#and hopeful. bc theres times when hope feels so fucking useless but no. no. not giving up

[storm-of-feathers]

i wish more people understood the concept of activism burnout and compassion fatigue. you do like genuinely have to pick your battles, and that usually means something local that you can make a real difference with. if you get overwhelmed with every problem nothing is going to change.

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

sometimes i'm so so grateful that i got into the punk scene bc like that i have music and i know there's more people like me and i'm not alone and i can get angry and do something instead of curling up into a ball to cry or just not caring altogether because even with punk that's kinda. hard enough rn in the face of *gestures at the world*

[tabithatwo]

i have kindve a rant abt jackie that id like your thoughts on. whenever people write fics where jackie is like. wholly a dumbass it really irks me. like the most we see of her is in the wilderness, of course shes useless?? shes a normal person, she wasnt trained in survival tactics. theres another rant in there abt how she very much could have adapted but she was depressed and suicidal and i think thats mostly why shes useless, but thats a conversation for another time! but yeah. when shes just ditzy and shit in fics it really rubs me the wrong way. like i follow the hc that shes autistic, and specifically the kind where shes very socially aware but still sometimes fucks up a little. like how usually when shes mean she has no idea that it came off that way. i feel like people took that and twisted it to mean that shes some useless moron thats constantly oblivious and needs to be babied. i hope that made some sense? idk, im just curious if thats something other people have noticed and have a problem w or if im too personally offended by it lmao

Here is part 2 that anon sent separately!

Honestly anon fucking preach lol, that’s my thoughts on it!! I don’t think you phrased anything mean, I get the passion behind it comes from an important place! I tend to really bristle at any women being portrayed as stupid, even when it’s done in a cutesy (read: patronizing lol) manner.

NOW I can get behind a one liner joke like “aww she’s so stupid” about any of the yjs bc they ALL have their dumb moments, usually around EMOTIONAL intelligence! But I know what you’re talking about and I’ve seen it too—portraying her or describing her as likable but fucking dumber than a rock is honestly more annoying to me than the evil genius mastermind take most of the time.

It isn’t supported by anything we have of her character. There’s even a BIG point made with Shauna’s hallucination of her, where Shauna recognizes this sort of unfair impulse to jump to diminishing Jackie’s intelligence. I think that shauna simply feels like she needs one thing that’s just hers, one thing that she’s better at, and in her mind intelligence is the only option. But even she recognizes that’s bullshit. I think that yes shauna is framed as more book-smart than Jackie (honestly shauna is framed as the most book-smart, probably tied with Taissa) but we actually know very little of Jackie’s academic achievement, so it’s sort of up in the air.

But as far as day to day intelligence, I don’t think we’re meant to think Jackie is stupid. If anything, I think the lack of woods participation (which, as you said, is fucking depression and suicidality and fear) can be interpreted negatively as laziness, if one is inclined to interpret it negatively, or a fear of failure, more so than stupidity.

To each their own, I don’t think sort of notably off characterization is malicious unless the person is being cruel about it, but yeah I get annoyed and tend to click away lol and I do think there’s a lot lot lot of misogyny that infiltrates some popular jackie takes.

[narwhalandchill]

hsr 2.1 kit leaks

ok idk how but even w the preliminary aventurine kit leaks i didnt register before seeing a comment on how he would actually just shred in herta+himeko FUA teams for PF too and im just? obsessed actually i Love this

like PF is already in that weird place where sustains are kinda good still but kinda useless but aventurine being an actual FUA sub dps in addition to his shielding is just? so fucking good and will go so well with the never ending follow up after follow up death spiral that himeko and herta inherently bring to PF it should be a massacre 💀💀 i cant wait

anyway his kit looks sick i rly love how its designed. ACTUAL sub dps potential in a sustain finally 😭😭 and how much crit rate (40%) he gets just from reaching 3600 def is just? so delicious. obviously the fact that he will want crit, def, spd and possibly eff res too means you kinda need to invest hard into his build to rly get the most out of him but i love that blonde fucker so. yeah ill commit. i farmed my ass off for my fu xuan to be as stacked as she is i Will do it again 🫡🫡

the eff res hes giving to the team is actually massive too ?? CC immunity to himself when his passive effect is up? shields on skill no ult dependency and shield stacking on teammates being attacked and FUAs (and like. hes not dependent on FUA teams lmao its just going to boost him) just like that???

AND hes fast as fuck somehow like what 😭😭😭😭 bro looks stacked as hell i hope he stays strong. aventurine with that 106 speed rly out there running from the consequences of his antics 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️💀

anyway wow im hype for this bastard i Cannot wait for his animations

as for acheron im. somewhat interested? but not like too pressed abt it for now. her stacking mechanic seems interesting and ive already seen the asset leaks for her red ultimate state (which is like 700% better than her base design) but if you only see that design for a v short time idk how much itll motivate me to get her.

the lack of LC options definitely hurts like. all i realistically have for her is s3 GNSW but thats on kafka rn. ig if i got acheron i prolly wouldnt be running them at the same time but its still food for thought ig

also she really copied neuvillettes homework for that nihility team passive HSJSJSKSKF idk how i feel abt it like w our current cast it kinda feels pretty tricky to genuinely get a strong team going for an actual max stack team for acheron. like run her with pela and what? guinaifen? ig we will see what shes all abt

ig i just dont feel as much of an incentive for a lightning dps for now w kafka but eh i might go for acheron still. i do have a guarantee tho so it might be nice to save it for aventurine straight up bc then i could maybe go for his LC since it gets him even more sub dps potential but who knows

ig only gripe w aventurine (which isnt that big of deal rly) is the current lack of FUA charas like idm building ratio eventually even having daniel (and them having such heavy synergy is very funny. renheng could never 💀) n i could see myself maybe getting topaz even if im not a huge fan of her character (tho i do think shes well written; my mixed feelings r a result of her being complex) but idk. i hope we get more leaks for upcoming FUA charas.

obviously theres xueyi but her FUAs arent That frequent and unironically i wouldnt Want someone like aventurine w his likely frequent FUAs on her team eating away the toughness bar from her so itd only really work against enemies who are quantum weak but not imaginary. but worth thinking abt still. at least herta n himeko will be a guaranteed PF synergy for him so thats hype

and most important of all: def mainstat with double crit we are so back. relics with double crit that half rolled into def we are so back. etc etc etc

[uniquezombiedestiny]

oh who would design such a useless machine..... (thanks bean :3 this song is so fucking good. me song* tbh.)

*us song bc ash is hopeless lmao (not in a bad way!! im just dragging her to have hope!! -? [lol -a])

thinks about owen and bella as this song. man.

lenme get some good lyrics rq o7

it could be better off as one or the other, but combining it is fun. id say this is primarily an owen song.

---

I messed it up

I did my best but sometimes that’s not quite enough - bella <3 shes trying so hard but it seems meaningless after so long tbh. just not quite enough... yet, right? shell just work harder

Siena says it’s not my fault, but I don’t know

I moved too fast and when it came time I could not let go - both of those are owen as fuck (this ones bella too tbh. she cant let go of her childhood yet...). hes never moved on from the "wow the horrors! guess ill become jaded and cold and closed off" phase

And I try to explain but I can’t spell the words right - owen and bella, while varyingly intune with their emotions, find it hard to describe them.

It’s a useless machine, it’s a black car with no headlights - sounds like a description about bella from someone in t589.

And I try and try to fall asleep - owen. depression moment. he wants to dream and sleep forever

Cause things feel fine inside my dreams most of the time - bella <3 shes a big dreamer! she has high hopes where itll all be okay

I can’t tell the difference - owen's kinda muted the world. its all the same to him. bella, atleast right now/in the training team, can ignore the cold reality and live happily here with her training team friends.

And what a waste

A hundred days and change, I threw it all away - owen's stayed the same all along. he's degraded.

With all the progress that I made, I messed it up - from the feeling, moving kid he was to an unfeeling adult.

And when the bed is empty, why do I wake up

If I just think about the different ways to die? - theres so so much violence, so so so many ways to die every day. why is it so on his mind (the timeloop he keeps dying in the timeloop [and the past trauma <3])

And I try to explain but I can’t spell the words right

It’s a useless machine, it’s a black car with no headlights

And I try and try to fall asleep

Cause things feel fine inside my dreams most of the time

I can’t tell the difference

My head’s got a feeling, but what does it mean? - both of themmm. owen tends to not look into his feelings but i dont think he understands them well tbh. this could be fc!bellas dissociation and c127!bellas general feelings of rage and wanting to kill the alternate.

I stay in the water, I never feel clean - both of them @ eachother. they think the others hands are clean (they arent. they both feel guilty)

If I can’t find meaning then why should I dream? - owen. he's never been as much of a dreamer as bella is. there's not much meaning to be found in it. but tbh he is a dreamer he just suppressed it bc its all just some fantasy shit right? its never happening so..... why bother

Oh, who would design such a useless machine? - he designed himself. he thinks its his fault hes becoming "useless."

My body is broken, I can’t even eat - depression... 2! this ones owen baby.

When the going got tough, you decided to leave - this ones fun. this could be actually vengeful bc bella distances herself from others as her story goes on (and owen does the same!! so it could be them @ eachother), but i think this is both of them @ themselves. theyre so guilty <3

So why keep on going if I can’t succeed? - bellas dreams being shattered and such, and owen just... not being happy. hes fine just. fine forever.

Oh, who would design such a useless machine? - they both crashed and burned. why were they made this way?

But enough’s enough

Because there’s no one else to pick the pieces up - bella and her broken dreams. pick them up!!! theyre still there!!!

And I’ve got nowhere else to fall - owen and himself generally. the only way to go now is up.

Because I’m spending too much time asleep

Cause things feel safe inside my dreams - these two are owen too (this ones bella tho!). its safer to just rot away and pretend to be control but theres better ways to live than that!! the light and hope are right there!! the "dreams" could even be c127 itself.

But there must be a difference between the ceiling and the sky - owen, since this is about c127 only. there's more to life than this, isnt there? there has to be. he'll find it himself. the ceiling and sky are the l corp containment unit ceiling and the city's sky, or the sky outside the library

And I try to explain but I can’t spell the words right

It’s a useless machine, it’s a black car with no headlights

And I try and try to fall asleep, but I can’t outrun anything - there's no giving up now. even if he tried, the librarians wouldnt let him

Or anyone till I run out of life - he has to save his friends!!! he could never truly go on without them. if he left them to die/remain distorted forever hed never outrun the guilt

And that’s the only way to die

And that’s the only way to die

And that’s the only way - hope is the only way forward.

[falu-red-dreams]

Jujutsu Kaisen E44

- UGHHHH IM ONLY WATCHING THE NEWEST JJK EP BC ONE OF MY FRIENDS TOLD ME WE WILL BE SO BACK IF HE LIED IM GONNA GET HIS ASS

- :(((( nobara my beloved

- i’m tipsy as hell too fuck this shit i can’t do this

- OOOOOOO THEY CALLED IT A MARIMEKKO (finnish brand :))))))

- torilla tavataan!!!!

- nah but actually why is this start so cute and normal i don’t trust this anime anymore

- NOOOO SHES DEAD

- 🫠 i can’t anymore

- mahito just black flashed??

- i hate him

- i fuckinh hate him acrually.

- he can just die.

- with all due respect,,, where tf has todo been this whole time?

- like wym u come here just now.

- u coulda saved nobara if u had been kinda faster u dickhead

- why does he look so dumb too?

- hhhhhh ok intro now. (i’m lowkey hungry?)

- ahhhh so he was tasked to find gojo. well. good job at that ig.

- ‼️‼️‼️ next part written like 2 weeks later when i’m not drunk and sad and annoyed ‼️‼️‼️

- man i feel so bad for yuuji like

- he’s been thru so much :(

- “sukuna killed so many so i have to save twice as much” MAN UR JUST A HIGHSCHOOLER

- i was gonna say he’s only 16 (or smth) he should’ve been at the club

- BUT HES TOO YOUNG YO EVEN B AT THE CLUB

- motivational speech is slay but i’m still mad at him for being late.

- oh i like this other guys technique

- PLS TELL ME THIS OTHER GUY CAN SAVE NOBARA THERES NO WAY PLS I CANT GET MY HOPES UP NOW

- (i know twitter has spoiled me she hasn’t been back yet so whayever ig)

- jesus christ this fight is confusing me

- yuuji black flash 🥰🥰

- pls tell me mahito just dies now

- miwa called herself useless gege strikes again

- man… mechamiwa lowkey sad but the mf is alr dead 😭

- oh they had the Budget for her crying animation

- oooh kyoto school is otw to shibuya too

- ALSO LATE

- this building? metro? whatever it is. should’ve been broken ages ago.

- again W construction companies‼️

- mahito stop moaning challenge: impossible

- PLS DIE PLS DIE PLS DIE.

- if nobara fully died in vain bc this mf lives after this fight i would never accept it.

- ew? human train 🤢

- todo clapped w his asscheeks

- the amount of exercise these bitches r doing is insane. they just ran up the stairs.

- todo our fav magical girl 😌✨🥰

- 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 THE BLACK FLASH DIDNT DO SHIT.

- now they’re all strong as heck.

- what the hell did mahito even evolve into.

- “let’s kick it up a notch itadori”

- not me immediately thinking of that one Starkid song

[romanarose]

Ese Error Es Cosa De Ayer

Jake Lockley X Reader

Masterlist

Summary: After getting your heart broken at a wedding and being left stranded, Jake comes to your rescue.

A/N. So this story is basically what happened to me this weekend. I was just left sobbing outside the hotel, scared and hurt, and the only thing keeping me together was thinking of Jake helping me. So yeah, there's a lot of useless backstory and this incredibly self-indulgent but this event hurt me really, really badly and I needed to write this to comfort myself. So if you hate it, I'm sorry but not sorry. This was for me. I needed to pretend that somewhere, there was a guy who thinks I'm pretty, who thinks I'm kind and would actually respect me enough not to abandon me alone. Shit hurt me really bad and it was scary. No Jake Lockley came for me, but my friend did <3

Anyway, the title is from a Selena song that will be in this fic. Reader speaks some Spanish bc I am learning via doulingo and spainish language music and just from the friends I grew up around so I incorporated some. Translations aren't exact due to the way translation works but I tried my best.

WARNINGS: Broken heart, men being shitty, a lil bit smutty at the end?

IF YOU WANT A PART TWO WITH FULL SMUT, COMMENT AND REBLOG!!! Reblogs are super super important in tumblr world, theres no algorithim like on tik tok. Thank you! I feel way better after writing this

PART 2 IS UP

**********************************************************

You felt like a fucking idiot. Again.

After all these years, no matter how much you had moved on and no matter how little you thought about him and despite having no romantic feelings towards him today, he still managed to hurt you.

Again!

It had been 3 fucking years since you had any contact with him whatsoever, but when you got the wedding invite for two of your old friends, you immidetly knew you’d see him. His name was David, and he was beautiful. He had these big blue puppy dog eyes and a bright smile that, when focused on you, made you feel like you were the center of the universe. You know the type. You all worked together in college and you quickly caught feelings, before you realized he had a girlfriend. Well, you’re not a homewrecker, so you minded your business. The problem is, you and David had already become friends, and you had become friends with a group of people at the resteraunt. So, you spent many nights with them at bars and watching movies and going to summer events, falling in love despite yourself.

You met David’s girlfriend, Sadie pretty quickly, and you liked her, that’s what really complicated things. Well, that and the fact David and his girlfriend, were miserable. That wasn't you projecting, everyone knew it. You liked both of them individually, but together they were horrible. Both of them would confide issues in you, making things painfully hard when you realized you loved him. And oh, was there so much to love. He was the picture of selfless kindness. But by the end of the year, you felt like boundaries had been crossed. You no longer felt comfortable with trying to fix their relationship, you felt like you were holding it together. 

After one particulary drunk night right before you graduated college, you cried in a barn with another friend about him again, you decided it was time. So you graduated, and left the state. You and Sadie shared facebook comments here and there, but David was no contact. Things ended on a good note. You said goodbye to him one night out at the bars and danced the night away with Sadie. Clean cut. You moved on. You were excited to see them again. They were engaged now. You hoped they worked out their issues, but really it probably had something to do with them having a kid. Oh well, that’s their business.

So why, pray tell, were you crying on the crub of a hotel at midnight?

He had ignored you almost all night. Any attempt to talk to him was cut before you could open your mouth. He always seemed to go somewhere else. Groomsmen duties and whatnot. He had other people to talk to. When you saw him standing up there on the altar with his friend, you were delighted and relieved to realize that, although he was as beautiful as the day you left, you felt nothing but the warmth of nostalgia. But when you realized he was ignoring you, when you realized he wouldn’t meet your eye, you were desparate. You needed something, you needed him to ackowlege you somehow. There were brief moments when, after hours of vying for his attention, he gave you a crumb. You felt like a teenager, following her crush like a puppy. 

One of those little crumbs is what led you here.

The night wasn’t too cold, thank god. A nice September evening to be married on. You were in a rust-red dress that showed off your breasts in a classy-but-sexy way and appropriately formal for a hotel reception. There was a chill, but you had a thin shawl wrapped around your shoulders. And thankfully, you had opted to wear boots. Boots with insoles because despite being young, your feet were shit. This would come in handy, because somehow you had to get to your hotel with no access to your money and your car parked at none other than David’s. He fucked you over, leaving you in this position, crying off your make up. 

You had your knees pulled in, your arms crossed on the top and head buried in the arms, sobbing. Bawling was probably a better word. You felt like a fucking idiot for letting him hurt you again. 

You heard a car approach and you tuck your toes in further just to be safe. You heard the window roll down. Great. You thought. Someone to witness my humiliation.

“You alright, Muñeca?”

You look up. It was the oddly handsome limo driver for the wedding. You had chatted with him at a few points during the night. After he drove the wedding party to the hotel, they invited him in for the food and drinks. His name was… Jake? Yeah, Jake. You teased him for drinking on the job (although you think he had maybe one at most), and although he took the gentle ribbing, he also explained that he was technically off the clock. Since it was his own limo business, he’s repaying the bride and groom for their hospitality by driving them to their hotel at the end of the night which was… 45 minuets ago? What was he doing here?

