#I was listening to Drag Me Under by Divide Music earlier

[thatoneguy031]

Okay, the whole "storywriting" thing isn't really working, especially not with the way my blog doodad works.

So, a few changes I suggest, and I want to hear y'alls opinion on them:

Make the stories more scattered/Talk about them whenever, however: I can't really find my old posts, even with the tags on my pinned post, so I want to tell my stories in a less organized manner. Besides, I might have ADHD, and I have a hard time focusing on so many things at a time. That might be another reason why asks aren't answered faster, too. Sorry about that, by the way.

Let characters answer whatever: I dunno, I just feel like the whole "spoilers" thing might not even work, especially since I wasn't taking them too seriously to begin with. Heck, I literally confirmed that Trevor's story is a gag plot or whatever humans call them, so it would check out.

Changing my pinned post at some point: I'm not replacing the one I already have, I'm just rewriting some stuff regarding my aforementioned stories, mainly the ones about Jason, Chris, and Delta. This was when I was still getting used to the whole Rotomblr thing, and when I didn't really know what I was doing. This is a site for jokes and games, and I'm a jokey-gamey dude. And, it serves as an excuse for me to blabber about basically anything about them.

On top of that, this is sort of a reminder that you can ask me basically anything regarding my hobbies, battle experience, or anything really. And, with me getting a tablet at some point, maybe I can draw the answers too.

Again, I sincerely apologize for any kind of inconvenience this can cause, and I'm still giving you all the option to let this stay how it was before. I'm just excited to talk about the stuff I've worked on for a while, and I don't think that the way I was doing it before was cutting it. I just think that this'll be a little easier on me.

And, the reason why I say I might have ADHD instead of having it flat-out stated is because I've never gotten an official diagnosis. It was a mix of laziness on my part, and being too broke to go to a Pokemon Center. Basic healing is free, but that's for the superficial stuff, like basic cuts and bruises. If it comes to the stuff I'm concerned about, it's gonna cost a pretty penny.

Either way, if I do have it, I don't want it to get in the way of the things I've been doing already. Like I've said before, I just want to make it easier on myself.

Stay awesome, dudes!

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 TELLING THEM THEY'RE PRETTY!

FEATURING: dazai osamu, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol

SUMMARY: telling the bsd boys that they're pretty! (wordcount: 3.5k; sfw; fem!reader)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: i had cute dividers but this won't show up in the tags if use them D: ! i had sooo much fun with this! i hope you guys enjoy! :D

DAZAI OSAMU

You can’t seem to drag your gaze away from him. 

As a long day of work comes to an end, you rest your head on your arms and lean on your desk. Kunikida is still tapping furiously away at his computer, Tanizaki and Naomi are whispering about something together, Ranpo is sorting through his candy, and Atsushi and Kyouka are looking through files. But your eyes are tracing over Dazai Osamu as he leans back in his chair, lazily spinning and bobbing his head to the music he’s listening to. 

The setting sun casts an ethereal glow over him, his lips idly turned up and his lashes brushing his cheeks as rests his eyes waiting for the day to end. Dazai Osamu is pretty—you’ve always acknowledged that—but there’s something about the peace of this moment, the domesticity of the office and the ambience of the lighting that has you utterly enraptured.

He looks so at ease, and Dazai Osamu is never at ease. Even when he throws up that clownlike mask of his and spends his day entertaining under the guise of joy and humor, you can always see the strain in the corner of his eyes and lips. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible really—if you were anyone else, you’d miss it, but you’re not anyone else, much to his displeasure, because you know he hates how easily you can see right through him.

After a few minutes, Dazai peeks his eyes open—and you’re almost breathless, because his eyes are like melted honey beneath the sunset, warm and gentle, glittering with amusement. You think you can stare at him forever and never tire of it.

He rolls his chair closer to you, resting his forearms on your desk so that your arms are brushing and laying his head down on them so that his face is mere inches from yours, matching your position. There's a smile on his lips, soft and teasing as he whispers, "You've been staring at me for five minutes."

"Mhm," you agree, voice just as quiet as if to not disturb the tranquility of the office. You can feel his breath light against your face from the proximity he's laying at and you can smell peppermint on his breath from the candy you’d seen him swipe from Ranpo’s desk earlier when the other man had gone to speak to Fukuzawa.

“Is there something on my face?” he asks playfully, dark eyes glimmering as he waits for your response.

You can tease him back and say yes, as you usually do and is probably what he expects—and you fully intend to do just that but the words that leave your lips are not that. 

“You just look really pretty today,” you say softly, watching as his eyes widen just a bit at your words, pink dusting his cheeks. 

His lips part to say something but no words leave them. He opens and closes them a few times and you marvel because Dazai must know that he’s pretty from all of the attention he gets from women, so you don’t understand why he’s so thrown off hearing you voice it out loud. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him genuinely speechless before now.

“So you don’t think i’m pretty every other day?” Dazai pushes his bottom lip out into an over-exaggerated pout, recovering swiftly from your words, though you expected nothing less from him. But you can’t help but note that his cheeks are still a bit pink and there’s something indecipherable in his eyes.

“Prettier than usual,” you amend and watch as the flush on his cheeks darkens and he instead resorts to completely burying his face in his arms with a frustrated groan.

“I am supposed to be the flirt, bella,” he complains, voice muffled by his arms as he hides his face from your view. He cannot hide the way his ears have gone bright red, and you have half a mind to reach out and tug at them

You lift your hand to your lips to hide the giggle that rises to your lips, scooching your chair a bit closer so you can knock your shoulder against his. 

“I’m not flirting,” you say. “Just stating a fact.”

He turns his head to the side, just enough so that he can give you a heavy side eye—you can only barely see the red hue coating his cheekbone. 

“Not mutually exclusive,” he says grumpily, and you lean down to press your lips against his now exposed forehead, smiling softly as his eyes instinctively flutter shut and his body relaxes as the touch.

Then, you receive a pencil to the side of your head. You yelp as your hand flies to where it had made contact with you, scowling at your assailant who is none other than Ranpo, smiling widely as he waves at you and then motions to Kunikida, who is red faced and staring at the two of you. You can’t tell if it’s in embarrassment or anger.

“Not during work hours,” he snaps, and you realize that he’s definitely embarrassed, so you share a short look with Dazai, who has regained that mischievous look in his eyes as he glances over at Kunikida and back at you.

Without saying a word, or giving any other sort of warning, he leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s a short and chaste kiss, but his lips are soft and taste of candy, and you think you might be able to kiss them forever if you get the chance.

Now you’re the one flustered, you can feel heat rising to your cheeks as you stare at Dazai, who is evidently thoroughly pleased to not be the one uncomposed if the unscrupulous grin on his lips has anything to say about it.

He tosses you a wink before rolling his chair back over to his desk, animatedly complaining about Ranpo and Kunikida being lonely and bitter and getting in the way of Dazai’s chance at true love because of it—you only roll your eyes at his dramatics, as you usually do when Dazai goes off on tangents, but it’s with much more fondness this time. 

•••

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

You are not listening to a single word that he’s saying. 

It’s a dangerous situation to be in with Fyodor Dostoevsky, you’re sure he’s noticed by now and he will be petty enough to finish his brief about his plans and your involvement and then ask you to repeat what he said, but you just can’t focus. 

He tied his hair back, you note, still quite a bit awed by the sight. There are two locks framing his face and his bangs are falling between his eyes, but the rest of his hair, which has grown a bit long in the weeks that he’s been ardently preparing for the final stages of his plan, is pulled back into a lax bun. 

He looks so casual, and Fyodor Dostoevsky never looks casual. He’s dressed in a turtleneck and loose pants as he leans back in his chair. There’s a folder resting on his lap that he’s idly flipping through and he keeps glancing up at you occasionally, pale lips flat and violet eyes disapproving, but you just nod along to his words even though you know that he knows that you’re not paying attention. 

And you think, distantly, that you probably should be paying attention because he’s talking about your upcoming mission and what you should expect from it but you figure you’ll be fine—it’s a simple infiltration mission, nothing to worry about. And you’d much rather prefer to appreciate Fyodor’s rare repose than to listen him droll on about boring topics. 

Sometimes, you think if he just kept his mouth shut all the time, he’d be perfect. But you think you’d miss his sharp-witted comments and the lengthy debates the two of you have after a few glasses of wine.

He looks extra pretty tonight, even beyond the casual hairstyle and clothes and his uncharacteristically relaxed demeanor, and you think it’s because of the way the flames of the fireplace are casting an enchanting orange and red glow over his face. It makes the violets of his eyes burn alive in a way that they usually don’t, you’re far too used to the glacial visage they take whenever he puts his attention on someone. Every time he glances up at you, you swear that you can get lost in them.

“… And you are not listening to a word that I am saying, are you?” 

Fyodor is giving you the heaviest side eye as he finally calls you out, expression unamused. His brows are furrowed and his pale skin is taut with thinly veiled irritation.

“Of course, I am,” you dismiss, waving your hand. “Infiltration mission, detective agency, get close to the tiger boy.”

Fyodor looks distinctly unimpressed by your words, brows deepening—you figure you must have spoken wrongly, you probably shouldn’t have been so indifferent, and you bite back a sigh before reaching forward to press two fingers between Fyodor’s eyebrows, as if to forcibly smooth away his annoyance.

He blinks and draws back, out of reach of your arm, and then casts you an even more irritable look.

“You’re not taking this seriously,” he accuses. “This mission will be dangerous, you’ll be at risk of being exposed every moment you are in the agency and if you are exposed-“

“Your plans will be ruined,” you finish, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes. “I kno-“

“You could be killed,” Fyodor corrected, voice cold and sharp, and you look back over to him. He looks unusually intense, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the appearance that the flames of the fireplace are giving him as they flicker dangerously across his face or if it’s because he’s that displeased with you being distracted. Either way, you find your mind drifting again because wow. “Dazai Osamu is not a man to be taken lightly. When he manages to figure out who you are and what you’re doing, we will need an immediate extraction plan.”

“Careful, Fyodor,” you drawl, watching as his violet eyes narrow briefly, “almost sounds like you care.”

Fyodor’s lips twist but he doesn’t respond. You raise your eyebrows, he looks away. Your eyes shoot open.

“You have a bigger role to play,” Fyodor finally says, but he’s no longer looking at you. “You cannot be killed yet.”

“Yet,” you repeat, amused. Fyodor’s jaw tightens, he doesn’t look at you, his eyes are trained on the fireplace to the side of the two of you and you can vaguely see the flames reflecting in his eyes, burning ardently against the familiar violet.

You lean forward again, shifting off of the couch to sit on the coffee table between the two of you so you can reach him. You reach forward to brush your knuckles against his cheek—he doesn’t move away this time, but his eyes cut to the side to watch you carefully.

You don’t say anything for a moment, absently tucking one of the locks of hair framing his face behind his ear. His hair is soft, freshly washed—for once—it smells faintly of lavender and vanilla and you wonder if he stole your conditioner.

“You look very pretty tonight, Fyodor,” you say quietly, and then smile. “It’s hard to focus when you look like this.”

The expression Fyodor directs toward you is extraordinarily blank, except for the faintest specks of pink that glare compared to the pallor of his face. 

He shakes his head, looking away from you yet again. 

“… You cause me much suffering,” he murmurs, and somehow, you know that might be the closest you might get to an admission of love from Fyodor Dostoevsky.

You smile to yourself. “And you to I,” you say, voice a bit teasing, and then you add, “Now, can you tell me again what to look out for?”

The moment is ruined. Fyodor’s eye twitches and he’s giving you that unamused look again, and you think having him repeat himself might be a mistake because now you’re even more distracted, but Fyodor sighs and starts on his lecture again so you force yourself to listen.

It takes about three minutes for him to release a sigh of utter suffering when he realizes that your eyes have glazed over yet again. 

•••

NIKOLAI GOGOL

Nikolai has a wild sort of beauty about him. He’s unpredictable and dangerous, and it’s widely apparent in his frenzied laughter and chaotic behavior. His eye glitters and his teeth gleam sharply beneath the glow of the moonlight as he waves his hands around, animatedly describing to you all of the details of the things he’s been doing while you were away. 

Fyodor’s masterplan has involved Nikolai apparently taken upon an infiltration role at the ministry of defense—you think it’s a bold move for Fyodor to use Nikolai for such a tenuous mission, but he’s apparently been having the time of his life with it. Though he thinks his boss is deplorable and one of his coworkers has evidently pissed him off beyond repair, because now he’s telling you about how he’s been ‘pranking’ the man in righteous vengeance. 

You think Nikolai’s idea of pranking varies from yours, because you’re pretty sure him using his ability to break into the man’s house constitutes a crime not a prank. But you don’t have it in you to make that distinction when he’s so excitedly telling you about how every day he’s been going into his house to move around all of his stuff and hide some of his belongings to make the man squirm. He’s succeeding outstandingly in his ambition, if the videos he’s waving in front of you have anything to say about it. 

You watch as he frantically scrolls to the next video—“this one is the best,” he claims, as he has for every video thus far. You watch with an amused smile as his dark-haired coworker steps into his apartment and nearly starts crying when he realizes that all of his stuff has been moved again, scrambling for his phone to call the police, who have—according to Nikolai—apparently already told him multiple times that there’s nothing they can do about it. The video is shaking wildly, as if the person filming can barely hold the camera straight, and you’re convinced that’s exactly what it is because you can hear Nikolai’s muffled laughter coming from recording.

Nikolai naturally finds it much funnier than you do, half-way keeling over as he wheezes, his laughter shattering the peaceful night. The two of you are sitting at a park near the apartment that Fyodor had leased for you for the duration of the Yokohama operation. The moon is high in the sky, casting a bewitching glow over the lake in front of you and there’s a chill in the air—it’s a nice night all around, you think there will probably some frost dusting the grass in the morning but the cold hardly bothers you now with Nikolai pressed to your side as he laughs himself into a near-coughing fit over his harassment of his coworker. 

“Why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai suddenly complains loudly, scowling at you, but even then he keeps having to bite back residual laughter whenever he glances back down at his phone. “It’s funny.”

“It is funny,” you agree. Nikolai gives you a look as if he doesn’t believe you. “It is.”

“Then why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai accuses doubtfully, and then adds, even more accusatory, “You hate me.”

You’re not sure why you aren’t laughing, honestly. Usually you’d be burying your face into his shoulder trying to smother your snickers, because even though you might not entirely agree with Nikolai’s idea of a prank, you can still find some humor in it. Because it is kind of funny. Kind of. 

But then you realize that you’re probably not laughing because you’ve been spending most of the night admiring Nikolai rather than listening to him prattle on about his escapades and watching his poorly recorded videos, so you can’t fully appreciate the humor in the videos. With his cheeks flushed from copious amounts of laughter and his eyes glowing with excitement, you think he’s very pretty tonight—Nikolai is always pretty, but the angle at which he’s sitting leaves the moon haloing behind his head, and maybe it’s just because you’ve missed him the past few weeks when you’ve been abroad dealing with a territory dispute with Tolstoy, but you think there’s something special about tonight. 

“I don’t hate you. I guess I’ve been too busy admiring you,” you finally say, a playful smile on your lips as you tilt your head to the side to look at him. “You look pretty tonight.”

Nikolai blinks, eyes wide and owlish as he processes your words. The longer he goes unresponsive, you acknowledge that a quiet Nikolai is far more unnerving than a loud and erratic Nikolai, you’d expected a more… theatrical response to your comment. A swish of his cape, him leaping to his feet with a twirl and an agreement, even just a wild laugh; instead, he looks away abruptly. He doesn’t even just look away, he physically turns his whole body away from you. 

You blink.

“Nikolai?” you ask, a bit astonished when he literally ignores you. You lean forward, trying to get a look at his face, but then he swivels around even more and your lips part in shock. “Nikolai.”

You’re only met with a face full of his soft white hair, impeccably braided, as per usual—you have half a mind to tug at it hard to try to get a response from him, but you aren’t in the mood for the lewd comment that would likely spill from his lips after. 

“Koly-“

“Poor me, poor me,” Nikolai suddenly cries loudly, “The little koshenya mocks me when all I do is try to make her laugh. Poor me, poor me.”

His hand flies to his face, melodramatic as he bemoans your alleged cruelty. You stare at him, mind trying to piece together what exactly is happening—Nikolai is always hard to predict, but you feel like this is a bit strange even for him, and that’s saying something. 

“… What?” you start to ask but Nikolai has thrown himself into a loud and theatrical tirade about how he doesn’t deserve such injustice and how he was only trying to make you laugh, and how it’s so, so cold-hearted of you to taunt him when this is the first time the two of you have seen each other in weeks. 

Nikolai is impossible to bargain with when he gets like this, so you only sigh and tilt your head up to the sky, his words flying in one ear and out the other as you wait for him to settle down on his own. 

Instead, you swear the world is against you because rather than settling down, he becomes increasingly more noisy and distressed, and his accusations become even more asinine. Now, he’s saying that you’ve always had it out for him and how you weren’t laughing at his jokes because you hate him and want to report him to the police and how he should tell Dostoy about your betrayal, or better yet, he should stuff you in his cloak and leave you there?

You side-eye Nikolai heavily as he continues on, slightly alarmed, but brush off the casual threat as just Nikolai being Nikolai. You don’t know how to shut him up, you think you might be out here all night listening to him, and now you’re the one bemoaning your fate because how did a simple compliment turn into this. 

Finally, an idea strikes. 

You brace yourself, questioning your sanity and your entire existence before you interrupt him with a loud, “Quiz time!”

Nikolai goes silent instantly, head snapping toward you, eye even wider than before. 

You think you’ve hit an all time low as you say, “Was I trying to mock you before?” Nikolai opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can. “What’s that you say? I wasn’t? Ding ding! We’ve gotta winner!” 

You think Nikolai might be having an internal crisis. He’s staring at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time in his life—his lips are parted, his eye void of the usual mischief dancing in it. He looks as if he wants to say something but he doesn’t know what. 

You let out a long breath as you go to speak up again, but before you can, his eye is glittering again, sharp and dangerous, and his lips are curving up into a slow smile. 

Nikolai inhales and then he takes a complete one-eighty as he bursts into loud cackles and says, “Ahahaha! I knew you loved me!” as if he wasn’t just lamenting your irrational hatred for him moments before.

Your eye twitches. He begins a second tirade, this one far more embarrassing for you than the last. 

You regret everything.

[okwritingandpain]

Penny Lane's Getting Better (The Beatles x Reader)

Chapter 5: All My Loving

You hate school. You hate it a lot more than you expected you would. Now it wasn't because of your classes, but rather the absolute trash fire that John and Paul's relationship was.

They fought at every hour of every day and you couldn't avoid it. It didn't help that you had recently become John's girlfriend, which made you an easy target for Paul to vent his frustrations. You wanted to rip out his vocal chords, but decided not to as he was a good singer.

"..and then he just walked away!" Paul was blabbering about some sort of argument he had with John earlier that day. It was lunch time, but none of the other guys were around except for Paul. You silently play with your fork, pretending to listen to Paul's lengthy story. When did he become so annoying?

"Are you even listening to me?" Paul suddenly asks. You snap out of your daze and stare at him. He sighs, already knowing the answer. You rub your eyes, hoping Ringo or George would show up already.

"Where are the rest of the guys?" You finally ask Paul. He raises and eyebrow, chomping down on some salad he stole off some girls tray.

"Ringo is sick, remember? George and John dipped today," Paul explains. You groan at the fact you're stuck with Paul for the rest of the day.

"Are you serious? Why'd they dip?" You question, slamming your tray on the table next to him.

You both sat outside in the gray weather. The white lillies bloomed in bushes near the small outdoor area. Usually you and the guys ate lunch together under the nearby oak tree, but recently the group had become pretty divided.

"I heard that John got a solo gig at a local place and he invited George to play bass instead of me," Paul mutters. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette.

"I'm sure that's not true, Paul," you say with a frown. He shakes his head, muttering under his breath. The cigarette hangs from his mouth as he searches for his lighter.

"I wish you were right." He lights the cigarette and takes a long drag. You cough which makes him snort.

"So what now? Are you just going to follow me around all the time now?" You ask, almost jokingly.

"Pretty much," he replies instantly. You frown. Of course he was serious about it.

"I have a life outside of you and the boys, you know."

"I don't see you doing anything else besides hanging out with us,"

"At this point, I'd rather be on my own than with you guys,"

"Is it that bad?"

"It's worse," you say, poking around your food.

Paul sits on the table, looking down at you. He takes another drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke surround him like a darkening fog.

"You really like John, huh?" he asks, looking up into the distance where the school sits. The gray building is bustling with students heading in from lunch. Class must be starting soon.

"I do," you reply. You're not sure what Paul is getting at, but you can tell he's holding something in.

"I get that." His comment is confusing, but he doesn't look at you. He mutters something to himself and then shakes his head, standing up from the table. He extends his hand to take you back to the school. You roll your eyes and take his hand.

John hasn't walked you home from school in days. You feel a little disappointed, like he didn't want to be around you anymore. Of course, since he hasn't been around, Paul's been following you everywhere.

"If you could be any musical instrument, what would you be?" Paul asks, following behind you. You're passing the fire station which is where Paul throws his cigarette on the ground.

"That's a stupid question," you reply. You were growing tired of Paul, and you honestly wanted nothing more to do with John or the others. Ringo might be the only one who had a pass from her because he was sick.

"It's not stupid, it's a question," he says. He's humming some song that he was writing. The band hadn't met up in awhile though.

"I would want to be any instrument you can't play," you mutter. Paul hears this and smirks a little.

"Than you must be pretty obscure." He grabs your arm, pulling you towards him. His hand lets you go almost immediately as he points at a small bakery across the street. He gives you a quick smile before pulling you towards the bakery.

"Paul, I need to get home," you say, fighting his every move. He doesn't seem to care as you enter the shop. The smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, making your mouth water. You try to hide how much you love the smell, so Paul didn't notice.

He stares at rolls, croissants, donuts, and more. It's like a paradise of bread and sweets that you could devour within an instant. Except you didn't have money and you did actually need to get home.

"I'll take two croissants please," Paul tells the clerk.

"Paul, I don't need one--"

"Yes, you do," he cuts in. You roll your eyes, sifting through your pockets for some cash of any kind to give him. You know he would refuse it anyhow, but you couldn't help it. He hands the clerk some money and in return he gains croissants. He walks back over to you with a dorky smile, handing you one of them. You reluctantly take it from him.

"Thank you," you whisper, admiring the golden bread in your hand. He smiles at you, taking a big bite of his own. You can't help but notice the way he is staring at you.

Originally you may have thought he liked you, but this stare feels different. It feels more genuine, more friendly than it ever had been. He almost seems to be holding something back, but you can't quite place what that is. 

"Y/N," Paul whispers, staring at the floor. He looks like he's on the verge of tears. Her heart begins to swell with sadness, what happened between him and John? What happened...

"Paul--"

"There's my girlfriend," John walks into the bakery. He grabs her shoulders and leans in for a kiss. She reluctantly kisses him back. "Hanging out with Paul I see," he mutters. Paul looks up at his once best friend and quickly backs away.

"He was just walking me home since you've wanted nothing to do with me for the last few days!" you snap at him. He glares at you and steps away to the counter. He orders something for himself, while you recollect yourself.

"I'm sorry," Paul says.

"It's not your fault," you reply.

"It might actually be," he replies before John ushers you out of the bakery. You look back at Paul one more time before following John down the street towards your houses.

You both don't say anything, the air is tense and prickly. You want nothing more than to leave his side. You hadn't expected him to act so cruel after you started dating.

"I want to take you out tomorrow," he says. You frown, stopping your pace. He keeps walking but stops to look behind at you.

"I'm not going out with you until you tell me what's going on between you and Paul," you hissed. You were done with all this nonsense.

"What is there to say? Me and Paul aren't that close right now okay!?" he shouts back at you.

"Why?" you ask, quietly. He pauses unsure what to tell you, the truth or the partial truth.

"He likes you," he replies.

"Like you do?"

"Not exactly," John shakes his head, muttering to himself.

"Then what does he feel, John?" You urge. What could they possibly be beating around the bush so much? What was so important?

"I don't know if I can tell you, if I can trust you," John replies. He looks defeated as he collapses onto the street. He sits cross legged with his head in his hands.

"Trust me?" You say, kneeling beside him. You look into his eyes which look back at you with more love than you could imagine.

"It will come with time," he whispers back.

"Then you will go out with me another time," you reply back. Standing up, you walk back to your house without John. You can feel his eyes watching you leave.

"I'm sorry, John," you whisper to yourself before you walk into your house where your family is waiting.

"Where's John?" Your mother asks, but she sounds more urgent than usual.

"He's down the street, what's going on?" you ask, suddenly feeling your heart drop in your chest. Something happened. What happened? WHAT HAPPENED?

"Mimi found Paul a couple miles from here," she says, her hands shaking.

"What the hell's going on, mom?"

"He was trying to catch a train out of the city..."

You feel your heart return. You thought the worst had happened, but it looks like everything is alright.

"Thank god," you whisper.

"John was supposed to take him and the band to a city nearby, but I heard about the fighting...I guess Paul was going to talk to John," Your mother explains.

You glance at your father whose face is stoic, he rubs your sister's back trying to reassure her. She's crying into his side which makes you want to rush over and hug her.

Your mother still seems worried which you don't quite understand. Paul was okay, right?

Paul was okay.

