#im grabbing you by the collar threateningly

[icedflora]

so the three of them had all been reunited again . . . what a pleasant surprise.

he stands in her doorstep , broom in-hand. uniform creases smoothed, no, ironed -- the brooch on his neck shined, clawed fingers clasped on wooden hilt and pressed against his heart. to his credit, for a man who despised mornings with every fiber of his being, he did well to make himself presentable. almost as if he did not let out an agonizing groan the moment his eyes opened and he realized, no, he did not have an extra five minutes.

the sun has not risen, but he has, with ample time to spare. as he always did, begrudgingly, though jakobs features did well to betray it. "good morning, flora, pardon my intrusion. i'm well aware it is only 4 o'clock, am, contrary to my typical 4.30." a curt nod, and he leans the broomstick against the door. did he really mean pardon? that was up to her to decide. "but i have opted to stick to my nohrian sleeping schedule of early wakefulness, and this is my only free time this morning."

eyes scan hers for signs of sleepiness. whatever he saw, he appeared content with it ( for she had either been awake by now , or at the very least , he was met with a response in the dead of morning ). "regardless . . . yes, welcome to the monastery. i'd expect felicia to be beside herself with enthusiasm," and almost on cue, it seems as if his free time was up. shuffling through the bag on his shoulder, he presents to flora a list of monastery documents. maps, his own class times, the upcoming menu. "this will certainly assist you in getting your bearings. i would hope you've been up before this hour to get ahead of things, however? surely."

on that, he turns on his heel and he shakes his head. "i've spent far too long here. i've fallen behind on schedule . . . i need to arrive to the morning markets far before anyone else."

jakob presents her a curt bow, a fleeting look of displeasure on his face. oh, he was going to have to stand in line now for an extra five minutes. disgusting. "goodbye, flora."

he takes the broom, and he leaves, closing the door as he goes.

Despite Flora's put-together presentation upon greeting her early-morning visitor, the long journey to the Monastery exhausted the former maid. The crisp knock at her door roused her from her much-needed sleep, but her years of servitude trained her body to rise quickly when summoned. Flora took exactly fourteen seconds to draw herself out of bed, smooth her hair, and pull on a dress over her nightclothes. Opening the door, though, she finds herself frozen as she stares up at Jakob: a former colleague, a dutiful butler, and the former object of youthful hopeless dreams. They were fleeting hopes of a naive girl, and life has wisened Flora up to useless dreams of a future that cannot exist in the same realm as duty and destiny.

"Ah, good morning, Jakob," Flora manages to greet him before he thrusts papers into her hands, which she accepts with a slight nod, her gray gaze flitting over the documents. Nearby, crickets chirp in accompaniment with Jakob's early-morning rambling. She nods her head again and smiles. despite the lie on her tongue "Yes, I was already up thinking about what tea to drink this morning." She chuckles behind her hand politely at his expression as he frets over his delayed arrival at the market. Some things never change, it appears.

"I hope the market trip is fruitful despite your delays!" she calls after him as he makes his departure. "Thank you for the documents!" The words are barely spoken before the door shuts and Flora heaves a sigh, setting the papers aside on her bedside table to crawl back under the covers for some much-needed slumber. She will be a proper student when the sun rises.

[cal-flakes]

hi, would you be able to do reader gets too drunk at a party and a someone hits on her before boyfriend rafe saves her ?!

reading my mind fr. yes!!!! hope you enjoy <3

╰┈➤ partying with protective!rafe

warnings: swearing, violence, use of alcohol.

summary: y/n gets a bit too drunk at a kook party. rafe has to step in when someone tries hitting on her.

y/n giggled to herself as she stumbled through the house to get another drink, leaving rafe to do ‘business’ in the living room. the clatter of her heels against the wooden floor was drowned out by the music.

a few fellow kooks said their ‘hey’s’ and ‘hi’s’ as she passed. y/n enjoyed the pleasantries, she was a people person. however, she was sure the majority of people were only nice to her out of fear, fear of rafe cameron’s bad side to be specific. despite this, there was always one, one guy who thought he had a chance with her.

“hey y/n!” an unfamiliar voice called from behind her as she grabbed two cups to fill. turning, she vaguely recognised him but couldn’t find the name. unable to hide hee confused look, he spoke up again. “it’s me, jason, we had maths class together a few years ago?” he stated, trying to jog the girls memory. feigning surprise, she smiled sweetly. “oh, of course! great to see you!” y/n beamed while she poured two more drinks for her and rafe.

rather than picking them up, she knocked them over, spilling one of them all over jason. gasping, she rushed to clean it up, grabbing a rag. “oh gosh, i am so sorry! here..” apologetically handing him the rag. y/n sighed in relief as the boy began laughing, rather than being upset with her. “hey, it’s fine! you can always make up for it” he smirked, wiping his now soaked shirt. choosing to ignore the last part, she picked up the re-filled cups and apologised one last time before going to move past him. his arm stopped her, effective caging her in between the counter.

“how about you make it up to me now?” he whispered, a sinister smirk plastered on his face. “sorry, i don’t quite understand?” y/n questioned, oblivious to what was going on. “why don’t we go upstairs, and you can apologise for spilling your drink on me?” jason suggested, still keeping her backed up against the counter.

“no, sorry. my boyfriends waiting for me..” she rushed, attempting to move past him once more. huffing, jason refused to let her go. “boyfriend? who’s your boyfriend huh?”

“rafe cameron, im sure you’ve heard of him” y/n stated, half expecting him to shit his pants and back up. unfortunately for her, jason did the opposite. laughing obnoxiously, jason only moved closer. y/n’s breath hitched as the boy took another step towards her, placing his hand on her waist.

“cameron’s a bitch man, you’d be much better off with-” before he could finish his sentence, a low voice called out aggressively. “who’s a bitch?”

a look of sheer terror spread across jason’s face as he hesitantly turned around. y/n took her chance and moved out from behind jason, taking her place beside rafe as he glared at him. “h-hey man, i was just kidding, y’know?” jason stuttered as rafe towered above him. in a swift move, her boyfriend grabbed ahold of jason’s collar with one fist as the other struck the boys jaw, knocking him to the floor.

“rafe! rafe it’s fine! just leave it!” y/n demanded from behind her boyfriend, hesitant to get in between the two. jason writhed in pain on the floor, allowing rafe to step over him.

“leave it rafe! please!” y/n continued pleading, knowing rafe often went too far. a low growl left rafe’s throat, grabbing the boys collar once more before spitting on him. “you’re fucking lucky she’s here.” rafe snapped at him threateningly.

turning on his heel, rafe softly grabbed y/n’s waist. “you okay princess?” he whispered, blood still boiling at the audacity of that boy. nodding quickly, she smiled up at him.

