#i looked it up and these seem to be official colors for charming man so i think i can judge him faily when i say

[whos-hotter-jjba]

Hottest JJBA Outfit Bracket - Round 1 Match 62

[meidiary]

( 📁 ) THEM ACTING OVERLY JEALOUS

synopsis: the monster trio and how they act when they're way too jealous for their own good...

characters: luffy, sanji & zoro!

warnings: a teeny tinyyy amount of swearing [:

a/n: first time writing for them so i'm pretty nervous!!! , hope you enjoy!! banner is made by me, inspired by the lovely @sixosix and the layout is inspired by the lovely @luckyscribbles <3

it was his fault! it really was.. he was the sole reason you were entertaining this way too confident guy- because he told you that he was out of your league! can you believe that?! and now ZORO is throwing daggers at the poor man just with his piercing gaze alone..

ignoring zoro's needy angry glares he's sending you two, you continue charming your ... acquauntance, growing his already far too stretched ego. "oh darling, how i could melt in those beautiful emerald colored eyes of yours~" and with that sanji cringe-worthy comment you got him babbling on about himself... again.

you're getting progressively more annoyed the longer you hear him try to flirt with you. nonetheless you don't move an inch, because you know he's watching your every move; waiting for you to come moping to him about the guy. he'd feel a sense pride because you came back to him. and that pride, the face he makes whenever he turns out to be right about something, albeit it's a very handsome one, is the last thing you want to witness right now.

so you keep yourself from throwing this guy's drink in his face and telling him his cologne is absolutely murdering your sense of smelling.

you look up as you suddenly stop hearing the random guy talk about some castle garden of his. he gulps hesistantly whilst zoro stands before you, hands in his pockets. "we're leaving." no you're not! "oh zoro~ i barely-" "now." you stand up and turn to leave, but quickly turn back around and give the stranger a kiss on his cheek before leaving with zoro, causing his cheeks to change to a red-shade.

"miss! will i ever see you again?!" he asks before backing up seeing zoro's death glare. "my love, if we are meant to be we will definitely meet again!" what's up with you and these shakespear lines?

zoro gives you a slight shove with his shoulder as he rolld his eyes for what seems like the millionth time this hour. "i think i found my soulmate zoro!" you sang while you interlocked you arm with his. you were met with yet another eye-roll.

"you were the one that said he's out of my league, remember?" zoro huffs annoyed. "shit- that was a joke damn it!" "if anything you're out of his fucking league, dumbass" you lean onto him as you two continue making your way back to the going merry.

"maybe i exaggerated a bit too.." you slowly admit before hearing his usual chuckle. "just don't go flirting with some stranger again, ever. shit could've gone wrong real fast y'know?" you smile sheepishly and nod. "good thing you were there huh?"

and you could've sworn you say his cheeks turn into a rose color before he swiftly turned his head to the side, greeting sanji and nami. was he blushing..?

SANJI was this close.. this close to absolutely losing it and slicing this daring man up with zoro's swords. who does he think he is? flirtingly, charmingly speaking with his lover?! well truth be told.. you two weren't official, far from it actually;

you two were so close to finally having the months-due talk about the classic, what are we-question. but of course sanji had to hit on the waitress that casually passed your table. that was your final straw. if he couldn't stop his antics for one night, you would resume yours for good.

and oh how it made him clench his fists so hard they became white, how it made him ignore all the beautiful ladies surrounding him, for what felt like the first time ever, how he saw you with your pretty dress on, that he bought for you because it reminded him of you, sat on some navy's lap, entertaining the bastard not worhty of a single enchanting smile of yours. yet there you were smiling, no laughing at something the navy said, all while you were supposed to be with sanji. laughing at something he said, playing with his hair, sat on his lap.

he was this close to exploding and increasing his bounty a good amount by punching this navy untill his fists fell off. "sanji, don't you fucking dare." nami warned him, glaring at him from the other side of the table, not in the mood to be on the run again after finally being able to relax for a day.

sanji heard nami, he did! but the minute he saw the disgusting navy's hand run up your thigh causing you to jump off of him, he finally lost it. "keep your fucking hands off her you sewer rat!" he jumped up sprinting at the navy, his snow-white fists ready to release all the pent up anger he held.

but before sanji got to the navy he was stopped by you. your soft, slightly cold hands holding back one of his clenched fists. causing him to slowly unclench it. you tried to push sanji back, knowing his uproar would bring about another navy chasing. "you alright, love?" it's as if all his previous anger vanished the moment he felt your soft touch, smelled you sweet perfume, the moment you felt like his again. "y-yeah i'm good.. but we should get goi-"

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!" the navy man roared causing the others to swiftly join the yelling. "hey aren't those those strawhat pirates with a bounty?!" from the other side of the room it felt like you could hear nami's long sigh. "see what you've done?! grab zoro, usopp and i will take luffy!" everyone complied and assumed their role.

sanji lifted his leg up ready to kick zoro awake right before you pushed him slightly making him stand on two feet again. "not doing that sanji!" he playfully rolls his eyes at your statement.

waking up zoro and running to the ship in a hurry, with a good 3 dozen navy soldiers running behind you calling you names, was the usual. but what surprised you was sanji holding your hand tightly the whole way, not letting go for a second.

once on the ship, back to sailing on the waters, while everyone was catching their breath, sanji took you aside, he interlocked your hands with his while he locked your gazes, still breathless he looks at you earnestly. his eyes illuminating the moon's glow. "i'll stop the flirting my darling, i promise. the only woman i'll charm will be you.. so you better not grow tired of it." he chuckled still a little breathless. you smiled, leaning your body onto his. "you better sanji.."

"i'm all yours sweetheart. all yours"

LUFFY felt weird. he had never met this man before, yet he suddenly has the urge to gum gum bazooka him for the rest of the day. why is he feeling this way right now? is it because he hadn't eaten yet? no that can't be it.. he just had a very good meal with you; you two had split up from the rest of the crew to have your lunch at some fancy looking restaurant on the beach.

luffy furrows his eyebrows once again because of this feeling. he figures, after a while to be completely honest, that the reason he wants to kick this man off the island is that he's taking way too long speaking with you. he's been occupying you for a good 10 minutes now.

how could he? how did he dare to take you from him so carelessly? you two were enjoying your meals, yes you were chatting about the dumbest subjects known to the world, but you were enjoying it. and then some buff man comes and dares to ask you for directions?! it would've been fine if he had left after receiving them, but no, he had to keep talking to you!

luffy was starting to see red at this point. he gets it he does, you're a beautiful woman, you're smart yet very funny, energetic and enjoyable! but you're his. even though you don't know that, even though he never told you that, you are his. and no buff, tall, slick back haired guy was going to change that one bit.

luffy dropped his food and started to walk towards the two of you, angrily eyeing the bold man who was about to get bazooka-d to some far-away island. luffy started stretching his arms, getting ready to send him off.

you notice right away and block luffy's path to the man. trying to laugh it off, you said your goodbyes to the fella and dragged luffy back to the restaurant. "what were you thinking, luff! that could've ended up horribly!" you whisper-yelled, not wanting to attract any more unwanted gazes.

"he took you from me for 10 minutes! how was I supposed to endure any longer!" luffy childishly pouts as he resumes eating. "you could've just said so! no need to bazooka anyone anywhere luf'!" his furrowed eyebrows soften as he hears his nickname.

the first time you called him that he truly hated it. "it sounds like a dog's name!" he complained. but over time, that nickname became apart of him, it was apart of his daily routine; he'd wake up to it, adventure the world with it, buy groceries with it, hear scolds with it. he became one with that silly nickname you gave him, and he wouldn't give that three-letter name up for the world. he wouldn't be able to go a day anymore without hearing you talking about how "the seashells here are so pretty luf'!", or how "i just love it when it's only you and i, luf'," and let's not forget you waking him up with the usual "luf'! sanji finished breakfast, get up already!".

"you can't go off with weird men. i won't let you.. you shouldn't leave my side for some guy that doesn't even know where he's headed!" you chuckle at his remarks. "i wouldn't leave you for anyone luf'! just.. don't bazooka someone next time.. just talk to me."

"you're mine y'know.." luffy tells you while he's munching on some of his cold meat. your eyes widen at his sudden words. "w-what?" "i said you're mine!" he says louder, a little annoyed thinking you hadn't heard him the first time. "you never said that before.."

"never needed to," he takes another bite. "but you are, so don't forget that!" he furrows his eyebrows again while saying that earning a chuckle from you. "i won't.. don't you worry"

NOTE: and that's for my first one piece ficcccc!!!

[coyotelip]

starchaser microfic: break || old married couple || @into-the-jeggyverse || wc: 682

When you've been together for twenty years, thirteen of them married, everything seems familiar and can't be surprising, especially when it comes to sex life.

However, as soon as James crosses the forty-year mark, officially entering the risk zone of a midlife crisis, instead of getting unhealthy obsession with motorcycles or reality TV shows, he discovers a new passion. Although, to be more precise, it's a long-forgotten passion that's gaining strength again - James is a morning sex addict.

He adores any kind of sex - it would be strange for a star player to have a low libido - but with years of stable family life, his passion has faded. So it came as a surprise to Regulus when James started making these little gestures again. Pressing him against the kitchen counter for a deep kiss. Pulling him up and putting him on his lap when Regulus just walks by the couch. Abruptly picking him up under the hips and carrying him to the bedroom when they have some wine. It makes Regulus feel like he's in his mid-twenties again, and they've only just started living together. In his mind, he calls it a new honeymoon.

However, Regulus' favorite part is waking up. Because now it's not the alarm clock or a headache that wakes him up, no.

Now he wakes up to the feeling of hands on his hips, sliding under the covers over his bare skin. For the first time in many years, Regulus stopped putting on his pajama pants to feel skin on skin.

He wakes up to hot breath on his neck where James leaves subtle kisses. As soon as Regulus' first (fake) disgruntled moan escapes his lips, the kisses become more expressive, his lips pressing against his skin longer. James' thigh confidently squeezes between Regulus' knees to rest between his legs, pressing against his noticeable morning hard-on.

The urge to start rubbing himself against the hard thigh that presses so perfectly against his boner is strong, but Regulus tries to be reasonable. This behavior doesn't seem very appropriate for his respective age – even no matter how sexy his man looks with his morning bush of hair and soft kisses.

“Mmm, Jamie… I have to get up,” he says, the same thing he says every morning now. Knowing in advance that it won't work, but sometimes marriage is about the desire to always create at least a little conflict. A life without conflict at all always seemed too boring, especially for people like Regulus and James.

“Noooo.” James replies, somehow not even breaking away from his neck. His kisses slowly descend to his collarbone, exposed out of his shirt. “Don't leave me.”

“I just want to make coffee and breakfast, I'm not even leaving the house today, James. It's Saturday. I'll be with you all day,” a smile spreads across Regulus‘ lips as James’ grip tightens on his hips, as if to hold him down by force. If Regulus had wanted to, he would have been out of bed long ago.

“But you'll leave me in this bed alone and it will break my heart. You don't want to break my heart, do you?” and James looks him in the eye for the first time that day.

The sparkle in those big brown eyes is something Regulus never gets tired of. It's consistently one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen in his life - better than even the many travels they've had behind them. The man's skin might have acquired new lines, his hair might have changed color, but James' eyes would forever remain the same as those of the young man who made Regulus fall in love with him.

That's why Regulus' voice sounds weak and unbelievable when he says, “I won't fall for your natural charm, Potter. You'll need something better to get me into bed.”

“Oh, I don't need to get you into bed, because you're already here,” his smile is a predatory, smug grin. “I just need to keep you here. And I'm going to make you feel so good you'll want to stay longer.”

[lilmisshellfireswritingblog]

Play With Fire - Johnny Storm x fem!Reader

Authors Note: Well, since we have officially been introduced to MCU Johnny Storm, here's a little one shot I wrote a month ago because I am absolutely feral for Johnny Storm. We don't know much about how he's going to be portrayed so, I used my imagination. I hope you enjoy!

PS: Smut is not my forte so I hope it's...satisfactory.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, contains adult content, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT 18+, smut, lots of fire puns (I'm not sorry or maybe I am), lots of yapping

Pairings: Johnny Storm x fem!reader

Word Count: 6k+

The glimmering lights of the charity gala bathed the New York skyline in golden hues, casting long shadows on the sleek, chrome surfaces decorating the event. The décor was a striking blend of mid-century modern aesthetics—smooth, flowing lines, geometric shapes, and vibrant colors—reminiscent of a time when the future was just a few glamorous steps away and held a more optimistic approach. 

You didn’t want to be here but there you were, trapped in a sea of tuxedos and satin gowns, your father’s arm draped possessively over your shoulder like a shield. It had been his idea to bring you along, of course, a desperate attempt to put up a "family-first" front after the affair rumor hit the front pages of The New York Post a week ago.

You hated galas. You hated the small talk, the polite smiles, and the thinly veiled gossip that filled the air. You hated the way your father’s overbearing presence had turned the night into a performance, with you as the unwilling starlet.

“I’ll only be a minute,” your father whispered to you, his fingers tightening around your arm in that way that said, don’t move. “Keep a smile on your face. This is important. Our family needs this.”

You barely suppressed a groan, nodding stiffly before he was off, mingling with the city's elite. His eyes, always sharp, locked onto the wealthy faces around him, like a predator hunting for its next meal.

You took a deep breath, turning away from the throng of people, hoping for a moment of solitude. The jazz band played in the background, their smooth melodies swirling in the air. You found yourself in the back corner, near a large glass window overlooking the city.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped into the room, a confident swagger to his stride. Johnny Storm, better known to the world as the Human Torch, was hard to miss. His sharp blue eyes gleamed, his blonde hair tousled just enough to look casually effortless. He was, of course, dressed to the nines—a sleek black suit that hugged his athletic frame and a white shirt that gleamed in the ambient evening lights.

You knew who he was. Everyone did. His exploits were plastered across every major newspaper and the tabloids couldn’t get enough of his charisma and charm. He was a man of fire, literally and figuratively, the kind of person who seemed born for attention.

There was something different about him tonight. No flames. No flashy heroics. Just Johnny, looking slightly out of place amidst the formality of the gala.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes when he caught sight of you and flashed a grin, as if he’d spotted an old friend. “Well, well,” he said with a teasing smirk, his voice warm with amusement. “What’s a beautiful woman like you hiding in the corner all by herself? You look like you could use some company.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Not really,” you replied, crossing your arms as you leaned against the glass. “I’d rather be anywhere but here, to be honest.”

Johnny’s grin faltered for a split second, then he chuckled. “Yeah, I get that. These things can be a pain. All the smiles and the handshakes and small talk.” He leaned against the wall next to you, hands in his pockets. “You’re not here for the free drinks, then?”

You shook your head. “My father dragged me here. He thinks it’ll fix... everything.” You waved vaguely toward the sea of tuxedos and gowns. “But you know how it is—people with money can’t stand to be seen as anything less than perfect.”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, his tone thoughtful, as he glanced around. “I get the pressure. I mean, being a public figure comes with a lot of... expectations.” He flashed a grin, a little wry. “You’d be surprised how many charity galas I’ve attended for reasons that had nothing to do with actual charity.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “You? I would’ve guessed you'd be more of a ‘save the day, destroy the bad guys’ type.”

Johnny laughed, his expression softening as he pushed off the wall and stepped a little closer. “That’s mostly me, but tonight… tonight I’m just Johnny. No fire. No superpowers. Just a guy who’s probably as uncomfortable as you are.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You know, I was thinking about ditching this whole thing and heading to a dive bar. Could be more fun. You in?”

Your lips twitched upward. “I’m supposed to be here for my father. This whole thing’s a mess.”

Johnny shrugged. “Tell you what then. When your father’s done playing the ‘perfect family’ game, I’ll swing by and whisk you away for some real fun. In the meantime, if you ever need a distraction, just holler for me, doll. I’m pretty good at getting people out of awkward situations.”

You met his gaze, amused and a little skeptical, but something about his laid-back confidence and easy charm made the idea tempting. "I'll keep that in mind," you said, your voice softer now.

Johnny’s eyes flickered over to the crowd for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re probably sick of being the center of attention,” he said quietly. “I get it. Sometimes you just need a break from all the... stuff.”

You gave a short, quiet laugh. “If only it were that easy.”

Johnny’s grin returned, this time a little softer, more genuine. “Well, if you need a superhero to make your night a little less superficial, you know where to find me.”

Before you could respond, he turned with a wink, slipping back into the crowd, disappearing into the sea of well-dressed faces.

You stayed where you were for a while longer, the sound of the gala and the distant jazz playing in the background. Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, was one of the last people you’d ever expect to feel any kind of kinship with, but for a few moments, he’d made you feel a little less trapped in the fake world your father had built around you.

And in a night full of forced smiles and shallow conversation, that small bit of genuine connection felt like a flicker of light in a sea of cold steel and polished chrome.

The gala was starting to wind down. The last glasses of champagne had been sipped, the tables cleared, and the final whispers of forced pleasantries echoed through the room. Yet, despite the event nearing its end, the energy hadn’t quite shifted. The jazz band had given way to a recorded track—a gritty, energetic tune that you instantly recognized.

"Play With Fire" by The Rolling Stones.

The heavy, seductive beat reverberated through the room, slinking through the air with a raw, untamed edge. It was unexpected. Unusual for a place that so carefully curated its atmosphere with smiles and good intentions. But there it was—one of the most rebellious songs of the time, now lacing the air, intoxicating and dangerous.

Somehow, as if it were fate, amidst the sea of tailored suits and glittering gowns, Johnny Storm appeared again, walking toward you like he had some kind of magnetic pull.

He flashed you a smile, his eyes gleaming under the cool, metallic lighting, his posture still effortless and relaxed despite the formality of the event. “Didn’t think they’d play this here,” he said, nodding toward the speakers, his voice amused. “I mean, talk about ruining the mood.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the deep growl of the guitar riff matching the beat of your heart. "Definitely not the kind of song you'd expect at a gala like this."

Johnny tilted his head slightly, the mischievous grin never leaving his face. “You know what? I’ve got an idea.” Without waiting for your response, he extended a hand toward you, a playful gleam in his eyes. “Dance with me.”

Your first instinct was to refuse. You weren’t in the mood for any more attention, and honestly, you didn’t dance. However, something about Johnny's easy confidence and charms, the casual way he dared you to step out of the perfectly controlled lines of this polished world, made you hesitate.

He wasn’t asking for anything extravagant, not some perfect ballroom spin or rehearsed routine. He was just... offering a moment.

For a heartbeat, you just stared at him. And then, as the chorus of “Play With Fire” blasted louder, you shrugged and took his hand. "Alright, Mr. Storm. Let’s see what you’ve got."

His grin spread even wider as he gently pulled you toward the center of the floor. The room seemed to narrow around you. Those who had been murmuring and sipping champagne suddenly halted as they took in the scene. 

But you didn’t care. Not now.

Johnny’s hand rested lightly on your waist, his other still holding yours as the two of you moved together. The pulse of the song matched your quickening heartbeat, and, for once, you didn’t mind the eyes on you.

The music seemed to speak to both of you, something unrestrained and reckless—something wild that had been suppressed by all the proper rules of society. Johnny’s movements were smooth, fluid, and effortless. He had the confidence of a man who knew exactly how to make the world bend to his will, and yet, somehow, his presence didn’t feel as overwhelming as you would assume.

You stepped in time with him, your own body moving with a freedom you hadn’t expected. The lyrics about temptation and fire seemed to mirror the electrifying pull between you. There was something present that was dangerous but exhilarating. Forbidden but impossible to resist.

You looked up at him, half in surprise, half in something else you couldn’t quite name. His eyes flickered back to you, almost searching, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable. No, it was more like he was giving you the space to decide just how far you'd go, how far you'd let this wild, reckless moment carry you.

“You know,” Johnny said as he guided you through a slow turn, his voice low, “they say if you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned.”

You raised an eyebrow, the edges of your lips curling upward. "You know what they say about fire, right?" you teased, spinning under his arm. "It can warm you up just as easily as it can scorch you."

He gave you a roguish wink, pulling you close again as the song picked up speed. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

The world around you seemed to fade away as the music built in intensity. The room, the gala, the whispers—everything was irrelevant in that moment. All that existed was the two of you moving in sync to the rhythm, bodies close, the heat of his touch igniting a spark in you that you hadn’t expected.

The song surged toward its climax, the pounding drums pushing the beat faster, wilder. Johnny’s hand slipped lower to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and the space between you vanished entirely. You could feel the heat of him. His body was a living furnace against yours, the friction of his energy igniting something within you, something that had always been held in check by the carefully constructed life you’d been forced to live.

You danced like you were both on the edge of a cliff, teetering on the line between control and surrender. Johnny’s laugh was infectious as he spun you one last time, a wild, unrestrained sound that made you realize how much you’d been holding back all night. He twirled you back into his arms, the song roaring in your ears as you laughed. 

