#god i hate blending but i needed those expressions side-by-side

[lemonhemlock]

bg3 anon!

i would have replied sooner but... well, you know. i didn't want to be on any sites at all, truthfully, so i've basically only been playing a bit and looking at build videos, some limited stuff on the bg3 subreddit, that sort of thing. i'm just... so tired.

anyway. i'm currently out of the underdark and investigating rosymourn monastery. i did all the underdark quests (i think) but did not take the elevator to Moonrise Towers because i wanted to explore as much as i could.

" Yeah like with all due respect because I don't want to sound offensive or god forbid try to diagnose people I don't know in real life, but many Astarion fans (plus a few others in the fandom) need to seek out a good therapist. It's clear many use this character as an emotional crutch to cope with the problems and traumas they have which in theory should be fine but after interacting with them it's obvious they are not doing so in a healthy manner.

It's understandable to identify with a fictional character and it's normal to use fiction as escapism but they take it so, so far that they just can't differentiate the actual canon between what they projected onto him anymore. Some unfortunately also have the habit to (un)intentionally trauma dump onto everyone else and constantly use phrases like "As a survivor…" likely to guilt you in order to sell their own interpretation of the text as the only valid one. After all, if a survivor tells you something it means it must be true and moreover, it's shitty of you to contradict them, you know? If you try to politely argue against them, they lose their marbles and hit back with "just say you hate survivors". It doesn't even matter if you are also a survivor who may or may have not decided to come out as in a fandom space (why would we though, many of us are private persons).

I had witnessed similar behavior in the HOTD fandom where antis were employing similar tactics when trying to harass people for shipping incest, claiming they are were a danger to real survivors like themselves without knowing that many of those who were targeted by their horrible behavior were also survivors who simply chose to interact with problematic media because it's a safe environment that allows you to control the outcome. Not everyone is the same nor are survivors a monolith, in the end it's on your own responsibility to curate your fandom experience.

So, so true. The weaponisation of trauma survival as a means to lord over people in fandom spaces is such a creeping blight in online discourses and serves no one. It alienates fans and traps the perpetrators in an echo chamber from which they themselves might have trouble healing. And this whole nonsense is not even about enjoying the Ascendant storyline or writing fic about it (anyone can do that and entertain themselves or find a form of catharsis), simply about insisting on it being the good and non-abusive ending. The bar is in hell!

The self-insert nature of the game doesn't help either, you can tell most of them self-insert into their Tavs. This isn't a problem in itself, but when you express a negative opinion about some of the things you can do it in the game, they will take it as a personal attack because that's what they would've chosen to do had the situation been a real scenario (hope this makes sense!). I know this sounds crazy and again it's more of a personal opinion, but I think it explains a lot of their behavior.

I get what you mean and I do think there is a strong urge at play here to "justify" oneself and one's choices. Similar to how, in the HotD fandom, we had so many people siding with Rhaenyra automatically because she is a woman and of course women should get to rule and are not wrong ever.

But, in truth, I actually wager that some of them would truly, really NOT make the same choices if this were actual real life somehow, they're just blending fiction with reality in an unhealthy way. Like, if a fey creature showed up and asked to drink their blood, pretty please, they would most likely say no, like any normal person in that situation. Because the threat would then be immediate and not diminished by the safety blanket of fiction. "Realistically"-speaking, this is a strange man you don't know, who threatened you with a dagger at your neck just a few days ago, who's not even particularly nice to you and is rather obviously out for himself. No, I don't really believe even the wives would be so eager to indulge him if this were a real scenario. So, it's all the more embarrassing to be stirring shit up and making discourse out of nothing.

And, you know, it's FINE if you want daddy dom Astarion to ravish your delicate flower self and what-not, but there's really no need to find ethical worth in a horny fantasy, nor is that something achievable! Nor does it have to reflect back to one's moral character. There's no shame in finding the handsome vampire hot! Just have fun with it.

But these wives are forgetting that, just because someone is charming and dandified, it doesn't translate into sound judgment or moral worth, not in real life and not even in fiction. He can be very charismatic and still unable to make the best choices for himself.

Also, while there isn't a definite canon in BG3 since it's an RPG game and your playthrough is your playthrough and what someone else chooses to do in theirs doesn't mean it's something that applies to yours, when analyzing Astarion (or anyone else) as a character you have to take all dialogue options into consideration to reach an informed, valid conclusion. You shouldn't cherry pick the dialogue option(s) that's more likely to validate your preferred interpretation, that's now how it works. The AA situation is a good example of it: it's true that by choosing the loving options where you don't cross him, you can perhaps say he is loving partner but it's also true he will be awful and show his true colors if you go against him. Likewise, just because you do not choose to break up with him, it doesn't make his refusal to let you go away after the tadpoles are gone ("your future is mine to decide") is any less valid. In conclusion, yes, he does become abusive if he ascends. Constantly stepping on eggshells around your partner and only saying what he wants to hear from you is a sign of the relationship turning abusive, if it hasn't already.

Yeah, this is so true and I've had one of these lines already. The first time in the goblin camp I refused to give him a tadpole and he went all feral cat on me (and this was after he came onto me!! the knave!!). But when I did my second playthrough, I thought I'd make Mirta a little bit of an avatar for the Beholding / Eye (since I already gave you The Magnus Archives podcast link, it's one of the fear entities the show is about. this one in particular deals with things like scopophobia, the absolute terror of being known, of being judged or the pure experience of fear or of the unknown). So, she'd be a little like "oh, so you insist on being an absolute idiot? Might as well get a little entertainment out of this" and hand him just enough rope to hang himself with (you know, the kind of morbid curiosity that lends itself to terrible things sometimes). And so, I told him he could have the tadpole and he was all polite smiles and smug demeanor. Pompous prick!!! 🙌

It does seem to me that this part of the game is kind of broken, or at least not integrated enough, because 1. I don't think it's fair that you can ingest even a couple of extra tadpoles with no consequences (this is my understanding at least) and 2. I didn't get any approval or disapproval points from him. He just said that he'll pop one out of my backpack later. Now, I know he's not going to rummage through my stuff and steal it, like, I actually have to make him take one mechanically if I want his Illithid menu activated, so it was purely for show. But it feels rather empty, still.

Anyway, this is also just a game at the end of the day and its complexity is limited in that it can mimic real life, but not truly represent its quagmires, because character development is not linear for living, breathing people. So, I definitely agree that AA harping at Tav and biting back whenever he encounters the slightest resistance is meant to be a Red Flag, but irl sometimes, when you navigate a difficult situation with the "right" conversation, it allows the person to calm down and even grow from that experience. Like, they can later reflect on their bad behaviour and how wrong they would have been to lash out if they didn't hear what they wanted in that moment. But this is obviously something that doesn't really translate that well to becoming an immortal vampire lord with superpowers or whatever - like, by that point, they're too far gone to be able to interrogate their wrongs. But it could, perhaps, apply to Act 1 stuff when everything is still very raw from their trauma and still indulging in unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I want to add something rather surprising I've noticed about some wives. There are a few of them in the fandom who even claim to have degrees in literature (one is even teaching English literature at a university) and complain constantly about the state of media literacy in the fandom, the puritan culture that's been sweeping up fandoms lately…yet when you see their take on Astarion, ugh, they are the types who genuinely believe the ascension is his good path and that he 100% turned Tav into a vampire bride. Like how??? I won't elaborate further but yeah…I'll just add that your average gamerbro who likely hasn't read more than two books in his entire life never had such issues in getting the actual message of Astarion's story. They may not like his character (quite the opposite) or paid any particular attention to him and his romance, but at least they immediately understood ascension isn't his good path.

Yeah, when your garden-variety basement-dweller gamebro has a better understanding of the basic "good v evil" divide in a piece of media, it's time to rethink the tuition fees you paid for that literature diploma. :))

Ridiculous to think because, even IF Ascended Astarion was the consummate gentleman and the most loving waifu on the face of the earth, how is it helping anyone to bring another vampire into existence? By definition, vampires prey on other living creatures, it's parasitic and hurtful and frightening. They bring misery and problems into any community. Why would you even want to become one? And, again, even if it's like a fantasy kink or something, it would be detrimental to everyone else living nearby! We used to live in a society! It's just so harmful to your fellow man!

All of them have some baggage but he's certainly the one with most of it. It gets worse when you realize that's all he has ever known considering he can't remember his life as a mortal/elf (he "died" at 39 years old), having lost most of his memories because of the amount of torture and trauma (although in D&D lore vampirism itself could be another cause behind the memory loss). He can't even remember his face or the color of his eyes. When you confirm/ commit to the relationship with him in act 2, if you decide to friendzone him he'll tell you he's happy to have a friend because he can't remember ever having one. :( Being with Tav is really his both his first actual friendship and/or romantic relationship if going forward that route. I'm sure he had friends and lovers when he was alive, but it's irrelevant since all those memories are lost.

Yeah, this is what I mean, he's really had an awful turn. Two centuries of that! It's admirable he still has his wits about him and can function. But he needs A LOT of therapy (or the Faerun equivalent). He told me about not even remembering the colour of his eyes or what he even looks like anymore. Which ties a lot into the loss of personhood. If you don't know anything about yourself, what kind of life is that? What would he even like to do in a normal life, if given the chance? The only thing he knows is that he wants the pain and degradation to stop. Or to know that no one in your former life cared enough to try to help Elves, for example, live a very long time, even in DnD and he "died" very young for an elf, so his parents must still be alive. Where are they? Do they even care that their son is condemned to eternal torment? (I know they're probably absent because the writers wanted him with no attachments for story reasons, but, still, if you want to RPG properly, it must suck to think about it).

Which by the way, some Astarion fans hate it when you say that perhaps he needs a friend rather than a lover. It's okay not to vibe with his romance anymore guys!! But they've treated some people so awfully when they dared to say they prefer this option, as if everyone's opinion was in bad faith (the "you are just infantilizing survivors" type)…they should realize not everyone wishes to roleplay a character who got themselves into a situation where someone only started to have sex under false pretenses (he wanted protection so you wouldn't throw him away like you correctly pointed out), nor should they feel guilty into going forward with the relationship just because Astarion will feel bad about it. He's also happy if you remain friends! Just because he is now in a relationship with Tav, this doesn't mean all his issues will disappear, nor will they go away once Cazador is dead. You don't heal in an instant from centuries of constant abuse, torture, mind control and sexual trafficking. Also, just because he doesn't ascend and remains a spawn doesn't mean his relationship with Tav is actually 100% healthy and without issues, at least not from a modern POV or perspective.

Absolutely, not everyone wants or knows how to offer that kind of help to a romantic partner, and feeling way more comfortable to do that for a friend is understandable. It's OK to also have romance goals for your Tav, everything doesn't have to revolve around Astarion. :)) He is obviously very confused about the whole issue himself.

And, fuck buddies or not, it does sting to think that he only slept with you because he wanted your favour, because he goes out of his way to make it seem like he's over the moon about you and finding out he really doesn't rate you is unpleasant. Because it was never presented like the exchange he sees it as; not that Astarion presents it as true love or anything either, but he insists on it hinging on Tav's allure or attractiveness. And that's a delicate topic for people - no one wants to think that having sex with them is a chore.

No one's love life is something that they must sacrifice in order to "help someone out", like, that's not how it works. Your body is your body, not an instrument to cure someone's mental illness. I don't want anyone to take this the wrong way, but it's fucked up to expect that from people. Like, this person is just pretending to want to have sex with me and I'm supposed to not feel any kind of way about it? :))

Also, this is anoter fairly sensitive topic and I would not like to overstep, but I would urge anyone who is identifying with Astarion because of various disabilities or mental health issues and may feel further isolated or hurt by seeing people uncomfortable with romancing him and appeasing him to please not conflate their condition with vampirism. I think these comparisons can work to some extent, but only up to a point. I get the dependency aspect and needing a strong support system in order to manage their affliction - those are reasonable similarities that can help people identify with his character.

But vampires literally suck their victims' blood - it's not reasonable to expect the people within a settlement to be willing to offer their bodies up to feed the resident village vampire. Media often sensationalises this topic (and it's hard not to, since it doesn't exist IRL and there's really no way to tell how it could be managed by real-life people), but it doesn't take a genius to understand that it could very well be a frightening and painful experience for any such blood donor. It's often portrayed in fiction as this quasi-erotic, pleasant experience, but, as we all know, sexual acts especially can quickly turn extremely uncomfortable and traumatic in the absence of consent. Even if the person involved would theoretically consent, for the good of their community, they may very well not desire it at all and it could leave them feeling violated regardless.

This is why it's crazy for me to hear that some wives will accuse you of being 'ableist' if you'd want to find a cure for Astarion's vampirism and that you should just 'accept' him the way he is. Those two things are not the same at all! Let alone any kind of situation which leads to bringing more vampires into the world.

"Gale is most definitely NOT approaching godhood in any capacity. I could not STAND this mediocre white man overpowering ME! I am, though, debating on whether I should let Volo perform brain surgery on him. Mayhaps I will!" I think Volo's eye gives you the "See Invisibility" ability? It's useful but later own you'll find plenty of scrolls and potions of that kind. But if you want to sacrifice Gale's real eye just for the sake of it, then go for it!

Gods above, I did it for the morbid curiosity and it was just awful. Not even Gale deserves that, so I reloaded. I figured that it would be absolute blasphemy for the Beholding to take out one's eyes, so Mirta would not be on board with this. I booted Volo from my camp after I got out of the Underdark, because I wanted to at least give that fumbling idiot a living chance at least. For RPG reasons (I know he leaves anyway after the "surgery" wherever you set camp).

And, anyway.... *drumroll*... I respecc'd to lvl 4 wizard and lvl 2 bard and now I have fairy fire, which allows me to see invisibility anway so I don't need Volo's Trojan horses. Being a bard is so fun, you were so right about this, I can now play the flute(!) and have bardic inspiration as a bonus action. I also got annoyed at how much damage I'd get during fighting and switched Mirta's class to Abjuration - now she gets a cool spherical shield around her when she's hit and it's so much better!

Don't be so sure about Gale not approaching godhood! With Gale, the choice on whether or not he will become a god depends on certain dialogue options you will choose and 3. Unlike Astarion who can be convinced with a persuasion check, with Gale there's a point system behind his decision so the more options you check that lean in one direction, then that will be the result. Quite a few players actually thought they picked the right dialogue choices that would result in him not ascending to godhood but they still woke up with God!Gale in the end. We call it Sneaky God Gale lol. I won't spoil you too much, but you kind of have to push really, really hard against his stupid ideas even if he gets mad and gives disapproval.

He gets more infuriating the more I learn about him! I watched some romance scenes with him from Act 1, out of curiosity, and, gods above, he is SO smarmy. I could never. 😂

"Even if it were manipulation, I’d still do it for his own good. Dumbass needs all the help he can get. " See, if you were to post this opinion in pro AA space, the consorts would've canceled you. How dare you say you know better than him? He says he wants to ascend, do you not get that?

Here's to being his no 1 bully, first and foremost 💪

I know, right? I see where they are trying to come from when saying that it's beautiful to accept him just as he is, drawbacks included (the vampirism) but accusing people of ableism is just not it. Also, the idea of curing him and getting to live the remainder of his life in human years…I LOVE THIS. I don't think I've ever seen this headcanon from anyone!! Anyway, posting it in an Astarion fandom space will likely get you some angry fans who will say it's toxic and abusive lol.

Yeah!!! I'll give him the best human years of his loser ass life! Wizards live longer anyhow (from what I understand), so there's more than enough time for marital bliss. 🤡

"I’m also thinking I’m ready to change the difficulty to medium now (I heard I can do this mid-game). The goblin battles weren’t really challenging on easy and I am intrigued by multiclassing, which I can not do on easy. Dror, for example, was SO easy to kill, I just put Lae'zel and Karlach nearby and they made quick work out of him, he was gone by the third turn max. Elixir of Bloodlust on Karlach is insane." I think it's worth it. The game isn't hard at all on medium once you learn the basics and the multiclassing is worth it. If you want to get into that, I suggest multiclassing Astarion into Rogue/Ranger. For Rogue, I would suggest getting 4 levels in the Thief subclass because you get an extra bonus action for choosing it. The Assassin subclass is also good, but just avoid the Arcane Trickster one. Put all the rest of the levels into Ranger, specifically the Gloomstalker subclass. As for feats the most important ones for him would be +2 DEX and Sharpshooter. You can look into this build: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YBREg0F0TCc - I suggest checking out his other ones as well if you need some help with other companions. You don't need to follow his exact stepts but his builds are a good starting point.

Oh, yeah, I had watched videos like that and thought it was a good idea so my Astarion is currently a lvl 3 rogue and a lvl 3 ranger. I also got a mod that gives you a feat every 2 levels, so I'm not worried about battles anymore. I'm not really one to use potions too much and I'm not going to activate the tadpole powers, so it's whatever, I'm not some overpowered demigod either way. I mostly just want to have fun during battles. So I was able to spare an Alert feat for Mirta and now she & Astarion go first almost every fight - who's a cute wittle power couple?? 🎃

" Also, there is a barn in the Blighted Village where an ogre and a bugbear are having sex. If you go there BEFORE entering the goblin camp and let Astarion interrupt them*, you get 5 bloody approval points in one go. Crazy. After that, he made his advances towards Mirta and then the sex scene triggered when I hit long rest.

*you will have to separate yourself form the rest of your party and just knock with him at the door" I thought you did that already!! Did he not ask you to let him open the door? Because when I played and romanced him he asked my Tav when she was about to open the door "please, let me do it!" . Perhaps they patched it out and now you have to do it separately with only him.

No, I had missed this! This particular barn is somehow a little off from the rest of the houses and I went past it completely. That's one of the reasons I reloaded - so many easy approval points, it was a shame to waste. Also, it was pretty funny.

"If nothing else, Halsin will be nice to have for some added flavour and the ability to play with a druid. Minthara, too, because she is a paladin and I have none in my party. Pity you can’t make Volo a companion!" Sadly, even in this regard he's not unique as you will be able to recruit ANOTHER druid in act 2 at about the same time when you can officially get him to join the party: Jaheira. She was one of the companions in BG1 and BG3 and far more interesting than Halsin. There will also be Minsc who is a ranger in act 3, another former character in the previous games. She and Minsc are good friends and they have some good content in act 3.

Unless they fixed some of this in patch 7, he is also very bugged and many of his dialogues are flagged as "flirting" despite them being innocent. At the tiefling party when talking to him you can pick any non-flirty dialogue option you want to and it won't matter. The next morning, if you talk to him again at camp you will have the option to apologize for coming so hard onto him at the party the evening before. Lmao, like when did I do that??? Later, if you later ask him how he fares at your camp he will say something about books, to which you can answer with "you'll find plenty of books, I come across them everywhere"…yeah, that's considered flirting and so is the other option if I recall correctly. And this can go on and on all the way throughout the game…In my case (and it happened to lots of other players, there are tones of complaints about it on the internet) when he finally confessed his love and I rejected him he hit back with "I thought you felt the same way, are you sure???" & "you saw to my needs at camp with the care of a lover, not a host" oh my god just go away dude because I did NOT treat you like a lover lmfao. In this instance he reminded me of those type of guys who think that just because you were nice one time, you must be attracted to them and down to fuck if given the opportunity, but when rejected they complain you were the one who led them on in the first place lmao.

In patch 6 they supposedly introduced a friendship/platonic path for him due to all the complaints but for most players it barely works considering how easy it is to accidentally flirt with him lol…very few people have managed to avoid all of this apparently by not talking to him AT ALL except the quest he gives you in act 2 and by avoiding all the dialogue options that give you a lot of approval.

Gale had similar problems at launch where he took ANY interaction with the player character as flirting, which eventually led him to confessing his love to you unprompted. It was hilarious. Fortunately they fixed it quite rapidly in the next patch which begs the question, why are they not doing it with Halsin...unless he's intentionally coded like this.

Now back to serious matters…Halsin can have a purpose in act 3. Without spoiling too much, there will be a kidnapping plot and he is one of the characters that can get kidnapped (don't worry, you'll be able to easily save anyone once you find the location). The other kidnappable companions are Gale, Lae'zel and Minthara, plus a NPC kid who will potentially join your camp. Also, no romanced companion will be taken. You can metagame your way into getting whoever you want kidnapped by leaving at camp the character you want to get rid of while having the rest in your active party. The thing is that Gale and Lae'zel have major quests in act 3 so you'd best want to keep them in your party if you don't want to fuck the result to those quests, Minthara has a past with the character who does the kidnapping (it's her former abuser) so you'd want her in your party when you go to confront them. As for the NPC…if the kid gets kidnapped, her cat will get killed no matter what you do. And that is unacceptable because no innocent animal is going to be harmed. Which leaves us with Halsin. Considering he really has nothing going on in act 3, he's the best candidate for this. Currently most fans have him kidnapped just to send him to horny jail. Many even kill him then, but I chose not to do it because if he stays alive he will take care of and raise some orphans and I don't want to take that away from them. It's a cute ending for him.

It's a pity because his character is okay if you ignore all of the issues and the fan service around him. Sadly, all Halsin does these days is ending up being a subject for discourse every two weeks or so…he also has a few annoying fans who will try to gaslight you that none of this is happening and it's your fault if you flirt with him (as if it's so easily avoidable) so…that's that.

I'm beginning to see what you mean about Halsin. I've had him in my camp for a while now and he does nothing, just stands there like a weirdo. He doesn't even have his own tent (neither do I, and I'm still salty about it). Doesn't interact with any other companions. And I can't even play with him! It really does feel like he was added as an extra thought.

I got the same experience in talking to him re: flirting. I spoke normally with him at the party because I wanted to lock my second night of passion (😂) with Astarion and the next day I had the option to act all embarrassed for flirting with him. Crazy. Now he's giving me moon eyes. :)) I don't really mind it that much since I do like him, he has a kind of rugged charm, but he's definitely not integrated in the best way in the game mechanics.

"I am so looking forward to hear her dunking on Gale." Minthara also has some nasty banters with Astarion. She says he would make a good pleasure servant in Menzoberranzan which is icky given his past lol. In another party banter she jokes about him probably having some STDs due to his decades of philandering. She is really vicious.

He'd better not have anything though!! :O Just kidding, I doubt vampires can contract and get sick from diseases.

I am so curious to see them together, since Minthussy is bound to be a dommy mommy who'd eat Astarion alive for breakfast. She should be scaring the living daylights out of him, given her background as a former Lolth-sworn drow. I learnt that they really don't treat men nicely down there. :))

In relation to this, I wish there was some options to explore the character of True Soul Nere more, since he abandoned Lolth for the Absolute and comes from a society in which he'd be a second class citizen. At one point, in one of his racist remarks, Astarion even says "I understand saving a drow, but gnomes?" And I was itching to reply something like "really? A male drow? Shouldn't they be considered weak underlings judging by your standards?" or even instill some fear of God into him, since he is also a male elf. 🫵

"Frustratingly enough, Lae'zel and Karlach have me at the lowest approval ratings in the party :)) 31 and 29, respectively. But we’ll do the creche next, so I’m hoping they’ll grow." Once you get to the Creche with Lae'zel to advance her personal quest you will gain A LOT of approval. Don't worry. But yeah Karlach was a bit hard for me, not gonna lie!

"Yes!!! Thank you!!! And, in any case, I think you can fight Raphael even if you didn’t take his deal, so I’m not missing out on anything. I think Mystra is equally lame for cavorting with (and discarding) a human like that, but groomer? Let’s bffr." You will eventually fight Raphael depending on your choices, don't worry…but you may want to deal with him in act 2 in order to help a certain pale companion, just saying! Make sure you have Astarion in your party when you reach the Last Light Inn. If you're now romancing him I guess you have him all the time, I assume?

You know, I was ready to switch him out regardless and leave his ass at home to fulfill the rotation, but he is really fun to have around, so I haven't had the heart to leave him in camp (*he was a punk, she did ballet, what more can I say* 🤡)

"Gale is NOT autistic coded, what the hell? If anything, he is privileged rich kid coded. " Fans will try to woobify their favorite characters, what's new. And yes I think Gale is indeed rich? Not filthy rich but well enough for sure.

I think I'm starting to see why they are rushing to his defense with this diagnostic - he has a tendency to ramble didactically on any given topic without stopping and I guess that COULD be interpreted as having a hyperfixation or a special interest? But Gale does possess good manners, because he can access them on a whim, apologises and stops. IDK, there's this tendency to pathologize any normal behaviour and turn it into something resembling neurodivergency that I don't think is necessary sometimes. People can just be arseholes! FFS, Gale introduces himself as Mystra's fuccboi and he will not let you forget how special and talented he is to have slept with her. Who does that??

"I did get Harold and managed to trade with the merchant. I tried to make the painter make a portrait of Astarion, as I figured it would be a nice gift for him to be able to see himself, but I could only free him. (Of course, Astarion disapproved both that and me giving him money for the road)." NO WAY YOU GAVE HIM MONEY! I REFUSE!!! I'm sorry but had you refused to do it, he would've told you he actually intended to spend the money on getting drunk. Lmaoooo. Sorry!

!!!! I thought he was going to die on the road if I didn't give him money?? 😭 You can't trust no man!!! ☠️

You will meet him again in the city though! If you successfully complete his future quest he can make you a portrait. But no companion will react to it. As for Astarion, yeah it's a missed opportunity that we can't show him what he looks like. However, Ascended Astarion will be able to see himself in the mirror and react accordingly…fuck him anyway.

Whelp....not on my watch! Not before we give him an anti-vampire vaccine like in the movie Blade. 😂

"I think I completely forgot about the shipment though! That cave is so big and I kind of lost myself picking up everything from the ground, so I don’t really know where it is? Or if I can go back? Was it where Zarys was standing?" You can loot it from Zarys' corpse if you gave it to her.

"Phew! I even had Lae'zel come onto me unprompted at the goblin camp. With 30-ish level approval!! She’s crazy lol. She gave me the “I want to taste you” line. Before that, she asked Astarion at the waypoint why he hadn’t attempted sleeping with her. After he slept with Mirta!! Lae'zel!!! " She came onto me after I killed the owlbear mother in the cave. I never got that banter with Astarion though…a lot of the party banters were bugged before patch 7. :(

Fun fact, if you aren't dating either Lae'zel or Astarion, they will hook up at the tiefling party and sleep together. By the way, if Astarion isn't available she will try to fuck Wyll. However Wyll will only want to talk, leaving her disappointed. There is also a bug where she will say to you she slept with Astarion even if you were the one to sleep with him, which led to some Astarion haters to say "see, he went to fuck someone else the moment your Tav fell asleep". Lmao.

Wyll was such a downer at the tiefling party, I gotta say. I'm having some trouble connecting with his character because he doesn't seem to get involved in anything and I don't really understand how to play warlock. It's gonna be ages until I find his dad, so I don't really know what to do with him lol.

"Yeah, I just made the decision that I don’t want to have the Illithid menu activated, even if nothing will happen if I just take 1-2 tadpoles. But, for RPG reasons, we’re doing all of this shit to get rid of them, why would I add more of them, you know?" I didn't eat any tadpoles in my first playthrough either. But I will indulge in them this time with my Dark Urge bard. He's crazy enough to do it lol. Plus, some of the abilities the tadpoles will give you are pretty great. It's just that indulging a lot in them may have some consequences…

"Right?? It would work so much better if he took it down a notch or two. Atm it’s mainly pantomime. I nearly gagged when he talked about “our mutual ecstasy”." You'll get another offer to sleep with him (but no cutscene this time) and he'll try some new lines! Watch out for them!

"I managed to knock her out and free Halsin so fingers crossed!" I hope she won't end up bugged. Before you rescue her in Moonrise Towers from the prison, make sure to make some saves. There will be others who will need saving as well!

Also I don't get why the fuck didn't Halsin transform into a rat or something and escape from the prison lol. Plot reasons, I gues? But it's stupid nonetheless.

I think I may have mentioned something about some recent Astarion discourse… There is this group of "Astarion is actually gay" fans because he acts flamboyantly and two of his former victims she was forced to seduce and bring back to Cazador were men...For many of them it's just their personal headcanon though, which is okay! But some (as well as a few others) often shit on f/m Tav/Astarion ships, headcanons, fan art and even fan fics bemoaning the fact that he's often mischaracterized in a lot of this type of content. It's also apparently heteronormative to ship Astarion with a woman or something lol, that we are delusional to think he would actually be into some of our female Tavs. Some even went as far as saying that Astarion fulfills some women's fantasies of being with a gay man and that's why we like him. Lol what? At first these people tried to excuse it "we are just curating our own fandom space, that's why we mention our dislike for f/m content and we block it on sight because we're gay!" which I fully get since it's understandable for a gay man to avoid f/m content, you know? Here's the thing though: they keep complaining about it even after supposedly blocking this stuff which begs the question: why keep talking about it so much if you hate it so much? Unless your purpose is to gatekeep the character and make women who like him feel bad about it? Because that's what it looks to me lol.

Of course some of the wives got a bit pissed and one of them even used a slur against gay men in response. It was the one I mentioned about pretending to be into a real relationship with Astarion. Anyway, at this point I don't even care this much about them getting shit and being shamed for liking their f/m Tav and Astarion ship because in the past many of these wives joined fandom mobs against others for silly reasons so in a way, it makes me feel lowkey happy they are finally getting a taste of their own medicine. Fellow wives, please do enjoy being called homophobic!!! Meanwhile think of the times you were throwing "-phobics" accusations at others!

Another ridiculous thing to fight about. :)) I mean, Astarion will sleep with you no matter your gender or race or how you look like, so I'm pretty sure he was always meant to be pansexual, all the companions were. It's so goofy to fight about this, it's in the game mechanics.

But, yeah, I understand the feeling of schadenfreude. 🙏

Now seriously complaining about fanon content it's a bit useless. When it comes to fan fic, Astarion is mischaracterized in most of it, INCLUDING m/m ships. In the end many of these authors are really young and honestly? Most are writing for themselves and what they personally like. You are not owed anything. I don't like several tropes either but I won't complain about them existing you know? I just don't read fics including them.

I also want to clarify that not every f/m Astarion ship is getting dunked on, it's mostly those ships where the woman in question doesn't fit the archetype modern fandoms think a strong, capable woman is supposed to look and act like. You've been in the HOTD fandom for long enough to see what I'm referring to lol...what type of women these fans dislike and consider weak.

By the way I'm having flasbacks to those Aemond/OC fics right now, heeelp! I admit to complaining quite a bit about those during season 1 but man...to think Aemond would betray his family to be with Rhaenyra's daughter? And the incessant Alicent bashing every other paragraph?

Yeah, I have done my fair share of complaining (hello lucemond and Rhaenyra's daughter LOL), but, like in all things, I have always been of the opinion that moderation is key here. It can be a relief to have a space to complain about all the things that annoy you and people should be allowed to talk about what they don't like as well, but, if you find that's the only thing you focus on, it's time to take a step back. I hated the Alicent-bashing myself and I'm glad I talked about it and I'm sure a lot of other things will annoy me in the future and I will also talk about them, but some people do make hateposting look like a full time job, when it's really not that serious.

Speaking of goofy HotD tropes, I was browsing the Astarion/Tav tag on AO3 and, of course, I found Tavs named Rhaenyra and Visenya, if you can believe it. I noped out so quick. 😂

I've also noticed that many BG3 bullies finally moved on to the new Dragon Age game and like I correctly predicted, they are now causing discourse over there. I am interested in the DA series but I'm not touching it as I don't want to share a fandom with these people anymore. Playing BG3 and interacting with the fandom (Twitter, reddit, Tumblr) at the height of its popularity has proved to be really tiring and by far my worst online experience.

Oh, yes, I've heard that game is causing quite a ruckus. I've been watching some clips out of curiosity with my boyfriend while eating, just for the sake of having something on the screen, but, I have to say, the fact that most of these commentators sound like incels who have not known the touch of a woman in a long time (if ever) is not helping the critical landscape. :)) Like, I've seen the ridiculous bharv (?) scene and, yes, it was cringy and I understand the game pauses many times to lecture you, but I still haven't properly understood why the game play is that bad, because they're not focusing on that and are instead frothing at the mouth at the idea that your tav can have top surgery scars, you know what I mean? The companions do sound annoying and it's silly that you can only be a goody two-shoes over there.

BONUS 1: https://imgur.com/a/72SRYya - I hope this is bait for their own sake but why do they always talk as if he is real? Not surprised though. I mean it's common even for those wives who seem normal to pretend he is real and say something like "Astarion would hate you for thinking/believing this" as if he's real. Also, him possibly hating some of my takes would be a good sign if you catch my meaning. ;)

"Tactless" - excuse me? I can't believe the way this is worded, I had to pause for a second there. 😂 "Telling someone their partner is an abuser" - he's not your partner!!! And if your partner were behaving like that, I'd hope someone in your life would tell you! Good Lord.

Yet again I'm having flashbacks to Aemond discourse when antis tried to make Helaemonds feel bad with "He loves her like a sister you freak!!! Aemond would actually hate you for shipping him with her!" yeah Aemond is also not real, hope this helps!

Ah, what a golden goose of a discourse this was! We did have some fun in our time! 🤌

BONUS 2: https://wanderingbardtoys.com/collections/astarion-the-vampire-rogue ;) Astarion inspired dildos lol

Holy godsdamned hellsssssssssssssss 😂😂😂😂😂 Why are they coloured like that????

I do have to admit, though, that these are much better than the oversized tick of a penis that toy statue of his had. The one that looks like what I imagine Jabba the Hut's "throbbing member" would look like if I were to entertain the idea and be completely insane. I was even cursed today to see a thumbnail of it when I opened the YouTube app on my phone.

EDIT: Wait a minute, I just had a look at length and girth.... Is he a man or a donkey???

Daddy's "home" - what home?? He doesn't have a house. ☠️ He's jobless.

By the feel free to ignore this if you don't feel like replying, it's okay if you only want to address a specific point. This got way too long..

No, but I do enjoy our little talks very much. It's just I wasn't really feeling like being online that much these past two weeks. I hope you're well and get to read this! 🫶

[sunrisefairy]

My muse

Pairing: Art student!Sirius x reader Warning: NSFW! MDNI 18+, swearing, fingering, unprotected sex, if I’ve forgotten anything please let me know! Summary: Sirius is struggling with an art assignment until he finds inspiration in his girlfriend. Or the one when Sirius and reader bang on a canvas.  A/N: wrote this for @anxiousblanketqueen writing challenge, I had a lot of fun with this one Jill so I hope you enjoy it too. Based of the prompt Art Sex. This article is helpful with visualising the art work!

