#concealer. his eyes really big and just going ‘wow. b you’re REALLY pretty.’

[bruciemilf]

Alfred: Lieutenant Gordon turned on the Batsignal exactly 20 minutes and 30 seconds ago. Just thought you’d like to know

Bruce who’s been redoing his eyeliner all day, about to have a breakdown cause he can’t find his eyeshadow: 19 minutes.

[maluminspace]

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Michael Clifford/Female Reader 

Prompt: Person A goes to in costume to a Halloween party, to find no one else is really dressed up except Person B

Word Count: 3k

Content: mostly just cute Halloween fluff, Michael in drag, there’s also a bit of side lashton, 

Trigger warnings: Alcohol, strong language, references to sexual activity including public sex (nothing too explicit)

A/N: Okay, so this is my second attempt at writing something for this collab. My first one turned out huge and not really very halloween-y so I re-assessed and this is what I came up with! I hope you guys like it <3

Please check out the masterlist and support/show some love to all these amazing writers.

*** 

When your best friend in the entire world, Luke, had first invited you to his new boyfriend’s Halloween party, you’d taken it as the perfect opportunity to blow off a little steam. Work had been busy lately and you hadn’t had much chance to relax. Furthermore, Luke had told you that Ashton (the new love of his life) had a couple of hot single friends, so you’d figured your costume should be on the sexy side.

You’d spent weeks deciding on the perfect outfit before finally settling on a black cat outfit that was just the right side of tasteful. The bodysuit was figure-hugging, showing off your curves perfectly. The elegant velvet ears and tail matched it well and you finished off the look with some cute whiskers painted on your cheeks and a red choker with a little gold bell on it.

Luke let out a low whistle when he met you outside the house he’d given you directions for. “I wish I could say the same for you!” You huffed, surveying your friend’s very lackluster costume, if you could even call it that. “Where’s the pirate costume I helped you pick out?”

A slightly guilty expression coloured Luke’s pretty face as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, I mentioned it to Ashton and he kinda hinted that he didn’t like tacky costumes so I went for this instead.” He shrugged awkwardly.

“And what exactly is this supposed to be?” You asked, gesturing to the plain white shirt and black jacket. “You just look like you’re about to go to work at the office, what the fuck, Luke?”

“Wait…” He said, his face brightening a bit as he pulled on a wig that you hadn’t even noticed he was holding. “I’m Vincent Vega!” He announced.

You rolled your eyes, fully disappointed in your best friend’s decision to side with his new squeeze over you. “I preferred the pirate costume, you’d have looked super hot.”

“I’m sorry to break it to you, buddy…” Luke giggled, “but you’re not the one I want to impress tonight.”

You clutched your chest in fake pain and shock. “And here I thought it was me that you wanted to fuck you senseless whilst a huge queue forms outside for the bathroom we claimed.”

An embarrassed blush rose in Luke’s cheeks as the memory of the specific situation you had described filled his tiny, horny brain. “We were drunk, and if he’d whispered in your ear with that sexy, gravelly voice to tell you how beautiful you looked in the new shirt he’d bought for you, you’d have begged him to drag you to the nearest bathroom, too.” He huffed as he started off up the driveway, his ridiculous wig almost falling off with the force of his dramatic head toss.

Suppressing a giggle, you followed your friend to the front door. “You’re forgetting one important detail there, Lukey.” You reminded him with a smirk. “I’m not as big of a slut as you.”

“That costume begs to differ.” Luke replied, raising an eyebrow proudly. “Calum is probably gonna pop a boner after just a glimpse of your ass in that tight suit.”

“And Calum is one of the hot ones?” You asked, remembering Luke’s declaration of Ashton’s stupidly handsome best friends. 

“Yeah, he’s the one with the cute dog and swanky apartment near the beach.” Luke explained as he opened the front door. “Michael’s probably a bit more your type, through. You have about the same mental capacity as each other.” He snorted.

Choosing to ignore the weak jibe at your own intelligence and that of the as yet unknown Michael, you focused on Luke’s lack of manners instead. “Shouldn’t we knock?” You asked. “It’s rude to just walk in to someone’s house, even if they do ‘rearrange your insides like no one has ever previously managed’.” You added, taking a great deal of joy in quoting Luke back to himself.

“Keep your fucking voice down!” Luke hissed. “I told you that in confidence!” He shook his head as though to clear it (probably from another X-rated memory) before he answered your question.

“Ashton told me we could come right in. So stop worrying about stupid stuff and get in here!” He laughed.

For the second time in the few moments since you’d met him outside, you rolled your eyes at your best friend, but this time the exasperated gesture was accompanied by a small laugh.

Your merriment soon died away when Luke led you into the main sitting room, which was already packed with people…people who were not in Halloween costumes. People who were very much giving off a sophisticated air as they sipped their wine and stood around talking to each other comfortably over the music that was playing at a much too sensible volume for a party.

In your peripheral vision you noticed Luke tear off his wig and hide in the oversized vase he was standing next to before any of the other guests saw him wearing it. Without that ridiculous little prop, Luke would probably blend right in. You, on the other hand, were going to stick out like a (very scantily clad) sore thumb.

“I thought this was meant to be a Halloween party, Luke.” You hissed, offering awkward smiles to the few people nearest to you, who were regarding you with ill-concealed smirks.

Your best friend gave an awkward laugh before ushering you towards the kitchen.

A few spiteful glances and giggles followed you as Luke pulled you through the crowd of people. 

Luckily the kitchen was pretty much deserted, with just three people huddled over by the microwave. You only recognised one of them. Having met Ashton a couple of times previous to this evening, you had no problem identifying his muscular form and the sweater/jeans combo outfit he favoured at the moment, even though you could only see the back of him. 

The second man had a very handsome profile. He was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a white shirt, with very few of the buttons done up as far as you could tell from this angle. He looked kind of athletic, with strong, muscular arms and thighs. His curly black hair was styled neatly to perfectly frame his face.

Ashton and Muscles were mostly obscuring the third person from your view. But you could tell by the tone of their voice that they were not at all happy about something. “- cannot expect me to stay here like this!” 

Unsurprisingly, Luke gravitated to the little knot of people, dragging you along with him until you finally got a glimpse of the irritated man leaning against the counter. 

Suddenly, your own embarrassment at your chosen costume vanished. In comparison to this guy, you definitely weren’t going to be the center of attention.

The third man was dressed in a long blonde wig, albeit a very cheap-looking one, styled into high pigtails. His cute, unshaven face was painted in badly-applied makeup. The tight white dress that he’d squeezed into left you with no doubt of who he was meant to be dressed as, and the realisation pulled a snort of laughter from you.

Luke failed also to suppress a giggle as he let go of your hand and instinctively curled into Ashton’s side, as though the slightly older man was some sort of magnet. “Wow, you sure as hell didn’t get the memo about the ‘adults drinking wine’ vibe either, huh?” 

The angry ‘Baby Spice’ glared at Luke with what you just knew were usually very pretty green eyes. “Don’t you start, lanky!” He huffed. “I’m already this close to ending your boyfriend.”

“Hey!” Ashton interjected, his voice calm and smooth in comparison to his friends’. “First of all, don’t talk to Luke that way or I’ll be the one ending you. Secondly, it wasn’t me that tricked you into dressing as a Spice Girl.” His last two words were accompanied with a snigger and it only made his angry friend’s face get redder.

“I swear I’ll rip your-” Baby Spice began before Muscles cut him off.

“Now, now, Michael.” Muscles smirked, “don’t you think that’s a bit too much.”

You were apparently the only one to pick up on the reference as your burst of laughter sounded much too loud in the otherwise quiet room.

For the first time Muscles’ and Baby Spices’ eyes snapped up to meet yours. Their reactions upon noticing you properly for the first time were at opposite ends of the scale. 

Muscles became instantly flirtatious, his brown eyes lighting up with a charming smile as he greeted you with a smooth. “Oh! Hi there, beautiful…”

Baby Spice on the other hand, looked as though all of his nightmares had come true. The fear and embarrassment on his face were unmistakable as you focused on him over his friend. “It looks like you’re in the market for a new best friend too, Baby Spice.” You smiled gently, hoping to ease his discomfort a little. “I’m looking for a replacement, too.”

There was something about the genuine look of surprise in his green eyes that really endeared this stranger to you. Now that you were standing closer to him, it was easier to see the handsome features that the untidy lipstick and foundation were covering. 

“Yeah…” Baby Spice laughed awkwardly, all of his anger vanishing as he tried to adopt a more casual stance. “My ex-best friend thought this would be funny.” He said, gesturing to his outfit, that up-close was much worse than you’d originally thought. His hairy chest, arms and legs protruding from the cheap costume dress made for a comical sight, but you fought back your amusement, intent on befriending this man so that both your night and his might take a turn for the better. “I’m guessing Luke pulled a similar prank on you, too?”

“Actually, he didn’t.” You explained, shaking your head. “Believe it or not, this is what passes for a Halloween costume in Luke’s tiny, dumb brain.”

Luke’s offended noise was lost beneath his replacement’s beautiful laugh as you stepped forward and offered Baby Spice your hand to shake as you told him your name.

He took it, still smiling bright enough to make his emerald eyes sparkle. “I’m Michael.” He confirmed. “And I’d be more than happy to be your new best friend.”

***

In the following couple of hours you made two amazing discoveries;

Alcohol consumption was the best cure for embarrassment.

Michael was fairly close to being your actual ideal man.

Despite the fact that he was obviously gullible, most of Michael’s other qualities were very much to your liking. In the short time that you’d known him, Michael had proven himself to be kind, funny and incredibly easy to talk to. What’s more, as the night went on and more and more of his makeup wore off, you’d found out he was even more handsome than you’d originally thought he was.

“So did you mean what you said to Calum just now?” Michael asked, suddenly looking a little nervous as he dropped his gaze to the bottle of beer in his hand. “About not being interested in him, I mean.”

A couple of times, Calum had wandered over to the corner of the kitchen that you and Michael had claimed as your own, trying to flirt with you. On each occasion, you’d made it perfectly clear that you’d formed an alliance with Michael and that sneaky ex-best friends were not permitted to flirt with you under any circumstances.

If you were reading the signals right, Michael was a little jealous of his friend. That was understandable; Calum was conventionally good looking and was as charming as they come. On a normal night, you’d have been more than a little tempted to see if his smooth moves translated into decent bedroom skills, but tonight your attention was completely focused on Michael.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “He seems nice and all, besides screwing you over on the costume thing.” You giggled. “But he’s not really my type.”

Michael looked mildly confused. “I’ve never heard a girl say that before.” He admitted. “I thought he was just everyone’s type.”

“I can recognise that he’s hot, but I like my men a little softer and my number one turn on is someone who can make me laugh.” You replied honestly. 

A light blush rose in Michael’s cheeks as he apparently realised you’d been describing him. Judging by the shyness emanating from him, people admitting they were attracted to him didn’t happen all that often. You couldn’t understand why; he was absolutely beautiful.

“C’mon, Baby Spice.” You smirked, “Lets get another drink and then you can show me some of your best dance moves.” 

“Oh, I can’t really dance?” Michael confessed, his blush deepening a bit as he headed over to the counter where numerous bottles of alcohol were laid out.

“I find that very hard to believe!” You gasped in fake shock. “I mean it’s easy, isn’t it? You just slam it to the left, shake it to the right.... Y’know, go round…” You smirked.

Michael rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna have to stop right now with those Spice Girls lyrics, kitten.” 

The pet name made your insides dance excitedly. It could have easily sounded like a cheap, tacky term of endearment from anyone else but Michael’s cute mannerisms just made it sound adorable. “Yeah, okay.” You teased, nudging his arm playfully. “I don’t want you to have to say goodbye, my friend.” 

Michael let out a reluctant laugh as he surveyed the drink options. “I can tell you were a huge fan, I’m flattered.” He said, playing along easily.

“What’s with the past tense, Bunton?” You continued. “The Spice Girls are timeless.”

Michael nodded as he continued to stare at the bottles of alcohol as though he couldn’t decide which to go for.. “I agree, I always had a bit of crush on Posh…”

“That’s basic!” You reprimanded him. 

“Rude!”  Michael scoffed. “Who’s your favourite?” He asked, raising a hopeful eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you if you hurry up and decide what you want; I’ll be sober by the time you pour a drink at this rate!” You laughed.

Michael shook his head, smirking a little. “Don’t rush me kitten, I need to weigh up all of my options.”

“Oh, come on Michael!” You scolded when he still hadn’t made a decision a moment later. “Just tell me what you want, what you really, really want so we can continue getting trashed.”

“That was your worst one yet.” Michael sighed dramatically. “I may have to disown you after that one, kitten.”

Excitement bubbled in your chest at the use of the pet name again, knowing it wasn’t just a one time slip of the tongue meant that it might stick and you couldn't put into words how much you’d like that. “Fine, just pour us both a vodka and lemonade so that you can show me those spicy dance moves.”

Michael couldn’t hold in the fond chuckle that rippled out of him as he obeyed your request. “So are you gonna answer my question about who your favourite Spice Girl is? Or do I have to guess?”

“Baby’s always been the one I crushed on the hardest.” You replied easily, deciding to forgo the guessing game.

“Yeah?” He prompted. “What attracted you to me?” He asked before panic flooded his features. “I mean her! Sorry...I wasn’t being-”

You cut Michael off with a giggle as you allowed your already tipsy brain to capitalize on the alcohol-fueled confidence you always seemed to develop after a few drinks. “I think it’s your terrible makeup skills, quick wit and those pretty green eyes that attracted me to you the most, baby.” 

You never really noticed how close you’d gotten to him until you felt the little puff of breath from his quiet “Oh…” ghosting over your own lips.

If there was ever an opportune moment to kiss him, that was it. Without any good reason to stop yourself, you tentatively wrapped your arms around his neck. “I can’t believe I’m about to kiss a Spice Girl.” You chuckled, loving the way his hands felt as they rested on your waist. 

“I hope I don’t disappoint you, kitten.” He replied, tilting his head to one side slightly so that you wouldn’t bump noses when the gap between your lips was finally closed.

It was you that took the final step, pressing a soft kiss to Michael’s lips. They felt every bit as soft as they looked and used them perfectly, kissing you back with just the right amount of enthusiasm. 

Usually, it’d take a lot more than a shy first kiss for a guy to fully win you over, but somehow you found yourself melting into Michael’s hold, prolonging the simple kiss for as long as possible. Michael didn’t seem to mind that at all, holding you closely as he parted his lips allowing you to deepen the kiss, sliding your tongue teasingly against his.

When the two of you naturally drew apart a few moments later, your head was spinning from more than just the alcohol. Michael was well and truly intoxicating in a very different way. “I’m gonna need a lot more of that to keep you on the top spot of my favourite list, Baby.” You said, trying not to let your voice sound too breathy.

“That’s definitely a promise I can keep, kitten.” Michael smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Glad to hear it!” You proclaimed. “Now, let’s drink up so that we can move on to somewhere that our awesome costumes will be more appreciated!”

Michael raised a questioning eyebrow. “Leave Ashton’s party?” he asked. “Do you have somewhere in mind?”

Nodding, you picked up your drink and took a long swig, “My favourite bar always has an awesome Halloween event.” You confirmed. “I was gonna go there but Luke wanted me to meet his boyfriend’s friends so I came here instead.” 

“Well, I’m kinda glad you did, to be honest.” Michael said, his cheeks reddening slightly. 

You pecked another kiss to his lips before taking another drink. “I am too, but it’s time for us to be the life of a new party.” 

Michael nodded in agreement as he finished his drink in one go. That shouldn’t have been as hot as it was to you, yet there you were practically drooling over a man in the worst drag outfit and makeup you’d ever seen, wiping vodka and lipstick off his incredibly plump lips with the back of his hand. He reached out with the hand that didn’t have bubblegum pink smeared across the back of it and took hold of your hand with the full confidence of the drink he’d just downed.

 “So where are we going?” He asked. “I trust you, so don’t let me down and take me somewhere lame, kitten.” 

“Oh, don’t worry. This place is amazing.” You promised, smirking as your final Spice Girls joke of the night slipped past your lips. “It’ll really spice up your life, baby.”

***

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[artificialqueens]

Sweet On My Lips (Crygi) - Mumu

A/N: This is my first fic! I usually write poetry, so this is quite a change. Hope you enjoy :) You can also read it on AO3!

Summary: Gigi’s a barista and Crystal stumbles into her cafe. Softness ensues.

It’s nearly four in the afternoon when Crystal Methyd stumbles into the cafe with a book bag under her arm. She needs a sugar high. Immediately.

She wanted to go to a Starbucks, but a few wrong turns on the way back from the new tattoo studio she was an apprentice at, and she was suddenly twenty minutes away from the nearest one. She ended up having to settle for a local cafe to satisfy her sweet tooth. How is that even possible? Starbucks is supposed to have a store on every street. That’s, like, the law.

Add that to the fact that LA summers felt like Satan himself was preemptively boiling everybody alive to lessen his workload once they made it down to hell, and you got one very pissed off Crystal.

“Hi! Can I get, uh, a-” Crystal starts, approaching the counter. She squints at the menu, trying to decide from the creative names which drink has the most cream and sugar. Her mouth tastes filmy and gross from dehydration, not at all helping her concentrate on scanning the drink names.

Tiramisu mocha? White chocolate raspberry frappe? Maybe the frappes are sweeter, given that they’re usually topped with whipped cream and all. She traps her bottom lip between her teeth, thinking. It’s too hot out to order a hot chocolate. Maybe she could ask to get it iced, though? Is that a thing?

She honestly should have just walked the twenty minutes to Starbucks; at least she knows for sure that they’re okay with modifications.

She realizes she’s been quiet for a few seconds too long when the barista speaks.

“Take your time! There’s not much business this time of day anyways.”

“Thanks,” Crystal drags her gaze away from the menu and up to glance at said barista. Her breath catches as soon as she does. The first thing she notices is curly red hair, pulled into a shiny ponytail. It looks soft, and she wants to touch it.

Crystal’s pretty sure this barista is the first redhead she’s met (apart from that one time she decided to dye her hair red in eighth grade, of course, but she doubts that counts.)

She’d only done it to piss off her English teacher after he’d gone on a rant and said that unnatural hair colors were an abomination of god or whatever. It didn’t come out to be a pretty shade like this girl’s. More… Clifford the big red dog. But ultimately, three months of picking out clothes to match her hair and drenching her damaged split ends in coconut oil were worth it, if only to see Mr. Rhodes splutter every time she came into his classroom.

A thump from the cafe dishwasher brings her back to the moment, and she startles slightly.

“D’you want some help choosing?” The barista asks helpfully.

She doesn’t trust herself to speak without stammering out something embarrassing, so Crystal just nods instead.

“Great!” The redhead says, smiling. Her nose scrunches as she does so, and Crystal notices the coral-colored blush placed there for the first time. It gives the girl a sunburnt look. It’s cute. She’s cute.

“I love guessing people’s coffee orders. It’s like, coffee shop tarot reading or whatever,” The girl says.

“Aren’t tarot readings for the future though?” Crystal gets out, finding her voice again. Her eyes drop to the barista’s name tag- Gigi. It’s nice to put a name to the pretty face. “So this would be more like a BuzzFeed personality quiz or something.”

“Whatever, I don’t know.” Gigi waves the question away, shrugging. Her smile is warm, and it makes Crystal feel kind of melty inside. “You’re probably right.”

“Do you do it often?” Crystal ventures.

Gigi gets a bit flustered, twirling a piece of hair around her finger. Crystal wishes she could be the one playing with Gigi’s hair. Is that creepy? Definitely creepy.

Gigi considers how to word her answer. Okay, don’t tell her you analyze everyone that comes in here like some sort of serial killer.

“Mostly just in my head? It keeps me entertained.” Or do. Great.

“Cool! Do you want me to answer questions or something? I can do that.” Crystal offers.

“No, that’s cheating. Just, like, stand there for a sec, yeah?”

Crystal obeys, feeling a bit silly. Gigi narrows her eyes, studying her.

“You’re wearing bright colors and mixing prints… that tells me you’re fun and like, a child at heart and stuff.” And you’re really pretty, Gigi wants to add. Really, really pretty, because nobody else I’ve ever met could get away with mixing prints. Not even Nicky, and that girl is a runway model.

“Uh, thanks, I think!” Crystal shuffles a bit. She hopes that being “a child at heart” a good thing in Gigi’s book. She wants Gigi to like her. The realization almost makes her snort in irony. Of course. I’m head over heels for a pretty girl I just met five minutes ago who’s probably not even gay. How very cliche lesbian of me.

Crystal makes a mental note to never, ever tell her group chat about this. (Meaning, the group chat is the first place she’ll go to talk about this after she leaves in around five minutes.) Jaida will probably never let her live it down. On the bright side, it would probably give her a break from constantly having to relive the Mailbox Incident of Summer 2017. She nearly shudders just thinking about it.

“Oh! And cute earrings! Where’d you get those?” Gigi asked, bringing Crystal out of her thoughts.

“Thank you, I made them!” Crystal says, and only allows herself to grin like an idiot for five seconds.

“No way, that’s incredible,” Gigi marvels. “Do you sell them or anything?”

“Yeah, mostly just to friends, though. Once a month I go to an art fair and that’s when I sell the most stuff.” Crystal says. She hesitates for a moment, before throwing in a, “but then again, lesbians will buy anything if you stick a needle on and call them earrings, so.”

“That’s cool,” Gigi says. “And amen to that. I just bought a pair of bottle cap earrings? I have no idea when I’m ever going to wear them.”

“Thanks! Those sound cute, I bet you’d look pretty in them.” Crystal feels like a broken record at this point, just repeating the same few phrases. The praise has her feeling a bit shy, and she can’t help but get a little self-conscious. She fiddles with the hem of her denim jacket to keep herself busy.

Gigi doesn’t seem to notice, still very much focused on analyzing her appearance. “Freckles, cute! Are they natural?”

“Oh, uh, yeah!” Crystal brings a hand up to tap her nose. “I used to hate them.”

“What, no, they’re adorable! I’ve always wanted them. I would, like, dot them on with mascara in third grade.”

Crystal giggles. “That’s so cute.”

She flounders for a second, trying to come up with something to say as Gigi goes back to staring at her. “Uh, I like your hair! I dyed my hair red in eighth grade, but it didn’t look natural or anything.”

“Aw, thank you. Yeah, red hair is really hard to get right apparently.” Gigi nibbles on her bottom lip, thinking. “Okay, I think I’ve got it!”

“What’s the verdict?” Crystal asks excitedly, all previous discomfort forgotten.

The redhead pauses, steepling her hands and drumming her fingertips together. She lets the silence sit for a few seconds to build anticipation, though this time it’s decidedly less awkward, both girls having warmed up to each other.

There’s a pause before she announces her decision. “I think… you seem like a diabetes in a cup kinda girl.”

Wow. Okay, how the hell did Gigi do that? Is Crystal that easy to read or something?

Actually, yeah, it makes sense that she’d get it right. Crystal thinks, answering her own question. I dress like something out of a five-year-old’s wildest dreams. Still, pretty impressive.

An indignant part of her wants to insist that she can handle bitterness, thank you so much, but Crystal’s never been a great liar, and something tells her this girl wouldn’t buy it either.

“Is that… a good thing?” Crystal says, a dumb grin spreading on her face. Get it together, Crystal.

“What? Girl, in what world is diabetes a good thing?” Gigi cackles. “It’s horrible. I get an iced black coffee, for reference.”

“Ew,” Crystal blurts without thinking. Shit, I said that out loud. She immediately flushes and tries to take it back. “Or, no, I mean, not ew, but-”

“No no, it’s okay! I know some people just aren’t mature enough for Big Girl coffee,” Gigi mocks. Crystal would usually be offended, but judging from the way Gigi’s blue eyes are sparkling with mirth, she knows the girl’s just joking.

She still makes a sort of offended squeak, pouting. “I just like the way sweet stuff tastes!”

“Okay, okay!” Gigi holds her hands up in surrender, barely concealing a grin. “Don’t pout, you’re too cute to pout.”

The squeak that escapes Crystal is real this time. Gigi called her cute? Is she flirting or just being nice? I’m probably delusional. Right?

There’s a moment where neither girl speaks. It hangs in the air with the smell of vanilla and cinnamon, mixing until Crystal’s half sure the entire cafe’s suddenly been turned into some sort of fairy-tale confection. She’s afraid to move, like the space around her will crackle and shatter if she does. It’s quiet, safe for the background of the coffee grinder going steadily and some gentle R&B flowing out of the sound system.

It’s a comfortable sort of silence. Crystal likes it, feels safe in the cocoon-like ambience. She wonders why she’s never come to this cafe before. Maybe it’s time to break her Starbucks addiction, explore a bit more.

Gigi clears her throat.

“So, how does a double chocolate cookie dough frappe with Nutella drizzle sound?” Gigi asks, finger already poised above the cash register screen.

Perfect.

Okay no, she can’t say that. Crystal clears her throat, trying to come up with a response that’s not as corny. She eyes the wall opposite the counter, where the menu is, then Gigi, confused.

“Wait, I don’t see it on the menu?” She scans the menu again, trying to find Gigi’s recommendation. Did she miss it? Her coffee budget is $3, what with rent due at the end of this week. Hopefully, Gigi’s recommendation isn’t over that limit.

“Oh! Yeah, um, I kinda just made it up right now.” Gigi flushes, sounding a bit flustered. She rushes to explain. “My boss is, like, super cool though! She lets me experiment and stuff. And I can just ring you up for a hot chocolate and it’ll be our little secret.”

In truth, this is Gigi’s first time making anything off-menu, so she isn’t sure what her boss Widow’s policy on the practice is. But she has this inexplicable urge to want to impress this girl. Gigi wants her to love the drink she orders.

I mean, it can’t go that bad, right? She reasons. Worst case scenario Widow takes it out of my tips or something. But Widow’s nice. She probably won’t do that.

“Well, in that case,” Crystal starts, and then changes her mind. “Actually, what did you say you usually ordered? Black coffee? I’ll take that.”

A shocked noise escapes Gigi. “I get an iced black coffee. You sure you want that?”

“Yeah yeah yeah! I can handle it, you’ll see,” Crystal hears herself say. This is an astronomically bad idea, she knows, but then again, she’s never been one to turn down a challenge. She wants to impress Gigi, and what with her teasing earlier, she honestly feels like she has something to prove.

“Okay, your funeral,” Gigi relents, raising an eyebrow. “That’ll be $2.49, then.”

Crystal hands her card over, watching Gigi go through the motions of scanning it, handing it back to her, and tearing off the receipt.

“You want the receipt?” Gigi asks.

“Nah, I trust you,” Crystal winks at the other girl, surprising even herself with her boldness.

Crystal thinks she sees Gigi redden, though that could just be a combination of her makeup and a trick of the light. Something tells her that the redhead is fond of blush, what with the way the coral powder has been taken across the bridge of Gigi’s nose and on her cheekbones.

“Okay!” Gigi flashes her a smile and grabs a cup and sharpie. Two can play this game. “Can I get a name for the order, babes?”

“Um, it’s- it’s Crystal.” Crystal blinks, trying to figure out whether she heard that right. Whatever boldness possessed her to wink at the pretty girl in front of her fled the moment that pet name passed Gigi’s lips.

“Well, nice to meet you then, It’s It’s Crystal,” Gigi says with a smirk. “One iced black coffee coming right up! Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll bring it to you when it’s done.”

Crystal plops down at the nearest table, watching Gigi work. Now that she has an excuse to just quietly observe, Crystal takes in Gigi’s full appearance. Her red hair is glossy and shiny under the sunlight that streams through the cafe’s windows, and she moves with expert ease through the space behind the counter. Her apron is checkered red and white. It’s tied in a bow at the back—a bow that’s lopsided, sagging slightly to the left, Crystal notes with a smile.

