#i tried to make her skirt look like crumpled tissue paper

[mossyspot]

beloved moot and oomf @puddii-ng came up with a hajikasa candyland au and i liked it alot so i drew them some outfits inspired by some decora bangs she designed :3 im invested in them

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you want to turn back the clock and jungkook wants you to stay.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / word count: 5.8k

content/warnings: mistreatment of service workers / oc felt inappropriately touched by a customer (only mentioned in passing) / (oc works part-time in a restaurant) (then quits) / another dive into oc’s lore / allusion to death / grief grief grief / lots of crying :( / jk wants to move in together :") / mention of s*x (24/7=heaven?) / mention of period blood (they’re in diff contexts js to be clear lol) / u will get pissed and cry and laugh it’s fun <3

playlist! knees - iu ; chinese satellite - phoebe bridgers ; love wins all - iu

> in which masterlist

note: contains lil flashblacks from the giving up drabbles ^^ can be found in the timeline masterlist above this incase u haven’t read them and want to ^^ listen to love wins all when jungkook tells oc to wear their seatbelt (trust me). tried to encapsulate the epiphany of oh. everything’s going to be okay because i am loved when i’m at my lowest. as always reblogs & feedback are appreciated :") come chat!!

—

the rusty swing-set creaks as you unsteadily swing back and forth, staring lifelessly at your white socks and shoes stained with burnt orange. you look up to the sky but the moon and the stars are shrouded by the clouds. not even your favorite snack can poison your sadness with optimism. mouthful of bungeoppang, but you taste nothing, and every swallow only adds to the heaviness weighing on your chest.

your shift should be ending by now, which means you probably should be heading home, but your limbs have given up and refuses to move.

jungkook’s special ringtone ceaselessly disrupts the night scene’s quiet, but there’s no point in answering his calls when you know no words would come out of you.

“are you an imbecile?! you can’t understand basic instructions?!”

“ma’am, i’m so sorry. i’ll take it back and give you the right ord-”

“we’re fucking starving! move faster!”

you flinch as the bowl collides with the tiled floor, producing an ear-splitting sound that reverberates throughout the entire restaurant. you want to give the woman the benefit of the doubt and believe that she just shoved the bowl a little too harshly due to her frustration, but you have a hand over your mouth not due to shock, but the inexplicable pain of having your skin burnt by the piping hot soup… and she’s just… there.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! please understand. she’s just in a bad mood. she’s not- she’s not usually like this.”

you stand on your spot, frozen and speechless, as her husband profusely apologizes. you’re only jolted out from trance when you feel him wiping your legs with crumpled tissue papers, a little too farther up for your comfort. a fleeting tug-of-war ensues when you forcefully rip them away from his hands. you thank him despite not meaning it.

you grip the edge of your skirt as you sit on your heels, picking up the broken shards of glass scattered across the floor. a concerned co-worker swoops in with a broom and you instantly jump the opportunity to save yourself from the mortifying stares, mumbling another thank you as you take your leave.

“you said table six.”

“____, i’m sorry. that was a fault on my part.”

your manager observes your current state. his stare lingers at your feet.

“but they don’t know that! she literally burnt me!”

“look, we don’t have to take this too far. it couldn’t have been that hot. we can see you’re still walking.” his condescending tone makes you feel so small, but it fuels the anger inside of you. “you don’t have to pay for the damages, so let’s just put this behind us.”

you gasp in disbelief, and it borders on a laugh. you feel crazy. you can’t believe this is actually happening to you. he can’t be fucking serious.

the workers in the kitchen remain quiet as tension arises, minds a tornado of thoughts but mouths remaining shut in fear of getting on the bad side of their superior.

“well you…” you hastily strip off your apron, bunching it up into one big ball. “don’t have to pay me anymore, because i fucking quit! i hope this place burns down!”

and you ensure that it hits him on the face before you turn around to march out of the kitchen. on the way out of the restaurant, you nonchalantly grab a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting off the cap as you push the door open. you leave a wet trail behind your steps as you pour the cold water over your feet, a poor attempt to soothe the sharp pain of the injury.

you know it will be alright eventually; you will heal, but this… this is leaving a permanent scar on your dignity.

with a vexed groan, you retrieve your vibrating phone from your pocket.

LAST EVICTION NOTICE— you do not even bother reading the rest of the words that come after that.

“fuck!” you scream, throwing the bottle at the nearest wall, hands coming up to your hair to roughly pull in frustration. the heels of your palm dig into your eyes and your knees give way to the ground. “this is a nightmare.”

it dawns on you that you’ve finally arrived at a surface on the rock bottom that you so awfully dread. you find yourself standing here— infront of the atm machine, staring blankly at the large number displayed on the screen. this money isn’t yours. this didn’t come from your blood, sweat, and tears. it’s an amount that you’re supposed to accept as a payment for the eulogies you had to deliver. you swore you would never do this, but desperate times come when you’re forced to swallow your pride and allow it to rot you from the inside.

you’re once again faced with the ugly difference between surviving and living.

you grab the cash, hastily pushing them inside the pocket of your jacket as if you’re being burnt by them. you feel so nauseous; if only emptying your stomach would untangle its knots.

you don’t need anything from anyone. this is the first and the last time, you swear to yourself in place of your defeated oath.

you don’t want jungkook to see you like this, helpless and hollow, the antonym of the sun he willingly flew too close to. you look pathetic seeking for solace in an abandoned playground, unfortunate soul stuck at fifteen, in denial of the passage of time.

but there goes your lover running towards you, calling out your name, and you begin praying for yourself to disappear into thin air.

much to your disappointment, no wiser being grants your plea, and now you have a man tucking you in his safe embrace, uncaring of his knees being bruised by the ground.

does he need to surprise you when you least anticipate his presence?

“i’ve been looking everywhere for you! i went to pick you up at the restaurant but they told me that you quit! what happened?”

he pulls away, tenderly cupping your cheeks in his warm hands.

“was it your boss again? it’s him, isn’t it? what did he do?”

jungkook dies a little inside. your glassy eyes study his face, a clear picture of distress and concern, but at the same time, they seem so far away… like you’re not certain if you’re truly here.

you unconsciously squirm— your feet retract themselves, escaping underneath the swing; and your ankles twist, and twist, one hiding behind the other.

this doesn’t feel like being stripped naked.

you feel like you’re being turned inside out.

“what’s wrong? baby…” he utters sadly as tears drip from your lashes—one by one— even they are lost and hesitant.

your distant stare remains.

he doesn’t know if you’re even aware that you’re crying. it’s a frightening sight and he doesn’t know what else to do. he holds you in his arms but you feel too stiff for this to be comfortable. the time passes, and he lets it do so in silence.

he waits for you to come back to him.

he waits, and waits, and waits.

“jungkook… i want to go home.”

“okay. i’ll bring you home, baby.” he strokes your hair, breathing out in relief. “yours? or mine?”

only for his world to crumble into pieces.

“my mom…” you whisper, breathless, releasing yourself from his embrace. “i want to be with my mom.”

and only then does he see traces of emotions written on your face.

“i miss my mom so much.”

the crack of your voice gives him an opening to catch a glimpse of your heart, that is but a mosaic of broken parts. pain, grief, longing… the past two years haven’t been enough to make him well-acquainted with the anatomy of your afflictions. he has only witnessed you speak of your family with a proud and affectionate beam; old stories that spark the agent of joy. and despite knowing that you must’ve been battling your pain all these years all alone, he couldn’t bring himself to meddle with how you handled your grief. however, if he’s going to be completely truthful, he was terrified of this— of seeing you so unmoored and broken. his pain is no comparison. quite frankly, it is an insult to yours.

“i miss her so, so, so much. what do i do? i…” you sobs become uncontrollable, overcome by the weight of the world crashing down on you.

how is it possible that you feel nothing and too much at the same time? is what you would often ask before, but today you realize that your pain simply goes beyond what any of your human parts is able to fathom.

“this is too hard… it’s too tiring. i can’t- i can’t. i don’t want to be here anymore. i’m always so scared. i don’t know what i’m doing anym-”

“shh, shhh, baby- baby, breathe for me-”

“how did my life end up like this? i don’t understand! the world- it’s so cruel- i can’t stand it.”

jungkook wipes away your tears, but it’s no use. once you break down, it becomes impossible to remedy. nonetheless, that doesn’t deter your boyfriend from trying. he gathers your weeping and trembling vessel in an attempt to glue you back together, and in while doing so, he also wills himself to be strong for you.

“why did she have to go after them and leave me all alone here? am i not her child too?”

the obtuse questions you’ve been too afraid to ask out loud are being brought out in the open, spilling out from the torn seams of your soul as they’ve become too agonizing to annihilate over and over and over again.

you know the answer. you know she didn’t want to leave.

but you can’t help but to be angry at the fact that her heart gave up. you don’t understand why it had to happen and why you’re being grinded in the mouth of the world.

“i’m tired, i’m so tired. it’s so unfair… i need her with me too…”

jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, gently rocking your tangled bodies — a defense mechanism. you’re succumbing to defeat as if it’s been long overdue; even your voice is giving up on you.

if he had to imagine, the earth must have shared his current dread when it witnessed a solar eclipse for the first time, wired to assume the worst of perpetual darkness.

“jungkook…”

your weak fists desperately grasping at the fabric of his hoodie— the final thread you are hanging on. your words break into stutters and hiccups, salty tears slipping past your lips and stirring their bitter taste.

“i just want to go and be my mom’s child again.”

and he would truly fucking hate to try and get into the implication of your words, but if jungkook is going to be completely truthful— he is terrified beyond words can say. of this; of witnessing you slip away from everything you’ve ever known; of losing you. maybe he’s being selfish, but whatever it takes, he will make you stay.

he swallows the lump in his throat, hurriedly drying his eyes with his sleeve before facing you.

“listen to me, okay…?” his voice isn’t enough to pull your head from underwater; he lightly taps your cheek, even though it breaks his heart. “hey, hey, hey. look at me, baby- look at me.”

he searches for your eyes, begging them to focus on him. and it’s silly, what he does next, pressing a kiss to your lips as if this is a fairytale. but then it works— you tilt your head to subtly nuzzle your cheek against his palm— and he has to quickly recover from being taken aback. you effortlessly make a slave out of his heart.

“you never stopped being her child. and that will never happen! because even with them being gone, you haven’t stopped trying your best to be a good child and older sibling to them. i… i’m a witness to that. every single day. are you hearing me?”

can he get some sort of sign whether he is doing this right or wrong?

“you’re not alone here because you have me. you do know that, right?”

and you want to believe him… you do. but just like how you’re clinging onto him right now for dear life, you can’t forget how you had to beg him to stay.

“so stop working all these jobs! please, i’m begging you! it must also break your mom’s heart to see you torturing yourself like this. it’s not healthy! just focus on studying and let me take away your burdens, please?”

you stop breathing; your features soften like you’ve made it out of a nightmare.

“jungkook…”

“let’s live together, baby.” he sounds sure; he sounds steady, but the waver of his eyes beseeches you. “you’ve been so good to me, even when i didn’t deserve it. please… let me love you in my own way too.”

“stop. i told you… i’m still thinking about it.” you say meekly, avoiding his intense gaze. “i mean, let’s be honest. what would your family even think of me? your aunt already hates me. what if she uses this to prove that she was right about me and-”

“fuck what everyone else thinks. i couldn’t care less.”

the reminder of the disrespect you were subjected to because of him has him seething all over again. his jaw clenches in anger, and he feels obligated to take a deep breath so he can keep himself composed. growing up, he was always taught to be the bigger person, but he simply can’t implore himself to do that if it means turning a blind eye to your hurt.

“i won’t let her get away with that type of bullshit so don’t even bother thinking about her anymore. i’ll take care of it. we can’t let that get into our heads. right, baby? we said that?” his thumb caresses your cheek softly, and you hold on to his wrist, silent as you try to understand him through the thick haze clouding your mind. “i want to be with the person i love. how could that be so wrong?”

you slowly shake your head in response, a little hesitant.

“i won’t leave again. no matter how hard you push me away, i will stay within your reach.”

and here he is, kneeling infront of you, seeking to make true of what he solemnly vowed to you.

are you going to take this away from him? after everything you’ve gone through together?

he is the only thing you have left to lose.

“i love you.” you whisper, initiating the hug this time.

you’re holding him tight, like you don’t ever want to let go, and it brings jungkook to the brink of tears once more.

“i love you so much.”

he sweetly kisses your cheek, but when you pull away to give him that look, a wordless command for more, his lips finally meet yours for the first time in forty-eight hours. they slowly curve into a smile, not at all surprised that he’s tasting sugar. he’d go through hell and back to experience this kind of kiss one time, only to do it all over again.

“let’s go home?”

you blink at him cluelessly. you don’t know why he’s wearing a dimpled smile out of the blue, neither do you know which home he is referring to. nevertheless, you intertwine your fingers with his, choosing to save yourself from this forlorn neverland.

there’s just… one teeny… tiny problem…

“shit,” you mutter to yourself, freezing on your tracks.

“what’s wrong?”

you awkwardly glance down at your shoes, the origin of the squeaky sound that was impossible to be missed by your ears. after inspecting you from head to toe, a worried expression morphs on his face, and you can only show him a shy wince in response.

“i don’t want to make your car dirty.”

“baby…”

his chest feels so much heavier. he is nearly blinded with red. he wants to scream and be infuriated. what the fuck happened back there?

you merely shrug, sending him a forced smile. “do you still have those extra slippers?”

—

“jungkook, i can do it myself.”

he clicks his tongue, his hand around your calf gripping. “stay still!”

you watch him from the passenger seat, your legs dangling from the edge as he carefully takes off your shoes and socks, yet again kneeling on the ground.

