#it was made purely to be a work laptop and i constantly push it past its limits and hate it for it sjtnsjtje

[mbat]

hey! About your wii post- as someone who bought an old gamecube compatible Wii a few days ago, I’d say it’s well worth it to buy one even in 2023 especially if you mod it. Getting it locally (from an individual seller) should be much cheaper than buying it online by the way, it’s how I got mine + much more. Or simply ask friends etc if they have one they don’t want/or are willing to sell- many people leave older consoles sitting in storage. Either way hope I didn’t bother, & I hope a good opportunity will come your way so you can experience the Wii again :] 👍

(p.s. you should probably focus on that computer though unless you want to work on your wii’s web browser lol /lh)

this is the opposite of bothering!!! i love interaction!! plus im like. so currently determined to get a wii now that its such a real possibility for me!

i could definitely try and look for closer individual sellers, im just not used to doing stuff like this so im unfamiliar with the process ^^; ill definitely try looking into it though!

also while i definitely want a computer, its not as urgent as it may seem lol, i have 2 laptops that are both likely over a decade old and can barely run google chrome, me wanting a computer is mainly just to play video games on without having to struggle so badly with it. one of the laptops is a chromebook that literally only opens chrome and like, the files app pretty much, i only use it for faster browsing and watching stuff

a wii however is made for games, and i want the nostalgia So Bad, plus, mario kart!!!! i want to mario kart so badly

[astroyongie]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Numb

Read with the song: https://open.spotify.com/intl-pt/track/2xCucTP5OkXJ7ISUk4xlBB?si=fb723270ee6a406a

Warnings: Smut

Parings: Changkyun x Reader

“What do you want from me?” Changkyun asked, a frown covering his face as he watched you from the corner of his eye.

You mumbled to yourself, looking around at his studio, before flopping into the red couch, sighing when your body was surrounded by the expensive leather. The night was ringing outside, the city lights and the buzy cars roaming in Seoul. But here, in the intimacy of Changkyun’s studio everything was quiet, gloomy, the purple lights from the neon being the only thing that allowed you to see past darkness. There was a scent of strawberry and incense in the air.

“Nothing” you said, not bothering to look at him, as you reached for your phone in your pocket, scrolling away for something interesting. “I am just here for the company”

Changkyun ignored you with a huff, turning back to his computer as he arranged a few new accords. Probably for a new release, you figured. As an artist, music had always been his priority, and it often came even before pleasurable release.

He was always like this. You have been sleeping with him for the past 3 months. The moment Changkyun had terminated his relationship with a fellow idol, that you didn't bother to recall the name of, he had grown closer to you. Naturally, your friendship quickly became something more. There were boundaries that none of you dared to reach and despite your feelings for the black haired man, Changkyun had always made clear that this would be purely physical.

 Changkyun was someone cold, quiet but he was a good lover and an even greater company. The only one that wouldn't interrupt you when you complained about your day, the one that would give you actual advice and be able to satisfy you physically. It was a win-win situation. You wanted a sneaky link, and Changkyun well... you never figured exactly what he wanted from you. Sex was the main topic but often he would invite you out for dinner or just to chill while constantly reminding you of his boundaries. You were okay with whatever you guys had. 

For now. 

You sighed, tossing your phone away. There wasn't anything interesting on your social media, and Changkyun didn't seem to give you any of his attention either. You knew the rules. He would call you, you came and waited until he finished his work, before you could get into his pants. Yet, this was taking way too long. He was playing the exact same melodies over and over, groaning to himself each time.

What a perfectionist, you thought. Sighing again, louder this time, you looked at him. Still nothing. You proceed to repeat. Nothing. Maybe if you coughed he would look at you– 

“y/n” he called and you smirked that your cough had caught his attention. “Shut up”

“Kyun, I am bored” you said, swinging your legs as you sat down on the couch. You didn’t want to be a whining brat, but you needed stimulation or some kind of attention before it drove you mad.

“Not my problem. I have got to finish this first.”