“you are my saviour, rafe cameron. i love you” chuckling at her words, he leant down and kissed her roughly, putting on a show for those watching. “i love you too baby”

[bunnyramen]

I just would like to give a big Happy Birthday to @kalofi , shes officially an old woman we shall plan accordingly on which nursing home you have to go to.

All jokes aside, it’s a been good year as your friend and uh. I hope you like this! Happy birthday!!💕💕

——-

A figure rose up out of a bed that wasn’t his own.

Josuke didn’t sleep on a bed covered in a queen bed spread, his was Prince and the under sheet was purple.

“What the hell?” That wasn’t his voice either, it was a bit lighter than his own but still had a sort of gruffness to it.

He looked at his hands and noticed they were smaller than his longer piano fingers, and covered a bit more scars than his own.

Josuke looked around the room with eyes that also weren’t his own, well eye since one seemed to be blind.

There were some Bruce Lee, Prince, Queen, Elton John and Selena posters hung around the room.

And despite the gaudy curtain and muscle clock, whoever this was had some taste.

He pulled the covers off of someone and someones feet touched soft carpet, rising out of someone’s bed.

God, was this what it was like to not be 6 feet tall? Small like Koichi?

He touched at the hair framing his face, some of it white and some of it a bright red.

And he ran a tongue over the teeth in his mouth.

They were razor sharp!

“What the fuck?!” A voice screamed and the wall next to him was punched, telling him to shut up.

He didn’t recognize the voice.

Ok, he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

Speaking of attack, was this the work of a stand?

Where was the bastard? He had to neutralize him before he did some serious damage to Morioh!

But he couldn’t go anywhere in pajamas that weren’t his.

He went over to where presumed the clothes were, the dresser that had a boom box and plenty of boxes of tapes next to it.

He opened the first drawer and grabbed a white t-shirt with green accents.

He looked up on the wall and saw a picture on the wall, one of the kids in it was presumably the body he was inhabiting, judging by the hair and teeth.

Next to him was a angry blonde kid, who kind of looked like he got hit in the face with a hot shovel by his standards.

Maybe it was just the really ugly face he was making.

Luckily they were wearing school outfits, so he was able to figure out what he was supposed to normally wear.

A pair of green pants came onto his body next, a belt then a pair of purple socks.

He looked near the small closet in the room, seeing a pair of red Velcro shoes in front of them.

He figured it was time to brush his teeth and wash his face, and see what the hair situation was like,

He saw a large jar of hair gel sitting on the desk next to the bed and he grabbed it.

“Thank god, I didn’t wanna walk around with this hair all day.” His-er the kids inner voice said.

This was going to be weird since not only was his mom not here but there seemed to be more than one person on this floor.

Was he in a apartment or something?

Or some kind of dorm?

While he was thinking, he located the placement of a face towel and pulled a toothbrush from the boxes and boxes of toothbrushes in the kid’s closet.

He opened the door, peeking out into the hallway and seeing an empty get colorful looking ceiling and flooring.

He closed the door behind himself, thankful that he could be on his own while his mind was racing about where the fuck he was and who the fuck he was.

He went down the hall and got to an elevator.

“Must be some rich kid school or something.” He pushed the button for the second to last floor, figuring that was where the bathroom was.

Hopefully.

——

After asking another person than the original 2 he asked (that seemed to wanna chit chat), he finally located the bathroom.

He got in front of a mirror and finally got to see what the hell was he was working with.

He had to admit, the guy he was pretty handsome, at least he wasn’t stuck in someone ugly.

Like that Guy with that surface stand.

Or that little purple dude that he came across that kept chatting up with the girls in a gross way, he socked him one good with some kind of rock hand on his way here.

And it was weird since Crazy Diamond didn’t show up to punch the fucker for him.

Anyways, he did his hair in his usual pompadour, pretty much a second nature that it he got it done in less than 3 minutes.

While he waited for it to dry, he brushed his teeth and washed his face, having to periodically spit out bristles since they kept coming out when he gave these teeth a full cleaning.

He walked out of the bathroom but held the door open for some kid with a lightning bolt in his head since he was coming while he was trying to walk out.

“Woah! Trying a new look, Kirishima?” A pink girl with black eyes asked and he’d almost mistaken her for some kind of alien stand user but he didn’t sense anything from her.

“Uh haha, yeah! I’ll catch you later, Pink girl.” He laughed awkwardly, patting her on the back before he started to walk away.

He seems to be walking through a dining room, judging by the multiple people eating cereal.

God, he really missed his mom right now. He wondered what the other kid was like towards her. He hoped he got switched with someone nice.

“Your hair looks even more shitty than usual.” A low voice said from the end of the table he was walking past.

He looked to see the kid in the picture, hot shovel face.

“The fuck did you say about my hair?” A fire lit in his gut but it was pure hot red anger from himself , instead of the anger from him and his stand combined.

Bakugo took that as him not hearing what he said, so he said it again.

And that really set in stone was this body was about to do to him.

He punch him directly in the face, knocking over the cereal that was balancing in his spoon and ignored the gasps of the bystanders.

He would’ve went back for another but he was being pulled away by this really tall dorky guy.

He admitted to himself that the guy was pretty handsome.

“Eijirou, what has gotten into you?!” He pulled him away further as the blonde stood up with anger written all over his face.

“No one insults the hair of the man that saved me! No fucking one!” He tried pulling away from the nerdy dude but boy was he strong.

The lighting bold guy seemed to have to hold the other dude back from trying to let off some kind of explosion near him.

“Who saves you?” Mina looked confused.

“Look, My name is Josuke and that hot shovel faced asshole insulted the hair of the person that saved my life!”

“Josuke? Wait hold on, you’re saying your not Kirishima Eijirou.”

“No! I got switched with him by some kind of stand user or something! Now let me go so I can pummel him!”

“A stand?” Mina looked at him weirdly.

“Fuck.” He was hoping this “Kirishima” kid wasn’t doing anything weird with his body or messing up anything.

——

“So this is what it’s like to be tall!” Kirishima ran down the stairs of a house he didn’t at all recognize and was greeted by a rather tall purple haired woman when he reached the kitchen he presumed.

Maybe tallness ran in the family.

“Hello, Ma’am.” He waved at her nervously, not sure of who the woman was or who’s body he was in.

The lady picked up a knife, holding it towards Kirishima threateningly, the boy backing away.

“Who are you and where is my baby?” She said darkly, the knife glinting in the light.

“Huh?”

“Josuke never calls me ma’am. And he never comes down those stairs with his hair undone unless it’s a weekend.” The knife was getting dangerously close to his neck.