Taglist: if you’re crossed out i couldn’t tag you @theweasleyslut​ @anxiousblanketqueen​ @accioweaslcy​ @widowdays​ @inglourious-imagines​ @garbdump​ @star-sunshine-sage​ @weelittleweasley​ @a-dusty-emerald​ @starlightkell​ @omghufflepuff​ @weasleysprincess​ @j-amespotter​ @gryffindorgirl To be added to the taglist click here 

“Oh my god this is fucking bullshit!” Sirius groans before throwing his paint brush, it landing with a clatter on the hardwood floor of his art studio.

You hear all the commotion from the kitchen and decided to check in on your boyfriend. It was nearing the end of the term and Sirius had been very agitated and snappy from all the stress.

“You okay babe?” you poke your head through the door to see Sirius standing in the middle of the room, practically death staring a half-finished painting resting on one of his wooden easels.

“Fucking bullshit,” your boyfriend mumbles, clenching and unclenching his paint stained hands.

You slowly walk up to him and wind your arms around his waist and kissing his back through his white cotton t-shirt, “wanna talk to me about it?” you whisper.

Sirius twists in your grip until he’s facing you allowing you to get a good look at him; his shoulders are tense, his jaw clenched tightly from the pressure of school and his eyebrows are furrowed which has become a regular facial expression of him the past few weeks. You reach your hand up and delicately trace the worry lines in his forehead. Sirius immediately relaxes at your touch; his faces becomes more natural and his shoulders slump. Since dating Sirius you’ve come to understand how much he struggles to talk about his feelings. He doesn’t like dumping his problems on those around him as it makes him feel like a burden. So you try your best to be patient with him and always remind him you’ll be here no matter what.

“Just stressed about school,” Sirius murmurs his eyes looking down at the floor between your bodies.

You let your hand fall down to his shoulders, lightly squeezing, “yeah? What about school?”

Sirius’ hands find their way under the t-shirt you’re wearing which evidently is one of his that you’ve stolen, he lets his fingers trace patterns on your warm skin. “Just this one assignment is making me go insane. Can’t seem to get it right.” He gestures to the canvas sitting in the middle of the room.

If you’re being honest, anything Sirius paints leaves you memorised and evokes numerous emotions from you. You are constantly telling your boyfriend how talented he is and every time he’ll roll his eyes at your compliment. “I think it looks amazing babe,” you state truthfully.

To no surprise, Sirius rolls his eyes at your comment. “yes, well you have to say that ‘cos you’re my girlfriend.”

Sirius leaves your embrace and walks back over to the painting, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning so intensely you think laser beam might shoot from his eyes and through this artwork. He starts mumbling again, irritation is laced thickly on his words, “representation of raw love,” he mocks, “what a load of utter crap. My professor is so pretentious, the only instruction he gives us for this stupid bloody assignment is ��make a piece which represents raw love’ what does that even mean? I’ll tell you what it is, it’s fucking bullshit.”

You shuffle closer to Sirius so you’re standing at his side, both staring at his current piece. You’re not really sure how to help, you’re no artist but you hate seeing Sirius so worked up. “What are other people in your class doing for the assignment? Maybe you can gather inspiration from them?”

Sirius shrugs and stuffs his hands in his dark jeans which are covered in paint splatters, “Kirra’s doing a photography piece of her husband and kids, Gage is making some sculpture of his dog.”

“Alright,” you pause for a brief moment “well maybe think of ways people show love or how you show love, like real emotional love ya’know?” you feel like you’re grasping at straws here and making up some bullshit.

You glance over at Sirius, he’s biting his bottom lip deep in thought, you stay silent not really knowing what else to say to assist him. Slowly a look of realisation washes over your boyfriend’s face, eyes wide and a grin gracing his lips. “Holy shit baby, you’re a genius!”

Butterflies erupt deep in your belly from the praise and you giggle when Sirius starts peppering your face with tiny kisses to show his gratitude. Eventually he connects your lips together in what you thought would be a short but sweet kiss. However, you squeak in surprise when Sirius quickly deepens the kiss, his hands gripping tightly at your waist before slowly moving them down to grope at your arse.

“You should probably get working on your project then Sirius,” you breathe against his mouth, disappointed to stop things before they get too heated but you know Sirius’ inspiration comes and goes in waves and if you wait until after the two of you get off, then he might fall back into feeling unmotivated again.

“I am working on it,” you pull away confusion all over your face.

“What do you mean?” you query.

Sirius chuckles and moves away from you to move the canvas and easel to the edge of the room out of the way, he starts laying out a large piece of cream canvas fabric on the floor. “Think about it, what’s a way people show love?” he asks you, squirting numerous colours of paint carelessly onto the fabric.

“Babe there’s a lot of way people show love,” you answer puzzled, what did making out with you have to do with his piece? And why was he now squirting colours onto a blank canvas.

Sirius continues, “yes I know that but what about a raw, emotional way people show love? a primal way to show love so to speak?”

When you finally look back up at Sirius’ face you’re met with a cheeky smirk that you know all too well. It’s not until he removes his shirt do you connect the dots. “Sirius I’m not letting you fuck me on this canvas for a university project for god’s sake.”

The raven-haired boy’s grin only widens as he slowly moves closer to you, his eyes burning into your skin. You feel hot and vulnerable under his gaze, it’s like he’s stalking his prey. Your breath hitches in your throat when Sirius’ body is pressed flush against your own and you can feel his hot breath fanning your face as he speaks in a low, hushed tone, “I’m not going to fuck you,” his voice drops an octave like it does when he’s feeling horny. Just the tone of his voice alone causes a wetness to pool in your panties. “Wanna make love to you baby. Wanna show you how much I love you, can I do that darlin’?”

You bite your lip trying to swallow the moan that is threatening to spill from your mouth when Sirius starts leaving sloppy kisses on your neck. Damn Sirius Black for knowing all your weak spots.

“Just want to make you feel good baby girl,” he tugs the off t-shirt your body. “Can I do that? Can I make you feel good?”

You close your eyes and focus on Sirius’ large hands cupping and massaging your breasts tenderly, you always were putty in his hands. Fuck it you thought. “Yes, please make love to me Sirius.”

The boy grins and whispers a thank you against your skin. He takes no time in removing both of your clothes until you’re standing in front of each other naked. You and Sirius take the opportunity to study each other. You gaze over all the curves and lines on Sirius’ body, the way his muscle flex and move, the freckle on his hip bone, the tiny scar on his left shoulder, the coarse hair of his happy trail. He was beautiful, stunning, breathtaking. And he was all yours.

Sirius helps you lay down against the canvas, you gasp at the cold, squishy feeling of the paint beneath you. It feels foreign but not unwelcoming, you wriggle a little, enjoying the way the substance slides around. Sirius kneels between your legs, relishing in the way your chest is already rising and falling frantically from arousal, “so gorgeous darlin,” he traces a finger down from your collar bone all the way to your core finding it soaked already.

You squirm when Sirius teases your entrance with his finger, the cold paint moving and mixing into the canvas under you. A quiet whine escapes your lips the moment Sirius pushes his index finger inside you and starts pumping it steadily.

“Need you to be loud for me baby, want to know how good I make you feel ‘kay?” Sirius commands trying to get into a comfortable position in between your spread legs, his body sliding slighting from the paint.

You answer him with a loud moan. Soon Sirius has added 2 more fingers into the mix causing you to wriggle and rock your hips into his hand, “so good Sirius, fuck.”

With his free hand, Sirius grips your thigh trying to keep you still, blue paint smears against the soft flesh of your thigh and Sirius is captured by how striking you look laying here right now, chest flushed, and eyes closed. The way your body is squirming from pleasure is causing the paint on the canvas to blend and mix together. Sirius scoops up some red paint from the fabric and swipes it across your breasts and over your nipples, “so pretty.” He mumbles tugging and pinching your nipples.

“Sirius,” you pant desperately, “please. Need more.”

Sirius withdraws his fingers earning a whine from you and strokes his cock a few times before lining it up with your entrance, “shh darlin’. M’here to make you feel good, yeah? Want me to make you feel good?”

You wrap your legs around him urging him to finally push into you. You needed it, needed to feel Sirius stretch you out and fill you up with his cock, needed to hear Sirius gasp and groan into your ear, needed to feel him rock his hips into yours, “please Sirius.”

With a low groan escapes from both of you when Sirius finally pushes into you, Sirius begins thrusting his hips deep and slow into yours, both of your relishing in the feeling and sensation coursing your bodies. Hands around running along the others body, squeezing, tugging, scratching at skin, leaving traces of paint in its wake. Sirius has buried his head in the crook of your neck, his hair tickling your cheek, mumbling how beautiful you look spread out for him.

Deeper, you need it deeper. Wrapping your legs tightly around your boyfriend, you manage to roll the two of you over, Sirius underneath you with you straddling his waist, allowing you to bounce of his cock. From this angle, he reaches deeper inside of you, his hard cock prodding at that sponging spot inside of you. The pure affection and love the two of you feel for each other was unmistakeable in this moment. The tenderness and intimacy of this act made your toes tingle and heart warm in your chest.

Continuing to bounce up and down on Sirius cock, you take a second to watch the boy below you, the only word seemingly fitting to describe him was angelic. His dark locks are sprawled out around the canvas, a mixture of red, blue and purple paint framing his body as well as splotches on his skin. His eyes are trained on yours, a look set in them that you’ve come to be familiar with, undying love.

You lower your head to connect your lips together, wanting-no needing to feel close, to feel connected.

“I love you,” you mumble breathlessly against Sirius’ pink lips. You feel that familiar euphoric sensation creeping up on you, Sirius’ cock hitting your g-spot every time you lower your body.

Sirius’ grips your waist tight and firmly, his own hips slamming up into you, “I love you too baby, so much.” He can feel your pussy clenching around him, he watches the way your breasts bounce between your bodies, he reaches his head forward to latch his mouth onto your nipple, sucking and licking on the sensitive bud. The noises slipping from your mouth makes his cock twitch.

“Sirius,” you pant threading your fingers through his dark hair to keep him close to your body.

Your body feels like it’s on fire and ready to combust, your legs trembling, and you know you won’t last much longer with the way Sirius is suckling at your nipple and he knows it.

“Want you to cum for me darlin, be my good girl and cum on my cock,” he groans into your breast, sucking and licking at your salty skin.

The coil in the pit of your belly snaps and with a load high pitched whine you’re releasing all over Sirius’ cock, your pussy clenching and legs shaking from the stimulation. After your release, it only takes Sirius a few more thrusts until he’s following suit, his load shooting and filling you up, a string of I love you’s tumbling from both of your mouths.

