#That refrains Sometimes the world has a load of questions Seems like the world knows nothing at all

[vickivalentineart]

The Great Curve

Happy Pi Day! And happy late birthday to @harvscarf/@thedandy-detective Funny how my falling back into love with Gravity Falls almost coincided with your birthday! But hey! It all worked out since I was to fit a thematically appropriate holiday into the piece instead!

As a bonus here's an alt and the clean sketch that somehow became the finished piece in less than a day!

Happy late birthday you Dandy. And happy late birthday to one of the best character reveals of all time.

[elionwriter]

MY FAV STAR WARS COUPLE DYNAMICS:

(for the sake of this post let's all just pretend no one dies, ok?)

Anakin - Padme: their relationship started with pure drama and really bad, corny pick up lines and it just goes on that way. Even when they are happily exiled on Naboo with their children and everyone knows about them, whenever they talk about their love or tell the story to Luke and Leia it's always with the tones of a 'larger than life situation'. Obviously Anakin is the drama queen who really pushes it (and is still salty he had to give up his title as Jedi Master) but Padme fell for him when he did the whole whiny speech about sand and married him, she secretly supports this s***t! 😝

Han - Leia: bickering is their love language. Screaming to impose supremacy is their flirting. The thing is, they never bicker for serious stuff, because they actually agree on what matters and get along as a couple, it's the principle of things! Sometimes a friend of Ben overhears them and goes 😱 "I'm really sorry for intruding on this, pal. Will your parents be alright?" And Ben with the calmest expression will answer "They literally do this all the time". It's the silence that's worriesome. When Leia is just too tired to keep fighting after hours of doing so with politicians, when Han doesn't bother to stay to face the argument and just hops on the Falcon again, THAT'S when they realise they are falling out. So they push duty and lust for adventure aside to go back spending quality time together and patching things up. Sure enough, the bickering starts again and Ben is like "😌 aaah everything is fine again".

Din - Luke: they are the picture perfect couple. They literally never argue, at best they poke eachother when one of the two does something the other doesn't entirely agree on. They have each other's back in any instance, support every choice and are there for backup when others want a fight or have something to say either on Din's leadership or Luke's approach to the Jedi code and teachings. It took them forever to actually get together because they acted like shy teenagers on their first crush and Leia, Han and Cara had to practically push them into each other's arms, but once they got there they were solid a couple as a rock. Others look at them and think they are either disgustingly mushy or still in a 'honeymoon face', because NO ONE has such a stress-free marriage. Din and Luke truly don't get what the fuss and all the drama's about. So even though they end up practically parenting the space version of the kids from 'Cheaper by the dozen' they act like parental figures to their friends as well. Life as Manda'lor and the Reviver of the Jedi order can be hell, but together they are just balanced like that and can face everything! They even create a new co-op fighting style for Jedi/Mandalorians that becomes the terror and amazement of the Galaxy for centuries to come!😌😏💪

Kannan - Hera: very similar to Dinluke except they do at times have some small moments of tension because Hera is a fighter to the core and Kannan can't help but wonder if the battle will ever truly end. But his queen's passion and resolve is so bright and steeled that he can't help but fall in love a little more every time and follow, knowing it's the right thing to do. They have an example to set for their son, after all. Kannan will absolutely love Jacen and will introduce Ezra to his son (once Sabine and Ashoka bring him back) as his older brother. Much like when he trained Ezra or faced Sabine, Kannan will sometimes doubt himself and wonder if he's acting like a good parent to Jacen. Hera will smile and reassure him, describing to him the bright and happy smile on their son's face or how Jecen's nose scrunches and his long, greenish ears wiggle in delight whenever Kannan plays with him or cuddles him. As Hera says so, Kannan holds her and feels like he can actually see it too.

Sabine - Ezra: After Ezra is brought back to his family from wherever or whatever happened to him after facing Thrawn, both of them will just indulge in sudden hugs or touches to make sure the other is actually there. Of course, they first think of their bond as a solid friendship and camaraderie, because that's what it was when they left off. The extra touching is just the response to being apart for so long and being worried for each other. But then Sabine notices that Ezra actually looks really good with long hair and the scruffy beard he grew out. She catches herself thinking of how warm and safe if feels in his arms and mentally kicks herself because she's a Mandalorian, all she should need is a loaded blaster to feel safe. Ezra, on the other hand, starts playing with Sabine's hair when complimenting her new dye and suddenly finds himself cupping her face like it's the most natural thing in the world. Long story short, they fall for eachother hard and become the prototype of the couple "my boyfriend/girlfriend is my best friend". When they are comfortable with their new status, Ezra goes back flirting dorkishly with her like he did all those years back when they first met and Sabine will tease him by shooting his advances down.

Ashoka - Bo Katan: joke's on Bo-katan for cringing back in the day at her sister's relationship with a Jedi. She thought destiny or the force or whatever was really messing with her when she realized that her rival and pupil, Din Djarin, the new leader of Mandalorians was also falling helplessly in love with a Jedi (Obi-Wan's student nonetheless). When she hears Sabine Wren and her Jedi boy also got together she stops questioning it. The thing is that she herself has been inexplicably, undeniably charmed and hooked to a Jedi for years now. The very same Jedi she had teased didn't have enough booty, what felt like a lifetime prior. But she's Bo-Katan, she can be in angry denial about anything. Ashoka, on the other hand, has seen and has been conditioned too much on what attachment does to a Jedi, even if she doesn't consider herself one anymore. So, even if the chemistry between them and the long lingering stares are real, their love is always kept a quiet, unspoken thing. Whenever they call eachother "my old friend" they know they actually mean more, but leave it at that. Everyone around them can't help wondering 'are they a thing or...?!' but they never feed the theories and gossip. They know what they are and mean for each other when they are alone in the same room, talking about the past or what must be done in the future and Ashoka's mere presence is enough to cool down the ever-present burning rage inside of Bo. Meanwhile, the other can't help but admire how single minded and devoted to her people and culture the Mandalorian princess is, how she never gave up on them, despite everything. They smile softly at each other, then one of them breaks the spell by leaving. They go back to their own business and life untill destiny or the force or whatever brings them back into eachother's orbit.

Revan - Carth: normally they act very much like Leia and Han with the bickering and teasing bit but then Revan has one of her memories returning or is haunted by how she basically condemned her lifelong best friend Malak to a terrible death and Carth instantly does a 180° shift becoming the most caring, comforting and tender partner. She'll hide into his chest until the crisis in over. Sometimes it can go on for days and Revan is oh, so grateful of how patient and good Carth is to her. Then, at times, Carth is the one burying his head in her chest and she's the one doing the tender, hair strokes. Carth needs a lot of reassuring and might get upset and fret over even what appears to be a trivial thing. He's trying to heal and get better but the long, long years of solitude, hurt and paranoia are hard to iron down. Expecially when Carth seems to have an instinct that puts a Jedi to shame, foreseeing a crisis neither she nor Bastila had picked up. But he is making an effort to improve and she's proud of him, even as he tries very clumsily to patch things up with his son Dustil. She doesn't really step in that matter more than she has to, since Dustil is clearly not happy nor comfortable with the idea of them being together yet. Carth will sometimes open his heart to her and say something deeply meaningful on how he wants her to stay ( when she looks particularly haunted and about to leave without a work of warning) and be happy but does so with such awkward word choices that Revan just cannot refrain from laughing at his face and making puns. It's at this point that the back and forth teasing resumes. There is no denying they are still deeply wounded individuals and they are at their best when their friends are there to lighten the mood and show love to the both of them. Because they could easily go down the path of drama like Anakin and Padme but they choose the Ebon Hawk crew shenanigans instead.

Obi Wan - Satine: their love is stored in the memory of that glorious time they spent together in their youth. A moment in which no responsibility or sense of honor could keep them from giving in to that feeling of want and need for each other. It's a love that never truly went away, never left space for anyone else, but it never fully grew and bloomed either. So years down the line, that's what it is for Obi-Wan, a pleasant memory. He would never change how things went afterwards, but he wouldn't give up those memories and feelings for anything in the world. Satine feels the same, mostly. There are nights that she falls asleep wondering what could have been if only she had talked up at the decisive moment and dreams of a life spent together with Obi-Wan. But when she wakes up, she sobers up and goes back to her things. It's when she looks at her Korkie smile and notices how resembling to his secret father he is that she is truly at peace. She managed to keep a peace of Obi-Wan in her life.

Cal - Merrin: I have no idea for this one, but just stop and consider the possible 'nightsisters babies' though! Wouldn't they be the cutest things ever?! 😀

Sorry Cara Dune, you just haven't met the woman of your life yet. 😔

Also, I kinda like Zeb and Callus too but I don't really ship them enough to add them here, you know? Anyway I'm sure they make a lovely couple.

[delusion-of-negation]

top 10 (ish) ridiculous or annoying FAQs:

(click at your own discretion)

1) "kids today rely on others to do everything"

ah yes, damn those participation trophies! if it wasn't for them my hands wouldn't be fucked, and I wouldn't need people to write for me. but seriously, stop reading boomer comics, and go outside to meet some actual young people.

2) "sus that a non-american says mom"

yeah, because it's clearly the superior version, and I'm not too patriotic to concede a defeat.

3) "sweaty, the victims of abuse by catholics are real people, stop appropriating their pain just because you want to hate catholics; plus teachers abuse people just as often anyway"

so firstly, I don't hate anybody. and secondly, regarding the fact that victims really do exist, [insert "of course I know him, he's me" meme here]; although I don't often talk much about the abuse I went through or what my religious beliefs are. but, more importantly, statements like "survivors are people" can be phrased like "some people are survivors", and when you're unable to act according to the latter (like when you don't even consider that somebody might be one) then you display a failure to recognise the former - you're projecting; a survivor can't be appropriating their own pain, but you can be appropriating it to silence one. and thirdly, teachers do abuse - the problem isn't and has never been purely religion, rather that abuse is often done by somebody in a position of trust, power, and familiarity; and that the lack of a global minimum enables totally legal abuse on top of the illegal stuff. people with access and respect have more opportunity to abuse than those without, and that goes for teachers too. but, once again, you can be appropriating the pain of survivors to deflect and silence people. please remember this before you say that shit.

4) "get help/therapy"

way ahead of you - years ahead of you. but it's not magic - people who say this often act as if you'll start behaving differently overnight. not only are some things simply beyond the ability of talking therapy to completely rectify, it also takes time and has to be selective. you've got to pick your priorities, and that's definitely not whatever ship or joke you're mad at me about today. therapy is a slow, arduous process that can't guarantee results - it isn't "anti-recovery" to recognise that, it's honesty. while I've been in therapy for a long time, it is not necessarily going to change whatever you don't like about me - whether that's because it can't, because my focus now is on more important or urgent things, or because I don't want to change that.

5a) "tell your family you ship incest, see how that goes; normal people find it disgusting"

actually, some know, and they're fine with it. in fact, one prefers sibling pairings in fiction to all other dynamics because, to paraphrase, "it's a deeper level of messed up co-dependence". so unfortunately for you, my remaining family (by which I mean those not dead or cut out of my life after abuse and so forth) actually are able to distinguish between fiction and reality. plus, my reasoning for caring if they find it gross or not pertains only to recommending books and such - their opinions do not dictate my tastes.

5b) "don't sexualise/appropriate incestuous abuse" and "I bet you enjoyed being raped" and other attempts to upset me over 5a

firstly, as I've already said here, survivors can't be appropriating ourselves. in addition, you're not owed people's history or trauma - it's not okay to require people's personal information, or else you'll send anon hate and accusations of appropriation. secondly, I'm not sexualising our abuse (not just because I write horror, and so a lot of my writing is intended to be creepy, not sexy); these stories aren't about us, they're not us at all. entire dynamics/people (fictional or otherwise) aren't all going to be applicable to us or identical to us, just because they have something in common with us; they're not us and they're not accountable to us. thirdly, the fact that people send this stuff (attempting to trigger people's trauma over ships) is so much more worrying to me than somebody making our communal imaginary friends kiss. you're trying to hurt people. and finally, to the "I bet you enjoyed it" crowd (if you're at all serious): do you think you'd enjoy being in a real zombie apocalypse, alone, afraid, and really at risk of being eaten alive? a fictional scenario does not feel remotely the same as a real one. this isn't rocket science - things that look like you aren't you; fiction isn't reality; don't send anon hate. (edit: comparable "just leave me alone, I'm not hurting anyone" sentiments for yandere stuff, and anything else you decide I'm naughty for.)

6) "you'll be sent off to do manual labour once your communist revolution happens"

while I don't know why people think that I'm a communist, a dictatorial regime probably isn't going to want me to do manual labour. they're more likely to just shoot me; I'm useless and a liability. call me crazy, but something tells me that "ah yes, we shall give ze deranged cripple ze power tools" isn't the communist position.

7a) "they/them can't be singular pronouns"

yes they can, and they're used as such in both shakespeare and the bible. but you don't have to say this - I'm also okay with he/him, so you could've just used those and chilled out. also, do I look like somebody who views the rules of grammar as fully immutable and imperative?

7b) "enbies/aros/pan/etc aren't valid"

do you really think that you're going to change any hearts or minds by putting that in my ask box or under my funny maymays? chill out, it's not worth the effort - you could be planning a party (in minecraft) and having fun instead. it isn't worth my time to rant at everybody who's saying something isn't valid, updating how I'm explaining it as my opinions grow and general discourse around it evolves; I'm just who I am, somebody else is who they are - why bicker in presumptuous ways about if that's enough? it ultimately is valid, in my opinion, but that isn't an invitation to keep demanding that I debate. (edit: old posts of mine probably don't phrase things incredibly, on this or anything... I tried.)

8) "what are your politics?"

my politics are informed first and foremost by the knowledge that I'm not cut out to be some kind of leader - I don't want to be the guy who tells everyone else what to do, I just offer what seem to me like valid criticisms of how we are doing things now, and general pointers on the values and ethics that I would prefer to move towards. things like individual freedom, taking the most pacifist route where possible, trying not to give excessive power to small groups of people (governments or corporations), helping those in need even when they're not palatable, and letting me suck loads of dicks. but please refrain from decreeing me something - there's not enough information in what I said, so you'll just be filling in the blanks with assumptions. (edit: workplace democracy seems cool to me; benefits are good; fair fines and taxes; and the "sperm makes you loopy" saga: 1, 2, 3, and 4.)

9) "you're a narcissist"

no, I don't meet the diagnostic criteria. joking on the internet that you're hot doesn't make a person a narcissist. the fact that I've chosen to keep my actual self-esteem issues to myself is not proof that they don't exist - you're just not entitled to that information about me. but it's also not narcissism to really like how you look. (edit: don't throw labels around carelessly too.)

10a) "kin list?"

the fabric of the universe, a zombie, dionysus, maned wolf/arctic fox hybrid, a comedian, big gay, big rock, ambiguously partial insincerity. (edit: kin list may or may not be incomplete.)

10b) "kin isn't valid/that's just being insane"

haven't we established that I'm deranged, and that sending stuff like this on anon is simply a waste of your precious time? besides, I do not care if it's invalid or insane - it's fun, I'm happy. (edit: see 7b for my opinion on sending me yet another ask with "that's invalid" in it; I'm not in the mood to discuss the nature of validity.)

bonus: "it gets better" and "trigger list?"

as I've said before, things just don't always get better for everyone - sometimes things can't be cured or even treated, sometimes they kill you; in some cases it could get better if not for a blockade or lack of time. the world is messy. it needs to be more normalised to reassure or comfort people without relying on saying that their issue will get better or be cured. it does suck to be this ill, but it also sucks to be made out to be a lazy pessimist, just because I have the audacity to not play along. and as for the trigger list, I don't like providing people with an easily accessed list of ways to hurt my feelings or harm me - upsetting me is supposed to be challenging, and thus rewarding. if you want a cheat sheet then you're out of luck, I'm afraid.

bonus #2: "FAQ stands for frequently asked questions, it doesn't need that s at the end!"

yeah, I know, I just enjoy chaos and disarray.

bonus #3 (edit): "what are your disabilities and how exactly are they incurable and/or deadly?"

again, I don't tell the internet everything about me, especially when it poses a risk, especially not as an easily accessible list for you to refer back to whenever you feel inclined to hurt my feelings. that is understandably a sore subject. (edit: that includes physical health issues btw.)

bonus #4 (edit): "so we shouldn't be critical?"

if it wasn't clear from my answer about politics or my post in general, you can have opinions about things, and you can voice that. it's just not realistic to exist at extremes: to think that you alone should dictate what exists in fiction, or to think that people shouldn't be expressing disdain or criticism of any calibur. say how you feel about things, that's fine, but it's also fine if people find that they don't value your input. plus we're all flawed, we can all be hypocritical from time to time, we all get bitchy, and we all make mistakes, or even knowingly fuck things up. that's important to keep in mind, whether we're talking about the one being criticised or the one doing the criticising - poor choices of words, imperfect tone, or contradictory ideas are inevitably going to happen occasionally.

congrats on reaching the end! if you have, at any point, said one of these to me, you owe a hug to your nearest loved one (once it's safe).

edit: might add more links/bonus points in the future when I think of things, but it's late now. (sorry for links where prior notes in the thread have my old url, that may get a tad confusing; also, not all links are my blog or my op, since it is to illustrate points/vibes, not to self-promo.)

[xbaepsae]

can you blame me | part one

“You feel guilty for many reasons. You’re guilty for making your best friend question your loyalty. You’re guilty for not telling him about your new job. You’re guilty for every thought you’ve had about Taehyung because you know that it would kill Jeongguk if he knew.”

[american football player!taehyung x reader feat. best friend!jeongguk]

genre: slight rivals to lovers!au, high school football!au, angsty-ish

word count: 9.1k

rating: pg-13

a/n: i loved writing the first part of this fic so much! i also really love the whole football player x cheerleader trope (even though i am not athletic at all lol). already can’t wait for you guys to know what happens next. enjoy! xoxo

This feeling never gets old.

Maybe it’s the crowd, or the stadium lights—or even the brisk late summer air; all you know is, Friday night football is exhilarating. For as long as you can remember, you’ve breathed this sport. Your father had football playing on the television every weekend of your childhood; and when you picked up cheerleading in middle school, the sport became a part of you.

Of course, you still don’t understand every play the team makes, but you don’t need to. Your job is to cheer your players on—especially the one with the tousled, dark hair and bright eyes.

Jeon Jeongguk also picked up football around the same time you did cheer. Your father was ecstatic to know your best friend loved the sport equally as much. You can’t even recall the amount of times your father has pulled the boy aside to talk plays. After all, Jeongguk was the quarterback and team captain of the high school football team, and your father always wanted a breakdown of their plays.

Sometimes, you wonder who the real best friend is. But as you feel his eyes search for yours on the field, your position is secure.

You’ve known Jeongguk since diaper days. Since your mothers grew up best friends, it only seemed natural for the two of you to become close. Also, your birthdays aren’t far apart; so, there were many shared childhood celebrations.

Now that you’re thinking about it, you can’t imagine your life without the boy. Obviously, everyone thinks the two of you should date. It would be something organic since he’s the quarterback and you’re head cheerleader. Actually, it would be kind of perfect—like destiny. However, the thought of being in that kind of relationship with him repulses you. Thankfully, Jeongguk feels the same way.

You continue to feel his gaze penetrate your peripheral. Normally, you would look; but you’re searching for someone too.

On the other side of the field, your heart stutters for half a beat when you see him. Kim Taehyung is turned away from you, but you make out the number on his uniform—and all his glory. You wouldn’t say you like him; after all, you don’t really know Taehyung at all. However, despite this, you can’t deny your fascination with him. Plus, you’ve stalked his Instagram account enough to know he is so your type.

Unfortunately, your mild fantasy falls short when you feel a hand wrap around your arm.

“Earth to my best friend.”

You would know the grip anywhere. “Yes, Jeongguk?”

“You’ve been spacy all day. What’s wrong?” he asks, and you finally turn to face him. His helmet’s off, and sweat’s dripping down his forehead.

“Nothing,” you offer a smile. “Just excited for the rest of game, that’s all.” It was halftime.

He smiles. “Yeah, we’re going to crush the other team. We’re already ahead by a touchdown.”

Looking at Jeongguk, you search his eyes. It was one thing to dislike a team that rivaled your own, but you knew that your best friend’s hatred extended far beyond that. You don’t remember when or where it began, but he and Taehyung couldn’t stand one another. It was kind of funny, considering they both attended the same football summer camp for four summers.

If no one knew it before, it became obvious that they hated one another freshman year. It was Kim Taehyung’s school homecoming, so your team was playing on his turf. Maybe it was the advantage of playing at home, but they won. However, no one ever talks about the win. If anyone asks about that homecoming game, the only thing talked about is the fight between Taehyung and Jeongguk.

No one at your school talks about it though—at least, no one is supposed to. There is speculation as to who started the fight first, and what it was even about, but no one knows. The only people that know are the two who participated. It’s been three years, but Jeongguk still won’t tell you what actually happened.

Although the game was a bust, there was some good that happened. After all, it was the first time you had a good look at Kim Taehyung in person. Prior to that game, you had only heard about him from Jeongguk. And everything he said about Taehyung had been bullshit because when you saw him play, he was amazing.