"Honey, he got hit by a car."

@sabrielka-133

[inkandpen22]

Young Hearts Divided (5/?)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader 

Warnings: fluff, underage drinking, mild smut, swearing?

Word Count: 2.7k

Part Summary: it’s a few days after Y/N received her horrible news. Since then, she’s been acting as though everything fine. When Gryffindor wins against Hufflepuff and everyone gathers to celebrate, everything comes to ahead. 

Masterlist

Growing antsy, I check my watch for the tenth time in the last half hour. Oh good, finally! Sirius is finally out of detention! I scribble down the last bit of my paper and start to pack up my things to leave the library. Lily and Marlene peer up from their work across the table.

“Are you okay?” Marlene breaks the silence.

“Yeah, just peachy!” I press my lips together as I shove my textbook into my bag.

“Y/N, you don’t have to act like you’re okay,” Lily tries to reason with me gently. “You’re dealing with something-”

“Everything is fine, Lil!” I snap.

Lily and Marlene jumps slightly at my sudden rashness. Comprehending what I’ve just done, I take a deep breath and fill with instant regret. It’s not my friends’ fault, I shouldn’t take it out on them.

“I made my decision,” I state calmly. “Now it’s done.”

I start to rise from my seat and place my bag on my shoulder. Checking my watch again, I realize that I actually have a few extra minutes, oh well. I don’t think I can sit here in this silent library for much longer.

“Where are you going?” Marlene questions hesitantly and glances between me and Lily.

“I’m supposed to meet Sirius in the courtyard,” I rush out.

Lily’s face scrunches in confusion. “What about James?”

“What about him? See ya!” I force a smile and head toward the door.

Now I’m certain Lily and Marlene are going to have a field day with worrying about me. 

________________________

Laying in the grass of the courtyard under the tree, Sirius and I just lounge around for most of the afternoon. I rest against the bench and Sirius baths under the sun. He surprised me with blackberries he stole from the kitchens on his way here. I’ve challenged him to catch them in his mouth. Even when he has the advantage of me dropping it directly above his mouth, Sirius doesn’t have the best coordination.

“No, a thousand percent! Heart is much better than The Runaways.” I agree as I drop another blackberry.

Sirius actually catches it, so i playfully applaud him. He pretends to bow, struggling to suppress his laughter. Rolling onto his side to face me, he grabs a handle full of berries from the pile on the towel beside me.

“Do you think you’d ever be in a band like that?” He asks.

I laugh, “could you see me in a rock band?”

“Yeah, sure,” he nods, dead serious.

“What?!” I nudge him on the shoulder. “Are you mad?”

“Mad about you...” He smirks cheekily, meeting my gaze with hooded eyes.

I roll my eyes at his flirtatious innuendo, pressing my lips together to hide my childish grin. I can feel my cheeks getting warm and it’s not from the heat of the sun. With a flick of my wrist, I pick up a berry from the pile and hold it up to his mouth. He glances at it and back at me, anticipating me moving it away. Hesitantly, he leans forward to take the berry in his mouth. His eyes remain locked on mine. Then, I hurry and pop the berry in my mouth with a snicker.

"Oh you're gonna get it now!" Sirius laughs.

He grabs me by the waist and rolls me over so that I'm on his lap. Relentlessly, he starts tickling me, knowing how much I can't stand it. I wiggle in his hold, but I know he's far too strong and I don't stand chance.

“Sirius stop!” I squeal.

“Sorry, can’t hear you!” He mocks playfully.

“Sirius!” I laugh nervously, trying to pry his hands away.

“Not the magic word," Sirius teases in a sing-songy tone. "But by all means keep screaming my name," he purrs.

“I don’t know it!” I plead, struggling to cease my laughter.

“Oh sure you do! Think, Gorgeous, think!” He snickers.

“Padfoot!” I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“There it is!”

Sirius stops his attack and I relax beside him on the grass. My breathing slowly subsides as I pant. Rather proud of himself, Sirius watches me with a grin.

“You’re the worst!” I giggle, watching the clouds flow by as I catch my breath.

“You say that but you love me,” he winks.

I turn my head to the side and meet his gaze. "Most days," I admit quietly with a giggle.  

His face falls, "you what-”

“Y/N!” James's voice captures my attention.

I sit up to see him jogging over from the quidditch field with a smile.

“There you are, Darling! I’ve been looking for you," he greets warmly once he's closer.

Joining us, he sits on the bench beneath the tree and I crawl across the short distance to sit on the grass by him.  

“I’ve been here," I point out nonchalantly. "How was practice?”

“Decent. I’ve missed you today," he charms, rubbing his hand up and down my back.

“We saw each other this morning,” I snicker.

“Yes, but you were with Lily and Marlene. I hardly got to speak with you," he dramatically pouts like a child who lost his toy.

"That's what meals are for," I lecture.

I crisscross my arms on his leg and rest my chin on them, enjoying this beautiful afternoon. It's honestly the most perfect weather and spending it with my two favorite boys isn't too shabby either.

"I'm going to head out," Sirius announces, already to his feet.

I protest disappointedly, "but-"

"What's up mate?" James beats me to it.

Sirius shrugs, suddenly gloomy. "Nothing, just promised Remus I'd help him with something."

"Alright, see you at dinner then," James nods. "You're going to the game tonight right?"

Sirius mutters an agreement and glances down at me.

"I'll see you Y/N," he mumbles, offering me a weak smile.

I nod, "yeah, yeah most definitely!"

I don't want him to go. We were having so much fun. He turns to walk away and I mood is hindered. One minute we were having a blast, like how we were before... well before everything. Now, I'm just confused.

“Hey," James pulls my focus away from Sirius. "Excited for Hogsmeade next weekend?"

I hum, nodding my head enthusiastically. "It'll be a nice change of pace."

"I had an idea! After the game tonight, let’s go to the Astronomy Tower,” he suggests enthusiastically.

I shake my head, biting my lip to hide my grin. This boy is going to get me in trouble without a doubt.

"But what if we get caught?" I inquire wisely.

“I’ll bring my invisibility cloak,” he concludes without a care in the world.

I hum, thinking it over. If we do end up getting caught, that's my third detention this year. James better bring his cloak if I do agree to it.

“I’ll think about it.” I comply, not fully, but enough to satisfy the boy.

"Perfect," he leans down and plants a kiss to the top of my head.

__________________________________________________________

I do another shot of firewhiskey with Marlene and it hits me instantly, putting me over the edge. Gryffindor won today against Hufflepuff, so everyone's celebrating in the Common Room. The girls and I decided earlier today to dress for the occasion. I bought a new red leather skirt over the summer when Marlene came to visit me. I've yet to wear it and Marlene insisted I pair it with her yellow Gryffindor t-shirt she cut to a crop top.

James bloody brilliant on the field today. Then, Sirius kept making me laugh through the whole game, making sly comments the entire time. I thought Remus was going to bonk him on the head by the end.

Marlene tugs on my sleeve. "Let's dance!"

"And where shall we dance?" I stumble slightly, in my defense the room is a little spinny.

Marlene twirls her head, searching for a proper place.

"The study table!" I announce, right as the idea pops into my head.

"Excellent!" Marlene clasps her hands together and starts dragging me through the packed space.

She weaves between bodies, warning people to move. I laugh, she is by far the most wild girl I have ever had the pleasure of befriending.

"Oh well hello there!"

Someone new grabs my wrist that's free from Marlene and I'm yanked away from her. I land into someone's chest and I'm met with a familiar pair of glasses. He brings his hands around my waist, gliding over my exposed skin between the hem of my skirt and crop top.

"Hello to you too, Potter," I greet, draping my arms over his shoulders.

"And where have you been?" He purrs, leaning in to kiss me I suspect. 

Marlene pops up next to us. "Doing shots with me! Now, if you don't mind-" she takes my arm again "-Y/N here promised me we'd dance!"

"By all means," James hands me over. "I'll find you later," he assures me.

I offer him a wink right as Marlene tugs me away. She locks arms with me as she escorts me over to the table.

"Potter is mushy-gushy into you!" She shouts in my ear over the music.

"He's just a flirt!" I dismiss, not giving it a second thought.

"You're blind!" She teases.

Once we reach the table, I grab a chair and lead to climb onto the top. Heads around us start to turn and people start clapping.

Marlene shifts on her feet, swaying slightly as points to Mary who's in charge of the music across the room. "Mary! You better play Bowie right or I swear I'll make your skin blue for a week!"

Sweet, quiet, friendly Mary raises her hands in surrender and goes to put on Marlene's Bowie record that's always by the player. Marlene jumps up and down, getting herself energized as if she's about to perform at Wembley. The familiar sound of the album Marlene had me listen to the other night starts to echo through the Common Room.

"Yes! I love this song!" Marlene takes my hands and starts dancing with me.

We sway to the music and jump about the beat. I can't help but laugh at Marlene drunken dancing, it's just a mess. She raises our hands and waves for me to spin. My eyes fall shut as I twirl about the table top. I return the favor and she spins, nearly falling over. We burst out laughing, goodness this is just awful!

She pulls me closer to shout in my ear, "Potter can't take his eyes off you!"

I search the crowd of students decked out in their gold and red. Sure enough, I spot James leaning against the back of the couch speaking with Remus. He meets my gaze, a smile on his face as he mutter something to his friend.

"He's probably just wondering what the hell our dancing is!" I laugh.

"Then show him what you can really do," she urges with a mischievous grin.

I roll eyes and nudge her playfully, "no way!"

"Oh stop it! You know you can, I know you can, so do it," she encourages.

Marlene already starts climbing down from the table before I can argue otherwise. I glance around the room nervously for a second. Now standing at my feet, she waves for me to go on. A familiar rock song starts playing and I grin, I can work with this. Swaying my hips to the beat, I get in the groove of things. Marlene starts cheering and heads start turning. More cheering ensues as people start realizing what's going on. The attention encourages me to go on, I thrive off of it. If it weren't for the firewhiskey, I would never have the guts to do this. I slowly lower myself into a squat and roll back up flirtatiously, that earns a round of applause and cheering. I shake my bum playfully and send the crowd a wink.

A hand around my wrist yanks me down and Sirius stares at me furiously. He pulls me toward him and I'm flung over his shoulder. His arms keep me balanced as I hang upside toward his back. I swing as he marches through the crowd of riled Gryffindors toward the entry way.

"Sirius! Sirius let me down!" I swat at the back of his legs.

The raven-haired boy ignores my refusal and carries me out into the abandoned stairwell.

The Fat Lady gasps. "What on Earth are you doing boy?"

He ignores her as well, marching down the stairs to who knows where.

"Okay Sirius, I'm a grown person I can walk!" I whine.

"Then stop acting like a child," he snaps back.

"Me! You're the one who's been pouting around like a baby the past week!"

Despite my insult, he just keeps going like a bloody robot, march, march, march away! I press on his back to sit up right and peer over his shoulder to see where we're going.

“You can’t just carry people like a sack of flour!” I growl.

“You can when they’re acting insane!” He yells

I smack his back. “I’m not crazy! Take that back!”

His head whips around and he glares down at me. “No, you’re just an indecisive tease who doesn’t know what she wants!”

“Me the tease?!" I laugh. "You’re the biggest man whore whoever walked these halls!”

Abruptly, Sirius makes a sharp right into an alcove with a crumbled old stairwell and greenery growing in its cracks. He sets me down on my feet with a thud. I stumble for a second, but catch my footing.

“At least when I pick a girl I’m with only her! You’re switching back and forth between me and James like you’re the quaffle in a quidditch match! Pick a team Y/N!” He fires at me.

My head shifts forward in disgust. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

He scoffs, glaring up at me as though I'm lying. "Just quit it, you know exactly what it means!"

I shake my head, dismissing his digs. "You're drunk," I reason in a hiss.

He narrows his eyes at me sharply. "What if I am? So are you, Love, but I'm not the one making a fool of myself."

"I'm making a fool of myself, so what?! I don't care anymore!" I scream at him. “Why do you care?!”

His eyes grow wide. “Are you fucking serious?!” He laughs breathlessly.

“No, you-”

In a swift motion, Sirius pins me against the wall and presses his finger to my lips. “Don’t you dare bloody say it!”

I swallow my tongue, remaining still as Sirius keeps me pinned hard against the wall. His torso presses into me and he keeps his finger over my lips. The silence is consumed by nothing else than Sirius and I catching our breath quietly. I bury my eyes into his with a deep agitation. He's the most aggravating boy I've ever met in my entire life. His sharp stare could cut me clean if I weren't immune to it. Then, to my surprise, his face softens and his hand glides to my cheek. My heart starts to race, it was before, but this time it's more life an adrenaline rush.

"Did you mean it?" He whispers.

I swallow hard, "mean what?"

"When... when you said you love most days?" He stammers nervously.

Oh. I said that randomly, without much thought. I mean, we were kidding around. We was flirting so I tossed it right back to him, it’s what we do. I didn't think... I didn't know that he would...

"I mean if you didn't-" he rushes out, avoiding my gaze, "-it's fine! I'd understand, I was-"

As he stumbles over his words uncharacteristically and I see his nervousness consume him, it hits me like a ton of brick. I did mean it, every word. 

"Yes," I answer in a mutter, afraid my voice will give out on me.

His eyes meet mine frantically. "Wait what?!"

"Yes," I repeat, licking my lips anxiously. "I meant it..."

I feel as though my heart is in my throat and I find it hard to breathe. My eyes fall to Sirius's parted lips. I'm not familiar with this feeling, this urge. My eyes flicker up to meet his as his thumb brushes across my cheek. His dark alluring gaze pours into me like a starless night sky. Then, they glance down at my lips and Sirius shifts closer to me, if that's even physically possible. He leans in and hesitantly hovers mere centimeters from me. Acting on impulse, I finish the distance and press my lips to his. The sensation is unparalleled in this world. Sirius holds both sides of my face, deepening the kiss. I drape my arms over his shoulders and comb my fingers through his shoulder length locks. It feel so right and natural, as if we've been doing it our whole life. They just... Sirius and I fit together. He's like a guiding star in a world of darkness and I cling to him for life.

______________________________

Masterlist

Tags:  @hannah220506 @agirlwholovescoffee @a-classic-eye @devilstradegy @blackbirddaredevil23 @tay-mariee @blackpinkdolan @findzelda

[youidiotprince]

ALT ER LOVE SERVER GIFT EXCHANGE: FIC SET

happy holidays @soluxogobsc! I’m so sorry for posting this at the last possible second, but I hope you enjoy these fragments of fic for your favorite evak pairings (evak, elu, and davenzi) during the holiday season, each echoing the one before, their love rippling across the parallel universes. you can read them all under the cut.

EVAK

Somehow, without Isak or Even even noticing, the holiday season had crept up on them and nearly passed them by. As soon as they started their winter holidays from their Universities, time lost all meaning to them, and suddenly it was the day before Christmas Eve and they hadn’t purchased a single gift or set out a single decoration. That evening, a bit in a panic, they divided to conquer; Isak hunched over the coffee table to wrap the gifts they’d bought for their friends and family earlier that day, and Even moved between the tree and the open storage boxes of decorations, trying to bring some spirit into their apartment.

Dispersed amongst the boxes were precious tokens of their five Christmases together, the odd bits and trinkets they’d accumulated over time, their shared life together viewed through this one time of year that meant so much to them. Even pulled ornaments for the tree from the boxes. Some were sentimental, like the strip of film Isak had gotten framed as a gift for their second Christmas together, stills from one of the many videos Even had taken of them over the course of their relationship; some were comical, gag gifts given to them by their friends; and some were just traditional, like the angel they would put atop the tree later. When Even found an ornament that Jonas had gifted to them the year before that he had forgotten about, a reindeer lifting its leg to pee like a dog, he turned to Isak, amused, ready to remind him.

“Isak, what is that monstrosity in your hands right now?” Even assumed it was the candle they’d gotten for his mom, since the package seemed vaguely cylindrical in shape, but it was buried in what seemed to be three layers of wrapping paper, all haphazardly crumpled around the object within, a few pieces of tape stuck on to try to pull it all together. Even’s eyes shifted to the three other presents Isak had wrapped in the last hour, each one worse than the last. “What have you done?”

Isak rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but Even cut off his reply. “How did I not know how bad you were at this?”

“I’m not that bad,” Isak tried to defend, but then he looked back to the gifts, the mess before him, and he saw it anew, as if for the first time. “Okay, maybe I’m that bad.”

“You’re absolutely hopeless.” Even’s lips were parted in disbelief, but they quirked up at the corners with amusement.

“Hey,” Isak warned, pretending to be offended. “I usually get help with my gifts for you, and you wrap ours for us. So, it’s honestly kind of your fault for trusting me.”

“Oh, it’s my fault? Really?” Even asked, voice teasing as he stalked towards him. Isak only nodded, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips that he fought to suppress. When Even reached Isak, he crouched in front of where he sat on the couch, their lips only a breath apart. “Are you sure it’s not just a little bit your fault for not disclosing your lack of gift wrapping ability?”

Isak shook his head slowly, brushing his nose against Even’s, raising his chin just a bit to look down at him.

“My bad, then. How can I make up for my grave mistake?”

Isak leaned into Even, closing the bit of space between their lips as the tension between them reached its peak. It was a short kiss, to both of their dismay, a quick treat before they got back to more pressing matters.

When Isak pulled away, he answered Even’s previous question by motioning to the supplies around him. “You can start by taking care of all of this.”

“We’re going to be up all night.” Even’s eyes drifted to the pile of unwrapped gifts next to Isak that he’d yet to even touch. Isak’s did the same. The clock was ticking, but when he looked back at Isak, whose eyes crinkled in the corners with his lingering smile, he couldn’t bring himself to dive back into it yet. The presents and decorations would be there in the morning. “Do you want hot chocolate? Let’s take a hot chocolate break.”

ELU

The first thing Eliott did when he woke up on Christmas morning was make hot chocolate, one for him and one for Lucas. He stirred the warm liquid with a candy cane and topped them both off with a big dollop of whipped cream. Mugs in hand, he bounded back into his bedroom, where Lucas still lay, duvet pulled up to his chin as his shoulders rose and fell in that slow, steady rhythm of sleep he knew so well.

“Lucas, wake up, it’s Christmas.” He set the mugs on the bedside table so he could shake Lucas awake.

“What?” The sound was thick with sleep and confusion, more groan than word.

“It’s Christmas! I’m bringing you hot chocolate in bed, and it’s Christmas!” Eliott sat on the edge of Lucas’s side of the bed, turning to coax him out of his sleep. He tangled his fingers in Lucas’s mess of hair and ruffled it. “Wake up.”

“Eliott, it’s too early,” Lucas grumbled, fighting to pull the duvet up even higher.

“It’s not even that early.”

“It is,” Lucas said grumpily, covering his face with his hands since the duvet wouldn’t budge from under Eliott. “Why don’t you come back to bed?”

“No, I left you a present under our little tree. Don’t you want to open your present?” Lucas had also left him a present under the tree, and maybe, just a little part of Eliott was so antsy for Lucas to wake up so that he could open his gift from Lucas. The anticipation had been killing him ever since Lucas kicked him out of the bedroom the night before so he could wrap it. Eliott liked surprises, both giving them and receiving them, but that didn’t mean he had the patience for them.

“The only present I want right now is more sleep.”

Eliott didn’t have to see Lucas’s face to know the exact pout he was sporting at that moment; it was one he knew well, the one Lucas used every time he didn’t actually mean it.

“You leave me no choice, Lucas,” Eliott said, sounding as if he really did regret what he would have to do. Because Lucas’s hands were still hiding his face and shielding his eyes, it was all too easy for Eliott to jump up from the bed and take the warm, cozy duvet with him. Lucas’s hands flew from his face to follow the blanket, trying desperately to grab onto it before it was out of reach, but the lingering sleep made his limbs too slow.

“Eliott,” Lucas whined, but he was finally wide awake and he was laughing despite himself. “Okay, but at least let me drink my hot chocolate in the comfort of my bed.”

Eliott gave in and dropped the blanket back over Lucas’s legs as Lucas reached for the decadent mug and cradled it to his chest. Eliott sat back down where he had been before and watched Lucas raise the drink to his lips, holding his gaze over the top of the mug. When he pulled it away from his mouth, there was a white line of whipped cream above his lip. It was too adorable and endearing for Eliott to resist, so he leaned over Lucas and pressed his lips to his, enjoying the sticky sweetness of this kiss. Lucas put the mug back on the table before sliding back down into the bed so he was lying flat, pulling Eliott with him. There was a fleeting moment in which Lucas thought he had won, that Eliott would come back to bed after all, but before he could properly process that thought in his love drunk haze, Eliott was pulling away, was standing up, was grabbing Lucas’s hands and dragging him along with him.

“Not yet,” was all Eliott said before he walked out to the living room of their apartment, Lucas begrudgingly following after one last exasperated sigh.

DAVENZI

“David, no,” Matteo grumbled with an exaggerated sigh as he tried to resist David tugging him to his feet to follow him to the kitchen. David’s sister had spent the entire afternoon baking cookies, and she wanted the boys to help her decorate them. David couldn’t say no to her, but grumpy Matteo, who had only gotten more and more comfortable around David’s sister, didn’t seem to have the same problem. So far, asking nicely and using sheer force had not been working, so David made one last attempt to motivate him.

“Why don’t you want to? Are you scared your cookies won’t compare to mine?” David taunted, hoping to strike Matteo’s playful competitive nerve.

“Please,” Matteo huffed, feigning indifference, but David noticed the way he sat up a bit more, like maybe he was giving in.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed that I’m better than you.” David leaned closer to Matteo, raising his eyebrows in a challenge.

Matteo squinted one eye at him before leaning forward too, meeting him in the middle. “How are we doing this then?”

“We’ll each decorate a batch, and then my sister can be the judge?” David offered, pulling away to consider.

“Won’t she be a bit biased? Is that really fair?”

“If anything, she’ll be biased towards you.”

“Oh, good, sounds fair then,” Matteo said, smug. ��Let’s go.”

“There you guys are,” Laura said, turning at the sound of their continued teasing. As always, she was listening to music as she cooked, singing along to some traditional Christmas songs this time. “I was starting to get worried.”

Matteo sat on the kitchen stool and rested his head on David’s shoulder as David filled Laura in on their little competition and her role as the judge. She adored the idea, mostly relieved that she wouldn’t have to do the decorating alone after all. She had already mixed a few colors of frosting and put them into frosting piping bags, and she’d also laid out a few different kinds of sprinkles. David and Matteo each set a tray of cooled cookies in front of them, but didn’t start decorating right away.

“Should we start?” David asked. Matteo shrugged as Laura said they should, and so they did.

There was only one piping bag for each color of frosting, and somehow one of them always needed the color the other was currently using, which led to bickering and attempts to steal the bag from the other’s hands, followed by fits of laughter as the commotion would cause the other to mess up, squeeze too much out at once or miss the cookie entirely. The efforts to sabotage only increased as they finished more and more cookies, “accidental” shoves or elbows to the ribs turning to blatant attempts to throw the other person off when they were working on more intricate details.

Once, without thinking, Matteo smashed his hand onto one of David’s already decorated cookies, which successfully rendered the cookie useless in the competition, but it covered his palm in red and green icing, which David thought was the funniest thing until Matteo smeared said palm across David’s cheek, leaving bold streaks of color there. When David made a move to grab one of Matteo’s cookies, no doubt to smush it on his face in return, Laura saw the impending food fight and intervened.

“Okay, okay!” she called, reaching in between them. “Time!”

“What do you mean? This wasn’t timed,” Matteo said, but Laura just shrugged.

“I’m the judge. Time’s up.”

Matteo and David surveyed the damage, and they hardly had one decent cookie between the two of them. There was no way Laura could pick an honest winner.

Still, after a few seconds of examining the trays, Laura decided, “Matteo is the winner.”

“But he cheated,” David countered, motioning to his cheek.

Laura laughed and corrected, “You both cheated. You just got the worse end of the consequences.”

“I knew I would win,” Matteo said, beaming.

David pretended to pout, refusing to look at Matteo as he crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly.

“Hey, you have a little something right… there,” Matteo teased, licking his finger and swiping at the frosting on David cheek.

David tried to shrug him off with a yelp before he leveled him with a glare that lacked any real intensity. “You’re not funny.”

“And you’re not so better than me after all.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” And of course he didn’t. This was precisely what he loved about him.

[bluesey-182]

We Have To Stop Meeting Like This - Chapter 13

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / ao3

it’s been a very long time, but at last,,, here’s an update. also, the end of this chapter gets NSFW so i will not be tagging anyone in this post, i will however continue to tag everyone that has asked to be tagged in the next chapter.

--------

Jude was tuning out every noise around her in statistics class. The professor, a young man barely out of university himself, looking thoroughly hungover that morning, had divided them up into small groups for some group project, though what that project was Jude had no idea. She kept trying to convince herself to pay attention but her mind was elsewhere. Absentmindedly, she tapped her pencil against the palm of her hand while her feet tapped a different beat under the desk. When she woke up that morning she had considered staying home, given what day it was and the emotions it tended to bring up, but her tenuous grade in this class had ultimately made the decision for her.

“June?” One of her classmates asked, waving his hand in front of her face to get her attention. “Are you even listening?”

She considered biting his hand but settled for swatting it out of her face. “My name is Jude.”

