#everyone has a shade of green on them except for the one that’s actually supposed to be green

[kamabokobun]

would you ever draw/design the sm trio as their final evolutions, even if they don't in your story just for fun? i'd LOVE to see their designs..

Just for fun you say… yeah ok I’m convinced. Enjoy

[skyward-floored]

I think I’m coming down with a cold again and possibly have a fever but I’m here to scream about the update some more anyway! (and analyze a bit but mostly scream). Dawn part 7 here we go!

(All images belong to @linkeduniverse <3)

First off I have to say this was my favorite panel I think, it’s so pretty. The faint glow! The colors! The cape over his shoulder! Amazing. This truly was Sky’s update, I loved every bit of focus he got. Jojo fed us well :D

So it looks like I was wrong about Sky reading everyone’s mail. He just immediately took off after the mailman instead (and spent all morning chasing him ha!),

Side note but I love the npc guy. He’s simple but still Zelda-y. the character design in this comic is just👌

Looks like the mailman has a list of who he’s supposed to deliver to, or at least that’s my guess. It could be a map maybe, but that probably wouldn’t do much good since he’s time traveling?? How does he do it. Don’t question the magic of the postman I guess.

*green hill zone music intensifies*

Shoutout to Sky’s face here, I make the same expression when I’m trying to chase after my nephew and stop him from eating crayons

This looks like a postcard no joke, I'd frame this and put it on my wall. Plus the way the trees were done in the background is really neat, there’s something just really pleasing about this panel. Also the return of Sky: Just Standing There

They’re all bein silly <3

...except for Four. Because I think him and Warriors both realize that Sky isn’t just telling them what he was doing all morning— he’s got something important to say, something they all actually need to know.

(Downfall duo laughing together I love them)

Also I agree with everyone saying Warriors is close to snapping— they’ve all had a pretty stressful 24 hours, but Warriors has been breaking up arguments and repeatedly checking on everyone while they’re struggling, and... I don’t think he’s had a break. Take a nap bud, please?

SKY TALKING TO FI MY BELOVED he's hoping there’s enough of her aware to help him dowse hhhhh. And then he’s so sad she didn’t seem to hear him waahhh 😭

It doesn’t look to me like she truly helped much, but maybe Fi gave just enough of a nudge for Sky to find the postman’s footprints? Even in her sleep? She is glowing just a bit there... Interesting to think about.

It’s confirmed that the postman uses the portals! And that the Shadow is alive and kicking! Uh-oh! (Also does anyone else think this one seems more... firey? Then the last one? Maybe it's just me).

And the chopped-off darknut head is still there too.... and I’ll bet you twenty rupees somebody is going to kick it when the Links go through the portal later. (My guess is Wild but I’d put my money on Legend or Wind too).

I’m also really curious where that portal leads... My guess is either Twilight’s Hyrule or Sky’s, based on what hints we’ve been getting, but I really don’t know. It’ll be fun to see!

*Wind rapidly thinking of at least three conspiracy theories*: SUS

Also an amazing expression from him I’m laughing so hard, he really said 3:<

Tag yourself I’m Four

Also Sky just chugging away at the stamina potion, poor guy XD he must be beat from all that running around, I hope he has some more time to sit before the Links get moving.

(And I mentioned this in another post, but Legend looks so alarmed at this information, as does Wild... it’s not going to be pretty when they cross paths with the Shadow again, that’s for sure)

I love when Time breaks out the dramatic language... makes me remember that this guy is going to be the Hero’s Shade someday (who’s speech is 99% dramatic things).

Now the Links just have to decide what to do next... will they stay another day at the inn for Twilight’s sake, or get moving right away? Is Four going to confront Twilight about the dark magic he uses to turn into Wolfie?

So many questions... but in the meantime I will gladly continue to reread this amazing update, I really loved this one :D

[davekat-sucks]

(Found this image on Twitter)

I really don't like the Omega kids. I take them as seriously as I take the alphasprites, they don't exist to me. Hearing you guys talk about these little mistakes feels like watching everyone talk about a hypothetical scenario or dream some guy had once... which is the Homestuck experience now.

I dislike them, but it's not just because their stories stem from terrible couples, it's because they're so over designed but there is no meaning to anything.

It's cute Tavros has a bow tie and that Harry has a bandana but those feel like little trinkets that should have been added on later after we get used to seeing them. Show me their personalities first before you overload a character with this much clothing. Yiffy is the worst of these. It's too much. For some reason Eridan feels like a simpler design than this avril lavigne clone. There is something less cohesive and more busy about these designs than the original cast. Maybe it's because it has too many different grays and blacks. She looks more like a vast error character than a Homestuck one.

Look at how simple the character designs start out as, and then they purposely make their own outfits that fit their interests and personalities. Dirk may be a bit of an exception here actually, he changes his clothes right after he is introduced. Which introduces him as anal.

There is meaning here. There is a purpose that the story shares throughout it's run. Look at Rose's dress it was made from the velvet pillow introduced when her mom one-upped her and Roxy's outfit here clearly being a reference to her mom's love of knitting. There is a reason Jade wears blue and John wears green even though that isn't their colors. Dave's shades are a gift from John. John is wearing a bootlegged slimer shirt. I'm not saying the Omega kids need every article of clothing to have a backstory, but if they wear this much clothing it doesn't tell me much.

Why does Yiffy wear cleats if she was hidden away from the world? Did she run around in a backyard like a dog or something? I don't even remember if that is her story or not, I forgot so much about her because I was more focused on how she was a child that Rose had behind her wife's back. They're overloaded with drama too.

To add to that. I haven't placed much thought in it but I don't know what the Omega kids color scheme is supposed to be. I assume the Beta kids colors come from basic web colors. If you invert the beta kid's colors you get the Alpha kids color scheme.

The Omega kids just feel scattered and unorganized. It makes them feel even more meaningless because they don't fit in. If that is the point then why not have five kids to really fuck with the system here? The writers should have really ran with the whole "we're flipping the script and subverting expectations" thing.

I also don't give a shit if this is nitpicky, I'm sure you guys can all see there is something off about the omega kids.

I agree about the accessories doesn't really show they are connected with the Beta Kid adults. If the bandana is suppose to be like a replacement to how Roxy wears a scarf, then let the boy wear a scarf and not a stupid gay bandana. You think that Kanaya, who is a fashionista herself, would be critical of what her daughter, Vrissy wears. And if you are saying she would never reprimand her daughter because she looks like her crush, then that brings up a worse implication that she really is grooming her to be like Vriska by enabling her bad habits. What confuses me is Tavvy's overshirt has the matching color of Gamzee, the one who MOLESTED HIM. You think after his death, he would never wear that color and be disgusted by any shade of purple that's within his sight. Unless him still wearing that purple vest now is still symbolizing he is still bound by Gamzee or can't move on after what he did to him.

But yeah, nothing about the Omega Kids designs makes sense. And I still am on the side that laughs at Yiffany looking more like Nostalgia Critic.

[watcher-comic]

okay hi

did i promise to make an art... lore dump post literally last month? yes. did i not do it for nearly a month? also yes. and im Very Sorry.

anyway! onto the ranting

So starting off with the obvious, Nanehi's color scheme is based off of the Shawnee tribe's flag!

Obviously more desaturated, but the blue sweater and two yellow stars were meant to show that he's native.

Alright, going in page order I'm just gonna throw around some easter eggs or fun facts or commentary...whatever....

Because this is the only good image I can find of it, Nane wears his parents' wedding bands on a necklace. Because his parents are divorced </3

On page 2, Nane has a poster up on his wall which is my current sketchbook cover in my art class. I believe it's somewhere on my art blog

Nane has a ziptie on his backpack! It doesn't mean anything.

Page 6: The white text that says "what?" is actually a reference to the first debut of Nane - an askblog!

(technically his first word was "huh" but i changed it to what for plot's sake)

Continuing with the black spaces on page 6, the panicked eye doesn't really mean anything. However, the twisted light switch was supposed to represent the noose that shows up at the end of the comic.

For page 7, there's obviously the audience design to talk about, but the things I actually wanna focus on are:

The doodle on the top left, which is Nanehi saying that he thinks he has tinnitus [which he then goes on to immediately deny in the next page]

And the doodle on the bottom right. His fursona is a bunny and if I could, I would've tried to fit more bunny imagery into the comic. But alas :pensive:

Page 13: All the different colored text were the responses I got from a select few people. I showed them the previous panels of the page and asked them what they wanted [there is one distinct person I didn't ask but I will get to them later].

I also want you to keep the... 3rd shade of green in mind [the "i want to see where this goes"]

For this panel on page 15, I wanted it to be known that Nanehi isn't a real person, and they know it. Everyone else's face is squared, even the simply doodled character in the background and the barely visible person in the foreground. Everyone except Nane.

Page 16: Man that's just mold on his shower curtain.

Page 17: There's actually a lot I want to talk about with page 17. Firstly, the design of The Audience. It changed, clearly. Before it was that weird circle thing, but now it's more humanoid - to the point of having hair similar to Nanehi's. The reason being, it's not entirely The Audience anymore. It's The Creator too. Nanehi was based off my fear of being watched and constantly having an audience. The little amount of comfort that the figure gives was... sorta supposed to be an apology to the character- as cheesy as that sounds.

(Also the fact that their text originally said "didn't they already answer that" but was crossed out to say 'we'. The Creator disguising themself as The Audience. And truly, what is to separate them?)

Another thing I want to point out is the dark grey panel. It's the same shade of grey I used for the askblog, and he's smiling in that panel, because during the askblog he was much happier around the audience- or the concept of them, rather.

And then of course, the dark blue text that reads "I know how this ends." That actually wasn't a response I took from someone, but rather a piece of... I guess dialogue, that I felt like someone would say. That specific someone being my friend Classi, who was the only person besides me that knew how Watcher ended. Purely because she had a very similar character and we thought that they'd be buddies.

On page 18, we have 3 entire panels in a different style. That being the style of the askblog.

(some examples)(the last image is where the avatar came from, haha)

On page 19 we have this panel, which you can probably assume what it is. It, I suppose, could both be seen as Nane standing, back to the audience, or as Nane hanging without the noose. You choose.

And of course, the last page. For some reason this fucks me up. Because this is The Creator talking to Nanehi. The Creator knows that Nane has no say in how their story ends, but they're given the illusion of control, because that's all they've been looking for. They wanted control over something, so the only way to prove such control was to show The Audience that they could end the story whenever they wanted. He doesn't know that he was talking to The Creator, he just assumed it was still The Audience. He doesn't know that he didn't really have a say.

This was what he wanted. That's how he's ending the story

[weirdo09]

s5 byler

hawkins will never be the same after the supposed earthquake of ‘86. many families moved after that and the remains of what the town used to be were forever planted in the minds of the people who still lived there. few knew the truth about this ‘earthquake’ that it was in fact a breach between the two planes, one known to those as the upside down and the other plane known as regular old hawkins. it seemed that these few were destined to defeat the one they call vecna.

but before i get ahead of myself, let me tell who these heroes are. first, we have the party leader/paladin mike wheeler then the cleric will byers, the mage el hopper, the ranger lucas sinclair, the zoomer max mayfield and finally, the bard dustin henderson. now that i’ve explained this, i shall start with a little summary of what has happened shortly after the ‘earthquake’.

the byers have decided to stay in hawkins along with the rest of the gang. they were all determined to win this upcoming war for their antagonist was not yet finished with them. he went by many names, one/henry/peter/vecna but the one name that described him best was in fact vecna. he feeds off the fear, guilty and overall anxiety of others then killing them in cold blood. he has claimed four victims and he longs for another, one of our heroes? maybe, maybe not. but one thing’s for sure, he’s hunger for revenge and it’s best served cold. other than vecna, the gang were also waiting for dearest max to wake from her coma placed by the one and only vecna. the most desperate were lucas and el, for they both had the closest bond towards her. they’d visit every day, reading and singing to her. anything to see that the max they once knew was in there somewhere.

fast forward to a few weeks before the battle. the rainfall of ashes has stopped and not a shade of green lay on any grass nor field. it looked depressing to most still holding on to the illusion of what was but, some had bigger problems at hand like trying to think of how to defeat a monster.

“so, this is what i have planned we do what we did before but bigger and better.” nancy declared “this has to work so no one can deviate from the plan, ok?” everyone begrudgingly agreed except for mike. “anyone questions or concerns?” nancy remarked. mike lifted his gaze off the floor, “actually i do.” he said. “and what exactly may that be, mike?” nancy replied. “your plan’s bullshit.” mike said bluntly, everybody stared at him with astonishment. “what did you say?” nancy said, confused. “what you did last time didn’t work, right?” mike said then continued “vecna’s still alive and max’s still in a coma so, your plan’s bullshit.” nancy looked at him in irritation. “i suppose you have a better plan, plan guy?” nancy said snappily, crossing her arms and hesitantly allowing mike authority. “first, put your guns away, they didn’t work last time and they’re probably not gonna work.” mike said, nancy scoffed but let him continue. “what hurt vecna the most when you fought him?” mike asked.

robin and steve looked at each other then suggested “fire?” “fire, it is. if fire hurt him the most then we lit his ass in flames.” mike declared. “anything else?” mike said, no one answered. “so you all are just going with his plan?” nancy said with hurt in her voice. everyone agreed and she just decided to push down her hurt and focus on what’s at hand. “ok so when are we going to initiate this plan?” nancy asked and mike looked up at her like the answer was obvious. “when he strikes again and i’ll make sure of it.” “but how will you know that he will?” nancy interjected. “we’ll give him bait….” mike said with a long pause. “me.” the whole room would go into a burst of outrage.

“michael, you can’t be serious!” will shouted. “i am.” mike said before leaving the room, many thinking ‘what will he do?’ will tried to go after him but jonathan held him back. “it’s not worth it.” jonathan whispered to him.

now we shall fast forward to the day of vecna’s attack, mike has be caught with no chance of survival or does he?

part two will be coming soon :)

@atbyler @runninguplenorahills(the second part will have your idea, this is something i was working on previously) @pimplepogue @foodiewithdahoodie @xhavibee @delusional-dingus @verashalurks @thebylerfiles @she-won’t-miss @bylerislovebylerislife

[martian-writes]

My Obession, My Muse (Part 2)

Cw: Izuku creates art of morbid things, very macabre, i might describe what he creates in detail if it makes you uncomfy please don't read.

Prequel to "Do You Think Im Spooky". We see everything that leads up to Izuku's blood painting of Katsuki.

Izuku is unsure what possessed his parents to return to Japan. But he supposes it isn't all that bad, he'd be closer to his cousin after all. Hitoshi's school has an excellent art program or so he is told.

Izuku wonders if he'd get in trouble here for his art style in the same way he did in America.

'Too Dark'

'It's a little morbid don't you think? Beautiful yes but not appropriate for school'

Hitoshi's school was typical just like the schools in America, everyone had their own clicks but unlike in America. Izuku was a lone wolf, an outcast, he was the student spectacle and it wasn't even for how he dressed.

His art was yet again the center of it. Though it was because they were curious about his art as curious as they are though. They do stay away.

That's fine, Izuku likes it that way.

Well... they do except one.

Bakugo Katsuki. UA high quarterback.

Izuku couldn't understand why the jock had taken a liking to him but Izuku assumes the jock had initially thought he /could/ bully Izuku. About a week into the school year, Katsuki had approached Izuku, slamming his hand hard on the lunch room table Izuku sat by himself at.

"Oi! Panic at the disco" Katsuki said

Izuku slowly looked up from his sketchbook, to find three sets of eyes looking at him. But the only ones he paid attention to was Katsuki's, because his eyes are the shade of red Izuku loves to paint in, crimson bright red like fresh blood.

"I don't like that guy" Izuku replied

"Hehe it's actually a band" Izuku's gaze flickers to a yellow blonde that has a black streak in his hair. He flinches slightly when Izuku's gaze finds him.

"Actually. It's /just/ the one dude." Izuku corrected before he looked back at Katsuki

The two only stared at each other, Katsuki seemling having forgotten why he walked over here to start with. Izuku was just memorized by the boy's looks. Izuku looked away first, feeling that itch of inspiration coming and if he stared any longer he'd surely want to paint the jock.

Izuku turned back to his sketchbook, dragging his fingers along the charcoal drawing he was doing. Smudging the fine lines he had created, giving the drawing shading without so much work.

'Red' he thought to himself  'it needs red'

Without looking up his fingers ran across the colorful charcoal chalk he had out, he grabbed the bright red he'd darken later. At that moment Katsuki seemed to snap out of it.

"The fuck are you drawing My Chemical Romance" Katsuki reached for Izuku's notebook.

Instantly the sketch book got snapped shut. Izuku's large hand wraps around Katsuki wrist and tugs him close

"If you are going to refer to me as bands at least use my favorites" Izuku says "Please do not touch my sketchbook as im working"

Katsuki was at a loss for words staring into the deep green.

"Hey man let em go" A red head said, Izuku's eyes snapped to him and the red head held his hands up "You're causing a scene"

Izuku's eyes scanned around and there were too many eyes on them. He let Katsuki go and the ash blonde snarled like an animal at him and walked away rubbing at his wrist. Izuku hoped it would have been the last time and wished the way Katsuki looked when he snarled at Izuku didn't engrave itself into his brain and screamed to be drawn.

It wasn't the last time. 

A month later, during after school hours, Izuku had been given permission to stay in the art room to finish his first semester project that he has scrapped mid class period because some girl who- (Izuku later found out had a crush on him) looked at his work before he was done.

There was a reason Izuku sat back of the class, easel facing away from everyone else. Izuku didn't like people seeing his art before it was done, in his head that tainted his work because no one would get the full picture, no one would see his work as they should, as he intended if they saw it beforehand.

The girl should have known there was a reason why he always put headphones in and the teacher allowed him to do what he pleased. Why no one bothered him as he worked. 

Yes his art was morbid, dark and macabre. But Izuku is a talent that no one wants to disturb because Izuku is going to be the next big thing.

Everyone knew it.

The girl had peered over Izuku's shoulder and when he turned to look at her, she was smiling and speaking. He pulled his headphones from his ear and stared at her as she spoke

"I know its um" she stammered "incomplete but its looks really a-amazing"

Izuku's eyes flickered back to his canvas, it was just a black painted background, a half painted woman in the middle, her body bended backwards, contorted. Her jaw open wide and broken, her eyes sunken pitch black and her hair long yet thin brushing against the tile floor that had a puddle sketched that would have eventually become a blood puddle.

He looked back at her oddly, just stared as her face became a-flamed. As she fidgeted. in her spot messing with the hem of her shirt.

It wasn't that Izuku didn't know how to say thank you, he wasn't trying to be rude. He was just baffled? And he felt like he space had been invaded because /everyone/ knew to leave him alone as he worked either because they chose too or were directed too. The class was directed too.

"I'll. Im gonna-" and she scampered away without finishing her thought.

Izuku watched her leave before sitting in his chair, staring at his work.

It was tainted now, he /had/ to start over. So he did, a project that had taken him a while to create, /gone/.

So there he worked, back in the classroom. The only light on was the middle light, the rest off. His favorite bands played so loudly in his ears that he hadn't noticed the blonde jock enter the classroom.

Katsuki watched Izuku work for 20 minutes, watching the way viridian eyes scanned over the canvas with burning concentration. Katsuki listened to the way the brush hit the canvas with swift motions.

To Katsuki it was like watching a ballad. He was amazed and memorized by how Izuku's wrist moved with such smooth motion, every strike of the brush against the canvas was thought out and precise.

Katsuki walked over slowly, stopping just before the easel. He had heard from Hitoshi how Izuku doesn't like people seeing his uncompleted work and after what he heard about some random extra.

Katsuki didn't want Izuku to get rid of whatever he was currently working on.

Admittedly Katsuki is strangely fascinated by Izuku and his art. Most people want to draw and paint flowers, people, pretty things. But Izuku paints and draws the dark, things people don't want to look at or see and Katsuki thinks it's cool.

That's why he was here.

Not because he found Izuku attractive. Not because the green haired male was the type of guy Katsuki would no hesitation fall to his knees for.

No, no. Not at all.

Izuku looks up from his canvas, noting the red eyes staring back at him. Katsuki's mouth moves but Izuku can't hear. So he removes his headphones

"What?" Izuku said

Katsuki rolled his eyes "what are your favorite bands?"

Izuku's eyebrows furrowed "huh?"

"What are you? Deaf? Your favorite bands. You told me if i was gonna call you by band names to use your favorites"

Izuku blinked and set his paintbrush down, wiping his hands down on a rag. He raised an eyebrow "Or you could me by name?" Izuku stuck his hand out "Im Midoriya Izuku, but Izuku works just fine"

Katsuki shoved his hands into his sweats and shook his head "I ain't ask ya name De-ku. I asked what are your favorite bands"

"Deku? Like useless?" Izuku tilted his head "that's not very nice"

"You sure as shit aint being useful! I asked you a question"

"I gave you an answer"

"Not one that answers /my/ question though"

Izuku stared at the blonde, wondering why he truly was here. Surely the band question was an excuse to get his name. Katsuki muttered something before turning away and Izuku watched him leave, the itch to draw Katsuki coming back and Izuku stomped it down.

Katsuki got his name, and had even given him a mean nickname. Now Izuku was sure the jock would leave him alone.