Like Jeongguk, Taehyung is also the quarterback. In a way, you can understand their hatred. You don’t know what the root of it all is, but you know that it must suck for them to be constantly compared.

“If we win—which we will—party at Hoseok’s house,” Jeongguk continues, which brings you out of your mini daydream.

“Again?” you mock-roll your eyes.

He laughs, “What? His parents are fucking loaded, and they’re out of town again. It’s not like I make him host—he wants to.”

“I’m just teasing. I like Hoseok’s house anyway,” you say. “But the real question is, are you going to get wasted and crash there? Or get wasted and I drive you home?”

“I’ll just crash there,” he says with a shrug, “but thanks for the offer anyway. Why don’t you just sleep over too?”

You stare at him with a raised brow. “Uh, I can’t just sleep over with a bunch of guys?”

“I’m going to be there,” Jeongguk retorts like it’s so simple.

“Yeah, like that excuse is always going to work with my dad.”

“The man practically worships the ground I walk on,” he smiles, and you laugh because it’s basically the truth.

After a few moments, a sigh leaves your mouth. “Well, if you get recruited to play college football…yeah.”

Playing college football is the only thing Jeongguk worries about these days. You know that he’s more than good enough to get recruited, and everyone else knows this too. It’s just the matter of if he truly believes it as well.

As you watch your best friend mull over your words, you feel the sensation of being watched raise the hairs on the back of your neck. Without even thinking, you turn towards the other side of the field. Instantly, your gaze meets Taehyung’s.

By now, you are positive he knows who you are. You’ve never had a conversation with him, much less formally met him. Jeongguk would never allow that to happen. Yet, you feel a strange connection to him—like magnets are pulling you towards him. As if Jeongguk can sense this energy too, he follows your eyes.

You break from the gaze first and turn to your best friend. Within seconds, his eyes harden. “Kim won’t know what hit him.”

***

Unsurprisingly, your school wins and Jeongguk celebrates by parading you around the field on his shoulders.

This is actually a tradition the two of you have, which started sometime during sophomore year. By that point, the boy was finally a little taller than you and could lift you a little easier. Of course, now, he towers over you.

When he finally puts you down to grab a shower, the other girls on your team pull you over in their little huddle.

“Oh my god, you’re so lucky to have Jeon wrapped around your finger,” Sohee whines. “I would kill to have him treat me how he treats you.”

“Like a rag doll?” you laugh, bending down to collect your pom-poms off the grass.

Sohee rolls her eyes. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah,” Lou pipes up, “are you sure that the two of you don’t have a thing? I’ve never seen him treat any girl like that—and June dated him.”

“Thanks a lot, bitch,” June teases sarcastically.

You roll your eyes at all of them—they just don’t get it. “Please, the day I start to fall for Jeongguk will be the day hell freezes over. You girls just don’t know; I’ve known him since we were babies. He’s like the brother I never had.”

For a second, the urge to admit that someone else occupies your thoughts sits on the tip of your tongue. But you refrain from saying anything because as much as you love your team, all of these girls have big mouths. If they knew you were interested in the enemy, it would be the scandal of the year. And you’re trying to stay away from drama at all costs.

“Anyway,” you change the subject, “are you all headed to Hoseok’s?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” the all say in unison.

Ten minutes later, changed and makeup freshened up, you make your way towards your car. As you pull out of the parking lot, with all of you cheer girls following behind you, you notice that a few other cars linger in the lot; cars you aren’t familiar with. As you drive by the cars, you slow down and realize that it’s Kim Taehyung and a few of his teammates. But they’re not alone; a few girls surround them as well.

Never have you been more thankful for tinted windows, because you hit the gas the second his posse turn toward you and make your way off school property. As you near Hoseok’s house, you wonder why Taehyung and his friends were still lingering at your school. If anything, you thought they left the second the game ended. But all thoughts of him fade when you pull into a massive driveway.

Even though you’ve been at this house more times than you can remember, it still leaves you shocked that someone you know lives here. Jeongguk wasn’t exaggerating when he said Hoseok’s parents were loaded. They are business tycoons or something, and never take a day off—that’s why they are never home.

After parking your car, you link arms with Sohee and walk inside the party.

“Let’s party motherfucker’s because we fucking won!” Hoseok shouts the second you make your way through his front door. In one hand, he holds a red cup; in the other, a half empty bottle of Don Julio. And without needing to be told twice, everyone cheers. When he notices that it’s you who walked through the door, he holds the red cup out. “Cheers, pom-pom queen!”

Even though you don’t care too much for tequila, you oblige. You can still operate under one shot anyway. Hoseok pours a bit of Don Julio into the cup and you nod, “Cheers.”

After downing the smooth liquor, Sohee and the rest of the girls follow suit. As they take their respective shots, you make your way deeper into the crowd of people. In just a few minutes, you find Jeongguk drinking a beer with Park Jimin.

“Good job tonight, Park,” you say when you’re within hearing distance.

Jimin turns at the sound of your voice, a slow—albeit smug—smile stretching across his face. “Thanks—couldn’t have made all those touchdowns without good ‘ole Jeongguk here though.”

“Nah,” Jeongguk shakes his head, “it was definitely a team effort.”

You watch at they both begin to faux banter about who carries the team, and all you can do is roll your eyes. Boys. You leave them to continue their battle of masculinity and walk through the rest of the house. You’re not surprised that majority of the school is here—everyone loves a good post-game party.

Walking into the backyard, people turn away from their conversations to say a brief hey or what’s up—that’s a perk of the title of head cheerleader you carry. Though, you don’t really care for the attention at all. If anything, you would cheer regardless whether or not popularity came attached with it.

Being a cheerleader isn’t as glamorous as the movies make it out to be. The sport makes you automatically more prone to injuries, and practices are often so intense you don’t have time for anything else. But, you wouldn’t trade the experience for the world.

Someone calls your name; and when you match the voice to the face, you smile instantly. Standing off to the side, with a red solo cup in his hand, Min Yoongi looks like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. And you think it’s absolutely hilarious. “Having fun?”

He huffs before rolling his eyes. “At least there’s free booze.”

“Oh, come on, don’t act like you don’t secretly love these parties.”

“Mmm,” Yoongi takes a sip of whatever is in his cup, “sure.”

If Jeongguk is your longest friend, Yoongi is your second longest friend. You met the boy back in elementary school. Even back then, he was a little punk. He sat behind you in class and threw disgusting spit balls into your hair. When you had finally had enough of his little act, you threw an equally disgusting—though much larger—spit ball right back at him.

You both ended up in detention, your first and only offense in school, and you forced him to become your friend. Well, more like you threatened to make his life a living hell if he didn’t stop annoying you. Somehow, it worked because Yoongi is still in your life. And he hasn’t complained, so that has to mean something. Right?

“At least tell me you were at the game,” you say.

“Wouldn’t miss you and Jeongguk prancing around the field for the world.”

Did you mention that you forced him to be friends with Jeongguk too? The two of them aren’t as close as you are with either of them, but they are amicable and respect one another.

“Even though the other team lost, they were pretty damn good—especially the quarterback,” Yoongi continues and your heart jumps a little at the mention of Taehyung.

“I thought you don’t speak football,” you tease to hide your sudden spiked heartrate.

He shoots you a look, “But I do speak talent.”

You can’t deny that. Yoongi did have a penchant for reading people in that way. There was one time he discovered some random SoundCloud rapper, AugstD, and messaged him saying that his music was great. Not even a week later, the rapper blew up. Maybe it was simply a coincidence, but Yoongi likes to give himself credit for that.

“Well, okay, mister I speak talent—what was so impressive about Kim?” you ask; however, before Yoongi can answer, there is suddenly commotion all around you. Everyone begins running inside like a herd of gazelles being chased by a lion.

“Hmm, wonder what’s got everyone going crazy,” Yoongi sips his drink.

The same thought crosses your mind and you’re about to let it slide, but Lou comes running out the door. She has the strangest expression on her face, and you run to meet her halfway. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god, you’ll never believe who just crashed the party,” she says, completely breathless. When you don’t seem to give her the right reaction, she rolls her eyes, “Fuck—it’s Kim Taehyung.”

Your traitorous heart is immediately thrilled with the idea of being in close proximity to Taehyung. And behind you, you feel Yoongi coming closer, “What are they doing here?”

Lou shrugs, “Beats me. But you need to come inside—now!”

That’s when it clicks in your head—why everyone rushed inside, why Lou seems so panicked. For a moment, you let your thoughts drift to only Taehyung that you completely forgot the most important thing.

“Oh no, Jeongguk.”

“Exactly,” Lou sighs before pulling you into the house.

Walking through a packed crowd is surprisingly easier than you thought it would be. Then again, Lou is a force to be reckoned with. And when everyone notices who is trying to push through, and they see you, they give you space. For once, you’re thankful for that.

As you get closer to the front of Hoseok’s house, you can feel tension piercing the air. Everyone is so quiet, and you hear Jeongguk before you see him. The tone of his voice sends chills down your spine; you realize that you’ve never heard him like this before. Gone is the bubbly boy you call your best friend—this is a man out for blood.

Lou leads you straight to the front door where everyone has formed a large circle around Jeongguk and Taehyung. But before you approach them, you look at who else decided to crash the party.

Standing on either side of Taehyung is none other than Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon. They were called the Infamous Kim’s for a reason—Taehyung and his friends had a reputation. And you saw them on the field earlier; they played hard, and you knew they could fight even harder. You just hope it doesn’t come to that.

Where Seokjin and Namjoon flank their quarterback, you notice that Jimin and Hoseok have done the same to Jeongguk. This looks like a scene straight out of a movie.

“Why are you here, Kim?” Jeongguk asks, arms crossed over his chest. “Came to lose again?”

The crowd gets a rush out of that, but Taehyung doesn’t look phased. Actually, he looks more amused than anything. “Maybe we let you guys win—haven’t you ever played chess before? You might’ve knocked a pawn over—or even the knight—but my King’s still intact.”

No one reacts to that statement, but you can tell that your best friends is heated from the way his shoulders are squared. Before Jeongguk can do anything reckless, you walk behind him and touch his arm.

He tenses for a moment before relaxing and turning to face you. “Hey.”

You offer him a quick smile, and then muster up the courage to look straight ahead. First, you meet Namjoon���s hard gaze and then Seokjin’s. Finally, you look at Taehyung and his dark eyes have you drowning. He is so close, yet so far; under his scrutiny, you feel like he can see all of your deepest darkest secrets.

“Didn’t know Jeon needed a girl to fix his problems,” Taehyung smirks.

Why did you have to be so attracted to him? He was such an asshole. “Girl has a name, thank you very much.” Someone yells you just got burned, dude and you try not to crack a smile. “And I think you need to leave.”

“Want me to leave that bad?” He doesn’t look away from you; in fact, he has the audacity to give your body a once over. Unfortunately, Taehyung has a damn good poker face; so, you don’t know what he’s thinking.

“Yes, please—with a cherry on top,” your words are laced with sarcasm and he’s smart enough to catch it.

Finally, he looks away and a slow smirk stretches across his face—tongue sticking out of his mouth and everything. “Don’t stress, we didn’t plan on hanging long anyway.”

“You shouldn’t have come in the first place,” Hoseok pipes up, and you remember that it’s his house after all. “You know, I could have you arrested for trespassing.”

“Under what legal pretense?” Namjoon laughs. “Do you own his house? Oh wait—no, your rich daddy does. And actually, if we’re talking about legality here, we could have you all arrested for underage drinking.”

That comment sends everyone into a frenzy. You know Namjoon isn’t stupid enough to call the cops because they wouldn’t risk themselves getting into any mess; also, you know that they wouldn’t dare jeopardize their potential to play college football. All of these guys wanted a taste of the big leagues.

“Just get the fuck out of here,” Jeongguk says through his teeth. “I don’t have time to deal with your shit.”

“See you on the field, Jeon.” With that last statement, Taehyung, Seokjin, and Namjoon leave—slamming the front door behind them. You release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding as Hoseok announces that the party is over.

Some people whine that the night just begun, but you know that everyone on the football team is tense from what just happened. Even you don’t think that you can enjoy the night after dealing with Taehyung, and you kind of like him for some reason. So, you can’t even begin to imagine how Jeongguk is feeling.

As soon as everyone files out—including all of the girls on your cheer squad and Yoongi—the only people remaining are you and the football team. You don’t even know why you’re still here, but one look from your best friend forces you from leaving. It wasn’t your place to meddle in football rivalry, but you supposed that you were kind of caught between two sides. Though, no one but you knows this.

“Well, that fucking sucked,” Jimin is the first to say anything in the tense atmosphere, and a few of the others nod in agreement.

“Understatement of the century,” Hoseok rolls his eyes and then turns to you. “But who knew you had balls to talk to Kim Taehyung like that.”

You shrug, “How else was I supposed to react? I mean, he had no right to be here in the first place.”

“Remind us to never get on your bad side.”

“You guys have nothing to worry about.”

Silence follows your words, and you realize that everyone is waiting for Jeongguk to say something. All eyes are turned towards their captain. For a moment, you are reminded of how your best friend commands the room—the power he exudes.

“We aren’t playing them for the rest of the season, so I’m not worried about Kim Taehyung and his rat pack,” he finally says, and everyone visibly relaxes.

Until Jimin pipes up with, “Unless they make it to playoffs too.”

A dark shadow is casted on the team again and the look Jeongguk gives him would make anyone wish to dig their own grave. Jimin quickly apologizes and things appear to go back to normal. Well, as normal as things can get right now.

The guys continue talking and everyone agrees that they’ll resume the party tomorrow—somewhere else. They don’t want to risk another run in with Taehyung and his teammates. After everyone helps Hoseok clean his house up a bit, they begin to leave too. Jimin ends up deciding to crash here, and you suspect that Jeongguk will too. However, he surprises you.

“Can you give me a ride home?”

“Sure.”

As you drive the short few minutes to his house, he’s awfully quiet. It’s a type of quiet that has you worried, so you ask him what’s on his mind.

“The next time I see him, I’m going to punch him.”

You’re startled by the venom in his words. “Why?”

“Did you not see the way he looked at you?” Jeongguk sounds disgusted. “A fucking prick.”

Was it wrong that you felt strangely giddy at the thought that Taehyung looked at you? You know that Jeongguk hates him, but your potential feelings for the other quarterback are definitely making this rivalry difficult. Why did you have to crush on the enemy?

“I doubt you’ll be seeing him anytime soon,” you say to appease him, but the comment makes you kind of sad. “Their school is in a different town.”

“Still,” he sighs. “I really hate him.”

You wish he didn’t.

***

The next week at school, everyone pretends that the party at Hoseok’s didn’t happen.

No one dared to bring up the mess that night turned out to be. Everyone pretended that the party hosted the day after, at another player’s house, was the actual winning celebration. And like everyone, you did the same. Or you tried too.

Every now and then, you thought of Kim Taehyung and his imposing presence. You were still angry at yourself for the interest in him. If Jeongguk found out, you’d be so dead. But it wasn’t like anyone knew anyway, and you were going to keep it that way. You would take it to the grave if you have to. Besides, it wasn’t anything more than fascination.

As football season continued, cheer practices weren’t getting any easier. But they were becoming lessened since your team recycled a lot of old routines. Besides, as much as you love cheerleading, but it isn’t your endgame. Cheering on the team is great, but—if you’re being honest—you’ve stuck with the sport for Jeongguk’s sake.

And your dad got free tickets to all the games, which you guess is a perk.

However, even as demanding as cheer practice is, you were already one month deep into the school year. And this mean that you were one month closer to college; because of that, your mom approached you with a suggestion.

“Honey, you know your father and I love you and want to support you in any way we can,” she begins, “but if you want to go to that hotshot university on the other side of the country, you’ll probably want to start looking for a part-time job.”

You understand where your mom is coming from—college really was super expensive. And you did want to get into your first pick school. So, it only made sense to start making some money. You were lucky enough to be an only child, but your parents couldn’t support you forever. The reality was you would probably need a job in college too. Why not start now?

So, to take your mind off school rivalry and a super-hot—but arrogant—boy, you start looking for a part-time job. Realistically speaking, you could only work at most three nights a week. You still had cheer practice every other day and football on Friday nights. Not to mention homework and finishing college apps. It would be a rough next few months, but you knew it’d be worth it.

The only place that ended calling you back was a little diner at the edge of town. And during your interview, you’re sweating bullets from nerves.

“Have you ever waitressed or done anything in the service industry?”

There was no doubt the bald-headed man in front of you was terrifying. He introduced himself as A—you weren’t sure if that was actually his real name or if he was just messing with you. “No, sir, I haven’t.”

“Have you ever had a job?” he asks, raking through your empty resumé.

You shake your head, “No, sir…I’m still in high school and I…and I cheer for my school.”

“Cheer,” A sounds rather unimpressed. “Your schools and your devotion to football. You know what, girly?”

“What?”

“This diner here is on the edge in-between two towns—I don’t want that damn football rivalry to cause trouble up in here, do you hear me?”

You don’t know what to say. All you can do is nod and offer a smile. “Of course.”

The man mumbles something unintelligible before raising his eyes to yours, “How many days a week can you work?”

“Three, maybe four—mostly weekends.”

He tells you that works, something about only needing a part-timer anyway. You’re completely fine with that. You still needed to balance school and your social life. Would you even have one after this? Hopefully you wouldn’t have to work too many Saturdays.

“When can you start?” he asks.

“Tomorrow?” you offer. Tomorrow would be a Tuesday—you didn’t have practice.

“You best be here by five o’clock on the dot,” he says, beginning to get up from his seat. Did you just get the job? “I don’t tolerate tardiness.”

You begin to get up as well, “Of course, sir—”

“Also, stop calling me sir—makes me feel damn old. Just call me A.”

“Okay…A,” you say rather awkwardly. “I’ll be here at five on the dot.”

Before you head home, A directs you to the manager, Minji, and she runs you through the basics—like what you have to wear and bring, etcetera.

“We’ll go through basic training once you get here at five tomorrow but remember to dress comfortable…and wear things you don’t mind ruining. You’ll be getting dirtier here than you’d like—trust me,” she says, and you must make a face because she laughs. “Don’t sweat it, dear; the tips will make up for it.”

When you get home, you let your parents know you got the job and your mom celebrates by making your favorite dessert. During dinner, they ask you about the interviewing process and the staff. You don’t exactly lie, but you omit the stuff about A—you don’t want your parents to be worried about who was running the diner.

“Your mother and I will have to come see you in action soon,” your father says, and you awkwardly laugh.

“Please—if you’re just going to come and embarrass me, I’d rather not.”

“We would never embarrass you, sweetie,” your mother says, and by the blinking of her eyes you know she’s lying. “Anyway, have you told Jeongguk about the job yet?”

Honestly, you haven’t even him that you were looking for anything. So, no, you definitely haven’t told him about your new job. “Not yet, he’s busy with football so…I haven’t had the chance.”

Utter bullshit. He literally texted you before dinner asking if you wanted to catch a movie tomorrow night—you had to decline. Making up some excuse about having a paper due. You don’t know why you’re scared to tell him about the diner job. Maybe it’s because you know he’s going to want to swing by; and with A’s words swimming in your head, you don’t want to risk anything.

“But I’ll let him know,” you continue.

“Yeah, that boy and football…that final play on Friday was crazy—” your dad begins his daily rant about football, and you tune him out.

For once, you don’t want to think about that.

***

“You should’ve come to the movie last night.”

Jeongguk blocks your way in the hall, so you have no choice but to give him attention. “Was it good?”

“Surprisingly,” he starts, “it was—though, Hoseok was screaming within the first five minutes.”

“I would’ve come just to see that,” you laugh.

“How was your paper? You never texted me back last night.”

Oh, that. You make up a lie about staying up most of the night. “That’s why I didn’t have time to text you back.”

In reality, you were at the diner until 11 o’clock. You were supposed to get off at nine, but Minji and the other staff needed help closing since someone called out. Besides the exhausting night, you really liked working at the diner. The other workers were nice enough, and the best part was that no one asked you about football or any of that stuff. No one had any preconceived notions about you or the crowd you associated with.

“That sucks. What class was the paper for again?”

“History,” the lie slips easily through your lips.

Jeongguk seems to think about that for a moment. “Really? Because I know you have that class with Jimin and he didn’t mention anything about a paper being due today—I mean, if he did, wouldn’t he have been pulling an all-nighter last night too?”

Shit. You forgot you had that class with Jimin. He sits in the back, so it slipped your mind. “Did I say History? I meant Psychology.”

“I know you lied.”

Your best friend was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. As other students scramble to get to class before the bell rings, you feel frozen on the spot. Jeongguk hits you with a look that fills you with guilt. But before you can offer an explanation, the warning bell rings—meaning, you have a minute to get to class before you get points taken off.

“I’ll explain—meet me after practice later?” you ask him.

“Coach has us doing an extended practice since it’s mid-week. You can come to the field after you get done with cheer,” he offers, and you agree before running off to class.