“does it hurt a lot?”

“not… a lot.” you answer through gritted teeth.

perhaps the stinging never did quell; it was just pushed to the back of your mind when more painful things surfaced succeeding it.

“who did this to you, huh? i need to go back there and make them pay! what kind of decent human being would do that?!”

“a miserable woman in a miserable marriage.”

in her eyes, you may be naive and she, the decades old wiser— but who is the one with a lover who would wash not their dirty hands, but their feet that have walked a million miles?

“i feel bad for her.” you comment absentmindedly.

you’re too far deep in awe watching jungkook gingerly clean your bare feet with his hands and a bottle of cool water, doing what you were meant to do earlier, if only granted that you weren’t erupting with rage.

“____, you’re too nice.”

“you’re too nice.” you argue. “also, those shoes are hopeless. just throw them away.”

he glances at you with fondness, shaking his head as he softly pats you dry with a clean towel. you stifle a gasp. it’s no longer as bad as before, but your skin still feels warm and raw. this wasn’t in the job description. you decide that you can practice empathy, as well as your strong belief in karma, at the same time. at this moment, you hope that the universe is already crafting tricks up its sleeve, because you’re in a world of fucking pain.

“there you go. wait until we get off the car before you wear the slippers, alright? and you’re not allowed to wear tight shoes.”

he rises to his feet, not wasting the opportunity to steal a kiss.

“yeah, it was wildly uncomfortable.” you mumble against his lips, tugging at his collar to properly respond to his display of affection. “thank you.”

“wear your seatbelt.” his eyes shines with a glint of with uncontainable excitement. “we’re going home.”

—

you stir as jungkook gently shakes your body awake, his muffled voice gradually becoming clearer as you gain your consciousness.

“wake up, baby. we’re here.”

you tiredly rub off the sleep from your swollen eyes, discovering your boyfriend waiting for you where the door of the passenger seat should be.

“let’s get you some more rest.” he places a chaste kiss on your forehead, before standing aside to make way for you, offering his hand as a gentleman.

you must still be dreaming. you assumed he would bring you to his apartment, but you do not recognize this place. this is a different parking space, a different parking lot.

“um… t-this is…” you stumble on your words, feeling lost. “where are we?”

“home,” he smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and turn them into little crescent moons.

you must still be dreaming. the clock attached to a nearby pillar strikes midnight, and unbeknownst to you, a brand new day awaits beyond the dark and empty sky.

you were so thoroughly convinced that you’ve been living a life past the point of salvation… but life stands before you overflowing with hope and glowing with ardor.

you take his hand and allow him to whisk you away to another world.

—

this is beginning to feel real, jungkook thinks as he presses the elevator button. earlier’s excitement becomes interweaved with nervousness. he’s a little dizzy as the giant box ascends. if you feel his hand’s growing clamminess, you don’t show it, your clasp still as firm as before.

“you bought another house…”

“hmm, but this one is a secret.” a confession that is yours truly. “this one is ours.”

your eyes wordlessly speak with each other. neither of you imagined following your hearts could materialize your future plans to the present time. what goes beyond dreaming of beautiful things is still foreign to the both of you, but jungkook is here, willing to free fall with you.

the elevator dings.

he guides you through a well-lit hallway, to a door, and you pay close attention as he punches in the passcode— another set of numbers you ought to have memorized alongside birthdays and anniversaries and id numbers.

your heart races but everything else moves in slow motion. the door opens and you get swallowed by the need to remember every moment so vividly as if you’re reliving it.

the first time you set foot into your own apartment,, the empty space daunted you despite its modest dimensions. however, right now, your head is tracing half of a circle, from left to right, just to study this large space in its entirety— and all you can think about are the endless possibilities forming intimate images of a sanctuary in your head— a place where fears and sadness can co-exist with tenderness and joy.

beside you, jungkook patiently holds your hand.

“this one is ours…” you repeat the words, more so to convince yourself, and they drip with disbelief.

you follow his lead as he walks to the other half of the room, bare feet sliding across the floor.

“this is the living room, and the other side is the kitchen.”

he faces you with a wide grin, the kind he wears when he wants to tell you something he is proud of.

“i was thinking that if we get a big television bolted on the wall…”

he gestures to the blank canvas, letting go of your hand to draw an invisible rectangle on the air with his arms fully outstretched.

“then we can easily watch even from the kitchen.”

he puffs up his chest, side-eyeing you expectantly.

“genius, right?”

“and greedy.” you blink. “i don’t think that’s safe to do while you’re cooking.”

“but i’ll be very, very careful!”

“that’s the bare minimum when you’re holding a knife.”

“okay! i look forward to arguing with you about that on a different day!”

his enthusiasm doesn’t waver. in fact, it is fueled. how could it not? when you’re starting to sound exactly like a couple who lives together?

he captures your wrist and tugs you towards the other side of the room, but you pull him back with a noise of protest.

“are we not going to address…” you hang on to your words, eyes wandering to the floor where there are signs of living. “whatever is going on here?”

a single mattress with a single pillow; a folded blanket neatly sitting on top of it. surrounding them are bottles of water, a laptop, a speaker, and a basket of what you assume are skincare products.

“i’ve been sleeping here lately…”

“i can see that.”

“i didn’t want to buy furnitures yet while you haven’t given me an answer… i just thought that if we’re living together, then we should decide on those things as a couple.”

…he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…”

his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh.

“going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

jungkook feels your stare. oblivious of your thoughts reigning chaos, he tilts his head in question.

how long has he been planning this?

“you okay?”

you blink away the tears brimming your eyes. you shake your head, clinging to his arm. “where were you taking me?”

“this is the kitchen!”

a smile of contentment graces your lips. you’re guilty of admiring the pure, unadulterated joy on jungkook’s face instead of what he is passionately endorsing to you.

“this is the fridge!” he presents to you, swinging the door open. “but there’s nothing inside.”

“what are you saying? there is something.”

the two of you peer at the green can of soda, chilsung cider, left at a far corner. the refrigerator light casts over your curious faces.

“oh, that’s still there?”

the animated sound of your giggles prompts him to look at you, and he couldn’t be more glad to be laughing with you again, bellies aching at the same time.

“do you want it?”

“it’s not peach.”

“let’s move on then!”

there are cups of ramyeon and packs of dried seaweed on the countertop, the photo of his dinner that he sent last night still vivid in your memory. your hand daintily brushes across the white marble, stealing a feel as jungkook drags you to a new space.

“this is the second kitchen and laundry room!”

he waits for a reaction as you survey the room and its overhead cabinets.

“it’s not supposed to be the pantry…? eh, you know what? cooking and doing laundry are more of your thing so you can have them however you want.”

you turn on your heel to walk away, and jungkook follows behind you, celebrating his victory by punching the air and whisper-shouting a yeah!

“what’s here?”

you reach another hallway beside the living room.

“what’s here?” he zooms past you to open a door. “bathroom. there’s a bathtub! but i still need to install grip bars so no one will slip.”

he needs to stop saying things that make you want to make him your husband on the spot.

“and we have my favorite part! the master bedroom, of course!” he swings the door open on the other side. “where else would we spend the most time in?”

“wow, really? i thought you were also endorsing the living room as the bedroom.” you jokingly quirk an eyebrow.

“nonsense!” he cheekily chides you. “you deserve better than that.”

you take a step, peeking inside the empty room that you estimate to be as twice as larger than yours. you can’t say that you care so much about its size, because behind the white curtains, you reel at the prospect of the natural light shining over your face every time you wake up. your mornings have been gloomy since you arrived at seoul four years ago.

he sneaks his arms around your waist, your back resting against his chest, and your being feels so light you might just begin floating when he lets go.

“let’s stay like this for a while.”

“okay,” he puts his chin on top of your shoulder, his soft smile becoming permanent.

the two of you stand at the bedroom’s doorway; the cusp of what could be your entire lives.

“what’s that other room?”

“which one?”

“i don’t know. i see it from the side of my eye.”

he cackles at your humorous nonchalance. “i have more to show you. there’s a guest room… if we decide it to be.”

“cute. i have somewhere else to sleep when i’m mad at you.”

“that’s fine,” he replies after a beat of silence. “at least i’d know where to find you.”

“don’t make me change my mind.”

he cries out your name childishly, burying his face by the crook of your neck. he hugs you tighter. he wants to sleep every night drowning in the sweet scent of your hair. if he had to choose, it would be the most peaceful way to go.

“we have a walk-in closet too!”

“i expected nothing less.” you giggle, not a stranger to his lifestyle. “what’s exciting is that we can finally have a big bed.”

“but i like our small beds.”

“cuddling isn’t all that fun during the summer. trust me, you’d eventually want space.”

“nuh-uh! that’s what aircons are for!”

you roll your eyes at his persistence. “then why did you choose such a huge apartment if you wanted a small bed?”

“so we can have all the space to slow-dance to love songs.”

jungkook, ever the charmer. the butterflies in your stomach come alive beneath his embrace.

“why are you suddenly quiet?” he laughs. “was that too cheesy?”

“no!”

“really?” he spins you around, and heat creeps to your cheeks when he leans in so close that you can perfectly distinguish the brown in his eyes. “so have you given it more thought?”

“given what more thought?”

“there’s nothing to be scared of. it’s only the two of us here, see?” he tells you like overeager puppy. “will you move in with me?”

if this is a dream, you wish to never wake up from it. to have a person care for you this deeply and unconditionally, you want to believe that you have done something right to deserve it.

“i just don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

his eyebrows knit together in defense. “what does that mean?”

“the thing is… yeah, sex 24/7 and cuddling and having first times together, that sounds amazing and all… but living with me would probably drive you crazy.”

a tired yawn almost interrupts the end of your sentence, and you cover your face out of courtesy. you sniffle and wipe your teary eyes with the back of your hand.

“i’ve lived on my own for so long. i’m messy and clumsy and i’m used to having everything my way… i mean… i’m willing to compromise, but i can’t promise i won’t be insufferable as hell about it.”

“ah, seriously! you scared me for nothing!” he exclaims, throwing his head back with a groan. “baby, i’ve been living with six other men for the past decade. you know that there was a time when we even slept together in one small room. can you imagine how that must’ve been like for a bunch of teenage boys…? you? messy? think about it again. living with you can’t possibly get worse than that. you don’t have to worry about me! really, i can take it! watch me!”

“but i bleed every month.”

“i’m a man. seeing a little blood doesn’t faze me.”

you make a face. “it’s actually a lot.”

“yah, why are you acting like we haven’t been together for two years?”

“it’s different living together!”

“it’s only natural! i don’t care!”

a noise of complaint bubbles in your throat when he shakes you by your shoulders, coaxing you with an whiny “please baby.”

your chest deflates in defeat. “sure, i guess… as long as we have the big bed, and the slow-dancing-”

“done!” he doesn’t waste his breath, not keen on wasting this opportunity. “anything you want, you have it!”

you narrow your eyes. “and i’ll keep my tutoring job.”

“will you punch the next guy that insists you study at his dorm for me?”

“or i can just keep saying no firmly, baby boy.”

and with that pet name, he instantly folds. “okay.”

“okay?”

“okay, since that’s the only one that you genuinely like.”

“you-” your teeth unconsciously finds your bottom lip to dig into, and you inhale sharply. “…you really love me, don’t you?”

suddenly, you’re raising your voice and waving your hands in the air. you’re feeling too many emotions at once; it’s like when you mix all the colors in a palette and end up creating black. you’re angry and happy and you may be fucking crying again.

“you were just picking up speakers one night and a pretty stranger offers you some boring food and now you want to be stuck with me forever?”

your fist throws a restrained punch to his chest, shoving him backwards.

“oh my god, you’re so stupid!”

jungkook finds this too amusing, tries to hide that he is enjoying this but a smirk is plastered on his face.

“you are loved by so many,” he brushes away the hair that has fallen over your eyes. he tucks them behind you ears and tenderly holds your face in his warm hands. “but i’m confident that i love you the most.”

you are the muse in his dreams. your perfume clings to his clothes. you make him the happiest man on the planet and your pain torments him. what is this, if not love?

“and if that makes me the stupid one? then so be it.”

“when did it become a competition?”

“since you got yourself a competitive boyfriend!”

“okay, fine! let’s make it my fault!”

you throw your arms around his neck, peppering kisses all over his face until he’s an uncontainable giggling mess.

“i’m drowning in kisses! nobody help!”

and you hope you’re hugging him close enough that he can feel the love and gratitude flowing through your veins. your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh— tranquility triumphs over chaos.

“are you falling asleep standing up again?”

“no!” you blatantly lie, drawing back with innocence masking your drowsiness. “we still need to go online shopping!”

“what are we buying?”

your face lights up. “appliances first?”

“appliances?” he cheerfully says. “sure! let’s get you new shoes too!”

as he gets dragged to the living room where his laptop is, he mumbles something with an enamored expression. “i should keep working hard.”

—

“yah, why are looking at me like that?” jungkook chuckles upon feeling your poorly concealed stare, diverting his attention away from the laptop over his stomach. “i’m the real deal. the tv is over there, on the screen.”

“just because…”

you snuggle closer to his side, heart fluttering when his arm that is your pillow moves to also hold you. you don’t really mind a small bed. this is the most favorable consequence a nuisance could have.

“i feel sorry.”

“sorry? for what?”

“because i made you sad, didn’t i? i hate that so much.” you sniffle, hand coming up to pat his cheek affectionately. “i know it must be hard for you too.”

“you’re the one who’s in a lot of pain.” he means to firmly speak, but the tremble of his voice rudely refuses to cooperate. “how could you even think of me feeling sad?”

“because i love you. of course i always think of you.” you argue, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “i can’t do that now?”

he sighs. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

a kiss is planted on your forehead— tender and cherishing.