The idiot kept talking but movement at the door in the front of the classroom caught her eye. The door was propped open, the professor unaware given he was facedown on his desk, and standing there, looking like a cruel prince from a wicked storybook, was Cardan. His black jeans ended into his untied high top converse, his matte-black shirt with silky designs on it was unbuttoned at the top and rolled up at the sleeves, and his hair was a glorious mess. He had put on gold eyeliner that morning and Jude felt her stomach tighten pleasantly. As she stared, he finally found her sitting in the back of the room and gave her a wicked smile before indicating with a wave that she should come out into the hallway with him. She made a face that hopefully conveyed that he was an imbecile for expecting her to leave class when there was still half an hour left, and in return he made a face that dared her to do it anyway.

“Well then Jude you still didn’t answer my question,” her classmate continued, ignoring the conversation happening between her and Cardan spoken solely with their faces.

She really wanted to punch this guy. Another look at Cardan showed an amused smile as he eyed the classmate sitting next to her, a knowing look in his eyes that Jude was probably going to murder him in the next minute. 

Maybe the universe had sent Cardan to save this kid's miserable life from her ending it.

“Actually,” Jude said as she scooped her notebook and pen into her backpack, “I have to go, um,” Cardan was laughing silently to himself and it was very distracting, “go water my…. goldfish,” she finished absentmindedly before bolting towards the door. Her professor, popping a handful of ibuprofen into his mouth, didn’t seem to notice.

Once out in the hall, Cardan let the door slide closed behind them before taking her face in his hands and giving her a gentle kiss that made her heart soar. 

“Hey, you,” he said after taking the smallest step away.

“I was in class, what do you want?”

“From the looks of it, you were about to commit a felony on some poor, unexpecting dimwit. I am merely saving you from your least favorite class and, possibly, prison.”

“I can’t afford to fail this class, Cardan,” Jude said with no real heat.

“I’ll help you with the homework.” Jude glared at him, knowing how much of a pain in the ass he was when he “helped” her with her homework. “So why are you dragging me out of class?�� 

Cardan’s face lit up like he had almost forgotten and then he started patting down all his pockets while mumbling to himself. Finally he pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and presented it to her like a magician would present a flower. “Because, my dear, I have a very important question for you.”

Feeling confused, Jude took the paper from his open palm and unfolded it. It was almost entirely blank except for the question “do you like me?” with two boxes to check yes or no. Jude rolled her eyes. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.” With a flourish, Cardan produced a pen from his same back pocket and blinked at her innocently. “I’m not answering.” At her words Cardan gave her a sad face that was entirely fake. With a huff, Jude snatched the pen from his hand and checked the box next to yes.

“You make me swoon, Jude,” Cardan teased.

“You really interrupted my class for this?”

“What? Oh, no, I interrupted your class because a little birdy told me,” he sidled up and smoothly pulled her into him, “that today is your birthday.”

Jude’s mood soured ever so slightly. “What little birdy?”

“Mm,” Cardan hummed as he kissed her neck. Goosebumps rose all over her body.

“Nice try,” she said, placing a hand on his chest and gently pushing him and his lips a safe distance away from her. “What little birdy, Cardan.”

He relented, “Your sister.”

“You’ve been talking to Taryn?” Instead of answering her question, Cardan gave Jude a withering look. “Oh. Right. You’re friends with Vivi. But so what if it’s my birthday? I don’t really celebrate.”

“So I was told,” Cardan said lightly as he took her hand in his and started guiding her towards the back exit of the building. “Which is exactly why I’m snatching you out of class to spend the day with me.”

“That sounds more like a birthday treat for you, not me.”

“You wound me Jude, you really do. But I promise I’ll make it worthwhile for you as well.”

It was a surprisingly warm day for mid-November. They were driving with the windows down, Jude’s hand hanging out the window and lazily surfing the breeze, Cardan singing out of time with the music playing on the radio. Despite the depression Jude’s birthday tended to bring on, a wave of peace washed over her as she turned her head to look at Cardan. Instead of wearing his sunglasses to block the bright sun, he was currently using them as a headband to keep his floppy hair out of his face while he drove, though it wasn’t proving to be very effective. The wind swept his hair about and every so often a piece of it would slap him in the face.

“So where are we going?” Jude asked for the fifth time since they had gotten into the car. They had driven out of town and were now on a country road full of trees displaying the last of their leaves before winter washed the world of color. Instead of answering Jude’s question, Cardan gave her a lopsided grin in response and took her hand in his free one. 

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?” Cardan finally said after Jude released a long, drawn out breath.

“I hate surprises,” she mumbled. 

“It’ll be fun,” Cardan insisted.

“I hate you.”

“Liar.”

“Miscreant.”

“Bully.”

“Baby.”

“Yes, darling?” Cardan replied.

“No, I was calling you a baby,” explained Jude. The smirk Cardan tried to suppress showed that Jude had walked right into that one. 

“I do so love it when you call me pet names,” Cardan continued. “Makes me feel all warm and gooey inside. Like a pie left out in the sun.”

“You shouldn’t leave pies out in the sun, birds will eat them.”

“Well I am such a goddamn snack…” Cardan trailed off as Jude began to laugh.

“Says you.”

“Darling, have you seen this ass?”

“Alright,” Jude laughed, “if you’re a snack what does that make me?”

“A four-course meal,” Cardan said as if that were obvious. “Now, if you will direct your attention to your right you will see we have arrived at our destination. Please do not feed the animals and remember the rules of being out in nature: leave no trace and take no prisoners. Sunscreen will not be provided and if a bear attacks you’re on your own.”

Jude looked out the window as Cardan pulled into a mostly empty dirt parking lot in front of a state park. Trees obscured the view beyond the opening of the main path, some of the autumnal colored leaves still clinging to their branches. Stepping out of the car, Jude was greeted by a kind of calming quiet one never got in civilization. The air smelled cleaner than Jude thought should be possible and the shining sun chased away any chills that the season tried to bring on. Birds that hadn’t yet made their migration sang from the trees, different melodies coalescing into a symphony of sounds.

It was beautiful.

The sound of a trunk door closing turned Jude’s attention to where Cardan had just pulled a basket from the trunk of his car. He watched her with a small smile and bright eyes as she took in their surroundings.

“If you brought me out here to murder me,” Jude joked, “I must say I approve of the scenery.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, clearly I brought you out here to paint you nude in nature like a faerie queen.”

“Are you saying you’ll be painting in the nude, or I’ll be nude in the painting?”

With a chuckle, Cardan tapped Jude on the tip of her nose and smiled brightly. “I like the way you think. Perhaps both. Or perhaps we’ll skip the painting entirely and just get naked. Shall we?” Cardan indicated the path with a flourish and they began walking hand in hand through the tree lined path.

“I think we should skip,” Cardan observed. “We don’t skip nearly enough as adults.”

“Skipping implies levity, and how can one be joyous when they’re drowning in college debt?”

“You really know how to ruin my fun, Jude. You can be quite cruel. And yet… I find it turns me on.”

Jude rolled her eyes. Something Cardan had said earlier had just begun to register in her mind. “Hey, what the fuck does leave no trace and take no prisoners mean?”

“What?”

“When we first got here,” Jude explained, “You said ‘leave no trace and take no prisoners.’”

“Oh, right. Leave no trace means that you should leave things how you find it, stay on the trail, yada yada yada.”

“I’m not familiar with ‘yada yada yada.’”

“Hush, my darling,” tutted Cardan before continuing with his explanation. “And ‘take no prisoners’ means that you don’t take anything out of nature. Like a pretty rock or a dead squirrel or a mushroom that has the potential to be psychedelic.” 

“Yes, those are precisely the trinkets I want as souvenirs,” Jude teased. Cardan only shrugged his shoulders and melted her heart with his smile.

“This way,” he said, gently leading her down a narrower path. After almost thirty minutes of walking they emerged into a clearing of grass overlooking a small waterfall flowing down a face of rocks and a pool of water surrounded by blue flowers. Mesmerized, Jude crept up to the bank of forget-me-nots and stared at her reflection mirrored in the pool of water. All sound seemed to be muffled in the little clearing, the perfect circle of grass separating the forest from the little pond. It felt magical and Jude stole a glance at Cardan. 

“How did you find this place?” She asked.

Instead of answering, Cardan set down the basket in his arms and pulled a checkered blanket from its depths. He placed the folded blanket over one arm like a tea towel and held his finger to his face in imitation of a mustache. “Will the lady be dining alone today?” He asked in a horrible french accent.

“Yes. Yes, she will.”

“I’m afraid I must insist on joining you.”

“Mmm. No thanks.”

Cardan laughed and it was warmer than sunlight. “Will you let me join you if I promise never to talk in that accent again?”

Jude pretended to consider this for a moment. “I suppose,” she dragged out, running her eyes along the length of his body. “You would make for rather handsome company.”

With a grin, Cardan whipped open the blanket and laid it out on the grass with a bit of theatrics, indicating with a slight bow and an extended hand that Jude should sit. After joining her on the blanket, Cardan opened the basket once again and peered inside.

“I hope you like the concept of food more than actually eating it because I forgot to actually pack any,” he said seriously. 

“Cardan!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking!” He held his hands up in surrender and laughed as Jude attempted to toss a nearby leaf in his face. “Let’s see what we’ve actually got in here, shall we?” And so he proceeded to produce fresh bread, soft cheeses, fancy meats, a variety of fruits, and chocolate pastries from the basket. After laying out their feast, he then pulled plastic plates, two cups, and a bottle of grape juice from the bottom of the picnic basket.

“Why grape juice?” Jude asked with a laugh.

“Because, darling, I have to drive and I know you’re not big on alcohol. But I still wanted to stick to the spirit of things, hence the grape juice instead of wine.”

“You really thought of everything.”

“Yes, well,” Cardan released a labored breath, faking humility, “I am rather thoughtful.”

Jude rolled her eyes and leaned in to catch Cardan’s mouth with her own. The kiss finally shut him up and he cradled the sides of her face in his hands, gently tugging her closer until she was nearly in his lap. He deepened the kiss, turning it from something soft to something desperate as Jude ran her hands through his hair. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down, causing him to release a shaky breath into her mouth. Cardan’s hands slid down to grip her hips and pull her into his lap so she was straddling him as they continued to kiss until they were breathless. Jude knew if she didn’t stop now, they really would both end up naked like Cardan had claimed. Reluctantly, she drew back to look at him. His eyes, already nearly black to begin with, seemed even darker. She felt something pull deep in her abdomen at the sight of him. Maybe…? No, she resolved, not in public. Giving him one last kiss, Jude withdrew back to her spot on the blanket, Cardan’s hand reaching out to her with a look of desperation on his face. Lord help her, he was giving her those puppy dog eyes. 

With a laugh, she playfully swatted his hand away and said, “Later.”

As if to prove her point, the sounds of a family walking nearby with their giggling kids and barking dog drifted into their little nook.

Cardan sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Wouldn’t want to shock that poor family by ravaging each other right here in this very romantic alcove.”

After they finished eating, they ended up taking off their shoes and rolling up their pant legs to dangle their feet in the water. A frog croaked somewhere along the banks and birds flew to the water before darting away again. Beside her, Cardan laid back in the grass with his eyes closed.

“How did you even find this place?” Jude asked again softly.

Cardan opened his eyes and fixed them on Jude. “Sometimes I need to get away.”

“So you run to the woods?” Jude teased.

“Yes, obviously,” Cardan huffed as he sat up and nudged her with his shoulder. “Haven’t you ever wanted to become a forest cryptid after running away from society?”

Jude laughed. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

“You should try it sometime. Wailing in the woods is very cathartic.”

By the time they left the park, the sun was beginning to set. They had accidentally fallen asleep while staring up at the clouds and only woke up when Jude began drooling on Cardan’s stomach and he had woken up with a small shriek thinking there was a spider crawling on him. 

The car ride was pleasantly quiet, Jude’s head blissfully free of worries, Cardan’s thumb tracing circles along the back of her hand on the console between them. Jude had to admit it was a good birthday.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Cardan broke the silence. “Why don’t you celebrate your birthday?” The question was hesitant, leaving Jude the space to ignore it should she not want to share this little tidbit of her life. But after everything she’d already shared with Cardan, it seemed silly to hide this. Honestly, it was something she’d bottled up for so many years that she found the prospect of sharing it to be like lifting a weight off her chest.

“It makes me sad,” she replied barely above a whisper. “I miss my parents. Madoc always did something for our birthday but it wasn’t the same, you know? I miss the way my mom would squeeze us in her arms after we blew out the candles, and how my dad would try to take a picture but end up blinding us or himself with the flash. My mom loved those prank candles that would keep relighting after you blew them out and Taryn would shriek and I’d laugh and my dad would say I was going to be an arsonist if I didn’t get my fascination with fire under control.”

Cardan gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “They sound wonderful,” he said very quietly.

“They were.” Jude wiped a stray tear off her face and stared out the window as they lapsed back into silence.

From her back pocket, Jude’s phone started screaming it's ringtone at her, making her jump hard enough to bash her elbow into the car door. “Sonofabi--,” she exclaimed as she dug the phone from her jeans and answered it right before it went to voicemail. “Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?” Vivi’s frantic voice filtered through the phone.

“What? Why, what’s going on?” Panic was starting to build in Jude’s chest and she saw her same fear reflected in Cardan’s gaze as he looked to her for what she needed from him.

“It’s your birthday!” Vivi said, like this explained everything. The worry in Jude’s chest dissolved into irritation.

“So?” 

“So?!” Vivi repeated. “So Taryn and I are already at Madoc’s for your birthday dinner and you’re nowhere to be found.”

“Oh fuck. Fuck! I totally forgot!” 

“Obviously! Look, I’ll try to stall until you get here. Taryn brought Locke so you might as well bring Cardan too. Get here as fast as you can, dumbass.” With that, Vivi hung up.

Jude turned to Cardan, where he was looking at her expectantly.  “We have to go to my dad’s.”

They barely made it through the front door before Vivi was upon them like a hyena. “Thank god you’re here, Madoc is starting to throw a fit.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Madoc stepped into the foyer and gave Jude a withering look. “Why aren’t you dressed?” He barked.

Jude was fairly certain her clothes hadn’t fallen off, leaving her standing in the doorway naked, but she still looked down at herself in assessment. She was very clearly dressed. 

“Never mind, some of your old dresses are still in your room, you must get changed before the guests arrive.” He took in Cardan’s attire and made a face like he had just drank spoiled milk. “I suppose you’ll do.”

Jude was feeling a little lost. “Guests?”

“Yes, Jude, guests. This is, afterall, a birthday party. I don’t want you embarrassing me in front of all our family friends and associates, so I suggest you go change out of that ratty sweater before everyone arrives.” Without waiting for a reply, Madoc left the room in the same storm he had entered it with.

“Guests?” Jude asked again, this time directing her attention at Vivi.

Vivi shrugged. “Oh you know dear old dad, he’ll turn everything into a business affair given half the chance. Now go get dressed so I don’t have to bury you on your birthday.”

Jude's childhood bedroom was sparse. Most of her things had been moved to her apartment after leaving Madoc’s, but there were a few things left behind: a bed, a handful of stuffed animals, an old dresser that was long but low with an attached mirror, and a bookcase with children's books still lining it's shelves. It was this last one that Cardan drifted to as Jude shut the door behind her. She drifted to her closet and the few dresses that remained there.

"Alice in Wonderland?" He said, taking a collectors edition off the top shelf. "This was my favorite book as a kid."

"You can have it," Jude said as she walked out of the closet in her chosen dress for the night and leaned against the nightstand after zipping the back up the rest of the way. Cardan raised his eyebrows at her over his shoulder and set the book down on the bed.

"It's your birthday," he purred, coming up to her and running his hands along her hips before shifting them so they were pressed squarely against his. He easily lifted her up and set her down on the dresser for him to settle between her knees. Jude felt her breath catch. "I'm supposed to be the one giving you a gift." 

"Is the gift sex?" Jude breathed as Cardan ran his lips along her throat. 

He chuckled against her collarbone, and lord help her, she felt hot all over. 

"No," he said, his voice low and undeniably sexy. "But the option's always on the table."

He continued to leave a trail of hot kisses along her skin as her almost feverish body continued to get hotter. Cardan was driving her crazy, and if the smile he pressed into her pulse point was any indication, he knew it to.

"God, this dress, Jude…"

"What? Don't like it?" She managed, looking down at the midnight blue fabric that hugged her curves nicely before pooling loosely just above her knees.

"I like you in it, that's for sure. But I'd also like you without it right about now." Cardan's fingers were gently running up the sides of her thighs. 

"Then take it off," she whispered in his ear.

His fingers came to the hem of her underwear and she shimmied out of them as he gently tugged them down. Then his hands were right where she wanted them, teasing her, exploring her, all while he continued to kiss every available inch of her skin. She gasped and, without fully meaning too, dug her nails into Cardan's shoulder as he inserted a finger. He was going too damn slow. She wanted more more more more.

"Cardan," she moaned. He smiled against her skin once more and added another finger. "Fuck, Cardan."

His strokes were reverent, like he was worshipping her. With his free hand he slid the strap of her dress off her right shoulder. Then her left. Her dress pooled around her waist on the dresser and his mouth found her breasts.

More more more more.

"This is all I've been able to think about since we kissed earlier," he said against her mouth.

"Yeah?" 

"Jude…"

She kissed him, the kiss getting more and more desperate as his fingers continued to stroke her. His rhythm was slowly dissolving as his own desire drove him just as crazy. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him, and she wanted him bad.

"Do you have a condom?" She asked around her panting.

"Would you hate me if I said I've been carrying one since the first time we had sex?" 

Jude's laugh was low and sultry. "No, I wouldn't hate you. If anything I'd say thank god."

His fingers found a particularly sensitive spot and she bit her lip to contain the last half of a yelp that tore through her. She could feel her hips rocking against him even though she wasn't consciously doing it. When she looked down, she could see cardan hard and straining against his tight jeans.

"Get the condom," she pleaded.

Much to her disappointment, Cardan withdrew the hand inside her to remove his wallet from his back pocket in order withdraw a condom and shuck off his pants. His mouth found hers in a desperate series of kisses as he slid the condom on and then his hands were on her again and oh she was losing her mind. 

"Cardan?"

"Hmm?"

"The bed."

He backed up and sat down on the edge of the bed. Jude hopped off the dresser, her dress falling the rest of the way off her body to collect in a pool at her feet. Steadily, she walked over to Cardan, aware of his gaze taking in every inch of her exposed skin. His eyes seemed to gleam.

"God you're so fucking beautiful," he said. 

Jude settled into his lap. He was looking up at her in a way that made her stomach tumble even more as he leaned back and braced himself with a hand against the mattress behind him. His other hand cradled Jude against his body. And then, finally, he slid into her.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered as Jude began rocking her hips. His hands grabbed hold of her waist, he buried his head against her chest, and his breath came in short, hot gasps as Jude rode him. 

When he began to move his hips beneath her, Jude let out a cry of pleasure, which drew a chuckle out of cardan.

"As much as I love to hear your moans, you might want to try to be quiet, darling," he purred in that way that made Jude want to do very unholy things to him. 

Her mind was struggling for words as she shoved at his chest to push his back against the mattress. Finally, she managed, "Fuck you, Greenbriar."

"I think you already are."

"Then fuck me."

With a laugh he bucked his hips and she threw her head back in pleasure, Cardan's fingers trailing her exposed throat before sliding into her hair. His free hand had a firm hold on her hips as he rocked his and oh my god she was nearing the edge of a cliff. His teeth grazed her collarbone before finding her nipple, his hand slid in the small space between them and began running circles on her and oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…

Jude fell off that cliff with a cry as Cardan fell with her.

Trying to catch her breath, Jude collapsed on top of Cardan. Beneath her cheek his chest rose and fell as fast as hers, his heartbeat going a mile a minute. Jude didn't mind the sweat sticking to his skin, or how her own sweaty skin made their stomachs stick together. She just laid with her head on his chest, legs still around his hips, and closed her eyes as his fingers stroked her back, her hair, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. Jude decided she could live in this moment forever. Being held by Cardan after being loved by him, slowly beginning to doze off as she breathed in the scent of his skin, enveloped in the warmth of it.

"Jude," he said gently.

"Hmm?"

"We should probably make ourselves decent and go back downstairs before someone comes looking for us." This elicited a groan of a different variety than moments before from Jude. Cardan gave a soft laugh and pressed his lips against her sweaty forehead. 

"Come on, Jude. I'd rather not get caught having sex with you by your dad."

"But you're not having sex with me anymore," she teased. This made Cardan smile wickedly. Before she could think about the wisdom behind her own taunt, Cardan had them flipped over so he was on top of her. 

"You're right, my sweet villain," he purred, "but I can still drive you crazy." His fingers grazed down her stomach, millimeters away from where she was once again hot all over, before he pulled away from her and started pulling on his pants.

"I really fucking hate you sometimes, you know that?" Jude said.

With a laugh, Cardan buckled his pants and leaned over the bed so he was propped over Jude again. "Come on," he said, helping her sit up. "We can pick up where we left off once we get back to your apartment." 

That didn't seem soon enough. But Cardan was handing her her dress and she grumpily slipped it on. After both using the bathroom attached to her room, she led the way to her bedroom door and was about to pull it open when Cardan's hand stopped her. Gently, so gently, he spun her around and pressed her back against the door. He kissed her, once, and then he was pulling open the door, his fingers interlocking with hers, and they were going back downstairs.

The party passed in a blur. The guests were there more for Madoc than for Jude and Taryn and the twins seemed to orbit on different axises. Jude saw Taryn in passing but never stopped to talk, and Vivi tried to split her time between the two of them while making sure they both knew how much it irritated her. Throughout the night, Cardan stole kisses in secluded places. The empty kitchen, a corner in the hallway, behind a potted plant by the tables overflowing with food. On the back patio with the stars shining down on them. Jude cherished every kiss, every touch, and felt herself fall a little more each time.

“Happy birthday, Jude,” Cardan whispered against her skin as he settled an opal necklace around her throat.

[aerisahale]

Multitudes of Memory

@korrasami-valentine-exchange

Words: 5,032 Rating: T Summary: Asami remembers five of her favorite memories with Korra in the process of repainting their house, and then she makes a new one.

A crash from the entryway pulls Asami’s focus away from the metalwork of springs and cogs before her. Korra was a bit later than she had expected, but she has been keeping herself busy. Gently laying the half-finished work on her desk, Asami exits her home office.

Along the way to the living room, she is surprised to find herself with an armful of excitable Korra just on the other side of the threshold. Korra babbles about how sweet the cashier was as Asami pulls them both down the hall and into the living room, coming to stand side-by-side in a mirrored pose of hands-on-their-hips and looks of determination. Asami asks, “You still want to do this, right?”

Waggling her eyebrows, Korra says, “Of course. You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“It was my idea!”

Korra puts her hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying it’s okay if you are.”

A grin slides onto the engineer’s face and she slaps a hand onto the pile of paint cans next to her with the same look of determination she wears after she has closed a particularly lucrative business deal. “No, let’s do this!”

Whooping with all the enthusiasm of a prospective retailer in a Future Industries factory, Korra is already dragging a chair out of the room, careful to avoid the pile of paint brushes, rollers, tape, and trays that must have crashed from whatever container Korra had originally brought them inside with. “I’ll start moving the furniture out of the room!”

“I’ll get the walls!” she shouts over the scraping of chair legs against hardwood that is too far gone to chastise her wife about picking things up instead of dragging.

Grabbing a nearby box that they had spent time assembling the night before, Asami starts pulling picture frames off the walls. Newspaper gets wrapped around each one before they get laid gently into the box. It is a repetitive process and she finds herself getting into the rhythm. It is only when her fingers brush the cool metal of a certain picture frame as her heart gives a thump against her chest, warmth of nostalgia takes hold, and she remembers the evening it was taken.

--

 Gentle but romantic piano music rises above the din of the restaurant as Asami tuck a strand of hair nervously behind her ear. Sitting alone makes her feel too conspicuous, already noticeable as the heir of Future Industries and the Sato holdings. Her fingers tap restlessly against the table, blunt fingernails tapping a beat against the table as the waiter brings her the glass of wine she asked for.

There are couples around her, dressed finely and sipping their own wine, nibbling on appetizers. The couple closest to her aren’t have a particularly scintillating conversation and she finds herself both nervous and bored. She suddenly wishes she had something better to do with her hands and presses a pattern into the stem of her glass, eyes roving over the restaurant as she waits.

Moments after, a commotion at the front begs her attention. She finds Korra dressed in a Water Tribe blue dress, arms bare, defined muscles on display for anyone to admire. When Korra greets her, she is breathy and it makes her wonder if it was nerves or if she genuinely ran here. Neither would surprise her. Asami hugs her and all of her own nerves from earlier melt away in the arms of the woman she loves. It never fails to amaze her how strong Korra’s simple presence can make her feel.

Reluctant to part, she knows she surprises Korra by holding on longer than would be normal. Korra’s arms tighten back around her and she takes a deep breath, sighing out against the other woman’s shoulder. They finally settle down at the table and begin perusing the menu, deciding to start with an appetizer of octopus fritters.

She asks Korra how her day has been, knows the other woman has been busy with politics. Korra along with Tenzin have been appointed as unofficial advisors in Zhu Li’s presidency and it has led to many long nights as they deal with various issues of running the Republic of United Nations. Asami herself had been a part of some of those nights as the unique blend of immigration and technological advancement in Republic City created as many problems as it solved.