You slip into History just as the bell rings. With a relieved sigh, you walk to your seat—but not before you catch Jimin’s eyes and send him a scathing look. He visibly shrinks and mouths an I’m sorry as you sit down.

As class goes on, you barely pay attention to what your teacher is talking about. Instead, you think about how you shouldn’t be mad at Jimin. After all, how was he supposed to know you lied to Jeongguk? You two weren’t that close—not close enough for him to cover for you in that way. First and foremost, his loyalty was to Jeongguk.

Your loyalty should be to him as well.

The second class ends, you catch up to Jimin and apologize. “I forgot that we had this class together when I talked to Jeongguk last night.”

“You should just be honest with him, you know? Whatever it is, Jeongguk doesn’t care.”

“I know,” you say. “Sorry for putting you in an awkward position.”

Later, when you walk into Psychology, you settle into your seat beside Yoongi and bang your head against the desk. After a moment, you lift your head up and he sends you a weird look. “Are you good…?”

“No,” you’re honest with him. You never could lie to Yoongi. “I’m in hot water with Jeongguk.”

“What happened?”

You face him, “I got a job.”

Yoongi lifts a brow, clearly surprised by your words. “Really? I didn’t peg you as someone to get a part-time—especially since you are kind of busy.”

“Same,” you reply. “But my parents want me to start making money for college.”

He hums, “Let me guess, you didn’t tell Jeongguk?”

“In my defense, my first day was literally yesterday.”

“But why did you tell me and not him? Not that we aren’t close, but still—he’s your best friend, right?”

“Because I hate letting Jeongguk down,” you admit. “That mixed with the diner I work at; I feel like it would be a mess.”

Yoongi frowns, “Don’t tell me you work at the diner on the edge of town.”

For the first time in his conversation, you narrow your eyes at him. “And what about it?”

“You do realize that since it’s located where it’s at, both towns come and go as they please.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “the owner—A—mentioned not to get football involved there, which is a part of why I haven’t told Jeongguk anything.”

“I get that, and it makes sense—especially with how volatile the dude can be,” Yoongi says just as your teacher walks into the classroom.

However, you frown at his words. “What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is,” he spares you a glance as the bell rings, “if Jeon Jeongguk rules this town, the other side of that diner you work at—the other town—is ruled by Kim Taehyung.”

***

To say that practice is rough would be an understatement.

“Where’s your head?”

You turn to Sohee, “Sorry—it’s been an off day.”

“Clearly,” Lou butts in, “and coach is making us pay for it—so stop being distracted so we can leave already.”

“Yeah, I’m already late for my appointment,” June complains as the whole squad gets back into formation.

Sohee smirks, “Your dick appointment?”

“With who?” that snaps you back to reality.

“No one.”

You furrow your brows, “If it’s someone on the football team, don’t bother. Apparently, they have an extended practice today.”

“It will be an extended practice for you girls too if you all don’t stop yapping it up!” your coach practically screeches, and you immediately plaster your fakest smile.

As coach blows her whistle, you tumble into a cartwheel and land perfectly onto your feet. But that isn’t enough to appease her, and she makes you all perform the routine from the top. Luckily, the routine is short; and everyone does their part flawlessly, thank god, so practice officially ends.

The entire squad rushes into the locker room and fights for a shower. Rather than insisting on a shower first, you reach for your phone. At the top of your notifications is a text from Jeongguk.

4:05 PM | Jeongguk: still in practice

You don’t bother responding since you know that he probably doesn’t have his phone on him. Besides, the message was sent forty minutes ago; if anything changed, he would’ve messaged you again. When a shower opens, you sink your body underneath the hot water. You let the water wash away all the pent-up stress you’ve been holding—half of which you didn’t even realize you had.

Once you’re clean, you grab all of your things and make your way towards the football field. Lou catches you on her way out and asks you where you’re going.

“Jeongguk,” you reply. “I have to talk to him about something.”

She wiggles her eyebrows, “Okay.”

You ignore her suggestive expression. “Yeah. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Don’t have too much fun.”

“I doubt watching a bunch of dudes tackle each other will be.”

Lou narrows her eyes playfully, “Oh, come on. There’s nothing hotter than a sweaty football player.” Immediately, your mind flashes to one player in particular. Lou catches the quick shift in your face and laughs. “See.”

“Ha-ha,” you collect yourself. “Get out of here.”

She bids you adieu, and you go out into the sun. For early autumn, it was still pretty warm. You like the warmth, but you also can’t wait for those chilly autumn nights—Friday night football in sweater weather is the best.

As you near the field, you hear the team before you can see them. From afar, they sound like a herd of animals being groomed by a whistle. In a twisted way, you suppose that’s actually the case. Their coach must really be on them today because the whistle keeps going off. You can already picture their exhausted faces in your head—especially Jeongguk’s.

And you’re right.

Walking right into the stadium, you take a seat on one of the lowest bleachers and watch as their coach grills them. Dead center in the middle of the group is your best friend; and not surprisingly, he looks annoyed. However, the second he realizes you’re here, some of the negative energy seems to lift off him.

In fact, he looks like he’s about to walk towards you. The second he takes a step towards the bleachers, you hold up a hand for him to stop. You mouth stay, and thankfully he doesn’t try to come any closer.

A few minutes turns into thirty and thirty turns into an hour. By this point, you’re half asleep and ready to go home. Even though you’re tired, the team is still going hard at drills and throwing balls around. The sun has also started setting, casting the field in gorgeous golden hour. But despite the picturesque scenery, you really have to pee.

Realizing that your bladder comes before your comfort, you get off and catch Jeongguk staring at you. You point to the field bathrooms, near the parking lot, and he seems to get the idea. After you empty your bladder, you’re ready to give their football coach a piece of your mind. You’re tired, hungry, and you bet everyone else on the field is feeling the same way.

You’re close to the field, only behind the bleachers, when a figure comes out from the shadows. Jumping back, you’re about to scream when you realize who it is. “Kim Taehyung?”

He stands about ten feet away from you, hands shoved into his pockets. Dressed in dark jeans and a simple t-shirt, he looks too good to be true. “And you’re Jeon’s girl.”

“Again, I have a name,” you roll your eyes. “Also, what the hell are you doing here?”

“What? I can’t size up the enemy?” Taehyung runs a hand through his hair—which was still damp—and you can’t help but wonder if he just got out of practice too.

“You do know that practices are confidential, right?”

He takes a step closer to you, “If that’s the case, then why are you watching?”

“Because I go to school here,” you say and take a step back. He was beginning to make you dizzy. “And you don’t. So, you should leave before someone catches you.”

When he doesn’t say anything back, you reiterate that he should go. But Taehyung only stands there, staring at you. There’s no doubt your heart rate is escalating; but instead of focusing on that, you ask him what’s his issue is.

“Nothing,” he replies.

“Okay,” you frown, “I think I just heard their coach say practice is over, so you really should go.”

In the distance, a whistle blows three times, so you know you were right. Taehyung briefly turns towards the field before looking back at you. “I don’t want to get Jeon worked up anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You don’t get a reply because he turns around and walks away. Without even saying goodbye. What the hell? Why are you even thinking that? Shaking your head of all thoughts about Taehyung, you make your way around the bleachers and come face-to-face with Jeongguk.

His presence makes you jump. “Shit. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he steadies you, “didn’t mean to.”

“Are you guys done? Your coach sure seemed like he was grueling you guys,” you say.

“Tell me about it,” he groans. “He really made us bust our asses out there.”

You crack a smile at his agony, “Well, if it helps, I had an awful practice too.”

The two of you laugh for a moment before reality sets back in. You grow quiet under Jeongguk’s scrutiny. A deep sigh leaves his lips before he asks, “What’s really going on with you?”

Well, you see, I am kind of interested in Kim Taehyung—yes, the guy you hate. And he was actually here, like not even five minutes ago. Do I know that he’s an asshole? Yes. Do I know the history you two have? Yes. Do I still want to be around him for some reason? Yes. “Umm…I kind of got a job.”

That truth is easier to admit.

Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise, “How do you kind of get a job?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Okay, fine, I do have a job.”

“Really?”

“Yeah…”

“So, were you going to tell me?” he asks.

You nod, “Eventually.”

“Why do you have a job?”

“Why is it so hard for everyone to believe?”

“So, you’ve told other people before me.”

You’re exasperated. “Only my parents and Yoongi.”

“Why did you tell Yoongi before me?” Jeongguk’s more upset than you thought he would be. Why is he so upset?

“Jeongguk, I literally just started working yesterday—yesterday! Why are you so angry?”

“Because I thought I was your best friend and we’re supposed to tell each other everything,” he says, and guilt begins to eat you up inside.

You feel guilty for many reasons. You’re guilty for making your best friend question your loyalty. You’re guilty for not telling him about your new job. You’re guilty for every thought you’ve had about Taehyung because you know that it would kill Jeongguk if he knew.

“You are,” you reaffirm him. “I only told Yoongi about the job because I told him I lied to you. And I only lied to you because I didn’t want you to worry about me—because you always worry.”

“What? I can’t worry about you now?”

“I mean, you can; but we aren’t twelve anymore, Jeongguk. I can hold my own.”

He sighs, “I know that. Look, I’m sorry for making you think that you couldn’t tell me, okay?”

“I’m sorry too.”

Jeongguk opens his arms wide for a hug, and even though he’s sweaty—and definitely stinky—you fall into his embrace anyway. For a brief second, you can understand why girls like him so much. His hugs are really great, but it truly feels like you’re hugging your brother more than anything. “Where are you working?”

You pull away from him, “At the diner on the edge of town.”

“Okay,” he says like he still doesn’t believe you have a job. “Why are you working?”

“Because of my mom. Her and dad are helping me with college, at least a little, but she wants me to start earning so I can pay for most of it myself.”

“Wow—your parents sure aren’t letting you get off easy, huh?” he laughs. “Maybe I should start working too.”

You bust out laughing, “Yeah, especially since your parents already put your older brother through college already.”

“I think they’re betting on this football thing to work out.”

Immediately, you sober up and take in the sudden shift of emotion. “You’ve been having recruiters come out to watch you since last season.”

“Still,” he sighs.

“You’re damn good,” you tell him with the hopes that he really understands. “You’ll play in college, so stop worrying so much.”

You don’t know if your words appease him, but your best friend manages to smile—that has to mean something, right? After a moment of silence, he lets you know that he should probably go back to the locker room already. “The team is probably wondering where the hell I went.”

“True.”

“Thanks for telling me the truth,” Jeongguk says, holding out his right hand. You roll your eyes before extending your own. The two of you do your “secret” handshake—the handshake you both created in middle school.

Doing the handshake results in another eye roll, but you also can’t help the endearing smile that graces your lips. “Why do you always insist on doing this stupid handshake?”

“Because this stupid handshake is epic and a symbol of our everlasting friendship.”

“Ha, okay,” you chuckle. “Whatever you say, Jeongguk.”

***

“Rumor is you’re a cheerleader at your school.”

Looking up from your notepad, you stick your pencil behind your ear before turning towards the voice. “Yeah, so?”

Behind you stands another waitress—her name is Cara—and you know that she goes to the same school as Taehyung. You only know this because every shift you’ve worked with her, all she does is talk about how hot he and the rest of the players on the team are. You totally agree with her observation, but it still irks you that she seems to know him better than you do.

“So, you must know Jeon Jeongguk well, yeah?” she asks. Oh, that’s what this is all about?

To you, it’s obvious she has no idea how close you actually are to Jeongguk. This was a good thing; if she knew you were his best friend, it would be over for you. “I mean, I guess…yeah. At school, everyone knows him.”

“What is he like?”

Oh god. “I don’t know…he plays football? Every Friday night? I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

“Like, how is he at school? I’ve heard all the rumors about him, and I just want to compare him to Kim Taehyung,” she bats her eyelashes.

“Umm, you do know that they have this intense rivalry, right?”

Cara laughs, “Duh—that is all anyone ever talks about at school.”

You look around for an excuse to get out of this awkward conversation. Looking over her shoulder, you see her tables. “You know what? How about we talk later…I think they need you over there.”

The second Cara turns around, you make a run for it. You walk behind the counter and send a distress signal to Minji. She gives you a funny look and just laughs. “You’ll get used to Cara.”

“I’m not sure about that,” you say as the diner door chimes. Minji greets them before you can say anything, and lets you know that the person sat down in your section. “I’ll be back.”

Walking over to your section of the diner, you approach the stranger who just sat down in a booth. They’re seated back facing you, so you have a split second to prepare yourself. In your head, you settle for the basic hello-how-can-I-help-you introduction and pray that you don’t make a fool of yourself. Once you reach the booth, you pull the pencil from behind your ear and get your notepad ready.

“Hello, how can I help you?” you ask on cue, flipping your notepad to a clean page.

“You know, it’s not very polite to not look at the customer while you talk to them.”

“Excuse me?” you ask as you look up and meet the person’s gaze. You blink a few times to make sure he’s really in front of you right now.

He smirks, “Hey, Jeon’s girl.”

“Kim Taehyung,” saying his name out loud sends chills down your spine. “And for the thousandth time, I have a name.”

“You know what I realized?” he asks but doesn’t give you a chance to respond. “This is the third time we’ve met, but you haven’t told me your name yet. Some would say that’s a little rude.”

For a second, you don’t even know what to say to him. If you weren’t stupid, you would think that he was flirting with you. Or was he actually flirting with you and you’re just too stupid to realize? Before you can say something you’ll regret, you tell him your name. “Also, how can I help you?”

“How long have you been working here?” he asks, and then slowly adds your name as if it was an afterthought.

“Like a week,” you tell him. “So, not long at all.”

“Interesting. I frequent this place—only when I don’t have practice, of course. I assume you only work nights you don’t have practice as well, right?”

Are you really having another conversation with Kim Taehyung right now? “Yep.”

He picks up your short, clipped answer and frowns, “What? Not happy to see me?”

For some reason, you intrigue me; so obviously, I’m ecstatic. “It’s just a little weird, you know. We just met and I’ve seen you on three separate occasions in the same month—anyone would be weirded by that.”

“Because you’re Jeon’s girl?” Why does he keep referring to you as that?

“What’s with you and calling me that?” you ask, tilting your head to the side and leaning your weight on one side of your body.

Taehyung mimics your movement, a smirk stretching across his lips. “You’re dating him, aren’t you?”

It takes a moment for his words to set in; but when they do, you’re overcome with laughter. The throw-your-head-back-hit-yourself kind of laughter. You laugh so hard you almost fall over from the sheer force of overwhelming humor. Through the tears in your eyes, you see him look at you like you’ve lost your mind. Thank goodness there aren’t too many customers inside the diner at this hour.

“Are you okay?”

Once you finally compose yourself, you take a deep breath and flatten your lips. “Just peachy.”

“You going to tell me why you reacted like that?” he asks.

“Why do you think Jeongguk and I are together?” you ask, crossing your arms. “Why does everyone seem to think that?”

Taehyung narrows his eyes, “You mean you two aren’t together?”

“Jeongguk is my best friend—not my boyfriend. I’ve known him since we were babies. He’s like a brother to me.” You don’t know why you’re over-explaining, but the words just seem to flow out of your mouth. “We don’t like each other like that.”

“Are you sure about that?”

It was your turn to narrow your eyes, “What are you insinuating, Kim Taehyung?”

“I think one would have to be blind not to see the way Jeon is protective over you,” his lips stretch into an almost smile, though you notice it doesn’t reach his eyes. They remain aloof as ever. Why was it so hard to read him?

“I think you’re reading into things,” you retort. “Jeongguk only feels that way because he has this older brother complex—though I’m the older one in our duo.”

Turning your attention away from his unreadable face, you look back at the notepad in your hand and repeat your earlier question. Taehyung replies simply that he’d like a strawberry shake, which surprises you a little. The second you jot down his order, you quickly excuse yourself and practically run back to the counter.

Once you’re behind the safety of the counter, you expel the breath you’ve been holding and sink to the floor. He thought Jeongguk was my boyfriend. The thought swirls through your brain and makes you dizzy. It was both equally hilarious and strange that Taehyung had this notion. But what thrilled you even more was that he knew you were single.

“Why are you on the floor?”

You look up and meet Minji’s concerned gaze. “Huh? Oh—I’m just…” you panic. “…just admiring the…floor.”

“Uh huh…sure,” she says, “so it’s not because of that cute boy over there.”

“What cute boy?” You play dumb, but Minji only raises a brow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about…also, he ordered a strawberry shake.”

“Are you going to make it?”

It was your turn to raise a brow, “Uh…I’m merely a waitress at this establishment, Minji.”

“Come, I’ll teach you,” she practically drags you off the floor. “So, on slow nights like these, you can make them yourself.”

Minji does as she says and teaches you to make the most delicious looking shake you’ve ever seen. It even has the whip cream and cherry on top; it’s perfect. It’s also huge—and you wonder for a moment who in the world could even finish a monstrosity like this.

When you finally bring it over to Taehyung, a brief moment of—what appears to be—joy flashes across his face. The expression takes you aback; it’s weird to see him so unrestricted like that. But as quickly at the emotion comes, it leaves after you blink. And the Taehyung you’ve encountered these last few weeks returns. “What took you so long?”

“Oh, please—I was barely gone five minutes,” you huff, setting the milkshake on the table.

“Five minutes too long.”

You suppress the need to roll your eyes. “Whatever. Enjoy your milkshake.”

For the rest of the night, you don’t speak another word to Kim Taehyung—not even as you watch him finish his milkshake or when you bring him his check, and especially not when he brushes against you to leave the diner. What a werido, you can’t help but think. You have no idea what his problem is, but you just hope that he’ll leave you alone.

However, that little nagging voice in the back of your mind likes to remind you of one issue to that sentiment: you kind of like him, still.

Curse your heart for feelings things.

[hubbytaeil]

Requests: 1) anon: My all time favorite song is “You’ve got the love” by Florence and the Machine and my bias is Yuta! Btw, I really like your writing style☀️

2) @kinokinokino-kino  may i please submit a request with hotel owner! yuta~??

a/n: sorry this took so long, I didn’t want to post too much in respect of the recent events. Also please remember to help in any way that you can.

Genre: romance, fluff, slight smut

Characters: hotel owner! Yuta x waitress!Female reader

Song: You’ve got the love - Florence + The Machine

Summary: your most affectionate client turns out to be someone you never would’ve expected.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air

I know I can count on you

Sometimes I feel like saying "Lord I just don't care"

But you've got the love I need

To see me through

 You had been working as a waitress at the Moto Hotel for almost four months. Despite the load of work that they would put on you, you were always considered one of the most hard-working people in the entire building. Heck, you had been awarded as ‘employee of the month’ twice in a row! However, trying to keep up with the incredibly high standards that you’d had inevitably brought on to yourself was starting to get in the way of your college life. You would find yourself forcing your eyes open during lectures and the moment your body would lie the mattress after a night shift, instead of falling asleep, you would feel more awake than ever. A part of you wanted to quit and just concentrate on your grades, but you knew that was the only way of every getting through college. One could say, you were stuck at a dead end.

That night was no different than any other, as you rubbed your eyes carefully, trying not to mess up your eyeliner. Order after order you would fake a smile in front of all the clients, and pray for the shift to end soon. “Y/n, table number 27 is back… and he’s asking for you.” You felt a knot forming in your throat, even though you were used to hearing those words. “Can you cover number 43 and 67 for me then?”. You had absolutely no idea who the man who sat alone at table 27 was. But he must have been someone important in the hotel, perhaps an executive, judging by the position of the table. Ever since your first day at work, he’d had requested to be served only by you. The reason behind this specific wish was unknown to the staff, and when your colleagues told you about it you felt a little uncomfortable. What does he want from me? Soon you came to realise that he was far from the man that you had imagined. Every time you would greet him with a “Good evening sir, may I take your order?” his severe expression muted into a warm smile that you would never admit, would make your heart skip a few heartbeats. As time passed his presence in the large hall towered by breath-taking chandeliers felt familiar and the smiles you gave back to him were not faked anymore. Soon, you were getting to know each other between an appetizer and a first course. He would ask you about college, about your favourite genre of music, about your favourite dish and you would do the same. Him being there, always sitting at the same table, always waiting for you with sparkling eyes felt like the only fixed element in your messy life. He knew your name, but he couldn’t tell you his for reasons he couldn’t ‘disclose’. “But sir, it definitely feels weird to call a regular costumer such as yourself just by a number.” One night you replied boldly and he just smirked. “The number will do for now, y/n” and then he winked. He was amused by your bashfulness as you walked away.