“let’s be happy, baby.”

the sharp edges of jungkook’s fears are eroded in a way. in a universe that relentlessly challenges you to be optimistic, your heart that is well-versed in loving continues to rise above it all.

you echo his words wistfully. “let’s be happy.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch11

On Endings and Origins

Trigger warning - School shooting (adult students)

Word count - 3,117

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

_______

Michael smirked, putting extra emphasis into his stride as he walked past a particularly attractive woman in a stylish pencil skirt. The business district was so much fun to wander in, so many professional looking ladies dying to play secretary. They’d do anything not to get fired; he loved that line.

Was she looking? If she wasn’t, she was missing out. He made it a point not to make eye contact; that was a novice mistake. Never let them know you’re interested, that was rule numero uno.

She had to be looking. He was a catch; the hours he spent every day in the gym made sure of that. The carefully styled hair and overly tight shirt dialed it up to eleven, and his perfectly straight teeth to a twelve. No woman alive wouldn’t see him.

That’s right, baby. You wish you were hot enough to catch my eye…

Even from just a glance, he knew she was a seven, max. Nothing special, maybe a solid Tuesday lay if he felt like it. Too bad for her it was Saturday.

He kept going, strutting across gradually less crowded intersections like he owned the entire city. This was his palace; he was king, and the world was his for the taking. He’d earned it. The world owed him his due.

Michael was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t notice the slim shadow that followed in his wake.

Almost there, what’s her name again? Jenna? Jane? Something with a J…

He almost pulled out his phone to check, but nothing undermined a woman’s confidence quite like being called by the wrong name. Even if he got it wrong, it’d only help him get laid. Chicks were so predictable. All you had to do was make them feel the need to prove themselves, then they were putty.

A sudden cold pressure on the back of his neck stopped him in his tracks. The click that followed froze the blood in his veins. It was a sound he’d only heard in movies and TV, but unmistakable. Who the fuck would pull a gun in broad daylight? On him, no less?

“Move and you die,” a silky voice said. “Muscles aren’t bulletproof.”

The pressure moved, sliding down his spine to settle at his waist. He tried to look back, but a disapproving tut warned him before he spotted anything useful. What the hell did this asshat want, anyway? Phone? Wallet? Dating advice?

“Turn left here,” the voice commanded. He didn’t recognize it. 

Maybe he could disarm the guy? It sounded like a guy. Probably a loser, some shrimp that needed a weapon to make a move. All he had to do was remind him of the natural order, then he could get to his date, with a thrilling new story to impress whats-her-name with.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Michael asked.

A searing heat flashed between his ribs. Pain reminiscent of tearing a muscle erupted in his core and his bravado hiccupped. Something wet made his shirt stick to his skin, and as he looked down to see a growing red stain, the young man gagged. He hated blood. 

“I used to be like you, you know. Foolish and naive, never imagining myself in peril,” the sinister voice commented. “Turn right.”

Michael obeyed, his hands busy staunching the fresh wound. The area wasn’t one he knew, full of derelict apartment buildings and shady-looking shops with newspaper covered windows. Chain-link fence lined the sidewalk, occasionally broken by a gap of unknown origin. Half the streetlights were burned out and a smell of cigarettes and sweat spoiled the air. Nothing good happened in a place like this. 

“W- what do you want from me?”

The figure behind him replied by increasing the pressure of the barrel against his spine. Michael quickened his steps and tried to ignore the trail of crimson dripping from his side. If he didn’t see it, it couldn’t hurt him. No pain no gain. Ignore the pain, focus on the gain.

“That all changed in a single afternoon.”

What the hell is he talking about?!

Without knowing who his tormenter was, Michael couldn’t even begin to guess. All he had to go on was the haunting regret dripping from the man’s words. 

“I don’t understand,” he replied quietly. A soft hum met his ears, another prod of the barrel guiding him toward a gravel path.

“You needn’t worry. You won’t live long enough for it to matter.”

The anxiety of moments ago seemed like a passing shadow compared to the pitch black, mind-numbing terror that filled him now. He was going to die. The guy basically just said it. 

This can’t be happening! Not to me! 

There had to be something he could do, some way he could get out of this. He’d talked his way out of trouble before. Talking was his specialty, second only to fucking. He just needed to find the right words and everything would be fine. Maybe he’d even get a sexy scar on his back from the…

Don’t think about it! 

“That day opened my eyes to the truth, just as I shall open hers. Through there.”

At the end of the gravel walkway stood a small house, as poorly maintained as the other structures nearby. Metal bars covered the only visible window and the door featured three locks, yet all of them were open. Michael hated how his hand trembled when he pulled the door open. He was supposed to be stronger than this.

Get it together! C’mon!

Inside, a gloomy living room awaited the two men. A faded grey couch sat opposite a small television, empty beer cans and paper plates covering the rickety coffee table. A movie poster from a decade past was the only decoration. Any other time, Michael would have sneered at the slovenly abode, but not today.

“Welcome, my canvas,” the voice said.

A heartbeat later, agony flared across his consciousness. The same blade that stabbed him before now sawed through his flesh and ripped through his spinal cord, the angle perfect to slide the slim metal between his vertebrae. Fluid gushed onto the floor as his legs crumpled, numbness more intense and horrifying than any he’d experienced taking over the nerves below the madman’s wound. 

I can’t feel my legs!

Michael screamed as his face struck the hard floor. More pain, in his cheekbone and eye socket this time. Worse than when he fractured his collarbone trying to deadlift his cousin, but that was the least of his worries now.

He tried to shift his legs, but nothing happened. Icy dread coiled in his stomach, growing with every second he failed to move. How was he supposed to get away now? Crawl?

“P- please!”

His arms still obeyed his commands and he managed to roll over, getting his first look at the monster that planned to take his life. Michael focused on him instead of the pool of viscous red under his body. A small figure, dressed like an idiot teenager at a skate park. Black hair peeked from the hem of a beanie, shadowed green eyes and a smirk that would shake even the bravest of souls beneath. 

Michael’s eyes traced the figure’s arms down to the weapon that forced him to cooperate and he cursed. What he had assumed was a lethal firearm was, in fact, a harmless felt-tipped pen. 

What the fuck?!

“Not my usual tool, but acceptable,” the man said, clicking the cap on and off a few times just to show off how stupid he’d been. 

Why hadn’t he attacked when he had the chance? What was wrong with him, to meekly surrender and let this… this… devil lead him wherever he pleased? He should’ve at least tried!

“Ah, yes! Thank you, Vergil. I’d almost forgotten,” the man said. Who the fuck was Vergil? Was this guy bonkers?

The man turned away to flick on the television, straight into a film full of blood and screaming victims. He turned up the volume, then returned to his victim’s side with a sly grin.

“Each night this week, I increased the volume a little more. The neighbors are used to the screaming now. Make all the noise you wish.”

He tried to scramble away, but without the use of his legs he didn’t get far before the madman caught up. The first tears he’d shed in years leaked from his eyes as the blade struck once more, sinking deep into his shoulder and twisting. When the tip scraped against his shoulder blade, Michael’s last shred of stubborn resistance abandoned him and he released a jagged wail of agony.

“Yes, I suppose I ought to…” the man murmured once his cries faded. 

He howled again as a boot-clad foot stomped on his forearm. The bone snapped and hot blood gushed from the hole it punched through his carefully sculpted musculature. All that work, and for what?

I’m gonna be sick!

The film’s screaming and his own retching mixed together as the first wave of agony lost its bite. Adrenaline was a beautiful thing, to dull away the worst of it, but enough remained to draw forth increasingly emasculating sounds. Pathetic. 

Something pulled at his waist and before he had the chance to talk himself out of it, Michael looked down to find the cause. 

The man was slicing off his calves. He didn’t feel any pain from it, only the pressure when the last few strands of sinew snapped away. A small blessing, wrapped in the horror or his own paralysis. Sour bile flooded his mouth at the sight of his body being pulled apart and the coppery smell of blood, another helping of vomit spilling out to mix with the precious fluid. 

“Hmm, yes. That one next, I think,” the man said. Michael barely noticed; his mind was elsewhere.

Silver flashed. Volcanic agony erupted in its wake as the madman hacked off his bicep. Michael screamed again, louder than before as he felt every shredded cell split, but the film drowned him out. None would hear his cries. 

The void where his flesh once rested wept crimson. His arm felt limp, as if he’d just finished a long work out. Pain choked him, the severed nerves wailing their protest as if it might somehow save him. Michael closed his eyes, mentally begging for unconsciousness to claim him. Anything to escape this hell.

“This moment is all we have together, don’t spoil it by closing your eyes…”

The blade whistled through the air, lithe fingers grasping each eyelid in turn as metal split the thin tissue apart. His eyes burned, red soaking his vision yet not enough to make him blind to the grin on his tormenter’s face. Never had he seen such a cruel image.

Tears and blood alike dribbled down his cheeks. He thought he knew pain, thought he understood the way the human body was put together. How much strain the muscles could handle before they broke down, only to grow back stronger than before.

But there was no “growing back” from this. 

The madman hummed a cheerful tune as he pulled apart Michael’s meticulously toned body. Chunks of meat and sinew slapped wetly in a pile, for what purpose he didn’t have the focus to imagine. How much longer before it was too much? How many more times would his heart beat?

Not enough, yet also too many.

Please, please, please make it stop! Just kill me!

The next time the blade struck bone, Michael lost control of his bladder. As it dug against his collarbone and scraped away all he was, his mind snapped. White-hot terror and pain overwhelmed him, he had nowhere to hide from it and there was no end in sight. He drowned in agony so powerful each second felt like an eternity.

Somewhere far away, voices screamed a poor imitation of his torture as his own voice gave out. All Michael could manage now were dull whimpers.

And then, even that freedom was stolen from him as the ghoul carved his jaw open to remove his tongue. Another wet slap as he tossed it into the pile with the rest. How the fuck was he still conscious? 

“I must say, you have impressive endurance.”

Michael gurgled, mangled jowls flapping. His vision blurred, darkness leaking in around the edges. Was it time? Was it finally over? 

Please, god, just let me die…

“It seems our time together is at an end. How unfortunate, I was having such fun.”

Michael’s vision narrowed, the final curtain call of his life passing by. He didn’t resist it, instead mentally racing toward oblivion with all he had left. Whatever awaited him on the other side had to be better than this. Death was the only way out.

Twisted laughter heralded his release, a final flash of metal as the artist sliced open his neck. At last, blessed peace…

---V---

The artist cackled and leaned closer, staring deep into the boy’s mutilated eyes as the last glimmers of life left them. He’d never understand why others killed from a distance; there was no greater power on earth than watching another being die and knowing he made it happen. That moment, that last soft sigh as their spirit broke free…

He found it beautiful.

People revealed their true selves as they died. Their fear, their hopes and dreams, everything they valued was on full display for him. In a way, he knew his victims better than anyone else ever could. In some cases, they also knew him. 

But this one…

He hadn’t lied. The boy reminded him of his younger self, before Nero’s death and all that came with it. Back when he saw the world with wonder and hope, when he’d never seen the color of blood when it gushes from an open chest cavity.

The pen he’d used to trick his target sounded nothing like a gun; the boy simply didn’t know what one sounded like. It was a lucky guess that such a fool didn’t have prior exposure to such things, but it paid off. 

Still.

“Why cannot the ear be closed to its own destruction?”

The words of William Blake and the true sound of gunfire echoed in his mind as he carved the corpse like a Thanksgiving turkey. The panic, the confusion and shock when it first broke out, the look of resolve on his best friend’s face. Like a film he’d seen too many times, his mind held each frame in his memory forevermore. 

“Get down!”

Nero…

He forced himself to relive it all. Those three minutes of anguish taught him more about the nature of life than his prior two decades of comfort. It seemed longer at the time; only later did he learn the true duration of his trauma. 

No. Not his trauma. 

His failure.

“V, what the hell?! Get down!”

He remembered the thud of the lecturer's heavy tome slamming onto the floor, Blake’s words soon to be soaked in the blood of the innocent. Dozens of voices screaming. Gunfire. Doors slamming open. Bodies hitting the floor. 

He remembered smelling the coppery tang of blood in the air for the first time, tinged with piss and panic. Vomit and someone’s leftover French fries. Gunpowder, too; the same smell as New Year’s Eve. 

He remembered feeling the pressure to move and how his legs refused to obey. The way his hands trembled as he stared at what would surely end his life. A warm, heavy weight crashing into his chest and knocking him to the ground.

Nero.

Whispered words and the splash of scarlet across his face when Nero coughed. 

“Play dead and… take care of her…”

The light fading from his crystal blue eyes.

Tears spilling from his own.

The artist cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. Yes, it was good to remember. It reminded him of why he needed to keep going, why the blood must continue to flow. The reason for his existence. Never could he allow himself to forget – to do so would dishonor his friend. After everything Nero did for him, V owed him this much.

He remembered the empty words of others afterward, the crushing vice that held his heart captive. The weight that bent his shoulders in grief. His family, hesitant and unsure how to restore his previously carefree spirit. His teachers, the pity and discomfort in their eyes whenever they spotted him in class.

He remembered the announcement of the memorial and Professor Marx, asking him to participate. The now-familiar voice of Vergil in his mind urging him to do it, if only to maintain appearances. The gentle scrape of his brush against canvas and the tightness of his throat with each added stroke. The duality of being both numb and feeling far too much all at once.

He remembered her face, swollen and red as she declared him the reason for her fiance’s death. His shame as he accepted her words. How could he argue? She was right, after all. Going to the Blake recitation was his idea. A second, more gravelly voice in his mind, calling her obscene names and giving shape to his urge to deny responsibility. Griffon.