“Cariño, are you okay?” He repeated when you didn’t answer him.

You were exhausted. The dancing and drinking and crying took it all out of you. 

He frowns, stepping out of the limo and taking of his jacket, he wraps it around your shoulders. You didn’t realize your teeth had been chattering. It feels good on your arms. 

You barely manage a thank you.

Jake is slightly bent over, scanning you as you dodge his eyes “Did someone hurt you?” He asks softly, but firm.

You shake your head. “No. Not like that.”

This did was not encouraging. Jake had come back to the venue to grab his flat cap he had left on a table when he saw a girl crying on the street. Never a good sign. When he pulled up closer, even before he saw your face, he realized it was you; the pretty girl who had given him a cookie. This was the nicest wedding party he had ever served. He had never been invited in for the reception before, and everyone was encouraging him to the dance floor. But you, you had brought him a cookie. Why that had stood out to him, he didn’t know. You had talked to him a few times during the night, and had even pulled him to dance the Cotton Eye Joe. He didn’t do the dance (line dancing wasn’t his thing) but he marveled at you as you lead the crowd. You knew the dance and taught everyone the moves, guiding the direction and flow. You had a broad smile on your face the whole time, eyes wide and he just watched, soaking in your lust for life, curly hair flopping around wildly with every move.

Now here you were, crying. He was willing to bet it had something to do that that guy you were following around like a lost puppy all night. He had watched you as you watched him. The man hadn’t heard you when you called ‘Are you going to talk to me at all tonight?’ but Jake did. He didn’t understand why he was ignoring such a pretty, fun loving girl, but when he saw him with another girl, he connected the dots. Jake was willing to bet he could take your mind off him, even if he wasn’t 6’4, but when a slow song came on, the last song, you were gone. The song ended before he could ask you to dance. He partially wished he hadn’t offered the couple a free ride, but the happy young couple was as deserving of a treat as anyone, so he took them home. Jake resigned himself that you had left and he lost his opportunity. Now, seeing you sobbing on the curb, sealing a dance might have been the furthest thing on his mind. When you briefly glanced up at him when he rolled down the window, your eye makeup was all over your face. Not just falling down a stream of tears like in movies, but all over your nose and forehead and temple… and arms and hands. You had been hurt badly. When you didn’t answer him, he stepped out of his limo, trying to see if you had been hurt. In the dark, it was hard to see if you had any bruises, seeing as your make up was everywhere.

“Did someone hit you?”

You shook your head, looking at the ground.

“Did someone touch you?”

You shook your head again.

“Then what happened? A quien tengo que lastimar?” 

A 3rd head shake. “You don’t have to hurt anyone. I was an idiot, that's all.”

“You speak spanish?” He had said that part mostly for himself.

You shrug, the sequins in your shawl shimmer in the street light. “I took Spanish in college and I listen to Spanish language music so it kind stuck… comes in handy at work…”

A pause. “Why are you crying?”

“I told you, I was stupid.”

You said it with such conviction that Jake felt bad for you. “Is it that boy.”

You groan and throw your head on your arms again, crying. 

“Hey now, hey… merida!” Jake panicked. He could handle comforting, he was not good with crying women, unless there was someone nearby that he could punch.

“I must’ve looked really pathetic if you even noticed.”

Does he put his hand on your shoulder? Your hand? Pat your back?? “What happened? I saw he… well he was ignoring you…” He wanted to say I’m sure no one else noticed, I was just watching you intently because you might be the prettiest thing I’ve seen in years. But he didn’t think this would help.

You continue to not look at him. He was so fretfully beautiful, you were sure you couldn’t take it if you saw him in the state you were in. “Yeah. We used to… it’s complicated. But now he’s acting like we were never even friends…”

“Muñeca, I promise you, a man whose attention you have to fight for isn’t a man you want…”

Finally, fucking finally, she looked at Jake, her pretty eyes meeting his. There was the faintest smile quipping on one side of her mouth. It was small, but it reached her eyes. Good, the light was still there. “Thanks mom.” There it was, there was the gentle teasing she had given him sporadically throughout the night when she wasn’t chasing the boy. “But that’s not why I’m crying. Well, that's part of it I guess, but if that was it, I could’ve just waited until I got in my hotel room.”

Jake’s frown deepened. “Then what happened.”

Jake saw your lip quiver. “He left me.” Your voice cracked, a few fresh tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over and onto your dress. Jake looked at you quizzically, urging you on. “His fiance, she got in a fight with a bridesmaid and was leaving. She started walking so I just let her take my car so she’d get home safe, and Davy was supposed to take me home at the end of the night so I could get my car. And he just fucking left and I can’t get ahold of them and I’m stranded here, and I can’t get a lyft because my card is frozen-” Your voice is breaking and there are small choked sobs peaking through the words. “-because the bank seems to think the card was stolen, and I’m stuck here in a city I don’t know!” You break down again. “He couldn’t even look at me all night and then he just fucking leaves me alone here! Like I’m fucking nothing to him!” Your head is in your hands, body wracking in sobs once more.

Jake takes a leap and softly pulls you into a side hug, careful to only touch enough for comfort and not make you nervous. “Pendejo” Jake mutters to himself. He allows you to cry it out again, but as you calm down he starts speaking “That’s a dick move on his part, Cariño. He was going to let his fiancé walk home alone, you were very kind and let her take your car and he leaves you alone here? In a city, I’m guessing you don’t live in?” You shake your head. “Yeah, el hijo de perra es en nino, no un hombre. It’s dangerous out here alone. That’s childish behavior on his part. But-” Jake stands up, extending a hand to you. You take it, feeling the leather as he pulls you up “Don’t worry about getting there, I’ll take you.” He smiled softly. (The son of a bitch is a boy, not a man)

“Jake, you don’t have to-” You start to protest. As shitty as you felt getting left, you also felt awkward with charity.

He held up a finger to stop you. “If you feel uncomfortable getting in a limo with me, you can text the bride or groom where you’ll be, or tell a worker at the venue or a friend. But I’m not leaving you out here.” He looked at you intently “I’m not him.”

You consider this. You hadn’t even thought that you should be nervous alone with a strange man. You trusted him inexplicably. “No estoy seguro… I don’t know if he’s going to answer the door. They aren’t answering my texts.”  (I'm not sure...)

“We’ll figure it out, it’ll be okay.” He looked at you, pleading with you to take him up on it.

“Okay...”

You gave a small smile, and he returned it with a grin. “Perfecto, but first…” He leaned into his limo to grab a few things. You couldn’t help yourself, the way his butt looked in those pants… oh shit he saw you looking. Is that a smirk? Fuck, he’s cute. “Here.” He handed you a few tissues and a small trash bag after you blew your nose. Then he pulled a makeup wipe.

“Why do you have a makeup remover?” You teased. “Pulling a Billy Joel Armstrong with the eyeliner?” Honestly, you’d like too see that…

He chuckled “No, I just have a lot of women in my limo, I like to come prepared. Happy brides and heartbroken teenage girls at prom make good use of it.”

“That’s nice of you.”

Jake shrugged “It’s good business” but you had a feeling it was more than that. “Tilt your head up a bit for me.”

“I can-”

“Up.”

You obeyed. Jake took his gloves off and gently held your face as he cleaned off your face of all the black and brown of your eye make up. As he carefully turned your face in the streetlamp light, you studied his features. He really was handsome, sharp jaw, beautiful eyes and plush lips, oh his lips…. You could imagine how they’d taste… He took a tissue and ever so slightly dabbed it on the wet wipe, then went under your eye. He saw you looking confused “I didn’t want to accidentally get the chemicals in your eye.” He tilted your face by your chin as he finished cleaning you up. “Bella…” he muttered. Shit, was that outloud? Lastly, he took your arms and wiped them down, clean of the makeup you rubbed off onto them. (beautiful)

He threw the items away and held your face in his hands, so close you thought he was going to kiss you. Oh god, you wanted him to kiss you. And Christ, he wanted to kiss you too. So, so bad. But he had a job to do. Generally, when he came to women's rescue, the circumstances were more dramatic and the men a whole lot worse. But you didn’t deserve this. You were a sweet girl, kind. You were only in this position because you let his fiance take your car! And this is how he repays you?

He almost moved in, but stopped himself “Listen to me, Muñeca.” And you were, oh boy you were listening. You hung onto every word. “Never let them see you cry.” 

He swiped his thumb over your cheek, so close to your lips, but not quite. You nod. He takes you around the side and opens the door. You get in and he knees down, gathering the train of your skirt from the ground and safely into the car. He glances up at you, you are nearly in tears again. “What’s wrong?” he asked, panicked.

“Nothing. You’re just… very sweet, is all.” 

He stands up and leans into the car, once again holding your cheek “It’s what you deserve” And he kissed the top of your head. You felt like you could explode. Jake looked at you, briefly frantic thinking he crossed a line. You were beaming up at him. He smiled back and returned to his seat. “You said you like Spanish language music? You like Selena?”

You scoff “Me guesta Selena Quintanilla Perez?!” (Do I like Selena Quintanilla Perez?!)

Jake chuckled “Stupid quesion, I get it. Here, I think this one is relevant.” He put on Si Una Vez 

“Si una vez dije que ti amaba

Y que por ti la vida daba

Si una vez dije que ti amaba

No lo vuelvo a hacer

Ese error es cosa de ayer

(If I once said that I loved you

And that for you I'd give my life

If I once said that I loved you

I won't do it again

That mistake is something of yesterday)

You gave him the address and listened to Selena in silence. When you pulled up to the house, you see your car. “Ahí está. With all the stickers.” You turn over and see him shaking his head and you feel anxious. “What? You think the stickers are silly?” (there it is.)

Jake turns to you, confused. “What?! No, why  would I-” he shakes his head again, why would he judge you on tonight of all nights? “They are cute, Muneca.”

“Then why are you shaking your head?”

“He walked past your car and just… did nothing. He knew damn well what he was doing.” You heard the creak of the leather as he gripped the steering wheel. “He should be waiting outside for you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll go knock, see if he answers.” You go to open the door, but you feel Jake’s hand on yours, urging you to turn to him.

He’s looking at you, compelling you with his beautiful, large brown eyes “Remember. No dejes que te vea llorar, Princesa.” (Don’t let him see you cry, princess)

“Okay.” You whisper, too busy looking at him.

You go to the door and knock. And knock. And knock. 5 minutes go by. Nothing fucking asshole. You feel the tears come, but you remember Jake’s words. Don't let him see you cry. You take a deep breath and go to knock again. Before you can, Jake is beside you, banging on the door “HEY ASSHOLE!” He shouts.

“Jake” You grab his arm. “The neighbors”

He turns to you bewildered. How do you still care about the neighbors after everything that happened? He continues banging, but doesn’t yell. He notices your arm is still wrapped around his.

Another 5 minutes go by and nothing. His knuckles hurt.

“Jake, it’s fine. I’ll deal with it in the morning. I have my room key, it’s okay."

When he turns to you to protest, but you look so weary, he can tell you want to go to bed. “Okay Carino, I can take you home.”

Guilt wells up in your stomach again. He’s been so, so nice. He’s been a gentleman and more, you didn’t want to keep him any more. “Esta bien, I’ll just walk, my hotel isn’t far.” (it’s fine)

He looked at you like you were a crazy person. “Are you insane? I’m not- god. I’m not leaving you.” It was 1 am.

“It’s really fine, it’s super close.”

He studied your face. You were a good liar and you hoped it worked. “See, that’s odd, because this is a residential area, and the nearest hotel is 2 miles at least. Don’t lie to a driver about my city, Carino.”

You sigh, and let him lead you to the car, once again opening it for you and helping you inside before getting back in his seat. “Which hotel?” he asks.

You hesitate, looking away, but you feel his eyes burrowing into you as he starts the car and begins driving. Eventually you answer, “The Hilton on 33rd and Maple.” You practically mutter, knowing you were caught.

“Jesus! That’s ten miles from here! You were just going to walk?” To his horror, you break down into sobs. “Mérida, lo siento Querida, No quise gritar” (Shit, I’m sorry dear, I didn't mean to yell)

You shake your head. “No es por eso que” (that’s not it)

“¿Por qué lloras?” (Why are you crying?)

“I feel like a fucking idiot!” You shout, looking out the passenger window and turning away from him. Jake didn’t speak, allowing you to keep going. “When I saw him today, I was happy because I didn’t feel anything for him, ya no lo amo… But when I tried to say hi, because we were friends, he just gave me nothing and that just… I don’t know. I just wanted him to look at me and talk to me like we used to, I wasn’t trying to steal him!… I don’t know…” (I don’t love him anymore)

“You were friends, years ago, si?”

“Si.”

“You wanted to talk to an old friend. You wanted him to treat you like a person.”

You flop your head back on the seat. “I didn’t think he could hurt me again. I didn’t think he was capable of hurting me, not like this. He was never like this.” You finally turn to Jake, his face beautiful in the moonlight. “The first time I went out with him, I got super drunk, he wouldn’t let me take an Uber home because he was worried what would happen if I passed out… He drove and made sure I got home safe... 3 years latter this happens. I don't what changed about me, I don’t know what I did to-”

“Stop, please… don’t do that.” He glanced over to you briefly. You were still the most beautiful thing he’d seen in a long time, even so sad. “I don’t understand how you look like that and he managed to ignore you, but I promise you, there were a dozen other guys who couldn’t keep their eyes off of you all night.”

You look to the floor, smiling but unable to take a compliment. “Thank you.”

“Carino?” He called and you look up at him again, he’s as sharp and stunning as ever. “I was one of them.” The sincerity in his voice, the longing in his eyes… you knew he was serious.

You smile brightly at him, your previous heartbreak long forgotten. “I’m sorry I didn’t… I was a little preoccupied, but I think you are kinda… stunning.” You blush, trying not to look away. His eyes were still on the road, but he looked at you every chance he got.

“You are… so beautiful. He should count himself lucky you ever looked his way” he pulled into the hotel parking lot and came around to open the door for you. This time, when he took your hand to help you out of the car, he didn’t let go. Taking your other hand in his, he leaned closer. “I was going to ask you to dance at the end.”

Your heart was beating wildly out of your chest, you wanted to come up with a clever quip or a tease… but you couldn’t. “And what… What would you do when the song ended.” Not your smoothest moment, but it worked.

He smiled fondly at you, happy for an easy transition. “This.” Jake cupped your face in his hands, holding you still as he moved in, your mouth opening to him. This kiss was immediately far from chaste, it was deep and needy, his tongue slippin into your mouth and your hands wrapped around his firm back. He pushed you on the limo, gently guiding your back down onto the hood where he came onto you, his thigh sliding between your knees. His hands found yours sides and caressed your body, mindful of remaining respectful but god, he had to feel you. “You are so fucking gorgous, so damn beautiful. Soy muy afortunadode tocarte  (I am so lucky to touch you)

You wanted him, you wanted him so fucking bad, you could feel yourself getting wet from the subtle friction of his thick thigh ever so slightly touching between your legs. When his mouth moved to your neck, you took the opportunity to use our mouth to plant small kisses along his jaw and cheek as you worked up your courage.

“Jake?”

He mumbled and small hm? As he worked further down your neckline.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” you ask, feeling the muscles on his back.

“Oh, Carino,” His hand slid up your dress and his thumb grazed over your nipple, teasing you. “I would like nothing more in this world than to show you all the attention your body deserves."

THANKS FOR READING! Come check out my other fics, including more Moon Knight fics on my masterlist

You can support my work at Buy Me a Coffee or $romanarose

[cubedmango]

oh god ok so what i did was just rewatch the episode and wrote thoughts as they came along but that made it really song so IM VERY SORRY IN ADVANCED BUT I HOPE U ENJOY READING THOUGHTS 1) adachi taking care of kurosawa by getting him the day off makes me want to bite something theyre so sweet 2) kurosawas worries in the beginning IM JUST. I NEED HIM TO CATCH A BREAK SO MUCH BUT I KNOW THAT IS NOT COMING THIS EP 3) i will beat the other companys ass up for bringing everyone so much stress (1/???)

KFHDKFHKDKF DONT BE SORRY reading these asks was so fun, and A Huge Mood on everything u said fr 😔 (gonna put the rest of them here under the cut bc it got long fhsjhd)

(2/?) 1) adachi going up to talk to the other company when kurosawa isnt there yet bc he wants to defend him like saying he didnt have any documents with IM JUST. LIKE THINKING HOW MUCH HE'S GROWN.... speaking so clearly and everything 2) but god the way he came in and was like adachis worried abt me like sir im glad ur happy (?) abt that but ;v; the ppl who want to bite ur head off - so endeared by rokkaku being like why didnt u let me talk to them >:( hes everything to me

THAT THING W ADACHI EXACTLY !!!! HIS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT SOBS LOUDLY........

kurosawa, hungover and deeply sad and having to come into office on his day off: but i still have to be gay though . adachi cares abt me wow <3

ROKKAKU MY BELOVED HES SOOO [incomprehensible noises] hes my little son i care he

(3/?) 1) kurosawa not wanting adachi to come along bc he doesnt want him to see him like that like ?? hey?? u stop thinking like that- BUT LIKE I REALLY LIKE HOW WHEN EVERYONES TALKING ABT KUROSAWAS MISTAKE... adachi is the first to speak up for him because yeah!!! ur right!! everyones asking him for help!! and rokkaku being like we're depending so much on kurosawa!! AND IM JUST. HOW IT PARALLELS THE TIME IN THE COMPANY RETREAT WHEN KUROSAWA STOOD UP FOR ADACHI....