The girl is gorgeous, there’s no doubt about it. If Crystal met her on the street she definitely would have mistaken her for a model. And she was nice, too.

Nobody ever noticed her freckles or complimented her on her earrings the first time they met her. Most people thought her style of dress was weird, and Crystal figures that’s fair enough. Just the other day she wore a magenta jumpsuit with matching bunny ears. Anyone in their right mind would be a little taken aback at her fashion (as Jaida put it, her aesthetic is best described as “thrift store on acid.” Not exactly everyone’s cup of tea.) But Gigi got her right away, and a little part of Crystal wants to take that as a sign. Okay, maybe a large part.

Just as Crystal’s about to get lost in her daydreams again, Gigi bustles over with two cups, one in each hand.

“I made you a cookie dough frappe just in case,” She says, setting both cups on the table. “It’s on the house.”

Crystal exhales a light laugh. “You didn’t have to.”

“Oh,” Gigi says. She shifts her weight onto the other foot, suddenly shy, and gestures lamely towards the two drinks. “I wanted to. Just in case, like, the black coffee was too bitter. Sorry. You don’t have to drink it, uh, if you don’t want to.”

She offers an awkward smile. “I won’t force you.”

“Oh! Uh, no!” Crystal says, a little louder than necessary in her haste to reassure the other girl. Gigi jumps, and Crystal grabs her hand out of impulse. The movement jerks Gigi closer to her. “I mean, thanks. You don’t have to apologize. It’s really sweet of you to think of that.”

Gigi blushes, and Crystal’s suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she’s holding the girl’s hand.

And the fact that they’re the only people in this cafe. And the fact that when Crystal grabbed Gigi’s hand, it sent her stumbling a step closer, so now she’s pressed right against Crystal’s leg.

Gigi is very, very close to her all of a sudden, and her hair is really pretty, especially with the sunlight backlighting the frizz into a golden halo. She looks like an angel, and her eyes are hypnotizing.

Crystal wants to kiss her.

“Okay,” Gigi whispers, and licks her lips. It dawns on Crystal that she said that last part out loud. Fuck.

But Crystal can’t think, can’t panic, because Gigi’s so close and she smells like chocolate cake when it’s freshly out of the oven and still gooey in the center, just the way her abuelita makes it, and she’s warm and everything Crystal has ever imagined or wanted. Everything molecule in Crystal is telling her to crash into Gigi, and she decides to just go along with her instincts, because when a pretty girl is that close to her there’s no way Crystal can think logically.

“O-kay,” Crystal whispers back, stretching out the word, and then Gigi’s lips are on hers and they’re soft.

God, they’re soft. Gotta ask for her lip balm brand, Crystal thinks, because that’s a perfectly normal thing to ask someone you’re kissing, and then Gigi’s shifting positions and sliding into her lap to kiss her more comfortably and she’s lost the ability to think again.

All she can do is feel, feel the way Gigi’s hand snakes around her waist, the way Gigi’s eyelashes are fluttering against her nose bridge, the way Gigi’s hair is smooth as she tangles a hand in it, the way her heart feels like it’s soaring and exploding all at once and each one of her veins seems to be pumped full of fizzy champagne all of a sudden. All she can feel is Gigi, and she thinks she likes that.

As they part, Crystal accidentally bumps her nose against Gigi’s. She pulls away, wincing, and meets Gigi’s eyes for one very still moment. They peer at each other in wonder, as if discovering each other for the first time, and then Gigi’s lips quirk and she’s giggling. Before long, Crystal’s joining in too, and both lose it, still riding high off the adrenaline of the kiss.

After they’ve both calmed down, Crystal motions to the drinks on the table. “Wanna share?”

Gigi smiles softly at her. “Yeah, sure.”

Crystal grabs the black coffee and takes a small, tentative sip. She immediately chokes, breaking into a coughing fit. Gigi pounds her back, hard, then races behind the counter and pours her a small cup of water. After Crystal’s done hacking her guts out, she accepts it gratefully, trying to catch her breath.

“That,” She pants, “Is fucking disgusting.”

Gigi lets out a full-bellied laugh. It’s the prettiest thing Crystal’s ever heard, she thinks, which is saying a lot because she’s been to at least one show for all four of the One Direction tours. ‘“What a feeling” harmonies can’t even come close to the magic of Gigi’s laugh. Crystal wants to hear it over and over.

“I tried to warn you,” Gigi says with a snort, then covers her mouth, eyes wide and mortified, clearly shocked at the sound she produced. The comical expression sends Crystal straight into another bout of laughter, and before long they’re both losing it again.

Sometime later in the afternoon, somehow, Gigi ends up in Crystal’s lap again. Crystal’s lost track of time, but she doesn’t mind. She wants to kiss Gigi again, and again, and again. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of looking at her, kissing the sweet almond balm off her lips, touching her. Crystal wants to be in her presence forever. Gigi’s tongue pokes out of the left side of her mouth as she gazes down at Crystal, lazily tracing the smattering of freckles across her nose, forehead, and cheekbones with her peach nails.

“I wanna kiss every one of them,” Gigi whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Then: “They’re cute.”

Crystal’s pretty sure if she wasn’t already giving heart eyes to Gigi, they are most certainly happening now. “You’re cute.”

“Can I? Kiss them.”

“There’s a lot of them,” Crystal says. It’s breathy, a challenge and a plea at the same time.

Gigi smiles, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind Crystal’s ear. “We have time.”

And they do, so Crystal lets Gigi kiss her until the drinks beside them are both completely melted and the whipped cream in Crystal’s has gone all weepy and deflated. Gigi insists on making her a new one, and on entering her number into Crystal’s phone before she leaves.

Crystal goes home and dreams of her.

[akitokihojo]

Delicate - Chapter 2

"It's not that bad!" Sango assured, trying to pry the paper away from Kagome's face. Her best friend stared at it, the look of anguish plastered on her expression, and her fingers gripping the exam tight enough to crinkle the edges. "Let it go, Kay!"

"It's bad. It's so bad."

"No, it's not."

"This is the first test of the term!"

"But you didn't fail. Give it to me."

"How did I get that question wrong?" Kagome pressed, shoving her face a little closer to the exam paper as if it would make more sense an inch away.

"Ah, okay! I'm going!" The tone was defensive and forced, serving as enough incentive to gather Kagome's attention. Inuyasha pushed a guy their way down the corridor, continuing to give little shoves at his back each time he slowed down. 

"Oh no." Sango grumbled, her lips curving in distaste as she gave a small duck of her head. 

The two stopped just a few feet before them, Inuyasha holding his hand out in gesture to Kagome as he glared at his friend. The guy's cheeks were pink, and his dark blue eyes shifted between she and Sango uneasily, his shoulders stiff and raised.

“Get it over with, Miroku.” Inuyasha pressed, his tone stern, almost disciplinary. 

"When did we swap roles? I'm usually the one making you -"

“Just say it."

"Sorry." He sighed feebly, eyes drooping shamefully. "For, uh, spilling my drink all over you."

"It's okay." Kagome said, trying not to laugh. "Wasn't a big deal."

"You didn't get in trouble with your parents or anything, did you?"

"I threw the dress away, actually. Didn't want to chance it."

"Awe man, you threw it away!?" Miroku groaned, dropping his head back. “I’m so sorry! I’ll replace it!”

"It's really not a big deal. The thing was old, anyway." She insisted, finally giving into her laugh. It was hard not to notice how is indigo eyes fluttered to and from Sango, and though she was curious how her best friend was fairing from the attention, Kagome didn't want to make it obvious by looking over. Instead, she flashed a humorous glance at Inuyasha, who stood there with little-to-no expression, arms crossed in what she would deem as typical Inuyasha fashion.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

"So, uh, what are you guys looking at?" Miroku cleared his throat, all former remorse gradually fading while he stepped to Kagome's free side to observe the paper in her hands. The damage was done before she could conceal it, his eyes growing large and brows raising high in total shock. "Woah, you got a 'D'? Yikes."

"Please, say it louder for the rest of the school to hear." Sango remarked sarcastically, a light scowl forming when she noticed Kagome try to hide her humiliated pout.

"Oh, sorry." He grimaced. "Was this your guys' first test of the year?"

"Miroku." Inuyasha, himself, seemed a little shocked at his friends lack of tact, golden eyes staring on in bewilderment as he tried to ignore the sinking expression on Kagome's face.

"No, no, this isn't bad at all!" Miroku said confidently, shaking his head incessantly. "First test is just the practice run! You can totally recover!"

Sango gave a reaffirming nudge against Kagome's shoulder, hoping she'd absorb the same amount of self-assurance that Inuyasha's friend currently harbored.

"Oh, I've got an idea! I've got a super idea! When you get a bad grade, what do you do?" He waited for an answer, eyes bouncing from one person to the next. They all looked unsure, distrusting even, and he knew it was all for good reason. Miroku was quickly losing all control over his better judgement, his nerves becoming jittery, his brain going completely haywire, and there was hardly any way to get ahold of himself now. He felt intoxicated, and knew he should stop while he was still ahead, but it was like whatever was left of his filter just flew out of the nearby window. The silence was tense, and his cheeks were hurting from the forced smile he maintained. When he realized he wasn't going to get an actual response from any of them, though, he unwittingly trudged forward. "You study. And you know who's not dumb?"

Kagome steadily folded up her test, over-creasing the lines with determined fingers. Was she being roasted by this guy? Was he legitimately calling her dumb, or was he just completely thoughtless? Her expression deadpanned, from her peripherals she saw Inuyasha drop his head to the side, and she could physically feel Sango's done energy. Miroku looked anxious, tense, but the smile kept on his face, even as he clearly realized his mistake.

"Not you." He said stiffly, as if to recover. "Because you didn't fail. I don't see an 'F' on that paper. Nope, I see a 'D,' and what does 'D' stand for?" More discomfort. More clenched sighs. “Definitely not an ‘F’! Wow, that was intense. Anyway, know what guy's worst grade ever was probably a 'B'?"

"Please stop." Inuyasha groaned, almost pleading.

"This guy right here." Miroku gestured to his friend with a point of his thumb, whose amber eyes were squinting, chagrined. "You should ask him to tutor - what? No? Should I leave?"

"You really should." The half demon nodded.

"You know, I sensed that, because I feel like I'm holding a shovel and digging a very deep grave for myself. You - you look very mad at me." He mentioned to Sango, his smile finally disappearing. "It's, uh, it's pretty terrifying. Wow. You could probably break me in half. I'm gonna - yeah, I'm gonna go."

Kagome watched the boy stumble away in amazement, walking as if the soul had up and left his body and the words he'd just sputtered out were barely processing. When enough distance was put between them, she twisted back to Inuyasha. 

"He's naturally like that!?" She asked, in reference to the hanyou’s claim while they were hiding from the rain.

"No." He gently shook his head, still shaken by the experience. "It's never been that bad before."

"That was..." Kagome trailed off, trying to find the proper word for what had just occurred. "Surreal."

"Alright, let's just move passed it." Sango waved her hand, as if dismissing the entire ordeal, shifting her entire attitude to act like it had never happened at all. "So, you're smart?"

"Well, I've never been tested or anything, but I stay afloat." He shrugged.

"Good enough for me. Pressure from your weird friend aside, how would you feel about helping Kagome out?"

"Sango!"

"I mean, I would do it, but I'm a C-average girl, myself. I kind of think she needs a bit of an aggressive push, if you catch my drift. Like, really drill it into her head."

Kagome shoved her elbow into her best friend's side, swiftly shutting her up before giving Inuyasha an apologetic look. "You really don't have to do anything. I'll be totally fine. In fact, if you could completely forget about the grade I got, that'd be great."

"So, you got a 'D.' Big deal." His shrug was more careless this time. Though his expression wasn't necessarily one of compassion, nor one she suspected was intended to make her feel any better, it was the lack thereof that ironically seemed to settle her nerves. "It's not gonna set you back so long as you pick up from there. Let me see it."

With minor hesitation, Kagome passed her folded up exam into Inuyasha's awaiting hand, watching him unfold it and take in the mistakes. His brow didn't crinkle and his lips didn't twitch to laugh at her. His face was straight, golden eyes sweeping over the test nonchalantly.

"These are all little mistakes. If it was really bad, you would have failed. I mean, you still suck, but it's not horrible." He said, refolding the paper and giving it back.

"Gee, thanks." She snagged it, folding it a few extra times for good measure.

"But, we don't want you to become a lost cause or anything, so I guess I can help."

"Don't do me any favors because you feel obligated."

"I'm not. I'm doing you a favor because you looked about ready to cry earlier, and it was pretty pathetic."

"You know, you really have a way with words." Kagome remarked, cocking her head to the side. Inuyasha gave a small upturn of his lips, the hint of smugness rolling from it, giving a small wag of his fingers in gesture for her hand. Confused, she apprehensively put it out for him, surprised when he grabbed her fingers to turn it so her palm would face him. He pulled a pen out of his pocket, clicking the ballpoint out before connecting it with her skin. His hand was hot against the back of hers; large in comparison. He had a firm hold, but never hurt her, not even when he tightened his grip as she gave a tiny twitch because the pen had tickled the middle of her palm. Molten eyes flickered up to her, and an unnatural heat spread over her cheeks, one she hoped wasn't as evident as it felt. With another click, Inuyasha's pen was shoved back into his pants pocket, his fingers releasing her hand so she could see what he'd written.

"I'm sure you can figure out what to do with that." The half demon stated, shoving both hands in his pockets as he sauntered around them in the direction his friend had gone.

"How much longer do I have to keep my cool for?" Sango asked, her voice barely over a whisper as they both watched Inuyasha disappear behind the corner. She noted the redness of Kagome's cheeks, the way she kept her hand open so the ink wouldn't smudge or rub away, and then the way her expression easily shifted into a dirty look.

"You're on a friendship timeout." Kagome brushed passed her, heading back inside their classroom and toward her desk to fish her phone out of her bag.

"What!? I totally did you a favor!" Sango whined, following close behind.

"You did not!"

"Yes, I did! You got his number out of this!" She made sure to hush her tone, crouching next to her best friend's desk so no one else would hear their conversation.

"First of all, it's strictly business. Second, you put us both on the spot. Timeout."

"Strictly," Sango scoffed. "No one said you had to exchange phone numbers to study. He could have always said to meet him in the library after school. You - are - welcome."

Kagome pursed her lips, cocking a brow expectantly, waiting for her friend to catch the hint.

"Fine. How long?" She huffed, dropping her butt into the seat in front of Kagome's.

"Three minutes."

Unlocking her phone and appreciating the momentary lack of harassment, Kagome input Inuyasha's phone number as a new contact, her teeth softly raking against her bottom lip as she hit save. If it was strictly business, why was she excited to have received his number? On top of that, she was nervous and she swore she could feel her heart thumping behind her ribcage. She pinched her lips together, but there was no fighting the smile that began to grow on her face. The guy was intriguing to her; hot and cold, seemingly sheathing a soft side, caring while possibly covering it with brash words - all of which yet to be one-hundred percent determined. But, that was what Kagome really wanted to take the time to discover.

As she looked up from her screen, she noticed Sango grinning at her, shrugging her brows knowingly. 

"Shut up." Kagome murmured.

Hastily, she typed in her message, hitting send before she could talk herself into waiting a while per teenage social conduct regulations. 

Here's my number, too.

It wasn't until after school that she felt her phone buzz with anything, her eyes doing their usual, nonchalant sweep of the courtyard as she and Sango made their way out before drifting down to the screen she held. 

Who's this?

She had to physically hold back her huff of vexation, not wanting to attract her best friend's attention to glance over her shoulder. Was this also typical Inuyasha fashion, or did he honestly not know? A subtle, paranoid part of her almost feared he'd given her a random number. But, he wouldn't do that. Would he? Or did he just give his number out to multiple girls and, depending on how quickly they chose to get back to him, it was hard to keep track of who was who? Oh god, did she even stand a chance? He was handsome as all hell, so who was she kidding? The guy probably had a leather jacket with HEARTBREAKER stitched on the back.

Strictly business. Studying. Not even a study date. Just pure, innocent, harmless studying. If she forced herself to keep up that mentality, there was no way she'd be bothered by any external forces threatening to send her overthinking abilities into hyperdrive. Who cares if she had a teeny, tiny crush on him? It was irrelevant to the cause; the cause being her grades. If she had to, she'd convince herself - someway, somehow - that she wasn't even attracted to him to begin with. She would travel far to meet a Jedi Master so that they could perform that mind trick hocus-pocus on her to make her believe that the person she would be working with wasn't anything special in the least.

Jerk.

Oh, Kagome. Got it.

Neither the quick response, nor the fact that he was probably playing with her made her smile at all. Not at all.

"I'm gonna do it." Miroku pumped himself up, bouncing on his feet.

"I wouldn't." Inuyasha said, his tone dull, eyes glued to his phone as he leaned against the tree.

"I'm gonna do it!" He repeated more persistently.

"I'm not saving you."

"I'm doing it!" His determination was admirable, even for him, fingers tingling with adrenaline, the flurry in his abdomen going into a wild frenzy as he power-walked his way toward the two unsuspecting girls across the street. Steady exhales left his lips, like an athlete exercising their breathing, totally prepared to work his magic like another ordinary day with the female specimen until the woman he particularly favored looked his way.

Miroku's mind blanked, his chest hitching painfully as his legs seemed to wobble pitifully, barely bringing him to his destination in front of the girls. She stared, blankly at first, her hand gently grabbing her companion's elbow to stop her trek, her attention, once fully devoted to her phone, flickering up to her friend then over to him. Their expressions mirrored one another's; mouths straight, eyes curious, brows cautious.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Sango." He managed to say. It sounded almost confident, only a small waver noticeable.

The girl stiffened slightly, clearly waiting for him to continue. His mouth had shut, though. His smile fit uncomfortably on his face; small, strained, like a child obligated to sit there and hold a posed grin for four minutes straight until the photographer finally got their school picture taken.

"What?" She asked, tensely. 

If anyone had a portal into his mind, they'd see a tumbleweed passing through a desolate field of crusted land. "That's - that's all." Miroku said, trying to play it off though he was sure his mortification shined bright. Turning away, he sauntered back in the direction he'd come from.

Both Kagome and Sango watched him waddle across the street. Kagome, specifically, had to clench her throat shut to resist the fit of laughter that threatened to burst free, bringing a hand to cover the crinkled grin growing on her face. She didn't want to embarrass the poor guy more than he'd already done, himself, and she had a feeling Sango wouldn't appreciate it just yet. Not while they were still in the vicinity of the guy.

Inuyasha held a steady expression of total bewilderment having heard the whole thing, sparing a small glance the girls' way just as they started walking again, briefly locking eyes with Kagome, whose amusement never faltered, and then shot his gaze right back to what was left of the pride of his friend. "Dude..."

"What's wrong with me, Inuyasha? I've never done that in front of a girl, not even during my prepubescent days!" Miroku was shaken, blue eyes staring through the bark of the tree in total defeat.

"I told you not to."

"You don't understand, I can't function properly around her. I thought it was a temporary side effect of, I don't know, oxygen or something, but no! It's her! What sort of witchcraft has she conducted upon me!?"

"I don't know, but it's getting embarrassing to be associated with you."

"It's getting embarrassing to be me! I'm not like this! I'm not like you! I'm good with girls! I'm smooth as silk! Fine like wine!"

Inuyasha's grimace deepened.

"Once upon a time, I could sweep a girl off her feet with just a wink! Where has that side of me gone!? I mean, just two weeks ago I was fine! Enter Sango, Sango, and I'm pining like a little bitch boy!" Miroku's eyes were wide, riddled with absolute turmoil, fingers sweeping into his hair. "I'm - I'm like Hojo. Hojo. Good god, I'm a Hojo."

"And, on that note..." Inuyasha dropped his phone into his pocket, peeling himself off the tree to walk away and head home.

"Wait, you're just gonna leave?" Miroku asked, following. "In my time of desperate need?"

"What you need is to get a grip."

"Tell me how! What's a guy like me gotta do to get a girl like her?"

"Cutting off the rattail would be step number one."

Miroku gasped, horrified, clutching onto the tiny bundle of hair at the nape of his neck protectively. "Never! I will have you know that one day it's going to be as thick, long, and luscious as your own ponytail."

"Dude, it's like a fucking mustache. Just because you can grow facial hair, doesn't mean you should. It doesn't work for everybody." Inuyasha firmly stated.

"But -"

"Trust me, Miroku. You look like a classic nineties douche."

"Has anyone ever told you, you have a way with words?" He smiled crookedly, not offended by his friend's criticism in the least. Over the last year and a half or so, he'd learned the ins and outs of what the bastard truly meant to say. A good amount of his insults were heartfelt and intentional, but if you listened closely, you could hear the chime of his good-natured advice and shadowed compliments.

"Yes, actually." Inuyasha bobbed his head back and forth, as if proud of himself. "Kagome said the same thing earlier today."

"Oh-ho-hoooo, let's talk about that!" Miroku beamed, turning to walk backward just a few paces ahead of the hanyou so that he could focus on the expressions that were sure to wash over his face. It was one of the best ways to read the guy.

"What?"

"Did you think we were just gonna blow over this without revisiting? How you made me apologize to someone? How you made me apologize to someone? That someone being a girl. You made me apologize to a girl! What's the deal, dog boy?"

"Oh god, don't start!" Inuyasha groaned, rolling his eyes. "The one time I'm not at a party with you, and you fucking dump your drink on someone. It has nothing to do with her, and everything to do with you making an ass out of yourself."

"Not once have you ever -"

"Call me out already so I can deny the accusation." He rolled his wrist to gesture for his friend to pick up the pace.

"You like her!"

"No."

"You totally do!"

"No."

"You looked to the side when you said that." Miroku pointed, the cocky grin on his face growing.

"Stop staring at me, you creep. I hate it when you do that shit." The half demon frowned.

"What?" He shrugged. "She's pretty, she's sweet, and she's short - which is right up your alley since I know you love short girls. What are you, five-ten? Eleven?"

"Six."

"An even six. And I'd peg her at five-two, five-three."

"Who cares? She's got an attitude that could give even me a run for my money. No thanks." Inuyasha's tone was level, controlled. Very controlled.

"Sassy. She can handle her own. That's not such a bad quality if you think about it. No one likes a pushover."

"Knock it off." The hanyou ground. "There's nothing special about her."

"Oh man, you're just hand-feeding me material to go on and on about -" Miroku's hands rose defensively as his friend shot him a glare of warning. "- but I won't! Can I just say one last thing? There's nothing wrong with liking someone. It doesn't make you as vulnerable as you may think. I'm not trying to go all Doctor Phil on you or anything; I just think it'd be a good idea for you to let someone in. And, I know you're probably gonna say it isn't like that, but it can be if you just let it. Kagome seems pretty receptive to you."

"She's receptive to everyone. She's social."

"Not that social. I remember Koga tried to walk her home from a kickback last year and she did everything in her power to avoid it without having to slaughter his pride.”

"Don't blame her. The wolf's disgusting. She should have wrecked him, truthfully.”

"Oh, and just in case you didn't know, I'm not blind. I saw that little interaction you two had last week after school. The one where she was, 'being annoying.'" Miroku said, drawing air quotes with his fingers. "Except you were laughing, and she was flirting. It took me, your best friend, months to make you laugh for the first time!"

"Wear a skirt." Inuyasha joked, giving a one-shouldered shrug.

"Nice defense." Miroku smiled with smug implication. 

"Don't you live that way?" The half demon asked, the hint of finality in his tone, pointing down the crossroad.

"Oh, look at that! Time to go!" He laughed, crossing the street, continuing in his backward motion as he had been. In all honesty, Inuyasha found him to be the luckiest bastard alive that not a single car was coming considering he hadn't even checked first. "I'm just saying, man, would it be so bad if she did like you?"

Without control, Inuyasha's lips curved into a soft smile. The thought of Kagome's small hand in his causing a swirl of warm delight to knock his normal defenses off-kilter. And, he knew his friend was going to cling to that for as long as he could. With a tense sigh, he rolled his eyes in smooth recovery and headed down his own route home, not wanting to give Miroku any more material to hold over his head. The guy wasn't much of a gloater, but Inuyasha never much liked his business out there for anyone to know in the first place.

His phone had vibrated a little ways back, but considering his friend's wild tangent, he never had a clear opportunity to pull it out and check the text. He had old messages from his uncle and another friend that had been sitting untouched for hours now. Still feeling no sense of urgency to even read them, his thumb fell on the recent text from Kagome.

So, what's the plan, oh wise one?

His fingers worked on their own, typing out the reply and hitting send. 

Sunday around noon?

The screen hadn't even dimmed before the little, gray typing bubble popped up. 

I'm free. Where?

Your place cool?

My place is cool. See you then!

Are you not coming to school for the rest of the week?

What? Of course, I am.

Then, I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Dummy.

Kagome felt a heat rush to her cheeks. What was worse was she couldn't even tell if she was embarrassed for the rookie mistake she'd just pulled, or if she suddenly found being called a dummy endearing. Was this the tragic path she was destined to go down now? One with half parts constant humiliation for stupid things she may accidentally say, and half parts smitten with little names that weren't quite insults but weren't quite sweet nothings either? Setting her phone to sit flat on her desk, Kagome huffed out slowly, allowing her book bag to sag to the floor while she settled into her seat as she’d just gotten home. Propping her temple up with her fist, she typed a mindless response with a single finger on her free hand.

Yeah, that too.

—

Inuyasha stood before the door, honing in on what he could hear on the other side of it while waiting to be let in. Stumbling feet bounded down what he guessed were a set of stairs, the soft hum of music came from somewhere on the second floor, and the gentle tick of a clock on the wall counted away the seconds. Surprisingly, that was it. Even from outside, he could pick up the scents of two other people, but from how quiet the house currently sat, he figured they weren't home. 

The lock clicked and the door opened, bringing his gaze downward to land on the welcoming smile Kagome greeted him with. "You're early."

"Did you expect me to be late?" He retorted, walking through the threshold.

"Kind of. I always am." She said, shutting the door. Her feet shuffled along the wooden floor in their socks, like taking actual footsteps was abnormal in a place as comfortable as her own home. With a small wave of her hand, she ushered him to follow as she scuffled into the kitchen to their right, the sloppy bun on her head bouncing with her movements. Typically, it took a while for Inuyasha, or anyone for that matter, to feel relaxed in a place they'd never been, especially something as sensitive as another person's residence, yet watching her glide her feet along the floor like a weirdo provided a sense of easement. 

While her back was turned to him, he allowed his eyes to wander over her, oddly lingering at the nape of her neck. Short, loose strands of hair fell from the knot at her crown, curling and waving free to decorate her fair skin nicely, and though he was willing to bet it was the natural splay of her baby hairs, Inuyasha couldn't help but feel the messiness suited her so well that it was modeled to look that way. The long-sleeve shirt hung loosely on her, the texture appearing extremely comfortable, and the color a pastel pink, while her leggings were straight black and hugged her body nicely. Very nicely. 

Kagome grabbed an unopened bag out of the cupboards, the crinkling sound loud as she spun around to him.

"Sweet or salty?"

"Salty." He replied.

"Thought so. And cookies for me." She said, reaching toward the higher cabinet, her shirt rising to expose an inch of her midriff. Inuyasha looked off to the side, concentrating on the hanging aprons on the opposite wall. It was more out of habit than anything. He didn't enjoy taking the risk of making any girl feel vulnerable, and more than ever, he felt compelled to be mindful. 

She'd shoved the snacks in the crook of her left arm, shuffling over to the fridge and pulling out two bottles of water, which she then skillfully carried in the crook of the opposite arm, gliding back his way, passed him, and toward the stairs.

