#I’m almost done with the else but my headphones decided to die on me so now I have find new ones 😭

[internetaddict104]

I finally gave in

[youraverageauthor]

Repeat

Going to school ain't the best of the things that I can aim for yet it's mandatory on my list. I always despised it and no matter how hard I tried I always failed, I never understood why. Was I not trying enough? Whatever the reason might be, the option of giving up didn't exist. My parents would kill me if I ever stopped trying and I couldn't die yet I had a long list to fulfill but first came studies. I almost lost my life the other day; thank god I noticed the truck in time. I had to be more careful from now on.

Waiting for the bus once again, just the same old day, I wish it'd come. I've been waiting twenty minutes. I barely managed to leave the bed this morning, I had the worst program for today too.. Just as I started dozing off, the bus came by, thankfully I managed to get it. I put on my headphones, ignoring my surroundings and started blasting music. The day was hard to pass, it felt as if the time had frozen and on top of that the teacher made us do a quiz. I had studied the things that were on the quiz!

Before we could leave the professor announced the results. I was eagerly waiting for mine, I knew it'd finally be a good grade! I got 5/20, how? That's such a devastating result. . The professor couldn't even let me see my mistakes. The bell finally rang and I fast-paced to the bus station, I couldn't afford something worse happening today. The bus arrived and as I was walking in someone tapped my shoulder, I turned around to look who it was but no one was there, strange. .

After arriving home I immediately started studying. After completing my homework I went to eat yesterday's leftovers 'Annoying'. Hm, who said that? I was home alone. I decided to shrug it off, nothing good could happen by stressing out about some little things. I questioned once again why I always failed even though I was such a hardworking student, I guess I'm not trying enough. . It's just unfair, why do I always fail? I could feel the tears spilling on my notes. I wiped them away, it didn't matter, crying wouldn't solve this.

As I finished doing extra exercises I cracked my knuckles. I'm glad that I'm finally done, I even gave kudos to myself for finishing faster than yesterday. Am I hungry? Positive. I ignored the fact that I had an exam soon, food was the first priority. I went to the kitchen and cooked an omelet. I sat down in the living room and watched the news to have something distract me while I ate. The television suddenly started to glitch and a reporter was talking about how it was the end of the world. I rubbed my eyes and it turned back to normal. Were my eyes fooling me? As I was trying to understand if what I just saw was real or not I remembered about the exam. There's no way it was real, my brain was playing tricks on me. 

I decided to write down the event either way because it could appear useful in the future. I then started to revise for the exam, a couple of hours had passed before I was finally done. I could feel my eyelids getting heavy so I brushed my teeth before heading to bed.

Going to school was exhausting, the day barely started and I wanted to go back home already. As I headed inside I ignored the people which was relatively easy and I sat on a bench. I felt as if something was wrong though. . Was it the exam? I was ready for it. 

While I was minding my own business, a classmate of mine, Evelyn greeted me "Hi Mary, how're you doing?" Someone started a small talk with me? That's so sweet. "Honestly I could be better but I guess I'm good. How's your day?" I asked her. "Ya know, the usual stuff." she responded, I in fact didn't know the usual stuff. Before I could ask her something else I noticed something strange, she started to melt. Oh god her skin was oozing to the floor, her flesh was visible! Was I the only one who could see that?! "Please help. ." She muttered while grasping my arm.

I didn't know what to do, is this a nightmare?! "How, how am I supposed to help you?" I asked, by then her face had fallen off. I began to panic, I looked around to see if anyone could help Evelyn but everyone had the same issue. It made my stomach drop. I looked at Evelyn's hand, it was now just bones and it hurt. "Please help me. ." she said before grabbing my hand, I flinched, I could feel my flesh being torn. I couldn't even push her away, it was about time and all that remained from her were just her bones. I couldn't hold my tears back. A loud sound was heard throughout the place. A warning, an alarm for this situation? 

I woke up, that was one heavy sleep. What did I dream of? It seemed like a long dream, I hate forgetting them. After eating something for breakfast I went to school. There, a student from the same school started a small conversation with me. I didn't remember his name nor did I wanna seem rude for not knowing so I referred to him as Blondie. This was a good day starter! As we were discussing the lessons we hate he asked me about a wound on my arm. I looked at my arm and there was a visible injury. The strange thing is that I didn't get hit by something to cause such a wound. "I'm not sure, it's not the first time something like this happens, it frequently happens when I'm sleeping." I stated.

 We continued talking until the bell rang and we parted ways. It was the exam day today and I knew everything. I was more than ready and when I received the copy of the test I started writing. I knew everything, I continued to write down the answers to the questions until I was done. The professor looked kinda surprised. Once I finished, everything that I had studied was deleted from my memory. That was very weird. . At Least I was done! I gave the professor my sheet of paper before leaving school.

I ran to the bus station and the bus was about to pass by, I was lucky! Just as the bus stopped it disappeared.  Do I want to go home so badly that I am hallucinating? Some passers-by threw strange looks at me, they must think that I'm crazy. I went to sit down on a bench and then the blond boy came. "Hello again, how'd the exam go?" he asked me. I don't remember telling him that I had an exam, maybe a friend of his is in the same class with me. "It was surprisingly good, it was pretty easy. How was your day?" I asked to continue the conversation. "It was fine." He responded. "Which class are you at?" I questioned, before he could reply the bus came . I went inside and that's when the conversation ended. Could I consider him a friend? It'd be good.

After I arrived home, I ate dinner, it was quite nice. I put the dishes in the dishwasher and focused on my homework. It was simpler than usual, maybe I finally became smarter! I finished earlier than usual so I decided to reward myself. I grabbed a bag of popcorn from the cabinet and put on a good series to watch. I really loved this show. Suddenly the phone started ringing, the moment I went to pick it up the power fell out, yet the phone kept ringing. This situation felt off, it gave off creepy vibes too. I answered the phone "Hello, who is it?" I asked, no one had my phone number. . "Wake up" a robotic-like voice said that in repeat until I closed the call. This just felt like a plot for a horror movie. . I hated pranks like these, I knew it was a prank because no one had my number. Once I closed the call the power returned.

I decided to go to bed, I didn't understand how fast the time passed by. . After a while I fell asleep. I woke up, I felt as if I just blinked and the night went by… I went to brush my teeth, after that I went to put on my uniform. As I stepped inside my room I noticed myself, I was still asleep? What the hell; was I dead?! I tried to wake myself up but it wasn't working.  An eerie sound could be heard so I decided to investigate. I looked outside the window and what I saw was horrifying. The world looked as if a war happened, a bizarre creature was standing out there, collecting dead bodies. . I couldn't describe how it looked but I'm certain that I've seen it before.

It was changing the world to its original state, one of the bodies that were collected was Blondie's. He died..? This felt very familiar but I just couldn't remember. Wait.. it has happened before. . the dreams that I kept forgetting.. it has truly happened, they weren't just dreams. I remember them now, that's why I had that wound on my arm, it was because of Evelyn. Why was I alive though? I'm pretty sure I died in some of them. That must be the reason why my life is so difficult! As if it sensed me the creature looked over my window, I realized how dark the sky was when I saw it staring at me. Next thing I remember is waking up, that was terrifying.

I dressed up, I had to go to school, I was possibly being watched. I had to act normal, how was I supposed to act as if I witnessed none of that stuff? One of the only people that I talked with was now dead. I arrived at school, it was a bit early so I started writing down my theories in my diary. "Good Morning Mary" Blondie said before I could open my diary. Wait, Blondie? Silence filled the air while I was trying to realize how he was alive. I was about to question him, since I saw him dead but what if people come back? What if that monster brings them back and removes their memories? "Are you okay Mary?" he questioned. "Yeah I'm fine.. my day just didn't start off well."

I didn't know if I should tell him about everything that happened. I needed someone to help me, didn't I? That's what people usually do.. If something were to happen to me someone else would know which could help spread the message. I took out a notebook of mine because it'd be better to write it down rather than tell him. I began to write everything that I knew and my theories and then I asked if he wanted to see some drawings of mine. He agreed and sat next to me. He started reading it and kept quiet. "Wow, how did you find out?" he asked "Well you could say that life inspired me to find this." I stated. When I told him that I'd spread the message to the world he smiled, the smile was almost angelic . .

The bell rang, Blond boy went inside the school and I was stuck in a dilemma. I wasn't sure if I should leave school but staring at it made me feel like staying was the wrong option so I began to run to the bus station. I heard a horn, I looked to my left and I noticed a truck, god I could have died if I didn't run faster. I was alive and I needed to warn the people. The only way that I could think of was social media. I managed to get on the bus and after I got out I immediately ran to my home. I opened my laptop and I began to write a warning about what lurks within this world. Once I hit send the message got deleted, I tried more websites, other social media but nothing worked. Of course it wouldn't, if it were that easy then someone else would have done it! I took my diary out of my bag and then I heard the doorbell ring. I locked the door, I couldn't afford anyone to come inside.

 I opened my diary and there I found warnings addressed to me. Written in the diary was a note about how I shouldn't trust the blondie, he was the one behind all of this, he was the mastermind. I now realized why he kept talking to me, he didn't want me to see these notes. Blondie barged in the house, I was dumbfounded. "You finally read it, you made me wonder how long it'd take you" he said. I tried to shut the door but he held it open. "I, I can stop you!" I stated, I was filled with fear, I had no idea what to do. He didn't respond, he was just smiling, that uncanny smile was so petrifying. "You aren't a chosen one, you're not meant to save the world. You are just a student, how can you save the world? The fun is over, you stepped right into the trap like a foolish little mouse." he said with a grin. I tried to attack him with my diary but he just caught it and he burnt it to crisp, nothing was left, just ash. . "Think of this world as your personalized hell. You cannot escape this place nor save it." I was awestruck, he looked like the devil with that smile. He wasn't the angel he looked like nor a student from my school. He was a demon and behind that angelic face of his hid the devil himself. .

I woke up once again, I felt very tired though. . It was dark outside, what time is it? I grabbed my phone, it was 3am, I could get more sleep! I laid back on my comfy bed and slept once again before starting the day. The day went on pretty well yet I felt that I was missing something.

[mortedeveles]

a whisker away― 1 | HQ Movie Collab!

COPYRIGHT © 2021 BY VELES. DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, OR READ MY CONTENT AS ASMR OR AUDIOFICS.

SUMMARY: After a strange series of events, turning into a cat becomes part of your daily routine, in which you visit your crush- Kenma, every day after school. But he doesn’t know you’re the cat that visits him. And to make things worse, you’re not sure how long you’ll be able to keep this up before your world spirals out of your control.

PAIRING: Kenma Kozume x fem!reader

GENRE & THEME:  A Whisker Away! AU (movie), fluff to angst to fluff, pining. [(two part) ONE-SHOT] [Haikyu Movie Collab!]

TAG’S & TW: Cursing, a bit of unhealthy family dynamics. Mentions of social anxiety, rejection. Some angst, mentions of insecurities and small graphic violence. Reader might come off a bit as yandere-ish/obsessive but she’s just head over heels over Kenma, who’s barely discovering his feelings as well. 

WORD COUNT: 5.7K! 

A/N: Hey y’all! I’m here with my first Kenma fic :) Which is part of @/hitokas-angel Haikyuu Movie Collab! I’ll link the masterlist in my taglist reblog. This fic is based on the movie A Whisker Away but doesn’t follow the entire plot, and I haven’t written in a while and this is my first time writing for Kenma, so I hope it’s okay! <3 Please REBLOG, like and COMMENT if you enjoy! 

Second (and final) part will be out this upcoming week! If you want to be added to the taglist, check my pinned post. 

People are a fickle thing, Kenma thinks. And he snorts at the thought, knowing he isn't any better than any of the passing strangers he's walking by as he heads to Nekoma High. But still, there's something about people, about crowds and socializing that makes him want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

People are hard to deal with. If he can barely deal with himself, why bother with others? It's not that he's a sociopath, he does have friends and family he cares about. And he cares about what others think of him. But still, socializing is so intimidatingly hard that he'd rather just avoid it altogether if possible. 

Even with his headphones, he can hear the loud blaring of cars, the chattering of people that brush against his arms, and he tries to ignore it, tries to ignore the nervous fluttering that's sprouted in his stomach from all the alternating and overwhelming noises. Whatever, it's just a car honking. It's just a little kid screaming. So he braces his arms as he buries his hands in the pockets of his sweater, feeling a bit more relieved as he spots Nekoma High School in the near distance. He usually walks to school with Kuroo, but his friend decided to be productive today and wake up at four in the morning. The mere thought of waking up so early made Kenma yawn and feel drowsy. His eyes feel a bit heavy, though he knows it's his fault for staying up playing video games, again. 

But Kenma doesn't mind the slight drowsiness that courses through his body. In a sense, it feels comforting. Like if the world's been sedated to a more managing level. A world that he can handle without his anxiety bursting through the roof. 

A soft mew snaps him out of his thoughts, and Kenma spots a white kitten rubbing across his legs, and he smiles. It has a unique pattern across its fur, with brown and black spots. He kneels down and gently scratches the cat under its chin, and the furry animal purrs and preens with his touch.

As a small sigh escapes his lips, the boy raises his head and stares at the high school building ahead of him. Several classmates are walking past him and he watches the girls with swishing skirts and boys with their boisterous laugh and messily done ties. 

Despite a large number of students pouring into the building, the morning at Nekoma High is quiet and serene. Giving the black kitten one last scratch, Kenma stands up and heads inside the building, working his way through crowds. His gym bag is heavy in his hand and his backpack slightly thumps against his back, but he pays it no mind as he exits the building and finds his way into the gymnasium. Kuroo, Kai, and Yaku are already in the gymnasium, the three third years chattering amongst themselves. The gym's doors creaked from being pushed open, and Kuroo's gaze snapped towards Kenma, a wry smile crawling onto his lips. 

"Look who got here early. I'm impressed," the black-haired boy crossed his arms, and Kenma rolled his eyes. "You're the first second-year to get here today."

Kenma merely lets out a small grunt of acknowledgment, before trudging towards the locker rooms. He stashes his bag in his locker and then heads out back to the gym, already decked out in his volleyball uniform, but furrows his eyebrows at the sight ahead of him.

Not again. He swallows down an annoyed groan as he spots the all too familiar girl standing with Kuroo, a bright smile painted on her lips as she laughs and talks along with the boy. Why are you here?

"Kenma!" Kuroo calls out for him with a shit-eating grin on his face, "Your super fan is here with a gift." Great. Now he has to talk to you and thank you for whatever you brought. Why couldn't you just take a hint and leave him alone? He thought he made it clear last week when he ignored you as you called out his name and Kenma proceeded to ignore your every word as he raced home. 

"Hi, Kenma!" And there you go again, making his stomach twist with your wide smile. Why did you make him feel this way? He didn't like this feeling. "I had some free time today, so I decided to make you a bento box. I hope you like it," you explain before handing over the box, and Kenma ignores the way his skin heats up as your fingers brush against his. 

"Thank you," he murmurs but refuses to meet your gaze, hoping you'll go away without another second to spare.

"Aww, aren't you two adorable!" Kuroo coos at his left, and Kenma feels his pride shrivel and glares at the black-haired boy, but he pays him no mind.

Kenma drops his gaze to your shiny school shoes, hearing you stammer and step back nervously, and Kuroo's boisterous laugh echoes in the gym. Kenma lifts his gaze as he watches his best friend approach you and watches as your eyes widen as Kuroo grips your chin.

"If Kenma doesn't appreciate your gifts, I sure will. If you ever get tired of him, give me a call, eh?" Yaku and Kai laugh loudly as you squeak and nod, before rushing out of the gym.

"Poor girl, did you see the look on her face? You've tormented her too much, Kuroo," Yaku says with a disapproving tone to his words, but there's a wide grin on his face that says otherwise.

"Relax, it's all just a bit of fun. You don't mind, do you Kenma?" And the boy turns to look at the blonde, dropping his mischievous expression as he faces Kenma with genuine concern. 

"No, of course not." Kuroo relaxes at the boy's response and beams. Kenma turns around towards the benches, ignoring the loud pounding of his heart and the ugly feeling that begins to boil in his stomach. 

                    ═ ═ ═ ╰���╮ ═ ═ ═

Despite the searing heat that spread across your face after fleeing from the gym, you'd like to think your mission went pretty well. One, you made it to the gym without chickening out and two, you talked to Kenma without looking like an idiot! And three, you handed over the bento box and it was successfully received. 

So you spend the rest of your day at school with a bright smile, the small interaction with Kenma being enough to lift your mood. Soon enough, the school bell chimes softly, and you walk to lunch with your friends, Azumi and Emiko.

While Emiko goes off to the vending machine, her brown hair bouncing with her each step, Azumi and you walk towards a lunch table. But you freeze in your steps at the sight ahead of you. With only a tree and a few bushes separating you two, Kenma and Kuroo walk languidly ahead of you and you quickly duck behind the bushes, pulling Azumi down with you. Before she can protest, you slap your hand over her mouth, signaling her to be quiet. 

"Shh!" You peek your head over the bushes, watching with rapt attention. Kenma walks side by side with Kuroo, the taller one gossiping as they approach a lunch table. They sit down at one of the tables blanketed under the shade of the trees, and your eyes widen as you watch Kenma pull out your bento box. He kept it! A small part of you was fearing he would drop kick it at a trash can, but you feel much more relieved now that you see him with your gift. The branches begin to scratch against your forearms and thighs, and your friend grumbles at your side about how the bushes are annoying, but you pay her no mind as you watch almost in slow motion as Kenma opens your bento box and begins to eat. He digs into the food with his chopsticks and you strain your ears to listen as Kuroo speaks. 

"Oh? You're eating the bento box Y/N prepared for you?"

Kenma's brows furrow as he rolls his eyes, before continuing to dig into the food, cheeks puffed out with food. He ignores Kuroo's teasing words, and you don't think the smile on your lips can grow any wider. Wow....have you ever felt this happy before? You can't describe the happiness, the joy, and the satisfaction that blooms from your chest and floods your mind at the sight of your crush eating your food. 

"Okay," you let out a deep breath as you dramatically fall back on the grass, closing your eyes in bliss. "I can peacefully die now..."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Azumi chides you but falls back onto the grass at your side, and you can't stop the giggle that leaves your lips. 

"But it's true," you mumble as you drape your arm over your eyes, blocking off the blinding sunlight. "Kenma took my bento box. Kenma Kozume, the boy I've crushed on for years, took my food! And he's eating it!"

"Nothing else can make you happier, huh?" Your friend says with amusement, and you hum. You push your arm away from your face, and stare at the bright sky, raising your hand upward and partially block the sun's rays. 

"There is something else," you murmur, and Kenma's face flashes across your mind. "But beggars can't be choosers. I'll take what I can."

"What do you want?" Azumi rolls to the side and propels herself with her arm, looking at you expectantly. "Tell me."

You glance at her briefly before looking away with a small smile. You gaze at the sky, and you notice a small, burning light that travels across the blue horizons. A shooting star? That can't be it. It's the middle of the day. But you furrow your brows, a small prayer whispered in your head as you respond to your friend.

"I wish Kenma's heart belongs to me as much as mine belongs to him."

Azumi snorts. She rolls her eyes and lays back down on the grass, and you stifle a giggle.

"Well, good luck with that." She murmurs, and you hum in response. You close your eyes and spread your arms on the grass as the wind gently blows across the open area. 

"Thanks. I'm going to need it." You murmur mostly to yourself, but then you open your eyes and raise yourself from the grass, peeking through the branches and leaves. Kenma is still scarfing down the food you made and Kuroo drinks some canned juice. And you feel newfound determination flooding through your veins as you turn and beam at your friend, eyes set on your goal.

"I can do it. I know I can."

Azumi chuckles, watching you with an amused smile. She then rises from the grass, stretching her limbs before outstretching a hand towards you. 

"Well if it's anyone that can do it, it's you." And you smile. With a small huff, you grab her hand and rise to your feet, feeling much more hopeful than before. 

     ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

On the way home, you walk with Azumi and Emiko, but soon enough part ways since you three live on different streets. Humming absentmindedly, you swing your bag in your hands as you walk towards your home with no rush in your steps, feeling as if you have all the time in your hands. Your mind drifts back to Kenma- as it always does, and you smile. You're determined to win him over, but truthfully, you're not sure how. A small sigh leaves your lips, and you begin to pick up your pace when you hear a loud crash from the alley on your left.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you slowly turn around and look into the rather dark alley, feeling your heart pound loudly. Uh oh. This can't be good. But you're frozen in place, and all you can do is watch in slight horror as a large and tall figure stomps out of the alley, slowly leaving shadows as it steps into the light. And you find yourself looking at... a cat?

That is if you can call this...thing, a cat. 

Towering over you, the overweight white cat stands on its two paws, black and brown spots littering its fur. Strangely enough, the animal sports a dark blue kimono with a mustard yellow cloak draped over the clothing and a red scarf wrapped around its thick neck. And the weirdest of it all? The cat is smoking a pipe. Rather than being afraid, you're stuck in place as confusion swarms your thoughts.

"Uh..." You stare up at the cat, whose eyes are closed. "Hello?"

"Greetings, human." And the cat exhales a puff of smoke right on your face. Coughing, you furrow your brows with annoyance. "I've heard your prayers, so I am here with an offer."

Oh. Wait, what? How could've he heard your mental prayers? Maybe it was the shooting star- assuming it was a shooting star. But whatever the reason is, you don't dwell on it too much as you swallow and take a step back.

"Which is...?" You wait for the cat to continue. Maybe you're hallucinating, which wouldn't be too crazy to consider. Maybe you've been hallucinating this entire day because God knows it's been too good to be true. 

The cat harrumphs, before opening its cloak, revealing a set of colorful masks. Pretty, you murmur to yourself, and the cat chuckles.

"I heard your pleads, and I am here to help. But I'm no love god, so I cannot make that boy fall in love with you. However," he pauses and grins, sharp teeth glinting. "I am the Mask Seller. I give masks to cats who wish to be humans, and I give masks to humans who wish to be cats."

"..." You frown, not liking the strange glint in the cat's eyes. You don't trust him. "And how would that help me win Kenma over?"

The Mask Seller laughs loudly, his belly slightly bouncing. "I have been watching you and the boy for some time now. You, more than anyone, should know why being a cat will change things."