“It’s great to have you back sir. How were the Bahamas?” “Absolutely fantastic, too bad I couldn’t enjoy it too much, too busy with work and all.” “I’m sorry about that sir, but may I say that you’ve come back with a lovely tan.” A silent ‘oh’ formed on his lips, followed by a chuckle. “Thank you, y/n. But what about you?  I hope you did not pull an all nighter again.” the man asked in a concerned tone. “Finals are soon, and I have terrible time management skills, sir.” You both suffocated a laughter to not be heard by the nearing clients. “You should relax from time to time, you know?” you just nodded as you grinned. You enjoyed how you could joke with each other like this, as if you and him possessed your own little world in that crowded place. “What are you doing after the shift?” his words caught you so off guard that you almost spilled the very expensive Pinot Grigio you were pouring him. “Uhm- I’m… I guess I’ll go… to sleep?” you face palmed yourself mentally. He looked at you lovingly while you were trying to avoid his gaze at all costs. “After your shift, would you like to go out on the town with me?” your eyes lit up, both with surprise and pleasure. You knew that he wouldn’t have insisted if you refused, and yet you agreed without much doubt. “But I have a request, sir.” “Tell me everything, my dear.” You shivered at the nickname he’d never used before. “Am I allowed to ask for your name if we’re going out together?” He pondered for a few moments, staring at the wine glass in front of him then his shaky eyes rapidly went around the great hall. “I guess there’s no point in being so secretive now, uh?” the man asked as his gaze went back to you once again. He gestured at you with his finger, telling you to come closer. You slowly lowered yourself, fearing someone might be looking. He finally spoke. “My name is Nakamoto Yuta. ” You couldn’t believe your ears as you stood there incredulous. The man who you had been serving for months, who you had told all about your struggles, the man who had listened so attentively at every single word than went past your lips, that very same man was no other than the owner of the Hotel you worked in. You had only heard about him, but no one ever would have imagined the owner to dine in the same place so often. You didn’t know what to feel, or say, or do. He spoke first to save you both from the embarrassment. “How about you meet me in front of the main entrance? I’ll be waiting in my car.” You swallowed vainly and just nodded walking back into the kitchens.

 Sometimes it seems the going is just too rough

And things go wrong no matter what I do

Now and then it feels that life is just too much

But you've got the love I need

To see me through

 Completely unprepared, you found yourself in a very fancy jazz bar, having cosmopolitans with your newly discovered boss. To say that felt underdressed wouldn’t be enough, but Yuta reassured that you looked beautiful either way. Normally you would have embraced the compliment with a smile or a joke, however you felt the need to refrain yourself. Yuta could see right through your emotions and slowly let his hand rest next to yours on the glass table, without touching. “Does knowing who I am make you uncomfortable, y/n?” you gathered all your courage and forced yourself to look back at him. “I wouldn’t say that exactly… but it’s definitely something I wasn’t expecting.” As you ended your sentence ended, his hand was getting closer, until his index finger ghosted over the back of your hand. Once again, you had forgotten how to breath in and out. “I’m so sorry for not telling you, but I didn’t want you to treat me differently. And I wouldn’t complain if, knowing all of this, you’d want to get up and leave.” Before his hand could find its way back on his side of the table, you stopped it by placing your palm on his. Soon after that you were tracing shapes along his knuckles, making him shiver to your surprise. “But I don’t want to leave.”

In the weeks that followed you two would go out more and more often, every evening with him felt like walking on clouds. Yuta was eager to impress you, for instance he loved seeing your face light up while tasting a foreign dish you’d never tried before. You, on the other hand, loved hearing him speak and he was always ready to answer your questions. You got to learn more about him, how he turned his dreams into solid reality through hard work and patience. You admired him for being so humble considering how much he had, but most importantly, considering what a gentle and caring person he was.

One night Yuta convinced you to show him your tiny studio apartment; even if you had refused many times to let him see it, you eventually gave in. As he was taking off his shoes, you rushed inside to check if everything was in order, which thankfully it was. “It’s very intimate, I have to say” Yuta commented while looking around. You felt your face turning hot at his words. “I’m sorry. I- ““Sorry for what? I like it, it has style. Just like you.” You let out a soft chuckle in response, still not completely used to him being so open around you. As you two sipped cold beers in front of the kitchen isle, hours felt like minutes.

 It was so nice to have Yuta around you; a few times you had wondered if other people could see the golden halo around him like you did. His presence was enough for you to make any place feel like home. It was always like this with Yuta, even while making love, it didn’t matter how close you held each other, how deeply he kissed you, or how loud you would yell his name; it was never enough. That night as he held you on top of him on your small screechy bed, Yuta told you he loved for the first time; you were more than ecstatic to say it back as you held him to your chest and kissed the top of his head “You love me?” “I do. I love you. Oh, dear God, I love you so much, Yuta.” These phrases flowed like waterfalls from you one after the and he let himself bathe in your confession. You’d never felt so safe lying in the arms of someone, someone who did not resemble at a human being. No, Yuta must have been a fallen angel sent from above who you would’ve followed to the ends of the Earth. Or at least he looked like one when he would fall asleep before you. You observed him as his chest rose at a steady rhythm, you let your fingers gently draw invisible lines on his arm, his neck, his jawline, wondering how one could be capable of so much love. “Why are you staring? Was I snoring?” whispered Yuta with a tired voice, opening only one eye to look at you. “No darling, you weren’t snoring. I’m sorry I woke you up.” You answered as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Let’s go back to sleep.” Yuta just hummed in response as you placed your head next to his on the pillow, facing him as you fell sound asleep.

 When food is gone you are my daily meal

When friends are gone, I know my savior's love is real

Your love is real

You got the love

You got the love

You've got the love

[humble-wayside-flower]

“The surface escapes you upward, leaving you in freezing depths, fathoms below.                                   Watching. Return. Reward. Wonder.  A final squeeze sends the last breath from your lungs in a muffled scream.                                                     Punish.”

                                                                        ~Episode 53

“Settled within a small chamber of tangled leaves and roots, within this mass of vines and green, you swear you can see a face. Female. Motherly. Her eyes closed.

The womb I grant, but withers without faith. His will shall find you again soon. His will shall find you again, but until it does, rest.” 

                                                                        ~Episode 65

Episodes 49 - 76

Spotify (X)- Liner Notes Under Cut Part 1 / Part 2 

_______________________________________________________

Pretender (Acoustic) by AJR (Post Pirate Arc- Feeling adrift and throwing yourself into another situation so you don’t have to think about the previous one. With everything going on in the empire and the lives of his friends, there are far more important things to be focusing on.)

I’m a good pretender Won’t you come see my show? I’ve got lots of problems Well, good thing nobody knows 

Seafaring Song by Mark Lanegan & Isobel Campbell (He feels uneasy being this far from the ocean, as he runs from the promise he made and things he did to chase power that didn’t matter. Looking up into the Xhorhas sky and seeing an unfamiliar, yet familiar vastness reflected back at him.)

I have traveled the world around Wandered far from home Sailed the ocean in foreign skies Still further to roam

False Confidence by Noah Kahan (The City of Beasts- Fjord should feel comfortable here, no one glances at him sideways, he isn’t the only one of his kind, but he still doesn’t feel like enough. Insecurities about his size, his tusks, his humaness, his orcness abound. Feeling like you aren’t enough for either place yet too much for both as well.)

Don’t take yourself so seriously Look at you all dressed up for someone you never see You’re here for a reason but you don’t know why You’re split and uneven, your hands to the sky Surrender yourself 

I Don’t Even Care About You (Stripped) by MISSIO (His first Uk’otoa dream since leaving the coast. It’s a warning and a threat of punishment. Being crushed in your dreams is every bit as unpleasant as it sounds.)

Depressed again Evening comes too fast, still tired of the routine Depressed again I can do without all your false curiosities Angry again No, I don’t wanna have a conversation with you Angry again Let me sit alone with kerosene I do’t even care about you

A New Mission by Josh Whitehouse (Everything about Wursh exasperates Fjord’s insecurities, but he feels seen in a way that, while not pleasant, is necessary. The group also gets another peek at the childhood that made their friend.)

Sometimes I can’t control a feeling that I get inside my chest Even with those who are close to me, the ones I call my best I lose sight of all my confidence, in a heavy single step It’s happened ever since my childhood, things I thought I’d put to rest

The Wolf in Your Darkest Room by Matthew Mayfield (Uk’otoa makes it clear that what can be given can also be taken away. The loss of his powers, however temporarily is terrifying.)

And I just want to taste you on my teeth And clawing at your neck to feed my needs You thought you found my limit But you don’t seem to know You don’t seem to know How far I’d go

The Mask by Matt Maeson (Fjord has spent a lifetime crafting masks, but at what cost, and with such weight. He’s not ready to take them off yet, but he gets one step closer with each day. Fjord’s second talk with Wursh about anger, picking your battles, and not letting others define who you are.)

Tell me what you know I settled my grievance by crafting a mask And I never looked back I will never grow While this anchor is chained to my feet

Waite by Lowland Hum (Xhorhas montage- Adjusting to a new city, a new culture, and having a home of your own for the first real time ever. The paranoia of feeling like you’re being watched. Caleb waiting for him in his room- a conversation with a friend you don’t yet understand, and are not sure you fully trust.)

Hunter, rush, mauve, dust; Colors I didn’t trust  Until I saw them from the train Home with stranger kin Camp in the kitchen Tears and sweet refrain Pining, dining, late reclining Pillow steals my brain Stop through, see you All we’ve been through Are we not the same?

In Memoriam by The Oh Hellos (Sleeping next to the Wildmother’s tree. Uk’otoa strikes again, but she saves him, brings him to her, and offers him a place of refuge to seek and strive for. For the first night in a long time, his sleep is peaceful.)

Well, it’s a long way out to reach the sea But I’m sure I’ll find you waiting there for me And by the time I blink, I’ll see your wild arms swinging Just to meet me in the middle of the road And you’ll hold me like you’ll never let me go And beside the salty water, I could hold you close But you are far too beautiful to love me

Diver (Acoustic) by Kid Astray (The Wildmother’s tree again, but this time his eyes are on Jester only. Also known as: He literally jumps off a tree into a deep dive to save her guys!! That’s some Disney bullshit!!)

So dive in with me, leave without the feeling that you’re on your own Hold fast drifting, know that I won’t go before you’ve had enough ‘Cause I can be anything that you want me to be, anything that you need me to be So dive in with me, dive in with me

 A Lullaby of Home by Jessica Curry (Bazzozan, Oban, and the loss of Yasha. The feeling of betrayal that strikes deep to his core.)

Instrumental

The Difference by Noah Gunderson (Fjord and Nott are parallel stories. The weird understanding and also misunderstanding between those who are in the same place, but had very different journeys to get there, and also don’t want to acknowledge just how much the same they are.)

I hope I don’t miss it Though I know I probably just won’t get it Maybe we were made this way Maybe we weren’t made Maybe we just got here Learning from our mistakes Maybe we don’t know What we’re looking at  The ever pressing question takes a toll

A Little Broken by Storm Greenwood (The Vandran scry conversation. Fjord confides in Jester about all of it, not knowing what he wants, losing his powers, being afraid of losing his friends and himself. She supports him like he never expected anyone to. He leaves feeling more grounded and ready to make a decision. )

And though we’ve been down the hardest road we’ve yet traveled At least we weren’t traveling alone Time ticks by and we’re still a little broken But together we can lighten this load

Broken Crown by Mumford & Sons (The whole damn lava pit thing, that defining choice. The giving up something bad to replace it with something better. Jumping off a cliff and praying you’ll be caught.)

Touched my mouth and hold my tongue I’ll never be your chosen one I’ll be home, safe and tucked away You can’t tempt me if I don’t see the day

Dear Wormwood by The Oh Hellos (The aftermath. When you’ve named the beast you can tame it, or throw it away entirely. In a way it is freedom. Fjord and Caduceus share a private moment of encouragement and support.)

I know who I am now And all that you’ve made of me I know who you are now And I name you my enemy

Kinda Feels Alright by Wild Rivers (Fjord’s friends love him so so so much. Coming clean about who you are even though it is terrifying, and finding that nothing has changed really, not in the ways that matter the most.)

I swear I should be terrified But damn, it kinda feels alright

Ginger by The Front Bottoms (Powerlessness and the Strength of Self. Fjord was never really weak, he just needed faith in himself, his abilities, and in the love of his friends.)

Back before I got struck by lightning Things were so much different than they are now I got a lot more people leaning on me And all I wanna do is make them proud But this is my body, the only thing I own entirely And it’ll carry me to greatness somehow

Better in the Morning by Birdtalker (Fjord and Caduceus commune with the Wildmother and talk about the importance of faith. There is no requirement to have it all figured out immediately. You are safe, you are loved, you are wanted. Just have faith.)

Be gentle with yourself as you uncover Your best kept secrets yet to be discovered In stillness, boys, clear water to the bottom You will do better in the morning

The Dragon from God of War (The Battle at Mythburrow for the material to finish Star Razor. If there was any doubt that his friends turned family would do anything for him, it is dispelled now.)

Instrumental

Atlas: Eight by Sleeping at Last (Rebirth, Reforged, Revival.)

Here I am, pry me open What do you want to know? I’m just a kid who grew up scared enough To hold the door shut And bury my innocence  But here’s a map, here’s a shovel Here’s my Achilles’ heel I’m all in, palms out, I’m at your mercy now And I’m ready to begin 

[atinytokki]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐙𝐞𝐫𝐨

Chapter 7: The Doldrums

“Shh!” Wooyoung attempted to silence San’s giggles without waking Yeosang.

It had been San’s idea to secretly dye Yeosang’s hair an even more prominent shade of pink than he was currently sporting, but Wooyoung had been more than willing to aid him, believing his cabinmate to be responsible for colouring his own hair purple a few days before.

He held Yeosang still as he snored softly, San doing the job and now painstakingly rinsing his victim’s head.

“Who shall we say it was when he discovers it?” Wooyoung suddenly whispered.

“Yunho!” San had an answer at the ready.

“But does Yunho know how to dye hair?”

San shrugged in response. “Yeosang won’t question it. Hand me the towel now.”

Wooyoung really did enjoy bunking with Yeosang, even if he was more tame and well-behaved than the others. With San and Yunho; he could get up to no good, with Yeosang; he could unwind. But it certainly didn’t hurt to rile the sailing master up a bit.

He was gently lowering him back into a normal sleeping position when a shrill scream suddenly broke into the night.

San almost dropped the bowl of water he was holding in shock, but dove under Yeosang’s hammock with it as Wooyoung sprinted to his own.

Sure enough, Yeosang was jolted awake by the scream, and in his sleepy state, didn’t notice his still damp hair.

Instead, the sailing master stumbled out the door to Jongho and Mingi’s room. Wooyoung glanced in confusion at San, who was emerging from under the hammock now that the coast was clear.

“It’s Jongho,” was all the explanation he gave, dropping the bowl and running out the door. Wooyoung threw off his blanket with a huff and followed.

Both Hongjoong and Seonghwa were by Jongho’s side already as he tossed and turned.

“What’s come over him?” Wooyoung had to yell to be heard, and Mingi shot him a look from his bunk, a pillow pressed over his ears.

The Quartermaster dropped the pillow, evidently useless against the commotion, and answered. “He has prophetic dreams sometimes— they can be violent and loud, but nothing to worry yourself over.”

Yeosang, who stood there rubbing his eyes, seemed like he was about to say something but refrained as Captain stood and acknowledged the three who had just entered. “Oh San, good, you’re up. Could you fetch something to calm him down?”

San nodded and rushed off to the infirmary, and Wooyoung cautiously approached Jongho’s bed.

“Don’t fret,” Seonghwa was whispering to him. It seemed to be working, because the screams were slowly becoming whimpers, and soon Hongjoong looked up and said, “Go on back to bed, there’s nothing you can do here.”

Yeosang, yawning, obeyed and immediately passed out on returning to his hammock, but Wooyoung argued, “There’s no way I’m getting back to sleep now.”

San returned with some kind of medicine and administered it to a mumbling Jongho who was gradually waking up. Mingi sighed and grabbed his coat, heading for the door. “I don’t think I’ll get back to sleep either, it’s my turn at the wheel in an hour anyway.”

Hongjoong simply nodded as Mingi left, and continued rubbing Jongho’s arm, encouraging him back to consciousness. San glanced around before mouthing to Wooyoung, “Yeosang?”

“Went back to bed,” Wooyoung mouthed back. San couldn’t keep the grin off his face and so politely excused himself to his quarters.

Wooyoung felt slightly uncomfortable with his friends gone, but perched on Mingi’s empty hammock and watched Jongho come to.

“Captain!” The youngest gasped, trying to sit up and being gently pushed back by Seonghwa.

“I’m here, Jongho,” Hongjoong answered softly.

Despite tears streaking down his cheeks, Jongho stared stone-faced at his captain and began to speak. “There was a dark maze, with no way out... and a shard of silver behind iron bars... iron bars and stone walls... garrisons loaded with firepower... and ships in the water! Ships sinking in the water... everything’s on fire! The fire was so hot, I thought I was going to die Captain—I”

“Hush now,” Seonghwa pulled the boy into his arms as he broke into sobs and Hongjoong drew back into himself, clearly disturbed and clutching his left wrist like a lifeline.

It took three times of Seonghwa saying his name for the captain to snap out of it. “Oh yes, Jongho, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Wooyoung was completely blindsided by this question. Why on earth was the captain asking him this? The poor boy had just had a horrible nightmare.

“When I grow up? Oh, well—“ Jongho’s words stuck in his throat. “I wanted...I always wanted to be... be a...” He scrunched his forehead in thought before looking up at Hongjoong again. “Captain, I can’t remember.”

“It’s alright Jongho, it’s alright. Quiet now.” Seonghwa and Hongjoong shared a look before laying Jongho back down and urging him to sleep.

Wooyoung was a little more than uncomfortable at that point and took his leave. He found himself at the quarter deck with Mingi, gathering his thoughts while the Quartermaster steered silently.

“Does this happen often?” He finally asked.

Mingi tilted his head to the side. “Every once in awhile. It always causes a raucous but we do our best to hush it up from the crewmen. What did he see this time?”

“Um...” Wooyoung cleared his throat. “He mentioned a maze. And something about a shard of silver? That was behind bars, in some garrison. Then he started talking about sinking ships and fire...”

“Ships and fire?” Mingi grimaced. Wooyoung nodded and waited, but Mingi didn’t say anything more.

“Captain asked Jongho a strange question— does that happen often, too?”

The Quartermaster seemed more willing to discuss this than the dream itself, and explained it to Wooyoung. “He’s trying to gauge how much Jongho has forgotten. Every time he has one of these dreams, some of his memories disappear. Our working theory is that because he’s seeing the future, it costs him his past.”

“Seeing the future... you mentioned that back in the cabin, too. But how do you know it’s the future?”

“Because it’s come true,” was the simple answer. Mingi gave a couple of examples, “He saw that one of us would lose a leg, and sure enough Yunho did. He knew our destiny lay to the uncharted east before the mystic we visited told us. The list goes on.”

Wooyoung’s heart rate picked up.

“With that many dreams, how much of his life must he have forgotten already?”

Mingi finally turned to look at him. “You tell me. What did the Captain ask him?”

“What he wanted to be when he grew up... but he didn’t know,” Wooyoung reported nervously.

“An athlete. Jongho always wanted to be an athlete. If he’s forgotten that... well, it means about ten years are lost now,” Mingi shook his head helplessly and returned his gaze to the horizon.

Ten years? That was more than half of his life. “And there’s no way to stop it?”

“No,” Mingi’s tone became bitter and he finally let his emotions out. “No way to control it, no way to predict it. It just happens. We think it only started after he joined us, but no one knows for sure. Even that mystic we visited had absolutely nothing to say about it. No one has information at all. Captain’s always worried that something will trigger it, which is why he’s hesitant to let Jongho see any action. He didn’t even promote him to Master-at-Arms until this year. It’s for his own good that we try to protect him, but of course he resents it. His condition is a curse disguised as a gift. You’d do well not to mention it to him. Pretend you heard nothing.”

Wooyoung swallowed and folded his hands as silence fell again. “You should go back to bed,” Mingi finally told him. “The winds are dying. It’ll probably be a long day of rowing tomorrow.”

Wooyoung obeyed and padded back to his bed, noticing a sleeping Yeosang oblivious to the rest of the world, only getting a restless half-sleep before the sun peeked through the window.

...

San was clutching Wooyoung for support as he hyena-laughed at the sight of Yeosang yelling up into the rigging and scolding Yunho for the atrocity that was his newly bright pink hair. Yunho stayed perched up in his crow’s nest, confused but amused just the same until Yeosang began to attempt climbing up the ropes to him.

“Oh he’ll never make it up to him, Yeosang’s awful at climbing,” San giggled. Wooyoung smiled but was still weighed down by the other events of last night and had a few questions for San.

“Do ships on fire mean anything to you?”

San scratched his head. “Not to me, no. That would mean something to Captain, though.” He lowered his voice, “Is this something Jongho saw?”

Wooyoung nodded. “But the way Captain reacted to it— it was like he already knew. Or at least that he has some connection to fire ships...”

San glanced around and tugged on Wooyoung’s sleeve, pulling him behind the foremast and into a more secluded area before explaining, “Captain hardly talks about his past at all, only Seonghwa and Mingi really know anything. We’ve all heard stories to go off of, but as far as the fire ships are concerned, I think he actually does have a connection to them. If you haven’t heard talk of it already, Captain actually built this ship himself from driftwood when he was abandoned on an island once, and used it to sail to his hometown where he recruited Mingi; that’s how the ATEEZ started. But I’ve also heard tell that before he was on that island his boat was capsized by the Royal Navy sending fire ships after him.”