You collapse onto Sirius’ chest, neither of you make any effort to move even once your breathing has settled. Laying here with Sirius made you feel safe and protected. The way his index finger was trailing up and down your spine made you shiver, and you could feel him kissing your scalp gently. Undeniably, there was love radiating from his body, you could feel it and you only hope he could feel it radiating from yours too.

~~~

“Hey guys, that painting hanging up in the bedroom is new, yeah?” James questions, traipsing back into the living room where the rest of the group was.

You feel a heat rise in your cheeks when you realise which painting the bespectacled boy is referring too. Sirius nods pulling you tighter into his side.

“Did you paint that one Pads?” Remus asks. Most, if not all the artwork displayed in yours and Sirius’ home was created by him. It normally took a bit of persuading Sirius to let you hang up his work, he didn’t like to come across as cocky. But as soon as this canvas was dried and stretched onto a frame Sirius wasted no time in mounting it; above your shared bed, him claiming it ‘gets him in the mood whenever he looks at it’ (and he really wasn’t lying).

The boy beside you grins and plants a sloppy kiss against your cheek, “me and Y/N painted that one,” he says teasingly.

You shoot him a death glare warning him to keep his big mouth shut. “Don’t,” you mouth.

“That’s so cool! Didn’t know you were so artistic Y/N!” James exclaims excitedly, clearly impressed by the painting.

Sirius chuckles loudly pinching your side making you yelp, “oh she’s very talented when he comes to that type of stuff. I think we might need to make another piece together babe, what do you think?”

[hanemiso]

“nothing has changed”

>>>a nakahara chuuya x reader<<<

a/n: im gonna post this before my class starts😅 a forbidden love au?? in bsd?? yes ma'am, although i don't think i did it justice😅 also sorry if the formatting looks weird, i tried fitting it for mobile

genre: fluff/angst, forbidden love au

synopsis: is love attainable for a detective and a mafia executive when they’re always pinned against each other? the memories of you plague chuuya’s mind as he comes to face an inevitable decision and the ghost of his past.

"Nothing's quite the same As it has been on those familiar days"

"Chuuya stop, oh my god! Put me down!" you giggled and hit his back playfully.

He laughed wildly at your protests, continuing to run around the streets of Yokohama with you over his shoulder. The dim streetlights illuminated your gleeful expression as you laughed with him. He had finally given into your protests, sitting you down on his motorcycle with his hand caressing your face. You placed your hand on top of his and kissed his palm as a soft smile settled on his face.

"Wandering the sleepless streets Until there's nothing left to see

We tried our luck with regularity And find what we were never meant to be"

"Come on Chuu, let's go. It won't be good if someone finds us like this." you smiled sadly, tugging at his other hand.

Chuuya hated the constant reminder that you two couldn't be yourselves within the prying eyes of others. It was like a more fucked up version of Romeo and Juliet. But, he knew you were right, and as much as it pained him to continue to hide in the shadows, it was the only way at the moment for you both to be happy together.

He flicked your forehead, "I bet you just wanna leave so you can ride my motorcycle."

"Ah yes, who wouldn't want to ride a pink motorcycle? I'm oh so envious of you!"

"Hey, what's wrong with pink?! Fine, you can stay here if you want."

"Chuuyaaaaa, I was joking! I love you and your motorcycle!"

"Yeah, yeah. Butter me up for a ride home."

"With nothing but the i-rrogance of man This dying type of ideology Is more than we could ever really need"

"Cheers! To secrets!"

"'Secrets,' really? What about our 2 year anniversary?"

"Our 2 year anniversary is a secret, Chuu."

Chuuya pouted as he raised his glass to clink with yours. You giggled at his pout and tapped his nose.

"Happy 2 year anniversary." you whispered, as if he's the only one supposed to hear.

He stared into your eyes and swore he fell into a trance. The genuine look of love held in your gaze that only he got to see was overwhelming. It amazed him that such a person could have such an effect over him, but he was beyond happy the person who unlocked these unknown emotions from deep within him was you.

"Happy anniversary, love." His lips turned upward before they met with yours.

"Let's get shit-faced!"

"You really do know what I love to hear."

“Hurt the walls again Within the reach of things that pose a threat

The average kind of daily teen regret. We're running yet we never break a sweat"

"Shit! We need to hide from Dazai!"

"That mackerel is here?!"

Before Chuuya could peer around his shoulder, you grabbed his hand and pulled him into an alleyway. He quickly gripped his hat as you continued to drag him through the alleyway to the other side. He kept up with your pace as you both emerged from the other side into the bustling streets.

You two had blended in with the crowd, but knew you weren't in the clear just yet. Still, you didn't let go of his hand.

"Wait...did you just call him 'mackerel?'" you asked.

"Yeah, what about it?" He asked defensively.

You tried stifling a laugh but failed. He stared at you with a furrowed brow, as if he didn't understand what was so amusing about it.

"He does look a bit like mackerel!" you exclaimed, completely giving up on trying to contain your giggles.

You covered your mouth with your other hand and slumped onto him, finding it hard to stop laughing when imagining Dazai as a fish. Chuuya's cheeks flushed as your head rested against his shoulder.

"O-Oi, we're in public, remember? He could be anywhere." Chuuya stuttered.

"Sorry, sorry!" You stood upright again, a smile still playing on your face. "Chuu, if you were to pick a fish that looks like me, which one would it be?"

"Huh? Uhm...hmm...oh, easy. Clown fish."

"Chuuya!"

"No more of the same innocent ways We always made it out"

"So, this is it, huh?"

"Yep."

"We can't run anymore."

"Nope."

Chuuya collapsed on the grass next to you, setting the half-full wine bottle down in between you two. Chuuya's fingers rubbed the rim of his hat that sat on his chest as his eyes watched your face. Your eyes were glazed over, but he couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or unshed tears. In truth, it was both.

Chuuya cursed to himself as he turned his head away from you, biting his lip in frustration. If only you had both been more careful, but you had been the most cautious in your ventures. You both didn't want to admit it, but it was only a matter of time. All good things must come to an end.

Chuuya felt you grab his gloved hand with a comforting squeeze. He turned his head back to you and saw the sad smile sitting on your face. God, what he'd do to make sure you always smiled happily.

"We were dead-set on forever, but it seems that forever waits for no one."

"That's bullshit. I'll make forever with you."

"You know that's not possible, Chuu. Not while the Agency is suspecting me, and definitely not while Mori has eyes on you all over. We both gotta accept that this is it."

Each word crushed him like stone blocks stacking against his ribcage. The truth hurts, as they say. It hurt like hell. It felt like hell. Maybe you both were living in eternal damnation, fated to love each other but never able to come together as one. Fate is a cruel mistress, and it's nearly impossible to change the game when the cards are stacked against you. Chuuya sat in silence, gritting his teeth.

"Let's spend this last night together. You, me, and that bottle of wine. The moon is our only witness." You sat up on your elbows.

Chuuya followed your movements, watching as you took a swig from the bottle and passed it to him. You both went back and forth taking drinks until the bottle was empty. The sound of both yours and Chuuya's tipsy giggles encompassed the empty grass field. The wind carried your worries away as you both took turns sharing stories of the past. Hours spent under the stars with your head on Chuuya's chest. Soon, silence enveloped you both as the reality of the night set in.

"Even when I'm old and blue I think about my time with you"

"What a cheesy sentiment," you replied with a giggle. "I'll always be thinking about you too, Chuu."

"Though you're away, nothing has changed We always made it out

Even when I'm old and blue I think about-"

"Chuuya-san."

A hand shaking his shoulder breaks Chuuya from his thoughts, as if his vision was a camera refocusing. The blur fades into a clear picture, and haunts him like a ghost.

Chuuya could feel the world spinning. Spinning with images of the smile he loves being shared with him; memories of spilled wine, rainy nights on his motorcycle, drunk conversations had at the bar, sleepless nights, rose bouquets on sunny days. He freezes in disbelief, eyes mirroring the pained ones he stares into.

About 10 feet in front of him stands his love, a frown sitting on your lips. Standing with you are the members of the ADA, glares obviously sent his direction. None of them matter, as you alone are his focus. His heart twinges in pain, each memory throbbing in his head.

"On your mark, Chuuya-san." Akutagawa states.

"We already told you, you're not getting in that room." Tanizaki spits.

The seconds ticking by are insufferable, and your presence feels like a bittersweet awakening. Chuuya can't avert his eyes from yours, but he knows he has a job to do. To save his boss. This world you both live in is unfair, and he knows you understand that as much as he does. With a heavy heart that resigns to only beat for you, Chuuya takes a deep breath and recognizes that he must accept the terms of being a mafia Executive. He just hopes you know nothing has changed.

"Even when I'm old and blue I think about my time with you

Just break the clock and make it stop I miss it when we talk a lot"

taglist: @anotakugardener @puddingowo66 @pcytheeve @spacedoutcoffeebeans @darlingimawitch @chlopakk

[boytouya]

𝙒𝙖𝙞𝙩 𝙖 𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙩𝙚!

words: 1.2k

warning: profanity

request: “HELLO! <3 how r u !! could I request a mean male reader bullying back bakugou yet flirting w/ him at the same time? arson boy would be so disturbed. 😭your requests say open but PLEASE ignore this if they’re not, for my own dodge of self-embarrassment, LMFAOOO Ɛ/>”

a/n: i’m doing alright, sweetheart! i hope you’ve been doing well. this has been sitting in my inbox since april i’m so sorry!!! i hope i could do this request justice. i’m considering making it longer.. i didn’t wanna make the reader an unlikeable kind of mean so i went with something more tame, that’s why it sounds more like friends going back and forth :)

“Get your filthy paws off me!” Katsuki snarls, the link gums of his mouth exposed as he bares his teeth. If there were one word to describe him, it’d be feral. Sharp canines, an angular jawline and rough scarlet eyes that had a never ending blaze behind them. They were a deep shade of red, almost appearing brown. He was frustratingly handsome, the kind of pretty that only boys could achieve, with unnecessarily long eyelashes and beauty marks. His hair goes in all sorts of directions, each strand somehow meeting perfectly to form the most endearing row of spikes you’ve ever seen. He pushes you aside with his wrist, as if touching you with his entire hand would infect him.

His explosions were just as bright as his mind, the thought pops up when he nearly casts an explosion straight into your face. It crackles on his fingertips, illuminating an orange glow against the curves of your face. It blends almost perfectly into the apples of your cheeks and beneath your irises. He curses himself for thinking about you in so much detail, but how could he not?

“Ahh, ‘get your filthy paws off me!’” You tack on a nasally voice, obviously over exaggerated to make the boy uncomfortable. It works, seeing as he grunts and tears his gaze away. You can smell something burning, the dense scent of charcoal filling the air. “Stop projecting, and pull up your pants. You look fuckin’ stupid.” The insult comes out with a bit more venom than intended, and it clearly gets under his skin. The comment festers, aggressively at that.

“Keep mentioning being stupid and I’ll beat you till you are!” His pupils dilate, just underneath the light shining through his eyelashes. His tongue, as pink as his lips, swipes under his teeth. It feels like he’s the only other person in the room, a dark vignette blocking you from the rest of your class. Just you and Katsuki. Just you, Katsuki, and the God awful smell of whatever was burning.

“Fuck!” Bakugou yells, patting down his lap. You have to shift to see over his desk, but there’s a burning hole through his baggy pants. The mossy green lacks any sort of smooth transition into charred black. It’s not exactly small, but you wouldn’t say it’s that noticeable either. Around half the size of Katsuki’s calloused palm. He’s usually careful, he never needs to look out for these things because he has one hundred percent perfect control over his quirk. Then there’s you, pushing him off his balance beam for the first time in forever. His feet had already grown unsteady to begin with, but something about your unreasonably handsome face made him stumble.

“Do you have All Might boxers? That’s…kinda cute.” The hole is nowhere near the top end of his thigh, but you like to tease him anyway. There’s heat dwindling on his cheeks, more so than his palm. He doesn’t blush though, instead stomps his heavy foot on yours in retaliation. It could be to distract you from whatever he’s feeling rise to his throat. It definitely distracts you from what you feel in yours.

You’re always the first to check him, pull him back in from his fits of- well, passion. To others, he seemed aggressive and angry, but really, he was just passionate about what he enjoyed. Beating others. His fire was always ignited, the flame sparking the second he developed his quirk, and it only ever grew brighter. You wanted to be his candle, to be able to melt under his flame and bounce back when his wick had burned itself through and through.

“It’s too early for your shit.” Bakugou’s cheek rests against his knuckles, his elbow digging into the edge of his desk. He stares straight ahead, afraid the air would be snatched from his lungs if he makes eye contact with you for any second longer. His cheek, though squished between his hand and excess baby fat, looks incredibly kissable. When he’s not straining his face he appears much more youthful. Of course he was only a teen, the both of you were, but the facial expressions he made reminded you of an old man. The thought of Katsuki hunched over with grey hair, yelling at children brings a smile to your face. He already went to bed early, had a tight ironed schedule and woke up early. Honestly, he was already on his way.

He makes no effort to fully turn his body, let alone actually look at you. Instead, Katsuki tilts his head to the side and stares at you through his peripherals. He hadn’t thought about it till now, but the flirting was actually kind of flattering. Hearing you go on with your day without saying something Denki would fist bump you for left him feeling unsettled, like there was a tsunami in his stomach. He actually kind of liked blowing up your face after you flirt with him.

“I can feel those Granny Smith’s staring straight into my soul,” He ignores the obscure comparison of his eyes to apples, but he’d definitely think about it later. Your backhanded compliments have him tapping his foot against the floor in irritation. The rhythm is somewhat memorising, Katsuki makes a mental note to try it out on his drums in his free time. Not that he’d ever say it was inspired by you. Not in a million years. “Really lets me know where home is, thanks ‘Suki.”

“Don’t call me that, prick!” There are fireworks exploding in his stomach. The fizzle out into sparklers, zapping against his insides and bringing overwhelming thoughts straight to his head. It was an unusual feeling, trapped inside his body and only expelling through bouncing legs. At first, the flirting made him want to punch you in your prince-charming esque face, but hearing the nickname made him feel something else. Warm and floaty inside. With fifty percent humor intended, you reach over the safety of your desk to grasp his hand. In the millisecond you get to hold it, you note it’s faint dampness. A drawback of his quirk, something you’d be sure to tease him about another time. He swats your hand with a loud ‘smack!’ that bounces off the walls of the room. He doesn’t pull away completely, instead brushing his knuckles against your own. His signature nose wrinkle returns, manufactured from the exact opposite of disgust. He hates the way his heart quickens, the way he feels challenged when you speak to him, the way he craves the feeling of your hand on his for just a second longer.

But oddly enough, he loved- no, liked? He wasn’t ready for love yet.- you with every fiber of his being. His knuckles brushing against yours felt like more fiction than it actually was, his heart did somersaults against his ribs when he saw you. Hearing you insult him had always taken him aback, it made a mischievous glint in his eye return just as quick as it vanished. Then you’d laugh, a divine chime that he couldn’t quite describe with words, and say something that stopped the blood flow in his body. You truly were something else, a supernova that only vermillion eyes could see. He was thankful for that. The two of you are rather young, with questioning, impressionable minds that’ll cling to each other for support. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

taglist: @lustclubs @indigowren21 @cannedfoodisbestfood @junkwhoore @kissesdenji @sanderssidesangsttrash @i-d0g @kaito-asmr @jream-23 @princejasno @mel-bigia04 @mhasimp666 @onehellofasimp @corporeal-terrestrial @angelaturservice @shootingstars-and-burningsuns @sleepyslvt @rintarosaku

[redrobin-detective]

because I could not stop for death

because I could not stop for death / he kindly stopped for me / the carriage held but just ourselves / and immortality ~ Emily Dickinson

Danny Fenton was dying, properly this time.

Somehow, in the back of his head and in his worst nightmares, he knew it would end this way: bleeding on the floor of his parents’ lab where it had all began. He was so hot he felt like his skin was on fire, blood and ectoplasm were dripping all over him and his lungs and heart were working overtime to try in vain to keep him alive a moment longer. He’d imagined at the time that there would be more screaming but death, in the end, was turning out to be a quiet little affair. A lonely table set for one.

“Danny, Danny come on, you-you gotta slow down your breathing, just relax, for me, please,” Sam moaned, more than making up for his lack of noise. She was shaking and touching him all over, his chest, his face, his hair. Normally she jumped right into action but she had to know, deep down, that there was nothing she could do. All that was left was to watch her panic and cry, it wasn’t his favorite image. 

“Vlad!” He heard Tucker scream cry into the phone, “please it’s Tucker, Danny’s dying I think. The Fentons had some new invention, something about his core, please we don’t know what to do!” 

Ugh Vlad, he was probably going to be so happy Danny was on his way out. He wasn’t looking much forward to his last images being his archenemy gloating. Tucker hung up and reached down to grasp Danny’s hand so hard it hurt. “Don’t worry dude, Vlad’s coming. He knows so much about you half ghosts that you’ll be fixed up on no time.” Right, Danny was already dead. If calling Vlad, feeling like he did something, helped Tucker move on then he’d deal with it.

Danny tilted his head to the side where Sam’s fingernails were carding through his hair. It was getting harder to see with the blood pouring out of his eyes but he looked at her, and tried to memorize her face. He’d never been able to tell her how much he loved her, that any day spent with her was a blessing. Tucker too, his best bro and a part of his soul. His best friends in the whole wide world, through thick and thin. God, he was going to miss them.

“Glurk,” he said, trying to convey those feeling but the fluids in his mouth and airway made it impossible. “Blerh.”

“Shh shh shh,” Sam soothed, “it’s okay, don’t try to talk.”

“Daniel!” He heard Vlad’s voice shriek as he materialized in front of the portal. Sam and Tucker were violently pushed out the way. Danny wanted to be angry at his loved ones being taken away in his final moments but anger was for the living, he barely had the energy to breathe. This death was too long and too short all at once. He made eye contact with Vlad who all at once lost the frantic edge to his tone and and instead knelt on the floor. “Oh my dear boy. What did they do to you?”

“What is going on?” Sam demanded, shoving her way back in. Danny was glad, he could see again like this. “Why aren’t you doing something!”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Vlad said in a flat, monotone, he picked up one of Danny’s hands and patted it gently. “His core is dying, it’s like a ghost’s heart. It contains their very essence, it is from which everything they are comes from. If Jack and Maddie somehow disrupted it then there’s nothing anyone can do to save him.”

“But he’s human too,” Tucker defended, grabbing Danny’s other hand. His human warm skin burned but the contact felt so good, he twitched his fingers closer to his friend’s. “He-he doesn’t need a core, he’s already got a heart. So, so he doesn’t have powers, we can do normal again.”

“You-” Vlad hissed before taking a calming breath. “The accident that made Daniel like this irreparably altered him. His core was as much a part of keeping him alive as his other organs, without it, his body is shutting down.” Vlad turned down to look Danny in the eye and saw true, genuine grief in those hateful red eyes. 

“I cannot imagine the agony you are going through, I’m so sorry. I’d say it will be over soon but,” a hitch that sounded almost like a sob if it was coming from anyone other than Vlad. “But you’ve hovered on the edge of death for years, son, and you’ve always been such a fighter. You have minutes at most but those minutes are an eternity when you’re suffering.”

Sam and Tucker’s sobbing blended together in the background, Vlad was saying something with a miserable, stunned expression. The swirling of the portal in the background seemed louder than anything, louder than his heart beat pounding and pounding as it ran it’s last race. 

“Daniel, Danny,” he focused his eyes back on Vlad who had a stubborn, unhappy set to his brow. “Do you want me to make the pain stop? An ectoblast to your chest will end your life instantly.”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Sam shrieked, coming back into view and looking like she was trying to fight Vlad off. “You do anything to him and I’ll kill you!” Tucker just sat and stared at him, like he too was trying memorize Danny’s face.

“It’s a mercy, Samantha or do you want his last moments on earth to be drowning on the blood in his lungs.”

“Sam, he has a point. I don’t- I don’t think we can fix this.”

“No! No we always fix things, I’ll do it myself if I have to!”

Danny’s vision was starting to go, more black than anything else. He closed his eyes and readied himself for the inevitable. 

“Time Out,” Danny opened his eyes and found he was no longer in pain. He was standing up and apart from where he’d previously been lying. Sam had her hands in Vlad’s face and the older hybrid was snarling something at her. Tucker was midmotion trying to stand up, presumably to get Sam but the three of them were frozen in the moment. Danny turned and found Clockwork floating, looking very out of place in his parents lab. “Good evening, Danny.”

“You that short on cash that you work part time as a grim reaper?” Danny quipped out of habit. He looked down at his body and grimaced a bit, that wasn’t a pretty sight. No doubt traumatizing for Tucker and Sam. God how were they going to explain this to his parents? “Gonna ferry me across the River Styx? I don’t have two pennies but I think I have a bloodied $10 on me.”

“You’re core is dying and you have 17 seconds left in this world before all your organs give out and finish the process you began when you turned on your parent’s ghost portal,” Clockwork explained as he changed into child form. 

“O-okay,” Danny said shakily, trying to be brave even when he was so, so scared. He was going out whether he wanted it or not but he refused to leave crying. “Nice of you to come say goodbye then but, uh but unless you have something to say then you should let me go back. No one knows better than me that you can’t outrun death. Thanks but I’m uh I’m ready.”

Clockwork stared at him for a bit, not sure how long, time was weird like this but he changed forms a few times. “You’re quite the remarkable young man, Danny Fenton.”

“Uh thanks,” Danny added, once more looking at his body which had, according to Clockwork, a 17 second expiration date. “What’s going to happen? Am I going to become a ghost? Does heaven or hell exist for someone like me?”

“I don’t get to decide what happens, I merely see options,” Clockwork stated easily, taking his time. “If you die naturally you’ll become ghost, a mere shadow of who you are now and one who would fade fairly quickly. You don’t have strong enough anger or regrets to tie you in the real world for long.” Not great but okay he supposed, hell for his friends and family though. “You could let Plasmius deliver his mercy kill, destroying what’s left of your ghost core and ensuring you do not come back.” Better, probably won’t help the Fruitloop’s instability but he can’t save everyone.

“That one comes with it’s own caveat but I’ll get to that in a moment,” Clockwork explained. “There is a third option where you get up off the floor and walk away.” Danny blinked then looked back at his body which certainly wasn’t walking anywhere but into a plush casket. Clockwork opened his hands and the Ghost King’s Crown materialized in his hands. “If you accept your claim to the King’s Cown, it will revitalize your core and your life would be saved.”

Danny blinked.

“By sealing Pariah Dark, you won by proxy and established a legitimate claim to the throne. The Zone has been without a king for millennia, most have forgotten the old rules. Those who remembered were not too keen on a half-ghost child assuming leadership and kept you in the dark. If Plasmius ends your life then your claim transfers over to him, which he is aware of. It had been his plan all along to trick you into defeating Pariah so he could steal the Crown from you at a later date, a much easier opponent.”

Danny’s mind was overloaded with information, he didn’t know what to focus on first. He stared at his 17 seconds from death face and tried to process it all. Crown? Claim? Vlad?

“Of course,” Clockwork tutted, “he didn’t plan on your dying and in such a gruesome fashion. If he kills you and takes your claim, he would spend his remaining years ruling the Ghost Zone in a just, controlled fashion for your memory. He destroys all the stable portals and keeps the ghost and human worlds separate.” Clockwork became and old man and titled his head, “it’s not a bad timeline, all things considered.”

“And if I take it?” Danny asked quietly.

“You’re compassionate, brave and motivated, you have all the makings of a revolutionary king,” Clockwork smiled. “The Zone would experience and unprecedented era of peace, there would be positive interactions between human and ghosts for the first time since life and death split into two. Your name would spoken with reverence for the rest of time.”

“But I don’t want to be king,” Danny frowned.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Clockwork stated. “Which is why I am giving you the choice. If you pass peacefully there will be no one to claim the Crown and life will continue on, ghost attacks and all. If Plasmius kills you, he becomes an effective but unmemorable king. If you take the Crown, you can get the chance to tell Sam and Tucker how much you love them.”

Danny rubbed at his face, he didn’t want to die but he’d be sealing away his entire future with a move like this. He didn’t even know if the Crown would let him go with death, maybe he’d die and be stuck as the Ghost King until his core finally gave out lord in who knows how long. Eternity was an awful long time to carry such a responsibility. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, too afraid of the answer.

“Is there ever a timeline I became an astronaut?” He asked instead. Clockwork hummed, seemingly unsurprised by Danny’s non-sequitur. 

“Yes, in one of the few universes where you never walked into the portal. You never go into space what with human politics putting a halt on the programs but you work for NASA. You leave Amity Park at 17 and don’t come back save for your parents’ dual funeral.” He paused and Danny felt read down to his very bones, “from the moment you became half ghost you were always heading for this moment. The circumstances varied but it always came down to you and the Crown. Time is straining to continue, to see how this drama plays out. Will you accept it and all the joy and grief that comes with it?”

Danny looked over at Vlad, still mid-sneer but there was a scared desperation in his face. He and Vlad sniped at each other all the time but Danny didn’t really hate him and he didn’t think Vlad did either. Leaving him alone, plus making him be king was a heavy burden to put on his enemy. 

Sam and Tuck probably wouldn’t recover from this, he’d put them through so much already but he just knew that they’d never be the same. Could he do that to them? Take the easy way out and leave them to suffer? Mom and Dad didn’t deserve to come home to a dead son, the truth would come out and they’d never forgive themselves. Jazz certainly wouldn’t, she was 2 states over at University but he could already hear her angry, grief-stricken screams. 

Death, death was quiet. It was quiet and merciful and sad, but it was also easy. And Danny Fenton had never once taken the easy route. He reached out and took and the crown before shakily placing it on his head. He gasped, throwing his head back as his core swelled, taking up residence once more right next to his heart. Clockwork smiled, looking like the cat who ate the canary. 

“The Crown of Fire, pardon me the Crown changes with each core, the Crown of Ice is now yours as is the Zone. Your reign begins now but so too does the rest of your life. People are waiting for you. Time in.” Danny slammed back into awareness on the floor of his parents’ lab, the floor he’d almost died on twice. 

He sat up as cold radiated off his body, causing frost to crawl down his arms and along the floor. Sam, Tucker and Vlad, who’d been frozen up until now, jumped back to life. There was a new, familiar weight on his head that he didn’t dare acknowledge. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent goodbye to a quiet, normal life. It wouldn’t be all bad, he could be happy like this but the Crown still felt like a iron manacle around his neck. But he got used to the ghost powers, he could get used to this too. Maybe one day he won’t look at the stars and say ‘what if?’

“Danny!” Sam shouted, throwing herself into his arms soon followed by Tucker. Their warm weight, their relieved sobs, their shaky breaths in his air, now this was something worth living for. He squeezed them tightly.

“But how dude, you were at death’s door!” Tucker asked, still not letting go.

“You accepted the Crown,” Vlad said evenly, “I wasn’t aware you even knew about your claim. Who told you?”

“You don’t know everything, Vlad,” Danny sighed, sitting himself upright. Ugh his shirt was covered in blood and ectoplasm. He needed to trash these clothes before his parents freaked. And find a way to hide the floating ice crown on his head. 

“Even an old man can be surprised every now and again,” Vlad said wearily. He stood up to his full height before startling Danny by dipping down to one knee. “Then allow me to be the first to welcome my new king and wish him well.”

“I thought you wanted this,” Danny questioned.

“I do, I did,” Vlad said, unusually off balance. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure how to feel about it but, right now, I’m just immeasurably happy you’re alive, little badger. Now I best be off, enjoy your kingdom, my liege, I’ll be sure to come bother you some time soon.” Vlad disappeared in a swirl of pink leaving just him, Sam and Tucker still clinging to him.

Danny may have a kingdom, a job he didn’t want and his whole life decided in a spur of the moment choice, but he also had something very important. He squeezed his friends tightly.

“I love you guys, thank you for being my friends even though I have the worst ideas for activities. Dying? On a Sunday night? How lame is that?” Sam laughed, a bit hysterical but it was real and it made Danny feel weightless. 

“Don’t do that again, buddy,” Tucker breathed into his shoulder. “So you gonna explain what just happened and why you’re apparently the Ghost King or something?”

“Yeah, yeah I will but let’s get changed first. Mom and Dad will be home soon and I think I’m going to need to have a conversation with them about my new job.” 

[butwhatifidothis]

Tumblr is starting to VERY MUCH dislike how long the other reblog chain is getting, so this will be Reblog Chain 2 of my jotting down notes of this fic. Here is the first reblog chain for Chapters 1-20

But it appears as though I was correct in sleeping off Chapter 20, because Chapter 21 is. Hm. bad. Very. Not good.

Chapter 21:

Transcript under the cut:

Chapter 21: It's Called Scars so it Gonna Be Ass

- To be blunt, the constant need to reaffirm that yes, Edelgard went through terrible experimentation and that yes, they were very horrific, is tiring. This is chapter 21. The experiments occurred in chapter 2. Every single chapter between now and then have, at some point, mentioned that INDEED, Edelgard DID in fact go through horrific trauma. It is tiring to the reader to constantly have to reread the same thing - we know it happened. We know it was terrible. There's no need to constantly say so; we already understand as readers.

- "Every time the spark of life broke through Byleth’s blank face, it brought a flickering hope to the Flame Emperor’s heart." ->

- Firstly: Awkward use of the Flame Emperor epithet (its usage is on and off with how appropriate its been - this is off).

- Secondly: Once again, Byleth's face was rarely if ever blank. She was never the Ashen Demon, as even the last chapter showcased. The author is mistaking reservation with emotionlessness, which is simply wrong

- "There had been so many empty days and nights, without friendship, love or joy. With nothing to hope for, except someday, the peace of the grave." -> Suicidal tendencies: another trait that Edelgard doesn't have... (strikes against canon: 89)

- ...but Dimitri does. Counter: 12

- "Dimitri, too, was troubled by the thought, grasping the side of his head and frowning. As the spasm passed, he turned to Edelgard and smiled warmly." -> It seems a little callous to so casually toss Dimitri's symptoms into his interactions with others when such things simply don't occur in the canon interactions. It's not impossible, or strictly against canon, but it does not feel natural; it's more as though the author is shining bright neon signs that say DIMITRI HAS MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES than a genuine attempt at writing Dimitri's mental health issues. This is not the first time this sort of seemingly thoughtless showcasing of symptoms has happened (Noted separately: Dimitri having drastic mood swings)

- "No, this world must be ruled by humans…not cruel gods who ignored the prayers of little girls." -> This statement follows Edelgard internally chastising the actions of not gods, but the Children of the Goddess. This is a weaselly attempt at dodging Edelgard's racist beliefs that Nabateans should not be allowed positions of power by shifting the belief to apply to miscellaneous gods instead. While not inaccurate per se - she does also canonically believe that gods should have no power in human affairs - it is not honest

- "Byleth nodded with childlike simplicity. “We should all try to get along.”" -> Again describing Byleth as childlike and/or innocent. Counter: 3

- For those curious: yes, the rat scene is implemented, yes it is sloppy, yes it is out of character for Claude - so much so that it is being noted separately - and yes it is forced to all hell

- What will be noted here, however, is that this is yet another instance of a man being demeaned/humiliated for the honor of a woman. See quote: "Byleth was on him in an instant, a tempest forming in the sea of her blue eyes. “That isn’t funny.” She crossed her arms sternly. “Jokes are about bringing people together...about making them smile. Right now, the only person laughing is you.”" with Claude reacting awkwardly. Once again, Man Bad Woman Good

- In a showcasing of a complete lack of self-awareness within the fic: "“Maybe if you’d have taught the Deer instead…but since you seem to have no ambitions outside of cleaning up Edelgard’s messes…”" -> This is Claude being portrayed as the bad guy, not the one being completely and utterly right

- " She slapped Edelgard on the back, and smiled heartily. “I agree, Dimitri!” Edelgard grimaced, trying to hide the fact her teacher had just struck the wound she had received during the mock battle." -> As well as where undoubtedly countless scars would be, yes? Scars that still cause Edelgard pain? In fact, Edelgard has been slapped on the back by Byleth and Jeralt numerous times before, and yet expresses no pain or discomfort.

- Another thing, that I had not noted though ought to have: Edelgard, a victim of sexual assault (in this fic), rarely seems to mind people touching her. She gets a little surprised if someone tries to get her attention with touch, yes, but Byleth's constant unprompted and random touching of Edelgard is never said to do anything but bring warmth and joy and comfort to Edelgard. It seems as though Edelgard suffering through sexual assault is just another source of trauma for the author to dump onto her for nothing more than pity points

- This is incredibly harsh to say, yes, and I would usually refrain from attributing such harshness onto a piece of text, but remember that Edelgard's scars only cause her pain when it's convenient, that she only experiences headaches when it's convenient, that she experiences PTSD episodes (when Claude mentions the rat) when it's convenient (note that in this fic he does it outside of battle, where her getting triggered wouldn't compromise her chances at victory). Edelgard not being touch averse and being a victim of sexual assault are not inherently something bad - survivors react to trauma differently, after all - but it is another in a steadily longer line of instances where Edelgard is simply given trauma for the sake of making her pitiable to the reader and the love interest, not something that Edelgard genuinely has to struggle with.

- "As Claude and Dimitri looked at their classmate expectantly, Edelgard was wracked with another bout of guilt. Deep in her soul, the princess knew these peaceful days would end soon. When that happened, no feast or vows of friendship could make up for the chaos and horror she would unleash. It would be better to pull away, close off her heart, rather than fuel the flames of her inevitable betrayal." -> Aka, "Feel bad for me, I feel guilty for planning to cause the death and ruination of countless innocents' lives all because I convinced myself that my way is the only way to get things done my way without ever actually trying to see if more peaceful ways could have worked. I'm going to orphan children, force families to fight each other, have the land be rampaged by banditry, and overall bring chaos onto these days that I ADMIT ARE PEACEFUL all because I feel that my way would be better. Wah wah pity me but I don't wanna be pitied I promise wah wah."

- "Byleth shrugged with a characteristic blend of innocence and spirit. “I guess I just like winning.” She began to blush and grabbed Edelgard’s hand. "It's so exciting! I’ve never had anyone other than Papa to celebrate with before!”" -> Byleth = innocent/childlike. Counter: 4

- The fic likes to reaffirm again and again that Byleth is "now" only acting like this due to Edelgard's presence in her life. Note also these statements written previously: "Every day, [Edelgard] was watching the person she loved grow and change. Become who she always was supposed to be." This, perhaps unintentionally, again enforces the "Lesbian Love is Pure and Innocent" trope; these wlw are only allowed to be their good girl, innocent selves - who they were always supposed to be - due to the pure lesbian love they have found with one another

- Count Bergliez didn't know of the experiments initially, but he eventually found out and did nothing to stop them, fleeing from a young and tortured El who was pleading for him to save her - Unnecessarily painting Count Bergliez as a spineless coward too afraid of Duke Aegir to save a child in pain

- Once again, a man fails to save a woman and further traumatizes her

- It should be noted that Bergliez is fearful not for his own life, but for that of his children, who were the ones Duke Aegir threatened. He, very similar to Ionius, cannot save Edelgard, except Bergliez (unlike Ionius) has a tangible, physical, explainable reason as to why he couldn't, and yet it is him who is painted as the bad guy, not Ionius. He is worthy of Edelgard's scorn and hatred, but Ionius only receives a begrudging feeling of betrayal from Edelgard that she feels guilty for harboring, even though he failed her far more than Bergliez failed her.

- "Daughters must always be loyal to their fathers" trope

- "No decent person thought the things Edelgard did. Just as her body had been twisted and shattered by the experiments, her mind bore terrible scars. Scars that the monster kept hidden, so she could walk in the world of men." -> Dehumanizing oneself as a monster as well as having violent thoughts (that specifically stem from trauma) one feels guilty for harboring are not traits Edelgard shows in canon... (strikes against canon, 90, 91)

- ...but Dimitri does. Counter: 13, 14

- "world of men?" Did the author perhaps mean "world of man," as in mankind? Keep note of

- The reason as to why Bergliez is said to have witnessed young El's tortured state and did nothing to help her is revealed: in canon, he dislikes her. It is blatantly and objectively said that he and Edelgard share a mutual displeasure in the other's company. What this fic had him do will be used as an excuse as to why he doesn't hate her, since no one is allowed to dislike Edelgard on the "good" side

- Edelgard, upon being asked if revenge is the reason she is doing what she's doing (reuniting Fodlan): "“No.” Edelgard put her hand to her chin thoughtfully. “I think for a long time, it was…but after a while, I realized that revenge wouldn’t satisfy me.” She looked at the blue sky above. “After you go through that much suffering…when you beg for help, day after day, and no one cares...you realize that nothing will ever truly make you feel safe again. The only thing I want is for this madness to end.”" -> This is internally inconsistent. See chapter 15 note: ""You know why they created me in the first place.” / “To reunite Fódlan,” spat Hubert. “It was all my father talked about.” / “And I will give it to them. "" This directly connects Edelgard's want to reunite Fodlan to the wants of her tormenters (as this states she is doing it out of spite). Note how Hubert spits at the idea of reuniting Fodlan, and how it was all his father - portrayed as a villain - talked about. This is not what this Edelgard wants, at least not of her own independent want. Earlier in this very chapter, Edelgard internally states a want to hurt Bergliez for leaving her behind. To say that she now no longer thinks vengeance would satisfy her, or that none of the reason that she is doing everything she does is out of a want for revenge, is ridiculous

- Edelgard to Bergliez, upon being asked what will happen to him and his family should Edelgard rise to power: "“All those who distinguish themselves will be rewarded. Given your history, I have little doubt you will be among them.” She nervously played with her white gloves. “All I ask is that when I seize back control of the throne, I can count on the military’s support.”" -> Yes, all who distinguish themselves to Edelgard, for Edelgard's cause, that Edelgard can see and/or know of. How likely is it that a poor farmer who is exceptional at fighting will actually be noticed by Edelgard and be given the credit he deserves, when others who may not be as meritable but do have some merit have the connections to show themselves directly in front of Edelgard? What means will Edelgard give the poor soldiers (that she or Byleth aren't already friends with, notably Dorothea and Leonie) that will allow them to be able to be seen by her and have their merits recognized? Edelgard is the one who says who gains power after all, so it is her they must prove themselves to, but how can they realistically do that?

- What about professions that are not immediately beneficial to Edelgard's cause, such as the arts? How will they fare in Edelgard's society, when their works and talents yield no tangible, objective results (such as, say, farming)?

- Something the fic will address?

- Edelgard does not nervously do anything in front of those she is trying to negotiate with in canon, not even Thales. Strikes against canon: 92

- "[Bergliez] could only laugh in response. “I think we’re going to get along rather well, my lady…and the other?”" -> Except Bergliez and Edelgard don't get along well, ever. Pre ts they are stated to dislike each other, which continues even onto post ts with Bergliez being the only noble Edelgard couldn't bring to heel. Strikes against canon: 93