Katsuki did not leave Izuku alone. In fact after this moment it seems as though the football player is everywhere, Izuku could not escape him. It only got worse when Katsuki was hell bent on spending so much time around him, sometimes Katsuki would speak and others Katsuki would just watch Izuku work without ever toeing the line of looking at his work.

Izuku appreciated it but he couldn't understand /why/ the jock was constantly around. Didn't he have better things to do? Katsuki being around so often was not helping this urge Izuku was having to draw him.

Izuku refuses to make Katsuki a subject for his work lest someone says that his artwork is him plotting to murder Katsuki.

Izuku wiped his hand across his forehead not realizing he had left a streak of red paint across his forehead. He stares at Katsuki who is doing homework, Izuku pauses his music and walks toward the jock.

"Don't you have practice?" Izuku questioned as he reached the desk Katsuki was working at.

"Only on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays" Katsuki replied easily without looking at Izuku

"Okay let me rephrase. Why are you here?"

Katsuki looks up and the inspiration to draw him crawls out of the pit Izuku had clearly ineffectively tried to bury it in.

"I'm doing my homework" Katsuki said in a duh tone

"That much is obvious. Why? In. Here. With. Me?"

Katsuki leans back, placing his hands behind his head, his biceps flexing with the movement. Izuku does his best not to get distracted by such defined muscles. "Why not in here with you? You aren't shitty company and you /usually/ don't bother me"

Izuku hummed, not quite sure what to say to that or how to react. So he shrugged and went back to his canvas, Katsuki went back to his homework.

Izuku stares at his canvas, he truly should thank that girl for peeking at his work. Because what he has now it's far more beautiful than the original.

The subject is a grim reaper of sorts, in broken knights armor, eight arms. Four of those arms hold a large scythe that looked like a giant sickle. The tip of it is dark with red, the sky dark and gray almost as if it'll storm any moment. The wheat field isn't a wheat field at all, but a field of bodies, some lay scattered on the floor and the rest well Izuku has to finish drawing them in. 

Izuku picked up his fine detail brush to do just that, when his eyes flicked to the jock. Katsuki has his bottom sucked into his mouth, eyebrows knitted in concentration.

'Draw him'

The voice in Izuku's head startles him. He stands up straight, eyes wide as he stares at Katsuki.

'He is so beautiful'

It was just a /known/ fact.

Katsuki was born to a model mother and he happened to take after her of course he was beautiful. That porcelain smooth skin that has been kissed by the sun from days spent practicing in its rays. The way his hair forms a spikey halo around his head making him look like an angel, perfect bone structure. Had Katsuki been born during Greece's classical period surely he would have been everyone's favorite subject.

He would be beautiful painted in blood, painted in the dark with only his eyes to be seen. Katsuki would be beautiful sitting atop a throne of bones with bodies of the dead lying beneath him.

Izuku swallowed thickly and looked away the moment Katsuki's eyes flicked up to look at him.

He needed to leave.

Gathering his brushes Izuku rushed to toss them into the sink to wash, Izuku grabs the white sheet he was given to cover his work and tosses it nicely over the eisel. After he walks to the sink and begins cleaning his brushes in a haphazard manner, he'll clean them more thoroughly at home.

"Oi" Katsuki said startling the greenette who froze to see that blonde had moved across the classroom toward him "fuck are you rushing for?"

"Huh?"

"You usually take your time cleaning your shit." Katsuku shrugged

Izuku did not notice the pink on katsuki's ears. And he rubbed his hands down his jeans before replying

"Nothing. I- just realized im late for meeting up with some friends"

A lie. Most of his friends were in America and the set he had made here weren't even his friends to fully begin with. They were his older brother's friends and they were studying for their midterms.

Izuku barely hung out with Hitoshi because the insomniac had begun dating one of the jocks and he was trying to stay /away/ to keep away from Katsuki. Though that plan wasn't working out so well considering the jock had decided to use whatever free time he had to be around Izuku.

"Oh" was all Katsuki said before going to gather his things to leave.

The pair walk out the school building and Katsuki adjusted his book bag on his back before shoving his hands into his pockets.

"I have a game coming up soon." He said "You should come, eyebags is going"

Izuku side eyes Katsuki "I'll think about it. Those... school events... aren't my scene"

Katsuki nodded. They said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

"He likes you," Touya said one day when his brother Tomura decided he was going to take Izuku back to campus for the weekend.

"What? No one likes me" Izuku replied as he let Touya do his special effects makeup on him.

"That Jock clearly does" Himiko said looking up from her sketchbook.

The group were currently sitting in the basement of the college campus house Touya rented for the year. The basement had become his studio and he was testing a new technique that gave a 'burn victim' effect without having to use so much makeup.

Before Izuku could protest, Tomura looked up from his switch.

"He spends a lot of time around you. Respects your art boundaries. And invited you to his game" Tomura said

Spinner- who Izuku has no idea why they call him that he just goes with it. Looked up from his gothic literature paper.

"That is like THE definition of him liking you" He said "He invited you to his game"

"Plus didn't you say you want to draw him?" Jin asked

Izuku sighed "Yes but... i /can't/ draw him in my art style... it'll freak him out"

"Why are you worried about that if you don't like him?" Touya asked with an eyebrow raised "unless you do and that's why?"

Izuku squawked "I d-don't like him!"

A chorus of "RIIIIGHT" rang out.

Katsuki couldn't possibly like /him/.

Last minute and last second Izuku had decided he would go to the game. His parents were happy to see he was expanding his horizons in activities.

Izuku had become captured by the game, screaming with the crowd, Izuku had gotten into the school spirit, their school was winning. Izuku was happy with his choice, he was glad he came out. He was but that was until their school had won, Katsuki had rushed a touch down and scored, the stands had erupted its shouts and cheers. 

The team lifted their quarterback on to their shoulders, Katsuki had ripped his helmet off and was chanting with his team. The pride that oozed off him, dripped into the crowd and into Izuku.

Katsuki's head swivled as he looked out into the crowd, a proud grin adorning his features, arms raised above his head chanting "Hell yeah!"

Red met green through the sea of people. As loud as it was in that moment, the world had quieted, and it was just them. Katsuki flashed Izuku a smile, full of teeth and there in that moment, Izuku knew he was /fucked/.

That night Izuku woke from a dream, frenzied with the need to draw. So he grabbed a clean sketch book, and Izuku drew until the birds chirped and the sun shined through his window.

But Izuku couldn't stop the voice, the inspiration he so desperately tried to stomp out came back and sunk its claws into him.

Izuku missed school.

"He's looking for you," Hitoshi said when he found Izuku sitting under the bleachers of an empty school gym one day.

Izuku brushed his fingers along the charcoal, smudging it before grabbing the red marker that tucked behind his ear and uncapped it.

"Yeah? When isn't he looking for me?" Ixuju replied

Hitoshi crouched down in front of Izuku "why you avoiding him?"

"I'm not"

"You are"

Izuku ignored him.

"Bakugo is a little rough around the edges but he is a good guy" Hitoshi said "He likes ya"

Izuku still didn't reply, finishing his drawing. Izuku flung the book to him.

"I /like/ him too" was all he said.

Hitoshi flipped through pages and pages of just Katsuki. Katsuki was drawn in macabre ways that left him breathless.

"He consumes my mind. He is all I ever want to draw, paint" Izuku said." That's why I'm avoiding him. He has become an obsession"

"He is your muse," Hitoshi said quietly, staring at Izuku's latest drawing.

Katsuki dressed in battered and bloodied football uniform, a helmet broken in a way that resembled a crown sat upon his hair.  He sat on a throne of bones of a deserted football field, the grass was dead. The sky was dark red, apocalypse like. Laid out like a present for Katsuki, other football players all knelt down in worship of him.

"He is."

"Stop hiding from him."

So Izuku did.

That's how Izuku ended up in the art room painting a canvas in that deep dark red he loves so much. Using his fingers and backs of his brushes to mark out Katsuki's face do all the details of his beautiful face.

His scowl, his lashes, his cheek bones. Those lips Izuku were growing more desperate to know what they tasted like.

Izuku sighs when he finishes the painting, wiping his hands on a rag. Izuku throws himself into his chair and throws his head back.

"What if he doesn't like this?" He says to himself "what if it scares him off"

Izuku tosses his head back and closes his eyes. He hopes today Katsuki doesn't look for him, Izuku isn't ready to show him the stuff he has created.

A squeak of sneakers catches his attention moments later, his head flies forward and he curses to himself.

There stood in the doorway of the darkened classroom stood Izuku's obsession.

Katsuki.

"H-hi" he stammers

Izuku's heart flutters in his chest. He makes Katsuki nervous.

"What are you doin here?"

"W-well. I- um"

Katsuki is cute when he's nervous.

Izuku raises his pierced brow "You were looking for me... weren't you?"

Katsuki doesn't reply, eye darting everywhere but never looking at Izuku.

"You know" Izuku says "Most people stay away from me"

Katsuki takes a few steps closer "its because you make them uncomfortable"

Izuku looks back at his canvas "Now why would /I/ make them so uncomfortable?"

Katsuki shrugs & walks closer "You have a reputation"

Izuku scoffs "I have a reputation?"

Katsuki hums and Izuku watches from the corner of his eye as the jock walks closer and stops a respectful distance away from the easel.

How he is so fucking hot and respectful?

"They feel that your methods, your art is-"

Izuku cuts him off as he stands up with a smile. Izuku never really noticed how short Katsuki was compared to him, how small he seemed next to him. It makes his smile widen "Spooky?"

Izuku tilts his head as he waits for Katsuki to reply. His eyes roam over the very face that haunts his dreams, fills his head and his sketchbooks. Without a second thought Izuku grasps Katsuki's small wrist in his hand, covering his eyes bringing Katsuki closer to him and the easel.

Izuku stares at the canvas for a moment before leaning close to Katsuki's ear "Do you think I'm spooky?"

Izuku removes his hand and waits with bated breath as Katsuki takes in the art before. After a moment Izuku hears a quiet

"Beautiful"

He is floored.

"Yeah? Doesn't? Creep you out that it looks like I drew you in blood?"

Katsuki stares at the painting but shakes his head no.

Izuku's eyebrows practically touch his hairline in surprise. He leans back against a table as he hums.

"You are weird pretty boy"

Katsuki turns to him blush, coating his cheeks "Am i?"

Izuku nods and Katsuki steps closer to him. Their shoes toe to toe, the jock looks up and says

"I don't find you spooky"

The honesty in his eyes sends Izuku's heart into a race. His stomach filled with butterflies and his breath hitches.

"Am I still weird?" Katsuki questions

Izuku's eyes drop to Katsuku lips, they are so close that if Katsuki just tilts his head up just a little more they could kiss.

"Very."

Katsuki surges forward pressing their lips together for a second. He pulls away & Izuku digs his ringed fingers into Katsuki's spikey locks. Pulling him closer to kiss him longer, deeper. When they pull away chests heaving, forehead pressed together Izuku says

"Bad omens"

"Hah?" Katsuku asks looking up at hin in question

"Bad omens is one of my favorite bands"

Katsuki pulls away with a smile on his face "Now you answer my question? You are so chicken shit"

Izuku laughs and nods "I guess so"

"Can I see more?"

"Huh?"

"Your art. Can you show me more?"

Izuku nods "i think i have some sketch books you'd like"

Katsuki smiles up at him before pulling him for another kiss "Cool".

[puredramione]

Links for the Dramione classics you know of? From the bingo board you posted?

Happy Reading Anon, I’m sorry it took a little while to get this list together. Please mind all tags!

Isolation by bexchan - He can't leave the room. Her room. And it's all the Order's fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something's going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. "There," she spat. "Now your Blood's filthy too!"

Silencio by - One late night, hate turns to lust.

Apple Pies and Other Amends by ToEatAPeach - It’s not until she’s brought a basil and strawberry sponge cake to Neville Longbottom and his new girlfriend, Hannah Abbott, a dozen rhubarb hand-pies to Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood, and another basket of ganache-covered muffins to Dean and Seamus, that Hermione admits to herself what she’s actually doing: she’s making a thing of this. It’s a veritable PTSD tour. With pastries. And hand-skimmed clotted cream. And she has no idea why she’s doing it, but it’s becoming very apparent that she is.

The Politician’s Wife by pir8fancier - This story is set twenty-three years after the fall of Voldemort. Our main characters are Ministry employees, middle-aged, and the majority of them not very happy.

The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man by ianthewaiting - Ten years after the fall of the Dark Lord, Hermione Granger leads of life of self-imposed obscurity, that is, until the day Headmistress Minerva McGonagall is murdered and a certain 'hero' is responsible.

Clean by olivieblake - Malfoy's handsome face was contoured into a condescending smirk. "No faith in that giant brain of yours, Granger?" She looked up at him defiantly. "Maybe I don't have faith in you!" she said, raising her voice. Malfoy only looked at her. "You'll find I'm very surprising."

Marked by olivieblake - Two dead. Three missing. The Order is down a leader and another innocent takes the Mark. Where is the Chosen One, and who killed Draco Malfoy?

The Bracelet by AkashaTheKitty - Hermione has everything she could possibly want... Except a life. People are getting sick of her superior attitude, especially Draco Malfoy, who schemes to get her down, once and for all. And then there's the thing with The Bracelet...

Amateur Cartography by worksofstone - That one-night stand with Draco Malfoy was a mistake. Hermione doesn't make mistakes, or at least she isn't supposed to. She's working hard at her Ministry career, however frustrating and pointless her job may be, and she's also got to live up to everyone's expectations as Hogwarts's most famous Muggle-born and a top-tier War Hero. So, why is she still sleeping with Draco Malfoy, ex-Death Eater and infamous pureblood? And why isn't she certain that she wants to stop?

Presque Toujours Pur by ShayaLonnie - Bellatrix's torture of Hermione uncovers a long-kept secret. The young witch learns her true origins in a story that shows the beginning and end of the Wizarding wars as Hermione learns about her biological father and the blood magic he dabbled in that will control her future.

Of Crimson Joy by LittleRobbin - "Life isn't always black and white, Granger. There are just shades of grey," Hermione learns about the price of forgiveness and trust when Draco Malfoy joins the Order, three years in to the war.

The Dragon’s Bride by rizzlewrites - Following their Hogwarts Graduation party, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy wake up in a motel, naked, hungover and tattooed. They also happen to be married. Now all they have to do is undo a binding marriage spell, tell Lucius, survive Snape, and avoid a crazed killer that seems to be targeting them. This is the 20th anniversary special edition of 'The Dragon's Bride'.

The Green Girl by Colubrina - Hermione is sorted into Slytherin; how will things play out differently when the brains of the Golden Trio has different friends?

Aurelian by BittyBlueEyes - Two years after the war, a young stranger pays a visit to the burrow. His arrival alone is baffling, but the news he brings of an upcoming war turns the world upside down. Hermione's quiet, post-war life will never be the same.

What the Room Requires by Alydia Rackham - Hermione is the one who finds Draco weeping in the bathroom. He flees. She chases him into the Room of Requirement, and the room forces them to face their greatest fears together in order to find the door.

The Fallout by everythursday - Hermione learns about growing up through the redemption of Draco Malfoy.

Parade Of The Sun* by everythursday - Floralis Fati is a plant with the power to control time, hidden in the wild, and protected by a magic that strips people of their own while seeking to kill them. Hermione wants it to save the world. Draco wants it to save himself. Sometimes what we want can destroy us - and sometimes it can build us new again.

We Learned The Sea by floorcoaster - Draco Malfoy turns himself in after a very successful career as a Death Eater, then enlists Harry and Hermione to help him in a scheme to bring down the Dark Lord. A story of forgiveness.

Turncoat by elizaye - Switching sides. "I have only one condition, and I trust it won't be hard for you to meet. I want Granger."

Lady Malfoy by 99cherries - "Miss Granger, you are in grave danger," he said slowly. "But the Ministry can offer you a safe place." "Where is this place?" Hermione said shakily. The man took a deep breath and looked into those brown eyes. "What do you know of Malfoy Manor?"

Simply Irresistible by bookworm1993 - Draco gave a cocky grin. "I am going to give you a makeover." "I'm sorry what?" "You heard me Granger, I'm going to give you a makeover that will make every man want you,and make Weasley die of regret. You will be simply irresistible."

Broken by inadaze22 - Draco felt something close to pity for the woman in front of him. While that disturbed him to no end, what really disgusted him was the fact that something had broken Hermione Granger’s spirit beyond recognition.

Hunted by bex-chan - Forced to work together when their old schoolmates start dying, Hermione & Draco must overcome their differences to solve the mysterious deaths. The tension in the office is getting rather...heated.

A Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy by Countess of Abe - Draco loves his son more than anything in the world. So, when his ex-wife plans to take his son away, Draco asks the most unlikely person for help. Hermione must decide whether changing her entire life is worth helping the man she hates unconditionally.

Lady of the Lake by Colubrina - Hermione and Draco team up after the war to overthrow the Order and take over wizarding Britain. They have plans and they'll get power, but the cost of victory may be higher than they expected and more than they can bear.

The Nietzsche Classes by Beringae - The Ministry takes action against the remaining prejudice in the wizarding society and asks Hermione for help. “What do you want? Money? Power? Name your price, Granger. I’m not about to let pride get in my way when an Azkaban sentence is on the line.”

*everythursday works I read in this file. The Fallout is available on AO3. She wrote Parade of the Sun and The Fallout, as well as many other greats! My personal favourite is A Kingdom Beside The Sea. There isn’t a day I don’t mourn the lose of Hawthorn & Vine 💔

Bingo board post.

[hermitblurbs]

The epilogue of my Pygmalion AU (12)!

He lets his eyes flutter open with a slow inhale, his first inhale, of fresh mountain air.

“I’m so glad to be out of the city, Mumbo,” Grian says, a big grin on his face. He raises his arms above his head, stretching until his spine gives a satisfying pop. “Do you know where we’re staying?”

“Oh! Well um, the thing is, you see, that I—um. Had my directions eaten by a-by a particularly angry pigeon! Took it and gobbled it up, right in front of me.”

“Uh-huh. And I don’t suppose this pigeon knows where my muffin went on the train?” He asks, letting his arms fall to his sides.

“Right to its stomach.”

“Pigeons these days.” He doesn’t believe a word of that. Mumbo totally ate his muffin. Instead of calling him out, Grian swings his bag off a shoulder to dig through it and pull out his own copy of the directions. “Lucky for you, I brought backups.”

“Oh-! Very lucky for me.”

“Now if you excuse me, I’m going to explore the market. Have fun!” And he’s off, bounding away from Mumbo and his sputtering calls of help.

He’ll figure it out. Grian’s got a new town to mess with.

The market’s easy to find, and unlike the city’s at all. For starters, there’s bold color as far as the eye can see, making him in his jumper feel right at home. There’s also people, a pleasant chatter rising above it all.

In the city, all it is are people who get exactly what they need and get out.

Here, there’s art and the smell of cooking meats, and someone’s strumming a harp in the distance.

Here, there’s… a really cute sculptor, hello there.

The customers around him are dwindling, but each conversation he has seems to enrapture the party with a charm and a flick of the wrist that almost always has them leaving with a sculpture in hand. He gives a satisfied smile when the last one leaves with a stone lily in hand, before turning towards the back.

Grian sneaks closer and approaches the shop with as much causality as he can.

The stall is lined with the classic gray of stone and the sudden burst of color brought by paint, the shapes immediately drawing Grian’s eye. They look real enough to start breathing, and he finds himself waiting in anticipation for the moment the tiger steps off her stump, or for the delicate wings of the parrot to flap.

One does move, but after a few terrified seconds, he realizes that the cat is actually, indeed, alive.

“I’ll be with you in just a second!” He calls, back turned to Grian.

His eyes catch on the chisel lying on the counter, and the name delicately carved there.

Scar.

He can work with that. Time to turn up the old charmer.

“Alrighty, what can I get you, Mr—Grian?”

“I’m sorry, have we met? Besides in my dreams.” He throws in a wink. It’s a little odd the sculptor knows his name, but his eyes are an adorable shade of green, like the first harvest of olives in the year.

The sculptor however, makes a weird noise in the back of his throat that almost sounds like choking.

Maybe he’s not interested…?

“I’m not doing this,” the sculptor squeaks. And then he runs away.

———-

“He runs away, Mumbo! Like, that was weird, right?”

“I don’t think I should be the leading guide on what’s weird or not,” says Mumbo from somewhere beneath him. Grian sighs, flopping further over his friend. It gets a sound from him, which means Grian’s probably got an elbow on a kidney. He shifts.

“Do you think it’d be… bad to go for him?”

Mumbo takes a long time to answer.

“That’s not much my thing to say, now is it? I can, I can give it a go if you really want me to but I don’t know anything about this guy except for what you told me. I really think you should ask him. And if you can’t, there’s nothing like becoming a shut-in and hiding from everyone until he either moves away or forgets you exist.”

Grian blocks out the second bit out of habit.

“Right. I’ll do that.”

A pause.

“Think he’s still at the market?”

“Try to be back before dinner,” Mumbo sighs.

“Great. See you then.” He throws himself to his feet, snagging his bag on the way out.

The door makes a satisfying clatter behind him, and he shields his eyes from the sunny day.

New city, new people, new life.

The possibilities are endless.

[strayen-fx]

Red.