Racking your head for the answer, you go through your memories of Kenma. A cat? Why would being a cat change anything? But then it dawns on you, and a small noise of understanding leaves your lips. 

"He loves cats," you rush the words, eyes wide and the Mask Seller nods. "If I were a cat, I could approach him easily, and learn more about him! And then, I could use that information to become closer to him as a human-,"

"You catch on fast," the cat croons, and you nod eagerly. But then you frown. Why is he offering to help you? What does he get out of this?

"What are the conditions? Price? Rules?" You cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot impatiently.

"No money involved," the cat's low voice has you relaxing, but you still can't let down your guard. This is too good to be true. "But there are some conditions and rules you have to follow. And a small fee." 

"I'm listening," you nod in understanding. The cat tugs one of the masks hanging from his cloak, a white cat mask that only covers the upper half of your face, with red and pink markings. He places it firmly in your hands, and then clears his throat. "The mask has a time limit. You can only wear it for one hour and a half per day. After that time, you will turn back into a human. And once my services are no longer needed, I will come to collect the mask. And my fee, of course." The glint in his feline eyes has you swallowing nervously, brows furrowing.

"What's this 'fee' you're talking about? You said I don’t have to pay you money." But the Mask Seller only chuckles before flipping backward, and you watch with a slackened jaw as he spins into the air, before floating down to a pipe and waves at you before swiftly squeezing down the passage.

"You'll see! Enjoy your new life." 

And then you're left alone, standing in front of the alley with a cat mask in your hands. 

Frowning, you stare down at the mask, turning it around. There's no engraving, inscription, or any indication of where it was made or such. Oh well. With a sigh, you hoist your bag around your shoulder and continue walking home, the cat mask held tightly in your hands.

Once you reach your home's doorstep, you stop. Pinching your arm, you wince at the stinging pain that shoots up your dream. Well, that crosses out one thing. You're not dreaming. 

Swinging the door open, you announce your arrival, take off your shoes and kiss your mother's cheek, before racing up the stairs towards your bedroom. You need to know whether the mask will work before getting your hopes up, or if you've been having major hallucinations the entire day. A part of you hopes for it to work. Dropping your school bag on the ground, you examine the mask once again, tracing your fingers over the marks. It's a bit similar to a kitsune mask. Taking a deep breath, you straighten your posture before raising the mask and clasping it tight against your face. 

And then it happens. A powerful breeze sweeps into your room, even though your windows are closed, and you feel the world spinning. Closing your eyes tightly, you slowly open them after a few seconds. 

Woah. When was your bag this big? Things look a bit different, a bit sharper. And you're definitely way smaller than before. Glancing downwards, you spot your paws. White, soft, furry paws. The paws of a cat.

Oh my God. It worked! You want to squeal and scream with excitement, but all that leaves your mouth is a small, gentle mew. 

Oh, right. You're a cat. You can't talk. So instead, you walk towards your balcony, thankful you didn't close it last night as you nudge it open with your head. Once it slides open, you take a step forward before examining your paws. You can retract your claws at your own will. That's pretty cool, you think, but it's time to test them out. Leaping forward, you sink your claws into the cement wall and climb upwards, surprised at how easy it is. Perhaps everything is easier as a cat. 

Once you've reached the top of the half-wall of your balcony, you begin to leap on roofs, tread on pipes and sidewalks until you've reached Kenma's house. Ever since you went there for a project in middle school, you've never forgotten his address. Is it creepy? Maybe- okay, yeah, it is creepy, but it's not like you stalk him! You simply memorized his address by heart. Blame it on your love haze from seventh grade, the same love haze that continues to influence your current actions. 

You walk around his house until you reach his bedroom window. You wonder what he'll think, seeing a white kitten peeking through his window. Dread boils in your stomach when you realize he might not even be home at all. What if he's still at volleyball practice? You might've come all the way here for nothing.

But much to your surprise, after climbing up to his window, you find yourself staring at him. Kenma sits at his desk, black headphones on his head as he scribbles on a piece of paper. He must be doing homework, you ponder. Deciding to not interrupt him just yet, you look around in his bedroom, observing the decoration. 

It's rather simple, with beige walls and a wooden floor. On the right corner of his room, a bed is pushed against the wall with pastel green blankets, and to the bed's left, there's a wooden desk with a PC, as well as several stacks of books, what seems to look like comics, and some gaming equipment. 

After you've gotten bored of looking around in his bedroom, you scratch at his window, mewing softly. He doesn't look up, and you find your stomach twisting. What if he just thinks you're a strange stray and ignores you? Or worse, kicks you out of his home? Dear God, you did not think this through. Why did you take that mask again? Your mother did tell you to never accept gifts from strangers. 

But before your endless cycle of overthinking can fully commence, your eyes widen as you watch Kenma pull off his headphones and stare at you through the window for a few seconds. You watch his short, dirty blonde hair slightly move with his movements and his slightly parted lips. And you know he sees nothing more but a white kitten, but a part of you hopes that he sees through the magic, and sees you. It's me, Kenma. 

Almost hesitantly, he walks over to his window and pulls it open. You sit down patiently and chirp softly once the window has been lifted. Kenma looks rather confused but doesn't say anything as he reaches a hand towards you and begins to gently scratch your chin. That feels good. You purr and lean into his touch, and you hear a soft chuckle leave his lips. Oh. My. God.

"How did you get up here?" He murmurs, mostly to himself and all you can do is meow in response. 

You watch as he stares at his closed door, before turning back to you. And then, you feel his warm and soft hands go underneath your arms as he picks you up from the edge of the window and brings you to his bed. Kenma runs his fingers through your white fur, and the heat his body emits is almost comforting and you find yourself leaning into his touch.

"You like cuddles, don't you?" He says, with a teasing smile that you've never seen before. If you were in human form right now, you're sure you would've passed out by now. 

You let out a soft mew and reach for his cheek with one of your paws, but Kenma laughs as he grabs your paw and squeezes it gently in his hand.

This is it. You've never seen Kenma smile before, much less laugh, and there are no words to describe how it makes you feel. All you can think about is that you need to see it again.

                   ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

Your life has taken a strange twist, to say the least. After enduring school, you race home and pull on the mask, heading straight to Kenma's house. You spend an hour there, cuddled in his arms or his lap as he plays video games, one of his hands resting on the top of your head. Kuroo has even come over a few times and seems to enjoy your presence as well. Kenma even feeds you sometimes, but most times you refuse, not liking how your stomach feels once you turn back human. 

"Mmm." Kenma hums as you lay on his chest, pressing his nose to the crook of your neck, buried between your fur. And you purr, closing your eyes. "You smell like heaven. But I wonder," he leans back for a moment, assessing your frame. "What's your name? Do you have a family?" 

"Give it a break, Kenma," Kuroo says at his side, reaching a hand to pet you. His movements are rather brutish and rough and you grumble as he pets your fur. 

"I'm sure she has a family that feeds her. You can't feel her bones or anything, she's a healthy weight."

The boy sighs in response, before sitting up on his bed, moving you to his lap. "But I still get worried," he gently runs his fingers through your fur. "Where does she go after coming here?"

You meow in response. I'm fine, Kenma. You don't need to worry over me. He chuckles, raising you to his face, his nose gently bopping against yours. You stare into his golden eyes, wondering how someone's eyes could be as beautiful and hypnotizing as his, and you feel yourself fall a little bit more in love.

"Your birthday is coming up, isn't it?" Kuroo says as he flops onto the bed, bouncing a volleyball in his hands. 

"Yeah," Kenma murmurs, and you don't miss the way he averts his eyes and how his voice lowers. Does he not like his birthday? "It's this Friday."

"I'm gonna get you some apple pie. Let's go to the park after school on Friday, and then we can go to that arcade you like going to." You turn to look at Kuroo. If you were in your human form, you would've been smiling softly. Though Kuroo can be loud and boisterous at times, you can tell that he cares for Kenma.

"Apple pie is good," he murmurs as his fingers scratch your head. "I like it."

 Your ears perk up at this as an idea pops into your head. Kuroo's going to give him apple pie, but probably store-bought. Which means you can bake him homemade apple pie and buy him a few more gifts. He'll love it! Seeing that his birthday is only in two days, you spring up from his chest and race towards the window. You don't have any time to waste. 

"Huh- wait!" You stop, hearing the sudden surprise in Kenma's words. Mewing softly, you lick your paw and meow one more time before leaping out of the window. That should suffice as a goodbye, right? It's not like you can go up to him and say, "See you later!" You're in the body of a cat, after all.

Once you've dropped down to the soft grass, you begin to make your way home, making mental calculations of what you need to buy and prepare. And you feel giddiness shoot through your chest, butterflies awakening in your stomach. Who knows, maybe the gift will win him over? You can only hope so. 

          ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

By the time Kenma's birthday, October 16th, rolls by, you feel ready as ever. Speed walking to school, you're decked out in your school uniform, carrying the warm apple pie in one hand, and a gift bag in the other, while your bag is slung over your shoulders. You can't stop the giddy smile that crawls on your lips, which only grows wider at the sight of your two friends, Emiko and Azumi waiting for you at your designated spot. 

"Hey there," Azumi chimes in while Emiko gasps at the sight in your arms.

"Y/N! What's all this?" Her words are chipper and her eyes are wide as you smile and begin to walk towards the school, the two girls at your sides.

"It's Kenma's birthday today, so I decided to bake him apple pie and I bought him some gifts. I hope he'll like them," you feel your insecurities seep in your last words, slightly frowning as you look down at your apple pie. You were a good baker, having done many other desserts in the past, but you can't help but fear that he won't like your baking.

"Wow. You really went all out," Azumi comments and you giggle. The three of you continue to gossip as you walk towards Nekoma High and it isn't long until the school building towers over you. You feel your stomach twist as you take in a deep breath. 

Azumi pats your shoulder, while Emiko beams at you and gives you a thumbs up.

"You should give it to him before classes start. Good luck!" The brunette says with a wide smile and you smile back, before marching into the building. Here goes nothing. 

It takes you a few minutes to find Kenma, knowing he'll probably be in the gymnasium, but you decide to check some other classrooms just in case. When you can't find him in any classroom, you grimace and speedwalk towards the gym, knowing you're running out of time. You only have eight minutes left before the school bell rings and then you'll have to head to class. 

Once you've reached the gym, you slowly push the doors open, silently praying that only Kuroo and Kenma are in the gym. 

But your prayers go unheard as a ball rolls right towards your feet, and the boy's volleyball team freezes when they spot you. A small moment of awkwardness passes through before you clear your throat and walk towards Kenma, giving the other boys a tight-lipped smile. Kenma sits on one of the benches, drinking from his water bottle as a sheen layer of sweat rolls down from his forehead. When you stand in front of him, he sets his water bottle to the side and stares at you, mouth slightly parted open. 

"Happy birthday, Kenma. I hope you'll like it." You slightly bow before him, handing him over the gifts. He takes them silently, staring at them, and you decide to take this as your chance to escape. Quickly turning on your heel, you half-race out of the gym, feeling your face burn with embarrassment once again. And then you press your back against the gym's wall, catching your breath as your cheeks burn. But then you smile, a small laugh falling from your lips. You did it. 

═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

Kenma isn't a fan of birthdays. He'll endure his friend's birthdays and he'll even help with the surprise parties, but there's something about them that makes his stomach churn. Especially when it's his birthday. He's not the biggest fan of celebrating his birthday and he tries to avoid it when he can, but of course, Kuroo won't let it slip by this year.

He's barely arrived at the gym and Kenma frowns as he notices that no one's here yet. The gymnasium is dark and empty, and he wonders if he missed a memo or something. Did they not have practice today? 

He sighs, dropping his gym bag on the ground. He'll wait a few minutes, maybe he's early today? But then he hears something shuffle, and he freezes. What was that....?

Then a grumble. Kenma raises a brow, both confused and wary. Is there a ghost or are his teammates pranking him? Neither outcomes sound pleasant.

"...Who's there?"

A sigh. And then, before Kenma can brace himself, the entire volleyball team jumps from the bleachers, shouting eagerly. 

"SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Jesus Christ! Kenma jumps in his spot, heart thundering as he processes the situation. Okay, so not a ghost. Just his teammates being annoying as usual. Kuroo and Lev are grinning like doofuses, holding a banner that says, 'Happy Birthday Kenma!' Kai holds an apple pie in his hands, a serene smile on his face, Yaku holds the other end of the banner, and the rest of the first and second years hold balloons and throw streamers into the air.

All of this, just for him? 

"What's this?" Kenma murmurs, still wracking his brain as he tries to process his emotions. Lev's about to open his mouth, but Yaku reaches over and slaps his hand over the Russian's mouth, a forced smile on his lips.

Kuroo clears his throat, beaming. "Just a surprise celebration! We wanted to do something special. You don't turn seventeen every day."

And Kenma feels his chest warm, and there's a smile that's threatening to break onto his face, but he holds it back and gives them a small smile, not sure if he can handle so many emotions.

"...Thank you." And he is, he feels thankful and only feels even more thankful as his friends cheer and suddenly rush towards him, embracing him tightly in his arms. He can't help the laugh that leaves his lips and feels serene. Kenma's never been a fan of his birthday, but his friends make it a little bit better. 

     ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

The team quickly calms down and begins practice, a few laps, then practicing their spikes and receives. Kenma walks over to the benches and takes a seat as he drinks from his water bottle when the gym doors creak open.

Everyone turns to look at the intruder, and Kenma's stomach squirms. It's you again. And he hates the way his heart skips a beat at the sight of you, and he hates the way it makes him feel.

It's dead silent, and you stand at the door for a second before quickly walking towards him, and Kenma's heart pounds even louder. He doesn't understand you. Why do you pursue him so much? You're cute, he can't deny it. So why, out of all the people in Nekoma High, did you chase after him? And why is it making his heart go wild?

"Happy birthday, Kenma. I hope you'll like it." You slightly bow before him, handing him over the gifts. A freshly baked apple pie that smells absolutely delicious, and a large red gift bag. 

Oh wow... He's speechless. He doesn't know what to say. It feels like with the surprise celebration, and it feels like too much. What is he supposed to say? But before he can even regain his composure, you're rushing out of the gym, and Kenma's stomach churns. Oh... 

Once the gym doors close with a loud slam, the entire team turns to look at him. They blink, and then they leap. Kenma yelps as the entire team rush towards him, yapping and all of them speaking at the same time.

"Lemme see what she got you!"

"Y/N L/N is so adorable!"

"Kenma, have you secretly been dating Y/N this entire time?!" Fukunaga pipes in, and Kenma finds his face heating up as his eyes widen.

"What?! Of course not!" And then Kuroo's snickering as he sits next to Kenma, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

"She's a sweet girl. Why don't you give her a chance?"

He lets out a shaky breath, his poor heart barely handling all the commotion. Kenma definitely needs at least one hour of cuddling with his white kitten after school to recover from all this. He blocks out what his friends say as his thoughts drift off, and he furrows his brows. 

Wait a minute. How did you know he likes apple pie?

A/N: Hey!! I hope you enjoyed the first half of this one-shot :)) I totally did not speedrun it 1-2 days before the collab event was live 😭😭I’ve been busy with school and just life in general so I haven’t had much time to write tbh. And plus I’m lazy :,) but anyway! I hoped you enjoyed it as much I enjoyed writing it :DD The 2nd and final part of this one-shot will be out this week!

Please REBLOG, like + comment if you enjoyed! <3 

COPYRIGHT © 2021 BY VELES. DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, OR READ MY CONTENT AS ASMR OR AUDIOFICS.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

It sure would be terrible if Jameson got spooked by something and saw Jake and decided Jake was a threat. It would be just awful if it was something innocuous that triggered Jameson so badly that he decided he needed to handle Jake the way he handled Robert, now, in front of a few rescues. And Chris, perhaps

CW: Stabbing, knives, blood, panic response, trauma response, flashback to pet whump, murder reference

Chris vaguely hears a loud thump over the sound of the music blaring through his headphones, ignoring it - it’s an old house, sometimes you hear everything anyone else is doing. He hums along with the song, turning the page on his textbook, trying to make himself focus on the entirely-too-many tiny words, chewing idly on his plastic feather necklace.

Then there’s another sound that breaks through, cracks apart the spell of the song. 

It’s a scream.

Chris’s head jerks up and he pulls the headphones off, freezing first, heart going from a slow and steady thump to racing, a wash of cold fear from head to toe. For a second, there’s nothing, and he wonders if he made it up somehow, if there was never that second sound-

And then the scream comes again, and he hears footsteps flying past his door, the sound of Antoni’s voice calling out. Chris throws his mp3 player to the side and abandons the textbooks he wasn’t really reading anyway, bare feet on warm hardwood, taking the steps three at a time.

He stumbles into the doorway to the kitchen and stares, wide-eyed, at the blood. His breath catches in his throat, it won’t go into his lungs or come back out again, and he feels his knees give way.

There’s so much blood.

Again.

“No,” he whimpers, but no one hears him. They’re too busy trying to pull the new angry rescue off of Jake.

Antoni and Allyn each have their hands gripped onto Jameson’s arms, pulling him forcibly up and away from Jake, lying on the floor with one of the kitchen knives, the narrow one, buried in his shoulder so firmly it looks like it’s stuck him to the floor beneath him. Blood wells up bright red, soaking Jake’s white t-shirt, as he tries to move one hand to grab at it, misses, fails.

“You won’t fucking touch me!” Jameson is screaming, his rasping voice even more hoarse with the volume, tears in his eyes and running down his red face, spitting the words with venom and panic. “You’ll never fucking touch me again, you won’t, you won’t fucking touch me! You fucking won’t, you asshole, I fucking k-killed you-let me go!”

He tries to pull himself free of their grip, but Antoni and Allyn hold him tightly, pulling him still struggling back towards the same doorway Chris is still frozen in.

He stares at Jake, who hasn’t seen him yet, and his face changes, it’s someone else, it’s reddish hair just like his own and a longer jaw, wider eyes, it’s dark brown hair falling over her face and it’s so much blood-

“Jameson,” Antoni says, his voice louder than Chris has ever heard it, firm and strong. “Jameson you must stop this. You are not there. You are not in that place now. You must calm. Look at the windows, Jameson. Look at the walls.” He pauses, his dark eyes moving, landing on Chris, moving again. He can’t stop, Chris thinks, he can’t stop doing this long enough to help anyone else. “Jameson. Look at Allyn.”

Jameson, teeth bared in a snarl, turns almost against his will and meets Allyn’s frightened expression, their huge gray eyes ringed in white, and something... melts out of him, the tension and hate dropping all at once. He slumps, and Allyn pulls him close, whispering into his ear.

It’s the moment Chris needs and he throws himself forwards, onto his knees on the floor next to Jake. “Jake,” he whispers, his hands hovering above the knife, unable to bring himself to touch it. His eyes are locked on the growing bloodstain. “J-Jake, Jake, Jake, n-no, no no no, not you, not, not you, too-”

“Sssshhh, it’s okay.” Jake’s voice is strained and he lets the back of his head thump into the floor. “It’s o-... it’s okay, Chris. Fuck, fuck this hurts, fuck-... it’s okay.”

Chris shakes his head, lips trembling with the tears building up in his eyes, blurring his view. Jake holds up one hand and Chris grabs onto it, and Jake’s hand is so warm. Chris’s fingers have always run cold. He grips tight, rocking forward and back, fighting the urge to curl up and wait for Jake’s body to go cold-

“It’s okay,” Jake says again, a little more faintly. “N-not... this isn’t... this isn’t th-that, Chris. Okay? Look at m-me. Look at me.”

“He’s g-gonna fucking kill me,” Chris hears Jameson saying behind him, and Allyn’s low murmuring reassurance. “I killed him already, h-he can’t, he can’t find me, he c-c-can’t, he’s dead, I k-killed him in the basement I left him in the basement I did it, I did it already, I c-can’t-... he can’t be here-”

“Chrisha, you need to get out of the room,” Antoni says softly, crouching next to Chris with a first aid kit in his hand. “Or out of my way.”

“No hospitals,” Jake says, and he and Antoni meet eyes. There’s a long pause, and then Antoni slowly nods.

“No hospitals,” Antoni agrees. “I can do it here. I have done this before.”

“When?” Jake’s voice thins even more.

“A long time ago.” Antoni’s voice is firm enough to end any hope of further questions. 

“He’ll die,” Chris whispers. “he, he’ll die. Without... without a h-hospital, he’ll, he’ll d-die like, like, like, like-like-like th-they did-”

“It is not in a fatal place, if I am stopping the bleeding,” Antoni says, almost toneless. “I can do this.” His accent is thickening, and Chris remembers with a sickening lurch when a handler found him and Antoni spoke this way, sending him out of a dingy motel and Chris saw... in his hair... “But you must not be in the way.”

“Wh-what-... what do, do, do I do?”

“Care for Jameson,” Antoni intones, flat as the floor Jake is bleeding on. “I will handle this. I have handled this before. Uspokoysya, mladshiy brat.”

Chris stays frozen, his hands still hovering inches from the blade of the knife, above the bloodstain, above the body of someone he loves that will go still and silent and cold while he cries and then-

And then-

“YA dolzhen zabotit'sya o Misha.” Antoni looks up at him, and his dark eyes are somewhere else entirely, some other time. “Ubiraysya otsyuda.”

Chris doesn’t know the words, exactly, but he knows their meaning. He shifts backwards, forcing himself to stand, finding himself rocking forward and back even as he moves, trying to fight the overwhelming fear rushing under his skin like a river, pushing him to do... to do something to get the feeling out. 

He sets his jaw, turning to look and seeing Allyn has pulled Jameson into the den now, their hands on either side of his face. They’ve gone gray around the edges, as terrified as Chris is, but they still don’t let go of him, they keep talking. Jameson nods, or shakes his head, or whispers to them, and Chris sees what he’s never noticed before.

Jameson is as scared as any of them, all the time, and he’s as tightly wound. A dam with cracks that has begun to shatter, water rushing into the valley below, burying what he was so carefully growing there.

The trees washed clear of leaves, left as sickly skeletal branches stripped of bark drowning in the water. The sun won’t come out in time to save them. 

Chris knows how that feels.

There isn’t any sun, in the valley. There’s only the cold white light that lives inside all of their heads.