“You are inconsiderate”

“And you are acting up.” he said, turning his chair to look at you. You couldn't help but bit your bottom lip at the intensity of his gaze “Fix that attitude of yours''

“Don't want to fix it yourself?”

Changkyun rolled his eyes, turning his chair back to his computer and you groaned out in annoyance. Fine, if he didn't want to give you attention, you would force it out of him. Standing up, you made your way to Changkyun in silence. You knew this was dangerous but you just couldn’t help it. Not now at least. Reaching forward you closed the screen of his laptop. Before he could say anything in protest, you pushed yourself between him and that damned electronic device. Making room between the chair and his desk, you dropped on your knees in front of him, a grin on your lips.

“I came here to fuck” you reminded him, loving the way he was giving you that glare. “Will you do your job or do I have to do it myself?”

“If you want it that bad, do it yourself.”

There was so much defiance in your eyes as you heard his challenge. You were quick to work on his belt, tossing the accessory away. Your hands went for his pants, your eyes glued to your price, as you pulled his pants down enough to relieve his black boxers. You touched him a first, feeling his groin against the palm of your hands, grinning wider when you felt it twist, ever so slightly. Releasing his shaft from its confinements, you wrapped your hand around it. Even without being hard, he was already delicious. You opted to give it a few light strokes, working Changyun up, slowly. As he started to get harder against your palm, your mouth went in, leaving behind sloppy kisses and kitten licks until you could hear his body shift and his breathing changing. 

“If you open that computer again while I am sucking you off, I will use my teeth” you threatened, reminding yourself of the last time you had given him head in his studio. Changkyun laughed, his ringed fingers rubbing his own face before he went to caress your cheek. It was affectionate, almost too much. You hated to admit it, but the way his bony fingers touched your skin, made your heart skip.

“You wouldn't dare.”

“Oh I would,” you said with a grin, before finally taking the tip into your mouth, circling your tongue around the head. Changkyun groned, allowing his body to rest against his chair. His hand went to your hair, grabbing it skillfully out of your face so he could get a better view. Obviously, he couldn’t help himself but guide you with it, not enough to be rough, yet enough to be demanding.

Your hands went to the base of his shaft, stroking him lazily as you allowed yourself to suck and lick him, until he was moisturized enough for your taste. When you heard the click of his tongue, you smirked, finally taking him fully into your mouth as you bobbed your head up and down, using your hands to touch what your mouth couldn't reach. Soon, the studio was echoing with soft groans and occasionally little moans from him. Yet, each time you would look at him, Changkyun still had the same expression that haunted his eyes.

Numbness. His whole face expression was deprived, the only faint tint of pink blushing his cheeks, giving away his enthusiasm along with the angelic sounds living his lips.

Closing your eyes, you breathed heavily through your nose, trying to focus on the pleasure you were giving him. Now wasn’t the moment to care about feelings.

“Darlin’, put more into it” he instructed as he looked down at you. 

You opened your eyes, looking up at him with half lidded eyes, your cheeks hollow to accommodate his shaft inside your mouth. Changkyun’s eyes held no feeling towards you. You could tell. He looked at you as if you were a remedy, a pill that he needed to consume to erase negative thoughts out of his mind. You didn't care, he was free to use you as much as he wanted.

You pushed his member further into your mouth, your hands resting on his thighs this time. You felt the tears swelling in your eyes, as you forced yourself to breathe through your nose. Changkyun was hitting the back of your throat, his own hips moving according to his own wishes. It was his moans however that were sending you astray. Pushing yourself further, you hollow your cheeks, tongue pressed firmly against his veins. Your jaw was killing you from the angle. As long as he was feeling pleasure, you could push through it.

You looked up at him again, the sight sending shocks of pleasure waves through your core. He was watching you so intensely, that your cheeks blushed without your accord. You could only wish that the dim neon purple light was hiding in it. You could almost feel it. The hint of him adoring you, perhaps meddled feelings playing on his heart. If you could just suck these feelings out of him, you knew you could reach his heart, you just needed to work on it more, you just– 

“Don’t put faith in us” as if he had read your mind, he confessed, his breathing steady again. You frowned, removing your mouth from him. You used your hand to wipe your lips, the saliva coating both his dick and your jaw. The lack of contact made him hiss, but you were quick to use your hands up and down his member to keep him occupied. 