》 HHJ x reader

》 angst, vampirish theme

》 warnings: mentions of blood, hints of physical assault

》 2.1k words

》 a/n: short and simple, after months of writing break. Hope you guys enjoy regardless :)

“Stay away from them, my dear. Save your blood from the horrors of their fangs. Be wary of solitude, and be wary of the crowd.”

It was a day not unlike any other. My morning kicked off lazily, with me waking up almost an hour later than a college freshman was supposed to. Nothing unusual there. I did my usual morning prep, took a cup of grandma’s tea in one gulp, and went my way. I was already late for the train—I had to run after a departing bus with an exceptional speed that would put Olympiads to shame. I got in the room just in time as the bell rang for first period. I came in huffing like an old man, but it’s alright. Way better than walking through the early jam-packed hallways.

The first aberration in my daily humdrum existence happened on my way to fourth period. A student from another department stopped me on my tracks. I knew him; he was a member of the student council. Was I in some sort of trouble?

He introduced himself as Han Jisung, then proceeded to ask if I have seen his friend.

“He’s tall,” Jisung explained. “But like, not super tall. Not the towering-over-people kind. He has a mole under his eye. He’s got black—no wait, I think he dyed his hair again the other day. Anyway, have you seen someone like him? He’s noticeably handsome. I guess. I’m more handsome, though, but you know what I mean.”

The whole school would know who he is talking about. The one and only Hwang Hyunjin: champion swimmer, council member, and just a general talk of the town. The Prince. Even if I did see him around, though, I wouldn’t know. I never pay attention to the people I walk by.

I shook my head and muttered a soft sorry. I did feel bad for Jisung. He looked so worried and dejected, and I can’t blame him—not after after the incident with Seungmin. I can’t really take it against him to worry about his friends. I sauntered off to my next class, my mind still stuck on the fact that a normal person in my school has actually talked to me, and I was able to keep my composure.

Fifth period: P.E. I don’t even know why we still have this subject in college. I opted to take a stroll instead. You see, a huge, dense forest is situated right behind the main school grounds. You could say that the school itself lies within the bosom of greeneries. Unkempt bushes and rows of towering trees stretched over several miles deep, starting from the edge of the campus to god-knows-where. It is my goal to scout the whole area before graduation.

Weighed down by my personal monstrous beast, I trudged through. I walked for at least fifteen minutes before I finally reached the spot—my spot. Sheet of decaying leaves cushioned a huge gray boulder, standing at least ten feet tall, shaped like an odd piece of egg smashed against the forest floor. Against it stood a larger stone, this one dotted with moss and weathered with cracks. They were propped against each other for support, as if stopping one another from tumbling to the ground.

There was a smaller rock at the foot of the smaller stone, and I use it as leverage to climb up and sit on top of the largest boulder. It was my favorite place. Most times I could just pretend that I was alone in my own tiny bubble, at the center of that clearing that nobody else ventures but me. I don’t feel the breath of people suffocating me with every step that I take. I don’t feel my heart thumping with the sight of anyone else. I don’t need to hold back. Here, I don’t feel weird.

But today felt somehow different.

It was awfully silent. The wind felt sharper and colder. Electricity was humming in the air, leaving my skin prickling with discomfort. There was a tension in my veins that I couldn’t quite explain—it felt like an omen of an incoming disaster.

Time ticked slow. A couple hours could have passed—or maybe it has only been five minutes—when a nearby rustling perked up my senses.

Trying to keep my movements as quiet as possible, I hopped down and took up a defensive position, which wasn’t easy to do for a student with no actual weapon aside from an almost-empty bag and a worn-out calligraphy pen. My instincts told me to take cover—but my feet seemed glued to the ground. Sweat trickled from my forehead. My hands started to feel clammy.

And then, just as I was about to scamper away, a figure crashed into view from behind the nearest oak tree. I almost threw my bag towards the person’s direction, until I had a clear view of the intruder’s face.

It was Hwang Hyunjin, wide-eyed and disoriented, with his cheeks and uniform smudged with traces of blood.

“Help me.”

His voice came out as a tiny croak, as if his throat was filled with acid. He stumbled towards me, reaching out his hand for support. I wasn’t able to move an inch—and who could blame me? The situation was way too hard to process.

Hwang Hyunjin, the university prince, was hunched huffing before me, his clothes caked with mud and dried blood, his hair a nest of mess on his head. He had a cut on his cheek, I noticed. His breathing was heavy and labored, as if the mere act of standing on his own two feet required all the effort he could muster.

“Help me,” he repeated.

“What happened to you?” I managed to blurt out. My initial thought was that some random outsiders kicked his butt for stealing their girlfriends. But no—someone like Hyunjin would have been able to handle that. Plus, something in his eyes showed an elaborate fear—something only a beast would be capable of instilling. I should know.

My heart began thumping faster, a colossal drum barreling in my chest.

Just as my schoolmate was about to open his mouth and explain, a loud rustling broke the stillness of the air. Before I could process what was happening, Hyunjin grabbed my hand and bolted away, dragging me with him.

“Don’t look back!” he warned.

I did.

At least a dozen feet behind us was another male, probably as old as Hyunjin. He was sporting our school uniform, walking casually under the shades of trees as if time wasn’t of any matter. What puzzled me, though, was the fact that we can’t seem to distance ourselves from him despite the heavy efforts Hyunjin had been exerting to drag us both away from this newcomer.

I took another glance behind me, and to my surprise, the young man wasn’t there anymore. Nowhere behind us, as if he dissipated without a single trace.

Hyunjin took a sudden stop, causing me to bump my head against his back. I was about to call him out for stopping, but then I saw the looming figure a few meters in front of us.

“You…?” I began, my mind a juggle of unanswered questions. How on earth did that happen? How is he—

Hyunjin's friend, Kim Seungmin, stood before us in his dirty school uniform. He looked pale, his eyes bloodshot, but he was standing there in full grace, very much alive, giving us a toothy grin. “You’re hurting my feelings, Hyun. Why are you running away from me?”

Hyunjin’s grip on my hand went tighter. “Seungmin...”

“Friends are supposed to help each other, am I right?” Seungmin continued, faux dismay dripping in his voice. He bared his fangs, its tips dripping with fresh blood. “So help me, Hyunjin.”

I felt my body run cold. I wanted to scream, run, anything—anything to get away from this. From him. From the two of them. From everything. But Hyunjin's hand remained strong around my wrist, and my legs were close to turning jelly. I could start to feel the fullness in my mouth, the pointy ends of my incisors. Something that only happens when I'm in an extreme hunger or danger.

“Stay away from them,” grandma said. “We are the same kind, but we are different. Weaker. They see us as preys, as special commodities. They can smell your blood despite my concoctions, my dear, remember this!”

Seungmin tilted his head to one side, finally regarding my presence. “And you, over there. I’ve never tried drinking such special blood.” He grinned. “Satiate my thirst.”

The last thing I knew, a strong hand was pressing tightly around my neck, turning my vision green.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“Have you heard of the news?”

“What news?”

“Kim Seungmin was safe! They found him in the forest yesterday.”

“Thank goodness! Was he hurt?”

“He had a few gashes, but he’s fine. Hyunjin found him and brought him to the hospital right away.”

Students filled the corridor, everyone bustling and hustling about the news: after his sudden disappearance, Seungmin was finally found by his best friend, Hyunjin. The latter saw him in the forest, hungry and disoriented. They went straight to the hospital to treat his minor wounds, and that was that—nobody bothered to ask how he managed to lose himself in the wilderness, or how we managed to survive seven days on his own. Nobody asked him stupid and unnecessary questions. Seungmin was safe, and that was all that mattered.

I brushed my way past the milling crowd, flinching at every accidental touch. I kept my eyes on the ground, forcing my mind into silence. I was expecting everyone to be in their respective classrooms at this time of the day, but apparently, the news of Seungmin’s return has become enough reason for everyone to wander about and neglect their individual duties. It was a grand miscalculation on my part—I hadn’t braced myself for this huge number of people.

Not here. Not now. Not ever.

I just have to get back home, and then it’ll be over. My insides would stop churning once I’ve drunk grandma’s tea—that has worked for 18 years now. I can stop this. I can stop me.

I made a run towards the comfort room. To my luck, nobody was inside. I washed my face over and over, as if doing so would cleanse me from the impurity stamped on every drop of my blood. The face on the mirror horrified me—I had to stop myself from punching the glass over and over.

The moment I stepped out, I felt his presence.

He was there, leaning against the wall, lurking behind the shadows. There was a faint gleam of terror in his eyes, but at the same time, I can feel it: the hunger. Lust for meat. Thirst for blood.

“Don’t be like him, Hyunjin,” I pleaded. “Don’t be like us.”

He shook his head in resignation. “It’s too late.”

He took a step closer. Another. He kept on walking until he stood right in front of me, too close I can feel him breathe.

Too close I can see the faint traces of blood on his lips.

“I’m still hungry,” he sobbed. “I’m still hungry…”

Fear was apparent in his eyes—fear of what would happen to him, fear of what he had become. “You will be fine,” I offered, taking his hand in mine. “Trust me on this. It will be fine.”

And then I felt it, stronger this time—the hunger he was talking about. The thirst. My stomach growled in protest at the sight of Hyunjin’s pale flesh. I can smell his blood—I can feel its steady rhythm as it flowed through his pulsing veins.

I need to get home. Maybe my grandma could do something about Hyunjin, too. Maybe she could produce a stronger tea, and both of us wouldn’t have to worry about our instincts anymore.

We stood next to each other for a full minute before he broke the silence.

“We need each other to survive,” Hyunjin whispered. “If we drink the blood of our own kind, we can last for a month without feeding on others.” He freed his hand from my hold and gripped my shoulders tightly. “I need you. And you need me, too.”Hyunjin leaned down until we were staring at each other at eye level. He closed the distance between us. I closed my eyes, and for the first time, I allowed my monster to take ove.

[raineydays411]

Oh, what am I supposed to do without you

Loki x daughter!reader

Summary: Loki thought he was in a good place. He was married, happy and having a child. He should’ve known the universe wasn’t that kind.

A/N: God I’m so sorry about this one lol. Not much of the reader but I will be  making a second part. I hope yall like this one though. Inspiration came from “Mr, Loverman” and this fic.

Master list

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The silence was rattling. It creeped into the room, slowly,menacingly. Threatening to make him go mad. It wrapped around his body like a familiar friend. Making it hard for him to breath as it suffocated him. He knew they were staring at him. Trying to figure out what he would do next, whether he would break or not. Truthfully he didn’t know what he would do. For now he just starred as well. Not at them, of course not. He stared at the one thing that mattered. His reason for waking up and living. The one person in this entire universe who gave his world color. He reached out to touch her. Touch the hands that were always so warm against his cold skin. Hands that held his firm and sure as she pulled him along behind her, a smile on her beautiful face. Hands that were now cold and limp, the radicant glow she had been known for gone dark. The colors she brought to his world dimmed to dull, gre, muted hues. Then a sound broke through the silence. two sounds actually. One a wail of new life, a baby taking her first breaths, and another. A wail of a man who has lost everything. A wail of agony and pain.

As the healers bustled around him, Loki had only one thought in his head. 

“What am I supposed to do without you”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three months later and Loki still felt the emptiness left by his love. He heard her at night, humming sweet melodies as she stroked his hair. He hears her heartbeat as he eventually falls asleep, worn out by his constant tears. His room is in shambles, his clothes strewn about the floor, furniture smashed, everything is destroyed. Except for the things that belong to her. Her silk dresses that draped on her body perfectly were still hanging, untouched. The books she spent hours reading and re-reading remained on the shelf, collecting dust as they were no longer used. He doesn’t let anyone in their chambers. The space where they both shared. Space where they fought, made up, made love. To let someone else in would be tainting it. Soiling the memories they made together. That was one thing he could never do.

Another was look at the little monster who is responsible for this tragedy.

It was a girl. The daughter of one Loki Odinson and his beloved. 

Ironic. This child was supposed to bring happiness with its birth. Not even cleaned and it already managed to take away Loki’s light. He can barely stand looking at it. He tried, of course  he tried. But within minutes he had to call the nurse to take it away. Why? 

Because she has her mothers eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Loki”

“Get out”

“Loki, it's been nine months since your child was--”

“THAT THING IS NO CHILD OF MINE”

Frigga was taken aback. She knew her son was heartbroken, devastated at the loss of his wife. But to disown his daughter, that was something she didn’t see coming. 

“Loki, you are being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable? My wife has died because if that creature--”

“It is a child. A babe who has no idea who her father nor her mother is.”

“And as far as I’m concerned she never will!” Loki shouts, finally looking up at his mother. 

Frigga heart breaks for her son. She sees the utter agony he is in, the inner torment going on in his soul. Even if she didn’t see it in his face, the state of his room and self gives it away. He looks like he hasn’t bathed in the nine months that has passed. His clothes were rumpled and wrinkled, hair unkempt and wild. His face was pale and hollow, as if he was only eating enough to survive. He had dark bags under his eyes that showed that he hasn’t been sleeping well.  He truly was a man who was broken, almost beyond repair. 

“My son” Frigga said carefully,” I can never understand the pain you are going through, I pray to Valhalla I will not have to anytime soon. But please if not for yourself or that child, for the memory of her, attempt to see your daughter before making a rash decision.” And with that, she walked out of his chamber, leaving Loki to the silence again as he stared at the spot his mother stood. considering her words, he got up. picked up his room, went to bathe and walked out of the room for the first time in nine months. 

His face held no emotion as he walked down the hallways. He saw the servants stop and stare at him, shock filled their face as they saw the prince. He glared at them, sending them scurrying at the dark glance. He reached the nursery, the maid who oversaw the nursery tried to stop him. 

“My lord, you--” 

“Where is the child.” He said, calm and cool. The maid looked at him in fear, not knowing how to respond. At her silence, Loki scoffed and pushed her away, marching into the nursery. Upon entering he froze, memories of him and his beloved discussing the design they wanted for their child

**“Darling, why does the color shade matter? It’s not like the child has expectations.”

Laughter fills the air, “Loki, we must put every effort into showing our child they are loved. That includes finding the perfect shade of green to go with the room”

Loki looks at his wife, gently smiling.”If you say so my dear”**

The room was perfect. The walls were a beautiful shade of green that allowed the light into the room. There were vines and flowers crawling up the walls and draped over curtains. A white and gold crib stood in the middle of the chamber. A veil draped over it, preventing Loki from seeing the child inside. He was thankful as he worked up the courage to walk up to it. He looked out the window, seeing the stars that covered the sky, the lights of Asgard covering the earth. 

She would have loved it.

He took a deep breath and walked toward the crib. He pulled back the veil only to see that there was no child in there. 

“The babe is with your mother my lord.”

He turned to the maid. Embarrassed that she might have witnessed him reminiscing.

“And where is my mother” He asked

“In-in the dining hal--” 

He walked away before she was able to finish her sentence. He took long strides to the hall, wondering his his mother had tricked him into eating with the family.On the way, he passed a window overlooking the garden. He thinks of the times where he used to sit in it and listen to her read.

***  “...exquisite, in question more. These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows”

“My love, why do you insist on reading these midgardian stories?”

Her laughter  reaches his ears, “Because beloved, it's a different perspective to something familiar”

“Oh? and what is that ?” 

“Love”  ***

“oki--”

Hearing his name, Loki is brought back to present times once more. He looks to see Thor, watching him with careful eyes. 

“Brother, it is wonderful to see you.”

“I wish I can say the same.”

Thor laughs, a soft chuckle compared to the booming laughter Loki knows he is capable of. 

“Ah Loki, your dry wit has been missed”

Loki rolls his eyes and starts walking and Thor follows. The two walking in silence. 

“What is it like?” Loki says softly. Thor looks at him in confusion.

“It?” 

“The child.”

“Oh brother, Y/n is--”

“Y/n?” 

That was the name she wanted. If they were to have a girl. She was determined, seeing the name in the book she loved to read. He remembers when they were telling his family she was with child.

*** Everyone was seated, servants bustling around the long table. Laughter filled the hall as the sun was setting. 

“Loki, you said you had news to tell us” Frigga said, taking a sip of her wine. 

Loki smiled, looking at his wife. Her face absolutely radiant as she flashes a smile of pure joy.

“ Well,” Loki waits till Thor has taken a large swig of ale, “ My beloved and are are expecting a child.” 

Gasps fill the room as well as Thor's hacking, ale being spewed on the table. 

“Oh Loki that is wonderful!!”  Frigga exclaims standing from her seat to embrace him. “Oh my dear, this is the most wonderous news,” 

“BROTHER I can’t believe it!” Thor exclaims, lifting Loki in a crushing hug. And for once, he didn’t mind it.  He turns to her and hugs her more gently. “ You are just full of surprises aren’t you, starlight”

Laughter, “Thor, I thought I told you to stop calling me that”

Silence fills the hall as Odin clears his throat, “ Loki, you have made me proud.”

Loki smiles as his love beams at him. 

“Thank you father.”**

They reached the dining hall. A cold feeling formed in the pits of his stomach. He can see his mother, talking with a maid as she bounces the child. He can’t see it, as Frigga's back is turned to him. Odin’s presence is notably absent, a small relief on Loki's part. 

Thor notices his brother’s nerves, he pats him on the back and says, “You can do this Loki.” Then walks off to join his mother. He kisses his mothers cheek and smiles at the child. He picks her up, bouncing her a few times  prompting a small laugh. Loki gimances at the sound. 

Thor walks up to him with the baby. 

“Loki, this is Y/n Odinson”

He looks at the child. He takes in its features, Beautiful curly hair, already thick and voluminous even at this age. Brown skin, unblemished and clean. Cheeks, chubby with baby fat. And...its eyes. Those damn eyes, he could barely stand it, (e/c) eyes, the same as his lost love. In fact, almost all it’s features that once belonged to his darling. A pain filled his body. He really couldn’t stand looking at this child. 

Not when his beloved wasn’t there to gaze upon their child as well. 

No, this was not his child. Not anymore. 

“Get rid of it.” 

Shock filled the faces of both Thor and Frigga. 

“Loki you cannot be serious.”

“Brother..”

“I SAID GET RID OF IT” Loki shouts. “I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THAT LITTLE MONSTER.” 

And with that he leaves the dining hall. Leaving behind  his mother, brother and the last piece of his wife he had. He hears it’s cries fill the silence.

He had only one thought in his head as he entered his chambers.

“What am I supposed to do without you”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[astaroth1357]

The Obey Me Cast on a Camping Trip (Part One: Brothers)

Hey guys, thank you sooo much for getting me to 2,000 followers!! I honestly don’t know what to say... I never dreamed that this little hobby of mine would reach so many eyes, and I can’t be more grateful. At a time in my life where things feel so chaotic and uncertain, being a part of this community and sharing my weird ideas has been what’s kept me going. It’s been such a rewarding experience all around, so thank you. From the bottom of my heart. 😊

I pulled out all the stops for this post. I even brought out one of my favorite songs of all time: Ao to Natsu by Mrs. GREEN APPLE to get the feel juuust right. I hope you all enjoy it!

This post is split in two due to length (I had too much fun again...) For the Undateables, please click HERE!

Intro:

Another day, another team building activity between the demons and the exchange students. It was Diavolo’s idea to go on a camping trip to the human world (because of course it was), and there were very… mixed responses. That sentiment wasn’t helped when he refused Lucifer’s insistent pleas to just purchase cabins for everyone to stay in. Oh no, the Demon Lord wanted to rough it out in the wilderness, and now everyone else was getting dragged along with him…

Wonder how that turned out?

Lucifer

Really, really, really tried to push Diavolo to just rent out cabins in but noooo, he wasn’t having it... So he ended up driving a van crammed with his brothers, the MC, and a butt-ton of camping equipment into the Alaskan wilderness… 

The car ride itself was insufferable… We’re talking, “I SWEAR I WILL TURN THIS CAR AROUND!!” level of antics every 10 miles or so (mostly from Mammon)…

Setting up camp was even more of a nightmare because about half of his brothers were utterly useless. The other half (save Satan) were completely clueless… Had it not been for Barbatos and Satan he probably would have just resigned himself to the mercy of the river’s currents and let it take him away…

He couldn’t even wear his usual clothes because of the situation… For the first time in who knows how many centuries, he was stuck wearing jeans… Diavolo even bought him several plaid shirts... (which he was not happy with btw because his brother wouldn’t stop making fun of the “new” him)

He had his own tent of decent-size, enough to move around in but nothing to write home about. The very fact he didn’t have to share was a luxury in itself, so he took it for what it was worth...

He spent a good portion of the trip focused on two things: keeping Diavolo happy and everybody else alive. He rarely left camp unless forced to; he just wanted to get it all over with as soon as possible…

If he did leave, it was because Diavolo would drag him along to fish or hike. He was... less than pleased to be called out of his tent at the crack of dawn or well past dusk to sit on a little rented fishing boat with Diavolo… but he didn’t exactly pick his friends so...

He rates the trip Too Much Trouble/10. Let’s never do it again.

Mammon

Wasn’t a massive fan of being stuck out in the wild, but Satan told him some made-up bullshit about buried treasure out in the forest and got him HOOKED. He even borrowed stole a whole bunch of mining/digging equipment just for the occasion!

He spent most of the car ride asking, “Are we there yet??” like a child. The MC had to step in to keep Lucifer from leaving him on the side of the road at multiple points during the journey... 