YEAHHH THE EP 4 PARALLELS and adachi actually reminding everyone that kurosawa is also Just Some Guy Who Makes Mistakes is ..... smth smth park bench scene flashbacks cries

(4/?) 1) glad urabe was like we should take care of each other like yeah and WHEN URABE WAS LIKE THATS TRUE FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN MEN IT MADE ME LOSE MY SHIT like yep! close friends! and i also lost it how like right after rokkaku was like let me go! if theres a fight we'll outnumber them! LIKE ITS ALWAYS ABOUT FIGHTS WITH U.... hes so unhinged 2)kurosawa being upset that adachis protecting him like cmon man...ur not useless!!!!!! adachi saying who protects who doesnt matter like yes go off adachi

urabe said "u two look like a couple. a couple of besties!"

rokkaku always down to throw hands no matter what universe its beautiful

UR RIGHT ADACHI...... U BOTH PROTECT EACH OTHER..... WAILS.............

(5/?) 1) kurosawa is so ridiculous getting like jealous of tsuge holding onto adachis shoulder and stuff even if i have to acquiese that hes right them suddenly not talking to each other is a lil eyebrow raising 2) also adachi buying time for kurosawa so he can send an email so true <3 we love to see it- LIKE WHAT KUROSAWA DID I WAS LIKE YEAHHH LETS GO!!! u go make sure its no longer ur problem 3) AND JUST. adachis presence gave kurosawa the ability to do this. like wow... his strength for real

kurodachi power couple-ing their way into getting back at the other company so true their brains are so massive. personally i loved adachi finding the footage himself in like 10 seconds flat and then he goes to the other guys and says "im not good w that stuff" its so fucking funny. king shit

(6/?) 1) GOD AND HOW KUROSAWA SAID HE WAS SO HAPPY THEY BOTH HAVE THEIR OWN SILENT UNDERSTANDING NOW LIKE THATS SO ENDEARING HOW HES HAPPY ABT IT BUT ALSO. YEAH. 2) them just holding hands and taking a walk rlly made me feel a type of way like my god its so sweet i cant believe these two- when adachi was telling him how he didnt believe it at first bc kurosawa was perfect and how he sees himself as boring and kurosawa instantly was like youre great too they make me sick in such a positive way

THE HAND HOLDING GODDDD adachi being comfortable enough letting it happen in public made me Scream . also i hc'd maybe he wanted to bc he thought it might be the last time he gets to do it ..... Haha :)

THE FUCKIGNGJDNGJ KUROSAWA IMMEDIATELY DEFENDING HIM AAAUGGHH hes literally finding out magic is real and his bfs been reading his mind his whole time AND YET???? HIS FIRST INSTINCT IS TO COMFORT ADACHI???????? i hate these two i hate them (real)

(7/8) 1) AND HOW KUROSAWA WAS LIKE WAIT THATS NOT THE POINT AND LIKE ASKING FOR HELP. 2) adachi being like so amused abt how kurosawa had such odd thoughts like god theyre so in love i cant believe them 3) ADACHI TELLING HIM ALL THE THINGS HE REMEMBERS ABT KUROSAWA AND HOW AT FIRST HE THOUGHT IT WAS STRANGE BUT THEN IT EVENTUALLY MADE HIS HEART BEAT FASTER LIKE. IM SO UNWELL. SO FUCKING UNWELL. LIKE HE THINKS EVERYTHING ABT HIM IS CUTE LIKE CMONNN I NEED TO PUNCH THE AIR FROM THIS

all those flashbacks got me so bad i swear esp the forehead kiss one i had to lie down....... these two make me so sick i cant handle it

(8/8) AND. AND. AND. THE CALLBACK TO KUROSAWAS CONFESSION. THE PARALLELS ABT HOW THIS IS ALL SO MUCH AND RESPECTING WHATEVRE CHOICE IS MADE. IM JUST SO. how did u handle this at the time how. -- IM REALLY SORRY I RLLY DID JUST SEND 8 ASKS I HOPE THEYRE SOMEONE READABLE

THE EP 7 CONFESSION PARALLEL TOOK ME OUT I CANT BELIEVE THEY DID THAT........... i did not handle it well i spent the whole week up to ep13 coming up with . So many possible ideas for what could happen next it was A Time . the actual ep13 made me insane tho its too good pls look forward to it

FKHSFKJD AGAIN DW !!! ur always welcome to scream abt cm in my inbox its v fun seeing other ppl react to the radio drama hehehe

[cailansbreastplate]

my fried plays dao: part two

@eiion is playing dao again here’s some quotes (part one)

oh you are a twink okay i’m gonna be an elf

WHY DON’T YOU HAVE HIPS? you can’t birth a child with those

the warden: ‘greetings’ lio: don’t talk to me

talking about abilities stealing ?? i’m gonna get that 

king cailan: the wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks lio: you will benefit greatly with me in your pants

is the joining ritual joining cailan’s dick in my ass ?

“the king likes to spend time with his soldiers” i can be your soldier

alistair: “has duncan told you about me? nothing bad i hope” no he just told me how flat your ass is

walks past the hanging corpses awww, i’m sorry guys, do you want me to tickle your feet while i pass?

oh, i can’t even go in the water, i’m- allergic

okay alistair- something amazing happens when you close your mouth

sees the ogre in the tower of ishal oooh i didn’t know you were coming to thanksgiving ??

woow you’re the alpha? well i’m the sigma

god, you named your son sandal ? do you hate him ?

is zevran canonically bi ? theres no way this man doesnt have a bit of fruit

after alistair tells the warden about him being a royal bastard "lol sorry your parent’s didn’t want you and you had to keep your identity secret from the king (your brother) ANYWAYS WANNA FUCK” 

“what about a little... more personal reward” i don’t know i’m not really interested in selling my body- BUT I WILL

insufficient skill you stupid little fucking elf you are useless your pointy ears give you nothing

alright gang, we’re leaving. and dog

alistair keeps glowing bc of a status effect STOP. YOU GO STAND IN THE CORNER AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU’VE DONE. YOU’RE IN TIME OUT

how old is bevin? cause he sounds like he could be between the ages of 11 and 23

why is your voice so low ? your balls haven’t dropped yet ! HIS VOICE IS LOWER THAN ALISTAIR’S

i feel bad about stealing your books :(( eh i will take your knowledge

[farty-city]

inside bo burnham review no one asked for

i enjoy other peoples commentary and i was writing down my first thoughts anyway so here it is

inside

first song/intro song

i like the phone screen on him, very reflective of how we have had phone screens on us

“roberts been a little depressed” osnskjdnfs

they were right “daddys made you some content so open wide” hjbfafn

intro

oh my god he looks awful

but like in a cute way

maybe

healing the world with comedy (second song)

the canned and queued laugher no exactly… is it a symbol or is it just funny.. who's to say. 

it think its a good first song, establishing he knows what he is doing is kind of useless 

“the indescribable power of your comedy”

he looks like marc maron rn

i like the synthed voice and synthesizer

the jesus allusion … yeah

“i'm a special kind of white guy”

this feels like he knows how he is perceived by fans.. Make happy was too much

his fucking dancing fksjdnfksj

i think he did a good job looking manic

the lasers lmao

Side 1

Bo made a huge gamble releasing this like,,, what if you just stumbled upon it and this was ur first introduction to him..

I bet its like when i comment dumb things on instagram comments and get that rush of hehehehe

NO NOT BO DEVELOPING BILLIE EILLISH VOWELS

Also this is exactly what he wanted like,, he just wanted to make his things and not deal with the crowds so..

To think i was like finding scraps of him performing at largo and stuff and now,, so much content

life imitates art

the way he's literally what he wrote hgbkdf

there is no authenticity with cameras

suicide ?

 facetime with my mom tonight

the blue light.. Yeah

o hblue like sad

i don't know how i feel about the electric music but i guess its no different than whatever else i listen to

this is sad wow

still catchy etc

side 2

i wonder if here will be any fart jokes

that is how the world works (songs)

the huge mess and then him in a sweater

this is reminiscent of that walmart muppets

he became tim minchin with a sock puppet

the “yes… yes sir” stoppp 

jkgdsnfijwkensfosnf

qbejfnjne

nerjgnoejns

bo making a political statement and a metaphor for activism and then making it weirdly kinky

brand consultant (bit)

man bun

i have to believe he filmed it with the beard because quarantine vibes and also bc he was tired of being seen as a child

white womans instagram (song)

i did not like that intro

BO AND GLASSES THANK GOD

the daisies wow just wow

underwear

“white womans instagram” or “bo burnham becomes a girlboss”

i like that he didn't lose his cadence like the way the rhymes are you can still tell its him

i don't get the mom part sorry

is it like how people are very superficial but also very personal on their instagrams

this part was legit sad

side 3

i wonder how he felt with cameras constantly on him

Although this is the point hes trying to make

lol seinfeld moment (bit)

unpaid intern (bit and song)

“barely people somehow legal” was so smooth woW

omg he was scatting

he was a man who would scat

oh my god what great news

the react clip omg

i cant believe he did that oh my god

observation/critisism and response to the “can anyone shut the fuck up” 

and as i realized what he was doing he was like “i have this need for everything i make to have a deeper meaning” oh my god

now the question is how long will this go on?

jeffrey bezos (song)

idk its catchy

and then theres him like sleeping and talking which kind of is part of the jeff bezos song

bug eyes salamanders hehe

sexting (song)

i do believe this is just a silly song 

the earrings tho omg

sounds like post malone hbkjdsnfskj

idk its still about like intimacy in quarantine and that stuff..

the knife (bit)

i know hes copying like other youtubers but like,,, what

stuck in a room (song)

the intro is very funny and relatable

classic bo i love it 

i will say this special has been more reflective but i suppose it has to be

���look whos inside again”

i like the end too, this is all a fabrication

this is the clip where hes staring at the projection of himself from his old youtube videos which is sort of more like an ending to the “stuck in my room” song

 sorry (song)

i love the 80’s style music and its like zumba

oh this is like an apology song

“father please forgive me for i did not realise what i did, or that id live to regret it” what a catchy line

i would say this is another more “classic” bo song where its self aware and funny

“my closet it chalk full of stuff that is vaguely shitty” 

camera falling

this deserves its own bullet because its silly

i'm turning 30 (bit and song)

i remember him talking about this on a podcast and like,, damn i didn't know this also happened LOL

i really like how he did the lighting 

“stupid fucking ugly boring children”

suicide talk (1)

this is interesting i like the use of the projection

this is something that could never have happened onstage

just like with the it being projected on him

i guess it could but it would have to be done differently and probably hed have to make it funnier to make it more engaging

intermission

i just checked this is about the halfway point.. Mh

i don't wanna know (song)

“i thought it’d be over by now”

i wish this was longer but i kind of like how its just a little snippet and then the cut

video game (bit)

“i guess i’ll cry again”

“is the dude big or is the room small” lol

hm depression

 feelin like shit (song)

ohh the lighting is fun again

this is the tone shift i suppose

the feels like supalonely and the new kind of music

atl

:(

panic attack 

everything all of the time (song)

feels like brandon rogers 

i enjoy this

this feels like “welcome to youtube” grew up

“a little bit of everything all of the time”

“apathys a tragedy and boredoms a crime”

ok olivia rodrigo

finishing the special (bit)

these feel like diary entries but as standup

interesting choice

jeffery bezos (2)

Why the seaweed suit

Where did he get that

the digital space (bit)

suit up, gather what is needed, and return to the surface

damn

pirate map anfdkjfnskjd

this was so stupid (affectonate)

that funny feeling (song)

the campfire vibes 

kenny loggins

i don't get it..

is it about childhood, is it about the present?

i think its talking about the end of content? 

“the end of culture”, to quote make happy

change and not liking it 

“we were overdue, but it will be over soon”

if the second half of the special is like a panic attack this song is like a momentary pause before it gets worse

“so ive been working on this special”/breakdown 

this was .. uncomfortable and genuine which i'm sure is why he kept it

all eyes on me (song/rant)

another sad thing to watch.. damn

me trying to tell if the audio was from make happy

i think he was trying to make it as if the audio was from make happy 

this feels.. familiar

and obviously that is the point

“come on in the waters fine”

the use of autotune during the talking part... yeah

sad that he was gonna make another special… and it would have been totally different than this

i’ve decided i like the homage to make happy

It feels like hes made peace with it

the montage of him waking up and the “i think i'm done”

and then of course the ending where he's watching it over to remind us that its all fabricated

possible ending song/ “i promise to never go outside again”

ngl he looks good in the shirt with the haircut hehe

which i feel like is what he wants up to notice

and then like not think after we saw all his breakdowns

“i want to hear you tell a joke when no ones laughing in the background”

i really like the medley

Final thoughts

I want a blooper reel, but this doesn't seem like the kind of special

I also wonder if the songs will be on like apple music, but again, doesn't seem like the kind of special

I'm happy for him, he got to be honest and open and show us the sort of panicky stuff

this self aware comedy is exactly the stuff that i think will be making a comeback in the next decade.  John better be pulling up with more deconstructed comedy. 

I hope this has given him peace

[beomglocks]

terror ave. ; c.bg

warnings and other: um?, theres a serial killer, murder is mentioned, nothing too detailed, not proofread bc i wrote this at 4am

"we advise everyone to be in complete lockdown as there have seemed to have been reports of a serial killer gone loose in the area. so far no one has been injured but we suggest taking extra precautions tonight. please do not go outside during this time. lock your doors, close your windows, and turn off all the ligh-"

frowning, you look down at the tub of ice cream situated in between your legs. you lick the ice cream from your spoon as the rest of the news report gets drowned out by your thoughts. wait- shit i think i forgot to lock the back door... you shrug. you forgot that you had invited your neighbor beomgyu over, earlier in the day. he had insisted that he had a cool new pokemon to show you on his switch and you, stupidly, allowed him to show you. to your dismay, it only turned out to be a measly skwovet.

"gyu, you can literally catch these at route 1. you know, in the beginning of the game?" you had told him with a disappointed look on your face. "you're on your 5th gym."

he had gasped in offense, bringing his switch closer to his chest to shield the creature from further judgment. "y/n how dare you! it's the cutest pokemon in the game so of course, i went back to get one. don't you think you're being too mean?"

you giggled to yourself remembering the little back and forth. you've been living alone in your current house for only a couple of months. you were surprised your parents let you move out and have a whole house in the suburbs to yourself considering how strict and overprotective they were. upon moving, you quickly befriended choi beomgyu, the literal boy next door. he had offered to help you get your couch through the door and proceeded to eat his melting chocolate bar on said couch. from then on you and him have been best friends ever since, sometimes having him sleepover or vise versa.

you weren't worried about some rando serial killer in your neighborhood since nothing ever happened to you. you were convinced you weren't the main character.

from your couch, you looked outside to see that beomgyu's lights were already turned off. he must've gone to sleep early. your eyes catch the clock on your wall and you subconsciously yawn when you see how late it is. 1:56 am? damn... i should probably go to sleep too.

you pick up the tub of ice cream and take it back to your kitchen. its fucking chilly in here. you rub your arms as goosebumps start to form on them. you peek around the corner of the wall dividing your kitchen to where the back door is located. it's slightly cracked open and that raises some bit of concern in your head. again, you shrug. you remember beomgyu leaving out the back door since he liked coming in from the back instead of the front. an odd quirk of his that you never got to question him about because every time you tried he would simply smile at you cutely and say something like "its cool that's why."

you walk over to the door while being cautious about where you step since your house was pretty messy. you shut the door and sigh, dragging your body towards the living room again to turn the tv off. the news reporter was just about to give more instructions but frankly, you're too tired to care.

now that the tv was turned off you felt a weird sense of loneliness. the white noise being emitted from the screen becoming a bit too deafening to your ears to handle. you switch the tv off properly and toss the remote somewhere on the couch.

you walk up to your bedroom while scrolling through your Instagram feed. you laugh at the caption of beomgyu's latest post because it's alluding to the argument you both had earlier and type a comment hoping that he'll have time to read it when he wakes up.

when you reach your bedroom you toss your phone haphazardly on your bed and flop yourself into the sheets. today was fairly unproductive but that's been the premise of your days lately. you wonder how you manage to do absolutely nothing yet feel the weight of 10 thousand bricks on you back.

you sigh as you feel yourself slowly drift off to sleep but a noise in the room next door startles you. if you had been fully asleep you probably wouldn't have heard it but you're sure you heard a noise even in your half-asleep state. you sit up in your bed pulling the sheets closer to you. you decide to hold your breath in case you hear another noise or if you're just being delusional and sleep-deprived.

you wait for a while and after 5 minutes you don't hear anything. you sigh quietly but before you can settle back and get back to sleep you hear another noise. ok, you know for sure you have no roommates and beomgyu always tells you he's coming over before he does. the room you're hearing the noises from is the storage room where you keep all the extra furniture and miscellaneous items that you haven't had the chance to use or set up yet so nothing should be moving in there. you also recall the movers checking the house for any squatters since that seemed to be more common than most people would think. that day you had been happy and relieved to know that there was none of that in the house.

a thought crosses your mind that it could be the serial killer that's on the loose currently. if that's the case then the killer is in your house, a few feet away, in a room that has old kitchen knives that you decided don't need to be displayed.

you stare at your door while reaching for your phone. you can hear the person walking around the room and dragging the knives across the wall in a menacing manner and that's when the anxiety finally kicks in. your eyes start filling up with tears at the thought of a deranged serial killer being just a couple feet away from you, literally a wall away.

you feel your phone graze your hand and grab it shakily, slowly getting up from your bed. you don't wanna call anyone right now since the walls are thin, the killer might hear you then it's really game over. once you get to your bedroom door, you push it open so painfully slowly that you just wanna sob right there. you hate that something like this is seriously happening to you.

the killer doesn't seem to be out in the open yet. you figure they're still deep in the storage room. that gives you some time to get out of your house and maybe run to a police station or something. you walk out into the hall and cautiously walk down the stairs hoping they won't do that annoying thing where they creak in intense moments. thankfully though, you make it down the stairs.

immediately, you bolt out of your house. you don't know why but you have the sudden idea to ask beomgyu for help. you run to his house and ring the door repeatedly, you don't care if you're being annoying. you look back at your own house and all the lights are still turned off except for your bedroom lights which you left on. hopefully, the killer isn't persistent and won't come looking for you. you turn back to beomgyu's door and keep ringing the doorbell hoping his ass will wake up since you know he's a heavy sleeper. "come on, come on. fucking choi beomgyu, come on!" you whisper anxiously.

suddenly the door swings open and an angry but half asleep beomgyu is standing there. his hair is disheveled and his face is scrunched up in confusion and drowsiness. you push past him and jump on his couch covering yourself with one of his pillows. "y/n? what the fuck are you doing. it's like 2 am?" he shuts the door, walking over to you.