He remembered the unveiling, all the families gathered together to see his and his classmates’ work. Nero’s family, shell-shocked and angry but without a target. The hush that fell over the crowd as each name was read, far too many. Rustling cloth as the covering fell, and the gasps as grieving families found their murdered loved one’s faces.

He remembered his rage boiling inside him as nothing changed in the months to come. An inferno he couldn’t contain, not with the addition of Shadow’s voice; a wordless roar of crashing fury. The cacophony of all their bickering in his mind, indecision and desperation only making them harder to ignore.

He remembered breaking. The gradual creation of his plan and the sense of purpose that grew from it. The urgency of his new goal and the thrill of being reborn. Leaving home to escape the relentless pity, finding his path and walking it without fear. His fear did nothing to help him. His fear was what got his friend killed.

His fear would never control him again.

He released a shaky breath and closed his eyes. There was still so much to do. Eventually, someone would track the boy’s blood here and discover his latest work; it needed to be ready before then. Perhaps once he finished it, he could honor his friend somehow. Carefully, of course. The locals were still hunting him.

And his work was not yet done.

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~

[lycorogue]

Kyoru Week: Day 5 - Paper Flower

Honestly, I feel like the paper flowers had more relationship impact for Yuki/Machi and Shigure/Akito, but I’m still content with what I came up with.

Now, originally I had the flower as a pale pink, mostly because it isn't shaded at all in the manga, which usually indicates a white undertone. However, apparently light pink carnations symbolize Mother-like love and expresses gratitude; more of a Yuki thing. DARK pink, on the other hand, supposedly expresses tenderness and fondness, or, in some cases, they can express sentiments of blooming love. Fun factoid that.

Full story is below, but you can also read it over on AO3, on FFN, or on DA.

UPDATE: A colorized version of the full manga series came out, and the paper flower Kyo gave Tohru is indeed pink. I did not know that canonically when I wrote this. Score!

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

A Crumpled Memento

Spoilers: Post-Manga story Romance Level: Reflective Newlyweds Word Count: 1650 Summary: While unpacking their new home, Tohru discovers a precious memento didn't survive the move.

"Ah! Oh no! No, no, no, no, no..." Tohru tenderly pulled at the thin and brittle paper, a few bits tore at the slightest tug. "No, please no."

"Tohru?" Kyo poked his head through the doorway. "Something wrong with the shrine?"

Tohru's back was to him, but it was tense and her shoulders quaked. He even heard muffled sniffles. She was crying. Dropping the box of pots and pans, not caring if he damaged any of them, he sprinted to her side.

"What's wrong? Is it your mother's picture?" As Kyo skirted the moving box Tohru was kneeling in front of, he saw that Kyoko's picture was already up on the shelf they bought for her memorial shrine. The frame was brand new; a wedding gift from Tohru's grandfather. Tohru had even updated the picture to one of her parents holding her when she was about two. That way both of them could watch over the newlyweds. It was center-shelf, and already had the mat with the Zodiac painted stones in front of it. The shrine was looking like it always had. Except for-

"My old beads?" Kyo's attention shot into the box, expecting the bag of his old prayer beads somehow lost or broken. Instead, Tohru was holding the remains of a paper flower.

"I'm- I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I don't know how it got ruined, and the more I try to fix it-" She held up the memento reverently with her left hand; in her shaking right were the tiny bits of paper that had ripped off.

The once-vibrant pink tissue paper was sun-bleached to a powder-pastel. The petals had become ragged and wrinkled. The center of the flower was flattened, and the petals Tohru had tried to revive now had jagged rips along the corners.

Kyo sighed. "This is what you're crying about? Idiot." He smiled and pulled her into a hug. "You had me worried."

"But-" she hiccuped a sob, "but the flower."

"It's fine. It's just a stupid paper flower I made in high school."

"It's not stupid!" Tohru barked and pulled away from Kyo. "It's important to me, and I let it get ruined!"

"That's sweet, but really, is it that important? You know I can make you more, right? It's not even anything all that impressive. There were like forty of us making those things for graduation."

Tohru scooted even farther from him and cradled the flower in her hands, watching it like it were a newborn. "No. It is that important to me, Kyo-kun."

"Huh? Why? I don't even really remember why I made it for you." He rested his chin on his thumb and let his eyes glaze over slightly as he tried to recall the day their class had made the flowers. "I mean, I know that I was in love with you already. Maybe I just wanted to give you a keepsake? No, wait, you were crying I think. You know how I can't handle you crying, so I made it for you to try to cheer you up. That's all. Nothing really-"

"You're wrong!"

"Hmm?" Kyo turned back to Tohru, tears sliding down her cheeks. "Hey! Wait! Don't go crying now!"

"I had just found out." Tohru brought the flower up to her cheek and nuzzled it gently. "Kureno-san had told me that his curse was broken. He didn't know how it happened, but he was free. So I had asked you-"

"That's why you asked me about how I'd feel? That's right. I was afraid to think like that; to have hope that I could actually stay with you. I had snapped, and made you that flower to try to cheer you up again."

Tohru nodded with a whimper.

"Why would you want to remember that?"

"I was the one who offended you, and yet you were trying to make me feel better. You were trying to make sure I wasn't going to worry about you. It was a kindness that I had already fallen in love with. I needed that part of you; I needed a reminder of it. If- If I had- If I had failed, and you-"

"Hey! Hey, none of that." Kyo scooped Tohru into his arms and cradled her head against his shoulder. "If the curse wasn't lifted – if I ended up getting locked away in isolation – that wouldn't have been your fault. You wouldn't have been the one to fail, okay? I'm sorry you ever carried that burden."

"What if this flower was all I had left of you? And now I can't even take care of it. It's just- just like-"

"Your mother?"

Tohru whimpered again.

"And did you actually forget her?"

Tohru rocked her head back and forth against his chest.

"Did you fail her because you let your life continue? Or do you think she's happy that you're letting yourself be happy?"

"She's happy."

"Exactly. So do you really think you failed me because a five-year-old paper flower accidentally got crushed in the move?"

Tohru hiccuped another sob, but didn't respond.

"Hey." Kyo shifted her away from him so he could wipe her eyes dry. "Give me your left hand. Come on." He held out his hand, and flexed his fingers to beckon her to comply. Slowly, she shifted the flower to her right hand so she could pass him her left.

"You see this?" Kyo raised her hand so her wedding band was at eye level. "This is your memento now. If you need to have a piece of me with you, that's what this is for. And it was given to you on the happiest day of each of our lives. Wasn't it?"

She nodded.

"So do you really need something that reminds you that I was almost shut away?"

Tohru looked at the crumbling paper flower, her thumb delicately brushing against the pedals.

"I don't want to forget the trials we lived through. I don't want to pretend that you didn't have so much you had to survive."

"I doubt either of us could ever really forget; flower or no flower. Besides, we have my beads for that, thanks to you. It's good that you gathered them, and that they are kept on the memorial shrine with your parents. Them, and the Zodiac stones. It reminds us where I came from, but with them on that shrine, it also reminds us that it's the past. We can never get back to those days again. Your parents defined you. Being the cat defined me. That flower? What does it define?"

Tohru shrugged after a long pause.

"So, is it alright if we let it rest?"

"I can't throw it out!" Tohru cupped it against her chest; protective of it.

"Come on, then. I have an idea." Kyo stood up and held out his hand for Tohru. Cautiously, she allowed him to pull her to her feet.

He lead her to the back steps of their new country home. Slipping shoes on, he walked over to a box of gardening tools. Tohru knew she wasn't going to be as good at it as Yuki, but she wanted to try for her own little "secret base" now that she owned property. Kyo fully supported her attempt, as long as she promised to never plant onions or leeks.

"Kyo-kun?" Tohru slid her shoes on, and timidly followed him to the moving box.

"There we are." Kyo held up a trowel, and then walked to the corner of the back porch. "This should be good. Shouldn't disturb anything here.”

"Kyo-kun, what are we doing?"

Kyo knelt by a support beam for the porch, and started digging just to the side of it. He paused for a second to eye up the flower in Tohru's hand, and then scooped a couple more heaps of dirt.

"We're burying that thing. You can give it a proper farewell. Thank it for the joy it brought you, or whatever, and then bury it along with the fear of losing me that you had that day. Plus, you know exactly where the flower still is, so you can visit it if you need to."

Tohru wiped her eyes dry with the back of her forearm, and smiled at Kyo. He always knew how to make her feel better. She knelt beside him, and gingerly placed the paper flower in the tiny divot he had scooped out of their yard.

"Thank you, flower," she whispered, "for being my anchor to Kyo-kun all of these years. Thank you for reminding me what I had to fight for, and that I could never give up. The fact that Kyo-kun made you specifically for me – to cheer me up – meant so much that I just couldn't get rid of you. Thank you for making me so happy. I'm sorry I have to let you go now, but I really don't need you anymore. Enjoy being planted like a real flower."

She nodded to Kyo, and he carefully buried the paper. It easily collapsed under the weight of even the little bit of dirt that Kyo disrupted, and before long the hole was filled even with the rest of the ground. Only the bald patch in the grass marked the shallow grave.

"How amazing would it be if an actual flower grew there? Like that story the Velveteen Rabbit." Tohru rested her head on Kyo's shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her.

Kissing the top of Tohru's head, Kyo decided he'd have to find a pink carnation to plant by the porch, for Tohru. For his wife's idiotic fantasies. For a reminder of a paper flower that actually meant the world to him as well.

[providentially-demonic]

Miraculous Mystery Skulls: Chapter Nine

First Arc: a Spellcaster, a Ghost and a Mechanic walk into a bar Paris

Summary: On their honeymoon in Paris, the City of Lights, the trio of Vivi, Lewis and Arthur encounter more than sightseeing… in the form of monsters, supervillains and a pair of teen superheroes. Sometimes, miraculous things can happen, when you least expect it.

(A Mystery Skulls/Miraculous Ladybug crossover event)

A/N: This all started with this fic by @phantoms-lair and the silly idea of them running into Chat Noir and Ladybug while there. It grew…

It’s a tale of heroes, miraculous, found family and more (with a healthy dose of puns). Co-created and written with assistance from @phantoms-lair, so she deserves some of the credit and a lot of the blame! :P

As a reminder: This was written pre-season three. It follows canon until about mid-season two, where it veers wildly AU. As such, things that happened in season three are not compliant to the canon of this tale.

Back to Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine: A Disaster in the Making

Renewed screams filled the air over the ceaseless grinding of stone. Marinette clung grimly to Alya as the earth shook itself apart again. The rumble of stone, the groans of overstressed metal and the shrieks of both people and alarms filled all her senses, a cacophony of destruction.

And then it was over, the groaning of the ground in pain subsiding into silence. The screams continued, but even those were tapering off. This time Alya did not stop her from rising to her feet. The ground felt unsteady under her, and it took her a moment to realize her legs were shaking with fear and adrenaline. “We— we’ve never had an earthquake like that here!”

Ayla shook her head. “They’re not normal for here. We lived through a few before we moved to Paris, but—” She gazed at the destruction, her hands clenched into fists. “I— I need to go. The twins are probably terrified. I don’t know if Nora will be able to calm them down.” She jumped a foot in the air with a squeal of fright as her phone warbled in her pocket. Fumbling, she pulled it out. “Mama! Are you okay?”

Marinette could just hear the reply. “I’m fine, love, the Hotel barely even trembled. But the zoo animals are in a panic and your father will likely be there all night. I need you to run home and check on Nora and the girls, please.” There was very real worry in her voice. “Nora’s not answering her phone.”

“I was just about to head there.” After saying goodbye to her mother, Alya stuffed her phone back in her pocket. “I gotta go, Marinette, sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Marinette patted her shoulder. “I need to go check on Mama and Papa at the bakery too. Be careful.”

“You too!”

Marinette darted away to find a place to transform. While she couldn't be sure this was an Akuma attack, there were things she could do as Ladybug that she couldn't as Marinette. Finding a place in an alley, she called her Mother's cell phone.

It had barely rung before Sabine's relieved voice answered. "Marinette! Are you okay?"

"Fine, Mama, really. Are you and Papa okay?"

"We are. A little shaken up and one of the display cases cracked, but nothing major. Your father is in the basement cutting off the gas just in case. Where are you?"

"With Alya," Marinette assured her. "She's worried about the twins and can't get hold of Nora so she's headed there."

"Be careful, please. There could be more aftershocks and..."