“It’s not like I am asking to be your girl, Changkyun”

“And you better not do it. Ever”

“Would that be so bad?” You asked, forcing a chuckle out of you to light the mood. You needed to pretend you weren't so serious, or else you could lose whatever thing you both had.

“You know I just need to revive, love” he hummed, his free hand intertwined on his black hair, removing it from his forehead. Changkyun was gorgeous, and you couldn’t help but look at him in all his glory. You hated that you wanted him so bad.

“Don’t you feel alive when you are with me?”

“I do”

Lies. His eyes didn't shone, the numb feeling plastered on his iris. You knew pretty well the only person on his mind was his ex, You just didn't want to admit it to yourself, it was too painful. you wanted to believe that your body, your company was enough for him. You could only thank Changkyun’s ego that would never allow him to go back to his ex. The same ego that was unfortunately also not allowing you to break his walls. 

You removed your eyes from him, taking him on your mouth again, sucking at his dick more eagerly this time. You couldn't help but feel your core tingle each time he groaned out in pleasure. You would go through this, you thought. No matter how many times you would have to be on your knees, you would break him. 

“fuck..”

He swore, his eyes closed shut as he focused on the pleasure. You bobbed your head faster, sucking his dick like the damn lollipop that he was. Maybe, if you were good enough, he would reconsider it. Gradually, his moans become louder and his breathing heavier. You hummed around him, whimpering when you felt his hand tugging at your hair again. A few more movements of his own hips snapping against your face and he was done. Changkyun released hot seed through a low groan, moving his hips lazily until he was finished.

You felt his hand losing its grip around your hair, his body relaxing against his chair as he caught his breathing. You released him from your mouth, swallowing what you could. 

“You are my weakness, y/n”

You didn’t believe him. This was just him and his post nut self talking. Standing up, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, tasting the reminds of him on your tongue once more, before you climbed into his lap, his half lidded eyes, looking at you as if you were half of a nuisance, half an object of lust. 

“What are you doing y/n?”

“I will fuck the numb out of you, Im Changkyun.”

[randofics]

Hatching

Transformers + hfy headcannon

You had been safeguarding a singular egg the past week or so. The bots were a little worried for you as you constantly checked on the little bundle against your abdomen. One night, while you sat in the hangar, working on your laptop with the bots in recharge (except for Rachet), you let out a gasp.

Rachet wipped his head around to look at you. You pulled the bundle from your waistband, unraveling the small towel to reveal the egg with some pieces of the shell missing and cracks forming on its surface.

Rachet walked closer to get a better look as Optimus came out of recharge, transforming behind him. You kept the egg close to your body as it started loudly peeping, waking the others.

They gathered around, watching intently as the small lifeform pecked and pushed its way out of the shell. You blew warm air on the wet ball of fuzz as it rolled onto the towel in your palm. Placing the shell on the table, you cradled the baby close.

When you turned back around in the swivel chair to face the others, you had tears in your eyes. They were surprised at your sudden emotional reaction and asked if you were alright.

"I-I didn't think it would make it." Tears finally streamed down your cheeks as you held the baby up to your face. Wobbly, it nuzzled into your nose, and you let out a small sob. "Hey darling, you're a strong one, aren't you?" You sniffled and let out a happy laugh as you admired the little creature in your hands.

The bots, meanwhile, observed your interaction with the baby bird. If there was one word to describe it, they'd probably say motherly.

This was something different with organics vs. cybertronians. Organics tended their young like they were made of glass in comparison to the rougher development of the much sturdier cybertronians. The organic motherly bond was a sight to behold.

One of your colleagues walked in. He tended to be rather mean towards you at times when no one was looking. As soon as you saw him, your body language changed, and there were no more tears. "What's going on in here?"

"Nothing you need to worry about." You practically growled the words as you protectively held your baby close.

"Ooh, what's that you've got there?" When you looked down at your hands, he lunged forward, roughly snatching the bird from your grasp.