"is everything locked? the windows? the door just now?" you look up at him, biting your lip. "yes everything is locked and look," you watch him walk back to the front door and lock it. "now the door is locked. mind telling me why you bum-rushed into my house at the ass crack of dawn?"

"gyu-" you can't even manage to get a proper sentence out because a broken sob leaves your mouth rather than words. you walk up to him and hug him tightly. you don't care that you're probably soaking his t-shirt with your tears, you need him to know that you really care about him and you were almost permanently separated from him today. "y/n?"

"gyu t-the killer. the s-serial killer! he's in m-my house right now," you sob even harder into his shirt and you're glad he feels warm because those 2 minutes of ringing his doorbell out there made you almost freeze to death. especially since you're only wearing your pjs which consisted of a t-shirt and short shorts.

you feel him hug you back and you sigh shakily as he rubs your back to comfort you. "y/n," he says simply. you pull away from him, which you immediately regret because you start to feel cold again. "w-we need to call the police," you wipe your tears harshly but to no avail, since they just keep falling against your will.

you take your phone from your pocket and start to dial but beomgyu takes your phone from you and pockets it into his sweats. "y/n, i've never seen you cry. you look so pretty when you cry," he leans closer to your face and you flinch when he brings his hand up to caress your cheek before wiping a stray tear from it.

"gyu, we need t-to call the police! it's not the time f-for games. give me my phone please," you move his hand away from your face and motion for him to give your phone back. he chuckles right in your face, mockingly.

"please, she says."

you watch expectantly as he takes your phone out of his pocket but feel your heart drop with it as he lets it fall to the floor with a deafening crack. if that wasn't enough, you watch in disbelief as he stomps on it with force, effectively rendering it useless.

your eyes start to fill with tears again and the sinking feeling that beomgyu isn't gonna help you starts to settle. "w-why," you blubber. you fall to the ground in defeat and confusion. you don't even have the strength to run to the door to get proper help because you felt you had no energy after watching beomgyu turn his back on you.

"ever since you moved here i've had my eye on you. i really like you y/n. scratch that, i love you y/n. the other girl that lived in the house before you was boring so i had her killed off within the first week of her moving here. i mean she was pretty but you're gorgeous, i like you much more." he lifts you off the ground and examines your face to see how your taking in this information. you can't even speak because of the burning sensation in your throat from trying to hold back your tears so hard.

"i bailed that asshole killer out of jail and hired him to kill people for me," he continues. "didn't actually wanna get my hands dirty."

he moves you to sit on the couch as if this is just another normal conversation between friends. it finally clicks in your head what's happening and you stand up and snap at him. "what the fuck gyu? i thought you were just a regular person what the fuck is wrong with you!" you begin to walk to the front door but he grabs you with a force you've never felt him use before.

"y/n really? i've been protecting you this whole time!" you can sense that his patience is thinning. "all this time! when we walked to the store and those guys catcalled you, i had them killed. that guy that hit on you in our seminar class, he's gone!" he smiles wickedly and you hate the fact that he still looks like your adorable best friend.

"y/n you're the only for me. im sorry i scared you but i knew if the serial killer went to your home you'd come running to me," you feel him rubbing your hand soothingly and you pull away from him with disgust.

"don't touch me! i'm going to the police, this is fucking sick." before you can even reach the door you hear something click. you feel a cold metal around your wrist and when you look down you see that beomgyu has handcuffed you to the door. "you're not leaving y/n, do i really have to do this to you? i've been waiting for months just for you to run away?" he whispers.

"beomgyu let me go right now," you seethe. the anxiety you felt before is only heightened when you look around and catch someone leaving from your house. "beomgyu please," you resort to petty pleads.

he pouts at you, "don't worry y/n i'm not gonna hurt you, i would never." he gives you a tender kiss on your forehead before standing up again. 

"i just want you to myself that's all."

[windsweptlassie]

On Love

So as you know I made this uquiz with an open-ended question at the end, tell me something about love, and I’ve gotten the most wonderful responses! They range from descriptions of wonderful partners: 

Lauren: oh, how long I went without being myself until I met him and he showed me who I truly was and that my worth was higher than I ever thought was possible

Levi: I love who we are with each other. I love who I am with you. In your company I am me. In your company I am the best of me. The best with the best, I've told you. I wouldn't give you up for anything

Daniel: i fell in love for the first time when i was 17... at the time, i didn’t realize it was the first time, i thought i’d been in love before, a couple times actually, but falling in love at 17 was such a fulfilling experience, it felt so forceful yet so right. it’s when i first truly understood what love was. never before had i felt so understood and so cared for as i did when i was in love with her, and she was in love with me. it’s been nearly 4 years since then, and nearly 3 years since we broke up and stopped talking, and still, i think about her almost every day. i’ve never known anyone like her; to me, she was love itself.

El: oh i’m in love with everyone that i know op!!! especially my girlfriend, of course ,but also my friends and my family and random people on the street and uh

Grace: i’ve met my soulmate and we plan on getting an apartment and marrying after college

A: I’m going to ask the woman I love to marry me and I just wanted to tell someone because I am so excited

Jeremy: you ever have that feeling where basically after years of denying that someone couldnt understand you in a way or love you and then the next thing you know you happen to find that person and its just great from then on out? idk how to explain it anyways I love my boyfriend so much he means the world to me

Lucy: i am so happy i have found the one i love

to descriptions of best friends and favorite people:

Nightbyrd: Love is a hug from an alzheimer's patient who hasn't the foggiest idea who you are, but they know you're worth hugging.

H: I have been doing so much yoga with my roommate recently!! It's a great way to center my mind for an hour

Riv: [platonic] i’ve literally never met anyone who understands me in the way that my best friends do. they’re literally the best people in the whole world and i genuinely don’t know what i’d do without them. i love them with my whole heart

Cillian: when i talk about how much i love my best friend i get so teary eyed because i cant believe that such a genuinely wonderful person wants to speak to me every day - i care for her more than anyone else on this planet

O: my two besties are my sources of happiness and they’re so pretty i would die for them :D

to beautiful quotes:

Kai: "you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on." DARCYYYY PLS MY HEART CANT HANDLW THIS PAIN

Dorian: When the plane went down in San Francisco, I thought of my friend M. He’s obsessed with plane crashes. He memorizes the wrecked metal details, ____the clear cool skies cut by black scars of smoke. Once, while driving, he told me about all the crashes: The one in blue Kentucky, in yellow Iowa. How people go on, and how people don’t. It was almost a year before I learned that his brother was a pilot. I can’t help it, I love the way men love. (accident report in the tall, tall weeds- ada limon, bright dead things)

Adam: every day I think about lemony snicket I will love you if I never see you again I will love you if I see you every Tuesday or however it goes. and it KILLS ME. love only fits in small things

Hero: “Your heart beats in my ribs and mine in yours, and both in God’s… The divine magnet is in you, and my magnet responds.” - Herman Melville to Nathaniel Hawthorne

Mary: "Love is watching someone die."

Alex: "meet me at blue diner, i'll take coffee and talk about nothing baby"

Sparrow: "How dare you love me like you've never known fear?" and "For you, the world," and "Darling, I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades," and "Will you start where I end?"

V: " You want to die for love. You always have. " and "someone will remember us, I say, even in another time" are living rent free in my mind 24/7 and I'm shaking. When will I finally be not the only one falling ?

Sahar K: To love another person is to see the face of god!!!

Miriam: all the love in the world is useless when there is total lack of understanding- kafka

Juls: Don’t you think they are maybe the same? Love and attention

to practices of love:

Leo; i love feeling happy bc somebody that i love is happy and comfortable....like its not about me i just love seeing you smile. we are safe together...idk i just feel it bro

A: I like to think love is leaning on each other during the light or dark days. Its a personal mission of mine to find out who I am and what I want. Yet I never seem to find my place in this world and as I look and look , I realise the only place I can be myself even with or without the efforts to find myself was done on that day or not, I am always tired so shall I lean on you? And you can lean on me as well. I shall be your fig tree and you shall be my favourite willow tree.

L: It's too late at night to be soul searching, but it's a journey we all seem to find ourselves on these days.

Anthi: feeling safe and at home, I guess (also I love frogs)

Julia: ive found that loving someone is like becoming your own thesaurus. you have to find or come up with infinite ways to say, you’re beautiful, or, i love you. it’s a gift

Galexies: ive been writing letters to the person i'd love one day since i was 14. i write them in a little journal usually, but i've been digitizing them into emails and sending them to one account that i'll give to them someday. i'd like to put pictures, but i haven't been outside much recently so theres that. i wonder if they'd like the sunsets i have on file, or if they'd find my cat cute in a bowtie.

Caeles: Love is sharing fruit slices and making someone tea at random

Dundy: Love is sending your friends cursed shit and watching them react in horror

to crushes and potential loves: 

Jess: I have a crush on my roommate. It sucks, but it's also wonderful. I get to be around him all the time when we're at school. we share a life together; it's rather domestic. I think a lot about marrying him and being domestic with him forever. It won't happen, and I'll move on eventually, but I'll be happy with him for as long as I can. I hope you feel loved tonight, because you are. Sleep well.

Aki: I so desperately want to believe that love is fake because I’ve seen what happens when loved ones leave but whenever I start to convince myself that I’ll never love anyone my best friend messages me telling me she loves me. She’s the only person I’ve ever pictured having a future with but love scares me and I don’t really know what to do but I think as long as she’s with me in some way, I’ll be fine

Hi: her her i keep thinking abt her.... gonna see her in 8 days or so i really miss her. its ok if shes never gonna love me like i want her to really being her friend spending time with her makes me the happiest girl on earth.... outsold antidepressants

Kit: this guy i have a crush on has hypnotically dark brown eyes and he's wonderful and shows me kindness like no one else

Juno: my crush has all the stars in his eyes

Mads: When I have the courage to meet my eyes with hers, the world stands still

Be Nice To Me: Look bro I never do these but I am yearning to hold them SO badly right now and someone needs to know it besides me

to the trials of love: 

Pppppp: I just wanna love like from the movies and what I read about.. but everyone tells me that that’s fictional and rare to find in the real world and it sucks bc it seems like all the guys I’ve met are terrible and the norms of society are all about not respecting women and uthdjdjdk

Manny: I have been in love before and I will be again but I’m not now and I miss it

Ok: I don't think I've ever been in love, though I love many people. I am waiting for the day I look at someone and can say, YES. IT'S YOU.

Chloe: idk rn i'm like okay with my love and i'm happy so we'll see i'm just a little cautious rn bc my last partner told me i didn't know how to love

L: love is so fucking complicated I don't even know where to start

Corrin: He’s not real and it worried me that I will never allow myself to live or be loved because I will always be waiting for him

Sean: Good luck it dont exist

Serena: i want 2 b in love :(( </3

13: I don’t know anymore

M: I just really don’t like dealing with it lol

to beloved characters: 

Janaya: I’m madly in love with my comfort and kin character and I hope maybe in the afterlife I can relive a life with him in some sort of dimension

Jhgjdf: when i was a kid i had a crush on ash ketchum from pokemon and id always daydream about being a female pkmn trainer and meeting him and we fall in love

to advice and prose: 

Mikolai: Love is earth, gentle and soft at first flight but upon being broken, drowns you in the dry choking wastes of its consequences...

Thex: Your hands will not go cold without someone to hold them. I am here. I will be here.

Kat: it is the nearest proof to god that i find myself surrounded by people who love in a way that complements so wonderfully the way i love

H: believe in love out of spite believe in love to prove everyone wrong believe in love because you were told not to and we will not do what we’re told anymore believe in love because it’s the strongest act of teenage rebellion we have left believe in love because it’s easier not to and when is easy worth doing? believe in love because everything says otherwise but you are untouchable, you are your own, you are not made by their design believe in love because, perhaps, you are love

Ali: I used to want a kind of love that feels like coming home and now I want nothing more than to be away from home on many different adventures

Em: you dont need to love yourself to accept it from others

to the small, the simple, and the sweet:

Ireal: Poems

O: Flowers

Fay: ah im sorry that i’m feeling unmotivated but you are very kind.

Ad: we love LOVE

A: <3

Isak: small things

H: intense

Hey: Listening to a clock ticking away

S: her

E: <3

Hania: Amorous, I adore that word ^^

Catboy: wholesome

J: i love love so much it hurts

Emmy: hi i love the song darkest of discos!! try and give it a listen!! <3

Nora: Love is painful, but most of the time love is great

Ariel: i like the comfort it can bring

M: i love love

to food!

Cool Whip: Matzoh ball soup!!

Woop: I love sausages.... I hope that's ok with you?

and animals too <3

Nee: hmm i have pet geckos and i love them very much!

96: raccoons ????

DJ Big Penis: cats

:3: I Love frogs,,, love is stored in the frog,,,

I hope that this serves as a sweet compilation of what love means! Love to all of you, it warms my heart so much to hear about your people and your geckos and your characters and soup and all the songs and quotes you love. <3 Strength to all of you who are figuring out to do about your feelings for your crush, and congratulations to you who are proposing or moving in with your person! Your words are a source of light to me, truly.

[wingsofackerman]

Reader is a captain of her own squad and is seperated from bf levi during an expedition. When its over he cant find reader and gets hella worried that shes dead. But readers whole squad ended up dead from a hoard of titans and her gear broke. Her gear broke and she cant get the dead ppls gear bc theres still titans around so shes hiding. Levi being the impulsive boy he is goes after her and angst fluff? Sry if its too detailed, you dont have ro write it if you dont want to! Thanks!!!

|| Hi!! ❤ Thank you for requesting! I like how detailed your request are, so no need to say sorry~ 😊 I hope you do like what I wrote for you though! Enjoy! ||

You didn't know if you'll survive. Not at this situation for sure. Were you going to die right now? Did you serve well in saving humanity? Will Levi be able to accept your death? You didn't know. You knew it'll be the end of you.

The survey corps had planned another expedition outside the walls. You were sure that it'll be a success with the help of Eren's titan, but there's still a lingering doubt in you. You were nervous. You were scared. It is normal to feel scared when facing titans, but for some reason- this feeling felt different. More disturbing... more daunting.

The meeting with Erwin and the other captains were dismissed. You were still deep in thought as you step out of his office that Captain Levi- your boyfriend noticed it.

He grabbed your arm, dragging you towards the corner. "What's wrong?" He asked you. His brows furrowed with worry as he gently tucked a few loose hairstrands behind your ear.

You were hesitant to tell Levi about your thoughts, afraid to be deemed as someone weak and coward. But then, he is your boyfriend, and you trust him.

"I'm scared Levi. What if this expedition won't be successful?" You held onto his hand, giving it a squeeze. "I'm scared. What if you die? What if I die?" The mere thought of Levi dying-- just the thought of it, made your heart ache as if thousands of needles were poking through it. You knew you wouldn't be able to accept it. Your breathing felt heavy with anxiety.

"No. No one's going to die, [y/n]." Levi said sternly. He placed a finger under your chin, making you look right into his beautiful grey eyes. His eyes were determined. "I will never let you die. And I trust you that you will take care of yourself. And so will I take care of myself too. Do you understand that?" He asked- his voice deep and stern.

Biting onto your lower lip, you gave him a hesitant nod. But that wasn't enough for him.

"Promise me, [y/n]." Levi insisted.

"I promise."

- But you broke that. You couldn't take care of yourself. You couldn't even take care of your squad. You were hopeless. Every single member of your squad died, blaming yourself for being useless.

You were behind a tree, crying. Your gear broke, your blades are gone, and your horse ran away. You wanted to escape, atleast get one of your squad's ODM gear, but no... you were surrounded by titans. And once you step out behind that tree, you're done.

Levi was worried. You were by the right wing, while he was in the center. They were heading towards the forest of giant trees, and up until now, he haven't heard any news about you.

"Captain Levi!" One of the soldiers from the right wing calls out. He knew this was going to be bad. And before the soldier could even tell what happened, he already turned his horse around- riding back towards the right wing.

He could feel how fast his heart was beating against his chest, his breathing heavy, his face pale and his brows furrowed with anxiety.

"No. Not this. Not again." He mutters to himself. He remembers your promise. He remembers your smile. He remembers every detail of your face. He remembers your beautiful [e/c] eyes full with life and youth. He couldn't imagine it lifeless and losing its spark. No.

Once he got there, it was basically a field of corpse. You were no where to be seen. Sweat were dripping down his forehead, his breathing getting heavier. He was so close to having a panic attack.

"Fuck." He hissed. "[y/n]!!" He yells out, hoping that he'll hear your voice. But no. There's nothing.

"[y/n]!!" He kept calling- hoping, that you will show up. Then he saw three titans surrounding one place- and then there. He saw you locked in one of the titan's hold. You were screaming out loud, calling out for his name. Your scream sounded so haunting.

Before the titan could eat you up, he was already there- slicing the titans' nape. He didn't have time to torture them like how it emotionally tortured him to witness your near death. He immediately caught you in his arms as you were about to fall once the titan lost its grip.

"L-Levi..." you sobbed once you reached the ground. Your body injured- ribs broken as the giant almost squished you in its hand.

He was hugging you tightly into his chest, panting heavily. He almost lost you. He didn't want to lose you like how he lost Farlan and Isabel. It was already hard enough for him, what more if its you he lost.

"Its okay... Its okay, baby. You're safe..." Levi whispers breathlessly. You could feel how his hand were trembling as he caresses your hair.

"I-I broke your promise...." You sobbed.