The moment lingered there, suspended in time. A brief but intense escape from the world you’d known.

When the final notes of "Play With Fire" echoed through the room, you stood there, breathless and laughing softly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Well,” Johnny said, grinning down at you like a devil. “I think we’re both burned.”

You caught your breath, a little dizzy from the rush but you didn’t mind. “Yeah. Maybe. But it was worth it.”

He gave you a knowing look, eyes full of something that was both playful and... something more. He was the Human Torch, but in that moment, he wasn’t just fire. He was a spark that could have burned everything or lit a whole new path. 

And maybe, for the first time all night, you felt like you were standing on the edge of something that wasn’t entirely out of your control.

Johnny winked, lowering his head so his lips were resting at the crest of your ear, his voice just above a whisper. “Sometimes, the best part about playing with fire is the burn.”

You smiled, feeling the heat of it in every fiber of your being. You hadn’t expected to find anything real tonight, but then again, you hadn’t expected to dance with a superhero to this song either. It was dangerous. Reckless.

It felt like freedom. That was the best part of it all. 

The last notes of "Play With Fire" still echoed in your ears, even though the beat had long since faded, replaced by the hum of a million voices, all of them too eager to return to the business of looking perfect.

You had somehow ended up on the edge of the dance floor, your breath still uneven, your pulse racing from more than just the rhythm of the music. Johnny stood beside you, his smile more subdued now, a knowing glint in his eyes as if he understood that something in you had shifted—something you hadn’t expected to feel tonight. The dance had been reckless, free, but the moment you’d stepped back, the world around you had tried to pull you back into place.

His presence, however, still felt like a spark. An electricity you didn’t want to let go of. Not yet. 

“Well,” Johnny said, his voice quieter now, the earlier mischievous tone replaced with something a little softer. “That was fun.”

You shot him a look, half-amused, half-skeptical. “Fun? You could say that again.” Your laugh was a little more breathless than you intended, but you didn’t care. It felt good to be this... unfolded for once.

“You know,” he continued, stepping just a little closer, the heat of his body still too tempting, “the night doesn’t have to end here. There’s a spot… a little hidden place I go to when I need a break from all this.” He gestured toward the glittering ballroom, the clinking of glasses and forced chatter drifting in the background. “It’s up on the rooftop. Private. Quiet. I think you’d like it.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in your stomach. Of course, Johnny Storm had a “private spot” for everything. He was, after all, the Human Torch—effortless, smooth, always in control. However, there was something about the way he said it, about the quiet invitation in his voice that made it hard to ignore. Maybe you did want to escape the fake smiles and phony pleasantries.

You glanced toward the entrance of the ballroom, where your father was still busy shaking hands with some benefactor from the event, lost in his world of polished deals. You hadn’t been looking forward to more of that tonight.

A part of you, the part that had spent so long just trying to keep things together, felt that pull. You needed to break free, even if just for a moment. And another part of you? The part that had danced with Johnny, felt his heat like an actual flare against your skin? That part wanted to see where this could go.

“Fuck it,” you said, your voice quieter than you expected. “Lead the way..”

Johnny’s grin returned, the familiar flash of confidence lighting up his face. Without another word, he took your hand, guiding you through the crowd with a smoothness that barely made anyone notice. His fingers curled gently around yours, warm, sure, the touch casual yet intentional. It was like he knew exactly how to move in this world—his world—while making it feel like it was all about you in that moment.

You followed him through a door to the back of the venue, into a dimly lit corridor that led to a discreet elevator. Johnny pressed the button without a word, his eyes briefly meeting yours. There was something unspoken between you two, something that felt like it had been building without either of you realizing it.

The elevator ride was quick, almost too quick, and when the doors slid open, you stepped out onto the rooftop.

The air hit you first, the cool night breeze sweeping through the garden, carrying the scent of the city mixed with something sweet and floral. It was a sharp contrast to the glossy, manufactured world of the gala below. Here, on the private rooftop, everything felt different. The towering buildings of Manhattan stretched in all directions, but above, it was quieter. More intimate.

Johnny led you through the garden, where lush greenery contrasted against the stark steel and glass of the city around you. The lights here were soft, golden, hidden beneath the plants, casting just enough light to make the space feel almost like a dream. The far-off hum of the city was muted here, and the distant skyline stretched like a canvas of muted lights.

“This is… nice,” you murmured, taking it all in. The silence, the peace, the fact that for a moment, you weren’t anywhere but right here with Johnny. No cameras, no whispers, no obligations.

“I come up here when I need a break from the chaos,” Johnny said, his voice quieter now, matching the serenity of the space. He stopped beside a stone bench, and you both stood for a moment, taking in the view together. “Sometimes it’s good to just… get away. I don’t know about you, but tonight felt like I needed to breathe.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of that. The gala had been suffocating in its own way. Full of too many expectations, too many eyes watching. Too much of your father’s mask.

Johnny leaned against the edge of a low wall, hands in his pockets, his body slightly turned toward you. His eyes, usually so full of energy and fire, seemed softer in the dim light of the rooftop garden. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually come up here,” he admitted with a small smile. “Most people aren’t exactly keen on leaving the spotlight. But I like that you did.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the rush from the dance still lingered, making it hard to keep your calm exterior. “What can I say? I needed a change of scenery. I guess you could say you have a way of making people want to step out of their comfort zone. Besides, the spotlight isn’t my thing. Never was.”

He chuckled, and there was a genuine warmth to it. “I don’t know if it’s me, or just that sometimes you need someone who isn’t afraid to break the rules.”

You met his eyes again and for a moment, it felt like the world around you had gone still. The wind was the only thing moving, brushing through your hair and ruffling Johnny’s shirt just slightly. And yet, there was an electricity between you two, quiet but undeniable.

“You’re a rule breaker, huh?” you asked, your voice low and teasing.

Johnny’s smile turned a little more wicked, that familiar mischief lighting up his face again. “Maybe,” he said, pushing off from the wall and stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe it’s just that… sometimes the rules are there to be bent.”

He was close now, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, the same heat that had burned so bright on the dance floor. His presence was magnetic, inescapable, and you had to fight the urge to step closer to him.

“Well, I think you’ve already set my night on fire,” you said, voice a little breathless.

Johnny didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he took another step closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. His touch was electric, like he was waiting for you to make the next move.

You could feel the tension building between you—every heartbeat, every breath. The city below, the skyline, and the quiet garden was all just background noise now.

“Maybe we should just let the night burn then,” Johnny said softly, his voice deep and seductive, like he was speaking just for you. 

You didn’t know what you were stepping into, but right then, under the stars with Johnny Storm, you didn’t need to. You let go of the last of your reservations.

And for the first time tonight, you let the fire take you.

Johnny was close, closer than you’d expected. His presence, that electric heat that never quite seemed to dissipate, was undeniable. His eyes were on you, dark and steady, but there was something different in them now. There was now something softer, more deliberate than the playful energy that had defined their banter earlier in the night.

You stood beside him, heart racing, mind whirling. The dance had been the first spark, the moment when something unexpected flickered between you. But now? The air felt thick with unspoken words, each one hanging in the space between you like a slow-burning fuse.

“You know,” Johnny said, his voice low and surprisingly serious, “I don’t come up here often with anyone. It’s usually just me and the stars, you know? The chaos gets too loud sometimes. But tonight… Tonight it feels different.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t talking about the view or the quiet of the rooftop anymore. He was talking about you. Something about his tone, about the way his words wrapped around you, sent a shiver down your spine. The fire in him had shifted. The flippant hero, always surrounded by chaos and light, was now speaking softly, his words like an invitation, a promise.

“I get that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “This is nice. Peaceful. I could see why you wouldn’t want to share it.”

Johnny took a half-step closer, the space between you narrowing until his breath was warm on your face. His blue eyes—those beautiful stormy, electric eyes—searched yours like he was looking for permission, or maybe waiting for you to make the first move. The gravity between you was palpable, magnetic. Everything else faded into the background. All that mattered was the two of you standing there, in the heart of the rooftop garden, this space between chaos and quiet.

“Yeah,” Johnny said, his lips curving into a slow, unsteady smile. “I’ve been thinking... maybe I’m the kind of guy who can burn things down and fly, but I also know when it’s time to stop and just... feel. Not many people know that about me.”

His words wrapped around you like a firestorm, the heat of them sinking deep into your chest. It was too much and yet it was everything you’d been craving all night. No pretense. No walls. Just the raw pull of the moment, the intensity that was flaring between you two like a flame in the dark.

With no more hesitation, Johnny’s hand lifted, slow but sure, as though he was asking for permission even now. His fingers brushed against your cheek, warm and light, his touch like a spark against your skin. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, the touch so intimate that it made your breath hitch.

“You don’t have to worry,” he murmured, his voice low, just for you. “I won’t burn you.”

You swallowed, your own breath a little shaky. Something wild had taken hold of you, some primal urge that told you not to hold back. You stepped into him, closing the last of the distance between you.

“I’m not afraid of getting burned,” you said, your voice a little hoarse. 

Johnny’s eyes flickered with something hot, something unrestrained. And then, without another word, he pulled you toward him, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that matched the fire he carried inside. The kiss was everything you’d imagined and more urgent, intense, full of heat, yet strangely soft. His lips were warm, the taste of him a mixture of whiskey and something electric, something undeniably him.

His hands slid to your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel the warmth of him. His body. His energy. It surged through you like a live wire. You kissed him back, your own hands rising to tangle in his hair, feeling the wild heat of his touch consume you, like he was setting a fire inside you that you didn’t know how to extinguish.

For a moment, there was nothing but the heat of the kiss, the steady rhythm of your heartbeats echoing through your chest. The world had fallen away. There were no rumors, no expectations, no father or gala or fake smiles. There was only the two of you, locked in this perfect, intoxicating moment, a kiss that felt like it could burn down the whole city and leave nothing but the ashes.

When you pulled back, just for a breath, Johnny’s eyes were darker than before, smoldering with something that went deeper than the fire he controlled. His chest rose and fell with each breath, but he didn’t step away. Instead, his forehead leaned against yours, and he whispered your name, like it was a secret he’d been dying to share.

You couldn’t help but smile, your fingers still tangled in his hair, your chest pressed against his. There was a quiet calm in you now, something that had been absent the entire night. Something that told you, even with all the fire and heat, maybe this was just the beginning.

“Maybe you’re more than just fire, Johnny Storm,” you whispered back. “Maybe you’re something a little softer. Less dangerous than you put on. Fire can be beautiful too. It’s not always destructive.”

Johnny’s laugh was low, his lips brushing against yours in a quick, gentle kiss before he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Maybe,” he said, voice teasing but tender, “but I still have a few flames left to share.”

As the night stretched on, with the soft breeze swirling around you and the city still pulsing below, you knew one thing for certain: there was no going back. Not after this. Not after the fire had burned so bright between you.

You weren’t sure you even wanted to go back.

The city lights below flickered like a sea of stars, but up there on the rooftop, the night felt different. The soft hum of the wind moving through the plants, all of it was a contrast to the tension crackling between you and Johnny. The kiss you’d shared earlier hadn’t been enough—it was only the beginning of something more. Something you couldn’t quite control.

You needed more. 

Johnny stood close to you. Too close. But you didn’t want him to step back. His scent lingered in the air around you, a mix of the fresh outdoors and something smoky, something undeniably him. His eyes, dark and electric, never left yours, and every beat of your heart seemed to echo between you. His lips were slightly parted, his breath shallow, like he was waiting for you to make the next move.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” Johnny says breathlessly. “You’re playing with fire.”

You felt a thrill run through you at the words. Everything about him. From his cocky grin, the edge of danger in his voice, the way his body practically hummed with heat… He was irresistible. You tilted your head slightly, daring him with a soft smile.

“I think you’re the one who started the fire, Johnny,” you said, your voice low, teasing. It wasn’t a challenge, not exactly, but it felt like one all the same. Something between the two of you had shifted and now there was no going back.

Johnny took a step closer, his heat radiating off him like a furnace. You could feel the air between you thickening, crackling with an energy you hadn’t known you craved until now. His hand reached for you, slow and deliberate, but he didn’t touch you just yet. Instead, his fingers hovered near your waist, the slightest of touches, making you ache for more.

“You sure you can handle it?” Johnny murmured, his voice almost playful, but there was an underlying intensity in his words.

You swallowed, your pulse racing. “You’re the one who’s burning up,” you whispered, taking a small step forward, closing the last bit of distance between you.

Your pulse quickens at Johnny's bold words, your  breath catching in her throat. You look up at him through hooded lashes, your heart racing in anticipation. 

“Is that a promise or a threat?” you ask, you voice barely above a whisper. With a sudden burst of courage, you wrap your arms around Johnny's neck, pulling him flush against your body. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the cool night air. 

“Because either way, I'm willing to take the risk,” you confess, your lips hovering tantalizingly close to his. You close the final distance, pressing your  mouth to Johnny's in a searing kiss. Your tongue darts out, teasing the seam of his lips before delving inside to tangle with his.

Johnny groans into the kiss, his arms snaking around your waist to pull her tighter against him. He returns your passion with equal fervor, his tongue dancing with yours in a sensual duel. The taste of you is intoxicating, and he drinks it greedily, lost in the heady rush of desire. Breaking the kiss, Johnny trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he presses your back against the cold stone wall. The hard planes of his body molded perfectly against your body. Johnny grinds his hips into yours, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.

“Tell me you want this,” Johnny said breathlessly, his intense gaze on you.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pins you against the wall. The rough texture of the stone contrasts sharply with the heat of Johnny's body, making you acutely aware of every point of contact.

“Yes, God yes,” you moan, your hips bucking against his in a desperate bid for friction. “I want this. Burn me alive, Mr. Storm.”

Your words are punctuated by a series of urgent kisses, your mouth seeking out Johnny's with a hunger that borders on desperation. Your hands roam over his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his suit. You want to tear the fabric away, to expose the man beneath and claim him as your own.

“That's the spirit,” Johnny praises, his voice thick with lust. He captures your lips again, devouring you with a primal intensity that leaves you breathless and wanting more. His hands roam freely over your curves, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh. Johnny slips a hand beneath your skirt, his fingers tracing the lace of your panties before pushing them aside to delve into your slick heat. Johnny groans, his thumb finding your clit and starts rubbing it in slow, tortuous circles. “You're so wet for me already. I can't wait to taste you.” 

With a swift motion, Johnny rips open your dress, the fabric ripping with ease. He palms your bare breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples until they pebble under his touch. 

“You're perfect,” he rasps, leaning in to capture a pert bud between his teeth.

You cry out, you back arching as Johnny teases your sensitive nipples. The sensation of his hot mouth on your skin sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, making you throb around his invading fingers. “Oh fuck, Johnny!” you gasp, your hips grinding wildly against his hand. “Don't stop, please…” 

Lost in the haze of desire, you fumble with the fastenings of Johnny's trousers, desperate to free his straining erection. You need to feel him. All of him. As if reading your mind, Johnny relieves you of the task, swiftly shedding his pants and underwear. His cock springs free, thick and pulsing with need. You wrap your hand around it, stroking the velvety length with reverence.

A hoarse cry tears from your throat as Johnny thrusts inside you completely, stretching your inner walls to their limit. The sudden intrusion triggers a wave of intense pleasure that courses through your veins, leaving you trembling and breathless.

“Johnny... oh god, yes!” you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to his size. You start to roll your hips, experimenting with the delicious friction as Johnny remains still inside you. The sensation of his hot, hard length nestled deep within your core is almost overwhelming, stoking the flames of your desire to new heights. Impatient to move, you clench your inner muscles around Johnny's cock, urging him to start thrusting. “Please, Johnny,” you beg, your voice husky with need.

Johnny's restraint snaps at your pleading and he begins to move, setting a relentless pace that has you crying out in ecstasy. Each powerful thrust drives him deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the night air. 

“You're so damn tight,” Johnny growls, his eyes locked on your face as he watches you come undone beneath him. “I can feel every inch of you milking my cock. It’s driving me crazy.”

He leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as he pounds into you with increasing ferocity. The rooftop garden blurs around them, replaced by a world consisting solely of heat, hunger, and the primal urge to claim and be claimed. Johnny breaks the kiss to trail his mouth down your neck, biting and sucking at the delicate skin. 

“Come for me, baby,” Johnny mutters into your neck, panting as he kept up with his relenting pace. “Come for me.”

The combination of his rough treatment and the unrelenting rhythm of his thrusts pushes you closer to the edge. Your inner walls begin to flutter and clench, signaling your impending climax. You wrap your legs tightly around Johnny's waist, locking your ankles behind his back to draw him impossibly deeper. 

“Johnny, I'm gonna—!” you scream as the first waves of an orgasm crash over you, your pussy spasming wildly around his pistoning cock. The intense pleasure is almost too much to bear, sending you hurtling into a maelstrom of bliss. Through the haze of your release, you feel Johnny's movements become erratic, his thrusts growing shorter and more urgent.

Johnny's grip on you tightens as he feels your pussy convulsing around him, milking his cock for all it's worth. The sensation of your clenching walls and the sound of your ragged breathing spur him on, driving him to new heights of pleasure.

“That's it, baby, squeeze my cock,”  Johnny grunts, his hips snapping forward in short, brutal strokes. “You're mine, all mine.” 

With a final, guttural roar, Johnny buries himself to the hilt and erupts, painting your insides with his hot seed. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him, his vision blurring as he loses himself in the sheer ecstasy of the moment. As the aftershocks subside, Johnny collapses against you, his weight pinning you against the wall.

Breathless and sated, you cradle Johnny's face in your hands, gazing up at him with adoring eyes. 

“That was... incredible,” you whisper, your voice trembling with residual pleasure. You run your fingers through his hair, marveling at the way his heated skin seems to glow in the moonlight. The intimacy of the moment, coupled with the lingering effects of their passion, leaves you feeling vulnerable yet deeply connected to Johnny. “I've never felt anything like that before,” you confess, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and wonder.

Johnny's chest rises and falls heavily as he tries to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. He's still buried inside you, their bodies intimately entwined. The sensation of your warmth wrapped around him is almost too much to bear.

“You're something else,” Johnny murmurs, his voice low and husky. “I knew from the moment I saw you that you were trouble, but fuck, I wouldn't trade this for anything.” 

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, and sees the same awe and vulnerability reflected back at him. It's a moment of raw honesty, stripped of pretenses and societal expectations. Johnny brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle compared to the fierce passion they just shared.

Your heart swells at Johnny's words, your soul feeling as if it's been set ablaze by the intensity of their connection. You reach up to frame his face, your thumbs stroking his cheekbones as you search his gaze. 

“It was a good reprieve from all the formalities,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers trace the contours of his jawline, marveling at both the strength and unexplored tenderness etched into his features.

Johnny nods, a small, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. 

“Yeah, definitely a nice distraction from all the pomp and circumstance,” he leans in, capturing your mouth in a tender, exploratory kiss. It's a stark contrast to the passionate frenzy that preceded it, but no less potent in its own way. When Johnny finally breaks apart, he rests his forehead against yours once more, his breath mingling with yours. “I should probably get you back downstairs before anyone misses you.”  

Despite the practicality of the situation, neither you nor Johnny make a move to disengage. The moment stretches on, heavy with unspoken promises and the knowledge that their lives will soon return to their usual trajectories.

You sigh softly, the sound caught between your  lips as you reluctantly pull away from Johnny's embrace. The sudden chill of the night air against your overheated skin is a jarring reminder of the world beyond this hidden alcove.

“Yes, we should…” Your voice trails off as you gaze up at him, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow across his face. There's a bittersweet quality to the moment, a sense of longing for something that may never come to be. “But what if I don’t want to?” 

Johnny's eyes flash with a hint of mischief at your words, a devilish grin spreading across his face. 

“Then we stay up here all night and let the world keep spinning without us.”

[ilycosy]

subby whiny coryo🤭

sub coryo is literally my fav kind ,,, how did u know are u in my walls ??!?!? this is w post!peacekeeper him bc ... i love the buzzcut

also :) hi tbosas fandom !!

you could hear his footsteps before you officially see him, returning back from the districts to you. his footsteps are heavier than last time— and he seems to have bulked up, broad shoulders now more muscular than scrawny like before.

you smooth out your dress before wrapping your arms around his neck, allowing him to take the lead while in public. his buzzed head tickles the side of your neck as he breathes you in, hands finding their way to your soft hips. he hums in contentment.