Asami listens attentively until Korra shifts the conversation toward praising Asami for her latest invention allowing for faster, more efficient mail and package delivery after several rather large Spirit Vines had bottlenecked delivery by vehicle in several different areas. Glowing under the praise and reveling in how genuine Korra is as she delivers it, Asami is taken by surprise when someone other than their waiter approaches the table.

“May I take your picture for the Fire Ferret Times?” The camera is already in front of the speaker’s face.

Asami shares a silent conversation with Korra before they slide away from the table and wrap their arms around each other’s waist, heads leaned into each other. It is a short moment, and their meals arrived shortly after, but it still stands out as one of the best dates they had ever gone on.

 --

 The glow of the conversation that was interrupted still brightened their faces and the smiles they held were both genuine. The article that was run the next day about the parallels of finding balance in one’s personal lives to finding balance in the city, featuring Korra’s delicate balance of her duties as the Avatar and her individuality as a person was surprisingly well-written and was deserving of more credit than they had given the man on their drive home that night. There was a copy of it in a scrapbook on one of the shelves in Asami’s office.

Korra is back in the living room, giving Asami a questioning glance. She holds up the photo to her. “Remembering this night.”

“Spirits, you were gorgeous that night!” Taking the frame from Asami, Korra grins down at it. She looks thoughtful for a moment before she looks Asami up and down quite conspicuously and smirks. “Still are!”

Asami grabs the next photo as Korra wraps that one and places it in the box with the others Asami already wrapped. There are only a couple more photos and she runs a gentle finger down their wedding photo, the last to be placed in the box, taking extra care wrapping it. She places it gently on the top and closes the box, taking into the spot they had cleared out in the garage of their house.

“Asami!” Korra yells. “Look what I found!”

She is holding up a half burned red tablecloth and the sight of it catches Asami in surprise. A laugh bubbles up and bursts out. “I thought we threw that away!”

“Me too!” The Avatar is already grinning, but it grows wider as her eyes fly wide. “Wait! We got a bit, uh, distracted.”

“Oh, yeah!” Asami laughs as she hooks an arm around Korra’s waist and nuzzles her nose into her neck, eyes falling closed.

 --

 Varrick has been working on a secret project he only allowed Zhu Li to be privy to for months. When he comes to Asami, seeking to syphon off Future Industries private power grid, she had been understandably skeptical. She had even said no, at first, but several foiled theft attempts on Varrick’s part and a phone call from Zhu Li asking on her husband’s behalf, she had finally relented.

It had been a mistake.

Whatever the madman had done had shorted out half of the power grid for Republic City. It makes the rest of the day a frustrating one, fielding phone calls from her various factory managers, losses of product, and brainstorming with Zhu Li and Varrick about getting the grid back online. Eventually they call it a day and all Asami wants is to lose her troubles in her favorite dish at Kwong’s Cuisine but it is one of the many businesses affected by the power loss.

When she finally gets home, she is displeased to find she is out of power too. Her and Korra’s house laid on the dividing line of those who had been spared and those who were left without and it seems that her frustration was fated to continue. Familiarity allows her to hang her jacket up and throw the keys to the Satomobile in the bowl by the door.

“Korra?”

“Hey, baby. I heard you had a rough day. What do you need?” The woman in question walks out of the kitchen and pulls her wife into her arms.

“I need Varrick’s hairbrained ideas to stop effecting the entire city before he gets it right,” she growls out before realizing her tone and sighing, going boneless in Korra’s arms. “You’re not the one I’m mad at, I’m sorry. It was a rough day. How was your day?”

She tries to listen to Korra, she really does, but she gets distracted by the rumbling of her stomach. By the fourth growl, it is loud enough that Korra pauses mid-sentence to ask, “Have you eaten?”

“Spirits, no. I just wanted to go to Kwong’s but they were out of power too.”

“Lucky timing then because I ordered enough food to feed an army from Narook’s. I even got some of that artic hen you really like. I was about to go pick it up.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’m going to clean up as best I can without a shower but you can take the Satomobile. I don’t care if Kuvira is suddenly mounting a second invasion, I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

Pressing a kiss to her temple, Korra scoops the keys out of the dish Asami threw them into. “I’ll be back soon.”

Korra makes good on her promise and Asami is feeling much better when Korra comes through the door, both hands laden with bags of food that make Asami’s stomach growl all over again. She takes the bags from Korra’s hands and brings them to the table where she’s lit a couple candles for light. She lays the food out as Korra closes the door and takes her shoes off.

“Asami, this is so romantic!” Korra smiles.

Surprise registers as her eyebrows raise, a laugh bubbling up. “I hadn’t even realized. Our own candlelit dinner. Maybe today won’t end as badly as the rest of it was.”

Dinner passes quickly, more quickly for Asami than Korra. She has all but inhaled her food in her hunger, now describing all the atrocities the day had visited upon her as Korra finishes her meal at a more reasonable pace. Korra is howling in laughter as she recounts thwarting a particularly annoying theft attempt on Varrick’s part. After she’s finished and they both stop laughing, Asami wipes the tears from her eyes and glances around.

“We don’t have anything special for dessert but, I can grab a bottle of that dessert wine we brought home from that last trip to Ember Island.”

When she comes back, Korra has finished her plate of food, and Asami pours them both a glass of wine. As she sets it onto the table, the bottle knocks over one of the candles, the flame quickly catching on the fabric of the tablecloth it landed on. It takes them both by surprise but Korra is on her feet, quick to bend the water from a nearby vase onto the flames before the damage spreads further than the tablecloth.

“Thanks, Korra. I should have been paying more attention.”

“No harm done. You okay?” she asks, pulling Asami against her chest.

“It’s just been a frustrating day.”

“Perhaps I can help distract you from that?” Korra pleads with puppy-dog eyes to rival Naga at her sweetest.

“We should clean up,” she protests weakly, even though she already knows she wants it.

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

Asami lets herself be pulled into a kiss. It’s sweet and familiar as it soothes Asami’s frayed nerves. She presses a hand to the small or Korra’s back and pulls her body flush against her, kissing her for a moment longer. They stay lost in each other as they allow muscle memory to guide themselves to a more appropriate location.

 --

 “That night was far better than that day had been. At least Varrick restored power by the next day.” Asami laughs.

“Maybe we should keep a square of the tablecloth for the scrapbook?” Korra suggests. “We kept it all this time, apparently.”

“Good idea!”

Better to do it while it’s on her mind, Asami is quick to grab the scissors and the scrapbook from her office. As she is pulling the scrapbook down, another book tumbles from the bookshelf, pages flaring out as the spine hits the ground. It opens to a particular page and she is delighted at what she finds, so she picks that up and brings it with her as well.

She dances around the furniture Korra has shoved into the kitchen and sets everything on the counter. She calls Korra over, holding the contents of the book open on display. Korra’s eyes widen as she approaches.

“I remember this!” Korra says as she picks up the pressed blossom by the stem, twirling it in her fingers. Asami listens to Korra’s view of that night as she sets to cutting a good square out of the tablecloth, thinking about her own sequence of unfortunate events that evening.

 --

 There was a summit with the outlying Earth Kingdom provinces that had originally been resistant to joining the United Republic of Nations and Korra had taken their personal Satomobile with her to make the trip easier. The provinces in question were always peaceful in their resistance and their admiration of the way Korra and Zhu Li were handling the merging of the Spirit World and Republic City, a strong contrast to how Kuvira had demanded submission, had finally pushed them to reach out with an offer to make peace and finally formally join the United Republic of Nations.

Asami was already antsy since the night before since Korra was due home that day, a treaty having been signed the day before. She had received a garbled telephone call the day before that she was fairly certain she had heard correctly. She was certainly setting herself up for disappointment if Korra was delayed for some reason, because she could not contain her excitement after a week without her wife.

Borrowing a Future Industries Satomobile while her own Satomobile was absent for the week has been a small thing, but tonight is a nice, warm night and Asami wants to enjoy it with a walk. She takes a detour past a section of the city that had been particularly vocal about their displeasure with the Spirits and she wants to know if she can find a particular reason why.

The buildings are average as far as Republic City is concerned. The streets did not seem particularly crowded by vines, not anymore so than the rest of the city. A few apartments had been lost to the growth, but not enough to warrant the amount of complaints Zhu Li was receiving from this section. She made a mental note to look into the matter further, wanting to ask some locals questions. It was too late and too nice for that to be a venture for this evening.

It is too bright to really see the stars, but Asami definitely enjoys the cool breeze that cuts through the warm evening. There are not as many people as she would expect to find in the day, but the Friday evening has brought many people out of their homes for a night on the town. The street lamps cast a soothing glow across the buildings and people walking side by side, some hand in hand.

She had not been fruitful toward her originally intended investigation, but she did come upon a delightfully bright shop, bright colors popping in the lighting. It was bright enough to wash out the yellow of the street lamps and drew Asami in. Peeking at the floral arrangements on display outside the shop, she was startled by the hunched elderly woman who appeared at her elbow with a gravely greeting.

“What type of arrangement are you looking for, Ms…?” the woman asks, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Asami is unsure if she was the canary, yet.

“Sato. Asami. They just caught my eye.”

“Oh, the Avatar’s wife, come! Come inside, I have the perfect arrangement.”

The floral scent inside the shop is strong. She is led to the back where a long counter where a pile of flowers lay, vases of different varieties angled behind the table to be grabbed easily. The old woman picks one last flower and places it in the center, the only one of its kind in the bunch, rolling it into a bouquet and tying the paper in place with a ribbon.

“What is this one?” Asami asks, pointing to the black and white flower in the center.

“Ah, that is the panda lily. It only grows in the Earth Kingdom, on the rim of volcanoes with certain soil and humidity conditions. Giving the panda lily to someone is a sign of great love. Quite ironic that I was just putting this together, don’t you think, Asami Sato?”

Deciding she is most certainly the canary, Asami is quick to agree and she paid the woman far more than the flowers were worth. A particular giddiness came over her as she carries them home. She had never bought flowers for Korra or anyone before. She had treated Korra to nice meals, jewelry, trinkets she built herself, but flowers felt sentimental in a way Asami did not often find herself.

By some stroke of luck, Korra is already home when she got there. Her wife is in the shower, so Asami searched through the storage closet in the garage for a spare vase to set the flowers in. The closet is a mess and several things fell out, narrowly avoided by dodging out of the way. It had taken fifteen minutes just to pack everything back into it after she found the vase she is looking for, but it is worth it to watch Korra’s tired eyes brighten at the sight of the flowers.

Watching Korra gently run her fingers over the petals of the panda lily, Asami recounted the story the elderly woman had told her. Korra listened intently, a smile growing on her face as she continued. By the end, Korra had drawn her into a tight embrace, arms encircling Asami while her face pressed into her neck. “Thank you, love.”

Asami held Korra tight against her. It had only been a week apart, but she had missed the closeness with her wife, the comfort she found with her arms around her. The solid presence of her made Asami feel like she could take on the world, had taken on the world with Korra by her side a time or two. Eventually, she began to feel the tremors running through Korra’s body and she pulled back, looking at her with all the concern she felt.

“Korra, what’s wrong?”

Turning her face away to rub at her eye with the sleeve of her shirt, her voice is steady when she says, “It’s nothing bad. It was just a very long week and I missed you very much. I’m a little overwhelmed.”

Korra reached out and touched the panda lily again. “I want to keep it. I want to remember what coming home feels like.”

 --

 Smiling sweetly, Asami gently plucks the panda lily from Korra’s fingers and presses it into the proper place in the scrapbook, and the red square of tablecloth finds a home a few pages before.  The scissors and scrapbook go back to their places in Asami’s office and she returns to tackle the living room with renewed interest.

Korra drags another chair out before tackling the couch. Asami asks if she wants help but the big, strong Avatar denies she needs it and Asami gets to laugh at her struggling to drag the big, overstuffed couch out while Asami herself drags a box that had been tucked behind it and forgotten about.

Opening the box, she finds the contents are random, seemingly thrown in there to clear space. She digs through it for a moment, before her fingers brush against a soft furred item that ignites her curiosity enough to seek it out. The stuffed animal she finds makes her smile.

 --

 The day starts with breakfast in bed, delivered to their door by the hotel staff. It is an Earth Kingdom specialty, oven-roasted pears stuffed with ice cream and crunchy sweet bread, a combination of flavors that Asami is certain she will never forget. She cannot help the moan that leaves her. Breakfast isn’t something she often indulges in and that makes it all the sweeter. “This is so good!”

She looks over at Korra to find the woman’s mouth stuffed full, cheeks bulging like a frog squirrel, and cannot help the giggles that overtake her. Judging by the empty plate held in her hands, the Avatar of legend has shoved the entirety of the breakfast into her mouth in one go. They do not get many moments like this back home when they are both busy, so her mirth grows to full on laughter when Korra tries to speak but it just comes out garbled.

After breakfast, they spend an hour lounging in the bathtub together, refilling it with hot water whenever the temperature drops too low. The scented oils and soaps that are provided are heavenly, and Asami takes the time to smell each one as Korra undresses to join her.

They talk about their future in a way they have not in a long time, politics, jobs, and life often too hectic to allow for the languid depth they find now. That they still have so much in common thrills the engineer and she wraps her arms around Korra. Asami holds her tightly, the warmth of Korra’s back against her front and the water surrounding them is relaxing. She presses slow, lazy kisses against Korra’s ear, neck, and shoulders.

They finish their bath and get ready to tour the city. They spend some time visiting each and every historical and art museums. Korra studies the displays that talk about Avatar Kyoshi. She knows Korra has fears about the future knowing she cannot access the memories and wisdom of her past lives, so she reminds her wife that she is not alone by lacing their fingers together, leaning into her side.

Korra leans back into her, still reading the aged documents that describe Kyoshi as a wise, long-lived woman who would do what was necessary to enact justice. It spoke of her victories over Tagaka to Xu Ping An and more. It was astounding how long she lived, trying to influence the justness of the world as best she could.

After they have visited every museum Ba Sing Se has to offer, Korra suggests they visit the zoo just outside the wall. It is not far from where they are but it is about time for them to stop and grab lunch, so they stop along the way. It is a Ba Sing Se specialty restaurant, with a bright green gem over the doorway that attracts Korra like a magpie to silver.

They are in the middle of ordering when Asami notices the head that peeks around the corner from the kitchen, and that is the only warning she gets before an older man is dragging the waitress down into a low bow beside him. He gushes to Korra and insists on burying them in far more food than they intended to order. Korra grins good-naturedly and is happy to get some extra food out of it. The owner hovers nearby, quick to jump into the conversation in any place that he can. Thankfully, the food is delicious and it only takes a few tries to get away from the chatty owner after they have finished and insisted paying for their meal.

The arching entryway of the zoo is taller than Asami by three times and she stares up at it before looking back down at the crowds of people roaming from exhibit to exhibit. There is a line to get into the park and it is warmer here than Asami is used to in Republic City so she unbuttons her blouse to bare her arms to the cool breeze that floats by.

A grin spreads across her lips when she catches Korra checking her out, not once but three separate occasions before they have even purchased their tickets. If it makes her stand a little straighter and hold her head a little higher, Korra does not say so, but the stuttering of the young man at the ticket counter does.

The first exhibit inside the park were platypus bear, being a favorite of the former monarchy of the Earth Kingdom. They thrived inside their private outdoor enclosure and Asami and Korra were both delighted to be able to get to see them.

Korra grabbed Asami’s hand and pulled her to the next exhibit, turtle seals, playing with each other in the shallow edge of the pool. Watching Korra’s eyes light up is the highlight of the trip so far for Asami. She sneaks away while her wife is distracted, finding a nearby vendor and buying a stuffed animal turtle seal. The delight on Korra’s face fills Asami’s heart to near bursting and she pulls her into a hug.

 --

 Turning the stuffed animal over in her hands, the same warmth of that moment makes her heart beat a little faster. She turns to show the animal to Korra when she comes back in from maneuvering the couch out into the kitchen. Korra’s grin turns sweet and she reaches out for it, giving it a gentle squeeze. “That was such a good day.”

Hefting the box up onto her hip, Asami holds it out for Korra to tuck the animal back into it and carries it out to the garage. They get the rest of the furniture moved into the kitchen and everything else packed into boxes in the garage. The stack of boxes is so much larger than Asami had originally thought it would be, but she had many years with Korra to accumulate things.

The empty living room felt weird so Asami is quick to grab the painter’s tape and start lining the trim and windowsills, Korra joining on the other half and they worked towards each other until they met in the middle, like they did in so many aspects of their lives.

Once the taping is done, they laid plastic to protect the hardwood from paint stains and then they set up a paint tray, each grabbing a paintbrush. One can of paint gets dragged over to the tray and the satisfying pop sends a thrill through Asami, excitement for the changes the new color is going to bring to their home sending goosebumps down her arms. It is an eggplant color that a part of Asami thought was the perfect amalgamation of their preferred wardrobe and an even better living room color.

They each grab a paintbrush and set to work filling in all the edges near the painter’s tape. It is tedious work and by the time Asami has reached the window in the center, Korra is already near her edge of it and she accidentally bumps into her.

“Hey!” Korra warns.

Asami’s eyebrow quirks. “I’ll show you ‘hey!’.”

Korra is clearly not expecting the hip check if the way she jolts sideways is anything to judge by. The flail of her arms as she tries to regain her balance has left a splotch of purple across Asami’s cheek that probably detracts from the indignant expression she is trying for. Asami grabs her own paintbrush and as soon as her eyes slide to the tray of paint, Korra is moving.

The race to be the first to the paint tray ends with Korra getting there first, but Asami pushes her forward so that her momentum carries her past it, jams her paintbrush into the paint and flings it at Korra who has just turned around to double back. Korra is quick to get her own paintbrush in the paint and flings a glob that splatters across the thigh of Asami’s pants, falling to land on her shoe

The ensuing fight leaves splatters of purple across not only the walls but the window, plastic, and both women. The laughter it causes is more than worth any trouble it may bring later and it had been a long time since they both fully abandoned adulthood for pure, innocent, but messy fun. Laying side-by-side, covered in paint, giggling with her wife is something she will cherish for a long time.

“Do you remember our first vacation together? When I went to the Spirit World for the first time?” Asami asks. Memories of neon spirits and tea with Iroh, the Dragon of the West, but most importantly Korra and their first kiss make her sigh happily. It did not take her long after that to know she was in love in a way she never had been before.

“How could I forget?”

“I never dreamed we would be where we are, almost two decades later. We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?”

“We have! It hasn’t always been easy, but we’ve come out stronger for the problems, I think.”

“Definitely.”

The day of reminiscing left her with the impression this would be a new memory she would remember for a long time. She considers getting a keepsake to commemorate the moment, but pushes it aside for a more appropriate time. Korra’s hand cups her jaw, pulling their lips together and Asami allows herself to get lost in it.  They had so many memories already, but Asami cannot wait for many, many more.

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy - the light switch

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Part Six

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

word count: 3696 + 358

warnings: mentions of suicide. this one is big and there’s a lot of chatting, sorry!

music: blink-182 - shut up

“Best songs about escaping the law. Go!”

Mal was a natural. Or seemed like one. He took up the maintenance guy, Flip, who volunteered to help them decorate the gathering hall for the party. It was almost the thirty-first, and, thanks to hard work and Mal’s disgust for sleep, they were done with the playlist. Not that it was very difficult. Caroline had said, nostalgia flick. Well, they knew exactly what people would feel nostalgic to. And even if they didn’t, who cares. They had the filthiest of Bloodhound Gang and a sick lamp that changed flickering from orange to blue.

Currently he was guiding Flip through Styx’s discography, explaining why it was literally the best rock band of the middle of seventies. Every little thing Mal enjoyed was literally the best for him. He had a mind of a twelve year old teenager, and a scary look of a snake. Ever since Y/N learned why he’s the way he was, she saw everything he did in a much more ominous way. Yet, he seemed friendly enough, turning his back to her, which meant he trusted her. Just in case she has to take him out. After the gaping hole grew in her over the winter and spring, she felt there wasn’t a single thing she wasn’t capable of.

Y/N was opening boxes with plastic cups and napkins, tons of waste five hours after the party. Caroline arrived exactly at noon, just like she’d promised, and started helping her.

“Is that him?” she asked quietly, eyeing Mal from the other side of the hall. Y/N stood up and nodded. The two girls were watching as he and Flip unfolded a big knot of wiring.

“He’s cute”.

“Uh-huh”.

“And you said he was… odd?”

Y/N nodded.

“I’m quite fine with that, though. I found the reason for it. I’m not sure he’s completely honest about everything, but earlier I thought he was like a demon, or a vampire undercover”.

Caroline looked at him closely, putting away her curly strands of hair to hear better.

“And what’s the reason?”

“Caroline, you’re lifting two boxed with the projectors. Put them down”, Y/N hissed, grabbing her by the hands. The blonde vampire formed an O with her mouth and grimaced awkwardly.

“Gee, I just wanna do it all as quick as possible. Sorry. You were saying?”

“Well, he has… some… he’s like…”

On the one hand, a bit of sociopathic energy won’t surprise anyone here. But then again, this stuff is personal.

She leaned to Caroline and whispered into her ear, really quietly.

“Oh! Has he killed anybody yet?”

“I thought the same!”

Her shriek made the boys turn their heads. Mal waved his hand at Forbes, and she nodded.

“About that, by the way…” Caroline followed him with her eyes, and then looked back at her friend.

“Those bodies at Stefan’s house”, Y/N always wondered at how all the people in the town are divided between the two Salvatore brothers. “Damon found their heads. You will not believe where they were”.

Y/N rubbed her palms. Please, don’t let it be too spooky.

“They were all packed under Damon’s bed. He couldn’t sniff them out right away because of all the smell on the lawn and inside... ”.

“What was it like, exactly?”

“They were just outside the house. Butchered”. Caroline shivered under her silk blouse.

“So, that was about Damon”.

“For sure”, Caroline shook her head lightly, letting her bangs swing. Y/N noticed a clear trace of indignation in her voice. “I wonder what he has done this time to piss Rebekah this time”.

“Rebekah? You already know she did it?”

The dead weight clutching her heart and lungs for three days let go. She thought it would be something way more evil, or threatening.

“I mean, who else has such a cracked up mind to do such a thing? And a grudge against Damon? She really outdid herself this time though”.

“Right, she’s bitchy, but not completely insane, for sure?”

Forbes just shrugged, her eyes big and blue.

“Don’t stop unpacking, Y/N. Yeah, and plus, that’s a lot of work”.

“This is atrocious. We gotta find out for sure”.

Y/N was unable to work, puzzled. A sudden burst of music, bashing with the sound of drums, exploded the silence in the hall, and she jumped, nearly screaming. Mal rushed to his laptop.

“My bad!” he waved his hand, smiling.

Caroline let out a tired sighed. So, Mal conquered her, too, without even talking to her.

“When did she do it? I can’t seem to make up the time line”.

“I’ve no idea. Maybe while Damon was napping”.

“Ridiculous”.

“Look, I don’t know. Klaus is talking to her, but she’s being all defensive… she denies everything”.

“Why are you so sure it was her though? I mean, they’ve slept a thousand years ago, and then I don’t remember them contacting afterwards”.

Caroline sat on the box and started to unpack the shuffling packs of packs of napkins. She lifted her sky-blue eyes to Y/N with the expression of sorrow.

“Y/N, honey… he… they’ve been in and out, for months. He just doesn’t tell you because he knows you’re still kind of into him”.

That made her wonder.

“Weird. I fell out of love with him years ago. You guys still think there’s something?”

Caroline shrugged impassively.

“I don’t know. It better be over. Damon is not the man of your dreams, I bet”.

“Well, he used to be”.

“Ladies”, Mal appeared out of thin air like a freaking ghost, startling her yet again. Even Caroline looked at him, surprised, her hands stopping for a second.

“We’re ready for the sound check. You wanna put in a song? Care, can I call you Care? Y/N’s been talking about you lots, I feel like I’ve known you for years”.

Caroline was dead silent, looking at him like she was about to hit him. Y/N felt an urge to put her arm on the guy’s shoulder and shield him from all the world and everything he didn’t get about it.

“You’re the boss here, right? Or is it Y/N? Um, anyway, she mentioned you wanted to see the transitions?”

Forbes stood up, still unimpressed, but put on a polite face.

“Oh. Sure. You’re Mal, right?”

She outstretched her hand in a challenging gesture. Mal shook it like it didn’t matter, and Caroline was seemingly left satisfied.

“Right. Mal Osbourne”.

“Mal’s short for…”

He tilted his head.

“Mal”.

“Oh. That’s the full name?”

“Yeah, it’s very short. Just like my patience”, he smiled widely, showing teeth. His eyes stayed the usual frozen navy color. “So, you wanna check it out? I’ll wrap the equipment until Friday and won’t get it out, so all the tech stuff should be checked beforehand. Y/N’s completely useless in it. The other day she failed to upgrade AdBlock, I was pissed”, he let out a laugh. Caroline gave Y/N a stunned look, not about her impotence in computers, which never surprised anyone who knew her. Y/N nodded, and the two of them walked to Mal’s laptop. He started explaining to Caroline the queue of songs and how they all formed patterns. This seemed to finally get to her, as she saw the organizational side to the whole mess that was happening. Y/N returned to her boxes.

When the lion share of preparations was done for the day, Mal suggested they grabbed a beer at the closest bar, to reward themselves.