He was one of the utterly useless ones when it came to setting up camp. Someone charged him with putting up the twin’s tent, and he spent thirty minutes reading (then re-reading) the instructions while shouting expletives. Poor Simeon had to shield Luke from the vulgarity…

He has to share a tent with Levi, which neither of them liked. Mammon mainly because of Levi’s “old fish stink” and Levi because he feared catching “Mammon’s stupid.”

He was all jazzed up to go digging from Day One, though. He’d have breakfast, grab his shovel, then wander out into the middle of nowhere to go dig holes in the ground…

He also got completely lost on Day One, and it took the MC summoning him with their pact to return him to the group... By that time, he was filthy and somehow looked like he had been castaway for days (even though he was gone for like, three hours?)

When he stubbornly refused to stop digging, Lucifer resorted to just tying a rope around his ankle and letting him loose. It was up to Mammon to get back to camp before dinner, or else Lucifer would yank him back like he was on a leash.

Satan waited until the last day to finally tell Mammon the treasure was bullshit, and he was PISSED. He even threw Satan into the river, which resulted in the rest of the brothers joining in for a swim while the two tried to “playfully” drown each other.

He’d rate this trip 0/10 because he didn’t get any buried treasure. What a ripoff…

Leviathan

Hated the idea with a burning, seething passion. There’s no internet, cable, electricity, or phone signal out in the middle of nowhere! How the heck is an otaku supposed to survive?!

He clung to his electronics during the car ride until either they ran out of signal or their battery died, then he didn’t know what to do with himself… He resorted to reading several volumes of the manga he stuffed into his bag and clung to the MC for emotional support…

Yet another useless soul trying to put the camp together. He was in charge of his and Mammon’s tent but ended up almost crying in frustration… How the hell do humans do this all on their own?? Wasn’t he supposed to be the third strongest?! Why is he so pathetic?!? 😫

Hates sharing a tent with Mammon because he always wakes up to the second born encroaching on his space somehow… Poor baby is pretty much directly against the tent wall and STILL has to deal with legs and elbows in his side... 😰

Spends the majority of the trip moping in the tent... If he goes out there, he has to deal with the sun, bugs, and people… No thanks. He only leaves for meals and occasionally to go swimming. 

When he found out part of the way through that Barbs brought portable solar panels and a battery pack for Diavolo and Lucifer’s phones, he was livid. He demanded access to the power source, which Lucifer refused because “It would defeat the purpose of this trip.”

He’d have summoned Lotan right then and there, deadass in the middle of the forest, if the MC hadn’t intervened. He then went back to moping, but now at the bottom of the lake and it took a lot of coaxing to get him back out…

On the final day, he was packing up the camp before anyone else even woke up. He wanted OUT and back to civilization ASAP. Bedroom here he comes!

Satan

You wouldn’t think of Satan as an outdoorsy guy. Still, he has shades of a survivalist in him (mostly because he’s read a lot of guides and was looking for an excuse to use them for a loooong time).

He read for the majority of the ride. He was squished between Asmo and Levi, which was reasonably peaceful. But he did end up shouting at Mammon quite a bit towards the end because “NO, we’re not there yet, peabrain!!”

He actually wasn’t a waste of space when setting up the camp, and between him, Barbs, and Lucifer, they were able to get a lot of stuff set up before sundown. He did have to bark a few orders to the others here and there, but overall competency won out in the end.

He shared a tent with Asmo, and the two made it work well enough… Except when Asmo did things like spraying his perfumes and dry shampoos, making it practically impossible to breathe in for a few minutes…

Spent a lot of the first few days reinforcing the camp to a ridiculous degree.

Did he have to collect large branches to build an exterior fence around the campsite? No. But he did.

Did he have to set up a water distillation system using some of the materials Barbs had lying around the “kitchen?” No. But he did.

Did he have to weave a series of fishing nets to catch them lunch from the lake and river? I think you get the point by now.

Only once he built pretty much every contraption or improvement he could think of, did he go back to just reading and relaxing by the fire.

By the time the group was ready to leave, Satan had somehow managed to craft them a veritable, self-sustaining fortress in the middle of the Alaskan wilds…

Overall he would rate the trip as… meh. Next time give him a challenge like a deserted island or an actual desert, and then he’ll really see what he can do.

Asmodeus

Was about as unhappy with the idea as Levi was… It wasn’t that he disliked the outdoors per se, it was just that no one, NO ONE, pulls off looking flawless after several days stuck in a tent!

He chatted the entire car ride from start to finish. He never stopped talking. It made for decent background noise at least…

Was one of the more clueless ones when trying to set up camp and pretty just did what he was ordered. The second he was left to try and figure something out on his own, he went to Lucifer or Satan for help because NOPE. Human equipment is needlessly complicated sometimes…

He had to share a tent with Satan, which in theory shouldn’t have been that bad, but Satan was out basically all day in the sun doing who knows what and would always come back sweaty and gross! At some points, he had to chase his brother out of the tent until he dunked himself in the river or something. No way was Asmo sleeping next to that. 😤

Asmo took the second-longest to get up and get ready in the morning. Sometimes he wouldn’t even leave the tent until well past breakfast just in an attempt to salvage his hair and skin… He only got grouchier about it as the trip went on… 😥

A more… earthy looking Asmo is kind of a bizarre sight. He’s still attractive, no doubt, but it’s less like polished glamour and more like Hollywood humble. He spent the majority of the trip looking like a somewhat dirtied movie-star (which he still insisted was the worst he’s ever looked in ages).

Aside from salvaging his looks, he actually enjoyed taking pictures of their surroundings or of the group (but not himself). He sometimes forgot how genuinely breathtaking the human world could be…

….but his patience for the place wore out quickly once he started noticing his hair getting greasy. He was right next to Levi, packing up the site once it was finally time to leave. At least those two finally found something they could agree on, let’s get the fuck out already! 

Beelzebub

He was really curious about trying camping food and pretty excited that Barbatos was coming, too (because that meant great food in general).

Unfortunately, Lucifer had to stop the van at basically every gas station they passed for Beel could refill on snacks… Belphie ended up getting buried in wrappers pretty often, but he was asleep, so it didn’t matter much.

Beel did a lot of the heavy lifting when setting the camp up, but the finer details were left up to everybody else. He had his hands full getting stuff off the cars as is…

Of course, he shared a tent with Belphie, and there wasn’t much complaint between them. Honestly, there would have been more drama if they were split, so this was the better option.

After the MC told Beel about fishing and how it could net him more food, if he did it right, he knew exactly what he wanted to do during the trip.

… But no one told him how long and slow the process would be. There were points he’d get so hungry he’d consider eating the bait himself…

That was until about Day Three of the trip when they passed by a river full of grizzly bears… He was about to ask the MC why the bears were all standing in the water, but then he saw a fish practically leap directly into one’s mouth…

Beel had discovered his true calling.

Of course, the grizzlies didn’t take too kindly to a demon suddenly sprinting into the water with them. They tried to fight him off, but Beel just tossed most of them downstream without any issue until they realized who the apex predator really was…

After forming a shaky truce with the bears, Beel would stand in the water for hours then come back with whole baskets full of salmon… There were far more fish than Barbatos knew what to do with, so he’d just confiscate a few then let Beel eat the rest...

The MC shuddered to think about what Beel had done to the local salmon population… But he was full and happy for most of the trip, so he had a great time!

Belphegor

Sleep for him isn’t too contingent on location, so the idea of camping wasn’t terrible. It did sound like a lot of hassle for no good reason, though…

He spent the entire car ride asleep, head and cow pillow pressed up against the window and everything. It wasn’t the most comfortable experience, but he’d dealt with worse.

He was utterly useless when putting up the camp by choice, thank you. He had more than enough sense to get things put together; he just didn’t want to. If he wasn’t asked to do something by Beel or the MC, he’d just lay back in the grass and smugly watch everybody else struggle…

Again, he and Beel are in the same tent, and you wouldn’t hear any complaints out of him. He did start to have some second thoughts when Beel began getting a fishy smell, though, so he tried to bunk with the MC in their tent for a while.

Like Levi, Belphie didn’t leave the tent much during the daylight hours, but that was because he was still asleep… There was no good way to wake him with no alarms available, so he’d sleep in past lunch easily.

When he was awake, he didn’t leave camp very much except to walk with the MC or watch Beel fishing grizzly-style.

Eventually, Asmo and Diavolo got sick of him dodging their photos, so they’d started posing him Weekend at Bernie’s style around the camp (always conveniently propped up by something and with sunglasses on)

Something Belphie did like, however, was the nighttime. Since there were no lights around, he could practically see everything the sky had to offer. He could spend hours laying on his back long after everyone else had gone to bed just admiring the stars.

All in all, not a terrible trip. Anything that could give him that view like that was well worth it. 6/10, would sleep again.

Click HERE for Part Two. Check out my Masterlist for more!

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART TEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS 18+ ONLY! sexual content (finally), pot use, alcohol use Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: Okay, guys. If you missed it, this chapter is NSFW. This was the best to write, seriously. Love you all, don't be afraid to tell me what you think of it! 

taglist: @valleyd0ll​​ @satingrass-maidensfair​​ @guitarfingers​​ @thebohemianpenguin​​ @peaceisouranthem​​ @oblvions​​ @hansonobsessed​​ @myownparadise96​​ @lara-gvf​​ @anditsmywholeheart​​ @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​​ @bigblack-catattack​​​ 

MASTERPOST 

Two weeks before the Saturday of the play, the forecast had called for a blizzard. “Polar vortex” they had called it on the tv at school, flashing graphics of a polar bear wearing a scarf. 

After classes on Friday, you had asked Kate if she wanted to go for coffee. You had been working like a dog on the play - sewing and painting to the point where your fingers perpetually hurt and the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes was the shade of green that every foliage prop was painted.

You ordered a caramel macchiato and genuinely tried to enjoy it, propping your legs up on the chair next to her. 

“So,” she started, eyeing you like she had a bone to pick. She still looked so pretty when she was coming for your life. “We’ve been so busy with Josh, we haven’t had any alone time to talk about Trevor.”

You sucked in a deep breath and relaxed your stiff neck muscles, achy from behind hunched over while sewing. “Yeah. I kind of forgot about it, to be honest.”

“I have not, however. So dish,” she requested, reaching into her purse and pulling out a tube of lipstick. She applied it carefully in her phone camera as you spoke. 

“Josh did it,” you admitted, making her eyes flick over to you momentarily. “I mean, I still slapped him, but Josh was the one that gave him a black eye.”

“And how do you feel about that?” she asked carefully.

You shrugged, wrapping your fingers tightly around your cup, half to leech the heat, and half because you were anxious. “I don’t know. I was kind of upset, but only because he could have gotten kicked out of school for that.”

She just nodded for you to continue as she cleaned up the lines around her lips with a paper napkin. 

“I mean, and for what? He could have been arrested. Just for revenge. I feel like the best revenge would be just be keeping your head high.” You rolled your eyes at the beginning of your statement, just for emphasis. 

She stared at you blankly as she picked up her mug. “Aren’t you flattered? I wish a guy would punch one of my hookups.” 

“I mean, it’s cute, but I feel like he did it more for himself - for his own pride, you know?”

Her expression changed then to something a little heavier, her features sharpening in accusation. “Are you for real? Like, for real, for real?”

You frowned at her, feeling like you were being scolded. “What are you talking about?”

She let out a long breath, looking dumbstruck. “I haven’t really pressed it because I guess I just thought it was something that everyone knew but wasn’t talking about but-” She paused, putting her hand over yours on the table just to really drive the point home. 

“That boy has it bad for you.”

You knew your expression was ridiculous by the way she looked at you with pity. “What the hell are you talking about? Josh? Are we talking about Josh?”

She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and nodded. 

“Kiszka?” you tried again, still refusing to let her statement sink in. 

“Yes,” she said through a laugh. “Yes, your roommate Josh. Curly hair, hippy bullshit - that guy. I swear to God I thought you knew. I mean, there were times when I was like ‘does she actually know?’ but then I thought ‘there’s no way she lives with him and doesn’t know that’. You’re telling me I was wrong?”

You were struck silent for a few long moments. “Are you sure?”

Thankfully, she was looking at you like you were a puppy with its head stuck in a peanut butter jar. “Look at me. He punched a guy in the face for you.”

You closed your eyes and tried to suppress a smile. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. There’s supposed to be a huge snowstorm this weekend. Now that you’ve heard me say it, return to me on Monday - after spending all weekend in the same place as him - and tell me you don’t see it then,” she said simply. 

“Okay, I will,” you challenged. 

“Okay, you do that,” she quipped with a smirk, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest confidently. 

+++

In preparation, you had gone grocery shopping together, picking out everything you’d need to be stuck in the apartment together. He had even made you take him to a thrift store, just so he could see if there was anything fun. In the end, he had come out with a card game in a box, still wrapped. 

Saturday morning the snow started falling, this time in huge, fluffy flakes, and it wasn’t supposed to stop until Monday evening. 

While Josh was in the shower, you decided to get everything ready for the evening’s festivities that you had planned together. You had gone to find a good cheese board at the market until you found out they were too pricey for your (nearly nonexistent) budget, so you ended up laying out different crackers and cheeses onto a circular pizza pan. 

By the time he got out of the shower, you had grapes, pickles, olives, and chocolates laid out on the coffee table, and he caught you just as you were pouring each of you a glass of wine. 

The charcuterie was his idea - actually, the first thing he suggested when you said you wanted to have a fun night in on Saturday. The three different kinds of alcohol had been your idea.

“Okay, it’s all yours,” he informed as he trotted out from his bedroom, dressed in a fresh set of clothes. 

The shower was still warmed up, the mirror still steamy. You got a towel out and stepped in under the spray. 

You took the time to enjoy washing and conditioning your hair - your mom had been sweet enough to send you some of the expensive kind you love. Once you had hinted over the phone that you were homesick and the smell of it reminded you of home, she was already googling it. 

Once you felt sufficiently clean, you stepped out and dried off. The clothes you had taken into the bathroom weren’t anything special - you had chosen comfort over aesthetic - but they were warm, which is what you really needed as the snow fell outside. 

When you joined him back in the living room, Josh was waiting patiently on the couch.

“Ready?” he asked, handing you your glass of wine. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” You gestured down at the untouched food. 

He smiled at you. “I know.” 

You sipped at your drink as he gestured to the tv. 

“Movie for background noise?”

You hummed in thought. “Maybe music?” 

He nodded in agreement. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you pick will be perfect.”

By the time he had made a selection, you had nearly finished your glass of wine. “So, the costumes are coming along well. I got the cutest lace for the trimmings of Alice’s dress. I’m not sure you’ll even be able to see it from the audience, but she’ll look adorable in pre and post-performance pictures.”

He shot you a beaming smile. “That’s some master craft. Your attention to detail is unrivaled.”

You knew that he was just playing, but it still made your stomach flip.

“Should we play our card game?” he suggested, padding over to the kitchen and snatching the bottle of wine off the counter.

You watched his movements as he poured your glass full again. “Thank you. Yeah, we can. Or did you want to be drunker first?”

He hummed. “One shot each?” 

“Of vodka?” you inquired as you picked yourself off of the couch. “Where are the shot glasses?” 

“I don’t think I own any,” he admitted as he watched you rifle through the cupboards. 

You shot him a shocked look. “You’re a college kid; why would you not own a shot glass?”

“Well, we haven’t needed it thus far. I don’t throw a lot of parties if you haven’t noticed.” He gestured around the empty room. “We’ll each just take a pull from the bottle?”

“Okay, you first,” you agreed, thrusting the bottle at his chest. He took it from your grasp with a smirk and then pressed his lips to the rim. He drank until the count of three before swallowing hard and passing it along. 

You followed suit, except with more difficulty. He had made it look so easy, you had almost forgotten how vodka tasted. You swiped your thumb across your lips, wiping them dry in the process. 

You took your seats back on the couch next to each other as the music played through the room. 

“Charcuterie?” you offered, gesturing to the coffee table full of food. 

“Yes, of course.”

As you watched him make a cracker sandwich, you spoke. “So, should we crack this game open?”

After he nodded excitedly, you ripped into the plastic wrap. 

“Okay, it looks like it’s essentially just a questions game. We just draw one at a time and the other person answers them,” you explained after skimming the inside of the box. “And you have to finish your drink if you can’t answer it.”

He laughed. “Okay, ladies first. I’m ready.”

You pushed the stack of cards over at him. “No way, you ask me first,” you stated with a cheeky smile.

He raised his eyebrows at you but relented. As he plucked a card from the deck, he took a sip of wine.

“What is your favorite color?” he asked, leaning in and squinting like the information you were about to provide was essential to his existence. 

You snorted. “Really?” He nodded, prompting you to continue. You hummed as you thought about it. “It’s blue.”

“What kind of blue? Like navy or sky?”

You shook your head. “No, more like that blue that’s so blue it hurts your eyes. The one that was a new pigment discovered not that long ago - so bright it hurts.”

He gave you a sincere smile.  “That’s a good pick.”

“What’s yours?” 

“That’s not how this game works,” he said through a breathy laugh. 

You frowned at him. “Yeah, well. Then I’m asking you as a friend. Josh, what is your favorite color?”

He pursed his lips as he considered his answer. “It’s hard for me to pick, but maybe either red or orange.”

You nodded in agreement as you reached for the deck. “I could see that. Okay, your turn.”

You stared at the card in your hand that read, WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU SLEPT WITH?

“Are you alright?”

You snapped your eyes up to him, quickly nodding as you realized that he had been waiting patiently for you to read it. 

“Okay,” he agreed cautiously. “That’s good. What’s the question?”

You couldn’t suppress an awkward smile as a heat rose to your face. 

“It says, ‘who is the last person you slept with?’,” you informed in a humored tone. You even held it up for him to see.

He stared at the card like it just accused him of a heinous act. “You really got to answer the color question and I have to answer this?”

His intensity made you snort a laugh, though you were trying to hold yourself together so you didn’t spill your wine. “Okay, okay. I’ll answer it too. Maybe we can play the game where we both just answer it.”

“Do you just want to hear me talk about sex?” he prompted with a shit-eating grin. 

You gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you- You’re the one that picked this game out!”

Your overreaction was clearly exactly what he had been looking for. You were anticipating his ribbing to continue, but it didn’t. 

“The last person I had sex with,” he started, pressing his lips against the rim of his glass as he took a swig. “Was from my music theory class.”

“When?” you quickly asked, shocking even yourself.

 “Is that part of the question?” he teased smugly, picking a kalamata olive off of the tray and piercing it with his finger before popping it in his mouth. 

You licked your lips nervously. “No, it isn’t,” you admitted. “You don’t have to answer that, I was just curious.”

“You wanna get high?” 

He was staring directly into your eyes when you looked up at him again. 

“I feel like it’ll make it easier to answer these.”

You nodded at him, biting your bottom lip. “Yes. Yes, I do want to.” 

“My room?” he asked, picking up both of your glasses as he stood. 

“Your room,” you confirmed, following suit. 

Through the slats in his blinds, you could see that the ground was completely covered in a white blanket of snow. You spent some time watching it fall from his bed as he packed a bowl. 

“Here,” he said gently to get your attention. “You take the first hit. I’m going to light it and you’re going to suck in and hold it in.”

You nodded in understanding. 

“Not too much though,” he warned. 

The glass was cool in your hands as you took it from him. When he held the flame to it, you did as you were told before exhaling with care. He was looking at you with a proud expression when you met his eyes. 

You handed it back over to him, waiting until he was in the process of taking a hit before you spoke. 

“Tell me when you slept with her,” you demanded calmly, biting back a smirk at the way his breathing faltered. 

It had turned into a game of chicken as you held each other’s gazes silently. 

“You haven’t even answered the required question yet and you want me to do the extra credit?” he quipped. 

“The last person I fucked was a guy from tinder back home, and it happened a couple of months before I left,” you informed him confidently. “I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and he was a prick, so when we broke up, I went on a tinder bender just to feel something.”

A small smile spread across his pink lips as he listened. 

“Now you.”

“She was my girlfriend last year. We broke up in April and I had a hard time saying no to late-night texts until the end of June.” His tone was sincere as far as you could tell, as were his eyes. 

You were starting to feel the hit you’d taken by then, and you took a pause from the conversation to lean over the side of his bed and grab the bag of suckers you knew was waiting there for this very occasion. 

The high washed over you in a gentle, pleasant manner, leaving you feeling a little dreamy. 

“Sucker?” you asked, holding the bag open for him. He breathed a laugh - probably at you offering him his own candy - and then plucked one from the bag. 

After he had it unwrapped, he held the bowl out to you again. “Want another? Or am I going to have to smoke the rest of this myself?”

“Yes, I’m sure that would be very rough on you, poor baby,” you teased. 

He huffed a laugh, sitting up a bit straighter in his position. “You want another one or not?”

You stared at him wordlessly for longer than was socially acceptable, but when you finally spoke, it was with conviction. “I’ll have another baby hit.” You pulled the cards from the pocket of your pajama pants. “But then we’re playing another card, right?.”

He glanced down at the bowl and then back up to you. “When you say ‘baby hit’-”

“I mean I want you to blow it into my mouth with your mouth,” you explained cheekily, making him huff a laugh. 

“You liked that, huh?” he asked, risking a dark glance up at you through his long lashes as his fingers played along the glass piece. 