"I will, Mama."

~~~~

“Help me, please.” The cry was weak, but Ladybug heard it and turned on her heel. The street had suffered from the earthquake, parts of it rucked up like crumpled paper, and some parts sinking from subsidence. The plea came from near one of the cars that had slid sideways and sunk as the earth under it had done as well. She rushed over, to find a young man on the broken curb, obviously having fallen during the disturbance of the earth. He was half under the car, unable to free himself with the weight of the car pinning him in place.

Crouching by his side, Ladybug assessed the situation. “Hang on,” she soothed. “I’ll get you out of there.”

His nod was trusting. Ladybug rose to her feet and went to the nearest lamppost, testing its stability. Satisfied that it would hold, she looped the string of her yoyo over it and, mentally glad that she had inherited her mother’s slim build, squirmed as much of her upper body under the car until she could touch the pinned man. She pressed her yoyo into his hand. “When I come back around to your side, pass this back to me.”

“Okay.”

Eeling back out, she returned to his side, where he painfully worked the arm with the yoyo out from under the car. Pinned as he was, he couldn’t get it free of the curb entirely, but she was able to reach it. With one last reassuring smile, she left him to loop the yoyo string carefully around the post of the light. Taking a deep breath, she threw her weight against it. It moved, and encouraged, she redoubled her efforts.

With a groan of overstressed metal, the car shifted. She was about to try and reach a broken fence to anchor her string when a familiar voice called out, “Hold it steady, Milady. I’ve got him.”

Relieved, she maintained tension on the string until Chat’s cheerful voice assured her that he had gotten the victim free. Breathing a relieved sigh, she let go the tension on the string and tried to massage the ache in her fingers away. Retracting the yoyo, she hurried to Chat’s side. He had already gotten the man’s cell phone out and was calling emergency services.

She leaned close enough to listen, hearing the operator’s assurances that they would have an ambulance dispatched very soon. He also confided that while damages were extensive, casualties from the shake had been surprisingly light.

Chat shook his head, but only thanked the dispatcher and gave the phone back to the injured man so he could tell the dispatcher about his injuries.

When they were out of earshot of the injured man, Ladybug put a hand on Chat’s bicep. “What is it?”

He cocked his head to the left. “I came from that way. Three streets over, there’s zero damage. The closer I came this way, the more damage there is.” He pointed up the street. “When I was vaulting this way, I could see a lot of the damage, It gets worse, that direction.”

Ladybug nodded. “Then that’s the way we go.”

Chat slipped an arm around her waist and vaulted them both up to the top of the nearest tall building, pointing at the swatch of destruction. “Pretty sure that’s not normal for an earthquake, Milady.”

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Ladybug shook her head grimly. From this high up, she could see a clear delineation, a line where on one side were damaged, listing buildings and plumes of smoke from fires, but on the other, nothing... no sign of damage at all. She tracked the line of destruction, noting Chat’s observations were right. Flinging her yoyo, she took off for the area where the destruction worsened. Chat was right on her heels.

They had barely gone two blocks when a voice frantically hailed them. A familiar one!

Nadja Chamak stood on a corner, a frightened Manon balanced on her hip and tucked tightly against her side. Nadja had only one shoe on, her stockings were in tatters, and her smart black skirt was ripped high up on her thigh, showing a bloody welt. One cheek was scraped badly and Manon was trying her best to hold a wad of tissue to her mother’s cheek while tears ran down her own.

Little Manon was powdered with dust and both her knees were scraped and bruised. Fat tears poured down her cheeks and she was biting her bottom lip as she struggled to staunch the blood seeping from her mother’s badly scratched cheek.

Ladybug dropped down to the pavement. “Ms. Chamak! Are you badly hurt?”

Nadja shook her head, earning a sniffle from Manon as fresh blood seeped when she moved. “Don’t worry about me! You have to get to the studio! It’s Gerard! My cameraman— he— he was arguing with one of the producers about all news crews needing additional hazard pay for Akuma attacks. They said no, that you always fixed things, and he got mad. He stormed away and I followed him as far as the bathroom door. I— I saw the butterfly go after him. He’s calling himself Disaster Caster now. He’s the one that caused the earthquake!”

Ladybug nodded. “Chat, get Ms. Chamak and Manon over to where the ambulance should be and get them taken care of. Then meet me at the studio.”

“Your wish is my command, Milady. Will you—” He hesitated, glancing at the reporter. “Will you call in reinforcements?”

She didn’t want to, not with the memory of last night clear in her mind, but she nodded. “We might need them. Ms. Chamak, I know you want to be on the scene, but you’re already hurt and Manon needs you, so please go with Chat.”

Nadja held her daughter tighter. “I’m not going to fight you on this one. Manon comes first.” She wobbled over to Chat, making it clear it was only pure will that had kept her on her feet so long and Chat slid his arm around her waist, preparing to vault back the way they had come.

Nadja hesitated and looked back at Ladybug. “Just help Gerard. It’s not his fault. He really was trying to help all of us.”

“I know.” Ladybug hastened to reassure. “We’ll help him, I promise.”

Nadja nodded and wrapped her free arm around Chat’s shoulders. He nodded at Ladybug and vaulted the three of them back the way they had come. The last thing she heard was his voice reassuring Manon that they’d get her mom fixed right up. Drawing a deep breath, she sent off a quick text to Vivi before heading for the studio at the center of the destruction.

The newly dubbed Disaster Caster was hard to miss. He stood perched on a massive spar of rebar that jutted a good ten feet above the buckled pavement, whatever he had been wearing before now transformed into a form-fitting suit of bright silver and black. His face was covered by a mirrored visor in an oddly-shaped helmet, one that seemed far larger than it should be, and he wore something on his back that resembled nothing so much as a backpack made of gleaming metal to match his suit.

He stared wordlessly down at a gaggle of battered studio executives huddled together in the ruins of the studio’s lobby, their sleek, high-end suits in ragged tatters. All of them were bloody and bruised, looking more like the losing end of a prizefight than high-powered television executives.

Ladybug landed silently on the roof of an only slightly lop-sided building, studying the situation. A soft thump on the roof behind her let her know her partner had made good time in returning to her side. “”What are we looking at, milady?”

“He’s got a group trapped in the rubble. He’s not making any move to hurt them any more than they already are, but I’m afraid that’ll only last so long. Especially if one of them says something to inflame his anger.” She reported quietly, watching for one of the hostages to do something to draw Disaster Caster’s wrath.

Suddenly, that mirrored visor turned their way. “And the main attraction has arrived,” said a mechanical sounding voice. “Going to save the day and fix everything, just like you always do? I rather think not.”

Suddenly the reason for the odd shape of his helmet became all too clear, as thin cracks opened in neat rows along the sides, a dozen spindly metal limbs folding out, and out, each one ending in a glassy looking bezel that it took her a moment to place. Lenses. Each of the metal arms ended in a tiny camera. The effect was rather disturbing, like a massive spider centered on that blank mirrored visor, perched where a human head should be.

Beside her, Chat briefly convulsed in a full-body shiver. “Okay, is it just me or are Hawkmoth’s Akumas getting creepier?”

He wasn’t wrong. Disaster Caster was like something out of a nightmare, far scarier looking than most Akuma. The camera arms whirred and clicked, stretching out further.

“Nevermind those who get hurt in your fights. No need, after all, not when you can wash the hurts away in a tide of ladybugs.” Disaster Caster said, the robotic voice never rising above a conversational monotone. “Maybe it’s time you suffer some of those hurts, see how they feel, and I’ll broadcast your suffering to the whole city.”

A darkly glowing butterfly symbol briefly obscured part of that mirrored visor. “I agree, Hawkmoth. I’ll take their miraculouses and let them understand the pain they inflict upon the citizens of Paris.” He lifted one hand, and a spidery arm reached from the backpack to deposit something in his palm.

“Oh, yes,” Ladybug could hear the sudden smile in Disaster Caster’s voice. “That will do nicely. I’ll flood the airwaves with your defeat.” He crushed whatever it was in his hand.

“We’re shaking, Chrome Cast,” Chat laughed. “Is that supposed to sca—”

His voice was drowned out by a wall of water roaring towards them. Cars, people, trees, bits of buildings were all swept up in the surging, frothing monster bearing down on where they stood. The wave was taller than the roof of their building, blocking out the Parisian skyline and throwing the whole area into murky green gloom.

Chat’s ears flattened and he grabbed Ladybug by the waist and extended his baton as far as it would go, aiming for the higher roof of the studio. He almost made it.

The water crashed against his baton, slamming it sideways. For a moment there was only the breathless sensation of falling. Then Ladybug’s yoyo snapped out and wrapped around one of the satellites on the roof and yanked them out of range of the maelstrom that surged below.

Ladybug’s breath was harsh in her throat and she was shaking when they landed. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the frothing waters below and the helpless bodies tumbling in it. “No...”

Chat’s hand caught her cheek and gently turned her to face him. “Focus, Milady. The sooner we defeat him, the sooner you can save everyone!”

She sucked in a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “R-right.” She straightened up and searched for the Akuma. Several of those spidery metallic legs had extended from Disaster Caster’s backpack and held him motionless against the wall of a building, separated from their position by a wide swath of murky, tumbling water.

Chat crouched beside her on the edge of the building, glaring across at their opponent. “I’m going to bet the Akuma is in that backpack thing of his.”

“Not going to bet against you, kitty.” Ladybug frowned at the distance between them. “The question is how do we get close enough to find out?”

Chat gave her a sharp-toothed grin that was a pale shadow of his usual teasing one. “Up for a game of catball special?”

She turned her frown on Chat. “I’m not chucking you at him!”

“Better me than you, Milady.”

“Better neither of you when you know someone who can actually fly.” The voice came from behind them. Lewis hovered just above the roof they perched on, Vivi and Arthur held in either arm.

He alighted to let the two in his arms down.

Ladybug couldn’t help a critical look at Arthur. He looked haggard under the mask, but there was a set to his mouth that told her he’d never agree to sitting things out, not while his spouses were here.

Chat obviously wanted to ask if he was alright, but held his tongue at the look on Arthur’s face.

“He’s calling himself Disaster Caster,” Ladybug reported instead of the concerned words that wanted to escape. “It’s an accurate enough name, since he’s the one who caused the earthquake and—” her voice shook a little. “This.”

Vivi was already peering over the edge of the building at the Akumatized man. “Elemental manipulation?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it that,” Arthur put in, staying well clear of where his wife leaned precariously over the balustrade. “I’d hesitate to call any of Hawkmoth’s creations anything so normal.”

“Good point.” Vivi frowned down at Disaster Caster. “Those are cameras, is he filming?”

“Probably,” Chat joined her at the edge of the roof. “He was a news crew cameraman before he got Akumatized for wanting better pay for hazardous working conditions... aka during Akuma attacks.”

“That’s a fair request.” Lewis said. Like Arthur, he stayed back from the edge. “I take it his higher-ups didn’t agree.”

“RIght on the money.” Chat agreed. “We think the Akuma is in his backpack. It’s where he got whatever it was he used to create this flood.”

There was a suggestion of a smile in Lewis’s voice. “It’s probably not fireproof.” He held up one bone-plated hand, wreathed in purple flames.

“Easy there, big guy,” Arthur held up his metal hand. “Hawkmoth has seen your fire, so there’s every chance it will be. Even if it’s not fireproof, look at what he’s done already. No shortage of water to damp the fire.”

“Heads up!” Vivi called. “He’s on the move!”

Ladybug joined Vivi and Chat at the railing. Disaster Caster was spidering up the side of the building across from them, those thin metal legs from his backpack finding purchase easily. He lifted a hand to his visor and all at once, the lenses at the end of each limb of his helmet dropped loose, tumbling toward the frothing water below. Before they reached it, though, each suddenly sprouted a pair of dragonfly-like wings, lifting them high above the buildings. Two of them zeroed in on the roof where they stood, hovering above them like bizarre metallic insects.

“There you are.”

They backed away from the edge, keeping their eyes on the little cameras.

“”No getting away from being broadcast to all of Paris, Ladybug. They don’t want to miss this. It’ll be a hail of a bad time for you, though.”

On cue, clouds filled the sky, rumbling and malignant. Coin-sized bits of ice began to rain down on them.

“Really?” Chat asked, propping one hand on his hip and grinning ferally up at one of the cameras. “Puns are my department.”

“Not the time, kitty!” Ladybug chided.

As if in response, the chunks of ice kept getting larger, hitting hard enough to bounce and leave dents in the roof.  Lewis flung up a shield of flames, shrouding them in hissing steam as the hailstones met the fire.

Vivi chortled evilly, stepping out of the shelter of the flames. “You really are a disaster, aren’t you? Giving a master of ice, ammunition.” She held up both hands, palms upward. “To use against you...”

Ladybug watched in awe as the falling ice chunks, now the size of softballs, stopped in midair.

Vivi, still smiling a dangerous smile, tipped her hands forward, pointing them down at the Akuma. “Sic ‘em!”

The ice streaked away from them, heading for Disaster Caster. Two pieces hit him before he got his wits about him and slapped at the side of his visor. Like a mirage, the roil of clouds and the hailstones vanished.

“Aww, doncha wanna play with me anymore? I’m hurt.”

"Hon, what have we said about antagonizing the bad guys?" Lewis chided.

"That I should do it more often?"

Chat stifled a laugh while Lewis rolled spectral eyes at Vivi's antics.

"I do not want to fight you. It is Ladybug and Chat Noir who need to understand the suffering they cause to the citizens of Paris." Disaster Caster, now perched on the rooftop opposite them, stared at them through the expressionless visor.

"Um, have you looked around lately, bucko?" Vivi retorted. "Your mental parasite over there is the one creating the suffering."

Hawkmoth's glowing mask occluded Disaster Caster's visor for a moment. "If you would simply hand over your Miraculous, no one would have to suffer at all."  Disaster Caster said after it had faded.

"Like anyone is going to buy that." Vivi grinned, as fey an expression as Ladybug had ever seen. "And you pick on one of us and you get all of us coming to hand you your ass. Hear me, Hawkbutt?"