“She’s a bit slow, eh, Caroline? I thought you said she was brilliant”.

“She is, and that’s mean. You just talk very much, and all my friends need to acclimatize to you at first”.

“Didn’t seem to have those problems with the others at Whitmore”, he thought out loud.

“Well, these ones are Mystic Falls people”, Y/N said. “Ric still avoids you, doesn’t he?”

“Big time”.

“They’re more cautious. You see the kind of shit happening with us”.

“Oh, right”.

They left the building, and headed for Y/N’s car. Mail never drove and usually walked from college to his place which was around ten minutes away. Sometimes Y/N gave him a lift on her way home as it was the same direction. The road from the campus to her house on the Oak street normally took not more than twenty minutes.

“Does that happen often? I read about all these ‘animal attacks’. What’s up with that? What kind of animal kills people and leaves them in the parking lot?”

“Wolves”.

“They’re that hungry?”

“In the cold season, yeah”, Y/N marveled at the amount of bullshit the normal folk had to consume here on a daily basis.

“And you’re all fine with that. And they’re gonna tell that pile of bodies was wolves as well? Is that true that they didn’t have heads?”

“How did you even know about it?”

“Twitter”.

Y/N shook her head. They got into the car, and she started the engine. Mal never put on seatbelt, no matter how many times she’s asked him to. The car itself seemed to have given up because now it didn’t beep when Mal was inside.

“I don’t know what kind of animal does that”, she confessed. She still wasn’t sure Rebekah was to blame for that. But she wished it was her, very much.

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Let me tell you a story”.

“Oh, story”, Mal gasped excitedly, turning his whole body to her. He loved stories.

“One morning I wake up and the body of my dad lies there on my carpet. His upper half was in my room, and his legs were in the corridor. His throat was cut and there was a big, black pool of blood under him, soaking into the wood. Awful. I couldn’t move for about five minutes. I was afraid he would get up and attack me. And I was asking myself, who would’ve done it, why they never hurt me, how come I didn’t hear anything, and why they positioned him that way”.

Mal listened with his pretty mouth slightly agape, eyes flickering. To him, it was a retelling of a movie, a piece of fiction he loved so much.

“You think there was something special about the way they left him?”

“It looked like when a cat drags you a dead rat”.

He smirked.

“You don’t seem too upset the whole thing”.

“My father was an awful man”.

“What about the whole family talk you gave me the other day?”

“First, I don’t know Martha’s folks. I only heard your side of story. Second, we never found out who killed my father. So I can’t tell how I feel about that human”.

“Human?” Mal caught her off guards. “Why did you say ‘human’?”

She imagined banging her head on the steering wheel. Because someone got inside her house in the night without being invited, and never bit him, that’s why. It was important while they were trying to figure out the murderer, that he was human. It was a habit.

“I… don’t know”, she offered, without trying too much. “Anyway, I have little to no feelings about that. The picture of his body, though, lying there, waiting for me to wake up and discover him, still haunts me sometimes”.

“Okay, imagine you found who did this. Imagine you met that human”.

Y/N didn’t like the way Mal said that word.

“Imagine you knew the motive”.

“Which would be..?”

“Well, what do you mean when you say he was awful?”

“Ah, okay. You think they killed him to rid me of him”.

“Something like that, maybe. Imagine you met him. What would you say?”

“I wouldn’t like to meet him. He’s clearly crazy”.

Mal chewed on his lower lip. They drove up to The Craze and left the car.

“You’re driving me home in the evening”, she announced, throwing Mal the keys. He managed to catch them at the last moment. “I need to drink”.

_____________________________________________________________

“Tell me”, Mal frowned with a hidden smile, “why do we always have to make everybody listen to your millennial pop rock playlist?”

“You love it”.

“I do”, he confirmed and made himself comfortable in his chair. “But I just wonder about the reason you’re so hooked up on it”.

“I don’t think about it much”.

There was the song he put in to the DJ, who actually approved it, probably due to Mal’s natural charm. Being wrapped in the music she chose herself, and organized in a way she enjoyed, made her feel comfortable in the times of distress. Maybe now was the time like this, because she physically needed it.

Shut the fuck up, she said,

I’m going fucking deaf

“Let it be the snippet of the party then”, Mal agreed. People at the bar were swinging their heads, sniffing the familiar lyrics they probably last heard ten years ago, or even more.

They said cheers and started getting wasted.

“You remember you promised me something?” Mal cooed conspiratorially, pierced her with a look, and made her forget all about Martha for a second. She swallowed hard.

“What?”

“A sad story in exchange for mine. Or was it a trick to make me talk?”

Y/N went silent, amazed at the fact he remembered.

“You forgot, right? So typical of you. You’re ultra irresponsible. Sometimes I feel like you’re the one without any conscience”.

“Ugh”.

He drank his beer and licked his lips.

“You’ve seen my tattoo on the forearm?”

“It’s big, hard not to see. I reckoned, Alex is dead?”

She nodded. She looked at Mal’s forearms with the grey sleeves of his hoodie rolled up.

“It’s been five years now. He was my childhood friend. He taught me everything my bastard of the father was meant to teach me. Riding a bike, watching movies, making jokes, LEGO assembling, crashing my knees as we were rollerblading”.

“Did you have a crush on him?”

“At one point, when I was ten, maybe. It wasn’t serious. He was always like a big brother to me”.

“What happened?”

She tasted her bitten lip with the tip of her tongue. It was salty and rough.

“When we grew up, he lost interest in me. We went different ways, I guess. I haven’t talked to him since I was sixteen. I mean, sometimes I messaged him, I tried to see him, but he moved on far away, and he wasn’t really interested. Like none of what we did when we were children mattered. Made me feel it didn’t count. What am I supposed to do with all the memories now? He was the only friend I had growing up, and when a person feels insecure, they touch their past and it makes them feel good. But when I remember the happiest days, Alex is in all of them. And at the same time, there was another Alex, who just forgot about me, like, people just… I mean, Mal, everybody had a childhood, right? We are not born adults”.

“My childhood sucked”.

“Yeah, I know. But it still existed”.

“Unfortunately”.

“He pretended I meant nothing to him. He had a new life, moved away from Washington, and – the funniest part – nothing had actually happened, there wasn’t a clear reason. That’s just how it happens sometimes. But then, couple of years after, his fiancée called and said he had hanged himself”.

Mal was thinking, playing with the bottle cap.

“And you still got his name tattooed”.

“He still taught me how to ride a bike. No matter what else he’s done, you can’t take it away now. You can’t erase my memory”.

Mal’s face went hard. That was his judging look. He didn’t say anything, but only sipped on his beer. The waitress brought his cheese fingers, and he attacked them like a hungry bear. Y/N marveled yet again at his teen-like appetite for bad stuff. It’s amazing he was lean, and his skin was so clear, given every time she saw him eat, it was complete trash.

“Alright, but I think I win”, he said after a pause.

“You mean the saddest story?”

“Yeah. Martha’s still alive, which means I get to be rejected for the second time”.

“You think she’ll reject you? It’s kinda sweet you’re being such a creep about her”.

“You’re a specific type of chick, Y/N. She’s more normal than you. She’ll think I’m a horrible person”.

“Do you think you’re a horrible person?”

He grinned to himself.

“I used to, but not anymore. I’m on my own in this world, and the only person that ever cared about me for real doesn’t know I’m feet away from her. There’s no use beating yourself about your qualities when you’re my age”.

“You’re like, a year older than me”.

Mal smiled at her like at a child that’s talking nonsense, but you gotta be nice because one day they’ll figure it out.

“You want some?” he always shared his food with her.

“No, thanks”.

“Oh, you know what else was bugging me?”

Y/N raised her brows.

“Something bugs you, sweet boy?”

Mal giggled charismatically.

“What are the Salvatores like? I saw one of them the other day, Steven? With Prof Saltzman. They seem to be good buddies, but he looks strange”.

“Stefan. Yeah, well, we all went to the same school. Ric, too. He used to be our history teacher”.

“So, you know them well? You keep mentioning the second one”.

“Go on”.

Mal pursed his lips, concentrating really hard.

“Go on, remember”.

“I can’t, you know I can’t. I don’t remember names. Be thankful I call you right”.

“Go on”, she nudged him, entertained. It was a thing about him, Mal, not considering others important enough to remember people’s names.

“Da- Dan?”

“Nope”.

Mal crossed his arms on his chest, his eyes wondering all over Y/N’s face like the answer was there.

“Daniel. Dasher. Denmark. Dunder Mifflin”.

She laughed.

“Go on. Mars’ moons”.

“Deimos. Damon!”

Y/N felt amused when he was around. She felt entertained, light, he was taking away the weight from her. The tilt of his head, the stupid quote from Gordon Flash, and she felt like she was a different kind of person. A memory would come back to her, that she wasn’t born here. That she didn’t belong to Mystic Falls and could actually go if she decided, one day. That, in theory, she was free.

Mal watched her.

“You like him?”

“How come?”

“Your face does that thing when you talk about him”.

“What thing?”

“Like now. Like you’re missing something”.

“I don’t get why everybody thinks I still have a crush on him. I used to love him back when I was at school”.

“Whoa, love?”

“Yes. It’s that thing when you want to be with somebody, you know that”, she pressed. She still was looking for an opportunity to test just how much Mal actually felt about Martha. That he cared about her, was not a question – but how did it actually work, with his brain? Did he desire to possess her? Or felt incomplete without her? Did she make him better, more human?

“And what happened to that?”

“I grew up”.

“And?”

“You’re pushing me”.

“I’m being curious”, Mal was chewing again, “how does it die? You say you loved him. I only really loved one person in my life – and that’s rich for me to say that. Given, you know”, he motioned with his hand, “But I really think I love her. Like, when I look at her, my eyes melt. You ever get that? And my heart goes ba-dum, and sometimes I forget and think, oh no, I’m finally having a stroke”.

Y/N couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“And when I think about her, sometimes it feels like I’m dying”, Mal said, and suddenly, it wasn’t as funny anymore.

“Oh, my poor boy Mal”, Y/N held out her hand and touched his wrist in an instinctive gesture.

“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

“I’m comforting you”.

“Ah. Thanks. And so, I used to wait for it to go away, but it didn’t, so I decided, if I can’t get over her, I’ll just get her back. You know?”

“That actually makes perfect logical sense”.

“So, how do you fall out of love? If it’s real?”

“Maybe with Damon, it wasn’t real. But it sure felt that at some point. Boy, the things we did together back then”, Y/N snickered, raising Mal’s eyebrows high.

“What?”

“We…”

She realized she couldn’t tell Mal about one of the coolest things that ever happened to her in her life. The one person she really wanted to share, because she knew exactly the kind of reaction she would get, and it would be perfect. And yet, to tell him how she, a sixteen year old, was a bait for a bunch of vampires and how Damon ripped a heart out one of them in front of her? How he was standing there, all soaked in rain, with his black hair and silver eyes, tall and strong, like a statue, holding a bleeding heart in his palm, like an epitome of safety.

“We had the maddest parties. I was big on vodka when I was a teenager”, she lied. “We would gather all school at their huge house and party all night. And get into all kinds of trouble”.

“How old is he, exactly?” Mal asked, suspicious.

“He’s seven years older than Stefan”.

“So, you partied with that man while being underage. And you let him get into your pants?”

A wave of frozen air hit her in the face. Y/N was taken aback, at the same time feeling blood flush to her eyes and cheeks. Mal’s severity sometimes blew her off.

“I- no. Not that it’s any of your business, man, Jesus. He never liked me back”.

“Damien sounds like trash”, Mal concluded gravely, looking away. “No wonder someone’s threatening him. Is he a criminal?”

“Not that I know of. Mal, stop it”.

“What?” he shook his shoulders, as if brushing off all the thoughts of Damon.

“You’re freaking me out a little”.

“You’ve had one bottle, weakling”, he smiled warmly. It didn’t work. His eyes were worse than weapons sometimes.

“Moorning!” Mal announced loudly as he stopped the car, with a swing, on her driveway. Y/N had almost fallen asleep while looking at the window. When he turned off the music, silence rang in the car for a moment.

“You still walking?”

“How are you not drunk?” she demanded slowly, getting out of her car and pushing the door a little bit too hard.

His hand found its way to her shoulder blade. Mal seemed to move like a cat, and her being completely wasted didn’t add to her circumspection.

“I have high tolerance”, he responded. “You need a tea or whatever? Are you gonna puke?”

Y/N stood up and looked at her house. It swayed just a little.

“Nah, I’m fine”.

Together, they walked to the porch. Y/N decided to be double careful and thought of luring him inside for a minute without inviting him, just to be sure.

“Actually, would be cool if you helped me, uh, find the switch”.

Mal got slightly surprised but said nothing. Y/N opened the door, and he held it with his hand, as she stepped inside. She stood in the dark for a moment, looking at him, just outside the doorframe. The streetlights were out, again. The faint moonlight made his face look waxy. He studied her with curious look.

“You want me to come in?”

She wouldn’t budge.

Mal put his palm on the door jamb and took a step, letting himself in the house. Y/N exhaled, blood thumping inside her head, like an empty gunshot.

“There it is”, he outstretched his hand and flickered the lights, getting the switch unmistakably. How did he know? Y/N closed her eyes for two seconds and opened them again. Light was burning her eyeballs.

Mal stepped up to her, and took her head with his hands. He promptly kissed her on the forehead, his lips warm and quick.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll call a taxi”, he said nonchalantly, an amused smirk, like he was playing with her, stretched his mouth. He left the house without saying goodbye, and closed the door after himself.

How did he know where the switch was?

[deviant-reads-stuff]

Books I Read Throughout 2020-Part One

For many of us this year has been incredibly stressful and difficult. There were times throughout this year that my mental health had suffered, but there were also times where I couldn't have been happier. If I were to make any comparison to what the year was like, I would say that it was like the scariest and exciting roller coaster that anyone has ever been on. During the year, while the world seemed to burn around us and everything terrible happened, I managed to surpass my reading goal for the year. Something I did not expect to do, especially since I had months where it seemed that I couldn't finish anything. In times like this, I think it's important to take a step back and look to the positive things, even if they are small.

Here I am going to give a brief description of the first 10 books that I read, with a small snippet of what I thought of the books at the time.  

Book One - The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

Finished Reading on January 4, 2020

"It is 1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will be busier still.

By her brother's graveside, Liesel's life is changed when she picks up a single object, partially hidden in the snow. It is The Gravedigger's Handbook, left behind there by accident, and it is her first act of book thievery. So begins a love affair with books and words, as Liesel, with the help of her accordian-playing foster father, learns to read. Soon she is stealing books from Nazi book-burnings, the mayor's wife's library, wherever there are books to be found.

But these are dangerous times. When Liesel's foster family hides a Jew in their basement, Liesel's world is both opened up, and closed down.

In superbly crafted writing that burns with intensity, award-winning author Markus Zusak has given us one of the most enduring stories of our time."

For years I have heard good things about this book and for many, this is an all time favorite. I was excited to pick this one up, especially since I had read

I am the messenger

by this author and loved it.  While I do not view this book as an all time favorite for myself, I do think it was beautifully written. I just personally wished that it was a bit shorter at times as it seemed to drag on. Despite feeling that it was a little long, my favorite part of this book was the role in which Death plays. I won't mention anything more in case some of you are still contemplating picking this one up.

Book Two - All Systems Red (The Murderbot Diaries #1) By Martha Wells

Finished Reading on January 5, 2020

"In a corporate-dominated spacefaring future, planetary missions must be approved and supplied by the Company. Exploratory teams are accompanied by Company-supplied security androids, for their own safety.

But in a society where contracts are awarded to the lowest bidder, safety isn't a primary concern.

On a distant planet, a team of scientists are conducting surface tests, shadowed by their Company-supplied 'droid—a self-aware SecUnit that has hacked its own governor module, and refers to itself (though never out loud) as "Murderbot." Scornful of humans, all it really wants is to be left alone long enough to figure out who it is.

But when a neighboring mission goes dark, it's up to the scientists and their Murderbot to get to the truth."

This was a novella that I greatly enjoyed, but unfortunately I have not kept up with the series. I believe my library did not have the rest of the books and at the time I didn't want to purchase them. As my library continues to get the rest of the series, I will gladly continue to read them. I thought the story was unique, and at times funny. I would highly recommend this series to anyone who wants a science fiction book that is quick and easy read.

Book Three - Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them By Newt Scamander

Finished listening to an Audiobook on January 7,2020

"An approved textbook at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry since publication, Newt Scamander's masterpiece has entertained wizarding families through the generations. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them is an indispensable introduction to the magical beasts of the Wizarding World. Scamander's years of travel and research have created a tome of unparalleled importance. Some of the beasts will be familiar to readers of the Harry Potter books - the Hippogriff, the Basilisk, the Hungarian Horntail ... Others will surprise even the most ardent amateur Magizoologist. This is an essential companion to the Harry Potter stories, and includes a new foreword from J.K. Rowling (writing as Newt Scamander) and six new beasts!"

I am not one who will usually listen to audio books. I have an incredibly difficult time listening to anything that is over 3 hours because it's hard for me to really concentrate on the storyline. On occasion, though I will listen to them, depending on the length of the title and if the general consensus is that the audiobook is better. Fantastic Beast was a great audio book to listen to when I took my daily walks. I was able to delve a bit deeper into the wizarding world and learn more about the creatures briefly mentioned in Harry Potter.

Now, I do want to briefly bring into attention that I will no longer purchase anything written by JK Rowling. I have always distanced myself from creators as I use books and music to escape, but it has come to my attention that JK Rowling has repeatedly done harm to the trans community. That's not something I agree with or can support in any way shape or form. For those who do continue to purchase and read JK Rowlings work, that is your choice and I will not say anything about it (unless it is actively causing harm here). This is my own personal choice and opinions on JK Rowling.  

Book Four - The Near Witch

Finished Reading on January 9, 2020f

"The Near Witch is only an old story told to frighten children.If the wind calls at night, you must not listen. The wind is lonely, and always looking for company.And there are no strangers in the town of Near.These are the truths that Lexi has heard all her life.

But when an actual stranger-a boy who seems to fade like smoke-appears outside her home on the moor at night, she knows that at least one of these sayings is no longer true.

The next night, the children of Near start disappearing from their beds, and the mysterious boy falls under suspicion. Still, he insists on helping Lexi search for them. Something tells her she can trust him.

As the hunt for the children intensifies, so does Lexi's need to know-about the witch that just might be more than a bedtime story, about the wind that seems to speak through the walls at night, and about the history of this nameless boy.

Part fairy tale, part love story, Victoria Schwab's debut novel is entirely original yet achingly familiar: a song you heard long ago, a whisper carried by the wind, and a dream you won't soon forget."

I am going to be perfectly honest. I will pick up everything that V.E Schwab writes eventually. Including this book, I have read 10 of her books and I have enjoyed every single one of them. The Near Witch is one of V.E Schwab's earlier works that had previously gone out print. Recently, the book has gone back into print and received a cover change. The story takes you to another world with superstitions, magic, and adventures. While it is apparent that this is an early work of V.E Schwab that does not mean that it's not a great book to pick up. This book brought me back to the type of books that I read when I was younger and it was an overall great experience.

Book Five - How's Moving Castle By Diana Wynne Jones

Finished Reading on January 12, 2020

"Sophie has the great misfortune of being the eldest of three daughters, destined to fail miserably should she ever leave home to seek her fate. But when she unwittingly attracts the ire of the Witch of the Waste, Sophie finds herself under a horrid spell that transforms her into an old lady. Her only chance at breaking it lies in the ever-moving castle in the hills: the Wizard Howl's castle.

To untangle the enchantment, Sophie must handle the heartless Howl, strike a bargain with a fire demon, and meet the Witch of the Waste head-on. Along the way, she discovers that there's far more to Howl—and herself—than first meets the eye."

Howl's Moving Castle is probably one of my favorite stories of all time. I first watched the animated film by Studio Ghibli. In all honesty, I have a hard time determining which version is my favorite. The movie and novel do have some differences, but I think both can be enjoyed. Howl's Moving Castle shows how the pressures placed upon us and how we view ourselves can have a negative impact on ourselves, but only if we let it. Sophie struggles with being eldest daughter, and struggles with seeing her worth, but as the story progresses, we see how resilient and strong she is.

Book Six - Bird Box By Josh Malerman

Finished Reading on January 21, 2020

"Something is out there, something terrifying that must not be seen. One glimpse of it, and a person is driven to deadly violence. No one knows what it is or where it came from.

Five years after it began, a handful of scattered survivors remains, including Malorie and her two young children. Living in an abandoned house near the river, she has dreamed of fleeing to a place where they might be safe. Now that the boy and girl are four, it's time to go, but the journey ahead will be terrifying: twenty miles downriver in a rowboat—blindfolded—with nothing to rely on but her wits and the children's trained ears. One wrong choice and they will die. Something is following them all the while, but is it man, animal, or monster?"

I had originally watched the Netflix movie before listening to the audio book. I was curious about the book as I noticed a lot of people was divided on whether or not the movie was better than the book. Although I thought the audio book was great, I definitely enjoyed the movie more. Normally this is never the case, but I thought the book was adapted well onto the screen. What are your thoughts on it? Was the movie better than the book?

Book Seven - Skyward By Brandon Sanderson

Finished Reading on January 25, 2020

"Defeated, crushed, and driven almost to extinction, the remnants of the human race are trapped on a planet that is constantly attacked by mysterious alien starfighters. Spensa, a teenage girl living among them, longs to be a pilot. When she discovers the wreckage of an ancient ship, she realizes this dream might be possible—assuming she can repair the ship, navigate flight school, and (perhaps most importantly) persuade the strange machine to help her. Because this ship, uniquely, appears to have a soul."

Skyward was the first Bandon Sanderson book that I've ever picked up, shocking I know. I was not disappointed at all. Skyward brought me out this world and I found myself rooting for the girl who fought for everything that she's ever had. If you haven't picked this ne up yet, what are you waiting for?

Book Eight - The Name of the Wind By Patrick Rothfuss

Finished Reading on January 30, 2020

"My name is Kvothe.I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep. You may have heard of me.

So begins a tale unequaled in fantasy literature--the story of a hero told in his own voice. It is a tale of sorrow, a tale of survival, a tale of one man's search for meaning in his universe, and how that search, and the indomitable will that drove it, gave birth to a legend."

I first read this book in 2015 and picked it up again earlier in the year. I personally feel like I enjoyed the book more the second time around. It's a lengthy and often slow story of a man telling the story of his life. I have often described this book as having a similar ambiance to The Lord of The Rings and Harry Potter. Don't get me wrong though, this is a completely different story of those two series, but I couldn't help but draw a comparison.

Book Nine - Red, White, and Blue By Casey McQuiston

 Finished Reading on February 15, 2020

"First Son Alex Claremont-Diaz is the closest thing to a prince this side of the Atlantic. With his intrepid sister and the Veep’s genius granddaughter, they’re the White House Trio, a beautiful millennial marketing strategy for his mother, President Ellen Claremont. International socialite duties do have downsides—namely, when photos of a confrontation with his longtime nemesis Prince Henry at a royal wedding leak to the tabloids and threaten American/British relations.

The plan for damage control: staging a fake friendship between the First Son and the Prince. Alex is busy enough handling his mother’s bloodthirsty opponents and his own political ambitions without an uptight royal slowing him down. But beneath Henry’s Prince Charming veneer, there’s a soft-hearted eccentric with a dry sense of humor and more than one ghost haunting him.

As President Claremont kicks off her reelection bid, Alex finds himself hurtling into a secret relationship with Henry that could derail the campaign and upend two nations. And Henry throws everything into question for Alex, an impulsive, charming guy who thought he knew everything: What is worth the sacrifice? How do you do all the good you can do? And, most importantly, how will history remember you?"

I needed something lighter and easy to read after The Name of the Wind. Red, White, and  Blue did not disappoint, and I was whisked into the life of Alex Claremont-Diaz and Prince Henry. This LGBTQ+ book is full of entertainment, self-discovery, drama, and love.

Book Ten - Cress (The Lunar Chronicles, #3)

Finished Reading on February 17, 2020

"In this third book in the Lunar Chronicles, Cinder and Captain Thorne are fugitives on the run, now with Scarlet and Wolf in tow. Together, they're plotting to overthrow Queen Levana and her army.

Their best hope lies with Cress, a girl imprisoned on a satellite since childhood who's only ever had her netscreens as company. All that screen time has made Cress an excellent hacker. Unfortunately, she's just received orders from Levana to track down Cinder and her handsome accomplice.

When a daring rescue of Cress goes awry, the group is separated. Cress finally has her freedom, but it comes at a higher price. Meanwhile, Queen Levana will let nothing prevent her marriage to Emperor Kai. Cress, Scarlet, and Cinder may not have signed up to save the world, but they may be the only hope the world has."

The Lunar Chronicals is a guilty pleasure of mine. Each book in the series is a re-telling of famous fairy tales. Cress, the third book of the Lunar Chronicals, is a sci-fi/ fantasy re-telling of Rapunzel. While each book follows a different fairy tale, the whole series comes together and forms an epic story. As we follow a shy young girl, who spent her life locked away from everyone suddenly get swept into the resistance, we learn that hope is always possible even in hopeless situations.