"c'mon, coryo, we have a party to go to." you mumble against his shoulder, knowing that the last place he wants to be is a party. but it'd help his social status, especially since the plinths are throwing the party.

by the time you both had cleaned up for the party and arrived, many people were downing posca like it was water (which, you could argue that it was to the elites.) so you and coriolanus didn't have to do much socializing, a simple nod and compliment going a long way.

you were engaging in a conversation with a random elite, somebody that neither you nor coriolanus cared for, when you felt a hand sliding from your back to your ass. you didn't bother with looking, already knowing that it was your impatient boyfriend.

coriolanus was an uptight and elitist boy when you met him, just beginning at the academy— he still is, but now you like to think that he's become more of a man than that boy you knew. so eager to prove himself and his power to everyone, including you.

his hand attempted to go up the dress, but you stopped him before he got ahead of himself. "my love," you said with a small laugh, resting your hand on his bicep. "will you please get me something to drink?"

he almost pouted before realizing what you asked of him, you never drank. his small frown turned into a charming smile as he pressed a soft kiss to the inner corner of your mouth, "of course my dear."

which is how you two ended up here, in the bathroom of an extravagant house belonging to a family that honestly shouldn't even like coriolanus. making out like he was about to go back to peacekeeping (which, he'd never do. he missed you too much.) your glossed lips left sticky colorful marks on his pale skin, marking him as yours.

your hand was wrapped around his pretty weeping cock, slowly jerking him off while you kissed him dumb. drinking up the whines that left his mouth while he grinded into your hand, his pent-up self finally being able to be relieved after the time in the districts.

"did ya' miss me?" you asked teasingly, thumbing his tip while he tried to steel himself. his blue eyes welling up with tears as he shys away from your hand, his cock leaking precum all over your manicured hand. "did you coryo?"

he gulped, which would've looked a bit silly if you both weren't so turned on. he nodded, his reddening face blurring together as tears slip. "missed y'so much miss," he slurred, a throaty noise coming out as he hid in your neck. "needed you, s'much."

you giggled and pressed another kiss to his bruised lips, licking them until he opened his mouth— only to pull back and let him pant openly. "well you have me now sweetheart," you assured him, pulling your hand away from him to rest your precum slicked fingers in his open mouth. "what do you think we should do? to make up for lost time.."

[blasphemous-lies-and-deceit]

falling asleep while cuddling on the couch

Gerry knew almost right away that Michael was a touchy-feely kind of guy.

He knew even before they were in a relationship. When they had shared a bed at that stupid conference, Gerry had woken up both mornings with an arm around his waist and Michael pressed up against his back, face buried in his hair and snoring lightly in his ear. Gerry had only allowed himself a brief moment to enjoy it before he got out of the bed, not wanting Michael to wake up and find them spooning. That felt far too awkward to face, no matter how much he'd enjoyed being held by Michael, even in his sleep. It couldn't last, or so he'd thought.

Once things were official, once he was properly invited to share a bed with him, Gerry got to experience the full course of Michael's touching tendencies. Whenever he was within arm's reach, it seemed that he was being touched- an arm over his shoulder or around his waist, kisses pressed to his cheeks, Michael's fingers digging into his back in pleasure as they fucked. It was so much, almost...

Too much.

It made Gerry far too aware of himself. Feeling every inch of his burned scarred skin, hidden beneath his clothes but at risk of being found by Michael's questing fingers. It made him jumpy and tense, just waiting for those hands to turn hard and mean and shove him away. It made him realize that...no one had ever touched him so much. Ever. In his life.

It made him aware of the fact that he would probably die if Michael ever stopped touching him.

Besides being overwhelmed by the constant contact, Gerry was also reeling from his first real taste of normalcy. He could go back to Michael's flat with him, cook and eat dinner and then relax in front of the telly and...not think about the next Leitner he had to find, or sit braced for the next reappearance of his mum. It was nice, deceptively nice, as he sat waiting for the shoe to drop, for Michael to look at him in disgust and kick him out of his colorful chaotic flat. Throwing him back into the life he no longer wanted to live.

Even though they were having an ordinary night in, the pair of them on opposite ends of the couch and watching a delightfully charming baking show, Gerry still felt jittery and worked up. He hated feeling so on edge, and hated himself for expecting the worst from such a nice and welcoming man. Michael didn't deserve his speculations that he was about to be dumped. That wasn't fair to him.

With a heavy sigh, Gerry heaved himself up from the sofa, feeling heavy with exhaustion and a bit of depression. He didn't want to sour the night, but he also really didn't want to leave. He settled on getting a glass of water from the kitchen tap before drifting back to the sitting area, hoping to lose himself in the program. Instead he found Michael had spread himself out on the sofa, legs and feet resting on the cushion Gerry had just vacated, staring up at him expectantly.

"Where am I supposed to sit now?" Gerry asked, already knowing the answer.

"I think you know," Michael replied with a cheeky grin, gesturing down towards his lap. Gerry shook his head, fondness coursing through him as he set his glass on a coaster and turned back to Michael. It took some maneuvering, getting one leg over Michael without putting weight anywhere too sensitive and squishy, but he managed, and found himself in Michael's lap, face-to-face with his beautiful bright grin. Michael giggled at him, hands coming up to brush Gerry's hair back and cup his cheeks.

"See?" he chuckled. "This is perfect."

Despite his background worries, Gerry had to agree. He quite liked being in Michael's lap, being coaxed down for a kiss that he desperately craved. It wasn't the usual passionate kiss that led to more amorous activities, and definitely not the quick sweet kisses that were as addictive as sweets. This kiss was long, lingering, as unhurried as the sun setting outside the windows, and just as lovely. Gerry moaned softly, leaning further into Michael and kissing him back, the burning furl of emotions in his chest easing and settling as Michael's hands slipped down his neck and settled on his shoulders. It was like a warm welcome into his embrace, as if he wanted nothing more than to have him right there, with nothing else keeping them apart. Just them. Together.

When Michael pulled back, just as slow and lazy as his kiss, Gerry couldn't help the soft noise that escaped him. He didn't know how Michael did it, but his ability to quiet Gerry's brain and worries with a kiss was nothing short of magic. Michael settled back on the sofa, his eyes drifting back to the telly as his fingers wove into Gerry's hair, stroking idly. "Do you...do you not want to-" Gerry cut himself off, and Michael lazily shook his head.

"No, not really," he murmured, eyes soft and heavy as they slid back to Gerry. "Just cuddling is fine, for tonight." He sighed, a touch wistfully as his lips quirked up. "I quite like cuddling."

"I noticed," Gerry remarked with a chuckle, earning himself a sweet little smile. He rearranged himself again, settling down against Michael's chest, warmth building between them as he gave in and relaxed in his hold. Michael hummed contentedly, his long arms slipping further down Gerry's back, holding him close as he also shifted, making himself comfortable beneath him.

"This isn't something I get to enjoy a lot," he admitted, a little mournfully. "Cuddling. Like this. Sex is nice, you know, but I could use more nights like this, I think."

"Me too." Gerry stared up at Michael's face, quietly realizing that he wasn't the only one who'd been bereft of kind touches for too long. Michael had mentioned before that he hadn't been in a relationship since uni, and that was too long for someone as sweet as him. Gerry didn't want to think about Michael being sad and alone, so he slipped his arms under his back, burrowing close and hugging him in return. This time, the noise Michael made was much happier. He twisted upright to kiss the top of Gerry's head, nuzzling in with a sigh and sending a flood of affection through him. He'd do anything just to stay in Michael's arms.

Despite his best efforts, Gerry couldn't enjoy their cuddles for very long. Lethargy settled heavily over him and dragged his eyelids down, lulled by the softness surrounding him as his attention drifted along with the program's action. Every time he was more awake he quietly appreciated how comfortable he was, how held and secure he was, before nodding off again. At some point he was aware that Michael's hand had drifted, resting heavily on his lower back. His fingers had slipped beneath the hem of Gerry's shirt, stroking steadily up and down his spine, not shying away from the texture between his tattoos. Gerry buried his face into Michael's jumper as his eyes fell closed again, feeling even more at ease. Like nothing could tear him away from lovely, wonderful Michael.

Gerry sighed, and drifted off to sleep.

[jeonqkooks]

isn't it romantic? | myg (01)

ENTRY ONE: Me Before You

⟶ SERIES MASTERPOST

Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader; side/past taehyung x f!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre/warnings: coworkers to lovers, magazine writers au, fluff, angst, eventual smut; central themes of cheating (not between yoongi and oc), swearing (a staple in this household 😗), one bit is a lilllll suggestive?, mentions of drinking, i think that's it hmmm, barely edited bc u know how we do

word count: 5.1k

note: this is the yoongi brainrot speaking !!! the banner for this entry is one of my all time favorite pics of him and i will find a way to use it in everything !!! but erhm yeah iir is officially starting and i'm very curious to see what y'all think about it 😗 please like it haha jk no i'm serious please like it it's my baby

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I waste my breath on a prayer, you don't care, I was never a part of your plan, You can't make a God of somebody, Who's not even half of a half-decent man.

I Burned LA Down - Noah Cyrus

Half your life, you hated blue.

You often associated it with so many bad things - loss, betrayal, loneliness. The great big storm. The end of life.

Most of the pigtails-wearing girls in your class disliked it because it was often a boy’s color. You hated it because of a stranger on a beach.

Then you discovered Blue Side (as ironic as the name was), the magazine that everybody and their mother was reading. There was this column - the Love Maze (as corny as it sounded) - that had your 15-year-old self hooked from the first article you read, “Flirty Pickup Lines to Text Your Crush”. It gave you a nice little distraction from the reality of your fucked up family.

You’d get home from school and dive right into it. You could count on the maze for a new article every day, covering all kinds of things - cute little quizzes, daily love horoscopes, relationship tidbits…

You started reading it religiously because it was stupid, and fun, but it was more than that too. They covered real-life stories of actual people, which you’d never really thought about. For the most part, it was tedious. Rekindling with an old flame whilst grocery shopping, accidentally spilling coffee on a stranger who then asked you out on the spot, etc. Things like that. You found them so… unremarkable. 

But then it went beyond that, when they told their stories looking back on years and years after that first happenstance. How there was love in the mundane. How there was love every single day, even on the bad ones. How there was a spark that two people cared for and nurtured into a warm fire that never burnt out.

How there was love.

How there was always love.

To you, that was magical. It was something you’d only ever heard about in fairytales when you were a kid.

You still remember the exact moment when it all changed for you.

You met Kim Taehyung during your third week at Blue Side, where you were a wide-eyed assistant editor who somehow wiggled her way into a position there, and he was an effortlessly charming graphic designer.

Admittedly, the first time that you two had ever talked, wasn’t under ideal circumstances. You were tucked away behind the office building, nails digging into your palms at 3PM on a sunny but freezing afternoon, willing your tears to stay where they belonged. You’d felt severely underqualified, like you were only flailing about, trying to keep your head above water but something kept pulling at your feet, not stopping until you were at the very bottom. People always talked about how your early 20s were the most beautiful and freeing years, when you could truly live and feel your youth blossom all around you. But that just wasn’t true. Those were the loneliest years of your life.

Taehyung had found you then, while he was out for a quick smoke break. He could’ve made a lame excuse and left, or simply pretended to not notice you were even there, but he stayed. He approached you and asked what was wrong. He offered you words of reassurance and encouragement even though you were nothing but a stranger to him.

You were touched by his simple act of kindness and his endearing smile. Maybe it’s because you’d never been offered much kindness throughout your life that his small gesture seemed like everything. In a way, it was everything. He looked like the kind of fairytale love that you’d only seen in movies, only read about in Love Maze. To this day, a part of you still thinks that you fell in love with him the very second he asked, “Are you okay?”

The timing felt right.

Taehyung felt right.

He, too, was like the sun in the middle of a cold and isolating winter.

You remember the color of his sweater, and it was then that you realized blue didn’t have to be so bad after all.

[15:39] You: what r u doing tonight?

[15:45] Tae ♡: probably just head home after the gym. play a couple matches with Jungkook. hope i don’t die boiling water for ramen and hit the hay early

[15:46] Tae ♡: miss you :(

[15:49] You: thanks

[15:52] Tae ♡: mean

[15:53] You: lol 😇

[15:54] You: i miss you too <3

[15:56] Tae ♡: can’t you come back earlier?

[15:58] You: there’s only a week left. you’re a big boy, u can handle it :)

That was a lie. You were already on the train when you sent him that text, bouncing your leg all the way back to the city at the mere thought of surprising him with your early return. You’d taken a leave from work to visit your family, spent some time somewhere quieter, away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.

You watch as the scenery passes by, fast-paced like you’re in a montage. The rest of forever is right around the corner. You wish you could skip to your happily ever after and not have to rewind the tape ever again.

When the diamond on your ring finger catches the sunlight coming from outside the window, you allow yourself a blissful sigh as you gaze at the jewelry adorning your hand. But if you’re being honest, it doesn’t fit anymore, at least that’s what you’ve noticed over the past month. It’s a little loose now, not quite noticeable but you can still make out the slight difference if you concentrate hard enough. You should get it resized soon, maybe later this week now that your schedule has cleared up earlier than expected.

Three weeks is a lot of time to spend around only your family, you realize. You thought you could do it - seeing that you hadn’t been back in a while - but the second you stepped foot into your childhood home, you remembered what a dysfunctional household you had.

It was nice while it lasted, which wasn’t very long. You did all you could, bit your tongue and tried to suppress that unresolved anger until it eventually became too much to handle. Your mom has always been a complainer. Nobody likes talking about it, but she’d bring up the same old shit almost every day even though you all know what happened. Your dad would just sit there and listen as she berates him in front of you and your sister, and you suppose he keeps quiet because there’s really nothing to be said in his defense. It was his crime, and this is his punishment.

Sometimes, you wonder why dad still stays. Sometimes, you wonder why mom still lets him.

You just wanted to go, even though this was supposed to be home. You want to leave every time you visit, and it’s a haunting feeling that keeps following you around your whole life. Why is home always a place you want to leave?

When you arrived back in the city, the first place you went to was Taehyung’s apartment. You lounged about, enjoying the much needed silence after two whole weeks with your family, killing time as you waited for your fiance to return from work.

You thought about you and Taehyung, and how your wedding was only months away but this was still his place. You wondered why you hadn’t moved in yet, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part. Even though you spent most days of the week at Taehyung’s, you still had your own place.

Twenty minutes before he was usually supposed to come home, you ordered from his favorite restaurant, so he would have a proper meal once he was back, instead of half-assing his dinner with flavorless ramen like he’d planned. 

But Taehyung didn’t come back, and the food has been cold for hours now.

You glance at your phone again.

11:02 PM.

No new notifications.

The last message you sent him was around 8:30 - just a simple Whatcha doing? - but he hasn’t replied. 

There’s a small part of you that goes into a dark place, and you physically have to shake off the thoughts. Taehyung has never given you a reason not to trust him, but still, the wandering thoughts can’t help themselves. Is it insecurity, or paranoia? Or have you been programmed to be skeptical after everything that’s happened?

Maybe he’s just caught up with work. Maybe the guys at the office had last minute plans. Maybe Jungkook showed up unannounced and dragged Taehyung into one of his shenanigans again. There’s a lot of reasons to explain why he isn’t home when he said he would be.

You wait for him. Sometimes, waiting is all you can do.

You don’t get any indication of life until some time after midnight, when the door opens and you hear him stumble into the hallway. The first thing that escapes you is a sigh of relief - relieved that he’s home, safe and sound, and not out there somewhere doing things you would really not even let yourself imagine. You sit there on the couch, shrouded by darkness, now even more committed to making him squeal out of his skin after (unintentionally) making you wait for hours like that.

You carefully listen to the sounds coming from down the hall, trying to time when you’ll jump up and shock him.

There’s his shoes dropping to the floor carelessly. There’s some shuffling as he moves about, navigating his way through the dark. There’s a light thud, the sound of something hitting the wall softly.

A sharp intake of breath. His familiar groan, muffled. A whimper, feminine.

Your mind instantly blanks, and that nervous breath from before has suddenly found its way back into your lungs, growing in size until you stand up and say, “Tae?”

Somebody shrieks, and it’s neither you nor Taehyung.

When he switches on the lights, you don’t know what to focus on first - your fiance with his shirt unbuttoned, red lipstick smudged around the corners of his mouth; or the woman next to him with her back against the wall, hair disheveled, one strap of her pretty blue dress pulled down.

Huh.

If this was what you wanted, then you suppose you succeeded.

Taehyung stares at you, eyes blown wide, mouth opening and closing dumbly as he searches for words. “Y/N, I-” he stutters, “w-what are you doing here?”

You’ve seen this exact moment in movies, read it in books and online posts on the Blue Side forum from people seeking advice. You witnessed your own mother go through it when you had just learned how to read. 

Your nails dig into the palm of your hands as you steady yourself. You’re not sure what your face is showing, if it’s even showing anything at all. You’re being pulled apart in every direction. Things that you felt as a child are things you never wanted to feel as an adult. It’s not until now that you finally understand why mom hasn’t gotten over it, even though it’s been decades. This is the kind of hurt that chases you wherever you go, never relenting until it makes sure it has a home deep within your bones.

You inhale a shaky breath, and take a step back when Taehyung starts approaching you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice cracking on the apology. 

You don’t want to hear any of it. You don’t want to be here anymore. For the second time today, you’re leaving home. For the second time in your life, home is being taken away again.

Somewhere in the back of your head, a tiny voice echoes, There it is.

You run out of there, feeling like the ceiling is going to collapse on you. You hear him call out your name, but his voice drifts further and further away as you move. Taehyung isn’t even following you. The faint scent of whiskey on his breath follows you out, but not him.

You keep moving until you’re out on the street, until you can’t even see the building anymore. You shiver from the chilly air, and the influx of emotions that threatens to make you burst. Lightning cuts across the night sky, flashing bright for a split second before everything dulls into darkness again. The forecast said it was going to rain tonight, you recall. Your phone in your bag vibrates the whole time, but still, no one follows you.

Your feet slow to a halt when the first drop of rain hits the ground. You’re not even sure how long you were walking, but now that you’ve stopped, you notice the shiver is gone. You’re standing completely still, and that those seismic waves in the center of your chest from earlier are nowhere to be found.

Oh. You’re doing it again.

Heavier drops start to dampen the earth.

You don’t know where else to go.

Not your own apartment. Not now. No, it’s too empty there.

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe, that you’re just undeserving of a place to belong.

You open your phone to find his name on your screen, next to the words (7) missed calls. You ring up the only person you can, and when she finally picks up, you say, “Can I come over?”

Even when your voice cracks, you don’t cry. The earthquake never comes.

Sohee takes you in like the good friend she is. You’re grateful that she was someone you could count on to always have your back at work, who then turned into one of your best friends outside of the office too.

She gives you some clothes to change into, and doesn’t question anything when you ask if you could spend the night. Though, you have a feeling that she knows who this is about. She leaves you alone to get some rest, but it’s probably because she has work in the morning too, and it was already 1:30AM when you interrupted her peace and quiet with the call.

You don’t sleep a wink that night.

Instead, you think about your mom, and how she must have felt when she found out about your dad’s infidelity, time and time again. It’s true what they say, children really don’t know a lot about their parents. 

How did she feel when she first found out? You can’t imagine what it must have been like, going through all of that while having two kids to think about too.

You feel bad that just yesterday, you’d been so annoyed with her that you cut your trip short.

Outside Sohee’s windows, the sky cries, like it’s grieving in place of you, its tears drowning the earth in waves of sorrow. For a moment, you consider stepping out there, to feel the rain on your face and in your hair. But in the end, you stay inside, where you’re sheltered and dry.

You don’t realize that the sun has risen until Sohee knocks on your - well, her - door. 

She cracks it open gently. “Babe?” she asks, tentative like you’re a cornered animal, ready to bolt at any given moment. “Are you up?”

You lie in her bed, feeling so foreign in your own skin. You reckon your eyes must be bloodshot from the lack of sleep. You haven’t even cried once.

“I’m alive,” you tell her, as you stare up at the ceiling. There are no stars here, just plain cream-colored paint.

“Okay,” you hear her say, then she pauses for a moment, clearly not knowing how to proceed. 

Sohee approaches you, sits on the bed, and gives you a smile. She pats your hair, and it reminds you of your sister. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I have some time before I meet Namjoon for breakfast.”

You sit up, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. It’s been switched off since you got here, and when you turn it back on, a flurry of texts light up the device until the screen lags. Messages from Taehyung, asking where you were, begging you to tell him if you were safe.

You open the texts to show him that you’ve read them. That should be enough of an answer.

You test the words in your mouth for a moment. “Taehyung cheated on me,” you say, thinking that if you verbalize it, it would be real and you would finally feel bad. That it was just a delayed reaction, that you were just too in shock to process anything. You want to feel bad, but it doesn’t work.

Sohee’s eyes widen almost comically. “Are you fucking serious?” she asks in disbelief, half because of the nature of the news itself, and half because of how calm you are.

“He cheated on me,” you repeat and still, nothing surfaces. If anything, it backfires. You can physically feel yourself doing it again - shutting down. “I caught him last night.”

