#i wish blending links were a real job so i could go through all the hundreds of thousands of possible combinations

[skulldae]

Here's the updated chart as of this morning! Good morning people, and thanks @luwyv !! I went with the name Korok for WildWind due to,,, well, mischief boyo and also they have the cute little bastards in common so I'll take it. If you have any suggestions for new names or changes to existing names, don't hesitate to share! The names are on a different layer, so they're easy to change out if needed, and many of the names are actually placeholders, because the Links will probably be going by multiple names, as evidenced above.

Thank you all for your suggestions!

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ twenty-three

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 6.2k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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act three ➻ part five

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Everything feels almost too calm. There is a sense of serenity surrounding the lake tonight, and you can’t place it, but you imagine it must have something to do with the man sitting cross-legged across from you. He bears white garments like you, soaked through on the bottoms, and you keep cracking an eye open to gauge his expression. His eyelids are pressed shut, but there’s no tension in his brow. Peace. He’s at peace. That’s not something you have felt all too often while here, so it’s strange to see Seonghwa that way. The stillness of his face gives you a chance to drag your gaze over his features; the sharp curve of his jaw, gentle slope of his nose and lips, and the long eyelashes that nearly brush against his cheeks.

“Close your eyes.” He catches you off-guard, mostly because his eyes are still shut when he says the words. You press your lips into a small frown, lower lip pouting out, but squeeze your eyes shut anyway. “There’s no reason to make a face.”

You dare to crack an eye open, finding Seonghwa’s gaze on you now.

“I’ve told you to focus four times now. You keep getting distracted. Do I need to wear a mask? Is my face that distracting?” Seonghwa teases. He lifts his chin a little as he blinks at you. His gaze is innocent, but you know he’s well aware of what he’s doing.

“What’s the point of all this again? Isn’t it taking away from our sleep?”

Seonghwa clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shakes his head ever so slightly.

“It’s the Dreamscape for a reason. Your body is resting even if your mind is awake in here, so technically, you’re still sleeping.”

You really wish there was some way to kick him in the real world. Maybe if you glare at him hard enough it’ll work—just a quick kick.

“Why are you giving me that face?”

“Hm?” You purse your lips and lift your brows, desperately trying to hide your growing smile. Seonghwa just huffs a sigh out in response, followed by another order to focus more.

You’re still smiling when you press your palms against the bed of the shallow lake. The pebbles underneath are smooth against your skin, and you almost lose yourself in the sensation when Seonghwa’s voice cuts through the air again.

“Imagine the water being pushed away from your hands. Don’t think of it as you doing the pushing, let the water do the work.”

Seonghwa makes it sound so easy, but the longer you sit there, the more you realize that absolutely nothing is going to happen. You only try for a couple of minutes before giving up and tugging your hands back out of the water.

“Maybe I’m not a Siren after all.”

Seonghwa releases a loud laugh, head falling back as he snorts towards the sky.

“Nice try. Don’t play coy, and try again. Most Sirens have the ability to do this.”

“Emphasis on most.”

“You seem to be above average. I mean, you’re above average in other… departments, so I’m sure it carries over.”

“Above average? Excuse you, I would like to think that I am far above average in other departments!”

“I was talking about sparring, princess. Where is your mind headed?”

“I hate you.”

“Sure you do. Now, come on. I just want to see how strong you are mentally because that’s what these abilities are based upon. It’s all psychic, not physical.”

“I’ve done it before… used whatever these abilities are. Changing something about my body, I don’t know what, but making bullets pass through me without hitting me? Only when my life is being threatened though.”

Seonghwa squints a bit at you. He is suspiciously quiet, and you’re about to question him when he stands up all of a sudden. He closes the distance between the two of you in an instant, fingers latching onto your throat. You choke at the impact and fall back to the rocks.

“Th-This isn’t as s-sexy as you think it is,” you mutter as you bring a hand up to grip Seonghwa’s wrist. Seonghwa lets another laugh loose, this one much quieter than the last, and his fingers tighten a tad.

“If your life has to be threatened just to see the extent of your powers, then I can do that.”

“G-God, you’re insufferable.” You aren’t sure why he would think that choking you is the best way to get you to focus, because all you can think about is how damn hard it is to breathe instead. Still, you press your palms flat against the rocks once more and desperately try to push the water away. It hits in that moment, a sense of familiarity and deja vu, and your mind slips back into a memory rather than the pull of the water on your fingertips.

The breath leaves your lungs, and you gasp for air, cradling your bleeding nose with careful fingers. Her knees drop onto your abdomen while her hands go for your throat. You try to swat her hands away from you with the bloodied hand, but she seems to have even more strength than before. You stretch a hand out to her sternum, trying to reach for the cloak over her skin. The lack of air is making your head spin though, and you can’t focus enough to use your abilities on her. Your fingers tremble and shake against her clothes.

Fucking… work. Come on. Just fucking phase.

Spots dance on the edge of your vision, and your hand falls to your side limply.

The last time you were in this position, you weren’t able to do anything. You couldn’t defend yourself. Your fingers tighten on the pebbles. Then the pressure of Seonghwa’s grip dissipates, and you jerk upwards, gasping for air.

“Good job!” His tone is bright and cheerful, like he didn’t just try to choke you into unconsciousness. You would laugh if you weren’t still attempting to catch your breath.

“Are you congratulating me on almost dying?”

“Oh hush, you’re fine. I barely choked you. You pushed the water away though. It didn’t last a long time, but that isn’t as important. You still managed to do it, which means you at least have the ability. Now we can move onto tr–”

“Hey! Hello, Y/N, are you there? Did I lose your brain somewhere?”

“Huh?” You speak before your brain catches up, the vivid memory of the previous night dissipating bit by bit until you remember that you are in fact awake and not still in the Dreamscape with Seonghwa. Long fingers snap in front of your face. You jolt a little and turn to the man at your side, his peach hair blending in a bit with the sky around his head.

“You’ve been off in la-la land for a while now,” Yunho chuckles. His smile is soft as he looks down at you, and you can almost sense a cheeky comment coming, so you speak before he has the chance.

“I was lost in thought and thinking of other things, that’s all,” you say through a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“That much is obvious, but there’s no need to be sorry.”

You pull your stare off Yunho and glance around the little marketplace again. San isn’t with the two of you today – something about staying back to help Jongho and Mingi run some maintenance checks on the ship – but you aren’t alone. Wooyoung and Yeosang came along today, and you can only be grateful that Yeosang is too preoccupied with Wooyoung to sling insults your way. The pair keeps a significant distance from you and Yunho; they walk along the row of stalls on the other side of the street, Wooyoung’s arm linked through Yeosang’s. He has something in his hand, though you can’t tell what it is from this distance. All you can see is Wooyoung wrapping said item around Yeosang’s wrist, then a clear and bright laugh falls from his lips, one you can hear from across the road. Yeosang smiles down at the action, teeth flashing, and the action looks so foreign on Yeosang’s features that you glare at the man a little.

“Damn, I’ve never seen someone look so bitter at the sight of happiness,” Yunho snorts, drawing your attention back to him. A scoff slips past your lips.

“It’s not like that. I just don’t understand Yeosang.” Yunho seems to understand what you mean, nodding slightly as he hums in response. His gaze trails over to where Wooyoung and Yeosang stand.

“Yeosang is complicated and hard to understand. You shouldn’t take it personally. He hates everyone at first, then he continues to act like he hates them to save face and seem tough. Plus, he’s bitter that you’re a better shot than he is. His pride is weak in that regard. Besides, no one is as close as Yeosang and Wooyoung are. They’re basically family at this point, had no one but each other for a long time before joining the crew. They bring out the best in each other, so of course, Wooyoung will bring out the softer side of Yeosang.”

You don’t respond, just letting a sigh slip through, and Yunho smiles a bit at your reply or lack thereof. He comes to a sudden halt and releases a noise of surprise. For a moment, you think that something has happened to either Yeosang or Wooyoung, but Yunho is faced in the opposite direction, towards a small stall.

“Y/N, Y/N, come here!” He ushers you closer to the stall, hand around your bicep, and points down at something that looks like a plant. “They have hyacinth root! It’s extremely rare. I’m surprised that they have it. Excuse me – could we have a handful of your hyacinth roots?”

“What’s so important about a root?” You inquire as the person behind the stall begins to pick out a few of the plants.

“You can crush them up with peppermint leaves to create a paste that, when consumed, will slow your heart rate but keep you alive. It makes you seem dead when in actuality, you aren’t. It typically lasts between seven and ten minutes. Good for getaways or dupes.”

“Have you ever used it before?”

“Once, yeah. Hongjoong had a mission somewhere in the Yuki system, but it was so long ago that I can’t really remember where we were. Not too long after I joined the crew actually. Hongjoong came to me with the root and told me to make the concoction. That was the first I’d heard of it. It’s always handy to keep a few around in case of emergencies, especially since they’re hard to come by, but I haven’t been able to find any for quite some time now.” You watch Yunho quietly exchange money with the vendor and take the bag of roots. He pulls away from the stall after a few moments and softly spoken thanks.

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable in any sense, but your thoughts won’t quiet down enough to let you relax. Every lingering stare from the townspeople makes you second-guess yourself, and they aren’t exactly shy about looking at you or Yunho as they walk past.

“Hey, I have a question,” you say after a few minutes. “I talked with Jongho about it before, but I wanted to ask about Mingi. From your perspective, is it… is it possible to undo the mental conditioning he went through?” Part of you is genuinely curious about Mingi’s condition and what Yunho thinks about it, but you’re also asking for yourself. If it were up to you, you would erase every lingering touch of the military and push it all out of your mind. If Yunho knows of a way to do that, then you want it.

“It’s very possible,” Yunho hums. “Just like undoing what the military did to you.” You open your mouth to protest, but there’s no use because Yunho just shifts and smiles at you. The smile is knowing and understanding, like he’s picked your brain apart in seconds. “Everything is reversible except for death, right? Mingi is just a tough nut to crack. He wants to learn and understand emotions, but he doesn’t want to let go of what tethers him to the part of him that misunderstands and can’t process emotions like you or me. He wants to abandon his title as the Brute of Kebos, but he doesn’t want to completely lose that part of him. It’s a hard dichotomy to dissect. Hating yourself but clinging to what makes you the thing you hate. Not once have I ever heard him call himself the Brute of Kebos. So… I think that the only way to break him loose of those chains is to have something like a rebirth. A rebirth of the Brute of Kebos, a new version, one different than the last.”

“Why isn’t he allowed off the ship? Is it because we’re on Kebos? Is Hongjoong worried that there will be another incident?”

Yunho freezes, head snapping towards you so fast that it looks painful. His lips part, but no sound comes out for several seconds.

“How do you know about that?”

“I-I – uh, Jongho just m-mentioned it. He didn’t tell me anything, only that there was an incident.” Yunho’s hand closes tight around your arm again, this time much more painful than the last. It almost burns, and you had no idea that Yunho was this strong until now.

“You shouldn’t ask about it,” he hisses out through gritted teeth. You’ve never seen this expression on his face, this gleam in his eyes. He doesn’t seem angry in the slightest, and that’s what sends your thoughts into a scramble. Merely sad. “That’s between you and Hongjoong if you want to talk about it, and it’s on him to tell you about it.”

“O-Okay, yeah, um, I’ll drop it,” you stammer out, averting your eyes, so you don’t have to see Yunho’s pained expression any longer. “We can… we can try to confront a bit of my trauma now like – like you’d wanted to do.” Yunho’s hand falls away from your arm, but the ache continues to reside, and you bring your other hand up to rub at the skin there. Yunho notices your movements, expression falling into guilt. “Yunho?” You press, desperate to just change the damn subject now.

“Y-Yeah, sorry, let’s get started. First, can you tell me some things that comfort you? Things to think about if you’re feeling panicked or anxious? A sight, smell, taste, sound, feel.”

A soft-sided grin, rounded cheeks, and bright eyes. You don’t even ask for the image to come to mind, yet it does as soon as Yunho mentions comfort. You’re frantic as you try to push the thought away and replace it with something else that comforts you, but everything you think of surrounds Jisung.

“Um, the stars on a clear night.”

Jisung.

“The smell of cherry wood and sugar.”

Jisung.

“Sound of fire crackling.”

Jisung.

“The feel of a-a rough hand in – in mine.”

Jisung.

“The taste of honey… and vanilla on soft lips.”

Jisung.

Your voice trails off and dies in a whisper. The heat of Yunho’s stare is on you. Out the corner of your eye, you spot the barest hint of a smile on his lips, but it disappears when he speaks again, tone quieter to match yours.

“Think about the last time you were here. Do you remember it?”

Vague. It’s vague and foggy. A cold night. Stars. Warm fire. Even warmer next to him.

“Y-Yes.” You nod.

“Can you recall it for me? It doesn’t have to be detailed; you can only tell me if you want. Whatever you want to tell me and are comfortable telling me.”

“I last came here with a friend on business. One of my teammates, someone in my unit. Just the two of us.”

“Three constellations. The ones I taught you last time. Come on! If you name them all, I’ll give you something.” Jisung’s laugh is clear as it rings through the air, so loud and bright that it could dispel every cloud in the sky.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna give me?” You roll your eyes ever so slightly. Only enough for Jisung to see it and scoff at your gesture, and he sits up to hit your arm with the back of his hand. You laugh, hair sprawled out across the ground. Jisung hesitates there. His expression melts, and his gaze is so gentle and full of emotion that you feel a deep pang in your chest. “S-Stop looking at me like that. It’s weird.”

Jisung doesn’t respond right away; instead, he leans down over you and blocks your view of the sky. All you see in that moment is him. You exhale, breath fogging in the air between you, and Jisung dips in to press his lips against yours. Soft lips. The taste of honey and vanilla. Stars hanging high in the sky. Jisung’s calloused hand reaching out and finding yours. Cherry wood and sugar on your nose. A fire crackling behind you.

“I decided to betray the military on that trip. I thought it would protect him. That I was doing it for him. He hated the military more than anything, but it was the only thing he – we had. I thought I could dismantle them on my own. I was so stupid and foolish to think that I could.”

“Has this all been for him then? The papers as well?”

“No. No, the papers were for someone else. The friend I came here with is still alive, at least I think he is. I haven’t – haven’t seen him or heard from him in three years.”

“Who are the papers for then?” Yunho’s tone isn’t pressing; it’s hesitant and cautious, yet it somehow still urges you to answer.

“I lost someone the night I killed the king. That’s who the papers are for.” You dare to glance up at Yunho. Maybe it’s an attempt to see if there’s disgust or hatred on his face, but his brows are furrowed and sloped with concern instead. His lips part to say something in response. A loud shout interrupts him before he gets the chance though. The two of you whip around to find the source of the sound. It’s Wooyoung, hand raised high in the air as he drags Yeosang along with him and approaches you and Yunho.

“Hey! We need to go!” Wooyoung says, tone loud even when he gets close to you. “Lieutenant just called me over the comms. He said we need to get back to the ship as fast as possible.”

“Did something happen?” Yunho asks, but Wooyoung merely shakes his head.

“Don’t know. He didn’t say. He sounded mad though.”

“Shit, let’s go then.” Yunho is quick to spin on his heel and start walking back the way you came. To your surprise, Yeosang pulls away from Wooyoung to fall into step with Yunho instead, and you stay back with Wooyoung.

“He really didn’t explain anything?” You ask, tilting your head to look at the dark-haired man. Wooyoung purses his lips.

“No, he didn’t. But if he’s upset, then that means Captain is going to be a nightmare to deal with.”

“You think?”

“I know it. When Seonghwa is this mad, Hongjoong is always ten times worse.” Wooyoung turns away, bringing a hand up to rub at the skin under his collar, and you watch the movements with nervous eyes.

“H-Has he–”

“No.” Wooyoung doesn’t let you finish the thought, but he seems to know what’s on your mind. He drops his hand to his side again. “He’s never hurt me, and he never will. It just reminds me of my previous own–captains. My previous captains. I don’t do well when any of the crew gets upset or angry because of that.”

“O-Oh,” you exhale. It almost sounds like a noise of relief. Wooyoung doesn’t push the conversation further, and neither do you, so the two of you trail after Yeosang and Yunho in silence until you reach the hangar where the ship resides.

Seonghwa is waiting for you there, just outside the airlock. Wooyoung was correct – he looks upset based upon the way the muscles in his face are tightened and drawn together, but also because of his rigid posture.

“You all need to go to the bridge immediately,” he says, not waiting for you to get close before speaking.

“Can’t I drop this off first?” Yunho asks as he lifts his satchel off his hip.

“It wasn’t a recommendation, Yunho. It was a command. Bridge, now.”

Yunho doesn’t even try to argue. He dips his head and follows Yeosang onto the ship. You and Wooyoung move to do the same, but Seonghwa catches Wooyuong by the arm as he’s climbing the stairs to the airlock.

“Are you alright? Did anyone bother you in the town?” Seonghwa’s tone slips back to its regular warmth and soft concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay. No one bothered me.”

Seonghwa offers a small nod, tongue darting out to moisten his lips before he lets Wooyoung continue onto the ship. The lieutenant falls into step with you as you climb the stairs behind Wooyoung, but he doesn’t speak at all.

“What? You’re not gonna ask me if I’m okay?” You inquire, tone teasing and light. Seonghwa doesn’t respond with his regular mirth or teasing though.

“I know you can handle yourself just fine,” he mutters back.

“What’s going on?”

“Hongjoong is upset.”

“Why?” Wooyoung asks, turning around to face the two of you. Seonghwa clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shaking his head back and forth a bit.

“Eavesdropping is bad.”

“Have I ever really been good though?” Wooyoung lets out a quiet laugh and rubs the back of his neck. It’s meant to be a lighthearted joke, probably to get Seonghwa to loosen up a little, but Seonghwa doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“The lead died.”

“Did the trail die or the Siren?” Wooyoung asks, hand falling away from his neck as his expression grows more serious. A sigh slips past Seonghwa’s lips.

“The lead who was supposed to be here has been dead for thirty years. It was bad information and a dupe to cover tracks.”

“Oh…” Wooyoung’s mood deflates before your eyes. His shoulders slump forward a little, and he faces forward again. Seonghwa frowns at his back before continuing to speak to you.

“Hongjoong is furious. It would be best if we all just bite our tongues no matter what so he doesn’t lash out.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Wooyoung murmurs. Something about the whole situation doesn’t feel quite right though, nor does it sit well with you. You harden your gaze on Seonghwa.

“Is it really true? About the Siren?”

“Why do you think I would lie to Wooyoung?” Seonghwa barely shifts to look at you, a sharp glare that makes his face almost unrecognizable landing on you. His eyes and tone are colder than they’ve ever been with you, and it’s enough to make you regret even opening your mouth. You near the bridge feeling worse than before, Seonghwa’s angered presence lingering at your side as he continues to walk alongside you.

Actually stepping onto the bridge somehow makes your heart plummet further. The air is tenser than you can imagine, and you’re bringing up the rear with Seonghwa apparently, because everyone else already stands in front of the captain’s chair looking both uncomfortable and nervous. You round the edge of the chair to find Hongjoong sitting there. He seems calm more than anything else, hair a new shade of blue and laying loosely over his forehead. It makes him seem younger and more innocent, but the gleam in his eyes shows how furious he truly is. Seonghwa moves to stand beside him, whereas you hurry to stand alongside Wooyoung.

“During one of our meetings today, a captain of one of our allied crews showed us some obituaries and news reports concerning the Siren we were led to believe was here. That Siren has apparently been dead for nearly thirty years. The lead I was given was a dupe, which means that my information broker is a traitor and working for someone else.” Hongjoong somehow manages to maintain a steady and flat tone. His nostrils flare a bit with each word, so it’s evident that he’s on the brink of letting the anger slip through.

You glance down the line of the crew to find Jongho and Mingi, gauging their reactions to Hongjoong’s spike in anger. Jongho seems to be just fine; his expression is blank, and he looks at Hongjoong like nothing is wrong. Mingi, on the other hand, can’t stop shifting his weight from foot to foot. His brows are so closely knit that you can barely see the skin between them, and he won’t look up from the floor. You aren’t the only one who notices the discomfort Mingi is going through. Seonghwa tilts his head towards Hongjoong, speaking quietly, but thanks to the silence lingering over the rest of the bridge, you all can hear his words loud and clear.

“Calm down.”

It’s the wrong thing to say apparently, because Hongjoong pushes up from his seat and stares Seonghwa down like the man just shot him.

“Why should I calm down when we’re running out of fucking time?” Hongjoong yells, voice booming through the room in a shocking way. “When we’ve been wasting time on a damn false lead because we were betrayed yet again? What part of me should be fucking calm then? How long until someone fucking sells us out?” He expects an answer from Seonghwa, but the man doesn’t provide one. Instead, he huffs air through his teeth and steps closer to Hongjoong. His fingers close around the collar of Hongjoong’s long brown coat, tugging him forward just enough to hiss his next words in the captain’s face.

“You should be calm because Mingi is present.” Seonghwa pushes Hongjoong away from him, and the shorter man falls back to his chair with little to no reaction. He looks down at the floor, avoiding everyone’s wide-eyed stares while Seonghwa turns to address the crew.

“Everyone is dismissed,” he states, tone as flat as he can manage. Yunho is the first to move, then Yeosang, who places a hand on Wooyoung’s hip and guides him off the bridge. Jongho follows without a word, yet Mingi doesn’t move. He hasn’t budged one bit, still in the same position he was in before. “Everyone is dismissed, Mingi. That includes you.”

The sharply spoken command spurs Mingi to move. He nods once, but the movement is stilted and awkward, before following Jongho off the bridge. You find yourself in a similar position to the one Mingi was just in. Your feet don’t want to move, and you can’t get yourself to even turn your head away from Seonghwa and Hongjoong. The lieutenant shifts to look at you. Your heart pounds against the confines of your ribcage. A hand brushes your lower back, and you nearly jump out of your skin because you hadn’t seen anyone come up behind you. San blinks back at you, nudging you forward a little. You take the hint and let him guide you off the bridge.

“You looked scared shitless,” he mutters once you’re out of earshot of Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

“Just a bit surprised,” you whisper back.

“We don’t see Hongjoong like that often. In fact, it’s been well over a year since he seemed that angry.” San doesn’t elaborate past that. You don’t ask him too either, too caught up in the thought of Hongjoong’s unprecedented anger. San’s hand stays on your back throughout the walk back to your rooms, but you don’t speak. It leaves you alone with your thoughts, which are a jumbled mess of confusion at this point between all that’s happened today.

And at the forefront of it all? Jisung.

You just want to pour your heart out to someone and get it all off your chest, everything you remember starting from the minute you joined the military up until the assassination of the king. You want to get it off your chest; you’re sick of bottling it up and not being able to talk about it. You don’t know why you’re thinking that way all of a sudden. You’ve spent so long thinking about yourself and how you can’t be vulnerable or weak in front of anyone. The hand on your back remains. The slightest pressure against your skin, guiding you and pushing you forward. It’s merely driving you down the corridor, yet it feels like more than that. San could’ve moved his hand at any point, but he didn’t, and you only realize why when you reach the door to your room.

He wants to comfort you. To show you that he is here for you even if you fail to realize it.

As his hand slips away from your back, you twist and catch his wrist between your fingers. San blinks at you with wide eyes.

“I t-think – I think I’m ready to tell you about my past in the military,” you spit out in a rush. It’s a miracle you only stuttered a couple of times because your heart is pounding and making your heart rate accelerate.

“You don’t have to,” San whispers, obviously caught off-guard. “I don’t want you to feel like I expect that from you. Because I don’t. I meant what I said yesterday.”

“I know, I know. I just – I want to trust you. I mean, I trust you. I do. I trust you, and I want to trust you with this as well.”

San’s face melts into a soft smile. “Okay. Is it alright if I come in?” He motions towards your door, and you nod quickly, tapping at the keypad to let him in. He waits for you to step through the door first then follows you to the bed. He sits as far away from you as he can without falling off the mattress, hand pressed to the comforter between you. You expected some level of awkwardness or tension to come from this conversation. While you’re panicked and nervous about exposing this part of you, San’s warm and intense gaze does nothing but ease your worries.

“You… you don’t really know much about me aside from the fact that I killed the King of Eros, and that I’m trying to pardon someone.” You bring your hands into your lap, tugging at the skin around your thumbnail to avoid looking at San. “I joined the military at 14.”

“Recruit number seventeen. Name and age?” A cold tone that tears through your skin and confidence with its iciness, and yet you pull your shoulders back and stand up a little straighter.

“L/N Y/N, age 14.”

“I think th-that something happened then because I can’t remember my life before going to the recruitment office. I don’t know if they… if they did something to me or – I just don’t know, but I wasn’t fit to be a recruit. They took me anyway because they needed recruits. I was small and weak. I got injured more often than other people, and no one ever tried to help me because I was a runt. I was thrown into a small unit of only six people. All of us were young and misfits, kids who didn’t fit the military mold, and they never expected much from us.”

“Alright, we’re the mess of recruits, okay? They lumped us together because they think we’ll fail, but we won’t! So we gotta prove them wrong, little lady. Understood?” The boy jabs his thumb at his chest as he says the words, smile falling to emphasize his serious tone. You nod several times in response.

“The only thing I was ever good at was shooting. So… I dedicated everything I had to being the best at shooting. It paid off, of course. They never moved me from my team though, because no other commander wanted me in their unit, but I shot up in ranks and quickly became known for being the best sniper in the division. Somehow that turned into being the best shooter in the military of Eros. I never wanted that title, and I never wanted them to like me. I don’t know why I joined in all honesty. They must’ve taken that away from me when I joined, but eventually it became a desire to protect my team. They became my family. Then I ruined it. I stole some classified documents that could’ve destroyed the military from the inside out, but I got caught. Branded a traitor and stuck in jail for what I did. They weren’t going to kill me then though. One of my friends came to visit me in jail and promised to fix things.”

“Jisung.” You glance at the man, his face slightly shrouded by the steel bars between you. “Jisung, I–”

“I thought we were gonna work through this together, Y/N.” The stinging of his disappointment almost hurts worse than the brand on the inside of your wrist. If you could twist them, you would, but the cuffs around your wrists prevent you from doing so.