- As predicted: No one is allowed to dislike Edelgard on the "good" side

- Literally forgot Hubert was with Edelgard and Bergliez lmao

- Ionius tried to consolidate power to be rid of the consort system due to his unending love for Anselma -> A ridiculous idea, plain and simple. Ionius was Emperor. If he wished to be rid of the consort system there was no need for him to try and take away all power from the other Imperial houses.

- If Ionius truly loved Anselma, why did he allow her to be exiled from the Empire? Why didn't he step in and use his influence as Emperor to help her?

- Edelgard, when she is Emperor - passed down a supposedly empty crown, at that - showcases the all-encompassing power the title of Emperor truly holds to one willing to use that power. That Ionius supposedly wanted to do all of these reforms and yet nothing at all was done, ever (save for ruining Houses Hrym and Ordelia, something even this fic has as canon), if Ionius did want to make these reforms, means that he was too spineless and cowardly to truly go through with trying to pass them. This again unintentionally showcases how awful a ruler and weak-willed a person Ionius was when he had power when trying to paint him in this righteous light.

- Lambert was stated to be trying to pass reforms before he died in canon, not Ionius. From parents to the children, the author is attributing traits from Lambert onto Ionius just as he (author's confirmed gender is male) attributes traits from Dimitri onto Edelgard

- " Her father and mother…she had thought their romance a fairy tale-a story from her father to make a motherless child feel valued. But…they truly had loved each other." -> Edelgard does believe Ionius when he told her of the story of when he and Anselma (supposedly) met each other. There is nothing to indicate that Edelgard thought it to be a lie: in fact, in canon: "But I choose to believe there was genuine love between them." Strikes against canon: 94

- It seems as though finally, after around 18 chapters, Edelgard's scars will finally cause her genuine inconvenience due to her complex about them as well as her trust issues. She has a gash on her back from the Battle of Eagle and Lion, but will not have it treated if Manuela isn't the healer, and yet the woman is occupied dealing with the rest of the students who were injured. How will this fic deal with this?

- Ingrid, referring to her and Sylvain: ""We just switched from Felix lecturing us all day to listening to Edelgard moralizing, didn’t we?"" -> The author is trying to compare a childhood friend whose friends have had years to get used to their barbed tongue to a stranger that directly insults the dreams of one of them. Something which Ingrid canonically hates having be done to her, even from Felix, a childhood friend. Once again, Ingrid being so casual about Edelgard being so disrespectful of her dreams is out of character. Strikes against canon: 95

- "Sylvain shook his head knowingly, ignoring Felix’s truly alarming scowl. “You should have seen his face, Edelgard. Dimitri would go on and on about this girl he met when he was a kid…and Felix would complain about her for hours!” He looked at Felix and smiled. “For all his whining about the “Boar,” nobody loves Dimitri more than him.”" -> Oh? A romantic gay male relationship presenting itself within the fic?

- Another vision of SS experienced by Edelgard. Word from a nameless guard: "The woman, Byleth, leading their forces... She’s not human! She killed half my battalion with one swing of that sword of hers. She didn’t speak, she didn’t shout, she didn’t even change her expression!” The panicked man was teetering on the edge of hysteria. “All those people rallying around her, and it’s like she doesn’t care at all. Like she's a walking corpse!"" -> Obviously saying that Byleth becomes the Ashen Demon if not allowed to be with Edelgard.

- Unintentional statement: Byleth can't be the pure innocent (lesbian) woman without Edelgard's (lesbian) love granting her purity, reverting her to a monstrous, corrupt demon incapable of humanity

- See chapter 20 note: "Implying that choosing SS - aka, choosing the Nabateans - makes Byleth less human. Intentional?" Confirmed to be intentional. Also false: in canon, even when accounting for CF's lesser chapter count, Byleth emotes far more on SS than on CF, which matches with CF having Edelgard call Byleth detached in their A support. Strikes against canon: 96

- The same nameless soldier, same context: "And those Faerghus kids…” / Edelgard leaned forward in her chair. “Ingrid…Sylvain…what of them?” / “They…they were animals. Screaming and ranting about revenge for the King.” -> Is the author really demonizing Sylvain and Ingrid for (potentially!) being mad at Edelgard for murdering one of their childhood friends? Is that really the depths the Edelgard worship will sink to, that friends becoming enraged at a friend's unjust murder from a warlord is being portrayed as something sad for the warlord? Just what else should Edelgard be pitied for?

- "The scared girl desperately tried to drown out the thoughts that reverberated incessantly. / They’re going to despise us…it’s destiny. And how could they not? If we were truly good, the Goddess would have saved us…protected us. But She didn’t. The Goddess took Mother. She took our family. And soon, She’ll take everything else we love. She hates us. / It’s what we deserve." - Now confirmed that Edelgard hears multiple voices in her head tormenting her. That trait that, once again, Edelgard does not have... (Strikes against canon: 97)

- ...but Dimitri does. This is the third time this chapter that this has happened, and far from the only chapter to display such baffling characterization of Edelgard via Dimitri's traits. It is nonsensical.

- " Why had [Edelgard] even been born at all? Nonexistence would have been preferable to watching every faint dream be dashed, to suffering alone over and over. She was just…so tired of being alive." -> Once. Again. Suicidal tendencies/thoughts is not a trait Edelgard shows in canon... (Strikes against canon: 98)

- ...but Dimitri does. The fourth! The fourth time in one chapter the author desperately wanted to just write Dimitri!

- If the fic wanted to take Edelgard in a different direction than canon does and has her display some of these traits, it would be more passable, but this fic is under the delusion that it is in any way following canon closely, especially in regards to Edelgard, and so this can only be seen as a desperate attempt from the author to have Edelgard be sympathetic by donning the skin of an actually sympathetic character such as Dimitri

- "Edelgard looked at herself in the mirror. The back of her academy uniform was stained red, the rhythmic, soft dripping of blood assaulting the princess’ ears." -> And no one commented on this? No one was worried? Not Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix, who were sitting right by her? Not Lysithea, who saw her take the blow to her back and never get it healed? Not Dimitri, who delivered the blow? It just so happened that literally no one at all noticed this?

- Byleth literally slapped Edelgard on the back earlier? Wouldn't her hand come back red with blood if it were seeping through the uniform?

** The scene that follows the previous note is too long to quote, despite how truly terrible it is. Long quotes, even extremely long quotes, have been presented in these notes before, but the length this quotation would be if the full extent of it were written here would be a mess, and quite frankly, at that point it would do one better to simply go to the fanfiction itself and read the text from there. With the context received from these notes, if one wishes to see the words for themselves, go to chapter 21 of The Emperor and the Goddess, enter Ctrl + F (or Find in Page on mobile devices), and enter the phrase "Byleth crossed her arms, clearly frustrated" verbatim. The following note will not be quoting the entire scene from the fic (merely summarizing it), though context is needed to understand how truly bad the scene is. **

- To have hope in this fic performing anything correctly is proving to be a fool's dream, for it has yet to do anything right; that includes the aforementioned gash upon Edelgard's back. As stated, it did not draw the attention of those who were sitting around her nor did it draw the attention of the one who witnessed the injury itself, nor of the one who delivered the injury itself, so no one commented on the gaping, bleeding wound Edelgard was "hiding" from everyone as she turned her (bleeding) back to them and left for the baths to clean up (it must be heavily stressed: immediately after leaving it is revealed that the blood is seeping through her uniform). As she was washing - naked, of course - Byleth just so happened to step into the baths with only a towel wrapped around her "for modesty," much to the horror of Edelgard, for she does not want Byleth seeing her scarred body. A slight argument arises between the two over Edelgard getting her injuries checked, before Byleth warns Edelgard that she will go to Rhea and force her to go to the infirmary should Edelgard continue to refuse treatment, which drives Edelgard past the brink. She raises her arms from the bathwater and presents her scars (""Fine!... If you want to see so badly, here!""), to the horror of Byleth ("Byleth Eisner was not a woman given to strong emotional reactions, but she staggered back, hands over her mouth."). Edelgard cries in hysteria, fear of her beloved teacher running away in disgust over her ugly, mutilated body overwhelming her. But Byleth, childlike in her innocence, shared that she too is scarred in strange ways, and that she too is scared of failing those around her - that she has no ambitions save to help and protect those around her. Byleth reveals that it is Edelgard whom Byleth looks up to for always being so strong and always moving forward, and shows that without Edelgard Byleth wouldn't know how to handle the pressure everyone else puts on her. The exchange ends with Byleth reassuring Edelgard that she is beautiful and not the monster she thinks she is.

- There is no nice way of putting this: this is a classic example of how not to write someone opening up to another about something. Edelgard views herself as weak, ugly, repulsive, a monster, shameful, but it is Byleth's love and affection that gives her comfort and warmth, that gives her hope of something more. It forces Byleth to behave wildly out of character (the author can try to excuse this with "well she wouldn't normally behave like this!" all he wants, it doesn't matter when it goes against the base, canonical Byleth. Strikes against canon: 99) in order for Edelgard's scarred body to be seen as something that is repulsive, that is ugly, that is stained, so much so that the pure, childlike, innocent Byleth couldn't stand to see something so tainted. And yet it is that same pure, childlike, innocent Byleth's pure, innocent, childlike love that pushes away the pain of Edelgard's scars for just that moment. Other characters become suddenly blind and/or forgetful of Edelgard's obvious, bleeding wound so that it is Byleth who can be the one to save Edelgard with her pure, innocent, childlike presence and her pure, innocent, childlike uncertainty about her own insecurities (but only when it is convenient for Edelgard, as even Byleth didn't noticed the gaping, bleeding wound until she was alone with Edelgard where no one could interrupt their bonding moment). This scene is inorganic and forced, ham-fisting Edelgard and Byleth in the same room - the wash room, where both are either naked or nearly naked - so that Byleth is the one to find Edelgard, no one else. No one was worried enough about the sudden exit Edelgard took from the conversation she was having to follow her and make sure she was alright, and Byleth just so happened to enter the baths right after Edelgard. The scene is, to be frank, insulting.

- There have been a couple of joking references to a book titled Stones to Abigail in these notes, but in all seriousness, this scene plays unsettlingly similar to a scene in said book, where a scarred girl who is naked reveals her "ugly" and "revolting" scarred body to the love interest, who goes on to soothe and comfort the naked girl as best they can. The resemblance is uncanny

- Byleth described as childlike/innocent. Counter: 5

- Edelgard, in canon, never expresses feeling herself to be ugly, or repulsive, or a monster. Strikes against canon: 100

- Again, Edelgard's scars are only important when they are convenient - this time, in helping develop the romantic relationship between her and Byleth

- There are ways in which scars can be utilized without being problematic, but certainly not when this much focus is placed on them and yet they are only truly present when they cannot hinder Edelgard.

- Perhaps particularly insulting is this phrase from Edelgard: "Did she actually love Byleth at all, or just being saved by her?" Yes, Edelgard, you do simply want to be saved by Byleth, because that is precisely what the narrative has been drilling into the reader's heads ever since Byleth showed herself. Byleth is Edelgard's light, Byleth is Edelgard's hope, Byleth gives Edelgard back her humanity, Byleth is Edelgard's one source of joy, Byleth is Edelgard's entire life, and nothing, absolutely nothing in this fic has shown this to ever be a bad thing. This dependence on Byleth to bring Edelgard joy at the near complete expense of everyone else has been propped up as something romantic, and yet it's now, 21 chapters and over 85K+ words in, that we're supposed to believe that this was actually Edelgard being unhealthy? Even though the author himself said that this was what he enjoyed about their relationship, how much they found each other in each other? Even though we see what the author thinks would happen to the two of them should they separate - Edelgard, lonely and afraid without her beloved teach, and Byleth, the Ashen Demon who cares for nothing without her beloved student - in her visions of SS? This is a joke

- It cannot be overstated that Byleth came to the bathhouses completely independently of Edelgard. She did not come to specifically see her because she followed her out of worry for Edelgard due to her injury - she only knows that Edelgard's injured in the first place due to seeing bloody bandages that Edelgard removed in the bathhouse, before Byleth arrived.

- Author's notes: "On Bergliez, we find out very little in-game, but he 1) offers himself for execution so his men can go free in SS and 2) seems to be actually competent at his job. I thought a nuanced portrayal was more interesting, since I've been writing Aegir as the absolute worst person in the world." -> Note: this is what the author believes to be a nuanced take on someone. Someone who likes Edelgard entirely and does nearly whatever they can to help her, but they did one thing that's morally gray (leaving a child behind to save his own children from the same fate) that is portrayed as objectively bad, so now they are nuanced. While perhaps this sort of character would be truly nuanced in better hands, as it is with his actions being portrayed as something that is obviously so completely and utterly wrong and him someone who deserves complete and utter condemnation - and yet Ionius, who does far worse for far less understandable reasons, gets a comparative slap on the wrist - it causes confusion as to Edelgard's lines. Bergliez seeing her the one time and never helping her is enough for her to want to hurt him as she was hurt, but her father repeatedly coming to and "being forced" to watch her actively be tortured and doing nothing does little to invoke similar depths of resentment? Even granting the idea that "she gives more slack to her father," Ionius is objectively and far worse than Bergliez, down to doing hard things to protect their children, and yet it is only Bergliez who is shined in this unpleasant a light

- To be clear, Bergliez's decision was not a good one, but understandable. It is a gray decision to make. But notice how he is called "gray" and "nuanced" and yet Ionius is nearly completely innocent, as described by the author himself, despite their being no given explaination as to why "he was a figurehead" should be a good enough reason to wash him literally standing there and watching as his children - some of whom aren't even teens yet - get slowly tortured and killed.

- "There are many localization changes I understand (Byleth wanting to get drunk after the battle is one of them), but Treehouse's decision to remove Ionius' entire reason for power centralization (eliminating the consorts) was a big, big mistake." -> Given the history of this author's grasp on the Japanese language, this needs to be checked, as he cannot be trusted as a source as to whether this is true

******* Notes of Claude mischaracterization: Chapter 21, section 1, paragraphs 1, 21 & 23, 27 *******

[cinnaminsvga]

A Boy Like You | Yoongi

→ summary: for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you.

{or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

→ genre: coworker!au, f2l, fluff → warnings: an overabundance of shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to squish his cheeks; kinda ooc but it is what it is → words: 11.5K → a/n: whaddup kids it’s ya girl... back from the dead after months of not writing shit, and what’s this owo... it’s a fluff fic?? miracles do happen... anyway i wrote this bc i just thot “man, wouldn’t it be super epic if i wrote a super self-indulgent fic where yoongi fulfills every single one of my deepest desires?” well... here is THIS!! pls feel free to scream into a pillow bc i certainly did!! enjoy!!

There is a boy you know who likes to show his kindness quietly. It would go something like this:

The air is thick with static; your hair stands up on end: a warning. The scent of raindrops hitting hot pavement graces your nostrils as a waterfall drops from the sky. You see the sea of heads begin to disappear under a canopy of multi-colored umbrellas. You, the lone ranger, rush back into the building from whence you came, dragging puddles and annoyance with you.

You should have anticipated it, should have thought to check the weather app before scrolling through dull social media posts when you left your house that morning. Instead, your fingers are left cold and umbrella-less.

You tilt your head upwards, watching as gallon upon gallon fell from the sky in an endless cycle. The watch on your wrist reads 5 PM, but the sky says it is 9 PM. The dark, swirling mass of clouds above you will continue on its thunderous parade, pausing for no one, especially not for you.

Your work bag is practically weightless, devoid of anything that might protect you from the onslaught of rain. The only thing inside is a small wallet that holds nothing more than dust and a loose promise of a paycheck. There is no way you can call a taxi like this, and the nearest bus stop is at least two blocks away. You are starting to think that your childhood dreams of becoming a mermaid hadn’t been so ridiculous after all.

Then comes the hand of God. It touches your shoulder gently, hesitantly. You turn around to face a stranger, a boy with shaggy black hair and pale moonlight skin. It is not God, but he comes close.

In his other hand is your salvation wrapped in Kumamon print nylon. It is proffered to you with a silent nod, his gaze fixed somewhere behind you as he waits for you to take it. The tips of his ears begin to redden the longer it takes for you to respond. Eventually, your brain connects with your muscles as you robotically pluck the umbrella from his grasp, a stuttered “thanks” leaving your lips.

He nods stiffly once more, removing his palm from your shoulder as though he had been burned. He shuffles for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the words to say. You wait, patience never waning for the strange boy that you have come to know as your salvation.

He doesn’t find the words after all. You aren’t too offended by his silence, but he appears to be mortified. And so, he leaves just as quickly as he had appeared, like a whirlwind dressed in an oversized blazer flapping behind him like wings. He runs through the rain without another thought, an arm raised above his head in a futile attempt to avoid getting wet.

You try calling out to him, wanting to thank him once more and maybe to ask how you can return his umbrella, but he is long gone. A speck of black dashing through the gray.

You clutch the umbrella closer to you, a feeling of something new growing inside of you. It is too small to call anything, but it is warm.

x x x x x

Umbrella boy has a name, and he happens to work on the same floor as you. You know this because he is standing right in front of you in all his bespectacled glory.

He ducks out of view the moment your eyes meet his. There is a stack of folders in his arms, and he bows his head until his nose touches manila. It’s too late––he knows you caught him staring. He scurries behind walls of filing cabinets and desk cubicles, desperate to get back to his desk where he hopes you’ll never find him.

The office floor is large, but it is not large enough to hide in. It takes only a few minutes until you find him hunched over his desk, every inch of space taken by enough towers of paper to cover a forest. It is no wonder that you never encountered your mysterious umbrella boy; he does a wonderful job of blending in.

Your eyes trail his form, not out of any perverse intent, but just out of curiosity. You never would have guessed from his unassuming and meek nature, but the boy is devastatingly beautiful. The devil is in the details: you admire the soft slope of his nose to the adorable pout of his lips. His eyelids are charmingly mismatched and his cheeks are begging to be pinched. It takes a year’s worth of self-restraint to keep your hands at your sides, if only so you don’t scare him away before you can even introduce yourself.

(You can already imagine your HR department contacting you about nonconsensual manhandling… You admit that you tend to get overzealous with your affection, especially when confronted with cute things. This boy would definitely need to watch out for you if he knows what’s best for him.)

((Also note to self: Stop having these psychopathic conversations with yourself. Being stuck inside the cage which is your brain is torture enough, so let’s not encourage it to get worse.))

There is a lanyard laced around his neck, the gaudy orange color of your company’s logo emblazoned across the thin material. And just out of your line of sight, you catch a glimpse of his ID. His name is––

“Y-Y/N?” He stutters out–no–he squeaks. Ah, so he’s noticed you. The folder in his hand slips out of his grasp, an avalanche of white tumbling all over his lap. He curses loudly, frantically sweeping away the mess under his desk, as if he could somehow magically make them disappear if he just kicked them hard enough. Unfortunately, the papers stay stubbornly tangible, and he is left with a halo of accounting reports around his workspace as a result.

“Are you… umm…” You hesitate with your words, fearing that any sudden movement on your part might cause umbrella boy to combust on the spot. “Do you need help… picking those up?”

“I–Well, no–Yes, but–” His sentences are stilted, his brain struggling to catch up with his tongue. He clamps his mouth shut, then shakes his head like he’s trying to reboot himself. Finally, after a few more deep breaths, he goes, “No. I’m fine. Thank you for offering.” He says that, but he appears awfully content with staring holes into the keyboard of his laptop when he is speaking to you though.

“Still… I’m terribly sorry for startling you,” you say, lips tugging downwards into a frown. You should have guessed he was skittish from how he had acted yesterday, but it’s quite a surprise to see one man so… disastrous, for lack of a better term. It’s awfully cute. “I just wanted to properly introduce myself and thank you for lending me your umbrella yesterday, but it seems like you already knew who I was.”

His face does a weird thing then and there. It almost appears like he was caught in a time loop, like someone was manually reversing and replaying his facial expressions like a video. It takes a few minutes for his little stroke to settle down, but even then, his cheeks remain a rosy pink. “I–I just… remembered your name during the company retreat the other month. I’m not weird or anything, I swear!”

“Well luckily, I was never going to accuse you of being weird anyway!” You laugh, trying to ease the perpetual look of anxiety on his face. However, it only seems to worsen his nerves with how quickly his skin starts to redden. “In fact, I should be apologizing for not remembering your name, Mister..?”

“Min Yoongi,” he replies, pausing for a second too long. He must have realized his delay because he coughs awkwardly into his forearm, averting his gaze away from you in a futile attempt to become nothing more than an abstract thought.

He must be equipped with some sort of superpower, because you’re starting to feel his secondhand embarrassment flood through you like a tsunami. Are you that difficult to converse with? Does he want to be left alone so badly that he’s trying to subtlely tell you to fuck off?

You’re about to start apologizing and scurry off back to your desk in barely concealed mortification when Yoongi clears his throat, his gaze fixed somewhere to your right. Whatever caught his attention must have been revolutionary with how large his eyes are, although last you remember is that the wall behind you is the same dull jailcell gray that you have come to know and hate.

“I just… I’m sorry if I’m acting odd right now. I just wasn’t expecting you to come to my cubicle and I would’ve… I don’t know, tidied up? If I knew you were coming,” he mutters, propping his glasses back up when they start sliding down his nose. They make their slow descent back down immediately after, forever on an endless cycle of up and down his face.

“You don’t have to clean up just for me! I’m not your manager or anything,” you say, surveying the absolute disaster zone that is his workspace. For his benefit, you sure hope that he has a map of his desk and filing cabinets, as it would have been a miracle otherwise if he memorized where anything was located in his personal office sty. “Though, it would be nice if you could see the bottom of your desk every once in a while.”

To your immense surprise, Yoongi lets out a resounding laugh at your quip. Though Yoongi isn’t a mute by any means, it isn’t like he spoke with much volume either. You hadn’t even thought your joke was funny enough to deserve a strained Caucasian™️ smile, so you appreciate that he had considered that you were even slightly funny. You love the pleasant tinkling of his laughter, so genuinely joyous that you can’t help but want to make a fool of yourself just so you can hear it again and again.

When Yoongi stops, the familiar reddish hue that has made a home on his cheeks resurfaces, though it’s less from embarrassment now. His shoulders are more relaxed, and he doesn’t look like he wants to crawl out of his skin as much. He still has eyes averted away from you, however. “Sorry. I don’t know why I laughed too hard at that. I’m normally not this weird… I think it’s just the nerves.”

You cock your head to the side. “Nerves? From what?”

Yoongi freezes, mouth gaping open slightly. “I, umm…” He coughs into his white button-up sleeve, pupils shaking as he formulates a response. “Just from… work. Yeah, I just have a lot of paperwork to do this week and I’ve been, er, having difficulty relaxing.”

Yoongi visibly breathes a sigh of relief when you accept his flimsy excuse, not really lingering on the validity of his statement. “Oh, sure! Don’t overwork yourself too much, okay?” you say, smiling sweetly back at him. He stares, wide-eyed, not really sure how to go on with his life after he’d been blasted by the full force of your grin.

God, you hope you remembered to use a toothpick during lunch. Was there spinach in your teeth? Oh fuck.

“Gah,” he intones, his brain not fully cooperating with his mouth just yet. If you were any more socially inept, you’d probably be doing the same. Eventually, he clears his throat and tries again. “Uh. Yes. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Feeling like you’ve overstayed your visit, you decide that it might be best for you to leave him be before either of you do or say anything more awkward and stupid. Before you turn to leave however, you decide to extend your hand forward, hoping to erase all the previous awkwardness between the both of you and hopefully start afresh. Even though you’ve only just met, you can’t help but feel drawn to him, wanting to see him again and somehow gain his friendship. “Hey, no sweat. It was really nice meeting you, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Just Yoongi is fine,” he says, almost like an afterthought. He’s so busy staring at your proffered hand that you are afraid that you might have offended him unknowingly or something. Does he think you don’t wash your hands? Given by the fact that your office’s manager refuses to restock the soap dispensers at the washrooms, that isn’t that much of a stretch. Or maybe he was weirded out by your random handshake? Have handshakes become antiquated these days? Are the kids no longer doing it? Are you supposed to do those awful brohugs like the fresh-out-of-college interns do in the breakroom? Oh God, does Yoongi think you’re old?!

While you were in the midst of your mental breakdown, you soon begin to realize why Yoongi had contemplated returning your handshake for so long. Instead of taking your hand immediately, Yoongi rubs his own two palms together first, much like how one would when warming their hands in front of a fire. He takes care to blow on them slightly before grasping your hand firmly in his, finally bestowing you with your much awaited handshake.

“Umm..?” You stare at your intertwined hands, a little confused about the previous series of events that just happened five seconds ago. Yoongi, in all his adorable and flustered glory, releases your hand much too quickly like he’s been shocked, most likely realizing (belatedly) that what he had done might not be as clear to an observer as it is to himself.

“Oh, I – I’m so sorry about that, again.” Yoongi stutters, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just – my hands are really cold so I was trying to warm them up before I held your hands. I’m – I only just realized how odd that must have looked. Sorry.”

A rush of endearment and warmth surges through you as you behold this high strung boy, your heart flooded with a mix of emotions that make you feel gooey and blissful in one perfect package. No, this boy is the perfect package, all soft edges and blushy cheeks. It’s going to take a mountain and a room of vengeful deities to stop you from walking past his desk to catch a glimpse of him at this rate.

Oh God, you’re whipped already and it’s only been a few minutes since you said hello. He warmed his hand for you for heaven’s sake! Surely your enthusiasm can be excused in this one instance.

“That’s, uhh…” Now it seems that it is your turn to be at a loss of words, your throat clogged with a clump of newly discovered feelings that you don’t have enough time to sort through at the moment. The hamster running circles inside your brain has long since ground to a halt, and if Yoongi is going to keep staring at you with those charming cat eyes for any longer, you aren’t sure you’ll be able to convince the little vermin inside your skull to puppet your body again. “That’s… really sweet. Thank you.”

Thank you? Really, Y/N?

“It’s, uh, no problem. Really.” And with that, Yoongi presents to you his most deadly smile to date: blinding whites coupled his prominent pink gums, with his cheeks stretched like proofed dough that make his dark eyes disappear. Is there a pencil wedged inside your chest cavity, or were you just spontaneously having a heart attack? It’s hard to say; all you know is that your organs have turned to slush, and you make a mental note to send the imminent hospital bill to a certain Min Yoongi.

Cause of hemorrhage: being too fucking cute.

With your daily dose of embarrassment fulfilled, you turn to leave with short stilted steps, as if you have to force yourself away from him like those stubborn souvenir shop magnets that never come off the fridge. “I guess I’ll see you around?” you say more like a question, unsure if he’ll even want to ever see you after that disaster of an interaction. Kim Namjoon from Accounting would be entirely too delighted if he ever found out that he wasn’t the most awkward human being in the office.

“Sure? I’ll just be here. As always,” Yoongi replies kindly, same gummy grin on his face, albeit a little more hesitant. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N.”

When he returns his attention to his workspace, it serves as a signal to you that you really should be going. Before you leave, you take note of the subtle red tint of his ears that reaches the back of his neck, the gentle tremor of his hands as he reorganizes the files that he had previously dropped. It makes you feel odd for relishing in the fact that you hadn’t been the only one feeling the tension between the two of you, though that doesn’t help lessen the confusion that soon follows anyway.

Why are you so drawn to him? You have never felt so strongly for someone this quickly, and frankly it sort of frightened you. You’re too afraid to confront that blossoming curiosity inside of you. No, it’s much too soon for that. For now, however…

“Oh shit. I totally forgot to give him back his umbrella,” you curse yourself once you return to your desk. The smiling face of Kumamon looks at you knowingly, as if this had been planned all along.

Well. Now you have an excuse to see him again tomorrow, at least.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his tenderness quietly. It would go something like this:

Company dinners shouldn’t feel like as much as a punishment as it does, but that’s just how social gatherings with semi-professional coworkers are like. No one here really wants to be there, but the carefully worded e-mail sent to the entire company clearly suggests that this was more of a “go to the party or risk getting fired” type of deal than anything remotely enjoyable. As much as free food and booze are often harbingers of a good time, it hardly makes any difference when your inebriated boss spends the entire time chatting you up in front of the presence of a dozen or so indifferent associates.

“Oh, Y/N! Good job securing that deal with Mister Park the other day. It’s all thanks to my valuable tutelage, is it not?” your manager guffaws, slapping your back with misplaced camaraderie. He leaves his warm, sweaty palm there, feeling it slide an inch lower than you were comfortable with anyone being. The smell of cheap wine on his breath is making you feel nauseous, and the tacky black and white tiled flooring isn’t doing anything to lessen the incoming migraine.

“Right,” you say with a tight-lipped smile, unable to say anything else lest you lose your job over something silly like establishing boundaries. It’s no wonder that the number of female employees on your floor has significantly dropped over the years, especially with rumors attaching themselves like maggots all over your stupid manager’s name. You wouldn’t be surprised if his stomach exploded ala Alien (1979) style with how much bullshit resides in his body and soul.

You’ve long since given up on anyone saving you, not when everyone was either too busy taking advantage of the free food or too scared to confront your shitty boss. You resign to your fate, ready to scrub yourself clean with a brick once you get home in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the feeling of his hands on you.

That is, until someone clears their throat from behind you.

Salvation comes to you wrapped in a crisp white button-up, thick-rimmed glasses, and cat-like eyes. You almost want to start breaking into Gregorian chant just then to fully express your gratitude to the deities of above for sending an angel in your time of tribulation.

“Excuse me,” the (welcome) intruder says, voice quiet but clear even amidst the cacophonous music and chatter. Min Yoongi steps forward until he is to your right, and you don’t miss the way his shoulder “accidentally” bumps your manager hard enough for him to drop his hand from your back. When Yoongi smiles at your manager, it is all teeth and no mirth, his eyes carefully blank.

Thankfully, your manager isn’t quite as fortunate in his brains department as he is in his stomach. “Oh, Yoongi! It is so nice to finally see you attend one of our social functions. You are enjoying yourself, I hope?” your manager asks, guffawing loudly despite no joke being said. You never did quite understand how some men think they are the most hilarious thing to ever exist since clowns, though you suppose your manager was only missing the red nose to complete the look.

“Thrilled, Mister Lee. Absolutely thrilled,” Yoongi says in a dead monotone voice. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, and Yoongi points a wicked grin back at you before returning to his neutral and passive “work” face.

The sarcasm flies over your managers head like you expected, though you can hardly blame the alcohol for his lack of cognizance. You wouldn’t be half surprised if you knocked lightly on his head, only to hear a resounding echo following thereafter.

“I have never seen you at any of our parties before, Yoongi. What’s with the sudden change of heart?” your manager asks.

“Sir, I’ve attended every single social gathering since I was hired,” Yoongi says plainly, his composure never faltering. He must have better control than you, because you’re sure you would’ve barely held yourself back from smacking your manager had it been you. Though in fairness, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever noticed Yoongi at any of the other parties before this one either.

“Oh really? Well then, you mustn’t have said hello before then!” your manager laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder. “Always so enigmatic, our dear Yoongi! Well, keep up the good work.” When your manager turns his attention to speak to another one of your poor coworkers, Yoongi visibly gags from behind your manager’s back, grimacing as he pats away all traces of that foul man’s hand germs away from his dress shirt.

“Gross. Now my sleeve is damp,” he mutters, just audible enough so that only you could hear. You laugh out loud at that, nodding in understanding.

“Same here. There’s probably a gross sweaty handprint on my back now,” you say, wincing when you do feel a noticeable damp spot near the small of your back. “Ugh, what a pig.”

“Tell me about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, making a move to get away from your awful manager. He gestures for you to follow him, and you are more than happy to oblige.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way,” you add, keeping in step with him. He leads you out of the disorienting ballroom, though he doesn’t head towards the exit like you had expected. He appears to know the building much more than you do, given by how assuredly he walks. Either that, or he could be leading you to a deadend, but confidently.

“No problem. You honestly looked like you were about to punt him across the room, though I doubt anyone would be opposed to that magnificent spectacle,” Yoongi jokes, same mischievous grin from before decorating his face. He is so different from the taciturn man you had met two weeks ago, back when he had half-hidden behind his desk like an animal being cornered. Though, that might not be the best analogy to think of, as it only painted you as some sort of predator who came after meek and soft-looking men. Which you aren’t. Hopefully.

“Oh, I would’ve done more than just that, so really he should be thanking you for saving him,” you snort, and Yoongi chuckles lightly in response. Like before, his laughter is just as pleasant as you remember. Your greedy heart yearns to elicit the same sound from him once more, for as many times as you can muster before the night ends.

You had been so immersed in trying to keep up with his quick strides that you don’t notice where exactly he has taken you. The two of you haven’t gone too far away from the ballroom before he stops right in front of a metal double door, the neon green exit sign about it glowing conspicuously in the otherwise dimly lit corridor. He pushes it open, allowing the cool evening air to blow across you and your hand-me-down dress.

“Are we… at the balcony?” you ask, though the view that greets you is answer enough. How Yoongi could have known where the balcony is, you can’t say for certain. But any sort of question dies on your lips when you see how beautiful the skyline is: the stars and city lights twinkling indiscriminately, the sound of nightlife and traffic sounding loud despite the streets being so far away, the smell of ozone signalling an oncoming storm.

This, of course, is what you imagine the view to be like. You know, if the ever reliable Seoul smog wasn’t there to obstruct any sort of magical, romantic view that you should have been privy to.

“Oh damn. I forgot the smog forecast today was especially bad,” Yoongi groans from beside you, quickly shuffling through his pant pockets for a face mask. He procurs two black masks, still in their plastic packaging, and hands one of them to you. “Jesus. Sorry about this. Didn’t expect the smog to be so bad… We can just go back inside, if you want?”

Then, you are reminded of your manager, who is basically pollution incarnate with how terrible his breath is. So, you accept Yoongi’s proffered mask and promptly put it on. “Yeah, no thanks,” you say, voice muffled slightly by the fabric. The implication of your acceptance makes Yoongi grin cheekily back at you (or so you think, guessing by how his eyes crinkle cutely above his mask.)

Now properly equipped to not inhale disgusting air matter into your lungs, you step out farther across the balcony, enjoying the way the cool night breeze feels against your alcohol flushed face. (Though, if you were being honest, the heat on your cheeks has less to do with the meager flute of champagne you had earlier and more to do with the company you currently find yourself with.)

“I fucking hate these company dinners,” you whine a little bit too petulantly, complete with the jutted lip of a child who has been forced to wait as her mother engages in an eternity long conversation with an acquaintance. You lean against the railings near the edge of the building, watching idly as Yoongi does the same. “Don’t you think that if they wanted us to get ‘closer’ with one another, they’d first want to address the fact that some of our coworkers happen to be pigs dressed in white collared shirts?”

Yoongi snorts at that, his right hand immediately coming up to his mouth to silence the unflattering sound. Not that it wasn’t completely charming to you, but you do enjoy the slight abashment that blooms across his face shortly thereafter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh like that. But, I do agree with you… I can’t say that anyone in our department is especially fond of that Habsburg motherfucker.”

Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol in your system, or perhaps it was the sudden rush of realizing that Yoongi is strangely attractive when he swears, but the laugh that exits your mouth sounds a touch too crazed for your liking. Either that, or perhaps you’re finally dying from the pollution.

Luckily for the both of you, it seems that Yoongi likes your weird laugh just as much as you like his. He tries to hide a smile before continuing, “Like, come on! I’m sorry for saying that because attacks on physical appearance is always a low blow, but why the fuck does that dude look like he’s been compressed and flattened on Photoshop? He’s got perpetual flat-face syndrome. You could -  you could land a damn plane on his face or some shit.”

The cork inside of your bursts, and you let out the most ungodly guffaw in your life. You don’t even have the time to be embarrassed by how loud your howls are, not when every word he says hits the mark a little bit too close to home. There’s nothing quite as pleasing than sharing mutual dislike for the same person, and it fills you with the utmost glee that Yoongi is no exception to that rule.

“Oh god… You’re right. You are absolutely right. I seriously can’t believe anyone can put up with him. I mean, the damned bastard couldn’t even remember my name until two weeks ago,” you say, shaking your head in disgust. The first few times he had forgotten, you had been gracious enough to laugh away his mistakes as little more than that: mistakes. But when five years pass and peanuts-for-a-brain still hasn’t deemed that remembering your name to be as important as when the “next big Game™” is, then it’s easy to understand the depth of your resentment towards your manager.

“Are you for real?” Yoongi asks, brows raised in shock. “How could anyone ever forget you – I mean, shit, uh,” Yoongi coughs suddenly, red-faced. You tilt your head in confusion, waiting for him to finish. He’s still kind of spluttering when he continues, “What I meant to say is… H-how could anyone forget their employees name after working here for so long?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I have no idea. Honestly, I think he’s trying to purposefully forget everything I tell him. One time, he had asked me what plans I had for Christmas, and I mentioned to him how I was going to be visiting my parents back home, and he has the gall to ask what country I’m from. Like???” Your face contorts as if you had eaten an entire lemon, so wracked with disbelief that Yoongi can see the hypothetical question marks floating above your head. “Bitch, do I look foreign to that bastard? I’ve lived here all my life!”

Yoongi hums, thoughtful. “Your parents live just an hour away from here, right?”