You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. This isn’t a normal person’s reaction after they found out their fiance was cheating on them.

But.

It is a you reaction. 

You keep doing this, even when you don’t mean to. You ran away last night, and you’re running away now. Your body shuts out every negative emotion until you feel nothing at all. It’s stupid that you do this, and it’s stupid that you don’t know how to stop doing it.

Fight or flight, and you choose flight every time. Every single fucking time.

You wish you could give Sohee something, anything would do. Scream, cry, go back to your apartment to set fire to all of Taehyung’s belongings. Anything would be better than this complete lack of emotions you’re showing. 

You watch her face as it happens, things that you should be feeling but aren’t. She’s mostly shocked, angry, but not hurt. How could she? She wasn’t the one being played for a fool. You wish you could ask her to give you some of that anger, even if it’s only a fraction.

You don’t see Taehyung again until two days later, when he shows up at your door. Even when he’s standing in front of you, words spilling from his lips like prayers instead of apologies, you just feel… empty.

You let him inside, and the second that the door closes behind him, you fill up with unease. All your walls are up again, your system on high alert. Everything in your body is telling you that there’s an intruder in your space. Your feet are ready to bolt, just itching to get out of there Go, your head says, you’re not safe here.

Taehyung approaches you, tries to hold your hand, but you just shrug him off. The man in front of you visibly deflates, and despite the way his face falls, you don’t soften. 

The first thing he asks you is, “Why didn’t you cry?”

“What?”

“You don’t look like you’ve been crying,” he points out. “Did you cry?”

Reluctantly, you admit, “No.”

Then he just stares at you. When his judgmental gaze holds yours, you feel guilty. Guilty that you’re not mourning the death of this relationship. Guilty that you’re just letting it go, but the truth is you don’t have any fight in you. You don’t see the point in trying to salvage what’s no longer alive.

“Do you even love me?” His voice is hard when he asks this, like he’s trying to keep his anger at bay.

“Of course I love you,” you say, but it lacks conviction. You both know it. The words sound so flaccid coming out of your mouth.

But you love him.

You do.

Did?

“Then why didn’t you cry?”

How do you tell him that you can’t? That you don’t know how?

How do you tell him that if you could, you would reach inside and claw out your feelings like digging for water in a desert. 

What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t a high school crush, or a casual summer fling.

You two were supposed to get married, for fuck’s sake. You were supposed to spend the rest of your life with him. If there’s anything that could make you break through those godforsaken defense mechanisms to let the hurt in, it should be this.

“Did you kiss someone else just to see if I would cry?” you ask. Your voice is even, and you can see that it makes Taehyung more frustrated than he already is.

He grits his teeth, exhaling. You notice his blue sweater, and you stop him before he can say anything else. Obviously, it looks a lot more worn than it did back then, but over the years you’ve always found it endearing. It’s the first memory that you have of him. It was always something you could cherish.

Now, you can’t even bear to look at it.

It’s then that you realize it doesn’t matter what answer he gives you. Yes? No? It genuinely doesn’t matter. There is nothing that can make you see him the same way ever again.

You run your thumb over the ring on your finger, twisting it for a moment to memorize the feel of it. It’s the last thing that ties you to him. “You can have this back,” you say, handing the piece of jewelry back to him.

When a relationship ends, especially for a reason like this, people tend to think it’ll go down in a kdrama-esque fashion - crying, slapping, throwing water in the other person’s face. But that’s not what this is. It’s not cathartic; sometimes the end of a relationship is just a fizzle, doesn’t even make it to a fullburn. It might be unsatisfying, but it happens every day. It’s not always a pivotal point; sometimes it’s just a point.

Taehyung stares at the object in his palm. “That’s it?” he asks in disbelief. “We’re breaking up?”

“What else is there to do?”

“You’re not even gonna ask me anything? Who she was, how it started, how long it’s been going on?”

The other morning, Sohee had asked you to elaborate after you told her what happened, but there was just not that much to tell. You were there. He brought someone else home. End of story.

It was enough for Sohee to call him every name in the book and curse his entire bloodline though.

You suppose that’s a reasonable reaction. Taehyung cheated. You never thought he was a person capable of doing that. Three years of your life, down the drain. There’s nothing left to save.

“Okay,” you shrug tiredly, like you’re just having a casual and dull conversation about the weather. “Who was she? How did it start? How long has it been going on?”

Your name comes out of his mouth, sounding like a scoff. “Ask it like you mean it.”

“But I don’t mean it,” you say. “What difference does it make? Knowing doesn’t change the fact that you still cheated on me. You know what I’ve been through and you still fucked it up. You did the worst thing you could ever do to me.”

“Fuck, I know that!” he groans, throwing his hands up. “I messed up badly, and I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry. I will never deny that what I did wasn’t wrong. But have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re to blame for this too? You never want to admit that it could be your fault too.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me. I keep having to put up with your baggage.” Then he shuts right up, barely even makes it through the last syllable before he’s squeezing his eyes shut for a second, clearly realizing that out of all the things he could’ve said, that was grossly out of line. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean th-”

And now you’re getting angry for the wrong reasons.

“You cheated but somehow it’s my fault, right?” you snap. “Boohoo. Sorry that you’ve had to put up with me all these years. I’m such a burden, right? Fuck you, Taehyung.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I think you should leave.”

You think it’s the steel in your voice as you say this that makes him stop arguing. 

He holds your gaze for a moment longer. You’re someone who tears up when you see stray dogs, who cries alongside the fictional characters in your favorite show. And yet, as you watch your own fiance leave…

The door clicks shut as he exits your life, but everything he said stays behind, clings to your walls and festers like mold.

The second you step onto the floor, everyone grows quiet. Lively chatter turns into hushed whispers. People go back to making their morning coffee, side-eyeing each other in a way that’s not meant to be very subtle.

You quietly make your way to your desk, all the while feeling the nosy pairs of eyes on you as you walk. You don’t know how word got out, but you were sure that everyone would know eventually. You just didn’t expect it’d be this soon. Sohee would never do that to you, and you highly doubt that Taehyung would go around broadcasting his infidelity. 

As you set your stuff down, you make eye contact with the new intern who sits a few spots away from you. You haven’t had the chance to talk to her much, but she’s a nice girl. She gives you a small smile in greeting, and even though you know she doesn’t mean to pity you, you can still see it in her eyes.

A minute later, Sohee comes up to you. “Hey, babe,” she says, leaning on your desk with two plastic cups in her hands. One iced latte and one mango smoothie. She puts the yellow-colored beverage down and nudges it toward you, a little lackluster and unlike her usual playful self.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the smoothie with a smile, commenting, “Interesting morning so far. Never thought I’d ever be the subject of office gossip.”

“Yeah, about that. Do you know who was Taehyung’s… uhm… y’know?”

It’s okay. She can say it. You can handle it.

You already feel nothing, and there’s nothing you can even do to rectify it. Might as well lean into it, right?

Or maybe you should just go to therapy.

“No,” you tell her. “I didn’t want to know.”

“Well, uhm, now that the whole office knows, I think you should hear this from me first…” Sohee bites her bottom lip as she gauges your reaction. When you only sigh and give her the go-ahead, she continues, “It was Yura from Marketing.”

“What?”

“Yura from Marketing. You know the one. Brought muffins for the whole office on her first day? A little too bubbly for my taste. But yeah, she was at work the other day and suddenly burst into tears at, like, 10AM, and that’s how everybody found out.”

Of course. Even though people here are surrounded by celebrity gossip on the daily, nothing beats the good old-fashioned office affair. Why bother with celebrity gossip when you have front row seats to live drama unfolding ten feet away?

You take a sip of your smoothie, swallowing down the inkling of irritation that tickles the back of your throat. “Well,” you say, “I’m glad the downfall of my relationship is like a circus animal for them to gawk at. Can’t wait until they move onto the next big thing.”

“Honestly, it might blow over sooner than you think. The Love Doctor is back today.”

“What?” Your ears perk up at the mention of his name, glancing up at her in surprise as you put your drink down. “Doesn’t he work at the Paris office?”

“He used to work here. We joined around the same time. Then he transferred to Paris a few years ago. Nobody even knows why. One day he just upped and left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he’d be here? I didn’t have time t-”

“Calm down, sweetcheeks, I only just found out,” Sohee chuckles, holding a finger against your mouth to shush you. “We all know you used to have a major lady boner for him.”

“I do not.” You don’t even know what he looks like, just his name when it appears in the byline of an article. “I admire him.”

Which is true, you do admire him. He’s your own version of a freaking rockstar. Though, you have to admit that Love Doctor is a huge cliche of a nickname, and significantly reduces the scope of his brilliance. The way that man writes makes it seem like he’s experienced lifetimes and is now here to pass on his wisdom. 

He doesn’t feel like a mere magazine writer like yourself. There’s something in his words that turns you inside out, makes you experience things that you’ve never even gone through. He flows like poetry, and leaves you stunned every time.

Okay, maybe you do have a lady boner, but for his brain.

Which… is probably something you should never say out loud.

Someone walks in then, a man you’ve never seen before. He looks around your age, if not a couple of years older. He bypasses all of the other desks without saying anything, not a single Hi or Good morning. He doesn’t look like the type to speak if not spoken to.

Then he walks over to where you and Sohee sit, and sets his bag on the empty desk next to yours.

You look at Sohee, and she just shrugs.

It can’t be him. Surely, it’s not…?

“Min Yoongi,” she says in greeting.

Oh, it is.

He spares her a nod before he looks away again. “Sohee.”

Is that the Parisian way? Is that how people normally greet someone they haven’t seen in years? Sohee and him were only colleagues, but still, the least you could do is pretend.

You’re not one to judge a book by its cover, but c’mon, seriously? Were you wrong for expecting the person who writes about love in its most raw and beautiful form to look… not like Grumpy Cat personified? It makes you even more fucking intimidated. And he’s going to be sitting next to you? The fuck?

As he sits down, you blink, still a bit dazed, not sure how to process this. Sohee gently pushes you forward, which makes you nearly stumble right into him. You turn to her with a glare, but she just motions to him, mouthing ‘Go on.’

You clear your throat, wiping your hand on your pants before you hold it out. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, trying to sound as professional as you can. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.”

He glances at you, and reaches out to meet your outstretched hand in a barely-there handshake. “Yoongi.”

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 07.05.2023]

[maboroshi-no]

Hamefura Anime Blu-ray S2 Vol 1 SS

Series: My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! Source: Anime BluRay S2 Vol 1 Special Booklet Title / Character: Raphael Author: Satoru Yamaguchi Synopsis: Raphael has started his new life at the Ministry of Magic. Translation: maboroshi-no

Ever since that day when I, Raphael Wolt, was forcibly made to become Sirius Dieke, whenever I slept, I would dream about those horrible events over and over again, making sleeping an ordeal. That's why I cut down my sleeping time and did all I could for vengeance. My sleep was always reduced to the minimum but it was still far better than having those nightmares. I went on living like this for many years. But ever since that day when I took her hand and the black man vanished, my nightmares had completely disappeared. My dreams had become warm and peaceful.

Today too, I didn't remember its content but I had a warm and nostalgic dream, and woke up with a pleasant feeling. I was in a very good mood. I got up from the furnished bed, walked to the window, and opened its door. A pleasant breeze blew in.

After the incident, I told everything to the government officials, then the Ministry of Magic took me into custody and I began working there. As someone who wouldn't find it so strange to be put in prison, I was disappointed by the soft treatment. Moreover, while I was initially kept at a distance by the higher-ups aware of my circumstances, once I was at work, everyone interacted with me normally since my circumstances were kept secret. Because of this, I was currently leading a surprisingly normal… No, considering my life when I was forced to be Sirius, an incredibly happy life.

My room in the Ministry's dorm was incomparably small compared to the one I was given as a marquis's son, but it was so comfortable. And the meals too. Before, no matter what expensive food I was fed, it tasted like dust and I couldn't tell their flavor, but ever since coming here, my meals had been surprisingly delicious. It was as if the the world had changed colors — no, as if they had returned. I had escaped the dark world I was trapped in for a long time. This was how I felt.

I let the pleasant wind enter my room and prepared my outfit. I had grown used to wearing the Ministry uniform.

Once I was ready, I exited my room and headed to the dorm's dining hall. After receiving a tray holding a warm meal, I looked around, wondering where I should sit. At that moment, a senpai from the same department called out to me.

Senpai: Oh, Raphael. This one's empty. Come on, let's eat together.

Since I was invited with a smile and had no reason to refuse, I sat in the opposite seat, as they suggested.

Raphael: Good morning.

Senpai: Good morning.

Senpai returned my greeting with a smile. During our meal, we had idle chatter about the Ministry.

It was my new everyday life.

Senpai: By the way, Raphael. Since you're so charming, voices seem to be rising among the female staff that you're pretty good-looking.

After the idle chatter, Senpai brought up that topic with a mischievous face.

Raphael: I'm happy to hear that.

When I replied this, Senpai made a disappointed face and…

Senpai: You sound used to it, how boring. It's like being popular is just business as usual for you.

…they said while pouting.

Raphael: That's not true.

Or so I said, but it was true that I was used to being the target of women's affection. When I was impersonating Sirius, even though I was a marquis's son, I didn't take a fiancée even when I came of age due to the influence of my overly clinging mother. Because of this, I received many advances from women attracted to my status as the son of an eminent marquis. Even so, they were aimed at Sirius and not Raphael, so having people attracted to me even after I had reverted to the nobody Raphael…

Raphael: It sincerely makes me happy.

When I said this,

Senpai: Hmm~ So you're happy to have people attracted to you, huh?

Senpai poutingly said this, then stared at me.

Senpai: But your heart has already settled on someone, so you can't accept their feelings, right?

They said this while tilting their head to the side. Shaken by their words, I couldn't properly swallow my food and inadvertently choked on it.

Raphael: *cough* *cough*

Senpai: Oh, so I've hit the nail on the head. It's unusual to see you so shaken.

Senpai looked like they were enjoying this. I glared at them just a little, then…

Raphael: …What made you think that?、

When I asked, Senpai grinned, and…

Senpai: Pure intuition. I've always had a keen one about those things.

They proudly answered this. Then,

Senpai: And so, who is that person who stole your heart? Are you going out or something?

They asked this with eyes full of curiosity.

Senpai was someone in the same department who treated me well, and a good person who freely spoke to me and cared about me. But my background was kept secret from everyone except the higher-ups, so I couldn't just talk about it. Even so, I didn't want to lie to this person.

Raphael: …I indeed have someone in my heart. But I can't possibly marry her and I personally don't feel the desire to, so I just want to help however I can to protect her smile.

I still wasn't used to speaking of my true feelings like this and my words were quite embarrassing, so I muttered them in one go while looking downward. But no response was coming. When I raised my head, Senpai was shedding black tears.

Raphael: Huh? Umm, are you okay?

Senpai: …That's my line, Raphael~ You've been in such a heartbreaking love, and yet I thought you were some youngster who never made blunders. For me, that kind of tragic love is the worst!

Senpai said this with their mascara running, making them shed black tears. From the look of it, my story seemed to have touched their heartstrings.

Raphael: Umm, I'm not having such a hard time.

I was actually happy. Since I had joined the Ministry of Magic, I could be on the same site as her. But I couldn't go into details about that, which was troublesome.

For the time being, I held out a handkerchief to Senpai. They used it to wipe their tears.

Senpai: Ugh! My make-up is running.

They stopped their tears after realizing their make-up was running. Then, they immediately got up from their seat and said "I need to return to my room to fix my make-up!". Upon leaving, they told me with a pained face, "If I can help you with anything, just tell me, okay?" But I honestly didn't find my current situation as painful as Senpai seemed to think. I might not be able to marry the first person I fell in love with but I could still stay near her. I was in a place where I could see her smile and help protect her. It really was happiness to me.

After remembering this, I really wanted to see her smile again. I still had a little time before work started. I quickly ate the rest of my meal and hurriedly headed to that place.

In a corner of these large grounds containing the Ministry of Magic and the Academy of Magic, a student from the academy was supposedly cultivating flower beds. But in reality, she was cultivating vegetable plots as a hobby.

She hardly was a morning person so there was mostly no chance of her being here at this hour, but I would still be able to sense her presence if I came to this place.

When I snuck a look there, it appeared I really was in luck today. I could see her figure happily tending to the fields.

While I was captivated by her expression, she seemed to notice my presence and turned her eyes to me. As I instantly froze because I didn't expect it, Katarina Claes said,

Katarina: Good morning, Raphael!

…showing me the smile I loved so much.

[stripedwolf88]

The Eras Tour: Paris Night 1 (My Thoughts)

ALLLLLLLLRIGHT. So because @bettysgarden12 wanted to know my reactions and thoughts on everything that happened today, I thought I would share with the rest of yous. It's probably not going to be very in depth or analytical so fair warning on that hehe. Also this probably isn't in order of the show because my memory is trash haha.

1.First things first. The lover bodysuit. WHaT iN ThE FRiLly HeLl?!?!? I literally still don't know whether or not I dreamt of seeing that new bodysuit. Definitely, lesbian colors represented there and it was confirmed with the orange blazer she wore for The Man. It was not an accident I'm sure to have the inside be pink too.

(Side note: we all knew that The Archer was going to get cut. It actually makes a lot of sense too. I think we are past Taylor asking us to stay, not that she doesn't still hope us too. It's more like she is fine with blowing everything up now instead of focusing on the worry of messing everything up. At least I hope that is the case. We're here for ya Taylor. You got this.)

2. Second, the Fearless dress. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. I also saw that it looks really reminiscent of the original dress she wore for her Fearless tour. It's almost like she is going back to what once was.

3. Third, transitioning right into Red was something. The new Red shirt says "This is not Taylor's Version" when Red is in fact Taylor's again. Some of my moots pointed out that it could be referencing the whole Real Taylor vs Taylor The Brand theory that we as a community have been developing for quite some time. With this thinking, it would mean that the Taylor we are seeing is not someone Taylor claims as her own or something like that. It's not truly her which we all knew already.

4. Fourth, we saw a new intro for Speak Now (now officially just Enchanted since Long Live has been axed.) I don't have much to say on that other than I wasn't surprised that Long Live got cut. This cut also makes sense if we are thinking that Taylor is gonna burn it down. No more reminding about the good times or the "needing" fans to stand by her forever.

5. Fifth, combining folklore and evermore was unexpected but also not? Idk it made sense and to me it just seems like it was easier to combine them since room had to be made for TTPD.

6. Sixth, Rep was Rep. Nothing really changed from what I could tell or remember other than THE FREAKING GLASS CASES SHATTERING!!! YOU BREAK THAT GLASS CLOSET TAYLOR! WHOOP WHOOP!

7. Seventh, 1989 outfit was...something. It's just not my cup of tea visually. I DID NOT notice the lion or tiger(???) charm she had on until someone else pointed it out. Very interesting either way.

8. Eighth, putting TTPD before Midnights was an interesting choice. The whole theory that we still have to meet her at Midnight (credit to my moots for pointing this out again) is supported by this I think.

9. Ninth, the dress for TTPD is amazing!! And so are the other two outfits. The marching band uniform and it's possible reference back to ME! music video? It has me in shambles.

10. Tenth, the performance for Who Afraid of Little Old Me was visually amazing and she sang it beautifully (no surprise there) with such emotion that it was impossible for me to look away. Her levitating across the stage was also freaking awesome!

11. Next the empty cages imagery?? The nurses pulling her away from her lover??? The image of her crouching in the middle of this weird ass place??? That one really kind of freaked me out. It was eerie and heartbreaking in a way I'm not quite able to explain at this moment.

12. I was conflicted about I Can Do It With A Broken Heart both before, during, and after the performance. I had a feeling she was going to perform it and I kind of wanted her to just to hear her sing it live but then not because I knew how the fans were going to react. I really did face-palm when everyone yelled "More!" on the livestream but we all knew they were going to. The transition into ICDIWABH made me want to throw something at the TV but I also did snort on the petulance on Taylor's face for the little act. I really liked the old Hollywood theme for the visuals and the dance. It was pleasing to watch. BY THE WAY....HAVING THE OUTFIT FOR ICDIWABH ECHO HER OUTFITS ON REP IS REALLY SOMETHING. She bamboozled me again.

13. Midniiiiiiights. THE BODYSUIT IS MY FAVORITE ONE OUT OF THE ONES WE HAVE SEEN SO FAR. I'm glad that Mastermind was kept. I didn't think that she would have taken away anything from the Midnights era but if there was I had this weird concern that it would be Mastermind. Thank god my anxiety was unnecessary.

14. The surprise soooooongs~ Paris is a favorite of mine so I'm happy she played it but also of course she did. That was another predictable thing that happened. Her performance of loml was again heartfelt. She seems really happy to sing these new songs and it shows.