Her reply was Disaster Caster calling another object from his pack. He crushed it in his fist. “Let’s blow the slate clean, shall we?”

For a second, there was nothing, then an eerie sound split the air, one she couldn’t identify but  that instinctively set Ladybug’s teeth on edge.

Arthur was the first to react, shoving Ladybug and Chat Noir closer to Lewis. “Down!” Under his mask, his face was grim and bloodless. Vivi was right behind him, her lips pressed into a tight, thin line.

Lewis’s glowing eyes had narrowed to pinpricks and he put himself between them and the meager shelter of a doorway into the building below. "͜͜S̶̨t͏a̷̸̧y͟͞ ̵D̷̨̡ǫ̵w͘n̕!̨"͢  Lewis growled, hands clenched into burning fists at his sides. His glowing hair flickered at the first touch of a wind that quickly rose to a shrill scream.

Ladybug clutched Chat’s arm. She’d never seen anything like the massive vortex of wind screaming down at them, greenish lightning crackling where it emerged from the black clouds; lighting the rooftop in a hellish glare.

Lewis braced himself, flames curling around his hands like a living thing. Pink fire surged around them, rising into a vortex that ran counter to the spinning winds of the tornado. Lewis’s feet slid apart and he leaned forward, like he was throwing his weight into something. Ladybug thought if he’d had a jaw, it would have been clenched in concentration. He pushed his hands out and the fiery shield around them expanded, pushing back at the wall of wind. "Ai̡r̕ ̧f̴ę́͞è̵͡ds͟ ͘͞f̢͢͞i͢͝r͏e͡,̸̧͢"҉   he snarled, flames surging higher.

Ladybug’s relief was short-lived when Chat’s claws dug into her wrist. She followed the gaze of his widened eyes to where the bottom of the funnel nearly touched the water still surrounding the building. Water to put out Lewis's protective wall! Hoping it would be something she could figure out in seconds, Ladybug flung her yoyo upwards. “Lucky Charm!”

A red-spotted crossbow, foam-ended dart already nocked into place, dropped into her waiting hands. “Really?” She glared down at the useless thing, fingers tightening almost painfully around it. “What am I supposed to do with a toy?! Even if it could get through the winds, what’s this gonna do?” She almost screamed with frustration, strangling down the sound before it could escape.

“Ladylove, you can do this.” Chat reassured quietly in her ear, his hands tight around her shoulders. “You know you can.”

Gulping a painful breath, she nodded, forcing herself to look around for inspiration. Her attention fell on Lewis, holding the shrieking winds at bay and her resolve strengthened. Her gaze darted to Arthur, then to the right, alighting on a length of hollow steel pipe torn loose from its mooring, and then across the wall of winds at Disaster Caster. Her eyes fastened on the small scratch on his visor. It was desperate and foolish, and if it didn’t work, she was all out of options. “Chat, I need that pipe. Arthur, how’s your throwing arm?”

Chat scrambled for the long pipe while Arthur shot her a confused look. “Not too bad. My mechanical arm has fluid hydraulics, so I can get a pretty good distance with it. But throwing anything into that...” He gestured helplessly at the howling winds,

She forced her spine to straighten. “I have a plan.”

Chat returned with the pipe and she passed it to Arthur, who hefted it uncertainly. “What’s the plan?” he asked.

She turned her attention to Lewis. “I need height for this. Can I use your shoulders?”

Lewis didn’t turn his attention from the struggle to hold the line, giving Ladybug a single, tight nod.

She vaulted easily up to his shoulders, finding her balance on the broad expanse. Crouching, she spoke softly to Lewis. “Trust me.”

One lambent eye flickered in her direction and he gave her a second nod.

“When I give the word, drop the shield and give me one solid blast,” She flicked a finger in the direction of Disaster Caster. “I need you to disrupt the winds just enough for Arthur to chuck that pipe.”

Lewis’s gaze touched on Arthur and Vivi. “I’m trusting you to keep them safe.” His tone lost that echo and was full of concern. “And yourselves.”

She couldn’t let any doubt show. ”I will.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ladybug saw the water being sucked into the bottom of the funnel and knew her time had just run out. “Now!”

Lewis dropped the swirling fire shield, wind shrieking around them. With every bit of fire he had, he flung a singular inferno blast at the wall of raging wind between them and Disaster Caster.

Arthur didn’t hesitate, launching the pipe like a javelin into the disruption in the winds. It flew straight and true, and Ladybug used Lewis's shoulders to vault into the air, tracking on the pipe. She only had one chance at this and she didn’t dare blow it. Her whole world narrowed to the pipe in front of her and the trigger in her hands. She could almost sense when the end of the pipe punched through the outer wall of wind. In a moment of crystal clarity, it all snapped into place and she pulled the trigger.

The dart sailed through the pipe, safe from the fury of the winds and exited beyond the gale. It hit just where she had aimed, that tiny mark she had seen Disaster Caster slap before. The tornado vortex vanished like the hailstorm before it.

The silence was deafening after the scream of the winds until bits of debris that had been caught in the gale began to clatter back down, hitting rooftops or splashing into the receding surge of water the vortex had begun to draw up.  Ladybug landed softly beside Lewis, the lucky charm dangling loosely in shaking fingers.

Vivi whooped and yanked Arthur and Chat into a hug.

Lewis went to one knee, his flames dimming and Ladybug knew the battle had drained too much of his energy. She dropped beside him. “Are you—?”

There was a hint of a smile in his strange eyes. “I’ll manage. Can you get to him before he calls up something else?”

“Right.” Ladybug threw herself for the edge of the roof, her yoyo stretching out for purchase on the other building. She was acutely conscious she only had limited time left before her transformation dropped.

Disaster Caster was waiting for her, perched on the side of a chimney like some sort of twisted spider. Her feet hit the roof and she flung herself at him, hoping she could finish this quickly. He easily scaled higher before she could reach him.

She never saw it coming. Suddenly pain exploded across her side, flinging her to the tiles. A second impact flung her farther and she rolled to soften the impact, scrabbling for her scattered wits. She made it to cover behind a broken staircase, pressing one hand against the ache in her side. Her suit protected her from the worst of it, but that had hurt!

What had hit her? Disaster Caster had been too far away to reach her, even with those long spidery legs.

There was a thump beside her and Chat grabbed her, yanking her to one side. “Look out, Milady!” His baton whirred through the air to knock something small and fast back.

Ladybug finally managed to bring her yoyo up as a shield, allowing her a glimpse at what had attacked her. Those little spy cameras! They hovered around her and Chat like a swarm of angry metallic hornets.

Chat blocked one with his baton and growled under his breath. “He’s getting away.”

Sure enough, Disaster Caster was using the distraction of the drone cameras to scramble away over the rooftops, moving far too fast on those spindly metal legs. Ladybug knocked two of the cameras back and took off after him, Chat hot on her heels, and covering her back with swings of his baton. Her earrings beeped their first warning and she pushed her speed, trying to catch up to him before she ran out of time.

The spy-cameras regrouped in front of them, buzzing down in lightning fast attacks and forcing them to slow and dodge. The little cameras were damnably fast and every hit they scored stung fiercely. Disaster Caster kept getting farther away with every attack and Ladybug’s earring beeped two more warnings before she lost sight of him entirely. She paused in the shelter of a staircase, panting and furious at herself for being unable to reach him. Chat landed beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, warning softly, “Ladylove, we have to get you away from here so you can detransform safely and let Tikki recharge!”

“But—” she protested angrily.

“Shhh. As soon as we get you safely away from those things, I’ll get back on his track. I haven’t used Cataclysm yet, so I have time still. At the very least, I’m a purr-fect distraction.” His grinned at her, raising an eyebrow.

The familiarity of his joking dragged a weak laugh out of her. “Okay, Kitty. You win.”

Turning away from the direction Disaster Caster had gone, she flung out her yoyo and headed for a part of the city where she knew there were sheltered rooftop gardens to give her cover while she was vulnerable. Chat followed at a short distance, keeping watch for the cameras, which seemed to have lost interest when she stopped chasing after their master.

At the last second she landed, tumbling a little as her transformation gave out before she was safely down. She wrapped herself around Tikki, willing to take a bruise of two for the sake of her Kwami.

Chat caught her before she hit, a warm arm around her waist stopping her from faceplanting on the roof. Still cradling Tikki, she looked up into his concerned green eyes. “I’m okay, Kitty.”

He nodded and pulled her against his chest, Tikki tucked safely between them. “Get out of sight and take care of Tikki. I’ll stay on his trail.” He pulled her into the shelter of a vine-covered arbor.

She freed one hand and reached up to cup his cheek. “Be careful, my kitty. I’m pretty sure he still has tricks up his sleeves.”

Chat leaned into her touch. “Don’t worry about me, princess. This cat still has tricks of his own.” He bent to steal a breathtaking kiss, leaving her flushed and red. Dropping a second kiss on the tip of her nose, he saluted with two fingers and leapt away.

Still blushing, Marinette dug in her purse for cookies for Tikki. The quicker they recharged, the faster they could take down Disaster Caster.

Her phone chirped a message and she fumbled for it.  Who—?

V: Where are you two?

Vivi! Marinette hurried to type back. CN still on DC’s trail. LB had to recharge. Will be back in game soon.

It was safest to not use names or refer to anything too personal. There was always a chance of another electronics based Akuma, like Lady Wifi, could get into personal info through phones. Her communicator amd Chat’s were secure but she could trust nothing else to be. But sometimes concern won out over caution. How is Ghost? She tapped out, knowing Vivi would know who she meant. Fight took a lot out of them.

The dots that indicated typing popped up almost before she had finished. Recouping. Will be back in fight soon too. F and UKS on foot now that floodwaters gone. Z is eyes in the sky.

It took Marinette a solid minute to parse it out. Oh, F had to mean Vivi and the temporary name of Frost she had given herself and UKS had to be Arthur and his pun of a name. Zippi was acting as lookout.

Stay safe, she texted back, and glanced over at where Tikki was finishing off the last few bites of a cookie that had been larger than she was. Tikki wiped crumbs off her face and nodded. Relieved she could get back out there, Marinette called the magic, and took off after her partner as fast as her yoyo would carry her.

She heard the fight before she saw it, and her heart crawled up in her throat. She knew that sound. Knew it too well. It had nearly cost her Chat Noir once before, that crackle of unharnessed electricity and the roar of superheated air that followed so closely after it that it was almost a single continuous sound.  The hair on the back of her neck stood up and the smell of ionized air stuck in the back of her throat like ash.

It had only been her Lucky Charm that had kept lightning from frying her kitty before and right now, he was on his own against an electrical storm that lit the sky with dazzling radiance. Her blood ran cold. She needed to get to him before—

The air screamed. A bolt of lightning, brighter than any she had seen before, tore the sky asunder. The roar that followed vibrated her teeth in her skull, and caused the roof under her flying feet to tremble.

She pushed herself faster. Please, she prayed under her breath. Please, please, please don’t use your baton, Kitty. The metal would act as a conductor, carrying millions of volts straight into her partner’s flesh.

She didn’t see it coming. Something scorched the roof under her feet and brutally threw her back. She collided hard with a railing and nearly went over it before a clawed hand closed painfully tight around her wrist and yanked her back to safety against a heaving chest. “That was rather electrifying, Milady!”

“Chat,” She could breathe again. Her hands came up to clutch his biceps, digging in hard enough to reassure herself that he was there, was okay. And then she threw both of them into a tumbling roll across the roof, as lightning seared where they had been black.

Chat bounced to his feet, tugging her up after him. “Shocking development, you falling for me.”

She whipped them around and out of the way of another finger of lightning that blistered the tiles where they had just been. “Is this really the time?”

He grinned, dropping to all fours and darting a crazy, zig-zagging path across the roof, flickers of lightning splintering all around him, but unable to catch him. “C’mon, Milady! I am amped for this lightshow! I have a full volt of puns.” he teased breathlessly. “Let me conduct a few your way!”

She snorted at him, and bounced away from a bolt that arced over the rail where she had just been perched. “Just no grounding you, is there, Kitty?”

His green eyes glittered and Chat barked a startled, delighted laugh. He sprang for her and whirled them both out of the path of another volley of lightning. “I knew my puns would rub off on you, Milady!”

Ladybug wrapped her arm around his waist and used her yoyo to vault them to another roof. “Oh, now that was bad, Chat!”

“Have no ampere, my Lady. I have zingers for days!” Chat leapt away from her, his voice turning taunting. “Watt’s the matter, Caster? You currently running out of juice? What a kilo-joy!”

“Aren’t you just full of spark, kid?” A laughing voice called.

Ladybug whipped her head around. Lewis, Arthur and Vivi in either arm, hovered just above the level of the roof. He looked a little transparent, but his fiery eyes were full of determination.

Lewis had to dodge a bolt a split-second later, and shot a vicious glare at where Disaster Caster was perched on a different roof. “He’s really starting to get on my nerves.”

“Not terribly shocked, big guy,” Arthur chided while Vivi giggled softly. “It’s a bit of a revolting development.”

“Don’t make me drop you.”

Chat snickered.

Lewis came in close, though he didn’t land. “We need to take the storm out of play,” Arthur said. “I have an idea for that, but it’ll only hold until he switches tacks.”

Ladybug skipped away from another finger of lightning. “Willing to risk it. I’m not fond of the idea of getting electrocuted.”

Arthur’s mouth set in a firm line. “Okay. new game plan. Big guy, find a sheltered spot to put me down. Ladybug, Chat, keep playing keep away from the lightning. I’ll need to borrow Chat’s baton, though.”

If a ghost could be said to go pale, Lewis managed it, his skeletal face horror-stricken. “No—!”

“Not time for debate, love,” Arthur’s grim face and raised hand stopped the protest. “As long as I’m not in the direct line of fire, I’ll be okay, Rubber-soled shoes. Handy in a garage, invaluable in the here and now.”

“Ar—” Ladybug cut herself off. “It’s dangerous, even so. You can’t dodge the lightning like Chat and I.”

The laugh that answered her was humorless. “Trust me, I’m a shaking wreck inside, but I can have a panic attack later.” His amber eyes met hers through the mask, fey and sending a shiver down her spine. “Protecting people I care for comes before anything else.” He turned his head away, focusing that unnerving look on Lewis. “How you holding up? Good enough to conjure up something?”