“Built this ship?” Wooyoung shook his head and took a step back. “Hold on, what exactly are fire ships?”

“It’s when someone sets a ship on fire and sends it after you so that your ship sets on fire too. Very dangerous war tactic. Captain’s sworn against using it on anyone ever. Someone suggested it to him once and got marooned. He doesn’t tolerate it at all. That’s why I think those stories are true. That and the long burn scar on his wrist—”

“Gentlemen!” Mingi’s voice sounded very close to where they were standing. Both boys looked up, wide-eyed, but thankfully only orders followed. “She’s becalmed. Everyone’s to man the oars. We’ve entered the doldrums.”

Sweat rolled down Wooyoung’s forehead as he worked for hours, cycling between rowing the oars himself and instructing his team. He was still lost in thought about his conversation that morning.

San had mentioned a long burn scar on Captain’s wrist, and come to think of it he had been grabbing onto his wrist when Jongho told him about his vision. Maybe to cover such a scar?

Wooyoung would be paying closer attention to those details in the future. He looked around at the hull of the ship as it creaked and groaned. San said Captain had built the ATEEZ himself. This would explain why it seemed that he knew the ship like the back of his hand, and why he was so fervent to protect it. To steal a ship is one thing, but to build it with your own hands while stranded on an island is another.

Seonghwa announced to a grumbling crew that evening that food was going to be more closely rationed. With no wind and no certainty of landfall, there was no way to tell how long their stores would need to last them.

Wooyoung kept a careful ear on his monkeys and crewmen, aware that any unheeded grumblings over portions could well become a full-blown mutiny.

It was two weeks into the doldrums that Captain called the officers to a dinner in his quarters. Wooyoung’s heart sank when he discovered that the dinner consisted of the same hardtack they’d been eating all week. His stomach was growling but at the same time he knew it was right that they only eat as well as the rest of their crew.

Hongjoong cut straight to the point. “I haven’t seen any birds since we left port and if we don’t spot any by the next few days, it’s likely that land is still another week off. We don’t need to decide anything tonight, but I want to hear your opinions and ideas.”

Mingi already had something to say. “We’ve only enough water for another five days if everyone bides their rations. Our stores can’t be stretched evenly another week, and I’m hesitant to leave them unguarded with men lying awake, hungry.”

There were sighs all around the table. Wooyoung could see on Hongjoong’s face the conflict over whether to continue or alter course.

“There are whispers on deck, Captain,” Yunho reported. “It’s too early to say if they’re plotting something or not, but the number of grumblings grows daily.”

“Several deckhands have fallen sick already,” San chimed in. “I’m running out of room for everyone and we’re going to be sending bodies off the gangplank soon if we don’t find water.”

Hongjoong’s eyes were on the table, uneaten food on his plate. “The sea plays nasty tricks on a sailor’s mind. Everyone’s afraid of being stuck out here, but the reality is we’re already stuck.” He looked to Yeosang for confirmation.

Yeosang shifted uncomfortably in his chair before explaining, “We left land a fortnight ago. We’ve no wind still and not enough food to last another fortnight if we turn back. If there is land to the north or south there is no record of it.”

“So what you’re saying,” Wooyoung finally piped up. “Is that if we turn back now, we’ll certainly die...” Jongho finished for him. “...But if we keep going there’s no telling what will happen.” Captain nodded.

After another silence, Seonghwa turned to Hongjoong. “We should give the men a choice. Those that want to stay may do so, and those that want to leave take a longboat whichever direction they please.”

Jongho scoffed. “That’s suicide. What are we going to do, give the traitors our rations?” There was another uncomfortable silence before Hongjoong cleared his throat. “Yes. That’s what we’ll do. Split the rations between those that want to say and those that want to leave. That goes for all of you, too. If you think you can row fast enough, you have my permission to abandon ship. Think on it and give me your decision tomorrow, then we’ll inform the crew.”

With that he stood and dusted off his coat, leaving his plate on the table. San snatched up the bread without hesitation, putting it in his bag. “For the infirmary,” he mumbled. Noticing Wooyoung’s stare he added, “Captain will be fine without it, his survival instincts are top tier.”

There was no point in hanging around after that, and everyone returned with hunched backs to their stations.

Brushing shoulders with someone unexpectedly, Wooyoung looked up and made eye contact with one of his gun deckhands.

“Do you need something?” He asked levelly, doing his best to control the tremor in his voice.

“Just come up here to ask what’s to eat, sir,” the man growled.

“You’ve already received your rations today,” Wooyoung answered.

“But it looks like you officers have got a little something extra in there...” came the reply along with an accusing finger pointed at the captain’s quarters.

Wooyoung closed his eyes and sighed. This was what he’d been afraid of. Suddenly angry, he drew himself up and decided to cut off the problem at the root. “If you’re trying to complain about your food, you’d best keep it to yourself. I can assure you we’re eating no better than you and if you’ll just be patient and remember your station you’ll be well fed soon enough. Now back to your post.”

Thankfully his tone and gaze were intimidating enough to deter the man from making any more accusations, and he slunk away into the darkness of the rigging, swaying slightly.

It was another sleepless night, full of wondering whether he ought to stay or do what the back of his mind had been nagging him to do since he first boarded the ATEEZ; escape. Reaching no conclusion, Wooyoung rose to Seonghwa’s whistle and assumed his post for the morning.

A powder monkey came up to him unexpectedly and whispered in his ear that one of the gunmen wasn’t moving. With a sinking feeling, Wooyoung ran to the gun deck and pushed the crowd of men out of his way. Sure enough, the gunner from the night before lay, unmoving, on the floor. Trying and failing to wake him, Wooyoung checked for breath and found none. A heartbeat was absent, too. “He’s dead,” he finally announced.

Part of him was still in utter disbelief. A death already and he hadn’t rubbed the sleep out of his eyes yet. The crowd around him murmured before a voice broke out, “Who gets his rations?”

In seconds, the crowd was everywhere pushing, shoving, and yelling and Wooyoung was stumbling through dragging the dead body behind him towards the helm until he collapsed, gasping, at Hongjoong’s feet. The Captain bent to help him up while Mingi took the wheel.

“A man is dead,” Wooyoung choked out. “And a riot is starting.”

...

Taglist: @nightynightnyx

A/N: Mini crisis averted, here is the next chapter! It went from lighthearted to dire very quickly... Hope you’re enjoying, please let me know :)

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[mediocrity-at-best]

Reasons To Live

Warnings: None

Pairing: None

Words: 1,585

Summary: Virgil just wants to walk home and agonize over his upcoming test, but a man he’s never seen before asks him a question, and somehow it all ends up okay.

Let me know if you want anything tagged! Thanks for reading!

“Why are you alive?” The question sounds idle, and it completely catches Virgil off guard. He’d just exited a building on campus - he can’t remember which, now, but he could tell you the exact spot he saw the man and heard the question - and he was heading back to his dorm. He probably wasn’t going to go to sleep that night, instead cramming for a psychology test the next day, but his phone was dying and it was vital he have music to study.

“What?” he asks. He glances to the side to see a man sitting on the ground, back against the concrete wall of a building. Virgil will come back the next day to see the building was the lab, and he still won’t know where he’d been coming from before the man spoke.

“Why are you alive?” the man repeats. Virgil is finally registering the question, and he is gearing up to get very mad. He’s had a hard life, and he dresses in an off-putting way, but that’s no reason he should be dead. “What reason do you have for living?” the man goes on. “What keeps you going through the day?”

Virgil pauses now. He no longer thinks this is an attack on him, but he can’t quite figure out what it is.

“Are you okay?” he asks instead. The man turns his head and the starlight turns the lenses of his glasses silver for a moment. Beneath the glasses, the man’s eyes are dark. They could be blue or black or brown, but it’s too dark for Virgil to tell.

“I am fine,” the man says. His eyes seem to pick Virgil apart, and Virgil finds the sensation to be oddly reassuring - as though nothing he says will be deemed too weird by the man sitting in the walkway.

“It’s, uhm, a little strange. That you’re just sitting out here.” Virgil pauses. The man makes no move to respond. “Who are you?” Virgil finally says. The silence feels loaded, and he doesn’t like it.

“I am a scientist,” the man says. He tilts his head back, the stars refracting silver again, and he observes the night sky like it has secrets. Maybe it does, Virgil doesn’t know. He repeats, “I am a scientist. As such, I collect information on things I do not understand, or things I wish to know more about. Scientists also tend to be curious by nature, and though I consider myself to be very much under my own control, some queries are too demanding to be left for another time.” The man pauses, and Virgil immediately wants to break the silence. He refrains, though, because he can tell that was only part of the thought. “All the best scientists asked their questions and endeavoured to answer them, regardless of the flack they faced for doing so.” His eyes slide back to Virgil for a moment, and Virgil thinks they’re probably blue. The same shade as the sky is now. “I have been wondering, of late, why people go on. There are infinite reasons to give it up. There are so many reasons and so many irrefutable facts that make everything seem so insignificant. Why do we go on?” The man looks at Virgil directly again, his eyes unwavering. “What reasons do you have for living? What keeps you going even when you know you are so small?” Despite the phrasing and the way Virgil immediately wants to bristle, his tone is not accusatory. The man’s voice is. . .curious, certainly. Melancholic, if Virgil wants to let his inner writer interpret the situation. But nobody really uses words like melancholic anymore, so Virgil throws the thought out.

“People,” Virgil tells him, mostly because it’s true and partly because he’s not sure what else to say.

“What makes people worth living for?” The man doesn’t sound like he is surprised, or like he’s going to mock Virgil for whatever he says. He still sounds curious, and Virgil begins to wonder if the man himself has any reasons to go on. It’s a ridiculous thought, and he tries to cast it out with melancholic, but it lingers, and Virgil knows he will probably write a poem about this later. Probably using the word melancholic because somehow it fits and a little bit of poetic hubris never killed anybody.

Virgil doesn’t speak for a moment after the man’s question because he’s not sure how to word what he wants to say. “They’re. . .all different.” The words are awkward and clunky and terribly obvious, but they work. The point stands, whether or not the man knew it already.

Virgil swallows. “Each one has a story, and they are all worth knowing.” He hesitates. “A lot of people will say if you’ve met one person, you’ve met them all. But if you’ve met one person, you’ve just met that one person. No matter how many people you meet, all their stories will be different. No two are alike. And they all deserve to be known.” Virgil wishes the man would look back up at the sky. The words are harder to find when the man is watching him search.

“Is that it?” he asks. “Are the different stories all you live for? Is that what our lives are about?”

Virgil doesn’t know what to say, and he briefly considers just leaving because he’s been having a difficult enough time on his own lately, and finding reasons to live is tough. He doesn’t leave, though, because the sky is open and the air is clear and he feels a little less hopeless.

Maybe a little more hopeful.

“No,” Virgil says. “That’s not it.”

“What else, then? What other reasons do you live for? What else is there?” Virgil almost does leave then, reconsiders staying, because he’s not sure he has another reason until it comes out of his mouth.

“Cookies.” He feels stupid now because who on earth lives for a dessert? Virgil knows he’s turning red in the dark, and he knows the man is going to laugh at him.

But he doesn’t. His head dips slightly, a silent request for Virgil to go on. So he does.

“They’re warm when they come right out of the oven. And they’re sweet and soft. And they can make you feel better.” Virgil stops. The man keeps on looking, and Virgil doesn’t know what else there is to say about cookies. Sweet, soft, and warm. That’s about it. But the silence stretches, and the man looks like he’s waiting. Virgil finds himself pulling abother sentence out, even if he’s never thought it before. “They remind me I’m not alone because I can’t bake for shit. So if I have warm cookies, it means somebody cares enough to make them for me.”

“Warm cookies and stories,” the man says. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care enough to comment that Virgil is definitely bright red. Virgil knows those are two very stupid ways to excuse your own existence, but they are what he has. Virgil can’t help but expect the man is going to mock him, as so many have, when he opens his mouth again. Instead, he says, “They are pleasant things. The companionship one finds in a shared food or story is wonderful. To know you are not alone is a beautiful thing.” The man smiles, if only a tiny bit. “Thank you for the reasons to live.”

Virgil blurts, “The stars,” before he can convince himself not to. Maybe it’s because the conversation feels unfinished, and maybe it’s because he thinks the man on the sidewalk needs another reason, and maybe it’s because you can never have too many reasons to live.

“I live for the stars. They’re beautiful. They shine brightly, thousands of years after they’re dead, and they give me hope. Because sometimes they look silver and sometimes they’re blue and sometimes they’re pink but they’re always astonishing. They give us light and change our perception of this world - our world, long after they’ve stopped shining, and it makes me think maybe I can too.” Virgil stops, and he’s panting a little. The man tilts his head back again, and looks up at the sky. Virgil watches his face, and then he glances up at the stars, too. They always make him feel more alive, and important. Like maybe he’s worth the cookies and the stories.

“Perhaps,” the man says, “we are not so small.” When he smiles at the sky, Virgil feels like he’s intruding on a private moment, so he leaves. He goes home, to his dorm, and he doesn’t study all night. He sleeps, and when he wakes up the next morning, he feels a little more hopeful and a little more prepared than he has in a long time. He doesn’t write a poem about the man he met, and he doesn’t include the word melacholic in anything because that was just his inner writer running away with him, and he doesn’t speculate on who the man was. When Virgil realizes he doesn’t know the man’s name, he becomes The Scientist, and Virgil drops by the spot he met The Scientist some nights, just to see if he’s still there. Despite the fact that he never is, he is a permanent fixture in Virgil’s mind, and he imagines the man is still out there, sitting on some sidewalk somewhere else, collecting other people’s reasons to live and maybe reminding them that life is worth living, too.

[brightsun-and-darkmidnight]

Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

TITLE: Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 24 / ?

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-dark midnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki falling in love with a Midgardian and his words to Thor about Jane during Dark World coming back to haunt him. “It would be a heartbeat. You would never be ready.”

RATING:  M for Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: ~▪︎~FOR THE WHOLE STORY~▪︎~

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Check Masterlist. It's going to be a long read. I try to keep each chapter around 3,000 words.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

!-!TRIGGER WARNING(S)!-!

So many triggers, read ALL of them!

Swearing. Angst. Death. Depression. Violence. Self-harm. Regret. Carelessness for safety. Doubts. Torture. NSFW. Smut. Fluff. And Of Course- Mischief.

Summary: Home.

 ~ ~ ENJOY  ~ ~

Loki observed Emma and how she pushed Alicia relentlessly.

Alicia did well enough while in visions and sparring in present time but when she came out of it… her eyes were glazed and dull but was able to keep up the purposely planned movements for a little longer when the present caught up with the future he witnessed her panick when she was beaten. 

It took more than 5 minutes to regain her sight back Loki tried not to show it but he felt distressed as she tried not to cry but the tears fell from her clouded eyes.

Emma healed her eyes and explained, "she only loses her sight with present visions. As you can see she can tap into them herself but if she is in them more than 3 minutes her eyesight is impaired… Let me show you her visions she already drew." Emma left Alicia to rest with a beverage but Alicia was studying the room with slow moving eyes.

Loki was lead to a wall as Emma started to explain. There were a ton of visions that he recognized to already happen. Some detailed and others not. Some connected to others. The others by themselves.

Emma pointed to a series of visions. "We have been focusing on before the trigger vision. It helps figure out what happens after better than getting the the after visions. It is weird, I know. But. If the trigger vision is in detail the higher the chance of it happening as drawn. No lean way." 

That detailed vision was last night with the reporters capturing their needed date night, with a magazine section. The picture of them walking to their table in the restaurant, a few of them dancing and then a picture of the park. "Make-up after the break-up?" Loki refrained from reacting to the vision because he was upset Alicia knew it would happen and none of it was a surprise at all.

Emma pointed to a very rough sketch as the past visions were more detailed, "there is a ton of lean way with vague drawings." The vision was of a mission Loki was on a few days ago. The gun man aimed right at Natasha but there were no more details than that.

Loki knew that scene. Peter had webbed the man and strung him up by the joined hands. The man had information as to where the weapons were stored for another planned mass attack.

Emma pointed to the vision of the attack that killed 58 people. "Everyone knew this was going to happen but because it was drawn in details… it happened just as you see here." Emma sighed, "sometimes it is better to let things happen. Such as this…" Emma moved to a vision of the Midgardian leaders agreeing on the construction of the Bifrost.

"Which visions are SHEILD aware of?"

"All of them. Fury has been… cooperative for the most part." Emma waved her hand at the attack that killed 58 individuals, "he insisted Alicia made that better. I let her but it's likely she really didn't do anything that wouldn't have happened. The Avengers would have been called sooner or later. Fixing a severed wound with the added drawings are a child's bandaid...meant to comfort more than actually fix something." Emma crossed her arms and sighed… "Alicia really is… " 

Loki followed Emma's steady gaze to Alicia who was sparing with the extra training member. He was a standard Asgardian soldier. Loki caught her eyes losing the brightness then transitioned to her normal color. She seemed to forget where she was and barely had time to put up a shield that did not waver but instead pushed outwards and knocked the attacker back as she lunged forward.

Alicia did the same as she always did while training with her family. Hesitation at the end.

Emma finished her thought, "soft hearted."

Loki rooted himself to the ground as Alicia was wrestled to the ground and she grunted at a hard slam. Then a punch to her nose and she was disoriented the guard started to choke her.

Emma spoke as Loki moved forward, "Relax. She either wins or gets...a little rest."

Loki watched as Alicia's watery  eyes opened and she used her legs to push the guard away and elbows to break the hold. She rolled on top and hesitated. The guard easily overpowered her but she put her hand on his chest and the man wheezed. Alicia let the man pass out and then healed him.

Emma spoke to Loki, "she can handle her own. But the hesitation is the problem. You'd think it was being a collector for Marcibeth's unwilling informants for so long…" Emma sighed as she glared at the ground, "Alicia really doesn't want to fight at all."

Loki took his eyes off of Alicia downing a bottle of water and the finger marks on her neck steadily disappear, "How is she dealing with the visions emotional ties?"

"All of the visions she has experienced with me were forced. She hasn't had any natural visions."

"So no bleeding effect?" Loki was studying Emma.

"No. I am considering leaving her to herself for a little. I am confident she will be fine. She has plenty of ways how to handle herself now."

"So I don't need to persuade her to take off of work to go on a vacation?"

Emma laughed, "I am granting her freedom for the time being. However it's her choice what she does with that freedom." Emma gave Loki a wide smile, "Enjoy your anniversary. I figured you would be here to take her away."

Loki tried to hide the smile and looked elsewhere when the smile grew. Without a word he walked to Alicia. 

She grinned up at him. "Don't you dare get the weird idea to smell me."

Loki's nose wrinkled, "I can smell you already. You need to get a shower…" Of Course Loki made it sound suggestive. Loki grinned at her sparkling eyes and playful glare. Loki lost the suggestive tone gestured to the door. "Well, go get ready I'll pack your bags."

Alicia scrunched her eyes and rose an eyebrow. "Bags?-What about?"

"Everything is taken care of. I know I told you we would just go to dinner, as all of the celebrations before…" Loki smiled and made Alicia's poor tone of mocking him, "but I have a reputation to maintain as the God of Lies and Mischief."

Alicia rolled onto her back and laughed, "I have waited so long for you to do that!"

Loki played with the collar of his shirt, "That was more humiliating than I was prepared for…"

Emma snickered, "I'll do my best to forget.. You two have fun."

Loki forced Alicia into the bathroom and told her to soak in the tub. Promising they had a lot to do. He got many outfits, mostly comfortable as they would be lounging around. He just started to look through her lingerie drawer when he heard the teasing tone.

"Are you a panty raider now?"

"I do like these ones…" Loki saw her excited face as he held them out to her.

Alicia held out her hand, "Shall I put them on now?" 

She should know better than to trust him, "They are going to stay on until late tonight." He laughed too loud at the fall of her face. "I set out an outfit for you on your bed." Loki took the lingerie and waved his hand towards the door, "everything is picked out."

Loki had servants load the car, then also the personal jet he requested. All travel was normal with how much Alicia traveled for SHIELD before, then also the dozen of times she went to the city of Asgard as well as most of his interviews. Alicia was excited when they landed in the usual airport for Norway however, a little confused when they didn't go the usual way to the main city of Asgard. She questioned with different words to try to get him to slip but in conclusion, he did not give a slight hint.

She was even more confused when they went to a house with plenty of land. It was two houses connected by a breezeway. One for Alicia and Loki and 3 extra bedrooms. The other house was for the servants. Four bedroom house as well, but all of the servants had significant others who also helped run the land.

It was everything Alicia would ever need with more than standard kitchen and living room. Their bedroom had a connection to each of their own bathrooms and closets. There was enough room for visitors. Rooms to pass time such as; a study with books and a section for Alicia to draw, a gym, an entertainment room with a large TV over a fireplace. An inside pool that was also connected by the breezeway. Outside was a large sitting place around a fire pit.

The head of the staff showed them around. After they were left to their room were their things were already unpacked Alicia flopped on the bed with a sigh. Loki waited patiently for Alicia to open her eyes. They sparkled as she finally looked through the skylight.

Loki laid beside her and played with her hair, "I hope this is too your satisfaction."

