#am chugging so much coffee to avoid exhaustion

[maximotts]

why is existing so exhausting 😮‍💨

Idk but I’d love to find out so I can work on making it less exhausting ugh

[dreamywriterinthedark]

Losing you pt III: Picking up the pieces

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Category: angst, slight fluff.

Resume: Reader struggles to get over a traumatic experience and isolates themselves. They have an outburst, Spencer finds them in the middle of it and offers a helping hand.

Trigger warnings: death, blood, trauma, anger issues, alcohol (please let me know of something was forgotten)

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this series. Let me know if you like it or what you would like to see. This is what would’ve happened if Linda Barnes was leader of the team. I’m guessing this is a bit of homage to Elle who deserved better. I would love to hear your feedback and whether you want a fourth part. Thanks <3

You slipped off your blind fold, your calmness was interrupted by the broad figure in front of your eyes. The hooded man slowly made his way towards you.

“Please, don’t kill me!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. He looked at you with such viciousness as if he was planning all the horrendous things he was going to do to you in his head. You rose up panting from another hostile episode slapping the light switch of the lamp on your nightstand.

You were on your bed completely exhausted yet wide awake. You could not allow yourself to sleep because every time you did you woke up in sweats due hallucinations and nightmares. You could not differentiate what was real and what was an illusion anymore. You walked to your kitchen pouring yourself a glass of water, your hands were so shaky you dropped the glass and flenched at the sound. By trying to pick up the pieces you cut your hand, the sight of blood on your hands brought you back to that night when you almost died and your boss hardly bat an eye.

Your vision was getting blurred whether it was your brain making you depersonalise or your tears clouding your view you couldn’t tell. You were uncontrollably sobbing. That’s when it hit you, you needed help. You hated yourself for it, it flet like you were a burden. However, you felt guilt creep in furthermore when you saw your phone light up with all the texts, all the calls you ignored making the team even more worried. You swiped the notification from your 13 missed calls making your phone call Spencer. You felt a rush go through your vein, a rush to abort whatever mission you were on, the rush to flight. The kind of rush that could’ve saved your life.

After two rings you hung up feeling stupid, now wondering if you woke him up for nothing. You slammed your phone on your kitchen counter. The anger levels spiking, overtaking the small amount of rational thoughts in your head. You sighed running your hands through your hair. Completely numb, more and more glass shattered on the floor. Once the energy was in too limited quantity in your body. You grabbed a bottle of wine chugging from it in your bathtub like a child trying to avoid family gatherings. You cried until you were too dehydrated to keep the tears flowing, until your eyes were swollen.

The ring of your doorbell caught your attention. Or was it another cruel hallucination ? You were going to ignore it until you heard it be rung once more. You checked who it was through the lense.

“Shit,” you swore, it was Spencer.

“Open the door, Y/n. I know you’re here.” you rolled your eyes at Spencer’s request your back pressed against the cold steel.

“I’m a mess.” you responded trying to dissuade him to come in.

“Your mess is my mess. I’m your home, remember ?”

You smiled detaching yourself from the door unlocking it. He pressed the handle letting his weight make the door shift open. You were brushing with a broom the glass pieces to the side to allow him to circulate safely in your apartment. He saw the blood on your floor, the bandage on your hand; he solved the puzzle himself. You turned to him, no words were needed, he saw the look in your eyes. He cupped the back of your head with one of his hands and wrapped his arm around your torso carefully, gently as if you were as fragile as fine china. You wrapped your arms around his waist breathing in his scent. He pulled away, both hands at the side of your head.

“I want to be that person you can tell anything to. The good and the bad.”

You looked up at him. “Barnes is considering suspending me because I did not follow his orders. Spencer, I had no choice…” he could hear your heart break in your voice.

“She’s not allowed to do this.” He informed you.

“She’s not ?” He nodded in response.

“She violated protocole in the first place by using governmental fund for a case too personal to him. He got his proof only by putting you in a position of danger when she needed it to act. Like you said you had no other choice. I’ve done it before, I was never reprimanded me.”

“Yeah cause you’re a man. If a man kills a rapist, he’s a hero but if a woman does it, she’s a cold-blooded crazy murderer. Gosh, I miss Emily.���

“Talk about double standards.” Spencer said, “You know, she misses you too, we all do.”

“I doubt it, honestly. I was so determined to get her validation it almost cost me my life. Maybe I should just let her know how I feel.”

“Yeah, you definitely should.”

“But what am I even gonna say to her ? What if she’s right ? What if I’m actually delusional or dangerous ?”

“Hey, hey, Y/n. Slow down.”

“Please talk some sense to me. It’s like I’m going out of my mind!”

“It wasn’t your fault. It was legitimate defence. I saw it, the whole team saw it and has your back.” he reassured you, his face closer to yours.

“Should I write her a-“

“No, you’re not doing anything tonight.” He interrupted you. “Just go take a shower then we can talk about it. Sounds good ?” you nodded to respond to him which he, as usual didn’t mind even after going on an endless monologue.

While you were in the shower, he cleaned up the mess your anger made. Once you were done, you sat down on your matcha green sofa watching the sunrise. “It’s already 4am ?! I’m so sorry for keeping you awake.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m a night owl anyways so it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Did you know that falling asleep late is linked with a high IQ ?” he said making his way to you with two cups of tea.

“Then I must be a genius.” you answered half jokingly. “Oh thank you.” you took hold of the warm but not steamy cup in your hands. You remembered Spencer once telling you that the reason why so many dislike tea is because they think it tastes like dirt, it’s not supposed taste like that, see, if the water is burning hot it’s going to burn the leaves and speed the infusion process making it too concentrated. You turned to look at him, he was already looking.

“Sometimes I wonder how you can put up with me.”

“Because I love you.” He never failed to remind you how much he loves you even especially on your worst days. You explained what had been going on, he debunked and dismantled every question pending in you head, every lie your brain told you. It felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. For the first time in a while, you felt safe in your own home. Instead of your alarm clock, the sound of the birds were ringing in you ears. You both agreed to go talk to Barnes to solve whatever the problem was that morning. “I’m not going down without a fight, especially not when it comes to that bitch!” Spencer boldly commented to your surprise. You weren’t healed just yet but at least you got out and socialised. At least you opened up to someone you could trust.

You stepped out of the elevator one hand holding coffee, the other holding your boyfriend’s hand. Everyone walked up to you giving you a hug and greeting you. Penelope was so enthusiastic it was overwhelming.

“Long time no see,” commented Luke. “You too,” you hugged him back.

“What happened to your hand ?” asked JJ.

“I dropped a glass.” you nervously responded, you were telling the truth…at least part of it.

“Welcome back!” said Tara squeezing an embrace as well.

“Oh I don’t know about that just yet.” you said to her.

“We need to talk to Barnes first.” added Spencer.

“Whatever happens, we’re with you, Y/n” said Garcia. The others agreed, it felt good to be supported, so much you regret isolating yourself for so long.

Silence made its way into a conversation that was once filled by joy. You threw your coffee in the trash can before turning your body towards his office. Spencer, resting his hand on your back, asked “Are you ready, darling ?” You took in a deep breath sharply, nodding your head yes without taking your gaze off the door.

[haikyuuwriting]

first of all, congrats on 5k!! That's a big achievement, hope you're doing well! Second of all, please do take care of yourself and don't overexert yourself when writing!! So now I'll move on to my request hehe. Can I request the living beside each other AU & reader sees Atsumu dancing in his room to his playlist he's blasting ((his songs are so varied and some are so weird but others are so güd??)) and his dancing is so dorky and one would not expect this of one of the most popular guy in sch!

au prompt: “We live next door to each other and I can see you through the window while you’re dancing to your iPod in your flannel pajamas and disheveled hair and God you’re a dork” AU.

thank you anon!!! I’m doing well and I hope you are too 💖 I am taking care of myself and I promise I won’t over exert myself you’re so sweet 😭 I hope you like this!!!

It had taken Y/N about a day to figure out they lived next to a hot pro volleyball player. They’re apartments were separated by an alleyway— but they were on the same floor and had windows facing each other, which is how Y/N realized he was their neighbor.

They both kept their blinds open during the day to let sunlight in, but Atsumu was never home. Y/N would wander by the window and peek out only to see a blank wall through the opposite window. Never anything exciting. The one time he was home and walked by the window Y/N almost had a heart attack because they’d thought he was a ghost.

After a while, though, once Y/N started staying up later into the night, the light across the apartment would flicker on, and Atsumu would stumble into his room in what looked like workout gear or sometimes his uniform, and collapse onto his bed. From Y/N’s perspective it looked like he just let himself fall to the ground — they hoped it was actually a bed he let himself fall onto. The window would remain illuminated for a while longer until the lights were shut off. It horrified Y/N that he didn’t close the bedroom window like they did, but everyone’s different, right?

On one hotter night, Y/N cracked the window open to let in a breeze and went back to work at their desk, taking short breaks to walk around the room so as to not ache so much from sitting. After the fifth time of doing so (they were getting a bit restless) Y/N realized they could hear music.

Carefully peeking outside of their own window to not be seen, their eyes traveled to the window across from theirs.

And there was Atsumu, his window wide open and letting the music he was playing escape outside into the night. He was wearing the most ridiculous pajamas; he was wearing his her sweet and flannel bottoms, his hair the fluffiest and messiest Y/N had ever seen. Y/N was used to sometimes catching a glimpse of him outside when they left for errands or even on TV. He looked like a totally different person right now.

For one, he’s dancing. He’s roaming around his room jumping up and down to the lyrics, shaking his shoulders to the beat, even singing along to the song. And the song— Y/N recognizes it as a popular girl group song. They have to admit, he has good taste.

When that song ends another quickly begins, and Y/N stays by the window, transfixed on watching their neighbor dance. It’s almost midnight, but a few lights in the other apartments are still on. Everyone else has their blinds and windows closed, though. So Y/N is the only one witnessing this spectacle.

Each time a new song starts playing, Y/N is quick to note how different they are from the last. They all vary in genre, and Atsumu changes his dancing accordingly, violently air guitaring to the punk songs and slowly swaying to the slower ones. From the rest of his outfit and appearance Y/N would guess he’s exhausted, but his dancing does not show this. He looks free, and the look on his face is far different than the small smirk he wears in interviews or the set expression when he’s rushing out of his apartment.

He stops for a second to take a drink of water, running his hands through his already messy hair. God he looks good. It should be illegal to look that good in pajamas—

Y/N freezes when he glances out the window and stares directly at her, mid chug of water. With a small shriek Y/N ducks, collapsing onto the floor in horror. They hear the sound of loud coughing from across the alleyway, and sputtered...laughter?

Y/N peeks out the windows again. Atsumu’s leaning just head outside of it, resting his arms against it to lean forward. He gives a small wave when Y/N straightens from their spot against their own window. Returning the wave, Y/N sheepishly smiles.

“Sorry for scaring you,” they say, just loud enough for him to hear. They aren’t too far from each other.

“S’okay,” Atsumu replies, that lazy grin not leaving his face. “Enjoy the show?”

“Hard not to, your dancing is so good,” Y/N laughs at his cheeky smile. “And your music taste, too! I didn’t picture you as a bubblegum pop kinda guy.”

Atsumu laughs, and the noise is so pleasant Y/N feels themselves getting chills. The smile on his face never wavers, and his eyes stay trained on Y/N as if they’re the only thing he’s ever looked at.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I’m going to bed now, sorry for keeping you up.”

“Oh you weren’t!” Y/N quickly clarifies, waving their hands frantically. “I’m still up doing work, but I guess I should also turn in.”

Despite their proclamations of finally going to bed, they stay at the window. Y/N awkwardly avoids eye contact, wondering how Atsumu isn’t.

“Hey, wanna go out for coffee tomorrow?” Y/N almost hits their head against the window sill as they whirl their head to look at him again. He’s still smiling - does he ever stop? But it looks softer now, and Y/N realizes they just saw this man dance around his room for twenty minutes in pajamas. He’s nothing to be intimated by. This isn’t the same guy who could easily spike off their arms with one of his hits. Well, it was, but after seeing this other side of him Y/N wasn’t the least bit intimidated. And he was even more attractive after this, even if his music taste was a little odd.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

masterlist | 5k blogiversary celebration

[dearest-bucky]

Birthday wish (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes doesn’t love his birthdays, but maybe he can learn to. 

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: none,  a fluffy ending as usual hihii

A/N: I was supposed to write and post this on Bucky’s birthday but couldn’t find it in me to do, so here it is now. I hope you like it! Feedback is truly appreciated! xx

Originally posted:  March 19. 2020

Monday,  11:05 PM

It was late and they were all battered and exhausted, but despite that, they still had to swipe the place to find any new information on Hydra and then blow it up to hell.

What was supposed to be a simple recon mission, ended up being a real bloodbath. As always. When has there ever been such thing as a simple mission with the Avengers? Something would always come and fuck up the plans for an easy in and out job.

This time the fuck up came in the form of more than a dozen Hydra thugs charging at them with guns and knifes, resulting in the death of them of course. But despite the result and the fact that they won the battle, the Avengers didn’t come out without scratches or wounds themselves.

Steve had a busted lip, Bucky was having technical problems with his arm because of a bullet that was caught in it, Sam had a seemingly deep gash on his side that kept oozing blood out and Y/n was fuming because ‘she had just done her nails the other day and she broke one of them while fighting with those Hydra bastards’.

“Thirty seconds until explosion.” Steve informed over the comms and all of them made a run for the jet before they could get caught in the big boom.

As soon as they got in, y/n was on Sam’s side, helping him with his wound.

“C'mon Bird Man, I have get you out of this shirt if you don’t want to die of bleeding out.”

“If you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask sweetheart.” Despite the fact that his skin was paler than ever before and he was losing all energy, Sam still couldn’t give up him sense of humor.

Bucky who was sitting just a few inches away, chuckled at his words but said nothing anyway.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully and pressed on his gash with an alcohol pad a little more than necessary, making Sam wince in pain. Then she continued to clean his wound and did her best to stop the bleeding until they got to the compound. She was no doctor after all, and every specific procedure would have to wait for a real specialist of medicine.

Tuesday, March 10 3:34 AM

After arriving at the compound and literally taking Sam with force to the medical bay, Y/n could finally get to her own room and get a well deserved shower. The mission had taken a toll on her, same as on everybody else, but to be fair, those super soldiers had it easier when it came to fighting.

Once she got in the shower and let the hot water wash down all the dirt and blood off of her, she felt herself immediately relax. It was all she needed and she could live there forever. However, after another 10 minutes of thoroughly washing herself she turned the water off and wrapped a big fluffy towel around her body.

Next thing in the list: sleep.

She patted her body dry with the towel and changed into a pair of clean pajama, falling in her bed like the dead, immediately shutting her mind out and letting sleep take her away.

She was soundly sleeping when her door silently opened and somebody got in her room with small, quiet steps.

“Doll, you awake?” Nothing more than a whispered voice breaking the silence of the night, and when the only answer he got was her heavy breathing, he turned around without so much as a noise and left, just as he had come.

Y/n was still soundly sleeping.

5:00 AM

Bucky couldn’t sleep. No matter how tired he was. No matter how much he wanted to close his eyes and get a couple of much needed hours of sleep. He couldn’t close his eyes. He couldn’t shut his mind.

Today was his birthday. Not that he cared that much about it. He had had more birthdays than he cares to count anymore, but there was something about the date that made him restless.

He was currently in his room, half laying in his bed, a few old photos scattered carelessly on his blanket. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of them.

One of his mother with a little baby on her arms, his baby sister Rebecca. A couple more of his parents, one of his sister alone. Another of him, in his army uniform, a boyish smirk plastered on his face.

“Young fool.” He thought to himself.

All those pictures were some kind of present from Steve when he first got back from Wakanda. He said they would help him with his recovery, and of course everyone should have at least a couple of photos of their family.

After all, they were the only thing he had left from his family. And Bucky really held on to those photographs.

With most of his memories back, he remembers one of his early birthdays. He was turning 20, probably, and he and Steve had gone to this dance club in Manhattan.

He had literally begged Steve to go with him there just to dance with some pretty dames he couldn’t remember their names anymore. And that was not because of the brainwashing.

Now he hated his birthdays. Just another day to remind him he shouldn’t be alive now, in this year. Another reminder of all the things he had been through in his long, miserable life.

He let out a long sigh and turned to lay on his side, placing the photos carefully on his nightstand.

10:30 AM

The kitchen was buzzing with lively chatter, however not everyone was feeling their brightest today.

With most of the team having a day off, it was natural they wanted to spend it relaxing at home, so they were all enjoying their late breakfast and talking with each other about everything and more.

Y/n made her way to the coffee machine for the second time that morning and Natasha chuckled at her state; eyes puffy from tiredness, as if she hadn’t slept a wink, hair messy, she didn’t care enough to look at least presentable today.

“Aren’t you a treat for the eyes?” She teased and y/n just grunted in response, chugging down a large sip of her coffee.

Only after she had drank the second mug, she rubbed her face with her hands and tried to pat down the messy hair by combing it with her fingers.

She turned to look around the room, finding Natasha and Wanda sitting near her talking about God knows what, she wasn’t paying attention to any of it.

Steve was standing a few feet away, reading a newspaper like a grandpa. No matter how much anybody tried to convince him to read the news online, he insisted that actually touching the newspaper was quite a feeling. Weird old man.

Bruce and Tony were just next to Steve talking about their next science project, apparently, and Vision was creepily floating on Tony’s left side, listening intently to what they were saying.

Just as she averted her eyes to look for somebody else, Sam entered the kitchen looking so much better than last night, a bright smile adorning his silly handsome face.

“Good morning everyone.” He greeted cheerfully and all the people in the room greeted him back with the same enthusiasm.

Steve was the first to fold the newspaper he was reading and got up from his seat, patting Sam on the shoulder and asking him if he was doing okay.

When they both sat down again Y/n went to Sam with a plate of pancakes Wanda had made earlier and a cup of hot coffee, offering it to him.

His eyes shone bright and he stretched his arms out to give her a hug. “You’re an angel.” He said only for her to hear and she grinned in response.

“Do you know where Bucky is?” Y/n then asked when she sat down next to both men. “Is he still sleeping?”

Steve shifted in his seat uncomfortably and smiled sweetly her way, trying to not make his best friend look weird in y/n’s eyes.

“No, he actually got up about an hour ago and he left the compound. Said he had some work to do.”

Y/n only nodded her head in understanding.

She knew today was Bucky’s birthday and she knew how much he hated it, just like he hated making a big deal out of it, like celebrating or throwing a party. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t even wish him “Happy birthday”. However if he was out of the compound all day there was no way for her to do that either.

If there was one thing y/n knew though, was that she wasn’t going to let this go. No matter how much Bucky tried to disappear on his birthday as a way to avoid the wishes and presents and whatnot, y/n was a really stubborn person, so she wouldn’t let him off the hook easily this time.

Last year she had made him a cake and when all the team were having dinner together she brought the cake out singing “happy birthday” to Bucky. What she didn’t expect though, was for him to get upset with her and storm out of the room.

When she went after him to ask what was wrong he yelled at her saying that 'She didn’t have to do anything for him. They were not even friends so why would she care about his birthday. He didn’t even care about his own birthday!!’

But that was last year though. Last year Y/n was new to the team and Bucky was right, they weren’t even friends. They were barely teammates at that point.

This year however, things were different.

With each passing day after that 'dreadful one’, as y/n jokingly calls it now, they have actually created a special bond with each other, relying on each other a little more than they both would care to admit. It was a unusual connection, something neither of them could name. Something between more than friends but less than lovers. Something between denial and acceptance of feelings. Feelings they still hadn’t labelled.

9:15 PM

Bucky hadn’t returned to the compound the whole day. She had been waiting for him to come back sometime, but after waiting around for most of the day, she decided to stop sulking around in her room waiting for Friday to let her know when he was back.

With a newfound purpose she made her way to the kitchen and got out everything  she needed from the cupboards to make little cupcakes. Every flavor she could think of; chocolate and peanut butter, vanilla, chocolate filling, sprinkles strawberry, red velvet.

After whole hours of mixing and baking she put them all in a serving tray, putting them on the counter for anyone who would pass by the kitchen to see and eat.

All but one. She picked a chocolate one and a small birthday candle and headed to Bucky’s room. She knew he wasn’t back yet, but she figured she could wait for him there.

After more than half an hour waiting and still no sign of Bucky, y/n was starting to feel sleepy.

She glanced at the small clock on his nightstand, bright red numbers shining 11:54 PM on the screen.

Figuring it was only 6 more minutes until his birthday would be over, she just lit the candle and placed the cupcake on the nightstand as well, the candle slowly burning. She decided to lay down on his bed to rest her eyes for a moment before he would come back.

She knew he was about to come back. With the day finally being over and everything.

It was strange how well she knew him. But then again, they had spent the best of last year’s together, most of the time attached to the hip and during this whole time they had learned almost everything about each other.

With thoughts of him in mind she fell asleep slowly, then all at once.

11:57 PM

Bucky sighed when he arrived at the compound. He had been all day out wandering around New York, mostly in Brooklyn, comparing new stores with the old ones, alleys, streets, bars, everything.

He opened the door to his room quietly, force of habit really, this whole having to always be quiet thing. But he also didn’t want to make too much noise that could wake any of the guys up, especially Steve whose room was next to his.

Just as he got inside his room, his eyes fell on the body that was curled on his bed, sleeping soundly. Then to the cupcake on the nightstand, with the candle almost entirely melted, but still lighting. His mind connected the dots easily and he let out a breath he didn’t know was holding.

He shuffled awkwardly around the room until he decided to wake y/n up, going to the bed, half hovering over her.

“Y/n…” He shook her arm slightly, but it was enough for her to wake up.

“Bucky.” She smiled at him sweetly, one of her smiles that was always directed to him and he knew that well.

Her eyes quickly averted to the cupcake beside her and she got herself up, now sitting on the bed and quickly took the small dessert in her hands. The clock was showing the time 11:59 PM.

“Quick, blow it!” The candle was half out, just a small flame hanging in there, like a last breath of life.

Upon seeing the hopeful glint in her eyes, he blew the candle out without a second thought and she smiled at him again.

“Happy Birthday Bucky!” Her voice was barely a whisper but he heard it clear.

Not wanting to break her heart with his grumpiness he smiled back and thanked her.

“Did you make a wish?”

He nodded his head softly.

He had made his wish way before that moment. Actually, since the moment he saw her enter the compound after Nick Fury when she was just a new recruit. Then he had made his wish when she made a birthday cake for him in his last birthday. And he had made his wish yesterday before they went on that mission, and after they came back.

He had been making wishes every day since the day he met her. And it was always the same.

With big eyes she was looking at his face, expectantly, waiting for him to tell her what he wished for.

Instead he showed her.

Putting the cupcake back on the nightstand he took her hands in his and closed the distance between them, kissing her softly. He lightly swept his tongue between her lips, pressing his warm, soft lips to hers.

She sighed against his mouth and he felt his heart flutter in his chest. Maybe he could learn to love his birthday again.

[endof-theline]

Day 6- Tropetember: College/University AU

Day 6 of super early Tropetember with a College/University AU... Steve hates this class but not as much as he hates the tapping of a pencil belonging to the guy sat next to him...

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32414416

“Kill or cure, am I right?” The brunette sitting next to Steve nudged him with a manic smile before emptying a can of Red Bull into his travel mug full of coffee and immediately starting chugging it as Steve watched in horror, he was about to witness someone die, Steve was sure of it.

Somehow the brunette didn’t die during class, but he did tap his pencil non-stop and when he was scribbling notes he was tapping his foot instead so Steve debated killing the annoying man himself. He only took the stupid class because he was forced into it, his interest was in art and painting but he had to take the stupid math class to get all of his credits for the year.

And of course it’s the class that he hates the most, that he gets the most annoying classmate to sit next too.

The next class Steve snuck in and tried to hide away amongst the people to avoid the annoying brunette that had made him lose focus all class last time, but Steve's never been lucky as the man dropped into the seat beside him seconds before the class started.

"Look, I didn't die!" He chirped happily and Steve just let out a huff of a laugh to not seem too rude before the class started. The moment their lecturer started talking, the man's pencil started tapping away.

The passing thought of 'Not yet' in regards to killing him himself was not a surprise to Steve as he tried to keep his cool. There was no way in hell that Steve was going to say anything about it, but this guy was driving him crazy.

It lasted almost a month before Steve snapped, not for lack of trying of course since Steve hated upsetting people and especially not when they've not done something on purpose to annoy him.

"Hey buddy!" The guy cheered as he flopped down and Steve's head pounded already, he had had no sleep and was already in a bad mood before the day even started.

"I'm not your buddy" Steve grumbled under his breath but loud enough that the other heard it and whipped his head around.

"O-Oh I'm sorry?" He sounded confused and hurt but Steve's mood was already bad enough without feeling guilty for his words even if he is being an asshole.

“You should be apologizing for that tapping you do every lesson, do you do it just to piss me off or something?!” Steve snapped angrily, not realising how the other man shrunk away from him before he jerked out of his seat and rushed out the hall. The door slammed shut as he left and Steve sagged back into his seat with a groan, his hands scrubbing over his face.

“Y’know that was really shitty, man” Clint whispered to him from behind him and only shrugged when Steve groaned louder “Tony’s not a bad guy, Steve”

“Tony?” Steve turned around to ask but the lecturer started to talk and Clint made it clear that he wasn’t going to talk to him anymore, Steve tried to focus on the class but his foul mood clouded his head as he replayed what happened over and over, recognising the fearful look on Tony’s face from when he was a kid.

Steve went to the local coffee place near campus and brought the strongest coffee they sold before following Clint’s directions to where he would bring Tony, determined to make amends or at least say sorry for the way he reacted this morning. He spotted Clint and as soon as Tony saw him headed towards them, he could see the nervous look on his face as he whispered frantically to Clint who just kept his cool and kept Tony from running again.

Steve held the cup out to Tony who stared at it for a moment before Clint nudged him to take it “Uh, thanks?” Tony said even as he eyed the coffee like Steve had poisoned it, Steve nodded to Clint who just nodded back and left them alone.

“I wanted to say sorry for what I said this morning” Steve said before he led Tony over to the bench and sat down, the fear in Tony’s face made him feel like shit and he needed Tony to know that he wasn’t actually a horrible person “I was just in a really shitty mood and I took it out on you, it’s not an excuse and I know that, I hope you can forgive me”

“S-Sure, Steve” Tony said nervously as he sat down opposite him, looking at his face curiously “You look like shit… I mean you look tired!” Tony panicked but relaxed slightly when Steve just burst out laughing, the blonde rubbed at his face again and it was clear to see the exhaustion on his face.

“Thanks. I, uh, it’s not the best time of year for me and I never sleep great about now, which probably makes it worse to be fair” Steve explained half-heartedly before shaking his head and smiling a little “I just wanted to apologize, you were just being friendly and I was a dick, the tapping is annoying but you didn’t deserve me shouting at you”

“I have ADHD” Tony blurted out and Steve blinked at him for a second before letting his head drop onto the bench with a thud, Tony yelped in a panic as Steve laid there before he let out a loud groan.

“So I was being a dick about something you can’t help, fantastic” Steve grumbled as he lifted his head up enough to put his arms under them but still refused to look up to Tony “I take it back, please don’t forgive me, I’m such an asshole”

Tony reached out slowly before putting his hand on Steve’s and smiled at him when Steve looked up to him from his arms “You’re not an asshole, Steve, an asshole wouldn’t buy me coffee and say sorry for being grumpy. I forgive you and I won’t sit next to you so I don’t bother you”

“No!” Steve sat up and grabbed Tony’s hand firmly “Sit next to me, I won’t be grumpy anymore I promise, I have an idea… just come to class and sit next to me, okay?” Tony nodded warily and couldn’t help but smile a little at Steve’s grin “Awesome, I’ll see you in class, Tony! Trust me!”

Steve ran off as fast as he could and figured his heart was pounding from the running as he ran across campus to the dorms, knowing exactly who to speak to for help. He was going to make things right with Tony even if it’s the last thing he does.

The next lesson, Steve turned up early and set up his things on the desk before putting his bag on the seat next to him to make sure Tony had somewhere to sit when he turned up, he kept his eyes trained on the doors to make sure he didn’t miss Tony coming in and barely waved to Clint when the other blonde came in. Tony came in with a cup of coffee and a grin on his face when Steve called him over, moving his bag so Tony could sit beside him and waited excitedly until Tony had gotten ready before he pulled a small bag out and handed it to Tony.

“Open it!” Steve chirped and ignored the weird look Tony gave him before unzipping it and spilling the contents out on the desk “These are fidget toys, my friend uses them all the time and I thought they might help you! Some of them make noise but also all these parts are silent so you can use them in lesson”

“Did you buy these for me?” Tony asked as he picked up the red and gold cube, fingers instantly testing out some of the buttons and switches absent-mindedly.

“Some of them, some of them are from Bucky, but he said that they didn’t work for him because they were too loud for him personally, but I figured that since you normally tap your pencil that you might like the noise” Steve explained happily and this time it was his turn to yelp when Tony hugged him tightly, the smaller clutching to him and relaxed when Steve hugged him back with a smile on his face.

“Thank you, Steve, this means so much” Tony whispered softly and Steve just nodded before letting go as their lecturer cleared his throat and started the lesson, Tony quickly moved the fidgets to one side as he started to scribble something down. Steve smiled as he noticed that in Tony’s free hand he was playing with the cube, the same one that had first attracted Tony to using the fidgets.

It was the first peaceful lesson Steve had and it was the start of many more to come in the future...

[crazybagelbitch]

They’re taking a moment and they’re both struggling to sleep. Chimney just can’t turn his brain off and Maddie is still pretending as though she’s fine by avoiding the nightmares. They bump into each other at their favourite diner at 3am, the two of them exhausted but needing a break from their apartments

"You know, usually when people use the phrase you drink like a fish they're referring to alcohol," Nadia smirks, "but you're attacking that coffee pot like it's the last coffee on earth.