He takes one step and then another, away from the pull of Jake making huffing noises on the floor trying to hide his pain and Antoni speaking calmly in Russian that none of them understands to a brother that isn’t the one he thinks he’s caring for.

Jameson sees him coming and... flinches. 

Afraid of him.

Chris swallows, his heart racing in circles through his body. Everything feels like ice. “J-Jameson?”

Jameson shakes his head and cringes further back and away, but Allyn follows him, putting their arms around him and holding tight. “Pets don’t have names,” he whispers. “I d-don’t have a name. Pets don’t have names, I don’t have-... I’m not-... I killed him, I know I did, I know I did I made... I made sure-”

“I know,” Allyn soothes him, rubbing circles on his scarred back through his shirt. “I know, I know you did, I know.”

“Why is he here?” Jameson looks young, and lost, and not angry at all. “If he’s dead, why-... why is he here? Why is he still here? Why is he-... still in my head?”

“He’s not here,” Chris says, trying to keep his voice even. This isn’t good. This is so bad. He can’t do this, he isn’t good at helping, he’s never been good at helping.

You did it once, for the one in the museum.

That was different.

Was it?

Jake groans behind him, low agonized deep voice, and Chris feels his whole body shudder. “Mom-” 

Is he begging her? Praying for her help? He can’t remember. He can barely breathe. Her eyes were so dark at the end and he lost those last, when the drip took everything else he lost her eyes last.

Tris, love you-... I love you so much, baby, it’s okay, it’ll b-be okay-

“It’ll be okay,” Chris says, voice shaky, trying to echo her voice. She had been trying so hard to tell him what he needed to know, for this, too, right? Hadn’t she? She’d been trying to say goodbye but to tell him he would be okay, and he is, isn’t he? Sort of?

A little?

He feels like he’s breathing water but he moves closer to Jameson, and then closer again.

“It’s-... it’s okay,” he whispers. “H-he’s-... whoever you-... he’s not, not here.”

“Then who-...” Jameson’s eyes seem to clear a little for the first time. The fear drains from him but it’s replaced by something else entirely. Horrified guilt. “Who did I just kill?”

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @newandfiguringitout @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband

[hxseok-honee]

atlas heart || part 25

a/n : so sorry it took so long getting this update out !! i had a disgusting amount of work to do and i really was not doing anything else for a few days -- i really hope you like it!! pls lmk what you think about things now that jimin (and we) know everything! its gonna get,,,, i wanna say messy but messys not even enough to cover how messy its gonna get

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tag list!! [closed]

@deepseavibez @siredjoonie @kawaii-desv @knadiuniverse @anxious-reading @catbugsugarpea @cahowlkook @amoreguk @taekookandyoongi @nogitsune-sama @whitetshirtsrus @gustavkonrad @lilacdreams-00 @seungkwanismyaesthetic @mochiteddybear @cosmicdaylight @helpitskpop @lovetootie2x @unnoticeableparadox @applejuice218 @amicalostgirl @bad-idea-personified @moralita76 @yoongiscrackhead @thebleuprince @jooniesmind @incredibleella @missbowkimjinju @marifujioka @evil-ian @uqhgood @milky-way-bitch @yellohoshi @agust-suck-my-d @okaysoplshelpme @cutehoshii @dreamcatcherjiah @butterflylion @thesunisup-theskyisblue @thealexalcala​  @yoonjibby​ @baepsaekid​ @surviving-in-neverland​ @blaisezabini​ @melswolf​ @michiiedreamer​ @minimochimin @ebeanz​ @bts-bambi​ @sleepyje0n

________________________________

Jimin can’t remember the last time he’d closed his eyes for more than a few minutes. Time goes by so fast these days that he’s partially convinced he’s been falling asleep and not realizing it. The hours between class and dinner every day are spent in the library, his headphones shoved into his ears haphazardly while he tunnel visions onto what’s been in the back of his mind since the beginning of the year.

Those spare hours had turned into days and days into weeks -- weekends where he doesn’t even glance at his phone, unaware of the growing concern of his friends. It’s almost May now, the chill of early spring having melted away around him without him realizing. His schoolwork stopped being a priority ages ago, and he knows his grades are really taking the hit for it. He vaguely remembers Namjoon confronting him one night some time ago -- a week? Two weeks ago? -- but he can’t for the life of him recall the contents of that conversation. Something about hating to play the ‘prefect card’, but having no choice. He doesn’t even know if he’s still on the quidditch team. It doesn’t matter -- nothing matters when seeing everything with the perspective he’s got now.

Practically buried in scrolls and books, Jimin could care less about the time and the fact that he’s very obviously breaking curfew right now -- the library’s been empty for hours now, and the light outside the window has well past faded into pitch black darkness. He had to hide from Pince around 10pm, barely managing to catch the click of the librarian’s heels through the music blasting in his headphones to keep him concentrated -- it’s a miracle that she hadn't caught him, really. He’d never be able to focus properly back in his room, not when he’s this close to putting the pieces together.

It’s there, right there, everything scattered in his brain. He knows it’s sitting right in front of him, he can feel himself trying to hyperfocus on anything that can blatantly tell him what he needs to know. Flipping through the pages of a book with one hand and shuffling through scrolls with his other, he glances down at a scrap of paper with his own handwriting, chicken-scratch on a ripped up piece of parchment for him to refer back to every few minutes. There, in black ink, the words ‘vampire’ and ‘veela’ are written and then, later, crossed out. There’s one below it -- ‘maledictus’ -- that remains uncrossed and haunts his every thought.

For the better half of the week, he’d spent his nights scouring the bookshelves for any text he could find on blood malediction -- there isn’t much to show for his efforts. Too rare a condition to have any extensive research done, he could barely manage to put together a few measly scrolls and one book with less than a full chapter on the subject. Sighing heavily, Jimin leans back in his chair, rubbing at his temples while he reconsiders the information for what feels like the hundredth time.

It fits the fact that she has a blood condition… but it’s not right. There’s no mention of a potion or even of regularly experiencing sickness. Y/n is in the Hospital Wing like once a month. There wouldn’t be anything Pomfrey or Hoseok could do to help her if she was a maledictus…

He considers that maybe those things are part of blood malediction and that there just isn’t enough documentation for him to verify it. But there’s something nagging at him, telling him this isn’t right. He thinks back over everything he knows, trying to pull up the major details that could help him finally get some sleep. Ignoring the fact that he very well could doze off, even with his loud ass music, he lets his eyes close so he can think. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he’s sitting up in his seat, eyes wide as he recalls something said to him almost months ago, forgotten amidst everything else on his mind.

“What’s the deal with your roommate, Tae?”

“Who, Stephen?”

“No, not fuckin’ Stephen -- Jungkook!”

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Because Stephen doesn’t look at me like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Yeah… I don’t know what you did to make Jeon Jungkook hate you, but it must have be serious--”

“Just tell me what you know about him, Tae.”

“I mean… nothing crazy, really -- an only child, comes from old money. Probably as old as the Malfoys or the Potters. His family’s the purest of purebloods. And always Gryffindors, just like the Malfoys are always Slytherins. It’s kind of nuts, having a family history like that.”

Jimin stumbles out of his chair, already making his way down the aisles of bookshelves, almost crazed with concentration.

Purest of purebloods -- there’s not a single pureblood family that isn’t documented in a registry… registry… regis-- aha!

Turning down an aisle designated for family registries dating back centuries, he scans the shelves at a lightening speed, finally coming to a halt in front of a tome titled Gryffindor Legacies. Hauling it from the shelf, he doesn’t even bother returning to his table, taking a seat right there on the floor.

Flipping straight to the back to search for the family name, he locates it easily and heads to appropriate page. Searching the family tree down generations, it takes him several pages of flipping through Jungkook’s ancestors’ lives to finally get to his parents. They’re the most recent entry -- new editions of the book are printed with each new generation, the original, handwritten copy belonging to the respective families. It’s an inefficient system for sure, but Jimin’s not exactly complaining when he’s the one benefiting directly.

Scanning the page, from the birth of his mother -- Jeon Eunha -- to her school days, from her marriage to his father all the way to Jungkook’s birth. Jimin expects the next part to follow the same structure of his mother’s story, recounting his childhood, but it diverges from that almost immediately with some extra lines that he almost feels don’t exist in the original copy at the Jeon family residence.

Not long after the birth of their first and only child, they were met with circumstances leading to the adoption and care of another, the recently orphaned infant girl, Y/n Y/l/n. In her days at Hogwarts, young Eunha had become friends with a female Ravenclaw student, who had a noticeably sickly pallor about her at all times. She was to become her closest lifelong friend. The same night in which Y/l/n was to give birth to her first child, she and her husband met an untimely fate in the form of a violent animal attack in the backyard of their own home. The Jeon family were the first to arrive at the premises, deciding immediately to take in the infant child and raise her alongside their own son. Not much else is known about the girl, only that she and the Jeon heir were to become inseparable.

Jimin stares down at the page, unblinking. There’s a lot of information to process, but the things that stand out most to him are the fact that Y/n’s mother was also apparently afflicted with the same illness as Y/n, and --

‘Violent animal attack’? I knew the car accident thing was bullshit, but… did her mom not even die in childbirth? Why would she not tell me… there’s nothing suspicious about an animal atta--

Almost like his brain has started to short-circuit after the long nights and lack of sleep, Jimin’s thoughts are gone instantly, replaced by the mental image of a book sitting not a even a few aisles away, on a table littered with all of the information he’d ever needed in the first place. He’s completely incapable of registering anything around him as he races back to his table, his mind flipping incomprehensibly between the information in front of him and all of the pieces of his memories, details that make too much sense in this moment to match anything but this one conclusion.

Most Muggles, however, will die from the extent of their injuries… all known instances of Muggle attacks have been portrayed in the media as ‘animal attacks’ so as to preserve the secrecy of the wizarding world…

Given the extent of the available research and data, collected almost entirely from male subjects afflicted with lycanthropy, not much is known about the hereditary components related to a female werewolf. Therefore, it is unknown if a pregnant female werewolf's transformations would affect the ability to carry the pregnancy to term…

Without any humans nearby to attack, or other animals to occupy it, the werewolf will attack itself out of frustration…

“My mom died in childbirth and my dad… just a… just a freak accident you know, no one’s fault or anything…”

Because werewolves only pose a danger to humans, companionship with animals whilst transformed has been known to make the experience more bearable as the werewolf has no-one to harm and will be less willing to harm themselves…

“You want to talk about forbidden, Jeon? Let’s talk about your illegal animagus status-”

The way one must imbibe it is very unique among potions, in that a goblet full of wolfsbane potion must be taken each day for a week preceding the full moon…

“…you know how long it takes me to make a full set of vials for you. I barely have enough to make it last 3 days…”

The monthly transformation of a werewolf is extremely painful if untreated and is usually preceded and succeeded by a few days of pallor and ill health…

“He was lowkey carrying her down the stairs… she looked kinda sick actually…”

Throwing scrolls behind him without care as he searches for the one with the final detail, he pulls his phone out when he finds it -- a book listing all of the recorded moon cycles for over a century. Jamming his thumb down on the icon that’ll take him to his search engine and typing with blind panic, he finds himself yanking out his headphones by the cord with one sharp tug when the answer flashes back at it him on the screen, and he realizes that almost all of the pieces are in place.

The quidditch match against Slytherin -- it was the night before a full moon.

“No, no… no, no, no, this can’t be right. This isn’t happening, this can’t be right, she can’t be--” Jimin remembers the text he’d sent to her almost 8 hours ago, sitting unanswered, and he moves without thinking. Slamming his hands down on either side of the moon cycle record, he flips frantically to the cycle for this current month, April of 1978. What he sees there has his heart dropping out of his chest.

“Next week? It’s next week? But that means she’d have to be feeling the effects of it this wee--” He’s cut off by the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches for it almost desperately. It’s Y/n, finally responding to his concerned texts with nothing more than a single line. His blood turns to ice when he reads it.

I’m fine, just feeling under the weather.

--

When Jimin bursts through the door of Dumbledore’s office just past 3am, the headmaster’s already seated at his desk, evidently waiting for him. He’s donning a light blue robe with a matching sleeping cap perched delicately on his head, suggesting to Jimin that he’d somehow woken up knowing he was soon to greet a guest. All of the panic invading Jimin’s body is masked just slightly by guilt, only now realizing how late it is and how intrusive he must seem in this moment.

“Mister Park, you certainly are out quite a bit past curfew, no?” Jimin stands in the doorway cradling all of the scrolls and books he’d been hoarding the last few weeks -- he can’t very well have left a huge pile of evidence back in the library. It would have taken no time at all for someone to look through it and see there were connections everywhere to lycanthropy, even if he himself had been blind to it for so long.

“... Park? Mister Park?” Jimin jumps, lifting his tired eyes to meet Dumbledore’s concerned ones. The man continues once he’s got Jimin’s attention. “Surely, you must need something from me, or you wouldn’t appear so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Jimin’s aware of the state he’s in -- the dark rings under his eyes, his ruffled clothes and hair, the way he’s holding his books like he needs to protect them with his life. He looks unhinged. He feels unhinged.

Realizing he has absolutely no idea how to approach the subject of a potential werewolf at Hogwarts with the school’s very headmaster, Jimin decides to start by moving toward the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

Maybe I just need to sit down and take a deep breath. That should help--

He doesn’t even make it two steps before one of the many books he’s holding crashes to the floor between them, falling open to the page he’d stuck a pencil in to save his spot. The moon cycle for April of 1978 stares back up at him, and when he flicks his gaze up to peer at Dumbledore, he sees the headmaster’s expression has hardened with caution.

“Professor--”

“Have a seat, Mister Park.” Jimin’s heart lodges in his throat at Dumbledore’s tone, never having heard such a sharp edge to the kind man’s voice. He moves to the chair, setting the obnoxious amount of research haphazardly in his lap. His eyes will only go so far as the top of Dumbledore’s desk, unable to bring himself to meet the man’s eyes.

“Sir, I… need to ask you something.” When he isn’t granted a response, he swallows hard, pushing forward. “If there were to be a student at Hogwarts with a… peculiarity of sorts… how would you go about dealing with that?”

“How would I deal with what, Mister Park?”

“That student.”

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean.” Jimin lifts his eyes then, confused, but he’s met with a deliberately ignorant smile.

“Sir?” Dumbledore’s smile, albeit strained, only widens.

“I think you may be suffering from a lack of sleep, Mister Park. There are no students at Hogwarts with any peculiarities, as you call it.” Jimin stares suspiciously up at him, knowing Dumbledore can tell that Jimin doesn’t for a second believe that claim. Breaking eye contact, he glances down at his lap, trying to figure out how to keep this conversation going. Trying to figure out why he’s even here.

Jimin looks down at himself and the pile of incriminating evidence, cursing his idiocy when he realizes just how bad this situation must look. A student out of bed way past curfew, barging into the headmaster’s office holding weeks of research and making outrageous claims about a potentially dangerous student. And he’s a Ravenclaw no less.

Shit. He probably thought I was some nosy little fucker trying to expose her and get her expelled.

Knowing that he’s risking a lot by being straightforward, he takes a single deep breath and meets Dumbledore’s eyes, his own filled with determination.

“Sir, I know about Y/n Y/l/n, and I know you do, too. I need to know how to take care of her. I need to know how to help her. I need you to tell me what to do because, to be honest with you, I’m freaking out.” The way Dumbledore’s examining him as he speaks tells Jimin that he’s right, but more importantly, it tells Jimin that Dumbledore hadn’t been expecting him to want to help.

“That is a very serious accusation you’re making, Mister Park, especially in this political climate. Very serious.” Jimin doesn’t waver when he responds.

“I know, sir. That’s why you’re the only one I’ve made it to. Because I need your help. Because I know you can help.” Dumbledore narrows his eyes, peering at Jimin over the tops of his half-moon spectacles.

“Have you considered the fact that just you knowing this information at all has placed Miss Y/l/n in more danger than she’s already in?” As soon as the words leave Dumbledore’s mouth, Jimin’s heart is stopping in his chest. All the times that Hoseok and Jungkook had told him to mind his business come rushing back, and he feels himself becoming sick to his stomach. Of course it’s more dangerous for her now that he knows -- he’d been too selfish to even think it through, too nosy for his own good. He had done all this to try to understand her, to try to be a better friend who can help when she needs it, but it’s all bullshit. Everything he thought he had done for her sake had actually been for his. For him and his stupid curiosity.

Lifting his head as a thought comes to mind, Jimin doesn’t even think twice before speaking.

“Can you erase my memories?” The headmaster’s eyebrows fly to his hairline, his expression becoming amused as Jimin continues rambling. “Can’t you obliviate me or something? Wouldn’t that be the best way for me to help her? Wait… but do you have to erase everything I know about her -- will I still know her? Can you make sure I still know her? I really like her! I don’t like Hoseok or Jungkook very much -- they kind of scare me -- but I like her! I don’t want to forget her, but also if me knowing that she’s a werewolf is only going to cause her more trouble, then I really think you should make me forget--” Dumbledore lifts his hand calmly, effectively silencing a frantic Jimin.

“Have you always had such a one-track mind, Mister Park?” Jimin smiles weakly, offering a half-joking response.

“It’s my only redeeming Ravenclaw quality…” Dumbledore chuckles before scratching at his forehead with a heavy sigh.

“Unfortunately -- and I do truly mean that -- I cannot erase a student’s memories. So, you and I will need to continue this difficult conversation.” Jimin considers the man’s words, knowing that it really would be better for everyone if he had his mind wiped clean and hating that he’d unknowingly put Y/n even more in harm’s way. He looks up when Dumbledore sighs again.

“Mister Park, you do understand that you are strictly forbidden from informing anyone else of this situation, yes?” When Jimin nods immediately, opening his mouth to assure the man that he wouldn’t say a word, Dumbledore only shakes his head. “No, Mister Park, I’m not sure you really understand. This situation is infinitely more complicated than you could ever imagine, so it is absolutely imperative that you keep this information to yourself.” Jimin blinks, unsure what’s meant by ‘infinitely more complicated’, but he nods again.

“I’ve put her in enough danger just by being here, Sir -- I’m not breathing a word of this to anyone.” Dumbledore examines him a moment longer, essentially staring into Jimin’s soul to gauge his trustworthiness. Eventually he nods, leaning back in his chair.

“What advice would you like me to give you, Mister Park?” Jimin stays silent, thinking hard about any way that he can make Y/n’s life easier, especially after all the trouble he’s caused up to now. His mind flashes back to the conversation he’d overheard in the library. He opens his mouth slowly, choosing his words with care.

“Sir… how does a student that isn’t even taking Potions know how to brew the wolfsbane potion? Isn’t it nearly impossible?” Jimin sees Dumbledore’s eyes flicker with recognition, and the headmaster responds cautiously.

“…If that student isn’t taking any kind of Potions course at all, they’d need to already be an expert from having dedicated all their studies to the art of potionmaking. They would also need an immense amount of private mentoring, even if they are taking Potions. We do not teach the wolfsbane potion in the curriculum. As I’m sure you can imagine, it wouldn’t fare well in these times…” Jimin squints, putting the pieces together quickly in his mind.

“And where would a student like that find this kind of… private mentoring?” The headmaster hums at Jimin’s question, peering down at him with knowing eyes.

“Well, Mister Park, if you wish to receive mentoring on much… safer forms of potionmaking, I’m sure Professor Slughorn would be happy to help you. However, if you are asking me about Mister Jung Hoseok of Slytherin House, and if you are wondering just how he became capable of caring for Miss Y/l/n at the young age of 13, well… you’re looking at his mentor.”

--

When Jimin leaves Dumbledore’s office almost an hour later, he feels like his head is going to explode. The nights of sleeplessness seem to also have come rushing back to him at once, and he’s not sure if he’s going to collapse first from the exhaustion or from the weight of everything he knows now. For a moment, he considers that maybe he really should ask someone to erase his memories -- Jungkook or Hoseok, perhaps.

Yeah, I’m sure they’d absolutely love to do me that favor.

Dragging his feet as he trudges down the corridor in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, Jimin stops short at a window when movement down by the Black Lake catches his eye. Almost as if thinking about them has caused them to materialize before him, Jimin watches the silhouette of Jung Hoseok stroll casually down by the shoreline, followed not long after by Jeon Jungkook racing toward him, a body perched precariously on his back. It’s not hard to see that Y/n’s clinging weakly to him as he runs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he keeps his hands hooked under her knees. Jimin can see that she’s got a gown on from the Hospital Wing, and it’s obvious that Jungkook and Hoseok have snuck her out from under Madam Pomfrey’s stern supervision.

They head for the Forbidden Forest, Y/n reaching back for Hoseok when Jungkook passes him. She beckons him forward, and Jimin watches as the three of them disappear together into the trees. He sighs deeply when he can no longer see them, muttering to himself under his breath as he makes his way to his room, overcome with extreme guilt at the entire situation.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, you fucking idiot.”

[excelsi-or]

your type (pt. 8)

w.c. 3.3k (yeah it’s a long one. sorry! :D)

pairing: jihoon x OC/reader

pt. 1; pt. 2; pt. 3; pt. 4; pt. 5; pt. 6; pt. 7

Jihoon loses track of time and only realizes the hour when she’s knocking on the door. Over his shoulder, he finds her standing in the doorway. She’s dressed in a white maxi dress, which she hadn’t been wearing when they’d talked earlier. He would never say it about anyone else, or out loud, but she looks like an angel.

Her hair is a little crimped from having it up, but she’s clearly run her hand through it, because it’s flipped in that way he likes. Her face is flushed from walking across campus to meet him.

She laughs. “You’re staring.”

Jihoon shakes his head and waves her inside. “Are you ready?”

She drops her bag on the couch and practically collapses into the spare chair. She sighs in relief.

“Been on your feet all day?” She’s complained about how the bench tops are too high for her to sit comfortably and work.

“Just a lot of walking back and forth.” She waves her hand dismissively. “But I’m here to listen to your music.”

Jihoon passes her the headphones as she settles back in the seat. Her eyes fall closed and Jihoon plays her the first song. As she’s here for critiquing purposes, she says what she’s thinking aloud and Jihoon notes it all down.

She finds herself swaying to a lot of the music and Jihoon finds himself enjoying watching her. The studio can get pretty dull for other people. The grey of the soundboards, the computer screens, the large speakers, and the black couch. It’s all pretty monochromatic, and she stands out in her white dress. As an observer of people, particularly women, Jihoon can’t help but notice.