[esstrauss]

An Epic Panku the third style of poetry I created. 9 stanzas 9 lines 9 words each

“An Epic Panku, An Epic Life”

If we do not set boundaries we will never

Escape their fiery claws. I did not sign contract

As therapist though I am happy to listen If

I always pick up for everyone else I will

Never make time to work on myself the way

I want to I need to in order to

Be the person I want to be or I

Will continue dragging my already beat up body through

The sandy shores of Long Island and shnit of

New York City without living and Solely existing I’ve

Known how to advocate for myself from a young

Age chasing my nursery school crush around unafraid and

Truly uninhibited. I may have not known what lesbian,

Dyke, queer, butch, futch, women loving women, bigender, I

Could go on, vocabulary words were at age three

From bunny rabbiting to Queen of the Royals I

Let my rainbow flag kinda fly. Why do I

Nowadays stop myself from flying my flags high in

The sky when it gets tough? Retreat back to

My blue blanket where I think it may be

Safe, yet, the volcano and flames still erupt. No

Tidal wave cannot put me out me out given,

My sun, moons, and earth (with the music of

Maurice & Verdine White along side with me) are

Forcing gravity against me at least when I cannot

Figure it the fuck out. It’s not that I

Prefer shallow waters. I am more of deep end

Gal, but there are times when I can stand

Up against the gunite pool or protective liners and

Feel myself reconnecting. Accepting and finding the answers in

The dirt buried under the cement. Not giving in

To my cheat foods. For some tater tots are

The escape into a world where toasted potatoes with

A dash of paprika (for adults, to enjoy with

My nursery school crush) help block out the chaos

That ensures day in and out a non-medical

Antidepressant for some, but I am trying to be

The first woman in the Winfield line to not

Have their gallbladder removed. I’ll stick to jogging and

Planking as my go to pick me ups though

My therapist does prescribe I keep up with this

In addition to pankuing all day long sometimes singing

A song about the cold and sometimes hot facts

Of this thing we call life. Though it may

Sound like I am a cynic I really not.

I believe and do find happiness among the weirdness

Of the world, but it is the uncanniness of

Everyone else that makes us pick and choose where

We want to travel to. We can go and

Try their off-beat cuisines sometimes mild, but usually

Sour or overall sweet. Teeth stinging from the power

Of cocky richness carelessness to divide up the ingredients

Properly sometimes a good mistake leading to the next

Great dish but often times not . Not indulging in

Our sense for taste to leave an unwanted mark

On our tongues, souls, minds, and, of course,

Hearts. The chakra we must protect most. To the

47 nays you cannot kick us down down down

Anymore. We are too strong shattering the glass ceilings

Of the world, nay, universe for you to continue

To let the shards cut our smooth skin because

When you go low, we go high high, high!

Eating our pie in the sky as the glass

Falls, honing on our future high points and all

The lows baked up into a rather fucked up

Pie now and then we make it through parts �Partly uncooked raw batter and chunky yet we eat

It anyway not letting the shnit people win, letting

Them live like crocodiles in the gutters figuring out

What they have done wrong if they choose to �Work on themselves instead lets gravitate with the tidal

Wave to Cloud 9 for a bit wherever that is

Sitting with your favorite constellation elating with euphoria, jubilation,

Exhilaration and every positive word one can think while

Sitting there inside their stars, but like I said

Earlier that fire will come back the high will

Wear off not so gobsmacking as one thinks and

Life will continue to ask you to keep your

Sword on standby to fight away the shit coming

Down from that high can be painful. Escaping the

Clauses of stress in an Epic Panku can helps.

© Elizabeth Sophia Strauss 4.21.2022

[petersvibes]

end up here - peter parker

anonymous asked: Hi! Do you think you could write an Imagines with Peter based on end up here by 5sos? It’s totally ok if you don’t want too! Thanks and I love ur writing!!

song: end up here - 5 seconds of summer 

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: none 

author’s note: I’M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG IT’S JUST. i was struggling ngl. i’m in high school now but when i was 12 this song used 👏🏾to 👏🏾 bang👏🏾. i mean BANG. haven’t listened to it in a long time so i was lacking some inspiration. if you want to hear about my 5sos stories i’ll gladly dish. this is also p short but i have my reasons. 

You thrive in settings like this, where the music is loud enough to drown out all of your sorrows and the relationships you forge are superficial. People don’t care enough to know you at a party; they care about the your body, the way you act, and you’ve definitely learned how to deal with that. At a party, you can be whatever people want you to be, a pretty face, an intoxicating presence, or a shadowed mystery. But for Peter, the setting doesn’t matter; because no matter what light he sees you in, you’re you. You’re funny, you’re charming, you’re witty. You can recall a math formula with as much ease as you can a comeback, and you can bring him to his knees with the simplest of touches.

However, aside from the occasional conversation in calculus or the few times you’ve decided to sit at his lunch table, you’re practically strangers. Somehow, he’s known you since you were in middle school, but in all this time it seems you’ve grown to be so enigmatic that what casual interactions he has with you are merely fleeting

“Peter Parker.” You drag out his name, sliding into the seat next to him. You live to see the blush make its way across his cheeks, so profound even in the dim light surrounding you. He sits up straighter, wishing he had time to adjust his hair despite the countless hours he spent on it, knowing he’d be at the same party as you. But of course, he didn’t see you coming. He never does. 

Peter takes a deep breath, ordering himself to calm his heart rate. His eyes flicker to yours, set ablaze by “H-Hi (Y/N).” He rubs his hands on his jeans and looks down, unable to see you pout as you lose sight of his pretty latte colored eyes. 

You sense his nervousness and you lean further into him, resting your elbow on the back of the couch. You’re curled up so that your knee rests slightly on his thigh, your touch burning through the fabric of his dark jeans. “So what’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?” You quip, your smile dazzling.

He doesn't know how to respond, but he smiles anyway, trying not to get lost in the brightness of your eyes. You chuckle, patting his arm. “I’m just messin’ with you.” You say. “However, I never thought I would see you at one of Cindy’s bashes. And I haven’t seen you at an out-of-school function since Liz’s before homecoming.” 

Peter swallows, brushing his hands on the denim. Truthfully, he only self-confirmed his attendance when he overheard you talking about the playlist with Flash, but if you ever found that out, he’d probably die. “I just thought it’d be fun.” He shrugs, trying his very best to keep his voice level. 

The sound of a pair of screaming teenagers fills your ears, making you momentarily roll your eyes. “I can assure you it won’t be.” You say, glancing around the backyard. In the corner, Flash is DJing and taking jabs at anyone who looks even remotely funny. A few feet ahead is a very intense game of beer pong, and at this stage, you and Peter are probably the only people here whose cups are filled with nothing but water. It’s music and drinking and sexual escapades in their initial stages, but in no way is it happy, nor is it good, nor is it fun.

Peter follows your eye line, clearing his throat. “Then why do you come?” He asks. “You are the (Y/N) (Y/L/N) after all.” 

Ignoring the latter half of his comment, you shrug. “I suppose I don’t have to.” You say, Peter listening intently. “I don’t know. I guess I just hope I’ll meet someone intriguing at one of these things. Like you.” You waggle your eyebrows and he grins. 

“I’m in no way intriguing.” The word tastes foreign on his tongue but you can convince him of anything. 

“Don’t kid, Mr. Parker. I’ve seen you around school all secretive with Ned. Disappearing as soon as the bell rings.” Peter gulps, and unbeknownst to you, anxiety starts to build in the depths of his stomach. “Very suspicious if you ask me.” 

“Just the Stark Internship.” He glances around, hoping he’s playing the part of a nonchalant high school student just well enough to convince you.

Eyeing him slyly, you speak. “You don’t think you’re suspicious, fine, but you’re easily the most interesting person here. So for me, this party’s a success.” 

Peter’s palms fly to face, covering the redness of his skin and the embarrassment of his wide smile. “Stop,” He whines, and you giggle. 

“You are just too easy.” 

You and Peter spend a majority of the party on the couch, but from the perspective of any one that happened upon the two of you, with your knees tuck into the warmth of his sides and his arm around the back of your cushion, you were definitely closer than too mere acquaintances should be. By the time the sun sets and moonlight casts its light upon the backyard, neither of you have noticed when you throw your head back from one of his comments about your chemistry teacher, you end up leaning on his shoulder. If you get splashed by pool water you hide in his chest and at one point, Peter’s arm ends up around the back of the couch, sliding down so that it barely touches your shoulders. 

What astonishes Peter the most about his newfound composure around you is that after the initial shock from the fact that you were intentionally sitting with him, his nervousness fades instantly. You’re easily the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, or met, but this part of your allure is new to him; you have this unique way of sending warmth and relaxation through him with only your words. A few times his jokes are good enough that after the initial laugh, you settle into his airy little giggle where your cheeks flush like a peony. You light up when you talk about travel, you frown when he mentions the future, and in the few hours that you speak it feel like he’s known you forever.

It rounds eleven o’clock and you’re dividing your attention between his face and your watch, your quips sometimes interrupted with your own yawns. 

“I should probably head on home.” You say, although from the looks of your less than sober classmates the party is only just beginning. “Even the (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has parents who would kill her if she stayed out too late.” You mock his tone from earlier and he rolls his eyes, a twinge of sadness plaguing his expression. “It’s been real Mr. Parker.” You send him a small smile, standing up to collect yourself. 

He doesn’t know if it’s his stupid impulsiveness, or if another part of him is too desperate for your presence that he can’t  et you go, but he springs up from his seat, startling you in the process.

“I can walk you home?” He suggests, his voice cracking on the last word. 

For a moment longer than you intended, your expression is blank enough that he feels his confidence completely deplete. He opens his mouth to change the subject in defeat, but stops himself immediately when he sees your lips upturn.

“I would really like that.”

Truthfully, the walk should’ve taken no more than twenty minutes, but in your cheerful stupor, you’re making him stop to pet every dog, stare at every street art piece, and avoid cracks on the sidewalk. Much to his surprise, by the time you’ve arrived at your home, your shoulders are drooped and you make no efforts to open your front door. 

“This is me.” You say, rocking back and forth between your heels and your toes. “Thank you for tonight though. I had fun.” You step towards him, placing your small hand on his muscular shoulder. 

Peter makes a face, but looks down, folding his hands together. His brow furrows but he starts to pout. It’s a cross between surprise and disappointment as he drags his feet on the brick of your landing, a rock rolling under his shoe.

Your eyes crinkle as sunshine spreads through them. “What’s that for?” You ask, poking the frown. He shakes his head, mumbling that it’s nothing but You place your first two fingers under his chin, tilting it unto look at you. He feels his lungs constrict from the intimacy of your touch, your eyes trapping him again. “What?” You muse, smiling sweetly.

Peter clears his throat, his eyes drifting to the sight of your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. In no way is he being remotely discreet and you know it, your ego inflating from his demeanor alone. 

His wispy curls blow in front of his eyes and you reach up, brushing it away with cold fingertips that send shivers down his spine. “Peter,” You murmur, your voice quiet and as sweet as sugar. “Do you wanna kiss me?” 

His breath hitches and his lips part, yet no words come out. You feel a chill brush past the tip of your nose and you smile, but not that dazzling way you usually do, but the real way you hardly show. You’ve completely compelled him, your words as effective as the lasso of truth. He nods silently, afraid that if he answers you with words, the best case scenario is that he stutters himself into oblivion and the worst is that what comes out of his mouth is actual vomit.

So you reach up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him in until your chests touch and you’re on your tiptoes. Peter tentatively places his hands on your waist, awestruck as he feels you lean in, goosebumps forming on his skin. Your lips, what little he’s felt from them, are just as soft as he pictured, and with you this close he can feel your lulling heartbeat. His eyes flutter shut and just as he’s about to meet your lips, he feels your lips brush past his cheek and rest right by his ear. 

“Good to know.” You whisper, and before he can open his eyes in shock, you’ve disappeared into your building, the feeling of your lips on his skin a mere memory. 

[edream93]

How about something with Uma, Diego, Harry and Gil. Say Diego's on an errand to Ursula's shop to steal some food but was busted by Gil?

Hello hello, anon! Sorry for the delay but I am back, slowly but surely, working on prompts! YAY!

So…I was in another angsty mood and what I had earlier planned to be this cute little AU where Diego was stealing food to feed Carlos and Uma letting him go because of her not being a totally heartless person….well…instead, it took a turned towards Angsty-town so…yeah…It’s not the most graphic thing but I’m aware that others may not see it that way so please read the warning below. Essentially, this is a very brief “what if Ben never made his proclamation and the Isle was divided in a gang war between Mal and Uma (the ‘queens’)” AU. I hope this isn’t horrible. I love the Sea Three but I wanted to try a different angle with them.

WARNING!!! PLEASE READ!!! WARNING!!!: Implied violence/body part(s) removal. Dark Sea Three. Some cursing. Minor character death.

“Now here’s the question,” Uma drawled, toned smooth legs swung over the arm of her shell encrusted throne, her relaxed posture belying the fury that rolled off her in waves. “Do you have a death wish? Or are you just as fucking crazy as your aunt, De Vil?”

Diego grinned cheekily in front of her, forced to his knees, hands tied behind his back in a complicated knot that only a sailor could do - or one Harry Hook - while the youngest son of Gaston had a tight grip on his shoulder, keeping him in place. His cheek was slightly swollen due a well placed punch he had received when he had been caught in Ursula’s Fish and Chip Shoppe’s kitchen. Small the girl sitting before him might be, but she threw a punch with the force of a man thrice her size. If they weren’t on opposite sides and if Harry, Uma’s guard dog right hand man wasn’t a factor, Diego might consider himself smitten. (He would never tell Mal that though. He wasn’t stupid. Well…up until this point that is.)

“Maybe I just wanted a surefire way to be able to ask you on a date, sweetheart,” Diego winked, grin growing wider as Harry made a move from his spot next to his captain, sitting backwards, hook menacingly on display. The young sea-witch tugged none to gently on his red coat to sit him back down without ever breaking eye contact with Diego. This made Diego’s grin widen. Maybe he would be able to sweet talk his way out of this.

“Not interested,” Ursula’s daughter answered, refraining from rolling her eyes as Harry took a few of her braids in his hand and kissed them reverently, a possessive glint in his eyes as he stared Diego down, smug. “Besides, thought you and the Tremaine boy had a thing. Wouldn’t wanna to ruin a terribly horrible relationship.”

Diego snorted, looking as if even thinking about the subject of his recent breakup was exhausting. “Oh, don’t worry. Anthony already beat you to that himself. Thinking ‘bout writing a song ‘bout it. Think you’d be interested, sweetheart? Heard you had a voice that men would drown for.”

“Ooo,” Uma pretended to be flattered, sitting up straight in her chair with a look of interest. “Well that’s a good idea. The drowning part, I mean. For you,” she clarified as she got to her feet and made her way towards her prisoner, her right hand man standing up behind her like the loyal shadow that he always was. “Was never really a fan of your current music.”

“Can’t please everyone,” Diego nonchalantly shrugged.

“No you can’t,” Uma agreed with a bit more empathy than was expected in this situation. (Maybe Mal was right, Diego thought. Maybe Uma isn’t as big of a threat as people make her out to be.) The moment passed quickly however, and the hard gleam in her eyes returned sending shivers of fears down Diego’s back in a way that not even his aunt could create. “And unfortunately, you chose to displease the wrong sea witch when you decided to steal food from my kitchen. What should we do with him?” she wondered aloud thoughtfully, pretending to listen to the shouted out suggestions of her crew and patrons of the restaurant until she lifted her hands, the room once again going silent.

“Maybe cut off a finger, or two, or three?” Harry grinned maniacally from behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder, his hand already twitching on the hilt of his sword eagerly. “Can’t steal and can’t play that pretty guitar of his if he has no fingers to pluck it with, darlin’.”

Uma smiled, a wicked, cruel look that made even some of the most hardened pirates, who were watching the scene as if they were at a dinner and a show, throwback a shot or two to stay their courage at the sight. She pulled away from Harry, a thoughtful look on her face as if she was trying to figure out whether to make the two week old tuna or the moldy bread and clams the special of the day.

“Why stop just at fingers?” she wondered, bending down to catch Diego’s chin in a bruising grip, his earlier nonchalant look nowhere in sight, only pure fear as he saw no mercy at all in her eyes. “Why not cut out his tongue as well? Put it in a little box as a gift to that dragon breath bitch on the other side of the Isle. After all, only fair after she gave our Jonas that lovely ‘haircut’ a week ago.”

“Hair cut? I thought he was scalped,” Gil murmured before going silent under the glare Uma directed at him before turning back to Diego with a slowly growing chester cat smile at the way his eyes widened even further.

“Uma. Don’t. Please.” Diego begged frantically, beginning to struggle as Gil and several other members of Uma’s crew dragged his flailing body over to a cleared off table, holding him down. “Wait! It was just some moldy old bread. Mal dared me to! You- you know how she can be when she doesn’t get her way! Please, Uma! Please! You HAVE to understand! Please!”

“Captain?” Harry grinned presenting her with one of his best knives, licking his lips at the sinfully delighted look on Uma’s face, the pirate’s blood thrumming with excitement and lust as he watched his captain…his queen…his goddess strut over towards the wailing musician, still attempting to escape the strong grip of Gil and the others.

“Diego. Diego. Diego,” Uma tutted with a look of pity so realistic that Diego stilled, believing he would be spared. “You are right,” she murmured stroking his bruised cheek softly as she hovered over him. “I do understand.” She leaned further so her lips brushed against his ear. “I understand that you chose the wrong queen,” she said with a sickening sweet voice that contrasted drastically with the screams of pain that filled the Chip Shop just moments later.

Hours later, on the other side of the Isle, after hours of searching, Carlos would come to Mal, face wet with tears, presenting her with a clam that contained what looked like a bloody tongue and two matching middle fingers, one with an “F” carved on it, and the other with a “U”.

[bluekyun]

Midnight Blues

A/N: repost of an old fic

Pairing: Y O O N G I x R E A D E R

Genre: F L U F F x S M U T

Word Count: 7.899

Summary: After your heart is broken to pieces the night before New Year’s Eve, you receive a surprise visitor who is willing to whisk you away and help you find the love you had been missing all along.

Rating: NC-17

The year is coming to an end, and looking back, you realize how many things have changed. A part of you can’t fathom that just a year ago, on New Year’s, you had been with the love of your life in London, traveling the world like you had always dreamed ever since you were young. Just a year ago, you considered everything to be perfect, but as the months dragged on, all things that were once right fell apart in front of your eyes, nothing but smithereens falling between your fingertips. The relationship that you thought would last a lifetime ended abruptly, more so for you than for him, as he had been seeing someone else for months without you knowing. He knew he was going to have to end it all, he just wasn’t sure when. The other girl knew of your existence, knew you would be traveling abroad as a couple, but at the end of the day she knew exactly who he would be coming home to. London was the last stop on your trip abroad, and a part of you had expected a proposal or just a random gesture of love, but instead he took you out to a romantic dinner just to tell you that he no longer desired to be in the relationship and that he would be leaving earlier to get back to the one he actually loved, leaving you under the stars a stunned and bitter mess. Despite the whole dinner being a traumatizing experience, the loneliness didn’t hit until you had to sit on the plane alone, an empty seat next to you with a warm glass of champagne sitting on the tray in front of you.

Staring out the window of the cab, you try to ignore excruciating pain plaguing your heart, realizing you will have to be back inside the home you both have built together over the four-year relationship and all the memories that will come flooding back the moment you enter the door. Just thought of having to go back gives you undeniable anxiety. Dividing the pros and the cons, you attempt to choose between returning or staying elsewhere, a useless battle as heartbreak is inevitable either way. Ultimately, you decide to go home, only wanting to crawl into bed and sleep for the next several years. One the car is parked, you solemnly pay the fee and taking a deep breath with luggage clutched in your hands, you march to your heart’s death. Although walking up those stairs is a very normal routine, it suddenly becomes foreign and terrifying. For several days, you have tried to prepare yourself to come back and find that he had already packed and moved, and as soon as you enter, the cold draft of an empty house welcomes you. The apartment mirrors your heart, nearly as dark as the last night in London. All you can think about is going to bed, not wanting to confront the harsh reality of now living alone in a home of little familiarity. Unlike the other rooms across the hall, the bedroom door is the only one closed.

The door knob is freezing cold and sends shivers across your skin, forcing every hair to stand on end. Your stomach begs you not to open the door and your heart only asks for you to turn around and leave, to stay somewhere else, but there is only one outcome when you’re undoubtably this stubborn. Opening the door and looking inside, everything is clean. It is clean in that the room is entirely empty, nothing left except for the mattress on the floor. Setting down your purse, you bring in all your suitcases and place them against the wall. Looking down at the lonely mattress, you realize that you are now left in a frigid room without any form of comfort. You hate yourself for not just going to a friend’s house, but at this point, you are too exhausted to leave again. Instead, you dive underneath the lone blanket and curl into a ball on this makeshift bed. All you want is for the day to be over, for everything just to disappear. Lucky for you, the trip home leaves you exhausted, so it doesn’t take much time for the darkness to swallow you and for your mind to drift into a dreamless sleep.

Loud knocks on the front door wakes you, and when you check your phone, you notice it is well after 3 in the morning. Pulling the blanket around yourself, you leave the bedroom and walk toward the door. Rarely do you have visitors unless you explicitly invite them over, and the only person who shows up unannounced is your neighbor whenever she has a problem with her cable box. But never has she knocked on the door after 9 pm, and you’re almost positive she has gone to sleep by now. However, when you open the door, you are confronted with a thoroughly enraged Yoongi. He forces his way inside, nearly knocking you over in the process, and completely ignores your existence, clearly not caring about a proper greeting. Sighing in relief, you close the door behind him.

“You look like shit.” It is more so a statement than a question and for that, you do nothing but glare in his direction before heading back toward your room. You aren’t in the mood to listen to his teasing words, and you know better than anyone that when he’s angry he is either a mute or an ass. Clearly, today is the latter. Once in the room, you fall back onto the mattress and curl yourself into a ball with the blanket as if you had never gotten up in the first place. You hear Yoongi’s footsteps approach from the hall until you feel his presence next to the mattress.

“Where’s the bed? What the hell happened?” Silence.

“Answer me.” Nothing.

Reaching underneath the covers, he grabs your leg and pulls until you are sprawled out on the wooden floors.

“Yoongi, what the hell!” Without so much as a response, he leans down and picks you up bridal style. The dejected look in his eyes pulls at your heart strings, and normally you would have forced him to put you down, but you can tell the last thing he needs tonight is a fight. Instead, you lean your head against his chest and let him take you. When he opens the front door, you can’t help but snuggle into him as the chilly air nips at your bare legs. Opening the passenger door of his car, he gently places you inside and buckles you in. Leaning over you, he puts the key in the ignition and turns on the heat and music.

“I’ll be right back, stay here.” Without another word, he closes the car door and disappears inside of your apartment, and you can’t help but stare at the empty place he had just been. It will be sunrise soon, you feel like hell, and now you are left alone in this car while Yoongi is inside for God knows what. Nothing about this situation makes sense, but you decide to put your full trust in his decisions, as you really have nothing else to lose at this point. He always has a reason for the things he does, no matter how strange, and you are certain this time is no different. When he comes back out, you watch as he locks the door behind him with one of your bags in his hand. You assume he had grabbed some of your clothes and some other belongings, and after putting everything in the trunk, he joins you inside the car. Returning to the void of silence, he drives toward his own apartment.

From the tired look in his eyes and the stress lines he always seems to get when he’s upset, you can tell that he had gotten into another fight with his girlfriend. Lately, this occurrs more and more often, her possessiveness and utter delusions only putting him off. But just yesterday, everything seemed fine between them, and he had mentioned taking her out to a nice dinner, but the fact that he showed up at your door at three in the morning only means it didn’t go well. You feel bad for Yoongi considering that he carefully plans and perfects his dates, especially for his lover. He’s had a few in the past, but Yoongi talks about her differently, like she is the one, and it only stings your heart to think that she might not feel the same way. More than anyone you’ve ever known, he deserves happiness. That’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Watching Yoongi fall in love with someone else is always hard for you. Despite your very real feelings for him, you are worried that by being in a relationship, he will no longer have time for you. In the past, you were able to befriend the girl on some level in hopes it would diminish some awkwardness, but this time around, you are always walking on thin ice. It is rather unfortunate that she hates you with a passion. When they first started dating, you had tried your best to be nice. To make her feel comfortable and try to make her understand that you and Yoongi are nothing more than friends. But you can tell she has a personal vendetta against you. She once forbade Yoongi from hanging out with you, but he isn’t one to be put on a leash like that. You are his best friend, and when it comes to his loyalty, he is most loyal to himself. So if he wants to hang out with you then he will, and no one will be able to tell him differently. Eventually, she stopped trying, but it didn’t stop her from hating you. Every time you are in the same room for the holidays or parties, she will glare daggers at you across the room or just blatantly make-out with Yoongi to maintain her dominance. It’s pathetic, and more than anything it turns into an awkward situation for everyone else in the room. Yoongi’s friends are also aware of the way she acts, and whenever she is up to her games, they make a point to go over and hang out with you instead. Over time, his friends became your friends, and whenever she isn’t around, you all hang out peacefully. But lately, it is impossible to find Yoongi alone.