“I… Yeah, they do,” you reply. You eye Yoongi curiously, watching his all-too familiar flush resurfacing on his neck once more. “Wait… How do you know that?”

“You… You were talking about them, once. To Seulgi? Yea, you were, um…” Yoongi coughs unassuredly, rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous tick of his, you suppose. “It was a year ago? Something about visiting them during the weekend… Not that I was eavesdropping on purpose! I would never, er, do that…”

You don’t even register his embarrassment as you are mostly shell shocked that he had even remembered that little tidbit from over a year ago. Hell, you didn’t even remember going to your parent’s house until he mentioned it. “No it’s fine, I get it. I’m just surprised that you even bothered to remember that.”

Now it’s his turn to look at you strangely. “Of course I remember. Why wouldn’t I?”

You stare at him in disbelief. Fluttering of wings begin to erupt in your stomach, but you hardly have the peace of mind to fully grasp why you were even feeling so flustered in the first place. It was just that he had said it so… matter-of-fact, like there was no possible way he could’ve forgotten even if he tried. It was kind of disconcerting, but flattering all the same. But more importantly--

“Wait, you’ve been working at the company since last year? How have I never seen you before this month?!”

“Oh,” Yoongi coughs out a laugh, scratching the end of his nose. He turns his gaze away, looking anywhere but you. “I was just, umm… Really quiet? I don’t really talk to anyone unless I need to. I’m more of a listener.”

“Oh my God, now I feel even more terrible for not knowing your name! I must look like an egotistic bitch to you,” you despair lowly, cupping your face into your hands in shame. You feel another pair of cold hands clasp your wrists, and you watch in shock as he pulls your palms away with a determined expression.

“What? Of course not. You are definitely not an egotistic bitch, Y/N. In fact, you’re the complete opposite,” Yoongi whispers, so quiet that you might have imagined it. He grasps your hands tightly, like he’s desperate for you to believe him.

You stammer in embarrassment, staring wide-eyed at Yoongi as you try to regrasp your comprehension skills. It’s especially hard to concentrate with how close Yoongi is to you, the latter unaware of his own proximity. He had stepped closer towards you to hold your hand, and normally you hated it when people touched you without permission, but somehow… This was alright.

(Unbeknownst to you, this will not be the first time that Yoongi becomes your secret little exception. It’s only the first of many.)

“I-I don’t really know what to say?” Your gaze is locked on his firm grip on your hands, the only thing flitting through your mind: damn, this dude’s hands really are fucking freezing!

It takes another few seconds for Yoongi to calm down, and you know when it happens because the realization of what he had said makes itself apparent on his expression. He turns beet red in a second, stepping away from you with his arms flying off of you like those inflatable tube men outside car dealerships.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, taking two steps away from you. You almost take two steps forward to keep the distance closer, but you have a feeling that he would keep walking away from you until you both inevitably fall off the balcony, so you smartly choose to stay away (even if it pains you to do so). You wait for his breathing to settle, all the while still reeling from his blatant confession just moments ago.

Could you even consider it a confession? Were you being delulu, or is there some sort of connection that you and Yoongi were both feeling?

“Yoongi, it’s fine! Really,” you smile wryly, raising your hands towards him open-faced, much like how you would do when approaching an agitated animal. Like a nervous kitty, you think privately to yourself. “I’m really flattered that you feel so… strongly?”

“I’m… I’m really not like this normally. Honest,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… I never… do that. Whatever that was. Umm.”

Because you’re a freak of nature and enjoy exacerbating awkward social interactions, you decide to respond to him like this: “No worries, I’m flattered, honest! But hey, maybe next time you try to give me a compliment, you could look me in the eye?” You know, like an asshole. Who points out people’s social anxieties like that? You bitch!

On cue, Yoongi’s cheeks bloom into cherry blossoms once more. “I––I, I didn’t mean to––uh!” he stammers.

“No, no, I’m sorry for even saying that!” You apologize profusely, bowing so low that he could probably see the top of your spine. “I didn’t mean to tease you like that! I’m sorry! That was seriously out of line!”

What a pair the two of you were… Like two trains crashing into each other at mach speed, continuously and eternally. A constant and ongoing catastrophe!

(The little gremlin living inside your brain is knocking at your empty skull, whispering deviously, “But doesn’t that make the two of you the perfect pair?”)

When he doesn’t respond back immediately, you have to wrack up enough courage to look back at him. You gasp audibly when you do, and you have to forcibly grip the insides of your bicep to keep yourself from squealing in pure anguish.

Because there, right before your very eyes, is a blushing Min Yoongi looking you straight in the eye with his face squished between his hands, as if he’s forcibly keeping his head locked in place. His pupils are noticeably shaking and his brows are furrowed in concentration, but he’s looking at you. Like you asked.

He’s… He’s too…

“Okay, let me try this again.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what may be the most embarrassing thing he has ever done in his life. “Y… You’re a great person, Y/N. I hope you know that,” he whispers, voice trailing off by the end of his sentence.

He’s dry heaving like he’s just finished a marathon, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You’re worried if he even remembers how to blink with how intensely he’s staring you down, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him when your heart is quite literally beating out of your chest like a cartoon character from the 80’s.

“I…” You’re at a loss of words. If Min Yoongi can capture you like this with just a look, then think of how much more powerful he would be if he just learned how to use it. You’re slipping into real dangerous waters, and you don’t know if you’re just a frog in boiling water or if this is where you were meant to be all along.

“Yoongi, I didn’t mean for you to… force yourself like that, really…”

The moment breaks, finally, when Yoongi begins to cry.

“Shit!” you both exclaim, but for two different reasons. “Are you okay? Oh my god!” you reach out for him, not even thinking when you cup his cheeks in your hands. He gently pushes you away with one hand, while the other goes to scrub at his tears.

“Yes, I’m fine! A piece of dust got caught in my eye and I was too slow to blink it away,” he explains, still wiping at his cheeks. He pulls his mask down to his chin, pouting cutely at you. “Sorry. I’m not used to looking people in the eye yet. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Oh my god. At this point, you’d be surprised if your heart was located anywhere near your body. You were running purely on autopilot, so enamored by the boy in front of you that you could almost faint. He was entirely too unreal, unbelievably so. Perhaps, if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to find your heart again, and you know the first place where you’d look.

“Give it back,” you mumble, and Yoongi tilts his head at you in confusion.

“Sorry? Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” you reply, reaching over him and snapping his mask back on his face. You laugh as he splutters in surprise, floundering about overdramatically as if the elastic on the mask had done any damage to him at all. “Oh, stop it. You’re just being silly now.”

“Hey, I have delicate skin! You never know,” he jokes, but stops when you give him an unimpressed look.

“Sorry,” he laughs again. “And well, since I keep saying sorry today, and you look like you could use a little warming up, do you wanna leave this place and get some coffee? My treat.”

And really, who were you to say no to that?

And really, who were you to say no to Min Yoongi?

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his thoughtfulness quietly. It would go something like this:

A steaming hot coffee cup from the nearby cafe manifests itself on your desk one Monday morning. In your sleep-deprived haze, you had originally failed to realize that there was a hand connected to that cup and that it hadn’t actually just materialized from thin air like you had thought. After much blinking and staring, you crane your head up to see Jesus standing in front of you, his glasses still fogged from the outside chill.

“I got you a drink. I hope I remembered your order right,” Yoongi says in lieu of a greeting, a small smile gracing his lips as he watches you lethargically reach over for the cup to lift the lid open. His grin widens when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of little marshmallows bobbing up and down in your hot chocolate, bits of whipped cream already melting away from the heat. When you take a sip, you breathe a content sigh, your eyelids fluttering shut.

“Yoongi, I’m going to kiss your feet right now and you can’t stop me,” you say, upper lip lined with cream and sugar. Yoongi’s hand twitches by his side, but he doesn’t move.

“Even if I have toe fungus?”

“Especially if you have toe fungus,” you say, downing as much hot chocolate down your throat without choking and barfing all over him.

From the rim of your cup, you can see that Yoongi still has his parka on, his signature black mask pulled down his chin indicating that he’s only just arrived at the office. It makes your heart jump a little, knowing that he went straight to you first before anyone else that day.

“I still don’t understand how you hate coffee. Like, I don’t think I’d be able to be conversing with you right now if I didn’t have caffeine running through my veins,” he says, staring at you(r lips) as you chew a marshmallow thoughtfully.

You want to tell him that Yoongi doesn’t talk a lot anyway in the first place, though you have begun to notice that he’s becoming more talkative the more you hang out with him. However, you aren’t quite sure if you’re imagining it, but it seems like Yoongi’s change in personality doesn’t really apply when he’s with anyone else. On the days where you’d pass by his cubicle on the way to the water coolers, he’d still have his usual stoic expression on his face as he goes through his paperwork with the grace of a robot. When he’s with you, however…

“Says the guy who’s started drinking frappes after I suggested them to you. Don’t lie to me, Min Yoongi.” You’re giggling softly, and you can tell Yoongi’s seams are already breaking. Pink gums and straight teeth are seconds away from peaking through. You wink cheekily at him.  “You’re just as sweet as your personality is.”

“Stop, that’s so embarrassing!” he exclaims, hiding behind his hands. He’s already smiling. “I’m not as sweet as you think! I’m a mean guy!”

“Yoongi, you literally just bought me hot chocolate with marshmallows because you remembered what I like. I don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body,” you retort, rolling your eyes at the prominent pout on his face.

“Not true! I stole an extra coupon booklet when I was at the grocery store the other day.”

“Ooooh, I do love a bad boy,” you say, but the two of you are already laughing hysterically. “Seriously, thanks. I really needed this today.”

“Dang, bad morning already?” he winces, having noticed the purple moons under your eyes when he had approached you. He didn’t want to mention it without you bringing it up first, but he had been worried about you since last Friday when you had left the workplace with a slammed door.

“Try bad weekend. Mr. Lee has been pushing my buttons for months now, but I seriously didn’t think he thought it was a challenge. He’s been giving me shitty filing jobs to complete like I’m some overworked intern!”

Yoongi cocks his head, confused. “Aren’t you, like… In the advertising department? Why would he make you file things?”

“Exactly!” You’re all but roaring now, but Yoongi can’t help smirking at the stray dollop of whipped cream that had somehow found its way on your nose. He pulls his sleeve over his wrist, swiping it away with the fabric as nonchalantly as possible (which is to say, he’s as red as a spanked ass when he does it.)

You don’t even notice his actions, still deep in the abyss of your rage. “And also! My shitty phone ran out of storage space the other day so I’ve had to delete all the songs on my library and I can’t find any good playlists on Spotify to help me dissociate on the train!”

“Wow, that’s a mood,” Yoongi says, chuckling. He clears his throat, an idea popping into his head. He turns bashful all of a sudden, gaze diverting upwards as he musters the courage to say, “I-I mean, I think I can help you with that last problem, if you want…”

You stop huffing and puffing long enough to appear intrigued. “Oh? Are you gonna send me a playlist?”

Yoongi splutters. “I mean! If you want it, I do have some songs that I like listening to.”

Yoongi squeaks when you smile at that, radiant and all-encompassing. He wonders how he’s not dead right now.

“Oh god, that would be great actually! Text me the link, would you?” you say, already making grabby hands for his phone. “Here, lemme put my phone number in your phone.”

Yoongi almost drops his phone as he takes it out of his pocket, staring in awe as he watches you type in your number into his phone. He has to keep himself from outright howling when he sees you place a sunflower emoji beside your name. How fitting, he thinks to himself.

When you return the phone back to him, he immediately texts you the link to his playlist. You have to keep yourself from screaming to the heavens when you see the very Yoongi-esque title, “Songs for the Sleepless,” complete with the grainy-noir-film-type playlist art to complete the look. It was just so… personal, so Yoongi, and it’s making you clench organs that you didn’t know were clenchable.

You whistle at the sheer number of songs on the playlist, with the first song being—“Didn’t peg you as a Lana Del Rey fan,” you pipe up, scrolling through his playlist with acute interest. “Kendrick Lamar and Epik High, I understand. But Lana?”

To his credit, the playlist did seem like it had a narrative of sorts, despite the eclectic range of artists and genres. You only recognize maybe ten of the songs from his five hundred song playlist, and you’re very curious to see what type of songs he connects to.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he shrugs his shoulders, though a little bit embarrassed. “Lana Del Rey could sing my obituary and I’d jump out of my grave in an instant.”

“Bit morbid but okay,” you laugh, finger ready to close your music player app when you catch sight of a song with an artist you didn’t expect to see. You reach over to tug on his sleeve, your sly smile already causing Yoongi to break out in hives. “Hey… I didn’t know you shared your name with a singer, unless, of course…”

Yoongi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when he yelps in surprise, snatching your phone out of your grip as his eyes bug out of his sockets. His ears redden, words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall as he tries to explain himself despite your raucous giggling.

“I––You weren’t supposed to––I forgot about! That was––I was just––Ugh,” he groans despairingly, smacking himself in the forehead with your phone. You’re still giggling madly, enjoying the spectacle before you as Yoongi’s ears are practically shooting out steam.

“You’re so cute.” It slips out of your mouth with such ease that you almost don’t notice saying it at all; you’re still smiling dreamily at Yoongi as he stares at you in shock, mouth still agape from his earlier rambling. You gasp loudly when your brain cells finally catch up, but by then it’s already too late. Now, the two of you were a matching pair, with your fire engine red ears standing at attention.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that,” you mutter into your hands. You wish the earth would swallow you whole right now.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that,” Yoongi wails beside you, but you don’t notice the small satisfied smile he’s sporting on his reddened face. “Y-You can’t just say things and not expect me to…”

You look up, wondering why he’d suddenly trailed off at the end. “Expect you to what?”

Yoongi, once again, defies the laws of the universe by somehow turning even redder than humanly possible. “N-nothing. Ignore me. Let’s just admit we’re both embarrassing and carry on, can we?”

“Sure,” you agree, nodding enthusiastically. “But, does that mean I can listen to your songs, Mister Min ‘I’m-a-superstar-singer-in-my-spare-time’ Yoongi?”

“I’m not a superstar! I just record songs in my free time, that’s all,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Says the guy who apparently raps as a hobby! Seriously, I can tell I’m gonna love it already.”

His gaze is turned upwards, cheeks puffed up in embarrassment. He looks like he wants to say something else, however, and you wait for him as he tries to gather the courage to say what else is on his mind. “S-say, I was wondering… Since I’m already here and all, do you want to maybe go out wi—”

“Yo! Hyung!”

A deep voice from across the office floor snaps the two of you out of your little bubble in an instant. It doesn’t take a genius to tell who it is, not when there’s only one person in the entire company who would dare wear a sushi-print tie to work at one of the most lucrative companies in the country.

Kim Namjoon hobbles over to your little cubicle space in all his sushi-print tie glory, knocking over a coworker’s potted plant in the process. Between you and Yoongi, you had been more surprised by Namjoon’s sudden exclamation, mostly because you’d never been particularly close with the eccentric man. Yoongi probably can’t say the same since he had briefly mentioned that he and Namjoon go way back, though you’re starting to have some doubts about that due to the dirty glare Yoongi was currently pointing at the sentient noodles-for-legs.

Namjoon waves cheerily at you before cutting to the chase as he envelops Yoongi in a not-too-gentle hug. “Hyung! I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t at your desk this morning so I was wondering where you’d wandered off, but of course I’d find you here at Y/N’s de––”

Yoongi promptly stomps on Namjoon’s feet, causing the younger to yelp out in pain. “Namjoon. I told you I’d talk to you later.” Yoongi smiles sweetly, but you can see the aura of danger radiating off of him in waves. “Emphasis on later.”

Namjoon pouts petulantly, but he doesn’t look all that offended. “I was just gonna remind you to ask Y/N if she wanted to join us for lunch la––OUCH! WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET!”

Yoongi appears unbothered, not even looking back at Namjoon’s shouts of betrayal. All the while, he still has his gaze trained on you, never wavering for one second.

“Please ignore my colleague. He can a bit… Unnecessarily loud,” Yoongi says, accompanied by Namjoon’s splutters of indignation.

“Umm?? I’m right here?? Your actual best friend?? Geez!” Namjoon huffs, looking at the both of you incredulously. You just shrug your shoulders, completely dumbfounded by the last five minutes of human interaction.

“As Namjoon was saying before we were so rudely interrupted… I was going to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me? Namjoon can join too, but only if he behaves,” Yoongi jokes, smirking at Namjoon’s ireful glares.

You giggle quietly at the unlikely pair, amused beyond belief at this new side of Yoongi that you hadn’t been aware of. So this is how he is with his friends… Cocky Yoongi is definitely someone you wouldn’t mind talking to occasionally, you admit.

“Sure, I’d love to. Just let me finish all this filing crap for Mr. Lee, then I’ll head over to your desk at around 12?” If you work at a breakneck pace, then you could probably finish sooner if you didn’t let anything else distract you. “Oh! And I should probably return your umbrella before you leave. I keep forgetting to give it back to you.”

“No worries,” Yoongi says. “You should keep the umbrella. I’ve got a spare anyway.”

Namjoon’s head whips toward Yoongi at that, staring at him skeptically. “Dude. Ain’t that your favorite Kumamon umbrella though? Didn’t you almost murder me that one time I forgot it at the McDonald’s last mo––WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET! I’M GONNA GET FLATFOOT SYNDROME!”

“Not my problem,” Yoongi replies, pinching Namjoon’s nose for good measure. He turns to you, waving goodbye. “See you in a few?”

You stretch your back, psyching yourself up to get back to work. “Right. I’ll text you when I’m done okay? See you at 12-ish!”

The boys make their leave, bickering all the while. You catch wind of a bit of their conversation as they turn the corner, their voices echoing down the hall.

“Hey, I noticed that you were looking Y/N in the eye when you were speaking. Why don’t you ever look me in the eye when we talk!”

Yoongi snorts, flipping him off. “It’s because you’re not as nice to look at. Simple as that.”

In your seat, you smile secretly to yourself, butterflies erupting in your chest. Filled with newly found fervor, you chip away at the pile of work on your desk until it starts to vanish from view.

Before you know it, you’re off to see Yoongi once more.

x x x x x 

There is a boy you know who likes to show his vulnerability quietly. It would go something like this:

x x x x x 

There is a boy you know who likes to show his love quietly. It would go something like this:

Your day begins with a phone call: a warning. Your boss tells you to come into work as soon as possible, not a note of enthusiasm or friendliness in his tone. He ends the call just as abruptly as it had come, the silence following soon after deafening your ears. Your heart races marathons in your chest, and your brain goes to the worst place it can go.

Your hands are sweating gallons upon gallons as you shrug your coat on, fumbling with your keys as you struggle to place them in your pocket. For a brief moment, you think about calling Yoongi for moral support, but think better of it. You don’t want to bother anyone, especially not him.

You, the lone ranger, walk out of your apartment and into the murky urban outdoors, the first pitter-patters of rain making their descent the moment your foot meets the pavement. You don’t have quite the energy to go back inside to grab your umbrella, not when you’re unsure if you’ll be courageous enough to leave your bedroom once more if you did.

You’d always been a coward, a soft-hearted fool. Content with shouldering the consequences of your actions without another word: a sufferer in silence. For the past few weeks, you thought you might have changed. You’d been smiling a lot more, laughing a lot more. Your cheeks were often more red than any other color these days, and it was all thanks to a boy you know.

He was shy, but brave. Quiet, but talkative. Mysterious, but vulnerable.

He made you realize that there was no need to settle for one side of a coin, not when you could have both. The longer you stuck around him, the stronger your desire was to become… more.

You wanted to be open; you wanted to be known. You wanted to be able to ask for what you want, and never feel the crushing sense of guilt that usually came afterwards. You wanted to be unapologetic, wanted to keep your hands open, waiting for good things to come your way. To never cower in the face of a gift being handed to you. You wanted to have all that life has to offer––

(Him. Him. Him.)

But there is something pitiful about being unable to keep your own promises. The embarrassment of returning to the state where you once were, of turning meek at the first sign of adversity. The dreams of a happier life drifts away from you like mist under the morning sun, and the pressing weight of the world once again makes its home on your shoulders.

And so, you do not cry when your boss tells you to pack up your things within the hour.

You do not cry when you cut your finger on the corner of your desk that had never been replaced during your five-year stay at this company.

You do not cry when one of your potted plants smash to the floor when you try to carry too many things at once.

You do not cry when co-workers you’d only barely spoken to come over to your desk with showers of condolences, as if you’d already died.

You do not cry when Kim Namjoon walks over to you, quietly bending down to help you carry your boxes down to the lobby.

And when all is said and done, you most especially do not cry when Min Yoongi runs to you with his lungs burning in his chest, glasses still fogged up from the morning cold outside. His hair is in disarray and his shirt is on backwards, as if he’d jumped out of bed the moment he knew something was wrong. When he skids to a halt right in front of you, the pain etched on his face is as plain as day.

Wordlessly, he takes the last box out of your hands, placing his car keys on top when he can’t hold onto them both. His eyes flit towards your clenched fists for a second, but looks away the moment you notice. Instead, he walks out to the elevator, and you follow soon after.

You do not cry when Min Yoongi helps you load his car with your things. You do not cry when he takes a first-aid kit out of his glovebox and puts a band-aid on your finger. You do not cry when he offers to pass by the local home depot to pick up a new plant when he notices yours is gone. You do not cry when he doesn’t treat you like your life has ended.

(But you feel it. Pricking along your eyes like a dam about to break. He is doing this to you. He’s making you feel again, and it fucking hurts.)

And so, he drives you home.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Yoongi starts after a while, tapping a rhythm away on his steering wheel as he waits for the morning rush traffic to subside. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, worried when you don’t respond. You keep your head pressed against the cool car window, staring blankly at the gray skyline.

“I… I hope you don’t mind if I play you something. Just… Just listen to it, okay?”

You don’t see him, but you hear his fingers switch their tapping to his phone as he unlocks it, searching for the song he wants you to hear. It takes a moment or two for him to find it, soft curses tumbling from his lips as he goes through his Google Drive for the unfinished draft that he hadn’t meant to show you until it was complete, but well––

You were always an exception to him, weren’t you?

The first notes come creeping up from behind you, and it reminds you of the way Yoongi would speak to you. All soft whispers and gummy smiles, like he’s restraining himself. Slowly but surely, the music grows louder, more confident with its sound. You can picture Yoongi standing upright, hand outstretched towards you as he asks you to follow him.

The song is unfamiliar, but there’s something about it that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. You’re trying to go through your memories, sorting through the hundreds of songs that Yoongi has made you listen to but none of them seem to ring a bell. You’re still trying to figure out if you’d heard this before when the lyrics finally start.

“Lost in the sea of my regrets, you became my polaris.”

Yoongi’s voice comes from the radio speaker, jolting you from your seat. Your spine straightens, and you stare bullets at Yoongi’s phone as the song continues to play. When you look towards him, Yoongi’s face is a statue; the only thing giving away the fact that he was with you at all was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“The shadows, which had been my haven, no longer feel as good as they once did. You, my light, have changed all of that.”

You gasp, and Yoongi’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. It seems like the two of you stop moving at that moment, neither of you daring to breathe. Even the outside traffic sounds muted compared to the sound of your hearts hammering inside your chests.

“I’ve long since forgotten to pray, but I will remember for you. I only dream of happiness for you, my morning light, my northern star. And I’d give it all up for you.”

Yoongi notices your tears fall before you even do; he’s quick to fluster, scrambling through his car side door for a tissue to hand to you, but he stops the moment he feels your hand fist the elbow of his sleeve. He turns to look at you, all blotchy and tear-stained, but beautiful all the same. And even through your tears, you smile just as radiantly as when he had first seen you.

“Thank you,” you mouth, fingers trembling as you fight to keep more tears from falling, but nothing can stop a dam from breaking. Not when you’re sitting beside the hurricane who broke it in the first place; it was the boy with feelings that never did quite fit in his body the way other people’s did.

Luckily, they fit right in with you.

When the song comes to the end, you’re sniffling up a storm, but you still haven’t let go of him. When you’re only a few minutes away from your apartment, Yoongi parks a little bit far off from your doorstep, so you have to walk the rest of the way home. But you’re still unwilling to let go, not yet.

Gently, Yoongi pries your hand away from his sleeve and you’re about to protest, but the words die on your lips the moment they form when Yoongi rubs his hands along the side of his slacks before placing them in yours. His hands are still cold, but comforting all the same.

“Let me walk you home?” he whispers.

You nod. Of course, you want to say. But he knows what you mean, anyway.

When he goes to unpack your things from the trunk, you shake your head, stopping him from moving any further. “I… I don’t feel like sorting through those things right now. Is it fine with you if I just… Go home for now? Please?” Your brain feels like lead in your skull after all the bottled up tears had finally escaped from years of constant pressure, and you don’t think you’re quite ready to go through all those emotions again. You feel deflated, but better. He always makes you feel better.

Yoongi closes the trunk, locking his car before stretching out his hands for you. You stare at the proffered hand for a moment.

“Oh, right.” Yoongi goes to rub his hands to warm them, but you stop him once more in his ministrations. He looks at you, confused, as you grab his hand from him. You rub circles into his palm, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

“You’re always warming your hands for me… So this time, I’ll warm them for you, okay?”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything in response to that. Instead, he tugs you along towards the sidewalk and keeps you close to him. As he walks with you, you notice the way he leans slightly to the left, like he’s drawn to you––like he can’t help be more than an inch further from you.

You keep glancing back down at your linked hands; he’s shaking, but then again, that could also be you.

You arrive at the gate of your apartment quicker than you would have liked. Neither of you move to separate; when you look back at Yoongi, you see that his eyes are trained on you. He doesn’t even flinch away like he used to. His lips are pursed, like he wants to say something but he’s still too afraid to.

So you say it for him instead.

“Do you have… somewhere to be?” Unlike you, he still has a job. He still has commitments. He still has a life outside of you. You’re hit with fear, once again, at the sudden change in your circumstances.

You might never get to see him again. Is this where your paths cross, never to intersect again? Your stomach drops at the thought, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“No, I don’t. I could…” Yoongi trails off, glancing at your apartment with soft hesitance. “If… If you want me to…”

Yes. Please. I’d love it. I love yo–– ”Yes. Stay with me?” you mumble.

“Always,” he promises.

The pair of you trudge up to your apartment, passing by the prying eyes of housewives with your heads bowed in embarrassment. They don’t miss your pinkies linked behind your backs, nor the subtle blushes on the apples of your cheeks. Thankfully, they don’t comment when Yoongi enters your apartment after you, but they do giggle when his coat gets caught on the door handle in his rush.

When the two of you are finally alone, the air isn’t as awkward as you had feared. You work like two cogs in a machine; he readies your TV and scrolls through your Netflix for a movie, while you go to your kitchen and have a small mental breakdown (while also microwaving some popcorn). Soon, the two of you are snuggled into your small couch, elbows barely brushing against each other.

You’re only half paying attention to the generic action movie that Yoongi had put on; you were still deep in your thoughts. You’re picking away at your hangnail, worrying your lip as you try to enjoy what might be the last time you’ll ever get to hang out with Yoongi again. You’re so deep in your musings that you don’t immediately feel when Yoongi wraps his arms around your shoulder, nestling your head into his chest.

“W… What?” You crane your head and stare at Yoongi in shock, but he’s already returned his attention back to the movie. His cheeks are burning.

You’re still stiff with tension despite his comforting caresses against your hair, so he changes tactics and brings your hand up to his.

You think he’s just going to hold your hand, but he keeps bringing your hand up until it gently caresses his face. Just as you’re about to ask him what he’s doing, he curls your fingers until only your pointer is left unfurled, and casually uses it to poke himself in the cheek.

He leaves it there for a second or two, and when you finally turn to face him, he’s smiling so sweetly at you that you almost feel compelled to cry again. His eyes and nose are all scrunched up, rose petal gums on full display. Your finger is still pressed gently into his soft cheeks.

“You said you liked to dream about poking my bread cheeks. Well, here’s your chance,” he says, like it’s nothing at all. As if what he has done was as simple as breathing.

Yoongi’s smile brightens when he feels your form relax against him, giggling softly when you go to pinch his cheek for good measure.

“Bread cheekies,” you say, like you’re in a trance.

Yoongi nods. “Bread cheekies,” he repeats. “And it’s all yours.”

There’s a promise in there, you know. Somehow, he had sensed your worry and had thought of the perfect way to calm you. Like always, he never has to say it. He’s never needed words, anyway.

The two of you stay like that for hours. The sun sets as surely as the moon rises, and Min Yoongi stays with you through the night. When your mind drifts off and only your steady breathing fills the room, Min Yoongi brushes a small kiss against your forehead.

“Dream of happiness, my love,” he whispers into your skin, just when he thinks you’re asleep, “I’ll dream of you, too.”

It’s a promise that he keeps.

There is a boy you know who never learned how to say he loves you, but it never mattered all that much to you––not when he’s willing to show you over and over again. It goes something like this––

[chaoticpuff17]

When the Chips are Down

Part 6

masterlist

hello, my darlings. I am on a posting streak apparently. Please enjoy the the reunion and confrontation we have all been waiting for--- chaotic puff

Y/N held her tongue for the rest of the day, choosing instead to remain cold and detached as Namjoon tried to establish himself in her good graces again, as if he had ever been there to begin with. He didn’t seem to understand that though. He was immensely pleased with himself under the false impression that she was jealous because of his dalliances while she was gone. If anything, he was the jealous one. You couldn’t be jealous if you didn’t care, and unlike her feelings for him, Namjoon cared immensely for her, however twisted and demented those feelings were. 

The day passed in relative peace after their midday confrontation, and slowly her first day back at the estate blended into her second. Miss In and Namjoon still tried to get her to eat breakfast, and she relented, eating a few pieces of melon along with a cup of green tea. Though she did have to sit through a lecture from Namjoon on how she should be careful with her caffeine intake. Eventually she snapped, reminding him that green tea had far less caffeine than a cup of coffee, and he left her alone after that. 

She was able to enjoy her morning in peace after that, retreating to the piano room to avoid Namjoon’s hovering. The room hadn’t changed at all in her absence. It was clean, evidence that it had been cared for while she was gone, though she doubted that Miss In would have left any corner of the house in disarray, but it was otherwise untouched.

 Thankfully it still seemed that the promise that this room was to be her sanctuary remained in place, and Namjoon left her alone. That didn’t mean that she was left completely undisturbed though. Miss In would pop in at regular intervals to see how she was doing, to bring her water or tea, to ask if she needed anything. It was far less annoying than Namjoon’s hovering, but it wasn’t quite the peace that she wanted. It was the best she was going to get though.

Eventually Namjoon himself came knocking on her door, pulling her attention from the book she’d distracted herself with. 

“I have a surprise for you, jagi.” he informed her, smiling sweetly, an expression she didn’t trust at all, but she got up and followed him regardless.  

He led her to the living room, a room that neither of them used very often which only heightened her confusion. 

Hoseok was there, and with him was a woman, a woman who was achingly familiar. 

“Iyla” Y/N’s voice was soft, shaking as she stared at the woman before her. How was she here? Why was she here?

“Y/N.” There was a pause before both women rushed to each other colliding and falling to the floor in a tangle of limbs as they clung to each other. 

“Oh god no.” Y/N whispered tearfully gently stroking her baby sister’s hair. “What are you doing here, Iya? You shouldn’t be here, baby.” 

“You never came home, and Jackosn stopped calling. Oh god, Y/N. Jackson is… he’s dead!”

“I know, baby. I know. I’m so sorry.” 

Hoseok and Namjoon stood back watching the two carefully. Both were ready to intervene if needed. Iyla was a wild child, and Namjoon didn’t want any unnecessary stress on Y/N or the baby. But both women seemed to be content to stay wrapped in each other’s arms shaking and crying on the ground.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to…” 

“Shhhh,” The older of the sisters hushed holding the other more tightly. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.” She promised even though she didn’t quite believe it herself. She pulled back carefully examining her sister’s face looking for any sin of stress or injury. “You’re okay? You’re not hurt?”

“I’m okay.” Iyla promised burying her face in her sister’s neck again. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, Iya.” 

Y/N rested her cheek on Iyla’s head gently rocking them side to side as they held onto each other. This was the last place she ever wanted to see her little sister, but she at least looked healthy and unharmed. 

Namjoon was vigilant as he watched the two women. Y/N was still newly home. She was tired and overly stressed already, as much as he hated to admit it. Being home was stressful for her. He was stressful for her. She’d settle with time. He was sure of that, but or now she was stressed, and as soon as she figured out that Iyla was now Hoseok’s woman, all hell would break loose which wouldn’t be good for the baby. Stress wasn’t good for the baby.

“Oh.” 

Both men tensed at the pained sound ready to jump in. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Iyla pulled back eyes darting over her sister’s form.

“I’m fine.” Y/N hissed settling a hand on her belly. “They just like to kick.” 

“Oh.” Iyla’s gaze zeroed in on her belly. “You’re huge.” 

“I’m pregnant.” 

“You look like a whale.” 

“That’s what happens when you’re pregnant.” A soft sweet smile spread across her face as she watched her sister fuss over her. 

As worried as Namjoon was it was interesting to  see his wife interact with her sister, and seeing them side by side he could see just how much they looked alike. They had the same eyes, the same hair, the same nose. Iyla was taller, not by much probably only an inch or two at most, but taller. To the untrained eye they could have been mistaken for twins, but the difference in hairstyles provided an easy out for distinguishing between the two. Iyla’s hair was long trailing down her back while Y/N had cut off most of her hair while she was gone. It hung in a shaggy pixie cut that had clearly been grown out from an even shorter cut. 

Namjoon still wasn’t sure what to think about the change in her hair. It was cute in its own way, but it wasn’t whatNamjoon preferred on her. It would grow out in time. Just like everything else in their lives, it would go back to normal. Everything had to go back to normal. He needed it to be normal, and so did she even if she didn’t quite realise it yet. Everything would be better when they were back to normal.

Things wouldn’t be back to normal for a while though. Namjoon wasn’t blind to the amount of work that needed to be done between them. Their relationship had always been tenuous at best, but it had deteriorated spectacularly before her escape. They needed to work on it. He wanted his wife. He wanted a stable family for their baby. Right now, he had neither. 

Namjoon was pulled from his thoughts as another pained groan filled the air. In a flash he was by her side, pulling her up from her position on the floor much to both women’s protests. 

“Y/N!” Iyla cried lunging for her sister only to be caught around the waist by Hoseok. 

“I think it’s time to go. Y/N needs to rest.” Namjoon declared keeping a firm hold around her. 

“I’ll take Iyla home.” 

“Home? What do you mean home? Where are you taking her?” Y/N was growing more distressed by the minute, and Hoseok was quick to drag Iyla to the door as Namjoon dragged Y/N deeper into the house. “Where are you taking her?” 

“They’re just going home, jagi. It’s okay.” Namjoon cooed trying to sooth her and failing. 

“No! She’s supposed to be with me! Where are they going?” 

“She’s exactly where she needs to be, jagi.” 

“How can you let him take her away?” She cried pulling against Namjoon’s hold forcing him to swing her up into his arms to get her up the stairs. 

“They’re engaged. Of course He’d take her home. She’s perfectly safe, jagi. I promise.” 

Y/N froze in his arms as they reached the top of the stairs, and he carefully set her down. “What do you mean engaged?” 

“Jagi…” 

“Kim Namjoon!” She barked whirling around to face him. “What do you mean engaged?” 

“Jagiya, you need to calm down. Stress isn’t good for the baby or for you.” 

“How could my baby sister be engaged to Hoseok?” 

Namjoon was no stranger to her fury, but even he was concerned by the venom in her tone.

“Jagiya, why don’t you sit down. I’ll have Miss In bring some tea…” 

“Why is my sister engaged to Hoseok?” She stood firm glaring up at him with a hand resting protectively on her belly. 

“Jagi…” 

“Answer the damn question, Namjoon.” She paused waiting for a response only to find Namjoon’s tired and worried gaze. There wasn’t even a hint of remorse in his eyes. “Oh god…” She breathed out as the horrifying realisation set in. “You gave my baby sister to Hoseok didn’t you?” Still no response, there was only a horrible damning silence that filled the space between them. “You gave my baby sister to Hoseok!”

“Jagiya, I really think you should sit down.” 

“How could you? How could you do that to my sister?” 

Namjoon was firm but gentle as he pulled her into his office forcing her to sit down. “I need you to calm down, jagi. Think of the baby.” 

“I always think of the baby!” She snarled even though she remained seated. “But I also have to think of my sister who you just gave away like chattel!” 

Namjoon scoffed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I didn’t even know you had a sister until Hoseok brought her here from GOT7’s headquarters. Any other secrets I should know about, jagiya?” 

“I was trying to protect her.” 

Namjoon paused in his pacing to level her with a stern look. “I don’t take kindly to lies, jagi.” 

“I don’t take kindly to kidnapping.” She shot back. “Figlio di puttana.” She spat under her breath cursing the day that Namjoon was born. 

“What was that?” Namjoon asked sharply.

A sweet smile spread across her lips. “Vaffanculo!”

“I may not speak Italian, but I still know when you’re swearing, jagi.” 

“Vaffanculo.” She repeated slowly drawing out every syllable of the word still with that seemingly innocent smile fixed across her features. 

“Jagi!”

“You kidnapped my sister and killed my brother, and you’re yelling at me for swearing?” She quirked a brow. “Is that really the issue right now?” 

“You’re sister came to Korea on her own, and Jackson ignored the terms of the agreement.” 

Y/ scoffed rolling her eyes. “Did Iyla come knocking on your door? And it wasn’t Jackson’s plan. It was Mark’s.” She watched Namjoon freeze in his pacing, shoulders tensed. “I called him. Jackson was only trying to help fix the mess you made.” 

“The mess I made? You ran away with our baby!” 

“You forced yourself on me!” She snapped back eyes flashing dangerously. “You tattooed your name on my shoulder! And this was all after you kidnapped me and blackmailed me into marriage! So yes, I would call this your mess.” 

She wasn’t blind to the hurt that flashed across his face, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. After every terrible thing he’d put her through, she just couldn't bring herself to care about his feelings. She shouldn’t be the only one suffering in this sham of a relationship. 