"Well, it is three am. I could certainly use some caffeine," he murmurs, smiling sheepishly at the waitress who has become a fairly close friend after all the times he's come by there. Usually with Hen or with Maddie, but now he's there alone.

And Nadia seems to have the same thought.

"Maddie--"

"No, just me this time, wasn't going to drag her out of bed in the middle of the night," he winces, wondering if he and Maddie will ever come here together again. Maddie had agreed that they were just taking a "moment" but... after what Doug did to the both of them, he's not sure whatever it was that their relationship was heading towards could ever recover.

"No, I mean Maddie's here," Nadia says incredulously, "wait, you two didn't plan this? You're just both awake and both decided to come by this diner at an ungodly hour?"

"Uh, I guess, yeah..." he stammers awkwardly, sort of just staring at Maddie is socially ungraceful as that might be, because he doesn't know how he's supposed to act around her anymore. LA is a big city; he wasn't expecting to bump into her anywhere except maybe if she stopped by the fire station.

"You can't sleep either?" Maddie asks timidly.

"Well, no, I'm-- ah, you're right, what's the point in lying. I can't shut my brain off so falling asleep isn't really my specialty these days," he admits with a sad smile.

"I just..." she trails off, opening and then closing her mouth several times in succession before she just shakes her head.

"Can I get you anything, Maddie?" Nadia asks carefully, glancing between the two of them.

"Another pot of coffee for the table, I guess," she nods, surprising Chimney by plopping herself down at the table across from him, "and by the way? You don't have to tip-toe. I know you've seen the news stories, everyone has."

"...That's fair," Nadia says, appearing shell shocked by the bluntness before she quickly recovers, "I'll go get that second pot of coffee. And don't let him have all of it because he's chugging it down at a rate that vaguely scares me."

"Huh, usually that's my thing," Maddie sighs, resting her chin in her hand and she looks terrible, but he's not going to say it because 1) it would be rude and 2) he knows he looks terrible, too.

"Well, desperate times, desperate measures," he jokes sadly, not sure if his heart rate is picking up because of her or if the coffee is starting to hit his system, "I got a shift starting at 7 am and I've given up on sleep for the night so desperate times, desperate measures."

"Maybe you shouldn't-- aaaaand I'm not going to finish that sentence because it will just make me a big flaming hypocrite."

"I take it this isn't your first sleepless night, either?"

"Definitely not," she chuckles darkly.

"Are you, uh... are you--"

"Yes, I'm in therapy," she nods, "what about you?"

"Yeah," he lies, not wanting her to worry and also because he doubts they'll speak again for at least another month after this night/morning.

"That's good," she says a bit awkwardly, and she must be really tired because normally she can always tell when he's lying, "hey, umm, sugar might help you wake up a bit, too. I kinda want a slice of pie but you know they're huge here so maybe we could split one?"

"You ask as if I'd ever say no," he chuckles lightly, "remember when you used to lecture me on how much sugar I eat?"

"Ah, I guess somethings never change," she replies wistfully, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "well, I'll enable you tonight. Cherry?"

"Sounds good."

"So," she murmurs, pursing her lips at him, "seen any good movies lately?"

[dearlazerbunny]

Lie to Me (Ch. 10 of ?)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 2800

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug for their constant loveliness

Requested Tags: @deraniel @iamverity @yasnooshka24@wegingerangelica@themusingsofmany @dark-night-sky-99 @tarynkauai@stuffandstuff-stuffand the total sweetie @angelicshinigami @my-current-fandom-is @geekysimmerthings

WARNING: I have an extremely basic white girl taste in music. Rather than actual classics, I decided to stick with what I know, because I personally think it’s funnier to imagine Loki reacting to Kesha than the Beatles. Please do not scream at me for my horrible taste in music. I know it’s mainstream. But also you can pry my all consuming love for TSwift out of my cold, dead hands, okay thank you for coming to my TEDTalk

Something you’ve come to like about Loki is that he can appreciate silence.

Everyone seems to think that two people sitting quietly has to be awkward; something to avoid- but really, there’s nothing better than being in a room with someone, each doing their own thing, but enjoying the other person’s presence nonetheless. It’s a kind of comfortable that only comes with a severe amount of trust in the soul sitting across from you. Trust that you aren’t simply something to entertain them, or a mouth to keep them occupied- they like you even if all they’re doing is watching your eyebrows quirk as you read a particularly fascinating novel.

Sure, most of your visits are still full of back-and-forth bickering that could rival a fifties sitcom- you never seem to run out of things to talk about- but some days, when he can tell you’ve had a row you’d really rather not discuss, or you know he’s simply not in the headspace to chat, the two of you will simply sit and be. You’ll page through a book or scribble down some thoughts on your notepad while he laces and unlaced his long fingers into intricate patterns, content to sift through his thoughts.

Though you do mark down a note to talk to someone about getting him a few books. He’s got to be bored in there.

To your surprise, these quiet days quickly become your favorites because as much as you love his twisted sense of sarcasm, you like his singing voice more.

Sometimes, Loki will hum.

It’s always very quiet, under his breath, and most of the time you think he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. But every so often you’ll pause from whatever you’re doing to listen to the faint melodies coming from his cell. It’s never anything you’ve heard before, and the music is hopeful and happy and tragic and uplifting all at once, the kind of thing that makes you want to smile and cry at the same time. They must be from Asgard, because you doubt any music from Earth could ever sound like this.

You never mention it, though. You’re afraid if you call attention to it, he’ll stop, and the songs seem to give him a small bit of joy in his lonely bubble of isolation. You’d never want to take that away from him.

Today, rather than reading, you’ve got your arms curled up underneath your head and are fighting (and mostly failing) to keep your eyes open. You got caught up on a project last night and didn’t even realize what time it was until he sun was peeking through your curtains, leaving you to chug several cups of coffee and hope for the best.

But Loki is humming and the music is making you drowsy and warm which is not a great combination for wanting to stay awake. For his part, he doesn’t tease you about very obviously falling asleep on your desk, which you appreciate- you’re pretty sure any comebacks thought up right now would be incredibly lame

“ ‘S pretty,” you mumble, trying to blink the blurriness out of your eyes. Ugh. You hate all-nighters.

“Pardon?”

“You have a pretty voice.”

He doesn’t respond for a minute- though that might have been because you fell asleep for a second- but eventually he just chuckles briefly. “Thank you, I suppose. It does tend to be part of my appeal.”

“Your singing voice, stupid. It’s pretty.” A yawn nearly splits your face in half, and you blink at him blearily.

“When have you ever heard me sing?”

“Well you hum. Same thing. ‘S nice. Never heard it before.”

“I see.” He lapses into silence, and you frown.

“Well don’t stop.”

“I- I am not sure I even know what I was humming.”

You grumble, frustrated. “It was like-” you lilt into a vague approximation of one of his songs, the one that makes you think of a sunflower field on a misty day. “Like that. Kind of.”

Now he properly laughs. “I apologize, I don’t believe I can recreate… whatever it is you just pulled out of your sleep-addled brain.”

“Never said I was a singer.” Another yawn. “Sing something else then.”

“The Witling is quite pushy when exhausted,” he says amused. “Noted.”

“Shu’ up.” With a huff, your head is back in the crook of your elbow. “Why do I even like you.”

“For lullabies, apparently.”

You don’t quite catch that bit, as the drowsiness has finally caught up with you- your eyes close, you curl yourself into a more comfortable position. Loki stares at you, somewhat amazed that you feel comfortable enough to be so vulnerable with him in the room. You look peaceful, content- something warm sparks in him. “It was something my mother sang me, when I was young,” he admits, when he knows for sure you can’t hear. “I seem to recall it chased away nightmares quite effectively.”

But he does start up his lullaby again. It pulls on the homesickness in his chest, but it also makes you smile softly in your sleep.

You dream of sunflowers.

                                                          XXX

“Okay, since I basically forced you to culture me on Asgardian music-”

“I believe you underestimate your incredibly rude demands.”

“I- I was half asleep! I wasn’t trying to on purpose-” you stop when Loki grins, making it obvious that he’s only teasing you. You huff. “Whatever. You suck. Don’t interrupt. Since I basically forced you to culture me on Asgardian music-” you pull out your phone and plunk it on the table. “I’m going to culture you in some Midgardian music.”

“I… see…”

“Don’t look so terrified, I’m not going to subject you to screamo headbangers or anything.” Loki gives you a look, the one that says what on Midgard are you talking about, you strange mortal. “I’m going to start you off with the classics.”

“Be still my beating heart.”

“I know, you should be grateful. My taste in music is the epitome of class and excellence.”

“…of course.”

You pull your phone out of your pocket and flick through your playlists, wondering what to dive into first. “Are you feeling something upbeat or angsty?”

Loki snorts, which is hilariously undignified for him. “I defer to your judgement.”

“A wise choice.” After a few flicks of the screen, you turn your volume up to full blast and sit back to listen.

“I got too many people… got left to prove wrong…”

Serene acoustic guitar washes through the room, and you drum your fingers on your thigh in time to Kesha’s voice. “Don’t let the bastards get you down…”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “Is this your way of attempting to be inspirational?”

You grin at him. “I thought it’d be uplifting.” “Been underestimated… my entire life…”

Once that song is over, you scroll a bit and click to a more techno, pop-y sounding beat. “I knew you were trouble when you walked in…” Again, he stares at you from behind the glass. “What? It’s a great song! One of her best!”

He wrinkles his nose. “Beyond the obvious message…. I do not believe I’m a fan.”

“Hm. Your loss. Honestly I’m disappointed I didn’t name you Trouble instead of Trickster, this would be a perfect theme song for you.” At his death glare, you hold your hands up, giggling. “Okay, okay! Next one…”

You roll through a couple of P!nk’s newer works, guessing he might appreciate the poetic lyrics, and then just because you want to you throw in a couple K-Pop groups, and then asked him for translations on the songs you’ve never bothered to google. “And this is currently the quintessential Midgardian music experience.” The first few strains of the goddamn song nobody can get out of their heads, Let it Go, begins to play. “It’s from a musical called Frozen, based on the old fairytale The Snow Queen.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him suggestively. “Magical ice powers, frozen hearts. The whole shebang.”

His eye rolls are really something spectacular. “Fascinating.”

“I just thought you’d appreciate the theme!”

He tilts his head. “Am I missing a joke, Witling?”

You grin at him. “You know, being a frost giant and all. I thought you could really, I dunno, empathize?”

Loki- well, Loki does something, something you can’t quite describe other than a  complete and systematic mass shutdown. It’s like his very soul suddenly ascends and leaves behind a body that can do nothing but breathe and blink. His eyes go opaque, and even the casual tapping and twitching of his fingers stutters and then stills. He practically disappears in front of your very eyes, as invisible as a person can be behind a pane of glass. Something in your stomach immediately turns. “Um, Loki? You okay?”

“How did you know that.” His voice is toneless, and quieter than you’ve ever heard it, even in those beginning days where he did nothing but huff and sigh at your existence.

You’re confused, but more than that, you’re frantically wondering what you did to cause such anguish to appear on his face. “How did I know…? I don’t know what you mean.”

“That I- I’m not-” he takes a breath, and it shudders out of him so achingly slowly something about it breaks your heart. “A frost giant.”

“How did I know that…you’re a frost giant…? I mean, like everything else we knew about you, from old poems and stories…” there’s a flare of anger in his eyes that scares you. “Is that- is that not good?”

“You say you knew this from the old stories?” His voice is still quiet, but now there’s something simmering beneath it.

“Yeah. The Poetic Edda and all that. I think they’re described as a race in Beowulf which is like, freshman English 101.” Silence. Heavy, stifling, suffocating silence. Your chest heaves from the pressure of it. “Loki? You’re scaring me here.”

The life crashes back into him all at once, and he’s suddenly as hot and dangerous as a flare lit to explode. “You knew this?” He roars, up on his feet and practically vibrating with intensity. His glare pins you to your seat. “You knew- the pathetic Midgardians, of all the races in the galaxy, knew my own secrets before even I?” He laughs violently, his entire body shaking with the force of it. “Of course they did! Because what luck would the universe afford me other than heinous? Other than disgusting-” his cot gets thrown from its position in the corner to the other side of his cell- “rotted-” his hands clench; knuckles white- “fate!” He stands amid the small chaos he’s created, heaving, eyes wild and looking for something to destroy.

You’ve curled yourself up a small as possible, watching the scene unfold with your heart in your throat. “Loki?” You whisper, not noticing a small tear drip onto your cheek. “I’m- I’m sorry. I don’t know what I said but I’m so sorry-”

When he whirls on you, notices your wide eyes, a little of his rage dissipates. “No, Witling, it is not-” he groans, clearly frustrated, and runs his fingers through his hair to direct his anger somewhere other than you. “You did nothing, other than confirm that the world is infinitely cruel.” His laugh is darker this time, more bitter. “That is a not a new lesson to me, have no fear.”

“I- I don’t understand.”

“I do not see how you would.” He looks away, but you get the idea that he’s tying to avoid his own reflection rather than you. His hands clench and unclench.  “I am not sure how your poets came upon such knowledge, but it becomes more and more clear that their sources outrank even my own.”

Realization smack you so suddenly there’s a physical sting on your cheek. “You… you didn’t know. You didn’t know?” How is that even possible?

He grimaces. “Not until a scant year ago.”

You stare at him. “You didn’t know that you were a frost giant until a year ago.” He opens his mouth to say something scathing about your parroting habit, but you cut him off. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I just- how? Why?”

“Why does Odin do anything?” He snarls. “To manipulate. To lie. To raise torment.”

His tone is cutting, but his eyes are lost. Despite the anger radiating off of him in waves, he stands in his white cell alone, adrift, with nothing to anchor him. Ever so slowly, you push back your chair and stand- he eyes you like a caged animal, which is all too accurate to his situation- and walk to him, gauging his reaction as you go. He only watches, so you eventually get close enough to reach out and touch the glass in front of you. You can’t offer anything but that. “Tell me?”

Loki’s sigh caries millennia of unspoken stories. “I would not tell a tale you already know.”

You shake your head a little. “I think I’m realizing we never knew the first thing about you.”

He looks at you for a moment, apparently weighing your words. “It is quite simple. On a mission to slaughter the Jotunn, my father came across an abandoned child in the middle of the battlefield. He concealed its nature and brought it to Asgard to raise in hopes of one day using it as a bargaining chip for peace.”

It. He speaks of himself like a thing, not a person. “Why did he never tell you?”

“Because it would have risked disloyalty, and crippled his plans.” His eyes darken. “If I had realized sooner that I could never take the throne, never truly be a prince of Asgard…” he doesn’t finish his sentence, but you can guess the sentiment.

“He used you.” The simple fact hangs naked in the air, a revelation for you but old news to the god in the cell.

“From the day he spotted me. I was never more than a pawn to him.”

“But didn’t you look different?” You blurt out, trying to wrap your head around the inconsequential details in order to ignore the more painful implications. “I mean- I don’t know what frost giants- Jotunn- look like, really, but…”

He does smile a little at that. “Magic mimics, and illusions are quite easy to conjure. I imagine my subconscious did the work for me.”

“Oh.” You glance at the cuffs on his wrists. “Do they not do anything then?”

“I assure you they work properly,” he sighs. “I would assume Midgardian technology is not capable of suppressing every ounce of magic I possess.”

Your finger traces an outline of his manacles on the glass, leaving smudges. “I’m so sorry.”

Loki looks at you. “It’s ancient history, Witling.”

“How can you say that? Of course it’s not!”

“I realized my father’s love was conditional very quickly, even if I did not know why. I have had a century to deal with the fallout.”

“That- doesn’t make me feel better.” You cross your arms, desperately searching for solid footing. “So you were alone?”

“No.” His voice softens. “My mother- she loved me as a mother should. I do not think I would have survived without her.”

The both of you stand quietly for a minute as your world resettles on its axis. Loki eventually rights his cot and sits down on it, waiting for you to speak first.

“I bet you’re beautiful.” He looks at you, confused. “I mean your other form- self? Carvings aren’t very detailed, most people said the Jotunn were fiercely stunning.”

“Jotunn are monsters, Witling. The things you tell your children of at night. There is nothing beautiful about me.”

“You aren’t a monster.”

“The stories would say otherwise.”

“Well then maybe the stories are wrong,” you say harshly. His eyes meet yours, vulnerable. “Because I know monsters, Loki, I have plenty of my own. You do not share their face, believe me.” He doesn’t seem to know what to make of that- he seems caught between denial and disbelief. “Tell me about your mother.”

So he does. He tells you of her never ending patience when his burgeoning magic was more hinderance than help, and how her healing hands could stitch together even the most dire of wounds. How she could rein in Odin’s temper and even change his mind in the dead of night. How she would know exactly where he would hide when he was upset, and leave a mark or sign so he would know he wasn’t alone.

With every story, his sadness seems to chip away, and his anger fades. Your heart is still crying, but you’ve at least pulled yourself together enough for the tears to dry up, and smile and encourage Loki to keep going whenever he hesitates.

Throughout it all, you murmur small thank-you’s to Frigga in the back of your mind, for carrying him through when you couldn’t.

A/N: Get it? Because they dated for like three weeks and everyone thought it was strange?

Guys. I have two chapters left. TWO. And they’re not hard chapters. So why have I been staring at them for a week not able to write either of them??? BLERGH. 

[quinnybee-writes]

Title: Fire Meet Gasoline

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Rating: T+

Part: 6/?

Story Summary: A chance encounter between a villain and vigilante leads to an unwise deal made between unlikely allies; an unwise deal made between unlikely allies ends in a final stand neither would have ever dared to take on alone. Together, though, they just might have a fighting chance.

Part 6 Summary: Favor number two tests the patience of one and the mettle of another, leaving uncertainty about both in its wake.

Part 1 on  Tumblr / AO3

Part 2 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 3 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 4 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 5 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 6 on AO3

I swear to god if if I have to sit through one more meeting where I get voluntold to pick up another department’s slack in the same sentence as management trying to cut my intern’s hours I’m going to chug a two-liter of Surge and burp so loud I bring this whole mfer down with me.

Shouta stared at his phone, his sleep-addled brain trying to make sense of whether Yamada meant the text as a threat or not. He’d been catching a quick power nap in the back of his truck during his lunch hour and had been most of the way asleep when the rattle of his phone on the metal floor jolted him awake again. Not helping his attempt to dissect the meaningless hyperbole was Yamada’s follow up text of lmao it u along with a gif of a cat trying to jump from a bed to a dresser and falling halfway with the caption “parkour!”. He wouldn’t put it past Yamada to be the type to threaten in one breath and quote a meme in the next, but he couldn’t wrap his brain around why Yamada would be sending him incriminating evidence via text message during work hours.

Two new messages came in quick succession as Shouta was trying to puzzle things out.

Oh my god

Those were supposed to go to my sister holy shit

So not an admission or a threat, just an idiot with a cell phone. Shouta groaned, eyes rolling back in his head in disgust at how much energy he had wasted on taking Yamada seriously yet again.

forget it Shouta sent back.

Cute cat pic for ur trouble? Yamada replied along with a picture of a gangly black cat with bright yellow eyes. The cat was sprawled on its back in a pile of kibble and the shredded scraps of a cat food bag. Shouta snorted, grinning a little in spite of himself at the self-satisfied look on the cat’s fuzzy little face.

cute he texted, trying to distill as much exhaustion and disinterest into the single word as possible.

That’s Ai-chan. She’s a monster, but she’s my monster <3

So what are you up to? Break from work?

Shouta sighed, rubbing his temples. It was impossible to freeze out someone who was so willing to keep the conversation going without outside input.

trying to catch some sleep before afternoon deliveries Shouta replied as pointedly as he could.

Oof. Busy night?

do you need something? Shouta asked, stabbing the send key a little harder than he really needed to. There was a short, offended pause from Yamada’s end of the line; Shouta could picture him looking down at his phone with that little not-quite-pouting moue he always made when things weren’t going his way.

I guess not.

The curt punctuation seemed to signal Yamada had finally gotten the point, just in time to exhaust the last of Shouta’s free time before he had to get going again. Shouta put his phone into his pocket and made a point to not check it again until he was walking home. Waiting for him was another gif, this time of a pair of hands vigorously shaking a bottle of Surge, followed by a message that just said Oh goddammit. Shouta rolled his eyes and deleted the thread without replying.

The perceived slight only kept Yamada at bay for a short time, however. Now that he’d gotten a taste of the man’s texting habits Shouta had to wonder how Yamada managed to get anything done. No matter when his breaks were during the day it seemed like Yamada always had some new meme or gif or general workplace complaint to gift him with in the meantime, whether it was before dawn or after dark or occasionally both.

do you actually have a job or do they just pay you to bother me? Shouta finally asked as he waited at an interminable red light several days later. Yamada had been on a spree that morning, flooding his inbox with an illustrated play-by-play of Ai-chan’s newest misdoings while Shouta had four straight hours of back-to-back deliveries.

Excuse you, Yamada texted back loftily, I am an integral part of station management! Who occasionally may or may not take extra long bathroom breaks to avoid getting roped into being more integral than I already am.

my bad. clearly you’re just doing your part to prevent asahi radio from being razed via belch Shouta replied, snorting out a laugh before he could stop himself. He paused, frowning. That was both new and unwelcome.

Yamada sent back a long line of laugh-crying emojis followed by Look who grew a sense of humor just in time to drag me!

don’t act like you know me.

Yeah, yeah. Scout’s honor, I won’t tell anybody you’re actually funny.

Shouta scowled, dropping the phone onto the seat next to him and pulling through the light as it finally turned green. Despite the chilly weather he rolled his window down to get some airflow on his face. He hadn’t turned on the truck’s heater yet but his cheeks already felt way too warm.

Shouta spent his next day off drinking too much coffee at the cat cafe while he tried to reign in the chaos that his computer desktop had become. His phone buzzed on the table beside him and Shouta swiped in the passcode with one hand while the other was dragging a huge load of defunct backup files to his computer’s trash. He’d sooner walk into traffic than admit it to Yamada, but having a passcode on his phone was turning out to be less of an inefficient hassle that he’d always thought it would be and did make him less anxious about putting it places that weren’t his pocket or his hand.

As if waiting for the thought to cue him in, the alert was for yet another of Yamada’s early-morning memes. This time it was a gif of a kitten trying to stay awake before it wobbled and flopped out of frame. Yamada’s accompanying caption read That midweek feeling hitting hard today along with an emoji of a sleeping face with a snot bubble.

it’s monday Shouta texted back.

When you work 24/7 it’s always midweek, Yamada replied.

implying you work at all. still not convinced.

I resent that, Aizawa. It takes a lot of skill and determination to shovel this much shit and still have spare time to be a full-time pain in the ass.

Shouta almost allowed himself a laugh at that, but the air caught in his throat at Yamada’s next question.

So, do you do all of your important hero research on the public wifi at kitty cafes, or is today a special occasion?

What do you mean? Shouta asked warily.

Behind you.

Shouta turned slowly, dreading what he knew he was about to see. Yamada was standing on the sidewalk outside, grinning at him over the top of his cell phone. He gave Shouta a little wave before sauntering in and up to the counter. He chatted amiably with the baristas as they made his order. Shouta frowned to himself, trying to work out the quickest way to pack up his belongings while disturbing as few sleeping cats as possible. The moment came and went too quickly, however, as Yamada came over with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Black with one sugar, right?” Yamada said. He slid one of the steaming mugs in front of Shouta. “That’s what they said anyway,” he added, nodding up towards the counter.

“What are you doing here?” Shouta asked coolly. Yamada frowned at him.

“I was on my way to the post office to mail a couple things and empty the station P.O. box and saw you in the window,” Yamada said. “I figured we could sit and chat since we both have a minute.”

“You just kind of assume you’re welcome wherever you decide to be, don’t you?” Shouta said.

Yamada snorted. “If that’s the worst thing someone tells me about myself today, I’ll count it as a win,” he replied, toasting Shouta with his coffee cup. He invited himself to sit down in the only chair not currently occupied by cats. “Wait, is that a spreadsheet with my name on it?” he added with sudden interest, arching his neck around to peek at Shouta’s screen. Shouta slammed the lid of his laptop shut, feeling his face heating.

“Do you need something?” Shouta asked, trying to redirect the conversation and get Yamada back on his way as quickly as possible.

“Just caffeine and conversation,” Yamada shrugged. “Is it illegal to ask someone about their day?”

“Implying you care about whether or not you’re doing something illegal,” Shouta replied curtly. To his annoyance Yamada just chuckled and shrugged.

“I mean, you’ve got me there,” he said. “So, what are you working on?” Yamada added, lowering his tone just slightly.

“Catching up on some things,” Shouta said, intentionally vague. “Organizing research. It takes longer when you’re doing it on your own.”

“I bet,” Yamada agreed. “Would probably save you some time and effort to have a permanent back door into places you’re not supposed to be, huh?” He said it with a too-even speculation that set Shouta instantly on edge.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Shouta said.

“I know people who know things,” Yamada said with a broad, conspiratorial grin over his coffee mug. “Keeping your friends close and your enemies closer is a lot easier when you can tell which is which.”

Shouta felt a frisson of discomfort run up his spine at the implication of where Yamada considered him to be on that spectrum. “I think I liked it better when you were threatening me,” he muttered. “Don’t make more of that than there is,” he added quickly as Yamada’s smile grew cheeky and he opened his mouth to comment. Yamada did his annoying little not-quite-pouting pout and let out a quiet “hmph” at his joke being preempted.

“In any case, you probably don’t need me to tell you how to crack a secure password,” Yamada said. “Even when they’re clever they’re usually related to either the one who sets them or the thing they’re locking up, or they’re something pseudo-random cooked up by a number generator. Sometimes they get stupid-clever and try to do all three.”

“Mmn?” As bored as he was trying to sound, Shouta couldn’t help taking mental notes on what Yamada was saying. Yamada was a flippant trouble-maker from the word go but there were moments where he displayed actual talent for the things he claimed to be an expert in.

“Oh yeah,” Yamada said. “They’re trying for layers of security, but too many moving parts makes passwords way easier to out-think. Codes are only as smart as the people who write them, y’know?”

“And you know how smart they are?” Shouta asked, trying to keep his tone casual as he goaded Yamada into staying on a roll. Yamada caught his drift a little too well, however, and the sharp, meaningful grin came out again.

“I know people who know things,” he said again. “I’d be willing to let you in on a few trade secrets for the low, low price of a certain five-letter word beginning with ‘f’.”

Shouta snorted. “Hard pass.”

“Well, I tried,” Yamada said, shrugging. He checked the time on his phone and sighed. “That’s about my lot, I’m afraid. Gotta get back before the world ends.” He stood and stretched with a groan. “We should do this again sometime. Maybe talk less shop.” The offer seemed oddly genuine and Shouta wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that.

He tried to get back to work after Yamada left, but his concentration had been thoroughly broken. He bought another coffee and turned on some neutral background music; his brain, however, was no longer in the mood to stare at a screen and try to riddle out what his new sub-folders should be called. Finally Shouta dislodged the many cats who had taken up residence in and around his lap and packed up his laptop to see if fresh air on the walk home and a change of venue might help get him back on task.

Shouta nudged his apartment door closed with his heel, scooping the mess of envelopes out of his mail bin. It was mostly the normal jumble of junk and bills, but amongst the shuffle was a thin white payroll envelope with his name and address on the front in too-familiar spidery handwriting. Just going to empty the station mailbox indeed, Shouta thought with a groan. Yamada was way too fond of theatrics. He tossed the envelope onto his sofa without opening it and delayed paying it any attention until he’d put everything away, showered, and had a lengthy play session with his cats. If it was unimportant enough for Yamada to not just hand it over when they were in the same room together, Shouta told himself, then there was no need for him to bend over backwards to pay attention to it the instant he got home.

Finally his excuses ran out and he tore the envelope open. Inside were two pieces of paper folded separately into sharp thirds. The first was a handwritten note on Asahi Radio letterhead that read:

Aizawa-

I need a favor. I have a line on something but doing it alone might be tricky. You’ll just be the go-between, nothing dire. Meet me Friday, 9pm sharp.

-M

Also included was another of Yamada’s meticulously notated hand-drawn maps, at the other end of which was a complex of storage units bordered on all sides by a spike-topped chain link fence. Shouta peered into the dark, abandoned-looking guard booth, wondering if the first step to tonight’s goings-on was having to find his own way inside.

“Hey, you made it!”

Shouta turned to see a dark-haired man slouching up towards him from the other end of the sidewalk. He eyed the man warily, about to say he had the wrong person, but stopped as he stepped into the light and raised his sunglasses with a smirk. Yamada had stuffed all of his hair under a short, spiky black wig and a black and green snapback, slicked down his mustache and covered it in a thin layer of skin-colored makeup to blend it in with his face, and buried himself in baggy jeans and a jacket that made him look both heavier-set and a few inches shorter than he actually was. The only things that gave him away were his sharp too-green eyes and his unmistakable grin, full of crafty smugness at Shouta’s open surprise at his appearance. Yamada did a full turnaround of the odd costume, ending the twirl with a dramatic pose.

“Not a bad look for me, huh?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Shouta snorted. “You look like a washed-up pop star who’s trying to pretend he still has to avoid the paparazzi,” he replied flatly.

To his surprise Yamada let out a burst of full-throated laughter at the remark. Shouta wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Yamada laugh in genuine amusement before now, only the occasional mocking chuckle or triumphant snicker. He had a loud, whinnying kind of laugh that tapered off into short bursts of wheezy, hyena-like giggles behind his hand as he remembered himself and tried to tamp it down.