“What do you need?” Lewis’s voice was flat with only a hint of that disturbing otherness to give away his distress.

“Copper wire, as much as you can manage.”

“You can’t ground out an electrical storm!” Vivi grabbed the front of Arthur’s shirt, white-knuckled.

Arthur carefully disengaged her fingers. “No, but I can ground out enough of the lightning to give us a chance to get through.”

“I don’t like this plan.”

“Join the club.”

Another volley of lightning hit the rooftop, forcing them all to dodge.

“No time like the present, big guy,” Arthur’s voice was strained.

Chat hissed but turned his attention to mocking the Akuma, “Your bad aim is shocking. You aren’t even trying! Really are a disaster, aren’t you?”

He had to move fast to avoid the next round of lightning.

Her eyes on Chat, as usual, trying to take blows for her, Ladybug lost sight of the other three.

For several moments, there was no room for thought, only the need to keep one jump ahead of the deadly bolts searing the roofs around them.

“Baton!” Arthur’s voice shouted from somewhere to her left.

Chat’s baton went one way and he went the other, only just managing to let go of the metal before lightning found them both.

The baton skittered away across the roof tiles, sparking with residual energy from the strike. Ladybug heard Arthur cursing under his breath, but had no attention to spare for him as she yanked Chat out of the way of another strike that came so close she could feel her hair standing on end. The suits could protect them somewhat, but she wasn’t willing to find out the extent.

Ladybug rolled them out of the path of another strike, this one arcing along the railing beside them, leaving the metal twisted and warped in its wake.

Ladybug yelped and struck out violently when something touched her arm. She twisted and found herself looking into the mournful yellow eyes of a deadbeat. It chirred softly and vanished. She felt it ease into her mind— but it wasn’t trying to control her. Images came into her thoughts of her own hands winding wire around a part of the building’s superstructure, making sure the wire was in contact with the metal supports. She saw the baton extended, channeling the lightning into the building’s metal structure and away from them, giving them the chance to get to Disaster Caster before he could change tactics.

It was a sound plan, even if she didn’t like how much danger Arthur was putting himself in to give them the chance.  She got a sense of wry agreement from the deadbeat and an image of Lewis standing by to yank him out of danger. That eased her worries a bit and she gave her wordless assent to the plan. She felt the deadbeat leave and found herself staring into the worried eyes of Chat, who had pulled them into the shelter of a satellite dish. “Milady?” he questioned warily. “Your eyes, they were pink!”

She touched his cheek. “I’m okay, Kitty. Lewis was letting me know Arthur’s plan through one of the deadbeats,” She peered out past the edge of the dish and spotted the coil of wire on the roof, not far away. “I need you to be on your toes and keep moving so Disaster Caster doesn’t have a chance to concentrate on me.”

Chat Noir shook himself a little before nodding. “You needn’t ask twice, Milady. I can be the purr-fect distraction, like I said.”

Ladybug smiled at him. “I know. I trust you. Just keep safe, my kitten.”

The smile he flashed her was bright. “On my honor.”

He bounded away, catcalling up at Disaster Caster. Ladybug had to look away from the streaks of white-hot electricity tearing up the roof barely a breath behind him. When Disaster Caster had turned all his attention (and that of his electrical storm) on Chat, she crept out of hiding, tucking and rolling to come up with the coil of copper wire in her hands. She muttered a soft prayer to anything that might be listening, be they Kwami or something else, to keep everyone safe and sprang into action.

With her yoyo, it was a matter of moments to wind the wire around the building, at last landing by a spot where the near-constant lightning strikes had bared a large chunk of the building’s metal superstructure. She eeled into the rubble and began working her wire around and around the steel rebar.

She could hear Chat’s mocking and the roar of superheated air and it was all she could do to keep her mind on the task at hand. At last she twisted the final coil of the wire into place. Ladybug pulled herself free of the debris and flung her yoyo. She had to be in the air and ready when it went down. “Now!” she called, her voice barely audible above the roar of thunder.

Arthur must have been waiting for it. Chat’s baton speared up into the stormy sky and the lightning jumped to it like iron filings to a magnet. Ladybug yanked hard on her string and sailed into the air, snagging up a panting Chat Noir as she did. She didn’t dare look for the others, hoping Lewis had gotten them safely out of the way. She had to stop Disaster Caster.

He was already moving, but she was faster, having been waiting for the moment. She launched Chat, who smoothly flipped in mid-air to drive his boots into Disaster Caster’s gut.

Disaster Caster reeled back, only the telescoping legs from his backpack keeping him from going over. Chat snarled in frustration and took a swipe with his claws at Disaster Caster’s mirrored visor. The Akuma wasn’t able to recover fast enough from the kick and Chat’s claws scored thin lines across the surface of the visor.

Ladybug looked up, startled, as the roar of thunder ceased, leaving her ears ringing with the cessation of the constant sound.  Only a few wisps of cloud remained in the clearing sky. Chat’s attack had taken out the threat of the storm.

Disaster Caster staggered back another step, but one of his metal legs lashed out and hit Chat hard in the ribs, flinging him back. Chat landed in a crouch, but he was out of breath and pressed an arm across his ribs with a hiss of pain.

Ladybug swung in between them, her yoyo lashing out and cracking solidly across Disaster Caster’s visor. She rushed to pull Chat back to his feet, concerned at the grimace of pain. “Kitty?”

His grin was lopsided but he straightened up. “I’m okay, Milady. Only winded.”

“Are you sure?” She didn’t miss how he was favoring the spot where he’d been hit.

“He’s a disaster in more ways than one, Milady. I’m still good to go.”

Disaster Caster had used her distraction to get some distance on them, metal legs carrying him like a spider up the side of the next building over. Chat cursed under his breath, words she didn’t think Adrien even knew. “I’ll be honest, Milady, I’m more than ready to be done with this particular pain, though.”

“You and me both, Kitty.” Ladybug narrowed her eyes at the Akuma. “I think I know what we need to do.”

“What you need to do is stop fighting me and give up your miraculous. Then Paris will be safe.” Disaster Caster called.

“No one asked you,” Chat hissed.

“All this fighting is doing is hurting the people you claim to be here to protect.”

“And you think Hawkmoth would do better if he had our miraculous? He’s the one creating all the evil we have to fight against.”

"What if your refusal to give over your miraculous were to hurt someone you cared for?" Disaster Caster said. He raised one hand, palm up, and one of his little spy-cameras alighted in it.

"Wouldn't they be happier knowing you were out of danger and not fighting Akuma?" An image formed in the air above the little drone.  Half hidden in a bower of greenery, it was a frozen tableau of Marinette in Chat's arms, tilting her face up to meet his passionate kiss. Ladybug flinched, though some part of her was objectively glad that Tikki was hidden between them. “Wouldn’t she be happier?” Disaster Caster coaxed.

Chat froze beside her, his green eyes blown so wide they were all pupil. His mouth opened but nothing emerged. Ladybug could feel his muscles vibrating with tension and his hands were clenched so tight she could hear the leather of his gloves creaking. While the fact that Disaster Caster had caught the picture concerned her, Chat’s reaction was more than a little frightening.

Ladybug touched his arm. “Kitty—?”

All that suppressed tension snapped at once and with a feral yowl, Chat flung himself in a mad leap toward Disaster Caster.

"You!" How a word that was all vowels could be hissed, Ladybug didn't know but Chat managed it.

Chat hit the wall next to the Akuma, claws sinking easily into the brick. His lips peeled back from his teeth in an infuriated growl. Ladybug could swear she saw fangs in his snarl.  "How dare you?!"

Ladybug swung after Chat, stunned by the rage she saw in his green eyes. Before she could reach him, he had leapt at Disaster Caster. The Akuma tried to fend him off with two of the spider-like legs from his backpack, but Chat's claws made short work of them, shearing them off with quick swipes.

"How dare you?" he snarled again, his voice dropping to a register she had never heard from his mouth, a feral growl like the scream of a hunting cat.

Ladybug saw his claws crook to strike and for a second they appeared to glimmer with the first hint of his destructive power. The next word out of his mouth was a hissed "Cataclysm!"

His target was Disaster Caster's helmet and his hand hit it so hard it rocked the Akumatized man's head back into the brick wall behind him. Destructive power crawled over the helmet, leaving ash in its wake. A black butterfly fluttered weakly away, wings struggling to keep it airborne.

Ladybug snapped her yoyo out and caught it before it had managed to get very far at all. She purified it without any ceremony, most of her attention still on Chat's enraged face.

He was breathing hard, struggling to calm himself, she could tell. His claws still hovered millimeters from Disaster Caster's now bare face.

"Kitten?" She called softly.

The tension went out of him and he dropped away from the former Akuma like a marionette with cut strings. She hurriedly caught him out of the air.

His breath was hot against her throat as he whispered so softly she could barely hear him. "I'm sorry."

It was with relief she saw Lewis catch the dazed man who had been one of their toughest battles ever.  Lewis gathered him up in one arm. "I'll take him down to street level so the first responders can help him."

"Who...?" The confused man squinted at Lewis's skeletal face.

"A friend," Lewis soothed. "Let’s get you down where you'll be safe."

Ladybug nodded in acknowledgement of Lewis's words, but all her attention was on her partner. She dropped them back down to the roof. "Kitty, tell me what's wrong. Please."

He looked up at her, green eyes full of pain, and not because of his injuries. "Just fix everything, Milady. Maybe..."

Whatever it was, she could do no less for him. It was a rare thing to summon her Lucky Charm in the aftermath of a fight, but she didn't hesitate. The charm that dropped into her hand was a handkerchief, and she really didn't want to think about the meaning of that. She gently used it to wipe Chat's sweating face before tossing it up in the air. "Miraculous Ladybug!"

The swarm of ladybugs was larger by far than ever before, but this time there was so much damage to undo. She watched damaged structures right themselves and buckled streets smooth out. The lightning-torn roof around them reformed, and she felt the tickle as they swirled around her and Chat, healing injuries in their wake. A pair of glasses chinked softly to the tiles, the object the Akuma had infected.

"I'll never get tired of seeing that!" Vivi said softly, hanging over the railing to watch the city being restored.

Chat watched the magic of the Miraculous Cure sweep away the damages, his expression a sort of troubled yearning. When the last of the ladybugs had vanished, he rose and padded to his baton, now lying discarded on the roof, pausing to unwrap the copper wire from one end. He slid the screen open and began tapping. With one last tap, he took a deep breath before starting to read what was on the screen. Whatever it was made his face fall with every swipe of his thumb.

Ladybug rose to her feet and trotted to his side, curious and concerned. “Kitty?”

He slid the screen closed and turned to draw her into a fiercely tight hug. “I am so, so sorry, Ladylove.”

“Chat...” She didn’t understand what had him so troubled. “Tikki, spots off,” she breathed, and reached up to cup his cheeks with bare hands, hoping skin to skin contact could offer some comfort.

He pressed into her touch, a rough, stuttering purr starting in his throat. It wasn’t a happy sound, but the kind of sound a sick cat made to soothe itself. She hated to hear it from him.

Marinette went up on her toes to press a kiss on his forehead. Chat sighed heavily, his arms tightening around her waist.

In her purse, her phone began to let out a long series of chirps, both missed call notifications and text tones. Marinette tried to ignore it, more concerned about Chat and his distress. At least until Tikki dived into her bag and pulled out the phone. The Kwami’s overlarge eyes widened and she made an alarmed sound. “Marinette, I think you should look at this.”

“Not now, Tikki.” Marinette pled. She hated to ignore her Kwami but at the moment, her love needed her more.

Tikki made a frustrated sound.

Chat heaved another sigh and pushed her away gently. His eyes were damp and the hurt in them made her heart ache. She reached out for him, but he caught her hands. “I never wanted this for you.” He accepted the phone from Tikki and closed her fingers around it.

“Chat...”

“I am so sorry, Princess.”

“What for—?”

“Forgetting that a black cat is bad luck.” He tapped a claw on her phone and without her willing it, her eyes tracked down to it.

Her homescreen was absolutely filled with notifications. Twenty-four missed calls? And the text notifications numbered more than fifty. What—?

She unlocked the phone, her fingers shaking a little. What had happened while she was battling the Akuma. Had the Miraculous cure not been enough to fix all the damage? What if someone was hurt? Mama or Papa? Alya?

There were seventeen missed calls from Alya alone, and that eased a little of the tightness in her chest. Two were from different unknown numbers. Two from the bakery’s line and one each from her Mama and Papa’s respective cell phones. And oddly enough, one from Nadja Chamak. There were ten new voicemails and fifty-seven texts from Alya. There was also a text from Rose, simply a heart-eyes emoji and, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

She scrolled to the earliest text from Alya, consisting of a keysmash and a blurry photograph of a tv screen. Even with the blur from what had to be Alya shaking, she recognized the image, the same one Disaster Caster had shown Chat that had triggered his enraged attack. Herself; passionately kissing Chat Noir.

Her knees wobbled and Chat was quick to support her. “He... he broadcast us kissing—?”

Arthur cursed, prompting Lewis to cover his mouth, but the blond man just shoved the ghost’s large hand away. “Hell with my language, Lewis. Even I know what the fuck that means. One fell swoop just put Marinette on everybody’s radar, including Hawkmoth’s. She’s locking lips with one of the heroes of this city. That’s like pinning on a huge target on her. Not only for the supervillain in town to take shots at but every single wanna-be newshound and paparazzi in a hundred-mile radius of Paris.”

Marinette’s legs gave out. “I am so, so very screwed.”

[hwalisa-twt]

| 𝙄𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙣𝙞𝙖 - 𝙎. 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙗𝙞𝙣 |

┇ category : domestic!au, angst

┇ warning : mention of loneliness, sadness, depression, low self-esteem

┇ word count : 1.3K

┇ synopsis : A nightmare after a fight and Changbin finished his night on the couch. At least, he tried...missing feeling you warm against him.

The sun was setting, and darkness started to come up. Keys in the lock, and it took no turns to Changbin to open the door. It was abnormal but denying it as only an omission by y/n, he entered.