The bots could only watch as the intense exchange happened. It happened so fast that they couldn't react in time to intervene.

The baby let out panicked cheeping as it was snagged from you, and in a flash, you had grabbed your closed laptop and, with almost inhuman force, jabbed it into his nose. They heard the sickening crack as the thin edge of the laptop connected with his face.

The man was immediately knocked unconscious and fell to the floor with the baby still held in his limp hand. You scrambled for it, gathering it up gently and inspecting it carefully for injuries. Thankfully, it wasn't harmed, just shaken up much like you were.

Suddenly, the man woke and tried to sit up, but you forced him down with a boot to his chest as you yelled down at him. Anger flashed in your eyes. "Don't you EVER touch my baby EVER AGAIN! YOU ABSOLUTE PIECE OF S***!!!" You spit at him in pure loathing as some security personnel ran up to you.

One man who you knew well enough tried to grab hold of you, and you whipped around almost hissing at him to not touch you. He held his hands up to placate you and gestured for you to go past him. He escorted you to your superiors office where you disappeared. Meanwhile, the others were helping your wounded college off the floor.

The man was bleeding badly from a clearly shattered nose and had the beginnings of two black eyes from the corners of the now smashed laptop. He cursed you out but was quickly reprimanded by none other than Optimus and sent to the infirmary.

-------

The next morning, your superior had the bots gathered in the hangar with you and your bandaged up college to talk through the nights event.

Optimus helped explain the situation in detail and spoke in your defense. "We will happily vouch for y/n and her justified protection of a defenseless newborn animal."

Your college ended up getting fired, and also spent some time in jail for animal abuse and assault on your part. The bots conversed about the whole situation quite often afterward, and Bee asked for the chicks' growth updates. You happily obliged him, and when she was a few months old, you brought her back to base for a visit.

They were astonished at her growth and what she'd turned into over just a few months.

You were happy with how she turned out and enjoyed having her around.

In loving memory of Paprika🍃💔

[zirkkun]

just before.

just before. (Undertale fanfic - based off of Wickedtale by @alch3mic​ - rated M by AO3 standards.)

+ soldier!sans x dancer!reader (they/them prns)

+ 4456 words, english

+ prologue to soldier’s story. first time he ever meets dancer.

+ cw: mentions of murder, classism, yandere/obsessive personality, abusive/controlling parents

+ “he hadn't heard that phrase in years. so constantly aware of the corruption plaguing the world... well, as it seemed, there was still one highlight to live to protect.”

+ AO3 link

Ebott City. The corrupted hell hole that was somehow above ground, while the actual hole the "monsters" came from had been far more palatable. At least, in one case. Many didn't have the same experience he did, but… whatever. That didn't really matter. He didn't really care about it anymore. Why dwell on the past? There's too much shit going on in the present to even have time for something like that.

Day-to-day life was flooded: constantly moving, constantly working, never slowing, never stopping. There's no time for that. The day he gets time to take off and sleep, get whatever medication he's sure he needs for his horrifically weak non-stomach, and lead a healthy and safe lifestyle while retaining his wealth? Ha. In dreams, maybe. This city wasn't kind enough for that. Though, maybe if his ambitions weren't so specific, he wouldn't have fallen into this path of endless work… but it's a little late for that.

His brother had made use of their skills the two of them had attained growing up, and with that opened a dance studio where others of all sorts could come through and learn how to dance. A small corner of peace in this awful world, that little building, where monsters and humans could both dance without feud, where rich and poor could both talk without judgement. Maybe it was ironic, maybe it was fate, or maybe it was straight coincidence that his brother had named the place "Enchanted Dancing." He knew that the name was merely in reference to the magic of their home where everyone had their own sort of dances they practiced, which they all soon found was very different from most other monsters who had battle magic specialties. But even still… heh, ah, it just further proved his point. The only decent place in the world was the Underground, before they ever surfaced.

A beep. 6:00 P.M. Work.

Or, rather, his second line of work.