"Let me carry something." He couldn't help but chuckle. She was fucking cute.

"No, no. Come, come."

"Give me the waters." Their height difference made it easy to reach over her shoulders to snag the tops to the bottles, robbing them from her grip just before she began her trek up the stairs. 

Framed photographs scaled the wall the entire way up, giving the hanyou a brief glimpse into this family's past. Kagome as a little girl, a shapely, little boy, a woman propping a baby on her hip while a man supported a small girl on his shoulders, a hunched and elderly man with the proudest smile. It wasn't hard to figure out why he only smelled three different people and not five. She'd experienced loss. Just as he had.

She smiled more than him, though. She seemed to communicate better, as well. Was she good at covering things up? Had she healed? Or were her scars not as deep?

"Where's your family?" Inuyasha asked, coming off casual so it didn't seem obvious that he was prying. 

Kagome led him into her bedroom, the music playing through her laptop speakers on her desk light and folksy. "Mom's at work, and she dropped my brother off somewhere, so no clue where he is. Make yourself comfortable."

The two men in her life were gone.

Her walls weren't very cluttered, just a few things hanging here and there. A cliche galaxy poster hung over her bed near the door, a cork board with polaroids and photo booth pictures, and interestingly enough, a knotted, red string of all things. She turned off the music and shut her laptop, bringing his attention to swing her way and observe the clutter on her desk. On top of an open notebook, decorated with little scribbles and doodles, sat a pair of reading glasses. His first thought was to dismiss them as a hipster accessory, considering the fad for glasses was pretty large with girls and he'd never once seen Kagome wearing them around school, but when he saw the very minor magnification through the lenses, he realized he was wrong. Kagome wears glasses. And, then he thought of Kagome in glasses.

A curious grin grew on his face as he sauntered over and set the waters on the desk's surface, switching out for the pair of spectacles. "Four eyes, huh?"

Her cheeks seemed to ripen in tint, just by half a shade, when he held them in front of her face. The frames were thick, slightly curved on top while round on the bottom, maybe even a size too large for her, and in that brown, tortoise shell design.

"Uh, yeah." She meagerly admitted, actively trying not to duck her head. "I just got them not too long ago. I only have to wear them when I'm on my computer."

"If that's the case, you're probably supposed to wear them while you're watching TV and reading, right?"

"I may have heard something like that."

“And, what are we about to do?"

"Oh, no."

"Come on." Inuyasha ushered, handing the glasses over. He really couldn't help how badly he wanted to see them on her. "You don't want to make your eyes worse."

"You know, I get the sense that you're just looking for ammunition to make fun of me." Kagome grimaced, apprehensively taking them by the temple of the frame.

"Me?" He shook his head. "Never."

"Yeah, no, it's not worth it." She decided, putting the glasses down on top of her laptop, intending to reach across for her notebook.

"They're just glasses! What's the worst I could say?" He chuckled, his question stopping her mid-stretch.

"Knowing you, you'll come up with something."

"Try me."

Reluctantly, Kagome gave in with a disgruntled sigh, picking the glasses back up and sliding them over her ears. As she looked back at him, her brown eyes fully meeting his amber, it seemed as if he was painfully resisting to laugh. "Say it."

"What?" The word was tightly clenching in his throat.

"Just get it over with." She pouted.

"All you need is bifocals and you'll really be working those old man frames."

"They're not - they're cute!"

They really were. And, he really liked them on her. But, was he going to say that? Hell no. When she ripped them off and dropped them where they once laid, he swallowed his disappointment, chuckling as the sulk grew even more vividly on her face. She took her notebook and a nearby pencil, crossing the room to get comfortable on her bed where she'd dumped the bags of chips and cookies. 

"Alright, what subject are you worst at?"

"I think it's easier to ask what subject I'm actually good at." She replied, almost too confidently for someone admitting they were a mess. The half demon cocked a brow inquisitively. "It's history."

"Jesus, what did I sign up for?"

"It's not too late for you to back out." Kagome smiled, shrugging. “We can always just eat the munchies, watch TV, and pretend nothing ever happened.”

“Fat chance," Inuyasha dropped onto the end of the mattress. "I got nothing better to do, anyway. Math. We'll start there."

He could literally see the distaste on her face. It was like an an insult she was waiting for him to take back, and when she realized he wasn't going to, she reached for her bag on the floor next to her bed and pulled out the necessary book and homework packet. 

—

"Wrong."

"How?"

"It's wrong."

"I haven't even finished the problem yet."

"Yeah, stop while you're still ahead, dummy. Did you even look at the way I solved this one?" Inuyasha pointed to the similar problem he'd made on her notebook, the long equation written out for her to examine as she took to her sheet of homework.

The irritated, reddened skin of his knuckles came into full view, and having resisted the temptation for long enough - considering she'd noticed the scabbed skin an hour or so ago - and having to have endured his abrasive ways of tutoring, Kagome went ahead and flicked the end of her pencil against the marred area with no remorse. The hanyou jerked his hand away, glowering spitefully.

"You got into another fight, didn't you?" She questioned. Her tone was more snarky than anything, like it was a normal question and it was absolutely her place to inquire.

"Remember what I said the last time you asked?" He sneered.

"Let's see, I saw you last Friday night and you had a black eye and a scrape on your face." She was talking with her pencil instead of her hands, bobbing it around as she continued on, completely ignoring him. "By Monday afternoon, there was no evidence of the fight, whatsoever. Obviously, that's because your demon blood gives you supernatural healing powers. Now, considering these marks weren't around this Friday during school, and they're still pretty bad at the moment, my guess is they happened between that night and yesterday."

"Good deduction, Watson." Inuyasha rolled his eyes. "Just one question: When did we see each other on Friday?"

Kagome adjusted her position slightly to hide the way she'd almost tensed, playing things off as smoothly as possible. "We go to the same school, Inuyasha. If you'd pay attention to your surroundings for once, you'd probably see me, too."

"Right." He said, dragging out the word while maintaining a straight expression. "Funny how you see me from a distance, and you pay attention to my hands of all things."

"S-stop dodging the question." She stammered, her confidence steadily dwindling away.

"How wildly observant of you. What else do you stare at?"

"Woah, I don't stare."

"I mean, it's okay if you do. A little weird, but I'm still flattered." He shrugged, an arrogant grin on his face.

She groaned loudly, clenching her jaw as she refocused on the math equation she was working on. "Never mind. Just stop fighting already."

“And, I think you'll know what my response to that will be." It took viable effort to remain patient, despite his sarcastic jokes. Patience was not his forte. He was hotheaded, and liked being hotheaded. It made people back the fuck off, but a twinge in his gut held him at bay.

"Yeah, yeah. Mind my business."

"Good. Now, erase that shit and start -"

"But, you could seriously get hurt!"

Inuyasha was the one to groan this time, lolling his head back before snapping back up to glare at her with slight indignation. "Oh my god. Knock it off, Kagome."

"What's the point of it? What does it even prove? That you're a big, macho, tough guy? You could really get hurt, or even hurt someone else! Why would you want to do that?"

The grimace on his face was strong, genuine surprise from her remarks overcoming his irritation. "Geez, you really are something straight out of Sesame Street."

"Wait, how did you - you heard that?" He pointed to the ears on top of his head in a duh manner. It was a paradigm to how much he actually did pay attention, no matter the disinterest he almost always had etched on his face. “Oh. Well, behave and I wouldn't have anything to lecture you about."

"Why do you assume the fights are my fault?"

"No, that's not what I'm trying to say. I would prefer to think they weren't your doing, but to be fair, you haven't given me any clarification to work with. I'm just trying to cover all bases. Behave could mean don't start fights or participate if someone tries to start one."

"So, don't fight back?"

"Right."

"Just let them hit me?"

"What? No."

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" Inuyasha's tone was on the harsher side, agitated, his brow twitching inward in speculation. 

"Walk away. Are you saying people come and start fights with you?"

“Drop it.” He grunted.

"But, why?"

"I used to roll with a bad crowd, okay?" He fumed, fed up with her persistency. "Unfortunately, I've got some attributes that don't really allow me to go under the radar. Now shut up and get back to work!"

Kagome heeded his tone, sealing her lips, the space surrounding the two of them tense and awkward. She was sort of proud of herself for getting the truth out of him, or some of it at least, but she didn't like that he'd gotten so upset. He had a temper for sure. One that was maybe even worse than her own. Yeah, she was pressing for information that had nothing to do with her, and she could understand how that would tick him off, but the budding concern she had for him wasn't something she necessarily wanted to subdue. She wanted to know he was okay. To her, that wasn't such a bad thing. Depending on the scenario, Kagome would intrude on any one of her friends to make sure they were alright.

"Can I ask one more question, please?" She approached, her voice small and timid. She'd erased the entire math problem on her paper, the notebook propped on her knee, and her brown eyes were peeking up at him cautiously through her dark fringe. His scowl still lingered, mouth curved downward in clear disapproval, but he made no verbal attempt to stop her. "If you used to be such a bad boy, how come you excel so well in school? Not to sound totally judgmental, but stereotypically speaking, it's kind of contradictory if you think about it."

Ember irises fell down to focus on the scratch paper on her leg, his lips relaxing. "If you're such a goody goody, why do you suck so much in school?"

The rebuttal was fair. She couldn't even get upset about it, and there was no hesitation to her response. "For one, I'm not a goody goody. Two, I really don't have an answer to that, because I often wonder the same thing."

He chuckled lightly. "Then what would you say you are?"

“Average, probably." She shrugged.

“Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“Hush. What's your excuse?"

"I'm smart. I don't have a problem focusing, which apparently you fucking do." He, once again, tapped his finger against her notebook, a little more aggression that time. Kagome laughed, going back to scribbling down the problem, and it irked him that the gratifying sound calmed his blood. He'd never once felt soothed by a noise, or comfortable with a person right off the bat, or compelled to hang around despite being aggravated. In the moment, it was enjoyable. Nice. 

But, there was no way he'd allow an attachment to form.

It was a conscientious decision. One he didn't really have to remind himself of anymore. By now, it was habit to shut things down before bonds formed. He wasn't worried about things going too far with Kagome. It was a little disconcerting to recognize how quickly he, himself, seemed to unfurl to her, but he was sure that there was no possibility of either of them intending on making anything out of it. She was friendly, she was nosy as all hell, but that was about the extent of it all. He understood that she meant no harm.

What was interesting to him was how easy it seemed to be around her, to talk to her. Even after he admitted he'd made mistakes that have followed him to this day, she didn't seem to pull away or scorn him. Instead, she judged him for his good academic record, which was the exact opposite of what anyone would ever expect. Without overthinking, and without the effervescent pressing need to withhold himself, he decided indulging her with basic responses couldn't hurt.

"I made a promise to someone to get through school. That's all you're getting."

Kagome smiled. She had no intention on prodding for more. By him saying "someone," she could tell that he'd purposefully not given specifics, and she respected that. Additionally, this gave her a glimpse at his honest and loyal side. It was admirable. 

And, the softness that took over his features when he said it was enough to warm her to the core.

| 1 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

[jiminisjamin]

requested by: anonymous

BTS’ reaction to you having a crush on their girl crush

a/n: obviously I don’t know who the boys’ crushes are, the anon used Jeongguk admiring IU as an example so I’ll use that, but I’m just doing my best on guessing it really/going off those interviews where like they’ve kinda answered? But those are mainly actors :c so I might throw in some fan theory ones. This is basically a big disclaimer so I don’t accidentally offend anyone because I obviously don’t know them and who they like so think of it more like…idolize/a potential? Also I wanted to say sorry for most of them not being k-idols and stuff, I’m mainly using that interview where they were asked who their favorite American actress is (and other things as well). :c (also in this jin plays acnh and I’ve only played the pocket edition of animal crossing so if I get it wrong pls spare me)

Warnings: this contains spoilers for avengers endgame so if you somehow haven’t seen this, know that yoongi’s has spoilers for it.

Rating: Fluff / Mild Crack

 Kim Seokjin: 629 Words

 Jin was laying, sprawled out on the couch, Nintendo Switch in his hands as he squints at the screen. He purses his lips, his focus entirely on collecting the bugs in front of him. His character creeps forward and swings his net out. Jin smiles as it reaches into the net and pulls out a butterfly. “Jagiya, look!” He presents his Switch to you proudly, a grin on his face.

“Ah.” You pause, scrunching your nose, leaning closer to see the screen. “An…Emperor Butterfly?” Jin shrugs, pulling the tablet back to him and hunching his shoulders slightly, his lips puckering into a pout.

“It’s a good one,” he murmurs, turning his attention away from the game briefly to watch the screen in front of him. His eyes flicker between the Korean subtitles and watching the actors faces before he frowns. “What’s this movie?” Jin’s eyebrows furrow as his attention briefly turns back to his game, before quickly shooting back to the screen. You grin, grabbing the device from him and glancing down at it before sliding closer to him.

“Ella Enchanted, I watched it a lot as a k-”

“Yah!” Jin’s eyes widen, “I know her!” Your mouth drops open as you turn to him.

“You know Anne Hathaway?” Jin pauses, his gaze flicking to you quickly. “Do you like, have her phone number…or something?” Jin frowns.

“What? No- why? Are you…jealous?” He grins, a long, drawn-out sigh slipping past his lips. “Jagiya, you don’t need to b-”

“If you have her number, you’re giving it to me.” Jin stops mid-sentence, his eyes popping open as he shoots you and incredulous look.

“Jagiya, I don’t have her number. I meant I know her, not I know her.” You hum, nodding as you stare at the screen.

“What a bummer. You could’ve introduced me to her.” Jin’s jaw drops he lets out an offended huff, snatching the Switch back from you.

“As if I’m not enough, now you want A- Anne…Hathaway?” Jin scoffs. “I didn’t know you liked her, jagiya.” You shrug, leaning back on the couch.

“She was in a few movies I watched as a kid,” you reply, “I think she’s a good actress- and she’s pretty, so…” Jin’s lips curl up into a smile.

“She is pretty.” Now its your turn to gape at him, faux offense on your face as you sniffle.

“I- I- c-can’t b- can’t beli-believe y- you…” You fake sob, wiping nonexistent tears. Jin raises his eyebrows, glancing up at you.

“You should really leave the acting to me,” he comments, and your expression quickly twists to one of genuine shock as he waves his hand dismissively, “anyways, you’re much prettier, jagiya. I’m happy. If I saw Anne Hathaway I would just turn away, and say, does anyone know where y/n is? And then when I turned back, I’d find you, over by her, practically passing out.” Your face heats up quickly as you shake your head in protest.

“Would not.”

“You’d probably be fanning yourself,” Jin continues, “gushing about ho- ow!” Jin glares at the pillow that bounced off his head and onto the floor. “That’s not nice,” his scolding is directed at the pillow rather than you, which makes you laugh.

“I’d stay by your side, Jin.” He nods, blinking as he simply turns his attention back to his game.

“I know, jagiya. And I’d stay by yours.”

There’s a long, comfortable stretch of silence as you grab the pillow and hold it to your chest, turning your attention to the tv.

“Unless it was Brad Pitt.” With that comment, the pillow is flying back at Jin’s head, and he’s yelping again as you grab the Switch from his hand and leap from the couch, quickly darting out of his reach.

Min Yoongi: 364 words

 You sniffle as the camera pans over the edge of the cliff to a still-shot of Black Widow at the bottom, her body sprawled out in an unnatural pose, dark liquid staining the floor underneath her. “Why’d she have to die,” you murmur, cuddling closer to Yoongi, your eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s okay, jagi,” he mumbles, “isn’t there a Black Widow movie coming out?”

“Yes, but it’s set in the past. Anyways, it’s not as much her character, I mean, it’s Marvel, for fucks sake, I’m sure they’ll bring everyone back eventually. It’s just…Scarlett Johansson…does she have to look so pretty even in death?”

“Not actually dead, jagi.” Yoongi grins.

“Fake death- character death, whatever you want to call it.” Yoongi nods, adjusting his glasses on his face.

“I know, jagi.” You lean against him, frowning slightly.

“Now I’m just in a bad mood,” you murmur, “she deserved a movie before her character was killed off.”

“I agree,” he says, “but we’re gonna have to take what we can get, won’t we?” You nod solemnly. “It’s better than nothing,” he continues, “and she always has plenty of other movies.” You nod.

“Lost in Translation,” you murmur.

“Under the skin, Match Point.” Yoongi adds, grinning.

“The Prestige, Girl With a Pearl Earring,” you glance over at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Rough Night.”

“Yoongi.”

“Yeah?”

“Do we both like Scarlett Johansson?” Your question makes a blush spread across his cheeks. Yoongi shrugs, looking back at the screen.

“It seems like we do.”

“How did we never know this?”

Yoongi shrugs, “it’s not that important, I guess…” His voice trails off as he focuses back on the movie and you huff.

“It is important. Scarlett is…amazing.” Yoongi nods slowly.

“She really is.”

“She’s beautiful,” you say, “and a good actor.”

“She seems nice,” Yoongi adds. You hum in response, nodding.

“See, this is why we work.” You mutter, “we have taste.” Yoongi grins.

“You bet I do,” he murmurs, “that’s why I’m with you.” The words fall past his lips so casually, and you grin, looking away to conceal your blush, unaware that Yoongi shifts to pull the blanket closer around himself to hide his own flaming cheeks.

 Jung Hoseok: 695 words

 Hoseok frowns at he stares at the screen, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes dart around the unfamiliar scenery. His eyes land on a bug, jumping slightly as he inwardly cringes, his face breaking out into a large smile. “Jin, Jin, come look!” He maneuvers the character forward, “look what I found!” Jin trots over, the question barely leaving his lips before he’s shouting at Hoseok.

“No, no, stop! Slow down, don’t go up to that mo-” before Hoseok can stop, the scorpion rears back and its tail stabs at his character, causing Hoseok to scream and toss the Switch to the other side of the couch.

“I thought this was a game for kids!” Hoseok screeches.

“It…it’s kid friendly,” Seokjin counters, “not necessarily only for kids, I mean I p-”

“Then why did that thing just kill me? I didn’t even have a chance to defend myself!” You watch, amused from your spot on the couch, having narrowly avoided being hit across the head with the device Hoseok threw. “Now what? Am I just…dead?” He asks, reaching over and grabbing the Switch from you, beaming for a second and placing a quick kiss to your cheek before returning back to his corner of the couch.

“No, no, you’re back at your house…see?” Hoseok hums in response.

“So…don’t run up to those?”

“No, you have to go slowly. It’s a timing thing- not that you’ll see another any time soon. Those are kind of rare,” you chime in, trying to hide your snicker as Hoseok lets out a small oh while Seokjin wails about how many bells that thing could’ve gone for. Seokjin shakes his head, turning away and muttering about being too old for this, but too young to handle these kids. You stick your tongue out at his back as he leaves before grinning at Hoseok. “It’s fine, I’m sure you’ll find another. I’ll help if you do.” He thanks you, and you turn your attention back to the tv, while he focuses on his game.

Only a few minutes pass before your main reason for picking this movie appears on screen and you squeal, “Hoseok, Hoseok, look!” You smack his arm and point to the tv, your eyes widening. Hoseok looks at the tv and quickly tosses the device to his side.

“Wow.”

“She’s so pretty,” the two of you speak at the same time, causing you to both stutter and look over at each other, eyes wide, pointing your fingers at one another. “You-” you speak simultaneously again, causing you to shriek when Hoseok lunges forward, a large smile on his face.

“Stop reading my mind, jagi,” he teases, kissing your cheek again. “I didn’t know you liked Amanda Seyfried,” you grin partly at his enthusiasm, partly at the way he sounds pronouncing her name, a blush creeping across your face.

“I mean, she’s really pretty, and she can sing really good.” Hoseok nods.

“I really like her in this.” You grin.

“Yeah, me too, Hoseok.” You hum slightly as he holds you, swaying slightly to the music, his gaze falling to your face.

“I really like you,” Hoseok adds, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He blinks, turning his attention back to the screen. You laugh lightly, glancing over at him.

“Have you seen any of her other movies?” He nods absent-mindedly, gaze flickering between you and the tv.

“Yeah.” You nod, eyebrows furrowing as you stare off into the distance.

“You really thought you’d be safe just running up to a scorpion?” Hoseok frowns as he glares at you.

“I don’t play many games, jagi.” You cover your mouth to hide your smile and nod.

“I know, I’m just teasing- I’m sorry.” He clicks his tongue, tilting his head at the same time and watching the screen.

“Amanda’s looking better than ever,”

“Hey!” You smack his arm, and he grins, glancing over at you.

“I’m just teasing, jagi.” He holds his arms out for you and you cuddle up to him, rolling your eyes.

“She is really pretty though.” You add.

“Okay- we could do this forever, you know?” Hoseok squeezes you tightly. “Let’s…just enjoy the movie.”

 Kim Namjoon: 336 words

 You had somehow found yourself in a conversation about your favorite actors, and the two of you stood across from each other, Namjoon’s mouth open wide as you cover yours, your eyes widening at your accidental confession. “Y/n…” Namjoon closes his mouth to stop the laughter that threatens to bubble out and you glare, pointing your finger at him.

“You’re not one to laugh, you like her too!” Namjoon’s jaw clenches slightly as his expression turns mockingly serious.

“I’m in love,” he says. You nod.

“Understandable, she’s gorgeous.” Namjoon nods slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. You sigh and walk over to him, “listen, really, if you want to leave me for her, I’m totally fine with it. I’d do that same.” He rolls his eyes and wraps his arms around you, practically tackling you to the bed in a large hug.

“I’d never leave you for someone else,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek. “Don’t leave me for her, please. That would be…crushing.” You roll your eyes at his eyebrow wiggle and push at his chest.

“I’m not gonna leave you for her,” you huff. “You’re gonna crush me, so just get off.” Namjoon grins, rolling to the side while continuing to cling on to you.

“That’s a relief.” He pauses, “what did you think the meaning was behind her most recent movie?” You glance at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Pardon?” He grins.

“You know…what do you think it meant.”

“I think it meant she needed money.” You state confidently, doing your best I’m totally philosophical expression as you tap your chin. “Or maybe, I hope people aren’t forgetting about me.” Namjoon laughs, his face breaking out into a huge grin.

“You say this about the people you like?”

“Oh,” you laugh, burying your face in his neck, “you should see the stuff I say about you!” The two of you break out into a fit of giggles, holding each other in the dark as Namjoon pesters you about what things you say about him.

 Park Jimin: 487 words

 You sniffle, snuggling closer to Jimin as you try to hold back your tears as the movie’s credits roll. “Why does this movie always get me every damn time?” You ask, biting your bottom lip when he wraps his arms around you tighter, rubbing your back lightly.

“It is sad,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on your forehead. “It’s a good movie though. Some of the best movies are sad.” He sighs, closing his eyes as his breathing evens out. “You know, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“You want me to get dementia and slowly forget you ever exist, only for you to read our story to me every day?” You laugh, only stopping when you look up and see Jimin’s serious expression.

“I wanted unconditional love. I’d die for you…I’d write you every day, I’d never give up on you…that’s the kind of love I want.” He sighs. “It’s why this and Titanic are some of my favorite American movies. They’re tragic, sad…but they mean something to me.”

“You want to be Jack?”

“And I want you to be Rose,” he murmurs.

“You want me to yeet you off my floating door in the middle of a freezing ocean, immediately breaking my promise to never let go?”

“Y/n,” he whines, “I’m serious. Rose never let go. She always loved Jack. You be my Allie, I’ll be your Noah.” Jimin kiss your cheek. “I text you everyday when I’m gone for work,” he murmurs, “I never forget to call…sometimes I worry you’ll forget about me when I’m gone, and…” He frowns. “I don’t want that.” You nod slowly, trying to ignore the swelling pain in your heart.

“It is a good movie,” you reply. “Plus…Rachel McAdams is kind of a hottie.” Jimin chokes on his laughter, eyes opening suddenly as he stares at you in a shocked expression. “What? She is. I know you know she is, you know I know she is. It’s just plain and simple.” Jimin laughs again, and you’re glad to have alleviated the sadness that was settling over the two of you.

“I- agh, I can’t believe you said that, jagiya.” You shrug.

“Hey, at least we have the same taste in girls.” Jimin buries his face in your neck, his laughter causing his breath to ghost across your neck. You squirm slightly. “What? You have good taste, that’s all I’m saying…” He smiles against your skin.

“I do.” He whispers, raising his head to kiss your cheek. “You…like her?” You nod, glancing over at him briefly, long enough to see the unsure expression on his face, and grin.

“I definitely like you more though, Jimin. Plus, movie stars are over-rated. Musicians are much better.” You plant a kiss on his lips and he smiles at you.

“I definitely, definitely like you more than her,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. You grin at him.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna watch Titanic?”

“Yes!”

 Kim Taehyung: 260 words

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2…

1…

“Lily Colins!”

“-and Rachel McAdams,” you stare at Taehyung, the first half having been said by the two of you, and the latter, him.

“No, no way.” You say, “my girl crush is not Rachel McAdams.”

“Come on, jagi, how is it not? I got Lily Colins, just trust me on this one.” Taehyung grins at your bewildered expression.

“What do you mean ‘just trust me on this one’? You expect me to not know who I like?” Taehyung frowns.

“You just haven’t seen her in the right movie,” he states. “We’re watching something, come on,” he grabs your hand and you whine, resisting his pull for a few moments.

“Come on, you got Lily, isn’t that enough?” Taehyung shakes his head.

“If we both like Lily, we’re both gonna like Rachel. Trust me, jagi. If you like Lily, you’ll love Rachel.” You whine as he drags you into his room.

“Tae, please, I don’t feel like watching anything right now.”

“I promise you’ll love it, jagi.”

“Don’t tell me it’s The Notebook.” Taehyung stares off at his wall for a moment and you huff, “I’ve already seen that like a million times for you, Tae, please, just let me like Lily and that can be the end of it.”

“We’ll watch About Time, it’s really good!” You smile at Taehyung’s enthusiasm.

“Why can’t we just enjoy Lily together, why do you need to bring Rachel into this?” You joke, grinning when he turns the tv on.

“Because I know you’ll like her. Come on, let’s watch.”

 Jeon Jeongguk: 569

 You snatch one of Jeongguk’s Airpods from his ear and he yelps, turning around and grabbing your wrist with his hand. You freeze mid-run, your eyes widening. “What are you doing?” He asks, his voice slightly calmer than his expression was a few moments ago.

“I…was taking your earbu-”

“Why?”

“You’re listening to IU, and I wanted to listen with you?”

“Why were you about to run away?” You gesture with your free hand to his hand- which is still wrapped around your wrist, and raise your eyebrows.

“I knew you’d do something like that. Jeongguk’s grip relaxes slightly as he tugs you into his lap, ignoring your yelp as he wrestles the earbud out of your grasp.

“You’re not using my earbud,” he murmurs, taking the other one out of his ear, “but we can listen together…” his voice trails off as he disconnects his Airpods, putting them back in their case and setting them aside. Jeongguk sets his phone on the table next to him and parts his legs slightly so you can settle in-between them, pulling you close against his body and wrapping his arms around you. He closes his eyes almost instantly, relaxing as his hand absent mindedly runs up and down your back- and through your hair. He leans his chin on your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your neck and humming softly to the song.

“She has a really nice voice,” you comment. Jeongguk nods, kissing your neck again.

“She does.”

“Have you ever thought of doing a collab with her?” You ask, “I think your voices would go nice together.” He smiles against your skin, kissing again and humming softly in response. “She’s really pretty, isn’t she?” You say this almost more to yourself than him, but he still tenses slightly at that, his lips pausing against your skin.

“…yeah, I guess.” His breath is hot against your skin as he exhales shakily. “I never gave it…that much thought-not anymore, I mean.” You raise your eyebrow and twist your body to glance at him.

“Jeongguk?”