"Loki.. this place is wonderful. It's like a dream house.." her eyes danced around their room.

"Everything is perfect? The location, design, structure..?"

Alicia smiled and rolled on top of him,  "Beyond perfect."

Loki had to do it now or he knew it would not be asked, "Would you like it to be yours?"

Alicia's face was confused then smiled with a laugh as she sat up, "what are you talking about?"

Loki studied her face as he explained, "I had this designed and built for you. For us."

Alicia lit up, "this is...ridiculous… I mean goodness, Loki. This is quite a gift. I can't top this."

Loki laughed, truly laughed. He earned a gentle caress to his face.

"What I mean to say is thank you. I love it." She kissed his lips and she gave him a mind-blowing kiss. Nothing was rushed, everything was perfect. Especially as she pressed her upper body against his and encased him in her arms.

She pulled away but Loki was breathless and he had to remember how to open his eyes. She was gently brushing her nose on his. She pressed her forehead to his and her soft eyes were focused on his.

"I love you so much. More than I was prepared to love in my entire life. You never fail to amaze me. To surprise me. When I get comfortable, you find ways to keep me on my toes. I love all of you. Every single bit. Especially the mischievous parts. I want you forever. I need you. Without you I… I miss you terribly. These past several weeks were absolutely terrible without you. I need you. Always."

The last word echoed in his mind...

Loki smirked, "you took the words right from me.." Loki rolled them to the side and held her close.

Alicia got close to him and placed her head to his neck. Loki placed his head on hers as they laid in calm silence. She fell asleep and Loki removed her shoes and covered her with a spare blanket. If Loki could prevent any disruption to the peace he would. 

The future held other plans of pain. With a long and steady sigh, he went to the study contemplating the main question at hand… Should he ask or wait? 

Alicia was his life.

Loki swore he would protect her. 

Marcus did give his blessing. 

With a pen in hand the question turned to what could be said... Loki could not write on the paper. All the words left him. He could not decide where to start. Finally he made a list of everything that described her. Wrote why he loved those qualities and quirks. Now all he had to do is put all of that into a speech. He jotted down a few rough drafts. With soft footsteps and a quiet knock from the entry door, Loki hid the papers and approached as Alicia called for him in question.

Alicia draped the blanket over her and leaned against the doorframe. She held her arms out and encased him in warmth, put her face in his neck and placed lazy kisses.

There was a knock. "Dinner will be ready in an hour." The elder man bowed and walked silently through the hallway.

Loki and Alicia went to their own spaces to get ready. Loki put extra effort into looking his absolute best. He was done before her and waited for her. He looked out the window, the leaves varied in color and caught the light from the sky. Loki pulled the box from his pocket. He questioned if it was good enough for her to wear everyday.

Her door opened and Loki put the ring in his Seder pocket. 

His words were stolen from him. She smiled and looked at the ground. Loki went and lifted her chin.

"You keep stealing every word from me today. Halting every thought with how… speechless you make me."

Alicia gave him a teasing smile, "does the tiger have your tongue?"

Loki scoffed, "while I hate how he flirts with you, he designs clothes for you that..captivate me." Loki leaned forward and held eye contact until their lips met. He felt Alicia's hands rest on his chest. 

Alicia eased her hand into his with a growing smile, "let's go eat. I am starved."

Loki chuckled and lead her through the house. The conversation over dinner updated each other on various things such as media conversations, tower drama, missions and training. Loki missed their talks they had in the apartment. He missed the general apartment life. He loved knowing they could create that everywhere.

He knew Alicia created the feeling he loved.

Alicia was a place he belonged, she was home.

Alicia laughed and brought him out of the world of comfort.

"Susan's family, especially the kids want us to go to their Christmas party. It is your first party request. I haven't given an answer yet I wanted to ask you first." Alicia forced a smile with the way her lips threatened to turn down, "it will only be a few hours."

Loki confessed as his eyes wandered over her form, "I have never watched children longer than - what we interacted with on our little fans."

Sadness covered her features as she stared into his, "We don't need to stay long or you don't even have to go.."

Loki held her hand that was pressed onto the table, "I would love to go."

Her eyes lightened as her bright smile returned, "Don't look so excited, Justin is a handful by himself."

"And what is the joyful look on your face?"

Alicia looked at her plate and poked at it, "I love kids. I doubt I will have my own, but it is really great to be around them."

"We only talked about that once… do you want to open that discussion again?"

Alicia smiled and hid her face with her hair by looking down. "I know we get Edward and Luit in custody, so… maybe we could consider it then?"

Loki brushed the hair out of her face and she leaned into his hand. With a wide smile she spoke his favorite words promoting Loki repeated her and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. Loki encouraged her to eat and they would get showers, comfy clothes and lounge with each other. They did as he said.

Loki was already on the bed with a book when Alicia emerged from her personal bathroom.

Alicia's hair was still wet and she pulled it up. "If we have children… I'm cutting my hair. Above my shoulders."

A flashback of her hair cut from the bullies.

Alicia crawled to him and arranged herself next to him. "Please read."

Loki read to her and she stared at him. Then her eyes caught the light show he wanted her to experience.

She breathed out a, "Thank you." Then pulled him for a kiss.

[nerdylittoyvoid]

Half light - Banners (Connor x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of mental illness, Angst

Synopsis: Connor just wants to know both sides on Y/N 

Heyoooo the warning is up there for all those who may want them, feel free to ignore them (you rebel, I like you) or listen to them (you warning abiding human, I also like you). So, this fic is for @spectacular-spiderboy‘s 600 follower writing challenge! I hope you enjoy! 

“it makes me feel nervous, you have that look in your eye”

 Connor’s LED blinked yellow, his face showing pure concern while seeing her like this.

You were sitting alone at your desk, the clock displaying 12:46 AM. It was another late night at the DPD filling out what seemed to be endless paperwork. Your hands shook as you tried to complete another file, your erratic breathing evident. Shakily running a hand through the hair that had fallen out of your braid, you looked pale. Too pale.

Connor could tell that your heartrate had accelerated. He’d seen you too many times like this before, taking care of everything else but yourself. You tried to put up a ‘strong woman’ front with everybody in the office, trying to be seen as a super woman of sorts. Able to accomplish everything, not letting anything get to you. But Connor, he could tell that you were deteriorating. Scanning you, he saw that you were severely fatigued and dehydrated. The girl he became deviant for was so focused on everything that she needed to do that she forgot to sleep.

He hated seeing you like this. As a human, you were so fragile. Any need not being met would put your health (or worst-case scenario, your life) at risk.

Yet, you were adamant that nothing was wrong. It was almost as if you had forgotten that Connor could do a full scan of your body to ensure your health needs were met. You’d put on a smile and build a brick wall towards everybody else. He never had the honor or the pleasure of knowing who that real Y/N was. The Y/N when she was sad, anxious, upset, vulnerable. It was at the point that he didn’t know if the happy, bubbly, sarcastic girl was really you.

“When you’re in the half light it is not you I see

And you’ll live a half life

You only show half to me”

Y/N grew up in a troubled home. Her parents divorced in the middle of her childhood. Everyone she loved all grieved over so many losses, so many personal troubles. She has learned that it was best to not bother anyone with her own problems. After all, everybody else already had so much on their plate.

She did have a therapist who she visited frequently, along with a doctor who prescribed her depression and anxiety management medications. It wasn’t that she was trying to avoid getting better, she just didn’t want anyone else knowing what she was battling. She was doing pretty well for herself, too. She had cut down on her drinking, went out for walks more often, tried her best to take time for herself. But what good is any of that when you can’t even get out of bed in the morning.

Sensing an anxiety attack coming on, Y/N grabbed her sedatives from her bag.

“Take two when experiencing beginning symptoms of an anxiety attack or as needed. DO NOT OPERATE ANY VEHICLES WHILE UNDER THE EFFECTS OF THIS MEDICATION. MAY CAUSE DIZZINESS OR DROWZINESS.”

Sighing, Y/N took her water bottle out, and followed the directions on the bottle. She noticed her bottle was still full. She had forgotten to drink anything today. “Shit.” She thought to herself.

Y/N sat back in her chair, taking a couple minutes to let the medication do its magic. It was too late in the night to take public transit, she’d be stuck taking a taxi or walking. Most likely the latter, she couldn’t handle interacting with anybody else right now. Any type of exposure would lead to a full-on meltdown, which is never good when in a stranger’s car.

“Sometimes I join you

Let you wash over me

When we’re in the darkness

Only the blind can see”

 Slowly, but loudly enough not to startle Y/N, Connor walked back into the main office to approach her desk. Quickly, Connor analyzed the bottles in her hand. Venlafaxine XR 150 milligrams: a potent, short lasting Serotonin and Norepinephrine Reuptake Inhibitor, and Clonazepam 2 milligrams: a strong sedative in the benzodiazepine family. Both psychotropic medications.  

Connor cleared his throat, hoping to gently catch your attention. After seeing you trying to hide a panic attack at the DPD, he read that using slow, quiet and gentle approaches work best for someone in distress.

“All you all right, Y/N?” Connor asked gently, purely out of care and concern.

Y/N’s head shot up as her eyes widened. “Shit,” she thought, “I thought I was alone.”

“Of course, I just have a headache. Not ideal when you have a case load bigger than a house, with a porch and a fence.” Y/N chuckled, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

“I am not sure if you are in the best space for me to be blunt with you right now-“

Y/N cut Connor off. “Fire away.” She leaned back in her office chair, placing her palm over her forehead.

“Although a headache may very well be present, your symptoms point more strongly towards an oncoming anxiety attack. I’m really worried for you Y/N.” When he got no response, he sighed, grabbing an office chair from another desk. “Can I sit with you?” He asked politely.

“Be my guest” Y/N gave him a weak smile, attempting to show appreciation for his caring acts.

 “Can you shake it off for me?”

 Connor sat down beside her. Turning to her he asked another question, “Is there anything you need that I can do for you?”.

Y/N stopped for a moment. She hadn’t been asked that question in so long. She wasn’t being pressed to talk about what she was feeling, it was an open offer. She let out a long sigh that somehow turned into a chuckle. Damn it, his actions started making her choke up.

“I really just need a hug if that’s not too much to ask.” She said, somehow defeated. All of those years she spent building that guard up, miraculously seemed to vanish, and she was left in a vulnerable state.

“Anything to make you truly happy.” Connor stood up, gently holding Y/N’s arms to guide her up. To him, in this moment, she seemed so fragile. Like any sudden movement would cause her to break. Slowly, he pulled her in, resting his chin on the top of her head.

Like a pin poking a balloon, Y/N just let everything go. She began to sob, muttering little comments on how everything was becoming too much. Heavily sobbing, she noticed this meltdown felt different. It felt like a release, like weight had been lifted off her chest. For the first time, she wasn’t alone.

As if Connor had read her mind, he whispered softly, “You are never alone in this world. Nobody is.”

Stifling through her sniffles, she choked out one witty comment. “How could anyone be with all these damned security cameras. The government surveys all.”

Connor let out a chuckle. Hearing her make a humorous joke regardless or the bad situation proved to him that his Y/N was still there. “Conspiracy time is not now.”

“Every time is conspiracy time.”

Connor tried to sound as robotic as possible. “I have been programmed by cyberlife and the government to politely disagree with you.” For the first time in the past couple days, Y/N let out a laugh. A real one.

“Words cannot express how much I appreciate you. Truly.”

In that moment they looked into each other’s eyes. That feeling, the urge to kiss was there. But, Connor refrained, not wanting to take advantage of the distressed girl. Smiling softly, he kissed the top of her head, in a romantic but still somewhat friendly manner.

“I’m always here for you, it doesn’t matter what time of day or night it is. It’s not like I sleep, anyways.” Connor reassured, while squeezing her shoulders with one arm, rubbing her back with his free hand. “Let’s take you home, you’ve had a late night.” Connor decided.

Taking Y/N out of the building, Connor led her to the car that Hank had help him buy. Opening the passenger side door for her, she climbed in. Soon enough, he was in the driver’s seat, and they headed back to Y/N’s house.

Arriving at their destination, Y/N climbed out of the car with Connor following suit after shutting off the engine. Y/N unlocked her front door, greeting her cat as she walked in.

“I think you should get to bed, maybe call in sick tomorrow morning.” Connor suggested.

“I think that sounds fucking lovely right now.” Y/N signed, as she walked over to her bedroom and collapsed onto her bed.

“I’ll let you get changed.” Connor closed the door, waiting patiently on the other side. When Y/N gave the all-clear, he headed in to see her curled up under her duvet.

“Stay with me tonight, please. If it’s not too much to ask, I don’t want to be alone. I have some baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt you could borrow.”

Hesitantly, Connor agreed. Taking the clothes and going to the bathroom to change, he came out soon after and crawled into bed with her. Taking her into his arms, he felt his thirium pump beat in a way it never did before. After much thought, he decided that this is what love felt like. He loved Y/N.

“Thank you, Connor. I don’t know what I could do to repay you for this.” Y/N whispered, appreciatively.

“Just let me get to know the other half of Y/N.”

“It’s a deal.”

With that, Y/N dozed off. That night, she slept better than she had in months.

[hopestallion]

Loser prt.1

Disclaimer: I neither own Sense8 nor do i own Bangtan. I just own this idea and the Reader(insert)

You lose what matters to you the most. Your cluster has to save your life and hold the shards of your heart.

The poll on my twitter decided for a dark chapter, Jimin and Hoseok centered. Though i don't like it much and i had to write it in a rush. I am going to have it have another part so it can make more sense.

Always welcoming you guys feedback.

P.S: this was not beta-ed

Laughter carried through the house, accompanied by music. Sunlight filtering through curtains, playing over hardwood floor. Occasionally interrupted by a leg or arm, that crossed paths with the sunbeam. “You seem much happier, than before boo.” She was seated across from you. Holding a glass of brownish liquor.

You giggled, as the song came to an end. “Do you ever miss your home, mémère?” you asked, purposefully using one of the French terms for grandmother. She wasn’t really your grandmother, neither was she French. But she had raised you in your parent’s stead. Even though you didn’t know how she came to be with your family. And everyone seemed to avoid the question. You could guess.

“She’s from New Orleans… she’s quite a distance from home” While your mémère took her time to answer your question, bringing the glass of ‘probably Jack Daniel’s’ to her lips. Your gaze traveled only a little distance from her face. Right behind her stood one of the possibly most beautiful men, you’d ever seen. If it had happened for the first time ever, you would have been shocked. By now you were used to it.

“I don’t even know what it looks like anymore. It’s been truly too long” she said, and you took note of the change in accent. Sometimes your mémère would fall back into her New Orleans accent, infused with heavy French terms. Other times she’d be reminded, that she no longer is from there. And that’s when she’d come back to her Icelandic acquired accent. You found it incredibly sad, especially when you loved her original accent so much.

“She’s a good liar…” he leaned forward, crossing his arms over the back of the sofa. You pulled your legs up to your chest in response. Of course, he’d see through her. Often, he’d say. “Lying is what I do best”, “Lying is my forte” you wondered if he wasn’t the most honest of you all, after all. “I miss home sometimes…” you didn’t know why you said it. Usually trying your best to avoid that topic.

“You know you can’t think like that, little wolf.” Another endearment, that she brought with her from her home. Growing up in a town, that had thick roots for Voodoo. It was no surprise, that she sometimes reverted to those old myths. You still remembered every single one of them. Most nights, they were the only thing, that kept you going. Even now, you held tight to her myths and stories. The magic, you knew couldn’t exist in a world like yours. But then you’d look at what had happened in less than a year. And you wonder how true it is.

Your mémère got up from her seat and put the now empty glass down. Why don’t you pick another song, to twirl your skirts to. And I’ll prepare dinner? Any wishes?” you shook your head in response. “I think I might sit outside for a while? The weather seems nicer than most days.” After all it was spring. The season, where most people would find joy. Iceland however somehow managed to depress people. Maybe it was the short amount of night, or the vast amount of sun for the short span of time. You never truly understood why.

“Don’t you dare jumpin’ outta the balcony” she yelled over her shoulder, as she already made her way to the kitchen. You chuckled to yourself and pushed the balcony doors wide open. A gust of wind passing you. And ruffling the curtains to either side of you. Your dress flaring up with the wind. “I don’t mind that view” his cheeky words caught you by surprise. Reprimanding him would have had a hold, if he hadn’t already seen you naked at this point.

Outside, you laid down on one of the tanning chairs. Pulling out your phone from the pocket in your dress. You never understood why most dresses didn’t have pockets. Did people really think, women didn’t need to store shit, while on the go? To your luck your mémère had sewn you pockets into almost every article of clothing. Only refraining from doing so to your panties. Your bras did have tiny pockets. She had winked at you, calling it the safest place to hide money. She wasn’t that far off.

Pulling up your phone and putting it to your ear. You replied to him. “Not like you haven’t seen me naked, already” his cheeks colored in a rosy hue. “Can’t pull up one on you, can I? he replied and sat down across from you. You didn’t have to wonder where he was or what he was doing. You blinked once, standing in the middle of a meeting room. “How are you talking to me, without looking like a lunatic?” you asked curious. None of you had had figured out yet, how to keep the connections separate. Of course, he would be the one to figure it out.

“I don’t know, you’re the only one it worked with so far.” He said and leaned forward, replying to one of the questions directed to him. “How long can you keep it up?” mischief was playing in your tone. The only reaction he showed in his physical body, was a raise of his eyebrow. The manager kept on explaining the new concept of his movie. While you decided to test out his boundaries. “Let’s hope, you’re not too vocal, right Jimin?”

You sat down on his lap, spread legged. Hands reaching out to rip apart the nice pressed dress shirt, he was wearing. Sure enough, none of that really happened, but it was hard to decipher between each. Especially when you could feel both as a sensate. “What are you doing?” he hissed, as his hands grabbed for your hips. Your response easy enough, a jut of your hips. He gritted is teeth, when you let your hands wander down his chest. Nails scratching past nipples, that were slowly hardening underneath your fingers. Lips pressing to his ear. “I’m pretty sure you’re familiar with this procedure.”

Jimin was about to warn you, to not go too far. Even though, he was gripping your hips harder. When you suddenly looked up in shock. “What’s going on?” he could hear the panic in your voice, instantly killing any upcoming arousal. “(Y/N)?” he asked, but you were too occupied, with whatever was happening on your side. “Mémère, what’s going on?” you asked, as she pulled you into the house and towards the bedroom. Jimin stumbling behind her, as her hand was curled around your wrist. You were trading places inconsequentially. Your perception mixing and muddling with one another.

“Your father knew something was going to happen, eventually. We didn’t know how soon or late. We of course hoped for later” she said and turned to the wall. There was a huge portrait, you’d always found tacky. It was a family picture, your father, your brothers, your mother, mémère and you. But almost no one was left. “I still don’t understand” you said. She pulled down the picture, showing a panel in the wall. “What the hell?” she pushed in a combination of numbers. The wall sliding to the side. Then she reached for the night stand. Knelt and pulled out the drawer. Reaching into the empty nightstand.

Once back on her feet, you saw the dark form of the gun on her hand. She pulled out the magazine and checked for the bullets, then clicked it back in. “We taught you how to use it. Now you will have to, little wolf” your face paling. “Mémère what’s going on?” you needed answers. Especially with a hidden way out of the house, a loaded gun and not much time. You hadn’t even noticed how things had changed. When things had changed. “They know what you are, once they find you. You will be dead, little wolf.” She said and pulled a duffle from beneath her bed. “We were always prepared for this. Your papa and I” she said. Pressing the handles of the duffle bag into your hand.

Her hands came up to cup your face. Her lips pressing against your forehead. A gesture you had come to see as a sign of love. A light in dark nights, filled with nightmares. A sign of unconditional love, when you’d been the only survivor of the fire. A sign of solidarity, when your father had turned his back on you. “It sounds like you’re not coming with me, mémère….” She smiled at you, a smile you knew was meant to calm you. “She knows she can’t. She’s gonna distract them, so you can run for it” Jimin stood to your right again. “You can’t be serious!” you didn’t care you’d look like a lunatic. You wouldn’t leave her behind.

“It’s one of your cluster, right?” she smiled at you even softer, than before. “If you are birthed already, you will be fine. I know that” she gently turned you around and pushed you to the exit. “I can’t see you, because all I am connected to is her. But you probably can hear me. Protect her. Protect one another” You were about to protest, when gunshots rang through the apartment and the door that had been opened in the wall, slid close. Your hands ready to drop the gun and the duffle, to bang against the wall. Abandoning your family, was not an option. The first time you had not been given a choice, but this time? Like hell would you, leave her behind.

Before you could drop anything though, two hands held each of yours. “Her sacrifice will be in vain, if they get to you too.” Your eyes traveled up the pale hands. Meeting with dark brown eyes, framed by black hair. It was freshly washed and hang in wet strands down his face. “He’s right. If they get to you, not only will her sacrifice be meaningless. But they’ll also get to the rest of us.” Teeth buried in your lower lip you nodded. Would never be able to forgive yourself, if they got to anyone from your cluster, because of you.