“Okay, cynical,” Yamada said, still coughing through the last of his laughing fit. “Everyone’s a critic.” He rolled his eyes and gave a flourishy “well, what are you gonna do” kind of shrug. Shouta scowled at him.

“What are we doing here?” Shouta asked, doing his best to ignore Yamada’s grandstanding despite the growing burn of annoyance creeping up his face.

“Just a quick jaunt into my evil lair,” Yamada said cheerfully. He punched an entry code into the number pad next to the guard house, then pressed his thumb to the scanner underneath. The keypad flashed green and beeped an affirmative, and a small portion of the gate swung inward. “C’mon,” Yamada said. He motioned for Shouta to follow him as he led the way through the rows of squat cinder block units to one in the very back left corner of the lot.

“People with money can afford secret basements and underground boltholes wherever they need them,” Yamada said over his shoulder as he bent down to unlock the door of the unit, “but the rest of us have to make do with what we’ve got.” He lifted the door just high enough for himself and Shouta to duck under, then set it back down with a clatter. The unit was pitch-black and humid inside and smelled like a mixture of burnt-out electrical parts, solder, and partially cured epoxy glue. “I’ll get the lights, one sec,” Yamada said. Shouta heard him scrabbling along the wall to find the light switch, then a click. A fluorescent shop light flickered and buzzed to life above them, flooding the unit in intense blue-white light. Yamada turned to Shouta and spread his hands wide. “Taa-daa! Welcome to the inner sanctum.”

It looked more like a high school shop room that had sublet space to a thrift store. The left wall had been covered in a cluster of flat-pack bookshelves, their shelves bowing under a jumble of storage boxes labeled things like “radio parts-LIVE”, “speaker wire”, “tape--sticky”, and “tape--magnetic”. The back wall was one long anchored shelf divided into slots that held overstuffed file folders bundled together with rubber bands and binder clips. The only wall not covered in shelving or projects was taken up with a butcher block work table and a cork board with scribbled notes and schematics pinned to it.

“Kind of rinky-dink, but it gets the job done,” Yamada said fondly. “Anyway. First things first, did you happen to wear the stab vest I gave you?” he asked over his shoulder as he ducked under the work table and retrieved a box marked with today’s date.

“Yeah.” The assurance that his part in tonight would be “nothing dire” had put Shouta on high enough alert that he’d forced himself to put pride aside and opt for personal safety instead.

“Thank god. So, basically what I need is for you to be my stand in while things get underway tonight,” Yamada said. “I’d go on my own, but the meeting place is kind of a...no-go area for me right now due to certain people who frequent it.”

“And you’d rather send me in looking like you instead?” Shouta asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Yamada stared at Shouta like he’d started speaking French.

“What? God, no, what gave you that idea?”

Shouta sighed, silently counting to ten in his head as his patience frayed. “You just said I’m supposed to be your stand in.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah, poor choice of words. Think stunt double, not body double,” Yamada explained. “I just need you to be a good-faith warm body, I’ll be handling the rest with this.” He reached into the box and pulled out something that looked like a cold weather mask had been extruded into a large funnel shape at the bottom edge. Shouta looked from it to Yamada, who was beaming in obvious self-pride.

“Which is…?” Shouta prompted.

“Which is your half of a two-way radio with a built in broadcasting speaker,” Yamada said, turning the top edge inside out to show Shouta the wiring and speakers sewn into it. “At first I thought maybe I could just have you memorize a script and I’d step in if things got too off-book, but you’re not very good at lying under pressure so I wasn’t sure that would fly,” he continued. Shouta wasn’t sure if that was meant as an insult or not. “So instead, we have this to work with. I can use this--” Yamada pulled up his sleeve to show a tiny microphone taped to the inside of his wrist-- “to talk to you or talk as you, depending, as long as I stay within ten or twelve feet of you at all times.” The last part he said in one of his uncomfortably accurate impressions of Shouta’s voice.

“And that’s why you’re dressed like that?” Shouta said.

“Exactly. I’ll have to be close enough to you that the receiver can pick up the signal, and it’ll be way easier to read the room if I’m, y’know, in the room.”

“If you were going to put on a costume and go anyway, why didn’t you just do that and go on your own?” Shouta asked.

Yamada frowned and waved a finger at him like he was scolding a child. “Eh-eh-eh. No questions asked, remember? You know as much as you need to know, and you don’t need to know any more than that. Now stand still so I can get you wired up.”

Shouta grudgingly stood with his arms straight out from his body as Yamada turned him into a human switchboard. With a combination of strategic placement and gaffer tape Yamada ran a long wire with an audio jack on one end and a battery connection on the other from Shouta’s waist up his left side to just under his collar bone. Another wire ran the length of his inner arm from shoulder to wrist and ended in a loop with a switch on it that fit over the first knuckle of his thumb. All he had to do, Yamada said as he taped it all down, was press the switch when he needed to talk to Yamada and let it go when he was finished. “Y’know,” Yamada said, “like those cheap walkie-talkies you used to play with as a kid.”

“I ended up making this a lot bigger at the bottom so that we can hide all of our crimes under it,” Yamada muttered as he slipped the mask over Shouta’s head. He was back in the extreme focus mode Shouta had seen him slip into before, attention laser-focused and the corner of his mouth between his teeth as he connected all the wires and power sources underneath. He pulled an earpiece up under the mask by its wire and stuck it in Shouta’s ear before reaching up to fuss with Shouta’s hair and make sure it was hiding everything sticking above the mask. Shouta shivered involuntarily at the touch, barely resisting the urge to pull away. “With the right top layer all of this should be more or less invisible,” Yamada went on, frowning appraisingly as he took a step back to examine his handiwork. He rummaged through a few things in the box and surfaced with a heavy black zippered jacket. “I had to guess sizes, but I think this one should be close enough.”

Yamada unzipped the jacket and held it out so that Shouta could shrug into it. Shouta eased the jacket on, trying not to disturb the network of wires all over him. Yamada zipped it up almost to the top, open enough to seem casual but still high enough to cover all but the face portion of the mask and its contents. It wasn’t a terrible fit other than being slightly short in the sleeves and restrictive around the shoulders. Shouta bent and twisted his arms, trying to stretch it out without doing damage to the electronic infrastructure. Yamada untied the audiojack end of the main wire from Shouta’s belt loop and stuck it into a small cheap-looking disposable cell phone.

“This should have enough battery to keep a recording of the whole thing,” Yamada said. “Can you give me a quick mic check to make sure everything’s hooked up?”

“Uh. Testing,” Shouta said.

Yamada seemed to like what he saw in the waveforms on the phone’s screen. He smiled in satisfaction before stretching a piece of tape around the back of the phone and carefully taping it into place in Shouta’s pocket. “If we head out right now we should get there early enough to do a few on-site checks,” Yamada said, checking the time. “Shall we?”

The two of them walked a few blocks from the storage unit to a cramped, dim little pub. Yamada walked at tailing distance behind Shouta the whole way, testing the range on the homemade gear by giving Shouta directions to where they were going. The audio was relatively clear if they stayed within Yamada’s estimation of ten or so feet; after they hit closer to the twelve-foot mark it got fainter and fainter until dropping out completely as they reached about fifteen feet. Again Shouta had to wonder why, if they were essentially going to be handcuffed to one another anyway, Yamada couldn’t have just gone undercover by himself.

“Grab a drink at the bar and go sit at one of the high-top tables,” Yamada said as Shouta opened the bar’s door and made his way in. “That’s where he’ll be expecting you.”

“Any advice on how to recognize whoever I’m supposed to be meeting?” Shouta muttered back under his breath.

“No idea, he said he would find you. That’s pretty standard for a meeting like this,” Yamada added before Shouta could protest. “Nobody wants to get jumped outside before negotiations even get underway. Think of it as a blind date, but nefarious.”

Shouta sighed loudly, making sure he hit the switch so that Yamada would hear him. Yamada’s never-ending supply of bad metaphors was the last thing he needed right now.

“Calm down, Aizawa,” Yamada said. “Remember, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty, I’ll handle the talking.” There was a short fizzle of static as Yamada entered the pub and made his way to a secluded booth in the back corner. “Still read me?”

“Yeah.”

“Excellent. What’s your poison?”

“Pardon?”

“Beer? Wine? Shot of whiskey to settle your nerves?”

“You really want alcohol anywhere near all this equipment?” Shouta asked, bewildered.

“It’s just for show, who goes into a bar and doesn’t order anything? You shouldn’t drink anything they serve here anyway, their bartending is a bad joke,” Yamada said dismissively. “I just need to test the audio output and make sure we’re good to go before the main event.”

“Then just do it,” Shouta said shortly. “Didn’t you just say you were going to handle all the talking?”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Yamada muttered again. His usual flippant chill had gained an undertone of cranky tenseness that was less than reassuring. “Can I get a bottle of Sapporo?” Yamada said aloud in Shouta’s voice. Shouta just managed to turn toward the bartender in time for the question to seem natural. The bartender, a smirking woman with long brown hair held back in a red ribbon, gave him an appraising once-over. She seemed to be unimpressed with what she saw.

“Sure,” the bartender said. She reached into a cooler under the counter and came back with the bottle of beer, popping the lid off before placing it on the bar in front of Shouta.

“Thanks,” Yamada said, far more cheerfully than Shouta had ever said the word. Shouta nodded his own thanks and went to go sit at one of the high tables in a cluster near the front. He drummed his heel on the bottom rung of the bar stool. The bar was basically empty and silent other than the bartender’s phone playing lo-fi swing music from a speaker dock behind the bar. Otherwise it was just Shouta and his undrinkable beer killing time.

“Ohshit.” The words came out as a single noise hissed violently in Shouta’s ear, making him jump.

“What?” he hissed back, avoiding the curious look the bartender was giving him.

“Remember how I said there were some people who made this place a no-go area because they want to kill me?” Yamada said, sounding like he was talking through his teeth.

“Yeah?”

“That’s them coming in. Don’t look at them! Have you never been undercover in your life?” Yamada whisper-shouted as Shouta turned to look over his shoulder at the door. Almost immediately he snapped his head back around, trying to be as casual as possible about pulling the jacket’s hood over his head as he saw Takeshiro and his wife coming in and sitting a few tables away.

“You know them?” Shouta asked, hopelessly hoping Yamada actually meant someone else who was still outside.

“Ye-ep,” Yamada said, distaste drawing the word out several syllables longer than it needed to be. “They’re still kind of sore about a certain scene in a certain alley you might be familiar with.” He scoffed, then hissed, “Wait, you know them?” as Shouta’s tone dawned on him.

The alleyway. Shapes in the dark played back in Shouta’s head, fuzzy from time and panic but falling into clearer place with the new context. A short, stringy figure barking orders and bailing when things got complicated; the other taller and stocky and silent with a plant-based Quirk protecting him. Shouta gritted his teeth, annoyed by how clear the connection seemed now that it was right in front of him.

“Takeshiro works on the night crew in package processing. Takes a lot of sick days now that I think of it. I’ve never actually spoken to his wife but I’ve seen her at office parties before,” he said quietly.

“His wife? Ew,” Yamada said.

“You’re telling me they’re villains?” Shouta asked, ignoring him. Yamada snorted.

“So-called. They work for an egomaniac middleman called Seguchi. Hebiko is Seguchi’s left hand, and Takeshiro’s hers.”

“What did you do to make them want to kill you?”

“Their boss did something stupid with information that wasn’t his and got busted. I had nothing to do with it,” Yamada retorted tartly.

“Right, sure,” Shouta said. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“Nah, shouldn’t be,” Yamada said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “This is why I planned things this way. No reason to bail out before anything happens.” Shouta was about to protest that it made a lot more sense to leave before there was a problem rather than scrambling when they were in trouble, but Yamada spoke first. “Heads up, you’ve got company.”

“So you’re Null.”

Shouta turned to see a lanky man with brownish hair and a narrow, rattish face standing slouched behind him with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his grubby jeans.

“Potentially,” Yamada replied. “You’re Raimaru?” His impression of Shouta’s voice was dead-on, which was bad enough on its own, but there was something just slightly off about his intonation that made Shouta’s skin crawl.

“That’s what they call me,” the man said. ”Getcha a refill while we talk?” he added, nodding at Shouta’s obviously untouched beer.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Shouta fiddled with the neck of the bottle to make it seem less like a static prop on the table in front of him. Even if Yamada had been against the idea of giving him a script to follow, some guidance on what to do in general might have been nice. He felt stiff and awkward, like a puppet whose puppeteer only had a vague idea of how natural movements worked.

“Suit yourself,” Raimaru shrugged. He ambled off to talk to the bartender, seeming to be doing his best to chat her up as she mixed his drink.

“‘Null’?” Shouta muttered to Yamada.

“Short for ‘nullify’, like your Quirk. Get it?” When Shouta just sighed in reply, Yamada added defensively, “Well, I had to call you something, didn’t I?”

“Did you?”

“What did you want me to say, ‘oh by the by you’ll be meeting my friend Shouta Aizawa, he’s thirty, single, a Scorpio, and lives in a single-occupancy uptown with three cats’?” Yamada retorted.

He technically had a point and Shouta hated that the most out of all the things he hated about this evening so far. Yamada had no time to gloat over the win, however, as Raimaru came back and dropped onto the stool across from Shouta.

“Kind of a hassle, having to be the face of cleaning up all of your boss’s bad behavior, huh? From what I’ve heard he’s got plenty to go around,” Raimaru said. Shouta privately agreed with the sentiment, but Yamada snorted instead.

“I get paid to go where I’m told, not to pass judgements,” Yamada replied stiffly. Shouta resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the defensive bluster. Raimaru laughed for him.

“I dunno about that. There’s plenty of judgement to go around if you want some,” Raimaru said. “Seems like the only books he can get into these days are peoples’ bad ones.”

“You think he gives a damn about anyone’s books other than his own?”

“I’m just saying I know a glorywhore when I see one. He spends all of his time making deals and playing nice and then suddenly people higher than him start going to jail,” Raimaru said. “Happened to Fukawa, happened to Seguchi, happened to Iwata. Hell, everyone knows he snitched and got Hanajima back in the day but Hanajima got shanked in prison and all his men scattered so nobody talks about him anymore.”

Shouta squirrelled the names away to research later, though other than those names Raimaru had said precious little to convince him that he knew much of anything besides Yamada’s surface reputation. So far his assertions had been vague at best and his “work, am I right?” tone was suspiciously chummy, like he was trying to nudge “Null” into letting something incriminating slip out.

“Why is any of this relevant?” Yamada asked. He sounded equally short on patience with Raimaru’s unsubtle attempts at currying favor. Raimaru gave a slightly passive-aggressive shrug.

“There’s a storm coming. A big one, one that’s gonna hit hard and rewrite a lot of rules about who’s in charge and who’s got a boot on their necks. You’re not gonna be in a great spot if you’re working for the Bird, so I thought you’d wanna know there’s better options,” he said. It was the first thing he’d said that sounded like he actually knew what he was talking about and it was not a reassuring change. Yamada, however, seemed unfazed.

“What, some new jumped-up ‘super’ villain with big plans for a criminal utopia?” Yamada said, unimpressed. “Seen ‘em come, seen ‘em go, nothing of value was lost. You asked me to come here because you had something valuable you wanted to trade. Is that still the case, or should I head out and stick you with the tab for wasting my time?”

“So, that’s a ‘no’ from you?” Raimaru asked, still grinning like someone had wired the corners of his mouth behind his ears.

“I didn’t hear a question being asked, but…” All of a sudden Yamada’s voice trailed off in a fizzle of static. Shouta tensed. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Yamada, who met his eye with a look that was not quite panic but was very, very close to it. Yamada tapped his ear questioningly. Shouta twitched his head to the side in a negative. He saw Yamada mouth “Shit!” before his attention snapped back to the problem in front of him as Raimaru let out a short chuckle.

“Never a good idea to use radio signals around me,” Raimaru said smugly. “They usually end up a little...dead.” He casually brought the hand that had been under the table to rest on its surface. It was holding a large pocket knife, which he casually flicked open and closed as he spoke. All of the plastic had been stripped off of the knife, leaving behind just the blades and metal guts holding them together. As Shouta eyed it, the blade began to glow a smokey orange around Raimaru’s fingertips.

“I think we’re done here,” Shouta said, trying to match the off-cadence way Yamada had been using his voice all night.

This only seemed to egg Raimaru on, however, as he cranked his Quirk up another notch. Shouta felt a static prickling like the kind before a huge lightning strike setting the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck on end. A tinny shrilling feedback noise whined through his earpiece, making him jolt and hiss in sudden pain. Shouta gritted his teeth and set his own Quirk on Raimaru instead. A hasty decision, it turned out, as a sudden crash of noise hit him all at once. Yamada’s voice half-shouting in his ear was interlaced with loud snaps of static as the equipment reconnected. Shouta winced at the onslaught, clapping a hand to his ear before he could stop himself. The moment of distraction was all Raimaru needed.

“So the Bird’s doggy wants to bark, huh?” In one fluid motion Raimaru threw what was left in his glass in Shouta’s eyes and hooked a foot under the bottom rung of Shouta’s stool, yanking it from under him. Shouta toppled to the floor, landing hard on his ass and elbows as he futilely tried to catch himself as he fell. He blinked hard, tears streaming as his eyes burned with whatever had been in that glass. Raimaru grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him partially upright.

“Things could have gone better for you, but it looks like the Bird just likes making things difficult,” Raimaru said.

Shouta dug his fingers into Raimaru’s wrist, trying to wrestle himself free. Raimaru smirked, a violent shock sparking off of his skin and into Shouta’s arm. Shouta let out a bark of agony as his entire arm below the shoulder seized and went numb. Someone else’s hand, large and thick-fingered, ripped his back by the forearm, twisting his hand back and up between his shoulder blades. Shouta stiffened. He hadn’t heard Takeshiro or his wife approaching during the scuffle but it was obvious now they had him surrounded. He thought of the alley and the way they had closed ranks around Yamada, accounting for every avenue of escape except for a one-in-a-million outside intervention. Shouta darted a look over to Yamada. Their eyes met for a split second that lasted an eon. Yamada’s eyes were wide and his face had gone deathly pale as he took in the scene in front of him. He was frozen half in motion, caught between breaking cover to come help and his desire to steer clear of Takeshiro and Hebiko. Shouta’s stomach sank as Yamada dropped his gaze, hunching in on himself and pulling his hat down farther to hide his face.

“Last chance, doggy,” Raimaru said. “That signal was too weak to come from very far away. Point us in the right direction and we’ll let you go, no hard feelings. Otherwise we send you back to your master in pieces.”

He leaned in as he threatened, and Shouta took the opportunity to show him how close was too close. Shouta reared back, then rammed his forehead into Raimaru’s nose at full force. As Raimaru reeled back, Shouta slammed himself back into Takeshiro, sending the man spine-first into the edge of a table. Takeshiro grunted in pain and Shouta twisted away from his grasp as Takeshiro tried to catch himself. Raimaru sank his fist into Shouta’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him, but Shouta managed to activate his Quirk again before Raimaru could shock him. Shouta retaliated with a sharp hook, jamming his fist into Raimaru’s solar plexus with as much force as he could muster. As Raimaru doubled over Shouta grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed him face-first into the table.

“All right, ENOUGH!” the bartender yelled. She was floating above the bar with a warning look on her face, a thin metal pipe leveled at Shouta’s head. Shouta looked from her to Takeshiro and Hebiko, who had backed off behind their table again, to Raimaru, who was staring up from under his hand with undisguised disgust as he bled onto the table. Shouta took a moment to catch his breath, then released Raimaru. Not bothering to see if Yamada would follow, Shouta took the moment of peace to walk out of the bar.

The night air was cold and made his face feel closed in and sticky under the mask. Shouta jerked it down under his chin, sucking in a hard breath. The adrenaline in his veins felt like a cloying, choking compulsion to just run, escape, flee as fast as he could in any direction that would count as away. His lungs burned nearly as badly as his eyes, every new breath feeling like a sharp stab in the chest. A strange itching slightly farther down his abdomen joined the pain in his chest as he half-sprinted down the sidewalk. Shouta looked down and froze mid-step. The bare metal handle of Raimaru’s knife stuck out of his stomach at an almost perfect perpendicular angle, jammed in so far that the tip was pressing the rough kevlar of his stab vest against his flesh.

“Ho-ly shit that was a whole bunch of something.” Shouta didn’t look up from the knife almost in his gut as Yamada’s voice crowed out behind him. He felt Yamada digging in his pocket and retrieving the cell phone. “Could have gone better for sure, but also could have gone worse.” Yamada gave Shouta a cheery smack on the shoulder. “You and I make a pretty good team, huh? C’mon, let’s go find a nicer place to grab a bite and hang out until things die down.”

He paused like he fully expected Shouta to agree and follow after him, but Shouta was barely listening. His mind was still trying to process the knife handle sticking out of his stomach. The night “could have gone worse”? Raimaru had almost made good on the threat to send Shouta home in pieces while Yamada cowered in a corner booth, more worried about being seen than being helpful, and Yamada was congratulating himself for a job well done.

“Aizawa? Earth to Aizawa? Hey, are you okay? You’re shaking.” There was a note of real concern in Yamada’s voice as he reached out a hand to steady the trembling in Shouta’s body.

The idea of Yamada making any kind of physical contact snapped the last bit of sane civility Shouta had left in him. True fury, hot and fast and scraped raw by everything that was running through Shouta’s head, boiled over in his chest. He swung wildly at Yamada, hoping to make contact but hoping more just to fend him off as violently as possible. Yamada yelped and jumped backwards, hands coming up to protect himself.

“Whoa! What the hell--?” Yamada began, but Shouta was already swinging again. He wanted to make Yamada bleed, make him feel even half as agonized and afraid as he did right now. Yamada stumbled away from him, eyes wide in shock and confusion. His back hit the brick wall of a building and Shouta got right up in his face, Quirk blazing and teeth bared in a hateful snarl as he spoke.

“Let me be clear with this, so maybe you’ll hear it over the sound of your own voice,” Shouta said between clenched teeth. “We are not partners. We do not make a good team. We are sure as fuck not friends who hang out. You are a problem in my life that I am trying to solve. Get that through your thick skull and stop acting like we’re in this together.” He pulled the knife out and threw it violently at Yamada’s feet before turning on his heel and striding away as fast as his legs could carry him.

As soon as he staggered into his apartment and secured every lock and deadbolt on his door Shouta stripped down, dumping everything he’d been wearing in a heap in the entryway. Ignoring his cats’ cries for attention, Shouta went straight to the bathroom and ran the shower as hot as he could stand it. He could feel himself shaking now, the dregs of adrenaline making his legs weak rather than holding him up any longer. He sat down in his tub with the scalding water beating against his back, arms wrapped around himself. He looked down and saw a long irritated scratch rising on his stomach where the knife had dragged against him through the vest. Shouta let out a long, unsteady breath and closed his eyes. He’d been a vigilante for long enough to know that it meant going without any kind of help when things went from bad to worse to potentially lethal; until now not even his worst cases had shaken him like this. But those times he’d known the risk going in and taking it on had been his choice, which made all the difference. Yamada had known, though. Yamada had known they should have bailed as soon as their worst case scenario walked in the pub’s doors and he’d used Shouta as a human shield to try to get what he wanted anyway. Shouta gritted his teeth, nails digging into his palms as his hands balled into fists. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from someone like Yamada.

Never again, Shouta thought as he roughly toweled off. Yamada could keep his favors and his trade secrets and all the rest of it. He’d need all the help he could get, because as far as Shouta was concerned Yamada was on his own from this moment on.

[mooberg]

Among the Statues

Chapter 4: Polishing Stones

And here’s chapter 4 friends! Not much to say about this one except I’m sorry. Don’t read if you’ve had a bad day but I feel like that’s just standard operation with my stuff now...

Word Count: 4017

No warnings except angst

Enjoy!

The sky was just barely beginning to lighten when they arrived back on campus. Gamma didn't say much. She had learned pretty early on that when Horns got like this, he just needed space. But that was a commodity they couldn’t afford in that moment, so she kept him moving forward, but at his own speed. The sprawling fields that made up the campus grounds came slowly into view as they crested a hill. Between trees and buildings, statues dotted the greenspaces. This was a sight they had become uncomfortably familiar with in such a short span of time. Gone was the hope for some sort of movement, some sort of break from this curse. But replacing it was determination. As they walked in step, Gamma glanced over to him, seeing that same emotion spark in him.

“We have to keep strong.” She murmured. “For them.”

Horns nodded slowly, taking in a deep breath. “For them.”

The dorm's curtains were drawn shut, no light slipping past to give away their position. With the violent confirmation of another unfrozen virus existing somewhere in the Capitol, and likely the one who caused this whole mess, they couldn't risk being found. Gamma had even elected to ditch the motorcycle early and walk into campus, avoiding any attention drawn by the noise. If the two of them were responsible for leading someone back to their team, they’d never forgive themselves.

The team was still awake when they entered, collapsed in the living room defeated and deflated. It was easy to read the worry and frustration on their faces. They had never done anything to quite this scale before, and the toll it took on them was great. Psi stood when he caught sight of Horns, his expression unreadable.

“I know, I know.” Horns sighed, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “That was stupid and reckless and impulsive, and I shouldn't have run. I just...”

Psi remained neutral as Horns' hands dropped to his sides, the rest of him deflating along with them.

“I've never... I haven't... all those people. Gone. And we were too late- I was too late... I just don't know.”

“I understand.” Psi's softened tone had Horns looking up in surprise. “That is no easy thing for anyone, particularly the lot of you. It is different for us. Gamma, myself, and... the others. We have seen... we know. In your case, I should not forget that. I am thankful you have not experienced these things, until today in any case, and I hope they only change you for the better. Many lives were lost because of this, let us continue forward for them.”

“We have to keep going.” Gamma added. “With all the craziness going on this is far from the last thing we'll be up against.”

“But we don't even know what we're up against.” Equo countered. “Or who.”

“Maybe if Horns has another vision...?” Jolly offered.

Horns nodded. “Could be some more clues, I guess.”

“Then you should all get some rest, if you can.” Psi said. “I can see in your faces how tired you are. You have done good work today. We will strategize where to go from here when you wake.”

For the second time that night, the team split to their respective rooms. Horns shut his door with a sigh, resisting the urge to hit his head against it. He let his emotions get the better of him, and that could have cost them so much more than just some wasted time. This was not going to be an easy situation, and he needed to keep his head on straight or there was no telling what could happen. He turned, heading to his bed, as a calming scent met him. The little spider plant Psi had given him sat on his desk, now inexplicably sprouting lavender. It reminded Horns of the numerous times Psi had aided him in his meditations, including that fateful day he discovered his mind diving powers. The very power that now possibly held the key to ending this curse. He smiled as he turned off the light, thanking his mentor silently as a deep sleep took him.

 ~~~*~~~

 “... which begs the question of why. Why would someone freeze an entire city- or... well we still don't know how far this goes. But why freeze an entire city and just do nothing?”

“But they didn't do nothing.”

“True. But then. Then. If you're going to freeze and then... smash an entire city, why do it little pieces at a time? Why not just steamroll everything? If that is your intention. And then if that's not your intention, why freeze anybody at all? Someone with access to magic this powerful could easily have controlled everyone in a multitude of different ways. Why frozen?”

“Maybe it's Elsa.” Horns suggested, groggily stepping out of his room to Jolly's conspiracy rambles. She, Callow and Glitch were in the living room.

“But if it was Elsa, she wouldn't have frozen everybody, now would she?” Jolly continued, a wild glint in her eye. “And when she realized what she'd done, wouldn't she have tried to reverse it? Or reached out for help? Or made her presence known in some way?”

“Well there aren't any reanimated snowmen wandering around and the skies are clear so I think we can rule that one out.” Callow said, his voice suggesting Jolly had been at this for a while.

“So then if it's not Elsa, who is it?” Jolly asked. “Who would have frozen an entire city- or is it not freezing at all? Is it something else? Is it-”

“Jolly?” Horns softly cut her off and she glanced over at him with wild eyes. “I don't have nearly enough coffee in me for this. Do you think you could cool it on the Unsolved rambles here?”

“Fine, but we'll continue this later.” She pointed at him in a way that somehow managed to be threatening.

He just nodded, heading into the kitchen as his nose registered the smell of coffee. Callow watched him go, popping up on his knees on the couch to ask over the cushions,

“How'd you sleep? Get any spooky-ooky visions?”

“They are premonitions, you dick, and no. Nothing.” Horns replied. “Where're Gamma and Psi?”

“Sleeping.” Glitch said, glancing over at the closed office door. “Cal and I kicked 'em out when we woke up a couple hours ago. Figured we'd let them rest too, they need it just as much as we do.”

Horns just nodded in understanding, pouring way too much sugar for anyone but him into his coffee before returning to the living room. A small alert noise sounded from Callow's tablet where it rested on the coffee table, drawing everyone's attention.

“Ah shit.” Callow dove for the device, swiping it open quickly.

“What does your padlet have to say?” Horns asked.

“It's a tablet, Horns.” Jolly corrected.

“Whatever, technology's weird.” Horns dismissed her.

“Ok Victorian-er.” Glitch smirked.

“Movement detected in Que Village. I synced our surveillance to my tablet so I could monitor on the go. Even after all this is done, I'll be able to see anywhere in the Capitol any time I-” Callow cut himself off, quickly glancing between his teammates. “Uh... Psi definitely does not know about this.”

“Cal-”

“And it's going to stay that way unless a certain someone wants Psi to find out what happened to the cactus Sammy bought us.” Callow said pointedly. Glitch's mouth shut with an audible click.

“Should we wake the others?” Jolly asked. “What's the commotion?”

“I just got coffee...” Horns grumbled quietly.

Callow was silent for a few moments, swiping quickly between things on his screen. Finally, he sighed, “no. It was just some deer.”

“Good. I'm finishing this coffee.” Horns continued to grumble.

“So what you're saying is, we have no new leads.” Glitch huffed, staring dejectedly at the ceiling.

“Yes, but why is this happening anyway?” Jolly asked. “What possible motive-”

“Jolly oh my god.” Callow cut her off.

“Look, I'm just saying.” Jolly held her hands up innocently.

“If it were me, and I had that kind of power, there's definitely a few dozen people I'd want to freeze so I didn't have to worry about them being mean to me, or getting to me, or think about them in any way ever again. I'm not saying I'd smash them, necessarily, but-” Horns cut himself off, glancing up to three surprised expressions as he registered what he was actually saying. “Uh... I mean... y'know, people suck and all and some people wouldn't be missed- uh not that I'd do anything to them or anything, but it's crossed my mind- I'm just going to shut up.”

“Might wanna chug the rest of that coffee, Horny.” Glitch suggested. “You have no filter when you're tired.”

“He makes a fair point though.” Callow said. “For someone to go after everyone in a city, they aren't trying to get back at specific individuals, they're trying to get back at the city itself.”

“We're looking for a deeply angry person.” Jolly agreed. “Someone like that... there's really no telling what they'd do next.”