You knew exactly what you wanted to say - could hear it in your head, but your body felt tight with nerves at the thought of actually saying it. “Not as much as you did, I’m guessing.”

Oh, damn, you said it. 

A smirk played across his mouth, his eyes half hooded. If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have thought he was completely unaffected by your teasing, but you had been listening to his breathing, so you were perfectly aware when it changed slightly. It was just the smallest difference in sound like he was pulling in air through tighter lungs. 

“Be careful with what you’re accusing people of.” A warning, definitely, but almost more of a challenge. In the months that you’d spent with him, you’d never seen him like that, but you suppose you wouldn’t have unless- Unless you were about to make him do something truly reckless. 

You bit your bottom lip out of an anxious, excited energy. “Oh, my mistake then.”

The ball was in his court, and you could tell that he was expecting him to continue pressing him. A look of slight disappointment flashed behind his eyes, but you weren’t done yet. 

You nodded toward the bowl, prompting him to glance down at it like he had forgotten what he was doing in the game he was playing with you. He kept eye contact with you as he brought it to his mouth and lit it. You watched the white smoke circle the inside of the globe before he sucked it into his lungs. 

You tilted your chin up in invitation and tried to relax your muscles as he leaned in, his throat looking tight. 

You felt his nose brush yours first before you realized you had closed your eyes in anticipation. The smoky smell hit you first when you realized you were supposed to be taking it from him. You opened your eyes and tried to breathe it all in, but most of it was lost to the room. 

He had a tiny smirk playing on his features until you reached out and wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pressing his forehead against yours in an abrupt motion. You could tell he had his teeth clenched by how tight his jaw looked. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from playing your fingers along the sharp line of it. 

“Do you want me?” you whispered, voice barely there at all. 

Through a labored breath, he responded with a smoky sounding, “What would give you that impression?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, but unsurprisingly, it came out sounding raw. Your fingers brushed across the short hair on the nape of his neck, the pleasant feeling causing his eyelids to flutter. 

You leaned forward until you pressed your cheekbone against his, lips right by his ear, and pointedly asked, “Do. You. Want. Me?”

“Fucking of course, I do,” he spat through clenched teeth, sounding distressed as his hands wrapped around your waist, thumbs pressed into your hipbones on either side. 

“Should we?” you asked, pulling back so you could see his face. 

“Probably not.” His words were humored, a melodic laugh accompanying them, but still somehow managed to not sound any less strained. 

You considered what he was saying for a moment, relishing in the idea that this was the last moment before the point of no return. “Just one hookup,” you reasoned. 

He smirked at you, looking all too smug and disbelieving. “Okay,” he agreed. 

Patiently, you waited for him to make the first move, your heartbeat bouncing around like a basketball in your chest. When you felt his hands move from your hips, your body tensed, trying to predict where they’d end up next. 

As he cupped your jaw with both hands, you melted a little, muscles noticeably relaxing. 

The kiss was tentative at first - just a brushing of his lips on yours like he was testing the waters. He held your face like he was afraid that you were going to vanish into thin air - like your presence was the key to his existence. 

You could hear his shallow breaths as he opened his mouth, pressing it against yours. His tongue tasted like the orange sucker he’d abandoned on its wrapper on top of the dresser next to his bed. You lapped at it, body rising as you shifted to crawl into his lap. With the way he was sitting, cross-legged on his bed straddling him was a bit of a strain on your inner thighs, but the feeling was oddly pleasing - like a warm-up for the workout you were about to endure. 

He let go of your face to place his hands back on your hips, pulling your body as close to his as it physically could be. Before he could situate you too firmly, you started to unbutton your pajama shirt, and bless his heart, he couldn’t help but watch your fingers work. 

“Is this really happening, or this just a super high fever dream?” he asked, shaking his head as he frowned like he wasn’t sure he could trust his eyes. 

You wanted to laugh at him, but you could hardly blame his disbelief. If someone had told you even earlier that week that you’d be in this position, you would have rolled your eyes at them. You hadn’t realized how much you wanted this until it was about to happen.

The last button undone, you let the garment fall, the pink and white striped fabric slipping off the bed and to the hardwood. 

The cool air was shocking on your bare skin at first, causing it to tighten - well, that and you could practically feel his eyes raking over your chest. 

“It’s happening,” you assured, leaning in until you were speaking against his parted lips. 

The feeling of him brushing the pads of his fingers over your nipple made your breathing shudder. When you tipped your head back, he ducked in and pressed his mouth to your throat, dragging a stripe across your skin with the flat of his tongue. Every part of your whole body felt hot, but none more than between your legs. You tried to grind yourself down on him, but couldn’t seem to get a good angle - luckily, he seemed to notice, and halted your movements with his hands on your hips, stretching his legs out straight.

He pulled back just far enough to see your face when he ground you down onto him, the outline of his cock slipping against your core. Even with all the layers between you, the feeling still made you crumble against him, a whine escaping your lips of its own volition. It was clear that he felt it too as he bit his lip, his eyes fluttering. 

You seized the opportunity to get your fingers under his shirt, lifting it over his head as he held his arms up for you. Before he could prepare for it, you pressed closer, pressing a kiss to his temple and then nipping at his earlobe. The cool metal of his earring was pleasing against your tongue, and you reveled in the moment as he sucked in a sharp, shocked breath. 

His hands snaked around your sides, palms wide as he cupped your ass and used the leverage to pull you against him again. Burying his nose in the crook of your neck, he let a shaky breath escape him.

You could feel his thumbs hook under the elastic band of your pajama bottoms as he started to slip them down the cleft of your ass. Once it was bare, he ran his fingers over it, movement stalling as he looked at you with an eyebrow raised. 

“Are you not wearing panties?”

You scoffed. “Not to bed, obviously. Are you implying that you wear something under those loose pants?”

The corners of his lips tilted up in a wicked smirk. “I encourage you to find out.”

You giggled at his confidence, sweetly nudging your forehead against his, so he didn’t expect the swift movement of your hand as you tugged the tie of his sweats down. The answer to your previous question was “no” - he hissed as you grabbed his erection, swiping your thumb across the head, glossy from the dim light through the blinds. It was just a tease though, because a split second later, you let go of it in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your mouth against his again. 

As you pressed him back, he tried to hold you, but once he realized you weren’t just leaning on him for support, he relented. You laid him back on his bed, pulling back as you slipped your bottoms off the rest of the way. 

“Jesus,” he breathed as his eyes took in the whole of your naked body above him. “Hang on.” 

He reached to the bedside table and grabbed the bowl and lighter. After he sucked in another hit and set the piece back down, he tugged you in roughly, depositing the smoke directly into your mouth. You tried to hold it in like he had taught you, but you were much more interested in getting your tongue into his mouth. 

Still, you were plenty high, so much so that looking down on his bare form had tears threatening your eyes. He looked so soft and sweet despite the position he was in, his eyes half-lidded and one hand behind his head, one on your bare hip. 

You shifted until you could grind your core against the length of him, the wetness letting it slip through easily. 

“Fuck.” You had thought it was an exclamation of pleasure until you opened your eyes and saw a scowl painted across his face. “I definitely don’t have a condom.”

You hummed through a smile. “I don’t blame you, I definitely didn’t expect this.”

He frowned up at you. “We can just try something else if you want,” he offered.

“Well, I’m on birth control, and given the length of time between our last sexual encounters, I’m guessing we’re both clean - I know I am.”

He stared at you for a long moment before really realizing what you were implying, but once he did, he licked his lips in consideration. 

“Come here.” You weren’t sure what he was requesting until he grabbed onto your thighs and guided you up until you were straddling his face. 

The thought of it made you blush, and surely your cheeks were hot to the touch. 

He started with broad strokes of his tongue, just dragging it through. You briefly wished he had a headboard for you to brace yourself on, but your thoughts quickly became completely incoherent. You decided you were going to lean back instead, placing your palms flat on his bent knees. When you were completely comfortable and situated, he started pointedly flicking his tongue against your clit directly, first very soft and teasing, but building to something rougher and more deliberate. 

You thought you were actually going to shake apart when he sucked your clit right into his mouth, rolling the bead of it around on the flat surface. When you could feel yourself getting close to the edge, you threaded your fingers through his curls, keeping him close. 

The moment you lost it, everything in the room melted away from you - just a black expanse with flicks of color littered throughout it. 

You took a moment to catch your breath, trying to bring yourself, at least partly, back to reality. When you pulled away from him, you were met with the sight of him - the entire bottom half of his face slick with your come. 

He only let you watch in fascination as it dripped from his chin for a second before he was pushing you back, your head laid at the foot of the bed. He slipped his sweats off the rest of the way before crawling over you. 

There was no way you could have blamed him as he pushed in, seemingly not having any time for a slow entrance - you did make him sit there, untouched, for god knows how long. You certainly couldn’t name even a rough estimate for the amount of time passed. 

The spark of pleasure that shot through you made you throw your head back, your spine arching as you let out a whine. 

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” he breathed, through tight teeth.

“Yes,” you hissed as you ground yourself down onto him. “Keep going.”

Your eyes were closed, but you were sure he was wearing an awed expression. You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in until your foreheads were pressed together. When he started to move his hips, you let out a long, pleased hum, pressing your nails into the skin on his shoulders. 

Your whole lower half was still incredibly sensitive, so every time he brushed you, it made you writhe a bit beneath him. “Mm, fuck,” you growled as he intentionally reached down and pressed his thumb into your clit, the feeling resting somewhere between “just perfect” and “way too much”.  

He was biting his lip as he watched your reaction intently. You felt his hand snake down your outer thigh, gripping it from the bottom. He lifted it up, near-forcing you to wrap it around his hip.

The new angle was a different kind of feeling - something hot deeper in your gut like someone placed a smoldering ember in your belly.  You weren’t paying attention to anything but your own impending orgasm, so you didn’t expect it when he sucked your nipple into his mouth. He raked his teeth over the bud, causing your hips to jerk against him. 

When you opened your eyes and met his, you took a moment to absorb his expression - like he was seeing another dimension through your face. 

You could tell he was close when his lips fell open, but that was perfect because he was taking you with him. You hitched your legs around his hips and squeezed, letting your head tip back. 

When you came a second time, it was with his open mouth pressed to your throat, his hot breath hitting your damp skin. You let out a low whine, fingers tangled in his hair, probably a little too tight.

You suspected it was probably your muscles clenching in orgasm around him that set him off, a string of expletives falling from his kiss-swollen lips. His hips shuddered as he fucked you through it. 

The other side of your collective climax was warm and fuzzy, like watching home videos from the ‘60s. When he was able to hold himself all the way up, you ran your fingers through his damp curls affectionately. 

He was clearly trying to get his bearings, his breath flowing in and out of him like a tide. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered, sounding like he might not be able to speak any louder than he currently was if he wanted to.

 You hummed through a smile. “So good, Maybe never better.”

He rubbed his nose against yours, the smallest hint of an upward tilt to his lips. “I’m high as hell, so I’m not sure what’s acceptable for our situation right now, but can I kiss you?”

“We probably shouldn’t,” you admitted, making his expression fall slightly. 

He nodded at you in reluctant agreement. “You’re right.” 

You bit your bottom lip. “Ah, fuck it, we’ll start going back to normal tomorrow.”

[antebunny]

Continuation of this based on the Maleficent AU over on @angstymdzsthoughts because I write trash when my life is going terribly. 

All his life, Lan Wangji has heard more about his mother than he has actually seen his mother. He and Lan Xichen were taken to see her as many times as they could, but more often than not, it wasn’t safe to be around her. But Lan Wangji heard the other Lans talking about her, sometimes.

“How sad,” the elders would say. “The first not to accept the Grounding.”

On the good days, Lan Wangji’s mother would let him sit on her lap as she combed first Lan Huan’s, and then Lan Wangji’s hair. She would ask about their day, and invariably something Lan Wangji said would make her laugh. But with the good days came the bad days, when Mother flew into a terrible rage and could not be approached by anyone, not even Father, and Father was her fated one. On the bad days, Mother had to be left alone in her house until she calmed down, and no one ever let Lan Wangji go near.

“It’s because of the wings,” Lan Wangji is told. The wings that his mother once had, back when she was a heavenly spirit, the wings that make her want to leave.

“Such a tragic tale,” some of the elders say, shaking their heads. “Such a tragic love the main Lan family faces, generation after generation.”

Mother is never able to accept the binding, and no one knows why. Father performed it correctly, to this everyone swears up and down. Qingheng-jun has always been the pride of Gusu, but he grows increasingly more and more frantic during Lan Wangji’s sixth year, the year that Mother gets sick. Soon, the whole world knows that Madame Lan has a seemingly incurable disease. Before Lan Wangji turns seven, his mother dies. He knows because he never sees his father after that either. He’ll later learn that Father, unable to accept both the loss of his fated one and his own failure, retreated from the world, leaving his sect duties and his children to his younger brother.

“It is the destiny of one of you to find your fated partner in a heavenly being,” Uncle explains to Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen, but he doesn’t say it with the same pride and finality that he explains the other rules of the Lans.

Lan Wangji grows up. And though he’ll never admit it, Lan Wangji privately hopes that this destiny is not his to bear. It’s terribly unfair for both the sect duties and the Grounding to fall to Lan Wangji, and consciously he hopes that his older brother does not have to bear both burdens. But privately, somewhere buried deep where Lan Wangji cannot find it or examine it too closely, he hopes fervently that it is not him.

Then he meets a boy with black wings underneath the moon of the Gusu mountains, and his entire world changes.

Wei Wuxian laughs, and Lan Wangji has never heard anything like it before. His great black wings unfurl like ink from a brush, and they effortlessly lift his feet off the roof.

“I’m technically not in the Cloud Recesses,” he points out, silver eyes sparkling with mirth.

Lan Wangji can feel his ears turn a violent shade of red. He withdraws his sword, then, but a single flap of Wei Wuxian’s wings carries him above Lan Wangji’s head. And even then, in the exhilaration and frustration of their first meeting, Lan Wangji hates those wings for taking Wei Wuxian out of his reach. They’re beautiful, his massive crow wings. Each feather is a soft black that shines purple under the right light. Lan Wangji wants to touch them and see if they’re as soft as they look, but he doesn’t dare.

Wei Ying is magnificent, and Lan Wangji can only despair.

-

His brother is the first one to notice.

“Wangji,” he says, one day when he finds Lan Wangji with two bunnies and no explanation. “I’ve noticed that you seem to be spending a lot of time with the crow spirit, Wei Wuxian.”

Not by choice, Lan Wangji wants to say, but he knows it isn’t true, and lying is forbidden. But he doesn’t know what the truth is. He’s unsure, because Wei Ying is unsure. Wei Ying teases, Wei Ying smiles at him so sincerely and says not as pretty as Lan Zhan only to finish with I’m only joking, Lan Zhan! What if it’s not Wei Ying? What if Lan Wangji gets it wrong?

So instead, he says nothing.

His uncle is the second person to notice.

He’s frowning and stroking his beard after the day’s lectures have finished, and he stop Lan Wangji to talk after the other students have all left. “Yunmeng’s Head Disciple, and Sect Leader Jiang’s adopted son,” he muses out loud. “His…rambunctious personality makes me cautious, but he is one of the best cultivators of your generation. I am confident that he will recover from the Grounding.”

Lan Wangji tries to picture Wei Ying’s loud personality being confined to a single room for any period of time.

“Wangji,” his uncle says, when he notices Lan Wangji clenching his fists. The word is at once filled with pride, a warning, and gentler reassurance. “What happened to your mother was a tragedy,” he says, echoing the words of countless elders. “It has never happened before. There is no reason why it should happen again.”

There is no reason why it wouldn’t, Lan Wangji thinks. Still, it hardly matters, in the face of generations of tradition, in the face of his own destiny. There is no denying it: he loves Wei Ying. His next course of action is to perform the Grounding, before Wei Ying returns to Lotus Pier. His uncle expects him to. The elders all expect him to. Even his brother doesn’t understand his hesitation. And yet–

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says. “Come flying with me!”

When Wei Ying takes him flying, he takes him higher than Lan Zhan has ever gone by sword. Together, they soar over the misty mountain tops of Gusu, past pine forests and heavy clouds. Wei Ying is an single black spot in the blue heavens, but he dwarfs the entire sky, and Lan Wangji, in a place he doesn’t stop to think about, has never lived more in a day.

“Wei Ying,” he says at the end, when Wei Ying sets him gently back on the ground. His tongue is lead in his mouth. He knows what he should say–he should ask Wei Ying to take him to the cave in the back of the mountains, and there, where the wings have no power, he should perform the Grounding. But Lan Wangji looks at Wei Ying, framed by his crow wings in the green fields of Gusu, and all he can think is: Wei Ying loves his wings.

Which is why all that comes out of his mouth is: “Will you marry me?”

-

“Wangji,” Uncle says, and now his name is simply a warning. “You are doing this wrong.”

Lan Wangji bows his head low over the table he is seated by.

“I have left the Grounding to your own prerogatives,” Uncle begins to lecture, further angered by his silence. “I have raised you to be obedient and righteous, but if I must perform the Grounding for you, then I will.”

“No,” Lan Wangji blurts, and his uncle raises an eyebrow. Somehow, he knows that is wrong. His hands are clammy in his lap. “No,” he repeats, in a tone expected from him. “I will perform it. Tomorrow morning.”

“See that you do,” Uncle says. A dismissal.

-

He almost doesn’t.

Wei Ying is sprawled by his side, fast asleep, but his wings are wrapped around Lan Wangji when he wakes up. He rolls Wei Ying over slowly, carefully pulling his hair away from his back. Lightly, he runs his hands over the wings one last time, wings that were softer than he thought they’d be, and then he withdraws Bichen. His grip hasn’t trembled on his sword in years, but it does now.

In the end, it is very simple: Wei Ying loves his wings, but Wei Ying loves him. Surely that is enough. It has been enough for countless generations of Lans.

In the end, it is too simple. Lan Wangji flicks his wrist, and Bichen tears through Wei Ying’s beautiful wings. Wei Ying does not stir. He sheathes his sword and collects the wings reverently. He steps out of the room, long enough to leave the wings on the table, and returns to a devastating surprise:

Wei Ying is gone.

Naturally, the first person Lan Wangji goes to is Lan Xichen, and together they head to the Jiang disciple quarters. Lan Wangji is distressed the whole way, thinking of a Wei Ying who woke up alone, in the dark, missing his wings. He was supposed to be there to explain it to Wei Ying. He was supposed to be there for him.

But Wei Ying isn’t in the Jiang disciple quarters. None of the Jiang siblings are. The other Jiang disciples are still asleep, but when Lan Wangji makes an exception and wakes them up, they have no idea what’s going on. Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen split up, but no one Lan Wangji talks to has seen Wei Ying or the Jiang siblings. And when Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen circle back around to the quarters of the first Jiang disciples they talked to, they’re gone.

By the time the sunrise fades into yet another bright day, all of the disciples from Yunmeng Jiang are gone. None of the other guest disciples have seen them, not even the ones awake at that time. It is as if they simply all vanished back up to the heavens without a word, without a single warning.

And Lan Wangji is left reeling in their wake, stunned at the thought that somehow Wei Ying’s Grounding has gone even worse than his mother’s.  

[skellebonez]

How's about Shadowpeach with 10 and 73, specifically with Wukong taking care of Spider Macaque in the Spider Monkie AU?

The ShadowPeach in this fill is pretty vague, so if you don't ship them I think you could still read and enjoy this! I really wanted to just have an introspection from Macaque about what the transformation has done to to him and how much he thinks it had done to Sun Wukong as well.

Stop it! You’re only making it worse!/You’re putting an awful lot of trust in them.

"Macaque?"

"I'm fine, Peaches."

Macaque was not, in fact, fine. In any sense of the word. His back and shoulders ached horribly, deep set into the muscle, aches that stemmed from what he had willingly put his body through. The extra height. The new grown fur.

His extra set of arms, totaling four overall, set below his regular arms that had their own shoulder blades to ache with. No, he was not fine.

Not to mention the headache from his extra eyes...

The fact he was laying face down on a pile of leaves because he ached too much to make it back to any of buildings was a pretty clear sign to anyone passing that while he sounded convincing, as always, he was clearly lying.

“Is there anything you want me to do for you?”

The question made Macaque pause in his musing and look up. It wasn’t as if the offer to help was unexpected, no. Wukong had made it very clear since they reunited that he can and would help in any way possible. It was the way the help was offered. Or, rather, the way he was asking if he could offer any to the ailing demon.

It was... different.

Maybe because now that Wukong went through something similar he could possibly understand a bit more.

It was odd for the dark furred monkey to have to crane his neck to look up at the other now. Sun Wukong towered over... well, everyone. Even Sandy was shorter than the new Spider-Monkey King. The only person who could probably best the other in stature now was possibly DBK, and that was on a day he wasn't using his own magic to shift to his smaller form.

He'd also been granted a third set of arms, instead of the extra eyes that Macaque had to get used to and deal with on a regular basis. But often he wondered if the trade off was worth it...

The places where they matched transformation wise, however, were their fur and eyes. Both had grown a mixture of coarse spider fuzz and soft monkey fur, often times mingling into a warm mixed coat that granted extra protection from the elements. Macaque's black fur had grown a deep purple over his chest and arms, offset by silver bands and stripes in places. Wukong's, on the other hand, became a soft white and a light peach fuzz shade that mixed with his natural deeper fur color. And their eyes each attained a brilling green hue.