“I mean, I don’t look at other girls, y/n. You know that, right? I…I don’t listen to her music just because she’s pretty. She has a nice voice, and the music flows well, the instrumentals are beautiful and the lyrics mean so much-” you cover your mouth to silence the laugh that threatens to come out “-and I just really admire her, you know? It’s like…like…admiration. And yeah, she’s pretty, but I don’t think…I don’t like, you know? I don’t think about her in that way, y/n, if that’s what you wer-” a giggle escapes past your lips and he bury your face in his neck, wrapping your arms around him.

“Jeongguk, don’t be ridiculous.” You grin, kissing just underneath his jaw. “I think she’s pretty, too. It’s fine- and I know you don’t look at other girls in that way. I trust you, Jeongguk.” He relaxes against you, his hand resuming its path up along your back.

“Don’t do that again,” he mutters, “freaked me out.” You nod, kissing the same spot again.

“I won’t.” He tilts his head, his nose brushing against yours.

“It’s kind of cute that my girlfriend has the same celebrity…crush?” You grin at the uncertainty to his words, and nod.

“We can freak out together in safety.” He smiles, tilting his head so his lips meet yours.

“I’d love that, baby.”

[losingmymindtonight]

So like, Peter having a Razor scooter and then Tony wanting to be a part of the fun and getting one too.

“Aw.” Tony held up a pair of Iron Man pajamas, grinning as widely as if he’d found a rare treasure. “Cute, kid.”

“Hey.” Peter blushed, snatching them away from his mentor and carefully storing them in the box they’d dedicated for things to keep. “Don’t mock me.”

“Don’t worry, Pete. I’d never mock my biggest fan.”

They were standing in the Parker’s small storage compartment on the outskirts of the city, going through years worth of items that had piled up. Neither May nor Peter had been in it since Ben died, but now the facility was closing, which meant that they had to go through everything.

Which meant that they had to sort through dozens of bins weighed down with memories, marked by pieces of duct tape bearing Ben’s messy scrawl.

Peter had dreaded it, and the fact that he could see May dreading it too made him dread it even more.

A never-ending cycle of dread and repeat.

That was, until Tony broke it by offering to help.

Peter had nearly cried with relief when he’d offered that he and Peter could go through the items together. 

“You’ve got enough to worry about, May.” His mentor had offered with a charming grin. “The kid and I can handle it. It’ll be a fun boy’s activity. You’d like that, right Pete?”

And so far, he had liked it. They’d eaten greasy fast food while leaning against the outside of the storage shed, summer breeze tugging at their clothes. They’d taken a few breaks to play Uno on a stack of rib-height boxes. Tony had even brought a speaker, and they’d played loud 80s music while shifting through piles and piles of anything from school trophies to dishtowels.

Peter had dreaded these excursions at first. Had dreaded the concept of stumbling across thoughts he didn’t want to think. 

Now, though, he loved the trips. Loved the hours of comfortable banter that they threw lazily around the shed. Loved the sunshine, the music, the comfortable silence.

He could face the boxes crammed with ghosts, so long as Tony was standing at his side.

As if sensing the solemn direction of his thoughts, the man he’d just been thinking about poked him in the side with a yardstick. “Why do you have, uh,” he held up three more, a look of indignation on his face, “four yardsticks? Who needs four yardsticks?”

Peter laughed. “I think Ben got them free when an old Home Depot shut down.”

“That still doesn’t excuse it.” His mentor shifted a box, peeing into it. His face instantly lit up into a grin. “Jackpot.”

“What?” Peter’s head snapped up, suddenly on high alert. “What did you find?”

“Nothing.”

“Mister Stark.” He moved to yank the box away, but Tony pulled it back, grin only growing.

“Oh, kiddo. You were so cute with that bowl cut.” He tugged out a photo and held it up. “Ever thought of going back to that style?”

“Oh no. Is that a box of…?”

“Yep. Embarrassing childhood photos.” He shifted through a few more stacks, face softening from mischief to fondness. “You had braces? And glasses? Oh my god, you were adorable.”

“I’m actually begging you to stop.”

Tony continued as if Peter had never spoken. “There are tapes in here, too. This is the best day of my life.” He selected one, and glanced at the label. “Peter B. Parker. End of Year Performance. 2005.”

“I’ll do anything. I’ll wash one of your cars. I’ll play sick and get you out of one of those board meetings you hate. I’ll-”

“Peter B. Parker. First Soccer Tournament. 2006.” Somehow, his mentor’s smile got even bigger. “Peter B. Parker. Halloween: Iron Man. 2007.”

“Mister Staaaark.” He dragged out his mentor’s last name petulantly. “Please.”

Tony relented, setting the box aside. “I’ll spare you for now, kiddo. But don’t think we aren’t watching those later.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He tossed a stuffed rabbit in his direction. “Yes, I do.”

Tony threw an old, peeling soccer ball back. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I-”

He stopped dead when he saw what Tony had just pulled out from where it had been wedged between a stack of bins and an old Science Fair poster board.

His mentor grinned. “A Razor scooter, huh? Wow, Pete. You never told me you were a cool kid.”

“Oh my god!” Peter lunged for the scooter, childlike excitement jumping in his chest. “I wondered where that went! Uncle Ben got it for me at a Police Auction.”

Tony smiled gently, understanding the weight of the reference as he passed the old toy over. “Wanna keep it, then?” He winked. “Maybe Spider-Man can re-brand himself as a scooter riding viglante. Leave the webslinging in the past. Now this is how you get around in style.”

Peter giggled, using the few feet of empty space around his feet to coast for a second. “It is pretty cool. More people should use them.”

“They should.” Tony crossed his arms, expression leaking with a kind of parental indulgence. “Know any tricks?”

His face fell a little as he pondered the question. “No. I-I never really rode it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the best part was supposed to be scootering around with your friends, y’know?” Peter shrugged, trying to conceal the childish pang of rejection. “I didn’t, well, have friends. Not really.”

Tony frowned, hand clenching like he wanted to reach for Peter but had stopped the motion before it could begin. “What about Ned?”

“I didn’t meet Ned until Middle School, Mister Stark.”

“Well,” Tony said, taking the scooter from his hands and setting it beside the box of photos and tapes, “we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

A text popped up on Peter’s lockscreen early the next day.

TS: Meet me in the lab at 3:30. It’s important.

That afternoon, he’d rushed to the Tower in a flurry of excitement, possibilities jumping around in his head like heated popcorn kernels. Was it a mission? A new project with one of the suits?

The first thing he noticed when he ran into the lab was that it was empty.

Like, completely empty.

All the work tables had been taken somewhere. The only evidence of the old layout was the beaten up couch, still pressed in the corner of the room.

And sitting on the couch was Tony Stark himself, a lazy grin on his face as he watched Peter’s bemusement.

“Uh, Mister Stark?”

“Yes, Mister Parker?”

He took a few steps in his mentor’s direction, eyes still sweeping around the barren room. He hadn’t realized how big the space was before, with all the clutter. “What, uh, what did you do to your lab?”

Tony stood, then, and pulled two Razor scooters out from behind the couch. A brand new one, and Peter’s old one. “I made us a makeshift scooter arena.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Tony Stark, on a Razor scooter? “You can’t be serious.”

“I never learned how to ride one either, Pete.” He shoved the worn handles into Peter’s hands. “So, we’ll learn together.”

“It’s not hard, Mister Stark.” He pushed off, and glided a few feet before stopping. “You just do it.”

Tony followed, purposefully bumping into Peter but snapping a protective arm out to steady him when he wobbled. “Yeah? Wanna race, then?”

I can’t believe that this is my life. 

Despite the thought, his face lit up with a playful grin. “Oh, you’re on.”

They ended up splayed out on the couch, sweaty and tired but still smiling like little kids. Peter’s hair was curling in a way that would have made him self-conscious just a year ago. Now, however, he just basked in the looks of obvious affection that Tony was shooting his way.

Tony threw a lazy arm over his shoulders. “Have fun, Pete?”

“Yeah.” He rolled his head so that he was looking up at his mentor’s face. “Thank you.”

A pause. Then, a voice filled with something quiet yet genuine. “You’re welcome, kid.”

They sat in a silence for a while, happy to just breathe and exist and be contented by each other’s presence.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Peter leaned forward and riffled around in his pockets before pulling out a folded piece of paper. “This is for you.”

“Oh?” Tony took it from his hand without a second thought. “You got me a present?”

“I didn’t really get it, exactly.” He shifted awkwardly as the man unfolded the paper. “You can throw it out, if you want.”

He studied the drawing even as Tony did. The childish lines, scrawled out in crayon. Iron Man, flying over a shoddy New York skyline. The message, letters big and blocky in the way only children could accomplish.

My favorite superhero is Iron Man. He is the best and bravest superhero. I love him.

Peter Parker 

His mentor blinked a few times, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, he tugged the teenager back into his side, ruffling his sweat-damp hair in the process.

“Throw it out?” His gaze flickered between the smeared crayon and Peter’s hopeful eyes. “There’s gotta be laws about defacing pieces of classic art, kid. And do I look like I’d survive in jail?”

[stardust-and-blades]

Lost Future AU--snapshots 2 (part 8-ish?)

“This can’t get any more painful”

me: hold my beer

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

“No. Nope. Not going.”

“Oh come on, Keith.” Lance begged. “It will be fun! If we want to wow the guests we need to learn some choreography.”

“YOU want to learn choreography.” Keith pointed out, crossing his arms. “I would rather stand at the sidelines and watch as you dance with Hunk and Pidge.”

Lance tapped him on the nose with a wooden spatula, the food he was making on pause. “No, that isn’t romantic. That is sad.”

Keith scrunched up his nose. “It’s not sad, it’s practical.”

“It’s stupid.”

Keith growled, frustrated. “I’m not doing it. I’m not going to make a fool of myself in front of over fifty people.”

Keith hopped off the kitchen stool and began to head for the room, ignoring Lance’s call. He heard him swear, no doubt putting the food on simmer and chasing after him. Keith made it a point to lock the bedroom door, Lance turning the handle and swore again.

“Keith, open the door.”

He remained silent, leaning against the bed frame and picked up his headphones, prepping to drown out Lance’s begging.

“Keeeeeiiith, please open the door. I know you hate dancing but I swear on my life you’ll do great. We have two months, we have time.”

Keith bit down on his flaring temper. God, why can’t he just let it go? He loves Lance, but sometimes he just doesn’t give up.

“Okay, how about this,” Lance reasoned. “We go to the lessons. If you’re still not comfortable by our last session, we don’t have to dance. I’ll let Hunk and Pidge take the wheel and do something else together. But...”

Keith stopped mid-earphone, one half hanging from his neck while the other neared his ear, rock music on full blast.

“But?”

There is a shift against the door, Lance most likely leaning his head against it. Not to hear, but in a way for him to be closer to Keith. To surpass the barrier Keith has drawn up, be it physical or mental. Keith knew he shouldn’t be this worked up. He usually isn’t. But venturing on unfamiliar territory in front of friends and family...it stirs something inside him that makes him feel wrong.

Nevertheless, that doesn’t mean he wanted to ignore Lance’s wishes. He wanted to dance with him. To create a memory they can look back on in fondness. Yet he knew, just knew he would fuck up. He doesn’t want to ruin the wedding in any way, no matter how big or small it was. 

“But I want you by my side.” Lance said softly. “Hunk and Pidge are fun to dance with. But you? We never really tried. I want to hold you close to me. I want our first steps in our marriage to be a dance, because that is what being in a relationship with you has been: beautiful and free. You make me happy, Keith. And I want to show it to everyone. I want to show YOU off. Again, we will do what is most comfortable, but it...would mean the world to me if we could try.”

Now how was Keith going to say no to that?

He relented, casting his phone and headphones away and opened the door.

“Fine.”

Lance clapped his hands and hugged him before Keith pointed out the food may be burning.

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

Keith and Lance were just finishing up their dance lessons for the wedding one day, Keith’s two left feet definitely getting the best of their teacher by the end of the night. Lance insisted they have a dance as husbands, and though Keith likes the idea of it, he wasn’t much of a dancer. In fact, he made it a point he skipped his spring fling and prom in high school because A: he had no one to go with, and B: can’t dance to save his life. Engage in combat? Yes. Lovingly twirl around a ballroom for an hour? Might as well be asking him to fly. 

The teacher had left by the time the two changed back into their regular clothes, Keith in t-shirt and jeans with a hoodie over it and a beanie, while Lance sported more fashionable wear. The only clashing article he was wearing was his plastic bracelets, some saying ‘free the nipple’ and another saying ‘just getting bi”. 

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to waltz anytime soon.” Keith commented, hauling his bag over his shoulder. 

“Not with that attitude you won’t. Come on, it’s not a wedding without dancing.”

“I know, I know.” He pulled at his long hair, a nervous habit. “But you saw today. I’m pretty sure the instructor will have bruises for days.”

Lance laughed and walked over to his fiance, wrapping his hands around his waist and kissing his forehead. “Oh I noticed. Who would have thought the combat specialist would be bad at dancing.”

“It’s Krav maga. And the two are very different.”

“Both involve being quick on your feet.”

Keith sighed. “What are you getting at?”

“That you can dance. Just think of it as another way of fighting.”

“That’s hard to do with someone I love. I only wanted to kick your ass when we hardly knew each other and you were being a di--”

Suddenly the arms around Keith’s waist were gone and he was spinning, the lowering sun blurred into an abundance of oranges and yellows. He was falling to the ground, Keith bracing himself for impact. But instead an arm caught him by the waist, the other hand holding his. Lance was smirking down at him, proud of his ability to surprise the boy who was always on guard. Always ready for Lance’s antics. But this time he had him, and he did not hesitate to show his pride. Keith stared back at him, split between making heart eyes our retaliate.

“Someone is speechless.”

“Um...Uh...” His face slowly grew red, his pale skin not helping him in concealing it. “You just...caught me off guard.”

“Yes I did.” Lance grinned and bent down, closing the distance between the two. Keith tilted his head up, his eyes fluttering until--

Keith knocked Lance’s feet from under him and stood up, just barely catching the screaming boy from impact. Keith pulled his arm and looked back at him, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Who is speechless now?”

“No fair! You know you can’t use your skills against the innocent!”

“What you going to do, fight me?” Keith invited him with a quirk of his eyebrow and shift in stance, but Lance just pouted, crossing his arms.

“Cheater.”

“Scaredy cat.”

“I am not scared!” He proclaimed indignantly.

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“You do not want to tempt me.”

Keith just smiled more, that smug glint sparkling in his amethyst eyes. They shown with such a brilliance in the low light, the darkness fading away and making them appear as if they were pure gems. Keith stance took on one readying for an attack, one foot backwards and the other forward. He straightened his back, puts his hands out, and waited. Of course he really didn’t think Lance would take him up on his challenge. They had this kind of bickering before, Lance usually sticking his tongue out and walking away, or was the one doing the daring.

Keith really wasn’t serious in his stance, for he jumped when Lance straight up ran to him. But rather than slam his body against the wall or floor, he seized Keith by his waist and lifted him. Keith squawked, losing his balance and almost toppling onto the taller boy. Lance was unnaturally strong, something he hid by his lanky-ness. 

Keith steadied himself by placing his hands on Lance’s shoulders, staring him down.

“What are you doing?”

“Proving a point.”

“In what? That you are bad at combat and want to swoon the enemy?”

He shook his head. Rather than answering, he dropped Keith and took his gloved hand and his other arm wrapped around the smaller boy, pulling him close. “Proving you can learn a thing or two from me.”

It took a moment for it to process in Keith’s flustered brain. “You are not going to teach me how to dance.”

“Oh I am.” Lance smiled. “If you can fight, you can dance.”

He reached inside the pocket of his jeans and extracted a remote, aiming it to the speaker on a table in a far corner. “Chasing Stars” by Fleurie came one, one of the few songs the two agreed to play at their wedding. Keith wondered for a minute how he got the remote from the instructor, but his thoughts were interrupted from Lance pulling Keith. 

“Just follow my lead.” Lance said. Keith tried to copy his steps; tried not to hurt his toes. His eyes remain on the floor, watching his feet closely that he forgets the rhythm. Forgets who he was dancing with. Lance did so well with the instructor, Keith wanted to be a pro as well. Or at least, pro enough he wont make a fool of himself in front of fifty people. Maybe more. Oh God Lance has a big family. What if they laugh at him? What would he--

A hand pulled Keith’s chin up. They stopped, Lance’s blue eyes washing over Keith’s nerves. Sending out a current to silence his worries over the future, blind faith in the partner he would have in life. 

“Keep your eyes on me. Go with the music. You trust me, don’t you?”

Keith’s shoulders relaxed. “Always.”

Thus, they danced. Lance twirled him, spinning the other into the embrace of inner surprise. Dipped his body in quiet elation. Waltz him in the shining lights, his heart fluttering with each step of their feet. Lifting him up, giving him a chance to reach out to the stars. The room no longer existed, replaced by an empty field and bright stars smiling down on them; wrapping the couple in its arms and whisking them into an array of euphoria and adoration.

And for once, Keith didn’t step on his toes. He kept his eyes on Lance, his careful, analytical look disappearing into a wide grin. He might as well be dancing on air, because he felt weightless. They were the only two people that mattered in the world. Just two boys so deeply in love the gods sent down their blessings in a form of clear skies and easy, beautiful movement. 

They were two wandering souls searching the earth for their missing piece. Now they are complete, the missing puzzle piece snugged comfortably in their chests. Keith never thought he would be this lucky. This happy. If he could freeze time, he would just to bask in the moment. But then again, there really is no reason for it. They are getting married and will have the rest of their lives to dance and love each other.

When the song ended, Lance pulled Keith close to him as before, their hands linked as Lance held Keith against him, chest to Keith’s back and arms reaching forward while Keith kept him close. 

“Told you you could do it.” Lance whispered, tender and soft. 

“I have a good teacher.”

With that, Keith angled his head to kiss Lance, the song long over but the dance continuing.

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

“Yes, I need to cancel. Yes I’m aware reservations take months to years. No I--look, the wedding is cancelled. No we weren’t unhappy, it just didn’t work out. Yup. Uhuh. You too, goodbye.” Lance says, finishing up with the phone call to the venue. As soon as he clicks the red button he sighs, resting his head on the kitchen table. It has been a grueling day in cancellations and setting up the viewing, Lance’s battered body screaming at him to rest. Allura and Shiro offered to take it over for him, but he shrugged them off, declaring it is his responsibility. 

Now he is wondering if it really was a good idea to leave him alone.

He still has to cancel the catering, flower arrangements, honeymoon reservations, inform the bridesmaids and groomsmen of unfortunate circumstances, the damn limo, and return the wedding rings. 

The last one he is not looking forward to. Just looking at Keith’s engagement ring around his neck hurts. Physically going into the shop and “enlightening” the store of current events is sure to leave him aching. And it wont be his bones. 

He tiredly glances to his left. A framed photo lies flat on its front, the contents hidden away in a vain effort to preserve what is left of Lance’s heart. Yet he is compelled to reach out, grasping the smooth wood and flipping it up.

It is a picture of Lance and Keith at the dance studio, Lance angling the camera like a selfie to capture the moment. Keith was leaning against him, a small but adoring smile while Lance full on grinned, all teeth and painful cheek muscles. Lance didn’t care at the time. He was too overwhelmed with the fact he was to marry the boy he admired and sought for in a couple of months. 

Both of their feet hurt after that day. But they didn’t care. It was fun. and filled with hope.

God, why did he think leaving in that snowstorm was a good idea? Why? Keith was even weary of it. He should have listened. Maybe then, maybe--

No, he can’t think about the accident right now. He needs to cancel shit. start working on the funeral. Get Keith’s body out of the morgue as soon as possible. He is cold and alone. Lance doesn’t want him left that way for too long.

He left the photo and puts on his jacket--well, put on one half. The other is trapped in a cast. He inserts his earbuds and heads out the door, the jewelry shop a couple blocks away. Lance can’t drive with one arm, so walking it is.

When he nears the shop he pauses his music, readying himself for the worst discussion of his life.

Then, he hears it.

It’s subtle; quiet, a whisper in the wind. The familiar high octave voice and elegant piano surpassing the hurrying sounds of traffic. It’s melody slowly wrapping around Lance’s still form at the end of the crosswalk, choosing to settle around his neck as his back hits brick.

It came from one of the shops, but Lance cannot pinpoint which one. All he knew is it is the same one Lance and Keith danced to in the photo, and it might as well have stabbed him. He shoves the earbuds farther in his ear and cranks the music. He ducks his head down and works to ignore the haunting voice, no doubt following him as he walks down the crowded streets. It isn’t until he reaches the jewelry store did he take a breath.

Jewelry stores are usually silent. Silent or playing mainstream music at low volume that you’d have to sneak into the back just to hear the lyrics perfectly. He should be safe. 

Oh but how wrong he is. As soon as he takes out his earbuds and approaches one of the nicely dressed sellers with an over-the-top grin, the same song begins to play. At first, Lance doesn’t notice it right away. He is busy messing with his backpack, only able to use one arm. The woman helping him offered assistance, but he shrugs her off. He has his hand around the boxes and was about to hand the receipt over to the woman when his ears perked up, curiosity killing the cat. 

His hand stops. The woman asks him a question, no doubt wondering when he purchased it and if the return is valid. Lance doesn’t hear her. He is engulfed by the song, its melody slithering up his spine and curling around his neck, the noose tightening with each word, with each hit or strum of the instruments. 

Touching the clouds, never get found Shoot straight up, never come down Lets get lost chasing stars Out on the edge, losing our breath Hearts on fire in our chests Lets get lost chasing stars, lets get lost, lets get lost chasing stars, chasing stars (stars, stars)

“Sir? Sir, are you alright?” The woman asks, concern etched in her eyes. 

No. No he isn’t alright. He feels like he is choking. Being choked. Strangled by the song. Clawing at the imaginary hands reaching out from the rings, the fingers scratching deep cuts into his flesh. His lungs are on fire, his legs growing weak. The room seems to spin, his nails gripping onto the glass as a way to prevent him from falling. Falling into the abyss waiting for him. He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s--

He is not okay.

“Sir?” 

Lance’s knees buckle, the rings falling with him and clattering. He needs to breathe. How can he breathe? 

Keith’s bright eyes flash through his memories, his laugh echoing in the middle of the song as Lance spun them around the studio.

“Slow down! I’m going to trip!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

It should have been him. The doctors even said, it should have been HIM. He was the driver. He was the one who insisted on leaving. He was the one who’s side was the most damaged. 

He should have protected Keith, not the other way around. 

It should have been him.

Lance covered his mouth with his uninjured hand, the tears he was holding back overtaking his shut down. His breath came out labored, and without so much as a care in the world over the worried employee and growing crowd, he sobbed. 

[larksinging]

aaaand here is a gift for @rorykillmore ‘s birthday! you didn’t say what you wanted which is good because i made you something completely fucking ridiculous instead. i call it “villanelle suffers”. also uh cw for graphic deaths

(also shoutout to jay for helping me brainstorm a bunch of this)

meeks!! i know its been a weird and difficult year, and you’ve been putting into so much hard work and dealing with a lot. i dont know if anything i alone can do can pay you back for all that, but i hope at least this can brighten your day a bit! you deserve it. and to get a bit sappy, you’re one of my best friends, and my life has greatly improved for knowing you. anyway i hope next year is more settled and all that hard work pays off!!

“Ah, quite the opposite. I’m here to congratulate you.” Konstantin sits down next to her on the couch. “I didn’t even have to tell you to make that last one an accident! Good job.”

Villanelle realizes she has two options: tell Konstantin the truth, or take credit for the freak accident.

“You know me, I just want to make you happy,” She replies in a sing-song voice.

“...Officials now believe that the incident started because of a mechanical failure in the pulley system, which caused it to snap and set off a chain reaction that sent the three elevators at the Delta hotel plummeting, killing twenty-three people.” 

“Whoa,” Villanelle hums between mouthfuls of popcorn. “How terrible.”

The droning of the television doesn’t quite drown out the sound of Konstantin entering her apartment. Villanelle pretends it does and ignores him. He lingers near the arm of her couch, looks between her and the TV, and then grabs the remote and shuts it off.

“Hey, I was watching that!” Villanelle throws some popcorn at him. “That’s very rude.”

“I didn’t take you for the sort to watch the news,” Konstantin brushes himself off.

“Half of it nowadays is fake. So it’s like watching a soap opera!” Villanelle waves a hand dismissively. “Anyway. You have a job for me? You didn’t come here to watch TV with me, I guess. Too bad. I ‘borrowed’ Devil from my neighbor. It looks terrible.”

“You’re really selling this,” Konstantin responds dryly as he pulls a postcard out of his pocket. “But you should really get some rest. This one’s big.”

That’s curious and exciting enough that Villanelle can’t quite think of a good quip when he leaves.

By “big”, it turns out that Konstantin did not mean that it was exciting or dangerous, but that literally it was a bigger body count than usual. Five whole people this time!  

Cursory research shows that they’re all a bunch of nobodies. No, literally! Most of them are college students from the same college. The only interesting thing about them is that they’re the five survivors of the weird elevator accident that was all over the news.

It could be some weird insurance fraud kind of thing. It’s gonna be real suspicious if all the survivors happen to die. But it’s not Villanelle’s job to care about that kind of stuff.

The first on her list is Jay, engineering, who she watches from across the street at a cafe. She notes them by their major because otherwise they blend together like the boring as of a B movie.

Right on time, exiting the building, there he is. She’s got a couple ideas in mind, most involving stabbing, but... then he takes a slight detour and goes over to a nearby payphone.

“Who even uses payphones anymore?” She grumbles to herself and gets up to find a good position to hang around in wait. Might as well lurk at nearby wall and pretend to look at her phone. He seems pretty serious about whatever call he’s making.

Villanelle’s there for barely more than a minute when the edge of the phone booth starts to spark ominously. She blinks, and before she can process it, he starts convulsing like he’s being electrocuted. She, and a few other shocked passersby watch in confused and terrified silence. Some smoke rises off his shoulders.

With no warning, he launches backwards and through the glass. It shattered and he sprawls out on the sidewalk below, blood starting to seep from cuts on his face and embedded glass in his shoulders and arms. Someone in the crowd screams. About five people reach for their phones, either to call for help or take a picture. Someone else rushes to his side, feels his wrist, and then (pathetically) starts trying CPR. Too late, Jay’s clearly dead.

Well. That works too.

The footsteps this time have a definitive lack of stomping, which means that Konstantin must be in a good mood. Great! Because Villanelle didn’t want his grumpiness to interrupt her painting her nails.

“If you tell me to hurry up, I’ll throw paint at you,” She warns. “Five is a lot! I’m working on it.”

“Ah, quite the opposite. I’m here to congratulate you.” Konstantin sits down next to her on the couch. “I didn’t even have to tell you to make that last one an accident! Good job.”

Villanelle realizes she has two options: tell Konstantin the truth, or take credit for the freak accident.

“You know me, I just want to make you happy,” She replies in a sing-song voice.

“O.K. Cool. Keep up the good work.” He gives her a thumbs up.

“Please never do that motion with your hands again. You doing that is -- ugh.”

The next one on her list is Charlie, art major. The first thing Villanelle notes about her is that her outfit is terrible. It’s like what a hangover would look like as clothes. Artists!

Villanelle tracks her to a mall. The parking garage is just a bit too full right now, but maybe she’ll stalk her through the mall until she comes back.  She watches the girl enter the elevator (haha, ironic) heading down to ground level. Too bad there’s a couple other people in the elevator. That’s fine, Villanelle can just take the stairs.