 ~~~*~~~

 The two of them slept a dreamless sleep, limbs tangled together in a desperate attempt to hang on to something. Anything. Whatever they still had left. Psi grabbed hold of Gamma the minute they found warmth under the comforter of his futon, not letting go even as the two fell asleep. An exhausted kind of rest that came from a day of suppressed raw emotions. Fear, anxiety, loneliness. Their family had been bigger once. They, the 99 that remained, couldn't afford to lose another. But staring into that courtyard and not knowing if that orange was Tripoli or the shop owner three doors down...

And Psi, in his deepest thoughts, can't help but think how much easier it would be with her there. Tripoli, Foxtrot, anyone. And he wakes, tears silently sliding down his cheeks, mingling with Gamma's. He wants his family. He wants Rho. Yoke. Kilogramme. He wants his parents. With his eyes closed, he can almost pretend the arms wrapped around him are Sammy's. At least he knew Sammy was safe. But everyone else...

Gamma's arms tighten around him in her groggy state, thinking for just a moment it's Beta. Waiting for just a moment for the twins to burst in and demand her attention. But she knows. She's already felt the absences across the mind link. She just wants to talk to Juliette again. Hear her comforting voice soothing her worries. She can almost feel the warmth of Quebec wrapping her up in one of those hugs that makes the world melt away. But the world doesn't melt away. She opens her eyes and blinks groggily until the fog of tears clears. Until she can look up and see Psi. Her brother. The only other one left.

Slowly his eyes open too. Slowly, the two of them face the world. Slowly, he pulls her in closer. And the tears don't stop. Not yet. Loss doesn't work like that, even if it's not technically loss. It's as good as.

These are the thoughts that sustain their grief until there's no tears left.

But then Psi remembers Sammy's laugh. Gamma remembers Quebec's proud smile. Psi remembers Sammy's soft voice in the morning. Gamma remembers Beta playing fetch with all their dogs. They remember the mansion, and how it was never truly quiet. They remember Victor humming to himself as something bubbled on the stove. They remember Prep scaring them in the middle of the night when she hung from the ceiling. They remember Liverpool singing to his heart’s content. They remember feeling at home. Finding a family. Feeling safe.

And they get up. They wipe away the tears and square their shoulders. They have a job to do. They have a city to save.

They have a family to save.

 ~~~*~~~

 The rest of the team woke eventually, slowly filing into the now quiet living room. The mood was still low from their nighttime excursion, the memories fresh in their minds. They kept themselves distracted in their own ways, but the waiting was uncomfortable.

“See anything last night?” Equo asked Horns cautiously when she flopped into an armchair, somehow managing not to spill her coffee.

“No, but... now that I’ve had some time to wake up and think about it…” He frowned, letting out a nasally sigh. “I felt weird all night.”

“Weird how?” Gamma leaned over the back of the couch.

“Like... restless.” Horns said. “Like I couldn't relax, I didn't feel safe.”

“I mean... we kind of all feel like that right now.” Glitch replied.

“Yeah... I guess so.”

“What're we supposed to do now?” Jolly asked Psi as he, too, slipped into the living room, sitting on the ottoman under the TV.

Psi and Gamma shared a glance. “With no new leads or inclinations, our best bet would be to patrol the city.”

“The whole city?” Equo exclaimed.

“But,” Gamma cut in, “since most of you are inexperienced in that field, and since Callow's set up surveillance, that doesn't seem necessary.”

“Besides, this person could strike anywhere in Dashland.” Psi added.

“So... we just sit here?” Glitch slumped into the couch.

“That about sums it up.” Gamma confirmed.

“Well I’m going to meditate.” Horns said. “If I dive any of you, I'm so-”

His words were cut off by the sharp alert once again blaring from Callow's tablet.

“What is that?” Psi asked cautiously, familiar with Callow's antics.

“Surveillance.” The gator virus responded quickly, not focusing on his mentor. “Linked the two. Movement detected...”

“Is it deer again?” Glitch asked wryly.

Callow ignored her, swiping furiously at his tablet in a completely different manner from last time. At his silence, the whole team tensed.

“I don't... know.” He said finally. “There's movement but I can't tell what. And it's getting closer.”

“How close?” Gamma asked lowly.

“About... 50 kilometers from here.”

“That's close.” Equo breathed.

“We should go investigate.” Gamma decided, standing straighter to assume a more authoritative image. “Everyone gear up, I want us out in ten or less.”

The team rushed away quickly, gathering any necessary equipment. Horns stopped Callow in the hallway.

“Are there... any densely populated areas near there?” He asked.

“No, it's mostly just forest. Let me see...” Callow buried his nose back in his device and Horns waited with little patience. “Actually, here. It's close to campus. Rotherglen Park, it's got a lot of picnickers.”

“Let me see.” Horns reached for the tablet, thankful when Callow released it easily.

“No, you can't- Horns, hold it by the edges so you don't swipe-”

“I got it, I got it-”

“Just- come on, let me get you back to the right screen-”

“I can do it-”

“No you can't-”

“Yes I can-”

“We've been over this. Just- there.”

Horns shot him a half glare before focusing in on the screen. His pulse peaked violently as he gasped, “I know this place. I know- I've seen it before. Gamma, Psi!”

“What?” Gamma spun around to him, Psi leaned out from behind her, his interest also piqued.

“They're going to hit Rotherglen Park.” Horns said. “I'm sure of it.”

“How sure?” Psi asked.

“I'd bet my life.” He replied, the echo of “you may have to” clear in his mind.

 ~~~*~~~

 Clouds had blown over the sky, heavy with the promise of rain, by the time the team hit the woods. It was hard to tell whether the stillness of the forest was due to an impending storm, or something bigger. Horns had never experienced such quiet among these trees before, and he found himself bracing for impact.

“How much further?” Peony asked over the comms.

“Just over a kilometer. Should start to see the trees thin soon.” Callow replied, tucking his tablet back inside his bag.

“Get low and stay quiet.” Gamma ordered. “We're not going to let whoever's doing this harm anyone else, but we need to get a read on them before spooking them off.”

Horns gave a nervous hum. “Got a bad feeling about this...”

“Let's just hope it's not like last time.” Callow said.

The trees did start to thin a few minutes later, allowing glimpses into the field beyond. Through the branches, they began to make out shapes. Faces. People; still as intact and frozen as the rest. In their own ways, the members of Gamma-Psi reacted in relief.

“Looks like we beat 'em here.” Glitch commented.

“And somehow I don't like that thought.” Equo replied.

“Now we wait.” Psi said. “Fan out and hide.”

The team did as directed, scattering along the northeastern edge of the park. Their footsteps were dulled by the now gently falling rain, and they were all secretly thankful for at least something to cut the silence. Thunder rolled far off in the distance, solidifying the threat of a heavy storm.

“You gotta admit, the ambiance is pretty dope.” Glitch said.

“Quiet, Glitch.” Psi scolded over a smattering of agreements from the team. Gamma just smiled at his ever-suffering sigh.

A resounding crack echoed from the south end of the park, louder than thunder but just as alarming. A maelstrom of swirling wind and debris broke free of the trees, leaving a swatch of broken branches in its wake. One of these trees, a large old oak, broke toward the parkland.

“That family...”

“It's gonna smash them!”

“Psi...”

The 99er acted with barely a twitch, branches from a nearby tree growing rapidly to entwine with the oak. The whole team let out a breath of relief. The small windstorm slowed in the middle of the field, noticing the change in the treeline. There was an area clear of any viruses, and it began to lower itself down into the clearing, shrinking in size as it approached the ground. It burst with a nearly audible pop, dropping the virus who had been inside the last few feet to the ground. And finally, Gamma-Psi could see just who they were up against.

Her dark brown hair fell about her shoulders haphazardly with the dying wind, coming to rest on a black cloak covering a simple red and black dress. Her dark skin was accented by fine features, and dark red veins, which pulsed quickly as she looked around with eyes that could not keep her soul at bay. The deep red wisps floated up to mingle with the falling rain.

“There's no use hiding from me!” She called out, voice strong but soft. “I know you are there.”

“What do we do?” Glitch asked over the comms.

Psi and Gamma shared the briefest of looks before he stood, striding his way out of the treeline.

“There you are.” The woman greeted almost warmly. “I must say you are not what I was expecting.”

“I am sorry to disappoint.” Psi replied, crossing his arms in front of him. “What, perchance, were you expecting?”

She just hummed thoughtfully. “So, do you have a name, tall dark and handsome?”

“Call me Nightshade.” Psi said. “And yourself?”

“You may call me Dragon, my dear.” She offered. “Now are you going to bring out your friends, or shall I?”

“How do you know I am not alone?” He asked.

“I know who resisted my spell.” Dragon leaned forward with a smile just a little too sweet. “And you are definitely not it.”

Psi held her gaze for a moment as he mulled over the decision. Eventually he let out a small sigh, waving the team forward without looking.

Dragon took in the team as they emerged with an exaggerated expression of surprise. “My, my, quite the group you have here.”

“Well, you have raised some concern.” Psi said.

“What do you want?” Jolly asked. “Why are you doing this?”

“My reasons are my own, sweetheart. I just want to know-” She cut herself off as her eyes landed on Horns. He had picked his way through the grass slowly as his stomach roiled with nerves. He looked up and froze as their gazes locked, intrigue washing over her face as she finished, “if you're going to stop me.” He squirmed under her gaze. It felt like she was dissecting him and undressing him at the same time.

“You're hurting innocent people.” He spoke up, trying to steel himself. “We can't let that stand.”

“Oh, my dear.” She jeered. “No one in this world is ever truly innocent.”

Psi cleared his throat and Dragon looked back to him. “Regardless, we wish to see this taking of lives come to an end. What can we do?”

“What can you do?” Dragon echoed mockingly. “You can stay out of my way.”

Psi barely had time to react as she slammed her foot into the ground, spikes of ice erupting forward to barrel into his chest. He managed to lessen the blow with vines sprouting from his arms but hit the ground hard as Dragon swiveled to face the others. Gamma shot up into the air, ready to strike as the team on the ground moved to retaliate. They all went to strike, falling back on the meticulous training of their mentors. She had quick reflexes, however, managing to rebuke them with a gust of wind, or a flash of ice.

The team froze at the familiar sound of Gamma’s laser canons firing off, waiting for the shots to land. Dragon threw up a wall of ice just in time, blocking her attack. When Gamma paused, Dragon threw the ice her way, freezing her wings solid. Psi and his venus fly traps rushed to catch her, the rest of the team momentarily distracted. That was all the time Dragon needed. Horns' attention had not wavered from her, but her intensity scared him, so he'd kept his distance. He watched with absolute dread as wind began to swirl around her, giving her a moment of protection as she murmured something too soft for anyone to hear. And he knew. Somehow, he just knew.

“No, don't-!”

There was a flash of bright blue-white energy, the wind bursting around her once again with an audible pop. The field once again lay still, seven new statues added to the garden. Horns had shied away from the blast, curling in on himself for protection from the debris caught up in the wind. He stood, taking in the sight of his team back in the terrifying state he'd found them just a day before.

“What did you do- what did you do to them?” Horns shouted. “Stop, let them go!”

“Hush now, my little psychic.” Dragon cooed at him. “It's just you and me.”

“What do you want?” Horns asked, stepping back guardedly.

She matched his step, not letting him gain any distance. “Oh, nothing yet. Soon, but not yet. I still have more to do before I can deal with you.”

“What are you planning?” He gripped his dagger tighter.

She brushed his question off, instead humming in amusement as she began to circle him. “How powerful you must be, little psychic, to resist my spell. Twice now, in fact. Not powerful yet, no, but the talent is there. Hidden. Oh, how I would love to shape that mind of yours. I could teach you so much. More than these people ever could. That potential is just waiting to be unleashed.”

“How would you know?” He scoffed. “You don't know anything about me.”

“Oh, I know more than you think.” She whispered smoothly.

“How?”

“You'll find out.” She said. “In due time.”

“Why in due time?” He asked. “You've got me here, without my team. Why don't you just finish it?”

She circled back around in front of him and he glared in her direction. “Because I am curious to see what you make of what's to come.”

With a twist of wind, she was gone, her figure disappearing with the falling sand that had been kicked up. Letting out a panicked breath, Horns turned to his team; frozen again. He was alone.

Again.

[justheretobreakthings]

Remember Me - Chapter 20

(First Chapter) (Previous Chapter)

Word Count: 4,204 (Total Word Count: 79,660) Read on AO3

Story Summary:

It was strange enough for the paladins of Voltron to have found another human this far from home, locked in a Galra prison. But it was stranger still when this human insisted that he knew them, and even that he was the former red paladin of Voltron.

That couldn’t possibly be true, could it? After all, if this Keith was actually a part of the Voltron team, then why does nobody remember him?

Chapter Preview:

“You are mad at me, aren’t you?” said Lance. “What gives?”

Keith crossed his arms and said nothing.

“Oh boy. Look, is it because I called you a drunken idiot this morning? Because, dude, that wasn’t an insult, I was just stating a fact. And I would have called any of the other paladins the same if they had guzzled down as much as you had. Or maybe it would have taken more for the others, your alcohol tolerance is frankly just sad.”

“It has nothing to do with this morning,” Keith growled.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s - it’s last night.”

"...Ah. Right.”

“Well, Keith,” Allura said, setting her breakfast plate down onto the table in front of her as she primly took a seat. “I hope that you’ve learned a valuable lesson about overindulging yourself at parties.”

Keith growled softly as he shot her a glare from under the cold pack he held to his head.

Lance had been the last to show up at breakfast this morning, arriving just in time to hear this scolding and witness a tableau that he was experienced with from his Garrison days: that of a group of people the morning after a party. The Alteans, Allura at the table and Coran busy with something in the sink, were the only ones at their usual wakefulness this morning. Hunk was blinking sluggishly, still half-asleep; Pidge had an annoyed scowl on her face, one of those Pidge-specialty don’t-talk-to-me-or-I’ll-bite-you scowls that indicated she was in need of a nap; Shiro had two empty coffee mugs - rabaga-bean juice mugs, Lance mentally corrected himself - in front of him and was starting on a third.

Out of all of them, though, Keith looked the worst for wear. Last night Lance had finally managed to leave him to sleep, half-draped under his blanket, after he had cleaned up the sick on the carpet and kept up his own end of the conversation for Keith’s sleep-talk babbling. He had hoped that by the time he’d left, Keith had gotten through the worst of his drunkenness. He had all but forgotten about the hangover that was sure to come the morning after.

Keith was looking haggard and exhausted, a tint of green in his cheeks, all of his weight leaning into the deep-blue icepack flopped across half of his head. He was still in his undersuit, not having bothered to get dressed this morning, nor, it seemed, had he so much as run a brush through his hair.

The chair legs squeaked harshly against the ground as Lance took his own seat, and Keith grimaced against the sound and turned his glare onto him. “Must you?” he snarled.

“Must I sit? Yeah, I must,” Lance answered. “How is our favorite drunken idiot on this fine, bright morning?”

Keith grunted and closed his eyes. In the seat to Lance’s right, Pidge let her scowl soften as she let out an amused snort. “Shiro stumbled across him this morning,” she said. “Apparently he had crawled into the communal bathroom and puked up his own weight in nunvil.” She picked her spork lightly into the eggs on her plate. “Nearly wrecked my appetite just hearing about it.”

“What wrecked your appetite,” Shiro said, “Was the fact that you ate enough snacks last night to feed a small country for a month.” He reached his human arm out to Keith in the seat beside him to start rubbing circles on his back.

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t gross,” Pidge said with a shrug. “In any case, guess we all got to learn a new fun fact about Keith: he is the lightest of all lightweights.”

“Yeah…” Shiro said slowly. “We may need to institute a new rule about Keith not being allowed near alcohol without supervision…”

“You guys were all a lot more sympathetic last time I had a headache,” Keith pouted.

“Last time was our fault,” Pidge pointed out. “This one’s all on you.”

“Here you are, lad,” Coran said as he turned around from the counter, a pitcher in his hand. “Drink up all of this, and your hangover will have all but vanished within the hour!”

“All of it?” Keith groaned. He lifted his head to look at the contents, then recoiled, nose wrinkling. Curious, Lance leaned over to take a look for himself. The pitcher was filled nearly to the brim with a sludgy, green-brown substance that even now was slowly bubbling. One large bubble sluggishly popped and emitted a pungent, fish-like smell.

“What the fuck is that?” Lance asked.

“Home remedy,” Coran replied. “My grandpappy swore by it, and it always made me feel better after a long night of painting the town with Alfor as well. Thought Keith here could benefit from it.” He gave Keith a hearty thump on the shoulder. “It looks worse than it tastes. Try to chug it down in one gulp, it works better that way.”

Keith frowned suspiciously at the concoction before raising the pitcher to his lips and taking a small sip. Instantly his eyes blew wide open, and the tinge of green that colored his cheeks deepened as he slapped his hand over his mouth. He slammed the pitcher back down and jumped up from the table, knocking his chair backward onto the floor, and raced to the sink, where he promptly began retching into the basin.

“Well, there goes the remains of my appetite,” Pidge muttered at the sound of Keith’s dry heaves, shoving her plate away and crossing her arms.

“You can’t, uh, go back to the bathroom to do that?” Hunk asked. He was beginning to look rather nauseated himself.

Keith shook his head and managed to gasp out, “Too… far…” before starting to retch again.

“All right, so you don’t like it,” Coran said, picking up the pitcher. “There’s no need to be so dramatic about it.”

“If you don’t like Coran’s remedy,” Allura said, “You’ll have to find some other way to deal with your… state. I still expect you to be present and actively participating in training this afternoon and at the teleconference we have scheduled for this evening.”

Keith grumbled something unintelligible in response, and Allura let out a huff. “You wanted the privilege of being involved in the team. We gave it to you. You need to hold up your end in return.”

“... Yeah,” Keith said after a pause. “I know. Sorry.” With that, he stuck his head back under the sink and turned on the faucet, soaking his head in the water before shaking off and returning to the table. He was still pale and off-balance, but at least the retching had tapered off. For now.

He remained silent through the rest of breakfast, although the rest of the team was less chatty than their usual too. Lance wasn’t sure when exactly the others had returned to the castle, but it had still just been him and Keith around when he had gone to bed, and they had risen before he had - his body knew how much he needed his beauty rest and always did its best to oblige - so at the very least the others were all running on less sleep than him.

Training today was going to be a blast.

The paladins filtered out of the kitchen as they finished their breakfasts, and Lance, the last to start his meal, also ended up the last still eating. Besides himself, the last remaining was Keith, who eventually took his still mostly-full plate to the sink after finally giving up on nibbling his way through it and trying to keep it down.

“In, uh, in all seriousness,” Lance said, breaking the silence in the kitchen as Keith started emptying his plate into the garbage disposal. “You doing all right, man? I know last night was, ah, kinda rough for you.”

Keith paused in the process of scraping off his food before grunting, “I’m fine.”

“Okay. Okay, good, because, I mean, you were seriously drunk off your ass, and after the way you were talking - ”

“Lance,” Keith cut him off. “Could you not right now? My head hurts.”

“Oh, right, yeah.” Lance took a bite out of his breakfast before continuing, “You know, I think orange juice is supposed to be really helpful for hangovers. I know we don’t have that here, but we do have some fruits around that are kinda citrus-y, so maybe you should eat one of those?”

Keith side as he dropped his plate into the sink. “No offense, Lance,” he said, “But I am really not in the mood to hear any advice from you this morning, okay?”

Lance froze with the fork halfway to his mouth for another bite and stared as Keith turned to leave. “Huh? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

But Keith was already stomping out of the kitchen without giving him an answer.

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

It wasn’t until after training that Lance was able to try to pick up his conversation with Keith. After breakfast Keith had holed himself up in his room, and Lance wasn’t quite concerned enough with Keith’s current attitude toward him to pursue him there. Keith showed up in the middle of lunch, when all the paladins were already assembled, and didn’t participate in the meal proper, instead just grabbed a couple of energy bars and retreated again, not speaking to anyone.

At first Lance wondered if this meant he was being a grump toward the whole team, not just him, but training that afternoon suggested otherwise. None of the paladins were at peak performance today, Keith especially, but they were all still engaged in the exercises. So there was no reason that Keith should have been avoiding eye contact with Lance at all costs, and he seemed to be in an unusual hurry to pair up with anyone besides him to run partner drills.

It was lucky that Lance had even managed to corner Keith after training, and he bet that he probably had the lingering hangover to thank for the fact that Keith had taken so long to rehydrate himself with water pouches, making him to leave the deck. And Lance was waiting for him.

“What is your deal?” he asked, cutting right to the chase the moment Keith set foot in the hall.

Keith blinked tiredly at him. “My deal?” he repeated. “I don’t have a deal.”

“Yeah, you do,” Lance said. “You’ve been being weird toward me all day. You mad at me or something?”

Keith’s face hardened into a glare. “Lance, I need to go take my shower.”

“Unh-uh,” Lance said, sticking his arm out to block Keith’s path as he made to go around him. “You are mad at me, aren’t you? What gives?”

Keith crossed his arms and said nothing.

“Oh boy. Look, is it because I called you a drunken idiot this morning? Because, dude, that wasn’t an insult, I was just stating a fact. And I would have called any of the other paladins the same if they had guzzled down as much as you had. Or maybe it would have taken more for the others, your alcohol tolerance is frankly just sad.”

“It has nothing to do with this morning,” Keith growled.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s - it’s last night.”

Lance took a breath. “Ah. Right.” He tilted his head at Keith, who was suddenly making it a point to keep his gaze toward his feet. “Listen, you, uh, you don’t need to worry about me blabbing about all your - all that, um - ” He waved his hand uncertainly. “All the stuff you were saying last night. I know you’re, uh, not really the sharing type, and - and people tend to let their guards down when they’re drunk. So, if you were worried I was going to tease you for crying on me or something, well, don’t worry. I’m a bigger person than that, you know? And, um, and I guess it’s understandable for you to be stressing about those things…”

He cleared his throat. “But, I mean, that’s no reason to be getting mad at me, right? Like, I hadn’t even done anything, so if you just assumed that I was gonna give you a hard time for it, that’s really more on you. And besides, you were the one who started pouring his heart out in the first place, it’s not like I coerced you or anything. It’s not worth getting mad at, you know?”

“That’s not what I’m mad about,” Keith said.

“Okay, well, then what else could you possibly - ?”

Keith finally looked back up, staring Lance dead in the eye with a sudden cold intensity. “Why did you lie to me?”

Lance frowned. “What do you - ?”

“You told me my team was coming back,” Keith growled. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

“... Shit,” Lance said, reaching up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck under the gorget of his armor. “You, uh, you remember that too?”

“Yeah,” Keith grunted.

“I hadn’t, uh, hadn’t thought that - that you would - I mean, you were totally wasted, man, and you were kinda off in your own little world there. I really didn’t think anything I said was gonna stick.”

“Well, apparently I’m better at remembering things than the rest of you,” Keith said. “Think that should be a given, after everything.”

Lance was about to fire back with his usual retort, a reminder that, no, it had nothing to do with the rest of the team not ‘remembering’ things that hadn’t happened, but for once he held his tongue. Now wasn’t the time, and Keith was already pissed at him. No need to fan the flames. “Okay, look, I hadn’t meant to upset you or anything, but in my defense - ”

“No, no, no ‘in my defense’. I’m really not in the mood for excuses right now, Lance.”

Lance scowled. “It’s not an excuse, it’s a reason! You were having a whole breakdown over missing ‘your’ team.” He held up his fingers in air quote marks. “And you were all upset and weepy and, well, I didn’t know how to console you! You’re not exactly the easiest person to figure out, feelings-wise. So, yeah, I lied, but only because it was the only way I could think of to make you feel better. And it worked, by the way. It got you to calm down and go to sleep.”

“It doesn’t matter what sort of state I was in. You had no right to mess with me like that.”

“I wasn’t messing with you, I was helping you!”

“I don’t want that sort of ‘help’,” Keith snarled. “And it didn’t help. All you did was make waking up again in this hell that much worse by letting me think even for a single, stupid moment that I was out of it.”

“Um, excuse me?” Lance said after a brief, stunned pause. “Since when is living with us and being a part of Voltron ‘hell’?”

Keith winced. “That’s not the part that - ”

“Because if I recall correctly, you wanted to stay here with us, and you wanted to be part of the team, and you wanted to spend time with us, and you wanted us to help you. And we’re doing our best for you, okay? We’re going out of the way to accommodate you and your whole fucked-up situation, and we’re trying to help. I’m trying to help, too! That’s why I actually, you know, stuck around and tried to comfort you and calm you down while you were drunk off your ass - which, by the way, was your own doing. So, okay, fine, maybe I didn’t make the right call, but I was still trying. What the hell else do you want from me?”

Keith said nothing for a moment, just stood with his jaw set stiffly and his eyes sharp and embittered. Finally he growled, “I want you to get out of my way so I can shower.”

With a huff, Lance relented and stepped aside. Keith marched past him, and Lance turned to call after him, “Just so you know, it wouldn’t kill you to be nice. I cleaned up your vomit!” Keith didn’t even turn his head, just stuck his middle finger up before he rounded the corner and vanished from Lance’s sight.

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

As was to be expected, the meeting that the paladins had to sit through that evening was dull, dry, and seemingly endless. About two dozen planet and organization leaders had videoed in to the conference room to report on their status and current coalition projects, each followed by a discussion on how other allies could benefit from their efforts and assist in future ones.

It was all numbers and logistics, and Lance had initially tried to pass the time by counting dots on the ceiling until Allura elbowed him enough times to finally bring his gaze back to the screens. He didn’t like looking in that direction; he could always see Keith in the periphery of his vision, scowling stiffly and turning away any time Lance tried to make eye contact.

Even after the conference finally wrapped up and people began signing off, they weren’t dismissed to leave. Kolivan had been present at this particular conference, putting in one of the Blade’s rare appearances to the Coalition’s administrative side, and Allura had insisted he stay on the line after the meeting. So even after the conference was over, the paladins had to stick around too for this mini follow-up meeting with the Blade leader.

“All right, Kolivan,” Allura said, nodding toward his screen when it was the only one remaining. “Have you any updates on the quintessence sample we asked you to look into? Olkarian was able to give us information over a movement ago.”

Kolivan let out a little grunt. “We examined the sample. It is different in structure and composition from the quintessence we’ve managed to intercept from Lotor.”

Allura’s shoulders slumped minutely. “Oh… are you certain? It seems likely that - ”

“I would not pass along information to an ally if I was not certain of it,” Kolivan cut her off. “Do you doubt the scientists in my organization?”

“Wha - no, I do not, nor did I mean to suggest anything of the sort,” Allura said, stiffening as she straightened to full height and lifted her chin toward Kolivan. “I was merely confirming. After all, it shouldn’t have taken the Blade of Marmora this long to simply confirm whether or not two quintessence samples were a match.”

It might have been Lance’s imagination the Kolivan’s omnipresent glower deepened - after all, Kolivan had a tendency to look more or less the same regardless of emotion - but he otherwise took Allura’s tone in stride. “Recall, Princess that we have our own tasks and ongoing projects to deal with, in addition to being spread thinner than ever. You cannot expect Voltron and yourself to be our top priority at all times.”

Allura refused to be cowed. “You could have at least communicated to us that you anticipated a delay,” she said. “I did tell our carriers to request you get in touch with any information you obtained from the sample as soon as possible, and Coran has attempted to contact your base multiple times since last we spoke. It is vital for the Voltron Coalition that lines of communication are kept open for us amongst all our allies if we hope to continue working effectively and efficiently.”

“Again, Princess, our priority is not - ”

“One should not limit their organizations’ efforts only to those matters officially deemed ‘top priority’. Not only do you leave no room for nuance, but you also disregard the fact that you and the Blade are not the ones in charge of deciding what is best for the Voltron Coalition. If you cannot be relied upon to take the coalition’s needs into consideration - ”

“I will be more than willing to do so when the coalition’s needs do not put the security of the Blade in jeopardy,” Kolivan said. “As it stands, I will not risk our security in order to make contact with Voltron or any other members of the coalition unless it is absolutely essential.”

That gave Allura pause. She hesitated before saying, “I beg your pardon? Our communications with you have never created any security problems before.”

“This is true,” Kolivan said. “But the Galra army has been cracking down in measures against the Blade of Marmora as of late.” He took a slow breath. “It is… concerning. We have always, of course, been considered enemies of the Galra, but practically since our organization’s inception, any action they took against us, or attempted to take, has been retaliatory in nature. They fight back against us and try to stop our efforts in progress, but they never spent the resources to preemptively seek us out this way. Part of that, I believe, is no doubt due to the defensive measures we’ve put in place to ensure the secrecy of the Blade and its members. Make it difficult and tedious enough for the Galra to try to dismantle us on our own ground, and they won’t deem us worth the trouble, not while we remain small. The Empire, though ostentatious, is capable of being economical.