Spider Queen once said they shone like emeralds and Macaque couldn't find himself arguing with that.

What he could argue with, however, was the fact that HE got really cool purple markings around his eyes and Wukong's face marking didn't change at all.

So point 1 to him for getting something extra.

Built in eyeliner.

"Mac? Mango?" Wukong asked again, pulling the other from his thoughts abruptly. "I can leave you alone for a bit if you want. Check in on you later?"

Macaque tensed and pain shot through his spine and, for some reason, the thought of suddenly being alone again filled him with dread.

"Can you..." he started slowly, low enough that he was uncertain that the other could hear him. "Can you groom my back for me? I couldn't finish it and..."

He trailed off, to embarrassed to admit that the whole reason he was even in this mess was because he had stubbornly tried to clean the fur on his own back when it had gotten caught on some brush and the stretching of his already painted muscles proved too much for him.

"Sure," was all Wukong said before sitting down beside the other and quietly getting to work.

They sat silently for a while. Wukong doing his best to run his many fingers through only the glossy tangled fur. The coarser fur would require a comb or brush and Macaque douted that the other wanted to even attempt brushing his fur out in this situation.

And while the deep set ache in his spine didn't vanish, the longer he laid there and felt the other working on his fur the longer he relaxed and felt the surface aches slowly dampen themselves.

“What did Syntax say about the next batch?” Wukong finally spoke up as his fingers worked their way through the knotted fur between Macaque’s second set of shoulder blades. Every graze against the skin beneath the fur felt like a new ache, but the touches we so soft and fleeting that Macaque knew the temporary pain would be worth not having to attempt to groom his own back again. “It’s supposed to last longer, right?”

"He thinks so," Macaque said, voice tight but clearer than he expected it to come out. "I know it will. He's never failed me before."

For better or worse.

"Seems like it," Wukong agreed quickly, apologizing as he pulled a stubborn knot just a bit too hard and earned a pained yelp from the other. "You're putting an awful lot of trust in him... but his serums have been working so far so even if everything is guess work he seems to know what he's doing."

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

The reply came so fast that Macaque knew that it was practiced. Said so clearly that even after all this time he knew that the other spider-monkey mutant was hiding something. His actions never ceased, though. Grooming continuing on as if nothing was said, hundreds of years not being dampened by the addition of size or number of fingers in the slightest.

“You can’t expect me to believe that you went through a transformation more drastic than mine so quickly without anythin-”

“Yes,” Wukong interrupted, voice more form and snappy than he has sounded the entire time he was tending to Macaque’s fur and muscle aches.

“You’ve always been a shit liar, you know. That’s my forte.”

Now the movements slowed, not to a stop but noticeable enough to be felt. Not until he finished working through the fur after another minute or so of silence.

"Only to you," Wukong admitted, running his fingers through the finished patches of fur to catch any missed knots. "Apparently I'm pretty good when it comes to others."

"That's because they haven't known you as long as I have," Macaque said, sitting up against the urges from the other to keep laying down.

And the sight before him, closer and clearer in the light than before, proved his suspicions that he'd had since the other's transformation correct in his mind.

Sun Wukong looked exhausted. Not physically, except for the dark bags under his eyes that Macaque could see forming. But his posture and the dull shine of his eyes gave it away. The way he leaned forward and his eyes were half lidded and the way he smiled in that awkward nervous way that showed far too much teeth.

"You've been treating me differently," Macaque continued as he stretched and the pain was worth the light rush of relief from the way the stretch relieved some pressure on his back. "Since your transformation. It's because you know how I feel now, don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Stop it!" Macaque snapped, startling the other. "You’re only making it worse, pretending it doesn't happen! Have you even gone to Syntax for any treatment?"

In the back of Macaque’s mind he could swear he heard "hypocrite" shouted at him for the pretending bit.

"... no," Wukong admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with two hands. That wasn't from embarrassment or nervousness, that was from pain. Macaque recognized it from so long ago. "He comes to me, though. Practically throws the stuff at me while insulting me for being too stubborn for own good."

"He's right you stubborn ass," Macaque said with a half chuckle, standing with more than a bit of effort. When he stumbled forward he was grateful that Wukong held out a hand to grab his own and didn't catch him, who knows how much that would hurt. It had when he'd caught him before. "The new batch should be ready, actually. We should go see him together."

Macaque smirked up at the other, hoping he was playing his cards right.

"Besides, I know how much you like proving people wrong."

The loud laughter that resounded through their little patch of forest told him he was still good at playing that little game of chance.

"Alright, yeah," Wukong agreed, smile softening as he held out one of his lower arms from Macaque to hold onto as he walked. "I do like proving people wrong. I'm not too stubborn to accept help after everything that's happened."

"Now tell Queenie that next time we see her so she can stop worrying over you so much," Macaque chided with a laugh of his own as they walked the path to home Wukong had built for the spider demons on his island.

As they walked Macaque felt the soft and firm brush of Wukong's tail against his own and he wrapped his around it. Their tailed wrapped together, twining like rope behind them, and they just had to hope that Syntax wouldn't have a rant planned out for the two of them when they arrived.

[lilyharvord]

Meet Me at Our Spot

  HELLO EVERYONE!! Vet school turned its back for a day and I was able to finish this one for you all. ((: Here is a lovely little one shot that is rated M people, so please read responsibly. Office AU because someone asked for it once upon a time and the image of Cal in one of those well tailored shirts/suits with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows has lived in my head rent free since then. So enjoy!!! ((: 

also, I’m obsessed with that song Meet Me at Our Spot by Willow and The Anxiety (specifically the live version). So that’s the vibe were going for. (:

find it on Ao3 too: link

Mare Barrow always felt underdressed when she entered the massive glass and steel structure that housed the Calore enterprises. Even when she put on her only pair on heels, and a nice outfit, she felt like a smudge of dirt on the pristine floors. Today though, she was determined to not feel that way. She had a plan, a vision, and she was not about to let some socially constructed idea like dress code ruin it for her.

           Striding up to the main desk before the elevators that lead to the corporate side of the building, she planted herself firmly before Tiria and cleared her throat to announce her presence.

           The young woman looked up from the book she was scribbling things in and held up a finger as she spoke into the receiver cradled in her other hand.

“Of course sir. Yes, two on Friday.”

With a sigh, Mare braced her forearms on the counter and glanced out at the massive atrium next to her. Multiple people strolled by in their nice suits and tight business dresses, carrying portfolios and briefcases and talking heatedly about a number of things. She got a few looks from them for her baggy sweatpants, oversized jacket, and faded ugly sneakers. She simply smirked back at them in response, a glint in her eye that dared them to talk about her after they had passed.

No one had ever really gotten a good look at her here, and if they had, it was when she was quickly being ushered past this front desk and into the elevators behind it. She was, for all intents and purposes, a very well-kept secret. One that was mandatory to remain a secret, given her position and her affiliation with this place.

Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would ever set foot in a place like this, let alone be associated with the circle she now tenuously walked through. It had its perks though, like getting to give a bright shiny middle finger smile to the people Farley would have spit at. Mare couldn’t exactly spit like she wanted to though, because she happened to enjoy being around one of them. And she was supposed to be on her best behavior when she was in this building. It was part of the stupid rules she had been forced to agree to a year ago.

Rule number one: No one can know your name, where you are from, and who you are.

Rule Number two: best behavior at all times when you are in the building or near him. No exceptions.

Rule number three: You are not allowed to show up unannounced or uninvited.

           Well rule number three could just go fuck itself today, and rule number two could join it. The rules were just a way of making sure that the pristine reputation of this place didn’t get tarnished in the tabloids. She had laughed herself hoarse when they brought her into that dim conference room and dropped the pile of papers with the rules outlining everything in front of her. She never thought getting into a relationship would feel like a contract or a business deal but somehow this was made into one. Then again, the Calore family could make a business deal out of a child’s pretend game.

“Yes sir, I will let them know. Thank you for confirming, we will see you then.”

Tiria snapped the receiver back into the cradle and turning a scrutinizing eye to Mare she quirked a perfectly manicured brow. Every front desk girl in the world honestly looked the same to Mare, and in this place, there was no exceptions.

“Can I help you?”

“I have an appointment.” Mare said as she pressed onto her toes and pointed with a finger randomly into Tiria’s book.

The girl looked down at the line Mare pointed to with a frown while Mare swiped the key card Tiria always kept just under the ledge with her other hand. Tucking it into her pocket, she forced her eyes wide in a fake showing of bewilderment as Tiria gave her a contempt glare when there was nothing on the line.

“I could have sworn I called!” Mare gasped as she pressed herself up onto the counter to teeter further over it while her feet dangled. Damn these stupid things were high. She should have worn heels just so she could actually see over the top of the counter. “Maybe I should have called to confirm.”

“Miss Barrow, please stay on that side of the counter.” Tiria sighed as she leaned back in her chair.

Sliding down and dropping with a huff, Mare crossed her arms, trying to mimic the expression she saw most of these people give when they didn’t get what they wanted. “I want to go up.”

           Forcing her sigh through her nose so it wasn’t as obvious, Tiria shook her head and adjusted a pen that had moved out of its perfectly straight line. “You’re not supposed to be here today. Don’t make me call security.”

           “Well that would announce my presence.” Mare argued before picking up her backpack. “Besides, I’ll only be ten minutes.”

           “Miss Barrow, I like my job and want to keep it. Leave.”

           Letting out her own exaggerated sigh, Mare threw her hands up and spun on her heel to leave. “Honestly, you’d think I’d get a free pass giving who I’m dating in this place.”

           Peeking over her shoulder to see if Tiria was still paying attention, she smirked as the girl dropped her head to write something down. One of the benefits of everyone looking down on her here was that as soon as she turned around, she was out of sight and out of mind. It made sneaking around easier.

           Spinning back around, she scurried over to the elevators, ducking below the ledge of the counter slightly in case Tiria looked up again. Humming a song she heard on the radio to herself, she swiped the card and pushed the button to call the elevator. She had joked once this place was locked up tighter than a military institution, only to learn there was a reason for that. She doubted she could just swipe a key card and sneak into the Pentagon though.

           The doors opened with a little ding, and she glanced over her shoulder once before darting in and pressing the button for the top floor. She had to swipe the key card again and punch in a four digit code she memorized weeks ago, but the doors still slid shut and the massive glass box rose.

           Grinning like a fiend, Mare glanced over her shoulder at the green land stretching out behind her. She had to borrow Bree’s car to drive out to this place, and it almost didn’t make it. Her brother’s check engine light had been on since he bought the car, but he assured her it could make it the fifty mile trip and back. It had coughed the whole way, but it got her here. Beyond the trees she could just make out the highway she took with cars rushing along it.

           The first time she saw this place, she was afraid of it. Why was it so far away from everything, why was it so tucked away? What were they trying to hide behind the wall of trees? She hadn’t entire believed the excuses they gave, but she was at least certain they weren’t building nuclear weapons at this place.

           The doors slid open silently to a long hallway with dark floors and another bank of windows for a wall. Stepping out into the sunshine, Mare strolled forward, adjusting her hair and jacket as she went. Turning a corner, she passed a few smaller offices that belonged to some of the board members that held staff positions. The only one that was closed belonged to one of the only people she really, really didn’t want to see.

           Volo Samos made her nervous. If there was anyone who might be trying to make a nuclear weapon in this place, it was that man. She edged by his office, glancing through the swaying vertical shades to see if he was actually there or he had left for lunch. He was sitting at his desk on the phone.

Scurrying past him, Mare quickened her pace. If he was here, then the rest of the board might be too. Which meant she might be walking in on a meeting. Not exactly the best option, and neither was sitting outside in the hall and waiting.

           She had been so certain that there was nothing happening this week. She had planned everything around that fact. Maybe she should have called… just to make sure before she drove all the way out here.

           Before she knew it though, she was standing before the heavy dark wood doors at the end of that hall. She had never been nervous to open them. They were intimidating with an exterior that was meant to deter people, but once you opened them and peeked inside there was nothing to fear, just like with the man behind them. She knew that, and yet, she had to squash the shake in her hand as she nudge the door open a fraction.

           The office was empty.

           Throwing the door open all the way, she stepped inside and glanced awkwardly around the space. She had spent enough time in here that she knew there were very few places to hide. Not that Cal would have any reason to hide in his own office. Pursing her lips she pushed the door closed and stormed over to the desk before throwing her bag down behind it and tossing herself into the chair. It spun in a slow circle with her momentum until she faced the back windows. Slouching down she tried to determine her next move with a pout. Maybe he had left for lunch. It wouldn’t surprise her. If the board members were here, then he might have had to play the good CEO and daddy’s boy he was supposed to be and taken them all to lunch to placate them. But Volo was here… so maybe they hadn’t gone to lunch?

           She had put makeup on for this surprise. Honestly, was it so hard for him to be in the place he was supposed to be at this time?

           Forcing out a sigh, she crossed her arms and spun the chair back around with her toes to look at the papers scattered around the desk. Cal was perhaps one of the most messily organized people she had ever met. He was an oxymoron himself though, so it only made sense. She picked up a thick stack of papers that were clipped together and lifted one of the corners between her finger and thumb like it was radioactive. She didn’t understand a word on the next page or the numbers scribbled in the margins. Putting it back in its place she glanced at the few pictures he kept on his desk.

           The first time she had been in his office he had been on a phone call, and she had to entertain herself. She had picked up the pictures and made up the stories behind them while he watched her out of the corner of his eye. The picture of the two little boys crouched and playing in the mud on the edge of a lake was her favorite. She had been confused by it at first, until she saw the one next to it, with the same two boys almost a decade later in front of the Roman Coliseum.

Cal and his brother vaguely looked like brothers. They had similar features, but they wore them very differently. Where Cal was tall and broad, his younger brother was lean and sharp. Their eyes were strikingly different, but it was to be expected. She’d met Maven twice in the year she’d dated Cal. The first time was when he flew home for their father’s retirement party. He’d been quiet and reserved the whole evening until Cal dragged him out for a drink with her after to introduce them, properly as Cal had teased. When the brothers were alone and not around their father, they were different people. Maven especially. He seemed to soften, to melt a little bit. It had surprised her that someone could be so different just because the personnel around them changed. But Maven was a master of it.

The second time she’d seen him, Cal dragged her halfway across the world to Scotland to surprise Maven on his birthday. Cal’s brother lived as far from their father as possible, and honestly, Mare didn’t blame him. Unfortunately, Cal wasn’t afforded that luxury. Hence the rule book she had to follow.

           He had a picture with his uncle next to that. The man was a few years younger than her father, but he caried those years poorly. Still, he adored Mare,  and she didn’t have to pretend to tolerate him, unlike most of the other people that surrounded Cal at a given time.

A picture with his father was next to that one. It was a close second favorite of Mare’s. She couldn’t stand his father, the man was insufferable, but she loved to look at the younger version of Cal. He looked impossibly different as a kid, so different she almost hadn’t recognized him in the picture. She had told him that he reminded her of a taffy piece that was pulled too long in that picture. He was only ten in it, but his legs were already too long for him, and he was thin as a pole. He certainly had grown into his body, but the smile he gave to the camera there… he only gave it to her now. Or at least, she thought he did. She’d never seen him smile that brightly at anyone else.

           Next to that, tucked almost behind the other pictures was a photograph of a young woman in a window box with a toddler resting on her legs. She smiled at him, clutching his hands in hers, completely unaware of the camera trained on her. Cal didn’t talk about it, or the woman in it, but Mare wormed it out of Julian that Cal’s mother was a sore subject with everyone. Even though she was smiling in the picture, Mare could almost sense the sadness that radiated from her. She didn’t look much older than Mare in that picture. No doubt she had been tied up with the same strings and restrictions Mare faced now. If that were the case, Mare wasn’t surprised she had been so sad. The rules and regulations that came with dating a powerful person were like a cage. It worried Mare some days. She didn’t like being confined, but when she was with Cal away from all of this, she didn’t feel that way. It was only when they were together around other people that she did. More oxymorons where the man was concerned.

           The door into the office opened and Mare snapped to attention as Cal stepped in. His hands were full with papers he shuffled through while balancing his phone on his shoulder and speaking with someone. He’d nudged the door open with his hip and because of that, he had yet to turn and face her.

           Even though she hated all the restrictions she had to face while she dated him, she knew they didn’t truly bother her because he was hers. All of him carefully folded into a suit that hugged every muscle made her stomach tighten and other parts flutter. And all of it was hers, some nobody from a backwater city block. She sometimes felt like a tiny dragon hording a single coin when she was with him. She didn’t have much to her name, never had and probably never would, but he was hers. She wasn’t sure if she would get to keep him, but she planned to enjoy every last second that she could with him.

           Her lips curled into a smile as she leaned back in the chair and crossed her leg over the other, trying to paint a picture of coyness. It was probably not the best showing of it, but Cal was a miserable good boy who couldn’t handle anything remotely teasing.

           The papers ended up on the other side of the desk from her, while he shifted to hold the phone and rest his other fist on the table. The muscle in his jaw that always twitched when he was irritated fluttered like a bird’s wing now. He pressed his fingers into his closed eyes as if he could force whatever headache was probably there away with just that touch.

           “We didn’t agree to that when we signed the papers. They can’t come back and impose that restriction on us now.”            She squirmed in the chair at the tone in his voice. There were multiple sides to Cal that she had seen. There was her Cal, who had no idea how to dance, and who blushed whenever she teased him. Then there was the Cal she sometimes got at one in the morning who would grab the inside of her leg while he whispered in her ear exactly what he was going to do. Then there was this Cal. The one who had been heir to an empire company since the day he was born, and who could command a room like it was any other Tuesday. Sometimes it was hot to watch him do it. Right now though, it was the opposite. He wasn’t happy with something, and it honestly sounded like the last thing he needed was her here.

           She decided she definitely should have called before coming.

           Edging the chair back with her toes, it squeaked as it went over the floor, and his eyes darted up to her before widening.

           With an awkward smile, she wiggled her fingers in greeting before spinning the chair to face the back windows. Her cheeks were burning, and there were other parts that had melted to a very dangerous temperature. The look he gave her as he looked up at been fleeting, but it had been enough to put her on the teetering edge of deciding to grab him and pin him to the desk, or ask him to do just that with her.

           “Deal with this. Don’t call back until you have.”

           The silence following his words told her, that she was now the singular focus of his attention. His gaze was like a brand even through the leather of the chair. Crossing her arms and adjusting her posture accordingly, she went to spin the chair back around. He beat her to it though, spinning it to face him and tipping it back slightly so she had an easier time looking up at him.

           “I don’t believe I left anything at the apartment.”

           “You left me.” Mare pouted with a withering stare in his direction.

           “Very funny. Now how did you even get up here?”

           With a smirk, Mare fished the ID card out of her pocket and flashed it before him proudly. He snatched it from her hand with a startled gasp.

           “Mare… what the… what are you a thief now?”

           “Obviously.” She waved her hand to dismiss his comment before gesturing to the card. “You should really get lanyards to put those on by the way. I just kinda grabbed that off her desk. And if I got it anyone else could have—”  

           “You can’t go around stealing people’s ID cards. She needs this to get around the building.” He gestured at her with it, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

           “Well I needed it more in the moment.” Mare reasoned with a smile before leaning back in the chair. She didn’t really feel that bad, but the worry starting to etch itself into Cal’s brows did make her feel a little guilty.

           He tossed it unceremoniously onto the desk before sitting on the edge of it and massaging his face slowly with his hands.

“While I’m happy to see you, I don’t have time to deal with anything outside of work today.” His words were muffled by his palms but she could still hear every stressed syllable. Even when his work got stressful, which it undoubtably was at times, he still could push it aside whenever he saw her. Whatever he had been on the phone about had been serious, serious enough that he actually wasn’t all that happy to see her.

           “What happened?” Mare asked, scooting the chair close enough for her to set her hands on his thighs and squeeze gently. Now was not the time to be thinking about just how well that suit fit, but the thought still crossed her mind. Along with a few choice other thoughts.

           “Stupidity.”

           Cocking her head to the side, she waited for him to elaborate. It took him a moment, but he eventually dropped his hands and let his head fall back to look to the ceiling.

           “We signed papers on a deal a year ago. When that happens it’s done, the contract is sealed and stored away. In that contract, we agreed that should anything happen with a shipment, we were not liable. The group we shipped to doesn’t like that anymore, because a 30.5 million dollar shipment got lost.”

           Now it made sense to her. This wasn’t anger, or frustration. This was stress. Stress she could handle.

“How does one misplace 30.5 million dollars?” She teased before running hers hand up and down his legs.

“I don’t know. But there are five different parties all in a screaming match over it, including us. And if the other four don’t back down anytime soon, I’m going to have to find 30.5 million dollars somewhere.” His eyes darted down to her as she brushed her thumbs along the inside of his thighs. Glancing up through her lashes at him then, she tilted her head ever so slightly.

“And that is hard because?”

“Does it look like I have 30.5 million dollars lying around to just throw at someone?” He reasons, and the dips in his cadence brought a smirk to her lips. Now she had his attention. Pushing up to her feet she slid between his knees until she could drape her arms around his neck. Immediately, his hands found her hips and hugged her closer still.