“Jagiya…” He took a step towards her, soft and pleading, but she was in no mood to placate him.

“Have you ever once stopped to consider the consequences of your actions? Or do you simply not care? You have ruined my life, and now you’ve ruined Iyla’s life too.” 

“We have a beautiful life…” 

“You have a beautiful life!” she snarled. “You got everything you wanted, but I’m trapped here, with you, and now you’ve sentenced my sister to the same fate.” 

“Jagi… Y/N.”

“I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose you, but now I’m stuck with you just like Iyla is going to be stuck with Hoseok.” she huffed struggling to stand up, and Namjoon was instantly at her side ready to help her up only to be harshly pushed away by the irate woman. “Don’t touch me!”

“Let me help you, jagiya.”

“I don’t want your help!”

“Sit down!” he thundered, sending her a withering glare. “You’re stressing yourself out, and I won’t have any harm come to you and the baby!” 

“Then you should have left us in Italy.” 

Namjoon surged forward burying his fingers in her short locks and forcing her to meet his eye as he loomed over her. “I will never let you go. You are mine, my wife. This baby is mine.” 

“Get off me!” she harshly pushed him away pushing herself up with some difficulty. “Get the fuck away from me.” she spat moving to the other end of the room where his desk sat. 

“Y/N…”

“What did you expect?” she laughed eyes wild as she stared at him from across the room. “Did you think we were going to be a happy family?” she asked throwing a paper weight at him. “After everything you’ve done?” Next came a picture frame that had been situated on his desk, a photo from their wedding.

“Jagiya.” He held up his hands defensively. “You need to calm down.” 

“No.” she snapped, throwing another picture frame. “No.” she repeated more softly, looking away her chest heaving. “You have ruined me, and I will never forgive you for that.” Namjoon wanted nothing more than to go to her, to hold her, but even he knew that it would be a bad idea in this instance. She was worked up enough without him trying to touch her. “I tried. I tried to accept this and be a good wife, and look where it got me. You have taken everything.” 

“Things will be different this time. We’ll be different. We have the baby…” 

“My baby deserves more than this hellhole. I deserve more than this.” 

“We had a deal, Y/N.” He reminded her softly voice deep and calm even though he wanted nothing more than to shake her by the shoulders and yell. “I’m not the one who broke our deal.” 

“Well it looks like we’re both shitty people then.” She scoffed arms crossed over her belly. 

“I can’t undo the past, Y/N.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself down. “And I won’t let you go.” She scoffed again shaking with the rage and deep set hurt that had been festering since he’d first taken her. “Why don’t we make a new deal?”

“What?” 

“A new deal.” he proposed taking a tentative step towards her, scared to upset her anymore than she already was and cautious of any more flying objects. “We make a new deal, one to suit us both.” 

“And why should I believe that this one would be any better than the last?” 

“We’ve both made mistakes, jagi. Let me try to make up for them.” He pleaded slowly getting closer to her. “For both our sakes. For the baby.” 

“You’re despicable.” 

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But I love you, and I love our child.” 

“What we have isn’t love.” She laughed running a hand through her hair. “I hate you. I hate you more than any other being on the entire planet. And I don’t know what you feel, but it isn’t love.” 

“I love you.” He repeated earnestly taking a few more steps towards her. “And you’re my wife whether you like it or not. We’ll have to make this work, because I have no intention of ever letting you go again.” 

She grimaced in pain, a hand flying down to her belly. Namjoon was instantly by her side supporting her and leading her to his desk chair to help her sit down.

“What’s wrong? Is it the baby?” 

“I… I don’t know.” She whimpered as another flash of pain seared through her abdomen. 

“I’m calling the doctor. Just stay here, okay?” She nodded far too focused on the pain in her belly to care what he was doing. 

“Miss In!” he bellowed down the hallway, and quick as a whip the older lady appeared with a worried frown on her normally composed face. “Call the doctor. Tell her Mrs. Kim is experiencing pains in her belly. Call Seokjin as well.” 

“Yes, sajangnim.” She bowed. “I’ll bring some tea for her as well.” She bowed again hurrying out of the room. 

“Tell the doctor to hurry!” Namjoon ordered kneeling beside Y/N worriedly looking over her. 

“Yes, sajangnim.” 

“What is it?” Namjoon asked again one hand cradling her belly and the other gently pressed against her back as she hunched over in pain. “What can I do?” 

“I… I don’t….” She hissed curling in on herself more as another pain ripped through her.

Namjoon nodded to himself before scooping her up in his arms and swiftly carrying her to the bedroom. The doctor was on the way, but for now the best he could do was to make her more comfortable. Hopefully lying down would help, and hopefully she wasn’t in labor. The baby wasn’t due for another few weeks or so.

“It’s alright, jagi. It’s going to be alright.” he promised gently setting her down on their bed. “The doctor is on the way.” 

“Is the baby okay?” She whimpered clutching her belly. 

“The baby is fine.” he assured her, climbing onto the bed with her and cradling her in his arms. “You’re both going to be fine.” 

part 7

[writingtoforgetreality]

Blind (Sam Wilson x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: You had to attend one of Sharon’s parties in Madripoor. Which left you no choice but to wear one of her dresses. The one she suggested for you made you incredibly uncomfortable. After all, you were not really happy with the way you looked.

Words: 2,681

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, insecurities, self-esteem issues, struggles with body image, if one of these warnings trigger you please DO NOT read!, take care of yourself <3 you are so damn beautiful!, TFATWS spoilers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated! ❤

“(Y/N)? Can you come over real quick?” you heard Sharon yell from the other room. Following her voice, you entered her bedroom where she was waiting for you.

“What’d you need?” your head tilted to one side. The others were getting ready for the party & you still hoped you could somehow avoid your attendance. Being surrounded by tons of drunk people was not necessarily your favorite activity.

“Found a dress for you.” she pointed to her closet where a beautiful gown was hung up. The colors were not too bright, subtle enough to blend in but still stand out. It was short enough to gain others’ attention but not too short to be mistaken for a cheap chick. Long story shot: it was gorgeous. And that was where the problem began. While the dress itself looked fantastic, you knew that you would not live up to it.

“No.” was all you said. Sharon’s eyebrows perked up.

“No? What do you mean “No.”? You don’t like it?” she was confused because she could imagine you looking flawless while wearing this dress. Yes, she was aware that you were not the biggest fan of getting all dolled up. But then again, the few times she had seen you do that, you were owning everything & anything.

“It’s pretty.” you smiled a little. “Just, not my cup of tea, I guess.” you shrugged, trying to hide the fact that you were lying to her face right now.

“Bullshit.” she scoffed. “I chose this one because I knew you’d love it. I know you better than that, (Y/N).” she eyed you up & down. Sighing loudly, you took a seat on her bed & put your head in your hands in frustration.

“Do I have to attend?” you muttered, silently hoping she would let you ditch the party.

“Please tell me you’re not being serious…” Sharon crossed her arms over her chest, body facing yours as you still somewhat hid yourself.

“What’d you need me for anyway?” you threw your hands up in confusion. “Like, you got Bucky, Zemo. Hell, you got Sam. You won’t need me.”

“Hmm.” she hummed as she observed you more closely now.

“What now?” you questioned exaggeratedly. Standing up, you approached the dress & brushed one of your hands over the material gently.

“I see where the shoe pinches.” Sharon stated & you turned around, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah? Where? ‘Cause I don’t know myself.” you bickered. Why could she not just cut to the chase?

“This is about Sam, isn’t it?” she asked casually & you almost choked on your own spit. Coughing to cover it up, you straightened your back to regain your composure.

“What has a stupid dress to do with Sam?” a dumbfounded expression made its way onto your face. Sharon shook her head & chuckled at your obliviousness.

“You still haven’t told him, huh?” her eyes locked with yours & you hated how your heart skipped a beat just because she called you out on that.

“Haven’t told him what?” you decided to play dumb for a while longer. Sharon rolled her eyes at you & sighed out loudly.

“That you’re in love with him.” she made it sound like a straight up fact. Your eyes focused on your shoes, not being able to face the woman in front of you any longer.

“Love is a pretty strong word.” you chuckled awkwardly. “Besides, a minute ago we were talking about the dress you picked out for me.”

“So you’ll wear the dress?” she smirked at you enthusiastically.

“Really? Did you just say that to get me to agree on that?” your finger pointed to the robe. The only response you got was a simple shrug. Sharon then turned around & left you alone. Alright, message received. You had to start fixing up your appearance. Though you were not sure if your efforts were even worth it. No matter what, you were sure you would feel insecure the moment you put on that dress.

When the struggles with your body started? Well, you could not exactly remember a time when it was not there. Maybe it was because you had always been surrounded by people much prettier than you. More popular than you. More liked than you. Only when you became a part of the Avengers did those feelings disappear a little. As a superhero, nobody cared about your look as long as your abilities were good enough to save the world. Your team did not know about any of this, of course. After all, it was your own mind who played tricks on you. No one but yourself could be blamed. So when you looked in the mirror & saw yourself wearing that beautiful dress? It was not beautiful anymore. Not on you. Not when you were the one who showed it to the world. Or to the people in Madripoor. You knew you should not care about other people’s opinions. But you were your own worst enemy. And your mind told you the exact same things that the others thought. The only thing you noticed was how wrong it all looked. How your body was not good enough. Not for yourself & not for anyone else. And definitely not for Sam. Not that you were into him or anything. Even if you were, he was literally the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes on. He could have anyone. So why would he settle for someone like you? He deserved so, so much more. So much better.

“(Y/N)?” someone’s knocking brought you back to reality. “Can I come in? It’s Sam.” oh no. Would he laugh at you when he saw you like that? Possibly.

“Um…Just-Just a second.” you yelled & searched through Sharon’s closet in hopes to find some sort of coat to cover yourself up as much as possible. Jogging over to the door, you shakingly raised a hand to the doorknob, twisted it to one side, & opened it with a tiny creak. Peeking out, you found Sam in a black turtleneck. And damn, he was hot. Unfortunately, you were not successful in finding a jacket so you were left in the dress only. Hence why you only opened the door a crack.

“You gonna let me in or…?” Sam teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

“S-Sure, sorry.” pushing the door further open, you turned around right away, too scared to watch his reaction.

“You look gorgeous.” his comment made you stop in your tracks. Sure he was lying. It was simply something you said to co-workers when missions like that were on the agenda. Spinning around, your eyes met his, the smirk replaced by a sheepish smile. Almost like he was uncomfortable talking to you. Of course he was. After all, he just lied to you about your look. But it was nothing new. You were used to it by now. Shaking off the bad thoughts internally, you coughed quickly & continued your conversation.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Wilson.” you winked & were surprised by how well you actually handled this situation.

“Sharon said she picked out a dress for you. Said you weren’t really feelin’ it.” he stated & you raised your eyebrows. God, Sharon could be a pain in the ass sometimes.

“Uh-huh.” you hummed, hoping Sam would drop this topic. But he did not.

“I’d say you slay it.” he came a little closer but stopped when he noticed you taking a step back.

“You’d be the only one.” you mumbled to yourself. It was too quiet for him to understand you which was why he spoke up again.

“What was that?” one of his eyebrows raised but you brushed him off with a wave of your hand.

“Nothing…” you said monotonously. Clearing your throat, you directed the conversation to the upcoming party. “You guys ready?”

“Um.” Sam shot you a curious look but you ignored it. “Yeah, we can head there now.”

“Good, I’ll come in a second.” your back faced him.

“You okay?” something was off about your behavior & Sam could not tell what it was. It was uncommon to see you so shy & uncertain. Usually, whenever you were on missions, you were a badass, not letting anyone tell you what to do. Now, though? It was like a different person was standing in front of him. Someone who was incredibly uncomfortable. Trembling hands you desperately tried to hide by hugging yourself. Failing to keep eye contact. Voice cracking when you talked to him. Something was wrong. And he knew he should let you be for now. Seemed like you needed time to yourself. So he exited the room without another word.

Loud music, people shamelessly grinding on each other without a care in this world. Alcohol, you figured. Alcohol did that to people. Sharon was next to you, in a corner where nobody else decided to head off to. After all, the dancefloor was the main attraction. Your insecurities were acting up. Constantly pulling down your dress to avoid showing too much of your thighs. Sharon noticed but did not comment on it. Your arms were crossed over your chest, hiding your upper body inside the gown. Whatever you were doing, you wanted to hide. Unfortunately, a coat did not go well with your outfit. So that left you with basically no material to cover up. The woman next to you excused herself when she detected a familiar person in the crowd. Nodding at her, you took the chance & made it out of the party only a second later. Heading outside where the cool breeze grounded you a bit. You hated yourself so much right now. You hated your body. You hated your dress. You hated Sharon for choosing an outfit for you. You hated the loud voices in your head that told you that you were not good enough. Not pretty enough. Not lovable. Your appearance was by no means pleasing. You knew that. And this stupid dress underlined every insecurity you had.

A coat was put over your shoulders & you could not help but flinch.

“You’re shaking.” it was Sam who found you out here. Immediately, you calmed down when you noticed that it was only him. The comfort of his jacket brought you warmth. And it gave you an opportunity to hide more of your skin. Win-win situation. Leaning against the cold brick wall, Sam joined you a moment later. Your face did not meet his, though. Wilson would notice something being wrong with you. He knew you too well.

“I’ll head back inside in a minute.” you assured him but he had none of it.

“You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong now?” Sam’s head turned in your direction but you kept your gaze straight forward.

“I’m fine.” it came our harsher than you meant. Closing your eyes, you sighed because Sam did not deserve your rudeness at all.

“Sure thing. And I enjoyed Smiling Tiger’s favorite drink.” he replied sarcastically & managed to lift the corners of your mouth a little. “Talk to me.”

“I’m just being stupid.” shaking your head, you scoffed at yourself. Usually, you were better at hiding such things.

“It ain’t stupid if it bothers you that much.” Sam pointed out. Your head turned to face him & you had a hard time finding the right words.

“Just…” your hands gestured wildly but ended up at the hem of the material hanging by your thighs.

“The dress?” he asked & you nodded. “What about it?”

“Ugh.” you threw your head back. “See, I’m being stupid.” his hand grabbed your wrist gently when you wanted to head back inside.

“No, wait.” his voice was softer than before. “What’s up with the dress? It looks great to me.”

“It is. Great, I mean. Just not on me.” your rambling could not be stopped & before you knew it, you were spilling the beans to Sam. He was taken aback by your declaration.

“Wait…Is this the problem here?” he gestured to your figure & it took everything in you not to break eye contact. “(Y/N), you’re absolutely stunning in that dress.” there was sincerity behind his words but you could not hear it right now. Hugging his jacket a little closer, you hoped Sam would stop staring at your body so intensely.

“Could you stop? Please.” he almost did not hear it but the night in Madripoor was calm. All that could be heard was the muffled beat from the party.

“Who the hell made you think like that?” Sam started growing angry. Not at you but at whoever managed to plant these thoughts into your head. Shrugging, you averted your gaze from him.

“I mean…it’s kinda obvious, isn’t it? Look at all those beautiful people, Sam. I could never compare to them. Never. My body…i-it looks awful, I know that. That’s exactly why I never wear shit like that.” you pointed to your dress, scoffing lowly. “I wish I didn’t look like that. I wish I-“ Sam, being done with whatever you were saying, interrupted you.

“Listen, this is what you’re not gonna do.” he stopped briefly to gain your attention. Only when you looked at him again did he continue. “I don’t know why you see yourself in such a bad light. I don’t know because to me, you’re the most beautiful woman in this damn universe. And it hurts when you talk so bad about yourself. This…” he stepped closer, resting both of his hands on your waist, squeezing lightly. “This is perfect. There’s nothing wrong with you or your body. What can I do to help you see yourself the way I see you?” the last words were whispered. Your eyes widened at Sam’s confession. Sure he was drunk. Why would he tell you all of that?

“Stop that.” you tried pulling away from him but he would not let you. No, he only hugged you closer to his body so your chests were pressing against each other. “Sam, I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” he wasted no time with his response. “When I saw you earlier today in that dress? Damn, I didn’t even know what to say.” he chuckled to himself at the memory & you could not hide the small smile spreading on your face. That was the point where he knew he had you. “But, you know, duties. Couldn’t skip this party. But I wouldn’t have minded skipping it.” Sam winked at you.

“I don’t know what to say. I-I don’t know if I can trust you. Not when it comes to this.” you were completely vulnerable in front of him. Sam then realized that words were not going to change your way of thinking. And he could not change your way of thinking in one night. What he could do, though, was making you feel gorgeous. With simple actions, compliments, looks. And he made it his job to succeed with all of that. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing over your soft skin delicately. He was slow with his movements, giving you enough time to lean back if you did not want this. But you wanted this. And the look in your eyes was enough confirmation for him to press his lips against your own. The kiss was not what you expected it to be. You always thought that the first kiss you two shared would be passionate or heated. But this one? This one was filled with so much gentleness, so much emotion, so much admiration that had you weak at the knees. Sam smiled into the kiss when he realized you melting into his touch. To him, you really were someone special. To him, you were the only person he focused on in a crowd. You were it for him. Now, he just had to convince you that he was the one for you, too. But it was a challenge he gladly accepted. If it meant that he got to have you, he would do anything.

Published (04/18/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @bibliophilewednesday, @wanniiieeee (thanks for your support <3)

[beomglocks]

soob become human ; c.sb

pairing: android!soobin x police detective!y/n

plot: your job is fairly simple, find out the cause of the recent surges of deviancy in androids. the only problem is that you hate androids, but it’s ok because you have a newly appointed partner and- oh wait he’s an android. 

w/c: 6.3K (this took me longer than it should have)

warnings & other:  enemies(?) to lovers(?), enemies (?) to less hated enemies, based off detroit become human, lots of swearing, android!soobin, human!y/n, blood, dead people, a crime scene is described but not in too much detail, soobin is definetly not a deviant, y/n hates soobin and pretty much all androids, y/n is kinda an ass to soobin, semi slow burn, open ended

you were seething with rage though you somehow managed to contain it. you wanted to hold it in long enough to really explode when you walked into your boss's office. you tramp past the receptionist in the lobby and don't even smile at her. you never do since she's not even a human. you hate how she's programmed to sit idly with an eerie smile on her face and welcome guests.

"hey y/n!" you hear your friend, hueningkai, shout at you. you wonder how he can be so loud and full of energy after 5 hours of working at his desk but you keep marching on, not acknowledging his greeting.

you have your eyes set out on your boss's office and the fire in your eyes is set alight when you notice him sitting at his desk peacefully. thank god, for the see-through box offices cyberlife installed last year.

he notices your figure striding up angrily towards his office and you see him sigh. good, at least he knows what's he's in for! you march up the stairs with your head held high because you were really about to give him a piece of your mind right now.

you stop just at the edge of his desk and rummage through your crossbody bag for something. it takes you a while which is embarrassing since he just sits there looking at you expectantly. "ah," you pull out a crumpled up piece of paper, which you yourself crumbled up out of anger, and slam it harshly on his desk.

"excuse me but what the fuck is this?"

he glances down at the paper and back up at you with a bored expression. "that's a piece of paper y/n." you chuckle bitterly and place your hands on your hips. "i'm talking about the contents of the paper sir."

you watch him open up the paper gingerly and skim over the words printed. "oh yeah," he crumbles the paper again tossing it into the bin. he sighs heavily getting in his serious work position with his hands crossed in front of him. he's a big burly kind of guy so it always somewhat intimidates you when he does this.

"we're getting weekly reports of androids going haywire. everyday i've gotta deal with a new report. i'm not talking the usual malfunction and spilling coffee. this is homicides and assaults. just last night a woman was murdered in cold blood by her android. this isn't cyberlife's problem anymore, these are criminals now."

you stay quiet, taking in what he's saying. "regarding the contents of the paper, i want you to investigate them." you clench your fists and narrow your eyes at him. "why me?" you burst after a moment of letting your anger rise again. you realize you sound like a child whose just gotten told they have to dishes while their sibling goofs off but you don't care.

"i'm the least qualified person to handle these cases plus i've got other shit to worry about! i don't want to deal with those pieces of junk!"

the chief office stands up, eyeing you sternly. now you've done it. "y/n don't piss me off. you know you're the most qualified so don't start with that bullshit. i don't wanna hear any complaints out of you." he doesn't raise his voice and that kind of alarms you but you press on.

"no! you know that no one else in this goddamn precinct wants to deal with these androids so of course, you left me to pick up the dog shit!"

"watch your tone detective," he seethes. he sighs heavily trying to regain himself before he really bursts a vessel. he cozies back into his desk chair and rubs his temples. you, on the other hand, are breathing heavily and pacing back and forth. you can't believe he would put you on an android case of all things.

you were seriously being relieved of all other duties to investigate a bunch of ones and zeros. but that wasn't even the best part.

"i'm assigning you a partner to assist you in the investigation."

you stop in your tracks, eyes widening. "hell fucking no!" you rage. you march back up to his desk and lean over the edge. "chief i always ride solo. ever since i joined i've always been alone and have been doing just fine! i don't need help!"

"y/n i think i've had enough of your bitching and whining. i don't care that you're the best worker in this fucking precinct. if you don't like the circumstances you can hand in your badge right this instant. otherwise, shut your fucking mouth and get back to work," he says through gritted teeth.

you scoff in his face and as you walk out of his office you flip him off. "that's going on your track record detective!" he says matter of factly.

"shove it up yo-"

you sigh as you enter your office. "fuuuuuuuck," you groan. you look around and notice that there's a tiny replica of your desk on the other side of your office. you can only assume it's meant for your partner. the sudden urge to destroy it and throw everything across the room crosses your mind but you decide against it.

having a partner assigned to you was a jab at your pride. everyone knew you as the detective who never needed one, the lone wolf if you will. if anyone saw you being assisted they would immediately think that the position of "best officer" was up for grabs, when it wasn't.

you didn't wanna be that person but of course, you held that title over everyone's head.

you huff, throwing yourself onto your chair which causes it to spin around. you don't even know this supposed partner of yours. most likely for a good reason too. you can only imagine your reaction if the chief had presented your new partner right then and there. a firm knock on your door startles you, "come in," you mumble. you're really not in the mood to entertain any of your work friends so you hope this is quick.

you look at the figure standing idly by the frame of the door. he's tall with a three-piece suit on. he's oddly handsome with little to no flaws which is suspicious to you. his hair is dark with hints of blue peeking out and it's pushed back to show his forehead. the stark contrast of his dark hair and fair skin makes him look very pale and almost sick. he has some files in his hands and his face is stoic, almost emotionless but not stern. he looks boyish.

what you don't notice is the ring of light located on his temple since it blends in so well with his skin. "how many times do i have to tell people that complaints are sent next door to hueningkai, god i really need to get a sign or some shit," you groan rubbing your face in frustration. you lower your hands and the person is still there.

"hello, my name is choi soobin. i'm the android sent by cyberlife to assist you with your detective duties," he states monotonously as if he's reading from a script.

the gears in your head churn for a while but once the words process you groan once again and roll your eyes to the back of your head, "why am i not surprised that chief would fuck me over even more like this. of course my partner is a fucking andriod." soobin steps completely into your office shutting the door behind him. "are you y/n?" he asks politely.

"un-fucking-fortunately."

"nice to meet you!" he seemingly ignores your sarcastic comment and your wonder if he even knows what sarcasm is. "i hope we can be good partners. i have already received the files on our first case together, here they are," he places the files on your desk and you can only look up at him in disgust.

"well you're a well-trained dog arent you?" you mumble. "y/n with all due respect i am not a dog. im an android designed by cyberlife to merely assist with certain tasks and finish my mission. i'm one of the most advanced of my kind." you look at the tag on his suit: KR900. you sigh, nodding, "got it got it, now if you'll excuse me, it's time for my daily nap so scram."

you lean back in your chair and close your eyes. man, if soobin was gonna be your partner you'd have to extend nap time by at least 30 minutes. you wonder if you can get away with adding another hour to your naptime.

you hear someone clearing their throat beside you. you hope that if you keep your eyes closed they'll get the hint to leave you alone. after about a minute the person speaks up, "y/n we should probably start with the case as soon as possible." great, soobin.

you open your eyes to glare at him. "listen, soobin? was it? go fuck yourself ok?" you close your eyes again and fold your arms over your chest. god, soobin's already being a nuisance. you're not sure if whatever this is is going to work out.

he stays silent for a moment and you wonder if he can feel the feeling of frustration. you hope he can because he might be able to get a sense of how you felt towards this whole situation. you start to drift when you feel an odd warmth radiating on the side of your face.

"with all due respect detective. i've been assigned to this mission and i intend to carry it out and complete it to the very end. i'm not going to sit around and wait for you to simply 'feel like it'."

your eyes fly open and you stare at him bewilderedly. he's very close to your face and his expression is stony but of course, he still has that boyish look.

you stand up, frowning at him. "let's get one thing very straight, tin can." you shove your finger into his chest which strangely doesn't feel too much like hard metal. "i call the shots around here so i won't be taking orders from a walking computer. i don't give a damn if you're leagues smarter than me, piss me off one more time and i won't hesitate to deactivate you myself."

you step away from him and he doesn't seem affected. he simply brushes his suit off. you scoff, grabbing your keys from your desk. "by the way i already know where the crime scene is so try to catch up next time, puppy."

when you both arrive at the crime scene there's already a plethora of police with their hound dogs and the yellow barricade tape is being set up. this must've been a pretty brutal scene for there to be this many people dispatched to this location. you're not surprised that there's people here and there trying to get a sneak peek at what might've happened.

"y/n! y/n!" you hear someone frantically yelling out your name.

you look around and see yeonjun, another police detective who's not from your unit, running up to you. he engulfs you into a bear hug, letting his trenchcoat pick up from the wind. you smile for what feels like the first time today, "hey yeonjun." once upon a time you liked choi yeonjun, you still do in a way. he was always on top of his game which you admired and you two would always compete when it came to cases. he was unbelievably smart so he probably knew about your little crush on him. if he did, he never addressed it and still treated you like a close friend.

"it's weird seeing you at the scene so early, we're just finishing setting up the yellow tape," he smiles at you but you can see his confusion. you were known to be late to these scenes but somehow still did well and always cracked the case. you didn't like to be around all the other police and detectives when you were in the zone.

"chief assigned me a new partner who insisted i arrive accordingly," you roll your eyes playfully to mask the annoyance. you don't bother to introduce soobin, who had been standing behind you silently this whole time, because he introduces himself. "hello, my name is choi soobin. i'm the android sent by cyberlife to assist y/n with their detective duties," he says monotonously.

yeonjun stares at soobin with an impressed look, "woah, chief got you a robot? he must love you" he jokes. "love me? this is a shit way of showing it," you mumble.

"y/n ever the comedian," yeonjun laughs deeply. you smile shyly at him. "i guess..anyways what's the scene looking like?" yeonjun leans back on the barricade looking back at the house you have yet to enter.

"looks like another case of deviancy to me," he sucks his teeth in thought. "man these androids are really going haywire these days, killing their owners, assaulting them, or just simply running off. seems like some kind of uprising? the machines seem to be rebelling," he glances at soobin who is already looking at him.

yeonjun chuckles lowly and leans down towards your ear subtly. "be careful ok?" he leans back up and stretches his arms. "trust me i know," you mutter. you both smile at each other and he winks at you. "well i'm off to do my own sleuthing! let me know if you find anything, you always do after all."

you watch him jog off and sigh to yourself. you turn to soobin, "right, let's get on with it." before he can take another step forward you stop him in his tracks. "and don't get in my way." soobin nods but stays silent. "i'm gonna need a verbal answer," you really don't care if he answers you or not you just want to annoy him. "i will do what i need to, to complete my mission," he looks at you with a weird glint in his eye and you kinda hate him even more now.

you roll your eyes and walk through the door of the house you're meant to be investigating. the smell of booze and musk smacks you in the face and you have to physically hold back the bile rising up your throat. "

"man whoever lived here was a pig!" you gag. you look back at soobin who has a neutral but curious face. "right you can't actually smell things," you mumble. you grab the collar of your jacket and cover the bottom half of your face with it.

as you walk deeper into the house you start to really see what went down. glass covers pretty much the entirety of the floor from a window near the tv. the tv is busted and there's writings on the wall. you look around the living room and that's actually when you discover the body.

it seems to have been there for a couple of days now since there's maggots hovering over it. the man's face is beaten badly and blood runs down it onto his tattered shirt. he's slumped over and there's blood on the wall that states 'we are alive'.

"jesus christ," you mumble to no one in particular. you watch soobin hunch over the body and dip his finger into the blood on the wall near it. he's about to bring it near his mouth but you stop him. "god what the fuck are you doing!" you think the bile you were holding back is really about to come out and you're scared you'll ruin the crime scene.

he looks back at you with an unreadable expression. "im analyzing the blood." he turns his back to you again takes a lap of the blood. "you're fucking gross," you chastise.

"the blood is from the victim," he finalizes. "damn his android must've really wanted to make a statement here. 'we are alive'? what do you think that means?" you ask him.

soobin stands up straight again, looking around the flat, "deviancy of course. judging by the looks of it, this wasn't a very habitable place. the android must've gotten fed up and rebelled against its owner." he thinks to himself. "this shouldn't be happening, it must be some kind of virus because androids were only meant to serve, they shouldn't have to capability to harm much less kill."

you sigh, already hating where this case and the mission overall is going. "let's just look around for clues. i doubt the android could've gotten far, it must feel guilty or something."

soobin shakes his head, "androids don't feel y/n." you raise your brow at his statement, "one does not simply kill another being without feeling. an emotion or feeling of some sort is triggered which causes someone to act out in this way."

you walk away to the kitchen to look for clues there but soobin just stands there watching you. he frowns but joins you minutes later.

after about a half hour of looking for any clues, you've managed to gain a lot of evidence with soobin's help. there had been a struggle in the kitchen which led to the living room where the place of death was determined. soobin described the altercation as very brutal for both parties.

"so where's the android?" you ask after his explanation. "it's near," he mumbles. he surveys the room once again and spots something. you watch him do the same procedure he had done with the victim's blood. "there's nothing there," you say skeptically.

"it's android blood, or blue blood as you humans call it. not visible to the human eye but any android can spot it from a mile away."

when he's done he looks around once again and follows a sort of trail. he stops near the attic door and sighs. he pulls it open with caution and you can only wonder what he's up to.

he peeks in then hoists himself up into it. "wha-" "stay here," he demands. "hey what did i sa-"

before you can scold him he's already in the attic and slammed the door in your face. "didn't know androids had a prick feature," you mutter.

after 5 minutes you start to hear noises of struggling and things falling over. "soobin?" you shout. "what's going on up there?" you don't actually care if he's ok or not but one scratch on him and you'll be paying the damages.

he doesn't answer, instead, the struggling comes to a halt. you jump as he slams open the attic door. you give him a once over and it doesn't look like he has any scratches on him so you sigh to yourself gratefully. looking down you see an android wriggling in handcuffs, you assume it's the murderer. "i got him," soobin huffs.

"y/n? you in h- woah," yeonjun breathes out. he looks over the both of you then at the android on the ground near soobin. "damn." you nod, agreeing with his one-word statement. soobin folds his arms looking down at the android. the android is rightfully glaring back up at him. "he was hiding up there, probably thought no one would find him. well, no human would've at least."

"we should take it back to the station for questioning. the more info we get out of it, the closer we are to figuring out the cause of this 'deviancy'," yeonjun concludes. you nod, turning to soobin, "good job puppy." he makes a face but accepts your praise either way.

after finalizing your first deviant case, you decided to ask yeonjun out for burgers two days later as a celebratory measure. he had told you he was going to be busy filing some other cases so you opted for going alone. alone is not entirely true since soobin was required to be around you at pretty much all times.

"stay in the car," you ordered. "not happening. im required to assist you at all times," he states matter of factly. you lean your head on the steering wheel. "god you are so up my ass it's annoying."

"listen if i say do something you do it. you're an android so you follow my orders got that?" you narrow your eyes at him as if to challenge him. he simply looks back at you with that boyish curious look and says nothing.

you hate how he looks like a puppy who knows you're hiding a treat behind your back.

you sigh, getting out of the already parked car. you slam the door roughly in what you hope to be soobin's face to make a point but you hear a door close right after yours. you turn around to see soobin standing outside of the passenger's side where he was seated.

"oh fuck off!" you shout exasperatedly.

you stomp over to the burger cart and shove past someone who's already there. "hey watch it!" they shout. "shut up im a cop," you bite back. you don't even bother turning around to the person because you could care less but their voice comes back. "y/n?"

you perk up at your name and turn around, "oh shit frankie!" your smile grows and you hold your hand out for a handshake but frankie goes in for an uncomfortable hug that you weren't expecting. you laugh nervously as he hugs you for longer than intended. he reeks of red dust, a newly manufactured drug in town. the only recognize it is because, well, you've tried it.

"hahah ooook franks," you try to wriggle from his tight hold on you but he doesn't budge. "i slipped a little something for you sweet cheeks," he murmurs into your ear. you shiver from the sudden close proximity but nod nonetheless.

"is there a problem here?" soobin states. he easily towers over frankie since taking drugs for a long time has ruined frankie's growth spurt. he's by no means short however soobin is winning in height by a long shot.

frankie chuckles lowly, "we're fine robocop." he rolls his eyes at soobin and turns back to you, "so anyw-"

"y/n we should be on our way," soobin narrows his eyes at you and you don't take it as a question. you're not scared of soobin however he's pretty much unmatched when it comes down to it.

"right," you say slowly. you glance between frankie and soobin and they both seem to be in a bit of a staring contest. "come on puppy," you nudge him.

"have a nice day," soobin says firmly. "whatever, damn androids," you hear frankie mumble. you sigh as you both reach a stray table near the truck. you open the wrapper, uninterested in everything else at the moment until soobin clears his throat.

"drugs?"

"what about them?" you mumble through a mouthful of burger. "you just got drugs from that guy," soobin leans on the table staring at you directly in the eye. you sigh dramatically, throwing your hamburger back into the wrapper. "leave me alone ok? if you're gonna lecture me i can assure you, i don't want it."

you pick your burger up again hoping that soobin will just shut the fuck up for the rest of the day. he really has a way of putting you in a sour mood. you wonder for a moment how long you'll have to be working with him. if you can just figure out the cause of deviancy then this little arrangement will be over before you know it.

from that point on, soobin simply watches you eat. it's a bit uncomfortable, to say the least, but at least he's silent. you want to question him as to why he's watching you so intently but you also don't feel like chatting with him. "did you ever expect to be living among androids y/n?" soobin speaks up after a while. you smirk at his question, "you're living among us, ok? and no, i never saw it coming." you feel bitter about his question.

of course, you never expected it. you never thought you'd see the day where an android is running the hotdog stand down the street. you never expected a robot to be doing your job. "you fucking androids are a curse," you mumble. soobin says nothing at that.

the ringing of your phone cuts through your little moment. you sigh, rummaging through your pocket for it. groaning, you reluctantly answer the call. "what's up boss."

after a couple minutes of briefing, you hang up. soobin looks at you expectantly while you throw out your trash. "we got another one, pretty close to where we are. no one else is on duty near us so we'll be on our own for this one."

you brush past him, walking back to the car, "think you can handle it puppy?" you don't expect him to answer but you're surprised when he retorts with his own witty remark.

"i'm practically designed too."

you stifle a laugh, shaking your head, "alright alright let's go."

once you arrive at the apartment complex where the deviant is supposedly located, you stop soobin right at the door. you stare up at him with a stern look in your eye, "remember what i said, no getting in my way and no telling me what to do. remember that i'm also your superior."

a part of you feels like you don't necessarily have to tell him these things since he probably stored that information from the first case. however, you want to feel power over him. you don't care if soobin is an android, you'd be damned if he felt like he was superior to you just because you were a human and he was a robot.

"i will do what is needed for me to complete my mission," he states. you roll your eyes at the answer he opts for but nonetheless continue onward. "we gotta be careful here, we don't actually know if the deviant is armed."

"you got sent any info on the guy?" you ask. soobin sighs, "the only thing we know about him is that he's a deviant. the people living on the floor below claimed they were hearing strange noises but supposedly no one has lived here for years."

you chuckle to yourself, "yeah it sure looks like it." you look around, taking in the beat-up state of the hallway. it's dimly lit and the walls are tattered and torn. there are boarded-up doors and the floor almost looked like it would give in with anymore added weight. yeah, there definitely hadn't been anyone inhabiting this floor in a while.

you lean on the door frame as you watch soobin knock on the door as a normal would but no one answers. "is anyone in there?" he shouts. you both wait for a moment but again no one answers. you sigh, shaking your head. "move."

soobin steps out of your way hastily and moves to stand behind you. you swiftly take your gun from it's holster on your hip and shoot the door handle. the handle flies off and just like that the door creeks open. you'll admit there might've been a more suave way of doing it that didn't involve much noise, however you wanted to get this over with.