“I know…” You can’t finish your train of thought.

“I, uh, I don’t know what I was going to say. I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m sorry, Jisung.”

“Four years. I don’t want it to end like this.” Jisung shakes his head a little bit.

“They aren’t going to kill me. Just – just the brand a-and being kicked out of the military.”

“I’m going to fix this, Y/N. They can’t – this isn’t right. I won’t let them do this.”

“Jisung, you can’t – they – the damage is already done.”

“Then they’ll have to kill me. I won’t let them do this. Not to you, Y/N. You can’t ask me to sit on the sidelines this time.”

“Once I was let out, they expected me to leave and never come back. That’s what I was planning to do, but I found out that one of my teammates told the king that he had organized everything. The theft, the plans to dismantle the military, even claimed that he plotted to kill the king. It wasn’t true at the time, but it didn’t matter. He earned a public execution sentence for it. Because of me. Because I thought I could fix things and make it better for my team. Instead, I got our leader killed. They all blamed me except for one, and that was almost worse. I would’ve rather had them all hate me than have one defend me. They all left Eros as soon as they could. Didn’t even wait for the execution. I stayed and went back to the palace where the execution was being held with the intention of stopping it. I was going to shoot the king before they killed my friend. I thought it was meant to be penance for what I caused. To take away the guilt I was feeling and redeem myself. Then they killed him, and I was too late. I hesitated. He died. So I killed the king and left. I should’ve taken my gun with me, but I left it. I was t-too emotional to remember to grab it. They picked up the traces of my fingerprints and traced it back to me. So yeah… there’s my sob story.”

You exhale shakily. Now that it’s all out there, you feel light and airy. Almost like you’re floating, but not in a good or happy way. Next thing you know, San is pulling you against his chest, and your face collides with his shoulder as he wraps a hand around the back of your head. The action causes a choked sob to slip out. Neither of you were expecting the sound, and you didn’t even feel the tears in your eyes until San pulled you against him. Shaky hands move to grip the back of his shirt.

“I know you still blame yourself,” he murmurs against your hair. “I can tell. At some point, you have to face the truth though, Y/N. And the truth is that you did not make those choices for whoever your friend was. He made those choices, and he alone made them. It sounds like he made them because he cared about you as much as you cared about him. Enough to die for you.”

“B-But I… I didn’t – I didn’t die for him. I should’ve told the truth. I should’ve sacrificed myself. I d-didn’t,” you cry, blinking against San’s shoulder.

“You did sacrifice for him. That’s not something that you should blame yourself for because it’s not your fault. I’ll remind you of that every single day if I have to. Until you believe it.”

“W-Why?”

“Because it’s what you deserve, Y/N. It’s what you deserve.”

✧✧✧ a/n: ahahsdfjkhaskjdfs im late but here oh my god i didn’t expect it to take so long i even cut 1k out of the outline and moved it to shorten yet aslfidjiosdfj here we are welp anyway i hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think of this one 🤧

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[demonofthechili]

Blend In - Adler x Fem!Bell

A/N: have an Adler x Bell!Reader from my stash of Adler x oc content! Enjoy this thing I wrote, adapted for everyone to enjoy! Things in italics are in German!

T/W: fluff and not paying attention to the op at hand!

---

"We need to keep a low profile. Which means, Bell, none of those bright ideas of yours."

"I'll put them away for later," You promised with a nod, coming to a stop beside Adler.

He retrieved a pack of cigarettes, offering it your way first so that you could take one. Then, he took one for himself, placing it between half scarred lips. As he grabbed his lighter and lit it, his eyes scanned the crowd for your target.

He happened a glance to you, who had an unlit cigarette, and promptly ignited his lighter, holding it your way. He... didn't mean to do that.

"Sorry," He apologised, to which you merely offered a small smile.

Upon spotting your target a few seconds after, Adler subtly gestured ahead. You did your best to nonchalantly look over, confirming the ID.

"We have a positive ID. We're going to pursue," He spoke lowly so that the agency could hear, gesturing for you to follow as he began to walk ahead.

It seemed like a straightforward approach, thankfully, and the crowd wasn't too much of a - -

"You've got to be shitting me," You came to a stop, tapping Adler on the arm before gesturing, "They're heading into the carnival."

"We have to go after them before they get out of sight," Adler informed as if you wouldn't know that. "We need to blend in."

You took a long drag of your cigarette, perking up as his elbow gently nudged you; you looked to his arm, which was extended your way. You blinked.

"Are you sure, sir?"

"C'mon, before they get too far."

You took that as the go ahead, slipping your arm through his to link you two together. You dropped your cigarette to stomp it out, placing a hand on his bicep and walking side by side into the crowd and music. Bathed in the warm glows of the lights, your breaths were suddenly evident in the German air. It was getting cold.

The carnival was large in size, meaning there was a lot of ground to possibly cover whilst following your guy. Yet, despite this, you were looking around at the night sky and various stalls, both food and games.

"Bell?"

"Yes?"

"Something got you distracted?"

"The carnival," You revealed, voice somewhat distant. Adler found himself admiring the way you eyed the food stalls and the various games, and how you looked at the prizes. "It's gorgeous. I wasn't expecting this."

"Stay focused," He ordered lightly, following your gaze to a donut stand, "We're close."

"Sorry, you're right."

As you walked, however, you just couldn't help it. Your head lulled to the side, resting against the chilled leather of his red leather jacket. He assumed it was to further allow you to blend in, but a part of him hoped it was a conscious thing. His heart beat ever so slightly faster.

You came to a stop at a stall due to the fact that your target also came to a stop at a stall a little further up. It was a donut stall, the kind that you had been eyeing before, and Adler, after a moment, gestured the owner over.

"One of your glazed, please."

"Just a moment, please," the owner requested happily, freshly dunking one before wrapping it and offering it his way.

"For you, my darling," He directed to you, his companion, catching you completely off guard.

Reaching out, you took the donut, "Thank you."

Glancing to where your target was, and noticing he was beginning to walk, Adler started following him again.

"Thank you for this. I'm quite hungry, and it helps us blend in. Bonus on all accords."

"Don't mention it. Consider it payment for when we last went drinking."

"A single donut?" You playfully scoffed, taking a bite from it, "You can do better than that."

Leaving it at that, the next hour or so went about the same. You would periodically stop, Adler would, depending on the stall, buy something small for you, and it'd repeat. He'd pull you close every now and then, and your conversation grew slightly from the mission.

He found himself having a good time, more so than if he was solely focused on the mission at hand. He found himself placing his hand over yours on his bicep. He found himself admiring you from behind his sunglasses when he could.

You somewhat perked up when you eventually crossed the games stall you had first set your eyes on; a game where you shoot targets, and one of the prizes was a (f/c) duck. An adorable (f/c) duck. A (f/c) duck you were fantasising about adding to your collection and cuddling.

"Bell?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want one of the animals?"

"Oh-? I didn't know I was staring. Hah, sorry."

"Do you want one of the animals?" Adler repeated, a little more firm.

"..yes. But, we have a job to do."

"He's fine for a second. C'mon."

Taken off guard, you glanced to your target, who was busy at a stall, before looking to the oncoming game.

"I'll take ten bullets, please."

"There you go," The stall owner placed down a small tub, "Good luck. I'm sure he'll win you something, ma'am."

Sliding his arm from yours, Adler loaded the gun and took aim; by the time he was on the last bullet, all but one target was down. He loaded, paused, and then looked to you.

"You try to hit the last one."

You hesitantly reached up, grabbing the barrel, "I don't want to be the one to miss."

"I'll help you," Spoken after a quick glance over his shoulder, and he moved to stand behind you.

He placed his hands over yours, helping you line up the shot. At this range, he could smell the familiar shampoo in your hair and the perfume you wore. He savoured the way you leaned into his chest, clearly expecting the kickback of a normal weapon, and he listened to your breathing.

You, on the other hand, could feel his breath fanning your neck and the top of your head. You could feel his heartbeat, and the smooth yet rough feeling of his hands was a welcome experience. You wanted to stay like this for a while. You wished you could.

You pulled the trigger, and the target was shot down.

"Congratulations!" The stall owner beamed, to which you half turned to gaze up to Adler and grin his way. "Which would you like?"

"The duck, please! Thank you very much," Spoken as you pointed out and then accepted the prize, a shine to your eyes that Adler found endearing. You turned to completely face him, still encased in his arms, and beamed, "Thank you, Adler. This will make a fine addition to my collection."

For the first time in a very, very long time (real or fake), you witnessed a smile grace Adler's half scarred lips. It caused his eyes beneath his glasses to crease, and your heart skipped a beat.

After what felt like an eternity, Adler closed the height gap and captured your lips in a kiss. Despite the initial shock, you eagerly returned it, a hand placing itself onto the back of his neck to pull him a little closer. To make sure it was real. That it wasn't another dream.

It was a pleasant exchange, disrupted only for air. Adler's eyes fluttered open, gazing upon you with a shroud of lust and satisfaction.

"Adler," You whispered, barely audible above the music, and he ran a hand over your hair.

"We can talk about that later," He promised, offering his arm for you to take again, which you happily did.

"That... that covers when we last went drinking."

[crystalirises]

The Child of Anarchy

TechnoDad + Sondy :D

TW: Child Abandonment, Hybrid Issues, Violence, Blood, War, and Major Character Death

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886223/chapters/76698542

“It’s only for a day, my little champion.” Techno watched as Wilbur helped Fundy sit down on the carpeted floor, the fox hybrid whining as he reached up his arms towards his dad. His twin sighed, moving towards where Techno stood, as he lugged a heavy bag around his shoulders. Techno took it without so much as a word, his frown etched onto his face as Wilbur looked up at him apologetically. His ears twitched, flicking down as he noticed his twin’s trembling hands. In another time, he would have reached down and helped Wilbur calm himself, but today wasn’t that time. Wilbur handed him the bag, murmuring apologies underneath his breath before heading back towards a whimpering Fundy. The fox hybrid tried to jump into Wilbur’s arms, deterred by Wilbur moving away, his twin flinching as Fundy got near. Wilbur ran a hand through Fundy’s hair, “I’ll be back. I promise. You’ll stay with Uncle Techie until then, alright?”

“Noooo, I want papa!” Fundy tugged at Wilbur’s hand, growling as Wilbur pulled away. His twin moved across the room, pausing at the door frame that connected the living room to the front hall. Techno gathered his nephew in his arms, the fox hybrid screaming at him to put him down.

“It’s just a day, Fundy. I’ll be back before you know it. Then… we can do whatever you want to do, alright?” Wilbur smiled down at his son, hand reaching out before pulling away. Techno held on to his nephew tightly, barely wincing as Fundy began to claw and bite at his arms. He’d felt much worse pain than what a child fox hybrid could inflict. His twin moved his gaze to him, that smile still playing on his lips. Techno wished it were gone. “You can take care of him, right?”

“Better me, than you.” The words were low, unwelcoming as he took a step back from Wilbur. His twin flinched, but he didn’t even try to come back. Wilbur took a step back, and then another, until he was out into the hallway. There was a pain in Wilbur’s eyes, his hands rising and falling as if he didn’t know what to do. “Wilbur. If you step out that door, I expect you to一”

“You know me, Techno. I’ll be back before Fundy begins tugging at your hair.” Wilbur gave him that ridiculous lopsided smile, the one that he’d give Techno when they were kids… Techno watched as his twin turned on his heel, footsteps thumping down the hall. He heard the door creak open, but he didn’t hear it close. With a squirming Fundy in his arms, he followed Wilbur to the hallway. The sun was setting outside, the night already making its presence known by the cold breeze that flew in from the open door. Sunlight blended into Wilbur’s brown hair and yellow sweater, casting him in a warm golden glow that reminded Techno of home. “Tell Phil I’m sorry for the short notice, I know I should have written a letter before… I’m sorry, Techno.”

“You shouldn’t apologize to me, Wilbur.” Techno, despite the voices screaming at him to yeet Wilbur out the door, placed Fundy down on the ground. The fox hybrid wasted no time in clinging to his dad’s leg, Wilbur wincing as Fundy’s claws dug into the cloth. Techno stood there, motionless as Wilbur finally forced himself to kneel in front of Fundy. He could hear his twin’s whispered promises, the hope that he was vowing as he pulled the child into an embrace. His nephew didn’t know any better, giggling as he wrapped his arms around Wilbur, asking Wilbur to get him this and that and that he’ll be waiting for him to come back. He felt something sting at the back of his eyes, though Techno would never admit to himself what it was.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, my little… c-champion.” Wilbur ran a hand through Fundy’s hair before standing up. He walked out, casting Fundy one last smile before closing the door behind him. Fundy began to whine, Techno immediately picking him up as he let Fundy cry into his shoulder.

He held onto his sobbing nephew until the fox hybrid fell asleep and the sun had dipped in the distance. He stood by the door for what felt like hours, consoling Fundy each time the kid woke up in a fit of tears. He wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there before he finally turned around.

The house felt colder and emptier than it had before. He wished that Phil had been home, then maybe it wouldn’t have come to this. He let out an angry huff, holding the fox hybrid tightly in his arms. Fundy nuzzled closer to him, purring when Techno ran a hand through his disheveled ginger hair. He made his way to his bedroom, placing his nephew on the mattress before settling on the chair nearby the bed. He sighed, placing his head in his hands. He wasn’t sure what to do now. Phil would know what to do. He would’ve stopped Wilbur from leaving. He would’ve done something more than just stupidly stand there and listen as Wilbur continued to spout lies.

He ran a hand through his hair.

He needed to be strong, but how could he be?

All he could do was pray and hope that Wilbur came back…

But no, Wilbur never came back.

He’d never come back. Not for Phil. Not for Techno. And not for Fundy.

---

“Did you miss me, my little champion?” His nose crinkled at the endearment, teeth baring against the man who had emerged from what smelt like a den of stone and dust. The stranger in front of him wore a dark brown trenchcoat. It nearly hung off his shoulders. He was lanky, dark circles beneath dark eyes that looked like they’ve seen too much for one lifetime. A hand darted out towards him, long fingers marked with callouses that looked too much like they came from an instrument than any sword. He backed away, clinging to his dad’s long red coat, a sharp growl rising in his throat. “Now, Fundy. Don’t you recognize your own dad? I missed you so much!”

“You’re not my dad!” He clung tighter to his real dad’s leg, wishing that his dad hadn’t taken them to this strange and foreign land. He wanted to go back home to grandpa! He felt a hand scratch the back of his ears, his dad glancing down at him with a smile. “He’s my dad, not you!”

The stranger froze, eyes blown wide before an accusatory look appeared in them. Fundy huffed, ears pressed against his head. He didn’t like this man at all! He was weird. He was about to beg his dad for them to go home when a familiar face showed up behind the stranger. A giddy smile appeared on his face, tail wagging happily before he lunged himself forward. “Uncle Tommy!”

His uncle seemed confused, but he didn’t try to push him away. Fundy clung to his arm, glad to see that there was someone familiar in this strange place. His dad looked over at him, a small smile on his face, though it quickly disappeared when the stranger barked out his dad’s name. He felt his sharp claws unsheath themselves, teeth gritting tightly. But before he could lunge himself at the stranger, his dad put up a hand. He whined, stomping his foot against the ground. He didn’t like it when people disrespected his dad. He wanted to bite and claw at those people until they apologized, but his dad always stopped him. It wasn’t fair! He was just defending his dad!

“Tommy, can you take Fundy inside? Wilbur and I have to talk.” His dad looked over at his uncle. Fundy frowned. He didn’t want to leave his dad with this stranger. Plus, Wilbur was a stupid name, hearing it made him want to bite something - preferably a chicken. He felt hands on his shoulder, his uncle flashing him a grin before leading him inside the hut. He looked around, eyes adjusting to the darkness. There was a set of stairs that led down into the earth, the stench of dirt hitting him. His uncle was trying to lead him down, but he took a moment to look back. The door to the outside had been left open and he could see a glimpse of his dad behind the man called Wilbur. His dad looked calm, but he could tell from the glint in his eyes that he was furious. He followed after his uncle, wondering if Wilbur would still be alive in a few minutes.

With Technoblade, he wasn’t quite sure how to explain to his estranged twin brother as to why Fundy couldn’t seem to recognize him. His brother was pacing in front of him, a manic look in his eyes that Techno tried to ignore. Wilbur had been fine when they arrived, all smiles and kind charisma… until he had tried to talk to Fundy. He cursed, knowing that he should have left his son with Phil. He had wanted to, but he didn’t want Fundy to think he was being abandoned. It took years for the fox hybrid to realize that “his dad” was never coming back, and another few years until Fundy had completely forgotten about Wilbur. He couldn’t bring himself to put Fundy through that pain again. He could only pray that Wilbur didn’t get any bright ideas about making his son fight in this revolution he was planning. Techno brought Fundy here for one reason and one reason only. He wasn’t going to hurt Fundy like Wilbur did. He was a better person than that.

“My son doesn’t remember me...” He looked up, surprised to find tears running down Wilbur’s face. He looked like a broken man. Techno couldn’t bring himself to care. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.” He snapped, hands curling against his side before relaxing. He would not argue with an unstable man. Wilbur stumbled towards him, a hand reaching to cling to the collar of his shirt. He raised a brow, wondering if his twin was trying to intimidate him. If so, he was doing a terrible job. Techno could even hear the voices telling him to punt Wilbur. He snorted, prying those cold fingers away from him. It’d take more than that to scare him. His brother gazed up at him, a familiar gleam in his eyes - a look of utter betrayal. Techno rolled his eyes, stepping back to give himself a bit of space. He couldn’t think with Wilbur being that close. “I cared for him. I raised him. I trained him. I held him each time he cried, wondering why you left him.”

“He calls you dad…”

“That’s what I am to him.” His twin brother bristled, face curling into anger. Techno stood his ground, giving his twin a harsh glare. He hadn’t asked to be a father, neither did Wilbur but at least one of them stayed to actually do the job. Wilbur’s hands curled into fists, and Techno didn’t miss the way that Wilbur reached to his right, as though reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. “You abandoned him. I took him in. Do you blame either of us for moving on from you?”

“A piglin hybrid can’t raise a fox hybrid.”

Techno laughed, a low and threatening chuckle that sounded more like a growl than a laugh.

“Wil… You’ve forgotten what you told me all those years.”

He stepped closer. His twin stepped back.

“Don’t you remember? ‘A human can’t raise a hybrid.’ You said it… now live with it.”

---

“FUNDY!” He flinched, turning around to face his very furious dad. His dad had small scratches on his arms, blood caking his skin - though Fundy knew it wasn’t really his own. Before he could explain himself, another explosion rang out behind them, the earth shaking beneath their feet. He felt the adrenaline in his veins, the rush of war filling him with excitement and a sense of adventure. His dad sighed, running a hand through his dirt-covered ginger hair. Fundy knew he was going to get in trouble for being out in the warzone, but he couldn’t help it! It looked so fun! They were tearing down Manburg, after all! “I told you to wait for me. Why are you out here?”

“I wanted to join the fight!” He looked down at his blood-stained claws, feet tapping against the ground impatiently. He still wanted to chase someone down. “I can fight, dad! Let me fight!”

His dad let out a tired sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What do we say?”

“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!” He yipped happily, tail wagging behind him as he darted away from an approaching wither skull. Smoke and dust broke through the air, causing him to cough and close his eyes. By the time he opened his eyes again, his dad had moved closer. A sword was in his hand, bloodied and dripping with the ichor of his enemies. There was an exasperated look on his dad’s face, but he could only grin up at him. Of course Fundy knew that wasn’t what his dad had wanted to hear, but he had wanted to say it. “Please. Please. Please一”

“Okay, okay! Try not to die, pipsqueak. I’ll see you after the fight.” His dad patted him on the head before jumping back into the fray. Fundy stood there for a moment, marveling at the way his dad gracefully cut down his enemies. He hoped he’d grow up to be like his dad someday. His thoughts were caught off when he heard another explosion, dust tinging the air, his dad’s form disappearing into the chaos of the battle. He turned on his heel and ran in the opposite direction, laughing and jumping past the holes that decorated the earth. No one tried to chase after him, most turning their heads each time Fundy sprinted past them. He wasn’t sure which prey he should pursue. They all looked so fun to chase down… He could feel warm and sticky blood drip down from his claws, his first victim being a stranger who wore a flower crown on their head. He wasn’t sure if they were a king, but they wore a crown so that means they probably were one.

From the corner of his vision, he caught a shadow darting away from the wreckage. They were shouting his uncle’s name. He looked at the stranger for a moment, recognizing them as the new president of… well, the big crater they were standing on. His teeth curled up into a wicked smile.

His tail wagged behind him, claws itching to dig into skin. He wouldn’t kill, just maim. His dad didn’t want him to kill… unless it was out of defense. Blue eyes met him across the field, those eyes widening in fear before the stranger turned around and ran. Fundy liked a good chase. He sunk low to the ground, letting his energy return to him before pouncing across the field. There was still some semblance of distance between him and his prey, but foxes were faster than rams, after all. His legs propelled him forward, the distance between him and the ram hybrid growing smaller until he could almost hear his prey’s ragged breathing. He smiled, and then he pounded. The person beneath him screamed, trying desperately to push him away, but Fundy stayed where he was. Fundy looked down at his hand, smiling sharply before letting his claw plunge down.

His claws dug into warm skin, the splatter of blood hitting him on the cheek. He had merely grazed the ram hybrid’s shoulder, a long gash that would need a lot of bandages to cover up. The new president screamed, light blue eyes turning completely gold - looking exactly like how a ram’s eyes are meant to be. The world suddenly blacked out, his back hitting the ground. His head was aching. He looked up, the ram hybrid had forced himself to his feet, clutching at his own head. The child president looked down at him for a few seconds, before turning around and disappearing back into the warzone. He touched a hand to his head, wincing. He had been headbutted. That was okay. He’d chased down his prey in the end. He’d won the game of chase.

As he waited for the numbing pain to subside, he looked around at the devastation around him. In the distance, he saw a familiar pair of inky black wings. He yipped in surprise, “Grandpa!”

Despite the pain in his head, he forced himself to stand, making his way towards the hill where his grandpa stood. He hadn’t seen his grandpa in two years, and Fundy wanted to tell him about all the trouble he and his uncle Tommy had caused. His tail wagged happily behind him, his joy disappearing when he finally reached the bottom of the hill. His grandpa was hunched over, hat covering his face. He could hear his grandpa screaming at… Wilbur. Fundy hadn’t seen the strange man since that morning when he had taken Fundy aside and tried to talk to him. He still didn’t like Wilbur. He was mean and he didn’t like his dad. Everytime Fundy was in the room with both of them, they’d only argue. Wilbur was very insistent that he was Fundy’s “real dad” but that wasn’t right. He didn’t even know who Wilbur was. He didn’t even like Wilbur. He watched the scene play out, gasping when his grandpa lunged forward, a diamond sword in hand.

He turned away.

He didn’t need to look back to know that Wilbur was dead.

He ran back into the battle, intent on finding a new victim to chase.

Yeah… he needed someone new to chase.

… He didn’t know why he was crying.

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

Clarification: Wilbur abandoned Fundy because he didn't know how to raise a hybrid son. Also, Fundy was raised by Techno here so he thinks Techno is his dad cause Wilbur abandoned Fundy when he was young. Fundy is also more in tune with his hybrid instincts since Techno trained him to use them to his advantage. He is also kind of a child by this point... so his look of war? Kinda childish since all he knows of war is through Techno's stories... He thinks of it as a game, really. As for the 'A human can't raise a hybrid', that conversation happened away from the first part of this fic. Like a private conversation that Wilbur and Techno had since Wilbur couldn't bring himself to say that in front of Fundy.

Also... I'm sorry Eret and Tubbo ;-;

[zutaraangtastic]

Could you do a little drabble about zuko and aang sharing dreams? maybe that is how zuko’s relationship with aang and katara starts, like it is what sparks it all :)

Also inspired by this post by @vomara! (Reminder that we are not accepting new prompts; we received these before July 1.) - Mod J

The moonlight pools in a pale circle on the dark water, perfectly still until Aang lands. His light footsteps cast ripples outwards as he spins Katara for an extra few beats in the air. Her eyes are squeezed shut with laughter as he guides her down gently, but she opens them, a gleam of mischief in their blue depths, and takes the lead as soon as she finds solid footing.

Aang gladly follows, letting her twirl him out to the end of her arm’s length and bring him back in. They sway together for an easy, quiet moment, with his back to her front and her smile pressed to his shoulder. He feels secure, wrapped up in her embrace, as he always does.

It’s a dream he has often, dancing on the sea with her—it’s one he never tires of. In the back of his mind, he knows she’s sleeping peacefully right next to him, so it’s not like it’s coming from a place of unfulfilled desire, as far as he can tell. They dance together all the time in their home, at fancy Republic City functions, at the Fire Lord’s galas. It’s just nice to steal away this extra secret time with her between night and day.

Even if it’s not quite the same as in real life, his mind does a pretty good job of conjuring Katara in a sleek sky-blue dress that tapers down one leg, her shoulders bare and her hair cascading in waves down her back. She’s utterly enchanting.

She dips him low, and Aang raises a hand to her cheek, his heart so full of love he feels like he could drown in it. “Baby, you’re my moon and stars,” he whispers, watching for the way the corners of her eyes crinkle with a smile as she leans in to kiss him. His own eyes flutter shut.

Something changes at that moment, heats up on his skin, brightens against his face. He doesn’t think much of it until he peeks his right eye open just a crack and gets a close-up look at an unmistakable scar—closer than he’s ever seen it in real life, close enough to see rivulets of pale tissue and faint pockets between rough scarlet ridges.

“Uh,” says Zuko.

“Um,” says Aang.

Neither of them moves. Around them, the scenery has turned to a soul-baringly sunny day, the water glittering beneath their feet. Zuko’s hands are where Katara’s were, one supporting Aang’s backwards lean and one resting high up on his thigh, Aang’s other knee raised up to frame Zuko’s side. Golden light, reflecting off the pool, dazzles in Zuko’s wide eyes, which soften little by little with something like gratitude.