“But within the last few phoebs, it seems that the Blade has become a more important target to them. The Empire is coming at us in greater numbers, and despite our own efforts to evade detection, there have been instances of them successfully catching us off guard even when Blade operatives were taking no direct action against them. And this includes them making more active efforts to interrupt our communications and transportation lines. I don’t know whether you are aware, but the courier that you sent our way to deliver your quintessence sample was very nearly gunned down just outside the orbit of Sochorix - a location we had previously thought perfectly secret to Empire forces.”

“That… that is troubling,” Allura said. “I hadn’t been aware that the Blade was running into this difficulty. If you had let us know before now - ”

“You would have attempted to bring in other Coalition members to intervene and offer aid,” Kolivan said. “Provided you were even able to convince them to grant aid to an organization run by Galra, this also would have increased our visibility. We did not need that.”

Allura kept her expression steady. “No,” she said. “We would have offered the services of Voltron to take over missions for which you would have wanted to keep the Blade’s presence unknown. We are capable of more than grandiose displays, Kolivan, as my paladins have demonstrated before, and I know better than to try to overrule your methods on the occasions when we work directly alongside the Blade. We have made great efforts on our end to place trust in your organization and its capabilities; Voltron deserves the same from you.”

There was a lengthy, tense pause, and for a moment Lance was sure he was about to hear Kolivan completely chew Allura out. It was a surprise, then, when Kolivan took a deep breath and said, “You are right. My apologies. With our recent efforts to increase security for the Blade, we are on high alert toward all who are not members of the organization, and even among those who are. But it is true that this is no fault of yours.”

“I - I see,” Allura said, and although she hid it well, Lance could see that her eyes were wider than usual, no doubt in surprise that Kolivan had let himself be lectured by her.

“Speaking of your security uptick,” Shiro spoke up. “Has that coincided with this recent crackdown against the Blade by the Empire’s army? Is that why you started putting this measures in place?”

“Not exactly, no,” Kolivan said. “The attacks on the bases that led to me revamping our security measures were surprising, but confined to stationary locations and not indicative of new patterns of offense against us. The increase in raids and the off-site ambushes were more recent.”

“How much more?”

“As best we can pinpoint, the matter began to escalate shortly before my last video contact with Voltron. At the time I hadn’t brought it to your attention, as we of course could not have known yet that the spike of incidents were not anomalous. Now, though…”

“So,” Allura said slowly, “The Galra army started cracking down on the Blade at around the same time as those prison raids we had helped with?” Around the room, eyes flicked toward Keith.

“Yes,” Kolivan said. “And although we’ve no sign as of yet that the correlation is anything but coincidental…”

“I can’t imagine how it could be anything else,” Shiro said.

“Mm.” Kolivan angled his gaze toward Keith. “I notice your guest has joined us for our conference. I take it you no longer feel the need to exercise discretion about your and your allies’ activity around him?”

Allura hesitated as she glanced toward Keith. “We… have been given reason to trust him.”

“Regardless of whether our prison raids are related to any attacks on the Blade,” Shiro said, “I can assure you that Keith is uninvolved.”

“I see.” Kolivan paused, eyes narrowing slightly, before continuing, “I suppose I did promise to trust Voltron’s decisions. If that must extend to your guest, so be it.” He turned back to Allura. “I will keep your offer of assistance in mind. I or one of my officers will be in contact should we be in need of Voltron’s services.”

“Of course,” Allura said with a nod. “We’re happy to help however you need.”

Kolivan nodded back. “Princess. Paladins,” he said by way of a sign-off.

His screen went dark, and finally, they were able to call it a day.

[imagine-organization-xiii]

How about the members with their s/o pre bedtime rituals?

Yes hello it is I with yet another headcanon today. I know, it’s completely unreal.

Xemnas

After a stressful day, Xemnas will often wind down with a glass of bourbon or whiskey to warm him from the inside out.  He’ll sit in a chair in front of a fireplace or on the balcony of your room and just decompress as he thinks about the events of the day.

Always sets an alarm for six in the morning even if it drives you insane, no matter how late he happens to go to bed.  You’ve gotten used to getting up early after doing it over a long period of time, but there are still times when you want to sleep in and Xemnas’ alarm blares at 6 AM like clockwork.

Tries to clear his thoughts before bed, and you’re seriously great at helping him do that.  You’re a nice distraction from the rest of the world when you want to be and you help to keep his thoughts from going too out of control.

Xigbar

Listen, Xigbar has some magic hands, so part of your bedtime ritual - when we’re eliminating sex from the equation, because we all know sex is a good way to wind down - is to have Xigbar massage your back, feet, or shoulders.   He is so good at massaging, it is practically 100% guaranteed to put you to sleep.

Showering together, and once again i’m not even talking about sexually - but it’s okay if it turns into that. Showering together is something intimate and relaxing that you can do with your partner and the two of you love showering together before bed.

Xaldin

If he’s in a really bad mood or particularly stressed, Xaldin will work out before bed until he’s gotten rid of any of his excess energy.  Working out tends to give you more energy instead of taking energy away, so you’ll sit in the gym with him while he works out.  You’ll eventually have to drag him away and to the shower when you just get too exhausted to keep your eyes open anymore.

Other days, he tries to avoid anything overly stimulating before bed.  Not really a yoga or meditation fan, but he’ll definitely do a few stretches that will relieve his body from any excess tension.

Vexen

It’s hard to pull Vexen away from all of the technology in the lab to get some sleep, but when he does sleep, he can’t have any type of tech whirring around in his presence or he’ll get distracted and never get any rest.  Screens will flash and keep him awake thinking about things he’ll have to do the next day.

When he’s with you, you’ll let him read one of his various scientific reports aloud because 1) it helps him find any mistakes and 2) the stuff is so boring that it puts you right to sleep.  By the time he’s finished, he’s ready to fall asleep too, so it works for everyone.

Sometimes, he’ll write in a journal.  He’s not really the type to scribble out his own feelings, but he’ll definitely write down a few ideas he’ll want to experiment with the next day.

Lexaeus

Will often go for a long walk, if not a jog, before bed time. Then he’ll head to a nice hot shower and be ready to pass out in bed after.  It’s nice to go on a small walk together through the castle grounds and enjoy the night air together, even if the two of you don’t talk about anything. By the end, your muscles are pleasantly tired and you’re yawning throughout the entirety of your shower.

Look, Lexaeus will never admit it to anyone else, but he’ll definitely knit before bed.  It takes him a while to get comfortable doing it in front of you, but it’s become super relaxing for you to watch his finger work the knitting needles and create a cute scarf or blanket.  Sometimes, if you’re in the mood to participate, you’ll work on a puzzle together.

Zexion

Zexion reads before bed, obviously, but depending on what he reads, he may or may not actually get sleepy.  Sometimes he’ll start a book, look up at the window, then see that the sun is up.  You like it when he reads to you, but sometimes he never knows when to stop.

Back when Zexion used to have trouble sleeping, he used to count sheep.  However, he can definitely fall asleep if you read to him.  It keeps him from reading too much and getting too into his book, plus he can listen to your sweet voice tell a story.

Likes to have coffee before bed, but you refuse to let him have anything with caffeine.  It’s decaf, tea, or nothing because he’ll end up being awake all night otherwise.

Saix

Saix is one of those people who’s already thinking about what he has to do the next day by the time he’s ready to head to bed.  After he’s showered and sitting in bed, he’ll often make a list of things that went well that day versus things that need improvement - usually the things that need improvement involve the other members.

He’ll also make a To-Do List for the next day.  He feels that a clear and concise list helps to ensure that he’ll wake the next day with purpose instead of just lazing around in bed.  It also helps to set his mind at ease.

The two of you have found several podcasts you like to listen to together, so you’ll often catch up on your podcast listening before bed.

Axel

Has to sleep in the dark. It doesn’t matter if it’s the light of a phone, from the hallway, the moon, whatever.  He can’t have any light in the room if he’s trying to get a good night’s sleep, so it’s become routine for him to walk around and shut off or cover anything that may emit a bit of light.

Also will bring snacks into the bedroom even though he knows that he shouldn’t.  He’s not much of a midnight-snacker, but he likes to be prepared.  And if he ends up having a random craving, you’ll definitely be in the mood to share with him.

Demyx

True to form, Demyx likes to listen to music before bed, but it can’t really be anything exciting or loud. He likes peaceful, comfortable music to lull him to sleep, maybe something soothing and instrumental.  If he’s not caring too much about what he listens to, he’ll let you choose the music!

Cuddle bug when it comes to sleep time.  Can’t get a good night’s sleep unless he has at least twenty minutes of cuddle time with you.  You can’t complain because cuddling with Demyx is one of the best parts of your day.

Plays with his phone before bed even though he knows it’s bad for his eyes.  He likes to stay in touch with what’s going on in the rest of the world.

Luxord

Luxord has a specific system of bed-time rituals he must perform or he won’t get a good night sleep.  It starts, of course, with a cup of chamomile tea or even tea with valerian root if he’s feeling particularly stressed.  You’ll share a cup with him and maybe some scones if you’re feeling up to it.

He also tries to go to bed at the same time every night, even though you might not always be going to bed with him.  He likes routines and he enjoys being able to do the same thing every night.

Weirdly, Luxord also likes to wash his hands right before he heads into bed, after he takes his shower and finishes the rest of his routine. It’s his way of cleaning off everything he’s done during the day.

Marluxia

You’ve gotten in the habit of joining Marluxia in doing some yoga, stretching, or meditation before bed.  It’s a fun bonding exercise and it also helps to make you pliant and relaxed whenever you’ve had a long day. It takes some time and patience to be able to silence your mind to meditate, but Marluxia is a great teacher.

You’ll often join him on a walk through his garden before bed, too.  He’s really just looking for little weeds he can pull along the way, but he’s mostly just enjoying looking through the plants to see all of his hard work.

Likes to have a diffuser in the bedroom, usually filled with lavender or other scents that help you both sleep.

Larxene

Larxene knows that bedtime routines are supposed to help a person relax and de-stress, so she always starts off her nighttime routine with a hot bath or shower, especially if it’s right after she’s had a good workout and worked up a good sweat.

She tries not to drink before bed because it doesn’t really help her get a good night’s sleep, but she’ll definitely chug a bottle of water.  Always good to stay hydrated!

You both have to be in the perfect sleeping position before you actually fall asleep.  Larxene doesn’t like to have anyone touching her before sleep, so you often put a pile of pillows between you and curl up on your own sides of the bed unless you’re both feeling uncharacteristically cuddly.

Roxas

Baby boy likes to have a cup of warm milk before bed, and it’s a habit that you’ve definitely adopted from him.  There’s something about it that just makes you super relaxed when you curl up in bed.

Speaking of curled up, part of his bedtime routine is to be curled up under the covers but with the temperature really cold.  It took some getting used to, but eventually you got used to sleeping in a freezing room at night.  He thinks it’s the perfect atmosphere for sleeping in and even though you’re skeptical, you let him keep his routine.

Sometimes, he’s in the mood to watch a movie or a TV show before falling asleep.

Xion

Xion used to have trouble sleeping, so you tried to help her find a few things that would help her fall asleep at night.  It turned out that she loves having a sound machine playing noises in her room as she falls asleep. She’s particularly fond of crickets chirping and storm clouds rumbling in the distance.

Likes to have some sort of light in the room. Not necessarily a nightlight or something, but she might open the curtains and let the moonlight shine in.  She thinks it’s both pretty and relaxing.

You both usually share a nice cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows before bed.

[chloe-spade]

iZombie Au: Sander Sides

You think your life would harder when you become an adult or get a job you hated the most?

The day my life went...south..for me and for everyone around me.

The day of a The Lake Washington Massacre...

I was a very known surgeon, doctor and nurse. I was very known for it.

Oh my name? My name is Virgil Dusk, a former loved doctor and a loving boyfriend to fiance to....

A brain-eating zombie....

"Sir?"

Virgil looked up at the saleswomen.

"Oh...sorry."Virgil muttered taking the purple die from the women's hand and quickly zoomed away, eyes avoiding every person who walked past him.

Virgil Dusk

28 years old

Has been a Zombie for 4 years straight

He still remembered that day like it was yesterday.

*4 years ago*

"Seeya Virge!"Some co-workers shouted as they aproched their cars.

"Hello, my dear chemically imbalance romance~!"A voice came in front of Virgil.

His fiance, Roman Delightful, his high school sweetheart to the end.

Virgil jumped and laughs."Roman!"

Roman held Virgil in his arms and gave him a tender kiss.

Virgil giggles and pushes him away."Ok,Ok! Are you ready for our date night."

"You bet."

"Hey, Virge! Wanna go to this sweet boat party?" Said Harold Johnson, Virge's co-worker, and a total party animal.

"Seriously? Uh...I'm not much of a party person let alone be being a extrovert in general..that's Roman."

"I think it's a great idea to celebrate your promotion of this amazing job."

Virgil sigh in defeat and kisses Roman's cheek."Wait for me when I get back?"

"Of course."

Virgil Smiles and follows Harold to the car and went off to the boat party.

But it wasn't what Virgil expected.

Virgil stared down at his cup of tea as he look at guys chugging on a weird drink and their eyes turns a deep red and growls left their mouths.

Virgil gasp and trembled as he saw the horrifying imagery as people's skulls opens ans brains were eaten.

Virgil ran off the boat ignoring his badly scratched arm and jumped into the ocean like it was no tomorrow for him.

As Virgil's eyes open, he could only see yellow and he burst his open his bag he was surprisingly in and coughs up the water he gulped.

He looked around and see a scared ambulance men running as fast as he could.

Once I woke up...I suddenly felt the urge to eat... brains....

It was an unexpected urge...but I felt like I needed it...more then anything..

*Now*

Virgil gets up from his bed and groans as the his night was another sleepless one.

He gets up to change to a nice black buttoned shirt and his normal black and purple knitted jacket, grabbing his headphones and phone and trotted to the kitchen, greetings by an unexpected hug.

"Oh, Virgil, why you look...oddly cute as ever." Mrs. Dusk cooed."And I like the purple aesthetic you did with your hair. It's worked."

Virgil cracked info a small smile.

"Hey, kiddo!" greeted his roommate and bestie since high school, Patton.

Patton

31 years old

Virgil's bestest friend/roommate

"Hey, Pat."He said with a smile.

Patton is unaware of Virgil's newly zombie habits, and Virgil prefers to keep it that way cause how fragile Patton is.

"Oh, got to get to work. Also, make sure to pick up my costume for fhd Halloween expo tonight, I'd hate to be there without a costume.

"I'm just happy that you're participating."Thomas, Virgil's younger brother, said with his usual goofy smiles that Virge loved.

"I'm glad to be with the-!?"

"There for the family?"

Virgil Blushes and looks up to see Roman."Come on, it'll at least help us to get what we lost?"

Virgil chuckles."Sure thing."

Roman Delightful

30 years old

Virgil's ex-fiance to current boyfriend.

It's weird to reunite a spark with Roman after I broke things off our of fear but he was to determined to get me back so I let him have a second chance so he won't stop nagging me..

"But seriously, I need to get to work.", Virgil said, leaving the house and walks to the Police Department at the 6th floor at the city's morgue.

"You're lucky to be on time, Virgil."Said a harsh gone, placing the body on the table.

"Nice to see you too, Logan."

Logan Smith

Age 37

Virgil's boss and an extremely smart man

Virgil chuckles and puts in his labcoat and walks down.

"I am sorry for that tone but I am going to be a little more softer."

Virgil worked in Medical PhD for the last 2 years so he can the brains to eat.

"Hey, we just got a body!"Said the cops.

"Duty calls." Virgil shrugs and walks, along with Logan to the park where a women was taken to the hospital.

"Ohh...my god, she's smells..." Virgil gagged and looks away.

"Melissa Margolis, age 55, married with two kids, one's moved away to Canada for college and one is a high school student, known for her smart personality. She's a so called soccer mom.."

"According to her completion, she has been dead for at least 10 hours before someone discovering her inside that Roseburg bush."

"Huh.."

"It's a rare bush."

"She loves roses and planted this specific one here."Said Mr. Margolis."This women found her."

Virgil and Logan starred at the women and gasp.

"Juliet Farin...no thank you."

"We have a no-such-luck relationship.."

Virgil scoffed."The thing is that she tried to ruin me and my boyfriend's relationship..when we got back together, and she went crazy on me."

Urusla sighs."Hope your physic powers help you."

*back in the morgue*

"I'm not staying she had the right idea...she just showed a bit craziness."

"Why is she specifically after you?"Urusla asked

Urusla

29 years old

Homicide officer for 5 years.

When I broke things off with Roman, she hooked up with him and used him for money basically. The reason she broke things off with him was because the stuff Roman bought were my standard of favorite things. She didn't like it. And broke up with him and now he's back with me and she hates it.

"Cheers for a trying soccer mom..and may the odds of losing my voice in my favor.." Virgil prayed and took a bit of his brain egg omulet.

"Didn't think you pray of being a mom.."

"That's Patton's job."

"True."

As soon as I gulped it down i felt an urge to run to Roman and give him a big hug and kiss for missing him to much. She's a perfect wife too.

*Next day*

"So, where were you around 2:30 to 3:00."Urusla asked Keith Margolis, hef husband who was sitting next to the table in front of them.

"At work, I usually work at 6am to 7:45pm."

"Poor thing...you must be very exhausted."Virgil whines, his hands trembling.

She has major anxiety... I can go with this

"That's what Melissa would say, always feel bad for me at every turn. Her anxiety was pretty bad, it wasn't like a disorder or anything it just...it can lead to a certain paranoia phase she would have..it would annoy a few, like Hailey, our daughter before she left fof college, but soon we got used to it cause we love her."

Urusla groans."So she was very heighted?"

"Yes, very so."

The conversation was interuppted by a huge bang by a accidental coffee spillage to the wall.

That's when Virgil's first vision in this brain started.

*The Vision*

Keith angry banged the table pointing his finger at Melissa.

"If this doesn't end, I can and I will go back to my mistress to get away from you!!"

*vision ends*

Virgil gasp as he looks around.

"You had a mistress?"

Kieth stopped his talking immediately.

"Did you or did you not?" Virgil ordered angrily.

"Yes! I did have a mistress, it was because I got so tired of her worry I left the house. And met Isabel."

"Can we call her in?"Urusla asked, her arms folding."You got your alibi."

A few minutes, Isabel walked in to the room, and sat down, glaring at Virgil."I heard about you, boyfriend kisser."

"You accidentally kiss a guy in school and you're new name is "Boyfriend Kisser"..."Virgil sighed.

"Where were you at the time at the murder."

"Talking to Hailey, she was visiting my place since we had a... special bond...Hailey never got along with Melissa, she would tell me, Melissa was a very strict mom, and never did things that she didn't approve of Hailey of doing. That was unfair cause when Jennifer was born, she let her do anything she wanted. Because Jennifer was a sporty type like her, adventurous, snarky too. So Hailey was glad to get out of state to college."

"So you and Hailey both can prove it."

"Yes."

Virgil looked to see Logan mentioning him to leave the room.

Virgil got up and went to Logan.

"I found something... Intriguing in her jacket. Divorce papers, 2 weeks delivered before the murder."

"So Keith was planning to divorce her anyway."

"Yes, and I also found out that they got married in October 29, somewhere in the 1998s, And look is born after."

"Hailey Margolis, born November 5th, 1998."

"So?"

"In your terms, you might say, she 'baby-trapped' him."

"And probably did it again when it came to Jennifer. She was processive of him.."

"He had motive." Urusla said behind them."If she did those things, that means..."

"There's more."Logan added."Melissa was granted 1,500,000 grand from him. Keith is wealthy, from a wealthy background so it's no surprise that..."

"A gold-digger?"Patton interuppted."You forgot your lunch, Logan."

"I told you, you don't have to, Pat."

"Well I wanted to."

*In a vision*

Hailey looked up from her book in an angry matter."What if you wanted to!? You realized you out dad in a lot of misery! He had to drop everything cause of us!"

*Vision ends*

"She wanted to do that. She wanted to baby trap Keith...and that causes him to go angry and find a witness."

"Isabel mentioned that her and Keith met on January, little more than 5 month ago. And according to her apparence, she's pregnancy. Turns out he was planning to raise the baby with her and leave the family."

"So she sent the divorce papers but got him back."

*Hailey's interrogation*

"Isabel said you were with her for the last few hours of your mother's murder."

"I was. I was overly excited to be her new daughter since Dad found the divorce papers. That's when we got a call from Jennifer saying that we both rot in hell."

"So Jennifer hated Isabel."

"Dearly with all her heart. She always says that Isabel ruined the family, but in reality, it was mom. She baby trapped him with me and his life was screwed."

"And when was this phone call?"

"Around 2:54 to 3:00, she kept ranting."

"The murder weapon wasn't present. She was poisoned." Logan said, from behind Virgil.

"We couldn't identity it. But we knew it was dangerous and the name is so Russian I can't even say it. But it was used for tea and other liquids."

"Isabel did used to work at a factory, for poisoning goods. She stopped once she became Pregnant..."

"It was a gift. So I accepted it and then one day I found it missing. Both Jennifer and Hailey were with me but Keith payed a visit and ..."

"Hs stole it and he used it on her coffee...she drinks it around 3:00, her coffee break.."

*The final interrogation*

"So, it wasn't easy to crack."

"It's was so."Virgil said, standing up."You stole Isabel's poison from her place and used it on her coffee, and then you gave it to her and took her to the park and saw her faint down as she drink her whole coffee, organs and brain stopped working and she was dead. This was so you didn't have to pay her for child support and the funds you owe her after the divorce."

"Exactly. She baby trapped me twice and you think I was gonna let that slide?! She ruined my life and my family's reputation as a whole cause she wanted me all to herself."

"Keith Margolis, you have the right to remain silent, anything you or say will be against you in court."

Something sparked inside me when I was said those words. It reminded me of me...when I was with Roman. I did kiss him accidentally but it wasn't a regret, like how Melissa fooled her husband. It was a need, but needs can be poisoning and some lead to unsatisfactory in a person. But there's was one thing I didn't regret? Going to that boat party. If I haven't gone, I would never learn anything about myself with the help of the brains I have eaten, I would never face myself to tell Logan about me being a zombie. And now I'm back to be with Roman again....so... somethings you may regret could be things you'd never regret cause who knows what impact it has on your life. Good or bad....

Virgil came home to find Roman.

"Welcome back."Roman greeted.

"Hey, can we talk...I've been thinking about...us, we've drifted since that boat party and now we're back together...so I don't regret being with you again cause it opens my eyes for the past year of us being together...it made me miss out on the things we...loved .. about each other and..."Virgil's voice started to break and Roman pulled him into a tight hug.

"I know you do...but since we dated... And now we're back to were we are..and now I've decided...to.."Roman picked out Virgil's old wedding ring out of his pocket."Thank we try again...for marriage?"

Virgil's tears couldn't stop rolling down and nods."Of course...I'd regret it if I did say no,.... I love you so much."

Roman pulls Virgil into a warm embrace and kisses his forehead and said,"No matter who you are, Zombie or human..I will love you no matter what..."

This took 5 hours....but I'm glad I did it!...but ouch..

But enjoy this little segment to my favorite show ever.

(if you wanna watch it, it's on Netflix)

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 25

Hey Everyone!

Wow. Chapter 25.  I started this story as a response to a writing prompt, and it has just escalated so quickly from there.  I am super grateful for everyone who has joined the ride.  Don’t worry, this isn’t the end yet.  I hope to keep writing until they reach the new planet, so no idea how long the entire story will be.

This chapter is kicking the drama up a notch, and was beta’d by the lovely @parisconstantine, who rated it a full “Dun-dun-DUHHHHH!” on the drama scale.  Hope you all enjoy!

The next day, I ended up visiting my sister where she was holed up, still in bed.  “I’m sorry to break this to you, but you smell awful, Tych,” I told her once I sat down at the foot of her futon.

She flung her arm as she rolled over, groaning. “I’m not even surprised.  I felt like I was on fire yesterday.  I may have sweated more than I drank.”  She gestured at the small pile of empty water bottles next to her.  “Food was right out.  I was too tired from burning up to eat, and hot liquids were not happening.  My veins were on fire, I swear.”

“Did you take anything?” I asked, worried.  The only time I had seen her like this was during a really dark period, just after we started speaking again Before.

“Just acetaminophen and ibuprofen, I swear.”

“I believe you,” I reassure her.  “I was just checking in case someone gave you the wrong thing for a headache, thinking it would help.”

“Nuh uh,” she muttered.  “I know I get sick from some stuff, so I just asked for the lowest thing I could think of. No clue what set it off.  But I’m fine now, just worn out.”

“You hungry?” I asked. “I have savory grits and chorizo. Well, sorta-chorizo.”

She propped herself up, squinting. “Who the hell asked for grits and chorizo?  It was Japanese food last I knew.”

“I don’t know, but I thank them heartily,” I chuckled.  “Yesterday was vegetarian food, which was delicious but I was very glad kinda-eggs were on the menu for breakfast.  I also have a vanilla protein shake with an entire cup of black coffee added, if food is too much for you right now.”

“Gimme both,” she grumbled, making grabby-hands.  After a slurp of the coffee-protein concoction I handed her, she attacked her food with a delicacy that belied how hungry she clearly was.  I contented myself with the second coffee-protein shake I brought while she quickly ate the first solid food she had in two days.  When she finished, she washed it down with the last of her water before gulping her caffeinated protein shake again.  “Have I missed anything?” she gasped after chugging half the shake.

“Not really,” I crushed the urge to laugh. “Everyone is exhausted and grouchy, we’re on our fourth planetary satellite trying to get what we need to fix the sensors.  So far, we have less than a third of what we need, and after this satellite we will need to relocate from Eenie to Meenie.”

“Okay, but what aren’t you telling me?”

“You know about the sabotage, right?” She nodded. “Derek and Zach are working like madmen to figure out who hacked the system.”

“I thought it was just a smash job? Wreck everything?”

“Yeah, but it was apparently planned in advance.  Whoever did it made sure to take down the sensors from every public area to the storage bay from an hour and a half before until just before Huynh and Noah went to get the backups.  In five-minute intervals, no less, so the sensor data we have is useless.  Which also means that this was certainly deliberate, if we had any doubts remaining.” I rubbed my neck and twisted it.

Tyche caught the gesture and furrowed her brows. “Stress migraines?” she asked, concerned.

“Yeah,” I huffed.  “They happen. I’d be more surprised if I didn’t have one, honestly.  I’m doped up enough to keep it to a dull roar, so I’m good to soldier on.”

“You know you don’t have to do that right? Not anymore?  Everything going on is out of your jurisdiction.  You can rest.”

“I know, I know, but the Council agreed that we need to make regular updates to keep the rest of the ship as up to date as we can on the situation, try to keep everyone calm.  We’re worried it’ll be like the End riots all over again.  The biggest factor then was a lack of information, so we want to keep everyone in the loop.”

“Including the sabotage?” she asked skeptically.

“Not that,” I shook my head.  “It would defeat the purpose.  People would start being suspicious of their neighbors all over again, and we just got past that.  As soon as the investigation is over, we’ll release everything, but not until then unless we absolutely have to.”

“What’s going to happen to them?” she whispered.

“Who?”

“Whoever did it.”

I sighed heavily. “I honestly don’t know.  We are woefully unprepared for this.  The humans on board this ship are supposed to represent the best of us that were left.  The brave, the kind, the brilliant.  I feel like we’re supposed to be proving that we are worth this entire effort of being saved by Noah’s people, and the idea that someone would do this….it feels like a huge betrayal of us all.” I shook my head again. “Anyways, we gotta find them before we can even figure out what to do about it, so we have a little bit of time to think on it.”

“A Darwin award should be involved,” she mused. When I scowled, she just laughed ruefully. “What!? They could have killed everyone on board, including themselves, with that stunt. Between that and the fact that what’s left of us on Earth won’t make it more than a couple of generations, they could have single-handedly ended humanity, just like that,” she snapped her fingers for emphasis.

Ice ran down my spine, making me shiver.  “I have been fervently avoiding that thought, thank you.  All this shit we did in our history, including inventing planet-busting weapons before we made it to the moon, and all it would have taken is one person with who-knows-what motivation to make us all just less than a footnote in galactic history.”  I finished my shake to brace myself before standing up.  “I’m heading back to the ‘bridge’.  Grab a shower and join us when you’re ready.  Antoine has been lost as to what to do with himself.”

She waved her hand vaguely. “Okay, okay.  I get it.  Meet you there.”

Back on the area we had dubbed the ‘bridge’ – the main room of Level One – I did my standard checks with my fellow Councillors, looking for updates.  To my chagrin, they had nothing for me, so I couldn’t even send out a ship-wide update.  Resigning myself to doing nothing until something changed, I snagged a plate of snacks and a server of juice before hunting down Arantxa.

“Have you heard anything from Derek or Zach?” I asked quietly.

She shook her head. “They haven’t found anything yet, but they both promised to tell me as soon as they do.”

“Why you?” I asked, curious. “Wouldn’t they tell Xiomara, or her aide?”

“Usually, yes,” she tilted her head in agreement. “However, Xiomara’s aide is one of the drone pilots, and so is Pranav’s.  Xiomara is keeping an eye on the pilot teams, making sure they rotate when they should and keeping Maverick from interfering with them until we need to move to Meenie.  So I volunteered, since you don’t really have anything for me to do.” She shrugged.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” I admitted.  “As bored as I am right now, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you.”