Looking over, you notice him staring off into the distance, deep in thought. In the faint glow of the passing street lights, you can tell that he is tired. All the anger has disappeared, and all that is left are baggy eyes and dry lips. Whenever they argue, his first response is to drive over to your place and spend the night so he can cool off, and this time seems to be no different. Yoongi hates confrontation and lives in constant fear of losing the ones he loves most, so he believes that by walking away in his fit of rage, he will be able to preserve his relationship. You have tried telling him several times that him coming to your place will only make the situation worse, but he is stubborn in his ways, just like you. All you can do is offer him your place as a safe space.

Pulling over against the sidewalk, he sits silently for a few moments and fixes his hair in the rearview mirror before getting out. After grabbing your bag from the trunk, he opens the door for you.

“Well look at you being a true gentleman.” He scoffs lightly before walking ahead toward the door. When it comes to teasing, he is the master, but it doesn’t mean you don’t know how to push his buttons. Yoongi takes a second too long trying to pull out the key to his apartment, and so you decide to take the opportunity for more fun.

“Can you hurry up? I’m freezing my ass off over here.” Glancing over his shoulder, he smirks.

“Yes, princess.” Yoongi only uses that nickname when he wants to annoy you. You hate being called ‘princess’ as it reminds you too much of an ex-boyfriend. It was the guy’s pet name for you, and Yoongi loves to tease you about it, which in turn continues the never-ending cycle of teasing and platonic pet names.

After opening the door, you push his body inside the house and lock the door behind you. All you can think about is turning on his electric fire and curling up with some hot chocolate, but when you look at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, you are reminded of the time. Grabbing your arm, he leads you down the hall and into his bedroom. Standing there stiff, you watch as he pulls back the covers and takes off his jacket and jeans. Sometimes it amazes you how comfortable he can be around you. But this isn’t the first time you have seen him in boxers and a t-shirt as he has slept over plenty of times, but due to the current circumstances, the sight is slightly off-putting.

“Are you going to lie down or not?”

Swallowing hard, you make your way to the other side of the bed. You slide underneath the covers and leave your back facing him while you look toward the window. Through the curtains you see the illumination of the moon, and instead of it being calming, you find it unquestionably eerie.

“Why are you being so awkward? This isn’t the first time we’ve been in bed together.” Your body immediately stiffens at his words.

“I know…” Your voice comes out in more of a whisper, and he sighs heavily in response. Without a second to spare, you feel the mattress shift as he climbs out of the bed. After unzipping your bag and nearly tossing everything out, he finds a pair of your pajamas and makes his way back to the bed. Grabbing your arm, he pulls you toward him. Before you have the chance to react, he unbuttons your jeans and pulls them from your waist. Speechless, you watch as he removes your pants and delicately places your legs into a pair of sweatpants.

“Sit up.” Without hesitation, you follow his command. He grabs the hem of your shirt and lifts it over your head. You watch his eyes for any signs, but you see none. He still seems lost in his thoughts and distant. He doesn’t seem bothered or uncomfortable by the situation, nor does it seem like he is aware of what he is doing. He then places the hole of the shirt over your head before letting you take care of the rest. All you mutter is a simple ‘thank you’ before he lies down, turning off the lamp next to him. You sit there trying to process his actions, but in the middle of your thoughts, you feel another pull on your arm.

“Cuddle with me…” His voice wavers slightly and it sounds more like a plea than a demand. And then it hits you. You aren’t the only one hurting, and clearly you both need each other more than ever. Lying down on your side, you place your arm over his chest and bury your head in his neck. He wraps both arms around you, and for the first time in a while, you feel safe and secure. You used to think a lot about cuddling with Yoongi, more than you’d like to admit, but with it actually happening, you wonder why you haven’t done so earlier.

“I will never understand why you like to sleep with your face buried like that. I’m afraid you’re going to suffocate.” Smacking his chest, you chuckle slightly.

“It’s comfortable for me, alright? Now stop moving.” You feel him let out a breath before nudging his cheek against your head, falling asleep instantaneously. In the silence, you find yourself relaxing as you think back on the day. After traveling for so long, being home feels strange, but you start to think that maybe this isn’t home after all. This home isn’t yours, and your home isn’t yours anymore either. You don’t want to admit it, but moving might be in order soon, as your current apartment now holds too many painful memories.

Your only escape from the pain seems to be the sleep that is trying so hard to escape your grasp. In the back of your mind, you are jealous of how Yoongi can sleep so effortlessly. You desire that kind of power, to be able to drift away with a snap of your fingers. But instead you are left in the dark, unsure of how you might get any peace tonight.

“Can’t sleep?” Lifting your head, you meet Yoongi’s eyes, illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the curtains. You nod slightly before laying your head back down against his chest. Removing one arm from around you, he reaches over to the bedside table next to him and grabs both his phone and headphones. On his phone, he always keeps a playlist just for you, for these nights when you’re mentally burdened and unable to find solitude. Placing the buds inside of your ears, he begins playing one of the recordings. The entire playlist consists of him playing various pieces on the piano. Him playing the piano is probably one of your favorite things in the world, and he knows it, too. He loves that you love it, in fact, he believes those moments are his best memories. Sitting with you at the piano, the two things he cherishes most.

He rubs your back in hopes of soothing your muscles that have yet to relax. Within a few minutes he feels your full weight against him and hears soft snoring. As much as his heart is broken to pieces, he can’t help but feel lucky to have you by his side. On a day like today, he wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.

Your mind drifts back from the depths of slumber as you hear the sounds of screaming. It feels too distant to be real, but even in the fogginess of your sleep, you know that voice as if it were your own. Opening your eyes, you realize you are alone in bed and the bedroom door is wide open. The moment you hear a woman’s scream, you throw the covers from your body and jump from the bed. Once you make it to the entryway, you immediately stop in your tracks. Near the door, you see Yoongi standing above a girl on all fours, pleading as if her life depends on it. From the way her hair hangs in perfect ringlets and the designer dress on her body, you can tell immediately that she’s Yoongi’s girlfriend. Both of them stop when they notice your presence, and the moment it clicks in her mind that it’s none other than you, she becomes thoroughly enraged to the point where you almost see fire in her eyes.

“Why the hell are you here? Yoongi, why is she here with you?”

Hanging your head low, you play with your feet against the carpet hoping that Yoongi will handle the situation and get her to leave. The room remains silent and you feel the anxiety surfacing in your heart. She is the last person you expect to see, and as you consider the situation, you realize how difficult it is going to be to get out of this.

“We broke up, didn’t we? So why are you here?”

Goosebumps run down your neck and across your arms. You haven’t had a chance to discuss with Yoongi what happened on his end last night, but the idea that they actually broke up has never crossed your mind. You’re speechless, utterly speechless. As she continues to glare at you, you feel deep regret even though you’re certain you’ve done nothing wrong. It doesn’t make sense that you are the cause of their separation considering nothing has changed, so why does she suddenly hate you more than before?

“Get out.” The gruffness of his voice turns your body to stone. It is only when he is utterly outraged does this voice appear from the depths of his being. You aren’t sure what had happened last night, but he is absolutely pissed off. And it scares you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Without saying another word, she picks herself up from the ground. In her body language, there is hesitation, and in the few moments of stillness, you see the contemplation in her face. Taking one step in front of Yoongi, she sighs deeply before forcing her hand across his face. The sound echoes around the room, and with a final glare in your direction, she slams the door upon her exit. A part of you wants to go over to him and see if he is okay, but the fear that plagues your limbs prevents you from doing anything. Having never witnessed him like this, you are both concerned and terrified. From your place a few feet away, you watch him clench his jaw, and in the silence, you can almost hear his teeth break from the immense pressure.

Struck with fear, you nibble on your bottom lip. Approaching Yoongi is never a problem, but now he appears to be someone you don’t even know. His whole demeanor and aura changed in that moment, and as much as you want to comfort him, you’re afraid he will just snap at you, too.

“Leave.”

It takes a moment for you to comprehend the word that effortlessly falls from his lips, and you almost believe that he misspoke. If your heart wasn’t broken previously, it definitely is now.

“I know you want to go. So get out and leave me alone.”

When he turns his head and gazes into your eyes, the ice that took over your body melts and is replaced by fire. After everything you have been through the past few days, the last person you expect to give you the cold shoulder is Yoongi, and unlucky for him, today is not the day to test your patience. As you step toward him, rage clear on your face, you see a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes, but he does nothing more than stand there, waiting to see what you will do. Forcing your hands against him, you pin his shoulders against the front door. Now that you have him here, you’re unsure of what to do next; you want to yell at him, punch him, and fall into arms, all at the same time and more than anything you are flustered and confused. Your hesitation only brings a smirk across his face, and with your patience boiling down to nothing, you can only think of one way to shut him up. Keeping his body against the door, you crash your lips into his. If it wasn’t for you pinning him, he would have jumped away from you immediately, but being dominated like this sparks a desire deep within himself that he never knew existed. Even in his stillness, he doesn’t feel you backing off, and his lack of response only forces you to push harder against him until you are flesh against his body. Just as your patience disappears, so does his resolve, and within seconds, he has his fingers wrapped in your hair as he kisses back urgently. As he bites on your bottom lip, you feel yourself melt against him, and during that window, Yoongi manages to push you off him.

You stumble backwards and as you look at him with wide eyes, you notice that nothing changed. He still seems cold and distant, but this time you notice just how tired he looks. It is as if he aged several years within a few minutes, and a part of you can’t help but feel guilty for taking advantage of him. You didn’t mean to snap at him, but the damage is already done.

“Nice. Now leave.”

Without another word, he walks past you, slightly nudging your shoulder before walking down the hall and slamming his bedroom door behind him. For someone who is normally level-headed, you’re not sure how he thinks you will get home without any of your belongings that are now held hostage in his room.

With a tired sigh and a heavy heart, you look around the room, and when you are confronted with the same grandfather clock as the night before, you nearly faint. After waking up to the tragedy in the entryway, you haven’t even thought about checking the time. Apparently, you had slept through nearly the whole day, as it is already five in the evening. Not only that, but it’s New Year’s Eve and you have zero plans and now zero friends to spend it with. Everything about this situation screams hell, and the only thing that seems to be on your mind is getting a drink.

Going into the kitchen, you turn on the lights and take a moment to scan for bottles. You know very well that Yoongi loves his drinks, and he isn’t one to drink cheap either, so you are certain you will only find goodies hidden in the cabinets. Going to the far end, you open his specialty cabinet that holds all his special occasion drinks, and sure enough, the first things you see when you open it are several bottles of champagne. Pulling out a bottle, you stride back into the living room and turn on the fire. You grab a blanket from the couch and make yourself comfortable on the floor, and in the quietness of this lonely apartment, you can finally feel yourself relax a bit. Yes, everything seems to have crashed and burned, but that only means the alcohol will be better company.

Lucky enough for you, the champagne opens with a clean ‘pop’, and without any mess to clean up, you bring the bottle straight to your lips. It feels like years since you’ve had your last drink even though it’s probably been a couple of days at most, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly downing a quarter of the bottle in the first swig. You are determined to numb the pain, but it doesn’t help that it’s the tastiest champagne that’s ever reached your taste buds. It’s going to be a long night, but at least you have a way to make it go by quickly.

Looking at the clock on his desk, Yoongi rubs his eyes, only to realize that it’s almost midnight. From the moment he walked in the room, he sat at his desk and started working on his music, never once taking a break. With his headphones on, he didn’t bother to listen to you leave or if you had even left a text, and as much as he wishes he could just forget the day, the pain in his heart prevents him from doing so. Despite feeling exceptionally down after his break up, the only thought that seems to plague his mind is you. Especially lately, you have been his sole source of joy, and now he is afraid that he has pushed you away to the point where you’ll never come back.

Turning in his chair, he looks at your bags on the floor. If you did indeed leave, then you will probably be missing your stuff, and so he decides that this will be his excuse to contact you. Walking over to his phone on the bedside table, he presses the home button, and to his disappointment, he sees no new messages. His heart sinks, realizing that it will likely be a while before you will ever speak to him again. He knows he is wrong and an ass. He in no way deserves you or your friendship, but one thing you always tell him is to hold onto that sliver of hope, and for the both of you, he is holding onto it for dear life.

Bringing up your contact, his finger hesitates over the call button, and after a few short breaths, he presses it and lifts the phone to his ear. Immediately after the first ring, the call goes straight to your voicemail. He assumes that after taking your leave, you turned off your phone, but little did he know, your phone lays dead at the bottom of your duffel in the corner. Throwing the phone onto his bed, he curses himself silently. He is tired enough to go to bed at this point, but not before a few drinks to ease his mind.

Upon leaving his room, he hears the muffled sound of the fan from the fireplace. He doesn’t remember turning it on earlier, and in the back of his mind, he hopes to find you still in the living room waiting for him. He cautiously makes his way down the hall, and when he peaks around the corner to the living room, he sees you lying down on the floor, two empty bottles of champagne sprawled near your head. Just the sight of you alone warms his heart and the thought of you sitting out here getting drunk alone only brings a smile to his face. He adores how pathetic you can be, and this only confirms his undeniable love for you.

“Yoongi…?” As soon as he looks down at you, he is struck by your puffy eyes and rosy cheeks, and in the dim light of the fire, you become the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. His breath catches in his throat the moment you sit up, considering how in the few hours of his absence, you have managed to lose your shirt. Sitting there in nothing but your bra and underwear, he feels heat shoot through his veins.

“I’m sorry… about earlier. I didn’t mean-”

“Stop. It’s fine really. I get it Yoongi, you don’t have to explain anything to me. Just come here.”

It is moments like this that remind him just how much he doesn’t deserve your kindness, as whenever he does step out of line, you are always the first to forgive his behavior.

Picking up the bottle from the floor, he moves it aside to sit beside you. From the corner of his eyes, he sees the goosebumps spread across your arms, and without so much as a second thought, he puts his arms around your shoulder and brings you closer to him. He wants to use the excuse that he’s trying to warm you up, but he knows deep down that he only wants to touch you and be near you.

“How drunk are you exactly?” Your humming only sends vibrations through his body until he feels the jerk of his member constricting against his pants.

“I’m not drunk, what are you talking about?.” As if on command, your infamous drunk giggle falls beautifully from your lips, and if it wasn’t for his self-control, he would have paid you back for earlier.

Sitting like this by the fire brings back feelings that he’s tried for so long to refute. He loves you, undeniably, but he fears that if he ever comes clean, your friendship will crash and burn only to be left as smithereens of what was once perfect. Breaking away from the kiss earlier was more difficult than he’d like to admit, and if he could go back in time, he wouldn’t have let you go. But per usual, his pride and anger gets in the way of what he truly wants, but considering he’s with you now, he will someday be able to forgive himself.

The sudden movement next to him catches his attention, and when he looks over, he finds you staring right at him. Shivers crawl down his back, and for a moment he feels the room temperature increase by at least ten degrees. He is now exceptionally warm, and it doesn’t help that you’re boring holes right through his very being.

“What?” He tries to play it off by scoffing, but even in your drunkenness, he knows how easily you can see through him. As you move away from him, he watches the movement of your gaze as you scan his body, and for the first time ever, he feels like you are finally looking at him. It’s almost as if you’re undressing him with your eyes, and that thought alone forms a knot within his stomach. It isn’t until you make eye contact with him again does he realize he was holding his breath, but once he sees your genuine smile, he feels himself sucking it in once again. You are gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous, and he contemplates how he never truly appreciated your beauty until right now. There is something so stunning about you, the whole you, that takes his breath away. Without a second thought, he places his hands on your cheeks, the warmth of your body heat against her palms. Rubbing his thumb on your smooth skin, he feels as though he is dreaming. The moment he sees the fluttering of your eyelashes, he leans forward and closes his eyes. When he feels your lips against his midway, he feels the butterflies form in his stomach. He’s had several girlfriends, but none have made his heart ache like this with just one simple kiss. But that’s what he enjoys about being with you; you help him find joy in even the most mundane activities.

The kiss starts off soft and sweet, your smooth lips entrancing him with each second that passes. The moment your noses brush across each other, electricity is sent through his body and straight to his ever-hardening member. He tries to remember patience, as he doesn’t wish to rush anything. He wants to savor every moment with you considering how long he’s been waiting to have you in his arms like this. As you inch closer to him, he feels you push even harder against his lips, craving more than you are getting. For being so drunk, he never would have expected your smooth movements as you slid over on top of him, straddling his lap.

Removing his hands from your face, he slowly inches down your arms until he reaches around to your back. Starting from the top of your neck, he slowly drags his fingers over your skin until he feels your body tense on top of him. Having been friends for long becomes a benefit, as he knows where to touch you to make your head spin. Your one weak spot happens to be along your spine, as it sends shivers through your entire body and straight to your core. It’s a guaranteed way to get you wet, and in his moment, he thanks the heavens for having discovered this little secret on accident. He only hopes the alcohol intensifies the feeling, as all he can think about is making you feel the best you’ve ever felt.

In the background, he hears the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room go off. Making note of the number of times it rings, he realizes that it is now midnight. It’s a new year, and he’s lucky enough to move into it not only kissing someone he loves, but being physically with that person as well.

For the first time in a while he wants to be selfless, to give everything he is to the one person who deserves it the most. He wants to show you how much he loves you, how much he cares for you despite his cold demeanor earlier. He wants nothing more than to apologize, but considering he isn’t always the best with his words, he is willing to show you exactly how he feels. The feeling of your heartbeat against his chest only makes his beat faster until the two are nearly in sync.

Suddenly, you pull away gasping for air, and when he starts panting as well, he realizes how the lack of oxygen to his head had nearly taken him into another world all together. He tries to focus on your eyes, and even in the dim lighting, he can see the desire and impatience. Grabbing the collar of his shirt, you bring him to your lips, but unlike before, the kiss is more needy and desperate. Biting on your bottom lip, he begs to be let in, and without hesitation, you give permission. Snaking his tongue inside, he fights yours for dominance. However, you willingly let him take control, and once he gets his hands around your waist, he lifts you so that your legs are wrapped around his torso. Trying to be as cautious as possible, he stands up slowly until you’re propped up on his hips. Given the opportunity, he would have loved to take a hold of your ass, but his only priority is to get you to his bedroom as quickly as possible.

Making his way down the hallway, he tries to focus both on kissing you and getting to the bedroom, but the task becomes more difficult than he thought. He stops by pinning you against the wall, and as soon as he breaks away, you are both pining for air once again.

“Hold on, babe, I have to make it the bedroom first.” After a small yet slightly devious smile, you lay your head on his shoulder. But the moment he finally moves away to walk again, you attack his neck with various kisses. You start out gentle, but they quickly turn wet and sloppy. Yoongi was kind enough to use your ‘special’ spot against you, so it’s your turn to pay him back in kind. The small space between his ear and his jaw is where he is weakest. You start off with tender kisses on the spot, but once you start nibbling, he stops in his tracks, nearly collapsing at the feeling of your teeth. He legs suddenly feel like jello but he determines his resolve is always stronger, and so he sucks it up and rushes into his room. After closing the door with his foot, he tosses you onto the bed before climbing on the bed and hovering over you. Neither of you say anything, but just stare, and he begins to wonder if what will happen will be sincerely consensual.

“I need you to tell me now… if this is something you really want.”

His heart races at the thought of your answer, and in the back of his mind, he contemplates if your actions are more so a result of the champagne. He would never take advantage of you nor would he ever wish to put you in a bad situation. He needs to know the answer for both your sakes, and he plans on prying until he can see it in your eyes that you are telling the truth.

“I want this Yoongi. There was never a doubt.”

The sternness in your voice surprises him but gives him the answer that he needs, and without thinking twice, he leans down and places soft a kiss on your lips. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him towards your body until he is on all fours between your legs. When you lick his lips, a moan escapes his throat, sending vibrations to your core. Even in the small distance between the two of you, he can already tell how wet you are. When you start playfully nipping on his bottom lip, he decides to tease you by lighting grinding against you. The feeling surprises you, and you quickly get lost in the feeling. No longer able to keep contact with his lips, you lean your head back on the pillow, immersed in the way his hips move beautifully in circles. You arch your back hoping to feel more friction, but the fun stops when he sits up and pins your waist to the bed, removing all forms of contact. The smirk on his face only widens as he watches you squirm beneath his grip. After a few moments, you stop moving around, and so he decides to reward you by placing several kisses from your neck all the way down to the hem of your underwear. As soon as he starts kissing on top of the lace, he feels your body tense up in anticipation. He continues kissing lower until he reaches your clothed clit. Your breath hitches in your throat and as he sucks through the fabric. When he breaks away, you nearly cry out from the loss of feeling. In one swift motion, he pulls down your underwear and tosses them to the side. When he reaches for your bra, you place your finger in front of his face.

“Wait.” With just the simple word, he obeys, but despite his silence, he is determined to figure out what your planning.

Sitting up, you reach behind you to unhook bra, and the moment it’s thrown onto the floor, his mind blanks. He has imagined several times about what it would be like so see you naked, but never once did he believe that he would be absolutely struck speechless. He has no words to describe how you make him feel, and in this moment, you become the most beautiful person he has ever seen.

“Stunning…” The word falls from his lips and the pink that spreads across your cheeks only makes his heart ache for you more.

The shyness on your face is quickly wiped away, only to be replaced by a confidence that he has never seen on you before. As you crawl over to him, he feels a familiar excitement build up in the pit of his stomach. Once you’re in front of him, you grab the hem of his shirt and lift it over his head. After tossing it behind you, you grab onto his shoulders and force his body toward the head of the bed. From his position on his back, he watches as you remove his pants and his underwear. His erection springs free and slaps against his stomach, and from his position, he sees the precum already leaking. With one swift motion, you sweep your tongue from the base, along the length until finally reaching the tip only to clean the mess. Another moan comes from his throat when he feels your mouth close around the tip, and when your tongue dips into the slit, he immediately grips onto the sheets beside him. As you take more and more of him into your mouth, he feels himself starting to lose control. He wants you to go faster, to suck him dry, but he knows this won’t be the main event of the night. Once his full length is in and nearly hitting the back of your throat, you hallow your cheeks and bob your head. Placing his hands in your hair, he tries his best not to buck his hips. Just the feeling of your mouth is able to drive him crazy, but thinking about being inside of you almost makes him lose his patience. You continue your ministrations for a few minutes before removing yourself with a loud ‘pop’. You make a point to hold eye contact before sensually licking your lips.

“Get over here.”

As much as he wants to continue playing games, he realizes that neither of you will be able to handle much more before losing it. Listening to his command, you climb on top of him until you’re straddled directly over his erection. With one final nod and a thoroughly fucked out expression, he lines his member with your entrance, and once you start sinking down on him, both of you become lost in the feeling of each other. For a moment, both of you just sit there basking in the sensation, and with his hand placed gently on your hips, he motions for you to rock against him. He closes his eyes and let’s you take control, but even in the darkness behind his lids, he is unable to get the image of your body out of his mind. Once he feels you moving faster, he looks up at you only to find that you are lost in the ecstasy, too. Reaching his hands above him, he takes your hands in his to give you enough leverage. Taking the hint, you begin bouncing on him, his member now reaching deeper within you than before. From the way your eyes roll back and your grip on his hands tightens, he assumes that he is hitting your sweet spot. He lifts his hips to meet your movements, and the mewl that escapes from your throat has him seeing stars. He is the reason you feel this good, and he plans on making every second count.

The motions only get faster and sloppier as you both near your highs. Taking back one of his hands, he moves it between your bodies so that he is now rubbing your clit. You throw your head back at the sensation, and he looks up in admiration at your bare chest and neck. He wishes he would have had the chance to mark you like you had so viciously marked him, but that is something he will keep in mind for the next time. He finds so much beauty in the way your abdomen contracts as you get closer and closer, and as he moves his finger faster against your core, he feels the movement of your legs shaking. The moment the crude words and prolonged moans roll of your tongue, he feels himself relax as he lets himself come inside of you, covering your swollen walls in his hot seed. He helps you ride out your high until you collapse right on top of him. Both of you are left breathless and exhausted, and although you have the deep desire to get cleaned up, you are far too comfortable to move. Wrapping his arms around your body, he pulls you closer against him. You snuggle into his neck causing him to chuckle.

“Trying to suffocate yourself again?”

With the little energy you have left, you smack his chest before returning to your place by his shoulder. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, waiting until you drift to sleep before grabbing the blanket and covering you both. Leaving a kiss on your forehead, he cuddles against you.

“I love you… so much.”

For someone who is usually such a pain in his ass, he finds you extremely adorable during moments like this, as these are the ones he cherishes most. After being around each other for several years, it still amazes him how each day is new adventure with you; nothing is ever boring and time is never wasted. You’re the type of person that only appears in dreams and fairytales, and you are someone he will never let go of. His best friend, his first love, and now his lover. He’s not one to wish for a forever moment, but if it meant that you would be there, then he would wish for it a thousand times over.

[nojam-secrettime]

blood ties; 01 [SVT’s S.Coups]

Genre: Vamp!AU, supernatural and pretty fluffy I think :)

–> part 2 | part 3

Word Count: 2.04k

Admin: Rianne⭐️

83. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

The first time you met him, you were 5. You had wandered past the boundary, chasing after the ball you were playing with. It was your fault to begin with, playing so close to the edge of the safe zone, but you didn’t even notice when you ran after it.

The ball stopped at someone’s shoes and you looked up and saw his red eyes staring back at you. He blinked once, looking down at the ball and looking back at you. “You shouldn’t be here.” He warned you in a low voice.

You hesitantly reached out to take the pink ball back from him and you nodded. “I’m sorry.” You said, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and his eyes widened.