“I’m sorry but I’m not your son. I’m Kirishima Eijirou, and I’ve switched bodies with him, I think? I don’t what’s going on or who you are.” Either this Josuke kid could sweat a lot, or his sweat glands got transferred to this body.

“Switched? But where’s my baby?” She wasn’t holding the knife to his neck anymore but she still looked prepared to slice and dice him.

“I think he’s in my body. This could be the work of a quirk user or something, I’m not too sure.”

The lady fainted suddenly, the knife coming out of her hand and clattering to her floor.

“Oh fuck!” He was about to approach her to try and see if she was ok but a new figure bursted in, the door being unlocked by an outside force, probably a key.

“Josuke?” The new comer asked, his eyes shiny as he took in the scene in front of him.

“Hey man, it’s not what it looks like! She fainted, and I don’t know what’s going on!” God, was everyone the type to fight first and ask questions later here?

The guy came over in a few strides and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, the motion alerting this really big pink guy that smelled oddly like strawberries.

“Crazy D, you know who this guy is?” The guy was really strong or something since he just shook him like a limp rag doll.

‘Crazy D’ looked at him with a weird glare, and the guy shook his head, shrugging with a confused “Dora.”

“What is that?” He pointed behind the guy, The Hand having been summoned at the mention of Crazy D.

“You’d know that if you were Josuke, and so since I don’t wanna cave my own boyfriends face in without giving whoever you are a chance, you got five seconds.” The guy robot he summoned looked ready to slice him in half too.

Normally, Kirishima would fight back but since he had no idea who he was, where he was, or what he was working with in terms of fighting back, he decided to bitch out just this once.

“I’m Kirishima Eijirou, I go to U.A, Im from Musustafa, I’m 16 years old, and my quirk is Hardening!” He flinched away when he felt that his explanation wasn’t good enough, but the punch didn’t come.

The guy let go of his collar.

“Alright, a stand user trying to actively kill us wouldn’t give himself away like that but I swear to god if you try anything funny, you’ll be having a talk with the hand.” The boy glared at him, making sure that hand thing was on stand by.

While the guy helped Tomoko onto the couch, Kirishima went to the nearest phone and dialed the number in.

There were a couple rings before he heard an energetic ‘Present Mic speaking!”

“Daddi-o!”

“Eijirou?”

“Yes!”

“Thank goodness! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m in this Josuke kid’s house and I have like no idea where I am!”

“You’re in Morioh.” The guy said from the couch, where he was helping Tomoko wake up.

“This guy said I’m in Morioh!”

“My names Okoyasu.”

“I’m with Okoyasu. Luckily, he let me speak before he tried icing me out.”

“At least we’re know you’re safe! The kid in your body, his name is Josuke and he’s actually a pretty nice kid when he stopped trying kill Bakugou. Something about his hair, it’s actually pretty cool, you should see it-”

There was a struggle over the phone and a brief ‘hey!’ Before he recognized his dad’s tired voice being put on the phone.

“We captured the villain. Luckily it wasn’t what this Josuke kid calls a ‘stand user’ otherwise it’d be up to you and you’re not able to control his stand.”

“Thank goodness. Dad, How soon can I get my body back?”

“Well, actually the quirk only lasts for a few hours and it should end right about now. Brace yourself.”

Kirishima dropped the phone from his hand and blacked out, he doesn’t remember hitting the ground.

“Hey, Kirishima!” He felt someone patting his cheek, trying to rouse him from his sleep.

He blinked his eyes, a blurry vision of pink and yellow coming into view.

“If your really Kirishima finish this phrase.” Sero said from above him, he could presume he was probably on the ground right now.

“Precisely.“ Kaminari started, Kirishima’s eyes lighting up.

“Damn, I’m late for school!” He sat up, actually seeing that the arms he was fist pumping were his and the friends he was looking at were his.

“Woah, hold the phone!” He looked up at his forehead and saw something blocking his view. “What is this?” Kirishima grabbed his pocket mirror, because he’s he owned a pocket mirror for just such occasions of keeping his spikes in order.

But it wasn’t spikes.

It was a pompadour.

“Yo Daddi-o, can I borrow your phone?” Kirishima asked Present Mic after his friends helped him off the floor and into a chair.

He called the last number, and it rung for a second before a voice he recognized answered the phone.

“Tomoko speaking?”

“Hello Mrs. Tomoko, I’m the kid your son switched bodies with. Sorry for the uh..trouble.” The redhead coughed.

“No trouble at all, as long as I have my son back in his rightful place and you back in yours. Would you like to talk to him? He says he’d very much like to talk to you.”

Kirishima heard Josuke whine to his mom to stop embarrassing him.

“Hello?”

——-

[dweetwise]

day 16: bad day

prompt from: whumptober (tho i misread the title and can’t post to the challenge but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i still like it) pairing: felix x ace notes: felix’s day goes from bad to neutral to Nice (tm). also everyone except david is a shitty person in this lmao. warnings: implied emotional abuse, implied cheating, threat of violence word count: 2900

It was official; this was the worst day of Felix’s life.

It shouldn’t have been. He should have been happy, maybe a little shocked and nervous, but definitely excited. Not anxious, scared and downright spiteful like he felt right now.

His girlfriend was pregnant. They hadn’t been trying, but she was excited to tell him regardless, already thinking of baby names and giving Felix no room to voice any of his doubts. He knew this was what he claimed he’d always wanted, what he knew his parents wanted for him, to continue the family name since he was the last of his line.

He took another swig of the foul-tasting beer and wondered if she’d done it on purpose. She’d been not-so-subtly hinting at marriage for months, and Felix had always brushed her off. Maybe this was her taking matters into her own hands, forcing Felix to commit to her or drag down both his family name and professional image for having a child out of wedlock.

He didn’t want to marry her because she always seemed way more fond of his money than Felix himself, and he didn’t want to have kids because…

Well. He hated children.

He probably should have brought up that particular piece of information sooner, but he wasn’t sure it would have even made a difference. Not to his parents, not to his girlfriend, and certainly not to the ungodly amount of distant relatives and business associates who kept bugging him about settling down and starting a family.

Because, for some reason, dedicating the last twenty years of his life to doing what other people wanted him to do wasn’t enough.

He’d stupidly believed it would get better. That the twelve-hour work days and countless all-nighters on uninspiring projects would eventually pay off, when in reality all it had lead to were more boring projects. He’d thought buying his girlfriend expensive gifts and taking her on weekly dates followed by the obligatory weekly sex would make them fall in love, but instead she was pushing him into commitments he wasn’t ready for.

He downed the rest of the beer and tried to numb out the suffocating feeling of being trapped. He was doomed to keep living his shitty life exactly the way others dictated, and there was nothing he could do to change his fate.