Finally, he breaks the stillness of the moment with a somewhat dismayed laugh, letting go of the breath he seemed to be holding. Aang could almost swear he catches a sharp firewhiskey aftertaste brushing warmly over his lips. It’s an oddly specific detail, for a dream.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Zuko says, his mouth curving in a rare, secretive smile. “You’re just the person I wanted to see tonight.”

Something about it rubs against the grain in Aang’s mind, doesn’t quite add up the way it should, but he finds himself laughing, too, settling with ease into the firm hold that shifts to his waist. His own arms naturally find their way to wrap behind Zuko’s neck.

“You’re a lot smoother when I’m asleep, sifu hotman,” he remarks, and if Zuko’s brow furrows momentarily, he doesn’t really think twice about it after Zuko quickly twirls him a few times, catches him again by the hand and shoulder and steps with him in perfect sync.

Briefly, in the back of his mind, he wonders about Katara, but she wasn’t really here, and neither is Zuko. Even if his keen gaze makes Aang feel just as flustered as it does in real life, when he judges Aang’s firebending forms to “keep him sharp.” Even if the hand gliding up his side through the open slit of his robe makes him feel as hot as the sun.

He loves Katara. If he could love Zuko, too, he would—or, well, he already does, he thinks, but what difference does it make? All he knows is the real Zuko is sleeping soundly on the other side of the world. This can’t do any harm.

A little bit of sparring seems to blend naturally into their exchange. Instead of breaking apart to do the full Dancing Dragon, they stay close, trailing rainbow fire from their footsteps and trading precarious kicks around each other’s knees, legs crossing back and forth over one another as they move to and fro. The water doesn’t sizzle when their bending makes contact with it but splashes up into crystallized leaves of amber flame, scattering in their wake.

Aang ends up in the lead at some point, supporting Zuko’s weight in a high lift and a descending spin, their orange and red robes catching with a friction that might as well make a spark of its own. Several long strands of hair have strayed from Zuko’s topknot, falling messily around his face, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. There’s a simmering, unwavering intensity in his eyes now, never leaving Aang’s face. Aang flings him this way and that, dips him low and whispers, grinning, “Baby, you’re my sun and stars.” 

Zuko smirks invitingly, only to backflip over Aang’s bracing arm before Aang can act further. He lands easily, links his hand with Aang’s again and steps in close and fast to snap one leg up around Aang’s hip. They lean together, an unbroken line of contact from chest to thighs, breathing heavily. The shared hallucination of rhythm and music fades, and the utter brightness of the sky, too.

The closeness is so tempting, would make it so easy to kiss Zuko, but Aang decides to let his subconscious decide whether Zuko might make the first move instead.

“I didn’t know you could dance like that,” he says, with just a teasing note of accusation.

Zuko snorts, rolls his eyes with a distinctly affectionate exasperation reserved for Aang alone. Unthinkingly, Aang reaches to brush the loose hair back behind Zuko’s ear. His hand lingers gingerly against Zuko’s scar, warm, real, solid. Zuko doesn’t flinch away. Aang expects this dreamed image to melt away at any minute, but it doesn’t.

Before he loses the nerve, he blurts, “I didn’t know you would ever want to. With me.”

At that, Zuko chuckles, a self-deprecating sound edged with hopelessness that makes Aang’s heart clench. He closes his eyes and says, seemingly more to himself than Aang, “I knew this was all just stupid wishful thinking. That’s what happens, going to bed after too much to drink. Stupid.”

His eyelashes paint delicate, spidery shadows towards the arch of his cheek, shining damply, and his eyebrow digs down into a tense furrow. Aang doesn’t know what to do. This doesn’t make sense anymore—everything was going so well, and he thought that at least in a dream he might get a happy ending. He can’t put his finger on what went wrong. 

Lost, he bends his head slightly to press his lips to Zuko’s forehead, as the last golden light is swallowed up in the gray dawn all around them.

When Aang blinks slowly awake, the morning sky through the window is the first thing he sees, the first rays of sun stretching up into the receding blue. Katara is snoring gently, facing him, with her hair spilling over half her face. Aang lifts her sleep-heavy hand and works his fingers between hers, bringing her knuckles to his lips to kiss them softly.

He doesn’t know how long he lies awake there, watching the sun turn the clouds a rosy orange. Normally, he would get up and find somewhere to meditate. But he feels reluctant to leave Katara’s side this morning.

He stays long enough that she wakes up, though he’s sure she’ll doze off again soon enough. She squints at him with a reflexive, familiar smile and rasps, her voice rough with sleep, “What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Like what?”

“The way you always did when you thought I wasn’t watching you, back then.”

Aang laughs, and Katara does too, their breath stirring together between. “I can’t help it. I just love you.”

“Mm.” Katara scoots closer, snuggling her head under Aang’s chin and draping her arm over him. “Something’s on your mind, though. You always looked at me like that, all in love, ’cause you didn’t know how to tell me yet.”

Aang falls quiet. Reading the tension in him, Katara raises her hand to rub his upper arm gently, expectantly.

“I had a dream,” he says eventually. “About you…and Zuko.”

Katara leans back to look at him sharply. “Sweetie, you know you can’t let the tabloids get to you like that. I love you,” she says, with just a hint of scolding in her voice. “Zuko’s just a good friend.”

Aang opens his mouth, then closes it. “Yeah,” he says, pushing down the regret in it. “He is a good friend.” 

He can’t explain this to her, can’t ask her to understand something that might very well tear them apart. And that dream, as weird and real as it was…there’s just no way that Zuko feels like that, too. 

When Katara eventually does slip back into sleep, Aang kisses the crown of her head, carefully disentangles himself, and wanders down to the seashore to practice his firebending forms.

[eternalstann]

Birthday Deja Vu

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Smut..yktv

Summary: You surprise your best friend Tom for his birthday and things go even better than expected :)

Tom never forgot the day he first met you. It was three years ago, and they were about to wrap up filming Spiderman homecoming. They were all going to Zendaya’s house to celebrate. She’d told them she’d invited one of her childhood friends from when she was growing up in Oakland. The moment she introduced all of you, you all blended together like you’d been with them the entire time they’d known each other. Your magnetic energy is what made Tom so in awe of you; everyone there was dying to talk to you. Laura and Zendaya had been glued to your sides the whole night, And Jacob was constantly trying to make you laugh. You were just that amazing.

He’d been in the kitchen getting another wine cooler when you walked in, a vibrant smile on your face. Tom felt his self grow nervous, and tried his best to shake off the nerves only you made him feel. “You know you’re not supposed to be drinking in America, you’re only 20 Thomas!” You scold, wagging your finger at him jokingly before cracking open your own drink. “If I’m not supposed to be drinking then you’re definitely not supposed to be. How old are you again; 19?” He laughed, raising an eyebrow at you. “I guess it’ll have to be our little secret then” you smirked, holding your bottle up for a cheers.

“Our little secret!” you both say in unison before clinking the cold drinks in each of your hands together.

———

The group of you hung out often, laughing so hard your stomachs hurt and talking about life. Tom remembered everything you’d ever told him. How you were in college studying be a dental hygienist, the way you teased him for calling college ‘Uni’. How you and Zendaya complained about having to do your hair every morning if you’d slept over. “Sometimes I wish I were a man so I could just cut it all off” you exclaimed, and Tom rolled his eyes at your dramatics. The way you and Jacob play fought; much to his dismay. He didn’t like how close the two of you got. It didn’t dawn on him until later on why it bothered him so much. He remembered the car rides, Harrison driving and the rest of you piled in screaming Chris Brown lyrics at the top of your lungs.

As time went on the amount of time you all spent together dwindled. Zendaya busy with her Tommy Hilfiger line, Tom shooting and you with school. All of you made it known how much you missed each other, texting your group chat often. But after a while even that died down, and Tom hated it. Some nights he’d scroll through your old texts, the silly pictures and wild links to random shit you wanted to share.

Today was one of those days. Tom was bored, even though Jacob and Harrison were with him. Only one person could hold his interest right now and that was you.

“Do you guys remember that time Y/N fell down the stairs but made sure to save the cupcake in her hand?” Tom asked, a fond look on his face. Jacob and Harrison looked at each other and shook their heads. “Bro, this is like the fifth time you’ve brought up Y/N today, you miss her or something?” Jacob stared at him and Tom sat up. “Of course I miss her, she’s our friend and we haven’t seen her in a while, I miss her the same way I’d miss either of you guys. Is it weird to miss my friend?” Tom shot back, locking his phone to make sure they didn’t see the picture of you he’d been staring at.

“No need to get so defensive Tom!” Harrison chuckled, “why don’t you just FaceTime her or something if you miss her so bad?” He suggested and Tom thought for a moment. “I...I don’t know actually” he answered. “Yeah I FaceTime Y/N all the time” Jacob spoke and Tom couldn’t stop the sour look that came across his face. “What?” Tom asked in disbelief, what did they talk about? “She was just telling me about how her car broke down while she was on her way to graduation”

“Graduation?!” Tom felt like a real dickhead now. You’d graduated from college and he hadn’t even known. “When was this?” he pressed, scrolling to your contact name. He was going to call you. “It was four days ago, and don’t call her now she’s on vacation with her family!” Harrison told him and Tom ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t believe it. Time truly had flown by, and he couldn’t help but worry that maybe too much time had gone by.

——

You had just walked back into your room when your phone began to ring, a FaceTime from Harrison. You smiled, grabbing the device and answering. “Hey Haz” you chirp, looking at the screen.

“Y/N!” He cheered and you noticed Jacob was with him. “Aww, you guys are together? I wish I could be with you, I miss you guys!” you cooed and they beamed at you. “Tom was with us too earlier, and we miss you too. That’s why we’re calling actually” Harrison replied. You felt your heart flutter at just the mention of Toms name. You raise your eyebrows and wait for them to continue. “We were thinking, in honor of you graduating, and Tom’s Birthday coming up that we all need to get together. Toms been missing you like crazy and it’s getting annoying” they both pretend to gag and you laugh. “Oh my god we totally should!” You tell them excitedly. The three of you don’t stop grinning the whole time you’re planning the little get together.

——

You cursed to yourself when you finally pulled into the parking spot in front of Tom’s house.. Fuck google maps. The place he was renting in L.A was beautiful, and you remembered that he’s a millionaire movie star in multiple block buster movies.

Suddenly your 2009 Jeep Compass looked really shitty. You debated on brining up your suitcase now but decided against it. You were going to stay for the weekend, today was Friday and Toms birthday was tomorrow. You walk up to the door, with your phone and keys in hand. You look down at your outfit; light blue jeans, white tank top and fluffy slides. You began to regret choosing to dress comfortable for the drive instead of actually looking cute. You shake your head and knock on the door. Not even thirty seconds go by before Zendaya pulls it open. “Daya!” You cry out as soon as you see her and she shrieks in response. “AH! I fucking missed you!” She yells jumping into your arms. You laugh and do your best to close the door with the extremely tall girl hanging on to you.

Toms head whipped to the door as soon as he heard your voice. He hadn’t known you were coming, but he’d never been happier to see anyone in his life. He watched as you spun Zendaya around, immediately noticing how long your hair had gotten, it was almost to your waist now. But it was when you finally put Zendaya down that he really got a chance to look at you. Once he did he felt his breathe hitch in his throat. “Holy shit” he heard Jacob murmur from beside him and he knew he saw all the same things he did.

The pair of light wash jeans you were wearing fit perfectly, accentuating your thighs, hips and of course your ass. Tom took a couple of deep breathes before he let his eyes travel upwards. Your midriff was bare, the white tank top you wore was cropped to show off your stomach. The skin there looked so smooth, and you’d pierced your belly button. The little diamond stud made Tom gulp. “Were her boobs always that big?” Jacob asked and Tom punched his arm. But he was asking himself the same thing in his head. He took in every inch of you. He studied your shoulders, only covered by the spaghetti straps of you shirt - no bra.

He shook himself from his lust filled trance. He was a grown man, acting like a teenage boy. You were one of his closest friends and here he was treating you like an object.

“Y/N...wow” Tom spoke breathily, standing up and walking over to hug you. It felt so good to hold you in his arms, and he relished in the giggle you let out when he squeezed you even tighter. You pulled back way too soon for Toms liking to look at him. “You look amazing, almost birthday boy” - your voice was so smooth, he could listen to you talk all day. “Look at your arms, my little Tommy is ripped!” You laughed and Tom hated how hot he felt from your words. “Look at you! Your hair, you look stunning. I missed you.” He rambled before hugging you again. he breathed in your scent, Of course you smelled amazing.

“Jeez Tom- we wanna hug her too!” Harrison exclaimed, yanking Tom away from you before pulling you in for hug. Tom wanted to punch his best friend but instead he sat down on the couch, leaving a spot for you so you could sit between him and Zendaya. After you’d greeted everyone you sat down. You turned your gaze to Zendaya, you could feel her eyes burning holes into you. “What?” You asked the girl with a mischievous smile curled across her lips.

“Um...last time I saw you we were almost the same bra size aka our tits were nonexistent. Now you have those things out here defying gravity” she smirked, poking the top of your cleavage and you pushed her hand away. “Oh my god, girl shut up!” You rolled your eyes. “No seriously, your boobs look amazing. I fucking wish” Harrison’s girlfriend chimed in and you felt bad, you’d already forgotten her name but you could tell that you were going to like her. “Did you get them done?” Jacob whispered loudly.

“You’re a clown Jacob, and I can barely afford to keep my car on the road, the last thing on my budget list is a boob job” you quipped. “I know I’m just kidding Y/N- What ended up happening with that by the way?” Jacob asks and you feel self conscience talking about your financial woes in front of your wealthy friends. “It’s cool- I got it fixed. My transmission was blown” you explain, hoping they would drop the subject.

“I’m glad you got it fixed! Someone ran into my car the other day” Zendaya added before going on talking about her accident. “Z, you just can’t drive” Tom snarked, earning a round of laughter.

The night went on with all of you laughing and talking, it wasn’t until four a.m any of you even thought about sleep. “You guys we have a whole day of plans set up for tomorrow, maybe we should go to sleep” Harrison suggests which surprises all of you. “I call sleeping with Y/N!” Zendaya shouts grabbing your hand but Jacob disagrees. “No way! Zendaya you go with Roxy, no one wants to hear her and Harrison fuck all night. Y/N should go with Tom and Harrison and I can share.” You try to hide how both nervous and excited you are about sharing a room with Tom. He makes you feel like a kid again. You all nod at the arrangements, except Harrison who is grumbling to himself as everyone says their good nights.

You walk into the kitchen, smiling to yourself when you feel a presence behind you. “You following me Thomas?” You ask, opening the door to the fridge and pulling out two wine coolers. “Yeah, I’m never letting you out of my sight again” Tom whispered and you feel butterflies in your stomach. You turn around to face him and hand him the drink, deja vu washing over you. “Let’s never go this long with out seeing each other again okay?” You croak, and you hate how needy you sound. “Trust me, you’re gonna want to block my number Y/N” he replied, taking a sip. The two of you drink in a comfortable silence, staring at each other.

“Let’s go upstairs” Tom murmurs, taking your hand in his and leading you to his bedroom. You feel like your floating. The buzz from your beverage and from being so near the man you were slowly coming to realize you were in love with. “Fuck! I left my suitcase in the car, my pajamas!” You hissed. “Y/N calm down, you can wear something of mine” the brown haired boy assured you. You nod at him and he looks at you warmly, “Downstairs I had the craziest feeling of Deja Vu. It reminded me of the night we first met” Tom confesses. You bite your lip, “I felt the same thing, it’s so crazy how time has flown by” you reminisce.

Tom hums, tossing you a T-shirt of his to sleep in. He strips down to his boxers, and climbs on the bed, he wriggled his eyebrows at you and motions for you to join him. “You’re sleeping in underwear, I will too” you shrug, tugging your jeans off and making your way beside him. “I mean...I’m not going to object” he chided. You lay down and face your friend, fixing a pillow under your head so you’re eye to eye. “Y/N I just want you to know how proud I am of you for graduating. You’re so incredible, I think you’re the smartest person I know. Congratulations” you can feel how genuine his words are. And the sincere expression on his face only convinced you further. You felt like crying. “I hope you know how proud I am of you too, movie-star” you giggle because you know how much he hates being called that. “Go to sleep, I love you” Tom confesses, his heart about to burst through his rib cage

“I love you too”

——-

Tom woke up first, and he has to do a double take at the sight of you splayed out in his bed in only your underwear. He groans and palms himself through his boxers. Of all mornings for him to wake up hard. He stares down at you. Your tank top had shifted so he could see your nipple, and the overwhelming urge to touch you coursed through him. It took every bit of his strength to tear his eyes away from your angelic form. He trudged his way to the bathroom and ran himself the coldest shower water he could stand.

When he comes back into the room, with his towel wrapped around his waist you’re awake. “Happy Birthday!” You scream, running to him and hugging his wet frame. “Thank you, thank you” He grins. “You smell nice” You note, before plopping back down on his bed. “Thank you..again. You can use my shower by the way” he points to the bathroom.

You were going to thank him when his door burst open. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY DICKHEAD” Harrison screams, followed the rest of your friends. Zendaya’s holding a cake, and Jacob your suitcase. They sing him an obnoxious rendition of happy birthday before they all disappear to get dressed. “I brought your suitcase up Y/N” Jacob tells you before he leaves.

Just like it always does when you’re with them, time flies by. You all go to lunch with his brothers Sam and Harry and spend the rest of day goofing off. Tom decided he wanted to go clubbing, much to Daya’s dismay - if it were up to her she’d never leave her house. But she agreed since it was his birthday. She had done your makeup for you, and had posted way too many pictures on her instagram story for your liking. She was still raving on about how good you looked as you slid into your heels.

“Let’s gooo” You sing-song and Zendaya follows you to the car. You two and Roxy decided to ride together so the boys could do whatever it is boys do.

-

Tom watched you walk into the club, and he knew he wasn’t the only one either. Zendaya and Roxy were beautiful- but you? He couldn’t even put it into words. He wanted to go over and wrap you in his arms, show everyone you were his. But you weren’t. You waved to him from across the room and he took a deep breathe before waving back, and walking over to you. “Let’s get fucked up!” You cheered grabbing his hand and leading him to the bar. “Two shots of patron on ice please” you smiled at the bartender and Tom balled up his fist at the way the man stared at you. “You got it gorgeous” he smirked, but you weren’t paying attention.

“Tom...TOM!” You call out to him, and he whips his head around to face you, pulling himself from his thoughts of strangling the bartender. This was going to be a long night.

Way too many shots and three hours later Tom was watching you and Roxy dancing, Zendaya recording and hyping the two of you up. “Aye!!! Go best friend, that’s my best friend!” She screamed. Harrison was laughing, a drink in his hand. Jacob was shitfaced, and you motioned for him to come over. He began dancing with the two of you, grinding together. Tom knew you were just having fun but he couldn’t help but feel jealous. “Oh shit! Get it Jacob” Zendaya yelled and Tom had to excuse himself to the bathroom. He was ready to go. He wished he was laying in bed with just the two of you, talking about about whatever you wanted. He stares at himself in the mirror. “Get it together Tom” he murmurs to himself.

When he comes back out the bathroom, you’re no longer on the dance floor. You’re sitting alone at the bar. Your head was resting in one of your hands, your other hand typing on your phone. “Hey” Tom spoke, and look up at him. “I was just about to text you!” You grin. You stand to hug him, pulling him close to you. “How was your birthday?” You whisper in his ear, arms wrapped around his neck. Tom shudders at the feeling of your breathe fanning against the shell of his ear. He places his own hands on your waist. “It was amazing, thank you Y/N” he kisses you on the forehead and you can feel yourself heating up. Everything he did was heightened due to your drunken state. You watched as he yawned and couldn’t help but frown. “You tired?” You ask, and he nods sheepishly. “Tommy can’t hang” you tease, “lets get out of here then” you smile. “Something tells me they’re not ready to leave” he laughs, shrugging towards the dance floor where Zendaya and Harrison were hitting the woah in sync.

“Let them stay then, we can just go” You offer, and Tom loves the sound of that. He nods, pulling up the Uber app off his phone and going to let the the rest of your friends know you were leaving. You stand, bobbing your head to the music while you wait. “Excuse me?” You hear a voice call out to you. You turn and recognize the bartender. “Yeah” you reply, still swaying to the rhythm. “I think you’re gorgeous and I was just wondering if I could get your phone number..” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. You’re surprised at how nervous he seemed, and you bite your lip before nodding yes.

When Tom turns around to see you typing into some guys phone his heart drops into his stomach. “Y/N” he spoke walking behind you and putting an arm over your shoulder. “Who’s your friend?” Tom asks and you’d never wanted to be swallowed up by the ground more than that moment. Before you can speak, the bartender pipes up- “I’m Tyler, you are?” “Tom” he answers curtly, and you hear an edge in his voice you’d never heard before. “Nice to meet you Tom” “Yup you too” Tom quickly replies before pulling you towards the door. “Our Uber’s here” he informs you while you try you best to wave goodbye to Tyler.

“Jeez Tom” you exhale, once you’re inside the car. You stare at him but he stares at the back of the drivers head the whole car ride.

“Why’re you in such a hurry?” you giggle, poking his cheek, just before you step into the door. “You liked that dickhead?” He questions, shifting slightly on his feet. He regret asking you the moment the words left his mouth. What if he got an answer he didn’t like? “I mean he was cute, and nice” you shrug, not thinking much of it. “He was staring at you like you were his last meal the whole night!” Tom exclaims and your eyes widen.

“I’m a big girl Tom, you don’t need to worry about me” you reply. “I’m always worried about you! All I do is think about you all day long. I wonder what you’re doing or what you’re feeling. Because I love you, and not just in a friends type of way - I mean I love you like that too but-“ you cut him off and smash your lips to his. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but you had to kiss him. And when you did, there were no words to describe it. A satisfaction and warmth like no other. You hum at the feeling of his lips against yours.

“Tom, baby, lets go upstairs” you whine, running your hands down his chest. He nods, leading you to his bedroom. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re drunk - we shouldn’t” he groans and you roll your eyes. “So are you” You quip, and you watch a look of deep thought cross over his face. “Are you sure you want this?” He asks and you nod, a sweet smile on your lips. “I’m gonna need words baby” he whispers grabbing your hair in his hand and pulling your head backwards. “Yes, Tom! I want this, I want you!” You answer back, you were willing to beg if that’s what it took to get him inside of you. “Shit, okay baby I got you” he groans, he pulls off his shirt, and you’re making quick work of his jeans. “You don’t need to rush, we’ve got all the time in the world Y/N. I’ve wanted this for so long, I wanna take my time with you” He tells you. You feel your heart swell and your pussy throb. You stare up at him, letting your eyes take in all of him. His hair was disheveled, face tinted pink. To you, he’s never looked better.

You stand, sliding the straps of your dress off your shoulders. Tom watches in awe as it drops to the floor. You can’t help but to giggle at the look in his face. “Tom, as good as you look standing there, I really need you to fuck me now” you murmur, taking a step towards him closing the space between the two of you.

“Y/N I love you” he breathes burying his face into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around your waist and pulling you as close as he could. “I love you too” you gasp when he places a wet kiss to your neck. You push him backwards and drop to your knees, and Tom is shaking his head at the sight of you. He’d never been more worked up in his life. “Happy Birthday Tommy” you smile, taking his length in your hand and pumping it slowly. You watch his face scrunch up in pleasure and you hope this night never ends. You use your hand to guide him into your mouth and the sound he makes has you dripping. You bob your head, suctioning your cheeks to suck him properly. “Fuckkkk” Tom groans, placing a hand on the back of your head. Picking up your pace, you reach down to play with his balls and he’s falling apart at your ministrations.

You look up at him, head tilted back and mouth open. You use your other hand to scrape your nails down his stomach, and you feel the muscles tensing up beneath your touch. “Y/N I’m gonna cum baby” he warns you and you go even faster. You can’t wait to taste him. You use your hand to pump what you can’t fit in your mouth and seconds later he’s shooting his load down your throat. He’s calling your name while you swallow every drop.

He picks you up and places you on the bed, on your back. The way he’s staring down at you makes you squirm. “Fuck, I cant believe this is happening” he whispers to himself. “Spread your legs, let me return the favor” he demands and you oblige. He gets down between your open knees and you shiver when his fingers stroke over your wet core. You sit up on your elbows to watch him, and you feel yourself ready to burst at the first lick of his tongue against your pussy. “Tastes heavenly” he mumbles against your skin, and you’re heaving. His tongue licks up and down your slit, pushing between your folds and dipping inside of you. “Fuck Tom” you moan and you know you’re close. His tongue moves up to focus on your clit and your through, legs shaking and fingers twisted in the sheets.

“Need to get inside you baby” his voice is rough with sex and all you can do is nod at him. You open your eyes to look up at him when he climbs on top of you and his gaze is already on your face. “I really love you” he reminds you and you love hearing it but you’re so ready for him, “I love you too Tom, but pleaseeeee fuck me” you beg. He leans down to kiss you, soft lips against yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back with every ounce of you.

“Okay, okay- I’m sorry darling” he laughs breathily, before sliding into you. He feels so good inside of you, you had to be made for each other. “Shit Y/N, you’re perfect” he’s thrusting into you like his life depends on it, and you can only hold on for the ride. You wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him deeper. You wanted him like this forever. “Tom!” His name fell from your lips over and over as drove you both to your peaks. He grabs your left leg, pushing it back to your chest and speeds up even more. His other hand goes to your throat, squeezing while he slides in and out of you. “Cum for my Y/N” his voice washes over you as you orgasm, him moments after.

His eyes never leave your frame; in awe as your back arches off the bed, pleasure etched all over your face. He lays down beside you, and you snuggle into his side.

“I think it’s safe to say this has been my best birthday yet”

________________

hey beautiful, wonderful people. I love just imagining Tom hanging with friends, I know he’s THE most fun person ever. Anyways I hope y’all like this. I really liked the beginning but the smut just ain’t it for me I almost wanted to cut it out🥴

I love y’all, message me w ideas!!