"It doesn't matter now... What matters now is you're alive. And I'm happy. I really am." He pulled away, cupping your cheek and gently wipes off your tears with his thumb.

"I love you, [y/n]... I love you so much. I don't want to lose you." He whispers. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the sadness of almost losing you.

"I love you so much too." You whispered back, leaning in against his touch before your lips met his.

[m4rkiza]

raihan rarely got angry,he only gots angry 1-2 time a year,and its not even infront of other people

One time.he got angry bc this one particular businessmen decide that its okay to breed dragon pokemon for clothes and bags

all he did was to dismiss the meeting and shoo the businessmen away,saying that he wont do it

no one really knows how raihan express his anger,but next day his knuckles are somewhat red

leon doesnt like this

He tried to talk about it to raihan,telling him that its okay to relieve is anger by telling it to someone else,but raihan doesnt want too, that hes okay and its nothing to worry about,but leon,being a stubborn person that he is,kept pushing raihan to express his anger, raihan tries to stop leon and soothing him but leon doesnt stop.

“i dont like this”

“what?”

“i feel like youre going over the line and it makes me uncomfortable”

“wait rai-”

“ill talk to you again after i clear my head okay? see you soon leon,ill call you when ive cooled down”

and then he comes up to leon,kisses his forehead,gave him a bitter smile and then he walks away, exitting leons office

the second time raihan got angry is because of leon

and leon is terrified

leon is worried that raihan will not talk to him for a long period of time,,since he cross raihans boundaries,even if theyre lovers,they still need to respect each others private space

the next day,leon cant do his work the way he usually does,his mind is occupied with negative thoughts

its lunch time,leon sat there,hoping raihan will come bringing him lunch like he usually does,but raihan didnt.theres nothing, no text,no calls,no dumb selfies,no random heart and kissy face emojis

leon felt...somewhat empty

evening comes,its time for him to pack up and go home from the tower,and theres no raihan,waiting for him to pick him up and fly with him home

leon decides to just hop on charizard and fly home,alone

when he arrives,he showered,and sat on the edge of his bed,dwelling with his thoughts

should he text raihan?

should he at least sent a voice message that he is sorry? that he wont do this again?

he stares on his phone,debating with his own thoughts,until his phone buzzed continuously

its raihan

raihan is calling him 

“hey le-”

“raihan,im so sorry ive crossed your boundaries” leon blurts out

his cheek feels wet

is he crying? it doesnt matter

“i was wrong by pressing you to express your anger,you have your own way and i have my own way, i- i shouldve understand that,im sorry that i didnt understand you well,i shouldve pay attention to you more- but i was worried! your knuckles are red, and i assume you express your anger by hurting yourself and i dont like that,i dont want you to get hurt-”

“leon”

“-because i care about you raihan,and-”

“dandelion,prince,babyboo”

“and- yes..?”

“first,i forgive you,i understand why you kept pressing me,so dont worry bub,about the way i express my anger..well,you do notice its hard for me to get angry,correct?”

“..yes”

“now,let me explain why my knuckles are red,im a dragon tamer,who also breeds,to increase the dragon population so that itll balance out the ecosystem, then i met a businessman who ask me to breed rare dragons, for purses and useless items,of course id be furious”

leon hums in agreement

“now you know why i express my anger quite, violently,but dont worry,it rarely happens”

“..oh”

“again love,its really hard for me to get angry,and even if seeing your smile already soothe all my negative emotions,thats why i put your smile as my lock screen”

leon smiles

“let me repeat this,i forgive you,so dont worry baby,i love you okay?”

“okay”

“now,can i come to your place? im pretty sure you miss me,i miss you too,shouldnt leave you for more than 8 hours’

“please”

raihan chuckles,end the call,and fly his way to wyndon.

he arrives on leons apartment balcony,only to be greeted by violently crying purple haired meat cake,raihan smiles,then proceed to shut the other man with a kiss,he picks leon up,carrying him inside while peppering him with kisses.

then they fuck

[kaonite]

Can we hear about your Misraaks headcanons pls?

hahahaaha ahah okay so this turned more into picking him apart rather than headcanons but i mixed them in there ::3 (im so sorry, i cannot be coherent at all and gushed profusely. i promise my writing is way different than the way i type this out.)

for some reason it wont let me add tags??? so i hope no one is upset by that!

-misraaks doesnt know how to be 'normal' per say, barring the fact he IS an alien(this goes with my super personal headcanon that the wolves just breed some ODD eliksni. 110% there’s something SUPER up with the wolves (or gentle weavers) as a whole. there's something in the ether turning the wolves into human simps) and is just a weird guy? Who 'turns their back' on their own without being a little fucking odd? i mean if i saw a almost 7ft tall lady and she dragged me away from my attempted suicide (thats some baggage already) and offered peace in a my cultures way id rethink my ideals too (theres more to it i know but humor me!) Also unlearning ALL you've been taught was rough and trying but he was a young mind and to be honest... that's probably for the best (no doubt sjur did use him against the wolves but i really feel their friendship was genuine, full of a lot of love and respect after he stopped being an angsty vandal with unresolved mommy issues)

-he puts on this show of being strong and unyielding but if he trusts you he just crumbles and is bare to the bone about everything. misraaks isn't afraid of being honest per say, he may come off brash but he's just telling it like it is... no sense in beating around the bush. he's not an asshole but being raised the way he was uh... some tact had be learned. 

-no no no it's not bc his mother may have been strict and terrifying to some degree so he has to be the strongest  or he feels he'll fail everyone he knows. so when someone breaks down his walls he's just a soft, sappy individual who just wants everyone to have a peaceful life together while trying to be strong for everyone else at his own mental expense. hes so passionate, charismatic and driven even with all the odds stacked against him, the fucking STRENGTH in that. (DREG STRENGTH GO! even tho he's not a dreg u get my meaning, everyone so far has deemed him as such) what a king! ❤ (praksis u call him foolish again i'll break every one of the generators in your lab)

-brings me to my next headcanon that the nightmare in the moon, horkis? Is his mother and all the teachings that she and others brought upon him as a child up until meeting sjur concentrated into one being. that if he doesn't bleed for the cause, die for the cause, then he has failed his people.  OOPS! IT'S ALL DEEP SEATED TRAUMA! 

-also headcanon she was the one to dock him? to make it extra good when he thinks back on her in the misraaks lore tab 

(I normally don't slander moms bc damn if anyone slandered my mom id throw hands but bungie gave me the scraps and im working with them and misraaks seemed like he had a pretty standard, though super strict, upbringing ::) )

-he appears haughty, self-assured and a bit cold though that's just how he projects himself... he's not actually that way? I mean, hes pretty calm and collected. he expresses a deep  loyalty and love for Sjur and cares for his fireteam immensely. He trusted his fireteam enough to take them to her resting place, how is that not vulnerability we otherwise don't really see? 

He'd throw down for his friends and loved ones because that's just how Eliksni ARE. kin is everything, even friends. he just has a different way of showing it. 

-misraaks... okay i have to say he's into poetry, or talking poetically. the way he speaks is almost... romantic (not in a bad or spicy way!) i just know that boy really SPEAKS in such an eloquent, thoughtful sense. there's a lot of meaning and love in his words. he doesn't just SAY things to fill the silence. every word has a meaning, a purpose. i love that about him. 

-okay maybe i headcanon his fireteam being all around goofballs with him at times of respite, softening out his sharp edges. making him loosen up and enjoy the little things in life rather than worrying about the bigger picture. (bungie where's that getting drunk with his fireteam lore tab? i would like to see it. you have it with the yw and crow... it's the least you could do for the misraaks stans...) i just feel its hard for him to sit and do nothing, just to fool around, be a "normal person" due to the fact his whole life up to his moment of wanting to create house light has been death and war. He was MADE for war. it'd be hard for him to adjust to a 'happier' existence without a little prodding

-he doesn't care about glory, or is doing what he does for selfish gain. he genuinely just wants to help, to create peace. so if anyone approached him with the kell of kells title he'd promptly tell them to shove it (sorry misraaks... you're in the same boat with the young wolf... you can't escape your destiny)

-can we talk about how much misraaks unlearned from sjur then YEARS later is with dusk, meets the young wolf (that annoying bastard of a guardian! :) ), they spare him then it seems like something unlocks in him. like we were the final catalyst to his dreams being real. no longer did he want to be canon fodder, or use his crew as such, he wanted to lead... to be better, to do better for his people along the guardians. maybe he could be better than just another solider dying for a cause they didn't even know at that point. he could be everything his kind rallied against and be GREATER than he was taught to be , not stepping on those deemed less than him. his MIND 

-can i just shoehorn something in real quick. I don't believe he'd practice docking after everything. I just can't see it and i always see him having trauma around docking so why would he wish that on others as a treatment under his kellship? It took him A LONG ASS TIME to unlearn how fucked up it is and how their society as whole is (ie. he literally fantasized about his mother docking him. how is that not absolutely insane to hear?)  also it'd be useless at this point, he'd need people at their prime, not missing two arms for an old, unnecessary dark practice. he doesn’t want people to fear him, if your people fear you are you truly a leader?

*cuts this ask open with a knife and lets loose a character interpretation more than headcanons* OOPS

am i projecting? maybe but bungie gave me crumbs and i am going to use them

im holding back a bunch of thoughts bc most of them center around much more personal headcanons bc this is my emotional support eliksni :') plus ive written so much already im pretty sure you all think im insane.

If anyone has anything to add feel free! Id love to hear it, you may have some ideas/headcanons/interpretations i didn't list or i never though of! of course... most of this is projecting, who doesn't do that to their fave?

and honestly, i am so open to talking about him in depth, if you want to, shoot me a message! I'll get to it! :3

[ddaenggtan]

black irises in the sunshine | kth

anger is everything. other gods tease you for the short fuse, but it comes with the territory. people have called you stupid, have called you dumb, oafish, useless, incompetent, insolent, rude, arrogant. all of it. insults and mockery flung at you, but even your skin isn’t thick enough to deal with constant abuse. it’s the exact reason you keep going to the underground, knuckles bloody and bruised, fighting anyone that dared enter the cage. it’s the reason you go to the clubs, surround yourself with mortals and their writhing bodies. it’s there that you see him the first time, voice husky as it rolls through the room. it’s there you find someone who treats you differently than the rest. you just never expected him to be one of the muses. | monsters and gods pt 3 (masterlist)

pairing | taehyung x reader

genre/warnings | greek god au, calliope!taehyung, ares!reader, theres a lot of violence and it does get descriptive so be aware of that, none of the main characters other than ares get hurt and its not uncalled for or anything in a narrative sense, so just be aware of that; there are mentions of other idols, but if you can guess them you get a cookie because they are Vague; suuuuper bisexual Ares, Ares Can Step On Me, like I am SO gay for her it isn’t funny; explicit smut ft: cunnilingus, taeHUNG bc hes got MASSIVE SCHLONG,  some body worship kind of and then just....regular worship? like? idk how to explain that? lots of praise and lots or orgasms

word count | 14k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | HOOOOOOO this has been sitting in my google docs for literal months waiting for an ending and i decided to try to get it out for tae's birthday bUT that didn't work because i have a Job and shit so YEET I GUESS HAPPY FUCKIN NEW YEAR??? LIKE??? YEEEEEEEEEEEEE this fic is very near to me because Ares is my sweet sad angry babie and i love her, and i love tae and i love suho and i love the muses and i just........lOVE this fic like i think this is currently my favorite of the mag series so!! i hope yall also enjoy it!!!! yall are welcome to send me messages about this even tho I'm terrible at replying to them in a timely manner!! thanks to everyone who helped me with this, and everyone who has expressed interest in it, and everyone who has ever read anything of mine, because you're genuinely the best people ever, and this is literally a gift to y'all because you deserve it. 

Fuck, that was too hard .

The guy across from you goes flying, hitting the chain link wall of the cage harder than you intended. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and even holding back, you've got a better buzz than even the best nectar can give. Your blood sings as the guy gets back up, and you almost wish you could remember his name, because he's put up a hell of a fight. For a mortal, anyway. 

He charges at you again, and time slows as your vision tunnels. You can see the feint as he decides on it, how he hesitates in bringing his left up. You wait, watching him get closer and closer. You start to dart to your left, letting him think he's got you, before you side-step and dart to your right instead. His punch goes wide as you steady your balance and move. The top of your foot connects with his ribcage and the resulting crack of bone is lost amid the cheers and yells of the audience. 

Your opponent steps back and you're proud of the way he doesn't show the pain. He doesn't wince, doesn't move to touch the spot you hit, just tightens his stance and clenches his jaw. It's only you that notices the hitch in his breath, the way he flinches with every inhale. Your eyes narrow at that, zeroing in on the rib. You'd meant to just crack it, had been holding back most of your strength to keep from hurting him too seriously, but as he steps forward, you can see the way he grits his teeth against the pain. 

The fight leaves you immediately, like a bucket of cold water straight to the chest, and you drop your hands. 

"Yield." He just stares at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Yield to me, and then go to the doctor."

"I'm not gonna yield," He says. He spits a mouthful of blood out onto the floor. "I'm not weak."

"Seriously, dude," You insist. "You're not gonna win this, and I don't want to hurt you more." 

His scoff has you seeing red. "As if a princess like you could hurt me."

Your fist connects with his face before either of you registers that you've moved. There's a voice in the back of your head reminding you that he's just mortal, he can't take the same kind of beating you can, but it's lost in the haze of fury. The next thing you know, the ref is dragging you away and slamming you into the cage wall. Your opponent is being dragged out - you still don't know his name - and he looks beaten senseless. Victory rolls through you accompanied by a sick satisfaction at the way his blood looks decorating the canvas beneath your feet. 

It lasts for less than an hour. It's always like this; the thrill of the fight, the burn of success, it's gone faster than you can blink. It's what drives you to keep fighting, to keep going to match after match, just to seek out the under-the-table stuff afterwards. It's never enough, not anymore. Back in the old days, they'd let you fight anything. Bears, bulls, lions, giants, anything they could get a noose around long enough to point it at a colosseum. That was a long time ago, though, before all the rights movements happened. You won't lie: you miss fighting beasts like that. The sheer power and strength they have, the survival instinct that makes them such fierce competitors, it's so much better than the rules and regulations of the mortal world now. Fights have gotten dull, rehearsed, more like a performance or a show than an actual fight. People make more money losing than they do winning and it's made the world boring. 

You flex your hand as you open the door to your favorite bar. Something caught it at some point in the last fight, a cheekbone or a tooth, and it stings a little. Doesn't hurt, not exactly, not for a goddess, but it did enough that you feel it at all, which means it couldn't have been anything but torture for the guy on the other end. The bartender waves at you and gets your usual ready as you sit, and you idly wonder if Busted Rib Guy will be okay. It looked painful, for a human, and you'd tried to hold back, but…

Well, you weren't really responsible for what happened to condescending little fucks, were you?

You sip the bourbon, enjoying the burn as it goes down. The lights are dim, tonight. You're glad. You don't want to deal with people looking at you, men coming over to talk to you, trying to advise you on how to properly bandage your knuckles or how to avoid the bruise on your cheek next time. If you had wanted to avoid it, you would have. You'd intended it to hurt worse, honestly, but that first guy'd had a weaker right hook than you expected. 

You look around, wondering if anyone here would provide a decent distraction for the night. There's a pretty brunette in the corner with carefully crafted braids, and as your eyes travel, you imagine what's hiding beneath the silk and leather. You're pulled from the thought by the sound of music, and you curse under your breath. You forgot that it's an open mic night and you'd meant to go to the bar across town instead. Irritation colors your vision; every open mic night is awful, full of lofty poets talking about their trauma and wannabe Taylor Swifts thinking they're on the same level as Sappho. Ah, now that was a girl with a set of pipes. You miss her, wonder what she would say to the butchering of whatever song you're about to hear.

The voice that comes isn't what you expect. It's smooth and deep. The world turns to velvet around you as the voice wanders from one speaker to another, creating a mesmerizing multi-dimensional effect despite the way the singer doesn't ever leave the stage. You turn, knuckles white around your bourbon glass; he's utterly magnetic, every eye in the room trained on him as he purrs into the vintage mic. Long fingers are wrapped around the scuffed metal, decorated with jewels that glitter in the dim light of the bar. You can smell the lingering cigarette smoke from the guy beside you and the Jäger from the girl two stools down and for once, you don't even care. He's captivating, voice travelling between speakers in the bar and coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. 

Your eyes don't leave him, and you wonder if you can memorize the way the blond waves fall against his forehead if you stare long enough. 

The red seeps away from you, slinking back into the corners of your mind, settling once more into a low thrum under your skin. It fades into the background of this man's voice, the charisma that rolls off him in waves as he pulls the mic in close just to push it to the side with a teasing smirk. It settles something in your chest that hasn't been calm since the fight in Athens so long ago. 

The music fades out sooner than you'd like, and he gives a slight bow before wandering into the crowd. You do your best to follow him, but the gold of his hair disappears almost immediately, lost in the throng of people around the stage waiting to speak to him. You turn back around, downing the next bit of bourbon that Suho pours you. 

"I know," He says with a grin. You cock a brow at him, not having said anything he could agree with. "He's good. That's what you were thinking, right? He's why we're so packed on open mics. Got the audio and lighting guy whipped, so he's got all these special effects, too. Drives people crazy.”

"He's alright," You mutter. You toss a few bills down on the bartop and step back. Suho gives you a courteous nod as you leave. The bouncer gives you a dirty look when he spots the lit cigarette between your lips, but he knows better than to try to tell you otherwise. You've taught him better. 

You lean back against the brick wall of the alley and take a drag. The warm smoke fills your lungs and you close your eyes. It's a different kind of burn than you're used to, a distraction from the crawling sensation that drives you to fight. It's calmer, more controlled. Feels like the smoke from Hestia's fires. Feels like home. 

"Never expected to see you here," A voice calls out. It's deep and startling in the darkness, but you don't jump. You just open your eyes, exhale, and look to where it came from. 