15. I am pretty freaking sure that the Bejeweled lights were a LOT more colorful and rainbowy than usual. Was that just me? Please tell me it wasn't just me!

Overall, it is safe to say that I was not prepared for the absolute chaos that today brought.

Taylor, it seems like you're really doing this (I reeeeeally hope that is the case) and I'm so happy for you if that is what is happening. You do you and you show us what's up. I'm looking forward to it. <3

[jacklyn-flynn]

Alistair stood close to her in the crowded room. “This is really weird,” he whispered, smiling down at her. His clean-shaven face and perfectly groomed hair were charming, but a bit out of place on him. The lopsided grin certainly wasn’t. Or the look of absolute adoration in his brown eyes. 

“It is, isn’t it?” Helena agreed. Her rosy lips were only tinted faintly for the occasion. They were a lovely color all their own and needed no embellishment. Full and enticing, sometimes to the point of distraction for him.

“Your majesty?” The tall, incredibly thin man beside them spoke up. “I said that you may-” 

“I heard,” Alistair said louder, though he didn’t take his eyes off of Helena. She was divine in her white and gold dress. A thin gold circlet lay over the crown of her hair. “I suppose we should…” he trailed off slowly. 

She pursed her lips as she smiled, trying not to laugh at him. Nodding quickly, Helena lifted her hand to his cheek. He bent his head and she met him halfway. She pressed her lips to his and after only a mere moment, he pulled away with a nervous chuckle. Letting out a soft huff of laughter, she rocked back onto her feet. Alistair glanced at the crowd that gathered, blushing at the scattered applause. 

Then, from the front row,  they heard a distinctly Antivan voice. “Pathetic! Kiss la tua regina like you mean it! Like she deserves! Shall I show you how?” Zevran even stood, feinting a few steps toward the dais with a determined look. 

Helena certainly was hoping for something more, but she knew how nervous Alistair was to kiss her in front of so many people. He’d been fretting about it for days. She would get what she wanted in private later anyway. 

However, Zevran’s ribbing seemed to spur him into action. His hand cupped the back of her neck, the other sliding down to the small of her back. He caught her off guard with the feverish kiss and almost immediately she forgot about their audience. Alistair’s hand slid over the swell of her backside and down to her thigh, suggesting that he had as well. 

He bent over her slightly, lifting her leg to hook over his hip which she did without question. One arm slid around his neck while the other kept the circlet on her head as he dipped her amid the whistles and cheers of the royal court and their family. 

Helena was quite literally breathless when he straightened and released her leg. “How was that?” he whispered against her lips. 

“Decidedly not awkward,” she whispered back. 

“You’re blushing, wife.” Alistair’s grin made her heart skip a beat. 

“So are you!” 

“May I now present to you, King Alistair Theirin and his wife, Queen Helena!” the officiant said amid the din that had only subsided slightly before swelling back into an approving cacophony at his announcement. 

Alistair looked over his shoulder. “And?” he prompted. 

“Highness, the queen should not have more titles than the king.” The officiant balked, paling slightly. 

“And!” Alistair prompted again. 

“Queen Helena, last of house Cousland, Warden-Commander of the Grey Wardens and Hero of Ferelden.” Though he was less than enthusiastic in his announcement, Alistair was satisfied nonetheless. 

Looking over at her, he took her hand and squeezed. “I love you, Hel.” 

Her smile back at him did more things to him than just make his heart skip a beat. No matter what had happened in the past, or what would happen in the future, this woman was his everything. If he only remembered one thing about today, it would be the look in her eyes when she answered; “I love you too."

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2024–Day 23: It’s a Hell of a Christmas

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Word Count: 7812

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This fic was written for the CS Secret Santa event in 2022. It’s Emma and Killian’s first Christmas together following the Final Battle. After spending a happy family day together, they relax before the tree and Emma asks Killian about his favorite Christmas memory. His answer surprises both of them

CS Genre: Season 7 missing scene

1 week before the first Christmas following the Final Battle

Killian sighed in contentment as the sofa beside him dipped and Emma curled up beside him.  Wrapping his hooked arm around her he pulled her to himself and gave her a quick kiss before she laid her head against his shoulder.

It had been about as close to a perfect day as he’d experienced in a long time.  He’d woken up, as always, in his wife’s arms, smiling as she softly snored, burrowing into his warmth.  After taking a few moments to simply enjoy the comfort, he’d carefully maneuvered out of the bed.  He’d learned quite early in their marriage that a man was taking his very life into his hands when he was foolhardy enough to wake Emma before she was ready.

After a pleasant morning spent with Swan and her lad, she’d shoed the two of them out of the house, citing the fact that Christmas was fast approaching and she needed to wrap presents in peace without prying eyes

“I thought kids were bad, when it comes to looking for their hidden Christmas present,” she’d said with a grin, “but you, Killian, have them all beat.”

He’d grinned, leaning down to give her a loud, smacking kiss, before straightening and raising one eyebrow. “Pirate,” he stated simply.

She laughed, shoving him toward the door.

“Don’t forget my parents are coming over for dinner tonight,” she’d said, “and then they and little Neal are helping us trim the tree.”

He’d promised to return in plenty of time to help with dinner preparations, and then after one last lingering kiss (prompting Henry to make exaggerated gagging sounds behind them), he and the lad had taken their leave.  They’d hardly walked a block toward town before they were met by Emma’s father and little brother.

“You guys get kicked out of the house too?” Dave asked.

“Aye,” Killian said with a nod.  “It seems the Charming and Jones men are due for another of  those–what did you call them?--guys’ days.”

And so they’d spent the afternoon enjoying the snow and the company–helping the lads build a snowman, waging an all out snowball war (which the Charming’s had won handily–but only because neither he nor Henry had the heart to toss a snowball anywhere near three-year-old Neal.  Killian smiled as he recalled the tiny lad’s peals of laughter as his snowball connected with Henry’s shoulder and Emma’s lad had staggered, clutched his heart and then dramatically fallen to the ground), and then retired to Granny’s for some much appreciated sustenance.

“Well, I suppose I should get this little guy back home for his n-a-p,” Dave said as mid afternoon approached, making sure to spell the word he knew would result in a mutiny from his little lad, “but we’ll see you in a couple hours for dinner.”

It had been a pleasant evening with the family, as they set up the Christmas tree, trimming it with twinkling electric lights and bright, colorful baubles.  Henry, with great fanfare, had presented him with a new ornament to mark his first official Christmas as Henry’s step-father.  Killian groaned good-naturedly as he’d opened the box to reveal a small likeness of his Disney counterpart.  He’d played up his disdain at the assassination of his character, before placing the ornament on prominent display.

It had been an ordinary day, spent engaging in ordinary family activities, and Killian wouldn’t have changed a moment of it.

The Charmings had remained until it was time to put the little prince to bed, and then they’d taken their leave, with many promises for more festivities in the coming days.  Soon after, Henry had taken his leave, as he was due to spend a few days at Regina’s

“It really is a pretty tree, isn’t it?” Emma asked, as they lounged on their sofa looking up at the brightly lit fir in question.

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “A lovely tree, and a lovely evening.”

“Can you believe it?” she asked. “Our first Christmas together as a married couple and we get to spend it with no looming crisis hanging over our heads, no villains threatening us.”

“I rather think I could get used to this ‘Happy Beginning’ business we’ve found ourselves in,” he’d agreed.

Emma laughed, reaching up to absently run her fingers through his hair.  She was so affectionate now, never passing up an opportunity to give him little signs of her love, and he found it utterly delightful.

“You must have a lot of stories from past Christmases,” Emma continued with a grin.  “After all, you’ve celebrated like a million of them.”

“Oy!” he stated with mock offense, “It couldn’t have been more than two hundred fifty.”

She laughed joyously, and he grinned, turning to give her a quick kiss on the top of her head.  “So what was your favorite Christmas, Killian?”

He thought about it for a moment, several memories running through his mind like one of those moving picture shows Swan and her lad enjoyed watching of an evening.  One rather surprising moment stood out above all the others.

“You’ll think me mad,” he said finally, “but I think my favorite Christmas was actually last year.”

Emma sat up and looked at him with astonishment.  “Last Christmas?  But last Christmas we were in…”

He nodded.  “Aye, quite so.  Who would have believed my favorite Christmas memories would occur in the Underworld?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Everything hurt. Everything.  His bones, his muscles, his sinews; he'd swear even his hair hurt if that were possible.  Hades may be a bloody bastard, but never let it be said he wasn't skilled in the art of torture.

It was nearly Christmas. Killian likely wouldn't have marked the occasion, save for the festive elf costumes Hades insisted his demons wear as they went about their masochistic ministrations.

The demons themselves had heartily enjoyed themselves, singing Christmas song parodies as they whipped him and burnt him with hot pokers so brutally it had taken everything within him to keep from screaming in pain.

We wish you an awful Christmas, 

We wish you an awful Christmas

We wish you an awful Christmas

and a hellish New Year!

…

Lord Hades is bringing the pain!

He sees you when you're sleeping

He knows when you're awake

He don't care if you've been bad or good,

He'll still throw you in his lake!

And so, it seemed he would.  Angry that he couldn't break Killian, angry that despite it all, Killian refused to extinguish that last spark of hope he'd learned to foster, thanks to Emma and her family, Hades had decided to stamp it out of him in the only way he could--by lowering him bit by bit into the sickly green lake in which he would finally lose himself forever.

He supposed it was only just that it should all end this way.  After his centuries of villainy he deserved nothing better.  Once he was finally gone and lost forever, Emma and her family could return and build a happy life for themselves free of the pain and suffering he brought to everyone who came in contact with him.

His heart lurched at the thought of Emma.  How he loved her!  For one bright, shining moment, he'd allowed himself to believe they could be together, that he would achieve the happiness he'd fruitlessly searched for for so many decades, but then it had all gone to hell…literally.

The crane lowering him into the River of Lost Souls lurched downward yet again, and Killian focused on her, on his Emma.  He was determined she would be the last thing he thought of before he could think no more.

"Killian!"

He would swear he could hear her beloved voice, but it was clearly a last trick of his deluded mind.

"Kilian," she said again, softer this time, tenderly. "Hang on. I’m coming for you. I got ya."

And then she was there holding him, freeing him from the chains, cradling him in her lap.  Killian couldn't bite back the soft groans as his injuries complained of the contact.

The hope and joy Hades had failed to root out of him flared to life for a brief moment, but then reality set in once again.

"I told you to let me go," he said. "You shouldn’t be here; no one should."

She gave him a wry smile as she cupped his face, then gently swept the bangs from his forehead. "I never listen."

He smiled in spite of himself.  "You’re impossible."

She grinned in response. "And you love me for it."

And gods but he did.  More than she could ever know or comprehend.  Soon enough he would have to send her home, protect her from himself and the absolute misery he brought to everyone with whom he interacted, but for now, for this one bright shining moment, he could do naught but enjoy the comfort her presence brought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that evening, promontory beside the lake of fire

“Liam! Please! Hold on!” Killian pleaded, holding onto his brother’s hand with all the strength within him.

If there had been any question at all before, it was gone now. This was well and truly hell.

Everything was crashing around him. Everything. His entire world was imploding, everyone he loved facing unimaginably horrific fates, and it was all his fault.

After rescuing him from the River of Lost Souls, Emma had poofed him back to the Underworld version of her home. She’d taken a seat on the musty sofa, calling him over to join her, patting the seat beside her.

“Come, sit down,” she cajoled, “Let me look at you.”

His wounds ached and throbbed. It was hard to breathe; hard to think; hard to keep from crying out with every movement. He couldn’t imagine what he must look like, his visage marred from the beatings he’d endured.

“Are you sure you want to?” he said wryly. “Hades sort of knocked the handsome out of me.”

She grinned playfully at him. “No one’s that powerful.”

Were their situation different, he’d have flirted back, made her laugh with his nonsense, but presently it was all he could do to shuffle over to the sofa and collapse beside her.

No sooner had he taken his seat than Emma waved her hand over him, and it felt as though a shower of pure, warm sunshine washed over him, taking with it the pain and injury and leaving him whole. Even yet, the strength and power of her magic astounded him.

For a moment, Killian felt nothing but relief.

And then reality set  in yet again, as it always did in this terrible place. Emma was here, in hell itself, because of him, because of his weakness. Waves of self-loathing like nothing he’d ever experienced washed over him.

She leaned in toward him, lips moving toward his.  He pulled back, turning his head. He was unworthy of her love, unworthy of anyone’s love.

“What’s the problem?” she asked, pulling back to get a better look at him.

“It’s just…” he began, struggling to even put into words the depths of his hatred of himself and what he’d done. “A lot has happened between us.”

“What’s the problem?” she asked.

How did she not see it? How was she still looking at him with love? Agitated, he got to his feet and paced away from her.

“I’m the problem,” he bit out. “Emma, you were the Dark One for six weeks and only gave into the darkness out of love. I plunged in head first in a second for revenge. I was weak.”

“Not in the end!” she insisted.

A single moment of heroism didn’t make up for centuries of villainy, and he well knew it. “You raised the bar very high, Swan. The fact is, I don’t measure up.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” she said, her voice insistent. “If you didn’t, would I have come all the way down here to try to save you?”

She would, and he knew it, because she was good. She was a hero. He was anything but.

“That’s my point. I’m not sure I deserve saving.”

Their conversation had been cut short in the most unexpected way–by the arrival of his brother Liam. What had followed were a few blessedly joyous and peaceful hours, as Killian introduced his first true love to his second. The two best people he’d ever known, together in one place. Despite his guilt and misery, he couldn’t suppress the joy the meeting brought.

But even this was destined to crash down around him.

It started with Emma’s superpower telling her something was amiss with Liam. Something had happened between the two of them, but Killian didn’t know what it was; didn’t want to know what it was.

He didn’t understand how Emma could think Liam, the most moral and straight-laced man Killian had ever known, could be anything but on the up and up, but she was quite convinced.

The moment Silver’s crew had shown up and proven Emma right had been the most disorienting moment of his life. It felt as though he were suffering from vertigo, his entire world turning upside down as the horrible truth settled in around him–Liam had lied to him, and not only that, he had entered into a deal with Hades, allowing the entire crew to be lost at sea in order to save Killian.

My fault, my fault, my fault! The words echoed in his mind like a mantra.

If it hadn’t been for Killian, Liam would never have fallen. Killian wasn’t merely cursed, he was the curse. He infected and destroyed everyone around him.

Everything had moved quickly after the horrible revelation, and Killian had been so shell-shocked he could do nothing but move with the inexorable tide.

Silver’s crew had marched Liam and himself to the lake of fire, intent on making the brothers Jones walk the plank, but their intentions were upended by the arrival of Hades himself.

Liam had, once again, attempted to shield Killian from his just punishment, and the result had brought them to the moment they now found themselves in–Liam slipping inexorably toward the lake of fire, Killian more terrified than he’d ever been. He couldn’t lose Liam again. Not now. Not like this.

“Liam! Please! Hold on!”

“I’m sorry brother, for all I’ve done,” Liam shouted above the flames threatening to consume him. “Can you forgive me?”

It wasn’t even a question. Like Emma, Liam had only fallen for one reason–love of him. His guilt was quite misplaced. “Yes, but that’s not what’s important. You need to find a way to forgive yourself.”

“I can’t, not after what I did to you.” The look in Liam’s eyes made Killian’s heart sink like a stone. “The only way to make amends is to pay the price.”

And then Liam let go.

Shear panic and aching horror took over, as Killian reached down, trying fruitlessly to stop what was happening.

But the panic was short-lived. A moment later, the flames disappeared to be replaced by a serene sea. Liam rose above all of it upon a little rowboat, a smile gracing his lips.

Killian felt the tears prickle behind his eyes, tears of relief this time. “Liam! You’re safe!”

Liam’s smile widened. “Yes, it appears I am. I suppose this is the sacrifice I should have made long ago. I can finally depart.”

Killian looked beyond his brother. Where once had stood the rocky wall of the cave, now was nothing but open waters and a port city which appeared stocked with all the provisions Liam would need for his next mighty adventure.

Liam had truly redeemed himself, and now his own personal paradise awaited him.

“Then go. All of you,” Killian said, gesturing to the remaining crew, “Now that you know the truth, your unfinished business is complete as well.”

“Get on board, men,” Liam said, offering the sailors a hand. “What about you, brother?”

Killian turned away. Liam deserved this. Silver’s crew did as well. He, most certainly, did not.

“I think not,” Killian said finally. “There’s nothing for me but the lake of fire. I deserve no better.”

Liam stepped out of the boat, instructing the first mate to leave without him. Insisting his everlasting reward could wait.

If anything, the pit in Killian’s stomach grew wider, into an abyss there would be no crossing. “Why would you do that?” he shouted. “Why would you delay your paradise? I’m. Not. Worth. It!”

Liam frowned. “That’s nonsense, brother. You’ve become a true hero in a way I never could.”

Killian scoffed. “A hero?” he scoffed, putting every ounce of derision he could muster into those two syllables. “I’m anything but. I’m a pariah to all who meet me. Everyone who has the misfortune of coming into contact with me is worse off–much worse off–for having known me. You would all be better off if I flung myself into that lake of fire, perishing once and for all.”

“You really think those who love you would be happier knowing you burnt to death in a lake of fire?” Liam asked softly. “Emma? Her lad? Me?”

Killian glanced aside. “Well, maybe not. Maybe it would have been better if I’d never been born.”

Liam was silent for a moment, thinking. “That’s an idea,” he muttered to himself. “What do you think, Zeus? That could work.”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “What are you on about?”

“Done, Killian,” Liam said, clapping his hands together. “You’ve never been born. You don’t exist.”

There was a flash of light, a clap of thunder, and then all went silent. 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

For a moment Killian merely looked at his brother.

“Pardon?” He said finally.

“You’ve never been born,” Liam repeated. “You don’t exist.”

“Then…who am I?”

“You’re no one,” Liam said. “Killian, you’ve been given a great gift, the opportunity to see what the world would look like if you’d never been in it. Are you ready to explore? To see the impact you have no longer had?”

Killian wasn’t sure he was ready for this. After all…it was altogether possible everyone was infinitely happier and more fulfilled without his toxic influence. 

Still, he’d never been a coward. He didn’t intend to start now. “Very well, lead on.”

They made their way from the cave back to the filthy streets of Underbrooke. The first thing Killian noticed was that the town appeared far more crowded than it had when they entered the cave. Dozens, maybe hundreds of men dressed in uniforms he recognized as belonging to some of the rival kingdoms he had fought as part of the Royal Navy, milled about.

“Who are these men?” Killian asked. “Why have they suddenly arrived?”

“They haven’t suddenly arrived,” Liam said as they began making their way through the crowds. “They’ve been here for more than 200 years–ever since our corrupt king used dreamshade on them.”

“But that’s impossible!” Killian insisted after mumbling a quick apology to a man he bumped into. “We discovered the King’s plans for the dreamshade and we refused to turn over the poison!”

Liam shook his head. “You weren’t around to question the king’s command.”

“But surely you discovered the plant's properties and did the honorable thing,” Killian insisted.

Liam stopped suddenly, giving Killian a long look. “I wasn’t around either. Come. I have something I need to show you.”

Killian followed Liam back to the bar he’d tended since his death, questions swirling in his head.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

Liam was behind the bar, but he looked nothing like the Liam Killian knew and loved. This man was young, likely no more than eighteen or nineteen. There was a hard look about him, that of a man who had seen and endured far too much in the short time he’d lived.

A man who hadn’t had any hope.

Killian turned toward his guide, his Liam. “How are you…there and…here?”

“Properly speaking, I’m not,” Liam said. “As I’ve already, for all intents and purposes, moved on, I, like you, don’t exist here.  The man you see behind the bar is Liam Jones as he would have been had you never been born.”

“Why is he so…young?”

Guide Liam sidled up to the bar, waving Killian over to join him. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” Young Liam asked in a bored voice, continuing to wipe down glasses as he eyed his new customers.

“I’m rather partial to whiskey myself,” Liam said genially, “and my brother here has a preference for rum, if I remember correctly.”

Young Liam nodded, and had just turned around to fulfill the request, when Killian finally found his voice. “Liam! It’s me!” he said. “It’s Killian!”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

“Killian,” Killian insisted, “your younger brother.”

Young Liam frowned. “Never had a brother. Never had any family save for a mother who died far too young and a worthless arse of a father who sold me into servitude.”

“But–” Killian tried again, “even without me, all of your men, all of those who sailed under Captain Liam Jones loved you. They were a family to us…to you.”

Young Liam laughed bitterly, before leaning in, his lips turned down in a scowl. “I never had any men under my command. I never had command over so much as a cabin boy. I lived a slave, and I died one, just another nameless sot who drank too much and went down in a storm.”

Liam banged two tumbler’s of liquor in front of his patrons. “Now, you can either drink up or get the hell out of my bar. I’ve no stomach to relive my failures.”