[sunseteyes]

 i love you; kenma kozume

—you never wanted to admit it. but what happens when you do? will the friendship you two built crumble into pieces or will it be a foundation for something more?

theme/s: heavy angst and unresolved trauma | tw: trauma with drowning, mentions of drowning, self-blame

word count: 2, 368 words 

beta: @kuroolongtea — thank you so much jin, you basically proofread this whole fic and i can’t thank you enough ! i will definitely try to edit my works from now on since i realized i’ve been too careless about them. you are so sweet i can’t believe i have you as a friend (˃ ⌑ ˂ഃ )

original artist: billie eilish | link to song

“i love you”

it started with those three words, where it all fell apart. basically, it was the start of the ending for the both of you.

who said the words first? who dropped the bomb without thinking of the casualties and the consequences after?

it was him—kenma.

what a cliché, honestly. such a story you could only see in books or movies and you still couldn’t believe it’s happening to you in real life. if you knew these things would happen, would you have made the same decisions still?

probably not.

you felt it again; the tingles down your skin, the stillness of the atmosphere and the silence of the world around you. you had your arms wrapped over your chest as you shivered at even the slightest bit of wind that passed by your body that was currently covered in water.

water, such a simple thing yet for you, it held a deep and unbothered wound that created a hole in your brain; feeling empty and cold at the same time. what it feels to be full again, that’s what you couldn’t seem to remember anymore.

all through the years, you hid how you had this one weakness. although, being able to adapt and blend in was not beyond you. you knew you could do it.

you did, actually.

it all started when kuroo the socialite first talked to you in the canteen after bumping into you, saying that you seem to be in freshman year and that he’d like you to meet his friend, who was also in the same year as yours.

kenma, kenma kozume. when you first met him, you never would have thought that the happenings of the present would occur—you never expected him to bear this type of feeling towards you. if you had, then maybe you would have done things in a whole different way.

“i thought you said you wouldn’t come with us, kenma?” your lips curled in amusement as you sent a side glance at the boy, his eyes and entire focus still trained on his phone—specifically the game he was playing. sometimes, you wonder at how he could still walk straight despite being preoccupied.

“kuroo called me so many times and forced me to come. i had no choice.” he says nonchalantly as he bumps slightly to your side, denying your claims for how he has a good sense of balance. it turns out, he would struggle too sometimes, not as much as you would though. 

you thought of things to say, probably to take your mind off of the thoughts that would come rushing in the moment your brain recalls of the place all of you were going to for today. 

when kuroo invited you to join them, you had to accept, since basically you’re the manager of the nekoma volleyball team—but it only took moments for you to realize that you made a mistake when he announces that you were going to the beach. 

that’s not the real problem.

the real problem was: no one knows. among everyone, it was kuroo and kenma who knew you best yet even they do not know of anything about your trauma with water and drowning.  

you wanted them to know and you were aching to say it. but something at the back of your mind told you that maybe it was not such a good thing to share such a weakness, a vital information for you but not for others. so you kept it, deep within the caves and muscles of your heart. 

“are you alright, (y/n)?” the towering figure of lev caught your eye, slowing down his pace to match with yours. “you don’t seem to be as excited as i expected you to be.”

he wasn’t wrong. if it were any normal outing, you would have been one of the loudest ones, smiling brightly as the sun that illuminates the members of the nekoma volleyball team for them to share the same kind of positivity that you should be gleaming with—it’s your job as a manager. at times, you were often asked about how much you liked being with them since they noticed that you always hang out with them and that they don’t see you with your other “friends” even during lunch time. 

that’s because kuroo and kenma were your only friends.

“i’m fine.” you bit your tongue, the lie coming out almost instantly. you didn’t mean to. it just came out, as if you were so used to it. 

the sight of the beach gave you a sense of peace that almost made you forget of your fear and past, calling you to dive in and enjoy the soft waves and the white sand. the sun was warm enough for you to enjoy and bask under it without being sunburned. perfect time, perfect day—you couldn’t have wished for more.

 “(y/n),” kenma’s voice was recognizable, loud enough for you to whip your head towards the boy’s way. 

“you’re acting weird.” “what do you mean?” 

kenma sends you a look that told you enough for you to look away. yet like every time, he doesn’t say any more about it. 

“come on,” he turns, urging you to follow him. “it’s time to take a shower. are you not going to swim?”

“yeah, i am. just-okay, i will.” you stuttered a bit, picking yourself up to pass by kenma and towards the shower rooms. 

when you got out, ready to hit the water, the others were already either on the sand or under the water already. a few of them saw you approaching and immediately called you out to join them. 

there was this fear still crawling underneath you as you took your first few steps onto the shore to the water, the sand on your feet being washed away the more you dove in. 

“come on! let’s have a race, (y/n)!” it was kuroo who first approached you, and pulled you further into the water, as usual. the others are still a bit reluctant with the fact that you were only new as a manager and the fact that kuroo and kenma are a little bit protective of you. lev once mentioned this within the presence of the two and the tension in the air slightly thickened right away, as if the newcomer finally acknowledged the elephant in the room that had been there for awhile—heck even you noticed it.

but the meaning behind it... you couldn’t deny that you had an inkling of an idea as to what it was.

it must have been the thoughts in your head, or the bump that you had received from yamamoto on your side, or even your lack of skills in saving yourself. but whatever the reason was, it didn’t matter.

because now, you’re falling.

you barely heard anyone shout for your name. your mind blanked out the moment you realized that you were underwater, struggling to keep your footing that had already broken down anyway. at some point, your arms stopped moving and you were covered by silence.

as if it was the blanket to your fears.

you didn’t know how long you floated with nothing but the course of the water, or when you decided to open your eyes. everything felt so serene and peaceful, even if it merely lasted for a few seconds, which certainly didn’t feel that way to you.

you could see the others’ figures from ahead of you and also the darkness by the corner of your eyes, the distance creating a sense of eeriness from being underwater.

however, it all vanished when someone pulled you up—towards the sunlight that you had now just recognized, piercing through the water in splatters of light. 

“(y/n)!” and that’s it, you were brought to reality.

it only came to you that you almost drowned when you saw kenma’s face, all wide-eyed and a look of surprise and relief written all over his face. from the looks of it, he was the only one who noticed of the collision and your accident. 

“tora! watch where you’re going!” kenma growls suddenly, whipping his face to the side. your ears were still slightly blurry and you were still coughing and catching your breath but you could certainly feel someone’s presence fast approaching you and kenma after the boy successfully manages to carry you to the shore. if you had anything close to a clear head, you would have asked the other how in the world he was able to carry you considering his physical nature and also his dislike of getting tired. 

plus he wasn’t even in the water from what you could recall.

“h-how-”

“and why the hell did you stop struggling?” he pointedly looks at you, his brows furrowed, looking much troubled than you actually are. “are you nuts? suddenly giving up like that? do you want to die?!”

his exclamation caught you off-guard, even the ones who decided to see what came up, including his teammates also held their breath, not expecting him to suddenly rush out those words. 

it was like when he first said the three-word phrase that kept replaying back in your mind ever since that bizarre and exhilarating moment. for some reason, all of his actions suddenly made sense.

“kenma,” it was kuroo who broke the deafening silence, bringing your attention back to how it all should be, not to this crazy imagination of a stupendous decision that might cause you to regret your choices sooner or later.

would you?

kuroo pulls you away from the other, crouching next to you as he gave you a soft look. “are you alright? you didn’t said that you couldn’t-”

“yes, i’m okay.” you looked away, down to the sand that you’ve suddenly felt sticking to your skin that was in contact with it, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the gazes that were now focused on you.

and they finally knew it. the very thing you’ve struggled to hide just because you dind’t want anyone to worry about you. 

it was a complete and utter failure. 

“i-i’ll just go.” you tried standing up on your own but kuroo was already aiding you—to which you couldn’t really refuse. as you and him walked towards the hut to where your belongings were and where you’re supposed to take a “rest,” you tried so hard not to take one last look at kenma, for a reason unknown and one you wouldn’t dare to know. 

“you know you can’t give back his feelings, (y/n).” kuroo’s voice was low, almost like a whisper as you felt him shield your side, getting close as to make you be able to hear what he had just said. 

you were. very clearly. 

“i know.” your eyes stick to the sand like glue, your guiltiness failing to wash away alongside the water that almost did to you. 

if you were to admit, you were thinking much more about your present rather than your fear of being drowned at that point. 

because slowly and surely, you were starting to feel the effects of kenma’s confession all throughout your mind, eradicating all other incoming thoughts as his presence alone invaded your inner quarrel to not overthink things that had happened between the two of you. 

“i love you.” it was just simple. those three words—they sound so simple yet at the same time, they don’t.

but still-

“that’s if, you still love him.” kuroo says, as if reading your mind. 

“do you still love kenma, (y/n)?” 

if love was easy, you would’ve said yes right away.

“what about akaashi? aren’t you still together?”

—but it wasn’t. 

there is a tension that you believe couldn’t have come from kuroo but of course, it had to be you. you know kuroo only meant the questions for you to finally make up your mind, approaching head-on the very thing that was kept unsaid between the three of you. kuroo knows it, even if he didn’t particularly get it from you. or kenma. 

so much for not bothering other people with your problems. 

you felt his hand on your shoulder, as if kuroo’s way of reassuring you that he would still be there as a friend who cares for you equally as the one he’s closest to. if only you had known sooner about kenma’s feelings, you wouldn’t be in this predicament right now, juggling to find the truth within yourself whether you’d pick or not. it was unfair to them, of course. but it’s also not like this is your fault either. 

as far as you know, you just don’t want to drown in a sea of regrets the moment you choose. but now that you know kuroo has got your back, there’s this sudden urge of confidence that you hadn’t had in a while, almost like an energy booster after being sipped out of it.

your eyes found kuroo and with that, you said the very words you wanted to say. 

“i love kenma,” you let out, the wind slapping your face as if it caught on to the sin you just committed against your boyfriend, trying to make you even guiltier by the second. 

“-but i don’t want to.” your gaze fell to kenma’s form, far from where you and kuroo were, the hair on his back slightly waving at his movement and the way it just gets along with the breeze. 

once again, you felt at peace. not because of the calm water but because of the waves that attempt to bring you to shore—the reality of your circumstances. 

akaashi might not have been your first love but he was there when you were at your worst. even if it was kenma today, you don’t know if he’ll be able to continuously do so, the way akaashi will. 

the waves may not have washed away your guilt but they did wash away the thoughts in your head—ones that were hunting you of the possibilities of a dream you could barely wake up from. 

it was true that you loved kenma. 

but you loved akaashi more, and that argument alone was enough for you to make a decision that you’d be glad to face the consequences of. 

rv: october 14th was one of my most hurtful days and i was just inspired to write something off of my experience. i have a trauma to drowning but i have no idea what others feel when they are in these kinds of situations with their traumatic experience. i only based it off of mine and wrote what i needed to write.

also, i’m sorry kenma my bby this is a birthday dedication but it turned out very angsty lmao roze is so bad

[harristops]

Did you watch the first Group stages for the Olympics? Thoughts? Do you think the US could have done better if Ash/Ali were there?

Not surprised by any of the stage results so far, tbh. Let's break it down team by team and go from there with my hot takes lmao:

GBR vs. CHI

Chile, while they have a GOAT in Endler, just doesn't have anything else to win, so they're never going to get passed the group stage, or if they do, it will be on a miracle. Like we've seen, good GKs can only keep your team in the game, whether or not they can stay in it is up to them. England has a strong squad and had a great start, and I think they'll hold up just fine in their group even against Canada or Japan for that top seed. They have enough gelling for them to work.

JPN vs. CAN

Two words: Steph Labbé. This is the Ashlyn Harris/Alyssa Naeher combo we all wish we could have. The heart she had to commit the PK, and then save it? A legendary move and I honestly felt for her that she had to be subbed out. Kailen, though, she's still so young and this is a great experience for her and knowing her, she's only going to continue to drive to improve and be better next game (even though that goal was a really tough one to save and came off some poor defending) - the CANWNT run into the same problems as the Pride sometimes; they're not out there to go and score a whole bunch of times, rather they score once and then defend the rest of the match. I need to see more attack from someone other than Sincy (congrats on her 300th cap and 187th goal, btw, absolute lengend) or Prince. Get some more attacking power in there because Japan isn't a team that will go down quietly, just likely they showed today.

BRA vs. CHN

Marta magic baby! The link up between Marta and Debinha, and just everyone on this team is so inspirational to watch. I honestly would LOVE to see them pull through and win this whole thing because no one deserves an Olympic Gold than Marta and Formiga. Their retirement is going to be the most emotional moment in women's football, even more than when Abby and Christie retired, tbh. China has some moments, but again, Brazil brings so much experience. I don't know how deep they can run into this tournament given how old their best players are, but they'll give it everything, no doubt. I want them to make it to the final rounds, or at least for the Bronze medal match, because the OGs deserve to go out with a medal.

ZAM vs. NED

Boy, this was an absolutely thrashing. I mean, there was absolutely no mercy by the Netherlands, but major kudos to the Zambia team for fighting hard to make that GD 7 instead of 10. They managed to score on a very good keeper and cut through a solid defense, even if they got blown out of the water. The drive was unreal and massive props to them for fighting to the last second. The Netherlands proved in this match why they were the 2019 finalists, and honestly, I'd be surprised if they're not back in the finals again this year. They're strong, meticulous, lethal on the attack, and defend very well. Not to mention they have a great blend of youth and experience for depth.

AUS vs. NZL

I mean, I hate to say it, but I don't see either of these teams going too far in this tournament. They both are big bodied, rough and tumble teams, but I honestly think it's a bit of a disadvantage than an advantage. NZL has never been particularly good, but kudos to them for clawing back and not getting shut out. On paper, the Matildas should have a great chance of going far, but I don't know if they can given who else is in their group. Maybe they can be in the top third? I still don't see it as likely, but no way is NZL going anywhere further.

SWE vs. USA

The match of the hour, huh! I mean, are any of use actually surprised at this result? The USWNT have been playing lower tiered teams and NOT blowing them out for the past year. Vlakto has made decisions to bring on older veteran players and barely healthy players like Jill did in 2016, except with a slightly weaker/disjointed defense. Look, I won't hide my inner glee at the karma inflicted by the soccer gods on this "the Olympics should be easy" USWNT team, but I'm gleeful. The revenge story fell flat and they showed themselves to be unable to make changes on a dime or adjust to the context. The ball to the face from Tobin's own kick was an accurate summation of the match. Now look, the USWNT will most likely bounce back and they'll probably at least make it to the semi-finals if not the finals. But, given the performance of Sweden, the Netherlands, and even Brazil, I'm not sure how they can withstand the firepower and strength of these teams when they've not played higher-calibre teams in a long time. Sweden put on a clinic with how organized, level-headed, and clean they were with their efficiency. The absolute dedication to pushing and attacking and defending and knowing their roles was outstanding and an absolute joy to watch. I felt happy for them and I believe that the USWNT are going to need a lot more than a redemption arc to get far in this tournament, but still, I think they should be okay so long as they don't rack up injuries or get gassed. Alyssa Naeher is the only reason they didn't get blown out, tbh. She is a star on the USWNT even if she's subpar in her club performance. She thrives at the international level and is so, so good and clutch.

Now, to answer your question about Ash/AK, no I don't think them being on the roster would change anything. Ash would never see a start even if she's a better club player than Alyssa, and tbh, she wouldn't make a difference here. Alyssa did a really great job and she definitely still is the #1 USWNT keeper even with the three goals conceded this match. Ash is great in clutch moments, but she has no big tournament experience so it's hard to tell if she could thrive under the pressure (I think she'd be fine, but there's no real evidence to back that claim since she has never played in a big tournament). AK might have added some leadership/consistency to the backline, but again, she didn't have a great performance in her last camp and her club performances have been rather inconsistent, even if they're still good. I don't think she should've made the cut or been on the roster.

The only person that should've been on the roster, in my opinion, but wasn't is Midge. She has proven time and time again she can play at any position and is versatile, strong, tough, and fast. She should've been the alternate over either Kruger or Lynn any day of the week. It will be interesting going forward how Vlatko rotates his players or if he will play the same Starting XI against a weaker NZL team. If everyone starts and subs, I worry about depth and conditioning especially for the older vets like Pinoe, Becky, and Llyod.

[fearfulkittenwrites]

Bedridden - Co-written with @3ambird

Summary:Tim has been stuck in bed for over a month and it’s driving him up the wall, he feels like the family is pushing him away.

...All he wanted was a coffee.

Word count: 2833

Link for it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26205868

Notes: Hey! This work was created by both me and @3ambird​​. They did an amazing job, and this work wouldn’t even exist if it wasn’t for them giving me the idea for it!! Make sure to give them all the love they deserve!! I hope you enjoy this <3

It’s been a little over a month. One whole month of laying in bed, not being able to do anything by himself other than change the channels on TV. Tim felt awful, he felt powerless. His broken leg was annoying, and his broken ribs made breathing difficult, not to mention the pneumonia he’d only just recovered from. Sleeping wasn’t easy either, seeing as he had to be kept in an upright position at all times so that the bones would heal properly. He had gotten a brand new scar on his neck, and looking at that in the mirror was still hard. But that wasn’t even the worst of it.

The worst part, the real humiliating part, was needing help for every little thing. He hated not being able to walk properly, hated not being able to do what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it, by himself.

He hated having to ask for help to go to the bathroom.

And above all, he hated needing help to bathe.

It was humiliating, having someone standing next to him and helping him clean himself, rubbing the parts he couldn’t reach because his ribs wouldn’t let him twist that way. He felt vulnerable and exposed. He thanked the heavens that Dick was so willing to help, because the few times Alfred had to cover for his older brother had been really awkward. And that’s not even mentioning that one time with Bruce.

And then there’s the pity. Everyone’s been giving him those ”understanding” looks, those soft eyes, trying not to share details from their cases, not mentioning their vigilante personas around him, turning off the news whenever he’s around, asking if he needs anything, all the time... Alfred has been cooking his favorite meals every other day, and even Damian was being nice to him. Damian, the demonspawn who would always criticize his every single move was being nice.

That was what really scared the crap out of him, it made him feel like he might never be able to be Red Robin ever again. It was as if they all knew it too, wanting to make him comfortable with being pushed away from that part of their lives, as if they were easing him back into being a civilian.

Tim sighs, wincing at the pain that spreads through his chest, and rubbing his temples in an attempt to ease his constant headache. It’s due time for him to try and do something by himself.

Slowly, he pushes himself out of bed, ignoring the pain in his ribs and the banging inside his cranium, reaching for the pair of crutches resting against the wall. He had never used them, but it couldn’t be so hard, right? He had taught himself how to jump between rooftops so he could take photos of Batman and Robin when he was just a little kid, so this should be easy enough. He manages to reach his door, having only a little trouble opening it. Wonky and slow, Tim eventually makes it to the edge of the marble staircase.

“Alright.” He murmurs to himself, looking down at the huge amount of steps in front of him “You’ve got this. You can do it. Nothing stands between Tim and a hot cup of coffee.”

His trip down the stairs takes a lot of effort and he has to take breaks every few steps, waiting for the pain to diminish so he could keep going. He’s sweating from the effort, meaning that he’d probably need a shower sooner than he wanted to, but he couldn’t take off his hoodie, afraid of losing his balance and falling down the stairs.

“Okay, five more steps Tim.” He tries to sound confident “C’mon, five more steps.”

First the crutches. Then his feet.

One step.

Once again the crutches, and then his feet.

Two steps.

The crutches. His feet.

Three steps.

The crutches slip and fall away. Tim slides down the two remaining steps, falling butt first into the ground. The impact makes pain shoot up to his broken ribs, making him cry out from the pain, tears filling his eyes and quickly running down his cheeks, the cry morphing into sobs as he holds the side of his body.

Tim hears someone coming towards him, two pairs of rushed footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Tim?” Dick calls, worried “What are you doing out of bed? What happened, are you okay?”

“I-I fell.” Tim answers, hiding his face “I-I lost my balance and... and I fell... Fuck, it hurts so much, Dick.” He cried.

“I know, I know. But I’m here now, it’s okay.” Dick answers, cupping his brother’s cheek “C’mon, let’s get you back upstairs to bed, okay?”

“N-no.” His words coming out shaky because of his stupid sobs. Tim tried again. “No, I was- I want- I just need to get t-to the kitchen, I need to-”

“Timmy, it’s okay.” Dick said, pushing some of Tim’s hair behind his ear “We’ll get you whatever you wanted.” Damian, the second pair of footsteps, nodded behind him.

“No! You don’t get it!” Tim yelled, tears still streaming down his face “I need to-! I can make it! I can! I-I know I can...!” Once again, Tim hides his face in his hands, sobbing loudly,  pain pulsating down his sides.

“Tim…?” Dick has that worried puppy look on his face.

“I-I know that y-you don’t think I can g-go back to being vigilante again.” He sniffles “I- I just wa-wanted to show that I’m n-not in such b-bad shape. I-I’m not useless!”

“Oh, baby bird...” Dick said, running a hand through his brother’s hair “No one thinks that. I promise, Tim, no one thinks that you’re useless.”

“We have all had our injuries, Drake.” Damian said, crouching next to him.

“Yeah,” Dick smiles at him as he speaks “We all know that you’ll bounce back. You just need to rest.” Tim sobbs once again, burying his face on his older brother’s neck as the man kept gently running a hand through his hair “Let me help you back into your room, okay? And Dami can get whatever you wanted from the kitchen for you.” Dick whispered, and Tim nods, face still hidden.

“I- I don’t need anything.” He said, voice muffled. The words tickled Dick’s neck, and he had to put a lot of effort in not to jerk his shoulder up at the feeling “I just wanted to make myself some coffee, but... there’s no point now.”

“Would you like some tea instead?” Damian offered “Mother sends me special blends on occasion. Some of them have healing properties.” Tim looked at the kid, who was speaking in a tender tone “I could brew you some.”

“I...” Tim’s eyes filled with tears once again as he nodded “I’d like that. Thank you, Damian.”

“You’re welcome.” He answers, getting up, headed for the kitchen.

Tim starts crying again, tears falling heavily as his brother helped him to his room. Every sob, every sudden and shaky rise and fall of his chest shot a new wave of pain through his ribcage, which in turn worsened his yelps and groans. Dick tried calming him several times, to no avail. It had been so long since he cried, Tim was surprised that he still knows how.

“Thanks.” Tim mumbles, as Dick sets him down on the side of his bed.

“Don’t mention it, Timmy.” Dick smiles softly but genuinely.

“Y-you know...” He tries to steady his breathing, wanting to speak “Yo-you’re the only one... the only one w-who doesn’t smile at me like... like I’m on my deathbed.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dick sits down next to him, making the mattress dip towards him.

“I me-mean...” He rolls his eyes at his stutter, taking a deep, annoyed breath “I mean, everyone k-keeps looking at me like I’m...” He breathes again “Like I’ve got some kind of terminal disease. Like I’ll die tomorrow, or the day after that, or maybe in a week, but they look at me like I’m about to die. It sucks, and it hurts so fucking much.” He clenches his fist.

“They’re just trying to be nice Tim, no one thinks you’re going to die.” Dick said, a hand behind his brother’s head. Tim knows that if his ribs weren’t broken they’d be on his back, providing support, but right now, Dick is too afraid to even touch his torso. That makes him grind his teeth together.

“Take your hand off me.” He says through gritted teeth “Please.”

“Okay.” Dick whispers, pulling it back.

“Put it on my back.”

“Tim...”

“Put. It. On. My. Back.” He tries to sound serious and sober, but his voice cracks and the tears gather in his eyes.

“Tim, I don’t want to hurt you.” Dick says.

“That’s the problem!” He yells, wishing he could throw or break something “That’s the fucking problem, Dick! I can’t... I can’t live like this! I’m not... Some delicate thing, I’m not going to break! I’m not... I’m Red fucking Robin! a-and I... I can’t lose that.” He covers his face again, sobbing into his hands “It’s-... I can’t lose that... Please, Dick. I cant… I can’t lose it.”

He feels the mattress moving as Dick stands up, and for a moment Tim thinks that his brother is leaving him. Thinks that he will have to deal with his loss by himself. Instead, he feels his hands on his knees, rubbing circles on his exposed skin.

“Tim,” He starts, softly “Timmy, Look at me.” He does, peeking behind his fingers “Why are you afraid of losing Red Robin?”

“B-Because...” Tim wanted to say everything.

He wanted to tell Dick that the pity and the silence meant the bats were trying to ease him back into a normal, civilian life. That Alfred cooking his favorite meals all the time was clearly some kind of twisted consolation prize. That constantly needing help to perform even the most basic tasks showed everyone just how unfit he is for the mantle. That he felt humiliated for needing help whenever he had to take a goddamn piss, and that if that didn’t show just how unfit he was to be part of this family of vigilantes, then he wasn’t sure of what would.

But none of that came out. What came out instead, was a result of Tim’s sudden realization, after his racing thoughts eased their monologue.

“Because I’m weak.” More tears forced their way out as he admitted it “and you all finally saw it.”

“No.”

Tim’s breathing was shaky as he lowered his hands, revealing his face little by little, trembling chin.

“No.” Dick repeated, stronger this time, more determined. “Tim, you are so many things. Smart? Yes. Brave? Definitely. Loyal? 100%. Chaotic? Completely.” He smirked weakly, Tim chuckled just a little “But you’ve never been weak.”

“I’m not strong either.” He shot back, staring at the floor.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Just look at me!” He opens his arms “I’m pathetic! I can’t even use the bathroom by myself.” Dick had one eyebrow raised in a weird, skeptic and confused scowl. It annoyed him. “What?”

“So you think I’m weak?” He starts, Tim just frowns in confusion. “And you think that Jason’s weak? Steph and Cass? Oh, let’s not forget Babs, and Bruce? What about Duke and Damian, do they fit your description of weakness too?”

“What... What are you talking about?”

Dick huffed out a tiny laugh.

“Tim, you do realize that all of us, no exception, have been in the same situation before, right?” Tim stares at him, confused “Don’t you remember when I got my shit rocked so badly that I was in a coma for like, a week?”

“Nine days, actually.” Tim murmured “You scared the crap out of me.”

“Well, what about when Jason broke both of his legs after falling from that building? You do remember that, right?” Tim nodded slowly “And you do remember how he needed help to move around for two and a half months? And what about that time when Bruce was shot in the thigh and had to use a cane for three weeks?”