Just as she turns to head down the stairs she hears a faint commotion. Someone in the elevator bumps into Charlie just as the elevator springs into motion. As she stumbles towards the door, something snaps and the elevator jerks and falls. Charlie’s positioned conveniently enough so that her head is separated clean from her shoulders as the elevator plummets. The freed head bounces along the floor and rolls almost to Villanelle’s feet.

The screaming from the elevator (which sounds like it’s stopped the next floor down, not crashed, now THAT’S ironic) is the perfect soundtrack to Villanelle’s disbelief.

“Wow,” She says, “Just like that movie! Genetic!”

-------

Bizarre accidents aside, Villanelle is not about to lose her momentum. The last three survivors all end up congregating on the beach. Villanelle, with a pair of new designer sunglasses coming out of her next paycheck, listens to their hushed conversation from an inconspicuous distance away. Who talks in hushed whispers about something serious at a beach? Seriously?

“I’m telling you, what if death has a plan, and we messed it up?” One of them, who Villanelle remembers as Billy, philosophy, is drawing something in the sand. “We were supposed to die in those elevators, but we didn’t.”

“Because of your... vision, or whatever?” Tommy, film, rolls his eyes. Villanelle also rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, because we got off. And now it’s coming to hunt us down one by one. If we can just see the signs, maybe...”

Villanelle doesn’t hear the rest of what he says, because a stray gust of wind blows sand into her face. She sputters even as some paper flies behind her to where they’re sitting.

“This is-- ow.” Villanelle glances back to see the last of them, Sara, dance, toss a book down. “Papercut. Anyway, this is ridiculous. Death isn’t stalking us. Get real.”

“You tell them,” Villanelle mutters to herself. Except she gets drowned out by some seagulls squawking ominously, which is weird, how can that obnoxious noise sound ominous?

“I’m going for a swim.” Sara stands up pointedly. “You two can keep making up nonsense.”

“Sara, wait--” Billy reaches out, but she’s already heading down the beach.

In the water, it’s easy enough to bump against someone with a concealed knife. So Villanelle stretches and languidly rises to her feet. Sara’s already wading past the shallows as Villanelle follows her. Except the shape of something cresting through the water slows her, and she watches the events unfold in dizzy shock.

Just as Billy shouts Sara’s name, a shark leaps from the water and drags Sara under. The water bubbles up red and someone behind Villanelle screams. After a few seconds, Sara actually does resurface and stumbles out of the water. Villanelle winces at the bite wound on her leg. Sara manages to limp back onto the beach when a rogue blast of wind hits. Nearby beach goers, still watching Sara, hold onto their hats as a beach umbrellas is ripped from its post. The umbrella goes spinning in the wind, gaining momentum. And then comes to a dead stop by impaling Sara.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Villanelle says.

“You lied to me,” Konstantin accuses.

“Whaat.” Villanelle doesn’t bother to get up from where she’s sprawled on the couch. “I did not.”

“You did,” He counters. “Those were all accidents. You didn’t actually do your job.”

“Oh. That. Okay, maybe I did lie.” Villanelle cranes her neck to look up at them. “But they’re dead either way, so does it really matter?”

Konstantin raises a finger to scold her, then hesitates and lowers it. He sighs. “Okay. Well. The Twelve aren’t angry, but they’re not going to pay you if you’re not actually the one doing it.”

“What! It’s not my fault the freak accidents are beating me to the punch!”

“Then get more clever about the last two. I know you can.” He turns and waves as Villanelle crosses her arms and pouts.

“Stupid... death, or whatever.”

This time, okay, this time she’s not gonna get one-upped by random acts of violence. Villanelle tracks Tommy to the library where he’s studying late into the night. Much better. There’s lots of quiet little opportunities for murder and ways for her to manipulate the situation.

For example: she’s put a wet floor sign in front of the bathroom on the ground floor so that he’ll be forced to go to one that’s more remote. It shouldn’t work, but it does. Perfect.

The corner of the library outside the third floor bathroom is perfectly quiet and dark. Lots of narrow corners to catch him where nobody else will see. Some of the books might get some blood on them, but… That’s a sacrifice she’s willing to make.

There’s a noise from inside the bathroom and Villanelle is just about ready to explode. But no, it’s fine, he emerges a moment later grumbling with wet shoes and a sizable trickle of water coming from the bathroom. Something must’ve broken, but it wasn’t his head!

Before anything else can happen, she turns around a corner to block him between some shelves.

“Can I help you?” He asks, glancing between her and the direction of the bathroom.

“You could... no, you know, I’m not really in the mood for clever lines.” She just shrugs and pulls out a knife. It spooks him enough that he turns and darts back. “Hey!”

He slips on a nearby puddle and bumps into one of the shelves, which sways and then collapses in his direction. It takes a moment of coughing for Villanelle to see through the dust that it kicked up. The shelf has him pinned face-down on the floor, but from the way he’s struggling he’s still alive.

“See? That is what you get for running.” Villanelle sighs dramatically and walks around the toppled shelf. “This would be easy, they said. And now I’m going to have to lift this off of you. That’s not easy at all.”

She shakes her head to see that he’s just twitching occasionally. Uh-oh. She goes to work lifting the shelf off of him, which is a little easier with all the books having fallen out. She moves it just enough to get to a point where she can lift him up, and….

He’s dead. His face is dripping wet. Villanelle looks down at the puddle on the ground.

“You drowned in a puddle.” She shakes his corpse. “You drowned in a puddle! How could you.”

This time, Villanelle’s just taking a walk through a park at like 1am because someone is playing a cosmic joke on her and she hates her life and goddamnit shes gonna find somewhere that serves ice cream and/or alcohol at 1am. One of those is easier than the other.

What she gets instead is Billy, wandering through the same wooded park that she is. Due to an extremely convoluted series of events that might be called a narrative climax, she’s sure. Villanelle just kind of stops and stares at him.

“It’s you,” He gasps, “The specter of death. You’re death itself.”

“No,” Villanelle answers. “Well, yes. I mean, I am here to kill you. But there’s nothing weird and supernatural about it. Get a grip!”

Billy stares at her for another second, and then fucking books it. Villanelle just sighs because of course, and follows him. She’s going to get this paycheck, damnit.

Her heart leaps into her throat when their chase rounds a corner and he stumbles into a wood chipper. She watches in horror as he goes tumbling in head first, and she holds up an arm to protect herself from a spray of blood...

...Only an annoyingly sinister leaf lands on her arm. Oh. The wood chipper wasn’t on. She goes over and wrenches Billy free of it, but he manages to squirm out of her grasp.

“Come back here!” She calls. Her voice is drowned out by a loud creaking.

Her last target turns to look at her while running and, before both their eyes, one of the trees inexplicably leans and then comes crashing down. Villanelle’s mouth hangs open as she watches it fall directly onto Billy and the comically horrific crunch that follows.

A moment of shocked silence hangs in the air as the leaves all settle.

“I give up,” Villanelle announces. “Okay, Death. You win! Give a girl a break, geeze.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Villanelle confesses when Konstantin comes in.

His pace slows to a stop. Something churns behind his expression. Concern, maybe? The realization that she might need to be taken care of?

“I can’t be upstaged by freak accidents anymore!” Villanelle wipes a tear away. “Do you know what this is doing for my reputation? For my self-esteem?”

Konstantin’s choked laugh just makes her glare dramatically. “Don’t worry. Your next job is in Florence. Political. You love that kind.”

Villanelle perks up. “Oh, good! You always know how to cheer me up.”

Kostantin smiles. “Okay, but tell me one thing. Did a tree really fall on him, or did you just make that up?”

“Of course it did! Would I ever lie? Okay, fair. Would I ever lie that badly if it’s warn’t true?”

“Mm. Fair enough.”

[3laxx]

“Hey look! She has a cool helmet!”

“Have a good season, Mr. Lahiffe!”, the receptionist winked at him as she whispered his name and he laughed, grabbing the copy of his sign up.

“Thanks! Oh, by the way, anyone here from the French team already?”, he asked, adjusting his signature red cap. The woman lowered her gaze to the screen and, after scrolling a bit, shook her head.

“No, I don’t see Chat Noir and Firena on the list yet. But La Paonne and Queen B are already here. Oh, and apparently Malachite checked in yesterday already.”

Carapace chuckled and nodded, shouldering his bag again.

“Yeaaaah, I’ll see those guys at the party tonight. Thanks anyway, I’ll just wait on my team.”, he let his gaze wander across the people in the room, seeing just a few faces he recognized, “Huh, so many newbies here.”

The receptionist leant back and nodded, sighing a little.

“Yeah… Was a pain to register them all. But we’re splitting everyone into three equal groups instead of two groups like last year so you probably won’t see most of them on the track. We had so many sign ups this year that the organizers thought about four groups, even.”

Carapace smirked at her and grabbed his helmet from the counter.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a bit full tonight, then. Anyway, nice talking to you, Imma scramble before you tell me Firena’s real name.”, he added with a wink, already seeing his teammate approaching the building through one of the glass windows. The receptionist giggled and waved as he crossed the room, claiming a table for his stuff to lean against, waiting for his first teammate to register as well.

His eyes followed her curvy form beneath the dull racer suit as she entered through the door and made eye contact with him before winking and turning to the administration counter where he had just left. He rubbed the back of his head and sighed, watching her prop herself up on the counter and shifting her weight.

He definitely had it bad…

It didn’t take her long to get her papers done and grab her stuff to join him. Just before she reached him he straightened and swallowed, then cleared his throat and tried to sound at least half as cool as he intended to be around her.

“I see we meet again for this season, Firena?”

The young woman chuckled at his words, placing her orange helmet on the table next to his dark green one.

“What, you thought I’d just bail, Shelly?”, she laughed, throwing her flaming hair back behind her shoulder and grinning at him, making his heart leap in his chest. Not that he’d admit that.

“Well, here was hoping.”, he joked, leaning back and trying to look relaxed. She just lifted one of her eyebrows, crossing her arms.

“You scared of me?”

Carapace laughed at that, quickly shaking his head as Chat Noir came through the door as well.

“Eeeeh, nah. Not scared of you. I mean, it’s no secret that you’re one of the best racers out there but I thought I’d have an easy run this time against all the newbies.”

His friend placed his helmet next to theirs as well and clapped on Firena’s shoulder, grinning widely.

“Hey guys! Nice to see familiar faces around all these fresh starters.”

“Hi, Chat! So good to see you, champ!”

Chat Noir grinned as he moved past Firena and tightly hugged Carapace, laughing as he was suddenly lifted up by his best friend.

“Man, your father still not feeding you? I swear I gotta exchange a word or two with this guy. Can’t let my boy starve!”

Chat ruffled his hair as he let him down again, shrugging.

“Yeah, the old man is a little annoying. But I’m counting on you guys to keep me alive for the season.”

Firena perked up at this, lifting her finger and waggling it as if Chat had just sparked an idea.

“Oh yeah, speaking of! I know the winter’s hard for you so I brought you something as a start. Gotta pull the current champ on my side!”, with that she turned to her bag that she had dropped under the table, not without throwing a wink at Carapace, though. He felt his cheeks warming and Chat’s grin getting broader and definitely a tad too smug so he quickly retorted.

“Well, but he’s my best man! You have to pull him on your side, I already have him!”, he playfully pulled the racer towards him as Firena straightened up again, an opened box with three croissants in her hand.

“Oh yeah?”, she smirked, carefully waggling the box, “How about now?”

Chat shook his head, brushing Carapaces hands off and stepping towards the girl, spinning to reveal that he had taken one of the traitorous bribes.

“Sorry bro, but she’s pretty convincing.”

Carapace dropped to his knees without losing a beat, covering his face with his hands and dramatically cried out.

“Oh nooooooo! The witch won! She hath taken my beloved brother and now I stand alone against her dark power!”

Firena giggled at all the glances he attracted like a magnet and then shrugged.

“Well, you can have one if you want.”

With a jump Carapace was on his feet again, smiling down to her and rubbed his hands together.

“Uuuuuh, she has defeated me! Nice! Thank you so much!”

He grabbed one croissant and bit into it, then nodded towards the door.

“Hey look! She has a cool helmet!”, he stated, prompting his two friends to turn around and take a look as well. A small girl entered the room, clad in the same dark blue racing suit as the three of them. Her helmet had a radiant red with black spots on it and her belt showed that she was from France just like them.

The girl looked around for a moment, then turned to the administration counter a little to the side from the entrance. Firena hoisted herself up on the table to sit there and caught Carapace’s gaze, grinning.

“New teammate! Cool! I read her name’s Ladybug, kinda fitting for the helmet.”

“I think she fitted the helmet on her name.”, Carapace shot back, then looked at his friend who was still observing the girl, “What do you think, bro?”

Chat Noir didn’t move, didn’t even react as Carapace looked at him expectantly. Not even as he called him by his name he got any kind of indication that he was listening until Firena jabbed her elbow in his side.

The young man coughed and stumbled a step to the side before breaking his gaze away from the new girl and indignantly staring down his friends.

“What is it?”, he grumbled and Carapace smirked.

“You seem awfully interested just by looking at her, man.”

Chat shrugged nonchalantly, before biting into his croissant.

“Well, she’ll be a teammate so yeah, I’m-… Uh, watching.”

“You were totally checking her out.”, Firena commented dryly, shrugging, “Totally checking her out. Bummer, though, that her suit is a little too big, kinda conceals her figure. But as it looks she has a cute butt.”

Carapace suddenly breathed in a tiny crumb and began coughing, earning an amused look from his female teammate. As he was finished with his coughing fit and straightened up again with a red face, the girl with the Ladybug helmet turned around with a small stack of paper in her hand. She looked a little lost and took a few steps away from the counter to allow other newcomers to register themselves but obviously didn’t know where to go. Her eyes searched the crowd and Firena and Carapace caught her gaze, simultaneously lifting their hands to attract her attention. Her gaze flickered down to their belts and she recognized their flag, then her face brightened up in relief.

She shouldered her bag on the other shoulder and made her way towards them, skillfully avoiding other racers who were gathering around until she arrived at their small group, smiling shyly.

“Uhm-… Hi! I’m new, and uh-…”

Firena jumped from the table and stretched her hand out after Ladybug had dropped her bag, grinning as the smaller girl took it.

“Hi, I’m Firena and these dorks behind me are Carapace and Chat. We’re the French team, welcome to our little circle!”

Carapace was the next to shake her hand. He had to nudge Chat to do so, too, but it didn’t seem to faze Ladybug that Chat was shamelessly staring. Maybe she was just too distracted to notice since she already focused on Firena again.

“So, uh-… You really only use your cover names?”

The taller girl nodded and shrugged.

“Yeah, easier like that. I mean, it’s just easier to keep it like that. And it’s kinda fun to keep the role. So! What made you think of the name Ladybug?”

The girl in question smiled and blushed a little, changing the position of her helmet on her shoulder self-consciously.

“I dunno… I think I just thought I’d need the luck.”

Carapace chuckled, reaching forward to knock against her helmet, then he pointed back at Chat who was still somehow out of order.

“Yeah, you’ll probably need that, like all of us. This here is the current world champion Chat Noir, he won the last season.”

Immediately, Ladybug’s attention was drawn to the so unusually tongue-tied Chat, her jaw dropping and her eyes getting wider.

“Oh my god… So it really is you! I-… Oh my god I’m so sorry I thought I wouldn’t meet you here but uh-…”

Firena giggled, dramatically grabbing her throat and speaking in a rough voice.

“Oh, oh no, I need water! Shelly, help me to the vending machine!”

He was about to roll his eyes and remark that Chat and Ladybug certainly didn’t need Firena’s plump attempts at making them talk after they’ve just known each other for barely a few minutes as she already pulled him away. Admittedly, he felt his heart fluttering but that wasn’t topic right now.

“Wow, what a subtle exit.”, he leant against the vending machine as his teammate grumbled, crossing her arms and obviously not buying something to drink as Ladybug briefly looked after them before turning back to Chat Noir who had miraculously just begun speaking.

“It was meant to be so obvious, dork.”, she huffed and leant on the other side of the glass door, looking at him intensely. Then she whispered, “Don’t you see they have chemistry going on?”

“Oh yeah, Chat seemed different during the first few seconds of meeting her for the first time.”, he commented pointedly, then he lifted his eyebrows as her gaze didn’t leave him, “Anything in my face?”

She nodded, turning to him and stepping closer, her hand coming up to allow her fingertips to brush over his cheek.

“Stubble.”, she whispered, “You’re becoming a man, Shelly!”

He ignored his blush and his rapidly beating heart as he playfully swatted her hand away, laughing.

“Yeah, I gotta shave again, thank you very much for reminding me.”

She giggled as she turned her back to the blooming conversation of their teammates, searching for a few coins in her pockets to really buy something now. He wordlessly handed her two Euros as he eyed his best friend with squinted eyes, tilting his head.

“Think Chat really acted weirdly when he saw her? I mean-… I never saw him blushing but he is right now and they’ve only known each other for barely a few minutes.”

Firena shot a lazy look over her shoulder, then shrugged as she pulled herself his favorite drink.

“I dunno. Chat gets pretty easily flustered. If you actually got down on the dance floor on parties and didn’t just stand on the mixing table the entire time you’d see how easily he gets all blush-y and stutter-y around pretty women.”

Carapace rolled his eyes and sighed, then nodded as he accepted the juice after Firena had already taken a few sips.

“Probably, I dunno. It’s just that I’ve never seen him like this. That’s all.”

Feel free to ask me about this AU! I’m always open to asks ;)

Wanna buy me a coffee?

[silvergalaxyx7]

Friday Night Funkin Original Story (Corrupta Nigrum) [Part 5: Perception]

Part 5: Perception

Later on within the evening, Boyfriend had returned back to Winterland Plaza, right as Girlfriend and Carol had left its doors, a large group of bags with them, before understandably asking where the boy had been, Boyfriend responding with the lie that he had encountered yet another enemy that he had to rap battle in order to escape from, receiving a giggle from both girls, Girlfriend asking if he had been sucked into another dimension or chased around by a manic fangirl again, much to Boyfriend’s uncomfortable and hesitant affirmation. 

Having believed his lies, the two girls and the boy had returned back to Carol’s home for some R&R as well as to just hang out for the time being, the clear skies overhead making it a perfect time to be outside before rainfall comes by as it did during the last few days.

Whatever the weather however, Boyfriend was still internally processing how he would find a way to talk to Girlfriend, especially in a small group like theirs which included Pico, her, him, and Carol, Whitty having told his new profound girlfriend that he wasn’t really ready to be around yet another person, Pico being someone who the living bomb wouldn’t want to have an argument with if it meant turning Carol’s backyard into a sinkhole. 

Either way, Girlfriend was in a good mood which meant that this was the perfect time to talk to her, but not at this very moment, rather let her become a bit exhausted, if such a thing was possible for a demon, and then bring in his concerns to her slowly and steady. 

For now however, he sat at a bench in the yard as Carol and Girlfriend talked to one another in the small pool the girl had recently bought, Pico having sat next to the boy who had vented his frustrations out to him.

“Wow, that’s, uh, a lot,” Pico commented, placing his hand on his head, “And I haven’t gotten used to your whole actually talking thing.”

“Sorry, I was just trying to remember everything Geovanni told me,” Boyfriend gave a sheepish smile before looking over at Girlfriend, “So, what do you think?”

“About what exactly?” Pico laughed in disbelief, “That your “new” new relationship is falling downhill faster than a drunk on a mountain bike? How about that your babe is holding some eldritch abomination inside her body, or was it soul? If you want my opinion, I think that guy was probably a crazy old guy on crack or something, and trust me, those do exist.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Boyfriend nodded, though his lack of a smile provided enough proof that he was uncertain of his own response, “G-Girlfriend wouldn’t lie to me, right? We’re supposed to be close enough that we don’t hide anything from each other, no matter how bad it is.”

“I mean, how long did it take her to tell you she was a demon?” Pico asked.

“About…..almost two months,” Boyfriend sighed in disappointment, “B-But she said she wouldn’t hide anything else from me, so she has to be telling the truth about not knowing anything about that.”

“Mhm…” the boy leaned back, closing his eyes as his vibrant orange hair glistened in the afternoon sunlight for a moment, knowing that Boyfriend’s lack of response meant his words hadn’t quite reached him yet, “Though maybe he is telling the truth and it just seems hard to believe so-”

“Pico!” Boyfriend exclaimed, pulling his shirt over his mouth in frustration. 

“Look, all I’m saying is that it’s pretty crazy to hide all of this from you, but there is a possibility that she did,” Pico explained, clearly conflicting his previous statement. 

“N-No, she wouldn’t…..” 

“I mean is it that hard to believe?”

“No, of course not,” Boyfriend gripped his shirt tightly, “I’ve seen things you could only begin to imagine, nearly died a hundred times over, seen monsters, demons, ghosts, whatever you see in those kids books, so a monster with that much power, hidden inside a girl who’s not only hated as much as her dad, but who’s also my girlfriend, isn’t that hard to put together.”

“You really have it rough, dude.”

“Well, that’s why I came to you.”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t think I invited you over just because, did you?”

“Right, of course not,” Pico rolled his eyes with a smile, “I’m guessing you brought me here to ask me for some advice on this whole situation.”

“Actually, I thought you could go and tell her for me instead….?”

“What?!”

“It would just be for a minute or two, and I’m working on a letter so you could read it and-”

“No, no, hang on there!” Pico exclaimed loud enough that Carol and Girlfriend's attention turned towards him.

“You boys okay there?” Carol asked.

“Yeah, we’re fine!” Boyfriend quickly responded.

“Boyfriend was just telling me about this weird bat thing he was rap battling today in the alleyway a bit north from here,” Pico explained as the girl’s continued their conversation, the boy lowering his voice as he pulled Boyfriend close by, “Listen, you can’t make me go up there and talk to her!”

“Why not?” 

“Well, for one, she’s a demon!” Pico looked over at the girl with a look of concern and fear in his eyes, “If I piss her off by telling her something you wrote, she’ll probably set me on fire or something! And two, this is your problem to solve by yourself, not mine. If you want to tell her how you feel about this whole situation, I can help you find the words to tell her in person, but if your just going to make me go to her and talk to her for you, then you’ve got another thing com-”

“Go Pico, yeah, yeah, go Pico, yeah,” Boyfriend sang, bounding up and down quickly.

“Don’t think that’s going to work on me-”

“Go Pico, yeah, yeah, go Pico,” Boyfriend continued with a pleading smile. 

“BF, just stop, I….” Pico paused, seeing Boyfriend holding his breath as he was getting ready to sing the same phrase as before, only much louder, the mercenary quickly covering the boy’s mouth, “Alright, alright, just shut the hell up!”

“Yes!” Boyfriend nudged Pico, “See? I knew I could count on you!”

“Sure, whatever, but you owe me big time,” Pico brushed over the boy’s gesture, looking at the girls with an even more worried expression.

“Aw, come on, they don’t bite, and you’ll be fine!” Boyfriend placed his arm along the mercenary's shoulder, “Just act natural and if anything goes wrong, which it won’t, I’ll take full responsibility.”

“So, you got this letter?”

“I’m….still writing it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me-”

“Look, it’s hard to put emotions into paper alright?” the boy opened and closed his palm, missing the feel of a microphone in his hand, “The only way I’m good at expressing myself is through rap, but that’s too loud and melodramatic than a single letter, not to mention the letter is way more fancy like she is.”

“I think you and I have very different definitions of the word fancy,” Pico glared at the boy, head downcast, “Ok, so when are we doing this thing?”

“Tonight, at seven, when I’m going out to visit Geovanni’s house, and you can tell me how she reacts to it all, and then I’ll figure out how to better approach her after she knows how I feel,” Boyfriend grinned, “It’s the perfect plan!”

“No, no it’s really not,” the mercenary shook his head before standing up to stretch, “Well, until then, wanna join the girls.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Boyfriend waved Pico off before returning to his thoughts once again.

Girlfriend was patient enough to understand his feelings, like a normal girlfriend, a normal person would, right?

Yes, his plan would work and they could trust each other, maybe even get her to trust the sorcerer in helping relieve her pain this creature might be causing her, and then Daddy Dearest and Mommy Mearest would have all the respect in the world towards him since he was able to save his daughter from a problem they had presumingly caused. 

Nothing could ruin this mindset.

Suddenly however, Boyfriend felt as if something or someone was watching him, turning around to look at the outline of rose bushes surrounding Carol’s backyard, the very sight of the flower distracting the boy from the sound of rustling within them, instead causing Boyfriend to swear he was hearing whispers emitting from them.

At that moment, he noticed something that he hadn’t the first few times he visited Carol’s house before.

Did her roses ever have thorns?

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

Unperceived and concealed from Boyfriend’s knowledge however, from beyond the bushes, now running a few blocks in the opposite direction in order to attempt to run as far away from Carol’s house as possible, was Sky, the girl holding her hand to her heart, not in any romantical or aspiring sense in which such a gesture would often be used by her when seeing the boy, but more so in an attempt to calm her ever beating heart, the nervousness and small tinge of guilt within her mind and body causing such a thing to occur.

The girl ran past a corner, entering a nearby park as she stopped and leaned against the wall of a nearby public bathroom, the sounds of melody and music muffled in the distance, the usual cheery environment of Friday Night Funkin being something that she had mostly only enjoyed through watching it on a screen rather than actually experiencing a musical outlook on life twenty four seven, though she couldn’t complain.

She gripped her shirt, the one bearing a red check mark, her initial attempt at trying to copy Boyfriend’s style in order to receive his attention. 

“Stupid!” she said in a hushed voice, trying her best to hold in her tears, though the ones that had already started trailing down her cheek had signified a failure in that regard, the girl sliding down onto the stone brick floor, “He’s just a little dumb video game character like the rest of them….”

“That’s interesting….” a deep voice came from her side.

“EEEEP!” Sky jumped back, looking to find Ruv standing right next to her, “W-What are you doing here?! Did Geovanni send you to find me?”

“I don’t answer to that man…” Ruv glared in the direction of the church, apparently knowing where it was despite everyone being covered by buildings or trees, before placing his attention back on the girl, “I came here on my own.”

“Y’know, part of me doesn’t believe you,” Sky narrowed her eyes in skepticism, pointing at the man, “And who would? I mean, look at you!”

“Грубый маленький сопляк…. (Rude little brat….)” Ruv muttered to the side.

“What was that?” Sky questioned.

“Nothing,” the man responded before extending his hand out, “Now come on, the others are worried about you.”

“I said I need some time to think,” the girl curled up, bringing her knees to her chest as she pressed herself against the wall further. 

“We have no time for that, we need to get going before-”

“Before what?!” Sky exclaimed, looking up with stained cheeks and reddened eyes, natural from her manifested form, “Why should I even care what happens to you all? You’re all just stupid video game characters inside my computer, so if that coppruted thing ever wants to come and destroy this body, then he can, cause I’ll just be put right back to my world and all of this will just be like a movie from me!”

“You don’t know that….” Ruv explained, hesitating to once again reach out towards the girl. 

“So what if I don’t?!” Sky snapped back, “I don’t matter at the end of the day anyway, right? I mean, the only reason that Geovanni helped me is because of my manifest and if I give it to him, I could go home again and not even have to bother with almost getting killed and….and….”

Sky stopped, softly crying into her hoodie as Ruv simply sighed, sitting down next to the girl.

It was a lot more quiet out here…….he liked the quiet.

“You know, you could….” the man finally decided to break the silence, feeling Sky’s eyes on him without having to even look, “You could just run away and be safe, go back to your life where you’re just a normal school girl who gets picked on for liking something different than other people, someone who wants to be appreciated, as you watch our world go to hell while you stay behind, looking at us all perish before you.”

“W-What are you saying….?” Sky sniffled, lifting up her head.

“It’s like you said, we’re all video game characters in your eyes, right?” Ruv held a leaf before crushing it in his palm, his eyes narrowing in irritation, “Just little things you can play with and throw away when you’re done.”

