A woman’s voice stops her.

“Sorry?” Allison turns to look for the source and finds a middle-aged woman standing in the street with her hands on her waist, staring at her suspiciously.

“I asked you if you live here,” the woman repeated. “I’ve never seen you here before, and I know everyone that lives around here.”

“I’m sorry—everyone?” Allison finds that hard to believe.

“Yes, everyone,” the woman replies coolly. “I’ve never seen you around here. If you don’t live here, I suggest you leave.”

Who was this psycho—the neighborhood watch?

“Actually, I was meeting someone,” Allison starts to say.

“Meeting someone?” The woman scoffs, not believing a word of it. “Who are you meeting? Do you even live here?”

“Miss McQueen!” An all-too-familiar and welcoming voice cuts through the disturbance. Detective Sinclaire has stepped out of his house and is running down the steps to see her.

“Detective!” Allison starts, looking relieved.

Sinclaire lays eyes on the busybody, looking calm and composed. “Allison is meeting with me, Miss Lucy,” he says slowly. “Have you been interrogating my employee?”

Employee? Allison hadn’t even started interviewing yet.

“Employee?” Miss Lucy voices what she’d been thinking. “Seriously, Ernest? Any ‘employee’ of yours has barely lasted two weeks! I was simply asking if this young lady lived here. There’s nothing wrong with that. You do know I know everyone on this street, and I’m only trying to keep the neighborhood safe.”

So she WAS the neighborhood watch.

“SERIOUSLY, Miss Lucy, I think you need to mind your tongue.” Detective Sinclaire keeps his composure, but there is annoyance in his voice. His arm goes around Allison’s shoulders protectively. “What I do at MY estate is not your concern. Miss McQueen is here as my employee, and the sooner you stop harassing her and go about your business, the sooner I can go about mine. Allison is far from a threat here. Toodles!” He gives her a wave and turns to Allison. “Sorry about her. She’s like that with everyone that comes down here. She believes it’s her business to get involved with everyone’s life.”

“Sounds like a Karen,” Allison comments, referring to the latest meme craze on the Internet. “Figured they’d be everywhere.”

Detective Sinclaire nods at her bicycle. “I can store your bicycle in the back,” he offers. “That way it’ll be safe from certain prying eyes.”

He glares towards Miss Lucy, appalled and disgusted that Allison had to deal with so much trouble upon her arrival.

“That would be great,” Allison says. “I wasnt certain on how to proceed.”

Sinclaire takes a key out of his pants pocket and unlocks a large gate leading to the backyard, and any awe Allison might have felt towards the front of the house only increases at the sight of the back.

“What do you think?” He seems to read her thoughts.

“It’s amazing. I was kinda expecting a small office building, and when my GPS directed me down a residential street, I thought I had entered the address wrong. I didn’t know Ledford Park was a freaking MANSION! Do you LIVE at this place?”

Detective Sinclaire laughs. “Yeah, that reaction is to be expected,” he says, amused. “And in answer to your question, I live here, work here, and pretty much do everything here, except when I’m called on a case, of course.” Pause. “So. Would you like the grand tour?”

“Sure, but maybe we should do the interview first,” Allison says. “I know you were probably trying to get that Lucy person off our backs by telling her I worked for you, but maybe I ought to at least prove myself to you before anything else.”

Detective Sinclaire’s blue eyes seem to sparkle. “A perfectly logical answer, Miss McQueen,” he says, “and yes, I did mention that to Lucy to get her away from you, but it wasn’t just a diversion. I meant every word.”

“What?”

“I meant what I told her,” Sinclaire repeats. “I don’t lie, Miss McQueen. As for the interview, I find that walking around helps me clear my head. I can give you the grand tour while we talk.”

He gestures invitingly, and they walk up the backyard steps into the house.

A long hallway stretches before them. Allison looks up. A skylight is carved into the ceiling high above her.

Holy crap, she thinks. If I get this job, I’m going to be working in a MANSION!

“The kitchen is on the right, and the bedrooms are upstairs,” Sinclaire is saying. “You’re free to help yourself to something if you need a break.”

“Detective.”

“Yes?”

“Erm.” Allison pauses. “Shouldn’t you be asking me some questions? Like, for the interview?”

“Would you like me to ask you questions?” Sinclaire looks indifferent. “Because I thought I made myself clear by asking you here and standing up for you with Miss Lucy. Also, you can’t forget our phone conversation we had yesterday. I brought you here so you could get to know Ledford Park and ask ME whatever is on your mind.”

“But...my resume,” Allison starts, shocked. “I brought all the required documents because I thought this was going to be a sit-down job interview. Can you at least look at my resume before you jump in and hire me? How do you know I’m even qualified? What if I end up disappointing you?”

“Miss McQueen, please! Take a breath!” Sinclaire stops her wild ranting. “Just...calm yourself. If you’d like me to look at your resume, I’d be more than happy to, but I don’t think I’m going to need to. As I told you before, Miss McQueen, you’re special. There’s something about you that makes you rise up above all the other assistants I’ve hired. You have something about you that I can’t quite place, but it’s unique. It’s different. You’re different. You’re a hard worker, yes? Reliable? Responsible?”

“I’d like to think so.” This was more like it. “I’m also punctual and always do what is asked of me.”

“Brilliant.” Sinclaire takes out a small notebook and starts furiously scratching in it with a mechanical pencil. “Reliable...responsible...does a thorough job...punctual.” He looks back up at her. “Did I forget anything?”

“How about how I’m studying criminal justice and want to be a CSI?” she offers. “My professors can be references. I always hand in my work on time, and I start my assignments as soon as they’re assigned. I take my time so I can do a good job.”

“Oh, I have your educational background already recorded,” Sinclaire answers. “I also have your professors’ names. You told me all of that when I was driving you home.”

“Wait. You remember everything I told you?” Allison is bewildered. “That was weeks ago! Are you keeping tabs on me now?”

“Perhaps.” Shrug.

“But why?” Allison insists. “I’m probably just like all the other girls you’ve worked with. I’m a nobody. I’m a random criminal justice student at university. There are literally hundreds of us, and you chose me. Why?”

“Why? I’ll tell you why.” Sinclaire stops walking and looks straight into her eyes. She seems to lose herself in the vibrant blue. “Because I’m a detective, Miss McQueen. I read people. I watch people. I have a sense on which ones are special. You are not a nobody. You are somebody who can make something of herself. You know why I rescued you that night from that awful man in the car? It was because I could sense trouble. I could see you struggling through the back window. You needed help, and I was there. It broke my heart, but also sent fire up inside me when I saw what he was doing to you. It tore me to pieces. I was so enraged at how he put his hands on you, how he—he—he HURT you.”

“It felt personal.” Allison speaks softly. “You felt like it was your job to be the gallant hero cop saving a damsel in distress. You didn’t even know me and you took a risk saving me. Dylan could’ve had a knife somewhere.”

“Maybe he had the knife, but I had the pistol.” Sinclaire heaves a deep sigh. “Yes, Miss McQueen, you are right on all accounts. It did feel personal. The sight of him just putting his filthy hands on you...ugh! I don’t even want to think about it any more than I have to! Excuse me. I’ve got to go wash the vomit out of my mouth.”

He heads down the hall, leaving Allison alone. The place is so huge she has no idea where to explore first. If Sinclaire did mean what he said, and he was really going to hire her on the spot, she may as well get used to being here, because she is going to be seeing it very frequently.