Maybe that’s why he’d chosen this bar. It wasn’t the usual high-end, after-hour cocktail bar next to his office where everyone would recognize him. It was a shitty sports bar owned and frequented by foreigners, where nobody would approach him to congratulate him on the “good news” after his girlfriend e-mailed his entire contacts list in her excitement.

He debated getting another beer, maybe finally being able to pick one that didn’t taste like piss. God, how sad was his life that the biggest act of rebellion he could come up with was getting drunk on cheap beer in a bad part of town?

Felix clutched the glass tighter in his hand, frustrated at his life but also at himself, how he was unable to do anything but play right into everyone else’s plans. Fuck, he needed to do something different, something he’d never even considered would be in the realm of possibilities for him. But what?

He looked around the bar, seeing a group of backpackers animatedly chatting in what sounded like Spanish. He could go travelling, but that wouldn’t accomplish much except buy him a little bit of time. Not to mention his girlfriend would guilt him until he let her come along.

He could always get blackout drunk and puke his guts out in the bathroom. Maybe get into a bar fight. Try to get his hands on some drugs. Hire a prostitute.

Unfortunately none of those things seemed even remotely more thrilling than the bland beer he’d been drinking the entire night.

Felix sighed and buried his face into his hands. For forty years, he’d kept telling himself he wasn’t like everyone else, that he’d do something meaningful in his life, that he was a risk taker and not a conformer.

And he still would; he just didn’t know what. If he only got a sign—

The door to the bar slammed open and Felix snapped his head up from the noise, his table rattling from the impact of the door hitting the wall.

There was a man, his grey hair and cheap suit both wet from the autumn rain, clutching something under his arm while panting like he’d just run a half marathon. He hurried to close the door, and Felix didn’t mean to stare, but it was the most exciting thing to happen all night.

The man caught Felix’s eye and gave a quick grin.

“You saw nothing,” he offered before running up to the bar.

“Don’t tell me ya fuckin’—” the bartender started, clear annoyance on his features.

“Oops, gotta run, I was never here!” the man offered good-naturedly before hopping over the bar and disappearing into the back.

“Ace for fuck’s sake!” the bartender cursed, yelling at the doorway to what had to be a back room or kitchen. Still, he made no move to follow him, instead sighing in agitation and aggressively started cleaning a couple of pint glasses.

Felix realized three things at once; one, the new customer screamed trouble. Two, he clearly knew the bartender. And three, Felix was intrigued.

He made his way to the bar with his empty glass, placing a ten euro bill on the worn wood that earned him a fresh glass of beer in only a couple of seconds. He appreciated that the bartender hadn’t tried to make small talk during the entire evening, and lamented the fact that he had to break the silence.

“Who is your friend?” Felix asked, trying to ignore the self-consciousness that always surfaced when he had to subject the world to his extremely obvious German accent.

“'Friend' is a strong word,” the bartender huffed in annoyance, though it seemed to be directed at the person they were talking about and not Felix. “'A pest who keeps comin' back like a boomerang no matter how many times I kick 'im out' sounds more fitting.”

Felix hummed in acknowledgement and sipped at his beer, deciding to sit down at the bar instead of returning to his table.

“He seems interesting,” Felix mused, trying to fish more information about the man.

Instead of humoring him, the bartender stopped cleaning the glasses and gave him an incredulous stare.

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me,” he deadpanned. “The hell's a guy like you see in a rat like 'im?”

“That wasn't what I meant,” Felix insisted, staring at his glass in embarrassment. He was just curious, he wasn't… interested, at least not that way. God, why could he never communicate properly? This is why he never tried anything new.

He heard the bartender sigh long and loud, like this wasn't the first time he'd had to put up with a similar situation.

“Look mate, whatever yer thinkin', don't,” he offered, like that was supposed to help Felix at all. “Guy's way more trouble than 'es worth, an' he sure as hell ain't here to make friends.”

Felix didn't have time to reply, not that he even knew what he would have said, before the door slammed open once again and heavy footsteps stomped into the bar.

“Oi!” the bartender shouted in annoyance. “Don't go draggin' mud into my bar!"

“Where is he?” one of the new patrons demanded in German, and his voice was threatening enough to make Felix glance over his shoulder at the new arrivals.

He saw a group of four men that looked like bad news, their cheap clothing and poorly made tattoos making Felix think of some lowly local gang.

“Read the sign, mate,” the bartender scoffed, pointing at a metal plaque in the style of a road sign that said ‘Service in English only’.

“What a fucking moron,” one of the thugs commented, not even attempting to switch languages.

“We know he's here!” the man at the front barked out and proceeded to slam a fist against the bar.

“I got no bloody clue what yer talkin' about!” the bartender claimed. “But if yer gonna come to my bar an' start a fight, so help me—”

"Let's just beat him up!” one of the men was getting impatient.

“For the last time, where is he!?” one of the thugs surged forward and grabbed the bartender by his collar.

“You've got the fuckin' wrong place, I dun know shit about what ya even want!” the bartender, to his credit, didn't even bat an eye. Then again, it looked like he could easily hold his own in a fight.

Felix heard a gasp and noticed one of the Spanish kids cower closer to the corner they were sitting in, observing the scene with fear in her eyes.

The tension in the air seemed like it was about to snap, and instead of making Felix want to bolt into the safety of his mansion, it made his adrenaline start pumping.

This was what he needed. A thrill.

“You heard the man,” Felix raised his voice, finally turning to address the group. “You're in the wrong place.”

“Shut the fuck up, this doesn't involve you!” one of them eloquently responded.

“It started involving me when you barged in and ruined my night,” Felix explained calmly despite feeling his palms start sweating from nervousness, years of faking an unphased persona finally coming to use.

“Okay, the fuck's your problem!?” the guy who seemed to be the leader demanded, finally letting go of the bartender in favor of looming over Felix threateningly.

“I said,” he emphasized, slowly lifting his pint glass to take a sip of his drink and flash his ring with the family insignia. “You've got the wrong place.”

There was a moment of silence when all Felix heard was his own heart beating in his ears, keeping his expression neutral and looking at the thugs like they were nothing more than a fleck of dirt on his expensive suit. Hopefully, they'd recognize the symbol, even if the Richters hadn’t been involved in the local underworld for years, not after the disappearance of his parents.

“The fuck is he on about?” one of the men, who looked to be the youngest, demanded. “Let's just beat them both up and—”

“Shut up,” the leader barked, glancing at Felix fleetingly. “We seem to have gotten lost on the way.”

Felix couldn’t help the smug smile.

“Happens to the best of us,” he said.

The group slowly started slinking out of the bar without further complaints, with Felix's eyes following them the entire time as if daring them to protest.

“Sorry for bother,” one of them even offered to the bartender in questionable English before the door closed after them.