“W-Well, yes, but-”

“And then, when everything is over, you return back to what you described as a horrible life where you’re always running away from your problems, because other people don’t care about you and the only other people who did were just stupid little video game characters in your game,” Ruv gave a soft laugh, “But only losers talk to fictional characters, right?”

“Hang on!” Sky grabbed the pieces of the leaf from Ruv’s palm, “I don’t want you all to die!”

“Then why are you still running away, after everything he and she gave you?!” Ruv slammed his fist against the wall, forming a small crater where it had landed, pieces of brick falling onto the ground, Sky looking on in a mixture of concern and fear before her eyes softened as she held onto her hoodie’s drawstring, “Sorry, sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I’m just-”

“It’s because I’m afraid….” Sky responded, her voice a little above a whisper.

“What?” Ruv’s eyes widened a small bit, the man looking down at the girl.

“I’m afraid,” she reiterated, “Afraid that I won’t be able to change my heart, my mind, no matter where I go or what I do to try and change myself, and when I finally get close to forgetting about my obsession, I think my parents called it OLD or something, forgetting about all the horrible things I’ve done, there’s always something that brings back those memories or moments that I just wish I could forget!” 

“.....I’m sorry,” Ruv whispered, grabbing another leaf from the ground, this time fiddling it around his fingers, “You know, I once ran away too, from country to country, trying my best not to hurt people that didn’t deserve to get themselves hurt or worse, but my good deeds also became something of an obsession and that led to many good people dying whether I wanted them too or not.

That’s when I found Sarv and, while we didn’t get along in the beginning, our friendship became stronger than any I’d made throughout my journeys in other places of the world, and I thought that I was safe, that this was finally the place where I would get redeemed and forget all of my past mistakes…...but it wasn’t that simple. 

Even here people wanted to hunt me down and capture me for all the things that I’d done and, in certain days, I wished that I had just turned myself in and made this whole mess easier on her, after everything she did for me.

Sometimes I don’t feel like I deserve her kindness or that I’ll ever gain forgiveness for what I’ve done, but until then, I have her just like you have Geovanni to show us how to be better people…...even when we feel undeserving of such a blessing in our lives.”

Sky was speechless, hearing Ruv speak this much, to her of all people, being something she did not expect, before the girl simply sighed, shaking her head with a small smile.

“You guys are too much…” she stood up, brushing off dust from the debris on her jeans, “I don’t feel like I have control on what’s going on around this world, let alone my own emotions, and knowing that some freaky dimension creature is the thing that’s been encouraging me to continue doing all those things I did not Boyfriend didn’t help me feel better about myself.”

“But….?” Ruv looked at the girl, his height making his sitting position match a slightly larger height than her’s. 

“But, I guess I’ll try to believe in myself just a little more,” Sky looked up at the clouds above her, the small breeze of the evening hitting her cheeks, her shirt flowing in the wind as her hoodie anchored itself to her body, two distinct aspects of the girl that didn’t fly away from her, but instead kept her grounded and focused on a path that allowed her to do more harm than good in the world, love all people rather than one, “I’ve been in this world for seven months, a few before Boyfriend and Girlfriend had escaped from the Dearests, something beyond the normal game’s story, so what’s a few more gonna do?”

“Aтта девушка…. (Atta girl….)” Ruv slowly placed his hand on Sky’s head, causing the girl to simply giggle, placing her hand on his.

“Don’t be afraid, I won’t bite!” she grinned before taking a deep breath, “Okay, I think I’m ready, let’s go back.”

“After you…” Ruv gave a playful bow as Sky happily skipped forward, humming a tune that he had heard once on the radio Sarv kept in their church, the man actually managing to give a genuine smile before following after the girl.

As the walked, in the glint of the sunlight which dappled through the tree branches, the man could’ve sworn he saw a touch of a golden hue on Sky’s hair.

“Hmm, strange….” 

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

Meanwhile, on the other side of the park, Geovanni walked along the jade metallic fencing covering the area, the fragrance of fresh daisies and roses within the bushes helping relax the tension the sorcerer was feeling, having convinced Sarv to allow him to leave the church and go in search of Ruv and Sky, having enough arcane and magical skills to fend off any malevolent or threatening obstacles they may have faced through their path. 

The chatter of people walking nearby and the musical harmony of other groups of people in front of small speakers, ones that weren’t deceived or placed under the illusion to be the crystals that made up Girlfriend’s, the sound of pop and jazz music filling the air. 

This city was truly something to behold, just like those brochures he had seen back in his old town in Michigan had said, the cadence of beauty that filled its streets being something to marvel at constantly, making it fairly disappointing that his own home had to be placed at a distance from the main sections of the cities, though having Sarv and Ruv share the same disappointing outlook in their homing situation made him feel a bit better about his own.

Geovanni shook his head, slapping his cheeks as he reminded himself that the purpose of coming out here was to search for Sky and Ruv, not awe at the sights in the main city park. 

“Sky! Ruv!” he called out, inevitably receiving some stares from those around him, “Are you two here?!”

“Yo, did you just say Sky?” a boy called out from a group of four teenagers who were sitting on a bench next to the entrance to the park itself.

“Yes, have you seen-”

“Hey, isn’t that the crazy chick obsessed with Boyfriend?” one of the girl’s from the group questioned further.

“I heard she has a whole collection of that guy’s clothes in her house,” a gothic looking girl commented, “Must really stink there!”

“Hehehe, yeah, and she’s probably on her way to stalk on him right now with that criminal guy, Ruvy-what’s-his-name or whatever,” the last member, another boy, this one appearing to be a jock of sorts, added with a snicker, “Probably just another one of those whor-”

Suddenly the last teenager felt his shirt’s collar being pulled as his body was slammed against the back of the bench, causing cracks to form behind his back, or maybe it was his back, the boy looking up at Geovanni’s burning eyes, the magical circles from before having formed in place of his irises, though the sorcerer didn’t at all seem angry, but more so disappointed. 

“My friend, I greatly recommend you choose your next words extremely carefully,” he warned with a delicate and almost observant manner, “Now, I am well aware that ignorance at times breeds stupidity out of idiotic trash such as yourselves, but you are all quite lucky my primary mission is to preserve all living life in this planet that birthed ungrateful welches such as yourselves who are blind enough to judge a person solely based upon their own actions without truly acknowledging who they are on the inside.”

With those final words, the sorcerer released his grip, the boy leaning forward once again as Geovanni made his way into the park, leaving behind a fairly stunned and fearful group of teenagers.

“That fuckin bastard’s crazy!” the boy cried out as the sorcerer continued striding along the set path of the park’s entrance. 

“Mmm, perhaps I should burn their bodies inside out and find Myra so she may resurrect them once more, especially since I must locate her for a portal spell and her knowledge anyway,” Geovanni laughed to himself, “Or perhaps I should merely let Sky have her way with them, see if she learns to control her manifest in a productive manner, or maybe even…..”

Geovanni stopped walking, having now noticed that the chatter of voices around him had stopped, the entire world seeming to have delved into a dark silence as the sorcerer looked around, finding that there was indeed no one within the park’s boundaries, the groups of people, even those unholy teenagers, gone from his point of view as he began slowing his steps, taking some form of caution with every one that he had taken. 

He looked up, finding that the blue sea of clear skies had become a bloodshot red with black clouds replacing the outlying ones that had once been there.

“What in the world…..?” Geovanni remarked before being interrupted by what appeared to be a gurgling sound coming from the fountain at the center of the park. 

The sorcerer rushed towards it, afraid that someone could be drowning and needed his assistance, placing his hands on the edge of the fountain itself, looking down to find his own reflection staring back at him.

Only it wasn’t completely himself.

What stared back at Geovanni was a pile of flesh and snapped bone that was wearing his own clothes that tiled its head, almost as if curious as to why it had a new visitor or perhaps why its reflection was not as abnormal as itself. 

“Well now, isn’t this interesting….?” a deep and slow voice called out from the reflection which, using the broken bones sticking from its flesh, brought and melded them together to form rudimentary teeth which grinned back at him with a cunning and amused smile. 

“Goodness!” Geovanni backed away from the fountain, about to turn around before a rubble trembled underneath his feet as he could feel his balance loosening, the sorcerer falling to the ground as he turned back around to witness a scene that he had not wanted to see nor experience being a part of. 

The marble bricks of the fountain began to crack as a black liquid seemed through it, eventually breaking past the layer of rock as a wave of inky water washed upon the ground, quickly gelatinizing into some tar goo that began to form tendrils, arms, legs, teeth of broken flesh, bones, and a red crystal of sorts, as well as hundreds of heads, all of which had a centered eyes that continuously bled what he presumed was blood.

The stench of iron, rotten flesh, and moss filled the air with a tinge of…...lemon?

He looked around as the flowers that surrounded the park had wilted into piles of nothing but ash, what seemed to be the remnants of the city in the background burning as the screams of children and adults alike filled the void around him, causing the sorcerer to place his hands above his ears, but the sounds persisted even then.

“Come now, isn’t it rude to ignore the pleasant melody of DEATH?” the voice mocked his justifiable cowardness. 

As Geovanni continued looking at the cesspool of an amalgamation of abominations within his set point of view, it clicked in his mind what it was that had been standing in front of him.

This…...was the Corrupta Nigrum.

“No, no, you cannot be real, it still couldn’t have come out this early!” the sorcerer called out towards the unembodied voice around him.

“Oh, but it is too real, magic user,” the voice laughed, “Can’t you hear the screams of burning children? The bubbling of skin on top of the mouths of hungry birds?” 

“You disgusting little-”

Bzzt!

Geovanni looked down at his pocket taking out his phone, the cross which represented Sarv’s icon pictured on screen.

“Sarvente…” Geovanni gasped before readying to answer the call before his phone began bubbling, menting into a black liquid that immediately sank and joined with the rest of the pile, “W-What?”

“Upupup, being on a phone call while someone is talking to you is rude you know?” the voice said, “I mean, feed into despair and look upon the destruction of your precious little world!”

“Wait, you’re….” Geovanni stopped for a moment, “You’re desperate to scare me, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me….?” the voice responded.

“Which means that this, all of this, is an illusion!” Geovanni pressed his thumb down on the empty space where the phone once stood, a beeping sound being heard as a shimmering wave revealed that the phone was still in his hand the entire time, the sorcerer bringin it up to his ear, “Sarvente, what’s going on?”

“Geovanni, there's a Blacyx at the park currently, and I thought it might be where Sky, but now there’s two markers of them around that area-”

“No, it isn’t her, this is something completely different,” Geovanni responded.

“NO, NO, STOP TALKING TO THAT DEMON, PAY ATTENTION TO ME!” the voice commanded, the world around the sorcerer rumbling even more furiously, “CAN YOU NOT SEE THE CITY IS BURNING AND PEOPLE ARE DYING?! THEIR SKIN WILL BE EATEN BY THE MONSTERS INSIDE THE SHADOWS!”

“The only monster I see here is you…...Lemon Monster,” Geovanni turned around and, as he had expected, there he stood.

A tall and slim creature far above his own height, leaned over in a threatening position, long sharp claws for fingers, a black body that almost seemed to move in a way akin to static, a lemon shaped head, bulbous eyes, and a grin of sharp bloody teeth, the teeth themselves so disorganized that through the gap of them he swore the eyes of someone else stared back.

“Lemon what?” Sarv said from the other side before Geovanni closed the phone, cancelling the call. 

“Clever boy….” the creature, who indeed was the infamous Lemon Monster, responded with a slow clap, laughing softly and slowly, “I didn’t even need to rap battle you and you’ve already seen through my alteration.”

“I’m quite perceptive, but I must say, your tricks are quite realistic,” Geovanni crossed his arms, “In all honesty, I was planning on looking for you, although I didn’t quite know where to find you exactly.”

“That was the point of me hiding, no?” Lemon Monster began walking around Geovanni, the sorcerer's eyes peeled on him, “I saw what you did to those kids and such a strong individual like yourself felt like a tasty morsel to have, especially after those kids had already been eaten alive a few minutes ago.”

“T-They what?!” Geovanni took a step back.

“Oh yes, they were quite the delectable,” the creature once again laughed, “Although I knew you were different, having that magical barrier around your body, so I decided to alter your perception so that you could perhaps die of shock or something along those lines, and then I could have you all to myself.”

“You horrendous fiend!” Geovanni exclaimed, reaching his hands forward as magical circles formed around the tips of his fingers, the sorcerer extended them towards the monster as beams of light escaped from them, the creatures slinking to the side as the beams exploding across from them before heading straight towards the sorcerer, “I will not allow you to harm anyone else!”

“Oh, but poor and hungry me will have to disagree!” Lemon Monster grinned before slicing at Geovanni, the monster’s claw hitting the barir as it neared the sorcerer's skin, “Why don’t I remove your skin and we can make this quick, hmm?”

“In your wildest nightmares!” Geovanni exclaimed before blasting his beams at the creature who dodged them once again. 

“Mmm, but I just can't wait to have you for a feast!”

“Guh! Stand still!” another blast came forth, hitting the now frozen projection of the Corrupta Nigrum. 

“Hehehe, unfortunately, that will not be the case…”

“Argh, dearest father, I hate you!” Geovanni extended his arms to the side, multiple large circles appearing at his command before a barrage of yellow crystals shot from them, the creature slinking through the gaps in between like it was all a game, because in his mind, it was.

“Do you not get it Geovanni?!” Lemon Monster yelled, his voice echoing the park, no, the world, “I am no man, but a monster, and I will be the one to bring your quest for salvation to an end for I am your doo-ARGHHH!”

Lemon Monster looked down at his chest, two blackened claws passing through his chest, blood spilling onto the floor before becoming black, as the creature rotated his head to look at his assailant which had surprisingly been Sarvente within her demonic form, the nun gritting her teeth with fury before pulling the creature apart, ripping his body in half as the monster fell to the ground, his body pieces squirming before lifting themselves up, beginning to rebuild the body.

Geovanni immediately conjured up a magical circle before beginning to circulate his hand, manipulating the remains of the creature as they slithered tightly into a ball of death and chaotic birth at the center of his circle.

The world around the two shimmered and waved for a second before gradually melting away like mud, this whole illusion almost seeming to be a part of the monster himself, and Geovanni looked around to find what had occurred.

Multiple parts of the park had gaping holes and craters on the floor, everyone around the sorcerer backing away as they huddled their loved ones close, fearful expressions on their faces.

“W-What did….?’ Geovanni looked towards Sarv who herself was also mildly damaged, her right side of her abdomen hit with an orange glow that he had immediately recognized as his own magic, the bruise deep inside her to the point he could almost see her muscle, “O-Oh my lord, Sarvente you’re-”

“Yes, and you are lucky no one else was in the process either,” the nun grabbed the man’s body before bursting into the air with him, Geovanni keeping his spell active to contain Lemon Monster, “I should be fine, but let’s find Sky and Ruv for now, alright.”

“But you’re-”

“I said I’m fine…” Sarv reiterated before flying towards the church's direction, “It wasn’t your fault, it was that fiend’s, but you shouldn’t have hung up on me like that.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but I thought I could handle him,” Geovanni looked down as they neared a building that was close to the church’s location, though not directly towards it, “You’re much stronger than I was…...and smarter as well.”

“You flatter me, but do not think so little of yourself,” Sarv closed in on the church, “You saw through that monster’s illusion.” 

“Yes, but I still haven’t got a clue as to what his presence meant, nor why he had targeted me specifically, but at least we have one creature to contain, huh?” Geovanni looked at the ball of black ink with a smile of relief and a small amount of pride that was immediately overshadowed with guilt at what had happened, “I hope I didn’t seriously hurt the citizens.”

“No, they are fine, and the authorities will take care of the destruction, although we might need to be more covert and limit our time outside our homes for a while,” Sarv suggested.

“I suppose so….” Geovanni looked back towards the park, sighing in disappointment towards himself. 

How could he allow such a tragedy to occur?

That fruit headed monster is truly something to be reckoned with, and now he would have to contain it?

This day could not be in the line to become any worse…….could it?

- End Of Part 5 -

Friday Night Funkin’ is an open-source donationware rhythm game developed by Cameron “ninjamuffin99” Taylor, David “PhantomArcade” Brown, Isaac “kawaisprite” Garcia, and evilsk8r.

Mid-Fight Masses is a Friday Night Funkin’ Game Mod by Dokki.doodlez and all respective characters associated with it are also owned by said creator.

Sky was a mod made by bbpanzu and character inspired by bfswifeforever.

[grimmseye]

The Only One — Part 4

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Kirishima Eijirou&Ashido Mina

Characters: Bakuou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Ashido Mina

Other Tags: Kirishima’s Family, Shaming Kirishima’s Wardrobe, Mentions of Homophobia

(Chapter One) (Previous Chapter) (Read on Ao3)

— — — —

He doesn’t entirely appreciate the look on Bakugou’s face. A dubious, judgemental sort of expression, regarding the two candles in Kirishima’s hands as he sets them on his nightstand.

“Cinnamon bliss,” Bakugou reads. The smirk is audible in his voice. Kirishima isn’t amused, giving him a flat look as he tried — and failed — to light a match. He sighed, discarding it and taking a new one to try again.

“Don’t laugh,” Kirishima grumbles. “Those things are expensive . It shouldn’t cost that much money to melt wax.”

“Then don’t buy them, dumbass.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, grabbing the matchbox from Kirishima’s hands and lighting his on the first try. He holds the tiny flame to each wick until they catch, shaking the match out to drop it in the trash can.

In Kirishima’s opinion, the candles are actually a nice addition. They’re a deep red, matching the rest of his room, and the glow of the twin flames is warm. Passionate, manly. He thinks he might have to look into getting more in the future. “I got them for you,” he points out.

Bakugou looks up, brows furrowed into a grimace. “I never told you to go out and get some shitty candles. I said your room smells like sweat.”

“Well, yeah,” Kirishima admits. That had been more than a little embarrassing. It wasn’t just Bakugou, either — when he’d wrangled Sero and Kaminari into the argument, they both had reluctantly agreed. Apparently working out in his room gives it that nice workout smell, and that was why Bakugou has always been so adamant they study in his room. “But, apparently your room is off limits, and you already got us banned from the school library, so what else am I supposed to do?”

It doesn’t deign a response from Bakugou. He just snorts and shakes his head, apparently done with this conversation. It’s what he’d been doing for a week now, clamming up the moment Kirishima mentioned his sudden ban. And Kirishima doesn’t press it. It’s not like he doesn’t already have a decent idea of why . Their beds are pressed against the same wall, he can hear Bakugou cry out at night. Can smell the smoke when he passes by his closed door in the morning. But if Bakugou doesn’t want to talk, it’s his business.

Though, maybe it’s a little bit hurtful, knowing that Bakugou doesn’t trust him enough to share his troubles.

They settle in. Today it’s math, which means Bakugou drilling him with formulas until he’ll be dreaming of them, solving each problem step by step, sweating as Bakugou goes back over his work with a red pen, repeating this again and again until his marks come back perfect.

The ones that are just numbers are fine, now. He knows what to do. If he can slow down and keep his head, Kirishima thinks he can pass the exam just fine.

Then he gets to the word problems. Reads them, blinks, reads them again. Brow furrows. It doesn’t make sense.

“Um,” he looks to Bakugou for help. Red eyes glare back at him, and Kirishima drops his gaze, teeth worrying his lower lip. He needs to solve for the distance. How is he supposed to…?

Kirishima can feel Bakugou’s gaze on him, and it just makes his heart wrack up in his chest. Bakugou was number three in their class — Kirishima must seem like an idiot in comparison. His teeth prick into his skin, heat flushing over his cheeks. It’s humiliating. He can’t process the words on a paper to figure out what to do. Can’t even think of step one.

“Kirishima.” He glances up, shoulders hunching. He expects a scowl, but Bakugou’s face is calm, his eyes containing a dim light. “Calm the fuck down. If you freak out, you’re not going to be able to think.” He jabs Kirishima’s forehead. “What are you solving for?”

Kirishima takes a breath. He checks the problem, just to be sure, before he answers. “The distance between A and B.”

“Right. And what do they give you?”

A diagram. There are numbers written on it. “The distance between B and C,” he says. “And an angle…”

“And what can you do with that? Come on, we went over this just two days ago.”

He wracks his brain. Kirishima tries to shut out his anxieties, just focusing on what he has. It’s fine, Bakugou’s not looking down on him, he’s waiting patiently for Kirishima to follow his guide. He just needs to breathe, and think.

And then it clicks. Kirishima dives down, excitement spiking in his chest as he scrawls out his work, snagging his calculator and plugging in the numbers twice before he presents his solution to Bakugou.

The moment Bakugou’s lips tic up, Kirishima feels relief sweep over him. “See?” Bakugou says, smug, like this is somehow his victory. “You’ve actually got some brains between all that hair.”

And, god, Kirishima could hug him. He nearly does, a heartbeat away from flinging his arms around Bakugou and gushing his appreciation. He restrains himself, though, only bouncing in his seat and giving Bakugou a delighted smile. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you,” he breathes, running his fingers through his hair. It’s combed back beneath a headband, keeping his hair out of his face and concealing his roots — he needs to re-dye it soon.

Bakugou snorts. “You’d do just fine, as long as you can calm down for two goddamn seconds.”

“I don’t think so.” Kirishima looks over the paper, his smile faded but still present. “The way you explain things always makes so much more sense.”

Bakugou’s response is dubious: “Then how the fuck did you get into UA?” Kirishima looks up, meeting Bakugou’s raised brow. “That test isn’t easy. Even dunces like Sparky and Blackeyes have to be above the rest to pass.”

Kirishima rubs the back of his neck, shrugging. “That was different,” he explains. “I had months to study. And practice exams, and all sorts of interviews from previous students. And I still only barely passed the written. I’m pretty sure it was the physical evaluation that saved me.”

And god, that had been a giddy high he’d ridden for miles. Scoring second in the trial to enter the hero course, right behind Bakugou himself. Thinking, at the time, that maybe he had been ahead of the curve. It was a fantasy that had been swiftly crushed by the end of term, only to surface again during his internships, to be beaten back down by Rappa’s fists — maybe next time, he would check himself before he got a big head. Couldn’t fall so far if he never got too high in the first place.

“How did Crimson Riot debut?”

The question is unprompted. Kirishima tilts his head, answering, “In the fight against Staker. He was at a disadvantage because of his quirk, but he still won… Why?”

“That.” Bakugou cups his chin, his eyes on the textbook in front of him. “I didn’t know that. You did. Does that mean you’re smarter than me? No.”

Kirishima grimaces at him, muttering, “Wow, thanks.”

“Shut up, I’m not done.” Bakugou glowers. “You know things I don’t. That doesn’t make you smart, or make me an idiot. Same for this shit. Just cause you’re not great at putting numbers together doesn’t mean you’re more or less intelligent than everybody else. You know what your strengths are, and you try to improve your weaknesses.” He fans his fingers out towards Kirishima’s work, finally lifting his eyes.

Kirishima’s heart squeezes deep in his chest. He drops his gaze, now, smiling. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

A scoff. “The fuck did I do?”

Kirishima only hums, reaching for his paper again to get started on the next problem.

Kirishima exchanges seventeen hugs before he leaves at the end of term, one for each of his classmates, plus Tetsutetsu, with three exceptions:

Mineta, whom he doesn’t particularly want to touch.

Ashdio, whose hug is postponed due to the fact that they’re taking the same train.

Bakugou, who wouldn’t want that kind of contact.

It’s two days before Christmas. Spirits are high — he already hears Midoriya inviting Todoroki out with Iida and Uraraka, Kaminari sidling up to Jirou to “casually” ask what she’s doing for the holiday. He laughs when she informs him that she’ll be spending the day with Momo, alone, giving him a sympathetic pat on the back when he droopily returns to their group.

“Why don’t we all hang out,” Kirishima suggests. “We can go to a temple, or maybe sledding!” That one gets him excited.

Agreement comes quickly, and he turns to Bakugou, his breath puffing out in a cheerful fog. “How about it? Come with us!”

His offer makes Kaminari tense, but Kirishima ignores it. Whatever spat there is between him and Bakugou will have to be pushed aside. They’re still friends, difficulty aside.

“No,” Bakugou responds. His eyes are flat, uninterested. “You fuckers want to dick around in the cold, be my guest. I’ll pass.”

“Come on,” Sero tries, cajoling. “You’re not afraid of a little snow, are you?” His grin is wide.

Bakugou’s head whips around, glaring. “I said no,” he growls out. He turns again, already stalking away. Unlike the rest of them, he actually lives in Musutafu, has no trains to take on his way home.

“Bakugou!” Kirishima calls out, his heart leaping into his throat. Bakugou pauses, cranes his face over his shoulder, and Kirishima smiles and waves, “Have a good break!”

He gets only a roll of Bakugou’s head as he continues on his way, but he lifts his arm in a lazy arc, a farewell.

“What a dick,” Kaminari snorts.

“I dunno,” Ashido hums, “seems like he was actually being friendly.” She grins down at her phone, a moment before her eyes go wide. “Oh, shit! Kirishima, we gotta go!”

It’s not really a terrible thing to miss a train, but he’d rather not wait for the next. Besides, jogging their way to the station gets his blood pumping. The two of them are flushed in the face and laughing as they hop on board, the last to arrive before the train departs for home.

Pulling away, Kirishima is filled with an odd sensation. Can one feel nostalgia for something they still have? He already misses his class, thinking wistfully of what it might have been like to spend the holiday with them all.

Eventually, he pulls his eyes away from the window to face Ashido. “So, my moms invited you over for dinner,” Kirishima says, offhand. He waves his phone as proof, a text from his Ma asking exactly that.

He expects the light that brightens in Ashido’s eyes. “Really?” She gushes. “ Aaaaah , that’s so sweet. I love your moms, Kiri.” She gives a relieved little laugh, one hand settling against her chest. “And I thought I’d be having dinner alone tonight. My parents are out of town again, you know. It’s so quiet at home.”

Kirishima hopes his sadness doesn’t peek through when he gives her a smile. “Yeah,” he agrees, “you told me before. But hey, bright side! If your parents aren’t home, they won’t know that you’re hanging out with me.”

Their amusement stems more from resignation than anything. Ashido gives a sigh, going, “Yeah, I’ll just tell them I’m hanging out with another friend, so they don’t call the house and freak out.” Her face shifts into a grimace.

Kirishima loves coming home. He feels a pang that Ashido can't say the same.

His house is modest, a one-story with a broad window in the front. He kind of wants to break into a run, abruptly realizing just how much he's missed home. His pace kicks up, something that isn't missed by Ashido judging by her quiet laugh. He only grins, jogging the rest of the way to the porch to knock on the door.

There's a shout of, “Ei’s home!”

His heart swells until it feels like it will burst from his chest. The lock turns, the door opens, and his Ma gives him an enormous grin before she crushes him into a hug.

At first glance, most would guess that Keiko is his biological mother. She's built like him, as tall as the average man with wide set shoulders and a toned physique. It's makes their embrace into a game of who can hug the other hardest, Kirishima tapping out when the breath squeezes out of his lungs. He laughs as he steps back, getting a good look at his Ma.

“Your hair!” He gasps, delighted.

It's been dyed a darker red than his own, cropped shorter, too. She puts her hands on her hips, grinning. “What can I say? I'm a huge Red Riot fan.”

He snorts, covering half of his face and grateful when she refocuses with an exclaim of, “Mina!” His Ma’s exuberance can be overwhelming to some, but he's never been embarrassed of her.

Ashido greets his Ma with a hug of her own, significantly lighter than Kirishima’s. “It's so good to see you!” Keiko says, when they part. Only a moment later she’s ushering them through the door. “Alright, everyone inside. Your mom is cooking dinner right now, Ei.”