When the bartender had turned away to wait upon another customer who had arrived, Killian turned toward his brother. “What is he talking about?”

Liam shrugged. “Without you in my life, Killian, I was utterly rudderless, lacking in any ambition to better myself. I never escaped Silver’s command, never even tried.  I died in that storm, Killian. I along with that entire ship of hopeless men.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They consumed their beverages largely in silence after that, Killian’s unease growing the longer he thought about Liam as he would have been had things been different.

Was there any truth to what his brother said?  Had Killian’s very brokenness inspired Liam to be a better man?

Taking the last sip, Killian got quickly to his feet, no longer interested in the bar or hearing any more sad tales about the bartender.

“Alright Liam,” he said to his guide, “where next?”

Liam thought for a moment before paying their tab and leading Killian out the door, the words “The Rabbit Hole” illuminated as it swung shut.  “I think there’s someone else here you need to see,” he said finally.

Killian followed obediently behind his brother as they walked through the streets of town until they came to the sheriff’s station.

“Some prisoner here you wish me to see?” Killian asked as Liam opened the door and waved him inside.

“Patience, brother,” Liam said. “The purpose of our visit will soon become apparent.”

Killian looked around the office as they entered.  So similar in some ways to its Storybrooke counterpart–yet so different in others.  This sheriff’s office sported a myriad of medieval torture devices, and at the far wall stood none other than Rumplestiltskin’s cell itself.

It was only once he’d stepped fully inside, that he noticed the man lounging in the swivel chair behind what back home would be Emma’s desk.

“David?” he asked. “What are you doing here, mate?  Shouldn’t you be helping the others?”

The man rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically before getting to his feet.  “Not David. James,” he bit out. “If you’re looking for my brother, he should be back any moment once he finishes his latest utterly fruitless task of arriving at a crime scene just too late to save anyone.”

“What?” Killian asked, trying to make some sense–any sense–out of what was happening.

The man–James–smiled nastily.  “Quite a clever punishment Hades devised for him, wasn’t it?” he asked. “My hero of a brother, wanting nothing more than to save his subjects and the people he loves, forced to spend an eternity down here never quite able to save anyone.”

“But…but why is Hades punishing him?”

James looked at him as though he had two heads. “Because that’s what the Lord of the Underworld does–punishes those poor, unfortunate souls who show up at his doorstep after their demise.”

Killian’s heart sank. “David’s dead?”

“You new here?” James asked. “Of course he’s dead.  Only way people end up here.  Now is there something you need, or are you just here to annoy me?”

“We’ll take a seat outside and wait for David’s return,” Liam said, ushering Killian to a very uncomfortable bench in the hallway.

“How? Why?” Killian asked after a moment of silence.

Rather than answer, Liam pointed toward the doorway, a little bell ringing as a very dejected David stepped through the door.

Killian noticed it immediately, the blackened veins traveling from his chest up to cover his face.  “Dreamshade,” he whispered.

Liam nodded

David gave them a look as he walked past, but there was no recognition in his face at the sight of them.  Too overwhelmed by what he’d just seen to think straight, Killian didn’t even attempt to call out to him.  

Just before the office door closed again, Killian heard James greeting his brother. “Ah, David.  Back from another unsuccessful rescue mission, I see.  There’s a mountain of paperwork for you on your desk.  It’s grown by a foot since you left.  Should keep you nice and busy until the next crisis you can’t avert.”

“But this is wrong,” Killian said after a moment of silence.  “All wrong.  David should be alive.  Water from the springs of Neverland saved him!”

Liam shook his head. “You weren’t there to save him, Killian,” he said quietly. “Being resourceful, Emma and her family found a way to Neverland and succeeded in saving the lad, but without you to save him, David died of his dreamshade poisoning.”

The pit in Killian’s stomach widened. Wrong, wrong! This was all wrong!

“How did the Lady Snow–not to mention Emma and Henry–handle David’s passing?” Killian asked, not entirely sure he wanted the answer.

“Again, perhaps it’s best if I show you,” Liam said.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Liam led him this time to a building with a big display out front and a sign proclaiming it to be the cinema.

“This is one of those places that projects those moving pictures Emma and Henry are so fond of, isn’t it?” he asked, after Liam purchased two tickets from a bored teenager at the ticket booth.

“Indeed,” Liam said, peering at the tickets and heading toward the theater indicated, “but as with other establishments here in the underworld, the theater serves a bit of a different purpose than it does back on earth.  The theater allows Underworld residents to catch a glimpse of those they left behind when they died.”

The lights in the room dimmed, and blazoned across the huge screen in front was the single word “Storybrooke”.  A moment later, the screen changed, and Killian found himself looking at the Charmings’ flat.  Snow sat at the kitchen table, a full bowl of cereal and an untouched cup of coffee in front of her.

She looked terrible.  Dark circles under her eyes proving she hadn’t been sleeping.  Her hair hanging dull and lifeless.  Her eyes–her eyes were the worst of all.  They were dead, hopeless.  It was a startling sight, seeing the woman usually so optimistic looking so defeated.

“Gone,” she muttered. “They’re all gone.  I’ve lost everything.”

Henry took a seat beside her, his eyes troubled–not only at the sight of his grandmother, but also, it seemed, with his own grief.

“Grams, you have to eat something,” Henry said, his voice wobbling slightly.  “I can’t lose you too.  I can’t.”

Henry’s distress seemed to snap Snow out of her stupor, at least temporarily.  She pasted a false smile on her face.  “You’re right, Henry,” she said before forcing herself to take a spoonful of her cereal. “Thanks for making breakfast.”

Henry shrugged, digging into his own bowl. “It’s what family does.”

“Where is the child?” Killian asked. “Little Neal, where is he?”

“There is no baby Neal,” Liam said simply.  “Killian, with David perishing on Neverland, the little lad was never conceived.  Like you, he does not exist.”

Killian pulled in a quick breath, aching for Emma’s mother.  She’d wanted so much to have a second child, had loved her son to distraction.  Her loss was palpable–although Killian hardly knew how one could miss someone they’d never had or known.

“You see, Killian,” Liam said as the screen went to black and the house lights came up once again, “everyone’s life creates a ripple, and without that ripple, nothing is ever the same.”

Killian waited for a moment, expecting the scene to change again; there was one last person he was desperate to see.

“Liam, why didn’t the moving picture show us Emma?” he asked, somehow both needing and dreading the answer. “Where is she?”

Liam gave him a long look before blowing out a breath.  “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes!” Killian said insistently.  “Show me Emma.  Show me my true love.”

“Very well,” Liam acquiesced, “but I warn you–you’re not going to like what you see.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian resumed his seat in the Underworld theater, steeling himself for the sight Liam assured him he would not like.

��What are you doing?” Liam asked, “didn’t you say you wanted to see Emma?”

“Aye,” Killian said slowly.  “I had assumed we would once again need the moving picture machine for that.  After all, if I was never born, Swan would have never come to the Underworld after me.”

Liam shook his head gently, his eyes sorrowful.  “I think you need to come with me.”

Killian felt his heart drop, a sense of foreboding washing over him as the implication of Liam’s request sunk in.  Surely Emma was not down here.  Surely.

And yet, as Liam led him deeper and deeper into the underworld, that sense of foreboding only continued to grow.  When Liam led motioned for him to enter the cave where Killian knew Hades’ most sadistic torture chamber sat, it all became too much.

“No!” he moaned, taking a step back.  “She can’t be there!”

Liam placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.  “I know this is difficult, Killian, but you must see this.”

Killian wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run.  If Emma was in this chamber, he couldn’t bear it.  He couldn’t.  “Please, brother.  Please tell me this isn’t real.  Please tell me she’s not here!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Liam said gently. “Come, we must hurry.  For the moment Hades and his minions have let her be, but we mustn’t be caught when they return.”

For another long moment, Killian resisted, but finally, realizing Liam was right, no matter how horrific, he must know the truth, he nodded.

The first thing he noticed upon entry into the cave was the intense, overbearing heat.  There was no relief, no respite.  Then came the overwhelming stench of sulfur. For a moment, the darkness was so absolute, so oppressive, he couldn’t see anything, but as his eyes became accustomed to the lack of light, he noticed a single, flickering candle along the back wall–the wall where Hades had chained Killian when he was in the midst of his worst tortures.

The sight that met him would have brought him to his knees if Liam’s strong arm hadn’t been there to support him.

“No!” he shouted, the sound echoing off the cave walls.

For it was indeed Emma who was chained to the wall, her face so bruised and cut and swollen as to be almost unrecognizable.  Her hair hung limp around her, damp from the sweat born of the oppressive heat and the physical trauma.  Hades had stripped her of her signature red leather jacket, and Killian could see cuts and bruises all along her arms.  One arm, in fact, hung at an odd angle, giving evidence of a nasty break.  Her jeans were tattered and bloodied.

In short, it appeared she’d suffered every torment he had, and perhaps even more.  He had to save her.  Had to!

Killian rushed toward Emma, gently cradling her head and brushing a strand of hair from her face.  He murmured her name and words of comfort and he eyed her restraints, trying to determine how best to loose them.

“Who the hell are you?” she asked in a voice she was obviously trying to make sound defiant.  Instead, it merely sounded exhausted.  Hades was so very close to breaking her, and Killian wanted to rip out his entrails and strangle him with them.

“It’s Killian,” he said.  “I’m going to get you out of here love, just as you did for me.  You had to know I love you too much to leave you here to suffer.”

Emma scoffed and rolled her eyes.  “Just how stupid do you think I am, Hades?” she asked in a voice dripping with scorn. “You think I’m some naive, damsel-in-distress, starry-eyed teenager who’ll fall for any line a handsome stranger throws my way?  Hardly.  I grew up real quick on the streets and learned that love is a lie sold by greeting card companies.  It’s certainly not in the cards for the Savior.  So just stop with–well, with whatever you’re trying to do.  Get back to the torture or leave me the hell alone.

“Swan–” Killian started, before he was interrupted by a noise in the corridor.

“Killian, we’ve got to go,” Liam said, grabbing at his arm.  “Someone’s coming and we can’t be caught here.”

Killian pulled his arm free and tried to hack at the chains holding Emma.  They wouldn’t budge.

“It’s useless, brother,” Liam insisted, grabbing at him again. “The chains of hell cannot be broken.  We’ve got to go. Now!”

It went against everything inside of him to leave Emma there, leave her to Hades’ devices, but Liam was right.  There was no way to free her.  Finally he nodded, following his brother out of the cave and through the streets of town until they reached what was once Underbrooke’s version of Emma’s house.  It was different now, fallen into complete disrepair–windows broken, wood rotted, cobwebs hanging from every surface.

This house was the physical manifestation of everything he was feeling now.  Everything, everything was crumbling in around him.

“Why?” Killian moaned in anguish, falling to his knees.  “Why is she here?  She shouldn’t be here!  I should!”

“You don’t exist,” Liam reminded him, getting to his knees and placing a comforting arm on his shoulders.  “She couldn’t make you a co-Dark One.  You weren’t there to take all the darkness on yourself and sacrifice yourself to end it.  Emma had to do that herself.”

“No!” Killian moaned again.

“And I think you know why Hades is making her torture so much worse than anyone else’s if you truly think about it,” Liam continued.

“She’s the savior,” Killian said, his voice breaking. “She defeated Hades in a way no one else ever could.”

Liam nodded. “She did,” he agreed, “and she did so because she is good and valiant, but she is also broken.  Without you, she never again found love.  She was never able to allow her heart to heal and her walls to come down.  She was a light to all around her, but she was never blessed with that light for herself.”

And suddenly it all began to make sense.  In his long life, Killian had done many terrible things, but he’d also had a positive impact on others.  His life had mattered, and its absence left a tremendous hole.

“We are none of us fully good nor fully evil,” Liam continued, as though reading Killian’s thoughts, “but every one of us is important and necessary to so many people.  Our impact is something we may never know, but it is vital, and when one of us is missing from the fabric of time–the resulting tear leaves the garment irreparably harmed.”

The tears began to flow, and Killian let them, making no attempt to stop them or wipe them away.  He wanted to fix this.  He needed to fix this.

“Please brother,” he said through his tears, “help me.  I want to live again!”

Liam smiled. “Done!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

There was no flash of lighting, no crack of thunder this time.  Nothing earth shattering happened.  One moment they were in the broken-down shell of the Underbrooke version of Emma’s house, and the next they were back in the cave where this whole thing had started.  Even so, Killian knew it had worked; he could feel it.  All was back to the way it should have been–well, as close as anything could come in this terrible place.  His life was restored to the fabric of time.  Joy bubbled up. 

As Killian’s eyes adjusted to the dim light of the cavern, he noticed the dinghy docked to the cliff, the peaceful waters in which it bobbed, the pleasant port in the distance that was to be Liam’s eternal reward, and a touch of bittersweetness mixed in with his joy.  No doubt the time of parting with his brother was almost upon him.

“Not quite yet, brother,” Liam said, once again reading his thoughts. “This vessel will be waiting for me in due course, but it’s Christmas Eve.  I can see nothing wrong with celebrating this one last holiday with my brother and the family he’s amassed for himself.”

Killian’s smile widened. “You’d put off paradise for me?”

“Of course,” Liam said. “Haven’t you learned by now I’d do anything for you?  You, little brother, are worth it.”

Killian wrapped his arms around his brother, feeling the tears rush to his eyes once again.  He’d always known his brother’s first statement was true, but now, maybe for the first time in his life, he was beginning to believe the truth of the second as well.

After a long moment, Killian stepped back, clearing his throat. “Younger brother,” he corrected gruffly.

Liam laughed. “And, if I don’t miss my mark, there’s someone else out there who would also do anything for you; who also believes you’re worth it.  Perhaps it’s time you go to her.”

Emma’s beloved face came to mind, and a rush of love and longing filled him.  He’d left her on a rather bad note, his self-loathing pushing her away.  He wanted–needed–to make things right, to let her know how very much he appreciated her coming here to save him.

“Will you not come with me, Liam?” he asked.

Liam chuckled.  “I rather think your reunion is something I don’t need to be privy to.  I’ll return to the loft, spend some time with your Emma’s son.  Perhaps we can plan and start preparations for our Noel celebrations.  You and your love can meet me there.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian rushed back to Swan’s Underbrooke house, his heart leaping to see it whole and reasonably intact, as opposed to the broken down hull he’d seen last.  It was further proof that all was back as it should be.

He found Emma standing in the drawing room looking confused and slightly out of sorts.

“Hook!” she said, as he rushed toward her.  “Where the hell have you been?  First you and Liam left, and then Henry ran off…somewhere.”

There was so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to tell her, but he started by simply giving her a long hug, which she returned warmly.

When he pulled back enough to see her face, it was obvious his gesture, while not unwelcome, had certainly done nothing to banish her confusion.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he said finally. “You were right about Liam.  He destroyed those pages because of a deal he made with Hades years ago, a deal that almost got us thrown into that boiling sea.”

Her eyes widened and her grip tightened on his arms.  “Are you okay?  Where is he?”

“He, uh, sacrificed himself,” he said, struggling to find the words to tell her what had happened to him–to both of them–over the last few hours.  “But his sacrifice helped a crew we once sailed with.  They finally moved on thanks to him.”

Her alarm grew.  “Did he move on too?”

Killian shook his head.  “Not yet.  A boat is waiting to usher him on when he is ready, but he wishes to spend Christmas with us first–it is, after all, Christmas Eve.”

He didn’t miss the slight look of unease in her eyes, which she quickly masked.  “That’s–that’s good,” she said, a bit too cheerfully.

“He was wrong about you, Swan,” Killian said, “and he knows it.  I think one reason he wished to remain was to have an opportunity to apologize to you and make amends.”

Her smile became far more genuine.  “There’s no need, Killian.  He was just trying to protect you.  I get that.”

“Nevertheless,” Killian said, “I need no protection from you, and now he knows that.”

They were silent for a moment, merely enjoying the quiet and peace of each other’s company.  Finally Emma looked around.  “So if he didn’t move on, where is he?  Didn’t he come back here with you?”

Killian grinned.  “He returned to your parents’ flat, hoping to conspire with the lad to make our Christmas one to remember–at least as far as is possible in this hellish place.”

They shared a smile, but then Killian grew serious, looking at her with intensity.  This was important; he needed her to hear him.  “But he helped me to see the truth before he went.  I’m glad you came down here, Emma.  Perhaps I do deserve saving after all.”

 She lit up, her face showing a joy he hadn’t seen since he’d gotten down here.  “Does that mean when this is all over, you’re planning to come home?”

When this is all over.  It was a stark reminder that there were still substantial obstacles they must face before they could return to their white picket fence life, but face them they would.  He was sure of it.  Not only would they face them, they would win, and their happiness afterwards would be all the sweeter from the struggle they had to endure to get there.

“Yes,” he answered definitively. “Everything Liam did was to ensure that I had a future, and I damn well intend to have one.”

With that, he swooped in for a long passionate kiss, the likes of which he’d dreamed about ever since this ordeal began.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Storybrooke, Present Day

Killian toyed with the ends of Emma’s hair as her head lay on his shoulder.

“And then we returned to your parents’ flat–or what passed for it in that bloody place–to find Henry and Liam had made a valiant attempt at decorating for the festive occasion.”

Emma chuckled.  “I remember.  The only tree they could find made Charlie Brown’s look amazing.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Killian said with his own chuckle, “but I catch the gist.  It was quite pitiful.  Its sad state only rivaled by the wilted poinsettias and the crumbling mistletoe.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Emma said, “I think the mistletoe still worked perfectly well, if the exaggerated eyerolls from Henry when we made use of it were any indication.”

He chuckled again. “And all your mother could find to prepare for our Christmas feast was grilled cheese on stale bread and PopTarts for dessert.”

“I’ll admit it wasn’t the greatest grilled cheese I’ve ever had, and unfrosted brown sugar cinnamon PopTarts are just wrong,” Emma said, “but I’ve gotta say, I kind of like the menu.”

Killian shot her a disgusted look with a muttered “bloody hell”.   She collapsed against him as she laughed.

“However,” Killian said after a moment, returning to the subject at hand. “It was a pleasant evening filled with joy and laughter.  The two people I love the most in this or any world together and reconciled, your family–our family–together to support us.  It was the very essence of what makes Christmas magical.”

Emma sat up to look at him and there was sadness in her eyes. “But the next evening we had to say goodbye to Liam for good.”

Killian sighed. “It was a bittersweet moment to be sure,” he agreed, “but I got a proper farewell this time, something I was denied when he died in my arms all those centuries ago, and I know he’s in a better place–I saw it for myself.  One day we’ll be together again.”

She gave him a stern look. “That day better be decades and decades away.”

He grinned before leaning down to kiss her. “Fear not, Swan.  Have I not proven that I’m a survivor?  Even death couldn’t hold me forever.  At any rate, though we were in an awful place and the decorations and provisions were less than ideal, that was a Christmas that I will always hold in my heart, because I got a second chance, and it’s been sweeter than anything I could imagine.”

They were silent for a moment, and then he heard a small sniff beside him.  He leaned over to see tears in Swan’s eyes.  “Love, whatever is the matter?”

“I had no idea, Killian,” she said after a moment, “no idea you went through all that.  You never told me about the visions Liam showed you.”

He shrugged. “There never seemed to be time; we were always moving from one crisis to the next, and I didn’t want to upset you with my own internal crises.”

She sat up again, looking into his eyes. “Killian, we’re true love, husband and wife,” she said, “We should help each other through our crises.  Don’t ever feel like you have to keep anything from me because I might find it upsetting.”

He smiled tenderly at her, cupping her cheek and letting his thumb caress her face.  “Nor you with me, my love.”She nodded. “And for the record, Killian, you have nothing left to prove.  You are a good man, and all of us are better off for having you in our lives.  Don’t ever doubt that.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[stvlti]

Official cast interviews for Blue Beetle (2023) from DC Nation

Found these interviews in the back of Ravager: Knight Terrors and Robin: Knight Terrors. They seem to be inserted in Aug publications at random? If anyone finds Bruna Marquezine's interview please drop them and @ me

Update: The above interviews are now transcribed below:

Interview with Xolo Maridueña:

What can you share about the origin story of Jaime Reyes—and his alter ego, Blue Beetle?

Jaime is someone who's coming back to his hometown from college. One day he comes across this scarab that grants him powers beyond belief. At first, he's reluctant to become a hero, but ultimately he'll decide to accept his fate—whether he feels worthy or not!

Like most comic book films, there are tons of origin stories to pull from. I think our movie amalgamates some of Jaime's best stories in comics over the years.

How does this scarab give Jaime his powers?

The scarab, Khaji Da, is a sentient alien life-form on a mission across the universe to detect technological advancements. The scarab just so happens to attach itself to Jaime and he's granted incredible powers.