“I'll be damned,” the bartender huffed and crossed his arms, giving Felix a look that could generously be described as somewhat impressed. Felix offered a shaky smile in return before he focused all his attention on staring at the surface of the bar and trying not to tremble from fear as the adrenaline left his body. He hoped it wasn’t obvious he was taking unnecessarily deep breaths and that cold sweat was running down his back under the suit.

That had been the most idiotic thing he had ever done. It was stupid, it was dangerous, and unnecessary and—

And he'd never felt such a rush of absolute victory before.

There was a thud as a beer was placed in front of him, and he glanced up to see the bartender smirking at him.

“It's on the house,” he said in a heavily accented but otherwise fluent German.

Well. It seemed this night was just full of surprises.

Soon after, Felix found himself sitting in a corner booth nursing his two beers. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt good, and it wasn’t just from the alcohol buzzing in his system.

He’d proved to himself that he had balls. He was one wrong move away from ending up in a bar fight, and even that thought didn't make him cower in fear like it would have before. Despite never being in a fight before, his confidence was soaring, and he liked to imagine him and the bartender could have easily taken the four thugs.

And then his night only got better as a handsome stranger slid down into the opposite side of the booth.

“So, King told me you saved my ass just now,” the man said with a charming smile, casually leaning closer and propping his chin up on his elbow like they were old friends catching up.

It took Felix longer than he'd like to recognize the man as the one that caught his attention earlier. Without the baseball cap, sunglasses and cheap suit jacket, he cleaned up rather well, dressed in a simple light pink button-up and jeans. Slightly messy, silver hair was a stark contrast to the mischievous brown eyes and almost youthful, cocky smirk on his face.

Felix suddenly realized why the bartender thought he was interested in more than just the man's colorful personality.

“I suppose that's true,” Felix said after a way longer silence than was socially acceptable, but his companion was courteous not to mention anything.

“Well, whether you meant to or not, you have my thanks!” the man grinned good-naturedly. “I would have bought you a beer, but I see David's already got you covered,” he added, gesturing to the two pints where Felix was still working through his first.

“Yes, it's…” Felix started, debating whether he should be honest about his distaste for the drink or not. Fuck it, drunk and brave had worked earlier. “A shame it doesn't make it taste any better.”

The man barked out a laugh and Felix smiled at the success of his joke.

“I know, right?” his companion snickered. “I keep telling him to mix it up, maybe get some nice wines too, but he insists on importing that awful stuff the Brits call beer.”

Felix smiled politely, not knowing what to add to the statement. Regardless of what the bartender—David?—had claimed before, the two definitely seemed to be friends.

“I'm sorry, where are my manners!” the man suddenly seemed to realize, offering his hand over the table. “I'm Ace.”

“Felix,” Felix replied, returning the handshake firmly, like his father and numerous career coaches had taught him.

“So, Felix,” Ace continued, retracting his hand but leaning over the table even further. “What brings you here? I think I'd remember seeing someone like you before.”

Was that flirting? It had been so long since anyone had showed any interest in Felix, he couldn’t even recognize what was just casual conversation, too used to business world small talk about the stock market and someone's secretary's family.

“I needed a change,” Felix said, before realizing he probably shouldn't be revealing too much. “—of scenery,” he hastily added.

Ace regarded him silently for a few heartbeats and Felix gulped down some beer to try not to fret under the scrutinizing gaze.

“Scenery, huh?" Ace hummed. "Seen anything you like so far?”

Okay, that had to be flirting. Right? Felix stared at Ace's face, but the other wasn’t giving anything away. And Felix thought he was good a keeping a straight face.

“Maybe,” he answered simply, keeping eye contact much longer than appropriate on purpose.

Ace didn't look away and Felix wondered if he was the only one who noticed the tension in the air.

He always sucked at flirting, even in his native tongue, and now he had to do it in broken English. He thought he'd been pretty obvious, but he still wasn’t sure if Ace was just being friendly. Maybe he wasn’t even into men.

Well, to be fair Felix didn't think he was either, university time experimentation aside. There was something about this particular night, like he was desperate to prove to himself that he was still capable of making decisions for himself.

He’d always thought he wouldn't cheat, but he also knew that if Ace offered, he wasn’t going to say no. If this was the only thing in his life he still had control over, he was going to make the most of it, and he no longer cared if that made him a bad person.

“You know, I've stayed in a bunch of different hotels in the area while I've been here,” Ace mentioned out of the blue, and Felix furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “There's a pretty good one just down the street.”

Felix swallowed, at last realizing what the other was getting at.

“Really?” he asked, trying to mask his suddenly surfacing nerves.

“Yup. Kinda cozy, very… discreet,” Ace chirped casually, like he was talking about the weather and not propositioning a stranger.

Felix cleared his throat and shoved a hand in his pocket, managing to fish out a crumpled twenty euro bill despite his sweaty palms. He slapped the money on the table, hoping the tip would convey his gratitude to David for setting him up for the best night of his life.

Finally, he stood up from the booth and offered Ace a nervous smile that probably made it glaringly obvious just how eager he was.

“Lead the way."

[airanke]

“And I know exactly what I’m for, to hurt and destroy and nothing more.” and/or “Does it ever get lonely?” for Shionne ^^

Shion x Jeanne“And I know exactly what I’m for, to hurt and destroy and nothing more.”“Does it ever get lonely?”

UMM I SUFFERED.

@druidickats

The room was entirely trashed: desk broken in half, chairs laying in pieces, and the bed slumped to one side. Covers had been shredded, and curtains had been torn down from their rack.

Jeanne stood in the doorway, stunned - and a yelp escaped her when she heard the mirror in the bathroom shatter, followed by an animalistic snarl.

A vase that had been in the bathroom came flying out next, where it broke against the wall. The pieces tinkled down to the floor, and the noble thought that perhaps it would be in her best interest to leave Shion be.

After all, he stalked out of the bathroom, eyes red with rage, mouth twisted in a snarl. He wore his dark armor, accented by bright blues, and his hands shook with undiluted anger.

But something kept Jeanne tethered there, at the door, and when Shion noticed that someone was there and snapped his furious gaze to her, she wondered if it wasn’t perhaps because of the tears streaming down his face.

It had been a long while since Jeanne had seen Shion snap like this, ever since the war of the thorns occurred. He’d fallen off, and though she’d done what she could to track him, even enlisting her brother’s help, Shion had proven to be a difficult person to pin down.

Until Ammon had narrowed down his location to this run down, clearly abandoned inn, right in the heart of Drustvar.

“What do you want,” Shion snapped, tone flat despite his choice of language.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she replied, digging her fingers into the doorframe, “what happened?”

“None of your fucking business,” he spat, stalking over to the bed, “leave.”