“Eh,” she made a gesture of dismissal.  “I’m still managing the food as it comes and goes, and making sure we have sleeping space and showers sorted.  The things I would normally do.  Although, I think you should take over deciding the menus,” she wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I’m doing the best job on that, honestly.”

“You decided on the chorizo?  That was inspired, believe me,” I chucked. “Although I have to admit, the all vegetarian options, all day yesterday, was probably not the best call.  You do realize that all the meat is synthesized from raw protein, right?”

“That did not occur to me until later,” she confessed.  “Not to mention I realized I have a very limited knowledge of vegetarian dishes.”

I patted her hand consolingly.  “Tell you what, I’ll grab you when I make up the menu for tomorrow so you can pick up a few pointers, okay?”

“Thank you,” she sighed.  “I just learned to cook.  Trying to decide what nearly one hundred people would be eating each day was – what is it, biting off more than I can chew?”

“Yep, that would be it,” I confirmed. “Usually, when you have to do something like that, someone shows you the first few times until you get the idea.  So, let’s back up to that part, okay?”

“Gladly.”

“Gladly what?” my sister asked as she sat down.

Arantxa laughed and gestured to me. “My wonderful friend and boss here just agreed to take over the menu for the food brought in, and is going to show me how to do it.”

When Tyche quirked and eyebrow, I clarified.  “Apparently, Arantxa is responsible for both the chorizo this morning and the vegetarian nightmare yesterday.”

“Hey, vegetarian food isn’t that bad!” my sister tried to defend our companion.

“It is when you aren’t very familiar with cuisine,” Arantxa admitted sheepishly.

“Oh. Ohhh.  Ew.” My sister wrinkled her nose, setting off more laughter. While I was trying to pull myself together, she finished off my juice.  “Mmm.  What’s that?”

“Pinkish?” I shrugged, still giggling.  “I thought it was grapefruit, but it wasn’t.  Tasted good, though, so I didn’t mind.”

“Tomato and orange virgin sangria,” Arantxa explained.  “One of the drone pilots requested it.”

“So, gotta get that recipe,” I mused as Tyche went to refill my glass and get her own.  Once she was back, I brought Tyche up to date on Arantxa’s missed date with Conor for lack of anything else to do.  Arantxa let us know that she had been sending Conor messages back and forth, and that she finally made sure to tell Conor she hoped she could reschedule their date. We were so engrossed in the developments between two of our favorite people that I barely noticed my sister scratching at her arms.

Suddenly, Tyche sat bolt upright, her face pale, before she reached over and knocked my drink out of my hand, shattering the glass on the floor. “Don’t eat or drink anything!” she shouted, standing up.  “Something is spiked!”

“What are you talking about!?” I cried, swiping uselessly at the juice now covering my clothes.

“Vicodin,” she hissed.  “We both have bad reactions to Vicodin, Soph. My veins are on fire, and you’ve had a migraine since after the food started coming in, right?  Doesn’t get better no matter how much painkillers you use? What does that sound like to you?”

Holy shit, she was right. “Get Xiomara. Now. And Grey.  Tell them to drop whatever they are doing and come here, right now,” I demanded. She nodded before hurrying off. “Noah!” I called, looking around. “I need you right now.  Rants, I need you to clear the food and drink, except anything that is sealed.” She bolted to the tables that had been set up against one wall.

Noah and my sister arrived at the same time, Xiomara and Grey in tow. “Xiomara, do you have bad reactions to any painkillers?”

“Yes,” she responded, confused. “Paracetamol. I had it once for a broken leg, and it just gave me a migraine on top of the pain from my leg.”

“Grey, what is paracetamol?” I demanded.

“Um, a narcotic, commonly known as hydrocodone or Vicodin,” they answered, equally confused.

“Have you ever taken it before?”

“No. My family does not believe in painkillers?” they looked uncertain at the line of questioning.

“Noah,” I turned, a pleading look on my face. “Can you please check all the consumables, as well as everyone on this deck, for traces of that drug?  We have very strong reason to believe someone has contaminated everything.”

“Huh?” Xiomara and Grey squinted at me.

“Tyche has an incredibly specific reaction to Vicodin.  It’s the only reaction any of us has had that can’t be passed off as stress.  It started, just now, about twenty or thirty minutes after she ate and drank some of the food that had been brought in.  She was fine this morning, after being holed up with nothing but bottled water for twenty-four hours, then suddenly it started again. What did you eat yesterday, Tych?”

“I didn’t,” she confirmed. “I was so miserable that I just couldn’t bring myself to eat anything.”

“Zach took you something,” I insisted. “He told me so.”

“Yeah, he brought me plain scrambled eggs, but I never ate them.  After I sent him to make sure you were eating, I dumped them in the nearest disposal.”

“Tyche, you are one-hundred percent sure that your reaction isn’t just stress?” Xiomara demanded.

“All due respect, Councillor Kalloe, but stress doesn’t turn your blood into molten lava,” my sister responded snarkily.

“Fair enough,” Xiomara agreed.  “Grey, what are the side effects of taking Vicodin?”

“Dizziness, light-headedness, difficulty concentrating, headaches, nausea, vomiting, constipation, anxiety, and mood changes,” they rattled off before tilting their head. “Yes, I do agree that most if not all of those can be also attributed to stress in a situation like this.”

“The drone pilots are dizzy, all the time,” I started. “Grey Hodenson can’t concentrate.  Xiomara and I have had constant migraines, among a few others. Nearly everyone has been lightheaded, dizzy, or just spacy in general. Add to that Tyche’s allergic reaction, there’s nothing else it can be.”

Noah shuffled and dipped, their version of a nod. “I will test everyone on the deck and any remaining consumables.  I will also start testing any food or drink that is brought in before allowing anyone to consume it.”

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[deathfrisbeeinthetardis]

The Sky Beast, New and Improved Chapter 2

Yay I wrote a second chapter for the fic!! One of the key plot points is inspired by @q-unsolved‘s amazing art :D

Summary:

Ryan Bergara is 100% human until they shoot the Mothman episode. They didn’t find anything but Ryan might have brought a piece of the investigation home with him. Or: A bit of Mothman attaches to Ryan and he gets pretty cool perks. Shane is a fan.

Chapter 2 Summary:

Ryan goes to work with his wings tucked away, and they go camping for the weekend. Hijinks ensue.

Find it on Ao3 here or read below!

They take a sick day.   

Partly to figure out how to best keep Ryan's transformation a secret from the rest of the world. Partly just because it is all new and exciting, and the two men want the chance to completely regress to boys for the occasion, you know, to celebrate. 

Case in point, Ryan is flapping around his apartment with Shane on his tail, his wings doing all the work to keep them and Ryan's body from crashing into the walls or the furniture. They had taken time before this to clear away everything of value from shelves or tables, of course, they were capable of behaving like adults for a few minutes longer before they totally lost it.

"How's your six-foot-fourness helping now huh?" Ryan shouts with glee, cackling breathlessly as his wings maneuver him deftly away from Shane's outstretched hands, settling him to perch on top of a cupboard. 

"Damn it, why aren’t you obeying the laws of physics?" Shane wheezed, supporting his hands on his bent knees before said cupboard with a giant grin on his face, which brightened even more, "You know what? Your mob name is going to be wings now if I am to be called legs! It's only fair." he declared, straightening with hands on his hips.

"Uh, no way. My wings are totally going to be my secret weapon! I can't go announcing that to all my enemies, also Night-Night is way cooler. You're just jealous." Ryan stuck out his tongue, relishing in the joy of this moment. The past two hours actually, they really haven't accomplished much.

It takes another half an hour before both of them are too exhausted and hungry to continue, and they collapse onto Ryan's couch with a carton of orange juice between them, chugging it down with the fervor of men after vigorous aerobic exercise and several cases of severe laughter-syndrome. 

"So," Shane says when his breaths finally start to even out, "We know you can fly outside the natural laws of this earth. Also, I think I saw you're eyes glint red when the light hit it a few minutes ago, you're not about to go rogue on me now are you?"

"Wait, really?" He really hadn't noticed, cause that's not how eyes work. It was probably too dark the last time he looked in the mirror that morning for him to see. Ryan sets the carton onto the coffee table and hops over it to get to the window where watery sunlight shines into the room. Using his phone as a makeshift mirror, he wiggles his head until the light catches his eyes at a certain angle and, "Oh wow, they really are red."

"That could be a problem with filming, especially when our cameras are all good enough to avoid red-eye." Shane pauses, then chuckles, "Oh boy, if the fans ever find out they are going to go crazy. All those theorists positing how I'm a demon are gonna come after you now!"

Ryan wrinkles his nose at his reflection, "You're being way too happy about this."

"Hey, you win some you lose some. At least your red eyes are normal-sized, not like goggles or something like in the myths."

"Goggles," Ryan frowns at that, something in his memory sparking an idea, "didn't you recently get those pair of broke-Tony Stark glasses? The yellow ones?" He eyes Shane without turning, "You think they sell red ones? I can always say the red is from the glasses' reflection."

The other man makes a considering noise and pulls out his phone, after a minute his brows climb high on his forehead, stretching out his hand to show the screen displaying an astounding collection of red-tinted sunglasses, "They're supposed to help with visibility apparently, like the yellow ones." He strokes his nonexistent goatee, "Hmm I wonder what character wears red glasses, I gotta get you back for that Tony Stark comment."

"Shut up, Shane," Ryan replies almost on instinct, squinting at the screen to pick out the least obnoxious design. There was an optician's a few blocks from his apartment and Shane volunteers to get Ryan a pair while he practices camouflaging into a normal human workplace.

It actually turns out to be pretty easy, just as long as he keeps the thought of the necessity of the invisibility in the back of his mind. Ryan also discovers to his delight and Shane's halfhearted dismay that tangibility does not seem to affect his flight ability much beyond some extra concentration. He'll be fine tomorrow at work. He'll just have to remember to take a break every few hours to stretch or something. 

The shoot on Monday though, that could be a problem. Now that he has gotten used to his wings through one day of intense usage, Ryan has absolutely no guarantees that if he gets spooked he won't just flap away on instinct. 

Shane sleeps over that night to 'observe the Mothman in his natural habitat', Ryan decides his newest favorite sleeping position right in the middle of a five-pillow nest and when he drifts off he dreams about the red-eyed Mothman from the stories.

On Friday, Ryan wears the biggest hoodie he owns to work, just in case his wings pop-out unplanned. Despite the confidence from the day before, paranoia of a different kind creeps up on him as he sits at his desk next to Shane. He almost never comes in this early, but it was better than walking through the office with everyone there. 

He stares bleary-eyed when his computer boots up, taking his new glasses out of the case and setting them on his nose. The color gives everything a mildly sinister tinge and makes him more self-conscious of his appearance than he has been in a long time, but they do their job. 

He's quite proud that he only jumps a little when Jen calls "Nice specs, Ryan!" from six desks away. He also manages to wait until lunch break before he has to race to the bathroom to let his wings out. One of the pros of working at Buzzfeed is that there are constantly so many weird things happening that his abnormal choice in eye-wear didn't draw any attention more than a few comments and even some compliments. 

All things considered, it's a good day. Ryan even manages to get a good chunk of editing done amidst his paranoia and routine banter with Shane, the latter has gradually started to become more and more moth specific. Seriously did the guy research all the moth puns through the night?

"What do you call a group of moths dancing around a light?" Shane leans over to say an hour before they can go home for the weekend, his eyes twinkling, "A moth pit." 

Ryan groans, choosing not to respond as the passive-aggressive way to protest against the excessive abuse of all things moth-related within the day. His shoulders feel stiff, and out of habit he folds his arms behind his head and leans back in a long slow stretch, and it is the most satisfying stretch in his life, as the strain of a whole afternoon of mostly sitting still with his head craned forward just vanishes. He hums a little in satisfaction. 

Simultaneously, the lights overhead go out. So does his computer. And everyone else's. 

"Oh no no no my computer just crashed!?"

"Is there a power outage? What's going on?"

"I didn't save..."

Ryan is frozen in his position as the cacophony of voices barrages his now slightly enhanced hearing, and it hits him a moment later. In a flash, he's hunching down in his seat, trying to seem as small as he can with his face in his hands, while his invisible wings come down to wrap around him from where they had just stretched too, unseen. Fuck. Wasn't there a thing about electrical malfunctions on the nights of Mothman sightings? Oh god, he hopes he didn't knock the whole of Los Angeles off the grid. He feels his face flush, the skin heating up against his palms. Great job Bergara. Fantastic managing of your powers. 

Shane, who had been in the process of returning to his own editing after snickering at his godawful joke, has his hands hovering over the keyboard and a bemused smile on his face as he tilts his head and sees Ryan with the hood of his hoodie pulled down over his face. 

"I'm sorry," Ryan mumbles faintly into his hands, "I didn't think that part would apply to me."

Shane looks at him for a moment, then he claps a hand on Ryan's shoulder and wiggles him a little in his seat as his smile splits into a grin, "Lucky for you, I save my work by the hour. Otherwise, you'd have to fly like hell cause I'll tackle you."

"You'd never catch me," Ryan says, lifting his head a little to shoot a grateful glance at the taller man, "remember yesterday?"

"Oh but I was unprepared!" Shane declares, rubbing his hands and widening his eyes until he resembled a crazed hunter, "Next time I'll have a bow and a ton of those suction-tipped arrows, and I'm bringing you down baby!"

"You're unbelievable." Ryan huffs with a laugh, glancing around the pandemonium that has descended onto the BuzzFeed office and what seems to be the street outside as well, "Ugh, wanna head back now? We're gonna have to walk, uber is definitely not going to work."

Shane nods, chuckling silently at the whole situation. On their way out, Ryan desperately avoids eye contact with anyone and stares at his red-tinted feet, only snapping out of his inner guilt tirade when Shane pokes him in the rib.

"Stop looking down and hunching your shoulders, makes you look more guilty." He chides, the stupid grin still on his face as he tugs Ryan's hood back as they walk onto the sunlit street. "They'll just blame it on PG&E. The whole thing will teach everyone a lesson to be on top of their job and not rely entirely on technology and big electrical companies to save their work."

"You're just smug that you didn't get affected as much." Ryan retorts, but the comment didn't have any actual heat behind it. 

"You bet I am. Come on, buck up buddy. We've got the entire weekend to have fun with this!" The taller man gestured to the general area on Ryan's back where his wings hung hidden, "Don't you want to go into the wild and see what happens?"

Ryan would never tell Shane this, but his wings stir and shudder a little at the words as if they were dying to show the extent of their abilities. Traitors. 

They end up in Monrovia Canyon Park after an hour-long drive that afternoon, since they figured most of LA's population would be out in the city doing fun Friday night things, so the chances of anyone seeing a figure flying through the trees of the park are greatly reduced. Fortunately, they arrive with around an hour of sunlight left to hike in and set up their camping gear. Unfortunately, the light gives Ryan the opportunity to read the sign at the trailhead. 

"Fuck no." Ryan yelps, pointing an accusing finger at the picture of a black bear with the words 'warning, you are entering bear territory' emblazoned in black under it. He's terrified of bears, those things are the apex predators of the land, and Shane knows that because they've argued about this multiple times, on camera. It's probably why he chose this damn park over the others. "I am not camping here with those things around."

The man shrugs and the tall backpack on his shoulders rise up at least half a foot with the motion. "It is the most heavily wooded park in the area, and I do have this bear mace here," He says innocently, though his brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight seem to issue a challenge that riles up something in Ryan into a frenzy. "And in case you forgot, you can fly, Ryan, no bears are gonna get you."

"I hate you," Ryan mutters darkly, shooting the other man a look that was something between affection and scorn. What Shane said makes sense, logically, and Ryan is beyond annoyed when stuff like this happens on the regular. Speaking of powers, he wonders if there are any more tricks up the Mothman's sleeve that he can use to give Shane a good getting back at. 

Ryan half stomps over and yanks the canister of anti-bear from the side pocket of the taller man's pack, scowling at his snicker and latches onto the cool metal with a death grip, finger crooked into the trigger. Shane is right on one account, no bears are going to get him on this trip, or he'll get a face of mace and whatever cool shit Mothman can do when it's spooked. 

They dump their bags in a patch of grass amidst the trees, far from any established trails or camping grounds just to be safe. With a sigh of relief, Ryan's wings materialize at his back, dark against the dimly lit forest around them, dwarfing Ryan with their span. It seems they hadn't been at their full size that day in his apartment. They now stretch twelve feet in total, drawing a sharp awed inhale from Shane as the powerful limbs flex and stretch in their freedom. The best part? Ryan didn't even have to take off his hoodie, the wings found their own way through the material without really altering it. 

Ryan rolls his neck and relishes the warmth that the cracks leave behind as the soreness melts away, and he grins at Shane. "What now?" he says, a little breathless already.

"Whatever feels natural, Ryan." Shane says with a wolfish grin of his own, "Just let go of all the stress and embrace mother nature." 

So Ryan lets his eyes flutter close and gives in to that wild part in him that has started stirring since their investigation in Virginia. When he opens his eyes again, their red glint sharpens his vision as his wings carry him straight up into the air. The wind whips at his face and he has his arms spread wide, laughter bubbling out of him as his previous fear of heights dissolves into the crisp rich air.

He rides the soft winds, weaving through the semi-dense woods around their campsite and listens to his new instincts as he twirled in the air performing moves that he had once seen professional divers do. He feels free in there, and even though the falls and dips in height still send his stomach clenching, it's more in anticipation of the thrill of control, of pulling back at the very last second to glide just a few feet off the ground, rather than fear. He flies and perches on various treetops and swoops again, all to the whooping and cheering of Shane from down bellow. 

"Hey Ryan! Look what I brought!" He shouted, and Ryan glides down to a lower branch to give the not-so-tall looking man a questioning glance, the man was smirking with mischief, holding out a hand to wiggle a bright camping lantern in his direction, "Since you're Mothman, d'you feel anything for this here light?"

Ryan was about to adjust his grip on the branch to only using a certain finger on both hands when suddenly Shane yelps and starts to do a twitchy dance with his upper body. For a second Ryan panics, but he was just close enough for his enhanced night vision to see that the strange behavior is, in fact, not caused by a demon possessing his friend. 

"Oh, fuck is that a wasp?" Ryan bursts out laughing at the way Shane's face contorts a little at the tiny insect buzzing uncomfortably close to his face and did not feel sorry at all for his friend. Nope. Ryan was almost squealing in delight as Shane batted at the wasp as best he could, flapping his long arms around with a panicked look on his face. 

"See what you get? This is what you get! Yes! Take that for--" Its a shame that his victory speech is cut short when a wasp materializes right in front of his own face, sending him tumbling backward off the branch with a high pitched screech. 

A part of his brain thinks that if people heard what he had just uttered, there are going to be reports of the first Mothman sighting in Los Angelas. 

For some life-fucking reason, the wasp--actually three of them now-- tormenting Shane decide to refocus their attention on the flying creature instead of the sasquatch. They obviously haven’t taken physics or learned about surface area.

Ryan threads his way through the trees with much less of his previous flare and joy, flying for his life as the few wasps quickly grow to a swarm, despite a small voice in his head encouraging him to stop, to take a stand. What the fuck did he ever do to them?? It's not like he kicked their nest or something. Frustration and exhaustion combining is never a good look on Ryan, and after what he estimates is four minutes of high-speed air chase, he dives to the ground. Landing softly, he lets instincts take over, whirling around to let out a snarl at the swarm that races for him, wings arched at his back and shaking slightly to make rustling sounds.

The wasp swarm halts before him with a jerk.

Ryan's teeth are bared, which is kind of dumb, cause he doesn't have fangs so that image must not be very scary to anyone. But the wasps hover before him, their formation shifting uncertainly, and Ryan can see the detail on each and every buzzing insect with crystal clarity. A deadly calm washes over him.

"Heel." He growls, and his own voice startles himself. With all the macho, gangster bits they've done on Unsolved, he has never heard his voice go this low and guttural. Ryan blinks, and the heavy blanket of calm is gone. 

The wasps hold still, their formation now in a fixed sphere as they buzzed quietly. Respectfully, a part of Ryan's mind supplies, they serve him now. What the hell just happened?

A crackle of a boot on dry leaves has Ryan whipping his head around to see Shane approaching him with a flashlight and bear mace in perfect Harries position, concern and something like dread tightening his face. "Ryan come here, get away from the wasps." 

"They're not a threat anymore Shane," he said, tone stiff and tired. "They obey me now." The taller man looks doubtful but after a few flashes of light at the swarm produced no change in the wasps' motion, he slowly lowered the mace can. 

"I-I didn't know what to do so I just grabbed this," he said, lifting the mace a bit and then letting his arms drop back to his side. "Ryan are you okay? Your hands are shaking."

"What?" Ryan says absently, and there are tremors running through his hands. He clenches them into fists and tucks them into his hoodie pocket. A flick of his head at the swarm has them dispersing, buzzing back to wherever the hell they popped out from. "We're losing light, we should set up the tent," he says as he turns to walk back to where they had dropped their bags.

Shane stands his ground and reaches out a hand to catch the smaller man's shoulder when Ryan tries to walk past him, and his eyes widen slightly as Ryan's wings bristle at the contact, but his grip is firm. "If there's something wrong, Ry, anything at all that feels off about this whole Mothman thing, you'd tell me, right?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, big guy." Ryan offers the taller man a small smile, though it might have wavered a little. He can tell that his friend would have liked answers to a great many questions about how he felt, about the mad chase and about that final showdown, but the man didn't push. He trusts Ryan to reach out if he needed it.

The problem is, Ryan has never been that good with emotions.

But at the moment he feels... okay. The excitement of the ordeal seems to have canceled out his energy. So he smiles some more, "I promise." At Shane's not at all satisfied expression, he nudges the taller man with the tip of a dark wing, "Come on, help me light a fire. I'm dying for some smores."

And so they did.

[chordstrvck-blog]

sharp gray eyes size up their unwanted companion through a lung-staled waft of smoke. “ ‘ey. ”  a tip of the chin. cigarette ash darts to pavement. crunch. eddie grinds that shit in, real good. nothin’ like a pair of trusty docs to do the trick. “ what the fuck’s your damage ? ”

or alternatively :  yo, yo, whassgood ?  the name’s liana ( she/her/hers ) and i am so friggin’ hyped to bring you my spoopy lil’ music man, eddie williams !!  below the cut you’ll find a big hodge-podged mess of facts, potential connects, and other delicious chips of info. his favorites are hoppin’ jalapeno crunch tators, thanks for fuckin’ askin’. (   imagine how heartbroken he’ll be when frito lay discontinues them in the 90′s... rest in spaghetti never forgetti.    )

— ❝ wait is that THOMAS HAYES ? or is that KEITH EDISON “EDDIE” WILLIAMS who arrived in las vegas TWENTY-THREE years ago? HE is TWENTY-THREE years old. last time i checked they were a GUITARIST IN CRIMSON & CLOVER / ARTIST AT ATOMIC TATTOOS . rumour has it they’re very BEGUILING and very HARUM-SCARUM. the CISMALE reminds me of SAY WHAT YOU WILL BY FASTWAY.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: DEATH, DOMESTIC ABUSE, VIOLENCE, DRUG USE/ABUSE, MENTIONS OF ADDICTION.

eddie is the lovely ivy williams [ @poiseonxivy​ ] ’s older brother !  they grew up in a contentious household here in vegas, with an abusive alcoholic for a father and a complacent/despondent mother. fed up with the abuse and chaos, their mother walked out on them when eddie was 13. he and ivy caught her in the act, and this savage kid called her out for being a coward and opened the fuckin’ door for her. “ die in a ditch, ”  is the last thing he ever said to that sorry waste of a woman.

naturally, things with their father only got worse. he was quick to provoke and impossible to please. the williams siblings had to step up to upkeep their home, make sure bills got paid, etc., all while receiving the worst of it from their father. ivy, as the youngest, was blamed for the family’s downfall. eddie got berated and slurred at for his tendency to peruse his sister’s things, paint his middle fingers interesting colors, ask her to do his makeup on halloween. his father was the first person to ever look eddie in the eye and call him a faggot, and, well... that shit dug deep.

it’s not that he’s overly concerned about it. hell, labels are fuckin’ dumb, alright? he’d sooner be gagged with a spoon than told he has to live his life all boxed up. he doesn’t care that the lady at the bar’s stunning and so is the guy pourin’ her drink, alright? what he does care about is... what if he is that thing his dad said? what if he... what if he is the man his dipshit dad saw in him ?

guitarist in el’s band, crimson & clover !  the band formed several years ago and has been playing gigs ever since. it’s definitely made him grow as a guitarist :  you can frequently find eddie chilling on fire escapes experimenting with new riffs and the like. he’s absolutely got that band aesthetic ––  distressed tees, tight pants, leather, leather, leather. doc martens. beat up sneaks. jaw-length hair, wavy. usually teased on stage and left to its own devices off-stage. music has always been an escape for him, especially from the hellscape that was his childhood home. catch him chillin in el’s record shop, cig in hand, blissed out to the latest rock releases blasting in his headphones.

jake wheeler’s next-door neighbor / best friend !  we have yet to plot about this, but that’s a wc eddie fills & we could do something with that, too!

tw: drugs, abusive tendencies, mild violence.  eddie’s genetics do predispose him to addiction. and, unfortunately, this bitch way more than dabbles in a haphazard lifestyle. he’s BIG into psychedelics, stimulants. alcohol. acid. he’ll pulverize the occasional bar asshole’s face. make fights out of nothing. but s’not a problem, alright ? he’s cool. he’s cool.   (  this guy’s a sinkin’ ship in heavy ass denial.  )

art. tattooing.  art has also played a pivotal role in eddie’s life. from a very young age, he created edgy doodles: skeletons in their sunday best, ghost cartoons carrying guns. the late 60′s/early 70′s saw his school notebooks filling with vietnam-inspired strips, doodles, and sketches. he used to draw “tattoos” on his fellow delinquents during detention in sharpie ink. gave himself his first poke tattoo on his ankle  ( a scrawled so what ? )  in eighth grade. now, he works as a tattooist at atomic tattoos. always flirts with the clientele. and they always leave happy.

tw: death. wears a dharma wheel pendant at all times, tucked beneath his shirt or, if he’s shirtless, just out in the open. he’ll say he found it in the street, but it actually belonged to a guy he started seeing his senior year of high school, in secret.  glenn farley. he was older, around 27, but he offered up the first safe place eddie’d ever known. dude disappeared close to eddie’s graduation. eddie stayed angry for a long time, until his photo turned up in the obits :  glenn was killed in a hit-and-run outside a dive bar.

on the topic of sexuality & gender expression :   eddie honestly couldn’t give a flyin’ shit. he’s of the belief that existence shouldn’t be coded or explained. so, yeah, he’s male. and yeah, he’ll be attracted to whomever he pleases. but in a time where that shit’s not too common? not too accepted? he does feel like he’s playing hide-and-seek. it’s exhausting. and... there’s still something that nags him, at the back of his mind, when he decides to hook up with a guy. it’s all tied up with his family history ( see the stuff about his dad above ) .

eddie is very outspoken & unfiltered. he won’t mince his words; he’ll speak bullets without considering the exit wound. 

he’d much rather have coffee and cigarettes than a meal. but if he’s gotta have food? and you’re forcing him? cinnamon waffles with ten gallons of syrup. delicious.

wears rings because hell, if he’s gonna punch you, he wants that shit to hurt.

smells like tobacco and amber and fresh-fallen rain.

likes makeup. tends to get away with some eyeliner/eyeshadow on stage, but typically doesn’t wear any day-to-day. maybe some eyeliner on his waterline, but... he’s learned how to get by.

cross his sister and he’ll eat your face for breakfast.

default greeting: blinking at you like you’re offending him by taking in the same air.

honestly he’s never thought to leave vegas. he likes it here. his crew? they’re good people. as in reckless. fun.

has almost a full sleeve on his left arm, and two bands curling around his right bicep. one ear pierced, but doesn’t always wear an earring there.

can he offer you a winter green lifesaver in this trying time ??

goes by eddie or williams. call him keith and he can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. the only person who’s got keith privileges is his kid sister.

thomas hayes has brown eyes but eddie’s are a staggeringly light blue-gray. they look like ice. he’s 6′1 and that type of lanky that tends to look sleek, enticing, and mildly emaciated. he does have muscle to him, but the guy doesn’t eat very often and he’s on a steady diet of destructive habits, so... he’s got that matty healy circa 2012 vibe going on

potential connects.

chaos crew. they hit the clubs. they try their hand at scheming and tricking the best poker leagues. chug beers, crush the cans, and toss ‘em in front of cars. experiment with drug cocktails and haunt the town. all laughs and dilated pupils and forgetting, forgetting, forgetting the cracks in their ribs, the scabs on their knuckles. nothin’ hurts when your blood pumps this quick.

diner pal.  eddie rolls up to his favorite diner in the wee hours of the morning. 2am, 3am. when he can’t sleep or he’s comin’ down from a heckish night, he’s there, whole pitcher of coffee and a stack of waffles. mussed hair. an entire encyclopedia of wild stories. one night, he stumbled into this person’s booth high as all shit, and they’ve been inviting themselves to one another’s tables ever since. could be a romantic connection. could be platonic.

ex on bad terms.  kid’s got commitment issues. i’d love to give them a source.

fuckbuddies.  they could just be friends who get fucked and do the deed. maybe there’s feelings. maybe it’s a you service me, i’ll service you situation. either way, they’re indulgent. they’re reckless. and they’ve got no regard for any damage they’ll cause.

people he’s tattooed.  

sworn enemies.  acerbic words, gnashing teeth, icy glares. they’ll cross the fuckin’ street just to avoid being within a ten-foot radius of one another.

caretaker.  a friend ( or even stranger ) who’s taken it on themselves to monitor this maelstrom. all i can say is... good friggin’ luck, kid.

obviously there are so many more but this is just a list to get some juices flowing !

if you want to plot, please feel free to message me !!  i’m headed to the gym now but after that i’ll hit up the starter tags !!  so flipping excited to write with you goons !!