The singer stands before you in the same undone white button up and black tee he performed in. He doesn't have a cig, doesn't seem to have much of any reason to be outside. He moves almost lazily, as if he doesn't even need to, just wants to, and when his gaze flicks up to meet yours, your vision fills just for a breath with every opponent you've ever faced lying at your feet. 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" The words slip from your tongue before you can stop them. It's not his fault, the voice in your head says, he didn't mean it that way, but still, your blood is thrumming now that he's here and you want to know what he's talking about. Want to know why he thinks you wouldn't be here when there's attractive people and good bourbon and you've never seen this man before in your life. Want to know why he already seems to think you aren't civilized enough to be at a bar, why he spoke but all you heard was Zeus' voice in your memories.

"Exactly what I said. Should I be clearer?"

"Yeah, probably," you spit. Yet another person that assumes you're stupid, that you don't understand basic languages, as if you haven't been speaking them since the ancient times. As if you couldn't speak circles around him if you wanted. "Unless you want your teeth on the fucking ground."

"Good to know the stories are true." He tsks and you're filled with a strange sense of disappointment and fury, both at him and yourself. Your vision turns red at the edges and the cigarette between your fingers is crushed in your grip. He pays no mind to it, just saunters past with a lazy, swaying gait that draws your eyes to his hips and then down the long leather-clad legs. "See you around, Ares."

"That's not my fucking name," You yell after him. He doesn't respond when you shout your actual name, the one you chose, on your own, as a middle finger to the Olympians. "Get it right next time, dickwad."

He turns the corner of the alley and the streetlight catches his face just enough for you to see the smirk he wears. For once in your life, you're torn; you want to smash his face in, yes, because how dare this random guy speak to you like that when you could kill him with one finger to the right pressure point. You also find your skin's hotter than usual, stretched too thin over your bones, and you want him to run his hands over you until it feels right again.

Until it feels like it did when he was singing. 

How did he know my title?

The thought comes unbidden, days later, with the desperate hit of a palm against your shoulder. You've got the woman in a headlock, patiently waiting for her to pass out completely so the fight can be called, and your mind is wandering. 

How did the singer know who you are? You hadn't thought anything of it at the time, distracted by fury and frustration, but with time comes a special kind of clarity. You've never seen him before, not that you know anyway, yet he didn't hesitate to call you Ares. The only ones who know of your kind are your kind, but you haven't seen any of your siblings among mortals in a long time. You thought you knew the other gods and goddesses, but maybe not. It has been a while since you stepped foot in the golden city.

The woman in your grip goes slack and you release her. You're still lost in thought as the ref calls the match and leads you out of the makeshift ring. The cheers of the audience are background noise at this point, akin to static or the buzz of electricity, and you pay them no mind as you head to collect your winnings. You didn't even get any kind of buzz from success this time, too immersed in the way the singer walked and talked and looked. The image of his smirk is burned into your retinas. 

"Yeah, you didn't hear? He just got out of the hospital. They had to keep him overnight because they thought he might puncture a lung. I heard that if it had been a little worse, they would've had to wire his jaw shut." You stop, fingers brushing over the stack of bills you don't even remember being handed. You look up, making eye contact with the guy whispering nearby. Your suspicions are confirmed when his friend smacks his arm and juts his chin in your direction before they both disappear into the crowd. 

You shove your way outside, frustration creeping through you and coloring your vision. You manage to keep it contained long enough for you to make it to the alley behind the warehouse, but it explodes from you in a rush of thrown dumpsters and sheet metal. 

Fuck , you never meant to hurt him like that. You told him, you fucking told him to yield, it isn't your fault he didn't listen. It's not your fault that he went and insulted you, acted like he was better than you just by virtue of being a dude, as if you weren't worshipped in the old days for the power you had and the blessings you could give. You'd held back, through all of it, you'd told him to yield, and he insulted you. It wasn't your fault. 

You slide to the ground, running a shaking hand through your hair. It isn't your fault , you repeat. You close your eyes and take deep breaths, the way Hestia taught you, willing the fury to dissipate. It's like a fire in your veins, burning and bubbling your skin until you can't resist anymore. You take another breath. It isn't your fault. You tried. You offered an out. It isn't your fault. Fuck, what was his name? 

With a growl that quickly morphs into a scream, you kick the dumpster once more before stalking off into the darkness. You need a fucking drink and you're gonna find a distraction in someone else if it's the last thing you do. 

The club is packed when you get there; you're not usually a fan of clubs like this, too full of people who are too friendly, but they're perfect for nights like tonight. You don't even need to wait in line, just slip the bouncer a 50 as you pass, and the bartenders are quick to spot you. You're pretty notorious in the city for over-paying, which means you're knocking back bourbon before you have a chance to ask for it. There are people everywhere, pressed up against both sides of you while the bass thrums in your throat, and it takes you longer than you're proud of to realize why. 

There's a band playing, apparently. They're not bad; the vocalist isn't anything like the singer from Suho's, but it doesn't make you want to tear your ears off, so you consider it a success. 

You're dancing before you remember deciding to. Everything's a blur when you get the itch in your bones, the need to make someone bleed. To feel something that isn't rage or condescension. People are even closer here on the dance floor, suffocating in their proximity, but there's a woman grinding her ass into you, and it sparks the dying fire in your gut. The beat of the music drowns your own heart, and it's all flashing lights and heat and a body pressed against yours that is all too willing.

She follows when you go back to the bar for another drink, and giggles when you lick salt from her wrist before downing tequila. Her hands are wrapped in the leather of your jacket as she kisses you, your own resting lightly on her hips. She laughs against your lips and says something you don't hear before ordering another drink. Something makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You take the brief reprieve to look around the club, searching for whatever it is that has you on alert. You find him on the upper level of the club, leaned over the balcony with a drink in hand. You can't make out his expression, exactly; it's too far away and too guarded. But you'd know him anywhere now. The singer knocks back whatever's in his glass, eyes never leaving yours. You don't know why he's here, if he comes here often or if the Fates are having a laugh at your expense, but you do know you want to make the most of it.

The girl is back, pressing a heated kiss to your lips and drawing your attention from him. You return it, nipping at her lips and getting a small gasp in return. You smirk and bite your way down her neck. She's breathy in your ear, hitched moans lost in the beat of the music, but you barely hear her as you suck bruises into the skin of her neck. He's still watching you. His drink is gone and he's gripping the bannister of the balcony, rings glinting in the light. You wonder if the cool metal could soothe the burn in your bones. You want to know if he can bring that calmness from before back, if he can soothe the frenzy in your mind with his hands the way he can with his voice. Just imagining it has you soaking through to your jeans.

The girl makes a particularly loud noise in your ear and you're brought out of your thoughts. As if he can sense it, the singer straightens. He gives you one last look before disappearing back into the crowd, and you wonder if you're imagining the disdain in it. You draw back from the girl's neck, about to tell her to find her friends when she slides her hands in your hair and tugs.

The burn in your blood is back, now, and you hope this girl is prepared for what awaits her.

"You're here early," Suho says when he spots you in the nearly empty bar the next night. He's not wrong, either; you skipped the fights tonight completely. There was no buzz last time, no relief, and you have no reason to believe there would be tonight. Not with the way the singer captivates your thoughts. 

Besides, you have enough money leftover from the previous few to last a couple days.

"What, did you decide not to kick someone's ass before getting wasted?" Suho doesn't wither at the look you give him, just pours you a couple fingers of bourbon and slides the glass over. "Or did they just stop letting you in completely?"

"I might change my mind if you don't shut up," You tell him. There's no real heat behind it. You've known Suho for years now, been coming to his bar for so long it almost feels like home. You're almost friends at this point. 

It helps that he knows when to bite his tongue so he doesn't get his teeth knocked out.

"Seriously though, I don't think I've ever seen you here this early. Especially not on mic nights." You're very careful in your lack of a reaction to his words. You'd seen the workers setting up for it when you came in, and even if you hadn't, you know when mic night is. You've spent enough time avoiding it.

"Does he sing every time?" You ask in lieu of an explanation. You don't look away from the amber liquid in your glass, letting the silence hang as the bartender does his best to follow your thought process. 

"Taehyung? Most weeks, yeah. It's been a nice change from the usual drunken karaoke. He goes around to some of the other places in town, too. Apparently he just likes to sing." 

"Taehyung," You repeat. The name rolls from your tongue a bit awkwardly. It's more than you expected, somehow, but you can't place exactly how . Just...more. "Is he always that good?"

"Oh, yeah. We have regulars now for mic night because of him. He's got a whole fan club and everything."

"Hm." You drain the rest of your bourbon and Suho refills it. He leaves you in peace then, serving some others that appear at the bar. 

The place fills faster than you can blink. That's what it feels like, anyway. It's like one moment there's you and a handful of other people scattered around, and now you're being jostled between some dude a million feet tall that definitely doesn't look old enough to be here and a girl with her tits up to her throat and surrounded by a cloud of perfume so thick that it starts a migraine behind your eyes almost instantly. She flirts with Suho a little, likely trying to score free drinks, and you roll your eyes. She pouts at him when he gives her the total, batting eyelashes that go on for miles, and for once, you wish Suho would just give in and comp the drinks. 

"I'll pay for them," You say. She was definitely saying something, maybe you should have been paying attention to it, but fuck , this migraine is only getting worse the longer she stands there. "I'll pay for your drinks."

"Oh, thanks," She says. Her smile is hesitant, and quickly turns apologetic as she takes in the boots and the ripped jeans and the leather jacket. "Um, I'm not...I don't, uh…"

"Do I look like I want to fuck you, sweetie?" She looks a little affronted and a laugh escapes you. You lean closer, letting your breath ghost over her cheek as you speak in her ear to be heard better. "If I wanted to fuck you senseless, you'd know it. And I can guarantee you it would be a hell of a lot better than the watered down rat piss this guy's giving you." 

When you lean back, her face is flushed and she's stammering. You smirk and hand her the drinks she'd ordered. 

"Too bad you’re not, you don’t, huh?" You tell her. The patronizing tone isn't lost on her, nor is your mockery of her earlier words, and she shuts her mouth with an audible click before strutting off. Suho glares at you as he pours more bourbon.

"Can you please try not to run off my patrons?" He mutters. "Some of us actually need money to live."

"Some of us would like decently timed refills and to not choke on perfume," You quip. "And better bourbon, for that matter." He hisses something about what he's giving you being top quality but you tune him out, throwing one leg over the stool Perfume Girl vacated. You'd like to keep just a little bit of personal space. 

Across the bar, you catch a brief glimpse of the girl from the night before and you wince. Her neck is thoroughly bruised, and you catch a peek of bruises and scratches on her back as she shrugs her jacket on. You didn’t mean to be so rough with her, even if she had been into it; you’re usually pretty good about remembering that the mortals are just that - mortal - and as such have to be handled delicately. They’re so fragile, it feels like they could break with a strong wind. Guilt settles in your gut and turns the bourbon in your glass to cough syrup. You’ve half a mind to just leave before she sees you, are about to turn and do exactly that, but the speakers screech to life and the deafening feedback from the mic keeps you glued to your seat. 

The crowd quiets even as the excitement ramps up, all talk silencing but for the occasional hushed whispers here and there. The first few notes of the song echo through the speakers, and a spotlight appears on him. 

He looks different this time, his hair dyed a vibrant blue that matches the glinting jewels in his ears and on his hands. He's an absolute vision and you wonder how Aphrodite has allowed him to live so long when he's so beautiful. His voice hangs in the air and calms you, the same settling in your chest as last time, the same freedom from the burn in your veins. It's addictive. 

The song doesn't last nearly as long as you want it to but the stillness inside you lingers long after he's done caressing the microphone. You place a few bills down for Suho and light up a cigarette as you head outside, ignoring the dirty looks from other patrons as you do. You're on a mission, the thrum of bloodlust returning with every second that passes, and you can't even be sure if he's still around or if he's wandered off already. 

You stand in the alley for what feels like hours, turning at every sound and smoking cig after cig just so you have something to do. You've almost decided to say fuck it when footsteps sound from the back of the bar, coming closer to you. 

His blue hair is visible even from the other end of the small alley, a giveaway similar to the light at the end of your cigarette and the smoke you blow into the air. There's no way he hasn't seen you, you think, you're making no effort to hide or be sneaky, and yet he's continuing forward as if he doesn't see you at all, eyes focused on a phone in his hand. You wait until he's just a few steps away before speaking.

"How do you know my title?" You ask him. He stops as if he'd always meant to and doesn't even bother to glance up at you or respond. The edges of your vision turn scarlet at the blatant disregard and you're speaking before you can even process the words. "I asked you a fucking question, pretty boy, you're gonna answer me. Unless you want that precious mouth bloodied up."

"And you wonder how I know who you are," He drawls, still not bothering to spare a glance at you. A scowl grows over your face at his sarcastic tone. "If you're going to hit me just get it over with. Otherwise, I have places to be."

He stands, waiting and expectant, but you don't move. He's humming, quiet and to himself like he doesn't even realize he's doing it, and the red seeps away from your mind until you're left clear-headed once more. You sigh, long and heavy, and crush your cigarette into your denim-covered thigh to put it out. It tickles. 

"I'm not going to hit you," You tell him eventually. "I just wanna know how you know me. And how you do it."

He cocks a brow at that, finally looking up from the phone in his hand to level dark eyes on yours. "Do what? Sing?"

"No." You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat. The words are harder to find than you thought they'd be, lost in the depths of his gaze, in the clarity you're so unaccustomed to, in the way you feel like you can breathe for the first time in days. "I don't care how you sing, that's not important, it's the...fuck, you know what, never mind, it doesn't fucking matter." You push off the wall and step past him to head towards where the streetlight gleams off the bar windows. 

"Tell me." The command has you stopping in your tracks, and you're again flooded with just wanting to know how. How he clears the haze, how he stops you, how he makes you feel real. You turn, hands stuffed into the back pockets of your jeans. "How I do what?"

It takes you several long breaths before you can answer, and you aren't even sure he can hear you over the sounds of people leaving the bar, and you find yourself disappearing into the crowd without waiting for a response. Your own words are reverberating in your skull, getting louder with each step you take, and you wish you could just turn it off . 

"How you make me feel like a person again."

You avoid the bar for a few weeks, going hours away from your usual area to an unfamiliar hole in the wall just to make sure you don’t see him. You’re more deadly than usual in your fights, victories coming quicker, injuries piling up along with the guilt, but you can’t bring yourself to return. It’s unnerving, the way everything goes quiet around him, the way you can think, but the worst is the way you can feel. Everything’s calm and steady and blue, and it only makes it easier for the regret and the guilt and the anxiety to curl around your throat and squeeze until you can’t breathe, to clog in your throat while the laughter of your siblings echoes in your ears, and you...can’t. You can’t do that, you can’t let it win, you can’t let them win, they can’t know that you’re everything they think you are and worse. 

You can’t let yourself drown in that, and yet you find yourself back at Suho’s, lost among the crowd while Taehyung’s voice surrounds you. The ache in your bones fades away, chased by the thrum of the fight that still lingers despite the hours that have passed since you felt your opponent’s femur break under your palm and their screams echoed in your ears. Everything is calm again, and the guilt nearly drowns you.

He hasn’t even finished singing before you’re outside, chest heaving as you gasp against the weight on your chest. You broke someone’s femur , and did you even really need to? The fight itself is a blur even now, snapshots playing through your mind like a montage. The way they’d darted at you first, how their foot felt connecting with the backs of your knees, the determination in their eyes when you went down, the jolt of shock as your hands wrapped around their leg, the dull throb of a barrage of hits against your waist as you pulled them down as well and bloodied their face, the blood-curdling scream as you snapped the bone like a pretzel stick.

Your breath comes faster in your lungs, forced out by the growing guilt that lodges there in its place. Images swirl in your mind, chased by a never-ending stream of thought and regret that you should be used to by now. Fuck, you didn’t need to, and you still did it; you lost control, you fucking hurt them, and for what? A couple hundred? Was it even worth it? Who knew when they’d be back into shape to fight, what if they needed the money? They weren’t even half-bad. They got you down, at least, shouldn’t you have gone easy on them? You don’t even remember their face, can’t remember what the announcer said their name was, words drowned out by the buzz under your skin.

Metal crumples under your grip and you spare a half-second to mourn Suho’s dumpster before you slam your knuckles against it. It tingles, not even real pain, and you don’t hesitate to repeat it. By the time the metal is disfigured completely, a distorted mess of paint and steel and garbage, you still aren’t in pain, but there’s a sheen of gold across your knuckles and you feel less like you’re drowning and more like you’re suffocating. The usual. You can handle that. You think. 

You don’t even realize that you’ve slid down to the ground beside the dumpster until the back door of the bar opens and footsteps echo through the alley. You wish you knew how long you’ve been here, how long you’ve sat among empty bottles and stale beer and broken glass, but you can’t be sure. The brief reprieve brought by Taehyung’s voice is long gone, chased away by the guilt and rage that still sits heavy in your chest. You hope you’re not noticeable here, that whoever’s left will just pass by and leave you to piece yourself back together on your own. 

Voices tell you that it isn’t likely, the deep baritone of one too familiar to ignore. The other is new, but you’re familiar with the tone, the inflection, the intent behind it. You've heard it before, in crowded clubs as a guy pushes too close to some girl who can barely stand, in a coffeeshop when a random customer can't take a fucking hint, at the local campus when some professor insists that there could be maybe one thing her student could do to pass. It makes everything in you curdle, the bourbon from earlier threatening to work its way back up; it screams predator , and you absolutely refuse to let anyone fucking talk to someone like that, like they have some right to whatever it is they want. 

You refuse to let someone talk to him that way. 

"Seriously, Kratos, didn't I tell you to leave me alone? Did Aphrodite not teach you your lesson last time you harassed someone?" Taehyung's voice brings a calm that's an unsettling match to the anger washing over you. You're used to the red at the corners of your vision, the tint to everything you see, but you aren ' t used to the way it all turns purple and focused and clear . 