The powers are more a question of what can't he do? He can fly, punch things super hard, make his hands turn into different weapons. He's kind of just the best superhero out there...if I do say so myself.

Who is the villain of the movie, Victoria Kord?

Victoria Kord is played by Susan Sarandon in the film. Victoria is truly a billionaire mogul with her eyes on the prize. However, she has a bit of a chip on her shoulder because there was a disagreement on who should head up Kord Industries. Susan Sarandon is such an amazing actress and as much as Victoria Kord has a bad side, she's also very charming.

What makes this superhero film unique?

This film really is gonna tap into that familiar family feeling that is irreplaceable. You're gonna meet Jaime's family and say, maybe I don't look like them, maybe our parents don't come from the same place, but I know this type of love and what this relationship feels like. I hope it will make a lot of people realize you don't have to do everything alone.

All the moments that led up to Jaime encountering the scarab were because of the foundation that his family was able to build on.

Interview with George Lopez:

What can you tell us about Rudy, your character in the film?

On my last trip to Atlanta, I was in a car and I looked out the window and there was a guy working for the city with about a 10-inch goatee, glasses, long hair, and a city orange vest that had no sleeves, and I thought, man, that's me. I like the idea that we're so quick to judge somebody by the way they look, and Rudy is a bit of a contradiction from the way that he looks.

Why do you think the scarab chose Jaime Reyes as its host?

I think it chose Jaime because it knew that he's a good guy. The scarab chose somebody who would use their powers for good. If you go back into the bug lair and you see Ted Kord's previous Blue Beetle uniforms it was from a guy that had money, was a little bit eccentric, and would create these outfits for himself...but he couldn't fly anywhere.

What can fans expect from Blue Beetle's costume?

You've seen nothing until you've seen the Blue Beetle costume deploy and the pincers retract! It's amazing to see him fly and fight. He operates in a dark blue and black costume, similar to charcoal, which may be the coolest colors of all time. It feels more like a skin than an actual costume. I've seen a lot of bugs in my day, but I've never seen one that looks like that.

How is being a part of Blue Beetle meaningful to you?

As an actor, I've been fortunate enough to have done stand-up for a long time, had my own show named after me, and a number of other incredible things in my career. However, I would have hated to not be involved in this project. If I wasn't cast in this movie it would've been heartbreaking in a sense, but I'm honored to be a part of it. To know that you're specifically chosen to be in this great project, and give life  to a guy like Rudy, is beyond an honor.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 2: Travel on a Boat

Narrated by Nikki.

Narrator: It wasn't far from the city, but it has held onto its quaint charm and attracted a lot of visitors from neighboring towns.

Narrator: The flowing creeks sectioned off the town into different parts. You could hear artisans occasionally hawking their handiwork.

Narrator: The town after rain was wet but clean. The puddles over the green cobblestones reflected the clear sky like a mirror. You could smell the fresh bamboos off the short buildings lining the street.

Narrator: The festival drew many visitors. The official scenic routes were by boats, as small, crowded vessels shuttled around on water.

Narrator: A little nervous, I touched my badge and adjusted my armbands. With a stack of brochures in hand, I planned to provide a thorough overview to the visitors.

???: Excuse me, would you mind taking pictures of me and my child?

Narrator: A slender hand took a brochure from me. It belonged to a tall, well-dressed lady. She smiled, and the little girl next to her glanced at me with curiosity.

Nikki: Well, this is my first time volunteering, so I'm not good at taking pictures...

Lady Tourist: It's all right. We just want photo keepsakes. Just do your best.

Narrator: Her friendliness made me nod. I took her camera and hopped into a tour boat with them.

Narrator: The boatman let out a shout and pulled on the oars, and the boat wobbled a bit, then started moving.

Narrator; The vessel glided down the canal. It was exceptionally comfy and cozy with the warm breeze on everyone's faces.

Narrator: The lady sat in the front with the girl in her lap, constantly pointing out the landscape for her. She seemed familiar with the surroundings enough not to need my guidance.

Narrator: It was the first time riding a boat for the girl. She squirmed in her mother's arms, trying to take everything in.

Narrator: I captured their smiles in many photos.

Narrator: The route ended at an arched stone bridge. After a few passes, we stopped to let passengers off at a craft show.

Narrator: Every booth was full of colorful souvenirs. The most popular one seemed to be the paper cutter. The old proprietor amazed audiences with his incredible skills.

Narrator: The old man folded a piece of red paper several times and made a diagonal cut. The girl watched intently and shouted.

Little Girl: It's a swallow! Mommy can make one, too!

Narrator: That made the crowd giggle. The laughing old man also sped up and, soon enough, a lifelike swallow appeared in his hand.

Narrator: He put the paper bird into the girl's hand. She thanked him, turned around, and handed it to her mother like a priceless treasure.

Narrator: The lady stroked the girl's hair, took the bird, and stared at the intricate cuts with nostalgia in her eyes.

Lady Tourist: It's about that time of the season when the swallows come back.

Lady Tourist: They fly away every winter, but they always come back the following spring.

Choose either "She seems to know a lot about swallows" or "She seems very familiar with this place."

If "swallows," ...

You: She understands their routines very well.

Narrator: Yes, though I feel she knew about the town even more, as if she went there regularly.

If "place," ...

You: She seems very familiar with this place.

Narrator: Yes, it's like she's been here before.

--

Nikki: Excuse me, but have you been here before?

Narrator: She gave the paper bird back to the girl, smiled at me, but was interrupted by a child's voice before she could speak.

Little Girl: Look, Mom, swallows!

Narrator: The girl endeavored to wave her little arms. She pointed at two birds flying across the water and vanishing behind some houses.

Narrator: They left a small wake behind that shook the willows they passed.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

[mery-cm99]

Vixen ~ Nikolai Lantsov (Chapter 2)

Masterlist

Description: Vixen is one of the Crows. Kaz saved her a long time ago. He’s the only one who knows the truth about Vixen. He’s the only one who knows her past, her secret. That’s until a certain privateer shows up in Ketterdam looking for a living Saint. 

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x fem!OC

Warnings: Mention of trauma, blood, war and sad stuff in general. English is not my first language, so sorry in advance for any grammar or spelling errors. The sign language used in this story is made up and does not correspond with any official one. The story is based on the series, not the books.

Rating: Teens and up

Chapter 2/6

Word Count: 2,802 words

Vixen used the shadows of the night to slip through the streets of the Barrel on her way to the workshop Kaz told them. When she reached the building across the street, she stayed hidden in an alley, waiting. She stood very still when she heard a pair of footsteps, but it turned out to be only a couple coming out of one of the game venues on the street. The man was almost on top of the woman and seemed to be under the influence of alcohol, because he was slurring his words and trying to grope her as they walked. The woman seemed a little annoyed with him, but kept dragging the man down the street. Vixen assumed he was going to pay her a good amount of coins for the service. 

After making sure no one had set them up, the girl came out of hiding and entered the workshop. Inside were already Jesper and Kaz, plus a red-haired boy who looked a little uncomfortable. Vixen recognized him without any problems. When the boy looked at her, she brought the thumb of her right hand to her chin and then held up three fingers to her heart, forming a W. In sign language it meant <<Hello, Wylan>>.

"Vixen," he greeted with a small smile, but looking away, as if even after all this time, the girl still intimidated him. Vixen smiled tenderly. Wylan was a couple of years younger than her and she had grown fond of him. 

"Wait. You two know each other?"Jesper asked in confusion.

<<Of course, don't you...>> But she couldn't finish signing because the red-haired boy interrupted her.

"Vixen has helped me a couple of times. Some bullies are a little obsessed with me," explained the youngest while his cheeks acquired the same color as his hair. The girl smiled even wider, understanding what was going on. Jesper had forgotten that he and Wylan had known each other before and the younger boy was embarrassed. 

She had been the one who had told Kaz about Wylan. While the rest of the crows were busy with the Crow Club problems, she was roaming the streets of Ketterdam, listening about rumors and the latest business. That's how she had found Wylan, who was playing his flute for money. She had arrived just in time to see the three men, much larger than either of them, stand in front of the boy and threaten to beat him if he didn't hand over all his money. The girl had been unable to restrain herself. She managed to stop them from beating the boy to death, but there was nothing she could do to stop them from taking his money. 

Inej appeared soon after, accompanied by another girl Vixen didn't know. Inej explained that she was the Heartrender Kaz was looking for. Vixen stepped away from them and stood on the other side of Wylan's desk, catching distance from the grisha.

"Nina Zenik, at your service," she introduced herself, taking off her hat. Vixen stared at her. Something about her seemed familiar. As she watched her talk to the rest she realized what it was. The way she moved, her easy, catchy smile. She had the same charming aura that her own mother used to have. That made her feel an inexplicable attraction to the grisha, which was accentuated when Kaz asked her what the price of her services was. 

"I want to get someone out of Hellgate"

Vixen, who had been sitting on the other side of the table, instantly stood up at the mention of prison. Nina turned to look at her in surprise, as if she hadn't noticed her presence. If it had been any other time, Vixen would have wondered why, considering she was a Heartrender and could hear her heartbeat, but at that moment all she could think about was the prison.

Kaz, who was already looking at her even before she got up from the chair, shook his head when Vixen signed that they had to help Nina. 

"What is she saying?" Nina asked worried when she saw the aggressive way Vixen was moving her hands in Kaz's direction.

"She wants to help you. She's asking Kaz to listen to you. There's a lot of swearing involved" explained Wylan, who had learned some sign language from all the time he had been with Vixen. 

"Please. He's the love of my life," Nina added. Vixen waved her hand at her without taking her gaze off Kaz, as if to say: <<See! She needs our help!>>

"I can't get you a release from Hellgate. But I can get you a visit," Kaz said at last. “In exchange for your service”

Vixen wanted to complain that that wasn't enough, but she had to admit that it was the most Kaz could offer the newcomer. Kaz wasn't about to endanger his crows in that horrible prison for someone they didn't know. And without getting paid in return.

Nina accepted, without much choice.

***

Vixen loved the docks, she liked the salty air and the humidity of the environment. She liked the crowds that were always there and that allowed her to hide. She also liked the streets of Ketterdam, where she had spent most of her life, trying to survive and escape the people who wanted to catch her, like the standwatch or Pekka Rollins' men. But if there was one place she didn't like at all, it was the cemetery. She always got goosebumps in that place and her demons seemed to stir the hardest when she was there.

She tucked her cloak a little tighter around her and limped on towards the reunion point, ignoring the voices claiming she hadn't done enough. In case of emergency, the Crows had agreed to meet at a mausoleum inside the Black Veil, the graveyard that was filled after the plague that desolated Ketterdam. No one went there because they said it was occupied by ghosts, so it was the best place to hide. 

When Vixen reached the doors of the mausoleum, she stopped for a moment and touched her leg. Pulling her hand away, she saw that it was covered in blood. She had had a not very pleasant encounter with a pair of Dime Lions. She allowed herself a moment of weakening and Anya came to light for the first time in three years. A tear rolled down her cheek and she muffled a sob of pain behind her left hand. The wound hurt, but that wasn't the main reason for her crying. After a few moments, she let Vixen return. She stretched again, brushed away her tears and entered the mausoleum where the rest of Crows and Nina were waiting for her.

As soon as she reached the bottom step, she saw that Kaz's eyes were fixed on her injured leg. Her boss was just as observant as she was, maybe even more so.

"Did the Dime Lions pay you a visit too?" Jesper asked as he watched her limp. 

Vixen held up two fingers, indicating the number of Rollins' men who had found her. Then she ran the fingers of her hand up her neck toward her chin and turned her hand over, as if it had died. Even for someone who didn't know much sign language, it wasn't too hard to guess what the fate of both men had been.

"You too?" Nina exclaimed as she came out into the main room to find the injured girl. She was referring to Inej, who had also faced death that night. They all had, but some were more wounded than others. "Come, I'll try to heal you. I'm not the best at this kind of work, but I'll do my best."

The silent girl followed Nina into the other room, where the grisha asked her to take off her pants so she could heal her. As she tended to her injuries, Vixen noticed the way Nina's fingers moved over the wound. A part of her was screaming at her to get away from the Heartrender, but she couldn't do it, she felt mesmerized.

When her wound was nothing more than a pinkish scar, Nina pulled away from her. Vixen put a hand to her chest and nodded, the sign of thanking her. Nina had no idea about sign language, but she guessed what that one meant. 

"Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to visit someone," Nina said with a small smile. The grisha was about to leave the room, but a voice stopped her.

"You have to get him out of there."

Nina turned around, surprised.

"You speak. I thought..." but she didn't finish the sentence.

"You can't let him rot in there. You have to get him out of Hellgate" she advised, and Nina could see the pain and sadness in the girl's eyes. She seemed to speak from experience, as if she knew what it was like to see someone rotting in said prison.

"I don't know how to do it," said the grisha sadly.

"I don't either. But we have to get him out of there. Whatever it takes."

***

A man elbowed her so hard that the girl felt her mask fall off from the blow. Vixen ducked down some more, put on her fox mask (a rather fitting disguise considering her name) and tucked herself back into her cloak, protecting the vial in her hand as she headed off to fulfill her part of Kaz's plan. Arriving at Pekka Rollins' place, which was full of people playing, drinking and laughing, she used her gift to go unnoticed and went all around the place impregnating the glasses, gaming chips, dice and cards with the powder Wylan had created.

The girl felt like the Grim Reaper, dealing out terror and death. Usually she wasn't too thrilled to be linked with death, but on that occasion she didn't feel too bad. After all, they weren't really dealing out the plague, they were just imitating it.

When she had finished spreading panic among the occupants of the premises, she returned to the street and hid among the rest of the people in disguise to head to her next destination, The Emerald Palace. She entered quietly and unnoticed and saw that the show had already begun. Pekka Rollins was on his knees in front of Kaz, pleading. The Crows boss had blood on his face and looked pretty beaten up, but at that moment Dirty Hands had the winning hand. Vixen quietly approached the bar, from where Jesper and Nina were watching the show.

Kaz told Rollins that he would tell him where his son was if he would sign a confession that he had killed Tante Helen and give Inej her freedom. Pekka signed it without objecting too much. Vixen would have felt a little bad for the man, but then she remembered all the times he had sent his men to capture or kill her and she had nearly ended up in Hellgate because of him. The only thing that could have turned her back from Kaz's plan was Alby Rollins, Pekka's son. Vixen had killed in self-defense and had used force on behalf of the Crows, but she would never endanger the life of a child. She had only agreed to go along with the plan because Kaz had assured her that nothing would happen to Alby Rollins.

After disposing of the boss of the Dime Lions, the four returned to the Dregs Club, which Kaz had occupied living up to his nickname: Dirty Hands. He had beaten the crap out of Per Haskell's men with only his hands and his cane. Vixen was about to go to her room to meditate —she said that when she wanted to be left alone without anyone bothering her, which was very often— but Nina followed her.

"Vixen, can I ask you a question that you don't need to answer?" She asked as they both walked up the stairs, away from the rest. 

The girl looked around to check that they were alone and that there was no danger before nodding somewhat reluctantly. She knew Nina was curious about her story, she could see it in her expression. But Vixen didn't like to talk about it. She didn't like to talk, period. Still, it was clear to her that sooner or later the questions would come. Jesper and Inej knew nothing about her past life because that was the way their relationship was. They trusted each other, but didn't question what they had done in past lives. Kaz was the one who helped her build her new life, so he was the only person who knew who she was before. And Wylan only knew her as Vixen, his silent guardian angel. But Nina was different, she was more open, more curious. 

"Maybe we should go into your room to talk more privately" proposed Nina clasping her hands together, as if she didn't know what to do with them. The other girl recognized that she was nervous, and that made her more alert. 

Vixen opened the door and let Nina enter the room before closing it behind them. The room was fairly empty and seemed impersonal. Something that made sense considering they had had to stay there on short notice, as the Crow Club was now nothing but rubble and ash. But Vixen's room at said venue was not much different from this one. She was used to living in the shadows, without a face or a name, so she had almost no possessions, and the few she had were always on her person. It was easier to run away and survive from her pursuers when she had nothing to tie her anywhere. 

She gestured for Nina to sit on her bed while she took the chair by the window. It was an unconscious act, but it would make it easier for her to flee if the situation became unbearable. 

Nina noticed the way she sat in the chair, with one leg under the other and only the tips of her toes propped up. She had noticed that. Vixen never sat in one place completely. She always seemed ready for action, whether it was to get into a fight or to run away. She saw her pull one of her daggers out of her belt compartment, though she only did it to play with it, twirling it between the fingers of her hand. Inej also did that with her knives.

"You lost someone there, didn't you?" Grisha began when the doubt became overwhelming. "In Hellgate, I mean," she added, realizing she hadn't fully explained herself.

The knife in her hands stopped suddenly and was about to fall, but Vixen's hand spun it around and she gripped it tightly by the handle again. Her heart gave her away too. It had sped up a lot, as if she was running in front of a pack of wolves, dead terrified of the moment they would catch up with her. It took her a couple of seconds to respond, and when she did it was by signs, which didn't do much good, as Nina still had no idea what they meant. 

Vixen must have seen it in her expression, because she stopped dead in her tracks and her hands dropped to her lap. Then she cleared her throat.

"Yes, my father," she repeated, accompanying her signs with her voice.

She didn't know why she answered Nina with the truth. A part of her, the part that always thought the worst, told her that Nina had forced her with her Grisha powers, but deep down she knew it was because of Nina herself. She reminded her too much of her mother, and she had never been able to lie to her. 

Nina nodded, but remained silent, waiting for the girl to continue on her own. 

"He was there for two and a half years. I went to see him every week without the guards knowing, during the fights. I watched his life, his light, disappear with each one. Until that day. He was fighting another prisoner and he was winning. Someone on the inside must not have liked it, because they unleashed a beast. My father was too busy fighting the man to see it coming. The noise of the crowd was deafening, everyone shouted and cheered, but my father didn't notice the beast until it was too late."

"Why didn't he turn around when he heard the commotion?" asked the grisha, completely caught up in the story. For someone who didn’t speaking too much, Nina thought Vixen had a mesmerizing voice.  

"Because he couldn't hear anything. My father was deaf" she explained, emphasizing each word with sign language.

[bellehalla]

Do you think you could describe the appearances of our main soldiers? ( heishi, weald, etc.)

hello love!! omg i hope you're still around

AHH i adore the main soldiers so much! I try not to give too much description when it comes to my characters since I let readers interpret them from their personality and character in the story instead. But there had been some questions regarding their appearances (like Ilya, which @escapismnotfound illustrated!! check out their blog and art!!) so I guess it's time I give some of them some faces. Officially leaving MC as the only faceless one lmaoooo

And oh boy, this is ONE LENGTHY post. I enjoyed writing it <3

Ewald

nation: Mondstadt

height: 5'4

shortest one in the company. idk if you remember but in chapter 1, he had facial hair but had to shave it off around chapter 3 when the program officially started. he's short, stocky, and kinda looks like a human version of a pug. he grew out his black hair which is probably the same length as MC's which reaches their shoulders, but you won't really notice it since he always have it up as well. he has accentuated jowls and his cheeks kinda hang that make him look tough. i referenced him from one of the characters in Mulan, Yao! (same vibe too)

Jurgen

nation: Mondstadt

height: 6'1

the Dad of the group. Jurgen's another Mondstadtian. he's tall, has broad shoulders and beefy arms that make him seem like he gives great hugs (he does). he's soft-faced, and has high cheekbones. every time he smiles his cheeks get so round. also has brown eyes. same haircut as Huffman, but has caramel colored hair.

Heishi

nation: Inazuma

height: 6'4

he already has an impressive height, but his face tops it all. he's slim-faced with prominent cheekbones and straight nose, framed by his midnight blue curls. he's more lean than buff, but he's trying to pack up some muscles. if it weren't for his military uniform, it's easy to see him as another man from a prominent family. his ruggedness is more from his VERY unruly hair.

Ira

nation: Mondstadt

height: 6'0

the clown of the group. Ira's very lanky despite his appetite. he's kinda cute if he knows how to dress and carry himself. with his sharp jawline, tall nose, and short ginger hair, he could really pull the ladies (don't tell him this). but alas his charm is in his crooked smile. take it as it is. he doesn't mean anything bad when he smiles big and wide.

Hiroto

nation: Inazuma

height: 6'5

big and tough, a bit buffer compared to Heishi. long dark hair that reaches the middle of his back. unlike Ewald and Rin, Hiroto likes to let his hair loose, so sometimes the soldiers see it. square jawline and heavy brow ridge that makes him look angry all the time. though fun fact, he's very attentive to his eyebrows and prefers to keep them clean and plucked. there's just so much to know about this guy.