“Let’s get you out of here first. “you stood behind Hoseok’s computer chair, watching as his fingers flew over the keyboard. “Gotta say your old man, he’s got some style” he said as he typed in more code. “You mean paranoid…” you crossed your arms in front of your chest. There weren’t many good words between him and you. After all you hadn’t seen him in years. “I got through. You still have your phone, right?” you nodded your head. “I hacked into it, so I can pin your location.” He explained. Jimin stood to his other side and watched carefully, as the red pin you were stood still. “You walk ahead, till I tell you otherwise” Hoseok directed, watching as the pin that was you walked ahead.

You used the flashlight of your phone to shine on the ground and walk ahead. The duffle slung across your shoulder you wished you’d put on pants. It would have been easier to carry the gun that way. Even though it wasn’t very wise, to put guns into the back of your pants. “Stop now.” Hoseok’s voice came from your right. Even though he wasn’t physically there, you knew he saw what you saw. As you saw what he saw. “To the right” you mumbled to yourself and touched the walls. Feeling the curve of the corner you followed it and started walking again.

“Just a little further, then left” he instructed, and you followed once more. “At the end of this hallway, is a seeming dead end.” He said, and you nodded. “I’m going to hack into the surveillance camera and see if the coast is clear. But it should be. Whatever you do, don’t go out before I tell you to.” Not like you even knew how to get through the wall. You were pretty sure, it was either by touch or some passcode again.

The sudden eruption of voices and footsteps was what had you press against the wall behind you. You still had to wait for Hoseok’s confirmation of a clear coast. When your hand caught a lose stone and pressed it inside. It was shear panic, what had caused the accident. The wall behind you sliding to the side and you tumbling out onto the sand. The wall slid close before you, cutting of screams and yells. “What the fuck! (Y/N)” Hoseok cursed, but you didn’t have much time to give him any thought. Right in front of you were three men in black suits. Drawn guns directed at your face. While your own, laid uselessly a few meters away from yourself. Your duffle to your right, where you couldn’t reach it easily either.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Hoseok cursed, his hands slamming down on the table. “What do we do now?!” him and Jimin looked at one another helplessly. “I just need a bit…” you said. Their attention snapping back to you. “What do you mean?” the three of you standing where the gun laid. Looking down on you, at gun point. “If I could get to the gun, I could take them.” You replied. “But it’s too far for me to reach…” Jimin lifted his hand to his chin and looked from you to the men in the suits. He walked around them and nodded to himself. “You just need a little distraction, right?”

“We have seven minutes if anything. When I said your old man had some style, I meant the way the house was designed. Once it was locked as a break in, the house would give you a limited time frame. If the exit from the hidden wall is activated. It locks down everyone inside” the hacker explained. His hand running through his still damp hair. “And activates a timer…” Jimin continued his sentence. “Blowing up everyone and the house in pieces. So, there would be no saying if anyone survived or not” you could not leave your mémère in a house, that was going to self-implode. “I have to go back.”

“Seven minutes, she gave you to survive this and help us stay alive. If you go back, you get caught or die? It would make her last minutes meaningless” Jimin knew your pain, he could feel it. It was different than wishing condolences. Or telling someone you knew how you felt. You felt it, sensates knew, because it was their pain too. “What now? I won’t make it to the gun, without decorating the beach with my brain.” The only way for you to cope with whatever was going on, was to hold onto the here and now. Sure, enough the happenings would come after you. One way or another.

“Can I?” Jimin asked. You nodded and watched as he took your place on the ground. Naturally, all of that only happening in your head. While for the men nothing changed and it all looked like seconds passing. You watched as Jimin schooled his features and got into his role. “Whatever he’s paying you. I can pay you thrice the amount….” He said and sat a little up. The men didn’t seem much impressed with his words. Even though some of them hesitated. “After all you’re married…” he looked at the one who was pointing the gun clear at his face. He didn’t wear a ring, but he had a tan line. Speaking volumes about his private life. “You wouldn’t want to be caught for murdering me, right? Because there will be people looking for me.” Jimin didn’t move much, but his face held all the emotion it needed. The knowledge of someone, knowing what he was doing.

“My father built a safe build into the house, it’ll blow up everything and everyone inside. You think he cares who he kills? He doesn’t. And one day? He might kill me, but he also might come for those who killed me. If he can dispose of his own daughter just like that, don’t you think he’s gonna slaughter all you hold dear? Everything, because you got hired to shoot someone. Ain’t worth it if you ask me.” It was a split second of hesitance. You didn’t need more.

Grabbing the gun and uncocking it. Everything moved faster than you expected it to. After all people said, the moment of death was the slowest. Instead you held the man around the neck. Dodging the bullet of his two other goons with his body. You didn’t care for the blood splatters, as you pulled the trigger, two-gun shots for the right one. Dropping him dead like a fly. Then three for the other. The only reason the beach had been not a bad choice for an exit. Even though there was almost to none hiding point for you, there was also none for your enemy.

“You have only four minutes left to leave” Hoseok reminded you. “I know.” You checked them for ammunition and took two of their guns. Picked up your duffle bag and started the short track towards the parking lots around the house. You opened the car door of the black vehicle that stood in the parking lot. Wondering why people always chose cars like that to blend in. When cars like that screamed, “weird”. You pulled the trigger twice more. Thankfully only one driver in the car and no one else. It could have been different. The odds for once in your favor.

You slipped into the car and closed the door behind you. Before scooting across the passenger’s seat, unbuckling the dead body and pushing him out the open driver’s door. Uncaring for the blood on the steering wheel, or the one smeared on the side of the window. You closed the door and buckled in. Until you realized you didn’t know how to drive a car. In all the years your father had prepared you for almost everything. He’d never prepared you for a fucking car. Not that you could blame him, when you remembered the flames and the stench of burning leather.

“I don’t know how to drive!” you said and looked around yourself. “Well guess who can?” finding yourself on the passenger’s seat again, as Taehyung turned the key in the ignition. “Tae?” you blinked owlishly at the other. “I was preparing for an upcoming race.” He explained, and you nodded your head. As he swiftly maneuvered the car through the streets. “Where to now?” he asked and looked around the dashboard. His slanted eyes narrowing on the gps built in. “Can you hack into it?” he asked. Making you realize that Hoseok and Jimin were both in the backseat of the car by now. “Can I hack into it? I’m an all access kind of guy” he replied and let his fingers once again, magically move across his keyboard.

“Jiminie and I, we prepared for something like this. We got in touch with Namjoon and the others. For the soul reason, that if something might happen. We’d have a backup plan.” He explained and caused the GPS to turn on. A location loading on the screen and directing Taehyung through the streets. “We purchased a house in Italy. It’s under neither of our names, so no one would come looking for it.” He explained. “How am I going to travel to Italy. I am pretty sure they’re waiting for me at the airport. If it’s BPO who’s doing all this…” your mémère made it sound like it wasn’t the typical enemy your father, had made during his dark days. Or well darker than now anyway. You didn’t turn around, even though the sound of the explosion traveled a mile behind you. You didn’t want to acknowledge it yet.

“Did you check the content of the duffle bag?” Hoseok asked, making you unzip it and looking through. “There is a lot of cash. A change of clothes… Another round of ammunition. And….” You pulled out an envelope with papers, a passport and a new ID out. “She fucking knew…” you bit down on your lip, to not let the feelings envelope you just yet. Once you were out of the situation yes. But not right now, when anything could happen.

Hoseok changed seats with you, looking at the papers with your eyes. He took note of the names, the numbers and dates. To make sure he’d clear the right passport. “You should be able to get through customs like that. Get rid of the guns while you’re at it. Can’t travel with those and will draw suspicion no matter what.” You agreed and made Taehyung stop the car at the side road. Looking to either of your side and having made sure there was no camera surveillance, you dropped them to the side of the road. Quickly getting back in the car and letting Taehyung take control of the car again.

Once you arrived at the airport, Taehyung reluctantly said his goodbyes. As he had a race to go to and some money for his family to ear. “I’ll be okay, I am pretty sure either of you have some more pressing matters to attend to. “Nah, I’ll make sure you’re on the plane… and later out of customs” Hoseok let his hand fall on your shoulder squeezing it a little. “You’ll get through this. We will…” he said and sent you a soft smile, before vanishing to his room in Moscow. Where he was currently residing.

“I’ll stay with you, I have a day off and nothing much to do anyway.” Jimin said and took hold of your hand. Seeing as you’d changed in the airport bathroom and had scrubbed all the blood away, from the most important places. You’d put on an oversized sweater and some jeans. The sweater covering your hands and therefore, only you could see your held hand “That’s not true, you were in the middle of a meeting…” you said and walked away from check-in, towards the security check. “It was just my manager talking me into another movie. Nothing that can’t be fixed with flowers and a few text messages” he said, and you smiled. It was sweet of him to want to be there for you.

Through the last check in and boarding, you kept it together. Holding yourself as well together as possible. Until you were lead to a first-class seat, that was built as a cube. You hadn’t flown with the newly built planes yet and never would have first class anyway. But guessed it was Hoseok, granting you a few hours of peace. Once seated and the plane took off. You couldn’t help the tears spilling over your lower lashes. “I just abandoned her” he mumbled to yourself, as the tears kept falling. Changing the baby blue color of your sweater into a greyish darker blue. “She did what she could to save you.” Jimin whispered and pulled you into his lap and chest.

No one would understand the connection you had to the other seven people. That you could feel them hold you and touch you. While for anyone else, you were just curled in on yourself. But here you were, seated in Seokjin’s chair in his office. While he held your sobbing face against his neck. Standing in Namjoon’s hold, as he comfortingly brushed across your back. Your head in Jeongguk’s lap, who sang softly over your sobs. Taehyung holding your hand tightly over the gear shift, trying to press all his comfort into the curl of his fingers. Laid on Hoseok’s bed, his body curled around yours. Yoongi’s headphone put over your ears, while he held your body in a back hug, on top of his bed. Or Jimin seated in your first-class seat, holding you in his lap, while he brushed your hair with his fingers. “I lost her…” you mumbled through the thick of your tears, as you sobbed silently.

The stewardess had been instructed to leave you be, by her higher-ups. Though you didn’t know, Hoseok had put that request into your ticket, when he’d booked it for you. A few hours later, had a shy Stewardess, shake your shoulder. Helping you adjust and out of your seat. So, you could leave the plane with everyone else. You had made it so far, safe and sound onto Italian ground.

Taehyung appeared on your side again. “Hobi-hyung told me you need a driver” he smiled cheekily at you. Not commenting on how red and puffy your eyes were. Instead he held your hand and lead you outside of the airport. A car pulling up and a young woman getting out. Holding a clip board and a pen for you to sign. “Miss (L/N).” you nodded your head and showed her your passport, for the formalities, before you signed for the car. “That’s some expensive taste you have, Mr. Jung” you looked over to Hoseok who just shrugged his shoulders. “Wasn’t my pick” Jimin leaned over your shoulder, his chin in the juncture between shoulder and neck. “It was mine” he said and couldn’t help himself but press a kiss to your neck, while he was at it.

“It’s a three-hour ride, so I hope you’re going to be fine.” Taehyung explained and once again took the seat. At least in your mind’s eye. For everyone else, it looked like you got seated behind the wheel. The GPS magically loaded again, or more likely Hoseok hacked into the car’s system. The car rumbled to life, while at the same time a tune started to fill the car. A song none of them really knew. In a language neither of them was supposed to know. Taehyung pressed the button to pull down the roof of the car. While the tune started to gain on volume. Only in each of your heads, but it was a beautiful tune, a tune asking for a road trip.

Jeongguk came to sit behind you in the car. “We like to party!” he started to sing loudly. Even though he could be in key, he decided to be out of key. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah” you continued the lyrics. Which you couldn’t know, but Jeongguk did and so all of you did as well. “Aye man you better slow it down” Taeyhung jumped in. The car filling with every member of your cluster, as all of them sang along to the song, only one of you could hear. You couldn’t help but to smile, as you heard some of them off key, some of them on point. Each of you stumble over the lyrics, as Jeongguk couldn’t memorize the rap parts. The song carrying into the later afternoon, as the car vanished behind corner after corner. Driving along the coast of Italy, a lone woman singing loudly to no music at all.

At least to the naked eye.

But who really cared for the naked eye?

If you wanna vote for the upcoming chapter, chat or want me to show progress you can head over to my twitter. I alternate between @hopestallion which is my side twitter and was initially made for my writing stuff and AU's while @_l110492_ is my main and i did the poll there. :D you are welcome to talk and chat over there too ^^

xxx Lana

P.s: PLEASE CHECK OUT SENSE8 ON NETFLIX; I SWEAR YOU WON'T BE DISAPPOINTED!!

[abrahamwebster]

What Is Reiki Healing And How Does It Work Fascinating Tips

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[panda-noosh]

can you do a scenario where pidge and her s/o get into this huge argument, but pidge doesn’t think it’s a big deal but the reader does so they hide in their room and only comes out for food and bathroom breaks. I’m just in one of those moods to read angsty stuff :|

I love Pidge somuch. Enjoy!

   The door slamsclosed behind Pidge, and she waits.

   It's only a minute.After having yet another argument with you, she can't find it inherself to turn back around and open the door, show herself to youeven though she knows full well you've probably collapsed to thefloor in tears.

   The minute passesby with nothing but a wistful silence blowing past her in thehallway. Pidge closes her eyes, runs a hand through her hair beforeshe sets off for her office, not turning back to see if you're at thedoor. The idea doesn't interest her any more. The idea of apologisingwhen she doesn't think she needs to.

     As soon as thedoor slammed closed behind Pidge, though, you were a complete wreck.The hinges click closed and almost immediately your legs have givenout, wobbling beneath you before caving in completely, tears fresh onyour face. Your hands shake as you duck your head into them, tryinganything to pull yourself together but it doesn't seem to be workingany more.

    You and Pidge hadbeen arguing a lot lately. It was expected – tensions were high onthe ship. People were busy, stress was elevated. Jobs had to be doneand planets had to be freed, and through with all of that left notime for a normal conversation. You both had built up anger towardseverything and everyone in this time of crisis and taking it out onone another seemed like the easiest thing to do.

   This argument hadbeen big, though – at least, to you it was. Pidge had walked indemanding yet another report on the ships circuits, and you hadnothing to give her. You had been working non-stop all day on thingsthat were relevant in the moment, meaning a stupid report on circuitshad completely slipped your mind.

   Pidge hadn't likedthat.

   She used theargument, “If you just managed your time better, we would be up todate on everything!” as ifyou didn't work just as hard as her for just as long. You had yelledback at her, telling her to go to hell before she had said the wordswhich had completely ripped your heart from your chest:

   “Maybeyou should just go back to earth if you can't handle the work load uphere.”

   Andthen she had left, not turning back to look at the dumbfounded faceyou held as the words slapped you and made themselves known. Pidgehad a tendency to not bite her tongue, but you had never heard hersay anything as cruel as that. Never. You hoped it was because shenever thought up such things.

   Didshe really believe that?

   Yougroan as the insecurities flood in. You weren't a Paladin, whichmeant you had to prove yourself to Allura and Coran a lot more, butnever Pidge. You never had to prove yourself to Pidge, and you werethankful for that. She always made you feel warm, safe, welcomed –like you were more than just the engineer.

   Youclose your eyes and duck your head into your hands again, snifflingin an attempt to get it together. You didn't want to see Pidge. Youwould be fine on your own.

   “Where'sY/N?”

  It'sthe first question Pidge asks when she arrives in the kitchen forbreakfast the next morning. Shiro, Lance, Keith and Hunk all crowdaround the oversized table, looking over some maps as their breakfastbowls go deserted at the side of them.

   “She'snot with you?” Shiro questions, peaking an eyebrow.

   Pidgefeels her stomach clench, memories of last night flooding back toher. “No. She didn't come to bed last night, either, but that's notrare. I thought she'd be down here by now.”

   “She usuallyis,” Lance comments. “Maybe she just slept in. She was workingmost of the day yesterday, so I can see why she would.”    Pidge swallows the golf-ball sized lump in her throat and nods,trying to push away the thoughts of anxiety that are fighting to thesurface in this moment.

   She's fine.She's fine. She's fine.

   Pidgewent about her day as normal, though everybody could see she wasn'tthe same. Pidge was always one for routine. She loved the schedule,and the planning beforehand and the organisation it brought tosomebodies day to just have a routine, buttoday that routine seemed to be flimsy.

   Shewas stumbling over the multiple tasks she had lined up for the day,taking far too long on one task, which then proceeded to mess up thetime of all of the other tasks. She seemed to be constantly on edge,looking over her shoulder as if expecting somebody to walk in thedoor behind her.

   Shehadn't hugged you that day, and that was itching away at her likefire ants had been released underneath her clothing. She didn't knowuntil now just how much of an effect you had on her, just how muchshe needed you for her day, because she certainly wasn't doing goodwithout you.

   “Sonof a bitch,” she grumbles to herself, ducking her head in her handsas she finally slams the rench down on the floor, giving upcompletely. “Shiro!”

   “What?”the leader calls back. “What is it? Why have you put your toolsdown?”

   “Ineed a break,” Pidge replies. “Can you take over for a littlebit? I'm just gonna go get some fresh air.”

   “Pidge-”

  Shirodoesn't get a chance to object. Pidge has already gotten up and iswalking out of the room, making her way down the hallway to the roomshe had left in such a huff the previous day. She remembers walkingtowards this door with a sandwich in her hands, ready to sit down andhave lunch with you. She remembers walking towards this door, allthem months ago, with flowers bundled in her hands and her shirtironed perfectly and her hair done up by Hunk who had insisted she“had to look her best.” She remembers that day whenever youopened the door and saw the flowers and immediately started to flushthat deep red colour that had been imprinted in Pidge's mind eversince.

   Sheremembers sitting down on the chair in front of you, at a loss forwords as you nervously play with the petals on the flowers she hadjust handed to you. Pidge just sat there and stared at you for amoment, trying to power through all of the pick-up lines Lance hadgiven to her to use, but none of them seemed good.

   Soshe just said, “I love you,” and she looked at your face and sheinspected your reaction, and for a single, heart shattering moment,she could have sworn you were going to laugh in her face. Send heroff with her dignity hurt and her heart shattered. But then your eyesstarted tearing up and you were leaping into Pidge's lap and you werepressing much-needed and long-awaited kisses to Pidge's face untilthey finally met Pidge's lips and it was like the world was in blissand everything was okay again.

   Now,she was walking towards this door with the same kind of nervousnessas that day all them months ago. Playing nervously with the hem ofher shirt as she thinks up what to say, what she shouldsay. The argument yesterday hadleft Pidge's mind pretty quickly, seen as nothing but your usualbickering – but now, as she approaches the door, the begins torealise that maybe her harsh words meant more to you than sheoriginally thought.

    “Stupid,”Pidge whispers to herself, finally coming to a halt outside youroffice door. She waits a minute before knocking, racking her knucklesagainst it and waiting for your response. It wasn't uncommon for youto have headphones in, so whenever there seemed to be no movement fora couple of seconds, Pidge goes to knock again.

   Onlyfor you to pull open the door and scowl at her.

    Pidgesees your face, your disapproving look, and her stomach feels woozy.She had sworn to never have you look at her like that – like youwanted her to go away. That was what it was. A look of banishment, asif her presence was making your day that little bit more sour.

   “Hi,”Pidge says, simply. “Can I – uh – can I come in?”

   Youdon't reply. You simply turn on your heel and head back into theroom, leaving the door open for her to come in at her leisure. Sheinhales deeply before stepping inside and following you over to thelarge desk which held your computer and all of your sheets of paperand all of your hard work that Pidge had failed to notice yesterday.

    Yousit down at your desk and get back to work without a single glance inPidge's way. You scribble down codes with one hand resting on yourforehead, bobbing your knee up and down in the way you always didwhenever you were feeling impatient or anxious.

    Pidgehad an itch to place her hand on your knee to get you to stop, butshe refrained.

    “I'mnot good at apologies,” Pidge begins, finally. The silence hadbecome too thick – suffocating, almost.

   Youdon't look up, and so Pidge continues.

   “Ididn't – I wasn't thinking last night. I was just angry and tiredand I said things that I didn't believe just because I knew theywould hurt you. I feel like such an asshole, you don't understand.”

   Youdon't look up. You barely move. Pidge begins to feel impatient, aneed to kiss you, to make you feel happy again flooding over herbecause that was what she was good at – making you happy. The ideaof doing the opposite was weird to her.

   “Y/N,please don't do this,” Pidge groans, running her hand through herhair. “Do you really want me to pour my heart and soul out into aspeech, because I will. You know I will.”

   You don't move.

   Pidgerolls her eyes. “Fine then. Y/N L/N, the love of my life, my honeydearest or whatever the hell you want to be called. You know that youmean the world to me. You know that, because I tell you everyday.Everyday I wake up and I wrap my arms around your torso and I hug youreally tightly and I kiss your neck and I hear you giggle because youalways say my lips in the morning are chapped and it scratchesagainst your skin. Everyday I do all that and then I whisper to youabout how you're my everything, because sometimes, I don't know ifI'm going to be able to do it the next morning.