There's no haze this time, there's no abrupt shift of you moving before you know you've done it. You can feel the glass crunching under your boots with every step you take, can feel the way the air has a chill that creeps down into your lungs with every breath, can almost taste the apprehension that's rolling off of Taehyung despite his relaxed stance. The only thing that gives him away is the tense set of his jaw and the mix of relief and fear when his eyes land on you. 

"I'm pretty sure he said no, Kratos." The god turns at your voice and you watch the realization wash over him as he realizes what - who - you are. 

"Been a while since anyone's seen you, Ares." He scoffs a little, not moving from where he has Taehyung caged against the wall of the bar, one hand pressed firmly into the brick. He's entirely too close, and you have no doubt that the stench of him permeates the very oxygen around them. 

"Been busy. Doesn't change the fact that the man said no. Take the loss, walk away." Kratos' eyes narrow at your words and he steps away, but only to move closer to you. 

"Why do you care so much? You've never been one to care about any of us before." Kratos inches closer and the hyper-focus that Taehyung's voice causes starts to melt away with every twitch of your fingers. You've never liked Kratos, all brute strength with no respect for the challenge, no appreciation of the fight, too focused on sheer power and exhilaration. He is the worst of the worst of the worst of your kind, of all the war-focused gods. Every bit of yourself you hate is every piece that Kratos loves about himself. 

"I care that you don't seem to be able to understand when someone doesn't want to be around you, you absolute piece of filth. Taehyung had a point though, I really thought the whole thing with Aphrodite would've taught you how to back off. Or should I pull the video out, I think I still have it saved for when I need a good laugh." Malice and fury twitch across the other god's face and you absolute revel in it. You can feel his anger prickling across you, like needles in your very pores, and you ache for it. It's been so long since you last had a good fight, a real challenge where you didn't need to hold back at all. 

Too long since you fought a god like yourself.

"You're testing my patience, cousin," Kratos spits. It's a little generous to call the two of you cousins - you're several times removed, at best, and potentially closer than that with your family's warped history - but you let him have it. It might make him feel better. "I'm having a conversation, that's all. And if said conversation means that we end up back at my place, then, well, can anyone really blame me for what might happen to this pretty little m-"

Your fist connects with his jaw immediately and the red floods you for the few seconds it takes to register Taehyung calling your name. The calm struggles for a second, warring with the rage, but it wins out eventually. The singer's talking, but you can't make out any actual words. You're too focused on Kratos, the way he's righting and readying himself for a brawl. There's a fire in his eyes that matches the one in yours and everything in you feels alive for the first time in too long. 

This fight is different than your usual ones. There's no blur, no warped sense of time that usually comes with the adrenaline. You're focused and controlled in a way you haven't had to be for centuries, careful and precise and deliberate with every swing and every kick. The red seeps back in slowly and every time you think you're about to lose it, you hear Taehyung, still pressed against the wall of the bar. 

Kratos lunges at you for what has to be the tenth time, clearly trying his best to knock you to the ground - he succeeded, once; you let yourself get distracted, too caught up in thoughts, but it didn't last long - and you sidestep him just in time for him to ram into the ruined dumpster instead. He looks pissed when he turns back around and something in you sings at the sight. He makes for you again and you dodge again, only to be dragged back towards him by the grip he has on your jacket. Fuck, should've taken that off , whatever, he's too close.

Pain explodes in your side and you're fairly sure he's busted part of your rib, but you just slide your arms out of the sleeves and twist to plant your knee straight into his gut and then slam your heel down onto his much-less-safe toes, and then back up to knee him in the groin. It's nowhere near enough to take him out, but his nose is oozing golden ichor and he groans with every shift of his weight, and you've got him pinned against the wall with your forearm pressing hard into his windpipe. 

"Now, you're gonna listen to me you steaming pile of dog shit," You hiss. "When someone tells you no, it's not a fucking negotiation. It means you fucking leave and find someone with loose enough morals or enough internalized self-hatred that they're willing to subject themselves to your absolutely pitiful fucking excuse of an existence for the thirty-two seconds it'll take for you to get off." 

Kratos doesn't respond, just sneers and spits blood at you. It's a miracle you don't actually try to rip his head from his body, because the thought crosses your mind for a second too long. Instead, you just press harder against his windpipe and enjoy the choked gasp that it draws. 

"You don't stalk people either, the way you did with 'Dite. Don't you know it's better to let them come to you sometimes?" You tsk, ignoring the way he claws uselessly at your arm. Gods may not need to breathe, that's a fact, but they feel pain, and there is no way this isn't absolutely excruciating for him when even you can feel the small bones in his neck cracking and breaking. "And if I hear even a whisper of you pulling shit like this again, then I'm gonna find you, you pigshit. And when I do, I won't hold back even the slightest, and do you know what comes after that?" 

His eyes are full of fear now, and only grow wide with terror as you lean in close enough that he can feel your lips against his ear as you whisper. 

"You are going to wish that you could die." 

When you do release him, he disappears instantly, with a cloud of acrid grey-green smoke curling around your ichor-spattered boots. He's only been gone a second when you slump, the adrenaline fading as quick as Kratos had left. Your side is throbbing now, your knuckles are bruised and broken and gold, there's a pain in your leg that you aren't sure what's causing, your head is screaming even through the high of the fight, your face stings in the crisp-cool air. Every breath makes the pain worse so you stop breathing. The brick wall of the bar is rough against your palms, but it's the only thing around that can keep you upright, so you'll take it. 

"Well," a voice drawls from your left. You'd jump if you had anything left in you, but every ounce of energy is gone, spent teaching Kratos what Aretha Franklin meant when she sang about respect - and really, there was another fantastic singer, you really should visit her sometime soon - so instead your head lolls to the side. You aren't sure what it is that jolts through you when your eyes land on Taehyung, fingers curled carefully around the collar of-

Your jacket. That's your leather jacket. You barely remembers shrugging out of it, but you're glad it's not on the ground, trampled and covered in the gold spatters that decorate the rest of your body. 

"Well?" You echo, wincing at the pain it causes. You've definitely got a busted lip, that's for sure from the way it feels different and swollen, and you're pretty sure there's a head wound, too, because you don't remember there being a golden halo around Taehyung before the fight. 

"Well," He repeats, slinging the jacket - your jacket - over a shoulder. "You should get that looked at." He starts walking, making his way to the entrance of the alleyway. He gets halfway there before he stops and turns and cocks a brow. "Are you coming, or do I get to keep this?" Your jacket waves a little, as if he's wiggling it, and it makes you feel like a stray dog being lured off with treats. 

You're never going to tell anyone that it works.

Taehyung's place is as nondescript as the car he parks outside. It's a plain apartment building on the outside - looks like maybe it was a hotel back in the 1930s, based on the outdated carpeting in the lobby and the grate on the elevator he steps into. Even the hallway is plain and unassuming as he leads you to the end and uses an old, tarnished brass key on an older, more tarnished brass knob. You aren't sure what you expected, you can't even begin to guess what Taehyung is like outside of the dirty alley or the stage where he sings, can't fathom what kind of decor he could possibly have. 

What you step into isn't anything you could have guessed. It looks like he has the entire rest of the floor to himself based on what you can see, but there's also a spiral staircase tucked into a corner, bookshelves built in under each step that are filled to the brim, and a fireman's pole in another corner, so there's at least one more level above this, but something tells you both the staircase and the pole continue past that. There's artwork everywhere, pieces you recognize and pieces you don't, several van Goghs and a couple from Matisse and you think in the corner you spot an actual fucking da Vinci sketch that's supposed to be somewhere in Europe. There's a gramophone beside a top-of-the-line sound system, an entire wall that's just a record collection, books upon books, framed bits of poetry - including an actual hand-written rupi kaur, a signed Maya Angelou print, and a signed cover of ain't i a woman by bell hooks that you would die to know how Taehyung got his hands on. It's a museum's wet dream and yet it retains a lived in atmosphere. There are mugs left on tables, blankets strewn about as if someone just got up from a nap, an easel propped up by a far window with what looks like an impressionist painting of the cityscape, books tossed down half-read with receipts and coupons and candy wrappers and everything but a bookmark tucked between the pages. 

It feels like a home and it makes your heart flutter in your chest at the same time that something in your stomach shrivels up into itself. 

Taehyung walks like he’s meant to be followed, so follow you do. You spy another man - older, you think, but it’s hard to tell, really - sprawled across a couch, blanket splayed across his lap as he watches some kind of dance show on a flatscreen hung above a warm and roaring fireplace, a couple of girls in what looks to be the kitchen, one sitting on the counter while the other stands between her legs and pretends not to notice the former stealing strawberries from her bowl as she taps at her tablet, and there are footsteps creaking above you, hidden behind walls even as Taehyung leads you up the staircase. They all look up when you pass, but only the man gives you a second glance; his eyes are a weight on your back that doesn’t leave until you’re upstairs and following Taehyung into a large, rather nice bathroom. 

It’s vintage as well, but it’s spacious and well-kept, like the rest of the place. Taehyung pats the marble counter by the sink and you bite your tongue against the urge to tell him you aren’t a dog. You don’t move though, instead watching him as he lays your jacket across a brass bar on the wall and then digs around in a cabinet for a minute or two. When he straightens up, he’s got a somewhat dusty off-white box in his hands, and he frowns. 

“Up,” He says. “I need to look at your ankle.” 

You don’t move, but you can tell he doesn’t miss the twitch of your nose at the thought of being commanded like an animal. Like someone who can’t understand. Like-

He sighs. 

“Please, will you sit on the counter, so I can look at your ankle?” You huff, but you do as he says. 

He doesn’t speak as he works, completely silent except for the odd command - “Roll it for me...alright, now flex that...deep breath...stop fidgeting or I’ll only make it worse…” - and the occasional hum under his breath. It seems to be second nature, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and it endears you more than you’d like. His touch is gentle but firm as he lightly squeezes your ankle and wraps it, lifts your pant leg to rub some kind of cream into a somewhat worrisome golden bruise forming on your calf, darts under your shirt to quickly and painlessly set your ribs before wrapping those as well. He doesn’t say anything at all until he’s almost finished with the cuts on your hands, golden ichor long gone and wounds already on their way to healing thanks to some sort of mist he spritzes on them. 

It only stings once, as he’s spraying something over some kind of cut on your thigh where Kratos ripped through the denim there without you noticing. You can’t stop the hiss as the pain hits, though you regret it when he glances up at you. 

“Sorry,” He mumbles under his breath as he dabs lightly at it with his long fingers. 

“It’s fine,” You tell him. “I’m used to it.” Your voice is rough, always, but softer than usual. You don’t know why. You can’t decide if you like it.

The entire time he works, you wait. For him to tell you it wasn’t necessary, that he can fight his own battles, that he’s not surprised a brute like yourself got into a fight, that you’re no more than what the rumours say you are. You’ve got a million different curses and insults ready to spit back at him when he finally speaks.

“Thank you,” is what comes. It shocks the words out of your mouth, and you actually look up from where you’ve been watching him methodically wipe gold away from a scrape on your forearm. His gaze is concentrated on the injury and his lips are pursed and you wish you could figure him out. 

He must take your silence for the confusion it is, because he continues. 

“I mean it,” He says. “I’m usually not someone that lets other people fight for me, but we both know that I couldn’t have taken Kratos. He’s too strong, and he was counting on that. Until you showed up.” You don’t respond. “Is there a reason you left before my set was done? Or why you were sitting in an alley beside what is possibly the most gnarled dumpster I’ve ever seen?”

You don’t answer him, instead focusing on the way his hands feel as they tilt your chin so he can look at the cuts and bruises and scrapes that decorate your face. You focus your gaze just past his shoulder, content to memorize the pattern of his gaudy vintage bathroom wallpaper, and he doesn't press for more. The distracted humming picks up again every time he stops talking, and eases the storm of guilt shame rage pain hurt grief loneliness in your chest. 

"I fight," you eventually say. Your voice is too loud in the quiet of the bathroom, shatters the silence like a sledgehammer, and you hate the way it trembles. Still, Taehyung doesn't look away from where he's carefully wiping gold from your skin, just cocks a brow, and it's as if a dam breaks in your throat. "Like, real fights. Actual competition, with rules and shit, and...sometimes the bad ones, because they tend to fight differently, it's a different kind of fight, y'know, and it's never really fair, because I'm...I'm me, but I hold back, just for fun, y'know, and it's, uh. It's alright usually, I go in, do my thing, I win, I go drink, and it all gets, I dunno, easier, maybe, for a while, like I can think right, but, um.”

You hesitate for a split second and force yourself to focus on the way the alcohol-soaked cotton tickles the cut on your head. 

“Sometimes it's not...sometimes I can't control it as well, the anger, and I kind of just lose it on people, and a while ago this guy, he almost needed his jaw wired shut, but he was kind of a prick anyway, I guess, so whatever, but, uh, today, I...there was this girl and she was doing really well, actually, y'know, managed to get me down to the mat, which is rare and pretty impressive, and I'm pretty proud of her for it now, but then, I just. I just kinda lost it, like, I just kept swinging, I couldn't stop, and then I just...I broke her leg, for no real reason, just because I wanted her to hurt, and I don't...I'm not sure why I even did it, because I'd already won, right, like what was the point of doing any more, it wasn't even helping at that point, y'know, it's not like the buzz kept up any longer because I broke this kid's leg, and I love the fights, they help clear my head for a second, but I never wanted to actually-"

You words stop short, like there are too many of them to say in too short a time, and it's then you realize Taehyung's hands are in his lap and he's looking at you fully. His expression isn't neutral anymore, it's not the carefully crafted mask of a performer, it's real and open and genuine and all you see there is pain . For you. Pain and understanding and compassion you never expected to find anywhere but the deepest corners of your soul. Looking at him looking at you like that makes you feel like you can breathe again.

"You never wanted to hurt anyone." His voice is rough, like maybe there's emotion clogging his throat as well, and you aren't sure what that does to you, but something in you jumps at the thought.

Tears mar your vision as you nod and you curse under your breath before wiping them away. He catches your quivering hand in his and just holds it for a second. His eyes don't leave yours and there are a thousand things you expect him to say but what he says is: 

"I believe you."

And that...it's more than you can take, and you break, right there on his bathroom counter, sobbing into his chest while he just rubs your back and hums and you remember the face of every person you've ever hurt and the look in their eyes as you left some of them for dead. 

You wake up the next morning curled up on the most comfortable chaise lounge in human history, sitting up and shoving the blanket off of you in a rush before you remember where you are, why you're there. A glance around tells you that you aren't alone; there's two guys bent over a table that you think might also be a tablet, conversing quietly and pointing every so often at whatever they're looking at, a girl balanced along the edge of the staircase holding a lyre - which, wow, you haven't seen a lyre in that good condition in a while - and strumming lightly along it before she frowns and shakes her head and restarts whatever melody she's playing, and the same guy sprawled over the couch with a blanket strewn haphazardly over him while he watches a different dance video on the flatscreen. He's the closest and you don't really want to talk to any of these people but you think you might have to because you aren't really sure how Taehyung got you here last night but you know it was quite a drive. You'd just mist over to the bar if you really wanted to, but your ribs hurt like a bitch still thanks to that fucker Kratos. Anything as intense as misting is out of the question for the time being.

The man on the chaise spares you a glance that feels longer than it should, full of a judgement you have no doubt you deserve and yet somehow fires your anger anyway. 

He rolls his eyes before you even say anything and waves a hand towards the kitchen. You snap your mouth closed and shoot him an irritated look, but you storm in that direction anyway. Healing is exhausting, and you want nothing more than some meat to tear into and a cold beer. 

When you get into the kitchen, however, Taehyung is standing there already, as if he’s been expecting you any minute. There’s a plate in front of him, full of food you barely recognize, and he slides it towards you. 

“Eat,” He says. You grit your teeth, unmoving, and he sighs again. “Please sit, and eat. You need the strength to heal properly.” 

You resist for a split second, but there’s a softness to him now. Something you can’t exactly put your finger on, but that you know is different , somehow, and it changes things. It makes you want to listen, to do as he asks, because he is asking . He’s not telling, he’s treating you like an animal. 

It’s a request, not a demand, and that makes all the difference. 

Taehyung is quiet while you eat. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t watch to make sure you’re doing it, but you have no doubt he’s keeping an eye on you. It’s quiet, but not unbearably so; the air is broken by the sounds of the lyre and the television, as well as the soft chattering of the men at the table. It makes it comfortable, makes it soft in a way you’re unaccustomed to being, like the way people talk about lazy Sunday mornings or that voice they get when they see a cute animal.

It feels like home should be, instead of what yours is. 

“So why’s Pretty Boy giving me the death glare?” You eventually ask past a mouthful of food. Taehyung barely looks up, just glancing past you to the guy laying on the couch. You can feel his eyes boring into your spine, but it’s nothing new. 

“Taemin’s just protective,” Taehyung says softly. “Especially considering the stories.”

“The ones about me, you mean.”

A myriad of emotions passes through his eyes when he nods, and you wish you could more easily decipher them. Maybe in time, you will. 

Maybe.

“Those, yes,” He says softly. “But he’ll learn.” He doesn’t say it, but nonetheless, you hear the words as clear as day. Just like I did.  

Someone hums behind you and you glance over to see a woman - the strawberry thief - making her way into the kitchen. She gives Taehyung a look you don’t care enough to figure out, and they have an entire conversation in the span of five minutes. Something about it irks you, and it only gets worse when they start moving around each other, Taehyung handing her things without her asking. 

It’s ridiculous, and you know it, but the air gets heavy in your lungs and your head starts to swim and suddenly you’re suffocating. It’s too much, there’s too much here, and you can’t take it anymore. 

The force with which you shove away the counter would have slammed it into the wall were it not already attached. There are slight cracks in the granite tops, though, and there’s just enough clarity as Taehyung calls your name for you to feel guilty about it. It’s not enough to stop you though; you have to get out, you need to get out, before you do something worse, and the cracks in the granite are proof of that. 

You’re out the door in an instant, your form coalescing painfully back into solid matter as you reach the hallway. Your ribs ache, screaming with the effort of trying to mist away from this place, this home , and you lean against the wall in the hope that it will help steady you. 