“Last one’s a little romantic, don’t you think?” She drops the headphones around her neck.

“The topic was supposed to be about love. I can’t remember the actual prompt.” He begins shutting down the computer. “Should we go for dinner?”

She turns to look at him, the back of her head never leaving the head rest. “I’m so sleepy. Do we have to go out?”

Jihoon tilts his head. “The boys are having dinner at my place if you don’t mind seeing them.”

She closes her eyes. “Have you told them about our arrangement already?”

“That you agreed to date me?” he chuckles.

“Test it out,” she emphasizes.

Even though her eyes are still closed, he can’t help but smirk. “No.”

“So, it would be really weird if I came over without my friends.”

“No.”

This makes her laugh and her eyes open again. He can see how tired she is. “Yeah. Right.”

“They’ll only be annoying for a little while,” he promises.

“Is that better than going out?” She rests her cheek in her palm. “I don’t know.”

“You have until we get out of the building to decide.”

She sighs and pushes herself to standing. She stretches her arms over her head and then bends over to touch her toes. They both hear the crack of her spine. “I’m broken.”

Jihoon laughs as she straightens again. “You’re tired and need to rest.”

“Maybe it’s better to eat in.”

Jihoon quickly messages the group chat as she slings her backpack on. The onslaught of responses at varying degrees of excitement sets his phone off. He doesn’t bother to read them.

On the walk back to his apartment, Jihoon is highly aware of her knuckles brushing against his. The boundaries are blurred for him, and he’s unsure if she’ll react poorly to him holding her hand.

“Commit to it. My god.” She slips her hand into his, intertwining their fingers. He can feel the calluses on her palm. They must be from the gym and bouldering, some interests that she’s mentioned in passing. When she starts swinging their hands back and forth, he wonders if she even notices.

“Can I ask you something?”

“If it has to do with my ex,” she sighs, “then you know my answer already.”

“No, something else.”

She glances over at him. “Shoot.”

“What’s something that you wish your previous boyfriends had done?”

She tilts her head. Her lips purse in that cute way of hers when she’s thinking. “I’ll have to get back to you on that one. I don’t know.”

“Really?” Jihoon tugs her hand to pull her closer to him. “Girls usually have an answer for that one.” After a stranger walks past, she puts a bit more distance between them again.

Lifting her eyebrows, she asks, “Like what?”

“Usually something either sexual or romantic.” He shrugs. “It usually insinuates that they want me to do it ASAP.”

She laughs. “You have a lot of moves. What’s one that always works for you?”

Jihoon pretends as if he needs to think about it before tugging her towards him, his forehead leaning down to touch hers. “This tends to work,” he whispers, “better when I can kiss you.”

She grins up at him and his stomach drops. “Guess your moves aren’t 100% fool proof,” she whispers back. She pulls away first, leading the way to his place.

Jihoon doesn’t mind letting her lead. Chuckling, he says, “I’ll find a move that works on you. But that one usually gets girls pretty good.”

“I can see how it would work,” she glances back at him, “proximity.”

He gives a small pull on her hand and she’s back at his side. “What’s a move that you used to do that always worked?”

“I didn’t really have any moves.”

“Can we please stop pretending like Sejeong didn’t tell everyone that you were once the ace of the dating game?” Jihoon squeezes her hand. “Come on. I won’t be offended that you’ve used the moves on other men before.”

She rolls her eyes. Exasperation looks good on her. Exasperation with him is even better.

“I’m asking as your potential boyfriend. What’s a move I gotta watch out for?”

“That’s gonna make you fall for me?” she laughs. She slows and looks both ways. Nobody else is around in this back alley, so she stops and turns to face him. He indulges her and does the same, eyebrows raised as he waits.

She runs her tongue along her teeth, debating if this is worth it. Then she steps towards him. Her fingertips trail up his arm and she gazes up at him, batting eyelashes that he hadn’t noticed until this very movement. Jihoon can feel her moving closer, her body flush against his. He already has a hand on her waist.

Lightly, she pokes his Adam’s apple, pulling him back to the present. Her cheeky smile eases the flush in his face. “There’s usually a kiss involved, but not today.” Then she steps away from him, taking her warmth with her.

Jihoon swallows hard. “That…” He clears his throat. “That one works.”

Naturally, their hands intertwine again, and they continue to the end of the alley, Jihoon’s apartment at the corner. “It was pretty effective to get us into the bedroom or out of a bad date.”

“Those are two very different scenarios.”

“It’s like… a stun gun. Gives me a few seconds to escape or take over.”

As soon as they enter Jihoon’s apartment, he enters first and makes a point of glaring at everyone to shut up and not make a big deal about it.

Once inside, she slips out of her shoes and laughs when Soonyoung takes her backpack from her.

“Do you want more water, noona?” Seungkwan asks.

“Yes, please.”

Soonyoung passes her water bottle over.

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “Don’t go through her bag.”

Jihoon lets go of her hand, so she can wander into the living room. He joins a few of them in the kitchen. He can hear Hansol and Seokmin greeting her.

“So? How did it go?” Mingyu asks from the stove.

Jihoon shrugs, accepting the Coke can that Seungcheol hands him before grabbing another one to take to Hansol. “We’re testing it out.”

“That is the best news I’ve heard in the last 4 and a half months,” Seungcheol says as he returns to the living room.

They feed her and they pepper her with questions. All the boys are under strict instruction not to say anything about her and Jihoon’s almost-but-not-quite relationship. She sits between his legs after dinner as they chat. Jihoon’s hands laze around her shoulders, his thumbs resting on the sides of her neck. He gently massages the tendons in the back of her neck.

Talks about future dates and women fly around the room, as the boys update each other on the various people they’re seeing. Jihoon can actually feel her head going limp in his hands as she dozes off.

He leans forward and whispers in her ear. “Do you want to nap in my room for a while?”

She tips her head back, resting her head in his forearms. “You won’t take advantage of the fact that I’m in your bed?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Her struggle to keep her eyes open endears him.

“Then yes, I want to nap in your room.

Jihoon nods. He steals a quick kiss on her forehead and her eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn’t protest. Helping her to her feet, he leads her to his bedroom.

It’s her first time in his room and she stands in the doorway trying to process everything in her foggy brain.

Her eyes land on his dark grey sheets. “Should I be concerned that your sheets are dirty?”

“From what?” Jihoon knows where her mind’s gone. “I wash my sheets every time a girl leaves in the morning. And Jiwoo and I were in the living room anyway.”

She’d already flopped onto his bed when he said he washed them every time a girl left. Jihoon watches her stretch, her back arching before curling around a pillow. She falls asleep almost immediately. He finds a light blanket in the hallway closet and rests it over her legs that have become exposed from the slit in her dress. Jihoon leaves the door ajar and rejoins the others in the living room.

“Wow, we thought you were already going in with all of us here,” Minghao snorts.

Chan pulls a face. “God. Please don’t ever do that.”

“That’s only happened once and it was Cheol,” Jihoon snorts. He collapses back onto the couch. “She’s been in the lab all day, so she’s wiped.”

There’s a beat of silence before Jun laughs. “Mingyu wasn’t kidding.”

“What?”

“You actually like her,” Seokmin says. “Hyung, never thought we’d see the day.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes.

“Come on. We saw your face,” Seungkwan teases. “We might actually win this bet if you fall in love with her first.”

Jihoon shakes his head. “No way. I think after today I actually have a decent chance of winning.”

She wiggles around, stretching all her limbs. She tips her head back, looking out the window behind her. The sky is indigo, fire red at the horizon line as the sun disappears. She realizes that she hadn’t even laid down on the bed properly, dozing off horizontally across it instead. When she looks to her right at the wall across from the bed, she stares at her reflection. There’s a mirror on the wall, easily reflecting the pillows and anyone entangled in the sheets.

She can’t help but snort at that decoration. In the dark, she glances around Jihoon’s room. It’s pretty bare of any personality. Besides the mirror, there’s nothing up on the walls. The bedside tables have nothing on them except for a notebook and pen on the right table.

With the blanket around her shoulders, she steps out of the room. It takes her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the light, but she can hear the boys talking. When they catch sight of her, Hansol’s face breaks out into a smile.

“Noona! You’re awake!”

Immediately, the volume picks up.

“Were you guys being quiet for me?” she asks when Seungkwan pulls her onto the smaller couch between him and Wonwoo.

“Hyung kept saying you were tired and that we needed to shut up,” Chan informs her.

She glances at Jihoon, but he’s on his phone. “I should really be getting home.”

“You just woke up, noona!” Seokmin exclaims. “Play some games first!”

Wonwoo catches her eye and nods.

“Okay,” she leans forward on her elbows, “what are we playing?”

It’s a lot later than she was anticipating when the boys start to knock out. She glances at the clock for the third time in ten minutes. She’s already texted Jihyo that she’s at Jihoon’s place. She has ignored all subsequent messages from her roommate.

“You wanna head home?” Jihoon was apparently watching her.

“You fine to walk me home?”

Jihoon nods. “Come on.” He helps her move out from under Soonyoung’s head and replaces her legs with a pillow. She passes him the blanket, which he takes back to his room. He reemerges with a hoodie on.

“Are you going to be cold?”

“I—” Before she can affirm or deny, Jihoon puts a cardigan of his around her shoulders.

“You can just give it back tomorrow.”

“It’s the weekend; I’m not going to campus tomorrow.”

“I know.” Jihoon opens the door.

She gives him a little nudge. When she’s about to pick up her backpack, Jihoon slings it over his shoulder first. “Someone’s going a little overboard.”

“Well, do you want to carry it?”

“Not if you’re offering,” she laughs.

Jihoon closes the door behind him and finds her hand easily. He watches her yawn and can’t help but smile a little.

They’re quiet for most of the walk. The streets are also quieting with the late hour, restaurants closing down for the night, couples and friends heading home. She watches everyone around her, and Jihoon wonders what she sees.

“Are you going to be able to sleep tonight?” Jihoon asks.

She shrugs. “Probably not.”

“Do you wanna go for a walk then?” He knows there’s a park near her place. When he gauges her expression, he adds, “It’s well lit.”

Smirking, she nods. “Yeah, okay. As long as you don’t mind getting home late.”

They turn down a different street and she can see the park at the end, just before the road curves left.

“What were you guys talking about?”

“When you got up?” The boys had been in deep conversation about something, their heads leaned together, talking in hurried low voices. “Seungcheol and Jihyo.”

“Ah.”

“Do you think Jihyo’s settling?”

“For Seungcheol?” She looks to Jihoon. “Do you guys think Cheol’s settling?”

Jihoon hums.

“I think we’re both too loyal to say yes or no,” she muses.

“I guess you’re right. Well, that’s what we were talking about.”

She mulls this over, but decides to change the subject.

“How did you guys meet?”

“Who? Cheol and me?”

She nods.

“We were sleeping with the same girl,” Jihoon says simply.

Her laugh is genuine. “You’re serious.”

He smiles. “Yeah. I’m serious. She’d double booked us without realizing. I knocked at her door and she sent Cheol because she thought it was their food.”

“Did you stop seeing her?”

“I didn’t. Cheol did. He’s all for sleeping around, but apparently he felt like it was some slap in the face that she got our dates mixed up.” Jihoon adjusts the backpack on his shoulder. “We wound up in the same music theory class that semester. I needed a roommate, and he was the only person I knew in the class.”

According to her, she and Jihyo had met in a second-year biology lab. Jihyo needed a new roommate because her old one was moving out to move in with her boyfriend.

“Jihyo’s actually the one who introduced Jungkook and me.” She sees a set of swings and leads him over to it. She begins pumping her legs and Jihoon watches her swing higher.

“You must really care about him if you’re still friends.”

“Jungkook was good to me, and he was still exploring his sexuality at the time. I told him that he was free to do so, but not with me as his girlfriend. So, we ended things. It took us a while, but we’re good now.” She soars up into the air. “And I like Taehyung.”

The skirt of her dress splits from the slit in it and Jihoon admires the muscle in her legs. It’s not typically something he notices about a girl. But then again, he doesn’t tend to have such a drawn out period of time between finding a girl attractive and having her in his bed.

“You seem like a good judge of character. Jungkook has a good reputation.”

She hears the underlying taunt. Jihoon’s reputation is less than remarkable. “I used to think so; my friends still think so. But Byunggu made me question my abilities.”

“Sometimes people are good at disguising their intentions,” Jihoon calls up to her.

“Yeah.” She swings back high. “He fooled me.”

This is the most she’s ever said about Byunggu. It’s the first time she’s ever said his name.

The late night seems to be loosening her tongue. “We met at a party and he was just a different person under the influence. Made it easy to hide.” She stops pumping her legs and lets the momentum slow.

“So, when he asked you…”

“Well, I thought my judge of character was still good then. I said yes.”

“And?”

She looks down at him, her dark hair frames her face. She’s up in the sky, so he almost misses what she says. “God, I fell so hard for him.”

Jihoon feels his chest clench at the words. He twists in the swing, spinning rather than swinging. He stops when her sneakers drag through the gravel.

“But knowing his type better has made me wary about dating people. On campus especially.”

“Yes, you made it hard to learn anything.”

She lifts an eyebrow. The sound of the chains is grating as she turns to face him. “You background checking me?”

“You background checked me, didn’t you?”

“Not intentionally.”

Jihoon moves his swing closer. “I’m assuming that people have intentionally said awful things about me.”

She nods. “They have.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

Her eyes narrow, but he can see something akin to a twinkle in them. “Don’t ruin it.”

Jihoon thinks she’ll let him kiss her, but he has to know one thing. “How do you know I won’t hurt you like Byunggu?”

Her exhale is long. “I don’t.”

“But…?”

“I have no buts here,” she murmurs. Her eyes flick back and forth, studying his face. He can tell she’s thinking a million things at once, but she doesn’t share any of them. “You either prove me wrong, or you’re exactly what everyone said you were.”

Jihoon can feel her breath on his skin. She smells like a mix of the summer air and clean laundry. “It’s after midnight.”

“I know,” she responds, clearly caught off guard by his mentioning of the time. “It’s 3.”

“You said you wouldn’t let me kiss you yesterday.”

Realization dawns on her, but she says nothing and doesn’t move towards him.

He plays it safe and catches her cheek with his lips. When she still doesn’t move, he brushes her nose with his and can feel the warmth of her lips on his. He closes the distance and she doesn’t react right away. Jihoon has time to cup her face and adjust his angle before she kisses him back.

Her kiss is gentle and Jihoon’s worried that if he’s too forceful, she’ll stop. So, he lets her lead, and he lets her pull away first.

“Do you always blush when you kiss someone?” she asks.

He doesn’t respond. Jihoon admits only to himself that no one’s every kissed him like that before.

[joyfulhopelox]

Right now i don’t know if i want to kiss you or shove you off this building

Part 1 | Part 2(end)

A/N: I have no words really, just i needed to get this off my chest and i wrote it so quickly that part 2 is probably going to be out by the end of the week.

genre: fluff (x100), University! au/ College!au

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox do NOT repost or reblog

Stealing is a crime please do not steal, i do not cross post anywhere else only Tumblr

Pairing: J-Hope x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Word count: 4,000 words

Warnings: i'm still bad at writing fluff but here we go (i cried a lot inside whilst writing it)

There are few times in someone’s life when they would have to rush out of the house in the middle of the night. Most times, it involved an emergency of some sorts.The usual A&E rush, the cravings rush and most important of them all, the all nighter in the library rush.

You have been debating for over an hour now if you should make a dash to the library. Your exhausted body screaming at you to just curl up into a ball and sleep- or cry, whichever came first. However your consciousness, and the fact that your anxiety was at an all time high, was telling you to just suck it up and go get your books from the library. That coupled with your approaching deadline. And to be honest you knew exactly what you would end up doing. After all, your grades could not afford to take a fall. Not worse than what they’ve dropped to now. Anymore and you would flunk the year completely.

But do you really need that book? Your brain tried it’s last card on you. You could technically just stay in, bury yourself in your blankets like the Michelin man, and write your essay that way. Sighing, you rubbed your tired eyes and got up grabbing your prized pen, the one that got you through your first and second year of exams, a couple of pieces of paper just in case, and your laptop. A trek to the library it is.

The spring air was doing a good job of waking you up. The light breeze, warm enough to not make you die of cold, but cold enough to cool down your tired flushed face. The 10 minutes it took to walk from your accommodation to the library was enough for you to steel yourself against an all nighter of studying.

What you had expected when you went in was anything but a packed library with students quietly studying. The noises of scratching pens and the rhythmic click-clacking of keyboards creating a mellow background noise. Some were dozing off, and you could not blame them, but holy hell could they not have done that at home? Okay, maybe you were judging, but could anyone blame you? You were desperate for a space and by the looks of the rows of heads between the shelves, there was a slim chance you would actually get a seat somewhere. If needed, you knew you could just crouch in between the shelves near the section that housed the maps, but you did not feel like inhaling dust and sporting a cramped leg for the rest of the night.

“Oh come on! This is a big library, there must be a seat somewhere” you whispered to yourself quietly, your eyes scanning the 3rd floor of the library. Aha! There. By the will of the gods, there was a seat, a lone corner at a table that was packed to the brim. You hastily made your way before anyone could spring out of nowhere and claim it, and slammed your butt down on the seat sighing in satisfaction. You’d made it. The first task done. Proud of yourself, you opened up your laptop and pulled the document you had been writing on. The bold letters at the top stating you NEEDED to get that specific book. A harsh reminder that the second task now would be even more difficult. Hunting for a book in this mammoth of a place. But what if you lost your spot? You needed your laptop to search for the book and to be honest you did not trust your laptop to not be stolen. You groaned to yourself, once again debating whether or not you needed the book

You finally decided that the book was non-negotiable and so you quickly grabbed your pen, with the promise to yourself that you would not get lost in the maze of shelves and interesting literature. Hastily writing a ‘will be back’ note, you slammed the pen down on top of the paper and rushed out of your seat.

The library atmosphere was quiet, despite the space being full of poor students who were rushing to meet a deadline or had exams coming up soon. Perusing the shelves, taking note of names that may interest you further on in your degree or even just as personal pleasure, you basked in the quietness and the dimness of the space. You loved the library at night, sure, but not when you were in a rush to finish a paper and not when exam and deadlines season pushed everyone and their mother to cram themselves in the space like sardines. Overall though, the space was dark and quiet just as you liked it.

Finally arriving at the area that was of interest to you, you stood in front of the row of shelves, a slow grin forming on your face. It was perfect, 4 rows of untouched literature. And you had all the time in the world.

Except...you didn’t. “Fuck” you cursed to yourself. You knew you did not have the time and you promised yourself you would not do this. Looking down at your watch, you let out another curse. “Fuck”. It had taken you half an hour to get here, the digital face of your watch showing 12.30am. “Oh man, I did it again” muttering to yourself, you turned your back towards the interesting titles that were calling your name and focused on the one book you actually needed.

Only to not find it on the shelf. Just your luck. “What am i supposed to do now?” dejectedly sighing you slowly made your way back to your seat. All you could think about was the missing book on the shelf.

How were you supposed to be finishing your paper now? Suddenly the quiet and calm atmosphere became gloomy and dark, this was not going very well for you. So lost in your thought you almost walked by your spot. Stopping right on time you looked to the side only to do a double take. It was not your spot anymore, the leather jacket as well as the mop of dark hair that could be seen occupying the seat was definitely not you. You double checked the area making sure you did not stray away again and somehow landed in the wrong spot but no. That was definitely the desk you had placed your note on.

It was just missing the note and seating another person now. Today was definitely not your day. The last thing you wanted to do at this time of the night, especially when you were in a hurry to finish and hand in your paper, was to be civil. But that was your seat. You refused to slouch in between the shelves and cram a seven thousand word paper tonight. You’ve done it enough times in the past for your bum and back to already be screaming at you in protest. Taking a deep breath in, you steeled yourself and approached the seat stealer.

The closer you got, the better the view of the seat stealer. Goddamn they were handsome. At least the side profile was something to enjoy looking at, but that did not change the fact that they had stolen your seat and were comfortably spread out onto the desk casually typing away at their laptop.

To top it all off, as if the scene was not enough to taunt your nerves, they were humming quietly to the beat that you could faintly hear coming from their headphones. And if you were to admit it to yourself, which you would not, they were very good at said humming.

“Uhm...excuse me” your voice cracked, having not been used for a couple of hours. You could not afford to seem meek in front of them, cute as hell and a great hummer be damned, they would not get the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. Truth be told, you hated confrontation. It was the last thing you resorted to under normal circumstances, let alone now when you were tired and stressed. Standing up straighter you tried again, “Excuse me!”

They made no move to acknowledge you or your shadow that cast now over the desk, as if you were both one and the same. Frustrated, you let out a huff and reached out to tap their shoulder. However, as if the fates had it out for you today, the humming seat stealer also came to life, moving his head towards your outstretched hand as they went to grab for their notebook and pen. That motion combined with yours caused a painful collision for the both of you. As it had not gotten a chance to change trajectory towards their shoulder, your unprepared hand bent awkwardly as it made contact with the side of the person’s head. A loud “oh fuck” chorused from the both of you, as both parties retracted as if burnt. Had you mentioned it was not your day?

“Is there a reason why I’m being assaulted at...1am on a Tuesday in the library?”. the seat stealer asked as he turned around to face you completely. He finally had a voice as well, and it was just as nice as the humming. Scrunching your nose in annoyance, you took a deep breath in prepared to tell him off. Not only was HE the one assaulting your hand but also your well deserved seat. Only to do the stereotypical double take. The mop of hair hid a very handsome face. High cheekbones and a pointed nose, your eyes trailed further down to his long neck and toned body. “Uh…” the stranger, seat stealer muttered, his hand going to scratch awkwardly at his long neck. Your brain agreed, “Uh…” you smartly copied snapping your eyes back at the face. You had clearly been caught staring judging by the smug smirk the person had on their face. Not only that but you had managed in a few minutes to smack a total stranger and display copious amounts of intelligence whilst trying your hand at a smart rebuttal to their question.

“So, now that I have your attention. Care to tell me why you are assaulting me at 1am on a Tuesday?” The tone of voice was less alarmed, more amused now. As if he clearly found your embarrassment entertaining.