“After I just found you again? I don’t think so,” Jeanne hissed, stepping into the room, and closing the door behind her. Ammon had insisted he stay downstairs, just in case. He had first hand experience with how dangerous Shion could be, and he’d be damned if he let anything happen to his sister.

A pillow smacked against the wall next to her head. She froze.

Sure, pillows were soft, and mostly harmless, but Shion had thrown it with enough force that if he had intended to hit her with it, it surely would have made her lose her balance.

“Leave, Jeanne.”

“Make me, Shion.”

Some taunts were truly meant to be reserved for other situations. Shion’s foot slammed against the door, splintering the wood, and his hand wrapped around Jeanne’s throat. His eyes were wide, and feral, and reminded her too much of a worgen gone utterly mad.

“How does your brother like spiders?”

Jeanne shook, wrapping both hands around Shion’s wrist.

“How ‘bout ones that are on fire?”

“Shion,” she managed, fighting tooth and nail against shifting into a worgen, because that would get her nowhere, “please. This isn’t you.”

“This is me,” he snarled, and his grip around her neck fluctuated between being tight and loose.

“Berserking like this isn’t healthy for you, and you know it,” Jeanne countered. She moved her hands from his wrist to cup  his face, and apparently, his tears weren’t stopping either, “you’re going to get sick.”

Shion’s expression was twisted between rage and despair. Jeanne wished she’d known what had caused this shift in him. She wished there was something she could have done to stop whatever had happened.

She didn’t like seeing him like this.

Jeanne’s sensitive ears picked up on a racket downstairs, and Shion’s eyes only shimmered more brightly with that sick red. The despair in his expression was entirely quashed by the rage.

He shifted his hand from her neck to her collar, and threw her roughly away from the door.

Shion proceeded to draw his leg back and kick it open, and Erasmus came charging through along the ceiling, hissing and spitting. The massive lava spider dragged someone along with him.

“Ammon!” Jeanne cried, and Shion snapped various commands so rapidly in Zandali that she didn’t catch what he was saying.

Erasmas, however, deposited Ammon on the bed. He ‘oomphed’, and promptly rolled off the bed and onto the floor.

“Ammon,” Jeanne hurried over to the bed while Erasmus scurried over to Shion. He climbed up onto Shion’s back, where he perched on the hunter’s shoulder.

Jeanne helped Ammon to his feet, “I’m ‘aight! Didn’ bite me or nothin’, jus’ didn’t seem ta like me tryna’ get away from ‘im.”

“This is why I told you, you shouldn’t stay,” Jeanne hissed. Ammon raised a brow at her, obviously confused that she was speaking in Darnassian. Shion was muttering under his breath, and when Jeanne looked back at him, he had his hand up to Erasmus’ mouth. The spider was gnawing on said hand.

“Shion– hey!”

The hunter had turned on his heel and started down the stairs, muttering furiously in demonic now. Ammon grabbed Jeanne’s shoulder.

“Jeanne, maybe you should–”

“NO!” she cut him off, and stormed in the direction Shion had gone, “after how long it took us ta find ‘im? No. No, I’m not leaving him, no’ again.”

Ammon frowned, but he followed her - and then both moved more quickly when the sounds of scuffling reached their ears. Erasmus was skittering about on the ceiling while Shion was grappling with a forsaken assassin.

Jeanne would have gone to help, but Ammon pulled her back. Frustrated, she yelled, “what do you think you’re for, Shion!?”

“I know exactly what I’m for!” he snarled. He pulled out his gun while the assassin struggled to get out of his grip.

“To hurt, and destroy, and nothing, MORE!”

He shoved his gun down the Forsaken’s throat and - to Jeanne’s horror - pulled the trigger. He threw both gun and body away from himself, and the assassin hit the wall with a sickening thud before dropping to the floor, lifeless.

Shion turned his attention to the twins next, and Ammon clutched Jeanne to his person as the troll stalked over–

And shoved both of them to the side roughly, before another assassin charged into them. Jeanne couldn’t stop the cry of fear that escaped her when she saw the woman’s blade go right through Shion.

In turn, Shion grabbed the woman’s face - he’d kept his stance firmly, and hadn’t moved an inch from where he’d stopped after shoving the twins to the side - and dug his fingers into her eyes, and mouth.

Jeanne could only watch, mortified, as Shion tore the assassin’s jaw clean off. It dropped to the floor with a metallic clatter, and Shion slammed what remained of her face against the nearest table.

Again, and again, and again, until Jeanne’s shift into a worgen allowed her to tear free of her brother’s grip.

She grabbed Shion’s wrist tightly, and the bicep of his other arm.

“BY THE LIGHT SHION STOP!” she howled in his face. He didn’t falter. The only thing between them for a moment was ragged breathing, and still, that sickening red hue in his eyes refused to go away.

“Shion please,” Jeanne begged, unintentionally shifting back to her human form, “please, you aren’t meant for causing pain a-and hurt ‘n’ destruction, this isn’t you.”

He yanked himself out of her grip, and Erasmus reared up threateningly. Black ichor dripped from his mouth, and Jeanne could only assume that the spider had been dealing with some forsaken outside the building.

‘Did they follow us? Did we lead them to Shion? Oh gods,’ Jeanne wiped shakily at her eyes. She had started crying, ‘oh gods, oh gods.’

Shion merely stormed out of the building, and half-way past the threshold of the building he deposited the assassin’s dagger on the ground. Ammon was by the weapon in an instant, and Jeanne collected herself as best she could. She hurried after Shion, and her heart sunk when she saw Erasmus nowhere to be seen.

“Jeanne.”

She stopped mid-stride at her brother’s voice, watching as Shion rapidly disappeared into the dense thicket of Drustvar.

“Yes?” she asked shakily.

“Just wait a minute.”

“Ammon, we can’t–”

“I need ya ta wait,” he interrupted, face red with frustration. He held the dagger out for her to see, and between smears of Shion’s blood, she saw the swirling poison that made the red bubble and rot, “so tha’ I c’n make an antidote for this, real quick. With your help. He’s poisoned.”

Jeanne sunk to her knees, face pale - but with her expertise, and her brother’s infinite knowledge of rogue poisons, they formed an antidote within minutes. Jeanne was grateful for all that she had spent so much time under the tutelage of Boralus’ most talented potion master.

Following Shion’s trail was easier than it should have been. His blood made a bright red trail against the dreary background of Drustvar’s forest floor.

They found him lying on his back a good distance away from the inn.

“Shion!” Jeanne sprinted toward him; Ammon sighed, but he followed faithfully after his sister.

The troll didn’t make a sound when Jeanne dropped down next to him. She immediately pulled down the collar of cloth on his armor and pressed her fingers to his pulse, ‘please, oh gods, please–’

A shaky breath of relief left her. His heart was still beating, and with that worry out of the way, Jeanne watched his chest intently. It rose and fell with a shallow breath.