The door opens behind you, the creak of the old hinges deafening in the silence of the hall. There’s a commotion behind it, voices overlapping each other and reverberating in your skull until they’re a twisted mockery of your siblings. 

You stumble down the hall, one hand clutching your ribs to keep them as still as possible despite your movement. It’s not lost on you that there are footsteps following you, but you can’t focus on them now. You’re not moving fast, and you need to be, you should be running , but you can’t. Your vision is already clouding slightly at the edges, the sudden spike of adrenaline waning now that you’re out of the apartment. 

Someone says your name and you swing. 

It’s instinct, the way your fist flies through the air; you can’t control it, not this, not when the red is all you can see even as it seeps away and turns lilac. It doesn’t matter anyway. You don’t make contact with anything but the wall, plaster crumbling around your fist and onto the carpeted floor. 

“That was rude,” Taehyung says softly. He doesn’t sound mad, though he should, considering you almost decked him straight in the nose. “I’ll take you back.”

He drapes your jacket over your arm and walks away, toward emergency stairs tucked into the corner instead of the elevator, and you follow. He hums as he goes, and he lets you lead the way down the stairs, keeping pace with your quick steps until both of you step out a side door into an alleyway. 

Out of habit, more than anything, you light a cigarette and put it between your lips. You don’t miss the disgusted scrunch of Taehyung’s nose, but you do ignore it. The smoke is familiar in lungs, comforting, and he doesn’t understand it, won’t ever understand it, but he doesn’t have to. 

“Sorry, Tae,” You say after a few minutes of silence. Taehyung shrugs one shoulder and moves to lean beside you against the stone of the building. 

“Are you okay now?” You nod, taking a deep breath, remembering how Hestia had taught you, so long ago, how her hand felt against your chest, the warmth and love it held. “Then you’re forgiven. And you can call me Calliope, if you want.”

You’re both quiet after that. He doesn’t make fun of you, he doesn’t judge you, he just silently drives you back to Suho’s bar, which is when you remember that he doesn’t know where you live. You’re fine with it; you don’t want to see him in your run down hovel. It’s not much, especially compared to his own apartment, but that makes sense, too. 

What could ever live up to the home of a Muse? Not even a muse, really. The Muse. The Head of the Nine Muses, the one called on most often by those in need, the one that everyone knew, the one that Hephaestus just put statues of in the gardens of Olympus, according to the rumors that Apollo sent you. 

The calm that he brings lasts until you get back to your apartment, nearly ten full minutes after you disappear into the alley beside Suho’s bar. It’s the longest the calm has ever lasted, and the view of the city tinted lavender is one you think you love. 

If you can love. 

Things get clearer, somehow. The weight on your shoulders lessens, makes you feel less like Atlas and more like you, how you were all those years ago in the now-ancient days when things made sense. When people fought for honor and glory and justice more than they fought for oil and death and greed. 

It could be because open mic nights are frequent around the city, and you’re able to figure out his schedule pretty well. You don’t go every night that he sings, just when it gets to be too much, when the scarlet haze starts to bleed into your irises like a flag in front of a bull. It helps, for a while, lets you settle long enough to pull the pieces of you back into a shape that vaguely resembles yourself. 

It could be because the fights happen every night, and Taehyung is no stranger to where to look to find them. He watches every one that he can, when he isn’t singing, and his presence anchors you. Focuses you, so that you can pull your punches just enough, so that there’s less hurting and more fighting. It doesn’t work every time, you still lose yourself in the rage and do more damage than you ever mean to, but it helps enough. And when it doesn’t, he’s there, to slide a hand across your shoulders in that exact same way that Hestia used to, that Apollo might if you let him close enough to know you’re alive, that Artemis would , were she anywhere but where she is. 

It’s a strange feeling. You’re not used to companionship, you don’t know how to have friends. You still say the wrong things and do the wrong things and he still speaks to you like he expects to be listened to, but you both are learning. You apologize more often, and he corrects himself quicker. It’s a slow, fragile thing, this friendship, but it’s there. 

Until the night when it’s not. 

You aren’t sure how it happens. It’s been weeks since you last saw Taehyung; he mentioned some project he was working on, something or another that would have most of his attention along with that of several of the other Muses. You had brushed it off when he said it, some snide remark about how you don’t need him there to win. 

You would take it back if you could. 

Because you were right, of course, you don’t need him there to win; you can do that on your own. And your control has gotten better, stronger, over the last few months, but complacency is what always leads to disaster. 

The guy deserved it, is what you tell yourself as you’re pulled out of the ring. He was a piece of shit anyway, you remind yourself as you call Apollo with shaking hands. He didn’t deserve your mercy, you tell the golden gold after you’ve begged him to help save the man’s life. Artemis would have done the same, you insist to him, long after he’s hung up the phone and left to follow the ambulance to the hospital. 

You don’t go to Suho’s. You can’t bear it, not when he might be there, not when he would read it on your face in a heartbeat. You don’t want to watch the disappointment crumble into something more familiar, something worse, you can’t watch him look at you with the knowledge that your siblings are right, that they’ve always been right, that you’re nothing better than a crazed animal. 

The club is packed full when you get there. The bartender starts to pour you a drink and you just take the bottle, leaving a too-thick wad of bills in return. The bourbon tickles as it goes down but it warms your stomach and distracts you from the haze in your mind, the repetitive beat of they were right they were right they were right they were-

“Whoops, sorry,” someone says, a second before they knock into your shoulder. You’ve been around long enough to know a fake fall, and you scowl as you glance towards them. 

He’s cute. Taller than you, with skin that would hide the marks you so love to create, and hair that looks like it would be soft in your hands. His clothes fit well, and they look like they were chosen for comfort over style despite the way he walks like a model in them, which you always find attractive. 

The smile that slips onto your face is familiar, as is the way you bring your hand up to rest on his hip in an effort to steady him. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” You tell him, not being subtle in the way you eye him. He looks soft; you love them soft. “You headed to get a drink?”

“I might be,” He says teasingly, a coy grin forming on his lips. 

“I’ve got something better, if you’re interested.”

His eyes roam along your body, his breath drawing somewhat quicker when he notices the scrapes on your knuckles. “I might be.”

It takes five minutes to get him to a corner quiet enough to talk. Less than three to get your lips on his. One and a half to start sucking a mark into his neck that makes him moan so pretty you can’t help but want to hear it again. 

One of your hands is up his shirt, playing with the pebbled buds and the metal pierced through them, while the other teasingly massages the skin of his hip when he’s torn away from you roughly. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice growls as you look up. The guy is standing there, looking for all the world like he’s ready to run, but he isn’t watching you. 

No, his eyes are on a familiar sight; Taehyung, his hair now a pretty lavender that makes you think of a home you don’t have, even as he doesn’t look at you. 

“Taken,” He growls, releasing the collar of the guy you had every intent to make cry with pleasure. The guy scurries off before you can stop him, though, and you don’t bother to hide your disdain. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You demand, already lighting a cigarette as you head outside. Taehyung follows, pulling it from between your lips and crushing it in his hands before you have the chance to get your lighter out.

“Me? You looked like you were about to eat him .” He follows you all the way to the street outside and down the sidewalk, pulling each cigarette out of your hands before you can light it. He waits until you’re a decent distance from the crowd outside the club before he stops you, one hand lightly encircling your wrist. 

Your boots scuff against the ground as you stop, not turning to look at him. You’re too afraid to, too worried he’ll see it all on your face and just know that you’ve fucked up, maybe beyond repair. 

“Apollo called me,” is what he says instead. “Said I might want to find you tonight.”

You should’ve known. That little fuck, of course he would rat you out. 

“I didn’t-” 

The words choke in your throat. You want to say you don’t need him. You don’t need him to come running like you’re some scared little girl who can’t control her strength, you don’t need him to piece you back together because you aren’t broken, you don’t need him because you don’t need anyone, you never have. 

“I know you didn’t,” Taehyung says quietly. “I know he deserved it, I know what he did, and I know you didn’t mean to.”

Something inside of you breaks and you find yourself shaking. 

“He hurt her , Tae, I heard it, I heard her telling her friend about it on the phone, I saw her crying, I saw her clothes, okay, he-”

“I know,” Taehyung says, pulling you into a loose hug. “I know you did, it’s okay. He’s going to be okay. He’s not gonna escape his punishment from that, you didn’t send anyone to Hades today. It’s okay.”

The cloud struggles, for what feels like hours. Guilt settles like lead in your stomach, and you wish you weren’t so used to the feeling. The rage returns every time you remember what that girl looked like, what she sounded like on the phone, how you felt when you realized it was your competitor who had done that to her. 

There’s no honor in that. There’s no justice, no glory, in beating an opponent who was never aware they were in the ring, and it makes your blood boil all over again. Taehyung’s voice soothes you, slightly, makes the edges of your vision turn indigo, but it isn’t enough. 

It’s never enough. 

“I have to go,” You say, pulling yourself away from him. “I need- I have to find-”

“A distraction,” He finishes for you, too aware that you can’t find the words you need. “Some mortal that you can bruise and break and bang until you feel less like a monster?”

That’s exactly what you want to do, what you had been about to do with that guy at the club, and it’s only Taehyung’s voice calling your name in that soft, sweet way of his that makes you wonder if that’s not a good plan. 

“I’ll be a distraction, if you need one.” You whip your head around, staring at him, but he doesn’t flinch. “I’m sturdier than the mortals, I can take more. Let me be your distraction.”

“I…” You hesitate. You don’t know why. You shouldn’t even be entertaining this idea, it’s not a good one, but then...when have any of your ideas been good? “I can’t fuck in a house with eight other people.”

“You have an apartment,” He says easily. “Let’s go there.”

It’s a bad idea. You don’t do that, you don’t fuck people at your apartment, you don’t have people in your apartment, it’s your space. It’s a bad idea, it can only end in disaster. 

“Okay.”

Taehyung’s lips are soft against yours, yielding and pliant just the way you’re used to. His hands are big and warm against your ass, even through your jeans, and the feeling gives you the courage to slide your own under the ridiculously patterned button-down he’s wearing. 

He lets you lead the way through the door, kicking it closed behind you with slightly too much force. Your apartment is small, a studio with a bed tucked in the corner for the rare times that you need it. 

You push Taehyung onto it and slide yourself onto his lap, already grinding down onto the hard length you can feel there. He's not quite as enthusiastic, but his fingers are like steel against you, pulling you down with every rut of your hips. 

This, you can do. This, you're familiar with. 

You push on his shoulders, doing your best to get him on his back so you can have better access to the clasp of his jeans, but he resists. You try again, firmer, using a harsh suck against his skin as a distraction, but he still doesn't go. 

Frustrated, you pull back. 

"Not like this," He says. His voice clears some of the fog, and you frown. 

"Do you want to be on top, then? Because I don't mind, I just need it," You tell him. He sighs a little, but he flips the two of you over so he's kneeling between your open legs and your back is cushioned against the mattress. 

"How long has it been since you spent the night with someone who knows who you are?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he sits back on his knees. 

You shift, uncomfortable. "A while. Why does that matter? Just fuck me."

"No," Taehyung says, voice gentle but firm. You cock a brow at him and move to get out from under him, but he stills you with a hand on your thigh. 

"You are a goddess," He tells you, trailing his hands down so he can undo the laces on your steel-toe boots and slide them off. "You have held Victory in your palms and set her free." 

His palms burn through the denim on your thighs, but you welcome it as he slides your jacket over your shoulders to the bed beneath. 

"You are the winner of wars. You are the one who grants battlefield wishes. You are the dead's escort to Hades." He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek and then down your throat. 

He pulls back as he gets to your collarbone, eyes blown wide with unfamiliar desire, and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You," Taehyung tells you, with desire in his eyes and belief in his voice, "Deserve to be treated like the goddess that you are, with the respect you have earned, and the care you deserve." 

As often as you fuck people, it's been a very long time since anyone wanted to fuck you for any reason beyond your appearance and the personality you show them. But this? This look in the muse's eyes as his hands settle on your knees as he waits? 

Taehyung wants to fuck you because you're you. Not despite it, not because he doesn't know . He has seen you at your worst and yet he keeps coming back, keeps showing up as you fall apart. Each time he stays, hands you a basket so you can pick the pieces of yourself up off the ground, holds the tape so you can mash it back together, and is ready to help steady you when you start to crumble again. 

He's here for you , to treat you in a way no one has ever treated you before. He's your friend.

He cares.

You nod, however tentatively, and his lips are on yours in an instant. They're firmer now, less pliable and more controlling, but you don't mind. Not this time. 

Not with Taehyung. 

His hands don't hesitate as he strips you both of your clothes, but you can feel it each time he checks to make sure you're okay. The way that he watches your expression, the tense of your muscles under him, the cadence of your gasps for air between kisses, he reads all of it as clear as if it's a book in front of him. He slows down before you can stop him, his lips drawing back from the kisses he draws across your thighs, and he speeds up as your thoughts start to drift, swiping his tongue and two fingers through your folds to tease and bring your attention back to him. 

His fingers bury themselves in your heat, crooking slightly to brush against that soft part of you that makes the world spin, and it's all too intense. His lips are hardly even touching your skin, just pressing gentle kisses against the skin of your thigh, a gentle complement to the way he glides his fingers in and out of you, slow and steady and delicious, but it's absolutely intoxicating. 

He's talkative, too; he gives you constant praise. He tells you how well you take his fingers, how good you look with his fingers inside you, how absolutely fantastic you taste on his tongue, how he'd live between your thighs if he could. 

It's too much, and you can't be sure why, not when your orgasm is approaching quicker than it ever has, not when your walls clench around him and you soak your sheets, not when he's cleaning your cum off his fingers with his tongue.

"Good," He purrs. "Now you're all warmed up." 

His mouth hits your heat without hesitation or warning, before the aftershocks are even finished, and your hips buck upwards. His arms slide underneath your thighs only to grip them and bring them back down. You can't move much in his grip except to grind your pussy against his mouth, which he seems to enjoy, if the muffled grunts that escape him are any indication.

He doesn't stop until his tongue is buried inside you with one finger drawing lazy circles on your clit and you're cumming again, hands gripping the soft strands of his hair so tight that you would be afraid of pulling it out if you could focus on anything besides the feel of him against you.

He lets you ride the aftershock, this time. Waits until your pants die down slightly, until you're back in your mind. 

"Good?" He asks you. His voice is deeper, rumbles instead of slides, but it breaks through the post-orgasm haze long enough for you to nod. “More?”

“More,” you agree, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him into a heated kiss. You haven’t been this clear-headed in a while. Every sensation is clear and crisp, every sound heightened, everything is simultaneously more while also being exactly what it’s always supposed to have been. 

Taehyung’s cock is everything you could have expected from a muse; thick, long, beautiful, and it fills you in a way that’s indescribable as he slides inside. He groans at the feeling, deep and throaty and beautiful, and begins his thrusts nearly immediately. 

It’s as slow as he was with his fingers; steady and forceful, but unhurried. As if he wants to take his time. As if he wants to savor it. Savor you . 

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” He mutters, almost as an afterthought. “What you look like right now, what you look like when you’re fighting, when you’ve won and you’re triumphant? It’s fucking addictive, seeing that confidence in you.”

“Shit, Tae, don’t stop-”

“It’s so fucking intoxicating,” He groans, pace quickening. Your arms wrap around him more fully, nails like claws down his back as you arch your back to get him deeper. “You get this look in your eyes, like you can do anything you fucking want to, and it’s so fucking brilliant, because you can , you can do anything and everything you ever fucking want to do, and no one can stop you.���

A whine you’ll never admit to escapes your throat, and Taehyung drives his cock further into you. 

“Let go, my sweet,” Taehyung purrs in your ear. “Let yourself relax, just this once. For me.”

His hand touches your clit and it’s so much, too much , you’re feeling everything so intensely that it takes a solid minute to realize you’re coming down from an orgasm. Taehyung has stilled inside you, unmoving but groaning as you flutter around him, and you push weakly at his shoulder. 

He slides himself out of you, looking entirely too proud of wet spot underneath you and glistening against his lower stomach. You wobble your way up to rest your elbows underneath you, and it’s like he can sense your words before they come. 

“No,” He says simply. “I don’t you to get me off with your mouth.”

“A hand then? I don’t want you to leave unsatisfied.” 

A frown pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he leans down just enough that your lips are almost touching, a not-there kiss that you can only wish for. 

“In what world is fucking you to the point of Elysium unsatisfying?”

The crowd around you is deafening; some of them are cheering for you, but the majority are rooting for your downfall. Such is the life of a challenging the champion, you suppose. 

You don’t know how Taehyung found this place; maybe Artemis had heard rumors, or maybe he searched for it himself. You can’t bring yourself to care, not when you’ve got someone worth fighting on the other side of the arena. 

The sand crunches beneath your feet. It’s hot, hotter than it should be since you’re still wearing your signature jeans and boots - without the jacket this time. You learned from that mistake. 

Your vision tints pink as you size up your opponent; he’s massive, not one to be easily defeated, and you relish the challenge. It’s been so long since you’ve fought a giant. Excitement thrums under your veins as he turns to you. He scoffs. 

If you had a little less control, you might be flying across the arena already. He clearly has no idea who’s standing across from him. Probably thinks you’re some demigod, come to challenge him for the fleece he isn’t supposed to have. 

He’ll learn. 

Something moves in the distance. It should blend in, considering how dark it is, but instead it draws your eye, and you don’t even question why. You would recognize him anywhere, have recognized him everywhere, and his presence calms you. Makes you remember a few nights ago, falling into bed in a hotel in Rome because the burn was to much and you needed him to help you release it. 

“Try not to be too quick, princess,” The giant across from you huffs. You cock a brow and send a look to your muse, who just rolls his eyes, despite the smile playing across his face. 

Violet rings your vision as you ready your stance. The announcer yells something that’s lost over the noise of the crowd. Taehyung leans forward, elbows on his knees, excitement and pride in his eyes. 

The giant swings.