“Assault? I have not assaulted you….you seat stealer!” You furiously exclaimed only to be interrupted by an equally stressed out fellow student“, Keep it down”. Only then did you become aware of the situation you are in. Three other rows of desks near the one you were currently at, and each of them seated a student who, like you, probably either had exams or deadlines. They were sleep deprived, hungry, and probably had too much caffeine running through their blood for their own good. And they were all focused on your form. To embarrass you further, the seat stealer even had the audacity to smugly smile and whisper “yeah, shhhhh.”

Getting redder by the minute, whether in mortification at being told off by the student a few rows away from you or from increasing anger at the seat stealer, you bent down, eyes narrowed “you….you...shush, and whilst you are at it, get out of my seat, you seat stealer”. You were unsure whether your shouted whisper would sound menacing enough to convey the mixture of emotions running through your veins at the moment. The stranger’s smug smile dropped instantly, a look of confusion replacing it, “seat stealer? What is that about?”

“You stole my seat!”

“I did not. The seat was free. If you passed by it, it was free and you didn’t sit down or leave your stuff on the chair; it doesn't automatically make it yours.” The stranger shrugged carefully, studying your expressions. What he saw must have really amused him because he started snickering to himself. Getting redder by the minute your rebuttal was weak, if only you’d have thought about it beforehand.

“I only have my laptop on me! And I left a note and my precious pen on the desk! A note which you have thrown out to steal my seat.” That is when it all went downhill. “you ‘strange seat stealer’!” the snickers coming from the handsome man got even more violent, to the point of you worrying about him choking- had you not been angry at him you would have asked if he was ok. Unfortunately, you were angry and nothing he did could have solved that.

The stranger abruptly stood up, so close to your face that you could see the numerous lashes that shadowed his dark eyes, amusement still plastered onto his face. He grabbed your elbow lightly, giving you a chance to break free if needed, but you were so stunned by his actions that all you could do was question how handsome his angular face was. “You’re cute, and that was a smart, if odd, alliteration you made there” He breathed, the action making a stray strand of hair blow away from your face, “but we’re making a scene”.

“Wh-” before you could process what he’d said, he trailed his hand from your elbow to your own hand and lightly gripped it with the intention of moving you away. The sudden jolt sprung your brain back to life and you tried fruitlessly to pull your hand away from his grip. Unfortunately, your brain decided to work a bit too late, as you were already past the rows of desks and shelves of books, closer to the lift lobby on that floor. “I am not making a scene, you are making a scene. Who are you to get me away from my seat not only once, but twice?!” Your feet firmly planted on the ground and finally got the stranger to stop. “I don’t know who you are” as he made a move to talk, you interrupted “and I don’t care, I saw that seat first, left a note on it to say I was going to be back and you stole it! I need the space!”

“Why?” The stranger calmly asked. His face showed no signs of anger or frustration, and it seemed like it belonged like that, serene and peaceful. And it made you wonder if anything could ever anger this man. Sure, you did not know him but you had been yelling in his face for the past minute. His demeanour and question threw you off so much so that your brain once again hiccuped.

“What do you mean why?”

“I mean why do you NEED the space, it’s clear that you do not have a bag or any belongings for that matter.” He gave you a once over to emphasize his words, his calm eyes lingering a bit too long on your form for your anger to continue overriding the flustered mess that you had become. “I- I do!” You don’t know why you needed to prove yourself to him, but it was a valid question he’d asked. So, you showed him the arm he was not holding, that carried a laptop. Realising he was still holding onto your hand, the sudden thought made you suddenly hot and clammy and before he could do anything about it you pulled it out of his warm hold.

Trying to ignore the loss of warmth the contact brought you, you looked away flustered.

“This cannot be happening. Look, I sat down there first, I put a note down because I needed to go find a book for my essay and….oh god...it’s due in like…..five hours”. Not looking at him the entire time you explained your situation to him, frustration and anxiety taking over your anger you missed the worried look he threw at your red face and the slight movement he made with his hands as if to grab your fretting ones. Instead when you looked back at him after a couple of moments of silence, what you saw was him studying the space behind you closely. “Hey! Are you even listening?” You got over your anger and tried to explain, (not that you needed to) somewhat logically to make this person understand why you needed the seat back and all they did was ignore you.

“Have you found the book that you needed?” He turned his attention back to you, a small smile forming onto his face. You did not know whether it was the fact that he completely ignored what you had said earlier, the untimely smile he gave you, or the fact that your heart sped up at the said smile, but your anger went through the roof once again.

“No! Now excuse me whilst I go reclaim my seat. If you want to waste time out here just staring at the walls, that is your issue, some of us have problems they need to fix.” Making a move to turn around you halted, realising you were going the wrong way. Mumbling to yourself you brushed past the guy and headed for the lifts. Calling the lift you tapped your foot impatiently. You could find another seat somewhere else, and if not, you were desperate enough to finish the paper that you would risk your own bottom and sit in between shelves. It felt like an eternity until the lift arrived and as soon as you got in you pressed the button for the floor above you thinking you may have some luck there. Surveying the corridor you noticed that the guy had left, and surprisingly a twinge of disappointment made you sigh. You just wanted to continue the argument, nothing else.

Right before the doors to the lift could close though a running form made its way to the lift sliding in between the door with swift grace, almost barreling into you. It took you a moment to realise it was the seat stealer with his bags packed up and his laptop in his hands. “What are you doing?” you hissed as you noticed he cancelled your floor and pressed the tower one instead. “Making up for stealing your seat”, he casually replied as he observed the numbers in the lift change.

“By not letting me go find another seat?” you huffed, “you could have just vacated the seat earlier and it would have all been fine.”

“But it wouldn’t have given me an excuse to talk to you for longer than three seconds would it? I’m Hoseok by the way.” He turned and smiled at you, the dimples in his cheeks becoming prominent. Rendered speechless by his forwardness, you did not know how to respond. So you settled onto clearing your throat and willing the blush that was taking over the apples of your cheeks away. Not meeting his eyes and refusing to grant him with the same grace and give him your name, you chose instead to ask where he was planning to take you. His response was just as cryptic as his previous one, “you will see”.

The rest of the way had been spent in silence, you having given up on trying to argue with the seat stealer...Hoseok. You repeated the name in your head multiple times, it suited him. For a brief second you wondered how it would sound if you said it out loud, but you squashed that thought away very quickly. You weren’t friends or even acquaintances so there was no reason for you to do so.

Whilst your brain was running a hundred miles an hour, throughout this time Hoseok took the time to observe you. Undeniably pretty, a smile made its way onto his face as he watched the different faces that you were pulling clearly lost deep in thought. You are cute. He knew that your argument couldn’t even be called as such. To his defense, the seat he had occupied had nothing on it. It was only when he ran back to gather his things and rush back to you that he noticed the note and the pen that were lying on the floor near the foot of the desk. In his haste he had grabbed both of them hoping that if his plan did not work he would have another excuse to approach you at some point. Now, those two items were weighing down in his pocket. Your name, which you had not freely given to him but it was written on the note, burnt into his mind. Maybe he did not need them after all. He would give you your pen back of course, but he would keep the note. It would be good memorabilia in the future.

The lift came to a halt and the doors opened .This time Hoseok did not even hesitate to grab your hand and lead you to your destination as he was afraid you would run away from him. Your heart thumping again at the gesture you let yourself be led by him too astonished to say anything. Who was this human being and why was he so friendly after you’d argued for the good part of an hour. Before you could panic about the time you had lost, Hoseok stopped abruptly.

‘We’re here’ he motioned with his free hand. The one that did not occupy yours.

Realising so you tried to inconspicuously free your hand from his, the astonishment at his behaviour quickly turned into amazement at the choice of space he was presenting you with. You were not a fan of the tower as heights were a bit of a stretch for you but the cosy alcove with window seats and the view of the night time sky it provided were enough to make you forget that. “Woah, how did you find this place?”’ You mumbled and quickly went to the window observing the lights of the city behind you. For how late it was, the scenery down below was surprisingly animated. Not getting a response you turned around thinking he had abandoned you there. What you were not expecting was the bashful look he was giving you whilst rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhm, by mistake really, I just happened to wander here one day and yeah...thought it was quiet enough and...well, I needed to make up for the fact that you did not have a seat in the end and you said you needed to finish your paper and…yeah’

Him reminding you of the paper that was now due in less than three hours made you jump in panic. Without thinking you threw your laptop onto the little table space that the alcove offered and sat down. Typing your password you opened the document you were working on. Whilst waiting for it to load you hesitated, bit your lip and looked up.

“Are you not going to sit down? I assume you also have work to do since you are here?” Without looking, you motioned to the seat directly across from you. This could end up being the best decision of your life or your worst... but you came to the conclusion you wouldn’t know unless you took a chance. Hearing him shift his feet and the feel of his knees close to yours as he sat down was enough to make you blush again. Here it goes, now or never.

‘I’m Y/N by the way’ you looked up in time to see him smile.

‘I know’

[echo-hiraeth]

Phasmophobia - Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Summary: Marcus is dating a streamer and finally gets to join in on the fun. Though he isn’t exactly prepared for what’s about to go down.

Warnings: Use of profanity, mentions of the paranormal, mainly fluff

Masterlist

Dating a heroic would bring an array of changes for most people, but being a successful streamer had made you somewhat familiar with the public eye. Not that you were anywhere near as famous as he was, but you were well-off, a couple million followers under your wing. The public was well aware of your successful relationship and Marcus Moreno making showing off his new fiancée was hot news for about a week.

Since the announcement you’d been getting spammed with requests to bring him on for your stream and you finally caved. One of the people that kept nagging about it was Marcus himself, he loved watching you and wanted nothing more than to be a part of it. So eventually, you’d agreed, declaring to your following that he’d be joining you for a special Halloween stream to play some horror games with you.

Tonight was the night and Marcus had been nervously pacing around all day, picking out a new outfit every ten minutes. “Oh my God will you just sit down and eat your dinner!”, you interrupted him.

He walked over to where you were sitting, plopping down on the chair with a heavy sigh. “What if I suck? What if they don’t like me?”

“I like you, I love you even, isn’t that enough?”, you asked, touching your foot to his under the table.

He stuffed a fork full of spaghetti in his mouth. “I mean yeah, but this is important to me! This is my big debut as your sidekick.”

You started laughing, nearly choking on your food. “Okay, okay, well, I’ll go set up and do my make-up, why don’t you get ready?”

You went over your set-up once again, making sure the two computers were running smoothly before walking into your shared bathroom. The make-up you wore for your streams was simple, just some bb-cream, mascara and light eyeliner, but for today, seeing how it was Halloween-themed you’d do some more. You had prepared a little outfit, with the top that Marcus enjoyed so much. You put on a deep crimson lipstick and executed the perfect smoky-eye with different shades of brown.

Unknown to your fiancé, you’d set up some surprises for him, one of those including new options for your followers to spend their channel points on. One of these included a “kiss” and “hug” choice. You’d filled Marcus in on the schedule, some “just chatting” followed up by a couple rounds of “Phasmophobia”. The new and immensely popular game was based on a ghost hunting concept. You had invited two of your streamer friends to join the both of you, which they gladly accepted.

“Honey?”, you called out, immediately hearing the footsteps trail up the stairs. “Are you almost done?”

“Hey, this look okay?”, he asked, gesturing towards his little button-up shirt.

You huffed out a breathy laugh, giving him a set of nods. “You could’ve just worn a t-shirt, baby, no need to get all dolled up.”

“Says you”, he cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you really have to wear that top?”

“Yes! It is a very necessary requirement, now go get settled, we start in five minutes.”

He was so nervous that it was showstoppingly adorable. The way he softly asked you if he looked okay, if his equipment was good to go, it was plain endearing. After checking another last time you finally pressed the “go live” button. The chat was immediately filled with eager followers, telling you hello and asking a plethora of questions. Marcus introduced himself and the view count jumped up by hundreds, if not thousands in mere seconds.

“So you guys, Marcus was so kind to join us today! Let’s give him some love in the chat, because he’ll need it”, you announced, putting an arm around him.

He quirked a brow at you. “What do you mean?”

“Weeeeeell, let’s just say that I quickly tried out the game for myself last night and that it’s definitely not your cup of tea.”

“Are you calling me a wimp?”, he asked, eyes narrowed.

You smiled into the camera before facing him again. “Perhaps.”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

Your “just chatting” was really more of a q&a session, keeping you there for just under an hour. Most of the questions were about the two of you, seeing how neither of you really had been interviewed as of late due to the ongoing pandemic. You were happy to answer most of them, refraining from the ones that were a tad bit too personal for both of your liking. The channel points had been well spent tonight, landing Marcus kiss after kiss after kiss, to a point where you decided to disable the option for a bit.

“Alright, Marcus will retreat to his own little corner and we can get started on some games”, you stated, switching your overlay around. The main screen was your game capture though you also had both your and Marcus’ cameras on display, along with the chat box and a subscription goal.

“What’s the game again?” he asked.

“Phasmophobia. The premise of the game is basically that you and your friends go to this haunted location where you’re supposed to investigate what kind of ghost it is. But the ghost can enter a ‘hunting’ mode and grab your butt, which is absolutely terrifying”, you explained, setting up your game and inviting your friends to join in.

The first few games were just all of you messing about while trying to figure out the controls and such. Until you heard a scream coming from Marcus. You spun around in your chair, doubling over in laughter as he was screaming at his screen, getting chased by some ghost in the game.

“Back off demon bitch! UNHAND MEEEEEE”, he yelled, slamming the keys on his keyboard. “Honey, open the door! I’m not playing around, open the damn door! Open the do-“, he cut himself off with another high-pitched scream, throwing his headphones off.

You nearly fell off your chair, quickly looking at your own stream to see him get caught and die in-game just in time. “Marcus nooooo!”

“I died? No way, what the hell am I supposed to do now?”, he asked with a pout.

You were wiping at your eyes, seeing how you started tearing up a bit from laughter. “Oh my God, somebody clip that PLEASE! I need to see that again”, you giggled.

He stood up from his chair, coming over to your to wrap his arms around you. “I thought you were going to protect me.”

“I’m sorry baby, do you want to sit with me for a bit?”, you suggested, pressing a kiss to his upper arm.

“You’re right, this isn’t the game for me, my old heart can’t take it”, he mumbled, dragging his chair over to sit down next to you.

“We’ll invite someone else to take your spot, until then you and I can work it out together”, you offered, finishing with a peck to his pouty lips.

“I like the sound of that”, he confessed, slipping an arm around your waist. “My fiancée is a badass after all.”

[whenisitenoughtrees]

Congrats on 500 followers!!!!! Your writing is amazing and you totally deserve it! Would you be able to do “Can you please stop biting your lip…it’s distracting.” for analogical? If you don’t get inspo for it that’s totally fine I’m just on a total analogical kick recently lol

@wisherbystarlight thank you!! i absolutely love analogical so here you go

Title: abject impermanence

Word Count: 3,570

Content Warnings: implied suicidal ideation (in reference to virgil ducking out), negative self image

(fic masterpost)

Virgil would rather die than admit this to anybody, but he develops a crush on Logan after their first debate.

It’s ridiculous, and bothersome, and stupidly humiliating, and he has to spend a few days in his room before he feels prepared enough to face anyone again, prepared enough to put up his usual walls and throw around his usual sarcastic comments, and all the while, his heart is beating far too fast, his mind racing, insisting that he’s being obvious, that everyone knows.

(That is what being Anxiety means: he is under a microscope all the time, his every movement watched and analyzed and derided, alone in a crowd of people who wish him nothing but ill.)

It’s awful, really. Is he truly so pathetic that the first time someone treats him like his opinions are valid, he falls head over heels for them? Because he has to admit, that’s the root of all of this. The debate, and the fact that even though Logan didn’t agree with him, he still treated him with respect, like he was someone worth listening to, and none of the light sides have ever acted like that before.

And they’ve certainly never told him that they don’t mind his company.

So. He has a crush on Logan. And it takes him a few weeks to calm down enough to really think about it, but when he does, he decides that nothing has to change. It’s not like he’ll ever work up the courage to act on these feelings

(because holy shit, how badly would that go? He can picture it now: Logan sneering at him, Logan rejecting him, Logan informing him that he would never in a million years have feelings for someone so irrational and useless, and while Virgil is at it, would he kindly remove himself from his presence and never come back and— well. Maybe Virgil is irrational, but he can’t bring himself to risk something like that)

so the only thing to do with them is pretend they’re not there, right? He’ll keep all of his emotions right here, in his chest, and then one day, he’ll die, and no one else has to know a thing about it.

He doesn’t see what could possibly go wrong with this plan. Which is odd for him because usually, he can only see the things that could go wrong. But the only factor in this plan is him, and his own ability to disguise his feelings, and he’s been successfully doing that for a very long time.

(After all, it’s been years, and none of the others have managed to figure out how much their rejection hurts him, how deeply it strikes at the heart he pretends not to have.)

But he doesn’t anticipate things changing. He doesn’t anticipate trying to duck out, at least, not until the moments in between making the decision and actually going through with it, and he doesn’t anticipate anybody coming after him. He certainly doesn’t anticipate their reactions, doesn’t anticipate being told that he’s important,

(because since fucking when?)

and doesn’t anticipate their acceptance.

He doesn’t anticipate telling them his name.

And alright, maybe he could deal with all of this. Maybe he could ease his way into being one of them, edge his way into their inner circle. It’s something he once would have thought impossible, but now, they seem determined to make him one of them, to bring him into their family, and even though part of him wonders whether they’re just trying to make sure he doesn’t duck out again, doesn’t hurt Thomas, a larger part of him is ecstatic about the fact that they’re including him at all. Maybe he can let himself have this, for once.

But that night, Logan comes to his room.

“Do you have a moment to talk?” he asks, and reluctantly, Virgil takes off his headphones.

Because, yes. Of course. He’s hardly busy, and even if he were, he’s certain he’d figure out a way to put it aside in favor of Logan, because really, he’s helpless to do anything else.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, aiming for casual. He thinks he makes it, if only because he is very practiced in hiding how much of a mess he is internally. “What’s up?”

Logan looks uncomfortable, a bit shifty, even though he hasn’t been in his room nearly long enough for its effects to take hold.

“I merely wanted to check in with you after today’s events,” he says, and then pauses, biting his lip, something that Virgil finds incredibly distracting. “Specifically, to ensure that you are alright.”

He blinks. “Of course I’m alright,” he says. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

“Well, I was considering everything that happened, and it occurred to me that we glossed over precisely what ‘ducking out’ would have done to you in the long term.” In an oddly vehement motion, Logan shoves his glasses further up his nose. And Virgil knows very well that as the embodiment of Logic, Logan tries not to display his stronger emotions, but right now, he is the perfect picture of distress. “I find it likely that if Thomas had been unable to utilize you for an extended amount of time, you may have… disappeared, for lack of a better word, not unlike a muscle that atrophies after disuse.”

Well, yes. He knew what he was risking. But he’d felt low enough that he didn’t particularly care about himself.

He was just tired of hurting Thomas.

(And maybe, just maybe, if there was a part of him, small and insidious in the back of his brain, that found the prospect of nothingness appealing, he’ll keep that to himself.)

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “But that didn’t happen. You guys came and got me, and I’m okay now. Not gonna do anything like that again, I swear.”

“That’s not my point,” Logan says, even more upset entering his voice. He crosses his arms, holding his shoulders tensely. “No matter how illogical it might seem, I find myself wondering what might have happened had we not attempted to reach you in time, and the idea is… displeasing.”

Oh.

Despite himself, Virgil’s heart flutters.

“So, I arrived at the conclusion that assuring myself of your continued well-being would help to assuage my concern.” Logan fidgets. “As well as the fact that… I want you to be alright. For yourself, and not just because I am…”

“Anxious?” Virgil can’t resist finishing, even as he feels his face flushing underneath his foundation. God, he hopes Logan doesn’t pick up on that. He shouldn’t be reacting this strongly to something as simple as basic worry, especially after the day they all had, but to know that Logan has been thinking about him? That Logan doesn’t like the idea of him not being around, doesn’t want him to vanish?

That Logan cares enough to come check on him like this?

It’s a strong, heady feeling, and Virgil has the sneaking suspicion that his crush has just upgraded itself.

“Yes,” Logan answers, and he seems a bit embarrassed, but he holds his ground, staring Virgil straight (gay) in the eyes. The direct eye contact is intense, almost too much for him to handle, but Virgil finds himself unable to look away.

“Well, uh, I appreciate it, I guess,” he manages. “Really, it’s nice to know that you care.”

“Of course,” Logan says, and seems almost indignant at the idea that he might not. “I value our discussions,” he adds, and Virgil has to pretend that that statement doesn’t almost give him a heart attack.

But that is mostly the end of that conversation, because really, neither of them is very good with touchy-feely emotions. Logan sinks back out shortly after, and Virgil is left alone in his room, his headphones lying uselessly on his lap as his mind reviews their exchange over and over again, searching for all the places where it might have gone wrong, or where he might have messed up. He can’t really find any, and that is a realization in and of itself, almost enough to distract him from the bigger one, the one that looms over him.

It’s not just a crush anymore. He could try to deny it, but he thinks that would summon unwanted attention. So he accepts it, accepts that he is… he’d say infatuated, but infatuated isn’t the right word. Infatuated doesn’t even begin to cover what he feels when he looks at Logan, doesn’t cover the way his heart races and his words trip over themselves and the way he longs for his approval. It doesn’t cover the way he knows so many little details about him, like the way Logan pushes at his glasses or fiddles with his tie when he’s nervous or upset, or the exact way his lips curl around the edges when he’s pleased and trying not to show it. So many little details, none of which would be on his radar at all if he wasn’t—

Well. He won’t deny it. But he doesn’t particularly see the need to voice it, either.

After all, it’s not like it changes anything. Or at least, it shouldn’t. He wasn’t planning on sharing his feelings when they were a simple crush, and he’s certainly not going to share them now that there’s more.

Except, nothing is ever that simple,

(Nothing ever can be, with him. It’s what he does best, turning easy things into overcomplicated messes because he can’t let go of all the what ifs—)

because suddenly, he’s welcome to spend time with the others. Is welcome at their table, is welcome in the commons, is welcome to join their movie nights and their game nights, and most of the time, he even feels mostly okay with doing so, because Patton is enthusiastic in his invitations, and he can tell that even Roman is honestly trying. And sometimes, it makes him want to cry, because this is all he’s ever wanted, to be one of them, and now he can and it’s almost too much.