You ran off, already sensing the danger coming. You risked a glance back and saw him watching you. He was a head taller than you, you realized thinking about the memory again. But he had looked like a child, just like you.

You made it back to your side, the safe side, the human side.

For as long as you could remember, your city had been divided into two parts. Humans and vampires. The defining line creating a safe zone for humans, vampires couldn’t cross it without permission or they would face severe consequences.

The safe zone was supposed to be for the protection of the humans, but it never seemed to work. Night after night, humans were discovered dead, thrown back onto the human side like trash. It was no secret that the vampires held a grudge against those in power for restricting their freedom.

They had voiced very publicly that they wanted to be treated as equals. They didn’t have to kill a human to feed, but they needed to feed more often than once a week like the city had strictly implemented on them.

However, the rule was if a human ever crossed the line, left the safe zone, they were free game. Because it was the humans’ fault for endangering their own life like that and the city could no longer be responsible for the vampires’ actions on their own side.

The next time you saw him again, you were 15. The city was trying to establish better relations between humans and the vampires so they created a new idea. 24 hours of co-mingling under strict supervision and in a controlled environment. A permission form from the government was required to attend the event and it was held in the arena that sat equally between both sides.

There were intense security guards armed to the teeth with guns full of dead man’s blood bullets as well as regular bullets in case humans got too rowdy. They created a carnival of sorts, full of booths of food, toys, as well a stereo system playing music. They installed a bunch of rides and created a coupon system to pay for things so that money could also be regulated.

You had your eye on a booth that made freshly baked cookies and hurried over to get in line when the person in front of you turned suddenly, almost too quickly and elbowed your side. You winced, recognizing the bruise that would form there eventually and he looked down at you.

His red eyes looking back at you again and he smiled, “I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He asked, his hand covering yours as you nursed your side.

You shook your head in assurance, “It’s okay. Nothing’s bleeding.” You said and he smirked at that.

“I would be able to tell and that would be dangerous here.” He said, draping his arm over your shoulders as more people tried to squeeze past the both of you. For a space as big as the arena, you were surprised that it could still get this packed.

You had thought the event was a bit exclusive, after all, the city didn’t want any extremely close-minded people nor did they want someone too carefree that wouldn’t listen to the rules at all. You had come alone as you assumed someone you knew would be there. You hadn’t thought it would be a vampire.

“How do you remember me?” You blurted out as the line moved forward and the two of you moved up together. As soon as the words left your mouth, you realized it was a stupid question. Vampires had impeccable memory, after all, they lived forever and at least 3 times the life span of a human if they didn’t piss anyone off.

You watched as his lips curled up into a smile and he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “As if I could forget you.” He watched as his breath tickled your skin and made goosebumps rise. “Brave enough to chase after a ball no matter the consequences.” He said in a low voice.

You could feel the shiver run down your back, you knew you were a sucker for deep voices and the fact that he was whispering in your ear didn’t help at all. Your face flushed red and people walking by looked at you suspiciously with his arm around you.

“You were cute too. Still are.” He dragged his lips over your cheekbone and you felt his lips curl up into a smirk again. “But you’ve grown up a little.” You felt his eyes graze over your skin and you felt so exposed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Are you alone?” He asked as the both of you got to the front of the line. He gestured for you to order and you looked at him confused. The girl behind the counter looked bored and huffed as she waited, albeit a bit impatiently, for you to speak.

“One bag of soft chocolate chip cookies.” You said, reaching into your bag when he stopped you. You watched as he already pulled out enough coupons for the bag of cookies.

“I like soft cookies too.” His eyes sparkled as you both walked over to the side to wait for your orders to come up. “My name’s S.Coups, by the way.” He leaned in close again, “But I want you to call me Seungcheol.”

“_____. I’m _______.” You said, rubbing your neck to calm the goosebumps that appeared again. He was too good at that, definitely having too much fun with that. He pulled you close again as a group of vampires walked by.

You looked over at them and you swore one winked at you, but it made your skin crawl. You recognized that was weird since you were perfectly fine with Seungcheol practically hugging you. He grabbed the cookies when they came out and you walked over to the side.

He handed you one and took another out for himself as well. You squealed a little, breaking the soft cookie in half and watching the chocolate ooze out. You twirled your finger in it and licked it.

“Someone’s excited.” He commented, grinning. You barely caught it, but he had flashed his fangs at you and you knew it made your heart skip.

“I love these kinds of cookies.” You replied, playfully sticking your tongue back out at him. “Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not, but that was cute.” He said, as you started nibbling at it. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up again and you turned to see the vampires from earlier looking at you. “Don’t mind them.” S.Coups told you.

“Who are they?” You said, rubbing at your arms where the goosebumps formed again. You didn’t like it, they made you feel queasy, like they were bad news. You couldn’t shake the feeling, your intuition was never wrong and you wanted nothing to do with those boys.

“The top vampires of the moment, the one whose been looking at you is Kim Namjoon and the rest are just his brothers.” S.Coups explained. “They’re not really known for being pacifists, I’m sure you already know? The news stories are all about them.” He said, as you moved closer to him.

“I’ve heard. But why are they here then? I thought you had to pass a security check to get a permission form.” You asked him.

“They probably demanded one if anything, but the restrictions for entrance weren’t as strict as you think. We just needed a clean record which everyone here has.” He said. “Even if they have more radical beliefs than others.”

You nodded your head thoughtfully after that and didn’t say a word.

It had been 4 years since then, you had made it to college and spent as much time as you could together. The city had been re-lined, with new designated areas for co-mingling. S.Coups met you at cafes in those co-op areas several times.

It hadn’t taken long for you to realize that you loved him, he made your heart race and he genuinely cared. Even when you tortured him with the pleasant tune of your changing heartbeat. He always teased you about that, it was like a drug, listening to the way your heart sped up for him and the constant temptation of you.

He had been careful, light kisses, nothing heavy, just in case, after all his utmost priority was your safety even from him. But you had offered on multiple occasions, on days where he looked even more tired than usual, you offered. When he struggled with being around you, you also offered.

You didn’t mind, he was the only one you cared about, for him, it would be okay. But he always refused. Too dangerous, not to mention it was definitely against the rules. Not that you cared, honestly.

The rules didn’t cover if a human and vampire were in a relationship together. So you believed you were exempt.

You had spent another late night studying and S.Coups had gone out to get you some food instead of just more cake and coffee from the cafe you were studying at. He told you to call him if anything but you were done reviewing and wanted some fresh air. It had already been 10 hours since you had seen the sun.

What could it hurt? You walked right outside the door of the cafe and breathed in the cool night air. It was a pleasant sting in your lungs as your body adjusted to the temperature change.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the pretty little thing from the fair.” You heard a voice behind you and you turned, nervous. You knew who it was, you didn’t even need to hazard a guess. It could only be Namjoon, he was the only vampire that made your hair stand on end.

You turned to look at him slowly and he gave you a small little wave. You said nothing, taking a small step to the side, just to face him straight on. Moving backwards meant he’d think you were scared, not that you weren’t, but he didn’t need to know.

“The name’s Namjoon.” He said. “What’s yours?” He took a step closer to you and you had to will yourself not to take one back.

“None of your business.” You replied, sliding your phone out of your butt pocket. You couldn’t see, but you had that phone for so long you knew how to dial S.Coups’ number without looking.

Namjoon tutted, “We can’t be having any of that, pretty thing. Do you know who you’re speaking to?” He said, a dangerous edge in his voice and you could tell he was upset. No one had given him attitude and here you were a human, testing his little patience.

You could hear the dial tone, but so could he. His eyes widened and you bolted. You weren’t nearly as fast as he was. But you did what you could to know the little hidden spots of this co-op in case anything happened. And you ran for it.

Just as you pulled into your hiding spot, S.Coups answered his phone.

“Hey baby, I’m almost-“

“Namjoon is here.” You said, cutting him off.

“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” He said sternly, hanging up the phone.

I LOVE COUPS. HE LOOKS SO GOOD IN THE MV THIS JUST CAME THROUGH BECAUSE OF THE VIDEO WOOOOW -Admin Rianne

[birchwoodswolf]

Are you okay? I'm sorry the fandom's been rough on you- it kinda sucks, but there are some really cool people here! (You're one of them, obviously.)

Full response under the cut, because this is kinda long and personal.

Anyway, here are the tags in question that almost certainly incited this ask (originally from this post):

#listen;;; okay;;;;; im so fuckin tired #ive had to deal with this shit for five years with no fuckin Release #this is literally the only reason ive stayed in the fandom after all this time: the fact that i fuckin KNEW that something would happen here #and now im so close to being RIGHT #and sure the hagemans giveth and the hagemans taketh away but they’ve already taken so much

#all i know is that either way im probably gonna be leaving the fandom after ns8 and id prefer to go out on a good note #if they’re just going to be fuckin julienbaiting trash till the end then fine by me i wont fuckin bother watching this stupid shit anymore #and if they go through with it? congrats; and now he’s dead permanently (probably) #and considering that the hope of his existence has been the only force keeping me from escaping this hell fandom #i for one cannot wait to be freed from my chains

And yes, I mean every word of that - but it’s not for the reason you’re alluding to. Honestly, I’ve had no huge issues with the fandom that would force me to leave (disregarding all the Disgusting Shippers) - there are some good people, and I’ve made a lot of friends here. It’s just that I’ve been growing increasingly frustrated with the show over the past several years. The only thing that’s kept me from leaving has been a feeling - almost a premonition - that Julien was going to get a better send-off than what he got in S3. After all, it ain’t over til the fat lady sings, and at that point, the fat lady didn’t even exist.

Am I so petty as to completely disregard the show because I’m mad about how my favorite character was treated? No, but I’m still really disappointed in it. He and Zane had (and by comparison to all seasons since, still have) the best platonic relationship in the entire show, possibly only tied with Cyrus and Pixal (and Cyrus hasn’t seen Pixal since the end of S3 - what’s with Ninjago and either dividing, ruining, or otherwise negatively interfering with parent/child relationships?). The love they had for each other was pure, simple, and unconditional - and in a way, they completed each other.

But the biggest issue I have with Ninjago, the most significant reason why the newer seasons piss me off so much, is the inverse relationship between the quality of the story and the quality of the visuals. Because, for whatever reason, the show can’t have both.

Sure, the pilot, S1, and S2 look decent - but they’re nothing compared to the later seasons. For an example, compare the water physics between the opening scene of Tick Tock and Morro’s death scene in E54:

It’s practically night and day - and this is only one aspect where things have improved significantly. Take the Spinjitzu; in the early seasons, it’s just a normal, flat tornado, but when Kai uses it in E55 (as one example), you can even see sparks flying off of it. Or how complex some of the areas have gotten, how much detail is present now compared to back in the early days.

Or the lighting. Or the effects. Or the creature designs. 

The show has become more and more beautiful, but in the process, the story and characters have been completely decimated. The plots have also gotten much lazier - there could’ve been any number of ways to resolve S6 without resorting to retconning all of it, but nope! They lazily retcon it and create a huge paradox (as Sensei Yang’s temple was left floating in the sky, even though it was only pulled up there in E60 - which was obviously retconned, as only twelve minutes of S6 are effectively “canon” to the current timeline).

Then there’s the love triangle for lazy drama, and all the time they had to waste afterwards attempting to “fix” Jaya (which, to be completely honest, hasn’t worked at all). Most of the other relationships the show has teased haven’t worked out well, either, because there’s always something Really Bad about them (whether it’s the obvious emotional dependencies exhibited by Jay and Zane in their relationships, or all of the incest jokes with Kai and Skylor in S4, or whatever the fuck is wrong with Wu and Misako, which I honestly can’t put a name on).

And don’t even get me started on the characterization! Literally everyone has been reduced down to one or two traits - “robot”, or “annoying”, or “impulsive”, or “foodie”. Sure, these traits were always present back in the early seasons, but they weren’t nearly as exaggerated then as they were now. Jay’s and Zane’s characterizations have especially pissed me off - Jay’s extremely annoying practically 24/7 (especially in S6, jesus fuck), and after he went Titanium, Zane’s become a smarter-than-you asshole who’s always trying to fix shit by himself. (I could honestly go on about him all day, but I won’t.)

Out of the last several seasons, the only one that I can definitively say I liked was S5. The plot was interesting, and I could form an emotional connection with it; the characterization was still decent (or at least not anywhere near as bad as in S6); a ton of cool concepts were introduced, such as the Cloud Kingdom, the Realm Crystal, and Nya being the Water Ninja, among other things; and I liked all of the new characters.

I also liked Day of the Departed, and S7 was decent, but S3, S4, and S6 were honestly terrible. S3 and S6 don’t need any explanation (as the only redeeming qualities are some of the new characters, as well as the last 10 minutes of E34 and TLR); but S4 was mostly just because I was having major issues with the fandom at the point, decided to take a break from it, and never got back around to watching it (as I only came back to the fandom as soon as the S5 hype train got rolling).

And speaking of fandom issues, boy do I have some. I hate how a lot of people in the fandom are extremely homophobic and/or transphobic. I hate how a significant chunk of the fandom ships Lloyd with the other Ninja, even though they’re all adults and 5-6 years older than Lloyd. I hate how a lot of those same people ship Nya with a man at least twice her age.

I hate how Morro is included in photosets of “all of the main ninja!!!!!” more often than Nya. I hate how some people in the fandom romanticize the way Morro abused Lloyd in S5. I hate how the entire fandom has a double standard when it comes to people who have done bad things: how if they’re young and conventionally attractive, they’re a ~smol pure bby~, and if they’re not, they’re the evilest scum to ever live.

I hate how nobody cares about the side characters. I hate how nobody acknowledges good friendships, only ships. And I hate how nobody thinks for themselves, thinks for even five seconds, before following along with whatever is popular.

The only reason I’ve stuck around this long - which will be five years in November - is because I’ve had just a bit of hope. A small, feeble hope - one that I could finally get a good ending, that I could finally be satisfied with the show. That I could finally watch the show because I want to watch it, not because I feel like I need to.

And that moment is finally so, so close - I can feel it in my bones. I’ve wanted to be able to escape for years, but I’ve never been able to; I’ve always been dragged back in. And now that freedom so close, that it’s almost here, I’m more afraid than ever that it’s all going to come crashing down.

And on top of that, I don’t really feel all that appreciated here. My meta posts get some attention, but only if they’re short. My music boxes get some attention, but Tumblr doesn’t let them show up in the tag, and thus they get far fewer notes than they really could/would. My fics get few reblogs and even fewer comments, because the “you should always reblog art and give good feedback to support the artist!!!!!!!” doesn’t apply for fanfic writers. And don’t even get me started on my theories, especially my Samurai X theory as of late; I put a lot of effort into those - to make sure that they’re hole-free, to make sure that they make sense, to make sure that they could possibly happen - and all I get is one or two comments from people who really appreciate the work I’ve put into it, and criticism from people who already have their minds set on whatever arbitrary explanation.

For all of these reasons, I really want to drop out of the fandom, or at least hibernate for a while. Most of the people from earlier in the fandom’s history - including lots of my friends - have moved on to other things at this point, mostly because they didn’t find it worthwhile to stick around. They’ve all been able to leave, but I’m still stuck here.

Which is why I’ve honestly resolved to drop out of the fandom after NS8. By that point, I’ll have gotten one of two things - either a good send-off for my favorite character, one that I’ve been waiting for for five years; or a final confirmation that this show no longer has anything to offer me. It doesn’t mean that I won’t like the show anymore, or that I’ll stop watching it - it’s just that there won’t be any reason for me to be active in the fandom, and thus I won’t do so as often.

So yeah.

[athyrabunlord]

Tuning

Prize for Manny, who found me in a SIF score match! Sorry this ended up more like Maru-centric + 3rd Years instead of Azalea as per your request (๑≧౪≦)てへぺろ oh and some subunit shenanigans A/N: This blip took place some time after Aqours finally had 9 members, and they just started their subunit activities. Characters: Hanamaru+ 3rd years (Azalea + Mari), and cameos of the rest Words: 1,826

Hanamaru couldn’t help but wear a huge smile as she hurried down the hallway. She used to go straight to the library after school, content to just immerse herself in the fantastical world of adventure, romance and even sci-fi.

But now, she had something even more amazing to look forward to! Every day, there was a new story waiting for her to unfold. How could she not be excited?

Certainly, it was hard at first to get into shape, but all those exercise and training were worth it. The fatigue and sense of accomplishment felt really good, especially since she never partook in such strenuous physical activities before, being the bookworm she was. The more stamina she built up, the longer she could enjoy singing and dancing with her wonderful friends at Aqours!

She felt proud to be able to support Ruby, reconnect with her old friend Yoshiko, and bond with the kind senpais.

Her steps faltered a little as she realized what the club activity was for today. In their previous group meeting, it was decided that they would start the subunit practice. No wonder Ruby was whisked away so suddenly after the bell chimed. Hanamaru only remembered hearing You and Chika’s excited voices, and Ruby’s confused squeak.

“Come on, Ruby-chan! Let’s go already~”

“Now now Chika-chan, you didn’t have to drag Ruby-chan. But yes, let’s full-speed ahead!”

“Um, it’s okay, I’m happy to-”

“Genki Zenkai~?”

“Day!” “Day!” “ Daaaaaaay!!!!”

“Pikiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!”

Right, CYaRon! even had their song title already.

Yoshiko had also excused herself when they met up with Riko at the stairway, stating that she shall go on a manhunt for their elusive shiny Director. Except the self-proclaimed fallen angel used the phrase ‘traverse through the hellfire of Phlegethon, where the shiny demon queen lurks within the depth of Tartarus’. Guilty Kiss was quite distinctive indeed!

Hanamaru giggled quietly. She was certain that her two best friends were having a great time with their respective subunits. Trepidation washed away her light mood as she reminded herself that she had yet to really connect with her Azalea team. She got along with the second years just fine, but she was rather nervous about being alone with Dia and Kanan. Without the moral support from her peers or even the enigmatic blonde who had similar wavelength as Yoshiko, Hanamaru felt intimidated.

She was distinctly aware of her shortcomings whenever she thought about Dia and Kanan. They were tall, beautiful and confident. Of course, she’s only heard good things about the two senpais, whether from Ruby or You and Chika. Their successful performance of Mijuku Dreamer and the subsequent lives certainly made her admire how dependable they were. The student council president organized Aqours’ activities, while the friendly diver designed their training regime.

Dia was the push they needed to get through a session, stern yet also gentle as she was, while Kanan was the vigilant brake that determined their rest intervals, even though she appeared laidback most of the time. They complemented each other well, and they certainly looked out for their kouhais. Although, they did slip into childish bickers sometimes with Mari, who knew just when to light up the atmosphere and help her two friends relax.

Hanamaru pursed her lips in resolution. Ruby would surely encourage her to do her Rubesty, and so she shall try her hardest to reach Dia and Kanan’s level.

When she arrived at the clubroom, where Azalea’s meeting was to be held, she was surprised to find another visitor. Mari was sitting beside the closed door with a small smile on her face, her back leaned against the wall and her eyes closed in relaxation.

Was she napping? Just as Hanamaru stepped closer, she heard a symphony of voices inside the clubroom. Her eyes widened at how harmonious the tune was, of how Dia’s husky and steady voice blended with Kanan’s rich and blithe tone. It was a song she had never heard before, and it must be an incomplete one too for the two girls slightly changed the pitch and lyrics intermittently.

Still, the brunette found herself entranced. “Zura…”

“Ara, Hanamaru-chan?” Mari was gazing at her amiably, and patting the spot beside her in invitation. Curious, the younger girl sat down and peered at her.

“Nice surprise, isn’t it? Kanan and Dia used to this back then, to hone our songs,” Mari’s features were soft in nostalgia. “I would give them the first draft of the melody, and they would brainstorm the lyrics. While I’m off refining the music, they would sing in trial segments like this. Sometimes they even come up with the choreography as they go. Once we’re somewhat happy with our respective parts, we would convene and finalize the song together.”

“That’s incredible zura. I had no idea that was how the… um, first generation Aqours was like.”

Nowadays, the tasks were more evenly distributed amongst the members, so Hanamaru couldn’t imagine just how the third-years managed when it was just the three of them. Whenever she worked on the lyrics with Chika, the sunny leader often expressed her relief at how much better it was now compared to how they had to complete Daisuki Dattara Daijoubu.

“Hmm? We never mentioned it? Well, don’t tell Rikocchi I used to be the composer~ I want to surprise her and Yoshiko-chan later~”

Hanamaru chuckled at Mari’s feline-like grin. “And the costumes?”

“Oh, we all work on the outfits together! Usually, Dia would come up with the designs, I would have input with the fabrics and accessories, and Kanan would put them all together. Ehehe, shiny, aren’t they?”

There was such fondness and pride in Mari’s voice, though the sparkle in her eyes already spoke volumes. Hanamaru was pleased to learn about her seniors, and the fact that they worked meticulously to finalize a song made them so much more relatable.

They fell silent for a moment, both enjoying the sonorous voices behind the closed door. “I love listening to them - they inspire me to improve the music, especially knowing how hard they try to refine the song.”

Hanamaru recalled what Chika once said to Dia and repeated the same words with a soft smile. “Mari-san really loves Dia-san and Kanan-san ne?”

“Of course! And I’m sure you understand what I mean~”

“Ah, there she is!”

Yoshiko was huffing as she approached them, irritation evident in her fearsome but cute scowl. Riko, looking exhausted, was close behind with the three confused members of CYaRon in tow. Mari sprang up the moment Yoshiko made a pose and lunged in a wild dash.

“Ha! Your chokehold technique isn’t going to work on me, Yoshiko-chan! Not to mention, you’ll have to catch me first, ciao~”

Like a shooting star, the shiny Director soon disappeared from eyesight, much to Riko’s frustration.

“Mou! Stop it you two! Can’t we just start the meeting already?” Unfortunately, her plea went unheard.

Chika suddenly grinned, her expression full of mischief. “Ah, Shiitake came to join us!”

“Yeeeek!!”

Riko jolted in reflex, knocking into Yoshiko who stumbled forward just as the door opened.

“What is the ruckus-” Dia poked her head out just in time for the younger girl to collide into her. As they sprawled on the ground in a painful heap, Ruby worriedly crouched beside them and tried to help. Kanan soon came to their rescue and easily untangled them. You was exasperatedly reprimanding the not-so-apologetic looking Chika, but also coaxing Riko not to strangle their leader.

As Hanamaru watched the chaotic scene before her, a revelation slowly dawned upon her. Mari was correct - she did understand what the older girl meant.

She loved everything about Aqours.

She cherished every moment with her friends, and wished to contribute to the group as much as she could to show just how dearly she adored them.

“Hnff! The great Yohane shall accept your challenge, O Golden Star. I will capture you! Come, my little demons! Lily and No.4, keep an eye out for possible ambushes!”

Dia deadpanned at seeing how accepting her little sister was with the ridiculous nickname. Yoshiko, Ruby, Chika and (a very irked) Riko soon left the area. You sent them a sheepish look before shouting “Yousorou~” and chasing after them.

“Goodness, this is why I was against how the subunits are divided. Someone needs to keep an eye on Mari-san,” Dia’s voice was severe, yet an imperceptible smile belied her true thoughts on the matter.

Kanan chuckled in agreement before turning to look at Hanamaru. ““I hope Mari didn’t trouble you too much.”

Hanamaru resisted the urge to shrink under the tall senpais’ gaze and replied a little defensively.. “S-She didn’t. We were just chatting zura.” She blinked in realization. “You knew we were here the whole time?”

“Well, Kanan-san and I did not know that you were here as well, Hanamaru-san,” Dia’s tone softened as if sensing her unease. “But yes, we knew Mari-san was here. That is why we want to work even harder so we do not disappoint her.”

At those words, Hanamaru found herself relaxing and smiling up at her fellow Azalea members. “Hehe, you didn’t disappoint her at all. She.. no, we both loved it zura~”

“That’s good to hear!” Kanan patted her on the head, a gesture that pleasantly surprised her. “Alright, we have a lot to do today, Maru.”

“Indeed, we would like you to revise the lyrics with us,” Dia also gently smiled at her then.

Hanamaru felt rather silly about her apprehension earlier. She would surely find her place with these two kind senpais, so she had better not let them down.

This was a whole new chapter in her story and she couldn’t wait for more!

=========================

“Ganbatta tte owaranai (I’ve never stopped trying my best)~ Son’na… hmm...”

Hanamaru paused and jotted down a few things in her notebook while humming the next segment. She tried again with a new set of lyrics but shook her head with a pout.

A hand teasingly prodded at her cheek. “Now now, Maru, don’t wear a frownie.”

“But Kanan-chan, you’ve already finished the first verse… I need to finish mine so we can fine-tune the chorus part.”

“There is no need to hurry. Patience is the key,” Dia also wrote down a few phrases, her expression thoughtful. “Perhaps we could…”

The three of them shared a knowing glance and began to sing. They adjusted their pitch accordingly as they went, and after Kanan finished her part, Hanamaru followed with ease and instinctively picked the lyrics from the page full of ideas.

“Son’na koto mo aru Mission~ (In this Mission) Tasukete agetai, kono uta de~ (I want to help you with this song~”

Hanamaru beamed at her friends, who returned the gesture just as excitedly. Their third subunit song was coming along quite nicely, just as their first two songs had.

They were Azalea, and efficient teamwork was one of their best points.

Yes, this is where I belong zura~