A simple little “hello” escaped his lips as he stumbled on some shattered glasses. Cracking sounds from under his shoes creeped up in his ears, closing the door behind him. He stared at the floor where the crispy sound came from, there were thick glasses all over the floor, he then followed the path of fragments. Fragments from what he wondered, a vase? a glass? a mirror? They were gathered at beginning of the corridor, as if someone just throw a bunch of frail objects at this exact place, out of anger, of sadness, or madness.

In the living room, nothing. In the kitchen, barely nothing either. Expect maybe the few mugs still unwashed from the morning breakfast. A cup of coffee or tea from time to time, that was his regular drink when the sun hasn’t rose yet and when you could barely hear the early birds chirping.

The guest bedroom was still closed. He opened it, peeping through the little space between the door and the wall. Nothing. Changbin found the apartment strangely silent. Stifling his heart, his lungs. No tracks of y/n. She was nowhere to be found yet, nowhere to be sensed. He could feel his heart clenched in a painful way, the dark tension in the apartment was suffocating. He still had the bedroom to check. Not like he wanted to look what happened in it, but he needed to make sure. So, he knew.

The door was half opened, and the darkness already took possession of the room, consuming, eating the last rays of sun who disappeared. He pushed the door who revealed an upside-down room. His cleaning products in the bathroom had fell down from the sink onto the floor. The wardrobe was cleared from any feminine clothes such as dresses, lingerie or skirts. The bed sheets settled crumpled on the carpet. The computer was laid back on the desk, the screen cracked, the few drawers opened and emptied, some papers and pencils still spread out on the floor.

As Changbin got closer to the desk, he saw a squared paper with a few words written on it. From y/n.

“I can’t do his anymore. I’m leaving, don’t look for me please. Y/n.”

That was all. He read it two to three times, trying to understand each word, sinking down the floor, sliding against the wall. Maybe he knew when he understood them when a tear went streaming down his cheek. She left. Leaving him alone. With his mistakes. Did he have a chance to bring her back? She precisely said to not look for her. Was it an order? Did she mean it?

He started to wonder if the years they spend together were foolish. They weren’t. At least for him. What if they were for her? That couldn’t be true, he thought. Maybe she lied. If, what was the point?

And there he stood, sited on the carpet, teary eyes and heartaches. Sun started to show up. God knows how long he stayed there, waiting. Waiting for what? For who? Her? But she left. She won’t be coming back. Never.

Sweat running down his forehead, Changbin woke up abruptly, blood pulsing in his veins faster than usual. Heart aching and lungs searching for air. A nightmare. Just a nightmare. But the fight between you two three hours before was real. He could still remember your expression, the emotions going through your eyes as you shouted to each other. Pain. He saw pain in your eyes, and he felt it. He made a mistake. He turned his head around and saw your sleeping figure on his left, facing the window. Breathing at a normal pace. You were okay.

He couldn’t go back to sleep. He stood up, putting on his slippers, at 3am the floor was cold and unpleasant. He walked down the corridor that brings him to the kitchen. He opened the cupboard and the glass he took from it, ringed on the wood remembering the sensation and the sounds of the shattered glasses under his shoes from his nightmare.

Only the melody of the water falling in the sink and the tic of the clock hand could be heard in the apartment. Nothing else. He drank down the cold water but couldn’t feel any better and of course, go back by your side. His only option was to sleep on the couch. At least, if he could.

When he sat down, the words who slipped from his mouth during the fight came back to him, as if it was knives sinking down his heart. He hurt you and he hated that. What can he possibly do make you forgive him? Were you even ready to forgive him?

He laid down, put a blanket over him and stared at the ceiling, trying to find sleep through the mess going on in his head. Yet he found the courage to close his eyes and not drowned in his darkest thoughts. Left. Right. And he’s on his back again. He missed you. He missed your warm presence by his side. The feeling of security he had when you were sleeping flush against him.

He loves you, for fuck sake he does. And he was terribly sorry to be such a jerk with you sometimes, that wasn’t him, it never was. Was his low self-esteem striking again? He didn’t know, but he needn’t to change that before doing something he could not change. Nevertheless, he managed to sleep a little, at least three hours, in between waking up and checking on you.

When he opened his eyes, the sun was starting to rise. He went to the kitchen to drink a coffee to wake up from this tormented night. He heard the dropping water of the shower coming from inside the bedroom. Entering the room, he saw some used tissues over the floor on your side. Did you cry?

Then here you are. Coming out from the bathroom, wet hair and a towel around your body. You were both looking at each other like two strangers making eye contact for the first time. No one dared to speak first, but Changbin tried.

“Hey…did you sleep well?”, he asked fainting a smile.

“I did, thank you…and you?”

“I…tried…”, he answered.

You went silent again. You went behind him to pick some clothes from the wardrobe and the tension in this room couldn’t be worse. Once clothed, you took the towel to put it back in the bathroom, but Changbin took your wrist and spin you around.

“Y/n listen…for yesterday, I’m really sorry. I-…I regret everything I’ve said to you, it’s not me. And I don’t know what I can do to make things better. Please…believe me I-”, he stopped talking when you planted a kiss on his lips.

A soft but loving kiss. A kiss that said ‘yes, I forgive you’. He wasn’t excepting that reaction from you. You hugged him tight, feeing him against you. You felt secured, relieved and out of all worries that went through your mind this morning.

“Stop talking you don’t know how much I missed you. When I woke up, I thought you left! I know you didn’t mean a single word you said, still it hurt me when you did, but thinking back now, it wasn’t you and I know it. My heart knows…Changbin I love you okay?”, you said running a finger over his cheek, looking into his eyes and letting you heart speaks for you.

“I love you too, it won’t happen again I promise! We will find ways to talk to each other without doing…what we did yesterday y/n”, he sobbed kissing you to give his last apologies.

[grailacademy]

Welcome to Grail Academy - Chapter Four: Threshold

Students were funneling out of the rooms into the hallway, meeting up with friends, dropping things off at their lockers, or rushing to their next class. When the duo stepped out into the chaos, Yorick took a moment to throw away the bloodied tissue clumps in his nose and lower his goggles over his eyes to hide a bruise that was forming under his brow. A familiar silhouette was walking towards them, currently preoccupied with a small girl hanging on his arm. Bernard was giving sharp head nods and shrugs in response to all the questions that a student with springy blue pigtails was asking. But once he noticed his friends at the end of the hall, he held his free arm up to wave at them both, and they moved to meet him. “What happened?”, the taller boy muttered to Yorick and pointed at a streak of dried blood under his lip.

Flustered, he quickly wiped his face clean and laughed to cover up the poorly hidden injury. “Er, I uhm, I….” Yorick turned to Esmerelda in hopes that she would have a better story than he could come up with. “Oh, uh. Well, we were stretching and a brick from the ceiling fell. Luckily, Yorick had rolled out of the way in time to not get seriously injured, but I still need to take him to the nurse.” Bernard nodded, feeling a tug at his arm, and was reminded that he actually had someone with him. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, Bernie?”

He huffed loudly, “Yorick, Rettah. Rettah, Yorick.”

The girl let go of his arm and held out her hand, smiling shyly. “Hi! I’m on team BRSQ, nice to meetcha!”

Yorick could only stare at the hand she offered, because he was frozen in place. He hadn’t said anything since the girl walked up, and he was absolutely dazzled by her. Her sapphire hair was twisted in large pigtails that were tied in frilly bows, and her dress was a marvelous arrangement of ribbons and silk and knots. Just looking at her made his palms clammy, it felt like the lace she wore was strangling him. He was in love.

“I-I-I...I-I-I….Uh...I…” He tripped and slipped over his words, Yorick could feel his heart practically leaping out of his chest. Rettah watched him with a puzzled expression, sidemouthing to Bernard, “Is he usually this chatty?” Bernard gave her a small shrug, and the girl diverted the conversation almost on cue. “Well, I better get going, but before I do!”, she held up a finger and paused while she momentarily rummaged around in a small backpack, pulling out a pair of bright pink flyers decorated with glitter and stickers, “Yours truly is running for Prom Queen! So make sure you check off Mazarine on those ballads!” Rettah twirled on her heels and spun in a circle, her skirt fluttering as she did so. The huntress skipped down the hallway, giggling and throwing handfuls of glitter until she met up with Scarlet disappeared around the corner with him. Yorick looked down at the flyer she had handed him, a sheet of stock paper embellished with glitter glue, puffy stickers, ribbon, and little hearts. A photo of herself was printed underneath a handwritten tagline: A vote for Rettah is a vote for Grail! Mazarine means business! He tried his best to be discreet as he tucked the paper into his bag.

The hallway was beginning to empty, growing more quiet as everyone scattered to their lessons. Bernard and Esmerelda didn’t seem to care, though. The emerald-eyed girl raised a brow as her friends team was ushered away, then turned to question the hunter in front of them. “Don’t you and Nico have the same classes? Where is he?” Now that he thought about it, Yorick did notice the absence of a certain kind of shrill prattle that only Nico could produce. Bernard sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose, grumbling, “He got detention for drawing dicks on his desk in Weapons Ec.”

“Again?” Esmerelda shook her head, already exhausted. “I don’t have time to deal with this right now.” In the course of one day, her teammates had already managed to either break their noses or get sent to detention, and class had only just begun. She knew the duties she took on as the leader of her team, but that didn’t stop Esmerelda from daydreaming about a long, candlelit bubble bath with no one to interrupt her. “We will see you back at the dorm, Bernard.” He gave a small wave before leaving the two of them to go to his class, and Esmerelda began to lead the journey to the nurse’s office.

Yorick was left to sit in the small, white-paneled waiting room, something he was getting all too used to. Once the nurse checked him out and gave him a pill for the pain, she had recommended that he go to the bathroom to clean himself up. So there he was, holding the sides of the sink and letting the faucet run while he looked at his reflection in the small mirror. He didn’t know if he was going to survive this school. It wasn’t like anything he had expected, the classes, the students, the teachers, his team, everyone was so competitive and driven. Much more than he was. You signed up for this, Yorick. Finish what you started, he thought. Even though he wasn’t the most competitive, Yorick wasn’t going to let himself be pushed around anymore. Besides, he couldn’t abandon Rettah in this hellscape. He had to be strong, for her sake. He cupped his hands under the stream of water and leaned down, splashing his face to shake himself awake (and to clean off the dried blood still on his nose).

When he brought his face back up to the light, he let out a shriek and spun around, holding his hands up in self defense at the sight of Nico standing behind him with a towel in the mirror. “AHK!-Why does everyone keep DOING that!” The ruffian rolled his eyes and held the towel out to the shorter boy, chuckling out “Oh, don’t be such a baby.”

Yorick took the towel suspiciously, drying his hands off. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough for it to be weird.”

“....Wait, aren’t you supposed to be in detention?”

“Technically, I’m supposed to be reflecting on my actions. A guy can reflect while he takes a piss, can’t he?”

“I….guess so. What do you want? I thought you hated me.”

At that, Nico took a step forward, overshadowing Yorick. “Oh, I do. I want to be very clear on that. But I’m here to make you an offer.”

For the first time in the history of Grail Academy, the boys bathroom was completely silent. A quiet that fell upon the two students like a thick fog, one that left them with eyebrow raises and twitches of the lips as their only form of communication. Nico pulled a crumpled slip of paper out from his back pocket, showing it to Yorick. It was another flyer advertising the school dance. “It’s at the end of the month. Now, Grail takes its school events very seriously, especially Prom.”

“What’s the big deal? It’s just dancing and fancy outfits.”

“Ooooh no, Yorick. No, no, no. It’s MUCH more than that.” Nico hissed through his teeth, backing his teammate into the corner of the bathroom. “The dance is just an afterparty. The real event is the arena battles beforehand. You do know what a Prom is, right?” Yorick thought he knew what a Prom was, but apparently not. Maybe it was because he had never actually been to one before and got all his information from movies, or maybe it was because Grail was just that wild, but he was starting to learn that he was in the dark about most things.

“PROM! Overseed Matches on Passive Rotation! It’s a fighting tournament!” With every word he shouted, Nico poked the words on the flyer with his finger. “Since Grail isn’t on the official registry for hunter academies, we can’t be entered into the Vytal tournament. So, we’ve got this instead. But it’s WAY more hardcore than the Vytal festival.” Yorick had his back up against the wall, wincing from the audio overload.

“EBNY has won Prom for the last 3 festivals, and I’m not about to let our winning streak get broken because some 5th grader was too scared to pull the trigger. So, I want to make a deal: Meet me after class, every night, let me train you. Help you prepare for Prom so we don’t get our asses handed to us.” Yorick furrowed his brow, trying to get a read on the pink-haired delinquent in front of him. Was he serious? He wanted to help him? This had to be a joke. Still, he decided to go along with it, just to see where it would take him. He folded his arms over his chest, moving forward away from the wall and making Nico take a step back and said, “What’s in it for me? Why should I believe you?”

“Because, if you don’t I’ll start a fire in the Grimm Studies classroom and blame it on you.”

“Hm….you make a very compelling point.” Yorick thought for a second. There really wasn’t any way out of this, in the end. He nodded. “I’m in.” he said. Nico perked up, giving his teammate a strong clap on the back before he fixed his hair in the mirror. “Great! So, we’ll play nice for Esme and Bernie, pretend to be best buds, and train until the festival.” He licked the tips of his index and ring finger, smoothing down his eyebrows with them. Then he pushed the door to the bathroom open with his hip, shooting Yorick some finger guns and quipped, “See ya tonight, babe.”

Now that he was alone in the bathroom, Yorick stepped into a stall, locking the door behind him. Hidden from view, he slouched against the stall and lit a cigarette while he read the graffiti on the walls.