[sweetbunnykook]

Only You (5)

Word Count: 13,217 // ANGST, a hint of smut

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.  

A/N: I want to thank you guys for being so patient with me!! I know I promised this chapter for a while now and I was finally able to write it the way that I hoped to. This chapter is almost twice as long as my previous chapters so please bear with me lol I hope y’all enjoy it! - Bunny (🐰)

If there was one thing Jin was good at doing, it was following his instincts.

In an overpriced apartment west of Hong Kong, Jung Hoseok rolled over in his sleep. He was utterly exhausted, having worked a grueling fourteen-hour day when his boyfriend’s computer decided to crash that afternoon, erasing loads of work he’d done from morning. It would be an understatement to say he was pissed. Which was why, when he stumbled into the apartment two hours ago, he’d wrestled Yoongi onto the bed and fucked himself unconscious. The worst day of his life was followed by the best sex of his life, so he wasn’t complaining when his cell phone decided to ring just mere hours after he passed out, although it was still bothersome. Yoongi groaned into his chest at the annoying beep of his cellphone so he simply slid off the bed as quietly as possible and answered, hoping that whoever was calling at such a time in the morning better have a life or death reason to interrupt his sleep.

“Yea-Hello?” He answer-asked, groaning slightly when Yoongi rolled towards him and gently tugged his thighs to ask him to come back to bed. He sat on the edge, switching on the lamp with the flick of his wrist to earn a groan from his boyfriend who was now shielding his face away from the light.

“Hey Hobi, it’s Jin. Do you have time?”

Hoseok blinked once, then twice, startled at hearing his former partner’s name. If Yoongi wasn’t pinching his thighs in annoyance he would be sure he was dreaming. Ever since Jin left his government work behind, things had grown stale at the office. No more jokes, no more chugging coffee over seemingly impossible-to-solve cases. Usually he would send emails to keep in touch, only using the phone, a specific phone that is, to discuss something important. Jin calling him out of the blue like this only meant one thing. Jin needed information, and he needed confidential information. He needed it fast.

“What’s going on?” Hoseok asked, his voice lowering a pitch.

“There’s someone I need background information on.”

Yoongi sat up and placed his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder, listening, his hands settling on the broad shoulders. Hoseok didn’t utter a word, merely listening to what Jin had to say; he didn’t provide explanation as he hoped but he trusted the man completely.

“Who would that be?”

There was a slightly hesitation on Jin’s end, as if he was fully comprehending this decision for the first time. “J…Jeon Jungkook.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” Hoseok repeated, motioning for Yoongi to jot the name down on the yellow notepad on the nightstand. It was only when he had finished writing that he probed for more questions. “Who does he work for? Are you in danger?”

Jin shook his head, running his hands through his hair, slowly regretting the call. “He’s…one of my f-friend’s boyfriend; a photographer living in the Seoul area, about a decade younger than us. There’s something off about him that I couldn’t shake off…it’s the same feeling I got five year ago. You remember, Hobi?”

Hoseok can only nod, mind swirling with images of the case that he still has nightmares of. He’s sure that Seokjin also goes through the same routine – the vomiting, followed by more alcohol and paralyzing numbness. It was a case he never wanted to recall and he swore off having children in the future because of it but having Jin himself tell him, out of the blue, that the first thing he thought about Jeon Jungkook was that case…it made him sick. As much as he wanted to help Jin, he didn’t want to have to deal with this case again. But respect won over fear in the end and he found himself staring at the yellow notepad with Jungkook’s name scribbled on it.

“What,” he swallowed, having to clear his throat as his toes curled in and out on the carpeted floor. “W-What made you think there’s something off about him?

In the heart of Seoul, Seokjin stood, circling around his mahogany desk to rummage his eyes over the dusty bookshelf filled with binders and yellowed files. He toyed with the buttons on his vest before reaching up to untighten his tie.

“It was his eyes…” he said, softer. “He reminded me of Kim Taehyung. I oversaw Taehyung during a transfer and he just…there’s something so familiar about Jungkook when I think about him.” He brought a hand up to his face, squeezing the bridge of his nose to recall the boy’s face. But he couldn’t figure it out; it has been way too long and he was too young, caught in the moment of it all to remember exactly what his task was. The only thing he remembered was Taehyung’s eyes – filled with malice yet hollow at the same time. It was like staring at two empty holes in a skull.

“And you think Jeon Jungkook is of the same kind as him?” Hoseok asked, his heart no longer racing as he heaved a sigh. He’s had moments like this before and they all end in the same way – with nothing.

“No, no no,” Jin disagreed with slight panic. “I just got that same feeling from Jeon. My friend…well, I don’t want her to get hurt again and this was the fastest way I can get this shit off my mind. There’s something about him that’s off and you know how I am with paranoia and-“

He knew that Seokjin wasn’t the same after the case but he didn’t know that it was still killing him this much, enough to suspect a friend’s boyfriend out of all things.

“Jin,” Hoseok exhaled, slowly so that his ex-partner wouldn’t hear the exasperation. “I know we’ve been doing this for a long time. It’s…it’s unhealthy.”

Jin was silent over the phone.

“We can’t keep chasing after people like that anymore, I mean, look at us now. We left that part of the department long ago because of all that fucked up shit. We can’t keep pulling up files to make sure people are saints, it doesn’t work that way.”

“I know.” Jin said. “That’s why I’m asking you for this favor. If I don’t find anything with Jeon, I’m going to stop with all of this. I promise, Hobi…just this one, please. This woman,” he exhaled, “my friend…she’s very important to me.”

It wasn’t the promise that made Hoseok’s heart lurch in his throat but the softness in which he talked about this woman he so desperately wanted to protect. He knew that feeling all too well with Yoongi – the terror of losing a loved one, taking desperate actions so out of his moral compass. But he does it for Yoongi, no matter what it may be, and it seems like Jin, the man who had declared he would never stop his playboy life, found that one person he’s willing to throw away his pride for. It was almost sad to see because men like him and Jin were not cut out to do things out of love; it’s the paranoia, the adrenaline that spurs them and, in the pursuit to protect, they alienate themselves from their loved ones.

In the end, it didn’t matter. This is the only way they know how to live.

“Alright,” he said after a while when Yoongi squeezed his arm in a shy display of comfort. “Give me a few minutes. What’s his description?”

He heard Jin exhale the breath he’s been holding over the line and he couldn’t help but smile. Same ol’ officer Seokjin with his sixth sense for danger.

“About 5’10, maybe 5’11…, young looking for his age, dark features and lean although he’s a bit muscular. He’s not very well known in the photography industry as she told me, but I think his choice of career will help narrow it down.” He rubbed his face, growing antsy. “Hobi, I really owe you one.”

“Mm, just give Yoong-ah and I a place to stay when we get back to Seoul.”

“Will do,” he said and Hoseok was satisfied to hear the relief in his voice. This Jeon Jungkook boy must have been lingering in his mind for a while if he was pressuring this hard.

He watched Yoongi crawl across the floor and grab the laptop out of their shared duffel bag and boot up the silver machine.

“Just a background check?” His lover asked, raking his hair back and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Hoseok felt a pang of guilt since it was obvious how sore and tired he must have been although he would never admit he enjoyed watching the older man, so dominant in his field, become putty in his hands.

“Yeah, baby.” He smiled as Yoongi brought the laptop back to the bed, sliding it upwards as he glided across the bed on his stomach, feet dangling off the edges. Hoseok took the chance to straddle him, caging him with his arms as his head dipped to place kisses down his spine.

Yoongi’s skin trembled with laughter as he carefully maneuvers around the database and avoid the security firewalls that would, no doubt, land them in hot water if they aren’t careful. It was difficult enough with Hoseok planting kisses all over the skin, the agent’s heart light with the thought of Jin having found a person he cares for, even if she is taken. It meant that he too can become like him – move on from the last five years after tonight and never look back once he’d see this Jeon Jungkook’s empty case file. Maybe that was why he couldn’t stop touching his lover so ardently, tracing his fingertips along the back dimples and small muscles They wouldn’t find anything and they can gradually learn to accept that not all paranoia impulses represent reality.

It took a little over half an hour to find the file with Jungkook’s hidden in a separate section that had Yoongi’s eyes squinting in suspicion that there might be something off.

“Hobi…”

“Mm?” He questioned, not paying attention as he placed another kiss on the side of his waist. He heard a few clicks from the laptop, silence, and a small gasp.

“Hobi, hey, come look at this,” Yoongi said and the panic in his voice reached him this time.

The dark-haired man raised his head over Yoongi’s shoulders and peered at the screen, hand reaching out to trace the words on the overview before falling to the picture.

“Holy…shit…”

Jin took another sip of scotch and clicked on the file that his dear friend had sent him in record time. The ice clinked inside the square crystal glass and, as strong as the liquor was, it slid smoothly down his throat and warmed his chest.

He knew he could depend on the man; he never fails to deliver, not even when they had worked on the trafficking ring back in China, the most difficult case that had forced many talented colleagues to pursue a different career path. But not Jung Hoseok – never Jung Hoseok. He may not work actively as an undercover but he’s still directly involved with the cases that pool through the office.  

However, Jin could not entertain himself with the thought of his former colleague, not when the file opened to reveal a very young-looking Jeon Jungkook, eyes staring into the soul of the camera lens, restrained by a straitjacket. Jin’s lips parted and, with the precision of a former agent, navigated around the hundreds of pages to find the section where all the crucial evidence is held. Because he knew where that picture was taken. He knew, exactly, what the number on Jungkook’s snow white jacket meant.

The question was: how did someone like him manage to integrate back into society?

He scrolled further, reading with the speed of light over the case file that has reached its expiration. There was very little information about the type of crime he’d committed. It had simply mentioned that Jeon Jungkook, an orphan surviving with the help of a friend, was an accomplice; but an accomplice to what? Jin had no idea, not even when he’d looked through the details of the case on the left side of the page with pictures of ropes, teeth, and a few pictures of melted bodies. The details were masked in a fog of mystery.

The people in charge of handling this case have ruled that he was fit to be released, as it would seem, but the details were odd. It was almost as if Jungkook was forgiven rather than freed. He was able to return to society due to his “rapid progress” but there was no mention of the treatment process except for vague observations of the boy under surveillance that “insinuated that the institution no longer feels the need to treat him any further.”  

But this rarely happened and to those that were released, it took nearly a decade, sometimes more. Jungkook was released at a terribly young age. The worst thing about realizing the danger that he would impose on you was the fact that without a crime committed, he could not do anything since the case has reached its verdict and Jungkook is technically not on the run.

Jin has to move, and he has to move fast but one wrong step and Jungkook’s ears will perk in his direction. Every bone in his body told him that you were in grave danger despite years of criminal inactivity by the dear boyfriend, which altogether adds to the suspicion that he can be triggered any second.

He dials for Hoseok again and this time he picks up within the second ring.

“Did you read it?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok choked, nervously glancing at the laptop on the bed. “Jesus Christ, Jin, remind me to never doubt your senses again.”

A chuckle rose but never found its way out of the retired officer’s throat. “I knew there was something off. Who would’ve thought he ended up in the same facility as Kim Taehyung.”

“It’s not just a facility. He ended up there because he did something terrible enough to be locked with the rest of them. How in the hell are you going to handle this?”

“The case said he was an accomplice and it was ruled that someone else had done the deed but…I don’t know. Hobi…I’m terrified.”

It was the second time he’d heard Seokjin say that, the first being five years ago, and Hoseok’s gut churned.

“You’re going to have to gather any evidence that can reopen this case but that’s…Jin, you can get into a lot of trouble for this if you get caught. Invasion of privacy, trespassing-”

“I know,” he interrupted, “but I need to do this for her…and for my own sanity as well.” He looked at the empty glass cup. “It’s something I’ll have to do my whole life. Chase after people.”

“If there’s anything you need, I’ll help you. But you know how all of these things work. We would be back in square one if they find out I’m helping you do this and I’ll be locked out, Yoongi too.”

That’s true. The odds were against him but it was a risk, he realized in this moment, that he’s willing to take. He had lost too many people in his life not to take this leap.

Jin sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I’m going to think about it for a few days and watch her to see if anything is going on. We aren’t as close as we used to be because of him but I’m going to have to do something to get her attention. I need some time to figure this out so don’t worry, I won’t need you to do anything troublesome – sending this file was enough.”

With a spark of determination, Jin’s eyes returned to the picture on his monitor. “Thank you Hobi, for everything. You have no idea.���

“Be careful…and stay alive.” His former partner said, unable to talk any further as awe washed over him once more. Man, what are the chances.

The call ended abruptly, too many scenarios floating in their minds to talk any further. They needed time to marinate the idea that someone as psychotic as Jungkook is walking around Seoul and no one is blinking an eye. Who in the hell released him!? The boy was clearly unstable, as Jin remembered him in the office. The laugh that held sinister intent (he was definitely NOT imagining that), the way his eyes pierced into any man that came near you, the constant manipulation of your emotions to make you feel sorry for him.

It was fucked. Fucked in the head.

Jin turned on his heels and reached into his cabinet stuffed with alcohol – he’ll need something stronger if he wants to get through this night without the thought of your body floating to the surface in the Han river.

And it was with the first shot of vodka that he recalled something you had told him after Jungkook moved in with you. It was a rare moment of vulnerability in which he stumbled upon. It was the only time you’d revealed your personal life to him after what happened with Namjoon, since it was a dramatic change that even you felt unprepared for, and Jin was far too eager to feel close to you again that he’d almost missed what you had said.

“I’m a bit nervous about meeting his parents though.” You smiled fondly down at the charm bracelet Jungkook bought with his savings. “He said he doesn’t really have a good relationship with them and I’m a bit nervous because of my age. It’s so out of character of me to date someone so young, yeah Jin?” You asked, chuckling lightly, not waiting for his answer as you resumed drinking your morning coffee.

Jin’s hands clenched around the small glass cup.

Jungkook didn’t tell you his parents are dead.

                                                   …………..

The afternoon came almost too quick for comfort but you stay wrapped inside Jungkook’s embrace, loving the way he drapes over you like the warmest blanket you’ve ever had the pleasure to be under. You molded into him so perfectly it was almost as if you were made for him from the start. His soft breath brushes over your forehead, reaching out to you even in his dreams, through the tangle of limbs under the thin blanket that covered his soft cock and absorbed the rest of his cum on his abdomen. You were reminded of what you had done and a small smile tugged your lips.

“Baby,” you whisper, tracing your finger on the curve of his bottom lip. He whimpered slightly, head shaking to the side before falling back towards you.

“Kookie…baby,” you coo, your fingers running over his cheeks before softly nudging his head. “You have to wake up. You’ll feel groggy all night if you sleep for too long.”

He groaned, murmuring your name under his breath and turning on his shoulder to bury his face in your hair. The blanket slides down his hip as he maneuvers a leg over yours, trapping you further into his heat.

“Baby,” you coo again, blowing cool air on his neck. “It’s time to wake up.”

You hear him sigh and move his head back, glaring down at you with half-lidded eyes. Your hand immediately darts up to remove the crust in the inner corner of his eyes. He allows you to do so without opposition although his lips were pulled in a soft pout.

“Noona, why can’t we sleep in?”

“Because,” you pick the crust in his other eye, brushing away the small crumbs that fell on his cheeks. “You’ll get a headache,” you say in-a-matter-of-fact manner, “and I need a new phone.”

Jungkook’s hand moves over yours to finally wipe away the remains of sleepiness and huffs, thumping his head down on the soft couch cushion dramatically in a fit of frustration.

“I’m sick,” he whined, making his voice as nasally as possible. “Aren’t you supposed to give into my demands?”

“No, I’m supposed to make better judgements for you.” You boop his nose and make your move to pull away from him but his strong heavy arm comes down around your waist and jerks you back down.

“Ugh, Kookie, we can’t-”

“I just realized something, noona.” He said, his tone serious, voice deeper than usual. You turn your head towards him, squirming under his piercing gaze.

“W-What?” You ask him, frozen in his arms.

“You gave me a blowjob.”

“Yeah?”

His voice was soft. “You’ve never done that before.”

You open your mouth but you had no words to say. Have you been that selfish with him? You couldn’t count the amount of times he had his mouth between your legs, his tongue in both of your holes yet you haven’t given him a blowjob in the months that you’ve been together. A tinge of guilt twisted its way into your gut and you blinked a few times before looking away.

“I didn’t even notice.” You murmur awkwardly and Jungkook nuzzles into your neck, kissing his way down your shoulders.

“It’s okay. I’m just overwhelmed that you did that for me.”

You chuckle a little, the humor in your voice nowhere to be found. “You’ve done so much more, baby.”

“We have an eternity to make up for it.” He laughed and the guilt in your chest was replaced by something alarming, something that made your hands sweat and your body seize. Jungkook didn’t notice your sudden silence, preoccupied with the skin of your neck and the faint smell of perfume and oils in your hair.

Why did that scare you so much? The thought of being together with Jungkook for a long time. It didn’t even have to be an eternity, maybe ten, maybe twenty years? He was bound to fall out of love with you, isn’t he? That’s what happens to men. They fall in love with you because it’s the right time for them to settle. They make you feel important, wanted, loved. Then when they have you in their grasp, they get bored until something new and shiny comes along and you get left in the dust. You would have your first gray hair before Jungkook. You would retire before him, advance your career before him. He’s going to leave you when you fall into this mold of stability without the spark of adventure you had in your early youth.

Namjoon has done that to you even before you reach that stage. Kim Namjoon, the oh-so-handsome son of your mother’s close friend, the person you’d spent most of your life pining over. His brother was a better candidate for you but you chose him because he looked loyal, confident, smart, almost unreal. He seems like the person who’d stay by your side for he accepted the familiar boring but content life that would inevitably come with old age. It felt unreal that you’d thought through decades with him when you couldn’t even make it past the wedding date.

And yes, he was unreal. It was too good to be true and the fantasy you’d put together for years crumbled as soon as Namjoon laid his eyes on Yori, the shiny new apple of his eye.

If he had done it, why would it be different for Jungkook? In fact, you thought as you feel your boyfriend’s thumb caressing your jaw and suckling on your hard nipple through your shirt, it would be even worse with Jungkook. He’s young, gorgeous, talented, passionate. He’s everything a person can ask for in a partner. So why would someone like him settle with someone like you, the dried up remains of a woman that used to be as vivacious as a college student.

You bite back your tears, swallowing down your insecurity when you feel Jungkook raising his head to kiss you on your lips. You close your eyes and lean back, letting him do as he wishes, except this time your tongue darts out to taste his lips, enjoying him like it’s your last time. He groans in your mouth, murmuring your name softly and letting the word coat your desperate tongue begging to feel him again. He could taste the slight saltiness of his cum in the corners of your mouth, making warmth spread from his stomach down to his cock.

“I like tasting me inside you.”

You smile, eyes still closed to stop the burning behind your eyelids. You didn’t want to cry and worry him; he was already sick and just some time ago you’d seen how self-destructive he gets when he worries.

“I do too.” You say, turning your face away and bringing his mouth back to your neck to avoid him.

Jungkook took this as a sign that you wanted affection and so his body moves to semi-hover above you, hands gliding across your body and snaking under your shirt to explore the warm, pillow-soft skin. He could feel small slits that have long healed on his fingertips, the cuts that he’d made to take you in his mouth and swallow you, to be one with you.

He feels your pulse beneath his lips for a few seconds and pulls away knowing that if he’d continued, you wouldn’t leave the couch despite your own pleas.

After all, your safety was more important. If you were left without a cellphone, he wouldn’t have any way of knowing whether you needed him or not. He was still on the high from the blowjob so it wasn’t painful for him to stop and plant a chaste kiss on your forehead to signify the end of what could have been despite the small whine that left your lips. Your heart, however, twists painfully in your chest. Did he not want you anymore? Did you do something wrong? It was almost like you’d forgotten that you wanted to leave the couch just a moment ago.

“Let’s continue this tonight, yeah?” He said, pulling himself up as you grab onto the cushion and mimic his motions.

“Mm,” you agreed, not looking at him, yawning slightly as the feeling of soft comfort began to wear off. It was a good thing he stopped, you thought, because the more affection he showed, the more you wanted to cry. It was an inconvenient time to hit a depressive episode but you trust yourself to manage it well. Jungkook is sick and you have no time to worry about your insecurities; it’s not like you can burn off all the fat in your body and give models a run for their money overnight.

You didn’t pay much attention to the way you dress this afternoon. After all, the sun was lowering outside and there wasn’t much to do besides purchasing a new cellphone and walking around the department store for some fresh air. You wore a simple white button-down blouse, your lips twitching into a smile as you watch your boyfriend in the bedroom mirror slipping into his own white shirt as well. You weren’t the type to purposely match outfits like teen couples do but the coincidence left butterflies in your stomach. You slip a black skirt on, tucking the ends of the blouse underneath the stretchy waistband and combed your long hair back.

“Should I cut my hair?” You ask Jungkook in the mirror as you rolled perfume on your wrists and behind your ears.

“I like long hair,” he said, tucking his white shirt in his jeans and grabbing deodorant from your vanity. “But you’ll look cute even when you’re bald.”

You giggled. “You’re so ridiculous.”

He flashed a beaming smile, watching you slip into your beige Burberry trench coat. The least you can do is put some effort into your clothes if you were going outside without makeup. You didn’t want to look out of place next to Jungkook who always seem to look effortlessly beautiful with his god-like proportions. Women turned their heads whenever he walked in and the pressure to dress better began; you wanted to look good for him, to be worthy of holding his hand in public.

“We shouldn’t stay for too long. It might rain again.”

He turned his head out the bedroom window and looked at the gray-blue hue of the city that smelled of damp soil. Rain was comforting for him; he took you in his arms for the first time in the rain.

“I don’t mind.” He said, grabbing his own black coat from the hanger next to your closet. The heavy fabric draped over his shoulders so perfectly one might have wondered if the coat was tailored for his body. “Rain smells so nice.”

“Your fever will get worse though,” you walk towards him, placing your hand on his forehead. He was warm but the fever seemed to have gone down with medication and hot soup.

“I’m much stronger than I look, noona.” He grinned.

“It doesn’t mean I won’t worry.”

He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “I know.”

The ride to the department store helped you extract the deceitful, insecure thoughts in your head. It was irrational, you say to yourself, to think that he wouldn’t be loyal. If his hand holding onto yours through the entire ride didn’t say it, it was the loving glances from the driver’s seat that did. When his eyes weren’t on the road it was on you, watching you as you stretch your hands out of the window to feel the cool, damp air. A few stray droplets of rain kissed your skin but thankfully it did not rain heavily through the ride or else you wouldn’t be able to enjoy a car ride like this. How long has it been since you can enjoy a ride without the heaviness of adult responsibilities on your shoulders?

But good days weren’t meant for you; it was as if the world didn’t want you to rest for even a second. The moment Jungkook turns into the lane that stretched into that expensive department store filled with designer brands and restaurants your stomach drops. It belonged to Namjoon’s father – the department store – and the friends you left behind in the past managed this branch. The chances of you meeting them were slim since they did not physically work inside the stores but the thought of walking inside made you clench your stomach for the paranoia that would ensue.

You stole a glance at your boyfriend humming along to a song on the radio and then back to the dipped road that reached an underground parking lot. Thankfully there were only a few more hours left before closing time and you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing someone you know. At least, you hoped so.

“Have you been here, noona?” He asked, maneuvering your car around rows of other cars to find the closest space to park.

“Y-Yeah,” you stammered, fingers turning cold. “Just a few times.”

“It’s my favorite place.” He said, eyeing the mall from the gaps of the building. It really was an amazing place – you’d know because you’d helped Namjoon’s father manage it during an internship experience for college. “It’s a little far but I always drive here. They have this one great record store that sells some of my favorite supplies, you know, for the studio. We should stop by too,” he giggled, “I can’t believe I didn’t think about showing it to you before.”

“Okay…”

You rolled the windows up and undid your seatbelt when he slides the vehicle between two larger Mercedes. Thankfully the area seems to be deserted with very little cars around. You tell yourself you weren’t looking for Namjoon’s car yet every silver car you see from the parking lot across makes your heart race. Jungkook locks the car and takes your hand in his, burying them into his pocket.

“Your hands are so cold, noona. You shouldn’t have worn a skirt tonight, it’ll be even colder later.”

You shrugged. “It’ll be okay, we won’t stay too late anyways.”

“Tell me if it gets too cold. I’ll give you my coat.”

“But I’m wearing a coat too.”

He looks down at your attire worriedly. “It’s too thin.”

You rested your cheek on his arm and walked towards the flight of stairs that led to the entrance of the main department store. Although you stay relatively calm, your eyes dart from side to side in search for anyone you might now. You feign excitement, pointing to a pair of shoes or sunglasses in order to keep Jungkook entertained or else might notice your nervousness and you know that never ended well. He might be younger but he can read through your lies in a snap.

Jungkook headed towards the mall entrance, dragging you along with him as you keep your head lowered. A few women from the counters glanced his way, whispering to their coworkers and you bury your face in his arm. He didn’t take notice of them but even if he did he didn’t show it. His hand was still wrapped around yours inside his pocket and that gave you the confidence you need to not dwell on those women.

“Let’s go to the record store first. We can get the phone on the way back – it won’t take long.”

He sang an “okay!” and headed towards the large record store next to the Louis Vuitton that made your head turn away in discomfort. People flew in and out of the designer stores despite the closing hours that loomed over the department. You were suddenly hit with the memory of Namjoon’s father buying a luggage for you before your study abroad trip in college. It made you quite sad, actually. He was stern but he wasn’t a bad person; in his own way, the old man was nice and if one got to know him as well as you had, they might even find him kindhearted. You missed him a little. After all, it was him who’ve taught you everything you know since your father passed away.

“Oh my,” you exclaim when Jungkook opened the black frosted glass doors to the record shop. The walls were stacked with vinyls and record equipment. There were a few instruments also – guitars, violins, basses, and a full set of drums in the corner. The shop, even from where you were standing, looked impeccably organized. Art supplies in one corner, music sheets and accessories in the other, and the rest were filled with other miscellaneous albums in all forms – cassettes, CDs, vinyls.

“Oh hey, Jeon!” A man from behind the counter waved and Jungkook waves back with a smile. “How’re you doing?”

The man had a slight accent, a little rough around the edges, and he would have been out of place in Gangnam if it wasn’t for his pretty boy looks. He was slightly shorter than Jungkook but had bleach blonde hair and a cat draped around his shoulders. He was dressed in ripped jeans and a large white sports shirt that fell to his hips.

Did the mall even allow pets inside the store?

“Great, actually! A little under the weather.” He shrugged, smiling. “I brought my girl with me this time.”

You blush when the man’s eyes meet yours but the warmth that was held behind his dark brown eyes settled the discomfort in your stomach. You smiled, bowing slightly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Jungkook talks highly about your store.”

The man laughed, patting the cat’s butt on his shoulders. “Yeah, he better. I worked hard to get a loan to open up this place. Ah, I forgot” he stepped in front of you stretching out his hand. “Park Jimin.”

You replied, shaking his hand, head turning towards your boyfriend when he then drags you to the far right corner of the store where film cameras were on display. Jimin follows behind, a knowing smile plastered on his face. The cat meows on his shoulder.

“Are you looking for anything special?”

“Not really. I don’t really have the funds for a Leica but I’ve been looking for one for a while.”

“Ah,” he patted the cat’s butt again and you wonder if that’s a habit of his. “I have a few shipping over next month. Taehyung got me hooked with some old man in Cuba that needed some kind of surgery. The guy is as broke as rat so he couldn’t pay for the procedure in cash but apparently he owns some rare cameras in great conditions. I’m hoping he could sell them to me.” He said as if that old man had a choice to not sell them to Taehyung.

Jungkooks brows furrowed. “Tae’s in Cuba now?”

The nickname caught your ears.

“Not anymore.” Jimin said, wincing slightly at the slip of his tongue. “He called me this morning and told me he has to go to Hong Kong quickly. That’s why the Leicas are gonna take a while to get here.”

“He didn’t tell me about any of this.” Jungkook said, his voice suddenly heavy. Feeling out of place you turn your head to the cameras on the shelf but your ears were turned to Jimin who stared up at Jungkook with a hidden purpose behind his eyes.

“He didn’t want you to worry. Plus he knows you like Leicas…that’s why he’s going through the trouble of-”

“I’m going to call him later.” Jungkook said, signaling the end of their conversation. His voice was back to its original light and childlike nature. “It’s been so long since we talked over the phone anyways. It’ll be just like old times.” The tension in the air that you felt earlier seemed like an illusion.

Jimin nodded, walking behind the counter and placing the cat next to the cash registrar. The tuxedo cat settled on her belly, arching her small back towards the blonde to get his attention. “I’m sure he won’t mind. Just don’t tell him I told you about this or else he’ll have my neck. Little chimmy here loves my neck,” he said, scratching the cat’s chin and cooing at her. “Don’t you, babygirl? Don’t you?”

At that point you’ve established that you don’t know anything about your boyfriend’s personal life other than the side that he shows to you. You’ve met a few of his business partners and you’ve been to his galleries but you don’t know any of the people that are close to him. Hell, you haven’t even met his parents yet. Does that mean he’s ashamed of you? That he doesn’t want his friends to know he was serious about you? You were more than just a passing fancy, right? The insecurities about your relationship with him were back, infesting your head like cockroaches. If destructive thought forces its way into you know there were more behind the walls of that mature girlfriend image you’re putting up in front of Jimin. All it takes is one person to step inside the bubble you place over yourself and your boyfriend and the image of a happy couple breaks apart. It didn’t help that you were already on your toes just being inside this building.

“Do you have Phoenix’s new album?” You asked Jimin all of the sudden, making Jungkook look down at your tense face.