They venture into the kitchen. Despite his ma saying cooking, his mom doesn't actually appear too occupied with such a task. A large pan is simmering on the stove, the rice cooker on the counter, and his mom is kneeling down as she wipes his little sister’s face.

“Guess who?” His ma announces, catching their attention. His mom straightens up, a smile breaking across her face. Before he can say a word, there's a cry: “Eicchan!”

Kirishima feels seconds from getting teary-eyed as he stoops down to hug his little sister. He straightens up with her arms around his neck, laughing at how she excitedly screams and kicks at his chest. “Hey there, Michiko,” he says, warmth brimming in his voice. “You didn't forget me?”

Her tiny hands brace on his cheeks. He holds her out, letting her pap her fingers over his face, holding back more laughter. He has to close his eyes to avoid getting poked as she jabs at his scar, like she needs to confirm he is, in fact, exactly who he appears to be.  

Michiko takes greatly after their mom, the same way Kirishima did. Black hair and red eyes — he has yet to find out if her permanent teeth will grow in sharp as well.

He holds her against his chest, Michiko content to stay wrapped around him like a monkey as Kirishima greets his mom with a one-armed hug — light so as to avoid crushing the child between them.

They enter his home, and Michiko eventually kicks him until he puts her down so she can fawn over Ashido (“She’s changed her favorite color to pink,” his mom tells him. It had been green when he last talked to her) and Kirishima can get dishes out for his ma to serve rice and curry. They talk, and laugh, and when they insist on helping clean up his moms just usher him upstairs because it’s his first day home for break and he’s with a friend, regardless.

In his room, he and Ashido compete for his DS — he left it at home the last time he was here — a battle which he loses when Ashido somehow gets him in a stranglehold with her leg and she cackles as she feeds all his beloved pokemon for him.

“You named your Typhlosion Katsuki ,” she notes, eyebrows raising.

And Kirishima kicks her, says, “I have one for all of you guys.” Ashido’s is a pink Gastrodon and Sero’s a Carnivine (“they don’t have any tape pokemon!”) and Kaminari’s is, of course, a Pikachu.

And even as she sits on his chest and challenges strangers online and uses up all his hyper potions, Kirishima is laughing. Eventually she pulls out her phone, Kirishima playing dead while she snaps a photo of herself victorious over him and sends it to everyone in their class. His own phone buzzes, Kaminari and Sero complaining about not being invited, Kirishima reminding them they’re meant to get together for Christmas regardless.

He tells himself it doesn’t particularly matter that Bakugou is silent, even though Ashido tells him he got their pictures.

The end of the year comes and goes. Ashido comes with his family to visit a temple, the five of them listening to the loud tolls of the bell. He looks down at his phone, the group chat that is alight with celebration. Kirishima opens up Bakugou’s chat to wish him a happy new year. It’s the first message he’s sent him since the break began.

On the drive back home, Ashido is quiet. Kirishima nudges her with an arm, says, “You told your parents you’re with Chisa, right? Ask if you can sleep over.” Because it’s kind of a miserable thing, to drop Ashido off half past midnight a block away from her home — all so that her parents don’t realize she was actually with the gay redhead in her class and his moms.

He’s not the only one she spends time with. Ashido’s still a popular girl, even if she doesn’t go to school with all her old friends. But, of all the many people she knows, she seems to stay with him the most. A lot has changed since middle school.

It’s a relief for him as well. He loves his family, and he’s missed them terribly, but being at home he suddenly realizes how quiet things are. His moms have work and his little sister is so often at a friend’s house, and that leaves Kirishima to his own devices.

He trains in his room. He goes on runs. He takes his sister to the park. He texts his friends. He catches up on shows he’s stopped watching. He does anything and everything to keep his mind occupied.

Break is only two weeks, but it feels like ages. He can’t wait to get back to the dorms. He can’t wait to have all of his friends just a door’s knock away.

Kirishima sends out a group text: Ashido, Sero, Kaminari, Bakugou. They should hang out. They could see a movie. They could stay the night at his house.

Sero can’t come. Kaminari can.

Bakugou is silent.

Hurt is beginning to mutate into worry. It crawls around in his chest cavity, squirming and sharp, the needle legs of many insects on the inside of his ribs.

‘Hey’ he types. It’s right below the ‘ HAPPY NEW YEAR!! :D’ from days before.

A beat. Then he tries again.

K: I thought we could hang out. U know, everyone

K: Or even just us two if u dont want a whole group

K: Or not at all thats fine

K: U  just havent responded to me all break

K: Im kind of worried man

K: Did something happen?

K: Did i do something?

B: No.

K: !!

K: Hey!!

K: Was that a no to hanging out or no to being mad

B: Both.

K: Oh good

K: I mean the being mad part

K: U sure u dont want to hang out?

B: Yeah.

K: Ur chatty today

K: Thats fine tho

K: I just

He stops. Kirishima’s thumbs hover over his phone screen.

B: Just what?

K: Miss you

K: Sorry.

K: Im being clingy arent i haha

K: So. Yeah.

He sighs, turning his phone over and covering his face. He shouldn’t have said anything.

A minute later, his phone buzzes again. He swallows the apprehension in his throat, turning the phone over the same way someone would a rock when they expect a scorpion to be underneath it.

B: What day are you fuckers meeting?

Kirishima feels his chest tighten. He breathes out, a rasp of a laugh. In his excitement, he immediately switches to their group chat, happily sharing that Bakugou is coming, asking the others when they want to get together.

Kaminari cancels.

Kirishima and Ashido meet Bakugou at the train station. He’s bundled up to outrageous extremes, the two of them bursting into laughter at the state of him: a poofy coat and boots and a scarf wound up over his mouth, red nose poking out from above the black material. He imagines this is what a mummy would look like, if mummies lived in the snow.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, but the muffled quality to his voice only makes them laugh harder.

“So,” Ashido says, after the dangerous glint in Bakugou’s eyes gets them to hush up, “I can’t stay all day, cause my friend’s got a birthday party. It’s not until evening, though, so you boys are in luck.”

The audible grinding of Bakugou’s teeth makes Kirishima wince.

They end up dragging him off to the mall, for lack of anything else to do. No movies out, too cold to hang around outside. This way they can walk and talk, and pretend like they’re actually doing something.

Only, Ashido apparently came here with a plan. She drags them into a store, turning to Bakugou and pointing decisively at Kirishima. “We,” she announces, “are going to show him how to dress himself.”

Kirishima gapes. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

Two sets of eyes run over him: a bright red Crimson Riot shirt, an orange coat over his blue jeans. Vibrant colors, passionate and manly. He looks great .

Bakugou’s lips thin. “Right,” he says, nodding slowly.

Betrayed, Kirishima sulks in the corner of the store while they apparently shop around for him. His pouting doesn’t last, brightening the moment Mina runs for him brandishing a leather jacket that is admittedly pretty badass.

He doesn’t actually buy much of what they pick out for him, doesn’t have the money to do that. Kirishima is wearing Mina’s chosen jacket and purchased a beanie that Bakugou had thrown in his face. The rest of his money goes to buying himself lunch — alongside one other item.

Ashido walks out with a new pair of boots. Bakugou has nothing. They part ways there, Ashido giving Kirishima a hug and Bakugou the finger as she leaves, all in good fun even as Bakugou cusses after her.

“Lousy bitch,” he rumbles, arms crossing as he sits at the bus stop. The moment they stepped outside, his nose had begun to redden. He’s good competition for Rudolph, now.

“Man,” Kirishima muses, reaching over to tweak the shell of one ear, “you really aren't good in the cold, huh?”

“It's bullshit,” he says. He pulls his scarf back up over his mouth, his next words coming out muffled. “Can't warm up fast enough when I use my quirk.”

His quirk. Kirishima blinked, a small, “ Ooooh,” leaving him. “That's right, you need to sweat to use it.” He feels sympathetic, but can't help his smile. Kirishima pulls his bag into his lap, pulling his other purchase out for Bakugou. “Well, I think you'll appreciate this, then.”

Bakugou stares at it. It's a knit hat, black. There's a little pompom ball on top, a burnt shade of orange. “It made me think of your hero costume,” he explains, somewhat embarrassed. “But at least you can keep your ears warm. As long as you want it, I mean.”

Bakugou blinks at him, wide-eyed. It lasts only a second before his default glower returns, and he snatches the hat from Kirishima to jam it on his head. His bangs fluff out over his forehead, the material pulled snug over the tops of his ears. It’s probably the cutest thing in his entire wardrobe, now.

Bakugou looks ahead at the road, his expression betraying no joy nor dissatisfaction. The fact he's wearing the hat in the first place warms Kirishima. Bakugou is not the type to do what he doesn't want.

His posture is tense, though. His hands are stuffed into his armpits, hunched in against the cold. Kirishima pauses for a long moment, and then takes the plunge.

He tugs one of Bakugou’s hands free, ignores the wild look it gets him as he holds it between his own. “It’ll keep your hand warm,” he explains. It’s already warming him up, color blooming over his cheeks.

All in all, this is completely unnecessary. Bakugou can keep his own hands protected, and yet he doesn’t pull away. Just scoffs and turns his head, the two of them going quiet as they wait for the bus.

Steadily, the scoot closer together. Just a little bit at a time, until their legs touch and their sides are flush. To share warmth, Kirishima tells himself.

He doesn’t believe it.

Bakugou’s already met his moms, and his sister. The little girl smiles the moment she spots him, exclaiming, “ Bam!”

( “This is Bakugou,” Kirishima had said, when he first introduced him. “He can make explosions. You know…” He brings his hands together in a loud clap, miming an explosion. “Bam!”)

“No,” Bakugou tells her, voice flat. “Bakugou. Ba-ku-gou.”

“Bam!”

He growls. There’s not even an ounce of anger behind it.

“She wants you to pick her up,” Kirishima tells him, noticing how his sister is reaching her arms up. When Bakugou’s face turns into one of wariness, Kirishima does it himself, lifting the girl up and holding her out the way one might a teddy bear. She’s essentially weightless to Kirishima. “Go on,” he urges.

As gingerly as one might take a delicate treasure, Bakugou goes to hold his baby sister. Michiko does most of the work, clinging to him like a koala bear. All he has to do is support her weight. When he gets comfortable, and the tension slides from his shoulders, he begins to look almost… does Kirishima dare think affectionate?

It’s a mistake on Kirishima’s part, cause seeing Bakugou holding his baby sister is doing awful things to his heart.

Luckily, it’s evening. Michiko doesn’t take long to fall asleep, her head resting on Bakugou’s shoulder. He’s careful with her, expression something both cautious and soft as he lays her in her bed, gentle so as not to wake her.

Kirishima is the one to pull the blankets up around her, switching on her night light before he steps outside, leaving her bedroom door open. His own is right next to Michiko’s.

“You’re okay with sharing the bed, right?” He checks.

Bakugou pauses. Then nods.

And Kirishima grins, says, “I thought so. I mean, it’s not like it’s the first time. Though, circumstances were a little different.” When he gets no response, a twist of nerves hits his guts. “So, um. It’s a decently sized bed. If I get, y’know, clingy in my sleep, you can just push me off, or —”

“— It’s fine,” Bakugou interrupts.

He blinks. “Huh?”

And Bakugou only stares at the floor. His jaw flexes. “I said it’s fine. If you get clingy.”

“But…” Kirishima’s head tips. “You said you don’t like to be touched?”

There’s no response for that. Bakugou just sighs, sinking down on the bed and pulling out his phone. Kirishima always wonders what he’s doing on there. He’s not one to make accounts for social media, after all, but maybe he still browses. Is he looking at their friends? Did he see Kirishima’s, the pictures he’d been posting all week? Seeing them, and never saying a word.

“Hey, Bakugou.”

There’s a grunt.

“Why weren’t you talking to me?”

He waits. Counts his heartbeats.

“Bakugou?"

Kirishima turns his head. His friend has put his phone down, eyes fixed on the wall. His breath comes in swells of his chest, deep, controlled.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” Kirishima sighs. “I just. I’m worried, you know, that you were angry. Or that you just didn’t want to talk to me.”

Bakugou gives a quiet groan. He falls back, the mattress bouncing. “Everything’s about you, huh?”

That stings a little. But Bakugou continues carelessly on, “I just didn’t have shit to say. You send me a fuckton of photos and — what? What were you expecting me to tell you?”

When it’s put like that, Kirishima doesn’t know. “I mean, nothing, I guess,” he mumbles. “I just wanted to show you. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Show me what a grand fucking time you’re having while I’m at home.”

Kirishima’s fingers curl inwards. His teeth clench. “That’s not fair.” Bakugou pushes himself up, a questioning note in his voice, and Kirishima turns to face him. “You can’t just — I’m not trying to rub it in. We asked if you wanted to come! I just wanted you to see…”

“What I’m missing out on?” Bakugou sneers.

And Kirishima growls, “ No. Just, that we’re having fun. You’re our friend, right, so I thought maybe it would make you happy to see us? You might care whether or not we’re having fun over break?” It’s a thought which he is quickly abandoning. He knows he and Bakugou aren’t the same. They function in near opposites. Bakugou likes to be alone, and Kirishima needs company. That’s fine. He can work with that.

He just can’t really figure out the bit where Bakugou doesn’t seem to care at all. It’s the closest thing to cold he’ll ever get, shut off and apathetic the moment a friend just wants some quality time with him.

So, maybe that’s the problem. Maybe Kirishima shouldn’t be thinking of them in terms of friends .

“Bakugou, what am I to you?” The words come out quiet. “Because, I’m trying to figure it out. I really am. Sometimes I think you care, but then the way you act…” He swallows with difficulty. “ And, I don’t need you to change for me, I just need to understand, because what I think and what you do just aren’t matching up.”

Bakugou splays a hand over his face. His eyes are closed beneath his fingers. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Kirishima.”

And Kirishima leans over him, because he needs to be seen. He pushes Bakugou’s hand away, waits for red eyes to open and lock with his own.

“Do you care?” He asks. “About me?”

He doesn’t know what he wants to hear. It doesn’t matter, because the words don’t come. Bakugou stays silent. Not a yes, not a no. Nothing.

There’s a weight on Kirishima’s chest. He swallows hard, looks away.

Then warmth covers his hand. Kirishima looks to it, finds Bakugou’s fingers squeezing his own. The grip is tight, almost painfully so. Clinging.

It’s a familiar sensation. He’s awash with the memory of weight trying to drag him down, of air whipping past him, of sweat slick palms, of heat in his face, of terror and triumph and how he’d never felt lighter in his life.

Kirishima squeezes his hand in return.

[lordsicheng]

Don’t Let Me Be Yours (pt. 1)

Im Youngmin x OC [NiceGuy!Youngmin x Bad Girl!OC]      Genre: Angst, Mature  W!: contains a bit of violence, profanity

A/N: this was requested, by the way! And I decided to make it into 2 parts. Part 2 will be up shortly or by tomorrow. ^^

-

Walking with eyes fixed on feet, you were on your way to your first day of the second semester at university. You were neatly dressed, wearing a relaxed boyfriend shirt, a leather jacket and some skinny jeans with white sneakers. You hum to a random tune as you walk your way into the campus with your sling bag on your shoulder, minding your own business. On your way, someone accidentally bumped into you and dropped a couple of his books in the process

“Oh, I’m sorry.” you apologized as you slowly tried to pick up his books, but he already managed to pick them all up by himself because of his fast reflexes

“It’s fine.” he smiled as he hurriedly walked away, disappearing into a crowd of students around the halls of the building. You just shrugged and went back to where you were headed, still humming

-

“Okay, class. Today is the first day for this semester, and welcome to Historical Geography, section B.” your professor smiled as he greeted the class in the auditorium

“Good morning, Professor.” everyone greeted him as they took their seats. As the professor proceeded on showing his presentation for the class introduction, a young man hurriedly arrives and sits just a row behind you, and you glanced over to his side to see it was the same guy who you bumped into earlier. Once he finally sat down, you turned to face to the direction of the professor, who was clearly into the topic he was explaining. You yawned a couple of times during class, and glanced over to your watch too often, obviously bored and uninterested.

You took a glance to the row behind you to check if the guy you bumped into was still there, and he just stared at the stage to where the professor was, and blinked a couple of times before he could look around until he saw you. Once he did, you immediately darted your eyes to the professor, making it a little too obvious that you were staring. You mentally slapped yourself for being so obvious about your gestures that you just sighed and tried your best to listen to the professor.

Once the class was over after two long and boring hours, you rushed out of the auditorium and didn’t even care to look at where the guy you embarrassed yourself to was. While running, the guy saw you and noticed you dropped a small envelope, and he grabbed it immediately to hide it and give it back to you in case he runs into you again.

-

You ran all the way to the nearby burger joint, where there was an alley behind it where you, your friends, and your boyfriend, Jonghyun, often met. You went inside the restaurant to see your friends sit at a table near the counter, and one of your friends, Yujin, waved and gestured for you to come over.

“Hey guys.” you smiled as you took a seat next to Yujin, facing the window

“Hey, y/n. So, plans for tomorrow night?” another one of your friends, Sooyoung, asked

“Same old, same old.” you chuckled as you rested your elbows on the table

“Has he arrived yet?” you asked as you didn’t hesitate on sipping on Yujin’s milkshake

“There he is.” Yujin pointed to the window by the door, seeing Jonghyun walk pass the restaurant and off to the alley behind it

“Be right back.” you winked as you stood up to go out and meet Jonghyun at the back of the restaurant building

Slowly walking to your way, you saw Jonghyun by the dumpster taking a smoke. You saw his friends Dongho and Sanggyun next to him, just looking around and making sure no one else saw all of you. You slowly walked your way to them, and grabbed an envelope from your leather jacket once you were in front of Jonghyun.

“Got the money?” he raised a brow as he leaned his back on the wall, arms crossed

You just smirked and grabbed the envelope and gave it to Jonghyun, opening it once it was in his hands. You were looking at Dongho and Sanggyun, both looking at the envelope and waiting for Jonghyun’s response.

Jonghyun just sighed, then looked at you

“See? I told you I could give it on time.” you smirked

Jonghyun just chuckled and sighed again, but his faced became serious after a while and didn’t hesitate to slap you hard across your face. You were shocked by this sudden gesture, and just looked at Jonghyun with your hand on your cheek

“What was that for?! That’s all the money I got since the past week!” you yelled as you took a step back

“You fucking idiot. This is a letter from your landlord telling you to leave your place immediately in a month for not paying your rent for three months.” he sighed as he threw back the envelope with the letter to you

“What?” you hurriedly opened the envelope again to see it really was the letter, making your eyes widen in shock

“Fuck.” you muttered as you took a deep breath and looked at Jonghyun

“I’m giving you another three days. If I don’t get the money by then, you know what happens next.” he smirked, walking away after with Dongho and Sanggyun following behind him

“Tss.” Sanggyun poked fun at you as he passed by in front of you walking away

You became really angry because you already did everything Jonghyun asked you to do for the past month since you both were dating. You didn’t even feel like you were really in a relationship, but more of a business relationship. You marched your way back to Jonghyun and harshly grabbed his shoulder to make him turn to you, him looking annoyed.

“Do you ever think about why you’re going this to me you asshole?” you spoke fast, sounding really angry

Jonghyun just smirked and shook his head until his left hand harshly grabbed your neck, making you whimper in fear while looking at him become even angrier

“Don’t ever lay a hand on me without my consent, again. Understand?” he said as he ruthlessly dug two of his nails on your neck, making you whimper from the pain. You just nodded fast before he could pull his hand away; scraping a bit of your neck from his nails and making sure his nails left a mark. He again chuckled as he continued to walk away with Dongho and Sanggyun, you coughing from his sudden motion to even lay a hand on you. You continued to stand there until Jonghyun and the others were already nowhere to be found, and you went back inside to see your friends still at the table. You then went inside to see Yujin a little worried, and you just sighed and sat next to her again.

“How did it go?” Hyerin, one of your friends, asked

“Not good. I might have to work harder tonight.” you sighed as you gestured the waiter to get you a milkshake

-

You looked in front of your full body mirror, examining the mark Jonghyun left with his nails. It was still painful, and it looked quite bad. You sighed as you tried to find a small band aid to hide the scar, but you ran out. You then looked in front of the mirror again, and you noticed a small bruise on your cheek from Jonghyun’s slap, but it was not that noticeable. You tried to cover it a bit with concealer, but you still noticed the damned bruise. You just rolled your eyes and decided to let your long hair down today, making sure it covered your bruises. Besides, you only had one class that day and you didn’t want to look at anyone either.

You walked fast on your way to the main building at the campus again, and the guy you bumped into the day before saw you, his face lightening up as he grabbed the envelope from his bag and tried to walk his way to you. But he saw you were a bit tense and just looked down while walking fast, so his smile died down a bit and just put the envelope back in his bag in hopes he could give it to you by lunch time.

Your class was over by 12 noon, and you just hurriedly walked out of the classroom to get home since you barely slept the night before. The guy you bumped into also came out from his class just a room next to you, and he tried to look for you but he couldn’t. So he just sighed as he went on to get his lunch and off to his next class.

-

“Wow that bruise looks fucking horrible.” Hyerin gasped as you showed the scar Jonghyun gave you on your neck to the girls

“It’s not that big of a deal. We get bruises often too, you know.” Sooyoung scoffed as she blew out a smoke from her cigarette while leaning on her car

“Why are you being a bitch to me tonight? I hope you choke on your cig.” you retorted towards Sooyoung

“Guess that makes two of us bitches then?” she replied, sounding annoyed as she threw her cigarette butt in front of her and stepping on it to put out the fire

“I GOT THE MONEY! GET IN THE CAR!” Yujin yelled as she ran out of the bar with a wallet full of cash, probably from one of her clients she manipulated

All of you got into the car, with Sooyoung starting the engine in a swift and drove fast before the police and the owner of the wallet could come

“Drive to a bank nearby, we need to cash out the money on his cards quick.” Yujin told Sooyoung, and she just complied and drove off to a bank next to a gas station

“Y/n, stay here.” Hyerin told you as she got out of the car with Yujin and Sooyoung to use all the three ATM machines to withdraw all of the cash inside the cards Yujin stole

“Don’t forget to cover the CCTVs.” you said as they got out, and Yujin nodded as they ran off

Your phone suddenly vibrated, and you saw a text from your mom

“I’m at the city at the moment; my flight got moved a few times so I have a day for layover. I’m on my way to your apartment. See you in 30.”

You shrieked as you read the message and you yelled at the other girls

“HEY! HURRY UP! MY MOM IS COMING TO TOWN!”

“Fucking leave, then! We’ll do these ourselves!” Sooyoung yelled back

“Fine!” you screamed as you got out of the car and hurriedly looked for a cab nearby, but the road you were all in was pretty empty. So you ran your way to the other block to find proper transportation to get home before your mother could even get there first.

-

You arrived pretty quickly in your apartment, and you checked your phone to see if your mom called. You gave a sigh of relief as you just got there in 15 minutes, and hurriedly changed out of your clothes for a more appropriate home outfit. A few minutes later, you heard a knock at your door and opened in immediately.

“Mom!” you smiled as you hugged your mother

“Y/n! My baby. What were you doing?” she asked as she got inside your place and put her bags to the side

“Just watching TV and a bit of studying. Are you going back to Dubai?” you smiled as you sat on your sofa

“Yes, my dear. And I wanted to pass by before I leave.” she smiled back as she sat next to you with her hand on your lap

“I wanted to see you too.” you rested your head on her shoulder, and your mom played with your hair a bit to make you more relaxed

“How’s dad and the others?” you asked

“Dad’s very busy now, and his health isn’t in a pretty good shape. The others are still working hard on their studies so they could move here with you in the future.” she said as she started rocking you both a bit

“I’m so happy to have children who do well in their studies and follow the good deeds me and my husband made.” she said, chuckling

“I’m going to the bathroom, okay? It’s pretty late now so you need to sleep too. I need to catch up on my flight at noon.” she smiled as she stood up to get to the bathroom

“Oh and by the way, mom,” you called, and she looked at you

“You can take the bed. I’ll take the couch for tonight.” you smiled, and she nodded before getting into the bathroom

You sighed deeply as you realized that you were being dishonest about your current situation. Your mother thinks you’re doing well in university, you hang out with good friends, and you practice proper conduct and more. But you were actually quite the opposite right now; you were with a group who stole money from old men who would want to have a fresh and young girl to take home at night, even though you didn’t sleep with any of them. You were in an abusive relationship with a man who probably already started his own gang. You weren’t doing a lot well at university either; you even skipped class pretty often in the first semester. You just lied down on your couch as you looked at the ceiling, distraught while thinking about why you started acting like this out of the sudden.