She brushed her fingers along Shion’s cheek; his eyes flicked to her. Jeanne gave him the best smile she could manage, and he closed his eyes tightly before looking away.

“Don’t you get lonely?” she asked, wiping away a spec of blood from the corner of Shion’s mouth. She didn’t know if she should be happy, or sad, that her question made his lips quirk up at one side.

“Yeah.”

“Come back t’ Gilneas with me,” Jeanne said; she didn’t miss how Ammon’s brow furrowed at this, “I c’n hide ya in th’ old mansion.”

Shion inhaled raggedly, and Ammon reached into his pouch for the antidote.

“Jus’ drop a fuckin’ rock on my head and let it be done,” Shion sputtered. The red had finally faded from his kind brown eyes, “‘m tired.”

Jeanne accepted the vial when Ammon handed it to her, and she attempted to bring the object to Shion’s lips, “here.”

He turned his head away, and she supposed she should have expected that. Her hand shook.

“Shion, please,” she begged softly, tears gathering in her eyes. She fumbled for the words to say, while her brother clenched both hands into fists.

Before Jeanne could try once more to put the antidote to Shion’s lips, he wrapped his large hand around hers entirely.

And, to her comfort, Shion pulled her hand and the vial to his lips. He downed the whole thing, and sat up, coughing. She realized that some of her tears had dripped onto his face, ‘I wonder if that’s what spurred him.’

“I feel like I’mma cough up half m’ lung,” Shion wheezed. Ammon snorted out a chuckle, and Jeanne couldn’t stop a smile from crossing her lips.

The brief happiness was short lived.

As Ammon helped Shion to his feet, the hunter fixed his eyes on Jeanne. For whatever reason, he chose to speak Darnassian again, “I can’t come with you.”

Jeanne frowned, “why not?”

“Because this isn’t about keeping me safe. This is about keeping everyone I care about safe. I’m not safe. Sylvanas’ assassins follow me everywhere, and the S1:7 agents are no better,” he shook his head when Jeanne made to argue, “don’t argue with me, Jeanne. Being around me puts a target on your back too. I already had to have this conversation with someone else.”

“Shion, just let your friends help you!” she snapped, “because we care about your safety too!”

“Oh yeah? So you’re going to fight Nathanos when he finds me again? You’re going to fight Shaw?”

That made Jeanne falter, and Shion continued, “because Shaw is after my head too. If it’s any consolation to you, I’m safest in Anyport. I’m out here because there were too many assassins lurking around there for me to be comfortable.”

“But the guards–”

“Yeah, sure, woulda’ helped, but it’s my problem. I care ‘bout the people in Anyport. I don’t want them to suffer because of my presence.”

Jeanne was determined, “can we compromise? There’s a place where I can take you, they don’t mind who’s there,” she held up her hand when Ammon made to protest, “and they’re not weak people either. They can handle themselves. Stay with me for two weeks, until you’re well, and then you can leave.”

Shion sighed, and Jeanne continued, “you’re in no position to continue, Shion. And your fatigue is going to catch up with you eventually. You can’t berserk that long and face no backlash. You of all people should know that.”

He sighed again, but thankfully, stopped trying to argue with her.

[westerburg-baseballstars]

Story Post

((This is really long oh boy))

Evan had won prom king. He had thanked Adam for standing behind him threateningly and Kyle for being supportive of his whole journey, thank you so much, I love you all. Most everyone had laughed so he felt pretty damn good about himself right now. Currently, he was on the dance floor with Adam. Kyle was over somewhere when it happened. ‘Lean and Dab’ started playing. Who cares if it’s an old song? Not these kids. The crowd rioted. Kyle looked at Evan with a ‘don’t you dare’ look, and Evan never backed down from a direct challenge. He locked eye contact with his boyfriend and did the inevitable. He dabbed. Everyone went wild. Thank fucking god Meridel had run out of at some point during that whole experience and got to miss what fresh hell was about to happen now that Evan fucking dabbed. Kyle, who had been staying far the fuck away from the dance floor was excited his babe won prom king but the second that happened he stood up from the table they’d all been occupying and fucking nyoomed through the bunch of people like sonic the god damn hedgehog (yknow, since he was wearing blue) and right up to Evan. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him down to his level and smack. Not hard but smack indeed. He was gentle because he didn’t want to like, mess up anybody’s face. Everyone was still losing their shit.

Evan was expecting something a bit harder, honestly. It still hurt, don’t get me wrong, but hurt way less than he thought it was going to. His eyeliner was still perfect and unsmudged. He grinned at Kyle and loosened his boyfriend’s hand from his collar, straightening up. “That was pitiful. So I guess I have to serenade you now?” Brown boy grinned and adjusted his crown, and immediately launched into a soulful rendition of “I’ll Make a Man Out of You”. It wasn’t half bad. People were putting it on Snapchat.

Kyle was about to explain that he didn’t want to knock his crown off by hitting him as hard as he wanted to but was cut off by Evan’s beautiful singing voice. He felt slightly embarrassed knowing he was like all over Snapchat and all but he worked with it, giggling and hugging him gently as he sang. It was cute. He was cute. This is important for all reasons.