“Well, that’s not really comparable to-”

“You may think it isn’t because you weren’t seeing it all the time,” Dick cut him off “but I also had to help him to the toilet during the first week. And help him shower in the first few days.” Dick took a deep breath and let out a soft sigh.  “Look, what I’m trying to say is; there isn’t a single masked hero out there who hasn’t been bedridden for a while, at least, not a single human one. And guess what you are, buddy?”

“Human?” Tim bit the inside of his cheek.

“yeah, human.” Dick nodded. “Baby bird, trust me,” He said, smiling at him again “You’re gonna fly again. Yeah, someone may have clipped your wings, but feathers grow back, I swear they do. No one thinks you’re dying, we’re trying to give you space and time to heal.”

“Yeah, well,” Tim sniffled, rubbing his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie “Maybe I don’t need that much space.”

Dick smiled, right side of his mouth raising as he huffed out a little laugh again.

“Noted.” he said with a smile. “Hey, do you need help out of that hoodie?” He asked “You’re sweaty.”

“Yeah,” Tim nodded “Yeah, I could use some help with that... please”

As Dick helped him out of the constrictive, overly hot jacket, Damian knocked on the door, not waiting for a response before opening it. He skillfully balanced the platter containing a mug of tea and some biscuits on one hand, setting it down on his brother’s nightstand.

“You know,” Tim said as Dick attempted to carefully fold the hoodie and Damian sat down on the floor, in front of him “You can still tease me if you want to. I’m not used to not being constantly criticized by you.”

“-tt-.” Damian rolls his eyes “How can I criticize you when you haven’t done anything at all in the past month?”

“Damian!” Dick whisper-yelled.

“Yeah, that’s what I was talking about.” Tim snickered, reaching for the mug. The warm tea was comforting, even if he was feeling a little hot, and the biscuits were perfectly made, surely by Alfred’s well versed hands “Do you guys want any?”

“No thank you.” Damian says.

“I’m fine.” Dick smiles at him, deciding that his effort to fold Tim’s hoodie was useless as he tossed into his laundry bin, too sweaty to be reused.

“Are you...” Damian paused, biting the inside of his cheek “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah.” Tim answers, tapping on his mug as Dick sits back down next to him “Dick gives great pep talks.”

“It’s a gift.” His older brother jokes, getting a small smile from both Tim and Damian.

They sit quietly as Tim finishes sipping his tea, but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable. It’s that rare kind of silence that Tim loves, the kind of silence that isn’t forced or demanding to be filled with empty words. It’s a silence that transmits tranquility and reassures him that his brother’s love for him hasn’t faltered these last months and will never fade, no matter what.

As he takes his final sip, Tim stares at the bottom of his mug.

“Hey, uh,” He whispers “I think that after my adventures I... I might need to shower.” He looks up at Dick, biting the inside of his lips “Can you... help me?”

“Of course I can.” Dick smiles, warm and big.

“I shall take these back to the kitchen then.” Damian stands up, takes the mug from Tim’s hand and the tray from his nightstand, then disappears into the hallway.

“I hope he’s not upset that I’m stealing you from him.” Tim says.

“What? No.” Dick frowns a little “I was just watching him do his homework, but I think he’d prefer doing that on his own. C’mon, let me help you to the bathroom.”

“Hey Dick? thanks.” Tim says as Dick helps him to his feet “I don’t think I‘ve been saying that enough.”

“Oh, please.” Dick dismissed him “It’s not like you have to thank me. I’m your older brother after all.”

“Yeah, I know, but... this isn’t really something you have to do.” Tim shrugs.

“What, did you think I’d just force you to get Alfred? Or - god forbid - Bruce?” Dick snorts “I’m not heartless. Besides, I was a Robin through my teenage years, I know how awkward this kind of thing can be.” Dick says as he helps Tim sit down in the bathroom.

“I guess.” Tim laughs a little “Still, you didn’t have to do this, but you are, so thank you. A million times, thank you.”

Dick kisses the top of his head.

“You’re adorable Timmy.” He smiles “And don’t mention it. I’m here for you. Always.”

[ritsunaru]

palettes and princesses

hi! here’s my entry for day 5 of @doubletroubleweek. it’s a bit unique, since it’s not a one shot, but a part 2 to my fic “feeling blue” on archive of our own. before you read this, please check out the first chapter on there! my username is estrellaaa. check the reblogs for a link! no trigger warnings for this fic but major spoilers for everything after season 2! if you haven’t watched season 4 i don’t know why you’d be reading double trouble fanfiction, but you never know ;) i hope you enjoy! 🦚

Double Trouble took their assignments very seriously. Well, as seriously as they could manage. The only thing that really mattered in the end was that the money ended up in their palm by the end of the job, and their gig as Prince Peekablue certainly paid the bills. In addition to imitating the handsome heir to the throne of Pavonia, they had crafted several all identities based on random Etherians to populate the stage. The poor stage manager never seemed to notice that only one of the performers was in the same room as him at any given time, and they received an individual paycheck as each person. Considering how little a non-Peekablue performer was paid, it wasn’t a lot, but they made enough.

Unfortunately, they had been caught by the princesses and effectively held captive until the war was over. Scorpia of course had to sting them (despite all they had been through with the Horde and their mutual abandonment of Catra), and for some reason they, of all Etherians, had to react abnormally to it. They wanted to reconcile with her, but it was really their fault that she had been chipped in the first place. However, it wasn’t all that bad back in the reimagined outpost, and they were protected from the threat of being chipped (although the princesses argued that it was because they would be too dangerous in the hands of Prime)—but they were a wanderer, and rejoiced when the war had ended if not only because they would be freed.

With the royalty on Bright Moon, however, things were never so simple. In order to repay the time and people lost due to their mimicry at the Enchanted Grotto, Queen Sparkles had ordered them to track down the real Peekablue and bring him back to her castle. There was no time frame, but they would be required to check in nightly with the “Best Friends Squad,” consisting of the aforementioned Sparkles, Blondie, and Bow. Kitten had been invited, considering her and Blondie had finally become a thing, but she declined for obvious reasons. Thankfully, they had some basis for the Prince’s whereabouts. Locals reported seeing a hooded figure within Pavonia’s borders (it was technically a territory of Plumeria at the time, but Double Trouble didn’t care to get into the intricacies of land division). Sparkles seemed convinced that it was who they were looking for, and even if they disagreed, they were at her mercy.

The first week of their stay in Pavonia consisted almost entirely of observation, perfecting disguises of several locals to blend in while they got into the more active portion of the quest. Double Trouble managed to catch a glimpse of a cloaked citizen running into some secluded doorway but ultimately decided to wait a few days before breaking into someone’s living space unattended. They likely only had the one shot at identifying Peekablue; otherwise, they could be arrested for breaking and entering. Technically, Sparkles’ very mission encouraged crime, but she wouldn’t like having to bail them out.

A few more days of observation and Double Trouble had concluded that no normal Pavonian citizen wore a cloak around during their daily tasks. This left them with only one suspect, and they had to make their move when the door was still unlocked. Peekablue didn’t usually go out, except for when he purchased food from time to time, leaving few opportunities to strike. The shifter remained vigilant, however, functioning on small amounts of sleep and finally spotting the prince as he returned from a late night haul.

He looked almost panicked, checking the surrounding area to see if anyone was watching before unlocking the door. Clearly, he was still paranoid. Did he even know that the war was over? The chances were slim, but that wasn’t important right now. They shifted back into their true form, nearly breaking their ankle upon landing. Cobblestone paths really did not work with three-inch heels, but fashion is fashion. The door was ever so slightly ajar, and Double Trouble opened it as quietly as they could muster, which elicited an atrocious creak.

The figure turned as soon as the door made a sound, eyes widening as he backed against the nearest wall. Definitely Peekablue.

“Please don’t kill me, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt me!” the prince shouted, squinting and rummaging around on his bed for something. His voice grew softer, more desperate. “Please.”

The shapeshifter looked around, taking in the sight before them. The missing Prince Peekablue, long blue locks tied into a messy ponytail and wearing an oversized tunic. Upon closer inspection, he was trying to grab a pair of glasses. His living space wasn’t terribly messy, but there was barely anything there, just the essentials. He certainly had deteriorated since their last meeting.

Before doing anything, Double Trouble picked up the glasses and clunkily positioned them on the seer’s face. Once he recognized who they were, he certainly would stop resisting. Perhaps he would even greet them with a smile. They were still waiting on that next Princess Prom, which had been graciously awarded to Frosta as retribution for what had happened with the Horde at her first ball. Scorpia had been promised the one after that, but that was long in the future, and they didn’t like planning ahead.

Much to the shifter’s shock, the prince only struggled further, shoving them away and blushing a deep violet. “Get your hands off of me!” That certainly wasn’t the reaction they were hoping for, but they could work with it. That was one of the many things they prided themself on—masking their true emotions in favor of a very convincing facade—so they plastered a smirk on their face and set to molding this interaction, an artist in their own right.

“Darling, really, you live like this? I would’ve expected better from the prince of Pavonia—but then again, you aren’t really the prince of anything anymore, are you?” Double Trouble made themself comfortable on the edge of his bed, watching as he finally caught up with the situation. It was a little amusing, seeing him so disoriented, but it wasn’t like he would normally be any more sociable. The old man glasses suited him, though.

“Wait, you?” Peekablue finally made out the intruder, and it was definitely not who he was expecting. Why would Double Trouble want to see him again? All he did was waste their time at Princess Prom years ago. Not to mention the rampant identity theft he had witnessed on their part. “How did you even find me here? Show me your neck.”

The reptile burst into a theatrical laugh, throwing their head back. “Oh, haven’t you heard? Big Brother took a tumble. Whole empire’s gone. I heard She-Ra used all that new magic to plant some trees around the ships. Oh, and Blondie finally got together with Kitten. Did you see them at Princess Prom? I have no idea how they couldn’t realize earlier.”

Peekablue stood still for what felt like hours. The war was over, Horde Prime had been defeated, and he was still here? As for “Blondie” and “Kitten,” those names had no significance to him. He figured that was a question for a later date. There were more pressing matters to attend to. “Why are you here? To kidnap me for ransom?”

That same laugh chimed through the room, and the prince felt his heart melt. “Oh, not exactly. I’m on assignment from Bright Moon. Repayment for my war crimes. Sparkles wanted me to find where you were hiding and bring you back to Bright Moon. I’m getting paid, so I suppose you could call this kidnapping for ransom. No need to worry, darling, I treat my captives well. But if we’re going to be bringing you to an audience before the Queen, we have got to deal with all of this.” Double Trouble gestured vaguely at the man before them.

“You’re supposed to be kidnapping me.” The gravity of the situation finally sunk in, and Peekablue’s heart rate spiked almost instantly. “Just get it over with. Please.”

Double Trouble raised an eyebrow. “Me-ow. I didn’t think you would’ve developed a death wish in solitary.” The prince scrunched his face defiantly, but the shifter didn’t budge. “Let me make this clear. If you want to have an audience with Sparkles, you have to let me make you look presentable. To be considered a prince, you have to look like one, and I have to say, solitary chic really isn’t working for you.”

“What are you going to do if I say no?”

“Darling, no isn’t an option. Now, where do you keep all of your things? We have a lot of work to do.”

Peekablue didn’t like the idea of Double Trouble wielding a pair of scissors near his neck and face, but they were insistent. What did he have left to lose? They were the only one who had bothered to check in on him, and they hadn’t threatened him at all. “How do I know I can trust you?” 

“You can’t, darling. That’s the fun part.” The shifter worked gently, far more gently than the prince would’ve imagined. They seemed to know what they were doing. Perhaps that was something they had learned from their shapeshifting—the delicate intricacies of the body, the exact way the vocal cords of a person develop their voice, the way that the composition of muscle contributed to strengths and weaknesses in combat. Any other person and he would’ve been squirming in his seat, but Double Trouble had an almost soothing presence. He didn’t think they would try to hurt him.

Peekablue felt a significant amount of weight drop off of the back of his head and flinched the slightest bit. He had asked Double Trouble to go for the haircut he had at Princess Prom, but the actual experience was something different, and it was far more significant than they would probably ever know. He was finally going to see other people. He was going to be a prince again. He could see Perfuma and ask Scorpia what had happened before the Fright Zone had fallen. If the Horde was gone, would that mean that she was restored the control of her kingdom? By turning back to Princess Prom, could he repair the damage he had done?

“Hey, uh—thank you. For this. You really didn’t have to.” The seer turned back to look Double Trouble in the eyes. “I know I’m the prince everyone’s given up on, but...I want to make things right with everyone. Hiding was wrong.”

The shapeshifter flinched, pupils widening and refusing to meet his gaze. For as much as they shopped around when it came to finding a partner, the idea of genuine intimacy was one they were wildly out of touch with. It was commitment, and when they chose their profession, it was the first thing they had let go of. “Yeah, well, you enjoy that. I’ll probably head back to the Waste once I deliver you to Sparkles anyway. There’s nothing left for me in Bright Moon.”

Something shifted on Peekablue’s face, but Double Trouble couldn’t pinpoint it. He shook his head, turning back and standing up. “I can do my own makeup.”

The shapeshifter watched as he worked, erasing the dark circles under his eyes and practically becoming someone else entirely. “Believe me, darling, I know.” They hadn’t really bothered learning how to do makeup, considering their abilities, but he was likely just as good at replicating a face as they were. He had gone from an exhausted disaster who hadn’t seen people in years to someone who could pass for royalty, all with just a few creams and powders. Blue finished with that same shade of lavender lipstick and a pair of contact lenses and stood, shoulders rising as he inhaled sharply.

Wordlessly, he walked to the closet, pulling out the infamous outfit and making his way to a separate room. This was it. Put on a leotard and a jacket and it would be like nothing had happened.

He wished it was that easy. He had a lot to fix. He would probably never be the same person he was before all of this. Peekablue eyed the binder staring back at him from the other side of the room, weighing his options. On the one hand, Double Trouble had said that he needed to look like a prince for his audience with Princess Glimmer (he assumed that was the identity of “Sparkles”). On the other hand, he hadn’t worn his binder in years, and he didn’t really feel uncomfortable without it. What were the rules for this kind of thing? Turning away from the binder, he dressed in the outfit, finishing with his shoes and holding the jacket in his hand as if it would disappear the moment he let go. What was he waiting for?

Prince Peekablue pulled his arms through the sleeves, smoothing out any wrinkles. That was who he was again. A prince. He stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him, turning to Double Trouble.

A blush rose up and covered Double Trouble’s face, and they didn’t even attempt to hide it. For the first time in years, the shapeshifter was rendered speechless. It was like nothing had changed, and they were just going to continue their conversation. The Horde wouldn’t have shown up, and they could have maybe shared a dance.

Neither of them spoke on the walk through the shadows of Plumeria and back to Bright Moon. By some miracle, Blue’s jacket wasn’t torn to shreds by briars, and after a trek through the foliage, they stood on a ledge looking out on Bright Moon Palace. The prince instinctively grabbed for Double Trouble’s hand, and despite their initial reaction, they didn’t let go. The two walked across the bridge, grip tight and steps succinct, arriving at the doors after what had felt like an eternity. Double Trouble confirmed their identities and led him through a labyrinth of hallways, stopping only before what Peekablue knew was the throne room.

Double Trouble pulled him close, whispering, “You still remember how to address royalty?” The prince had to stop himself from laughing. He doubted that they would even consider using formalities, regardless of the stature of the person they were speaking with.

Prince Peekablue rounded the corner, dipping into a low bow and holding for three seconds before raising his head to gaze upon the throne.

“Your Highness–” he rasped, managing to maintain his composure despite the difficulty breathing he was experiencing. “Queen... Glimmer. My condolences.”

“Thank you, Prince Peekablue. Thank you, Double Trouble. You’re dismissed now.” Without any sort of formalities, the shapeshifter complied, sauntering off and leaving him alone to face the younger woman. “Prince Peekablue. How do you intend to answer for your inaction during the war against the Horde?”

“By putting all I… all I have into my kingdom. I’d like to… strengthen our trade agreements with Salineas and Bright Moon, and I’d like to assist Plumeria in whatever way Princess Perfuma requires. I’d also like to offer my services to other kingdoms, to protect against any unprecedented threats. That is, with your consent, your majesty.” The prince took another deep breath. Glimmer was younger than him, but she also had more power and was far more intimidating. “I think I could be of help to the Princess Alliance… if you’d let me join. Hiding was cowardly, but I choose to do everything I can to help Etheria from this moment on.”

Glimmer’s stern gaze broke, and a smile took the place of her frown. She stood from her seat, stepping down the miniature platforms and approaching him. She stuck out a hand, and he accepted it, shaking gently. “Thanks, Peekablue. We really need you.”

[jadekitty777]

Baker’s Dozen, Part 2

Final day, final day, final day!

Day 8: Free Day @taiqrowweek

Rating: K

Words: 1,800

Summary: When a desperate escape from fans leaves Qrow seeking shelter in a nearby restaurant, he expects little of the rundown, failing business that offers him a table. One bite is all it takes to change his mind. [Actor and Chef AU]

Ao3 Link: Part 2

~

Mornings at the Qrow’s Nest were blissfully silent. With opening still hours away and the kitchen completely empty, Taiyang had all the time and space he needed to do the various prep work that would carry the lunch and dinner teams throughout the day. The things like soups, breads and desserts that needed a more delicate and mindful touch that would easily be lost under the hustle and bustle of the rush crowds.

It also gave him plenty of opportunity to experiment. He wasn’t used to the more trend-following patrons his new restaurant tended to draw in, but as head chef, it was his job to decide what went on the menu, while also finding new, exciting things to cycle in every season to stray from a stagnating selection. It was a challenge to imagine up different recipes rather than fall into his old, tried-and-true routines, but he’d never been one to quit when things got difficult and instead jumped headfirst into the work.

Thankfully, his business partner was a rather inspiring muse, with an entire filmography page to pull ideas from. Designing meals around whatever hotshot flick or program Qrow happened to be appearing in worked like a charm for both of them. There was less chance his creativity would tank and it drummed up excitement for the upcoming release.

This Fall would see the premiere of The Grimm Adventure, a dark and gritty fantasy-action flick. Though he wasn’t taking a leading role, Qrow still seemed positively beside himself for it to come out (Tai suspected it had something to do with the fact he got to run around for two-thirds of the film with a sword). From what he understood, the story took place in a dystopian world ruled by shadow creatures and followed the journey of a young maiden tasked with saving her dying world. Qrow would appear in it as her mentor, guiding her during her more difficult trials.

The low-lit sets seen in the trailers belayed a morose, almost gothic aesthetic, and had Tai leaning towards garnishes that matched, such as brisket and black-bean chili, forbidden rice and chicken stir fry, southern pork with a side of black-eyed peas and blackberry cobbler and black forest ham with leafy asparagus and roasted potatoes peppered with black garlic. He was most proud of that last one, as it was meant to match the fire-burnt thickets Qrow would save his apprentice from.

The menu was mostly complete and ready to be revealed. The only thing he had left to decide on was the final dessert.

So, Tai flipped on his old cassette player, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.

~

Two hours later found him flourishing on the final touches to the cake he’d crafted while belting out the lyrics to whatever western-inspired ditty was managing to come out of the ancient machine.

“Country roooads, take me hooome, to the place I belooong. West Virginia, mountain llama. Oh take me home, country roads.”

No one was around to hear the lyrics he didn’t quite remember right.

So, of course that was the moment someone decided to walk through the door.

“Mountain llama?”

Tai jumped, completely butchering the strawberry he was trying to cut precisely in half. He swiveled around, greeted by the amused smile of his partner. “God’s almighty Qrow! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

He chuckled, holding up his hands in peaceful surrender. “Sorry ‘bout that. It’s just – llama??”

“Oh put a sock in it.” He turned off his player before reaching for another strawberry. As he chopped down, he said, “Surprised to see you here. I thought you were staying in New Zealand a few more days?”

“The reshoots went better than expected, so I caught an early flight.” Qrow explained. “Though I would kill for some coffee right now.”

“Pot’s on for the taking.”

The offer was graciously accepted, and soon enough the other man had a mug in his hand and a seat on the counter, watching as Tai shaped the strawberry halves into hearts. He took a sip of his coffee – black with barely enough cream to color – and asked, “What are you working on?”  

Focused on getting the cut just right this time, his response was distracted. “Dessert, for you.”

“Ah, you shouldn’t have.” Like the thespian he was, Qrow absolutely played it up, putting a hand to his heart and fluttering his eyelashes like a lovestruck debutante.

“You know, they say the first sign of an actor’s career going south is when they start to overact.” He ‘tsk’ed pityingly. “And you were still so young too.”

“Hm, funny,” There was a clear smirk in Qrow’s voice, “Because the only way ‘south’ I intend to go is with you.”

Tai missed the next cut too. Ears burning red, he shot the other a look. The only response he was offered was one brow raised in challenge as he smugly drank his coffee.

As much as he wanted to give back as good as he was given, nothing decent would form in his mind. So, he just grumbled, “Snake”. He’d have felt defeated, if not for how nice on the ears Qrow’s chuckles were. “If you’re all done with your games, I’d appreciate it if you’d have a taste of this cake.”

“You sure you want my opinion on that? You know I’m not much of a dessert guy.”

“Don’t worry, I made sure to temper the sweetness for your tender palate.” He said as fetched the cake from the adjacent workstation’s display shelf. Beyond its stark black frosting, the two-layered cake did not look like much. The decoration was left simple, only a standard spiral design bordering the top and bottom edges. Even the addition of the strawberry slices in a simple ring on top only added a bare hint of color.

The trick was within.

As Tai sliced through the cake, it revealed the marble design inside. Made with a mixture of chocolate and red velvet, the two batters blended together in a swirl like pattern. The layers were neatly divided by a scarlet-bright raspberry filling, bringing all the dark colors and bright reds together. He might not be the most outstanding baker there was – that honor had gone to his late wife – but he still felt a sense of pride as he held out the slice to his partner.

Qrow whistled as he got a proper gander at it. “You really outdid yourself this time.”

“The truth is in the taste, not the view.” Tai handed him a fork next.

“Beg to differ.” He said, eyes never leaving him even as he dug in. “The view’s pretty nice from where I’m looking.”

The flush was back, spreading like a fever across his cheeks.

When they had first met, he had told Qrow he was no fool, unblinded by the trickery of the successful and silver-tongued. He’d like to maintain that eighteen months later, that was still the case. But the game Qrow was playing now was more devious than his first – and one Tai didn’t entirely mind losing.

He could not say quite when it started, all the flirting that grew bolder by the day and lewd comments that left him redder than a rose. At first, it had overwhelmed him; yet before long, he had found himself trying to return those notions. It had been quite some time since anyone had taken a fancy of him but settling down had not left him entirely rusty. Every time he managed to leave Qrow speechless or shy left a pleasant warmth in his belly, like a fire just starting to burn.

So yes, he absolutely knew where all this hemming and hawing was leading them. He just never fathomed in his wildest dreams he’d be heading there with someone like Qrow. On a surface level, he could never imagine they were even compatible.

Like the cake, the trick was on the inside.

As was typical for a man of his class, Qrow hid a lot to save face and that was what most saw. A successful, rich, socialite who barely had time to look down his nose at the common folk. Yet, Tai had learned the compassion he truly held. The gesture that saved his restaurant was only one act of many. He saw it again, when Qrow quietly requested if Tai would apprentice Lie Ren, the son of his driver who wished for a future in the kitchen. And again, in his visits to the children’s hospital to read them stories whenever he was in town. Once more with the various gift and food donations he’d make around the holidays so fewer homes had to go without.

That isn’t to say the man didn’t have his edges. He could be too caustic at times and if politics was even hinted at as a topic of conversation, Qrow’s voice was louder than anyone’s in just what he thought about their current president’s policies. He liked to drink, sometimes in excess, and when he was in a poor mood he either took to isolating himself or just sulked about like a teenager.

Yet for all his bad, the good still shined through. His smiles and laughter were treasures. He declined to live in excess, finding peace in the quietness of a quaint home. He was strict in never telling lies to those he trusted. He was brilliant, and funny, and hard-working. It was also a plus that Qrow was nicer to gaze upon than any fancy painting in the most prestigious museum.

There was so much Tai had grown to appreciate about the man behind the actor. With it, his feelings were starting to bud, close to blooming. He knew it was much the same for Qrow – though he knew not how precisely he viewed him, he at least could determine with confidence that it was a mutual romance beginning between them.

The real question was, which of them would be the one to make the final play on this game they’d started?

“Mmm, this is really good.” Qrow’s voice broke him from his thoughts, already halfway through the cake. “You’re right, it’s not too sweet.”

“And the berries add that tartness you like.” Tai added.

He chuckled, forking another piece. “You keeping track of my food preferences?”

That was, perhaps, the best hand he was ever gonna get dealt.

“A’course.” He lent his hip against the counter, “How else will I make your favorites when I invite you to dinner?”

Qrow froze, utensil halfway to his mouth as he stared beyond it and right at him. After a heated second of silence, he asked, “Is that a request for a date?”

Tai hid the shake of his hands by crossing his arms. “It is, if you’ll have me for one.”

“Believe me, I’d happily have you for dinner any day of the week.”

“Yeah?” A laugh mixed with embarrassment and pleasure left him. “How ‘bout Thursday then?”

Qrow smiled one of those treasured smiles and blushed one of those gut-warming blushes, and said, “Sounds just perfect.”

[ober-affen-geil]

Would you consider talking about the scene at the end of 1x02 where God of Wine plays? I'd be really interested in hearing your thoughts, especially with regard to the lyrics like you talked about a little bit when you talked about music in roswell

Ohhhhhhohohoho. Oh HO. 

Anon you have perfect timing, thank you. I was itching to write a meta today and I couldn’t settle on one, you have given me a topic on a silver platter. I wish you could see the Cheshire cat grin on my face because yes I would LOVE to talk about this scene, because there is. A lot going on here. 

I’ve talked about the end of 1x02 many times before, almost exclusively about the Michael and Alex bits. Because that is a really, really crucial moment for them. If you want to read more, you’re best served looking under the “Malex” section of my meta page, there’s too many to link here. But I’ve also talked about it in the music meta I did, which is what anon is asking about. Or if they’re not I’m going to pretend it is. (Thank you again lovely!)