The only problem with that is that he’s spending a lot more time around Logan.

Which is fine. Great, even.

Except, sometimes, Logan will do things. Little things, inconsequential things, but things that remind Virgil all too clearly of the feelings he keeps nestled under his heart.

For instance, Logan bites his lip a lot. When he’s working, when he’s watching movies, when he’s listening to the others, and sometimes for no reason at all. It’s a stupid thing to get caught up on, but he can’t help himself. And it’s not as if Virgil’s attraction to him begins or ends with the physical, but—

Whenever he does it, Virgil can’t stop his eyes from zeroing in on his lips. Can’t stop himself from thinking about how much he would like to kiss him.

He would like to kiss him a whole lot. And he’s fairly sure he’s being pretty obvious about it, but he can’t bring himself to stop.

So, really, he should have prepared himself for the possibility of being found out. Under any other circumstance, he would have, but there’s a saying, he thinks, about love and fools.

“Can I help you with something?” Logan says, and Virgil flinches violently, the rest of the world coming back into focus. He snaps his gaze up to meet Logan’s eyes, and the expression on his face might be amusement, maybe, but it could also be annoyance, and in fact, it’s probably definitely annoyance, because actually Logan is annoyed with Virgil and maybe even angry and now their budding friendship is completely ruined and all because Virgil doesn’t know better than to stare when he really shouldn’t be staring and—

No, stop. Stop. He’s not going to do that, not right now. He wrests his thoughts back under control with an effort.

Logan was working, typing away on his laptop, biting his lip as he concentrated. And Virgil just so happened to be out in the commons as well, in the perfect position to watch him and daydream, just a bit.

He needs to reply. He’s left it too long, and Logan’s eyebrows are inching up his face as he awaits a response. And the longer he takes to come up with something, the more suspicious Logan will be, so he should just shrug, mutter a denial, and pointedly turn his attention away. Something like that.

But it’s his job to make snap decisions under pressure. And sometimes those decisions aren’t the right ones.

So instead of taking another second to think things through and deflect Logan’s interest, his mouth opens ahead of his brain and says, “Can you please stop biting your lip?”

Logan stares. Virgil feels himself wilting.

“… It’s distracting,” he finishes weakly, and prays for the ground to swallow him whole. He can’t even manage to sink out

(because his mind is screaming at him now, screaming horrified recriminations, screaming all of the worst case scenarios, and it’s taking all of his concentration to breathe properly, much less get out of here)

because the sheer force of his embarrassment is leaving him paralyzed, curled up in his chair and with nowhere to go, nowhere to escape Logan’s widening eyes.

“Is it now,” Logan says, and he doesn’t sound particularly angry, but Virgil could very easily be wrong. Or, he could be angry and trying to hide it. Or maybe he’s not angry, but irritation would probably be just as bad, at this point.

“Sorry,” he mutters, hunching in on himself. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“Virgil, you’re magnifying,” Logan says softly, and that softness is worse than any anger could be, because what if he’s figured it out? What if he pities him? Virgil would take just about anything over pity. “Whatever you think you just said, I assure you that it didn’t come off nearly as badly as you seem to believe.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Though, I can’t say I’m certain of what you meant, considering—”

He cuts off suddenly, and Virgil can practically see the cogs turning in his head. He should leave now, leave before Logan draws his conclusions, but he is frozen, powerless to do anything but let this train wreck happen in real time.

“I wouldn’t ordinarily consider biting my lip to be a disruptive habit,” Logan says slowly. “It makes no noise and does no one any harm, and it’s not something I would think affects anyone else. But you were staring, which means there is something about the habit that draws your attention. I can only think of a few reasons for that.”

He takes it back. Pity would be far better than this, than this slow and measured reasoning, drawing out all of Virgil’s best-kept secrets, spiraling toward a conclusion that he never wanted anyone to know, much less Logan himself.

Perhaps that is why he says what he says. Because with this, Logan is only prolonging the inevitable, and it’s torture.

It’s like a band-aid. The biggest band-aid ever, maybe, covering one of the worst wounds of his life, but a band-aid. And it’s coming off one way or another, so he might as well rip it off now and brace himself for the sting.

“Oh my god,” he says. “It makes me want to kiss you. That’s why it’s distracting. And I’m just gonna go die in a hole now, if that’s alright.”

His face is burning, mortification rising up in him like a tidal wave, threatening to swamp him. This is, possibly, the worst thing that has ever happened to him, ever.

(It’s not, of course, because anything and everything is better than it was before he was accepted, when he was on his own and so lonely and bitter all the time. But this comes close, he thinks. It’s a different kind of hurt altogether, but a hurt nonetheless.)

Logan sets his laptop down, giving him his full attention. For a moment, he is completely silent, and Virgil prepares himself to stand and sink out and into his room, where he will spend the next few weeks huddled under the covers on his bed with his headphones on blast, hating his life and himself for being such an idiot, because here he is, ruining one of the best friendships that he has ever known, and for what? Because he was too much of a moron to keep himself from staring, from forcing his unwanted attentions upon the one side who was more likely than any of the others to notice what he was doing? It’s pathetic, and stupid, and he knows it, and Logan knows it, and—

“I don’t see why you need to do that,” Logan says. His voice shakes, just slightly. “You could kiss me, if you wanted.”

Virgil stills. He can’t have heard that right.

Logan clears his throat. “That is to say, I would enjoy it, if you kissed me. If I’d realized you were interested, I would have broached the topic sooner.”

Hysterical laughter threatens to escape him, his brain dissolving into static, because what? And he knows he needs to say something, needs to respond, but his vocal cords refuse to work, so he’s left sitting there, staring, stricken dumb.

Logan glances away, something like uncertainty crossing his face. “I apologize,” he murmurs. “I’m not doing this right, am I?”

And that is what finally spurs Virgil to action, because Logan sounds so terribly dejected, and that is absolutely not allowed. Not when it’s Virgil that’s made such a mess of things, when none of it is Logan’s fault at all.

“Do you mean it?” he croaks.

Logan blinks, his expression clearing, and then landing on comprehension. His face softens, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stands, crossing the floor and kneeling in front of where Virgil sits.

“Of course I do,” he says, and then reaches out with one hand, cupping Virgil’s cheek. Virgil’s breath catches, the contact shooting lightning across his face and down his spine. His heart starts beating faster, and he doesn’t know whether it’s fear or anticipation or some mixture of the two. Most of him still hasn’t processed that this is happening, hasn’t made the jump from Logan can never know about my feelings because he’ll reject me and then I’ll have no choice but to jump off a cliff to Logan knows about my feelings and he is doing the exact opposite of rejecting me hoooooly shit what do I do—

“I think about you often,” Logan says. “Ever since our first debate, if I’m being completely honest.”

Virgil blinks.

The laugh escapes him, then, but there’s not much hysteria in it. It’s something warm, now, something bright and colorful and blooming as he realizes just how much of an idiot he’s been, as his anxiety slowly begins to fade away,

(not completely, never completely, because he is who he is and that will never change, and his mind is already looking to the future, at all the fresh new opportunities he is going to have to screw this up, but for now, in this moment, he has Logan here in front of him, offering to kiss him, telling him that his feelings aren’t as one-sided as he convinced himself they had to be, and it’s very difficult to be negative at all, in the face of such a beautiful thing as this, as him)

morphing into something that he is tentatively willing to call hope.

“Yeah?” he says. “Me too.”

Before he can lose his nerve, he shifts position, leans down, and kisses Logan. Lightly, briefly, and it’s really more of a peck than anything else, but in the split second in which their lips meet, Virgil can feel just how soft Logan’s are, and when he pulls back, anxiously searching for a reaction, Logan’s cheeks are dusted with red.

“Yes, um,” Logan says. “That was… good. Would you like to do it again?”

A wave of fondness washes over him, and he lets it drag him away.

“You dork,” he says, and pecks him on the lips again. He doesn’t yet have to courage to try for more, but he thinks that might come with time. If he is allowed time, if he is allowed this, and he is not prone to optimism, but for once, he might be willing to give it a go.

Optimism, and whatever this is, new and exciting and budding between them. And there is a part of his mind that is screaming at him, insisting that he’s only going to hurt Logan or get hurt himself, and that no brief happiness could ever be worth that, but—

Logan’s lips are gentle and soft, and Logan is smiling at him, and that, he thinks, might be worth the world.

(“I would be extremely displeased if you died in a hole,” Logan informs him a bit later. “Please refrain from doing so.”

He agrees, if only because of that fact that if he died in a hole, he would never get to kiss Logan ever again. And now that he’s started, he doesn’t ever want to stop.

He is not one to believe in permanence. Or in happy endings. But just this once, he’ll try it, and trust that Logan will catch him if he falls.)

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @ldavmp4

[sortasirius]

Couldn’t get contractor!Bucky out of my head and got nowhere else to put this sorry in advance

Based on this post

Steve buys a broken down house almost on a whim, one of the most impulsive things he’s ever done.

He thinks, at first, he can fix it up himself, but after the “sink incident” he decides he does, in fact, have to hire a contractor

Unfortunately, the contractor is very, very, very hot

Like, actually takes the air out of Steve’s lungs when he sees him hot, with his long hair pulled back and his light blue eyes that nearly send Steve into cardiac arrest the first time he sees them

The guy, Bucky, owns his own business and does almost everything completely by himself

“I’ll stay out of your way, I’d be more of a hindrance than anything,” Steve says when he pulls up the first morning, “But if you, uh, need anything, just let me know.”

“Will do,” Steve is going to straight up die when his eyes trail down Steve’s body, “It might get loud, hope you don’t mind the power tools.”

Steve becomes hyperaware of himself when Bucky is in the house, and definitely goes upstairs more often than he normally would, just a get a glimpse of frankly unfair back muscles under a thin tank top.

But, you know, spending a couple of solid months just in and around each other’s orbit tends to bring people together.  Bucky starts eating lunch in the house at Steve’s insistence, and Steve learns how to make a pretty killer turkey sandwich because Bucky only seems to bring protein bars to the house.

Bucky listens to loud rock music most days, so Steve invests in noise-cancelling headphones, though sometimes he turns them off just to listen to the din upstairs, sometimes hearing the faint, off-key notes of Bucky singing to himself

Steve realizes, unfortunately, that he has more than a major crush on his contractor when Bucky spends nearly two hours under his house trying to coax a stray cat out, refusing to leave until he had the little creature securely in his arms

“You want her?” he asks Steve when he reappears, dirty and sweaty and generally unfair-looking, “She’s definitely a stray.  I’d take her but I already have one at home and he would not be pleased.”

Steve goes to get cat supplies that night, having left the little cat, who he’s christened Persephone (he loves Greek Mythology, sue him), asleep on his couch, full of deli turkey because he, obviously, had no cat food.

Persephone loves Bucky, follows him everywhere, and Steve has to repeatedly confirm that she wasn’t actually in his way.  He just gives Steve a crooked smile and pulls his long hair back, “No worries, I like the company.  I’d ask you to come up here and draw if I wasn’t so loud.”

Steve quietly brings a sketchbook upstairs the next day, settles on the floor by the window, and begins quietly sketching, pretending he doesn’t see Bucky grinning from ear to ear.

He sketches the room, Persephone, long, lean muscular bodies with tool belts and combat boots.  The usual.

The way Bucky bites his lips nearly kills Steve on the daily, especially when he’s leaning over him to grab something out of his bag, which Steve, like an idiot, sat right next to.

“Nice,” Bucky gestures at the sketchbook in Steve’s hands, which is littered in sloppy sketches of beautiful hands and thighs.  Fuck.

“Buy me dinner first next time, yeah?” Bucky turns back to his work easily, ignoring Steve turning about as red as a tomato, “I’m more than happy to pose for you.”

Bucky is going to be the death of Steve.  He just hopes he can fix his house first.

[nozomijoestar]

Cannot get this out my head so just remember what I said about these two becoming more like each other and turn that into an entire piece, if you think abt it they're the same character interpreted two ways as is (tws for one sentence of body horror)

The philosophy of the Trikaya came to mind so I tried to embody it in sections and at times blurring together; my paragraph length is deliberately formatted to show the differences in character, have fun trying to decipher what the paragraph lengths mean for each character mindset

I couldn't decide 100% on what Susumu Hirasawa song fits them best so for now (lyric index) I'm considering Moonlight/Shadow of the Moon, The Master's Mountain, A Strange Night of Omnificence, and Venus

Individually Reina's Hirasawa character song is Day Scanner, Kumiko's is Snow Blind

For non Hirasawa music there’s You by Kazami off the Samurai Champloo ost / Eternal by SCANDAL (lyrics)

Also Yūko is listening to Tupac's Life Goes On & Me Against The World

There was something different. Not a bad thing surely, but different all the same. Was it Kumiko standing straighter than usual? No perhaps it was the way her jaw set while weighing decisions. Maybe it had to do with ease of her touch, or the resolve that could flash like lightening through slow motion at random in her gaze. 

Whatever it was and why didn’t change its singularity against all else. It was a difference. The concept sent a chill rippling through her; she imagined a figure being peeled back then rearranged before being resewn. A terrible nausea took her then and her playing faltered. Her fingers may as well have become lead on the trumpet valves. She stopped and lowered her trumpet ever so carefully. Change. Would Kumiko one day forget her sound?

Why had Reina stared at her like that after practice? Was there something in her teeth today? No she couldn't be silly. Reina would never see through her over anything trivial. If you asked Kumiko, that intensity easily took its place as the scariest feeling anyone worth more than five minutes of effort had shown her. But she wasn't saying Reina, or anybody, came off as some pet project! It was just...she couldn't give everybody equal time. There were only so many pieces of herself to split for everyone. There were only so many Kumikos before she burst at the seams. At least, these days there were. She preferred that; she knew what the alternative made her.

If you asked her to rank them though, Reina had a slice so huge it was unfair. Kumiko was sure she knew it too. So why had her eyes grasped her heart? She felt a repeat of the feeling now as it struck her even in memory. She was naked before that stare- like her whole being had unfurled the moment Reina's presence approached. Like she saw herself outside her own body. Like Kumiko could die fulfilled.

Her fingers slid over the cool brass of her euphonium. The way the sensation prickled her skin made the air sharper, let it flow through her touching everything before she exhaled. It didn't come frantic but steady and coaxed.

She brought the mouthpiece to her lips and played. Her eyes closed amid the cicada calls in this familiar nook under the shadow of Kitauji's building. Her feet planted easy on this ground that'd received her sweat and blood without complaint season after season. She played.

She played a note for everything, for every breath gave rise to a memory. High notes lifted joyful moments like bubbles meeting the sky. Low notes spiraled their way up beside them in hesitation, but rising nevertheless. Soon the divide blurred and she no longer knew where the two separated.

Together they soared from her; the music a tapestry woven in on itself over and over. The feeing was older than her, older than anyone she knew living. Notes wandered, whole passages surged endless. The piece that wasn't a piece vibrated her blood. The sound rattled her bones. She played.

Her fingers burned exhaustion asking so much of the euphonium. She didn't dare stop. A little more and it'd take a true shape and-

From everywhere a calm that stood side by side with anticipation washed over her. There came the sound of footsteps. Reina turned the corner eyes widened by a hair and lips barely open. Her cheeks had gone flush coloring her like a human sized red crayon. Seeing her in shock drove Kumiko's mind frantic and buzzing until all she blurted out after scooting backward was-

"Do you have a fever?"

"........I could ask you the same thing. Here."

The water was cold and the bottle sweating condensation. Drinking it melted her adrenaline into lava. Her body aches as if scrubbed raw beneath the heat under her skin. The world spun just for an instant before Reina pressed a second water bottle against her neck.

Kumiko yelped, jumping out her chair and scrambling to keep her euphonium from crashing to the floor. Her shoe trips but in an instant Reina is behind her holding her upright. Water from the bottle Kumiko clutched splashed across their skirts and sleeves. When she registered the cold dripping down her knees the picture of what she'd done snapped into place. Before she could control it her voice stuttered out.

"T-T-thanks. Sorry for the mess."

"It's fine. Come and sit."

She let herself be guided by Reina's hand. When they sat side by side the world became right again. Kumiko still gasped and wheezed as she let Reina's fingers tidy her hair. Over time the motions had graduated from bumbling to meticulous; she couldn't clearly remember a time Reina hadn't been doing this anymore.

"What were you playing? I've never heard it."

The tone to her words made Kumiko's stomach sink a little. It wavered between curiosity and scolding; yet at the same time found itself half smothered by her quiet voice. Had she been at it that long? Her body certainly said more than either could.

"Nothing. Was just free-styling and stuff...practice."

"Practice doesn't almost give you heat stroke."

"Maybe not for you, but if I'm special too now then I have to catch up. If I don't there's no point."

Reina's laugh burst from her clear and free. Kumiko's eyes widened. She knew exactly what was coming. The way Reina's black hair draped down her shoulders, the way this angle teased at her nape, the crinkle of her eyes and wiggling eyebrows as her head was thrown back; everything was Reina, and it emptied her mind. She remained staring with her mouth slack like an idiot when she heard it. Now Reina's voice became love.

"You're awful." 'Don't you know we're already alike?'

Reina had finally deciphered Kumiko's new attitude three days ago. Perhaps. Almost. Maybe. Her hunch was solid. Now she needed proof. She wanted proof so bad her blood boiled. Voices leaked through the band room doors. Picking out Kumiko's laugh was child's play. It had a warm quality she couldn't describe even as it calmed her heart.

She entered and wrestled the surge of emotions she couldn't pick apart coursing through her. Her expression remained flat. Calm. Centered. Reina Kousaka did not roar at the world before an audience.

For whatever reason Kumiko had yet to notice her in their crowd of bandmates. She slowed her steps, kneeled near a wall pretending to search her bag. Kumiko sat with Midori and Hazuki today. Their conversation filled her ears, stoked her irrational fear. That fear which hung over her heavier than a headman's axe. That fear who's tendrils constricted her heart at its leisure.

'You wouldn't abandon me without a word would you?'

Childish, Reina Kousaka!

"That part is so tough. My mom's been putting dinner aside when I come home late."

"You always practice real hard Hazuki. It'll be worth it. That's what Nationals are all about! Don't you think so Kumiko?"

"Lately it sounds like my breath control's gotten stronger. When I play the sound is talking...or something like that. I wanna give it all I've got. So I'm glad we're going for it."

"Who're you now? Reina?"

They giggled even as they complimented her after. It didn't matter, her mind raced. What emotions had coursed now rose to a flood. She felt her heartbeat through her tongue. Pride? Kumiko felt...pride in playing...because of her? At the very least with her as a reason?

"Kousaka what're you doing?"

Yūko loomed over her causing Reina to smack into her pink headphone wire when she turned. She flinched and rubbed her nose. She looked up at her; her mind blanked.

"Checking my things."

"You must have a museum in there to be checking your bag for three minutes straight. You look super weird, what's going on?"

No quips or barbs loaded in response; nor could anything dampen the joy already swirling in her head. Besides, any qualms with Yūko were long outgrown. Why dwell on what was settled? Her body still tingled. Kumiko was proud because of her.

Yūko kept staring in anticipation as the song blaring through her headphones faded into another. Reina noticed that little twist of the mouth she did whenever she got impatient. Reina's lips moved to answer her but Yūko cut her off.

"Fine. You don't have to tell me. It better not divide the band though."

"...It's between me and Kumiko. No one else."

"Oh. In that case uh...if you want to talk to someone..."

Watching Yūko look away and scratch her chin awkwardly made her swallow a laugh. Instead she smiled and nodded. Maybe she should blame her mood but a calmness settled her back into reason. Like a bridge connecting, a hand outstretched, she grasped Yūko's kindness. It was good to be alone, not lonely.

"I will. Thanks."

Nights on Mount Daikichi were more natural for them than breathing. Cloaked in the silver and blue of moonlight they glowed at first glance. Countless lights below lit the city like a map of stars. Like gazing up at the sky on Tanabata to find Orihime and Hikoboshi. The cicadas buzzing filled in their silence that wasn't silence. They held their breath even as they breathed.

"When you think about improving, what does that really mean?"

Reina inched her pinky atop Kumiko's. Kumiko did the same. Her head went back as she watched the sky.

"Hmmm...probably a road. There's a place far away just enough for me to see. I don't know everything it has; I know because of that, chasing it makes me better. I used to think it had to stay straight once I started. Kinda stupid, 'cuz I take turns on it all the time. You?"

Reina paused a moment, face contemplative.

"There are stars. Most despite sitting in the sky are far from the moon. Most burn out. Some fall. Fewer get their chance beside the moon. Their light shines the longest. Their light inspires people."

"Pft hehe, there you go saying stuff like a book character again. That's just like you. Is there any room for the band up there?"

"...Maybe..."

"Is there any room for me?"

Without warning Reina leaned closer; her expression went stern. Her voice faltered though it tried being firm. It was the softest tone Kumiko had heard in her life.

"Don't ask stupid questions."

"Ok. I won't."

Their foreheads touched and the cool breeze turned warm on their skin.

"What do you think of the others then...past and present?"

Kumiko shut her eyes. Aoi. Haruka. Kaori. Natsuki. Shūichi. Nozomi. Mizore. Midori. Hazuki. Yūko...Asuka.

The faces of all who's paths intersected and footsteps left prints as guides, tethers connecting her to the universe, appeared in her mind. Each had drawn on a blank sheet of her soul. They were nowhere near her yet she felt them echo. They were her as she was them.

"Unrivaled under Heaven."

"Now who's talking like a novel character?"

"Cut it out." Kumiko replied through a chuckle.

Their eyes met. Reina smirked but only for a pause. She inched forward, asking a question. Kumiko shut her eyes again.

The kiss was unlike anything before and possibly after. An explosion of sensations though they didn't move a muscle. There was no time to remember it yet each second couldn't be forgotten. Feelings of melting, soaring, absolving, each melded and surpassed bliss. The result transcended any name they could give it. A release.

They pulled away. Both panted for air then examined each other as if for the first time. They no longer looked; they saw. They no longer knew, they understood.