Evan finished singing and looked down at Kyle, grinning hugely. “Did I make you proud, dad?” He then scooped Kyle up in his arms and started carrying him around bridal-style. He was practically the king of Snapchat at this point. Adam then stole Kyle and started running. Evan chased after him. This was the best prom Westerburg had seen in 15 years. Evan finally managed to regain his ginger prince, sticking his tongue out at his best friend. “Adam is a shithead. Don’t talk to him.” Kyle was screaming and laughing and giggling as he was carried around like that. Once he was returned to Evan he leaned up and kissed his cheek. They were everywhere. Snapchat was full of that Gay Shit™. “Im proud of you, babe,” Kyle finally said, “Even if you looked like a complete dork dancing and that dab didn’t help.” Evan snorted. “Good thing I’m hot, then. I think I only won because of Laura’s eyeliner. Speaking of eyeliner, yours looks really good.” He had only told Kyle this about fifty times. “It matches the blue nicely. Hey, wait…” he smiled and kissed Kyle on the forehead, “Aren’t we in those Harry Potter house colors?” “I took her eyeliner a while ago and fixed it up myself. It still looks good?” He smiled and then laid his head on his chest, “I think these are the colors?” He added after a moment of thought and then with a grin. “We areee!” Evan mock gasped. “You, Kyle Caplan, who’s scared of like, half of everything, took Laura’s eyeliner? And that means I’m the brave stupid one, right? And you’re the one who actually thinks.” He spun Kyle around, barely avoiding knocking into Adam, who yelled something about suing. Even more Snapchats were taken. They were gonna be famous. “I asked her if I could, excuse you. That took more guts than stealing it. And you’re no-” Kyle was cut off by the somewhat scream/giggle that came from being spun. He yelled an apology to Adam and just grinned. “You didn’t ask!” Laura shouted from the boy she was dancing with, “You said 'Laura I’m taking this please don’t kill me’ and then ran off.” “It was better than stealing!” Kyle shouted back, “I’ll give it back!” The boy dipped Laura because he was classy as fuck, “Keep it. You look nice in silver.” She smiled at Kyle. “Really?” Kyle grinned ear to ear and this was the happiest he’d been all fucking year, “Thank you!” Evan was grinning and started carrying Kyle up to the front of the room. “I’m so proud of you! You got a compliment from Laura *and* you stole her eyeliner! I’ve taught you well.” They arrived at the front of the room. “You know, I told you I was gonna make out with you in front of the whole prom. So I can’t go back on my promise.” “You could, you know. The whole prom is a lot of people..” Kyle blushed a bit and looked out at the whole bunch of phones and that only made him blush more. “This is more than the whole prom.” “Hmmm,” he pretended to think about it for all of two seconds. “Nah. We’ll be Snapchat famous.” He grinned and started kissing on his boyfriend. Adam was acting as a hype man. Kyle kissed back of course because he couldn’t resist a kiss from this asshole and with Adam as hype man, not accepting would be a god damn crime. He felt everyone watching though. It made him incredibly nervous. They were, in fact, Snapchat famous. And trending. There was already an article being written in the local paper. Adam eventually went off somewhere, presumably to go get a girl. Evan continued to kiss Kyle for a minute after he left, then setting him down. “Was it that bad?” Kyle stared up at him and was a little wobbly. He could almost sense the whole 'we’re trending and famous and shit, if we started a youtube channel now we could expect our diamond play button in the morning’ thing and it was making him start to panic. “It was…” He covered his face, “Kind of a lot to take in. There’s a lot of people.. recording, and stuff.” He mumbled, not wanting to cry and mess up his makeup. “I think I need to go outside for a minute..” Evan was instantly worried. He motioned for the people to move along and moved so that he was blocking Kyle from the majority of the cameras. “I’m sorry babe, do you want me to come with you?” Why did he go along with this? He knew it was going to upset Kyle and he did it anyways because he was a stupid shit. “No, babe, I’m fine. I just don’t want to make anything bad and ruin the night like i always do. I’m fine, just need to clear my head. You stay in here. I’m just gonna be like, five minutes.” Kyle smiled up at him and gave him a quick kiss. “Be the beautiful prom king you were born to be and I’ll come back inside soon.” Evan nodded. “Alright. I’ll stay around here. Text me if you need anything, okay?” He hugged Kyle tightly for a moment then stepped back. “Love you!” Kyle smiled back at him despite his nerves, “Love you too, babe. Rule your kingdom and I’ll be back in a bit.” He blew him a kiss and then went pushing through the crowd. —————————————————————————– ((But wait, there’s more))

It had been about fifteen minutes and Kyle wasn’t back yet. Evan was starting to get really worried. He could understand losing track of time for ten minutes or so, but fifteen seemed a bit much. Adam had come back, grumbling about how Abby still wouldn’t date him, and Evan had been talking to him for the past few minutes. There was a little voice in his head telling him to go check on Kyle, but he pushed it away for a few minutes to listen to Adam rant. He excused himself after a bit and told his fuckboy best friend to come find him if he wasn’t back in fifteen. Evan walked into the lobby and then outside, looking around for his boyfriend. “Kyle? Are you alright?” There was no response. He searched the general vicinity hurriedly and saw no trace of Kyle other than a crumpled flower on the ground. Fighting the growing dread in his stomach, he went back inside to ask the receptionist if she had seen a boy in a bright blue suit anywhere around. Something in his voice must have sounded extra panicky because the receptionist actually looked up and gave him a decent answer. She had seen a redhead in a blue suit head into the elevator. Evan thanked her and hurried over, pressing the button about four or five times in his impatience. Maybe Kyle just went up to the room to go to sleep? But wouldn’t he have texted him first? The worry was coming back even worse than it had been before. The elevator doors opened with a ding and Evan stepped in, hitting the button for the sixth floor and waiting in silence for the elevator to reach. After a minute the doors slid open and Evan practically ran down the hallway, stopping outside his room. He fumbled in his wallet for his room key and inserted it into the slot. The door clicked and Evan pushed it open, looking around. Kyle wasn’t in the bedroom. He wasn’t there and Evan was starting to full on panic now. If he’s not in the bedroom, he’s in the bathroom, right? That’s logical. Kyle was in the bathroom. He was there and everything was going to be fine. Evan took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself and knocked on the door. “Kyle? You’re in there, right?” He plastered a hopeful smile on his face. “Kyle? Are you alright?” No response. The smile vanished and Evan tried once more. “Kyle Caplan, if you don’t talk to me I’m coming in there!” Nothing was heard other than the air conditioning. Evan turned the doorknob and was surprised to find it unlocked. Not pleasantly surprised, as everything else was making him feel like something awful had happened. He stepped in cautiously, glanced to his right, and saw Kyle. Kyle submerged, fully dressed, in a bathtub full of water. The blue dye from the suit had started to tinge the water, surrounding Kyle like a chalk outline. The tie he had been wearing was now tying his hands behind his back. His eyes were closed and the flowers that had been in his hair were now floating on the surface. He looked very, very dead. Evan rushed over and stood at the edge of the tub, presumably in shock. He stared down at his boyfriend’s body for about ten seconds before trying to pull Kyle out of the bathtub. “Kyle. Kyle. Please wake up. This is a joke, right? Kyle?!” His voice got increasingly more frantic as he wrestled Kyle’s limp body out of the water. Kyle himself was still and looked oddly peaceful, like he had been thinking about something pleasant right before he died. Evan had picked him out and laid him down on the bathroom floor, shaking him in desperation. His prom king crown had fallen off and broken into pieces on the hard tile. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he called Kyle’s name over and over again, to no avail. He tried CPR. It didn’t work. Evan stood up after a few minutes of unsuccessful attempts to bring Kyle back, and noticed a folded piece of paper on the sink. He grabbed it, unfolded it, and immediately sunk to his knees in tears at what was inside. Adam found him like that a few minutes later, clutching the note in one hand and one of Kyle’s flowers in the other. —————– “Life, society, and my clients have fucked me over for the last time. I’m tired of trying to drown my sorrow for my 'friends’ and 'lovers’ in fears and tears. Time for something that will work. Love, Kyle Lyubov Caplan”