Kita & Kenji

nation: Inazuma

height: 6'2

they're not twins...as far as they know. but they do look so much alike save for their builds. when Kita first appeared (oh and fun fact again, Kita was the one that egged Rin on during their first day when she fought Ewald) he had short grey hair. Kenji convinced him to shave his hair into a buzzcut, so now they're sporting the same haircut. they're quite youthful in their appearance as they have a more rounded face. Kenji's face is sharper compared to Kita. Also, Kenji's upper body is quite bulky, but Kita's trying to catch up (he's almost as thin as Ira, so it might take awhile to bulk up).

Luka

nation: Mondstadt

height: 5'9

does anyone remember this guy? he's not that significant, but i have to balance out the count per nation lmao. he has yellow hair. handsome with his big round eyes, and high cheekbones. though he's more adorable than handsome, really.

[kitsunesfandomtime]

His Escape From Hell - Ch 3

Characters: Yoichi Shigaraki, Second One for all User, Third One for all user, All for One (Hisashi Shigaraki), Original Characters

Relationship: All for One & Yoichi, Minor Second User / Yoichi

Warnings: Hallucination, Distrust, Acts of Violence

Summary: Sequel to Treasure Vault. Yoichi has escaped the vault with the help of these rebel forces but he is still suffering the trauma and effects of the vault. He refuses to let that stop him, one way or another even if no one on his side. He has a goal he wishes to achieve.

Among the vigilantes there was a stir.

It was bound to become an issue the moment some of their men figured out who Yoichi was. It started with whispers, hush words, no actual confirmation because no one truly knows this fact. They are desperate for a scapegoat to fulfill their desires for closure as the man they wish to strike at is too far to take down. Though what was not expected were the drastic changes that occurred to speed up the duress.

Because it seems while many could have sympathy none could be alarmed with what was happening around Japan. Along with the knowledge of the very trigger living among those that could be trusted with this fact.

"I didn't know we were flirting with DEATH here," a young woman shouts usually a calm and collected lady who was a valuable member. A spy who knew how to charm and dazzle even the most hard headed fool. Her hair was a bright purple as flowers seemed to blossom from her hair. A trait she only showed when agitated and something she had kept hidden despite her odd colors until it happened.

She had lost her family in the crossfires and became disillusioned with society with a burning hatred for All for One. "I know you guys can be softies but why the hell would you try to pretend you didn't make us an even bigger target then the government!? He isn't some RANDOM ass refugee he is that monster's brother!"

Gearshift wasn't at all surprised by this as his second in command, Fa Jin, was clearly trying to get her to calm down.

"Iris, we know this is very risky but we can't just throw him out into the streets you didn't see the state he was in. Also you're sprouting again," Fa Jin points out knowing that if she doesn't stop now there's going to be enough for a bouquet if not a whole garden.

The rebel leader watched as she very quickly tries to yank the flowers out of her hair. Annoyance is clear on her face as she takes a sharp breath trying to regain her composure. Her hand moving to press her index and thumb to the bridge of her nose.

"Oh sure, you guys are suddenly super heroes now when it comes to the ONE guy that is likely going to be the death of us," she hisses and Gearshift can admit that it likely seemed suicidal to take in this one. There have been many times they have taken lives but this was different.

"So we should just kill everyone that happens to have once been affiliated with All for One? Have we stooped that low?" Gearshift questions with an almost cold demeanor watching her tense a bit. Her red eyes looked at him with anger at saying such things but someone needed to. They needed to draw a line.

"That's not- Look. I'm not saying kill him or something, but clearly by taking him in something has gone very wrong," she speaks as she takes out something from her bag. Dropping a stack of papers and photos making sure to spread it out to show exactly what needed to be seen.

"I saw the bastard suddenly buddying up with some government officials at a bar. We also have intel that he stopped casually mass murdering and is having his men take ours alive. I shudder to know why. SOMETHING is going on and this all happened after you took HIM in," she points out. As it was a drastic change everything wasn't at all like All for One at all and the two actually glanced at each other.

"We would have been fine if it seemed like he didn't care about the guy but clearly it was enough to become a completely different person," she reiterates. They all had assumed that All for One wouldn't give a shit about Yoichi. After finding Yoichi in the state he was in many would have assumed he wouldn't care if he died.

"It definitely seems like a trigger," Fa Jin noted as they can't claim it's a coincidence. As the man who was once was prancing about all kind's of evil and debauchery was now changing from swaths of evil to truly showing a terrifying level of intelligence.

Though they have no idea what the man could possibly be doing working with the government or taking their men in. It was disturbing to think of what such a twisted person was thinking.

"It mean's he's taking us seriously and is trying to make sure no one interferes," Gearshift finally spoke up. His eyes narrowed thinking carefully knowing there was no going back as they were always going to end up in conflict with him. Though to think could so drastically change his mindset...

Another of the members that came to them finally began to speak up. A demure mouse like quirked fellow, Reigan, who is always their ear to the wall. Unlike Iris who talked to those that are above he listened to those in the streets, "If we use him as bait then we could have the advantage..."

Impossible to even consider.

"We took a risk once with negotiations with all he wanted was for us to submit like I said. It's why we went with planting a bug on him and it how we got all our weapon cache," Gearshifts speaks firmly knowing the man likely thinks if he plays too boldly his brother will die. Thus why is playing coy it wasn't a threat just yet, "We aren't giving up the only thing we have that will give him pause nor are we using him. He's our ally that's final, and make sure to keep this knowledge to only us."

It would be a disaster if more people learned who he is as Yoichi hasn't exactly told them any good information to help convince others that he is on their side. They only accept it because they think he's an AFO refugee that changed his ways rather then someone of that importance.

There is likely a much deeper issue between the brothers despite Yoichi seeming earnest. But even still having good faith is in limited supply and there are many who might want to settle for hurting All for One's brother.

People can't help but misdirect their anger at the closest thing.

Despite the small group not seeming content with his answer they did leave them be. Fa Jin waited until they were gone and the door closed to give them privacy he loudly groans. As this honestly was a mess.

"I'm sorry since when did the mass murdering psychopath decid teaming up with the GOVERNMENT was worth it!? And I'm horrified to imagine what he is doing to our men in this very moment," he speaks as while stayed calm this honestly was not the expected result. Their men were willing to die for their cause not whatever THIS is.

"Regardless, we already chosen this path and eventually he was going to see us as a threat. We just didn't anticipate him working with those he hated the most," he admits. If they had killed Yoichi then he imagines they would have gotten the erratic and more violent outburst they expected.

It was a premeditated strategy to take advantage of a man who pretends to have no weakness. Many had lost their families to him and it only natural they learned the hypocrite was hiding his own they would attack. To destabilize him as he learns of the grief that he has inflicted on so many others.

However, they had expected some spoiled brat living in luxury not someone trapped in a jail cell looking like he wished for death. They may have killed but they had no intentions of murdering those in need of help.

"Hey leader focus," Fa Jin speaks up firmly with a snap of his finger to make Gearshift straighten up. "We probably can't leave him alone though he's recovering he's basically a twig and easy target. Especially if he wants to train who knows who might just jump to association even with no confirmed identity."

Right. They said he was allowed to train with the rebels however if the other members were to learn not only that they did obtain All For One's brother but that he's here not as a hostage but recruit. It will not end well even if they explain having Yoichi dead would be worse then him staying alive.

"I'll keep a personal eye on him," Gearshift knows no one would try anything with him around. "He's still seems to be suffering nightmares and jumping at shadows. Might do him good not to be left alone anyway at least for a little while."

A snort escaped his second in command the way the other was grinning seemed almost mischievous, "Wow, he's getting special treatment? Maybe we have gone soft if our leader willing to do babysitting duty."

This earned him a harsh punch in the arm. "OW! Why!? It was a joke and that actually hurt you, bastard!"

He didn't even entertain a response as he knows why though he did enjoy the reaction. It's something you can only do with someone you trust.

"I'll go meet with him now then," Gearshift is assuming the other was fine with this arrangement. It was just until they are sure Yoichi can fend for himself and right now he should be getting checked by the doctor to see what he can do.

-----

Yoichi hated check ups.

It reminded him of the many doctors visits he had to do when he was young. Constant prodding and all the adults always had these worried expressions as if he would die any second.

Though he is more then aware this doctor is completely voluntary because of his condition its only with gritted teeth he can even tolerate any touch.

"Your blood pressure is still quite high but you finally gained enough weight that some light workout could do you some good now," the doctor noted. Yoichi can't even look at the man's face still rubbing the arm the pressure band had been on.

"There are other concerning factors tho-" As the doctor was about to talk about the condition he already knew Yoichi cuts him off.

"I don't care. Just let me be cleared so I can be useful," Yoichi speaks firmly as honestly despite initially being rattled he was starting to get comfortable again. The leaders may be a bit cautious about giving their names but if he can just show them-

The doctor sighs interrupting Yoichi's thoughts as the man takes off his glasses and looks at him intently.

"I'll give you the clear if you promise to pace yourself. We can't have you dropping dead because you pushed yourself too far," he speaks firmly. "I'm someone that swore an oath to help people its why I'm risking my life throwing my lot with them. Not to slap a bandaid and claim you're fine with a open wound even if you can't see it yourself."

Yoichi almost wants to snap that he doesn't give a crap about some stupid oath the other made. He has already been told enough about what he can and can't do his teeth clenched tight to will himself not to speak. He hates being a burden unable to do anything when people are getting hurt.

"So what I'm hearing is he's available to start some training?" A voice emerges behind him and Yoichi jumps to his feet with a start. Just in time to see Gearshift standing at the door entrance. Does he just always lean against doorframes to look cool?

"Technically yes, but it will have to be a very light work out. His bones lost quite a bit of density honestly it's amazing he isn't worst then he is from the starvation and isolation," the doctor notes as he goes on his computer not seeming interested in arguing anymore. Yoichi wished he had that kind of influence everyone just seems to listen to the man without a thought. Just like everyone listened to Hisashi.

No, don't think about him not now.

But he ain't looking a gift horse in the mouth if that means he can do something willing to accept this help. He can already feel his brother hovering behind him as if to ask why he accepts this man's help but not his own brother's. Ignore it he isn't real.

"If that's all then Yoichi lets get you some work out attire," Gearshift was quick to cut to the chase and Yoichi was quick to stand up. It was kind of exciting that he was going to work with the very hero that saved his life. They really did bond quite a bit last night though the other's demeanor today seemed a bit different.

Now that he thinks about it despite them talking about things like comics and all that he never got the others name. At this point he must be trusted enough to at least get that much. So likely he just forgot.

"Hey," Yoichi was quick to walk to Gearshift's side straightening himself up as he walked with him. Noticing some odd looks from some of the rebels who seemed to be on edge. He tries to ignore them they weren't important.

"You know my name but you never gave me yours. So what is it?" Yoichi points out as he moves in just a hint closer as they walk together. Able to easily ignore the vigilantes looks as they walked to the supply closet.

"You must be in a better mood if this chatty today," the leader noted but it was said in a much more amusing tone. Clearly enjoying the fact wasn't a shaky and paranoid mess. Though he has himself to thank for that since he did his hardest to make sure Yoichi was comfortable.

"Are you avoiding the question?" Yoichi reiterates with a small smile though the others expression turns away as he goes to grab some clothing from the closet.

"It's not really all that important if anything your brother probably already knows it by now," Gearshifts noted making Yoichi tense just a hint at the mention of his brother knowing it. A part of him was about to ask then why he kept it secret only for the other to continue, "Call me Kaiji."

Yoichi decided maybe it wasn't worth it to question the others caution unsure if that is the others real name or just throwing him a bone. After all, Yoichi still can't bring himself to fully sell out his own brothers identities.

"Kaiji... That's an odd name," Yoichi muses earning a baffled look from the rebel leader who clearly wants to ask what he means. But he snatches the uniform from the others hand once he has grabbed it with a cheerful chime in his voice. "Let's get to training, my hero."

They both decided in that moment that it was probably best not to ask for the things in their minds.

---------

Unfortunately, hidden truths can't keep you safe forever.

Though he had been training with Gearshift he very quickly realized this was 'special' treatment. As others had a much more intense regime under the second in command, whose names he still hasn't received. It was easy to ignore the occasional odd looks thankfully. It was something he learned when he used to not be a prisoner of his brother. Hold your head high and act like you belong.

However, he never suspected the hatred they would feel for him until he left to explore outside the base and ended up being seen by a vigilante.

"So he DOES exist! And here I thought the man recused was a ghost story," It was a loud voice before suddenly someone stepped in front of him blocking his path. Yoichi doesn't look up just letting out a sigh wondering what he wanted as the man continued, "The hell kind of quirk you have to make our leader protect your scrawny ass?"

Yoichi isn't exactly sure why it was such a big deal to this guy but knew better then to show fear. Even if was a bit startled at this man coming out of no where to bother him. Already feeling himself getting defensive even if was honestly just trying to mediate.

"Does it matter? I'm part of the rebels like you are I mean no harm," he speaks as if has no idea about his own affiliation with All for One. Even he wasn't so stupid as to think every one of the Vigilantes would be alright with him. Though he's sure the other doesn't know who he is.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Turns out some people don't need to know who you are to make assumptions about you.

He's going to kill you.

Those words suddenly snapped him out of his defense as he looked up at the man finally. A large scar was over the man's expression twisted into a sneer and a special kind of hatred.

He did not have time to correct his mistake. Only able to let out a harsh wheeze when he was slammed hard against the wall.

"You look a lot like that bastard," the man sneered proving that despite never revealing himself the other had suspicion. Burns was all over the side of this man's head crawling to his arm burnt and still looking mishappen, "Are you looking down on me? All for One burned half my face and left me alive as a warning, telling me to crawl back here. And yet they are keeping you here rent free!"

Did you really think the rebels would all think you're a victim like those soft touched leaders? Oh poor foolish Yoichi...

His brother was there. Just watching him as if wanting Yoichi to beg to be saved but he isn't there. He knows he isn't, and even as he can feel his gaze on him he tries to ignore him. His own hands grasping at this man's grip as he can see his assailant about to rev up another punch.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." Don't apologize to others, you haven't done a thing.

SHUT UP. Yoichi curses in his own head as he shuts his eyes already expecting the punch able to see the man just about too. Only to feel the hold on his shirt being yanked off making him fall on his ass. Making him hiss in pain as he wondered what had just happened.

"F-Fa Jin! It's not what it looked like-!" It took a minute but Yoichi looked up just in time to see the second in command stepping between him. Able to just barely see the man was holding the guys arm in a frankly painful looking manner.

"So it didn't look like you were about to misdirect your anger on a fellow refugee of All for One? Because we haven't got the big man?" He speaks with sarcasm clearly not buying what was said as he shoves the man away. Making sure to emphasize his words, "Look we are all on edge but taking it out on him because he's an easy target isn't going to make it better only more difficult. We still have a chance just trust that."

Once again Yoichi needed someone else to save him, some hero he is.

As the man grits his teeth he turns to look at Yoichi clearly still wanting to do more but eventually knowing it wasn't worth it. Wondering since when did his brother start maiming people so personally as a threat. Knowing he usually just killed his enemies with a power or made other people 'do it' for him while claiming has no control.

Has his brother gotten worse?

It's only to be expected when you abandon someone. What's the point in caring now?

His brother's voice sounded almost like his own. Was there actually something he should have done before he left? What is happening now that he is gone? Was his brother truly gone? It's so hard to breath

"Yo, Yoichi snap out of it! You're hyperventalating!" A voice snaps him out as he feels hands on his shoulder forcing him to stare up at the second in command. Whose grip wasn't as tight as expected clearly just trying to get him to focus. "Breathe or if needed maybe stand up."

It was clear the other had no idea how to handle whatever the hell was happening to Yoichi.

"What... What is happening with my brother?" His voice was weak as he tries to get his breathing under control. Concern and worry clear on his face wanting to know exactly what other atrocities his brother has committed. He can't pretend he needs to know what is happening.

There is a flash of guilt on the man's face as he rubs the back of his neck. His eyes looking away clearly realizing he couldn't keep this secret.

"Guess it was bound to become apparent especially if serious about helping us," he mutters. Standing up he holds out his hand for Yoichi to take and Yoichi stares at it memories of his brother and the second holding out that hand merged in his mind. But he swallows it as he takes it.

"Please, I need to know."

Even if he might not like the answer.

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The pictures of his brother were like staring at a stranger. The smile with a hint of joy and the coat he wore with such joy was gone. He recognized that suit when his brother worked in a company, day in and day out. Went from orphans on the street to forging documents to find a good decent job that he despised. Miserable, tired, almost broke every day before finally he changed suddenly.

Yoichi isn't sure when his brother started his criminal activity only that he began to smile and declare he was free. And the weird coincidence that the company he worked for eventually seemed to have mysteriously caught on fire...

A suit that seemed to hold him in place, his hair had been cut short, shaking hands with the very government he despised with a smile that was hollow. The death tolls were no longer massive instead it seemed as if he was absorbing them. As if somehow is able to convince the rebels he captures to sell them out.

But it was Hisashi's eyes that he focused on.

There was no joy. It was the same eyes he'd seen after his brother worked a job he despised from the bottom of his heart. Yet plastered on with a smile that might as well be baring his teeth mistaken as cordial.

"We were planning to tell you since it does involve you," they had gotten Kaiji here for this meeting. The tension with the rebels was becoming palatable. So they had no intention of hiding but they didn't expect how quickly it would become a problem.

"Do you have any idea what he is doing? He went from never wanting to deal with the government to now being seen making deals and having beer with them like it a afternoon buisiness drink," Fa Jin was once again asking for Yoichi to tell them something. Anything about his brother as now it was becoming something serious and they are still in the dark.

Yoichi clenches his fist as he grabs one of the pictures into his hand shaking just a bit as he tries to match the picture he was seeing with the brother in his head. But he knew his brother was always capable of it and he had always called him out on it. That he didn't have to go the death and destruction route but now it seemed he was listening.

"Ha..." A small broken laugh escaped Yoichi as he looked at the picture, "...He's treating it like a serious buisiness now planning to expand and make sure the rebels are killed off or converted to put pressure on you guys. He's doing this so you guys will be forced to betray, throw me out or use me as a bargaining chip."

It was cruel. Because the worst part of this... Yoichi has no way of trusting that they could actually keep him around.

"So you're telling me. The guy who threw you in a vault, starved you, and mentally tortured you- Is that willing to work with his worse enemies to get you?"

If Yoichi is honest he's just more surprised at how quickly his brother changed in that short time frame. He hates the way his brother looks knowing his brother hated being the businessman even if he was great at it. He had been happy despite being a nut case despite Yoichi not wishing to admit it but this, this was terrifyingly wrong.

"You do realize that means by joining us you will have the biggest target on your head right?" They were worried about him, "We can train you but if he plans a specific assault and we are unprepared we might not be able to protect you-"

Yoichi had to cut him off as if he needed to defend his honor. Did they think he was scared of his brother!? Because he sure as hell isn't, "I don't care! I refuse to submit to that bastard like some dog with my tail between my legs!"

It was about to escalate. Fa Jin's face turned red with frustration as if Yoichi wasn't really understanding the risks he was about to take. Only for Kaiji to finally step in by just standing up making them both look at him.

"Sanzou that's enough leave us for a minute," it was unexpected when Yoichi heard an actual name instead of the man's quirk. His green eyes widened as he looked at 'Sanzou' the expression of concern on the man's face said it all. Kaiji was going to say something Yoichi wasn't going to like.

"Kaiji. I know you like him you don't have to ruin that. I am ok with being the bad guy you don't-" he speaks as if Yoichi was being interrogated. One that needed to be handled with a good cop and bad cop manner.

"Go." It seemed the leader was done being soft toward him.

Sanzou looked between Yoichi then at Kaiji clearly unsure about leaving but after a few moments. He groans looking almost frustrated.

"Fine. Whatever you handle this but reel in yourself!" he shouts before leaving glancing back for a second only to receive a glare from Kaiji. Yoichi suddenly felt a strong sense of dread as he tenses himself up for what is to come.

"Yoichi, what I'm about to ask you will likely seem cruel but it something we need to know if going to let you join," The others red eyes stared him down making Yoichi feel so small as he lets the silence hang in the air. Yoichi refuses to back down straightening himself up to meet the others gaze. He wasn't a victim.

He can handle this.

"Will you be capable of killing All for One?" And yet those words still hit him like he had been shoved under cold water. It was like this light air of brief joy Yoichi had obtained came crumbling down. Those red eyes staring intently into his own as it asks these questions that they likely knew.

That Yoichi has already answered once even as the voice in his head exclaimed him a liar.

"No," those words hung heavily in the air as Yoichi stared him down, "I want to save him because he isn't a monster yet I still have a chance."

And Yoichi knows he is a fool for it. Able to see his heroes expression shift to something else and he knew...

"There is no saving that man, no one has that kind of power."

That his desires were not for reality.