“I’m sure there are one or two things you could sell in this building to cover that cost.” She ran her thumb along the back of his neck, before tracing the spot at the base of his jaw. His head tilted in the opposite direction, trying to escape the feather light touch. Both of them knew exactly what it did after all. Smirking at his reaction, Mare ran her other hand along his shoulder, tracing the contours she knew by heart.

“I bet I could pick out one of two things.”

“I don’t need to find the thirty and a half because it’s not our fault what happened.” He squeezed her hips, and even though she could see the fight in his eyes, it was quickly guttering. The tension in his shoulders was still more than she would have liked, but that tended to be where he kept most of it.

“So stressed out over something that isn’t even your fault.” She teased as she pressed her thumb into the knot closest to his neck. He tensed under her, but didn’t speak. At this point, his voice had already dropped an octave, and Mare had known him long enough now to know that when he went silent like this, he was trying to hide just how far she had pushed him. “Do you want help releasing some of that?”

“Not unless you can get up in front of five different boards and convince them otherwise.” She had to admire how even he kept his voice. It still wavered in a few places as he tried to remain composed under her scrutiny. Dropping her hands from around his shoulders to land on his thighs again, she squeezed hard enough to emphasize her next point.

“That sounds like a challenge.” Mare actually witnessed his pupils dilate as she dropped her voice an octave too. “You and I both know it’s not much of one. I can be very persuasive.”

“You’re gonna get us both in more trouble than I can get us out of.” He whispered to her, a tiny smile lifting the edges of his lips. The glint in his eye made her stomach flutter, especially as he started to finger the waistband of her pants. She didn’t want him to put his hands under it just yet though, she still had one surprise she wanted to save.

Pulling back to slip out of his arms, she dropped back into the chair with a proud smirk. “Then I see no reason to not walk me down there, call up these assholes, and have me deal with them.”

His hands grasped the air where she had been a second ago as his mind failed to register her abrupt disappearance. Frowning, he leaned forward to grab the arms of the chair and pull her close again. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she watched him look her over and hold for a little too long on her lips.

“I’d love to see them try and deal with you.”

Oh she was going to make him sweat so very much.

Grabbing his face and yanking it down to hers, she crushed her lips against his. He tasted like mint toothpaste, and he smelled like that cologne she bought him for Christmas. Gisa said it was cheap, but he’s smiled and thanked her for it anyway. And now he was wearing it. The very idea sent a thrill through her.

With a groan, he slid his hands along her legs and then underneath them to grab her ass and hike her out of her chair until she was flush against his chest. Her lips curled into a smile as she took his lower lip between her teeth and pulled hard enough to draw a sound from the back of his throat. Knotting her fingers in his hair, she tugged and whispered, “You get to deal with me first.”

His eyes opened, barely an inch from hers, and the look in them sent a shiver down her spine. When he looked at her like that, it drove her half mad every time. “Put me down and I’ll show you just how persuasive I can be.”

He set her down with exaggerated stillness, making sure to drag her body along his so she could feel every inch of him. Smirking at getting her way, Mare nudged him back until he was sitting on his desk. Bracing her hands on either side of him, she asked, “Which do you want first? Surprise one, or surprise two?”

His brow quirked, and he slid a hand around her waist to pull her between his legs. “I want you, just you.”

When his voice dropped that deep, it made it very difficult to stay focused on what she had planned. But she wanted to see him squirm, and if there was anything Mare Barrow was, it was persistent.

“Surprise number two it is.” She grinned like a cat with a mouse as she hooked his belt with a finger and trailed it along the waistband of his pants to the buckle. Humming to herself, she undid it, sliding it through each loop like a needle with thread. When it was fully out, she held it up with a wink. “Give me your wrists.”

Even in the heat of it all, his cheeks burned. Immediately he put his hands behind his back. Pouting at his movement, she lowered the belt. “It’s no fun if you don’t play along.”

“Can’t be restrained. I may have to get to my phone.”

“Then I’ll answer it and tell them you’re busy.” She teased before cupping the back of his neck and pulling him close to ghost her lips across his. He sighed, and the tension in his shoulders melted as she ran her hand along one side. She loved when he scrambled in these moments. Locked between a rock and hard place, he was like turtle on its back. If all she had to do to knock him down was insinuate like this, she would do it every night.

When he pulled away with narrowed eyes, she released a mock exasperated sigh and tossed the belt away. “Fine, next time.” Without giving him a moment of relief, she unbuttoned his pants and tugged to start sliding them off. “But since it’s my job to help you relieve stress, here’s what I’m going to do.”

He visibly swallowed, even as he helped her slide his pants off. Running her hands up his legs after she dropped them, Mare chewed on her lip. “If you can keep it together for longer than ten minutes, I will let you do me from behind.”

His eyes widened, shock pouring out of every pore of his body. She hated that position, and always refused it. It was the most degrading thing, she insisted. If a man was going to fuck her, he should look her in the eye while he did it. She may be trash from the other side of the tracks, but she knew her worth.

           “Ten?” He breathed, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall next to them.

           “Ten.” She confirmed before crouching down. “But it has to be ten. If you cheat, I’ll know because I will be keeping track of the time.”

           His mouth opened to refute before closing with a snap.  She could see him working it over, trying to determine whether or not she would play fair. She never really did, but this time she made a promise to herself that she would. Besides, she trusted him to at least make the whole experience entertaining.

           “Clock starts when I do.” She teased before tugging on the waistband of his boxers, making the elastic snap back. He tensed at the feeling, until she pulled them off too.

           Perhaps it was the fact that she had snuck up here, or maybe it was the fact that anyone—including one of the most prestigious board members—could walk in on them at any second, but the sight of him sent electricity along every nerve in her body.

           It was ten minutes. He wouldn’t make it to five, she told herself as she dragged her tongue along her lower lip. With that thought for reassurance, she gripped his thighs and closed her mouth over his cock. Immediately she felt the muscles in his legs tense, and his breathing hitched. She hummed, almost laughing at his reaction as he immediately grabbed the hair on the back of her head and pulled. She slid back an inch before diving back down, taking more than she had before. The groan he released was loud enough that she almost paused to make sure no one had heard. There was the fun in this, she supposed, getting caught might be exciting.

           “Mare.” He gasped as she continued her ministrations, and began to trail her nails along his skin up to his hips. Forcing her head down further, he muttered a breathless apology when she gagged. Digging her nails and fingers into his skin, she smiled and hummed again.

           “Fuck.” He spit the word like poison and bucked against her, earning another hum from her. “Not fair, that’s not fair.” He panted as she picked up the pace of her work.

           His finger dug into her scalp as he pulled even harder on her hair. She stayed on like a leach though, stifling a laugh at his squirming. His other hand gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white, and his legs tensed in time with each of her movements. But the stubborn bastard kept it together, and no matter what she tried in her arsenal, he only cursed and gripped that desk until she thought it might splinter.

           “Ten,” he crowed with a breathless laugh. “That’s ten.”

           Mare snapped away with a grunt, swiping her hand along her mouth, smearing the lip gloss across her cheek. Glowering up at him, she grumbled a curse word that would have made her mother slap her across the mouth. A deal was a deal.

           “Don’t look so bitter about it.” He teased, before cupping her face and lowering himself to capture her lips. His tongue darted along hers as his fingers gently pushed the hair he had pulled behind her ears.

           When she pulled away for air, her chest ached and the space between her legs ached even more. “I’ve got one more surprise for you.” She rose to her full height, and had the pleasure of seeing a bead of sweat roll down from his hairline. He had barely made it. If she was being honest, she would say that she hadn’t been keeping track of the time. She’d lost all of it to the feeling of his hips rocking and the tension of his muscles.

           Backing away a step, she winked at his confusion. “Remember a few weeks ago when I went to mall and made you go find something to do?” She fingered the zipper of her jacket, another bolt of electricity ran down her spine as he straightened up, completely attentive to her. “I was saving this for your birthday, but I got tired of waiting.”

As she went to unzip the jacket, he leaped, catching her hands almost knocking her over. Scrambling to stay on her feet, Mare let him take her whole weight as she gasped. “Fucking hell Cal—”

“Let me.” He smirked as he straightened her up and grabbed the zipper before she could. With a gentle tug, he unzipped it halfway, his eyes darkening again as he caught sight of the top half. She’d picked it carefully, the first time she’d ever done something like that honestly. Normally she grabbed things off the rack and hoped it matched. This though, she had taken her time selecting.

He had the jacket off in less than a heartbeat, and his fingers danced along the thin black lace of the corset. His eyes followed his hands as he searched the whole thing over, making her swallow in uncertainty. He trailed a knuckle along one of the many straps, his teeth obviously working at the inside of his cheek. Gently, he grabbed the waistband of her sweat pants and pulled them down as he dropped into a crouch before her. His eyes widened at the matching bottoms.

Immediately, his hands gripped the back of her legs as he glanced up at her. The weight of that stare could crush her if she didn’t realize that it was the most reverent of gazes. He looked at her like she had put the stars in the sky, and hung the moon too. It she was honest, she would admit that it might go to her head a little bit ans that the smile she gave him was mostly fed by that. She could bring this man to his knees by simply standing in a pair of lacy panties.

           “Where,” he voice cracked on the word, and his fingers dug into her hamstrings a little more before he dragged his lips up the inside of her bare thigh. “Where did you keep this?”

           Threading a hand through his hair, she exhaled in a sigh as his lips grazed the seam along the inside of her thigh. “You like it?”

           “I’ll like it better when it’s on the floor.” He murmured before sliding his hand up to grip her ass again. She almost yelped, and grabbing his shoulders she let out a breathless laugh as he pressed more kisses along the inside of her thigh.

           Standing up, he kept his hand on her as he lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and let him spin her around to the desk. With a quick sweep of his hand, he sent the papers all over it to the side before laying her down on it. With a tug, he dragged her back to the edge so she was still straddling him and braced his hands on either side of her head. She panted as she watched his lips curl into a hint of a smile.

           “Forget fucking you from behind.” He murmured, before lowering himself to trail his nose along her sternum. “I want to see every inch of you in this.”

           She grinned triumphantly as he slid a hand up her side to squeeze her breast, made far more generous with the help of the corset. It had been a good idea to listen to the pushy sales girl just because of that. “Good thing you don’t have to take it off.”

           His brow quirked in confusion, and sliding her hand down her body, she opened her legs a little wider to brush her fingers along herself. “Made sure it would be easy for you. Didn’t want you to feel intimidated by all the straps and buckles.”

           The snort he let out made her laugh, and she smiled as he stole the sound from her lips with a kiss. Rubbing his hips against hers, he lifted them off the table slightly until she was arched against him. Groaning when she felt how hard he was, she dug her nails into his arms, and said, “If I knew all it took to get you like this was wearing a pretty scrape of lace, I would buy sexier panties.”

           “I happen to like the panties you already own.” He teased before reaching between her legs for the bundle of nerves there. Rubbing in a tortuously slow circle, he grinned down at her as she craned her head back so her hair spilled across the desk. Grabbing onto the edge above she tried to grind against his palm, seeking further friction.

           Dropping his lips to her neck, he let his finger slide down to penetrate her. Groaning loud enough that she actually slapped her other hand over her mouth, Mare arched until her chest was smashed against his. He let out his own pleased sound at how wet he found her, and let her grind against his palm.

           “Can you last ten minutes?” He whispered in her ear before catching her earlobe with his teeth and pulling lightly. Mare twitched in response to the movement of his finger inside of her, whimpering when he pressed a kiss to the point where her pulse pounded in her neck. And although this was heavenly, she’d be damned if he won at this.

           Setting her jaw, she squeezed her legs together, earning a laugh from him as he withdrew his hand and brought his fingers to his lips. Sitting up quick enough to make herself dizzy, she grabbed his wrist to stop him from putting those fingers in his mouth. He froze as she closed her lips around his fingers and glanced up at him through her lashes. Releasing them with a pop, she watched his pupils dilate until they swallowed almost his entire iris.

           Smirking when a blush exploded across his cheeks and neck, she licked her lips and said, “You won’t even last that long.”

           Without speaking, he put a hand to her shoulder and slowly guided her back down to the desk as he stood over her. He pinned her hips down with his other hand as he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly and said, “I will take that as a challenge.”

           Mare’s heart fluttered in her chest at the tone of his voice, and how deep it had dropped. Keeping her breathing as level as possible, she closed her eyes as he traced a hand along her side and cupped her breast before leaving open mouthed kissed along the column of her throat.

“Cal,” she breathed his name in a gentle exhale as she threaded her fingers into his hair at the same time that he slipped his hand to her entrance again and pressed his palm against her.

           “Say my name like that again.” He whispered in her ear. “And I will do anything you want.”

           “Anything?” Her voice hitched as she ground against his palm, her eyes fluttering as she sought out the friction he denied her as he teasingly pulled away.

           His lips pulled up into a hint of a smile as he withdrew enough that she chased him with her lips. Their breath mixed as he rested his forehead against hers, and through her lightly fuzzy and crossed vision she could see the depths of his irises. Dark gold, and amber like honey. She could drown in them and be happy.

“Anything.” He answered her.

           Lowering herself back to the desk, she pulled him with her while her other hand threaded between them to grab his hip and pull him closer. Without breaking eye contact, he let her guide him to her entrance. With a sigh, she tipped her head back and locked her ankles behind his hips as he pulled her completely to the edge of the desk.

           “Cal.” She whispered as she grabbed the top of the desk again and squeezed her eyes shut.

           “That’s my girl.” He replied before putting a hand on her hip to keep her pinned to the desk and pulled out before pushing in deeper. Mare bucked against him, gasping as she clenched her thighs together around his hips, pulling him closer. Bracing his other hand next to her head, he dropped his chin as he moved in and out.            She only regretted doing this here for half a second, since she had to contain whatever sounds she made to minimal volumes. The last thing they needed was Volo Samos hearing something or coming to investigate what he was hearing. Although that might have been part of the thrill. If they were at her apartment, she could be as loud as she wanted, even with the window open. The traffic outside was loud enough to mask anything that happened in her shoebox apartment.

           “Harder.” She panted as she dragged her nails down the side of his nice shirt. She wanted to tear it off of him, to get to his skin underneath. He caught her hand before she could do just that, and pinning that hand above her head he obliged her. She half yelped, half gasped as she slid along the desk until her head almost dangled off the edge.

           Like a light switch flickering on and off, the light beyond her closed eyelids alternated with each meeting of their hips. She could feel the change in pace as he sensed her reaching her climax, and her lips curled into a pleased smile even as she arched slightly, hoping to escape him to last longer. He laughed softly at her attempt and pulled her toward him until she was dangling off the desk and had to grab on or risk falling to the floor. He caught her, but she still gasped as the change in angle pushed her completely over the edge so she shattered like glass. Every muscle in her legs contracted and her chest hitched on the rapid inhale she took. Curling around him as much as she could in her position, she stifled any other sound that wanted to come out.

           The best part? She knew she had lasted longer than ten minutes. The worst part? She wanted him again. And there was no way that was going to happen because as she sat there panting after he put her back on the desk and bent over to kiss her lightly, she heard the subtle ringing from a cell phone.

           “You’re getting a call.” She panted in his ear as she ran her fingers through his hair. It was damp now, and his chest pushed into hers with every inhale he took around his rapid heartbeat.

           “It can wait.” He murmured in reply before pressing a kiss against her jaw again.

           “I thought thirty and a half million dollars meant a lot right now.” She laughed as she traced a finger down the column of his spine from his neck to the middle of his back. He turned the full force of his gaze on her and she almost melted into a puddle in the heat of it.

           “You’re worth more than that. More than any deal, any job.” He kissed the tip of her nose. It kept her from turning away to hide the blush that exploded across her cheeks. He traced a thumb along it, and smiling at her he continued, “Who’s blushing now?”

           With an amused roll of her eyes, she traced a finger along his jaw in response to his light touches. This close to him, she realized he was beautiful, in the same way a marble statue in a museum was. She used to think he belonged in places like that, surrounded by priceless and irreplaceable objects that everyone paid to see.

           “I love you.” She tilted her head to the side, testing the phrase again. It was only the third or fourth time she had used it seriously with him. The weight of it settled over him, and he brought her fingers to his lips to press a kiss to them.

           “I love you.” He dropped the hand and pulled her into a sitting position so she could drop her legs from around his waist. Still connected with him, she trailed her fingers along his arms and drank her fill of him with her eyes. A part of her knew that someday she would lose him. Nothing in her life was ever truly hers and he luck had always been rotten, it was why she never bought a lottery ticket. And of course, his father did not like her. He wanted her gone because he saw her as an obstacle, or a hurdle his son would trip over. It took everything to not dig her fingers into Cal’s arm when they were around his father. Maybe if she did so, she could tattoo herself onto him and never lose him.

           “What are you thinking so deeply about?” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and pressed another kiss to the tip of her nose.

           “Nothing important.” She lied effortlessly, the smile she conjured for him almost real. If he saw through it he didn’t comment. The phone rang again from its sad position on the floor where it had ended up, and this time they both looked at it. The screen was lit up and he grimaced at the number showing on it.

           “I think you have to take that one.” Mare whispered before pressing a kiss to his cheek and sliding away from him to hop off the desk. He managed to catch her, and bring her to his chest before she could escape. Closing her eyes, she let herself melt against him for a second, inhaling the smell of his cologne and the smell of her that was now on him.

           When he pulled away to grab the phone off the floor and his pants from their pile near it, she sank back into the chair and watched his back as he finally answered the call. Whatever he was saying was like a buzz against her ears. She could only see him right then: the man he was, and the one he could become. She hated what he was in a small part of herself. But he wasn’t… he wasn’t like the other people he had spent most of his life around. And neither was his brother. Maybe that’s what that life did to people like them. Pushed them so hard that they turned out the opposite of their parents.

           He glanced at her with a smile as he managed to step into his pants with one hand and pull them up. She conjured up another smile for him and stood to fix his hair. He leaned down far enough that she could do that while he went about stringing his belt back into his pants. She trailed her fingers along his chest and down to the buckle and wrestled his fingers from it to clasp it shut herself.

           By the time she had finished he was done with the call, and was sitting in silence watching her work. She glanced up at him through her lashes, but he cupped the back of her head so she tipped her head back completely to him. His thumb rubbed a soothing rhythm along the back of her skull as he whispered, “I have to go. They found a solution.”

           She nodded. “So I guess you don’t have to bring out the big guns and put me in front of them.” Her smile was easy even as she prepared to pull away from him again. He held her steady, staring into her eyes for a long moment.

Just after the silence had stretched too far, he whispered, “Thank you.”

           “For what?” She managed to disentangle herself from him, and turned to gather her clothes. If he was leaving she needed to disappear too. They couldn’t leave together though, or people might notice. And she did not need it getting back to his father that she had broken any of those stupid rules. Then she might as well consider this the last time she ever saw him. What a last time it would be though. It would live with her for the remainder of what she had heard his father call a measly insignificant little life.

           “Everything. You… you make me impossibly happy Mare.” He threaded an arm around her waist before pulling her back against his chest and laying a kiss on top of her head. She finally melted completely into his arms. Wrapping his forearms with hers to trap him for a moment longer she closed her eyes. Suddenly, she didn’t care about the rules she had agreed to. Rules were meant to be broken, and she had always excelled at doing just that. With him, she would break every rule and scatter the ashes of them to the wind.

[wavesmp3]

[ksw] clouds

sunwoo x reader

wc. 5k warnings: medical inaccuracies, death, illness, hospitals, overall just a pretty heavy piece genre can only be described as an absolute mess inspired mainly by san junipero but also slightly by charlie kaufman and wong kar wai

a/n: this is supposed to be told nonlinearly but like the creation of it was very messy so i have no clue if it actually worked, so good luck trying to make this piece make sense of this :) 

act iii. scene iii.

Sunwoo sits and watches the sun shift from pink and blue to an impossible shade of green. And it’s then he knows that without a doubt Clara has ruined the color green for him. Because instead of marveling at the color of the sky, Sunwoo is reminded of the doors in her apartment building.

“Thought I might find you here.” The voice of a stranger who Sunwoo loved once upon a time says behind him. He tries like hell not to turn around. Not to lean back towards the voice and wait for your hand on his shoulder or your shin knocking familiarly against his back. He focuses on the waves crashing below instead. The roar of the water beneath him is deafening, but only if you let it be. He does, and he almost forgets that you’re behind him.

“Where’d you go?” You ask, now sitting next to him, tugging at the long grass. 

“I’m right here.”

“And what about in there?” You bring a finger up and poke at the side of his forehead. 

He turns to you, facing you in full. He takes in your features like it’s the first time all over again. And, oh, he wishes he knew before how many firsts you already had together. This is just another. This is just the first time he’s seen you in the past six months and remembered the thousands of times he’s seen your face before. 

He studied your cheeks. The one he now recalls running the back of his palm over after you left for the Cloud. 

He memorizes, for the millionth time, your eyes. He used to swear they were darker than they are, but then he saw them in the sun. He was dying back then; then he saw your eyes and you saved him. Just like that. 

Mr. Choi was right of course. As he always must be. You and him are like an old married couple. Not like. You are. Almost were. 

“I had lunch with Mr. Choi today.” He tells you. 

You squint at him. “I know. It’s Thursday.” You pull out a piece of the grass. “What’d he make?”

“Ramen.”

“Was it good?”

“It was okay.”

“Too spicy?”