Many questions were on the verge of pouring; instead Kumiko cupped Reina's cheeks and smiled. Her thumbs brushed off the forming tears. She didn't say a word when Reina fell into her arms. She simply rested a hand on her head and held her trembling body.

The moon's brightness peaked. If you asked her, it'd moved a little closer.

[apenapaperandadoofus]

RFA BEACH TRIP PLEASE🌊☀️🌴🐚🌺🐬🐠🦀

YESYESYES (I tried something a little different today, so I hope you enjoy it!)

RFA BEACH TRIP!

Jumin had recently bought this island, that was famous because of their cats. Yes. Cat island. And so because Jumin is such a sweetheart he got everyone some plane tickets so they would head out for the island the next day!

At first, everyone except Saeyoung and V weren’t really up to the idea. But then, when you got so excited and said that it would be so fun to have a beach trip, they changed their minds pretty quickly!

And so, all of you woke up at about 4am, Jumin sent some cars to pick you all up and soon you were all in his private jet. V and Jumin were listening to some classical music and drinking some wine, Yoosung at first was looking around everywhere, since he had never been on a private jet before, but a few minutes later he fell asleep on his seat, next to Zen, who was complaining loudly to Jumin, about how waking up at this hour was stupid, and that he only agreed to go because you were going.

Jaehee was watching some of Zen´s DVD in the background, Saeyoung was loudly singing to some music (you joined him lmao) which made Saeran groan and put on his headphones at full volume, trying to ignore his way too energetic twin.

You smiled as you looked at everyone in the RFA. This would be so exciting!

After you all checked in in the hotel -the fanciest hotel you had ever been in- you all changed into your swimsuits and decided to meet up in a bit.

You all set up on the fancy beach, Jumin and V sitting on some chairs under a really big umbrella, meanwhile Jaehee was wearing a hat and walking around the beach, looking at Zen, who was teasing Yoosung into getting in the water. Saeyoung was building some sand cats, yes, sand cats and Saeran was standing awkwardly on the side, not really knowing what to do.

This was going to be awesome!

Zen:

After traumatizing Yoosung for a bit, Zen called you over to get into the ocean with him. You smiled and grabbed his hand, as the both of you walked along the water, happily chatting. “I have to admit, even though I can’t stand that jerk, this beach trip was pretty nice. We haven’t all gone out like this in a while.” He said, while looking at all the RFA members, a big smile in his face. But then he turned around and pulled you closer to him, running his hands up your sides. “Although it is making me a bit jealous that they all got to see you in your swimwear like this. You look amazing.” A seductive smirk appeared on his face and Zen kissed you, and you both stood there, holding each other.

Until a big fucking wave got you guys and everyone laughed at the both of you. “THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR BEING ALL LOVEY DOVEY!” Yoosung yelled, and Zen glared at him. Apart from that the beach trip was awesome, and you enjoyed spending time with Zen!

Yoosung:

So, he wasn’t really a big fan of the ocean, but he liked the swimming pool! Yoosung and you had a swimming contest! And you ended up winning by a lot lmao. Afterwards you both made your way around the beach resort, admiring how fancy everything was.

Until you got lost. Yeah that wasn't good at all.

You both walked along for hours trying to find everyone else. And you didn’t succeed. At one point it had become night, and you were both back at the beach, holding each other’s hands. “I’m sorry Y/N. If I had just stayed with everyone we wouldn’t be in this predicament.” You shook your head and caressed Yoosung’s cheek. “It’s alright Yoosung. I had fun, to be honest! I love spending time with you.”

As Yoosung became red in the face, you saw a bright light and a loud bang followed right after. Fireworks!!! The two of you screamed happily and ran over to get a better view, and Yoosung wrapped his arm around you, giving you a forehead kiss.

It was absolutely adorable, and even though Saeyoung later teased the crap out of you two, you really enjoyed it!

Jaehee:

“Y/N? Are you alright? Why are you so red in the face, oh! Don’t tell me you have a fever! Let me check!”

You blushed even more as Jaehee placed the back of her hand in your forehead, and you nervously chuckled, gently pulling it away. “Uh. It’s alright Jaehee. I-I just got distracted for a bit haha, anyway! Look at those seashells!” You quickly made your way to the shore, trying to hide your flushed face. When you saw Jaehee in a very cute two piece swimsuit you felt as if you were about to die. How could she look so freaking hot yet adorable at the same time?! You were just speechless.

Jaehee slowly followed you and helped you picking up shells. You both laughed as Seven tackled Yoosung in the water, while Zen was screaming loudly at the both of them for getting his beautiful face wet!

Soon enough you and Jaehee had picked up enough shells, and you placed them in a little bucket. Then, Jaehee grabbed your hand and led you to the water, where you were both looking at the beautiful sunset. Everything was perfect.

Until you felt a splash of water hit your face. You dramatically gasped as Jaehee giggled, and splashed some more water in your face. Before you knew it, it had become a water battle between the two of you, and you enjoyed it greatly! Jaehee kept running around and giggling the whole time, even when you grabbed her by the waist and carried her up, spinning her around.

When you came home from the beach, you both took the seashells and made them into a frame, and you put your favorite picture of the two of you together.

She really enjoyed spending the whole time with you, and she would love to do it again!

Jumin:

When you came to the beach, you made your way to Jumin and sat beside him, while talking to him and V, who had a huge smile on his face.

“Thank you for the trip, Jumin. It’s been a while since all of us travelled like this, together. I never thought we’d go out again ever since Rika passed away. But now, thanks yo Y/N, we’re able to do this again.” You blushed and shyly smiled at V.

Jumin didn’t really like to go and swim in the ocean, but you two decided to build some sand castles, since apparently he had never done that before. It all started as an innocent competition, until Jumin literally started making blueprints and measured everything so his sandcastle could be perfect!

And it was :D

Afterwards, you both went to your room and you changed into some clothes that Jumin had bought you. He escorted you to a really fancy restaurant in the place, and he got seats near a balcony so you could look at the sea while you ate. It was absolutely beautiful, the wind rustling his hair a bit, and everytime he looked at you and smiled, god, was he trying to kill you?

At one point Jumin grabbed your hand and kissed it, looking at you with eyes full of love. 

¨Thanks to you we're able to go out like this now...you've done so much for us, and you don't understand how lucky I feel to be here with you, right now. I love you, Y/N.¨

You both had an amazing dinner, and after the trip Jumin would sometimes take some days off so you could go there again.

Saeyoung:

He was so thrilled to go to the beach with you and his brother!

Honestly, he had never felt so happy in his life!

Then you saw that there was a place where you could rent surfing boards! And holy crap you both had never ran so fast to a place before.

The two of you tried (and failed miserably) to surf. Saeyoung had actually gotten the hang of it pretty quickly, but you kept getting distracted!

He just looked so handsome with his hair all wet, and pulled back a bit so it wouldn’t get in his way. And when he surfed he looked so fucking good.

At one point you bit your lip, and when Saeyoung saw the way you were looking at him he led you to a nearby bathroom.

After the both of you and back, and played some pranks on Yoosung, you decided to go and....LOOK FOR THE CATS! That was honestly one of the only reasons why he agreed to wake up that early and everything!

You both made your way around the little town that was near Jumin’s resort, and you soon found cats everywhere. They were so fucking cute holy shit.

The rest of the trip you took a bunch of pictures, sometimes with the cats and sometimes with Saeran (who was acting as if he didn’t want to be here but he was having a hella good time.)

One night Saeyoung led you to the roof of the resort and kissed you.

¨I love you so much Y/N. Thank you for everything.¨

When you come back Saeyoung promised you that you will go on trips more often now, and he just can’t help but smile remembering the good things that happened.

Bonus:

“How many times did we tell you to NOT DO IT?!” Zen screamed.

“This is not how I thought I’d spend my time. I’m leaving to see how Elizabeth the third is doing.”

“No you don’t, you jerk! You have to stay here with the rest of us.”

“Lololol Yoosung I never thought you’d actually do it!”

“Luciel this is partially your fault too, you were the one who urged him to do it, so you’re to blame too. If you hadn’t thrown your food it wouldn’t have been this bad.” Jaehee glared at Luciel, and he quickly hid behind you.

“AGHHHH Y/N SAVE ME!! That gaze almost turned me to stone, brrr so scary!”

“It’s your fault you idiot. You should’ve realized by now that Yoosung is dumb enough to fall for those stupid tricks of yours. Besides you didn’t even tried to help him, you made things worse!”

“Aghhh! Not you too Saeran! My own brother!! Everyone is against me right now, hey V, help meeee!!!”

“Well Luciel....if you hadn’t even dared him to jump in there, we wouldn’t be here right now...so I’m afraid I’m going to have to agree with Jaehee on this one.” V laughed nervously.

“SEVEN I SWEAR IM NEVER FORGIVING YOU FOR THIS!” Yoosung yelled.

You may be wondering, what the hell happened?

Seven did.

Let me explain.

You were all eating lunch, when Seven dared Yoosung to go and jump into this little pond (that was made because of some rocks) to grab some crabs. It was going fine, until a whole bunch of them decided to go against Yoosung, and they started pinching him everywhere, so Yoosung quickly got out and started screaming.

Zen was about to help him, when Seven threw his sandwich at Yoosung while yelling YEET and NATURAL SELECTION DO YOUR THING, making some seagulls who were passing by, go and attack Yoosung.

Then Yoosung fell in a sand hole that you and Seven had made before near the shore, it was really deep, and when the crabs and seagull were finally off him, a fucking little octopus appeared and decided to latch onto Yoosung’s head.

Seven just laughed while Zen and Jaehee tried to get the octopus off, Jumin was sighing like a disappointed parent, and Saeran was actually smirking.

Meanwhile V had tried to go and help, but he went to the wrong place because...well he can’t see, so he was touching a palm tree while yelling for Yoosung.

And that’s how Yoosung became traumatized for life!

But it was honestly so funny lmao

Later when you’re all in the restaurant Seven orders some octopus on purpose to traumatize Yoosung even more.

And that’s why, kids, you should never go and pick up crabs because Seven dared you to.

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 10

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 10 - Back to the City

Black shadows rose from the middle of the road, eyes without pupils staring at Lin Yan's car. There were ragged children with skin stretched tight on their bones running around, and even women in palace costumes, stretched out their long white hands, scratching the body of the car with their nails. It was an apocalyptic escape. Lin Yan took a deep breath and accelerated to two hundred and ten kilometres per hour. The trees on either side of the road became looming shadows, and he couldn't clearly see anything on the road. He was firmly pressed back onto the seat by the impact of the acceleration. The uneven dirt road and the speed made Lin Yan worry that the car would flip over at any second. Even so, he didn't dare take his foot off the pedal for a second. The car was like a strong black wind, cutting its way out of the ghost formations in the mountains and forests.

Escaping towards the land of the living.

Just before the needle on the fuel gauge dropped to empty, Lin Yan finally saw the city. He got on the Fifth Ring Road and he rolled the window down a crack. The cool night breeze dissipated the heavy bloody air in the car.

Cities, traffic, human voices, normality.

Lin Yan let out a long sigh of relief and relaxed into the chair.

The events of the exorcism in the mountains seemed like a dream as he drove through the bright lights of the city, but the evidence of the event sitting in his passenger seat was very reak. Lin Yan slammed his hand against the steering wheel, thinking that his life must really be hell. The most damn thing is that, in an era in which people lived in peace and well-being, and the leaders lived in happiness, leading the future of the country with diplomacy and socialism, he had saved a ghost who came to kill him from the hands of a master who didn't know what was going on.

Lin Yan found a secluded place to stop and rest.

"Man, celebrate, we made it out."

There was no answer. The ghost next to him seemed to be asleep, his eyes closed as he leaned on the seat, his black hair hanging down to cover most of his face.

He didn't die, did he? Lin Yan's heart clenched, and then he realized that this thing was already dead, and there's no way that it could die again. No, he couldn't say anything. Lin Yan glanced at him. His quiet manner with his eyes closed was no different from that of a living person. He was even breathing, his chest slightly rising and falling regularly. Dressed like a Confucian disciple, with loose hair that was very inconsistent with traditional practices, his clothes were stained with old blood, but the fabric was still visible beneath it. Looking down, bare feet peeked out from beneath the straight hemline. They were covered with a series of mottled cracks and old wounds like he had been walking for a long time.

Lin Yan sighed, thinking that this time he definitely offended his ancestors. He hesitated for a while, debating between abandoning the car and fleeing or committing suicide, and finally decided to wait until the "person" woke up. "Don't believe the words of the dead, ghosts only remember what they want." The lines from the movie "Voice" flashed in his mind. Lin Yan shook his head, his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. The look in the ghost's unwilling and nostalgic eyes looked too real.

Suddenly, Lin Yan was not afraid of him. He hesitated and hadn't bothered to take a good look at him back in the temple. Ghosts. . . ghosts were invisible and intangible. What does it look like?

Through the ghostly tangles, Lin Yan stretched out his hand and slid away the long hair covering his face.

For a moment, he had prepared himself to see a rotten face, even a skeleton, completely lacking any facial features, but when the black hair fell behind his ears, Lin Yan was taken aback when the man’s sleeping face was revealed.

It's. . . a ghost. . . how could he look so good?

His face resembled those from ancient times, with long eyebrows stretching to his temples, a straightened nose. Between his eyebrows, there was a brilliance that did not belong to this era. His restless sleep was probably exhaustion from what the temple master put him through. He was frowning, curled up in his sleep, as if he was still protecting the little wooden block.

What? Such a good complexion. Maybe it wasn't all that bad having an early death to keep these looks. What the hell, this ghost looks good.

The skin was also very smooth, like a jade carving, with invisible pores.

Lin Yan glanced at him sympathetically, and his heart lurched. This guy didn't just think of me as his dead wife who he didn't had died years ago. He was desperately trying to achieve this virtue for some surrogate substitute. The things that happened in the temple made Lin Yan feel a little guilty. He couldn't help but brush away the broken hair from his neck and gently wipe the dried blood on his face with the back of his hand.

The ghost startled and his eyes snapped open, staring at Lin Yan with spite.

Lin Yan yelled out of fright, and he instinctively covered his neck with his hands.

The target of the attack this time changed to his shoulders. A pair of infinitely powerful ghost hands squeezed Lin Yan's shoulder blades harder and harder. He could almost hear the rattling of bones, and there was a burst of pain in his shoulders. This shit was endless. Lin Yan panicked and scrambled for the car door like a wild animal, but when the car was parked, it was automatically locked and could not be opened.

The car was so dark that he couldn't find the button that controlled the door lock. Lin Yan had to fumble around near the small green light on the control panel. The ghost's hand slid off his shoulder and touched the wound on his forearm. After hesitating for a while, he leaned over and lowered his head to gently sniff the newly scabbed-over knife wound.

Lin Yan remembered that he was still sprinkled with the Yin and Yang energy stone powder, there was only a human scent remaining at the place of the cut. He couldn't help but rub his shoulders and let out a laugh.

"It's me, don't smell it. It's not the real scent."

The ghost gave a long sigh and pulled Lin Yan's arm into his arms. Lin Yan looked at him blankly. All the energy he had disappeared with the obedient look and he had to let go of the door handle. Leaning towards the passenger seat, he rested his face on the ghost's chest.

"Brother, I'm sorry about today. You were almost hung up by the old monk without even knowing it. I owe you, let's not take this as an example, though."

The ghost's arm was wrapped around his waist, and Lin Yan's cheek was tickled by the long hair.

"Do you miss your wife?" Lin Yan grabbed the hand on his waist. He intertwined their fingers and whispered, "I have always missed my ex-girlfriend, but once you break up, it's done. You have to move on."

"It was wrong for me to dig up your grave, but this is what I'm learning in school. Whatever my professor tells me to do, I have to do it. Don't pester me, reincarnate instead. In due time, come back as a young lady or little loli in your next life and find Uncle for some sweets."

"When you grow up, Uncle will introduce you to someone."

". . . Forget it, you don't understand anyway."

Quietly in the car, the neon lights of the city reflected on the windows, and the Apple logo on the top of the tall building in the distance exudes cold white light. There were groups of people coming and going on the road. Groups of little girls changed into their summer clothes and carrying shopping bags, laughing and playing together. The boy was wearing headphones and concentrating on leaning against the window to play mobile games, probably because he was impatiently waiting for his girlfriend.

In the Audi parked by the roadside, Lin Yan and the ghost leaned against each other. The hustle and bustle outside the window seemed to fade away. All that was left was an unusual sensation. In an era that promoted independence and material desire, a bustling city, and impetuous life, full of voices, never really connected with him.

He was often driven to despair by such loneliness.

He never knew anyone else who felt this way. When people see other people, they start to act like dogs. Lin Yan raised a labrador who was always innocent and enthusiastic with his round eyes waiting for the owner to return home, more loyal than his own lover. He suddenly admired the ghost in front of him. No matter what reason he had for following him, destroying his life, or whether they really had a relationship, he had the courage to travel through hundreds of years and walk alone in this era that did not belong to him. Lin Yan wondered if he would be anxious when he walked through the tall buildings with billboards behind him. So. . . what was his motivation?

Lin Yan took out his cell phone to send a text message to Yin Zhou. Things had changed so fast. A few hours ago, he was shouting that he was going to kill the troublesome ghost, but now he was cradling him and watching the nightlife. The fluorescent light was dazzling in the dark. Just as he wrote out the fourth word, the screen was suddenly covered by someone's hand. Lin Yan pulled the hand away, but the ghost reluctantly covered the screen again, glowing light leaking through the gaps of his slender fingers. Lin Yan couldn't help but chuckle. He thought this ghost was very interesting. This child had a temper, so he locked the screen and coaxed him softly: "Stop, don't be angry." He pulled himself out of the ghost's arms and tugged on his sleeve cuff. The ghost obediently leaned over onto Lin Yan's chest, and Lin Yan slowly straightened out his hair with his fingers.

"There are still a few hours before dawn. I'll hold you until you fall asleep. Today, you were punished by the old monk." Lin Yan said. He could only breathe out a few times. Lin Yan shook his head at the misty figure in front of him, thinking about how he could pay for the sins he committed. He must find a way to break this ghost's obsession with the world and let him reincarnate in peace.

[howiend]

the lies we tell ourselves.

i’d been suspicious for awhile, but still, the tiniest part of me wanted to believe it wasn’t real. to believe that he would never do that to me. to someone that he claimed to love so much that he’d take a bullet for. but seeing the words on my screen, all i could do was laugh. and after the laughing subsided, all i could do was cry. i walked on the treadmill, trying my best to get my shit together before i got off. i couldn’t face the rest of the gym with the red and rimmed eyes. not with the tear stained cheeks. finally, after i had some time to breathe, i looked around and didn’t see him. he’d been asleep on the couch that propped against the employee area. i thought i was in the clear because if i saw him, i wouldn’t be able to hold it in. stepping off, i moved to the bathroom as fast as i could. my body was tight and i was swollen, just having had surgery, but unable to gain a pound. as soon as i was almost there, he came out and looked at me. i brushed past, headphones still on- desperate that he’d leave me alone for just once. i could feel him, heavy on my tail. “not now,” i pleaded. i needed space. i needed to breathe and i couldn’t do it with him. i couldn’t be that girl here. i walked into the bathroom and attempted to shut the door behind me, but he got there first. overpowering. his breathing was huffy as he stood over me, asserting the power he knew he had in the situation; over my mind, my body, and my emotional state. i was easy to manipulate to him and i was fun to watch struggle; like an ant under a magnifying glass on a hot day. he was so strong. he pushed open the door and stared at me. i felt cornered and it was still so hard to breathe. “not now. we’re at work,” i remember repeating as he continually tried to bully me into the truth. i didn’t want to do it there- i didn’t want to think about what she’d told me. “not now. i need space,” i said, moreso to myself. i stared into his eyes and he looked into mine, eye twitching with anger. he was quick to temper. his lips twitched and his eyes were zeroed in. “what do you think you’re doing?” i remember him asking and i wanted to laugh in his face. what was i doing? what was he doing? he was ruining everything we worked for. every late night, every whisper, every step forward. he ruined it all. “she told me about you two. she told me everything,” i heard myself say and it was an instant relief as they came out. it was real. she was real. he continued to stare at me, “she told me when she asked me for help on your christmas gift.” i took a moment and decided to push the knife harder into him, “but don’t worry- i didn’t tell her about you and me. even though it was her that took you from me," i spat back to him. he continued to stare. not even a slip in his attitude. i couldn’t read him. slowly, he turned, staring at me and moving out of the bathroom. i immediately closed the door, but heard his voice. “i need a napkin.” i reached out and tossed the paper out of the door and then he handed it back. then it was silent. he was gone and i was left alone. surprisingly, i didn’t cry. my heart was beating thousand beats per minute and i felt like i was going to have a heart attack. this is where i would die. the gym bathroom floor, after seeing his stone cold face, after finding out that he was with another woman. 1 that i knew of. 3 others i suspected. i sat there, pants around my ankles, in hopes to pee because i felt like i had to, but i couldn’t. the nerves wouldn’t ease up. i took a few more breaths, blew my nose, and looked at myself in the mirror. then, once composed, i walked out of the bathroom with my head held high and acted like nothing happened. like his mere presence didn’t make me want to skin myself just to stop feeling like i was. i laughed, cracked jokes, even laughed at his jokes, all while i died inside. i don’t know how i did it to this day. i did everything in my power to not be alone with him. to not be in the same air, to breathe his scent. he was good at knowing just how to talk himself out of this stuff, but this wasn’t liking a girl’s photo. this was another woman whom he was dating, publicly while he kept me a secret, telling her that he loved her, buying her presents like rings and designer bags. sleeping in his bed. the bed i slept in. sleeping on my pillow. this was something else. while he didn’t break the loyalty i had to him, i broke something else inside of me. and it’s decayed and turned to dust, coating my inside until i’m nothing left but ash and sand. it felt like my heart was ripping itself to shreds so that i didn’t have to breathe his air anymore. i didn’t know how to breathe without him, though. i still don’t.. later, i was left alone with him and he looked at me and asked if i wanted to talk. i didn’t want to, but i knew we needed to. the longer things went unsaid, the worse it was going to be. and i loved my job and where i worked too much. to be around him.  “you have anything you want to say?” he asked, over and over, as i shrugged. i had no words. “what is there to say? what do you want me to say? you want me to yell at you? call you an asshole?” i finally replied. “because i won’t. that’s not me.” he wasn’t going to turn this around on me. i wasn’t going to be labeled as another crazy girl. that was the thing with him. he craved the fight; he wanted me to fight back, to give him a reason to take his emotions out on me. when he was the one in the wrong. he was the cheater. he was the joker, the traitor, the abuser.  we were silent for a minute until he broke it. “i’m confused and i’m sorry i wasn’t man enough to admit that to you. it was disrespectful. all of it.” i honestly can’t recall the whole conversation. i focused on his bloody knuckle from pushing the door, ignoring his excuses and his bullshit apologies. i'd heard it before -- when this girl first came into the picture. i'd heard it about the last girl and gotten kicked out of my house for three days. so instead, i focused on the single tears that fell from the corner of his eyes, down his cheeks. i focused on the red rimmed eyes. “you know i love you right. whenever i think of the future, it’s with you,” he told me. but did i actually know? did he actually mean what he was saying? there’s a time in your life that you realize that you accept the love you think you deserve; he painted a pretty picture, one that i wanted to believe, but knew better. but the biggest lesson i’ve learned as i’ve grown older is that: you will lie to yourself for as long as you can to believe what you want to hear, see, believe. you will ignore every red flag, every lie, every yell, every slap until one day, like a rubber band under duress, you’ll break. and the world will crumble around you. so do yourself a favor and listen to the gut feeling at the start. it'll save you a lot of heartache.  but that day in winter of 2017, all i could say was “i know”. i was shaking, watching him. he’d shake his head and look down, wiping his eyes with his shirt. he played his role perfectly, looking back on that moment. tugging at the strings that i had worn so obviously on my sleeve.  he looked down at his knuckle, to which i reached across to look at. he needed to wash it. “you need to wash that,” was all i could muster. i had no idea what i was supposed to say in this instance. this was the man that i thought i would marry; this was the man that i had woken up countless times next to and snuggled back to sleep. the man that talked about trips and plans a year from now, talked about children. this man was doing the same for another woman, or women. saying the same things, doing the same things. there was nothing special about me. my biggest fear. “what could i have done?” i asked him, holding my tears back. i wasn’t going to let him do this to me. “nothing,” he said, shaking his head, “you’re perfect.” clearly, i wasn’t.