Because it is the music that ties this part of the episode together in such a neat little bow; it’s what blends the Michael/Alex scenes with the Max/Cam scenes in a way that is utterly and completely devastating. As I’ve said before, there is a reason those two encounters are cut together and when you pair it with that song…boy oh boy it hurts. 

*CW for discussion of addiction and relapse, both literal and metaphorical, and brief mention of death and non-consensual possession.* Also, this meta is a lot of me assigning meaning to lyric placement over scenes which is a lot more supposition that I usually work with, so please know all of this is my own personal interpretation and I’m not expecting or forcing anyone to take my word as gospel.

So let’s look at the song. “God of Wine” by Third Eye Blind, here is a link to the complete lyrics. To me, it seems to be about relapse. That will become important later. Also, interestingly, we are introduced to it in the episode long before we hear it. 

Liz is doodling a lyric from it on a piece of paper at the Wild Pony because she saw it written on Rosa’s hand in the memories Max showed her earlier. Maria recognizes it as the lyric Rosa had on her hand the night she died, and that sends Liz off on a chase that leads us through the rest of the season. (Am I going think about the fact that the night Rosa died is also the night she relapsed, with lyrics from that song written on her hand? No. Just like I’m also not going to think about the fact that the lyric was “fraudulent zodiac” and she was killed by an alien who was pretending to be someone else. Star sign out of wack indeed.)

But while that is certainly cool and very, very clever, that’s not what I’m here to talk about. So. We first begin to hear the song itself in Michael’s trailer, as he’s packing his things. He is looking at a box of pictures, and pulls one up of him and Alex as teens. It is not insignificant that the song starts playing over this image. (I will come back to that later.)

Then we begin the pattern of cutting between Max/Cam and Michael/Alex. This is also not insignificant, because as I said in my previous meta, the lyric placement in these scenes is. Breathtaking.

Because the lyrics kick in when Max knocks on Cam’s door and they have a discussion about Wyatt Long not facing any real consequences for assaulting Arturo. (AKA Max fails to be able to protect yet another Ortecho.) The lyrics over that scene are “Every thought that I repent / There’s another chip you haven’t spent / And you’re cashing them all in / Where do we begin, to get clean again / Can we get clean again”. Then Cam invites him in to “blow off some steam”. I will come back to that later too.

Because the scene immediately switches to Alex approaching Michael outside his trailer over the words “We can’t get back again”.

He starts talking to Michael, and when Michael doesn’t bend to small talk all that easily Alex gives in and starts haltingly explaining why he’s there. The instant (literally less than a second after the words leave his mouth) he finally references Michael and their past relationship (…who I was when this started…), the lyric “I can’t keep it all together” kicks in. It repeats when Alex starts really digging into why he’s there (Yeah, including the way you look at me), and Michael starts to get the idea that Alex is actually more affected by this than he thought going in.

And this is where it really starts getting interesting because the lyrics? That are happening? When Alex has thrown away all pretense and is being as forthright and vulnerable as he will allow himself to be? And Michael has picked up where he’s coming from and is leaning toward him, face soft and open and just projecting love and affection that hasn’t dimmed since they were 17? Those lyrics are “And the siren’s song that is your madness / Holds a truth I can’t erase / All alone on your face”. 

And I went over the rest of the scene/lyrics cutting between Alex/Michael and Max/Cam in the earlier meta so I won’t do it here, but what I failed to mention was this. When Michael grabs Alex’s arm as he’s heading to the trailer and demands and answer (What are you doing), Alex can’t give him one. When we cut back to Michael and watch him follow Alex into the trailer, the lyrics in the background are “You let me down, I said it / Now I’m going down / And you’re not even around”.

This is the part where I call back to the fact that I think this song is about relapse. Because it’s not just the specific lyrics and their placement in these scenes, it’s the overarching theme of the song and the significance of it’s use here with these couples in these moments.

Max and Cam’s sexual relationship, so far as Max is concerned, is something he uses to make his life easier. It’s a way to destress; Cam is someone he trusts and has a close relationship with. He doesn’t love her, never in the way that he loves Liz but also not in any romantic way really, but he has affection for her. They get along well and this is a natural extension of their rapport and their job. 

Cam, as we learn later, does have deeper feelings than Max does, but she knows they are one-sided. Inviting him into her house in this case is her doing her best to care for him. She sees he needs a vent, badly, and she knows she can provide one for him. (Plus she gets herself some orgasms. Get them orgasms, Cam! And queso!)

Basically their interaction here is both of them falling back on an old habit. And it’s the same for Michael and Alex, except more intense. Of course. 

Because, as I have discussed elsewhere, Alex and Michael aren’t quite on the same page at the end of 1x02. Alex is there for an explanation, not sex. So going into the trailer, for him, is giving in. It’s something he thought he was coming to put to rest and instead fell right back into, because he can’t resist Michael Guerin when he looks at him Like That. 

Michael on the other hand just gave Alex a declaration of love and got nothing in return (so far as he understood). But now Alex wants something, and he’s never been able to deny Alex what he wants. So he crashes into him instead. There is none of the tenderness we’ve seen him display towards Alex before when they have been intimate, this is hollow for Michael. It’s something that hurts him and he knows it, but he also knows that it’s not something he’s willing to live without.

WHAT I’M SAYING IS.

The person who picked “God of Wine” for these scenes and then edited it all together was a maniacal genius and they need to be both fired immediately and promoted to godhood.

[skadventuretime]

Courage

She makes tea, and he watches.

Rating: T

Warnings: General sads, implied suicidal ideation, hopelessness, essentially canon-compliant nosediving idiot Yato

Read: AO3

Hey hey! Look who’s actually writing! This is a short piece I did for the Covenant Anthology with a bunch of cool people that YOU can download right now for free at this link! Enjoy, and don’t forget to tell us what you think!

It’s quiet in Grandma Iki’s house. An ancient wooden clock tics in contrast to the gleaming stainless steel appliances that have taken over the counter space since Hiyori and her family moved in, but given how many people live here now it’s as silent as a library. Humans and their jobs, Yato supposes.

The gentle sound of a cabinet closing brings his attention back to Hiyori, not that it ever strays very far when they share a space like this. He wipes his hands on his track jacket for the fourth time since she invited him over for tea -- is she mad? Did he accidentally bother her on Twitter or stand too close or breathe too much, or maybe it was when he cried talking about Capypas--

“I’m almost done making the tea blends. Would you turn the kettle on?”

Yato jumps. “Yeah, sure, of course! You can count on me, the most reliable friend who happens to be a god!” He almost crashes into the counter with how quickly he runs to switch on the electric kettle.

“Calm down, I’m not mad at you. I just...wanted to have tea. Things have been busy and I want to enjoy the quiet with you while it lasts.”

It’s like a knife through Yato’s heart. Could she know what he’s planning? No, impossible, not even Yukine knows and he spends more time with Yato than Hiyori does these days. “Ah, okay, yeah! That sounds nice.”

She shoos him out of the way to grab something from a drawer he’s standing by, so he retreats to the bar stool on the other side of the mini island. There are a few cylindrical canisters on the far side of the kitchen that she had taken out earlier, opaque and labeled in her precise hand, and he wonders what sort of tea she’ll be serving. His face gets hot and he wipes his hands again; she’s making tea for him, he cannot mess this up.

[Read the rest on AO3 or below the cut!]

Maybe it’s just warmer in the kitchen because it looks like Hiyori’s cheeks have a rosy hue too, a light dusting along the high points of her face that could almost be blush if Hiyori wore makeup. She measures scoops of dried tea and other assorted herbs and spices with a delicate touch, as if she’s weighing each because he’s worth the effort. It’s probably because she’s Hiyori, meticulous and kind Hiyori, but Yato allows himself one moment to imagine what it would feel like to be cherished so.

The kettle begins to bubble vigorously. She lets it click off and waits, still measuring from the jars and canisters she’d selected. He watches her move about the kitchen pulling things out or putting them away, the most mundane moments that nevertheless make his heart ache because how many more of these precious slices of domestic life does he have left?

Hiyori stirs in a precise amount of honey into one of the large mugs she just pulled out. Was this what it was like for Ebisu? Yato has a sudden pang of longing for his friend, the god whose wish he’d failed to grant. Did he go through moments like this, watching water boil or sunlight glitter in Iwami’s eyes and wonder if it’d be his last in this incarnation? 

“Okay, they’re ready.” Hiyori walks over with two steaming mugs, one covered in Capypas that she must have picked up from the Capyland gift store and the other a cool, pale green. She places the Capypa mug in front of him from across the island and leans back, fingers curled around her own mug’s handle.

Yato looks down at the reddish-brown liquid and takes a tentative sniff. It’s earthy but subtly sweet, like maybe some dried fruit was steeped in as well. When he looks up he’s blindsided by the force of Hiyori’s gaze, head tilted like a bird, lips grazing the rim of her mug. Her soul burns like a beacon to his god vision, so vivid and pulsing with life it’s almost blinding. This is the grace of an unnamed soul, one yet untethered to the far shore by a god’s whim, whole and complete. She isn’t a ticking time bomb with her old self locked away, one memory between her and annihilation; she’s alive, she’s so alive, and why hasn’t he appreciated it more?

He takes a sip, and then another, and though the liquid burns his throat he wants to keep this fiery heat close to him always.

“Do you like it?” Hiyori asks with that sparrow’s head tilt, her cheeks still red but her eyes full of the determination he’s always admired. 

“It’s delicious,” he rasps, plunking down his near-empty mug. 

“Grandma used to make us special tea blends when we were little,” she says, tapping a nail against her mug. “She had a blend for everything: a bad grade, a scuffed knee, bad dreams, whatever situation. But my favorite were the ones she made...proactively.” Her face gets redder and Yato is about to ask if she has a fever when she continues. “That’s the blend she’d make when one of us was having trouble saying what was on our mind. So...so if there’s anything that’s been bothering you, you can tell me now!” 

Her knuckles are white on her mug’s handle. Yato clears his throat of the lump that’s been forming and says, “What blend did you make for yourself?”

She blinks, clearly not expecting a question, but answers it anyway. “One for courage.” A pause, and then, “Would you like to try it?”

Her cheeks are a brilliant red now, extending up to the tip of her nose like she’s been out in the cold, but that doesn’t make sense because Yato feels like he’s on fire. “Yeah, sure, let me grab another mug—“

“I only made one cup. Just, just drink it!”

That’s the danger; he has such trouble saying no to her. If she knew what he was planning — if she asked him to reconsider — he’d be back in that terrifying place of not knowing if he could protect her.

So he takes the mug and hovers with it just in front of his lips, noting the little moisture ring where her lips have been with detached awe. She’s willing to share with him? To let him drink from her cup, to freely spend precious time from her short human life with him? The reminder that he’s no longer a means to an end makes him close his eyes and press his lips to the mug. 

The flavor is light and crisp, with notes of peppermint and rosemary over a bracing green tea base. He lets it sit on his tongue this time and melt down his throat instead of guzzling it like beer. Courage, huh? “Thanks Hiyori. It’s...the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” He doesn’t trust himself to say more. 

She accepts the mug when he hands it to her and takes a sip from the same part of the rim he just did. His hands are sweaty and for a moment he thinks he sees a brief linking of their souls, like sparks off an anvil skittering along a thread before dissipating. Hiyori’s eyes have that steely gleam in them, though, that means she’s probably going to ask him another question about Father or his plans. Better to head her off and make sure she doesn’t worry enough to put herself in harm’s way. 

“Actually, I guess I have been sorta stressed out about stuff with my dad.” Her eyes are so determined, wreathed in steam that flickers out as soon as he tries to follow it. It’s almost hypnotic. “I’m worried he’ll hurt you,” he whispers, and then flinches, because he absolutely did not want to say that out loud. 

The relief on her face almost cancels out his regret. But then she says, “I thought that might be it! I’m stronger now, and so is Yukine, and together we can stop your father but only if you tell us what you’re planning.” Her face is paler now, earnest, her mug forgotten on the countertop so she can gesticulate. “We can only help if you let us in.”

Yato thinks about Sakura, about what it was like to let someone in, and summons his smoothest smile. “I’ve been kind of a jerk, haven’t I? It means a lot that you care so much. I haven’t planned my next move yet, but I’ll go over it with you and Yukine first.” 

Hiyori returns his smile but in technicolor, her soul positively bursting with joy. He doesn’t deserve to see it.

“Thank you! That’s all I wanted to talk about. Now about that story from school I promised to tell you...” 

Yato nurses the rest of his tea while listening to Hiyori recount misadventures from her real, human life. He commits the feeling of her mug’s rim to memory and wonders if there was something special in that tea; it gave him the courage to lie, after all. 

And so he listens and sips and listens, tracing her smile with his eyes and willing her soul to remain unnamed. Perhaps things would be different if he were more honest, or maybe there is some secret to opening up that would allow them to defeat his father without anyone suffering further harm. It’ll have to be an experiment for his next self, and he sends a silent prayer to that future, gentler god: 

May you be open, honest, and kind. May you live each day as an apology to Hiyori and Yukine; may you never disappoint them again. May you grow into the kind of god that people can turn to in their darkest hours, and uphold the ideals of a proper god of fortune.

And most of all, may you be forgiven.

[lovehugsandcandy]

Until This Time (Colt x MC)

A/N: @choicesarehard is a dirty, dirty enabler and I’m not even mad. She made the gorgeous image below for me as an incentive to write a second part of the tattoo story and, apparently, I am weak. Thank you SO much for editing and for inspiring and for being so amazing each and every single day; you are a ruthless, DIRTY enabler and I love it!

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length:  4,060 words

Rating: N*FW (swearing and sex, sex and swearing, sexing while swearing? who even knows)

Summary: Colt said he would find her.

Tags:  @deimosensblog @alegria1580  @choicesarehard @thefarrari @client-327 @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @hazah@flowerpowell@poeticscolt @brightpinkpeppercorn @zaira-oh-zaira @powdesiree0816 @umiumichan @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices @leelee10898 @maxwellsquidsuit

Ellie shouldn’t be surprised. Summer faded into fall, fall into winter, sophomore year into junior, and she was still alone, desperate for something, anything, to soothe the ache in her heart.

~~~~~

She couldn’t believe she was so nervous. She had done this before but, then, she hadn’t been by herself, walking into a small room with a stranger, no Mona, no Toby, no Ximena by her side.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

The guy shrugged and started setting up the equipment as she settled into the chair.

It had taken her forever to decide what she wanted. A serpent? It would match but she didn’t know if she wanted it on her own skin. An apple, the symbol of the fall, of the risk of eternal fire? A little too abstract, a lot too Snow White. She finally decided on something, something she thought was appropriate and that she liked; it was a little cliche, but oh well. She had to do a lot of research, find people to consult, lots of internet sleuthing; the last thing she wanted was a mishap and to walk around with gas grill on her hip.

She laid back and shut her eyes as the familiar buzz sounded, biting her lip. It wasn’t that bad, insistent bee stings on her skin, like fingernails dragging deep into her nerves, the vibration rattling her midsection. There were fewer lines than the feather, but thicker, more solid. She wanted to notice it when she looked down, to make it obvious, a stark contrast on her skin.

She didn’t need the reminder of him; he was already in her mind, her heart, phantom lines etched over her body, ever present, every day and, dear God, every night.

But…she wanted it. She wanted the outside to match the inside, her skin to match the marks, the scars, the name on her soul.

~~~~~

And time still passed. Junior year faded into senior year. No one had seen her tattoo; maybe no one ever would. Maybe it was for nothing.

These idle thoughts plagued her mind as she moved forward, towards graduation and what lay beyond for her.

She was torn.

LA had the sun, the East coast had snow. LA had her past, the East Coast had her present. LA had her dad, Riya; the East Coast had great schools with amazing grad programs.

Only one place had her heart.

~~~~~

“Are you sure you want to come back?” Her dad sounded off, strange over the phone.

Weird. “Of course I do.”

Her dad made a noncommittal noise. “It’s just….” A sigh. Ellie waited. “You’re safe on the East Coast, you know?”

“And I’ll be safe in LA. Really.” She knew her dad well enough to know that he was holding something back; throughout the rest of the call, through the updates, the goodbyes, in the back of her mind, Ellie wondered what it was.

It took some digging but, finally, she found it. An article from the The LA Times, posted one week ago. It looked like the Verratti manufacturing plant in Long Beach got hit. Details were sparse, but it looked like someone got away with three prototypes, secret upgrades to their supercars, supercars she knew pretty well. From what she could piece together, the cars were on the exterior quality control track, running some maintenance checks when someone cut open the gate. It would only be a matter of having a good pair of bolt cutters (they never let you down), getting the right uniform to pass as employees (not hard), scheduling the test run for late at night (probably easy to hack if you were able to get into a closed system), and making the getaway to Huntington Beach to blend in with the all the money there (with three good drivers, it was doable). Sounded like an in-and-out job, few witnesses, the cops had no leads. It was like they vanished.

She had to smile. It was a good plan. If someone asked her, she probably would have recommended the same thing.

But no one did.

~~~~~~

When she first moved back, her dad wanted to have dinner with her. Every other night. Lunch on the weekends. She had to pull back, make sure she kept her independence but it was hard, especially when there was nothing that she was pulling towards.

When she wasn’t in class, when she wasn’t with Riya or her dad…well, she tried to make sure she was busy, that she didn’t leave too much time to think, to worry.

And when she did have spare time? Well, she did dumb things.

Dumb things like heading to the cliff, the cliff she knew like the back of her hands. She was there for less than a minute, making it to the edge before the memories hit hard, their first kiss replaying in her head like a sad movie. She had to turn, walk away, breaking into a run to get back to the car.

Or like last Friday, when she showed up, East El Segundo, 8pm sharp, knowing exactly where and when the sideshow would be. She wandered for a while, marginally interested in the cars pulling donuts and watching the races, but it hurt, expecting to see the flash of a white motorcycle or a yellow GT every time she turned around. She didn’t even see a food truck. It was like time moved on, without her, while she was stuck living in a hazy past she couldn’t escape from. She walked back to her car, head low, trying to hide the tears.

Or this.

At least she didn’t get out of the car, sitting in the driver’s seat, window down, keys still in the ignition. The life of the city was vibrant around her, crowds and noise and action everywhere, except the one place she couldn’t take her eyes off of. It was still a shell, empty. It looked like Colt hadn’t even made an effort to start rebuilding; she could see through the front wall to the debris within, still see soot on the ground, pieces of metal and tools and junk cars lying in waste. It was deserted and empty and broken.

She drove away, torn between resolving never to come back here and ordering cleaning supplies to start the rebuilding herself.

~~~~~

Living with Riya meant living with Darius and, honestly, that was fine with Ellie. The three of them were once again inseparable, better than ever. Riya was working downtown while Darius and Ellie were both in grad school. They were busy but they were able to keep some of their old routines and make new ones as well.

But Crispy’s? Chicken tenders at Crispy’s would never die.

“Hey, at least it’s not Tuesday!”

“Yeah, because going to Crispy’s on Friday is so much better!” Riya shoved him, a gentle push to the shoulder that made Darius laugh and pull her close.

Ellie did have to deal with the jealousy, the worry that she had already had and already lost that passion in her life. She was so happy for her friends, she was; sometimes, she just wished things could be…different.

They were a block away from the apartment, Darius and Riya still bickering, hand-in-hand, Ellie half-listening, mind a world away. She wasn’t really paying attention but she should have been, would have seen it sooner, would have seen the dark shape coming out of the alley with more time to react. She moved on instinct, grabbing Riya’s arm to pull her behind, to stand in front of whatever demon from her past was sliding out of the darkness in front of them.

The dark shape was a person, walking under the streetlights, dark boots, jeans, leather jacket, oh shit.

“Hi, Ellie. Riya. Darius.”

Riya was the first to react, to find her voice. “Hi, Colt.”

He smirked, one side of his lips twitching, an almost smile, his eyes never leaving Ellie’s face.

Finally, she spoke. “Hi.” She could see, in the periphery, Riya and Darius looking at each other, moving, but she couldn’t drag her eyes from Colt.

“We’re gonna….” Riya squeezed her arm, brushing past. “We’re gonna go inside.” She and Darius linked arms, both nodding at Colt as they walked by him, but there was only one thing Ellie was focused on.

He looked good. Leather jacket on, hiding his arms from view. He looked softer, somehow, as he watched her, the shadows under his eyes solely from the light above. The last time they were together in an alley, he was hard, haunted, a ghost slipping through her fingers. But now, he looked solid and real.

“How are you?”

“Good….I’m good.” She couldn’t believe, after all this time, that’s his first question? “Colt, what are you doing here? How did you find me?”

He smiled, rocking back on his heels. “I said I’d find you.”

She watched him, underneath the streetlights, hands in his pockets, considering her. She didn’t know whether to smile or cry; what is the correct response when you feel like your heart would burst?

“How have you been?” She stepped closer, drawn like a magnet. He always had that effect on her.

“Better now.”

She shook her head. She didn’t know what to say, whether she was feeling fondness or exhaustion, whether she was relieved or was still feeling the weight of the time stretching between them. “It’s been years, Colt.”

He stepped even closer, smirking, smug as always. “Ellie, I told you I’d find you.”

A low laugh. “Yeah, because I’m not the one moving around all the time.”

“Ellie…” He reached up to trail fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you want me to say, other than I’m sorry.”

She didn’t know what she wanted him to say, what he could say, but she knew she couldn’t let him go tonight.

“Do you…” She gestured down the street, knowing his answer already. “Do you want to come in?

~~~~~

She shut the door to her room, turning to watch Colt surveying everything, hands sliding over her books, her desk, as if he could absorb the memories through touch.

“Graduation?” He picked up a frame. She knew that photo by heart, her dad pulling her close, days before she left the East Coast.

“Yeah.”

He looked at her fondly. “Graduated top of your class?”

“Gave a speech and everything.” She felt unsteady. This was not what she expected when they went to Crispy’s tonight. He was too far away, examining her room, trying to fill in the gaps, like a stranger.

“I missed a lot, didn’t I?”

The intensity with which the tears sprang to her eyes surprised her. He did, over three years, but she missed the same, missed the hiding and the planning and the every night they should have been together. Her voice wavered. “I missed you.”

He was across the room in an instant, three steps, and then she was in his arms, burrowing into his t-shirt, arms solid around her, comforting hands up and down her back. She didn’t know who moved first, if her hand reached for his cheek, if his finger raised her chin, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered when their lips met and she had to sigh, deep in her throat; she had been waiting years for this.

She was lost in his lips, wasn’t paying attention until her back hit the wall, the thin space between her dresser and desk, where they barely fit. She was blocked in by the furniture and his chest and his lips, insistent against her, tongue demanding entrance to her mouth. They kissed, made out like the teenagers they used to be, once upon a time, until he slid his hands to her thighs and lifted. She obliged, wrapping her legs around him, hips grinding together as Colt started a slow roll; she could feel how hard he was, underneath his clothes, pushing into her in a delicious dance, a back and forth she never wanted to end.

Apparently, he wasn’t as satisfied by the angle; he eased her legs down and spun her around, long line against her back, pushing her into the wall as his lips attacked her neck, tongue swirling just so, and his hand made his way down the front of her leggings. She was already keyed up; seeing him after the time and the distance had made her want. He still remembered how to touch her, how to run his thumb in slow circles, when to speed up, where to drag the calluses on his thumb, right where she was most sensitive, to make her squirm and quake and throw her head back onto his shoulder with a cry.

When she came back to herself, when the room came back into focus and her legs stopped shaking and she could see her books had crashed to the floor, he was wrapped around her, murmuring unintelligible words over and over again into her neck.

“Colt?”

The only response was his hand, running up and down her sides, her stomach, mouth still moving against her.

“Colt? Bed.”

Finally, he moved, spinning her so he could kiss her again, deeply, before grabbing her hand and pulling her across the room. She pulled him down on top of her, a safe, heavy weight, holding her there so she couldn’t float away, could only feel him pressing down on her, everywhere. His hands slid up her shirt, burning trails that made her bare her neck to Colt’s lips. She could barely think, only feel, watching as he pulled his shirt over his head, bringing the muscles in his chest, those abs into view, and lower, the feather tattoo sliding over his hip. Damn, she loved that tattoo, the visible ink that marked him as hers.

She reached over, to trail her fingers over it, recommit it to memory so her fingers would always remember the lines, the curves, but then her mind seized. She almost forgot. It had been so long and she was so used to it, used to seeing it when she dressed, when she showered, that she almost forgot her ink would be brand new to him.

She could pinpoint the exact moment he saw it. Her shirt was bunched, halfway up her chest; she thought her bra might be next but, when Colt pulled back, sharp intake of breath in the room, she realized his focus was solely on her hip. She watched him, staring at the tattoo, unmoving, unblinking. She took off her top, her bra, her hands taking over for his. Her pants were still on so he could only see part of it, half of one symbol and the top section of the other, but it was obvious he knew exactly what was written there. She threw the clothes from her hands, waiting; did she break him? He wasn’t even breathing.

His trembling fingers reached out and touched her. Apparently it wasn’t enough, only seeing part of it; he grabbed her waistband and pulled, rough. She could hear the seams tearing as he ripped the pants down to get a better view. She could get new pants. It was worth it, to see the look on his face, the disbelief, the awe. He stared. And stared some more. Then, once he had looked his fill, he traced the symbols, hands reverently mapping the lines on her skin, eyes never wavering from their dark shapes.

Finally, after tracing and retracing three times, achingly slow fingers gliding over her hip, making it hard not to tremble, finally he looked up, catching her eye, emotions warring over his face.

She said the only thing on her mind, the only thing she thought when she was under the needle, the only thing that mattered when she was deciding whether to move back to the West Coast.

“I belong to you.”

It was like a switch flipped. He moved, falling onto her so fast she didn’t even have time to gasp before his lips were on hers, rough, wild. His hands were in her hair, his lips and teeth clashing against hers. She battled back, lips harsh, teeth biting; she had never needed anything, anyone more. She wanted him to consume her.

They barely separated to pull pants from legs, to get nothing between them but bare skin-on-skin. He had always been best at communicating though his body, through how he touched her, their times together a mix of love and reverence and desire. But this touch?