Suwnoo answers with a sigh, looking away from you and back towards the water. The deafening waves crash against the cliffside. “I know you looked at your file.” He finally says. You stop pulling at the grass. You still. “Mr. Choi told me.”

After he says it, there’s a silence that isn’t actually silent at all. The waves rage below his feet. The seagulls are there too, beneath, above, somewhere, everywhere. And then, of course, there’s you and Sunwoo, trying to be silent over the static in your heads and the machines you’re hooked up to in a universe far far away. 

“Did he tell you about my file?”

He looks at you again. “No.”

“Oh.” You look away, brows furrowed, lick your lips, and then turn back to him. “So why are you upset?”

“After he told me, I went and I…”

“You didn’t.”

“I looked at mine.”

There’s another silence, except that this time it really is quiet. Sunwoo read once whilst in a rabbit hole of medical research that true silence only happens in a vacuum, where there is no medium for sound waves to travel through. This must be that. This place, the files, Mr. Choi and Mr. Chan, Clara and her apartment building full of green doors--it’s a vacuum. And they stick people in it then call it the Cloud. They call it extra time. But it isn’t. It’s nothing and he’s stuck in the middle of it. So Sunwo stares at you, straight through the vacuum of time and space you’re both lost in, waits for you to say something, and then waits for himself to hear it. 

“You looked?” You finally say, voice folding in on itself. 

“Yes.” Sunwoo’s own voice is barely there. You must be reading his lips which you’ve always been good at anyways. 

“So you know now?” 

“I always knew, and now, I remember.”

act i. scene iv.

There’s been an accident. 

That’s what they say when the sun falls out of the sky and the world starts spinning in the wrong direction. It’s how they show up at Sunwoo’s door painted in shades of blue and red, with authority in their arms and hands on their hips. How they prepare him for the looming moment where they rip past his skin, blood, bone to shoot a gun straight at his heart. I’m so sorry for your loss, they say leaving him with a bullet lodged somewhere between his left and right atrium. 

And those are the four words that play over and over and over in Sunwoo’s head as he gets to the hospital. Those are the words that crawl inside his open chest and turn him blue and black with infection. There’s been an accident, he remembers, staring at the extraordinary measures taken to keep your heart beating and lungs beating. This is it. Except that the accident isn’t that you’re dying, but that you’re dying. It’s always supposed to have been him. He’s supposed to be the one stuffed with tubes and hooked up to monitors, the one whose life is hanging on by a thread, and you’re supposed to be the one that saves him. It all feels like a play that’s gone horribly wrong because everyone switched parts after intermission without telling him. At what point did you steal the role of dying protagonist from him? 

We did everything we could, a stranger in a white coat says. Except that it’s not some stranger, it’s your colleague and co-worker because this is the hospital you work at and the hospital Sunwoo met you in. There was too much damage to the brain, they explain as the image of their tear-stricken face goes from your friend during intern year to the doctor who operated on you as your brain went dead. 

“We have two options, right?” Sunwoo is far too familiar with surgery and all this. He knows from his hospital days what’s supposed to happen next. But apparently, things have changed since then. 

“Actually, there’s a third option.”

Sunwoo doesn’t waste a second. He jumps out of the chair stained red from his bleeding heart and asks: “What is it?”

“We can upload them.”

act iii. scene ii.

In fifty days of living in the cloud, Sunwoo has learned all about the people that he shares a building with. There’s Mr. Chan who lives behind a vomit green on the same floor as him and who hasn’t left his room since last January. There’s also Mr. Choi, who lives behind the emerald door and invites Suwoo over for lunch every Thursday. Clara lives upstairs, where the walls are painted in various shades of green--olive, seaweed, moss, hunter, shamrock, sage, and others that Sunwoo tries not to think too deeply about. He’s only met Clara once in the past fifty days and has no particular wish to see her again. He hadn’t expected her to be a kid. Cancer, you told him after their introduction in the lobby, poor girl was only seven. As said before, Sunwoo tries not to think about it. 

And then of course there’s you behind the forest green door who has been slowly showing him all the good places. There’s the beach where you spent the day making seashell necklaces. The  cafe which serves its tea too sweet for him, but sweet enough to be considered your favorite. Sunwoo just gets the chocolate bread. You took him downtown. To a club. The tallest building. And to midtown where the amusement park is. 

But his favorite place you’ve taken him so far is the cliffside above the beach, where the waves crash against the rocks in a way that can only be described as violent. That day you and him laid in the grass and stared at the clouds with your heads dangling just over the edge and water spraying the backs of your necks. That day you turned to him and told him you’re sorry. For what, he asked. I’m so sorry you’re sick, you said, but it’s nice to have you around here. I think in a sense, we’ve both been waiting for this. Then, you smiled and stole all of the blood from his body. So yeah, that day, that place--it’s his favorite. 

Today, you take him on a hike up a mountain. 

“Do you believe in an afterlife?” You ask him after having spent thirty minutes silently staring at the view from the best peak. 

“One after this?”

“Yeah. I guess. Although, I’m not so convinced this counts.”

“I don’t know.” Sunwoo shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Do you think we’d be able to be with our loved ones in it?”

His chest lurches. “If there is one, yes.”

“Do you think it’ll be different than this?”

Sunwoo turns to you finally. “Why are you asking about this?”

You shake your head. “Nevermind. It’s a stupid question.”

He turns back towards the view. From here, he can make out Clara’s building. He thinks about her, about Mr. Choi and Mr. Chan, who he recently found out were once married but who haven’t spoken since Mr. Chan read his file in January, and he thinks about you and about him. 

“I think,” Sunwoo says, loud enough so that you can hear after wandering a little bit away from him, “that whatever the afterlife is, if it does exist, it’ll be worth it.”

You turn to him, but don’t make any move to come near him again. “And if it doesn’t exist?”

“Then life will have been worth it.”

The corner of your lip lifts. “I like that.”

Sunwoo only nods at the sentiment, and after a long while, he builds enough courage to ask, “you’ve been here a really long time, haven’t you?”

“Time doesn't work as linearly in the cloud as it does in the real world. Sometimes it feels like I got here and then you arrived the very next day.” You turn back towards the view and exhale heavily. 

“But yes. I’ve been here for an eternity.”

act ii. scene i.

Before he actually sees you, Sunwoo feels you. Not you, in particular, but something in the distance, a presence in the corner of the room and a pair of eyes watching him from somewhere far away. 

The scariest part is how much the feeling doesn’t actually scare him. 

--

Two days after that, he starts to see you in the flesh. He tells himself that his mind is playing tricks on him, that the person he saw in the produce aisle wasn’t actually you at all and was just a stranger with the same hair. 

He doesn’t go straight home from the store that day. Instead, he stops by the hospital and checks in on you, but even that doesn’t do anything about the fact that he sees a shadow of you behind the bed.

--

The day after that, you speak to him. Standing in the middle of his kitchen in broad daylight, you speak, you say hello, and the first thing Sunwoo thinks is that he’s dead. 

You aren’t, you reply. You’re a zombie, he reasons, here for my brain. I’m not. A ghost. No. Are you, here Sunwoo falters, fear flooding out of his body to make room for the briefest blotch of hope that’s crushed almost immediately by you saying: I’m not alive, Sunwoo. You saw me in the hospital yesterday. 

“So then,” he swallows, “what are you?”

I’m here. You look at him, stare at his face and without a sliver of doubt say, I’m here for you. 

Sunwoo knows it’s impossible. You can’t be here. You can’t. And yet, you are. 

Three years ago Sunwoo was told he had three months left to live, and he still remembers how impossibly you saved him from the brink of death. He remembers how impossible things happen all the time, and how impossibly possible it is that this is one of them. He steps towards you, touches your face, and feels the real, impossible thing against his hand. 

“You’re here.”

--

On the fifth day of your haunting, Sunwoo finally has the sense to ask why. 

Why what?

“Why are you here?”

I’m here for you.

“Stop saying that.”

But I am, you tell him. You asked, and that’s the answer. I’m a doctor, Sunwoo. I’m here for you. 

Then, finally, he hears what you’ve been saying for the past five days. You’re here for him. 

And the thing about doctors is that they’re there for you when you need them. 

“I’m sick.” 

Yes, you answer quietly, although it wasn’t a question. 

“Again.” 

I’m so sorry. 

“You’re a hallucination, aren’t you?” Sunwoo’s shocked by how sad that makes him, how disappointing it is. “I’ve been hallucinating.”

Find me in the Cloud, Sunwoo. There’s something I want to say. 

You’re gone by the time he gets to the hospital. 

act iii. scene i.

Sunwoo stares at the hall of green doors, eyes darting from door to door in an attempt to stare down the shades until they confess which one of them is tea green.

“Clara, the landlord, likes colors.” A voice says from behind him. “Every couple of months she repaints all of the doors in different shades of the same one. Before the green, it was yellow.” 

Sunwoo turns around to face you. When your eyes find him, they go blank for the smallest of moments. You give him a look that goes right through him, turning him inside out like you’ve seen the underside of his skin. It irks him. 

“I’m Sunwoo. I’m new.”

You gulp. “You’re here.” He doesn’t know what to make of the statement. Do all people in the cloud act like this? “Why?”

Sunwoo nods, maybe you’re not so weird as much as you just have a weird way of posing questions. “I was told I’m sick.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, frowning like you actually might feel back for him. 

“Have you been here a while then?” You nod. “Can I ask how long?” You shake your head. Sunwoo doesn’t think too much about it. Instead, he returns your earlier question “Why are you here?”

“Brain dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

You ignore it and point to a door down the hall. “I’m forest green. You?”

“Tea green. But I can’t find-” 

You tap the door in front of him. “This one, genius.”

“Oh.” He laughs awkwardly. “Thanks.”

Your mouth parts as if to say something, and your face goes blank again. He feels his skin turning itself inside out because of it. “Have you read your file yet?”

He shakes his head. “I just got here.”

You inhale, softening, and mutter an ‘okay’. You continue down the hall towards your door. Sunwoo is stuck in place. “I can show you around here, if you like. Take you to all the cool places.”

Sunwoo takes you up on it.

A forest green door slams shut down the hallway. 

act i. scene ii.

“Thank you for taking me out of the hospital.” Sunwoo says, exhaling. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a park like this.” 

And it’s true, he really can’t. He’s been sick for so long now, and has been through a multitude of treatment plans and too many surgeries. When you’re sick and have 9 surgeons turn you down after asking them to save your life, you forget the joy of being outside and feeling the sun on your skin. You were the first doctor to agree to the surgery. You’re the only doctor to have ever treated Sunwoo like he wasn’t dying, like he was actually going to live.

“You don’t have to thank me. This is good for me too.” You say, head resting against the park bench and eyes closed. 

Sunwoo inhales, taking in the park with all his senses. A visceral sort of thing you learn to do as often as possible when you’ve been as close to death as frequently as he has. He feels the wood beneath his body and the grass beneath his feet. He feels the light on his skin and the wind pushing against his arms and nose. He listens to the kids screaming at the playground at the bottom of the hill and to the dogs barking within the dog park beside it. He takes all this in, relishes in it for the last time as a dying person. 

You sigh. “One more surgery.” 

“And then I’ll be done with this sickness.” 

You smile. He pretends not to see. “And then you’ll be done.” 

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“Don’t do that.”

“No. Seriously.” 

You smile again, this time at him. Sunwoo doesn’t have to pretend not to see. “I haven’t finished saving it yet.”

He leans back against the bench and closes his eyes. “But you will.” 

You tap on your coffee cup. “Honestly though, you did more work than me.” Sunwoo frowns while you take a sip. “The other nine doctors you called are good doctors, and they made the same judgement call I would have made for any other patient. No sane doctor would have agreed to treat you. But you were the reason I said yes. You had such faith that you were going to live and so much faith that I could do it that I believed you. I might be the one doing the technical saving, but you, Sunwoo, you’re the one who convinced me to do it. You saved yourself.”

He stares at you. The light hits your eyes like it’s finding a way to break through them. In truth, before Sunwoo got sick, he didn’t think he was scared of death, but he is. He’s terrified of it. Sunwoo realized it two weeks after his diagnosis and the day after he was wrongly told he only had three more months left to live. But now, for the first time since he was diagnosed, he doesn't feel so afraid of it. Despite how far he’s come and how close he is to beating this fucking illness, while staring at the light woven through your eyes, Sunwoo thinks he could live with himself if he dropped dead tonight. 

That thought alone, is almost as terrifying as death used to be. 

act iii. scene v.

“I saw your ghost, you know.” It’s the first thing Sunwoo has said to you in over two weeks. “It wasn’t actually you though, was it?” You don’t even bother looking up from your cup of tea. Through the silence, Sunwoo orders a coffee. 

“I didn’t know that.” The coffee turns lukewarm. “It wasn’t me.” You push an uneaten half of chocolate bread towards him. “It’s in your brain this time. Symptoms can include hallucinations.”

“Think you can still save me?” You can’t. If you know that much, you know he’s out of medical miracles, and that this time, he really won’t survive it. But it’s a joke. And you laugh at it.

“Definitely not. I never really liked neurosurgery.”

And all at once, he’s painfully aware of your friend somewhere in the real world that does like it but watched anyways as your brain died before her, split wide open. 

“Anyways, how do you know all of this?” But what Sunwoo really wants to say is brains are killer. Literally. Figuratively. 

“I’ve known since we...“ you hesitate, mouth stuck halfway through a word he can’t place. “After last time, I read your chart and looked at your scans.” Sunwoo nods. He expected as much. He doesn’t ask how you got them. “I’m sorry you're sick again.” You say to him quietly. “I’m sorry you’re dying.”

“I’m sorry you’re dead.” As soon as the words have left his mouth, he regrets them. Because you aren’t. And he knows you too well to think you’d look past the technicality. 

You scoff, shake your head slightly, and with a spiteful smile say, “Can I say it?”

Sunwoo only sighs. “Let’s start over instead.” 

You nod. He pushes the chocolate bread back. 

act iii. scene iv.

Mr. Choi was the one to recommend that Sunwoo give you and himself space. It’s been a month since you and him last spoke, since that moment hovering above the waves after he read his file and after he found out you read yours. He misses you, and has been for so long now. Mr. Choi was wrong. Sunwoo’s standing outside your forest green door to prove it. 

You open the door before he can knock. There’s no shock in your voice when you say his name, like you’ve been waiting for this day, expecting it. 

He looks behind you, at your apartment in Clara’s building that looks just like your apartment in the real world. The same one he cleaned out after you died, still filled with things he gave to your family or donated or took back to his place. He wants to crumble just looking at it again. “Can I come in?”

“It’s only been a month.”

And he knows what you mean by it. Three months is the recommended time off after reading one’s file. To reacclimate, they say, to process. But the insinuation that Sunwoo was supposed to go three months without seeing you makes him feel sick. The insinuation that after a year of being without you in the real world he was supposed to be without you here too, enrages him. Then he remembers how long you’ve been here, and how long you’ve been doing this and feels slightly murderous.

All he says is: “It’s been a lot longer than that for you.”

Your lip twitches. You lock and unlock the open forest green door five times before saying, “Are you sure?”

He nods. You let him in. 

Sunwoo used to imagine what it would be like to meet you again in the Cloud one day. He imagined tears and hugs and kisses. He imagined i love you’s and i hate you’s and i miss you. He imagined the scenario more times than can possibly be considered healthy. But he imagined something. He was waiting for the day. Waiting for this day. But this moment, sitting at your round wood table while you boil water for tea, is nothing like the million different ways he imagined seeing you again. 

And as you set down two mismatched mugs and take the seat across from him, he doesn’t even try to create one of them. “How long has it been since you read your file?”

You watch the steam rise from your tea for a long moment, then stand, grab the sugar and pour a spoonful of it into your tea. You take another spoonful and look at him expectantly. “Want some?” He nods, and you pour the sugar into his. You stir the tea then taste, then cringe, then add more sugar and then ask if he wants it. He refuses. You stir again. Sunwoo watches the whirlpool and waits the eternity it takes you to say: “I read it on my first day.”  

You put the sugar away, satisfied with the tea’s sweetness while Sunwoo marvels at how long you’ve known and how silently you’ve been carrying the knowledge of you and him since he came. And that knowledge is what makes him finally remember one of the reasons he came. “Is there something you want to tell me?” You look up at him when he asks it, exhaling like you’ve been wanting to bring it up for so long now, which Sunwoo guesses isn’t as much of a simile as he thinks it is. 

“Yes, actually. I…” you hesitate, flicking the mug as if the right words will come hopping out of the tea. Sunwoo watches for it. “I’ve just been here for a long time now, Sunwoo.”

“Two years isn’t that long.”

“Time doesn’t work the same here as it does down there.” You tell him tiredly. “It’s been decades.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“In the beginning, I didn’t mind the waiting. I knew you were on your way, but I just,” you hesitate, “I didn’t think it’d take so long for you to come back to me.” 

Sunwoo covers your hand with his. “I’m sorry.” You twist your palm into it, squeeze, then pull your hand away. Sunwoo swallows. “I came as fast as I could.”

“I know. I waited.”

“Do you regret it?” Sunwoo’s terrified of what the answer might be.

You don’t give it. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“Then?”

“I’ve been here for so long, and,” your head drops, voice breaking under the weight it carries, “it’s been so lonely.”

“But I’m here now.” Sunwoo says, leaning forward against the table. “You aren’t alone anymore.”

“I know you’re here. I know, and I thought that would fix it, but it didn’t. Seeing you in the hall that day was so bittersweet, because you were here but that also meant you were somewhere else dying. Because you were here and I still felt lonely.” You stop, chugg the remaining bits of your tea, and then wipe your cheeks. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

“No.” But it’s a lie. He does get it. He knows all about loneliness and the way it creeps inside, so slyly. The way it starts small and then grows, feeding on negligence, until it's too big for your body. He knows how it sits inside you, for all its enormity, and spills into everything. He knows how it lingers. How it has nothing to do with people or lack of them and everything to do with grief. Sunwoo knows all about loneliness. The day he read his file he felt a dam of it burst open within him. 

“I’m saying that in the real world I saved you, and now it’s your turn to save me.” You gulp. “I’m saying that I want you to unplug me.”

It takes a moment for Sunwoo to even register what you’ve said, but when he does remember the life support that’s keeping your body alive somewhere in a universe far away, he doesn’t say anything. He just stands and walks out of your apartment. 

act i. scene iii.

“Doctor, please present.” The attending announces, stepping into Sunwoo’s room for rounds. 

“Mr. Kim,” a resident starts, flipping open his chart, “was diagnosed 14 months ago and has gone through several different treatment plans. When he came to us, the illness had spread and was deemed inoperable and untreatable by several other physicians. Our treatment plan was aggressive and grueling but ultimately, effective. Sunwoo is 20 days post op from his third and final surgery. The surgery went extremely well with no complications and his vitals were excellent. He has been a model patient all throughout recovery, and according to our latest scans, he is also now illness free…”

Sunwoo doesn’t even bother listening to the rest. 

--

“So, now that I’m no longer a patient, if I ask you out on a date, will you actually say yes?” 

“Well,” you say, signing his discharge papers, “only one way to know.”

“What is it?”

You look up at him, smiling. “Ask me again.”

He does. 

You say yes. 

act iii. scene v. take ii. 

“I saw your ghost.” The first thing Sunwoo says after the last failed attempt.

You look up from your tea. “It wasn’t me.” 

“I know.” Sunwoo orders another coffee. “But the hallucination was how I knew I was sick again. It made me feel like you were trying to warn me, like you were up here somewhere caring from a distance. Right after I pieced it all together you told me to find you here and that there was something you wanted to say.” The coffee turns lukewarm again. Sunwoo can’t bring himself to say it. You sigh and push the same piece of chocolate bread back towards him. This time, he takes a bite from it. And with a mouthful of chocolate bread, he cries, “I just got you back, and now you want to leave all over again.”

You frown. “I didn’t want to leave the first time, and it’s different now.”

“How?”

“I want to go. Isn’t that worth something?”

“And what about what I want?”

“Oh, Sunwoo,” you say, “I’m sorry you’re sick. The hallucination was you and your head, but for what it’s worth, I have been up here caring from a distance. I still…” you don’t need to say the words. He knows. He never had to doubt it. “I never stopped.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked of me.” Sunwoo tells you. He made the decision last week but today, right now, with your confession still falling through the air, is the first time he’s had the stomach to swallow it. “And I’ll do it. I will. I just need some time. You’ve had so long and in comparison I’ve had nothing.”

“Okay.” You say simply.

“How long can you give me?”

You smile. “You know I’d give you an eternity if you asked for it.”

“I’m scared.” Sunwoo confesses then. “I know it’s what you want, but selfishly, I don’t want to let you again. I don’t know if I’m a big enough person to do it.”

“I do.” You say to him, leaning forward against the table and looking straight through him. “I know because I was your doctor. I have cut inside your body, seen all your organs, and during surgery two, I held your heart in my hands. I felt it beating. So I know exactly how big it is, and I know it’s big enough for this”

Sunwoo feels the heart you worked so hard to repair bursting inside of him. 

“God. Why’d you have to read your file so soon?”

You laugh. “I missed you. I couldn’t help it.”

And just like that, you’ve stolen the entire concept of fear from him. 

“I’m ready.”

“What?”

He looks at you and feels the loneliness slither away.

“Ask me again.”