you motion for soobin to trail after you into the apartment. you both slowly inch into the flat and you peek your head in to check if anyone is inside. when you confirm there's no one in the apartment you both walk in cautiously. the place is completely torn apart. there are bird feathers all over the place and the walls have odd writings on them. you sigh walking up to one of the walls, "we are alive."

soobin shakes his head but says nothing. "let's check the other rooms in this place," you propose. you both split up to look for clues about the deviant which gives you time to think.

soobin goes to snoop around in the closet while you head to the bathroom of the apartment. the sink is riddled with bird feathers and bird shit. you hold your breath as you look around the small room. the place definitely hasn't been kept up by anyone in a long time. "ra9?" you mumble. you lean closer to the wall to inspect the odd writing. it's not just written once or twice, it's scattered all over the wall. "what the fuck does that even mean."

before you can even begin to infer, soobin walks into the bathroom. "i think i found something." you sigh looking up at him, "what is it."

he leads you back into the living room and points to a birdcage on the floor. "this must be what caused that noise that the people on the other floor sent complaints about." he paces around the room for a moment. "i should be able to reconstruct what may have happened, that way we can know where the deviant went."

you watch silently as he walks back to the birdcage. he stays still for a moment then proceeds to look around the room in all directions. "see anything?" you ask.

he doesn't answer, much like last time he simply stands up and walks towards an opening in the roof. soobin slowly reaches his hand up to it but someone jumps out at him.

soobin is effectively knocked to the ground and you stand there shocked. you were really not expecting anyone to be up there. you shout in alarm and the deviant is alerted instantly. before you can reach your gun, the deviant haphazardly pulls a gun of its own from is pocket.

it's clearly not skilled in holding a gun since androids aren't allowed to bear arms. you can tell it's not sure where to shoot and it's scared. you can feel the cold metal of your gun graze your fingers but you stay still as you hear a gunshot pierce the air.

your eyes widen as they follow the deviant run out of the apartment. "SOOBIN GO," you shout. you're not sure why you're telling him to chase after it when you can do it yourself but you feel like you can't move. you suddenly feel yourself collapse on the ground, letting out a strangled yell. "FUCK!"

"Y/N?" you hear soobin shout. for some reason everything is hazy and all you're hearing is white noise. you think you yell at soobin to chase after the deviant again but even in your hazy state, you can't quite tell. after a couple more seconds of struggling to comprehend what's going on, you finally pass out.

you shift around, looking for a comfortable position on the couch. you're not sure why you're on a couch but you're not complaining. it feels like forever since you've felt like you've had a chance to rest for a moment. you're starting to really get sick and tired of androids. before all of this, all you did was either sit on your ass all day or go around helping the elderly or bust your local neighborhood scum. you seriously couldn't believe how much your life could change in just the span of a couple of days.

speaking of change, soobin was going to have to go. he's a pretty capable partner however, you both clashed too much. granted you haven't given him much of a chance. you just hated the concept of having a partner, much less an android partner.

you suddenly feel something cold press onto your leg. you hiss out in pain but when you try to move your leg the pain gets worse. "you shouldn't move," you hear a voice say. you furrow your brows because you're sure you live alone.

you peel your eyes open and see what looks to be soobin standing over you. "soobin?" after the name registers in your head your eyes widen and you try to sit up but the pain in your leg keeps you in place, "what the fuck are you doing in my house?"

soobin calmly takes a seat on the seat opposite from you. you study his body language and face. if you didn't know any better you say he seems a bit distressed. you want to laugh at yourself for thinking that because there's no way an android can know what distress feels like. he seriously looks like he's racking his brain to figure out what to say first.

"you got shot," he opts for. your mouth falls open, looking down at your leg. almost as if on cue, you start to feel immense pain shoot through your body. "fuck fuck fuck!" you yell. soobin rushes up to press the ice pack down on the bandaged wound.

"don't fucking touch me!" you yell at him. he flinches back but you don't notice because you're too busy trying to dissolve the pain. you breathe in and out. you wouldn't say you've never gotten shot before but no bullet has ever successfully hit you. you've only been grazed here and there but it was rare since no one is allowed to really carry guns besides cops.

after doing your breathing exercise for a couple of minutes, you finally bite back the pain. "what happened to the android?" you grit out. you hope getting shot was worth it, you hope the bastard that shot you in rusting in his cell. soobin sighs, "we lost it. it's completely my fault. i should've chased after it."

"you didn't chase after it?" you're not sure if you sound surprised or angry but soobin looks up at you like a scolded puppy. the alarms in your brain are blaring right now. why did soobin ignore the mission? he was supposedly always supposed to complete his mission no matter what. surely he didn't ignore the mission simply because you collapsed from a leg shot. you think about the subtle warning yeonjun gave you back when you had your first deviant case.

"seems like some kind of uprising? the machines seem to be rebelling."

soobin isn't- he's not a deviant is he? you can't really remember if he's been defective this whole time or if he's the best actor you ever met. you look up at him suspiciously and he shifts his gaze subtly when you make eye contact.

"it's been 4 days since your injury. yeonjun came by a couple of times to check up on you," you see his fists tighten at that. something may have happened between them while you were out. you know yeonjun can be a bit overprotective over you at times, even when he knew the job was dangerous.

"the chief says its best to lay low for a couple of days until you get better so that's what we're doing," he continues. you stay quiet. you're not exactly sure what to say. you don't know if calling him out will anger him or something.

you both stay quiet for so long that you start to think soobin may have gone into hibernation mode or something but when you look up at him he's staring directly at you. you sigh, "what is it this time puppy."

he stares at you for a little while longer before answering, "why don't you like androids?" you should've known this question would come up but damn why'd he have to ask it right now. why do you hate androids? one just shot at you a couple of days ago and left you unable to work.

"it's' because you're all nuisances," you mumble. he looks down at his hands and you have to remind yourself that if you're right, he somehow has feelings now.

you groan, "you all are supposed to be perfect! better versions of us humans! i guess you just fail when we put too much trust in you." you sigh, you don't expect soobin to understand since you're being too vague.

he sits, waiting patiently for you to continue. "someone close to me passed away a long time ago. i don't really expect you to understand what grief is," you chuckle bitterly. you look around the room in silence. you don't really want to cry right now so you take a deep breath.

"the doctor was out, probably fucking around i don't know. they had an android do the job. they didn't make it because the android failed to do it's task." you shake your head. "yeonjun was there for me at the time, which im grateful for. i probably would've singlehandedly destroyed all androids myself if he wasn't there."

soobin looks at you with that same curious boyish look and it makes you want to hit him. he's so annoying even when he's not doing anything. "y/n im sorry," he says.

"yeah you should be. the deviant got away because of you," you mumble. you both sit in silence again until you decide to speak up again. something in you wants to thank him for not leaving you behind but you also don't want to break character.

this is too new to you. you've never really had a partner, only ever going out into the field with yeonjun. even then, whenever either of you got hurt it was never as awkward as this. you sigh, "at least you didn't leave me behind." is the best you can come up with.

soobin looks up at you again with a hopeful look in his eyes and it makes you hate how alive he looks. if he was really a deviant you'd have to tread lightly with him. you're not sure if he's plotting against you or what his goal is but you've gotta start being more careful around him.

"y/n i look forward to working with you more," he says lightly.

for now though, for now, this will have to do.

[scottfuckingreed]

It’s a Pogue Thing - Part Three

This is a JJ Maybank story

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Warnings!: swearing and mentions of abuse

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     I wake up alone. Not only without JJ, but also without Kiara. I’m confused until I smell it... breakfast? It can’t be. Throwing myself out of bed, I dress myself and prepare myself for the brightness outside this room. “Ah there she is!” John B smiles. Before I can even react. a bit of toast bounces off of my head. All I can do is shut my eyes. I’m not even a fully functioning human yet. “Thanks,” I slide my feet across the floor, all the way to the couch. “Nice sleep?” Kiara chuckles, handing me an ‘in tact’ piece of toast. “It was alright.” I shrug. Internally I feel giddy. “You looked like you were pretty deep into it,” she adds. I was. She’s absolutely right. “I bet she was,” the husky morning voice of JJ erupts as he comes out of the bathroom. “Especially after last night.” His words get linked with a wink, followed by my heart stopping. “Yeah I’m sorry about that guys...” I flash my eyes straight over to John B. I’m definitely overthinking everything. Why would anyone even think JJ and I would ever? We wouldn’t. I guess that’s not true anymore. Either way, I’m fully awake now. “I didn’t realize it would be such a dead end.” Kiara’s hand cups John B’s shoulder in attempt to comfort. The blend of pain and disappointment in his voice was radiating through him. I wish there was another way; an easier way. “We just need to look closer. I’m sure there’s something,” I lie. “Are we sure there’s anything to find at all?” I throw my bread at the jackass. “JJ!” Ki follows. “You’re just pissed ‘cause I’m being honest. I’m sorry John, but what are we going on again?” I decide to stay quiet. “It doesn’t hurt to look again-” “You guys do what you want.”

     Not fully sure why, I rush my shoes on and follow the boy storming away. I feel somewhat protective over him. It’s a strange feeling. “JJ! Wait!” I call, jogging to catch up with him. He hardly slows. The anger was pretty much radiating off of his body. “If you’re here to-” “I’m here because I agree with you,” he pauses and frowns. “Even if there’s nothing, we still have to try.” Saying those words aloud feels like betrayal. I wish I had the guts to say what I thought, just like JJ, but there’s a time and a place. And both of those were wrong in that moment. “It’s false hope.” His words are blunt. “I know,” I whisper. I smooth my hair back with my hands. “You- he needs this JJ.” As he nods, he rolls his eyes. “He’s my best friend Y/N-” “I know JJ, but you just need to be a little more sensitive.” Once again, he rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, I just can’t lie to him,” shrugging, I realize this will continue to go in circles. “Fine,” I give up. A little frustrated, I turn around and start walking back to John B’s. “Where are you going?” I turn around quickly. I can’t help but frown at him. Like a dog, I tilt my head slightly to the side. “I thought we could grab some breakfast?” “I- what?” “I can tell you’re pissed.” Wow. Is it that obvious? I guess I don’t hide my emotions very well. “We ate at John’s...” I don’t know if I want to eat with him right now. “No. I didn’t eat, and you threw yours at me. Come on,” he nods and walks away from me. That’s it? And of course I follow him. I can’t not. 

     The walk was too quiet. It wasn’t necessarily awkward, but it had the ‘do I speak now or not’ vibe. When we get to a table in a small cafe, I sit opposite him slowly. “You can’t be that mad at me...” He chuckles slightly. Then comes the smirk. I didn’t know a look could do so many things to a person. It makes me want to slap him so bad. It also just makes me smile. “I’ll buy the food?” He tempts. “Do I even want to know where you get your money from?” The top and bottom lip press together on the boy’s face. “Probably not, you’re a good girl,” he winks. 

     Food. The boy truly knows me. So once that glorious breakfast spread was displayed in front of me - those exquisite eggs, the beautiful bacon, that tasty ass toast - he was forgiven. No grudges. I don’t even remember why I was even annoyed at him. “Wow,” is all I can express. Only a very small number of things can make me speechless. This is at the top of that list. “I know, I’m amazing,” he nods with a smug look on his face. Even when he’s joking about it, he always looks incredibly pleased with himself. I wish I had his confidence... or arrogance. Which either one it is, it works for him. Which is an utter shame. 

     We both indulged in every bite. Our plates looked both new and pristine. I am entirely and completely stuffed, and yet - if someone offered it to me - I could probably eat more. Although, I would definitely be sick. “That was so fucking good,” I let out in a ‘little too sexual’ of a moan. “That’s hot,” he informs me. God he’s so annoying. “Don’t even try it, JJ,” I wave my fork towards him. My threat just causes his to smirk. “So, what do you wanna do now?” A pleading smile gleams across his face. It’s not like me to give in to such tendencies. I just cannot seem to help it when it comes to JJ. “You don’t wanna go back to your boyfriend’s?” I tease. “Not really,” he shrugs. “I need a break from all that crime shit for today.” I don’t blame him. I hate to say it, but it brings an awkward and depressing atmosphere. I do feel bad for John B, but it’s too much if it’s all the time. A break, as selfish as it sounds, is what I need for today.

      As I stand up from my seat, my eyes immediate lock to the next customers walking through the door. Topper and Rafe. All I can think to do is sit back down. Just before my body starts zoning out, I hear JJ’s voice. “What are you doing?” He laughs in confusion. I haven’t been very open about mine and Rafe’s ‘relationship’ at all. I hate to even call it that. They know that he was a dick, which is the biggest understatement of the century, and they know we had a pretty awful break up. That’s it. At least I wish that was it. 4 months isn’t long enough to heal after... him. It’s just not. He’s mentally, emotionally, and literally physically everywhere. I nod my head, hinting at him to turn around. “Ah.” Is all he says. Rafe sends an obvious smirk to Topper, before making a straight line towards me and JJ. “Hey beautiful,” my skin crawls at his words. He makes me so angry, but I struggle to find the words to say. “What do you want Rafe?” I let out in a harsh tone. I wish I could scream at him, and just call him out on every single thing, but I can’t. Fuck. “Just here for something to eat,” he raises his eyebrows and smirks, placing a heavy hand on JJ’s shoulder. He doesn’t even budge, just lets an annoyed smile spread across his face. Topper chuckles at his best friend’s revolting sexual innuendo. “Why are you such a little bitch?” JJ nudges Topper on his side. It was just a poke, but it sent Topper moving. “What did you just call me?” Topper moves back towards him. JJ shoots up out of his chair. “You heard me, I don’t think you can move much further up his ass,” I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. “Can we just go?” His eyes just stare into Topper’s, while Rafe looks proudly at his boy. “JJ...” I wrap my hand around his forearm and pull slightly. “Fine.” Just as I get the boy to move away from the scene, Rafe decides to make the comment, “Who’s the bitch now?!” As you can expect, JJ does a 180 and darts back towards the two assholes. A fist hits my ex’s face. 

“God JJ,” I raise my voice slightly at the boy, sucking in my sad emotions. If anything I’m annoyed at myself for not being to stick up for myself. It’s just so hard to see him, let alone hear his voice. And to communicate with him? It feels almost impossible. “Why are you annoyed at me?” He snaps. “I’m not, I just wish you’d know when to leave things alone,” I roll my eyes. “I’m not your bitch Y/N.” I ignore him. I know he’s not. I realise I am probably projecting my frustration out now, and taking it out on someone who is very easy to argue with. “No, you don’t even fucking listen to me.” I speed up my walk. There are several things I need to do; breathe is the first one, then probably punch something or someone, then cry. Crying sounds like a plan. Footsteps inch closer and closer behind me. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I was just-” “I know.” I stop him. If he asks that question, the question I have avoided since the break up, I will break down. Fragile is an understatement. I’m like a bird with a broken wing, or a dried out twig ready to snap. One little gush of wind and I’m done. I will break. “Did something else happen, with you and Rafe?”

flashback

I made a joke. That’s it. I was caught up in the moment, and made a joke that he didn’t find funny. I could tell. He didn’t shout. He didn’t even raise his voice. He just stayed silent. His face just dropped. He’s pissed. He’s pissed at me. There was no retaliation, solely because his friends were around. Topper was there. There were other’s there. Now there’s not. I’m fucked. 

“Look, Rafe, I didn’t mean-” “You didn’t mean it? All you do it fucking embarrass me! You always mean it!” He shouts. The rasp in his voice startles me, and instantly pushes the tears out of my eyes. I’m scared. I’m scared of him. I’m scared for me. “I was just joking around, I-I-I-I” I stutter. The words pause as I get pushed against the counter. The harsh corner stabs into my back, making me fall to the floor in pain. I sit quietened by the wind being pushed out of my body. My mouth stays wide in agonizing pain, but my scream is silent. There’s no weep. There’s not a cry. Just tears falling down my now heated cheeks. I take a deep inhale of breath. I have no strength, emotional or physical, to get myself off of the floor. I can’t... Not on my own. Rafe’s face sits in the sight of my blurred eyes, as he places himself in front of me. “I don’t know why you always do this baby,” his fingers, which were previously on harsh hands, caress my chin softly. A thumb wipes my tears. Instead of pushing him away like I should, I nuzzle my hand into his hand. I’ve made enough mistakes tonight. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. A set of lips go to my forehead. 

“Y/N...” A soft voice snaps me back to reality. That was early days. It wasn’t even bad then. I cough slightly. How awkward. “Did he hurt you?” He asks, in a tone I don’t know if I’ve ever heard JJ use. It was gentle and careful, and had meaning behind it. Despite JJ being an idiot, I trust JJ with my life. Literally. But this... I can’t tell anybody about it. Not a soul. “He broke my heart JJ,” honestly, I’m not sure if I lied to JJ or not. I don’t ever remember loving that guy. I must’ve. 

We head back to John B’s. Everyone other than Pope was still there. John was looking at the research his father gathered, and combining it with the little amount we’ve managed to find. Ki was cleaning his shitty place up. She’s way to good to that boy sometimes. Somehow, no matter how many times it gets cleaned, it’s always a huge mess. “Where did you guy’s go?” Luckily, with the long-ish walk back, we no longer look stressed. “We got breakfast,” I throw myself onto the couch. John B looks up from his pages and raises his eyebrows. “You never take me to breakfast!” He throws his hand over his heart, clearly in pain. “You’re not as good company as me John, just accept it.” “Did you pay for it?” Kiara asks. I immediately sit up, snapping my head to the boy as I realise. “You little thief,” JJ says before I can even speak. “No I-” “Damn Y/N, I must be rubbing off on you, finally.”

[ijustwant2write]

Stalkers-Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley

(GIF credit to @fuckyeahgoodomens​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Would you do a platonic Good Omens imagine where Aziraphale & Crowley become close to human graduate student and they follow her on a date (and she notices them) because their protective (you can decide if the date goes good or bad)?’

Characters: Aziraphale x Reader (platonic), Crowley x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mentions of break ups and cheating, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF

                                        *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N) strolled around the corner of a book shelf, arms swinging with a book in one hand as she approached the till, where Aziraphale was waiting with a customer. She held out the book to him, a big smile on her face.

“(Y/N), that’s the wrong book dear.” Aziraphale awkwardly said.

“Oh!” the young woman gasped, looking at the cover. She was meant to find a novel about a dystopian future, with conflict and struggles of hierarchy. Looking at the cover, she realised she had picked up a romantic tale.“I am so sorry, I will go and find the other one-”

“No!” Aziraphale blurted out.“N-no, don’t worry. I’ll go find it.”

“OK, sorry again.”

Once he had finished with the customer, Aziraphale went to find (Y/N), who was stacking books on the shelves. She smiled at him as he approached her, and he copied, but it was clear to see that he was uneasy.

“I just want to talk about what happened earlier.” he started.

“I’m really sorry about that again. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“It’s not that, I’m not concerned about embarrassment. I’m more worried about you.”

“Me?”

“You know this bookshop back to back. You’ve worked here since you started university. It was just a shock that you picked up the wrong book, and took so long to get it.”

“I wasn’t that long was I?”

“You took fifteen minutes.”

“I mean, people make mistakes.”

“Of course they do, nobody is perfect. But it’s so out of character for you. Are you feeling well?”

She nodded, returning back to her job.“Absolutely fine.”

“Because you know you can tell me.”

“I know.”

“If anything is wrong, I am always here-”

“I’ve got a date tonight.”

He hadn’t expected that answer.“A-a date?”

She nodded.“Yeah, uh, it’s with this guy from one of my lectures. We’ve been friends...well, sort of friends for the last year, but he asked me out the other day and obviously I’ve said yes. So I’m freaking out a little bit.”

Aziraphale was shocked by her quick rambling, stumbling over his own words as he processed everything.“O-oh, well, that is very exciting! Why are you worried?”

“Because I haven’t been on a date since...well you know.”

“Oh, of course. You are going though, aren’t you?”

She sighed.“I was-”

“You should! This is great news!”

“But what if I’m awkward? If I’ve forgotten what it’s like to date?”

“Tell you what,” he started to take the books out her her hands,“you take the rest of the day off. Go relax, get ready for tonight, and enjoy yourself!”

“Aziraphale, I really shouldn’t-”

“I won’t take no for an answer. You need to relax and calm down before tonight. I think you’re going to be surprised with how much fun you’ll have.”

“If you’re sure...I mean, I am a bit excited.”

Aziraphale grinned at the sight of his friend blushing.“Good! Keep in high spirits and you shall have a great evening.”

(Y/N) put on her coat, saying her goodbyes to Aziraphale as she slung her handbag over her shoulder before putting her earphones in. The angel kept the smile on his face until the door shut, then his true feelings were unleashed. Panic struck him, mumbling to himself as he stressed over his friend. He knew he needed help on this, instantly calling Crowley to the bookshop.

Crowley had been bored out of his mind that day, so when the phone rang, he answered far too quickly, having to put on a reserved attitude as he spoke. Hearing Aziraphale’s tone made him agree to come straight away, even though he didn’t know what the problem was. Bursting into the bookshop (thinking another Armageddon was approaching), he called out for the angel, who popped out from nowhere, his eyes wide.

“Oh thank God you’re here.” Aziraphale sighed in relief.

“Well, I wouldn’t be thanking him-”

“It’s (Y/N).”

Crowley didn’t care about his smooth persona anymore, not when it came to (Y/N).“What? What’s happened?”

“She’s got a date.”

Crowley stared at him, mouth open. After a few seconds, he spoke,“That’s what you called me here for?”

“Yes! How are you not worried?”

“Because it’s a normal thing for young adults to do?”

“But this is (Y/N)! You remember the last relationship?”

Crowley softened at that.“Oh, you have a point.”

(Y/N) had not been attending university for long when she first applied for the bookshop. She was just eighteen when she started, much quieter and shy back then, but Aziraphale decided to take her under his wing (no pun intended). He and Crowley had become friends with her, watching her grow as she studied hard, not without stressing herself out at times of course. However, they had also been there when the first boyfriend came onto the scene. (Y/N) had been so excited, infatuated with this boy. They had dated for a year and a half, it had been so lovely at the beginning. Even the angel and demon liked him; until he made the fatal mistake of breaking her heart.

That boyfriend had all but ripped her heart out of her chest, torn it to pieces in front of her face before stamping on it. After all the dates, the presents, the studying together, supporting each other through their studies, the cute pictures and talks about their future, he randomly decided to sleep with someone else. The man (Y/N) thought she could see a future with had never showed any signs of leaving her, or no longer having an interest. He flat out admitted it when she confronted him, suddenly expressing how he didn’t find her attractive anymore and that she had been a waste of time. It broke (Y/N), and although she wanted to believe that someone would come along and cherish her just as he did in the beginning, it was extremely hard to imagine such a thing after those harsh words.

“I know I shouldn’t judge others, especially since I don’t know the man...” Aziraphale said.

Crowley removed his glasses.“Well, how did she look when she told you?”

“Happy, she was nervous but giddy. She’s worried that she’ll embarrass herself, though I could see the excitement in her eyes.”

“Well that settles it then.”

“What?”

“We have to follow them.”

“How did that make you think of following them?”

“(Y/N) has mixed emotions, she may not think straight because she’s overwhelmed.”

“She’s a smart young lady, she’ll be able to tell if she likes him or not.”

“Still, we don’t know this guy. I think to be on the safe side, we should tag along.”

“A-a double date?”

“What? No! We need disguises, we need to follow after them.”

“So, stalk them?”

“Stop making it weird. Come on, let’s figure out what we’re wearing.”

(Y/N) couldn’t stop staring at her reflection. She had spent more time than needed on her hair and makeup, picking out her jewellery before putting on the outfit she decided on (which also took a while to pick out). Although she always presented herself well everyday, she hadn’t dressed up in a long time. It was almost refreshing to see herself like this, she felt beautiful. Smiling at herself, she was broken out of her trance as her phone buzzed. Quickly grabbing it, she saw her dates name pop up, stating they were on their way to the restaurant they chose to go to. It was now or never.

Crowley and Aziraphale waited down the road from (Y/N)′s student house, seeing her leave and head in the opposite direction. Crowley was more confident sneaking around, purposefully walking quickly so Aziraphale would keep up with him and not think about backing out of this. For disguises, they decided they needed to dress young, blend into the crowd; Aziraphale wore an oversized jumper with an equally long striped scarf, his usual bow tie still on, as well as jeans and converse. Crowley had on a black denim jacket with a black and white patterned silk shirt, black jeans with boots definitely meant for hiking, as well as blacked out circular glasses and a beanie. Aziraphale felt ridiculous, hating how people stared, but Crowley was too focused on the mission to notice.

They followed her to the restaurant, casually leaning against a building across the road as they watched the man and woman embrace. He kindly held the door open for her, gesturing for her to go ahead.

“He seems gentlemanly.” Aziraphale pointed out.

“No, this is their game you see. He wants her to think he’s a gentleman, when he’s the total opposite! I’ve seen it happen many times before. They’re all ‘Mr Nice Guy’ just so she’ll go home with him.”

“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think-”

“Come on!” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s wrist, dragging him across the street. 

(Y/N) thanked her date as he tucked in her chair for her. It wasn’t a high end restaurant, and it was only late afternoon, but this is how they wanted it to be. They were already friends, it would be awkward if they were properly dressed up in a posh place. He had already complimented her, making her blush, and they were able to slide into a conversation. It was like any other time they had been hanging out, except there was a romantic element to it all.

“There they are.” Aziraphale whispered to Crowley as they entered the building. 

Not waiting to be seated, Crowley guided the pair towards the couple, finding a table close enough that they could watch their every move without being spotted. Sitting down, Crowley shoved a menu into his friend’s hands, holding it in front of his head with his eyes peering over the edge.

“He tucked in her chair for her, that’s sweet of him.” Aziraphale smiled.

“Remember what I said.” Crowley frowned.

“Perhaps we’re being a tad dramatic. I was paranoid this morning, but seeing them together has calmed me.”

“I’m not sure. He could be pretending.”

The squabble was disturbed when (Y/N)’s laugh rang out, along with her date’s. Her friends turned to see her covering her mouth as she continued giggling, her eyes still on the man across from her.

“That doesn’t count.” Crowley quickly protested.

A waitress came over to their table, surprised by how quickly the men ordered their food and the lack of eye contact. What shocked her the most was when she tried to take the menus away, but they gripped onto them with their lives. It was the only way they could hide from (Y/N). She backed away, not too phased because when you work in this sort of service, you do get your weirdos. 

“Maybe we should just leave...” Aziraphale felt less stressed, he had a good feeling about this man. She looked much more calm, more natural with him than she did with her ex, and this was only the first date. 

“But we’ve ordered.” Crowley moaned.

“I feel like we’re imposing. I know we wanted to check on her, but (Y/N)’s an adult, she knows how to handle herself.”

“Let’s at least wait for our food-”

“But what if they spot us! We can take it to go.”

“It’ll be cold by the time we get back, and we’ve ordered drinks!”

(Y/N) tried to concentrate on her date’s words, she had been invested in his story until a couple on another table started bickering. It was just human nature to pry, and she had glanced a few times over at them. They were an extravagant pair, wearing clothes that made them stand out. It wasn’t a bad thing, people were allowed to express themselves.But there was something about them that made her keep staring. 

“Hey, I’m just going to quickly pop to the loo.” (Y/N) said, smiling at her date just as he did, before she stood up, heading towards the odd couple.

Aziraphale and Crowley were too caught up in their argument to notice that (Y/N) had left the table, and was headed right towards them. She suddenly appeared at the table, crouching down on the other side so her date couldn’t see her.

“What are you two doing?!” she harshly whispered.

They were shocked by her, flinching in their seats. Aziraphale sighed.“I knew this would happen!”

“Are you two following me?”

“It was Crowley’s idea!”

“You were the one who called me!”

“Enough you two!” (Y/N) quietly exclaimed.“Do you know how much you’re invading my privacy right now?”

Aziraphale had a calm tone to his voice.“We just wanted to make sure you’re alright. And how did you know it was us?”

“Have you seen your outfits? You stick out like a sore thumb.”

“I thought these were very on trend?” Crowley said.

“In 2013 maybe.”

“We’re sorry. We were only thinking of you, your safety, your happiness. And we were going to leave, but Crowley is complaining about the food-”

“It’s good food here!”

“As long as you two don’t interfere with my date, you can stay. Just don’t stare, or watch.”

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Aziraphale smiled.“He seems like a lovely gentleman.”

Crowley groaned.“Stop calling him that.”

(Y/N) relaxed a little.“He’s...he’s a sweetheart. I feel comfortable with him, happy too. I’m having a great time...was having a great time.”

Aziraphale placed a hand on her shoulder.“We promise we won’t do anything. Honestly, I’m quite hungry and parched now that I’m thinking of our order.”

(Y/N) pondered for a moment.“Fine. You’re right, the food here is pretty good, I can’t take that away from you. But next time you do a stake out, try to blend in, yeah?”

[oh-boy-me]

Demon Outfits Discussed

The wait is over :) thank you for your patience and all the lovely comments on the casual discussion!!

I feel like it got longer this time, so I hope it’s all an enjoyable read!  Also, I apologize for the ugly pictures--it was the easiest and fastest way to both have all the design in one image and also prevent it from stretching so far.

Like last time, please don’t take this too seriously; we love these boys and Justin doesn’t know them but has no grudges against them.  We’re just harping on their fashion sense.  Absolutely no hate is intended towards the boys or the design team!

Participants in the discussion were

Jo ( @jodaneko ), our art major with storyboarding/character design experience, who finds they have more in common with Satan each passing day.

Justin ( @justinlester0629 ), our fashion expert, who dressed up and filled a wine glass with water for the occasion.

Noodle (Me), our untrained eye who owns the Barbie as the Island Princess video game on three different platforms.  It’s not even that good.

Featuring emergency guest star Megan ( @maggo77​ ), my sister who is physically near me as we look at the backs of their designs for the first time.

Edit: Distracted by the pretty jacket, we made a mistake when putting in Levi’s silhouette rating.  It’s the worst.  2/10, not 6.

Lucifer:

“Boy looks like he’s about to swing open the doors of an expensive mansion during a debutante party and give some SCATHING NEWS.” —Justin

“Short shoulder cape and a long split butt cape lol” —Jo

Jo has realized that based on both outfits, Lucifer doesn’t want people looking at his butt.  Possible reasons are: he doesn’t have one, or Diavolo someone was getting distracted.

His shoes match his outfit.  After last time that’s all I care about.

A triple popped color, and how many layers is the middle one?  Is that a book?  Dude has like 27 collars.

The forehead diamond is very important and it’s great that there are diamond buttons to match it.  But uh.  How about those red diamonds on his sleeves.  They.  They sure are there.  (I actually like the red accents and that they match his gloves; I just can’t take the diamonds seriously.)

  Lucifer 🤝 Some Horses Diamond on the Forehead

The peacock motif is HERE and we’re all living for it.  HOWEVER, the feathers on the cape and coattails should have matched, OR there should have been more lime green because there’s so little of that color.

The pants have a pleat in the front, which Justin says means he responsibly irons his clothes, and Jo says only heightens the fact that under the capes this is a marching uniform.

Can he fly?  Jo says these are baby wings that can’t support his weight, and his cape has a hole for the top pair but blocks the bottom pair?  Can’t believe Lucifer handicapped himself for the sake of fashion.

The red makes it regal and the wide flowy design makes it imposing.  Good job, Lucifer!  I might actually be intimidated if I saw you.

Definitely the classiest outfit.  You can tell they put care into it.

Mammon:

“BITCH MY BODY CANNOT TAKE THIS KIND OF SEXY, I THINK I AM OVERHEATING!  NO MORE FURTHER COMMENTS, YOUR HONOR.  HAUTE AND HOT.” —Justin

The whole thing does amazing with only three colors.  We’ve noticed the trend of black and white + one color, but I mean hey.  It’s working so far.

Damn those pants sit low.  No wonder literally all of you wear belts.

The leather jacket?  The studs and harness?  Bless.  Justin calls it “the perfect blend of stylish and ‘I’ll see you tonight *wink*’”.

Kind of don’t like how the belts connect to the pants, though.  It looks better in the back.

“He found a really cool jacket, but it didn’t pair with anything so he just didn’t wear anything.” —Jo

Honestly though?  We’ve all made fun of Mammon for having big hoe energy in his outfits, but like, he knew he had wings and planned his outfit to accommodate for that.  He’s the only one who didn’t cut holes in his outfit.  Maybe Mammon was the smallest hoe after all.

Also if there’s a motif it repeats elsewhere, like the studs and diamonds on his jacket and pants.  Did he and Lucifer have a “tastefully putting diamonds on my outfit” battle?  Because Mammon definitely won.

One of the charms broke off the belt loop and he never bothered to replace it, and honestly thank god there isn’t two of those anymore.

Torn between wishing the boots were tighter to match the rest of the outfit and saying “yoooo they’re open in the back!!!”

Ok so so far we’ve said generally only good things, but there is one major issue with the design: Its gravity.  Everything points down, his tattoos, the diamonds, even his wings.  The center of gravity in the image is his shoes.  Bitch loved his shoes so much he made his whole outfit point to them.

Either way this was universally considered the best and I mourn Justin who doesn’t know how far Mammon’s standards are gonna fall from here.

Leviathan:

Diagonal zipper

“Levi what the fuck.” —Megan

He looks like an e-boy.

Honestly it looks like he borrowed something from Justin’s wardrobe for Pride but he didn’t know how to put it on.

APPARENTLY the biggest hoe.  Abs that he shouldn’t have coming through a mesh t-shirt.  I thought Mammon’s pants were low, but Levi’s whole-ass ass is out.  Ok Levi, I see you.

The shirt pattern is good but he probably leaves it partially unzipped because it’d look really dumb fully closed.

Justin loves the funky pants pattern and Jo likes the pants but not with the outfit.  It’s because the devs were too coward to give him a thick tail base so his pants had to fill that role by sharing the pattern.

The shoes are good, and not just because they incited Justin’s deep-set hatred for Christian Louboutin and his uncomfortable red-bottom shoes.

Justin is offended that he’s hiding his suspenders; either show them completely or not at all, no in between.  Jo’s not fully convinced it isn’t just one suspender.  What are his suspenders doing?  What are they attached to?  Are they holding anything up?  Apparently not.

Jo pointed out that if you squint the belt on his waist looks like fangs and the orange dots on his sleeves looks like eyes so it’s like theres a snake head on his outfit.  Cute!

The gloves are throwing us off though.  Why is Levi of all other brothers need gloves?  I bet he has sweaty hands.

Ok really, does his sweater unzip all the way into two pieces?  Or does it hang by that tiny thread underneath the tail hole?  There’s even a button, just in case.

Can’t believe this antler-sporting, suspender-wasting nerd went diagonal zipper on us because we beat him at a trivia game.  Should have just zipped his hood.

Satan:

HONEY.

“I hate everything about this.” —Megan

First of all, he’s straight up wearing Lucifer’s casual shirt.  Does it only button down the back?  Can he take it off?

Then he spilled bleach on his pants.  Like I get what they were going for but with the white on black that is literally just bleach stains.

Incredibly differing opinions on the belt.  He got it in the cowboy department.  Justin adores it.  Jo despises it.

And are those… athletic slip ons?

And now the elephant in the room.  The ribcage made of ribbons.  The ribboncage.  The idea is great!  I love that they gave him a skeletal theme without throwing him into a Hot Topic.

But if you take the ribboncage and feather boa off he’s literally just wearing a dress shirt and some nice jeans.  And that’s the problem with Satan’s demon form.  Not that it looks goofy.  It’s that they took risks but then hid all the risks behind business casual.

Also Megan said that the back of the ribbons look like a rock climbing harness.  Someone (probably Justin) said the front reminds them of the underbelly of a green cockroach.  Ew.

The feather boa would look better if it was over something you wouldn’t literally wear at the office.  (And also didn’t look so much like worm on a string.)

“He is going to Dragcon 2020 and is definitely going to take a picture and ask to lip sync, but accidentally start beef with Acid Betty.” —Justin

On a good note, loving how the tail fades to highly radioactive green.  Feels dangerous.  Megan pointed out that it’s a pretty wimpy tail, though.  Jo enjoys the self-conscious posture it expresses.

That’s basically the only good thing we have to say, though.

I just????

Merry Christmas.

Asmodeus:

The kanji on the picture is just saying that the coattail is the same on both sides.

Ok now with that out of the way, HONEY.

I’m sure he says that to others but I hope he says it to himself too when he looks in the mirror.

Starting with the good.  The wings?  Adorable.  The heart-shaped hole to accommodate them?  Adorable.  One of the only good adjustments.

And I love that the tips of his horns look venomous, like a scorpion tail!

We love a good floral design and a good twin tailcoat.

But once again, the shirt just has too much going on.  The flowers.  The buttons.  The brick-pattern stitching.  The brooch.  The long collar.  The fact that if he closed the last button it’d end in a diamond covering his crotch.  Sometimes less is more, Asmo.

That scorpion brooch is the best thing to ever grace my computer screen and it shouldn’t have to share the spotlight with the rest of his shirt.  It should have wrapped around his arm and been paired with some more jewelry.  Then he could have ditched those giant cuffs.

The bleeding heart tattoos are a really good idea!  But they should have been angled better and not like someone else put them on at the roller rink.  And maybe they shouldn’t have been outlined in pink.  Those aren’t tattoos, those are gaping holes in his arm.  Is he ok.

I’ve been avoiding the pants, but.  The pants.

“Oh dear god. Oh no that’s… I thought you were a designer…” —Jo

One side is buckled the ENTIRE way down, and then the other side is COMPLETELY plain.  It’s too extreme on both ends.  It should have been only half a leg of buckles.  Not whatever this is.  I still don’t think he can bend that leg.

The shoes are ok but they COULD have been a stiletto so.

Jo is DONE with these demons’ inability to wear socks.

We expected better from you, Asmo.  I hope you have to fasten all those buckles every morning as retribution.

Beelzebub:

He said “how many belts can I wear on one outfit.”

Justin said it’s like Barry B. Benson and Post Malone had a beautiful baby boy, and Obey Me! is cancelled for creating a sequence of events that could lead to me hearing that with my own two ears.

The jacket?  Stunning.  “It’s steampunk mixed with Jack Sparrow, mixed with Billie Joe Armstrong,” says Justin.  It’s got puffy sleeves!  And there’s objectively too much going on with the jacket, but since it’s a leather jacket I can forgive it.  Justin and Jo can’t.

I’m not sure why they keep giving him weird jacket collars but I prefer belt number 9 to fur.

“Why is it bucked in the back?  Couldn’t it have just been a jacket?” —Megan

Good that the black tank isn’t only black, but he has so little color on his outfit that it would have been nice for it and the matching pattern on his boots to have been a color besides gray.

I don’t mind the belts down the leg because they’re not too in your face.  Jo wants the white belt to be thinner.  Justin wants him to just pick one and go with it.

Poor Beel, he can’t do his lil thigh pat pose without his right hand being assaulted by studs and that bear trap-shaped buckle.

Justin feels like the cowboy boots are too wide up top and it’s probably because they’re FAKE cowboy boots.  I don’t know why he didn’t just get cowboy boots instead of putting fake coverings over his dress shoes.

Can’t fault the twin belt, though.  And the wing hole isn’t terrible.

Idk I guess.  They knew what they wanted to do at least.  

That seems to be the pattern with Beel: they know what they want to do, but something weird happens in the middle of it.

Belphegor:

“I don’t know which Teletubby let their son go through the it’s just a phase mom phase, but they should be ashamed.” —Justin