This was desperation. This was Colt falling apart, losing his ever-present control, losing it at being with her again, at their bodies sliding together finally, after so damn long, and, of course, at the sight of the tattoo, the best decision she had ever made, the tattoo that marked her on the outside just as she had been marked on her soul.

“Fuck, El, I need-” His voice faltered, choking off with a moan as he moved back to her neck, rough open-mouth kisses, maybe not even kisses, more bites, pricks of sensation, pleasure-pain invading her senses. His hands were winding through her hair, fist tight, gently pulling her head back so he could mark her throat and further, lower, teeth scraping her breasts, her nipples, everywhere as she writhed underneath him.

He was devouring her, every nerve; he was going to destroy her.

“Yes, yes yes yes.”

He moved between her legs, catching her eye once more, control faltering, barely able to wait for her nod until he moved, pushing inside of her, one smooth stoke.

Her back arched and she cried out to the ceiling as he stretched her all at once. She was losing her mind, his desperation evident in every touch of his hand against her skin, stroking the tattoo as if he was trying to commit it to memory. She wanted him closer, he could never be close enough, not after the years of distance and worry and concern, sleepless nights and imagined fears.

Colt had always burned bright, passion and intensity overlaid with the slightest bit of control; unchecked, she knew he would turn into the blaze that would burn her to a husk. That control was gone now; he was around her, inside her, and she was on fire, would willingly burn if it meant one more moment of this. He moved his hands, one on her clit one on her hip, and his body, smooth motion incessant hard, right where she needed it, right where he remembered.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only hold on as she reached for him, clinging to his arms, his ink, and holding on for dear life. He didn’t say a word, looked like he could barely produce speech at this point, mouth open and gasping, sucking in breath after breath as he entered her again and again and her heat started to build and her legs, wrapped around him, trapping him, keeping him as close as he should always be, should have been for the last three years, her legs started to shake again.

He pulled out, one hand on his length, one thumb on her clit, stroking himself, rubbing her, all at the same tempo, all at once, so much movement and pressure and sensation Ellie could only grab the sheets and hold on. His hand moved once more, twice, and he came, hard, all over her tattoo, more streaks of him covering her skin. Her hand flew to her mouth and she bit into the palm of her hand, trying to muffle her scream as the world fell apart.

~~~~~

The second time was in the shower. She needed to get clean and Colt wanted to get dirty. He prevailed. She knew that, in the future, every time she stepped into the bathroom, all she would think about would be her hands, flailing against the wall, nails scrambling for purchase on the tiles as Colt took her apart, inch-by-inch, desperate to show her how much he loved the tattoo.

The third time, the third time she resolved to remember every moment. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, didn’t know when Colt would need to fade into the night again, but she was determined to catalogue every expression that flit across his face, to remember every slide of his fingers across her body, to mentally record every moan and heated whisper, to hold every single sensation tight, close to her heart, for comfort during long nights. She didn’t cry, not this time.

~~~~~

She was alone when she woke up. The sun was high in the sky, bathing the room in light but, when she turned, there was no one behind her. The bed was cold, no one else in the room. As she expected, she was sore, body the absolute best kind of sore when she stretched. Her heart was a different kind of sore, not for the first time.

She had told herself she wouldn’t sob, please not this time, but indulged one tear, tracking down her cheek. This is how they operated. They would always find each other again but, until that time came, she would make her way through the world, carrying memories and ink and love, alone.

She slowly pulled on some sweats, hearing Riya talking in the living room. At least she and Darius were still here, some kind of distraction. As she walked down the hall, she could hear the familiar laughter and noise. They had been obsessed with Horizon Chase, playing until 3am some nights.

She was still groggy. “What time is it?”

She padded to the couch and froze. The screen was split and her car, always the bottom left, always the pink speedster, always, her car was winning. Darius was coming up fast but he wasn’t going to make it, her pink car flying over the finish line. Riya was last, as normal; Ellie could usually beat her but had a harder time beating Darius. Her car never won, especially when she wasn’t playing.

Time stopped as Ellie watched Colt, sitting on the couch in her living room, sitting next to her childhood best friend like he belonged there. He was in his clothes from yesterday but the jacket was off, tattooed sleeves out of place squished next to Riya’s pajama top, worlds colliding.

“You’re like a good luck charm!” He raised his hands in the air, reaching behind him, trying to grab her waist.

“Cuz Darius cheats.” Riya pouted, throwing the controller to the ground.

Ellie just stared.

“I don’t cheat! You just don’t know how to use the boosts, babe, we’ve talked about this!”

“No Darius, you’ve talked about this. I think it’s like cheating.”

Her brain wasn’t working, words weren’t forming.

“You wanna play, Ellie?”

“I think…..I think I need coffee.” Her brain would work better with coffee. “Colt, can you come with me for a second?”

He stood, dropping the controller on the couch and following her into the kitchen. She turned to face him and opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again. Nothing came.

He leaned against the counter like he owned the place, looking expectantly at her, eyebrow raised. She could only gape at him, standing there in her kitchen as if he had a standing brunch date.

Finally, she spoke. “Are you staying?”

“What?”

She tried again. “Are you staying? Here?”

“Well, I’m going back to my apartment at some point.” He tilted his head, shrugging, palms out. “I don’t have any more clothes.”

She cuffed him on the side of the head. She missed this. “I mean, are you sticking around? No more moving around this time?”

He stepped closer. “They stopped investigating five months ago. I don’t need to hide underground anymore. And you’re back in LA.”

She was still uncertain, didn’t want to get her hopes up. “But-”

“Ellie…” He reached out, curving a hand around her hip, fingers stroking, slowly, tracing the familiar lines, spelling out Golden Child, Kaneko, with the pads of his thumb. “You have my name on your hip.”

She nodded, tears starting to prick her eyes, voice soft. “Yeah…I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I.”

She couldn’t stop herself from from throwing her arms around his shoulders and kissing him thoroughly. This time, he didn’t need to promise a next time. This time, he never left.

[thestorytellerofkpop]

The Steps in Finding Love; Patience

Title: The Steps in Finding Love; Patience 

Word Count: 7.2k+

Rating: T with eventual M

Genre: Realistic fiction, slice of life, drama, fluff with eventual smut

Warnings: Smoking, Established member x member relationship, angst that heals, bad made up makeup names and references, mentions of bad past relationships, a supportive yet sassy maknae line. This is part two of a four part series.

Pairings: Female Reader x BTS members, Jimin x Jungkook (Jikook)

Summary: “Mama said the next step was always the worse for the women in our family, and that step, was patience.”

1, 2, 3 (coming August 9th)

Tonight was the night. Tonight was the launch of the Cake palette you and your team worked tirelessly for, for months. You worked through the pain of your breakup until you passed out from exhaustion, filling the painful and broken void of your heart with the struggles and stress of work. You worked yourself to the bone up until tonight, making sure everything was in place for the party and informing security that Kim Seokjin was removed from the guest list and shouldn’t be allowed entry under any circumstances. Eventually Taehyung’s words started to make sense to you: you felt enlightened now that you’ve experienced a real heartbreak. The amount of tears that you cried grew less and less with each passing hour and day of work until you couldn’t come up with a logical reason to cry anymore. And the pain? Well, most of it was gone. But then again, no one ever really gets over the pain of their first real heartbreak, do they? Now here you were with your three friends in Jimin’s and Jungkook’s apartment, getting ready for the night of celebration.

“Babe, you need to chill.” Taehyung pursed his lips at you, bopping the eyeshadow brush he held against your nose. “I’m gonna ruin your makeup if you keep shaking like that.”

“Sorry Tae,” you said absentmindedly, playing with the hem of your bright turquoise dress. “I’m just nervous.”

“About the party or about you-know-who?” Jungkook asked from across the room, carefully applying Jimin’s eyeliner. He smiled and clicked his tongue when he was done, holding up a mirror to show Jimin his work.

“Beautiful as always Kookie.” Jimin smiled, straightening out his husband’s tie before moving to sit next to you. 

He held your hand, and the warm gesture made you relax enough to allow Taehyung to finish applying your bright white eyeshadow, the shade you dubbed ‘Bavarian Cream’.

“Y/N. It’s been three months honey. If Seokjin was going to try something he would’ve done it by now.” Jimin tried to calm your nerves.

“Yeah, I’m surprised he didn’t pull our distributor out from under us.” Jungkook chuckled, touching up his smoky eye look.

“Seokjin may be a jerk, but he isn’t as low as to destroy our business. He believed in us, believed in me.” you felt tears well-up in your eyes from the fond recollection and before they could fall Jimin and Taehyung were on you in an instant.

“Nuh-uh babe, no tears tonight. This is a happy night! And if you cry you’re gonna ruin your look.” Taehyung fussed, placing a tissue under your eyes to catch the stray tears.

“Oh honey. You’re too good for that asshole. I know you loved him, but you’re so much better than he is.” Jimin kissed your knuckles in reassurance. “Prove that bitch wrong, Y/N. When he sees pictures of tonight’s launch he’s going to be wishing he never cheated on you.” you laughed at Jimin’s exuberance, nodding your head at him. 

“You’re a motherfucking woman, you don’t need an ass like Kim Seokjin to make you happy! He’s not worth your tears or your time. He’s just a scrub compared to you; a self-made, independent business woman who don’t need no man.” Jimin snapped his fingers at you, making a new wave of giggles expel from your lips. 

“You’re right Jiminie. I’m gonna prove him wrong.” you spoke with a newfound confidence the boys haven’t heard you have since the breakup, and they all smiled at each other. 

“That’s my girl.” Jimin squeezed you hand in determination. “Now, let Tae finish you up so we can leave and celebrate!” Jimin cheered, allowing his husband to place a kiss on his colored lips. You smiled at the boys, turning back to Taehyung with confidence in your eyes.

“Make me look like a bad bitch, Tae.” he giggled at your words, giving you a boxy grin.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do girl!”

You chuckled as Taehyung finished up your eyes, and you made funny faces at him when he put on your highlighter and blush (”Only the best of the V line for you, my dear”). You looked at each of your boys and pride swelled in your chest at how far you all have come. They all looked radiant.

Jungkook was the simplest of the group; his brown hair was quaffed and his foundation was basic, but his eyes were dark and smoky with underlying sins and promises, and his suit was form fitting with a black tie to match. Jimin was pristine. His eyes were in the deep matte purple of the famous ‘Mixed Berry’ color from Cake, his eyeliner was a rich blue that came from his own collection and his mouth held a nude lip color that he was touching up from the kiss he shared. He wore all white, drawing more attention to his eyes and freshly bleached-blonde hair. And Taehyung? He was absolutely gorgeous. His eyes reflected that of a sunset: the reds, oranges, and yellows from all your palettes blended in to create a cacophony of color that matched beautifully with his red hair. His full bodysuit was red as well, and even though it was a women’s cut, Taehyung’s curves and ass filled it out perfectly. His custom made six-inch heels from Gucci were drool-worthy, made with red velvet material so that he “Could walk the red carpet all the time”. His lips were thick and blood red from Jungkook’s Devil line, and you prayed for Taehyung’s boys for when he returns home that night, because god damn if you didn’t jump your friend, you knew his boys would.

“And…there! The most beautiful one of us all, is complete.” Taehyung flourished, turning you around to meet the gaze of Jimin and Jungkook. 

Your eyes were white with glitter and a sparkling liner to boot, shining wonderfully against your bright turquoise dress. The dress was low cut, revealing the skin of your chest and thighs in the most seductive way. Your lashes were long and luscious and your cheeks glowed under the lights of the apartment. Your lips looked divine, the tint of pink Taehyung applied made your lips look natural, yet enticing to the eye. And when you stood and toed on your sparkling Betsey Johnson heels, you suddenly became as tall as Taehyung, spinning around to give the boys a complete 360 view. Jimin ‘ooo’ed and Jungkook whistled low in his throat.

“If I wasn’t gay I would be all over you Y/N.” Jimin said in awe, gently running his fingers over your cheek. “Taehyung, you did an astonishing job. Your technique is superb with the winged shapes.”

As Taehyung giggled and thanked the eldest of the group you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, and you knew it was Jungkook when he chuckled behind you, his hands splaying around your hips.

“Well, I’m not completely gay, so I have every right to hang off of my incredibly gorgeous friend.” You saw Jimin purse his lips at the man behind you and Jungkook whined softly. “Oh c’mon Jiminie, can’t we whisk her off into bliss for one night? They always say that two is better than one.” he teased. You rolled your eyes and removed yourself from his hold.

“I already told you Kookie, I’m not indulging you in your threesome fantasy.” you laughed as he pouted, crossing his arms like a child would.

“But why not?” he whined. Jimin sighed and linked his arm with Jungkook’s, a coy smile playing on his face.

“Because she doesn’t want to Kookie. You’ll just have to deal with me, your loving husband.” Jimin teased, pressing numerous kisses into Jungkook’s pouty cheeks.

“Children,” Taehyung sighed fondly, linking your arm with his. “Now c’mon, or we’re going to be late for our own event!” Taehyung guided you out the door and you couldn’t help but giggle at Jungkook who whined behind you, 

“Oh, so he can hang off Y/N but I can’t?! Totally unfair.”

~*~

“What kind of sick game is he trying to play!?” you yelled in frustration, causing numerous heads to turn towards you. Jungkook chuckled nervously at your outlandish display, guiding you towards the empty bar and away from the public eye.

“Get her a drink, anything, please.” Jungkook turned towards the bartender as you groaned in frustration.

The launch had been going smoothly. Everyone adored the palette, the media attention was great, and you and your boys were having a blast. But right in the middle of it all, when you were talking to the executives of Jancôme, your phone went off. Normally you would ignore notifications during events like this, especially one you worked so hard for, but it was Seokjin. It was Seokjin and you couldn’t help but excuse yourself from the conversation to peer at the Tweet he posted. Jungkook followed in confusion, asking you why you left so abruptly when you exploded, leaving him to guide you to where you were now.

“I can’t believe the nerve of this guy,” you huffed as the bartender brought you a glass of wine. You quickly chugged it down and asked for another before turning on Jungkook. “Look at this!” you slid your phone to him.

The main part of the Tweet was a picture of the four of you in front of the Cake palette display, right next to the actual cupcake display that the owners of your favorite cake ship in Seoul catered for the event. You all were smiling as the owners of the cake shop held cupcakes in their hands, the four of you holding the palettes like you didn’t have a care in the world.

“‘I’m so proud of @BeauVCosmetics for releasing their new #CakePalette, it looks good enough to eat! Almost as good looking as @y/n_l/n007 does in that beautiful dress, own it BeauV Team!’“ you read out loud to Jungkook, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Who does he think he’s fooling, trying to play it off as if we’re friends I mean c’mon! He’s just trying to get a share of the limelight we’ve taken from him and his Bloodlust line.” you shook your head, gripping your second glass of wine hard enough that your knuckles turned white. Jungkook chuckled nervously beside you, awkwardly patting your shoulder in some semblance of comfort. 

“Maybe he really is just trying to be supportive? I mean you said earlier that he believed in us and our business?” Jungkook tried to reason with you. You huffed, standing and grabbing your wine.

“I need some air.” and with that you left him, ignoring Jungkook’s calls of your name and to wait.

You took the elevator up three floors to the rooftop lounge, and once you were out in the open air you allowed yourself to scream in frustration, running a hand through your styled hair as you kicked off your heels. You took a deep breath, looking up at the open sky as you tried to calm the rising anger you felt. But no matter how many times you took deep breaths and counted the stars, you still felt angry. The rooftop was pretty, with lounge chairs and low lighted lanterns in the planter boxes of flowers and small shrubs, but your eyes traveled to the hot tub in the back corner. You marched over to the edge of the hot tub, sticking your feet in the searing water with a shiver as you took a sip of wine.

“I’d give that scream a solid eight.”

You jumped at the sound of another voice, placing your hand over your heart when you realized you weren’t alone. There was a man standing a good couple of feet away from you, leaning against the railing of the roof, and with the low lighting and nighttime sky around you, you couldn’t make out any of his features. How had you not noticed him before?

“You gave me a fright. I’m so sorry for screaming.” you chuckled, splashing the water around you with your right foot. 

“It sounded like you needed it.” he admitted, moving closer towards you as the low lighting began to illuminate his features. 

The man was good looking, extremely so. He wasn’t the traditional kind of handsome like Seokjin was, but he had is own unique charm about him. His cat-like eyes were piercing and when laced with the light, you could clearly read the nonchalant attitude they held. His lips curled up to his left cheek in a half-sided smirk as he sauntered towards you, plopping himself down next to you on the edge of the hot tub with his back facing the water. He tilted his head in your direction, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he offered, his gaze never leaving yours.

“It’s silly, really.” you admitted, staring into your glass of wine as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. You heard him chuckle next to you.

“Do you mind?” he asked, his long fingers wrapped around a pack of smokes. He raised his brows as you looked at the package, gently taking his lower lip between his teeth as he waited for your response.

“Go ahead,” you said. You watched as he put one between his lips, flicking the old zippo lighter he had until the tip of the cig burned bright amber. He puffed out a breath of smoke and looked up at the sky, his eyes wandering over the light of the stars.

“Whenever you want to talk, I’m ready to listen,” he smirked, bringing his attention back on you. “And I know you want to. I can see it behind the hesitation in your eyes.”

Your mouth fell in a gape when you turned to look at him. The man didn’t seem to care though, puffing at his cigarette in content as he looked back up at the sky. You pursed your lips as you mulled over your thoughts, idly kicking at the water. You had already embarrassed yourself in front of this man when you screamed, why not indulge him even further?

“It’s my ex.” you started and the man next to you snorted.

“It always is,” he said through a stream of smoke.

“He cheated on me with some random chick and we broke it off on bad terms. He hurt me and broke my heart when I was in a growing phase in my life and I’m just now getting over him. But then he tries to act like we’re close on social media, complementing me and my team like he cares about us or some shit. It’s fucking pathetic.” the man hummed softly, tapping his foot as he pondered his next words.

“Seems to me like you really cared about him.” you could tell this stranger chose his words carefully and you sighed in defeat, downing the rest of the wine in your glass for liquid courage so you could tell him the truth.

“I did. He believed in me, believed in us, before we were large. He was the one that got us our connections, our distributors, without him our business would be nothing. Without him, I wouldn’t know what pain truly felt like.” you admitted softly, blinking away your tears before the stranger could see you break. Silence greeted you for a few moments, and all you could focus on was the man’s puffs and the bubbling from the hot tub.

“Seems like you’re at an internal war with yourself. On one hand, you thank him for your success, but on the other hand he hurt you beyond the point of repair. You’re not really angry at him for putting on a façade for social media. Are you?” he questioned.

“No,” you sighed. “I’m not mad about that, not really.”

“You’re upset because you feel like he’s playing you, right? Using you for his advantage and knowing he’s over you even though you’re not over him.” the stranger sighed, dragging the nub of his cig across the titles of the hot tub to put it out.

“How do you know all this?” you couldn’t help but ask. The stranger laughed through his nose, looking over at you with a sad smile as the corners of his eyes turned up.

“Because I’ve been there before.” he simply said, chuckling as he pushed himself off the hot tub. “But you know what princess? Things get better. You live, you learn, and you heal eventually. Patience is but a virtue and you have to have a lot of it to heal a broken heart completely.” he held his hand out to you, helping you out of the hot tub with a surprising gentleness. He didn’t let go of your hand as he walked you to your shoes, bending down to pick them up and hand them to you.

“These aren’t my style, but y’know what they say. Every princess needs the perfect pair of shoes. Whether they are heels or Converse, it doesn’t really matter,” he knelt down, taking your foot in his hand as he slid on one shoe, than another. He stood up, grabbing your hands as a smirk laced through his lips when he saw that you towered over him. “As long as they have the perfect fit.”

This man’s words were disarming; you never met someone who spoke as eloquently as he did. And his smile was something else, reserved but open at the same time. He intrigued you in the best of ways and you wanted nothing more than to just sit and talk with him for hours.

“Who are you?”

The man opened his mouth to speak but before he could, the elevator dinged open and out rushed Taehyung, his heels clicking against the ground. You both turned to look at him and when he saw you two his eyes widened, his lips falling open in a soft gasp. You followed his eyes to where yours and the strangers hands were linked, quickly dropping them down to your sides.

“Y/N.” Taehyung broke the silence, moving towards you in swift steps. “We were worried sick. Jungkook came running up to us, saying you stormed off and we couldn’t find you anywhere-”

“Taehyung,” the stranger cut him off. “Y/N’s fine, she’s been up here with me. She just needed to vent for a little bit, isn’t that right?” the stranger playfully nudged your side

“Wait, wait, hold up. You two know each other?” you asked Taehyung, your eyes darting between the two men.

“Y/N, this is Yoongi-hyung, my plus one.”

“Taehyung invited me because he said I needed social interaction,” Yoongi smirked, looking up at his lavish friend. “And much to all our shock I did in fact engage in conversation, even though it wasn’t in the setting you expected, huh Tae?”

“I’ll admit I am surprised hyung. I’m proud of you.” Taehyung smiled, patting his friend on the back. “But c’mon back downstairs you two, the party is still alive and well and people are still dying to chat with you Y/N.” Taehyung grabbed yours and Yoongi’s hands, dragging you into the elevator much to both of your dismays. 

“So how did you two…?” your thought trailed off, wondering how two contrasting men ever came to be friends.

“Meet?” Yoongi chuckled. “At an art gallery in Daegu. Taehyung found me and he was utterly enamored.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung whined. “Don’t say it so lamely. When I heard Yoongi’s music, I knew that we had to be friends. I couldn’t just let raw talent like that walk away from me!”

“I made the music for the event,” Yoongi explained, noticing your confused look. The elevator opened back out into the party and Yoongi clapped his hands together.

“As much as I enjoyed this, I really should be on my way to the other guests. I enjoyed myself tonight Y/N, hopefully we’ll meet again.” he left you and Tae with a parting smile and a flick of his wrist, escaping into the throngs of people. You chuckled, stepping off the elevator with Taehyung, shaking your head.

“Oh, I know that look.” Taehyung frowned, his eyes squinting at the expression he saw in your face. 

“Don’t worry about it Tae.”

Taehyung sighed when you went back out into the crowd, shaking his head in disbelief before immersing himself into the talk of makeup and brand deals.

~*~

Yoongi idly walked through the art exhibition, cigarette between his fingers as he examined the pieces with mild interest. The art gallery was in an outside hotel plaza, fairy lights adorned the trees as Yoongi’s jazz compositions flew through the open air, embracing the guests in the warm comfort that only pianos and saxophones could bring. He hummed along softly to the wordless music as he wandered, coming to stop at a piece depicting an alien world in some nameless galaxy. He chuckled, his eyes never wavering from the painting as he shook his head.

“Y/N?” he called, “Come out from hiding, I know you’re there.”

You cursed under your breath, coming out of the shadows to stand next to Yoongi.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“I guess you could call it a seventh sense,” he told you, sending you a half-sided smirk as he took a drag. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

“Taehyung told me you would. He said you always compose for Art Walk.”

“For good reason. They fund local artists, showcase their work to potential clients. It’s a good organization and event.” Yoongi deliberated, flicking some ash away into the open air. You both stood there in silence for a few minutes, staring at the painting before Yoongi flicked his spent cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his foot for good measure.

“Come walk with me.” he told you, turning to stroll through the rest of the gallery. You followed him, idly looking at the various displays with little interest.

“So, why’re you here?” Yoongi asked.

“Can’t I just be here to support local artists?” you defended, making the man next to you chuckle.

“I would’ve believed that if you weren’t hiding behind those trees.”

“Okay, fine, I just really wanted to talk with you again.” you admitted with blush on your cheeks.

“Y’know, most people would just call and ask for a date right?” Yoongi smirked when he saw you sputter, his eyes growing soft when your blush grew.

“W-Who said I wanted to go on a date with you?! Maybe I just wanted to see you in a merely platonic way.” you stuttered. Yoongi hummed, looking at you with a small smile on his face.

“Right.”

You two continued walking through the plaza, thanking god you chose to wear flats to this event instead of heels. Without the added height from your shoes, you were almost level with Yoongi, give or take a couple of inches that his dress shoes gave him. He looked handsome under the soft glow of the lights, his dark hair shining and his all black attire made him look mysterious and provocative. Sure it was just black jeans, a button-up, and a leather jacket, but he made the simple clothing look great. He had in silver earrings, noting that he didn’t have them in at your launch. Could he have been insecure about them enough to take them out as to not make the wrong impression in front of potential clients? You knew Jimin and Jungkook did the same thing (Taehyung, honestly, couldn’t give two fucks about it and kept his earrings in always) but you would’ve thought Yoongi wouldn’t care about trivial things like that. 

“Have you been to the music plaza yet?” Yoongi asked you suddenly, making you jump slightly at the sound of his voice.

“No, I haven’t.” you admitted.

“Would you like to?” he asked, holding his hand out to you. You glanced between his face and his hand for a few seconds too long before Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Fine, don’t hold my hand then.” he teased, dropping his hand back to his side as he walked away. 

You scurried after him, hearing his soft chuckle when you laced your fingers with his. His hand was calloused, but smooth and oh so warm as his long fingers loosely gripped your own. Yoongi began to swing your hands lightly as he guided you out of the art gallery and down the block towards where the bands were playing. He squeezed your hand gently, looking over at you expectantly.

“So, what’re you in the mood for?”

“Hmm,” you pondered your next move carefully. You didn’t know what kind of music Yoongi liked, all you knew was that he made soft jazz. And THAT didn’t help much considering the fact you couldn’t hear any brass elements in the air that made up jazz. 

“Can we wander? Stop at something we both like?” you suggested. Yoongi gave you a nod, before taking you along the avenues of music. Everyone was good, and everyone was talented. Different genres rang through your ears the more you walked and nothing really caught your attention, until you made it down the end of the street. You gripped Yoongi’s hand a little tighter, making him stop in his stroll.

“I didn’t take you as a soft rock fan.” Yoongi chuckled, guiding you closer towards the stage. There were four or five couples slow dancing to the sounds of electric guitar and pounding drums, the tempo slow and steady. The singer’s raspy voice made your heart pound in anticipation as you looked at Yoongi. Would he allow you to slow dance with him and savor the music? Yoongi hummed along to the melody, gently letting go of your hand. You almost whined in protest.