[sparrow-flies-south]

I Can’t Decide (Whether You Should Live Or Die)

Title: I Can’t Decide (Whether You Should Live Or Die) Pairings: Romantic Thomceit Warnings: Attempted murder, Attempted murder, a couple of references to implied child abuse, a character deliberately attempting to trigger someones allergy (as a murder attempt), reference to torture. Summary: Deceit is one of the best assassins in the business. So assassinating Thomas Sanders should not be difficult - except Thomas seems to have the amazing ability to happen to escape from death.And the longer it takes Deceit to kill Thomas, the less sure he is that he even wants to.

Notes: Happy Birthday Janus!! This fic is complete as a first draft, I plan to update weekly as I edit chapters.

My Masterpost   Read on AO3

Thomas Sanders is going to die.

There is a folder on the table with his name on it. Deceit picks it up and flips through it – Thomas’ address, family history, information about his housemate, a man named Virgil Storm, and details of Thomas’ career on Vine and YouTube. He’ll do his own research later, and find out everything there is to know about the man. For now, he just needs to understand the job itself.

“The deadline is ten days,” says his handler, a woman that is all sharp angles. Her hair is tied back into a tight bun, and she dresses like she’s on her way to a board meeting.

To her face, everyone calls her ma’am, but most of the Agency also call her The Dragon. She encourages this nickname by never killing someone over it.

“Whatever will I do with the other nine days,” Deceit muses.

The Dragon doesn’t respond, which is probably better than what anyone else would face. Then again, she always has been fond of Deceit, ever since he was a kid.

“I’ll take it,” Deceit says, though that is a given.

The Dragon nods and leaves the room. Deceit flips back through the file – Thomas Sanders is a former Vine star turned YouTuber, he lives with a reclusive man named Virgil Storm, and he will be easy to kill.

It will be a subtle death, because if she wants something loud, the Dragon goes to the Duke. An accident, most likely, something very tragic. However he’ll end up doing it, Thomas Sanders’ fate is sealed.

*

Deceit looks Thomas up on the flight over, and watches some of his videos. He finds them funny enough. Thomas seems wholesome enough on them, but someone wants him dead.

He doesn’t have a safehouse in Thomas’ town, but he does know a hotel where people don’t ask too many questions, so he checks in there. He stays only long enough to put away his luggage – a single, carry on suitcase – and then goes to find Thomas’ house.

It’s a nice enough house on a nice enough street – the lawns are well kept, and he sees some of the neighbours talking to each other. There is only one car parked in Thomas’ drive, and from the file Deceit knows it’s Thomas’. There’s no visible alarm on the outside, and a number of windows that might make for easy access. He slips into the neighbour’s yard, and spots a backdoor to Thomas’ house.

There’s a house being renovated down the street from Thomas – for now, it looks empty. When Deceit breaks in, he finds a balcony that has a good view of Thomas’ house.

He spends the next day learning more about Thomas – he stakes out his house, and is able to follow Thomas to the nearest Starbucks around noon. From talking to people, he learns that this is the only real routine Thomas seems to have. He doesn’t see Storm at all that day, and from what he finds out, that isn’t unusual.

Thomas, they say, seems nice enough – if someone says hello to him, he’ll say hello back, even though none of his neighbours are exactly friends with him. Storm, on the other hand, they rarely see. And when they do see him, he usually keeps to himself, and is always wearing a pair of headphones.

The next day, Deceit shows up for his shift at Starbucks armed with a baggie of ground up peanuts, and the knowledge of Thomas’ medical history – including his serious peanut allergy. He’s there to fill in for a barrister that has come down with a terrible case of food poisoning. Really, she should have known better than to eat shrimp that he’s tampered with.

When Thomas arrives, the café is packed. Deceit gets handed a cup with Thomas’ name on it, and sets about making his venti iced vanilla Americano. It’s not the first time Deceit has works at a Starbucks as part of a mission; he has become very good at making drinks quickly, and even better at slipping crumbled peanuts into them when no one is looking.

Thomas is idling near the counter, today dressed in a leather jacket and sunglasses that he is still wearing indoors. Deceit catches his eye and holds out the drink.

“Thanks gurl,” Thomas says as he is given the drink, a far cry from how he speaks in his videos. He takes a swing and pulls a face. “Hey, uh, I think you got my order wrong?”

Deceit fixes a smile on his face. Based on the hospital report from the last time Thomas had a reaction, it won’t take much to kill him. A single swig might be enough.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he says.

Thomas turns the drink around and squints at the cup. “Yeah, this isn’t mine,” he says, pointing at where Thomas is written in loose handwriting. “My name is Remy?”

What.

Thomas – another Thomas comes up to the counter. “Oh, hey, I think that was mine?” he says.

“Right,” Deceit says. “My apologies. Let me remake that for you.”

“I’ll do it,” Kate, another barrister working with him, says. “I need you to get more cups from the back.”

Kate could easily do that, but Ethan Gold, Starbuck barrister, wouldn’t argue. So he just says, “Of course,” and walks away from the counter, while Thomas’ drink is made correctly.

By the time he gets out, Thomas is leaving, talking on the phone as he goes.

“So we’ll meet at your place at noon? Cool, I’ll see you there. Bye, Lee.”

*

Lee and his wife, Mary Lee lives a ten minutes’ drive away from Thomas. Seeing then seems to be so important to Thomas, that Deceit will do what he can to make sure Thomas gets to it as fast as possible.

So, when it’s late enough that the lights in Thomas’ house has gone off, and he’s certain the neighbours view of Thomas’ drive will be blocked by the fence, he crawls under Thomas’ car and cuts the breaks.

The house renovation makes a very good place to watch Thomas drive off from, so the next day that’s where he is. He perches beside a pile of bricks, close enough to the glass balcony door to see out of it, but where he’s not likely to be spotted. Usually, he would stay at the hotel and wait for the news, but Deceit isn’t willing to take any chances with Thomas Sanders.

Except the minutes tick by, and Thomas’ car doesn’t move. Thomas had said around noon, but it is half twelve now, and the car is still there. He wonders if Thomas decided to walk, or if he caught the bus instead, when he sees someone leave Thomas’ house.

Deceit goes to the balcony that overlooks the street to get a better look, and sure enough, it is Thomas, not Virgil Storm. Deceit watches him walk towards the car – he’ll only watch long enough for Thomas to drive off, there’s no way of telling when an accident will happen, after all – and right passed it, and onto the street.

Oh, you have to be kidding him. Thomas seems completely unconcerned as he walks closer to Deceit’s hiding place, and part of him wants to go down there and demand to know what Thomas is doing.

With a snarl of frustration, Deceit grabs one of the bricks and hurls it at the pavement where Thomas is – or rather, at the pavement a few inches to the left of where Thomas is. Thomas jumps where the brick hits the asphalt, and Deceit ducks back inside the house so he won’t be seen.

That was an extremely stupid move – Deceit had thought he’d grown past fits of rage, but apparently not. Still, when he peers out again Thomas is gone, so perhaps he’ll chalk it to another accident.

Deceit, however, is done with accidents.

*

Breaking into Thomas’ house is easy – all Deceit needs to do is pick the locks on his door and disable the burglar alarms. Honestly – anyone could just walk in. Maybe he’ll leave Virgil recommendations for some decent security.

Deceit barely spares a glance to Thomas’ kitchen and living room before making his way up the stairs. It’s late – almost three am, and the whole house is in darkness.

Upstairs, there are three doors opening off the corridor. The one in the middle is slightly ajar, and Deceit can see that it’s a bathroom. Another door leads to a room at the front of the house – from being able to see through the windows, he knows this is Thomas’. The third door must lead to Virgil’s room – through the crack at the bottom, he can see the glow of lights on inside.

Deceit opens Thomas’ door slowly, taking care not to make any noise, and when it is open just wide enough for Deceit to fit, he slips in, and shuts the door behind him.

Thomas is sat on his bed, his headphones on and his laptop in front of him. The glow of the screen lights up the moment Thomas looks up and sees him, the way Thomas’ eyes widen in shock and fear.

Deceit is already moving before Thomas begins to open his mouth to scream, and so he is able to tackle Thomas onto the bed and cover his mouth with a hand before any sound can come out. Damn it, Thomas is supposed to be asleep. Who the hell is up at three am?

Thomas struggles, hands clawing at Deceit’s own, and legs kicking wildly. He manages to catch his laptop and send it flying off the bed. It hits the floor with a loud thud. Deceit pushes himself onto the bed, and uses his knees to pin Thomas’ legs in place.

He’d been planning to use a pillow to smother him, but fortunately he also has a knife with him. Thomas is still scratching at Deceits hand, so he can use the other one to pull out the knife. Behind him, something pounds across the floor, and there’s the sound of a door hitting a wall when it’s thrown open.

Deceit is able to turn his head just in time to see the vase coming towards him.

The impact sends him falling pack against the bed, dazed.

“What the fuck!?” Virgil shouts, at the same time as Thomas cries, “You killed him!”

Deceit tries to get his hands under him, tries to push himself up, when Storm says, “Oh, fuck that,” and something collides with his head again, this time sending him careening into darkness.

*

The ropes are the first thing he notices.

He keeps his eyes closed, keeps his breathing slow and even, and listens to the footsteps pacing around the room. This isn’t the first time he’s been caught during a mission – it’s happened twice before. The first time had been easy enough to escape and finish the job, but the second had taken him days. When he finally had escaped, he’d almost bled out before he reached the safe house.

This time will almost certainly end up like the first.

“Shouldn’t he be awake by now?” someone asks. “Shit, I think I gave him brain damage.”

“He’s probably fine,” says a second voice. “I’m sure he’ll wake up soon.”

“Great!” hisses the first voice. “That means he’s going to wake up and kill us!”

…Definitely like the first.

It would, admittedly, be easiest to pretend to be asleep until one or both of them left the room. That would give him a chance to get out of the chair, kill Thomas, and then decide if he wants to kill Virgil, too.

But no one has ever caused him this much trouble before, not even the people who were expecting him. He’s curious.

So he makes a show of groaning and raising his head, of waking up slowly. He tugs against his restraints, more for show than everything, though it does give him a chance to make not of the amount of give in them. Rope is woven around his chest and arms, and then more has been used to secure his wrists.

Virgil is at the edge of the room, arms crossed and glowering. Thomas stands between Virgil and Deceit, eyes wide, looking as if he hadn’t actually expected Deceit to wake up.

“Uh, hi,” Thomas says. “Sorry about the tying you to a chair thing, but in our defence, you did try to kill us.”

Deceit doesn’t reply. He’s able to twist his hands to loosen the rope slightly.

Thomas falters. “How’s your head?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?” Thomas asks. “Virgil hit you pretty hard. We could get you some ice for it?”

Deceit isn’t sure why Thomas is asking that, but he still nods. He’s curious about what Thomas is going to do now that he thinks Deceit is at his mercy.

“Right! Yeah, I can get that,” Thomas says. He turns to Virgil, who’s scowl somehow grows even darker.

“Fuck no,” Virgil snaps. “I’m not taking my eyes off him.”

“Fine,” Thomas says. “I’ll get it. Just- stay here?”

And then Thomas leaves the room. He must be either stupider than Deceit realised, or far more cunning than Deceit was prepared for.

If Deceit is going to be hurt, this is where it will happen, while it’s just him and Virgil. Then Thomas can deny knowing about it, can build up Deceit’s trust in him.

Virgil stays where he is, watching Deceit so intently he doesn’t seem to blink.

“Have you called the police?” Deceit asks.

Virgil jumps at Deceit’s voice; unsurprising, considering how tightly wound he is. “Of course we did,” he snaps. “We’re just waiting for them to get here.”

Meaning there’s a time limit on how long he has to escape.

“What the fuck were you doing, anyway?” Virgil asks.

“I thought that was obvious,” Deceit says. “I’m trying to kill Thomas.”

“Why would you want to kill Thomas?”

Virgil sounds like the idea honestly makes no sense to him. Deceit just shrugs.

Virgil mutters something under his breath but doesn’t speak again, apparently content to just watch in silence. Or not content, considering the look on his face. It isn’t long before Deceit can hear Thomas’ footsteps up the stairs, and then Thomas appears, carrying an ice pack in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“Jesus Christ,” Virgil mutters, eyeing the water.

Thomas shrugs sheepishly. “I thought he might be thirsty?”

“He just tried to kill you!” Virgil snaps. “You don’t worry about whether the person who tried to kill you is thirsty!”

If someone speaks like that at the Agency, it’s usually a good sign that violence is on the way, and you should start apologising before it’s too late. Thomas doesn’t seem bothered, though.

“Do you want it?” he asks.

Deceit shakes his head. He’s not stupid, there’s no way he’s going to accept anything from someone he’s just tried to murder. He might as well eat arsenic – it would cut out the middle man.

“Okay,” Thomas says. He steps closer. “Uh, I’m not sure how the ice pack will work. Maybe we can put it between your head and your shoulder?”

Deceit nods, and lets Thomas come closer, closer still. He places the water on the ground, and then reaches with the ice pack, and Deceit launches himself off the chair.

He keeps hold of the ropes as he tackles Thomas to the floor. He stands up quickly, and then turns to Virgil. As he suspected, Virgil is already lunging for Deceit’s knife, now placed on the night stand. He’s able to get there first, and he hits Virgil in the face. Virgil staggers back, and Deceit uses the distraction to throw him to the floor.

Virgil snarls and tries to stand up, but Deceit pins him and loops the rope around his hands. He drags Virgil across the room and ties the rest of the rope to the leg of the desk.

“Stop,” Thomas shouts, and suddenly he’s there, right next to Deceit, the guy who’s trying to kill him. “Don’t hurt him, please.”

Deceit turns, and Thomas backs away a few paces until his back hits the wall. His eyes are shiny with fear.

“We won’t tell anyone who you are, I swear,” Thomas babbles.

Deceit takes a step closer to Thomas. Behind him, Virgil spits, “Don’t you fucking dare.” Deceit can hear him struggling against the rope.

Thomas is here, in front of him, and alone. There’s nothing stopping Deceit, no lucky escapes this time. All Deceit has to do is grab the knife and stab him, or strangle him, or bludgeon him with something.

But he doesn’t want to.

A hundred kills and this one makes him hesitate, because – what? Because of an ice pack and a glass of water that is probably drugged? Because he’s seen some of Thomas’ vines and they made him laugh?

Deceit doesn’t hesitate. The training he’s had since he was a child has seen to that.

Something is wrong. He needs to regroup, figure out what’s happened and how to change it.

“Stay here,” Deceit orders, and Thomas nods. He doesn’t look relieved, not yet. “If you try to follow me, I’ll kill you. And then I’ll come back and kill him, too.”

Thomas’ breath hitches and he nods again. Behind him, Virgil goes silent. Neither speak as Deceit leaves the room.

When he’s halfway across the living room he hears movement upstairs, and stills, but then there’s nothing except for hushed voices from above, speaking too quiet for Deceit to hear.

He doesn’t look back as he leaves the house. He’ll kill Thomas tomorrow.

[baconcheeseburger]

Dance in the kitchen like nobody is watching

Summary: The Winchester brothers have been away on hunts for a long time and you decide to cook for them on the day they come back to the bunker. They are arriving sooner than you thought and Dean find’s you dancing in the kitchen.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: language?, fluff-ish

Word count: 1123

A/N: Please bear with me for any mistakes in grammar and spelling, english isn’t my native language. Feel free to correct me though, I’m eager to improve my english skills!

With swinging hips you walked out of your room while you shoved your phone into the back-pocket of your jeans. You've put your favorite playlist on, blasting it through your headphones. Your lips moved to the lyrics like you were singing along.

Even though you were still alone at the bunker you wanted to use your headphones. Sure, you could just play your music through the speakers but that just didn't really do it for you. You liked your music loud and near. Your eardrums would surely thank you sometime in the future for that, but for now you didn't really care.

On the way to the kitchen you danced through the corridor, a big smile on your lips. Today was a good day. A really good one.

You had a brunch-date with Charlie in the morning, you petted a lot of cats on your supply-run earlier and Sam and Dean would finally come back from their hunting-marathon later in the evening.

Excitement flooded through you. You haven't seen the Winchesters for two months. They had been on cases nonstop. You had to stay behind because of a dislocated knee and Dean thought it would be better for your health if you set this one out, even though you were pretty much ready to hunt again.

“Plus, it's a simple salt 'n burn, Y/N. We'll torch that son of a bitch and be back in two days. Tops”, he said while ruffling your hair. His typical smirk on his lips. Pouting, you watched them leave. Dean was so overprotective some times...

Yeah, well, the case wasn't as simple as they first thought. Then there was a rugaru ripping people apart some towns away, a werwolf pack going on a rampage a few states over and some demons who had a little too much fun with the insides of a neighborhood. Just to name a few...

You could only imagine how exhausted Sam and Dean had to be. When the older Winchester had called a few hours ago to let you know they were coming home, he had sounded awfully tired.

Stepping into the kitchen you immediately headed to the fridge. You figured you'd cook dinner for them, they'd be hungry for sure. Searching though the fridge, you settled to stick with your previous idea: burgers, salad for Sam and a homemade cherry pie for dessert to top it of.

You danced through the kitchen, throwing all the ingredients together. Cooking has always been your hobby. With music it was even more fun. You were totally in your zone.

By the time the pie was ready you were almost done with the burger patties. There were only a handful left to cook.

A look at the clock told you that Sam and Dean should be back in about an hour at best. If Dean wasn't giving a shit about the speed limit like always, they could even arrive in about half an hour. Enough time to get everything ready.

You opened the oven door and pull out the pie. It's sweet scent immediately filled the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, you groaned. It looked and smelled mouthwatering.

The patties frizzled in the pan and mixed with the smell of the pie. Damn, you hadn't been hungry before but now you definitely were. You couldn't wait for the brothers to be back so you could taste this masterpiece of a meal.

After the meat was done you put it into the oven to keep them warm.

Your all-time favorite song started playing and you pushed the louder-button until it was at it's limit and started singing along. You moved even more, spinning around and swaying  your arms and head to the rhythm. Your hair flew around your head and into your face, but it didn't annoy you enough to care and pull it back to put it into a bun or so.

In the meanwhile you put everything else for the burgers – cheese, salad, tomatoes and such – on separate plates, preparing them to place them on the table. Everything else was ready. The salad was already finished and the burger buns were cut open and toasted.

You took the dishes in your hands and spinned around to start setting the table, still dancing to the rhythm of the music.

You were almost at the table when you realized there was someone standing in the door. You raised your eyes and saw Dean leaning against the doorframe, smirking at you.

“Oh fuck!”, you exclaimed startled, almost dropping the plates you were holding. You set them down fast and pulled the headphones from your ears.

With a quick look you scanned him for any injuries, but the only wounds he had were some scratches.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you”, he replied. Dean's lips curved even higher. You could tell that sorry was the last thing he was feeling. “You didn't hear me call out your name so I figured I'd wait until you notice me.”

“Damn, Dean you almost gave me a heart attack!” You smiled at him none the less and turned around to get the rest of the food.

“I love to come home to the smell of your pie. Best pie in the world. Have I ever told you that, sweetheart?”, he asked and you were glad that you had your back turned at him so he didn't see you blush at his compliment and the nickname.

“No, I don't think you did”, you answered and bend down to pull the patties out of the oven.

You could hear him chuckle and you tried to concentrate on the burger patties. Damn, this man did things to you without trying and he didn't even knew it.

He put his dufflebag on the floor and walked over to you to help you with the rest of the food.

It didn't take long for Sam to appear in the kitchen as well, settling down at the table. He even prepared a burger for himself on his plate. Wow, the last two months really had to be hard on him if he was going to eat a burger.

The boys set down and started to eat, while you were cutting the pie.

“Damn, this is to die for”, Sam beamed after taking a bite of his burger – one of the really rare occasions he would eat anything else than rabbit food – followed by a fork full of salad. “Thank you for cooking Y/N.”

You smiled at him. “My pleasure”, you answered. “And I'm glad you two came back in one piece”, you commented and set down as well.

Dean swallowed and affirmed smiling: “Always, sweetheart.”