A toddler who just learned how to cut holes in paper got a hold of his hoodie.

Is it a hoodie?  A jacket?  A poncho?  The cow print actually isn’t terrible.  At least it had the decency to be unique in its spotting.  And the actual presence of blue is very appreciated.

On the topic of colors, Jo is calling the devs out on their apparent fear of color.  “Put the pink elsewhere, cowards,” they say.

We actually don’t hate the horseshoe, and using it for the belt buckles is actually really clever.  Even if 75% of them are doing literally nothing.  Feel like he didn’t need that many.  Could do without the bottom one, maybe even bottom two.

There’s a teeeeny tiny cowbell on the back?  Megan apparently finds that VERY important.  Why do they go to such great lengths to remind us that Belphie’s a cow?  Beel doesn’t rub his hands together 24/7.  Mammon doesn’t even get bird wings.

Just like Satan spilled bleach, Belphie has tar pants.

It’s nice to see a change in pant style, but.  Am I biased because I hate harem pants?  Maybe.  Are these harem pants too short on him?  Yes.  Maybe they were supposed to be parachute capris?  But it just looks he outgrew them too fast and Lucifer won’t buy him new pants yet.  At least they look comfy.

If he puts his keys in those pockets will his pants fall down?  Probably.  That’s a problem considering his are the only pants that look like they could hold any keys.

The shoes are fine.  I can enjoy a high topped sneaker.  …Is that a security tag?  Did he steal his shoes.  Belphie stole his shoes.

On the tiny tail hole, I appreciate that Belphie went for modesty.  But I hope it’s impossible to wear these outfits outside of demon form because I don’t want him walking around with a tiny hole right above his ass.

Honestly he doesn’t even look like a demon?  He just looks like… a cow.

There’s one more aspect of their demon forms that I didn’t feel comfortable forcing into a smaller space than it deserved: Silhouettes.  Jo puts a lot of weight on silhouettes and their role in character design.  Is it dynamic?  Is it recognizable?  Jo ranked them as such:

1. Lucifer: 9/10.  Care and effort were put into this design and it shows. 2. Mammon: 7/10.  Points deducted for most of it being form fitting but otherwise still manages to get a passing grade. 3 (tied). Beelzebub: 5/10.  His wings have actual mass but his horns being mostly hidden by his head reduce his score. 3 (tied). Belphegor: 5/10.  Evens out since his clothes aren’t as form fitting as the others but they also kind of turn him into a blob. 5. Asmodeus: 4/10, and only because he’s got multiple wings and that his tailcoat breaks up the bottom half. 6. Satan: 3/10, for the fact HIS BOA carries most of the work in altering his silhouette. 7. Leviathan: 2/10.  The tail and horns prevent this from being a total flop.

Our (surprisingly unanimous!) ranking of their outfits (not counting Megan her opinions deviated) were:

Mammon

Lucifer

Leviathan

Belphegor

Beelzebub

Asmodeus

Satan

In conclusion, any M-rated fic that doesn’t have it take demon Satan 20 minutes to take off his shirt is too unrealistic.

[baubabble]

“Subtle Differences” Final Part - Hotch x F!Reader

PART I    PART II

Summary: You and the rest of the team head to take down the Unsub as the search for the killer and Allison Wilson comes to a close. You and Hotch team up to take the loft, having each other’s backs. With all the unresolved tension between the two of you, will you finally make the first move? Or will he? Final Part of Subtle Differences. 

Word Count: 4064

Warning: CM Violence, Blood

Song I Wrote To: “Next To Me” by Imagine Dragons

Note: Thank you all for sticking with me on this one! I was only planning on making this a one-shot, but I had too much to say! My next CM work is going to be Reid x Reader and will be just one part, but I have other ideas too. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. 

-------

Standing in the locker room of the SPD, you struggled with your bulletproof vest. 

Frustrated, you tore it off and started again. “Let me.” Hotch’s soft voice reached your ears as he walked up behind you. You let go of the straps and he tightened the vest around your torso. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he fastened the velcro straps, his hands pressing along your stomach and shoulders. 

Hotch trailed his hand down your spine and you let your eyes close at his touch. He then rested his forehead against the back of your head, closing his eyes as he took a moment to be calm. Slowly, you reached your hand towards him and after hesitating for a second, you grabbed his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers with his. 

This was the most physical contact you had had with him. You stayed like that and something felt so intimate of just being in each other’s space. You could hear his breathing and feel the way he leaned into your back. This was much more than just a few gazes or smiles on the odd occasion. 

Aaron was touching you as if he had been waiting to do it for a while. Maybe it was because you were about to put yourself into the line of fire or because he was finally willing to take a step in your direction. Whatever it was, you were drinking it in.

Moving your hair off your neck, he flattened the last strap, letting his hands linger on your shoulders for a moment as he pressed his nose into your hair. Delicate fingers traced the skin at the top of your spine and you shuddered beneath his touch.

Neither of you said anything as you stilled in your small moment. 

Eventually, Aaron released your hand and leaned back. “Are you okay?” he asked and at the worry in his voice, you turned around to face him.

He was already outfitted in his vest, his earpiece hanging around his neck while his sidearm sat on his hip as always. He looked down at you with concern in those beautiful eyes of his. In that silent locker room, all you wanted to do was hold his face between your hands, but you had a job to do.

“I’m fine,” you assured him. 

“Are you sure? If you need more time, I can have you run communications from here,” he said. You gave him a small smile, fighting to keep your hands at your sides. 

“Aaron,” you breathed and his eyes locked onto yours, nearly taking your breath away entirely, “I’m okay. I promise.” Hotch nodded and then handed you an earpiece. 

“Alright,” he said, smoothing his hands down your arms before stepping away. “Let’s go. You’re riding with me.”

————

Following Aaron out to the SUVs you placed your earpiece into your ear and double-checked your weapon. Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Perotta were taking one SUV, while you, Rossi, Reid, and Hotch took the other. Sliding in next to Spencer, you pushed up your sleeves and caught a glimpse of the scar that now permanently marked your arm. Spencer was watching you, but you ignored him as Hotch started the engine and began driving towards Belltown. 

On the way there, Garcia called the entire team. “Okay, superheroes,” she said in greeting, “I have the 411 on our guy. Alan Rhett, thirty-two-years-old, born in Spokane and moved to the big city only a couple years ago. He’s worked for Ground Express for the past six months and before that never really held a steady job.”

“What else?” JJ asked. 

“Well, this guy is smart and by smart, I mean crazy smart! He holds two degrees, one in art history and the other in structural engineering. I wouldn’t put it past him to have his place enforced with some kind of fancy doodads,” said Garcia.

“I hate when they’re smart,” Rossi said and you smirked. 

“Garcia, is there any history with a woman in his life?” Reid asked. 

“Definitely, my tall friend,” Penelope said. “When Alan was seven, his mother went missing for almost two weeks. It turned out that she had fallen into a vat of chemicals at the factory that she worked at. It ended up preserving her body until the foreman found her a week and half after she died. Yikes, it says she drowned in the stuff.”

“Well, there’s the stressor,” you said. “But what was the trigger? It couldn’t have just been that one painting.”

“From the medical reports I am seeing, it looks like after his mother died, dad just shoved him onto his grandmother who wasn’t the nicest of people. She blamed Alan for his mother’s death and even abused him at times. Oh god, she used to burn him with hot candle wax,” Garcia said.

“Garcia, what happened to the grandmother?” Hotch asked. 

“One second,” Penelope said, “oh, she died one week before Mason Walker was killed.” 

“There’s the trigger,” Spencer said.

“When we get on scene,” Hotch began, “Dave and Prentiss, I want you to take the Westside while Morgan and Perotta take the East. JJ and Reid take the back. (Y/L/N) and I are going to go through the front. Our priority is finding Allison. There is a good chance she is still alive.” 

“One more thing,” Garcia said. “It seems there is a firearm registered in the unsub’s name and according to his bank records, he bought ammo for it just before Mason’s abduction.”

“He won’t hesitate to shoot his way out,” Morgan reminded everyone. 

“Which makes him that much more dangerous,” said Hotch. “Everyone needs to be vigilant and remember this usub is smart and is unhinged.” 

“Stay safe and come home,” Garcia said. 

“Always,” Rossi said and then you arrived at the loft. 

————

The team split up into the designated teams and after speaking with SWAT and Perotta’s men, you entered the building. 

The loft was a solitary unit on an abandoned street. Everything else around it was either torn down or foreclosed. You kept close to Hotch as you two entered the front of the building. SWAT officers took the side corridors as you and Aaron moved into the main building. 

Keeping your guns up, you had his back, keeping the both of you safe as you cleared each room. At the end of the main hallway, a pair of double doors stood ajar. You ran ahead, bracing your hand on the door handle. You waited for Hotch’s signal. He kept his gun balanced and then nodded to you.

With a swift pull, the door opened and Hotch rushed in. You followed close by, ready to cover him at all costs. However, when you both entered the secondary hallway, it was empty of threat. Though, something else had made you both pause. “What the hell…” you whispered as you slowly lowered your gun. 

The dark corridor was speckled with electric torches that created an eerie glow. The walls were painted a dark charcoal color and dripping down every inch of them was thick, red wax. The same wax that Rhett had covered his victims in. 

“Do you think he considers this art?” You asked Hotch as you began walking again. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Aaron said, keeping away from the wax. The entire scene looked like something out of a horror movie. You suddenly felt very closed in as if the walls were moving toward you. Swallowing thickly, you tried to stay focused as you followed him. 

At the end of the hallway, there was another door. Light was coming from the crack at the bottom and you could smell something...putrid. You and Hotch moved towards it. Aaron’s face was full of determination as he scanned your surroundings. The rest of your team were speaking in your ears, explaining that they were clearing rooms. 

The two of you had stayed silent since entering the wax-filled hallway. Pressing your ear against the door, you tried to hear anything that would indicate what was on the other side, but nothing was reading through the thick wood. You shook your head at Hotch. You then tried the doorknob and it didn’t budge. Stepping back, you gave Aaron some room. He braced himself and then with a sharp kick of his right leg, the door gave way and Aaron rushed forward.

The next moment moved in slow motion. As soon as the door flew open, you had a split second to react. Reaching out, you grabbed Hotch before he even realized why you were doing it. Dropping your weapon, you took hold of his arm and pulled him backwards into you. He stumbled but held onto you as you steadied him.

You were flush against him as you gripped him tight. He was breathing heavily, as were you, as you stared at one another. Your breath mingled with his as you tried to keep your heart rate under control. You failed miserably. His eyes were on yours as if he was drinking you in and for a fraction of a second, his gaze turned to your lips that were slightly parted. 

You wanted to enjoy the moment, but the air hit your nose and it was near acidic. Breaking the gaze, you looked to your left and your mouth fell open. “Hotch…” you whispered. You reached up and took hold of his chin, turning his face towards the open doorway. 

Confused, he fully turned and saw what had you shocked. On the other side of the door, the ground was nonexistent. The floor was dug out significantly and now resembled a very deep Olympic-sized swimming pool. The red wax-filled this room as well and at the bottom of the pit were four skeletons and two other bodies that were well beyond recognition. All six sets of remains had been coated in the unsub’s signature blend of wax and clay. 

“Morgan and I were right,” you whispered in horror, “he’s been doing this for a while.” Hotch shook his head in disgust as he looked around the hallway behind you when he spotted something the two of you had missed.

“There,” he said, gesturing to another door that was ajar just to the right of the mass grave you now stood above. Hotch leaned down and grabbed your gun, placing it in your hand. “Are you with me?” 

“Always,” you said without hesitation, and then the two of you disappeared through the door as the smell of death and decay followed after you into the darkness. 

———

The rest of the hallways were void of the horror show from the first. 

Whatever the building had been before Rhett had taken it as his home, it definitely wasn’t usually inhabited by people. Rats scurried at your feet and you fought the urge to shoot every single one. Pushing through the final set of doors, you met up with Rossi and Prentiss who had entered from the other side. 

“Anything?” Prentiss asked.

“We have more bodies,” Hotch explained. “He’s been doing this for longer than we thought.” Prentiss grimaced and then a muffled cry drew your attention followed by a crash. All four of you ran towards the sound that came from behind a partition at the far side of the room. Rossi and Hotch tossed it aside and there, lying on a surgical table, was Allison Wilson. A funnel was placed into her mouth as she was strapped down and fighting her restraints. 

You ran to her side, pulling the contraption out of her throat as Emily released her bonds. Allison was crying as you held onto her. “It’s okay, Allison, we’re the FBI,” you told her, helping her sit up. 

“Thank you, thank you,” she sobbed. 

“Where is he?” Hotch asked. Allison pointed to a stairwell.

“Roof,” she croaked out. “He has a gun.” Prentiss took hold of Allison, calling for medics while Rossi urged you and Hotch to go after the unsub while he secured the scene. You and Aaron raced for the stairwell. 

“Rhett is heading to the roof,” Hotch said to the others over the coms. 

“On our way,” JJ said back. You took the stairs two at a time as you prepared yourselves for what you were running into. Breaking through the roof access door, you were immediately met with gunfire. You and Aaron dove for cover behind the air conditioning unit, hitting the ground hard. 

“You okay?” Aaron asked, checking you over. You nodded and then rolled to the other side, ready to fire back as needed. You took calming breaths as the phantom shots were now very much real. Aaron gestured for you to flank Rhett from the left and you move silently along the roof.  

“Alan Rhett!” Hotch yelled. “It’s over! We found your other victims and we have Allison!” 

“You have nothing!” Rhett yelled back. 

“We also have Terry Owens!” you said. “Remember him? The man you tortured?” 

“He was a coward. They all are!” 

“Who is ‘they’, Alan?” you asked. 

“Everyone!” he shouted and you peeked around the corner and saw Rhett was waving his gun back and forth, trying to target you and Hotch. His hands were covered in the wax and his eyes were wild. 

“How did you get the women to cooperate, Alan?” Hotch asked. “Did you threaten them?” 

“It was easy,” Rhett said with a laugh. “I knew where they lived with their precious families.” You cringed at his words. His ruse was simple, threaten the victims’ family and you’ll get them to do anything. It was textbook. “Doesn’t matter. They were going to leave their families anyways!” 

“Like your mother left you?” Hotch asked, getting to his feet and moving to be in Rhett’s line of sight. You followed his movements on the other side of the unsub. 

“Shut up!” Rhett yelled. “Don’t talk about her!”

“It was an accident, Alan,” you said as he looked wildly at you. “She didn’t leave you on purpose.”

“She did! They all do!” 

“Is that why you kill the women the way you do? To preserve them as art?” you asked, taking a couple of steps closer to him.

“(Y/N),” Hotch warned, but you ignored him. 

“You wanted them to be beautiful and for them to be eternal like paintings. Right?” Rhett was nodding. “I saw your work downstairs. It was very nice,” you said, trying to find a thread to pull on.

“You think so?” he asked, his gaze falling on you as if he wasn’t quite looking at you. 

“Yes, Alan,” you said. “You are a true artist. Why don’t you put the gun down and you can show me more?” Rhett was smiling at you now, but his gun never wavered. 

“They were my best work,” he said. “I worked so hard on them, but I never did seem to be able to get them just right.” Hotch moved in closer as you faced down the killer. “You know what? You would be so perfect,” Rhett said before turning his gun on you. You didn’t have time to react as a gunshot echoed around you. 

However, when it was over and you checked yourself, there wasn’t a scratch on you. Instead, Rhett lay on the ground with a single bullet hole in his forehead as Hotch stood with his gun raised, breathing hard. “Hotch!” Morgan’s voice came as he, JJ, Perotta, and Reid came running across the roof from the Southside. 

“We’re okay!” Hotch yelled back. Morgan reached you first, grabbing your arm. 

“I’m okay,” you promised him. He then went to check on Hotch as Reid and JJ went to you. “Son of a bitch was gonna shoot me,” you said. 

“You seem to be making that a habit,” Spencer said, giving you a hug. “Let’s try to break that, okay?”

“Yeah, Doc,” you said, squeezing him back. “I like that idea a lot.” 

------

Once you were back on the street, you went to find Allison. 

You got there just as the medics were loading her into the ambulance. Emily was with her, holding her hand the whole time. The ringing of the gunshot was still fresh in your mind, but you were slowly calming down as everything was coming to a close. The killer was dead, Allison was safe, and now you had the opportunity to give closure to even more families from the victims you found on the first floor. 

“Not a bad first case back,” Rossi said as he joined you. 

“If you say so,” you said with a shrug. Rossi pulled you into his side and you rested your head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked. 

“For being you,” you said simply. Rossi squeezed you tighter. 

“Any time, kid.”

Spotting Perotta, you excused yourself and headed over to the detective. 

“Detective Perotta,” you greeted. He turned to you with a smile. 

“Good work, Agent (Y/L/N),” he said. “I can’t thank you and your team enough. I can’t even imagine what would have happened if he had continued.” 

“You would have caught him eventually,” you assured him. 

“More people would have died without the BAU and for that, I am grateful for your help,” he said and then offered his hand. You took it, shaking it twice. 

“Good luck with everything, Perotta,” you said and then turned to go. As you headed to the SUVs, you caught sight of Aaron as he spoke with the police chief. Your eyes met his and you smiled at him. He gave you his signature smirk and nodded. Ducking your head, you got in the car and let all the tension in your body sink into the leather seats. You were ready to go home.

-------

You were the first one on the jet. 

You sat in your seat, leaning back as you waited for the rest of the team. When the door opened, you expected to see Emily or Spencer, but instead, it Aaron and he was alone. “Hey,” you greeted, sitting up straighter. Hotch placed his bag down and then joined you, sitting next to you in the plush chairs. “Where is everyone?” 

“They’re on their way,” he said, peeling off his jacket and laying it over the back of his seat. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I just needed a moment alone, you know? Collect my thoughts,” you said and he nodded. 

“How are you really?” he asked with a knowing look. You sighed, unable to resist him, especially when he looked at you with those wonderful eyes of his. 

“I’m still a bit shaken,” you admit. 

“I figured,” Aaron said softly. The two of you just sat there for a moment, listening to the pilot doing his pre-checks and you were reminded of the moment in the locker room. It now seemed like a lifetime ago rather than just this afternoon. Aaron had never been so...open with you. You longed for his touch now. Even if it was something as subtle as tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. The thought alone made your skin feel as if it was on fire. “You did well today,” he complimented, taking you out of your thoughts. 

“So did you,” you said. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he said, and then his fingers trailed along the scar that spanned along your arm. His touch felt like electricity as he moved back and forth. 

“Thank you, Aaron,” you said softly. “Thank you for having my back today.” His fingers stilled on your arm and then they moved towards your hand. His movements were methodical and he was taking his time just as he had earlier at the precinct. 

“We make a good team, don’t we?” he asked, looking at you from under his lashes. Just as you had before, you rotated your hand and laced your fingers with his. 

“Yeah, we do,” you said and then swallowed thickly. Aaron’s thumb began rubbing circles along the back of your hand and then he slowly lifted his other hand to your cheek. You didn’t breathe as he moved in closer. Aaron pressed his nose against yours, tilting your head up so he could get a better angle, and then, he kissed you. 

It was as if fireworks were going off inside your head, replacing the barrage of gunfire with bright colors. Aaron kissed you with a tenderness you didn’t even know he was capable of. His hand left yours and came up to cup the other side of your face. Instead of fire, all you felt was warmth as Aaron Hotchner held you. You kissed him back with as much emotion as you could muster at that moment. 

Eventually, he pulled back and his warm breath cascaded over your lips. Leaning his forehead against yours, he smiled. “It’s about time that happened,” you said with a smile of your own. Aaron chuckled, leaning back slightly, but keeping his hands on the sides of your neck. 

“I’d have done it sooner if I had picked up on your...subtleties,” he said, his thumbs rubbing against your skin. You tilted your head to the side slightly, looking up at him. 

“And I thought you were a profiler,” you teased. Aaron raised a brow, leaning in again. 

“Funny,” he said, “I thought the same thing about you.” His lips met yours again and this kiss was anything but tender. Hotch gripped you tighter as he kissed you with a fierceness only he had. You gripped him by the shoulders, pulling him even closer to you. Aaron nudged your lips apart as he explored your mouth further, savoring the way the two of you just fit perfectly together. Your hands crawled up his neck, fingers cascading through his dark hair.

You had imagined many times what it would feel like to be kissed by Aaron Hotchner, but nothing had prepared you for the real thing. He was gentle and passionate and every move he made had you sinking into him further. It was the best kind of high you had ever experienced. 

When you both had to breathe, you pulled back, and with kiss-swollen lips, you pecked him once more. “So, does this mean that I pass my eval?” you asked with a smirk. Aaron rolled his eyes. 

“It was never in question, (Y/N),” he admitted, “I just needed an excuse to be close to you.” 

“Weren’t very subtle about it, Aaron,” you teased. 

“I knew you’d catch on eventually,” he said with a smile. Aaron kissed you again until he heard the team approaching and then he pulled back with a sigh. “How long do you think we have before they all figure it out?” he asked. 

“Rossi already knows,” you said, leaning away from him.

“Does he?�� Aaron asked, amused. 

“Apparently, I am a lot easier to read than I first thought,” you said with a shrug. Aaron reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his touch linger before pulling away. 

“On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read.”

“Is that so?” you asked, intrigued. He nodded.

“However, I am very much looking forward to learning how.” You smiled at his words just as the team boarded, talking animatedly. The two of you smoothed your shirts and hair before anyone noticed anything, but Dave had caught you immediately. Rossi winked at the both of you and you thought you would die of embarrassment right there, but then, you felt a warm hand on your leg. Hotch gripped your thigh, rubbing it soothingly and you felt calmer already.

The rest of the team followed Rossi onto the jet, completely oblivious to what had just transpired onboard. Rossi sat across from you and Hotch so you could be close to one another just in case another member of the team caught something. You would have liked at least the next six hours to be just about you and Hotch and hopefully, they would be. 

Leaning back in your seat, Hotch kept his hand on you at all times and as you flew across the country, light began to shine through the small breaks in the window shudders and at that moment, you had never felt more at peace.

“Sunrise is the reminder that we can start new beginning all over again." - Rupal Asodaria 

[brandstifter-sys]

Batter Up

@dukexietyweek​ Day 5 - School 

Word Count: 2680                (Ao3)

Pairing: Dukexiety

Characters: Remus, Virgil, Patton

Rating: T

Warnings: mild innuendo

Virgil used to play softball before coming out and moving in with his brother. In this new school he doesn't touch sports, except for gym class and watching the baseball team practice, for artistic reasons, and because he has a crush on one of the players, Remus. But one day after accidentally breaking a bat and Remus' windshield in gym, Virgil gets a surprising offer from Remus, to show him a thing or two about the sport. Virgil tries to play dumb about the game and breaking the windshield just to get this kind of time with Remus, but who's to say Remus isn't trying the exact same thing to get closer to the shy emo?

---

No one seemed to think he would be capable of any great physical feat, but he didn't like to put himself out there so he couldn't blame them. Virgil was just glad that no one he particularly cared about was in his gym class.

"Oh shit," he grumbled under his breath, holding the dented metal bat in both hands. Everyone else was staring off in the distance, watching the arc of the baseball he gutted fall in the distance.

"Virgil, have you ever played on a team before?" Coach Patton asked from the mound. Virgil shook his head and shied away from the fresh-out-of-college teacher. It was a lie but he was not about to admit he played softball before he moved to this town with his brother.

"Well you have a knack for it! If you want to join the team, let me know!" Patton chuckled and pulled another ball from his pocket, "But I need you to go back inside to switch out that bat."

Virgil had never been happier to get away from class than in that moment. The ball landed in the parking lot and set off a car alarm. His classmates were starting to stare. He carried his shame across the lawn and into the gym, grateful he didn't get drafted or scolded. He didn't need that attention from anyone, ever.

Almost anyone.

Virgil could admit he liked watching the school team practicing, judging their stances and strategies from behind the bleachers. He had no problem with sketching the players in action, it was great practice, but one always stood out. Remigio Alesini, or Remus as he preferred. He wanted to catch Remus' attention.

Virgil couldn't help but notice him—he was loud, proud, and had a unique way of moving. That and he was weirdly charming, sweet and vile, a chaotic blend of energy in a handsome meat suit. He was smart, strong, kind, and he had a lot of friends. Virgil hated having a crush on him of all people.

Rather than dwell on the guy who had to repeat kindergarten and wasn’t in his gym class, Virgil flicked on the lights in the supply room and sought out a new bat, hoping that his unofficial home run wasn't the hot topic still. He would be surprised at how long it would haunt him.

---

It was after hours and Virgil was behind the bleachers, sketch pad out and pencil ready. He was working on a more detailed sketch of Remus and wanted another look at those bright features. But as the team finished running laps, Virgil caught sight of Remus' concerned expression.

"Hey Ree, what's doin'?" one of his teammates asked as they gathered their equipment.

"My windshield has a wad of ball guts jammed into it, it's not a big deal but whichever one of you chuckle fucks did it is gonna pay!" Remus laughed, and laughed harder and at the teammate's expression—sheer terror. Virgil was twice as terrified.

"Can't get your crush with a busted windshield?" a different teammate, Remy, jeered.

"You still have the hots for his brother, you have no room to talk!" Remus grinned, "Especially when you're dating my brother!"

"Alright boys and non-binary sluggers," Coach Patton said as he approached the dugout, "Save the chatter for later, we have to be ready for the game on Friday! Get in the field and have a catch while I set up the bags!"

"But we were talking about Ree's busted windshield!" Dave, the shortstop with a wild mop of hair and glasses, countered.

"So that's the car that got hit!" Patton mused. Virgil froze and prayed Patton would keep his mouth shut. He did not want Remus to be pissed off at him, or the rest of the team, but unlike them, Remus mattered to him.

"Who did it? When did it happen?"

"It was during one of my gym classes today, and I was stunned! I don't think I ever saw anyone do that in real time! He was just as shocked, I think!"

"Who was he?" Remy pressed.

"That's not important right now, it's baseball time!" Patton said, "Now go partner up!"

Virgil sighed in relief as the team split up to practice. Patton could keep quiet so he could get back to drawing.

About an hour and a half later, he was adding detail to a sketch of Remus when he was batting. Each curve had to be precise, all the proportions correct, the energy in the pose perfect before he could add those eyes and that smirk. He didn't even realize that the majority of the team was gone.

"Hey there!" Remus greeted him from behind, making Virgil jolt and clutch his sketchbook to his chest.

"Easy! Sorry for spooking you!" Remus chuckled, "Thought you might want to get out of here since all the models are gone—except me, but I don't mind modeling for you in a more private setting!" He winked, getting Virgil to turn red.

"I don't draw nudes, if that's what you're thinking," Virgil grumbled, wishing he could disintegrate on the spot. Remus beamed, his cheeks taking on a pink hue.

"Now I'm thinking about it! But I get the impression you're looking for some dynamic poses that require clothes—or you really like baseball!"

"I mean, yeah, both, but it's not a big deal. Shouldn't you be with your team?"

"Nope! They trust the gym showers and I don't! Besides, I've been meaning to talk to you since you're always here!"

"I can go if it's a proble—"

"No! It's cool!" Remus cut him off quickly, "I'd like to see what you're drawing if that's cool, and if not maybe I could show you some stuff like using a glove or batting since they're doing baseball in gym and stuff!" He was grinning like crazy and Virgil was sure his heart was going to explode. This was the perfect opportunity to get close without too much risk. He just had to play dumb to get the most out of this one-time chance.

"If you want to, you can show me some stuff, but you don't have to," Virgil shrugged and rubbed his neck shyly.

"I want to show you a lot of stuff, Virge, but let's stick with baseball!" Remus giggled and took Virgil's hand, internally screaming when the emo decided to hold it and get up.

"You can show me other stuff another time," Virgil grumbled and prayed he wouldn't make a fool of himself.

"Only with permission!" Remus laughed, a genuinely amused kind of laugh, and dragged Virgil onto the field towards the dugouts.

"So, uh, what are you showing me?" Virgil stammered, kicking himself for being so timid. Remus didn't seem to notice it, or at least he didn't acknowledge it.

"Well I was thinking about showing you how to throw, maybe pitch, and then how to hold a bat! But if there's anything you want me to show you, I can! As long as it's not too illegal—I'm not about to expose a minor to—"

"I'm eighteen. Try again," Virgil cut him off and scowled. He was baby-faced, sure, but that didn't mean he was that young. He frowned at Remus, who was digging through a storage box by the home team dugout.

"There's still other kids on school grounds! You're not stuck here alone with me!" Remus jeered and pulled out a mitt. He tossed it to Virgil and grabbed a ball.

"You know how to put that on, right?" Remus teased as Virgil stared at the mitt. He knew that he was not holding a standard glove, it was a catcher's mitt, but if he said anything, Remus might catch on that he knew far too much to need this.

"No, it's not like I have to use one in gym class," Virgil retorted wryly—he was not about to play that dumb. Remus giggled and moseyed to the dugout bench and grabbed his own glove.

"Did they teach you how to catch a ball without getting hurt?"

"Yeah, use the mit like a scoop and try to catch with the webbing between the thumb and fingers. Unless that's wrong," Virgil answered. Remus smiled at him and nodded.

"I guess Patton taught you guys how to throw too. Good. Those are the most important parts of the game!"

"I guess they are," Virgil mumbled. He hadn't really thought about it. He was too preoccupied with keeping his eyes away from Remus and not staring too long. He heard Remus jog a short distance and glanced up to see him standing on the pitcher’s mound, his glove at the ready.

“Toss it here!” Remus called, bouncing on his heels, ready to dive if Virgil’s aim was off. Virgil relaxed his shoulders and planted his feet before rearing his arm back and snapping it forward, flinging the ball into Remus’ glove without much struggle. He paled when Remus cheered and ran to him.

“Okay! Pat taught you well! And my god you have a great arm! Since I don’t have to show you the basics, wanna learn to pitch? I’m usually third base, but I can cover the mound in a pinch so I’m not talking out my ass!”

“Shit spews from both ends?” Virgil scoffed, immediately regretting it. Remus just laughed, like a hyena.

“Now that’s the kind of spunk Remy wishes he had! C’mon, I’ll show you the technique and you can show me what you got!” Remus said and dragged Virgil to the mound leaving no room for argument.

“Alright so the first thing is your stance, you gotta stand with your side kinda pointed at the plate, whichever side you have the glove on,” Remus explained and stood on the mound, mimicking his own instructions, “Keep your feet shoulder width apart and your body straight, putting your weight on your back foot. Then you bring both your arms in front of you and in one motion and lift your front leg so it’s parallel to the ground, like this. And then you’ll bring that leg down in a wide step with your toes pointed at the plate, keeping your body facing either first or third base, and your arms up about shoulder height with the back one bent upward by the time your foot meets the ground. And you’re gonna push off with your back leg to get some real power as you throw, and you want to follow through, leaning over your front leg to really drive that ball home.” He repeated all the steps in one swift motion and hurled the ball over home plate, and into the fence behind it.  

Virgil was stunned, and he wasn’t going to tell Remus it was because his form was so bad but the throw was decent. Remus could live thinking he just impressed Virgil, he looked like he just won the biggest prize at a rigged carnival game, happy and flushed as he fetched the ball.

Virgil was less stunned and more startled when that ball came straight for him. He caught it without getting hurt but he would have liked some warning!

“Nice catch!” Remus beamed and ran over to him, dragging him to the pitcher’s mound, “Now you try!” He stepped back to give Virgil room and watched with interest as the emo took a deep breath and glared at the plate.

It was like second nature, he rocked his foot back and turned his other foot into the rubber pivot to keep from sliding. He reared his leg up and snapped forward, shifting his weight and moving his hips before his shoulders, lobbing the ball into the same fence, with more force behind his throw than Remus expected.

“Holy shit! That was awesome Virge! Do you always wear the hoodie to hide those arms? They’re probably so distracting!” Remus said and wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulders, “Oh yeah, you’re hiding some serious muscle under that hoodie! Lemme get you set to use them on the offensive!”

“You mean—?” Virgil muttered, willing away his blush and any latent feelings bubbling in his stomach. Remus was touching him and praising him, how was he supposed to keep his mind from racing?

“Batting! I won’t throw anything at you, but a good stance is important too! Hold that thought!” Remus giggled and took his glove. He skipped to the dugout box and swapped the glove for a bat. The same bat Virgil had to bring out earlier during gym class. He should have been more disturbed by it, but he was still a little put off enough to remember that he was the reason Remus would have to get a new windshield.

Remus dragged him to the plate and thrust the bat into his hands with a cheeky grin.

Virgil was weak in the knees, resting the bat on his shoulder as he tried not to think about Remus complimenting him over and over or that he accidentally cost Remus a trip to the mechanic. He wanted to believe there was something more there, like he wanted to pass out and not wake up.

"Alright, first," Remus said and placed his hands on Virgil's shoulders, "your footing is important," he nudged Virgil's feet into position with his own, pressing against his back, "they should be parallel like this."

"Oh—okay, um," Virgil winced. He couldn't have been that nervous! But when Remus slid his hands down his arms to his hands, Virgil wondered why he wasn't more nervous. That touch was far too gentle, almost reverent.

"You want to choke up on the bat more, like this—" he guided Virgil's hands on the bat, and didn't let go, "—and lift it off your shoulder." His breath was tickling Virgil's neck and Virgil could feel how close he was.

"Now bend your knees a bit and stick out your ass, and you'll be able to break my windshield again."

Virgil's breath caught in his throat and he dropped the bat. He was dead meat and his heart was racing.

"I—I–I'm sorry," he stammered, on the verge of tears. Remus hugged him and rested his chin on his shoulder.

"It was an accident. I'm not mad. I'm impressed! Coach told me all about it! And I thought you couldn't get any hotter!"

"What?"

"You're hot as hell and you gave me an excuse to talk to you, see how much skill you have, and ask you out!"

"Remus?"

"I've had a crush on you since freshman year! My god you have no idea how much of a spaz I was whenever I thought about you! Roman lost his shit I was so sappy and annoying! And that's saying something! I got over the craziness sorta but yeah I like you a lot!"

"Even if I—" Virgil winced and tried to keep from touching his binder.

"Even if you're not cis! You're you and I like that! So now you know what you're getting into if you agree to go to the movies with me since you busted up my car!"

"Can we get water ice and hang out instead?" Virgil asked and turned around in Remus' loose hold.

"I mean I wouldn't have the same chance to make out with you in the dark, but I like that idea!" he giggled.

"I could still kiss you if you want."

"Even if I want it right now?"

"Yeah," Virgil said and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, “but if you have time after the water ice, we can watch Zombieland at my place with the lights out.”

“That’s a dangerous compromise,” Remus giggled, his face a lovely cherry shade.

“If you try anything too crazy, I’ll show you how I really use a bat,” Virgil countered, only to have Remus pull him close and hug him while he bounced on his heels. It was hard to tell who was happier when Virgil hugged back. It was probably the coach watching the pair from a safe distance away. It was nice to see those kiddos finally getting together!

[rocinantescoffeestop]

Weekly Prompt: Souvenir Fandom: Young Justice Summary: The super-kids celebrate with a beach vacation. Set after season 1. Only romantic pairings are Spitfire and Conner/M’gann (background).

— [read the more polished version on AO3] —

Wally grabbed her hand and took off down the shoreline, not at a superhuman velocity – given that he had a person in tow and they were in public – but even without powers, Artemis had to push herself to keep up. She hated feeling slower or smaller than her peers; it was something she battled with every day, and now that she was dating a speedster, that became even more prevalent of a case. Fortunately, Wally never made her feel lesser. If he trod unknowingly in said territory (like men so frequently did), he would always apologise and make it up to her.

As he dragged her across the beach, heels spraying sand behind him, he did nothing but lift her spirits. And a pleasant buzz warmed her chest.

The spray of sand stung her shins, giving her a viable excuse – as soon as they stopped – for her struggle; (“no fair, you slowed me down!”).

When they came to a halt, Artemis shot a glance behind her, gauging the distance between them and the rest of the team. She made out the small form of Robin reclining in a beach chair, of M’gann and Conner building a sand castle, and of Zatanna and Kaldur’ahm standing ankle-high in the water, angled towards one another in conversation. So far they were that Robin’s sunglasses blended into the rest of his face, looking more like bizarre shadows than removable shades.

All in all, she calculates a hundred feet.

We really ran all that way? She couldn’t remember increments of time, only the warmth of his hand, the breeze in his hair... Gosh, Artemis, how in Hell have you become so... so soft?

“What’s wrong?” asked Wally.

Artemis snapped to the present. “What?” she asked, harsher than intended.

“You’re scowling,” he pointed out. “Or.. wait, that’s your normal expression, right?”

Next thing she knew, the back of her hand whacked him across the shoulder, but her teeth were bared and lips parted into an upward crescent. A chuckle emanated from Wally’s lungs, and soon it lifted from hers as well.

“God, you’re horrible,” she said, pulling him closer.

He smirked. “I think you mean ‘charming’,” he corrected. "And absolutely irresistible.”

“–Annoying. –Insanely self-absorbed,” she finished, their faces a few inches apart.

“See? You get it.”

Distance closed.

Waves beat against the shore. Seagulls squawked overhead. Wind thrummed through their hair and clothes. Every sound joined into one grand symphony, but all she could hear was the beating of a pulse in her ears, the rush of her heart as it ran alongside his– the only time she could keep with him in pace.

Too soon, air swirled in between them again. Her hands remained on Wally’s shoulders, holding him within a foot of herself.

“So, this is why you wanted to get away from the team,” she implored, her eyes glinting, her lips grinning. It felt good for once not to wallow in guilt or worry. It felt amazing. Is it always this freeing in a speedster’s world? “I don’t mind it.”

Suddenly, the shoulders under her grip vanished, and it took his mind a second to process where it went. Wally dove for the ground, coming up a second later with his hands around a shell. Swirled around an axis, it was a perfectly intact conch of white and pink. How beautiful.

“I can’t believe I found something so intact,” Wally said as his green eyes inspected every curve and cranny. “Must be my lucky day!”

“You and your souvenirs,” Artemis shook her head. Once, she rolled her eyes at his habit of securing a physical item from every team outing, every mission. Slowly, however, she grew to appreciate how something so small could put a smile so wide on his face. Every hero had to find a way of keeping their head above the water, and part of her envied  her boyfriend for having found his own little something. She barely hung on some days, feeling as if all she really had was a bow in her hand and a need to prove her worth. Could she ever find something that made her as happy as collecting made Wally?

“Oh, no. It’s not for me,” said Wally. He flattened his hand so the shell rested in the middle of his palm.

Her brows shot up. Her gut tingled like a kid’s on Christmas morning. But this was better than Christmas. This was...

This was Wally.

“A gift, to commemorate this momentous occasion,” he goofed.

Taking the shell into one hand (eyes inclined toward it so she needn’t meet those innocent, adoring green eyes yet and feel herself melt under their gaze), she remarked in a dry facade, “Wow, you’re even sappier up close.”

He didn’t falter. “It’s paying off, isn’t it?”

Transferring the shell to her right hand, she interlaced her fingers with his. Their conjoined hands dropped to their sides. A rare raw smile spread across her cheeks. “I wouldn’t say it’s not.”