“Now don’t pout,” Yoongi smirked, his eyes light and full of mischief. “Otherwise I may take back my thoughts of asking you for a dance.”

Yoongi’s smirked turned into a full smile when you blushed, taking a step closer to him. Yoongi’s hands guided your arms to drape around his neck, his own wrapping loosely around your waist as he led you in a slow shuffle. You both swayed to music as you turned in slow circles. You noticed Yoongi’s eyes never left your face, even as yours shifted focus from him, to the band, and down to your feet, his eyes were steady like the music. 

“What’re you staring at?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“You,” Yoongi’s voice was soft and endearing, and his bluntness made you part your lips in shock. “Aren’t you supposed to look at your partner when you dance?” Yoongi countered back snidely. You had no comeback for that, so instead you just laid your head down onto Yoongi’s shoulder as you moved.

“So, how’s the business?”

“Going strong, we’re taking a break before we start coming up with more products. We want the Cake hype to die down then wait a couple months before trying to come up with new products.” you spoke softly and Yoongi pulled you closer, whether it was to just hear you better or create more contact you didn’t know, but you liked it.

“And the ex drama?” Yoongi asked. You scoffed, shaking your head into the leather of his jacket.

“Over it. It was silly and he hasn’t done anything since.”

“That’s good to hear. You’re too strong to be hung up over an idiot like that.”

Yoongi’s words made you smile, and you finished the slow dance in silence, clapping and leaving a tip for the band as they packed up their equipment. Yoongi walked you back to your car, making you laugh and making you smile, making you intrigued to want to know more. To know more about him, what he does, what his passions were. You knew you made the right choice when you asked for his number, because the smile he gave you was one like no other as he punched it into your phone. You knew Yoongi was something else, because the only other smile you’ve seen that radiant was from Taehyung, and you wanted to make it appear over and over again.

~*~

Days turned into weeks, and the time you spent with Yoongi increased with each day that passed you by. The more you both talked, the more you both laughed, the more you realized you had some sort of feelings for the man. You didn’t know if it was love, but whatever it was, it was there, and it was growing, and it was so much better than anything you felt with Kim Seokjin. Seokjin was seductive and Seokjin was society’s standard of perfect. But Yoongi? Yoongi was provocative, not in the way he acted, but the way he spoke. His words never failed to make you breathless as your mind pondered over his thoughts. Yoongi was ragged around the edges, but he was beautiful in the way he spoke, the way he acted, in the way his eyes would flicker with sparks when speaking passionately and in the way he really smiled, a thing you’ve seen more as time went on.

And his music was just like him. You couldn’t remember how many times Yoongi asked you to listen to his music, new and old alike to get your opinion. You didn’t realize the extent of his passion and work, originally thinking all he did was instrumental pieces. Oh, was that far from the truth. He rapped, his way with words making memorable compositions that you begged him to let you download for your personal use. He also produced music for others; some fellow rappers and some singers. The variety of music though, is what surprised you the most. Whether it was classical or jazz  or rock or rap, Yoongi always added his own flair of life into the music with hip hop undertones and beats you could always count out when listening to the song. 

That’s what you were doing tonight. And as you sat on his bed, waiting for him to start the song, you noticed the hesitation in his eyes.

“You alright Yoongi?” he sighed at the sound of your voice, turning to look at you with a solemn expression, as if he was about to confess his sins to you.

“I want to listen to this song with earbuds this time.” he said, laying down on his side of the bed as he plugged the buds into his phone. This was unusual for him, he always played his songs from his laptop with the speakers on his desk.

“Is there any reason why?” you probed.

“This song…is very dear to me,” he explained. “I wrote it when I was in a very dark place, when my ex broke up with me. I’ve never shared it with anyone before, besides the woman that sings it for me. But I want you to hear it. Because I trust you, Y/N.” he confessed.

“Yoongi-”

“I’m sure I want to do this.” Yoongi stole the words right out of your mouth, the corners of his lips turning upwards at your shock. “You’ve been asking why I act the way I do and speak the way I speak. Well, this explains it all. So come, lay with me.” he patted the open space with one hand, the other offering you the other earbud.

You sighed and laid yourself down next to Yoongi on his bed and allowed the music to consume your entire focus. The bass reminded you of a heartbeat as the vocalist sang behind it; her voice powerful and strong. Soft electronic undertones and piano joined the composition, and your ears felt light as the lyrics dug deep into your heart and rooted themselves in with no intention of coming out. You listened carefully to Yoongi’s words and the emotion he had laced into them. Your eyes welled with tears as the song went on and you tried to blink them away, but Yoongi reached out for your hand, meeting your gaze in dim light of his room. His eyes were dark and stormy and matched the lyrics of the songs perfectly. He shook his head, and with that you allowed the tears to roll freely down your cheeks, squeezing his hand back as the song ended. You both laid together in silence, holding each other’s hands as if they were your lifelines to the real world. 

“You were really hurt.” you stated softly, looking into Yoongi’s soulless eyes. He hummed in acknowledgement, tentatively brushing his fingers along your cheek.

“I was,” he whispered. “I still am sometimes, but it’s okay. I guess that’s why I act and speak the way I do now. I don’t want to be personable nor do I want to be relatable. Reading people comes easy now after that experience, and I keep my distance to keep from hurting again. But it’s okay.”

“Yoongi,” you sat up, pulling Yoongi with you as you took the earbud out of your ear. “I care about you a lot. More than I probably should for knowing you only for a few months. But I really like you. I like you so, so much and I don’t want you to live with the memories of that hurt anymore.” your sudden confession was met with silence at first, but then, Yoongi laughed, removing his own earbud.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, yeah I’m sure.” you chuckled nervously, running a hand through your hair as you blushed. You weren’t planning on sharing your growing feelings with Yoongi, but it was out there, and you couldn’t take it back now. Yoongi didn’t say anything for a minute. He just stared at your fingers that were laced with his. With a sigh, he let go of your hand and you felt your blood run cold.

“I can’t.” he said, shaking his head at you. “I’m sorry.”

“But aren’t you tired Yoongi? Aren’t you tired of living in an inescapable trap of pain?” 

“Of course I am-”

“Then why can’t we heal each other and stop hurting?” you asked. “I want to move on completely, and I want to be happy again, and I want to do it with you. I know it’s hard, living with that hollow feeling pain brings you. But pain doesn’t last forever, I should know, but-”

“I can’t because you don’t love me.” Yoongi said simply, finally turning his head to look at you. “Not really.”

“You don’t know how I feel Yoongi.” he just chuckled, pulling out a smoke and lighting it up.

“You’re right. I don’t know how you feel Y/N. But I do know what love is. And what you have isn’t it.” he paused, contemplating his next words.

“Love isn’t that easy to come about,” Yoongi explained with a sigh of smoke, standing from the bed to languidly pace around the room. 

“We aren’t in a John Green novel or a 90′s rom com. Love is insatiable. Love in the real world isn’t like the Disney fantasies that’ve perpetuated everyone into believing that you can fall in love in a short period of time. Love is-” Yoongi stopped his movement, turning to look into your eyes from across the room. His lips pulled up into a half-smile as the cigarette hung between his teeth.

“Love is raw. Love grows with time, and patience. You can’t just jump into love. You have to earn it, respect it, and let it grow.” Yoongi moved towards you, his gait slow and each step he took felt like minutes were passing by. Finally, he stood in front of you, your head level with his chest. You looked up at him, the white of your eyes growing red with tears. Yoongi blew out a puff of smoke, extinguishing the half used cig with the tips of his fingers and shoving it in his pocket. He gently cupped your cheeks with his hands, tilting his head as his eyes roamed your face. Yoongi sighed out a laugh, gently biting his lower lip as he shook his head.

“Y’know, I told myself I was never going to fall in love again. And that plan was working just fine until I met you. What I feel isn’t true love, not yet anyways. But it’s enough to know I can’t deny my feelings for you.” his thumbs rubbed your cheeks as he spoke, his gaze never wavering.

“But you, princess, are surely mistaken. You don’t love me. You love the idea of me. The idea of a happy ending after the pain you’ve just been through. An easy way out. Hmm?” Yoongi wiped at the tears that fell down your cheeks, mascara caking onto his thumbs. He gently shushed you, guiding your head to lay against his chest as you hugged him around his middle. Yoongi began to hum, gently rocking you as you cried. 

You cried because he was right. You cried because you were mistaking friendship for love; and everything became clearer once Yoongi said those words. Because what you felt, felt like how you did with Taehyung, only intensified from the newness of the experience. All the blushing, all the nerves and racing heartbeats, came because you had only done those things with past lovers, and with Taehyung. And the idea of Yoongi being in the same realm as Taehyung never crossed your mind, only the thoughts of a potential lover did, spurred on from impatience of finding some semblance of love again to rid yourself of the lingering pain in your heart. Even though Yoongi was more reserved than Taehyung was, both men had that flirty edge to them, and both loved contact. Maybe you had really undermined them and their personalities; they were more alike than you thought. Once you realized this you just cried harder, for not only leading Yoongi on, but for being so stupid as to mistake what you felt for romantic love. Were you really that desperate?

“I’m sorry.” you gasped into his chest.

“It’s okay Y/N. Just let it out.” he coaxed, placing a kiss into your hair. 

“You’re right. You’re always right about how I feel. I’m such a fool.” you sniffled, peering back to look up at Yoongi’s blank face.

“You’re not foolish to want something, Y/N. It’s not foolish to want love, not at all. But that love won’t be with me. Princess, you’re beautiful. Smart. Insightful. You’ll find your Prince Charming eventually. I promise you that. You just need time, that’s all.” he smiled down at you sadly.

“I’m willing to wait.” you tried to give the man a feeling of hope, but he just chuckled.

“I’ll believe you if you can come back to me and say those same words of confession in a year.” he smiled. “I’ve been patient all these years, what’s a couple more added on? I don’t think I’m going to hurt very much anymore, now that I know you.”

“I’m sorry Yoongi. But I do like you, platonically that is, can we still be-”

“Don’t.” Yoongi cut you off, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t say the ‘f’ word yet, because once you say it, everything’s going to change for me.”

“Yoongi…”

“Can I do something? Can I do something before we shift into being just friends? So I don’t regret anything.” Yoongi’s words were ominous, but you nodded anyways. He stared at you with a newfound determination at your approval, his eyes searching yours intently. 

“What’re you waiting for?” you whispered.

“I want to remember every detail of this, so I don’t forget.”

Yoongi nodded once before leaning down to place a kiss on your lips. His lips were firm and warm, the taste of smoke filling your senses as your lips moved against each other. His movements were languid and slow and you wrapped your arms around his neck to relish in the feeling of being kissed again. You felt fingers tug at your hair, angling your face up to give Yoongi better access to your mouth as his tongue gently parted your lips, meeting your tongue with calculated strokes.  There was no rush to the kiss, nor was there any urgency behind it; the two of you were content in just savoring the feeling of warmth spreading through your veins. To savor the feeling of being held with such love and care, of feeling protected and safe within the grasp of another. 

You parted from Yoongi’s lips with a soft gasp, your noses bumping together as you caught your breath. You could’ve sat there and kissed Yoongi for hours, you didn’t want the feelings to end. Yoongi chuckled low in his throat, leaving a peck against your lips.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “That was amazing, and more than I could’ve ever hoped for.”

“Of course,” you whispered.

“Y’know, Taehyung told me about the time you both kissed in middle school, how you were each other’s first kiss.” Yoongi smiled, moving to sit next to you. “Since I figured our friendship is gonna be like yours and Tae’s, we should kiss at least once. That and because I just really wanted to.”

You groaned in horror that Yoongi knew that secret, burying your face in your hands. The mood was completely gone now.

“I’m gonna kill that son-of-a-”

“Easy there tiger,” Yoongi chuckled, “No need to get all worked up. It’s cool.”

“It was supposed to be a secret though.”

“I think it’s cute. Since you’re both still close.” Yoongi admitted and you smiled sheepishly at him.

“Taehyung called me after the Cake launch y’know? Telling me that you were curious about me. He also told me not to hurt you if anything happened between us. He really cares about you, you know that?” Yoongi continued on, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Taehyung…” you paused, trying to come up with the right words to say. “Taehyung means the world to me. He’s been with me through thick and thin.” you admitted.

“And you mean the world to him too.” Yoongi said.

“How long have you known that I didn’t really love you?” you couldn’t help but ask, the curiosity was eating you alive.

“Art walk,” Yoongi shrugged. “You didn’t have that spark, and even though your body language said differently, I think it was because you were nervous. And to be physically intimate like that with a new person always gets pheromones running.”

“Hit it right on the head,” you chuckled. “I wanted to know more about you. I love the way you talk and provoke the mind with your thoughts.”

“That’s an overtly sexual way of saying ‘You have a cool brain, let’s be friends so I can talk to you.’“ you giggled at Yoongi’s bluntness, shaking your head at him.

“You really meant what you said?” you asked.

“About?”

“About me finding love, you think I can?”

Yoongi just smiled, taking your hand into both of his own.

“Well, I never lie. And yes, I do. Like I said, you’re beautiful, smart, an amazing kisser,” Yoongi paused to send you a cheesy wink. “You’ll find love and get your happily ever after. Believe me, you will. Even if it isn’t with me, I’ll still be happy when you finally meet the right person for you, and I expect every single detail when it does happen. And like my mother always said; good things come to those who wait.”

[katedoesfics]

Shadows of the Yiga | Chapter 1

A tedious stack of papers dropped on his desk. Link turned his gaze over to them casually, then up to the woman that stood over him.

“Special delivery,” Sera said cheerfully. “One stack of papers for a Mr. Hero.” She winked playfully at him and casually blew her sidebang out of her face.

Link turned his gaze back to his computer. He tapped his pen against his desk. It was just another day for him. Five years at that office, and each day simply blended into the next. He understood why people had midlife crises. Doing the same thing day in and day out was mind numbingly tedious. But it was a job, and he needed the money if he wanted to live in a house another month.

“For someone who faked his entire resume, you do surprisingly well,” she continued with a grin. “Can you get all this done by five like last week?”

Link shrugged lazily with one shoulder. “Sure.”

She sat on the edge of his desk, still grinning. “How do you do it?”

“Well, you see,” Link started, rolling back in his chair. He pressed his fingertips together. “It's all bullshit, Mr. Watson.”

Sera laughed. “Sounds about right. I mean, who cares about expense reports, anyway? Certainly not this company.”

“It takes years of practice to do what I do,” Link said with a smug grin.

“At this rate, you'll be at the top of the corporate ladder.”

“And all my dreams will come true,” Link said dryly.

“I could get used to the perks,” she said with a shrug. “Those company cars look nice.”

Link scoffed. “Suits. Not my style.”

“That's so Superman of you. Corporate slave by day, hero by night. Why isn't that on your resume?”

Link turned back to his computer. “Unfortunately, we're not exactly in an age of heroes. No one gives a shit.”

“They ought to.” She was quiet for a moment. She tapped a finger on the stack of paper she dropped on his desk. “This is no place for a hero.”

“Well, hero work doesn't pay the bills.”

“Hm. Touche.” She stood. “Up for another drink tonight?”

Link turned his attention to his phone as it vibrated against the desk. He sighed when he recognized the number of the high school. “Doesn't look like I'll be able to,” he said as he answered the phone. He turned his gaze to Sera as she walked away, waving over her shoulder.

“Link. I have Aryll in my office. Can you come by?”

“Again?” Link turned his gaze to the papers on his desk. They would have to wait until tomorrow.

“Yes,” the principal said dryly.

“Sure,” Link said. “Let me just take another personal day. I don't get tired of using those up.”

“I'm in no mood for your attitude, Link.”

Link sighed. “I'll be down in a bit.” Without another word, he hung up the call. He got up abruptly, leaving his chair spinning in his wake, and passed Sera's desk as he made his way out. She looked up from her computer screen as he passed.

“Aryll causing trouble again?”

“Cover for me?”

She saluted him. “Aye, aye, Mr. Hero.”

Link rolled his eyes at her before leaving the office. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten a call from the school about Aryll, but it was the first year she had really started to act out. He didn’t know shit about parenting, and as far as he knew, there was no how-to book on the subject. It may have been ten years ago, but he was sixteen once, too, and he never went through any sort of rebellious phase. Of course, he was a little preoccupied in his chosen destiny to stop Ganondorf and save Hyrule. So, it was very possible he missed out on the inductions into the rebellion club. He was convinced that such a thing existed, and it was all just a big plan to make his life even more miserable.

Regardless of why Aryll was acting out, she was, and Link had found himself at the high school on a more regular basis than he wanted to be. Fortunately, it was mostly for petty high school crimes. Aryll was found skipping class. Or skipping the day entirely. Or she was caught cheating on her test. A couple of times, she had apparently gotten into some fights, which left her suspended for the next couple of days. These were the worst, mainly because Link knew that being unsupervised at home would only allow her to get into more trouble. By the grace of Hylia, he had managed to sweet talk his way out of that with the principal, though he wasn’t sure how long that would last if she kept up.

He was bending over backwards for his sister, and she didn’t seem to give a damn. It apparently wasn’t enough that he dropped out of college to be with her when his father was discharged. Or that he had taken over everything when he died, including the unfortunate role of being some sort of father figure in her life. The two jobs he was working just to keep a roof over her head? Well, who needed that? Surely not him. She was going to get kicked out of school at this rate and never graduate, so why did he bother sticking around in the city? There was nothing there for him, anyway, and there would be nothing for Aryll if she wasn’t going to graduate high school.

So, really, who was it all for, then? What did any of it matter? How he wished he could go to the bar after picking up Aryll.

It would have felt odd to be back at the school if he hadn’t been such a regular appearance there. Every time, he would find himself looking at the corner of the building from his car where his friends used to hang out before and after classes. Sometimes, he would wander the hallways before making his way to the office, looking out into the courtyard where they once gathered for lunch. On one of the picnic tables, Revali had lovingly carved “Link sux” into the wood. Ten years was a long time, but it seemed a lifetime ago. He hated everything about high school, but in those recent years, he wanted nothing more than to go back and attempt to make a better future for himself.

And there was Aryll, all too happy to throw it all away. Everything he had done for her.

Needless to say, Link was in a less than stellar mood when he entered the office. The secretary behind the desk did not look up as he entered, but offered him her usual, monotone greeting. “Hello again, Link.”

“Did you miss me?” he said with a grin. The woman looked up slowly, meeting his gaze with a raised brow and otherwise emotionless face, and his grin quickly disappeared.

“He’s expecting you,” she said with a sigh, pulling her gaze away and back onto her computer screen.

“Right,” Link said. “Of course he is.” He walked around the desk and into the office without knocking, taking the seat in front of the desk. He stretched his legs out in front of him, settling in to hear of Aryll’s latest adventures.

The principal smiled to Link as he sat in the empty seat in front of the desk, but Link did not return the greeting. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for him to speak.

“Nice to see you, Link.”

“Wish I could say the same.”

“Aryll told me not to call. She said you were busy at work.”

“Well, if she cares so much, maybe she'll stop causing trouble.”

“She's a good kid. She gets good grades.”

“So, what is it this time?”

He folded his hands on his desk. “She knocked a kid out cold.”

Link grinned. “Nice.”

The principal narrowed his gaze. “Do you really think that's appropriate?”

Link shrugged. “Depends. Did he deserve it?”

He sighed and pressed his fingers against his temple.

“He must have done something to piss her off,” Link continued. “What was it?”

He looked down at the papers on his desk and scooped them up. He flipped through them until he found what he was looking for. “Apparently there was a disagreement between them.” He adjusted the glasses on his nose as he read the report. “'He said that the legends of Hylia were nothing but bullshit and scare tactics that the government uses and if Ganondorf was ever a real threat, he would have been eliminated. I told the stupid bastard that if he paid attention to the world at all, he'd know that Ganondorf cannot simply be killed as long as he holds a piece of the Triforce, and the fucking prick said that the Triforce was made up by the royal family to keep themselves in control of Hyrule. He said Zelda and Link were frauds.'” He stopped and looked over his glasses, meeting Link's gaze.

“That's a good one,” he said. “I haven't heard that one yet.”

The principal placed the papers back on his desk and removed his glasses. “It seems Aryll has quite a temper.”

“Guess the kid shouldn't be talking shit. Sounds like he got what he deserved.” He smiled smugly. “Next time -” He snapped his mouth shut, thinking better of what he was going to say. Aryll could get away with throwing punches, but he was sure he couldn't make such threats lightly.

The principal raised a brow. “Next time?”

“Next time maybe he'll show a little respect.”

He leaned back in his large, leather chair, turning slightly from side to side in a rocking motion. “Is everything okay at home?”

Link groaned loudly and rolled his eyes. “Don't give me this shit.”

“I know things haven't been easy for the two of you these last few years, but you are responsible for her and her actions.”

“She's sixteen years old,” Link said. “And I'm not her father. I don't control her. She's old enough to know right and wrong and make her own decisions.”

“She needs guidance, Link.”

“Guidance with what?” Link snapped. “She's standing up for herself. I'm sorry if my little sister has a better punch than that asshole conspiracy theorist. Maybe he should grow a pair.”

He sighed and rubbed at his temple. “I've given her quite a few chances already,” he warned him. “I can't keep doing this. You need to do something about it. You need to talk to her.”

Link got to his feet. “Are we done, or are you going to keep lecturing me about how to raise a teenage girl?”

“I just want what's best for both of you. I don't want to see Aryll go down the wrong path. She has a lot of potential. You should be grateful she doesn't have the same work ethic you did in school.”

Link shrugged. “Just busy saving the world.”

“Mhm.” He turned his gaze away from Link and onto his computer screen. “If it keeps up, I will have to suspend her. Please don't let it come down to that.”

Link said nothing further. He made his way out of the office, closing the door behind him. In the main office, Aryll was sitting in one of the chairs against the wall, her hands behind her head. She stood when Link came out and without a word to her brother, she left the main office and made her way outside. There was still an hour left of school, but Link was too tired to fight with her. He nodded to the woman behind the desk as he walked after Aryll.

“See you next week, Link,” she said disinterestedly.

Outside the school, Link jogged after Aryll as she made her way toward the car. “What the hell was that about?” he said when he reached her side.

“What was what about?” Aryll kept walking, not meeting his gaze.

“You can't go around punching people.”

Aryll rolled her eyes. “I told him not to call you.”

“Who else is he going to call?” Link sneered.

Aryll stopped short and faced him. “Right, because I have no one else. No fucking family.”

Link's expression softened. “You have me.”

“Do I? You're never around!”

“I'm working two fucking jobs for you. What more do you want from me?”

Aryll stormed away from him, away from the car, and towards the road.

“Where are you going?” Link shouted after her.

“Home!”

“Get in the car!”

“No!”

Fuming, Link got into the vehicle. He pulled out of the lot and followed Aryll onto the road. He rolled down the window as he slowed to her pace. “Get in!”

Aryll crossed her arms. “No.”

“Get in the fucking car, Aryll!”

Aryll stopped walking and glared at him.  She opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. Instead, she yanked the door open, slid into the seat, and slammed it closed. She folded her arms over her chest and turned to look out the window, ignoring her brother.

“What the fuck has gotten into you?” Link hissed as he pulled out into traffic.

Aryll shrugged with one shoulder and kept her gaze out the window. “I’m going through my rebellious phase,” she said. “I’ll probably dye my hair black or something. Get a lip ring.” She grinned to herself. “Fuck it. I’ll go all out and get my nipples pierced.”

“You’re not funny,” Link muttered.

“I’m actually hilarious,” she said. “But you have no sense of humor anymore, so you wouldn’t know.”

“You’re going to get expelled,” Link warned her.

“So what?” She glanced over to her brother. “What are you going to do about it? Ground me?” She rolled her eyes and turned her gaze back out the window.

“Sure,” he mumbled. “That’s what people do, right?”

“That’s what parents do,” she said. “And we’re sad little orphans.”

Link’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t respond to her.

Aryll took it upon herself to put an end to the silence that fell between them. “So, since you’re not my father, you don’t have that power.”

“No,” Link said slowly. “But I’m the adult. The only adult you’ve got. So that power transfers to me.”

Aryll shifted in her seat. “Right,” she muttered. “Let me know when you decide to act like an adult.”

Link stopped at a light, slamming harder on the breaks than he needed to. “When you stop acting like a bratty little twat, then we can talk,” he hissed at her.

“Fuck you,” she sneered at him.

“Get out and walk home.”

“No,” she said sternly. “And you can’t make me.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Fine,” she said. “Be a terrible guardian and they’ll take me away and stick me in an orphanage and we’ll never have to see each other again.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” he said. “You won’t go to an orphanage. Even they wouldn’t want you. You’ll just be a homeless little troll under a bridge.”

“You’re a fucking dick!”

The light had turned green, but Link hadn’t moved. The cars behind them started to honk in annoyance.

“Yup, that’s me,” he said. “The biggest asshole this world has ever seen.” He flipped a motorist the bird as he finally moved through the intersection.

“Being a hero doesn’t mean you get to act like a dick to everyone.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” he said. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. “I guess I misunderstood what being a dick was. Apparently giving up everything for you makes me a terrible person.”

“Right, go head,” Aryll said, rolling her eyes. “Play the fucking victim card again.”

“I can’t win with you, can I?” he barked at her. “Nothing I do is good enough!” They stopped at another light and Link turned to his sister. “What do you want from me, Ary? What the fuck do you want?”

Aryll stared at her brother, her face whitening. When the cars began to honk behind them once more, she pulled her gaze away and slunk into her seat. She pulled her knees to her chest and held her breath in an attempt to steady herself, but the tears rolled down her face, anyway. They didn’t speak again until they pulled into the driveway and Link cut the engine. Neither of them moved to get out.

“Can you just talk to me?” Link said softly. “Tell me what you need. Tell me what I can do.”

Aryll glanced over at her brother, but he was staring out the windshield at nothing in particular. She pulled her gaze away and bit her lip to keep her sobs at bay.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, though her voice broke. “I’m sorry I’m just a burden to you.” And with that, she opened the door, stumbled out, and slammed the car door behind her.

Link watched as she ran into the house. He punched the steering wheel angrily, and the car honked in response.