    “Today,when I woke up without you there, I was genuinely panicked. I didn'tknow what to do for the first ten minutes of my morning, so I justsat there and stared up at the roof. Then I couldn't function all daybecause I was worried about you, since I know youhaven't eaten today. And then I felt like a complete fail of agirlfriend because I realised that it was me who had made you feellike shit yesterday, and I swore I would never do that to you. I letmy anger get in the way and you were the first person I saw toattack, so I just took my anger out on you and it was an assholething to do and I'm sorry.”

   Pidgetakes a deep breath, only just now realising how much her hands wereshaking and how there were tears glazing over her big, sparklingeyes. Maybe it was stupid to cry. Maybe this was just somethingcouples went through all the time, but usually, them couples didn'thave to worry about dying that day. Pidge did. Pidge could go on amission one day and never return – the thought of leaving you withno apology was far too much for her to handle.

    “Soplease don't ignore me,” Pidge concludes, her voice wavering. Youlook up this time, eyes big and hands shaking and tears rolling downyour cheeks.

   Youreach out and grab Pidge's hands, pulling one up to press it to yourlips. Pidge closes her eyes at the feeling of your warm lips pressedagainst her skin, a days tension flooding out of her at the contact.

   “Don'ttalk about death so naturally like that,” you whisper against herknuckles. “God, youreally know how to mess with me, don't you, Gunderson?”

   “Ingood ways, I hope.” Pidge's voice cracks mid sentence, making youlook up at her again. Your eyes mingle for a moment, before you leanin and press your lips to hers in a soft, swift motion that has everynerve in Pidge's body tingling, needing more, wanting more, lovingyou with everything they had.

   Butyou pull away, biting your lip which had just been on top of Pidge's.

   “Iforgive you.”

[marcootis5808-blog]

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[obsidianonslaught]

🌸💐🌴((You allowed me further Blake rambling so I extend the same courtesy to you for your fav if you wish to take it. lol

((This got long (I ramble a lot, I apologize), so I’m putting it under a cut~

🌸 = my roleplay petpeeve

I’m gonna preface this one that am very fortunate and grateful that I haven’t had problems like this on this blog–RPing Burton has been an overwhelmingly positive experience and I hope it stays that way for many years to come!

I think my number one petpeeve though is what seems to be an intense focus on NSFW topics for RP and for fic (by that I mean stuff of the sexual nature) and I guess sometimes an… “expectation” (?) to be okay with those kinds of advances or threads. And that it has to have sex to be “good”/”interesting?” People can certainly RP this and enjoy it all they want but this just isn’t something I’m interested in writing, tbh it kind of makes me uncomfortable and I wouldn’t want to participate in threads of that kind personally (especially not with this character).

I. Don’t say this to try to sound snooty, I just wish people in general were a little more respectful of each other’s boundaries and people could refrain from make assumptions that everyone’s necessarily okay/comfortable with stuff like this? Like, it shouldn’t be assumed that approaching for this kind of stuff or trying to force it on people’s characters is okay out of the blue, especially since we don’t always know age of the mun and muse. It just kind of creeps me out.

Also (this is more in general but I guess also applies to RP scenarios?) absolution of guilt and responsibility through things like “they had a rough childhood” or “they didn’t mean it,” the general “misunderstood” thing. Or in general trying to dismiss/downplay bad things a character has said or done. Rough childhood and all that can be a contributing or main reason to why a character does or says what they do, but it is not an excuse.

I like villain redemption/reformation a lot actually, (though I have to draw the line somewhere, like if we’re talking Fuzors, Alpha is a Very Bad Man and I honestly don’t think he will ever change even if he was given the  chance), but it has to be done correctly. There have to be consequences that the character realizes, there have to be reasons for them to change and the goal of the change shouldn’t be just to beg forgiveness for what they’ve done. And certainly a villain can become good, but it takes effort to be a good person, and they’re going to have to work for it and at it.

I try really hard not to excuse Burton from this stuff because he absolutely has done and said a lot of shitty things, and he’s got to think about it before/if he can really grow from those experiences. I will never make excuses for him, I will not try to shove all the bad things he’s done under the rug–those are things he’s going to have to live with, but they are potential building blocks for exploration and change. The way I write him post-series is different from the way I write him during-series, for a reason, because as a character, those things affect him. Of course he’s interacting with different people and is part of different scenarios, but at the end of it all, there’s different things going through his head. And I like to play with this metaphorically in my writing and also emphasizing things like mental anguish and self-realization of mistakes, flaws, shame, other emotions that help to define my understanding of the character and what he’s currently going through and where he is at his stages of development as a person–but also that I hope will help the reader.

I also like to explore and develop characters like him who don’t get much screen-time and who we don’t actually get that much information about (seriously, who is this guy, where did he come from, what does he want out of all this?–I don’t think questions like that ever get answered–he’s just sort of there and he’s a jerk). And while this leaves a lot of room for interpretation, it’s important to me that these characters can be freed a little from their narrow little archetype boxes, because very often they are only assigned a few dominant traits and become restricted to in the show. (This of course has it’s reasons, and as a side-character, it helps to make what time they have on the screen more consistent, makes what we do see of their personality really stand out in a support role, stuff like that). Burton is Burton is Burton, for example, but Burton will also always be more to me than what we saw of him in the show. But I realize I have to be really careful here–I don’t want my interpretations of the character and headcanons and writing and all that to erase the terrible things he’s done. Rather, I can use that as the starting point to further develop. (Also repeatedly writing a character that is barred from development and stays one-dimensional/stuck on a very narrow set of traits is boring.)

But back to the point!, sweeping stuff under the rug in general just bugs me a lot but this also applies to the RP realm. I’m not about to give him a free pass and it rubs me the wrong way when characters who have very clearly done bad things are treated as if they’ve never done anything wrong.

In short: there’s a difference between being able to appreciate a character (or something) in spite of their mistakes and be willing to talk about those mistakes and accept them, and then refusing to recognize the character’s faults at all.

💐 = my favorite part about the fandom

(This is gonna be specific to a section of the English-speaking part of the fandom bc I know very little about the Japanese community!)

Maybe silly, but when we were really active and would just joke around together? Like we had the shit posts/memes and the character twitter accounts, and we would just have a good laugh about things and the muses would poke each other/have interactions in addition to what was happening on the RP blogs. (Also I don’t mean this as a guilt trip thing/complaint on a “why don’t we do this any more” vibe. Just that they’re very fond memories for me and I have fun thinking about them still!)

Like omg does anyone else remember the streams when we’d just chill and watch movies and that kind of thing? And we would have the chat open and sometimes it wouldn’t just be like, us talking about the movie, but we’d also have our characters talking about the movie too. Or sometimes just out of the blue we’d do these on the fly (sometimes crack) RP things on Skype (I’ve… since moved myself entirely to Discord and haven’t used Skype at all bc it would just be so slow/behave so badly for me) and it was just a load of fun and laughing and I think some good inside jokes came out of that.

In general, I miss people a lot but I’ve no one to blame but myself for that since I feel like I’ve let myself fall out of touch somewhat. But I hope everyone’s doing okay and I love you all lots.

🌴= a favorite canon character in my fandom

*squeaks* Honestly I probably owe this character my life, not to seem over-dramatic? I watched Fuzors right after a particularly dark and hard time in my life when I was ready to end it all; my mental and physical health were very bad and I wasn’t sure at that point that anything would ever get better. Fuzors was one of the few things (thankfully, along with support from family and friends) that got me past that episode in my life and gave me something to smile about again. I watched it by myself and then watched it through again with my sister.

And oh jeez I hated Burton at first–I hated him so much I wanted to throw something at him whenever he would appear on screen, because he’s just so slimy and scary (not in a he’ll beat you up in a dark alley scary, but a he could steal your credit card info and your SSN and get away with it scary). I can’t remember exactly how/why the shift occurred. But it was a total 180.

There’s no particular justification for why I like him so much? (I mean Burton is my life lbr). He doesn’t really have all that much screen time, he’s a nasty person, his hair is a disaster (but I love it–overtime I’ve come to think it translates appropriately irl to something like a scene kid/punk rock style and honestly that’s cool as hell). I think it’s that over time I just built up a lot of personal thoughts and world building and character building for him and idk. He’s very, very special to me. I know he’s mostly uh, disliked as a character and that’s perfectly understandable, but he will always have a very special place in my heart. It’s like coming to know a person over time, I guess. There’s more depth to them, you discover things in an ocean you might not necessarily be able to see from the shore.

[apsbicepstraining]

Stress fractures, thirst and low-spirited spend: one woman’s life as an NBA cheerleader

Many dancers are attracted to life as a cheerleader but they often find themselves disappointed at what the hell is thought would be a nightmare job

You can deflect leading questions that stereotype you by explaining that this is a hobby

Q: Do you get paid ?

A: All dance teams in the NBA get paid, and theres other enormous perks, like going our whisker and make-up done, tanning, etc

The above is excerpted from a manual on how to talk to the press, given to the 2013 Golden state Fighter dancers by their coaches. It was handed to me by former Warriors Girl changed labor preach Lisa Murray.

Salaries of NBA and NFL actors are, of course, widely available. They are fodder for headlines and talk radio beef have proven that sometimes Cinderella tales actually do come true. Until recently, there was little reason to suspect that within these wildly profitable societies, cheerleaders those archetypal is a matter of envy and passion were being brutalized and underpaid.

Lawsuits against NFL crews began in early 2014. In rapid attack inheritance, complaints alleging payment stealing and other serious strive contraventions were was put forward by former cheerleaders against the Oakland Raiders; Tampa Bay Buccaneers; Cincinnati Bengals; Buffalo Bills; and decided for as much as $1.25 m( the instance against the Bills has yet to settle ).

Last year, the Milwaukee Bucks became the first NBA crew appointed in such a suit when former dancer Lauren Herington filed a complaint on behalf of she and her team-mates alleging gross underpayment and illegally mandated out-of-pocket overheads. Soon after filing, she shared with me emails, agreements, and detailed notes further that she maintained during her term as a Bucks dancer. If her accusations are true, the team did not consider hires described in the organizations own internal correspondence as, high profile members of such Milwaukee Bucks community with the respect or compensation they were entitled to.

Prior to working for the Milwaukee Bucks, Herington too was agitated about being treated as a high-profile member of the organization. She equated being a professional cheerleader with being a mini celebrity. As is particularly so with many professional cheerleaders, she had been dancing since early childhood, and had long dreamed of a discern on an NBA squad.

I envisaged I still think its a big deal to be able to say youre an NBA dancer, Herington told the Guardian. But I guess thats over for me now.

Salary was not discussed in the month-long unpaid bootcamp Herington listened prior to being hired by the Bucks. This was also the speciman at training workshops I accompanied for potential Clippers dancers for another article last year, where we were told wages would be discussed only after we were hired. It was also the instance for Murray, who recollected of the Warriors Girls, They have a epoch where you come in, and you read the contract together, and you sign it. And thats when I found out I was realizing $10 an hour. I remember simply being outraged.

There was no discussing it, Herington said, of her event signal after molted already relocated to Milwaukee to work on the team. It was, If you have an issue, then you can go ahead and it leaves. We werent have been able to take it dwelling, and go through it or anything like that. It was just handed out at rehearse. We signed it and leaved it back. Harmonizing to the agreement, she would be paid $30 per bi-weekly two- to four-hour practise; $65 per weekly 6.5 hour home competition; and $50 per two- to four-hour public appearance.

Hertington was also contractually obligated to adhere to the Bucks taxing fitness touchstones, which she alleges in her suit amounted to significant hours of payable labor. Per their accordance, dancers were required to maintain a high level of fitness, which was to be obtained by fulfill( ing) the conditions for workout curriculum designed by the training staff at Elite Sports Club.

What constituted a high level of fitness would be determined by the Bucks dancers tutor Tricia Crawford, who declined to be interviewed for this story. Workouts were monitor the performance of Tony Moro, a manager at the above-mentioned Elite Sports Club, who was in close linked with Crawford. In one email at the beginning of the season, Moro planned crew members for seven-day-a-week mandatory workouts and noted that the women should always be sure to cc[ Crawford] so she knows what is going on. Outage to comply with the activity and weight commissions set forth by Moro and Crawford would, according to the Bucks policy, result in disciplinary action as deemed necessary by the Dance Team Manager.

According to Herington, exchange about her load inaugurated as early as the teams first appearance in August of 2013, where coaching staff payed her negative feedback about her illustration, and subsequently applied her on a special exercising schedule that surpassed the four to five hours of daily practise she was already fully participate in.

Herington too began starving and dehydrating herself to look[ her] absolute good. She often appeared faint while working out. She experienced severe diarrhea after ingesting for the first time after days of nutrient destitution for circumstances like the teams calendar hit. She emailed Moro asking for additional work out that might help her lose the extra fatty[ she had] around[ her] hips and waist area.

Despite these efforts, Herington never knew when she would be allowed to dance at tournaments, and when she would be benched( without remuneration ), for failure to adhere to the Bucks fitness guidelines. On 18 18 November 2013, the week after the Bucks firstly dwelling activity, Crawford explained in an email: This week you will be out. I think you need a little more time to focus on your fitness. I was looking back at my memoranda and photographs from auditions, and I can see a significant difference. At that time, I thought your fitness was close to where it needed to be, but you still had a little slimming and color to do.

Sometimes, she said, she would hear a routine simply to be slash at the end of rehearse, at which point she would awkwardly leave the studio as her tired team-mates were told they would now have to stay belatedly to relearn formations.

In an email on February 18 2014, Crawford wrote, Saturday will be your first day back, and then Ill make a decision as to the remainder of the season. Id like you to visit Tony on Friday if you are able and do one more researching.( Testing here referred to the regular torso fat percentage estimate that Moro played on Herrington and reported back to Crawford .)

Herington developed stress ruptures in her shins. She stopped get her span. At one point, she was refused weight loss prescription from a doctor who expressed concerns over Heringtons mental health, and advised her to retire dancing.

By late winter, Herington said, the girls started seeing that my look seemed actually thin, and they asked if I was losing heavines in a health practice. At one rehearse, a command expected Herington why she looked so stressed out. I told her I was on probation for the last 2 week, and if I didnt make improvements I was not going to be on this crew any more, she said. Two weeks later, in the same 18 February email, Crawford wrote: I know you asked[ the cheerleader command] about your status with the team yesterday, but she has nothing to do with this. This place is between you and I.

Crawford signed off that email with a smiley face.

When Im sitting here now, Im like, wow, that resounds really stupid. Why didnt I just say something? Herington told the Guardian. Why didnt I merely stand up and be like, No. This is wrong. But then when I think about how drilled into our thinkers it was that every little thing we did was being watched You get scared that youll never piece as a dancer again.

During a weekend-long retreat at Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, in the opening up of the season, Herington recollected rooming with a team-mate who told her that any in-room eating she did would be reported back to Crawford. At the same departure, she said the dancers accompanied a forum on how to adhere to their contractual obligation to refrain from posting anything on the internet that could be perceived in a negative dawn. When they arrived, draws from their Facebook notes had been projected onto the walls to be used as examples of photos that made them look like sluts and lesbians.

This retreat was also where each lady received their makeover. A examination was chosen for them by Crawford and a unit of beauticians from Salon Nova& Lash, where dancers where contractually required to visit, at their own expense, for all “hairs-breadth” needs.

I was the a-little-bit-older-than-my-actual-age-one, says Herington. I was the jumpy one on the team I had to convey that throughout the season. I had no say in what I looked like. That was part of the brainwashing.

They change your examine. They change your personality. They change everything, said Murray, of her epoch on the Warriors Girls. Murray attributes some of professional cheerleadings bizarre culture to the fact that most women coaching are themselves former cheerleaders.( Crawford danced for the Detroit Pistons prior to her hire with the Bucks .) Professional dancers, like most pro contestants, generally start working at a young age, due to their professions finite arcs. Many coaches, then, have worked in the world of pro-cheerleading since early adulthood. Because of this, said Murray, coaches may accept the view that in this profession, relations are an appropriate form of compensation.

Something they say a lot of the time, she said, is its a sisterhood. The document Murray rendered me with advised dancers to tell press: Its such a support to be on the Warriors Girls because you get to meet women who have your same anger for dance. It absolutely is a sisterhood!( When I attended the Clippers seminar, dancers there had also employed the convict, It truly is a sisterhood! verbatim, to describe life on the team .)

Herington likewise echoed hopes of sisterhood when shed attended boot camp. By March, nonetheless, when her team-mates hosted what she described as a mostly mandatory sleepover, she was treated cooly by the other women, who did not volunteer her a glass of wine. The other cheerleaders, though genial at best, were the only people Herington knew in Milwaukee. Labor one or two additional activities on top of her paid and unpaid dancing indebtedness, left virtually no time or fund with which Herington could have socialized.

As soon as shed met the team, molted get a responsibility at Ruby Tuesday. After a couple of months, she took on a third chore working early mornings at a doggie day care. Between her three jobs and the online class she was taking, her eras generally began at 5am and ended at midnight. After paying her rent, invoices, and expenses like mandatory weekly dres cleanse and bashes decorating, she dissolved every month with about $20 in her checking account. She spent the entire season resuming clambering for extra income in this way to Jared Jewelers; another eatery; then back to Ruby Tuesday anywhere that might accommodate the following schedule of an employee who had another part-time chore utterly eating them.

The Warriors Girls manual promotes team members to deem their additional undertakings as a place of feminine pride: Each of you have interests, points, and flairs well beyond being a Warrior Girl In some lawsuits, you are a full-time student, the status of women with a full-time place and perhaps a family.

Milwaukee Bucks Dancers were also contractually obligated to fulfill, a minimum of 10 hours of benevolence/ non-paid figures a year. If team members did not find time during the course of its regular season to complete these hours, they were expected to work off the time in payable promotional appearances for the Bucks.

In an email dated 28 May 2014, Crawford wrote, As a remember, you are all still under contract until July 13 th The reactions Ive been getting thus far for summer episodes have been dreadful. If its because you still need to meet your hours, so you intend on worsening all phenomena because you wont get paid, then thats a serious issue that I will take up to my superiors.

It is unclear whether Crawfords superiors would have paid her any scrutiny. In the same email, Crawford expressed insecurity over the extremely future of the Bucks Dancers, We have no thought what changes the new owners will bring Who knows what could happen to our program.

Women in the coaching slot absolutely are terrified theyre going to lose their responsibility, said Murray, based on the pushback and precede capitulate shes saw when coach-and-fours or musicians have attempted to fight for higher salaries.

Currently, cheerleading crews in the NFL and NBA cannot collectively negotiate their own working conditions. Laborers would be impossible to form confederations unless they are direct employees of a company, and cheerleader employment status varies from team to team. Herington was hired as a direct employee of the Milwaukee Bucks, but many crews apologize the underpayment of dancers by classifying them as contractors. Incorrectly categorizing professional cheerleaders, as was the case in the dres against the Oakland Raiders, prevents all dancers in the tournament – even those who are direct staff members of crews – from unionizing, because crews they would join forces with are not properly classified.

Classifying professional cheerleaders as contractors is, according to California Assemblywoman Lorena Gonzalez , not legal.[ Cheerleaders] signed an employment contract, she told the Guardian. They clearly represent the team … If youre an independent contractor, you place your own hours. You wouldnt be wearing a outfit for a company.

Gonzalez is the author of California Assembly Bill 202, which was passed in reaction to the classification issues involved in the Invader event. Per the greenback, as of 1 January 2016, professional cheerleaders in California must be hired as employees. Murray was one of the evidences to witness before the assembly in support of its passageway. Gonzalez prolongs work with New York assemblywoman Nily Rozic, who is attempting to pass a similar statute in New York State.

Thus far, progress in the working conditions of cheerleaders has been made mainly through suits like Heringtons. The status could be remedied by the NFL and NBA In the snap of a digit said Gonzalez, by introducing league-wide mandates that all dancers be direct employees.

Murray is optimistic that the NBA will be quicker to address the problem than the NFL, quoting business associations recent partnership with the equal repay advocacy radical #LeanIn. If we dont fix this problem, thats going to look really bad on them, she said.

Herington left the Milwaukee Bucks after her first season. Of her decision to speak out publicly against the team, she told me, Unfortunately, its probably the occurrence[ that I wont ever be hired on another unit ], her voice falling, but I at least hope now that maybe some things will change because of this.

When reached for remark, Milwaukee Bucks spokesperson Jake Suksi threw the next statement: The Milwaukee Bucks strongly disagree with the claims shaped in the federal lawsuit. The lawsuit presents inaccurate information that creates a false picture of how we control. The Bucks value the contributions our dancers acquire to the team. We treat all of our employees fairly, including our Bucks dancers, and pay them fairly and in compliance with federal and nation rule. We guess the lawsuit to be without virtue and will contest these allegations in court.

Herington, Murray, and Gonzalez continue to fight. The majority of American high schools and universities continue to offer cheerleading through their athletic districts. Mothers continue to waste the thousands of dollars on weekend clinics where organisations are learned. Somewhere, at least one minor continued to do those haul up even though they injured, and pattern that eight weigh even though theyre sick of it, because they still think its a big deal to be able to say youre an NBA dancer.

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