-

You finished your class at the auditorium, and you were about to head out when a young man stood by you and tapped your shoulder

“Hi.” he said with a bright smile

“Hello.” you smiled back, remembering his face after you turned to look at him

“My name’s Youngmin, by the way.” he grinned, and damn he had perfect looking teeth

“Y/n. And I’m really sorry again for bumping into you last time.” you scratched your head as you apologized

“It’s nothing, really. Stuff like that happens all the time. Sometimes, the people who bump into each other even become friends.” he said cheekily, and you just chuckled in response

“Wanna go get lunch?” he asked, and you looked at your phone to check if anyone texted you

“Sure.” you smiled back as you both walked out of the auditorium together side by side

[gothify1]

Skincare obsessives lost it when Drunk Elephant finally launched in the UK last year. October 2018 marked the end of beauty junkies having to beg friends, family, and colleagues to back a piece of the clean-beauty action from any and all trips across the Atlantic. But what really sets the hype around Drunk Elephant apart from other Instagram-favorite cult beauty brands is that it isn't just beauty insiders and editors who have been swept up in the buzz—it's our fashion friends and style influencers, too. Who should buy this: People who have congested, spot-prone skin and want a cleanser that exfoliates at the same time. Some people just love the feeling of cleaning their face with a bar of soap and water (hi, Dad), which makes this little cleansing bar feel decidedly old-school. The difference with this one, however, is the ingredients. It's enriched with deeply cleansing thermal mud, gently exfoliating bamboo powder, and nourishing marula oil that works into a rich lather when applied to damp skin. I was really unsure about using this at first but can confirm it did a great job of sloughing away dead skin cells around congested areas like my nose and chin without leaving my skin feeling stripped. Who should buy this: People with sensitive, dry skin or who want a no-frills cleanser that gets the job done. Bar cleansers are an integral part of Drunk Elephant and a product type that sets the brand apart from a lot of other skincare brands. This skin-clarifying one is suitable for use on your face and body. It contains blueberry extract, marula oil, and honey and is completely fragrance-free. For my oily skin, I definitely preferred the Juju Bar (this one was a little too moisturizing for me), but it would be great for sensitive skin. Who should buy this: People with dull skin and who want a cleanser that'll brighten without dehydrating. I'll just come right out and say it: I've been a big fan of Glossier Milky Jelly Cleanser for a while now, so I was pretty certain Drunk Elephant's cleanser wouldn't turn my head. How wrong I was! The formula uses coconut-based fatty acids and is rich in virgin marula oil, so although it's a jelly, it feels more luxurious than other gel cleansers. What I noticed most is the way it creates a rich foam when mixed with water. My skin always feels baby-soft after cleansing with this, and I don't feel like I need to reach for the moisturizer right away. Who should buy this: People with skin that has scars and pigmentation or whose complexion is looking tired and dull. If you ask any beauty editor what product they'd recommend most from Drunk Elephant, chances are it'll be this vitamin C serum. I can confirm the hype is real, and the reason it's great is the potency of its ingredients. For me, it has already done an amazing job of reducing pigmentation and scarring, but I've also heard great things about the way it diminishes fine lines. A whack of pumpkin ferment and pomegranate extracts also work to gently exfoliate the skin so your complexion will feel softer and look brighter from first use. Who should buy this: People whose skin feels tight and dry by the end of the day. I can't get enough of this stuff. I've been adding it to my morning moisturizer on dry days, mixing it with Drunk Elephant's potent glycolic acid (more on that below), and layering it straight onto my skin on makeup-free weekends. Formulated with provitamin B5 and pineapple ceramides, this is basically an incredibly hydrating gel. Dry complexions will drink this up, but it also works as a great base product to cocktail with some of the brand's more intensive treatments. I think of it as a glass of water for thirsty skin—more is more. Who should buy this: People who want clearer, more even skin. Scars, dry patches, discoloration, pores—this serum tackles it all. This is the one product in the Drunk Elephant range I was most excited to try. I use glycolic acids as part of my usual skincare routine but have found that when used daily, my skin often tends to break out. Annoying. This glycolic is different, as it's combined with a whole host of other acids—lactic, tartaric, citric, and salicylic—to really penetrate your skin and remove impurities while raspberry extract and white tea help soothe your skin. This prevents your skin from becoming irritated, dry, or sensitive as you might find with pure glycolic acids. The first time I used this, I mixed a pump with the B-Hydra serum and the marula oil before bed and the next morning the redness of my blemishes had visibly reduced. Who should buy this: People who have eyes. Or an addiction to brow gel. I'm ambivalent about eye creams. I've never been particularly wowed by one, and they aren't in my regular rotation. I'm not entirely convinced they aren't just smaller pots of face moisturizer. This one's a serum rather than a cream and contains black tea ferment to smooth, brighten and slow down signs of aging. If I'm honest, the texture was lovely, but as I don't have too many fine lines yet, I can't comment on how it works in this regard. I did, however, take the brand's suggestion and try it as a brow serum, which I can highly recommend. I'm always testing new brow gels—some good, some not so good—which means that my brow hairs can get weirdly dry and crispy. This stuff has helped soften them and give them a healthy sheen. Who should buy this: People who can only get one product from the Drunk Elephant range. This is coined as the hero product from the Drunk Elephant collection: a 100% pure marula oil. Cold-pressed from the pip of the marula fruit, it's naturally high in antioxidants, vitamin E and omegas 6 and 9, so its something of a natural wonder at rejuvenating and nourishing your skin. Plus it's naturally antimicrobial, which means it also helps to soothe your skin and bring things back into balance. It's lovely alone (I press a few drops over the rest of my skincare when I want a more intensive hit of hydration), but for me, it works best when mixed with other serums from the range to create a personalized skin treatment. I've also used it on the ends of my hair when they've felt particularly dry; it really holds its own compared to more targeted hair treatments that I've tried. Who should buy this: People who hate the feeling of heavy moisturizers on the skin. Of the two moisturizers in the Drunk Elephant range, this one was my favorite. A water-gel texture, I loved the way that it sunk quickly into my skin without leaving behind any tacky residue. This is a great daytime option and perfect for before makeup. As I'm approaching 30, I'm starting to think about the early signs of aging, so I was pleased to note that this cream has been formulated to maintain your natural collagen levels (essential if you want to keep plump, juicy-looking skin). If you have more dehydrated or dry skin, the Lala Retro moisturizer might be better suited to you, but this is a good option for normal to oily skin types. Who should buy this: People who have dry or dehydrated skin or love thick, buttery moisturizers. On an everyday basis, this moisturizer was a little too rich for me. However, if your skin is on the oily side like mine, then I found that this worked really well when used as a weekly hydration mask. It would be great for parched skin after a flight, too. Dehydrated or dry skin types, however, will undoubtedly drink up this oil-rich cream. It's brimming with fatty acids and moisturizing extracts to deliver a steady dose of hydration that will keep your skin feeling comfortable all day and night. Who should buy this: People who have dark circles or puffy eyes. I know, I know—I said a few paragraphs ago about how I'm just not into eye creams. But honestly, this one has possibly changed all that. Containing similar skin-brightening benefits to Drunk Elephant's C-Firma serum, I've been reaching for this cream on mornings when my complexion just doesn't look its best. It particularly comes into its own on mornings when you might be a bit hungover. The vitamin C helps brighten your under-eyes instantly, meaning that I needed to apply less concealer. Oh, and the peach-colored cap and dinky packaging are cute. Who should buy this: People who have already tried and love retinol or who want to reduce fine lines and plump the skin. I've written about this product before after being seriously impressed with the results after my first time using it. I have used retinol before (if you haven't, then I'd always tread cautiously), but this one didn't irritate my skin at all. It uses 1% retinol to boost collagen production and promote skin renewal along with nourishing fruit extracts and fatty acids to pamper your skin at the same time. I've since found that mixing this in with Lala Retro Whipped Cream is the perfect skincare cocktail for me. Who should buy this: People who like lip balm. I always have multiple lip balms on the go, so I consider myself to be something of a lip-balm connoisseur. This one contains the brand's key ingredient, marula oil, which means it's intensely moisturising. Admittedly, it won't change your life, but it's a damn good balm if you're looking for a new one to pop in your handbag.

[imagineyourstars]

Hey there >.0 Can I request how the Knights react to their s/o overworking so much to the point that they're worried for her but she's too stubborn to rest?

first knights request ! i took it as the s/o being the tenkousei and working hard on producer stuff, i hope that’s what you wanted ! if not you can still send another request;;;;; - admin mademoiselle

Izumi

Izumi’s the hardworker type himself, so he won’t especially notice you’re overworkingyourself at first.  He’ll just act as though it’s natural for Knights’ producer to work a lot.

It doesn’t helpthat he tends to add more work for you, by planning more idol jobs ortasking you with things he can’t do, like outfit making. He’ll getangry if you don’t answer your phone within two minutes, or if youtake too long on some odd job he sent you away for. Overall, he tendsto treat you as his personal assistant.

Soon, the things you had to do piled up. You had to work hard on costume making, concert planning and let’snot even mention your homework. This caused you to stress yourselfquite badly, and one day during costume fitting you couldn’t help butburst into tears when Izumi’s jacket wouldn’t fit.

It was the firsttime you saw Izumi be confused about a situation. He quickly got ahang of himself but you witnessed him being at a loss for words for amoment. Ultimately, he decided to take you out of Knight’s small andstuffy studio for some fresh air.

Izumi understandswork can be a bit too much sometimes, but he’s afraid to give you advicewithout sounding condescending or like he’s lecturing you. So he optsto just shyly hug you. It’s a very brief hug, but you felt better allthe same. When he finally speaks, he’s not lecturing or being mean,but whispering in a gentle voice.

“You can relyon me a bit more, you know. If too many people give you things to do,you can just tell me. I’ll make sure they won’t ever charge theirwork on you again. Count on me like you’d do with a big brother,would you ?”

He sweetly kissedyour forehead and made you promise to never overexert yourself againbefore the two of you went back to work. But this time, he was the one who ranabout as everyone’s assistant, and you were allowed to sit in acorner and take a nap.

This you didn’tknow, but he was watching over you with a smile as you slept.

Ritsu

Sometimes, Knightsbeing so popular can be a pain. Especially when you have to make allthe goodies they’re going to sell at their concerts. The othermembers tried to give you a hand, but they were so terrible at itthat you decided to take care of it all by yourself.

As the live concertdate got closer and closer, you started to panick. There was no wayyou were going to be able to finish all of the goodies in time. Soyou started to stay at school after class for longer and longer, andsometimes only went back home when Kunugi-sensei forced you to.

You also took a bitof your sleeping time to work on goodies-making. Sometimes you didn’tnotice how late it was and only had a couple hours of sleep beforeyou had to go to school again.

Ritsu wasunderstandbly confused upon seeing you groggily wandering down thehallways during lunch break. “I thought I was the vampire here”,he slyly remarked. When he noticed you were too tired to even answerback with some wit of your own, he started to realize how wrong thesituation was.

He offered some ofhis soda to you (the truth is, there’s too much for him to drink).The sweet, fizzy drink didn’t even help ; you were dozing off all thesame. Ritsu then decided to switch to plan B and took you to hissecret room. Before you knew it, you were laying in a dark andcomfortable place, Ritsu’s hand gently stroking yours as he murmuredsweet nothings.

“Don’t worry,I’ll be watching over you. You can have some sleep. I hope you dreamof me…”

When you woke up,classes were already over. You got up in a panick, only to see Ritsuhad fallen asleep too, next to you. You tried to go back to youroriginal position to avoid waking him, but he lazily opened one redeye.

“Is sleepingbeauty awake yet ? It’s boring watching someone else sleep,y'know….” He smirked and hugged you close, leaving you nopossibility to move away from him.

And that’s how yougot trapped into Rei’s spare coffin with Ritsu for far longer thanyou intended. But hey, he brought some snacks and drinks. Andarranged for someone else to work on the goodies for the concertinstead. You deserved some rest, and he was more than willing tohelp you get it.

Arashi

Being a producerwas a fulfilling job. You got to do many different things, meet alot of people and try so many new experiences. And one of them wasreviewing a new choreography for Knights’ next concert.

Of course, you hadto practice it yourself, to see if it was feasible. Then you had tolearn it, to teach everyone what they were supposed to do. Then, youhad to change it, because Leo would always fuck up at some point andrun into the others.

Dancing is a lotmore physical than you’d thought. You’re not an idol, so you don’thave to be perfect at it but you must know your idols’ dance moves byheart and be able to teach them. As you were a bit insecure overbeing able to do that, you practiced a lot by yourself. Including atnighttime.

Stress and lack ofsleep made you physically weaker, which in turn prompted you tobecome more frustrated at yourself and then train harder. How couldyou be Knights’ producer when you couldn’t even perform simple dancemoves well…. ?

As you were mopingin one of the dance rooms, Arashi allowed himself in. He felt youwere upset the past few days, and didn’t even have to inquire aboutthe cause. It was all too obvious.

Surprisingly,Arashi’s a very good teacher. He helped you memorize some of the moredifficult moves and perfected the choreography with you. He praisedyou a lot, smiling brightly whenever you’d get a hard part right.

“Wow, you’reso good at it ! See, I’m sure you can do anything when you give ityour best !”

He also is a goodlistener and you both sat down after practice, you saying how hardthe last couple days had been for you and him listening. He waspractically offended you didn’t come to him earlier for help. He alsotold you how worried he’d been over you, and made you promise tonever do that kind of thing again.

“I know I saidI love hardworking boys and girls, but I didn’t mean it like that,you know~  You should treat your body with respect and allow it somerest !”

Only one ofArashi’s warm and nice hugs was enough to make you feel instantlybetter. He also insisted on lending you his favorite concealer,saying with a wink that dark circles could ruin your pretty face.Arashi’s kind of like the resident big sister : you can and shouldcome to him for advice or help !

Leo

One of the thingsthat perplexed you the most about your new producer job was writingsongs. Lyrics were one thing, but writing one entire song by yourself? That sounded like a challenge.

At first, youdidn’t have to worry about it. Leo would take care of it all. Butthen, after one particularly nasty cold that lasted over a week andprevented him from coming to school, he decided he should name asuccessor who would make songs in his place from time to time.Obviously, you were chosen.

Leo did give youlessons on music and composing in general, but he’s so vague you canhardly make up what he’s saying. And he often gets distracted, eitherby something or someone else, or by himself. He always ends thelesson writing his new song in a frenzy anywhere he can, all thewhile excitedly mumbling stuff about “inspiration” and“fantasies”. Needless to say, he didn’t help you much.

Being stubborn asyou are, you still decided to work hard on it. For days. And nights,especially. But no matter what you’d come up with, it would alwaysseem tame and lazy compared to Leo’s songs. You couldn’t help but getfrustrated and unreasonably angry at yourself.

Leo’s prettytactless. You knew that already. But you weren’t expecting him toshout “Whooaaa, you look like a zombie ! Zombie-chan, pleasebite me~” when he ran into you. Did you really look that awful ?

As you hesitated between being offended and actually indulging himand biting him hard enough to teach him some manners, he took you bythe hand and dragged you to an empty classroom.

Once he closed thedoor, he looked at you dead in the eye. He was incredibly serious,for once. His eyes were grave, and his eyebrows tightly knitted. Whenhe spoke, his voice was considerably lower compared to his usualhappy pitch.

“Listen. Iknow you’re working too hard. It just shows on your face. But pleasedon’t. Work is for serious people, and serious people are not reallyfunny. Besides, I don’t want you to work yourself to death !”

Before you couldeven answer anything to that, he shoved a handful of papers inyour face. You took a moment to realize they were music scores. Leowas looking at you expectantly, and when he understood you weren’tgoing to say anything, he sighed dramatically.

“They’re songsI wrote thinking of you. You know… You don’t need to work harddoing the same thing as me. I just need you to be there, and smile asusual, and make everyone happy. Please be my muse !”

As soon as he’dblurted that out, he gasped, his face lit up by his latest idea. “Amuse ! That’s it, the inspiration is flowing !" 

You spent therest of the afternoon babysitting Leo and trying to prevent him fromwriting on the walls and floor, but you felt like a heavy weight hadbeen lifted off your shoulders. Just by being himself, Leo had thatkind of effect on you. Maybe that’s the power of love.

Tsukasa

If there was oneword to explain what your producer job mainly consisted of, it wouldbe : phonecalls. So many damn phonecalls.

Planning concerts,photoshoots, meetings with the fans and radio interviews took a largechunk of your day, everyday. Maintaining a busy timetable for theboys was already hard enough, as you also had classes of your own toattend. But Leo seemed to think it wasn’t enough and often would planmore idol jobs on a whim, or ruin your plans by deciding at the lastminute that Knights wasn’t ready for their studio recording sessionand it would have to be postponed.

So, yeah.Phonecalls. At some point, you and the secretary from the nearbyrecording studio would become best buds if things went on that way.

As you tried beingthe best producer Knights could hope for, you had to dabble in a lotof stuff, like planning activities, managing Knights’ official socialmedia accounts, negotiate for a spot in a commercial…. The pressurewas considerable, but you kept pushing yourself further and further,even waking up in the middle of the night when you had a photoshootidea to take some notes of it.

During lunchbreaks, you could often be found in Knights’ studio makingphonecalls. Or finishing up new outfits. Or planning a dance routine.But never eating. You took a nasty habit of skipping lunch to favorwork instead. No one noticed, anyway.

Except someday, asyou were helping Tsukasa put on his new outfit for a music videoshooting, your stomach rumbled. Loud and clear. Your cheeks wereburning red and you were positively glowing of embarassment butTsukasa, being a gentleman, feigned to not having heard a thing. Butthen it growled again. Ten times louder.

As much as you weretrying to get out of this situation, Tsukasa wouldn’t have it. He wasvery polite, but also very firm.

"Onee-sama,may I wonder…. if you’re sustaining yourself properly ? It is veryimportant to eat three meals a day. Have you eaten yet ?” Youcouldn’t remember when your last meal was. You’d skipped breakfastthat morning, since you were late for class, and now you were alsoskipping lunch…

Seeing you sounsure of when you last ate, Tsukasa felt heartbroken. He ran to hisbag and gave you all the snacks he kept for later, urging you to eatsomething before you feel faint. He even went to buy you a drink andcame back in a heartbeat. Before you could even thank him, he’d leftagain and came back with your favorite sandwich from the schoolstore. You tried to resume your outfit fitting session, but he was adamant aboutwanting you to eat.

As there was waytoo much food for you to eat by yourself, you offered to share withhim and he shyly accepted. You two then snacked on pocky andcrackers, chatting about various things. Tsukasa inquired about yourhobbies and your family. You did the same. He also told a few jokes,and as much as you were surprised, they were good.

By the end of lunchbreak, you were feeling relaxed and happy, and your stomach was too.You’d managed to forget a bit about work, and all thanks to Tsukasa.

[hazzamylouworld-blog]

Love You Anyway

Pregnancy has quite a few embarrassing symptoms, Harry's decided. Most of them he's been able to deal with. Like for instance, projectile vomiting on the band's tour bus driver from his horrendous morning sickness was dreadfully embarrassing. But he bought the driver brand new Saint Laurent shoes and they ended up laughing it off later. And when Harry accidentally wee'd himself in public, Louis was a gem and poured water on his jeans in the same place and they told everyone it was a prank. So Harry's really been a champ at handling it all. But there's one symptom that is much more painful and embarrassing than all of those. Gas bubbles. They're painful and awful and have scared him a few times with how severe they are. But that's not the embarrassing part of course. The embarrassing part is..when the bubbles deflate. And that is something Harry has even kept hidden from his husband. He's thirty six weeks now and his belly is stretched to capacity. It's as if the more his little girl grows inside of him, the more gas bubbles he gets. He gets them now after every meal and has to head to the bathroom to break wind. He always tells Louis he is going to the toilets to have a wee and Louis believes him because pregnant people pee a lot anyway. He and Louis have been married for three years now and have been in a band together longer and all the boys of One Direction are known to fart in front of each other. They even have farting contests but not Harry. Never Harry. And if Harry should ever break wind in front of Louis...he's pretty sure he'd die of embarrassment. The rational side of his brain knows that Louis would never leave him or anything but Harry knows he'll laugh and he just can't take that type of mortification right now. He's emotional enough as is. He knows that there is a huge chance of Louis eventually hearing him fart, after all he always falls asleep long before Louis and his belly seems to always hurt most right before bed so he knows it happens. But Louis is kind enough never to say anything if he HAS heard him and Harry would like to keep it that way. "Do you think she'll be bald or have little curls like you?" Louis hums, rubbing circles over Harry's belly button as their baby girl kicks within him. "Hmm. I hope she has curls. The doctor says she always sees hair on the ultrasound, right?" Louis smiles and kisses the side of Harry's exposed bump earning a giggle out of the boy. "Stop it, Boo! That tickles!" "Come on, lovely. We've got to get going. We're supposed to meet Liam and everyone at the restaurant at half seven." "Ugh. M'so tired." "I know you are. But it's going to be an easy going night. Just dinner and then we're all heading to Liam's new place for a movie night. You can snooze on me during the movies if you'd like." "Mmm. Sounds lovely." "Let's go, my two beauties." "I'm hardly beautiful. I'm a whale." Harry moans, rolling his nearly too tight t shirt back over his bump. He frowns when his bully button protruded f the shirt and he huffs, pressing it inwards in an attempt to conceal it. It only makes the little girl within him pound her hands (or feet) against the spot, making it protrude further. "Don't do that. She'll think you're trying to hide her. Don't want that, do we?" Louis says, kissing his cheek. "Don't think I could even if I wanted to." Harry says, smiling down at his bump and silently hoping he's wearing two of the same shoe (he hasn't seen his feet in months). He and Louis hop in the car and drive where Liam told Louis to meet them. Harry's heart races when Louis pulls up to a Mexican restaurant. "Louis...is this where we're eating?" Harry asks, knowing all too well it is as Louis leads him to its doors. "Yeah! It's brand new. It's supposed to be really good. I'm sure our little princess will love it!" He hums and Harry bites his lip. "Louis, I-I can't eat Mexican.." "Love, what are you talking about? Mexican is not on the Do Not Eat list from your doctor. I double check it twice daily. Plus, you said little Hannah Banana in there was craving a burrito just last week." "B-but um....heartburn." He says in a last ditch effort to turn around and avoid a rather gassy evening. Louis kisses his cheek and smiles. "I brought Tums for you to take as soon as you take your last bite." And does Louis really have an answer for EVERYTHING? Obviously so because the couple is now two centimeters away from their table of band mates. "You lads finally made it! Thanks for coming." Liam says, standing and hugging both Louis and Harry. Niall walks over to Harry and smiles down at his rounded belly. "Han looks like she's grown a bit more since the last time I saw you." "She has." Harry says, pressing a hand to his back. "Sit down, love. I know your back is probably hurting already." Louis says, pulling a chair out for Harry. Harry smiles at him in thanks and sits down with a sigh of relief. His brain tells him to avoid gas and go with a simple dish but Hannah disagrees fully, making almost everything sound disgusting to him besides a large burrito. And really Hannah Anne Tomlinson, who's side are you on? He orders the burrito anyway because he'll do anything for his daughter even before she's born. And as luck would have it, he eats every single bite. Louis feeds him a Tums quickly and his stomach barely had time to digest his last bite before everyone is standing and heading out to their cars to head to Liam's. Harry begins feeling the bubbles start to form when he sits down in the passenger seat of he and Louis' car. His stomach aches uncomfortably and he grips tightly on to the door handle. He rubs a hand soothingly on his side and feels a light rumble erupt from his tummy. He really hopes he can escape to the bathroom at some point at Liam's or he's sure he'll explode. His tummy ache only grows as Louis pulls into Liam's new driveway and when he stands, he feels like a million knives are being shoved into his tummy. It grumbles and rumbles angrily within him and Harry's so nervous that someone will hear it because it's far too loud to hide at this point. And it hurts. It hurts so bad that the first piece of furniture he finds, he sits down on. He's lucky it's a couch and not the uncomfortable wooden bench in the foyer. "Oww..." He whispers but it's enough to get the attention of all four of his band mates. "Harry?! Are you ok?" Louis asks, quickly sitting beside him. The others crowd around him in a tight circle and this is really no good because Harry needs the loo. He needs it and he has no idea where it is and he's about to explode in front of all the lads. "My belly hurts....." He groans through gritted teeth and he hears Louis gasp. "W-what? Like...like how? Like..like contractions? Like labor Haz?!" He panics. Harry shakes his head. "No....no. It's the Mexican food. It's not agreeing with my stomach..." He moans, gripping the arm of the couch tighter. "Harry, how do you KNOW it's not labor pains? We've never had a baby before!" Louis says. "It's. Not. Contractions. Please let me up." He attempts but Louis makes no sign of movement. "Louis, MOVE! Liam, please. Please scoot over, I need to find your bath-" Louis begins mashing around on his belly and it rumbles loudly in warning. "Louis, stop mashing on my belly. PLEASE. Please let me up, PLEA-" But it's too late. Harry's muscles relax and a loud, long fart sounds throughout the entire house. And unlucky for him, Liam's furniture is not all put out yet so the house has a viscous echo that makes the whole thing ten times louder. Harry's face turns red as a beat and his breathing quickens. He looks in the faces of all his band mates and sees their faces turn into delighted smirks before hoards of laughter hit Harry in the face. And it's awful, the worst thing in the world for him. "Wow Harry. And you get mad at ME for farting." Louis laughs, not thinking anything of the embarrassment his husband must be feeling. "Can't blame that on the baby, can ya lad?" Niall cackles. Liam wipes a tear from his eye from HIS laughter. "Should've warned us with that one mate. That burrito was no joke on your stomach." Harry bites his lip hard. He feels tears fill his eyes and his embarrassment only heightens. "I-I told you to move. I told you to move but you didn't." "Oh come on Harry!" Niall says with a laugh. Louis' laugh quiets a bit, a look of concern filling his eyes but Harry can still see the amused smirk playing on his lips. "I told you I didn't want Mexican. I told you. It messes with my stomach and now I've-MOVE." He yells, pushing past all three boys. "HARRY! Where are you going?" "T-to the car." He says, sniffling and wiping furiously at his dripping eyes. "Absolutely not. It's freezing out." "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO." Harry grabs the keys and rushes out to the car, locking the doors and collapsing into a heap of tears. It's bad enough that he just embarrassed himself but to have his husband joke about it.. AND he's still in severe pain from his gas bubbles. He squeezes his belly to try and break up the bubbles but it's useless. It's little relief and he wants to go home. He cries until he can't really cry anymore and realizes how ridiculous he's being which only leads to more crying and more embarrassment. He sees Louis' figure walking towards the car and hears a knock on his window. "Can I join you?" He looks guilty and his face no longer shows that of amusement. Only pure guilt and sadness. Harry nods, wiping at his eyes. "Harry, I am so sorry. I should've never laughed and made fun of you in there. I should've stuck up for you. That sort of thing is no big deal to me, ok? Haz...please look at me, baby." He lifts his chin and looks into Harry's green, watery eyes, "I love you all the time, ok? A simple fart is not going to change that. You're pregnant, these things are bound to happen." "I-I'm sorry. For...well..for breaking wind and then running off all mad." "First of all-don't apologize for farting as you know we do it in front of you all the time so maybe I should apologize. And I understand why you would be embarrassed, it's ok. You've got a lot of things going on right now and I know it doesn't always feel too good. I'm just glad you're ok. I was so worried." "I love you." "I love you too." Louis says, rubbing Harry's rounded belly, "Oh no love. Your tummy is still awfully rumbly, still hurting?" Harry nods miserably. "Do you mind if we go home? I need to lie down.." He mumbles, cupping his hand to his side and leaning over himself. "Of course. Let me just call the boys and let them know." Harry turns red again at the thought but Louis rubs his thigh in comfort. "Hi lads. Yeah, he's in the car. Yeah, he's fine. He's just feeling a bit poorly, stomach still quite achy so we're going to head home, ok? Sorry. Yeah of course." He turns to Harry and smiles, "The boys want to say something to you, feeling up to it?" Harry's face reddens again but he nods. "Over the phone. I don't want them seeing me like this." Harry whispers, rubbing his tummy again with a wince. "Of course my prince. Here you are." He turns the phone on speaker. "H? H? It's Niall. I'm so sorry for hurting your feelings. Are you alright? I was just...shit..I was so relieved you weren't having contractions that I was being very sensitive. Please don't cut me out of Hannah's life." "Harry, it's Liam too! Please don't cut me out either. I never meant to hurt you. I love you and I love Hannah so much. It was just a first reaction and I'm so sorry. I feel proper awful." "And if it makes you feel any better, Haz...I just farted all over Liam's house and- "That doesn't make anyone feel better you Irish-" Harry giggles. "You're not cut out of Hannah's life. I love you both. But if you ever make fun of me again I'll break both your hands when I'm in labor." All the boys laugh and Liam takes the phone. "Are you sure you don't want to come back inside? I've got ice cream and loads of movies. We won't even bring it up again." Harry groans at the feeling of another large gas bubble rumbling about in his stomach and shakes his head, although neither boy can see. "I'm really sorry, Li. But I think I better head home. I'm really struggling right now with this stomach ache and I want to lie down." "I understand, Hazza. Feel better." Louis drives Harry home and helps him into bed as he groans. "Goodness babe. Is there anything I can do? Want to try a bath?" Harry nods and Louis leaves him be in the tub. Unfortunately, the hot water doesn't help and Harry is soon limping out miserably to Louis. "No help?" Harry shakes his head and groans. "Mexican really doesn't agree with my stomach." He moans as it gurgles angrily again. "Here love. Let me give you a belly rub." Harry allows Louis access to his aching tummy and groans when Louis adds pressure. "Does that make it worse?!" Louis panics but Harry shakes his head. "No. No, I just...it fees like I might..you know.." Louis smiles warmly. "Harry, let it out if it helps. I promise it doesn't bother me. And anyway it's not the first time I've heard you. You do it nearly all night every night." "LOUIS!" Louis laughs. "There's NOTHING to be embarrassed about, H. I read about it. Gas bubbles are perfectly normal in pregnancy and you just need to toot that horn." He giggles and Harry covers his face in embarrassment. "Harry, stop that. I will love you no matter what you do. Nothing could ever gross me out enough not to love you. Feel my heart, feel how it pounds? My heart quite literally beats for you and this baby, Harry. You're not going to lose me over a simple fart. I fart ALL the time and have you ever thought of leaving me?" "Absolutely not." "See? It works both ways. Have a little faith in me, will you?" Louis exasperates. "Ok.....massage my tummy again." "Where does it hurt the most?" "Mmmgh the top of my bump. Just under my rib but it hurts down toward my belly button too." Louis nods and applies pressure in both areas. And yeah, Harry...ehm..breaks those bubbles up nearly all night. But he feels better in the morning. And Louis doesn't leave him for it. In fact, he kisses him even more after it.