Jimin pointed at the stack to the left of his body. “CD or vinyl?”

“CD, but I’ll take vinyl too.” You said, taking your hand out of Jungkook’s pockets with a little too much force than necessary. You can feel your boyfriend’s gaze on you as you head over to the stack, fishing out the album and CD. It was so out of character for you – actually, you were sure in the entirety of your relationship you’ve never bought a single music album. It was mostly streaming and Jungkook knows about it which is why you wonder if you’d made him suspicious of the turmoil inside your head.

You place the CD and the matching vinyl next to the cat. You fumbled with the wallet in your skirt pocket, feeling the corners of the leather catch onto the chiffon. The two men watched you as you manage to finally take the small beige wallet out and place it onto the glass showcase with shaky hands, trying to fish out your debit card stuck inside the little plastic pocket. Jungkook immediately knew something was off.

“Here, let me pay for it.” He said coming closer to you.

Jimin whistled. “Look at Jungkookie paying for his girlfriend,” he laughed. “A real gentleman, eh?” He elbowed the air, turning to the registrar to ring you up.

Jungkookie; another nickname you don’t know about.

He takes Jungkook’s card instead and you were left with a discomfort that was difficult to explain. It was as if you were tagging along in Jungkook’s life with little say. Even the people around him, it seems, pay no attention to your actions. They all move through you.

“Thank you.” You say softly when Jimin places the items into a paper bag with the store emblem. You make the move to take the tag but Jungkook reaches forward and take them in his instead, curling his fingers around your wrist with his free hand to bury your hand in his coat pocket again. The only reason you didn’t resist was because you could feel Jimin’s judgmental gaze on you.

“We’ll come back later,” he said, smiling when you didn’t pull away. “I have some other things to do. It’s a little too late for a shopping spree anyways.”

“Do you want anything else?” He turned to ask you, hoping you would look up at him but you simply shook your head and pushed your wallet back into your back pocket.

You felt small between the two men – insignificant, invisible. All these things you don’t know about your boyfriend. How did they meet? Why does he know Taehyung? How come they’re so concerned about each other and how come they never ask anything else but your name? It seems that what all people want to know about you is your name and what you can do for them, if you’re of any use. That’s what Namjoon had done anyway in the lifetime that you’ve known each other. He forgets everything about you – your birthday, your graduation, your dates. It’s as if people keep you around when they haven’t found anything better to replace.

Screw it all.

“Do you want to just get the phone and go back home?” You ask in a small voice as Jungkook gives a small wave to his friend over the counter and pulls you to the door. It wasn’t like you can get any fresh air after such a humid rainfall anyways.

“What do you mean? We just got here.” He said, smiling slightly to appear ignorant. Something was happening inside that head of yours and it was killing him slowly. He saw the hesitation in the car and it worsened once you met Jimin. What is going on?

“I-I mean,” you stammered. “You’re sick so I don’t want to make you go on a proper date, you know? We can always go once you feel a little better anyways. And the m-mall isn’t really quiet you know?”

You were sprouting bullshit and you both knew it. Sensing that Jungkook was growing upset, you plaster on a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“I really wanted you to listen to this album too. It’s perfect for driving,” you say, pulling him along with you to find the cellphone shop quickly. The building, Jimin, the people swarming around like flies – it was suffocating.

“Okay, noona.” Jungkook said yet the simplicity in his answer makes you squirm. He’s upset with the lack of enthusiasm you felt for his favorite shop and he’s obviously worried that something is wrong with you.

On the way over you were coming up with many excuses to cover up your tracks. You could blame it on his fever and say that you might be catching it too. You did just give him a blowjob, right? Exchanging bodily fluids can be the reason. Yes, your reason could be just him and the fever. You won’t have to tell him about the department store, about Namjoon and about why you didn’t tell him earlier in the car. It would be a simple explanation and you can feign sickness for the next few days if it comes to it. Jungkook would be too overcome with worry for your health to question you any further.

Yes, that sounded perfect.

Jungkook led you inside the cellphone store while you were lost in thought. On autopilot, you ask for the latest smartphone, not even looking at the price as you slide your card this time and pay for the item, thankful that your boyfriend was busy choosing the proper case to buy. Not even half an hour and you were ready to bolt from the building. You have to say you were growing paranoid with age. Maybe, you laugh to yourself, your hand clenching into fists, that’s why you’re impossible to be with. One second you’re begging your boyfriend to stay out of bed and get fresh air and the next you’re forcing him to drive back home just because you’re worried someone might see you with your new man like some antisocial cryptid.

It was with great relief that you reached the parking lot without seeing anyone you knew. Your head was turned back to see if anyone was following you and it was only when Jungkook rounded the column separating the entrance of the department store to the parking lot that you crash into his back from his abrupt stop.

The universe, you think, must hate your guts. Of all the friends you can meet from your past, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, you meet them.

It was strange seeing her after all these months. The swell of her belly was pointed towards you in mockery and you feel yourself squeezing Jungkook’s hand. Here you are, standing in front of a woman who intimidated you in the past. But now you no longer felt the stinging pain in your heart at the thought, and the sight, of her.

Instead, it was rage.

It was the blood pounding in your ears, the cold sweat that made your hands clammy. She had it all; beauty, wealth, and now, a baby. A baby you didn’t want before. But now, standing next to your tall, dark and handsome boyfriend, the idea of bearing his child ignited a fire in you that you’d long smothered. The thought makes you physically sick because even in this position you were wishing to have what she has. You really are pathetic.

“Hi,” Yori spoke, her hand wrapping around Namjoon’s arm with an intimacy that makes your heart squeeze. There was a diamond ring on her finger. “It’s been a while.”

Your spine straightens and you glance between Namjoon’s wide eyes and parted lips before answering.

“It has.” You were thankful that your voice was steady and calm, although much deeper and eloquent as you normally speak. “Congratulations on the baby.”

She smiled, her plump pink lips stretching. “Thanks, it’s a boy. Congrats on your new boyfriend too. He seems,” she eyed him up and down. “Decent.”

“I think we should go.” Namjoon bowed, watching your body press against Jungkook’s side in uneasiness. It was a mellow signal that hinted at the extent of your relationship with him.

“Why?” Yori asked him. “We should stay friends, shouldn’t we? I mean, you have your boyfriend now and I have my soon-to-be husband-”

Husband.

“-why should we be so unfriendly with each other? Make love, not war.”

You swallowed, feeling Jungkook’s hand tremble against yours. You weren’t sure whether it was from the cold or from anger; you suspected the latter. And he really had every right to be angry; Yori was throwing it in your face, the life that you looked forward to your whole life. With Namjoon’s baby inside of her, she owns a piece of him and the reputation he holds in the business world.

“Yori, this is enough.” Namjoon said, taking a step away from her only for the woman to clutch onto his bicep, fingers rubbing the muscles underneath with a confidence that made you feel like a voyeur looking into the window of a loving couple.

“Don’t you want to know who he is, Joonie?”

Humiliation. That was what you felt standing in front of the people you used to call your best friends, your closest confidants. This day, you smiled bitterly, was filled with nicknames. Tae, Jungkookie, Joonie – why the fuck are people always so good at keeping you at arm’s length.

“It’s alright,” you said with a poise that makes Yori’s smile falter. “I’m sure he knows already. Don’t you, Namjoon-ssi?”

Namjoon swallowed, his eyes boring into yours, unable to look at your boyfriend in the eye. He was younger, more fit, and obviously more loyal to you as he can see by the way he seemed ready to pounce on him. He wasn’t drunk enough to pick a fight with him.

“I don’t have the time to do this.” He retorted with a force that makes you flinch back. You hated how weak you were under his gaze; it was those eyes that you looked into when he took your virginity and it was those eyes you felt on you when he proposed. Had he always been this cold? Yori too? Your eyes were brimming with tears and the fact that your boyfriend hadn’t dragged you away made you feel even worse. It felt like he didn’t care enough to protect you now. What happened to all those times when he’s been jealous? What happened to that anger? Aside from the trembling of his hands you see no response from him and you turn your face away from the couple, a tear falling from the corner of your eyes to the cheek. You tug your hand away from Jungkook’s coat pocket.

Let me go, let me go, let me go-

“Talk to her like that again and I’ll cut your fucking throat.”

Namjoon’s eyes meet your boyfriend’s and you whip your head towards the sound of that voice, so raw with uncontrollable violence. You swallowed, no longer worrying about Yori seeing your tear-streaked face.

“Pfft,” the pregnant harlot giggled in her hand when your face turns red at her voice. “Oh my god this is so tacky.” She continued. “You know, when I heard you got a boyfriend I didn’t know he’d be this cute and gulli-”

Jungkook tears your hand away from his pocket and launches at your ex-fiancé with the speed and strength of a professional fighter. You’d never seen him move so quickly, feet pounding against concrete as he fisted Namjoon’s polo in one fist and landed a solid right hook to his cheek. Yori yelped, stumbling back onto the silver Audi and she let out a choked scream when Jungkook snarls. He brings the hand on the shirt towards Namjoon’s neck, pushing his thumb against his esophagus before landing another punch against the nose this time. Your legs began to shake and you stumble forward when you hear the audible crack of his nose and blood sputtering from the nostrils. Your boyfriend’s small waist allowed him the freedom to maneuver quickly onto the body, straddling the older man’s hips between his thighs.

“Don’t!”

thump

“Fucking!”

crack

“Talk!”

squelch

“To!”

groan

“Her!”

Namjoon’s head pounces off the pavement and Yori screams, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she curls away from the blood that spills over her Chanel flats.

“Jungkook no!” You sob as you carry yourself over to his trembling body and throw yourself onto his side, successfully pushing him off to the side. Spots of blood painted his chest and, as he wipes his hand across his face, blood smears on the side of his grinning face. His eyes were wild in frenzy and his teeth were barred with every breath he took.

Namjoon held a hand up towards you, rolling onto his side as Yori crawls to him and yells towards your direction. You couldn’t hear what she was saying with the ringing in your ears, your eyes darting back and forth from Jungkook’s dark gaze to the bloodied man in front of you.

“It’s…okay…” he groaned, spitting a ball of blood and saliva onto the floor and holding his nose with the hand caked with dirt. He looked defeated, even before Jungkook threw the first punch. “It’s fine.”

You shake your head, feeling your boyfriend’s hand on your elbow as he hoists you up. You couldn’t believe that someone like Jungkook – someone who takes care of stray pets in the neighborhood, someone who massages your feet after a long day, someone who cries in romantic comedies – would have the willpower to do something so atrocious. You turn on your heels and your hand pull back before meeting the side of his chiseled face. His head snaps to the left but his face remains hard with the adrenaline flooding through his veins.

Embarrassment and shock fueled your system and you slap him once more on the same cheek. How could he be immature enough to do something like this? And in front of that bitch who would no doubt cry crocodile tears in front of her group of friends and spread rumors about this ‘violent and dangerous’ boyfriend of yours. You can already hear your mother’s voicemails in your phone telling you to move back in with her.

“We need to leave,” you say as Jungkook’s eyes began to soften, his hand coming up to hover over the pink hand stain on his skin. “Now!”

You drag him towards your car, grabbing the shopping bags off the floor while ignoring Yori’s insults and screams for help behind you as she cradles Namjoon’s fatigued body on her lap. You can feel your former fiancé’s eyes on your back as you drag your boyfriend into the passenger seat, shoving him and the bags harshly into the confined space before unlocking your side and stepping in.

“N-Noona, I-” he attempts to speak, no longer possessed with the need to harm another human.

The car lurches back and nearly hits the concrete column behind. You spare one glance in Namjoon’s direction, seeing him use the back of his car as leverage to hold himself up. He looked much thinner than the last time you’d seen him and the thought was enough to make you step on the accelerator and speed out of the parking lot, the car jumping over the yellow bumps that made Jungkook’s head knock against the window. You don’t ever want to see them again and Jungkook’s impulsive action opened the gateway to hear about them again, either from Seokjin or your mother.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, shaking as he curls into a ball on your side. “Noona, I didn’t mean it.”

It was hard to convince you with blood stains all over him.

You can’t even begin to imagine the consequences that might spur from this. Knowing Namjoon in the business environment, you know he would keep this under control, but just the thought of Yori causing a ruckus in your workplace with Seokjin is enough to make you cry out in frustration, banging your hand against the steering wheel.

“What is wrong with you!?” You shriek, your voice hoarse with sobs.

Jungkook shook his head, scratching his white sleeves with regret. “I-I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I just…I lost it when he raised his v-voice at you.”

You pull the car off to the side under a street lamp, turning to your boyfriend to stare at him under the orange hue. Cars passed by you, honking in annoyance at the weird position your car was parked in.

“I could have handled it.” You cry, your tears staining your skirt. “I c-could have just-”

You shook your head, burying your face in your hands as the day’s hindrances and insecurities consumed you whole. No, you couldn’t have handled it. While Yori was taunting you with her stomach, coddling the man that held your heart, you couldn’t come up with anything to say. You had simply responded to him like the doll you are, standing next to your boyfriend who clearly looked out of your league. You’d clearly picked the worse day not to wear makeup outside.

Jungkook continued to sniffle, his head lowered, bloodied knuckles coming up to his face to wipe away the tears that continue to spill. The smell and sight of blood was making you nauseous and you bite back bile rising in your throat. With a flick of your wrist you switched the air conditioning on inside the car and leaned back, placing the car in ‘park’.

“I didn’t know you were capable of something like that.”

He hiccups, groaning into his fist as he shakes visibly at your words. Your gaze begins to soften and you undo your seatbelt before sliding over to his seat.

“Come here.” You place a hand on his shoulder and pull him into your chest. Jungkook rubs his sore cheeks against you and you were hit with a pang of guilt at the thought that you’ve hurt him, physically.

“We’re going to go home, okay?”

He nodded.

“And we’re going to talk about…about this.”

He sobbed, his hot breath hitting your skin as he nodded again.

He wanted to speak but no words came out. He didn’t want you to leave him or ask for space – he couldn’t bear the thought of being apart from you. He’d let his emotions get the best of him again and his fists clenched in his lap at how disappointed you must be to witness this. What kind of woman wants to be with someone as ill-tempered as he is? He’d already embarrassed himself by getting drunk for you working overtime with Seokjin and now this happens. All of his actions were within his control yet none of the choices were the right one.

But what he didn’t know was your conflicted gaze watching the cars pass by through the glass. It was true that you were angry, angry beyond belief at what he’d done. But you weren’t…frightened. Instead the insecurity you’d felt inside Jimin’s store was falling apart, one by one, with every breath Jungkook took in your arms. You pull away from him at last, asked him to put his seatbelt back on as you buckled yourself back into your seat and stared at the curved road ahead. When have you been so fucked in the head? Your boyfriend had effortlessly ruined a man’s face but all you could think about was how, with every drop of Namjoon’s blood that hit the pavement, devoted he must be to act on his instincts. The smile that he held when you pull him off of Namjoon was something you’ve only seen in bed when he was dragging a knife along your neck and breasts. It felt like an illusion seeing how much strength he carried in his body, the way his muscles moved to hold the taller man down effortlessly.

It was like he’d done this before.

The drive to the apartment was silent except for the few sniffles that came from Jungkook’s direction. His head was still lowered, dirty hands clasped in front of him. The closer you got to the apartment the noisier he became, as if he was sensing his impending doom, like the walk to a guillotine. He was crying about how he deserved everything that’s coming to him in the same breath that asked for your forgiveness and love.

His complaints didn’t stop in the elevator or on the short walk to your apartment door.

“Noona, I’m sorry!” He pleaded, panting as the door slammed behind him and you faced the black safety of your apartment. “Noona, please look at me. I didn’t…I didn’t m-mean to do that.” He cried, his chest wrecked with sobs as he desperately clawed at his own arms. His shirt wrinkled and bunched around his wrists as he pulled at the threads. He didn’t want to touch you when you were angry, thinking he would be rejected if he did. It was better for him not to know.

“Please don’t hate me.” He pleaded, watching you slowly walk away, placing the shopping bag and wallet on the kitchen counter before slipping your kitten heels off. Your back was turned to him, afraid that when you turn around you would see his bloody knuckles and be confused again. Why did you enjoy seeing that so much?

“I-I’m not like that. I was…I was just scared th-that he was going to hurt you.” He scratched his arms harder, lying through his teeth, seeking for any justification that sounded good in his ears. “I didn’t mean to do that. I-I was…noona please, don’t leave me.” Jungkook pleads through his tears, words coming out strained and rough as if he’d been screaming.

You hear the familiar sound of his knees hitting the floor and your heart drops into your gut where it shatters and melts. You turn, risking a glance at your boyfriend on the floor filled with grief, with anger and most of all, with fear. Namjoon’s blood on his knuckles, placed so gently on his knees make you wonder if the love he held for you was stronger than you’d initially thought.

Jungkook is not like the others. He’s genuine. He’s different. He’s all yours.

You walk over to him, cautious at first, eyes watching his shoulders tremble with the fear of losing you over his impulsive act. He’d clenched his eyes shut, teeth chattering and hands growing cold with fear that you were going to tell him to leave, that you would tell him that you didn’t want him anymore and that you felt sick being with someone as violent, as unstable as he is.

What he didn’t expect was your slender fingers making its way through his scalp, combing his sweat-soaked hair back as he lay trembling at your feet.

“Did it hurt?” You whisper, raking the hair on the sides of his temples. “When you punched him…did it hurt?”

His head moves back and your fingers were left to dry in the open air. He looks up at you, eyes adjusting in the dark, hands wrapped around your calves in the hope to look as small and helpless as possible, as if he hadn’t just broken a man’s nose and publicly humiliated a pregnant woman. The look on your face told him that you were seeking an answer from him and there would be consequences if you didn’t give him one.

“N-No,” he whimpered with utmost honestly. “I was thinking of you…o-of his hands on you and I…I couldn’t feel anything else. I didn’t know what happened until you pushed me.”

Rage blackouts; you remember the term from the college psychology class.

You watched the way he sniffles between sentences, the way his fist rubs against his nose to wipe away the fluids on his face. His cheeks were swollen and pink with embarrassment and tears. And you couldn’t help but think of how powerful it makes you feel.

“You have to believe me, noona.” He pleaded, hands rubbing your calves, wanting you to comfort him. “I’m not a-a bad person. I just…I don’t know what happened to me.” He said, his hands gliding up your knees and thighs before falling back down, scraping dried blood off of his knuckles on your skin. “I’m a good boy. I’m a…a good person. I did it b-because he was going to hurt you. It’s not what it-”

He chokes on his own words, teary eyes searching for forgiveness in your face. A pang of déjà vu hits you when you kneel in front of him. It was like that night all over again – finding Jungkook with a bottle of absinthe on the floor, broken into pieces. Except this time he looked even more frightened, almost panicked by the way his pupils had dilated enough to make his irises pitch black. When you place a hand on his cheek you felt the scorching hot skin tremble beneath you.

His fever seems to intensify with stress. He was falling sick again, in both mind and body.

And you love it.

“You’ve been so bad.” You said, twisting the knife in his gut. Jungkook flinched but he held your gaze. A voice in the back of your mind told you to stop but you wanted to see it all. He would have ripped Namjoon’s limbs one by one had you not stopped him in time. But the truth is, you wanted to see it, this display of affection by your gentle, saccharine boyfriend who looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly. It was the closest thing to pure, unfiltered love.

“W-Why noona?” He sobbed, fisting his shirt over his heart. “Am I s-scaring you?”

You shook your head. “No, baby.”

“Do you want me to leave?” He cried, large globs of tears falling from his sparkling, youthful eyes that held so much delight just this morning. His teeth were visibly gritted, pearly white in the dark. Just the thought of you saying ‘yes’ was already making him curl in pain.

You shook your head once more. This time you place a hand on his thighs and nuzzle your face onto his cheek. Jungkook flinch and freezes, expecting a hit as his breath hitches in his throat. It was only when you exhale into his neck that he feels your limbs trembling. You weren’t frightened of him. You were simply broken by the unexpected rendezvous.

“Did I hurt you?” He questions further between short hiccups, not wanting to disturb your inner turmoil.

“I’m just sad.”

He breaks down in tears, arms wrapping around your body to press you against him. You let him cling onto you and the apathetic woman inside you living on borrowed time was slowly dissolving with each stripe of Namjoon’s blood on your back. It felt like a shot of morphine flew straight to your nerves and released you. Jungkook’s hands were everywhere – on the side of your waist, in the middle of your spine, on your hips – as if he was trying to memorize your shape before you disappear in the darkness.

“I’m s-sorry,” he sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry noona, I won’t do it again. I’m sorry, I’ll be good from now on, I’ll b-be good for you I-”

“I love you so much.” You interrupted. “I love you so much that I’m going crazy.”

He slumps slightly as if he was weakened by your words. Out of all the things you could say to him, of all the ways in which you could scold him – you give him love instead. The relationship you held with him seems to no longer be on the edge of a cliff. Instead it became a cave, a stone that supported this need inside you and Jungkook to feed on each other like parasites but love with the sensitivity of a hummingbird’s wings. It was in this moment of acceptance for Jungkook’s tremulous nature that you understand the meaning of soulmates.

You have been selfish. While he’d stood idly by your side during the days you pine over whether or not to end it all – to turn back to the past and seek an explanation from Yori, to think of the many procedures you would do to your face to be pretty enough for Namjoon’s standards, to let your subconscious live your life for you – you’d taken his kindness as a right rather than a privilege. It had cost him bruised knuckles, fevers, and meltdowns to make you see what was in front of you. He knows you’ve had doubts, as rare as they come, about the relationship since the beginning. The age difference, the fight for control, the lack of trust. While you’d turned away Jungkook had fought for you, in the literal sense, to be the man that is worthy of your love.

The night he hugged a bottle of absinthe to sleep was the door for you to enter and see that yes, this young boy who photographed your wedding pictures is the person you’re meant to be with. He’s obsessive, irrational, pathetic – but he was made for you.

Only You.

“Can you look at me, baby?”

He immediately faces you, eyes boring into your eyes with compassion that was so conflicting from the wild, animalistic energy you saw in the parking lot. You saw it – the slight smile in the corner of his lips as he landed jaw-breaking right hooks into Namjoon’s face. You saw the hands that wrapped around your neck during sex grip your former fiancé’s throat with the intent to kill. On the side, Yori’s shrieks echoed in the lot, resembling those confused guests as your wedding night. The thumping of your heartbeat, the roaring of blood in your ears, the orgasmic thuds of fist meeting broken cartilage over and over again – you liked it more than you can admit.

“You’ve been bad today.” You smooth his hair. “You could’ve gotten yourself in so much trouble…so much trouble.” You grip his arms, sliding your hands down his forearm to lift it between your breasts where you can see, under the glimmer of streetlights from the balcony, the dried blood on his bruised knuckles.

“But I’m so thankful and…I-I’m just so overwhelmed.” You admitted, bringing his knuckles to your lips as you close your eyes. Jungkook’s lips parted, admiring your tranquil face with the strength of an artist worshipping his muse like a deity. “I didn’t know you love me that much…no,” you chuckle, “I didn’t want to believe it. We’re such lonely people…and I was stuck on this thought that we…we’re separate.” You sighed, bringing his fist back to your chest where he could feel your pounding heart behind your ribs. “But…my pain became your pain, right? Is that why…why you did that to him when I grabbed you?”

Jungkook listened closely, silent tears coating his porcelain smooth face. “Y-Yeah noona,” he whimpered, melting at the feel of your heated gaze on his lips. “I couldn’t stand by and watch you b-be humiliated. I h-had to do something…anything…”

You feel his other hand grip your waist and so you maneuver your body to straddle his legs, squeezing him between your thighs. One hand snakes up his chest and settles on the nape of his neck.

“Anything?” You questioned.

He nodded hurriedly, hungry to please. “Yes, noona.”

“Would you do it again if I ask you to? Would you hurt him for me?”

He nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”

“Tell me what you would do to him if I didn’t stop you.”

He looks down with shame, heat spreading across his cheeks as he struggles to control his composure. He hadn’t had a violent spell in years and having you witness it was something he would not be able to live down no matter how you reacted to it. It was immature – it was a sign that he couldn’t control his emotions like a grown man while Namjoon, even after he became a bloody pulp, simply rolled onto his side and spoke.

“I would have…I would have broken his bones.” He whispered at last. “I would have hurt him so bad that he…that he…”

Wouldn’t wake up.

“You would do all of that for me?” You questioned with very little sentiment in your voice that it made Jungkook look at you with wonder. You both knew what you were asking for but you left the unsaid words hang in the air. It would have cheapened it if you had said it out loud. “You would…go that far for me?”

He fumbles with his words, nervous by the way your thumb gently caresses the baby hairs on his neck and even more so by your gaze that suddenly seem to hold so much warmth despite the gruesome topic. If he said no he would be telling you that he is not devoted to this relationship and you weren’t worthy enough. If he said yes he would risk your judgement since you were difficult to read at the moment; you might be disgusted with him afterwards. If he waited too long to answer, like he is doing now, he knew that you already know the answer.

“Yes,” he answered, eyes hardening with purpose. “I’d do anything for you.”

His heart was thundering, and he was sure that his voice was wavering as he spoke. For the longest time you kept your gaze deep into his. The muffled sound of the insomniac city outside was no longer present in the apartment. It was simply you and him.

“Then promise me.” You say, undoing the first half of the buttons on your blouse before lifting the fabric above your head. You threw the shirt behind you and lifted your hand to his face, clawing the underside of his cheekbones to unhinge his jaw. “Promise that you’re going to be here with me because I’m not going to let you go. I’m not gonna fucking let you go even when you beg me to. You’re mine now, do you understand?” You gritted through tears, the humiliation and anger seeping back into your pores like it had in front of Yori. “You’re mine because I…I would do anything for you to stay with me too.”

You couldn’t recognize your own voice. Who was this woman that is speaking to your boyfriend in this way? When did she appear? Why is she saying these things knowing how vulnerable he must be? This woman is whispering in your ears, telling you that Jungkook had declared his utmost love for you and you should do the same for him. This woman knows no bounds and wants it all – passion, ecstasy, pain.

Jungkook is willing to hurt someone else for you. How many men on earth are willing to do that for their partner? Not many. Hell would freeze over before you’ll let someone as loyal, as endearing and as genuine as Jeon Jungkook to walk away just because you couldn’t accept spilling blood as a form of affection. You baby, your protector, your everything. It was time for you to wake up and smell the coffee. You weren’t going to find someone like him anywhere else.

“I’ve always been yours, noona.” He said, bringing his hands to your shoulders to pull down the straps of your brassiere. He was finally beginning to understand that new spark in your eyes. “Do you see now?”

Yes, you do. You see the sparkling poison in his eyes, the lethal touch of his skin that is bound to kill you some day – whether from fear or from love you don’t care.

“I see it.” You whisper, your voice so full of tenderness that Jungkook’s breath hitched in his throat. “I see it all.”

“Oh noona,” he whined, leaning forward to capture your lips with his, his wet tongue sliding over your lips, the roof of your mouth and around your own damp, slippery tongue. You squeak in surprise, hands shaking with the need to touch every inch of your desperate boyfriend. “I was so worried you were going to hate me.”

“I would never,” you gasp when his hands dip under your lace brassiere and grasp your breasts, roughly gripping them to hold his dominance. “It m-made me so happy,” you admitted, “when you were angry. I wanted you to share your pain with me and love me as hard as you hurt him.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, head pounding from his sobs. “I thought I was going to lose you.” He said, feigning anger to fuel the fire that was growing in your belly. Your boyfriend no longer looked panicked. The confidence returned in the tips of his fingers as they expertly moved between the valley of your breasts and lower into the waistband of your skirt. “You’ve been as bad as I was…hitting me, making me beg. Tell me, noona, what else have you been hiding from me? What kind of needs have you been holding back from me?”

“I just want you,” you begged, grinding against him as you lean your forehead on his shoulder. “I want you so bad.”

Jungkook did not hesitate to bring his mouth to your neck. Opening wide, he clamped onto the smooth milky skin, teeth resting against the crevice. Before you can ask why he was staying so still when you’re obviously asking for more he pressed down, the canines of his teeth sinking into your skin with little opposition. Your hands flew to his head, compressing his skull as the dull yet gripping pain pulsed into your shoulder and made you sob into the humid air. Blood fell into his mouth and through your cries you heard the audible gulp interrupting your thoughts. He was drinking you, taking you inside of him and making you stay. He was claiming you with a pain that mimicked the madness inside his head, that thought of you leaving him because of what he’d done.

“Nnngh,” you cried through gritted teeth, hands settling on his broad shoulders as he swallowed another small dose of your life supply.

“There,” Jungkook pulled away. “You’re mine now.”

You could feel the ache intensify into heat on your shoulder, spreading to the rest of your body when his mouth left you. You have never been so filled with love before, stuffed with it. Being with Jungkook have never felt so good until now either. There was no doubt creeping in the gaps of your thoughts anymore, no insecurities, no more wondering whether or not he would run away as soon as a new temptation comes along.

“Let’s be together,” you murmur wincing when his mouth falls over the bite mark only to melt into his arms when his tongue caresses the dips and holes in your skin. “Forever.”

A smile spreads on his lips and he hums in agreement. “Keep your promise, noona. And I’ll keep mine.”

You rub your face into his temples, taking his essence in you and your hands smooth over his shoulders before cupping his chin. You tilt his face up, ignoring the pain in your neck when you turn to look at him from side to side. He looks so adorable, so innocent with those wide eyes, the small scar on his cheekbone illuminated by the city outside. He looked like a mannequin coming to life. You wipe away the small streak of blood on his bottom lip, goosebumps rising on your skin when you think of what else he’s capable of doing for you. As if reading your thoughts Jungkook mouths his answer to the question you left hanging in the air.

‘Yes, noona. I will kill for you.’