While he'd abandoned his dance skills long ago, he never really fully disconnected with music as a whole. It's not like he really could when he doesn't have anything else to his life or history -- he doesn't know anything else. So, he made it a pastime to make his own musical works, trying to sell them online for money, but quickly found it's not exactly easy for people to find your work… let alone get them to pay for it when they do. He had run low on money fast -- so fast that he needed something quick and easy that he could do to not end up on the curb in a weeks' time.

He doesn't remember how he heard about it, or really what possessed him to go along with it anyway; but somewhere along the line, he'd caught word of some pretentious wealthy human furiously rattling off how their reputation would be "demolished" if the rumor that had begun about their business didn't come to a halt. How they would pay "insane amounts of money" to have that rumor "eradicated." You know, without really doing any work themself, or trying to better the work that they were doing, or fixing the root of their problem to begin with… Yes, because throwing money at the problem until it's pushed onto someone else is the better solution.

And yet… when someone comes up to you in your hour of despair, presenting to you an arguably invisible layer of protection in this world of work or die, something to get you out of the dark and stop the ticking clock of your otherwise inevitable doom…

It's not like he was going to turn down the offer.

He'd forged some sort of alias -- whatever it was at the time no longer mattered, since he'd had many over the half year or so he's been doing this -- and scribbled out a note of sorts explaining what was, at the time, a feigned, short "resume" for work as an information broker. The note was left with the pretentious prick, who did, in fact, end up contacting him in the end, offering more money than he thought he'd ever see in his waking life. Needless to say, he took the job… and found the issue to be so incredibly simple to resolve that even a child could have done it.

Well, no.

A child would have had more sense of morality.

... probably.

Who was he kidding here, honestly? He complains about the rich on a regular basis, their foolish waste of money, their apathy towards those that didn't have any money, just pure care for only money.

But here he was.

Morality erased.

Lives ruined.

Bank account overflowing.

Doing the same things they were doing.

The very least he could do -- and the very least he does do -- is support those whose music he'd wanted to support while he was on the edge of homelessness. Even some of his online friends, music composition friends, were consistently met with the cash they needed in a moment's notice. "Where did you even get this kind of money?" they would ask him. He would just jokingly say that an old witch blessed him with unending wealth, or something else to that extent of unbelievable ridiculousness.

But, unfortunately, not all of his money could go towards such good causes. While he did have far beyond the money to sustain multiple dozen families, at least a third of it was thrown right back into the exchange as he paid person after person for job after job he was unwilling to do.

There was no blood on his hands. No dust caked into his bones.

But it was splattered all over the money he handed out like trick-or-treat candy.

He'd met two others, notably, that did a lot of work alongside him. A crafty cat and a wily wolf… figuratively, of course. The three of them sharing the same first name, they merely tossed nicknames at each other. More often than he probably realized, they took much of his budget for work he was far too lazy to bother with. You know, scouring the dark web for information, stalking people to track their pathing… the occasional hit here and there. Sometimes, he would do it himself, but only if he really felt up to it… and frankly, he was never in the mood for murder. But that damn wolf was shockingly willing -- for the right paycheck.

He did recognize, however, the two of them did seem to have a mutual similarity that he, personally, did not share.

… he did not have anyone close to him. He didn't have anyone who looked after him, cared for him. It didn't bother him until recently, when apparently that damn wolf managed to lock the object of his affection into a relationship. Even the cat seemed bitter when he heard the news. Someone so fucked as him still manages to find someone?

… the world was just trying with his emotions at this point. Taunting happiness at the end of a pole taped to the back of his head, leaving it just out of reach, but always in his way and always in his line of sight.

Of course, he had his brother…

... who he doesn't talk to for weeks at a time…

... and he keeps turning down his offers to meet up again…

… yes, he had his brother. A strong emphasis on the "had."

He was alone. He knew that. But, at least for the case of his brother, he'd done it on purpose.

The last thing he wants is to have his brother, someone so passionate and pure, hands still clearly clean of sin; find out he has the richest humans of the city wrapped around his fingers out of both fear and dependability.

So, frankly, sometimes he found himself jealous of the other two. The other two who had someone to care for them.

He supposed the trio of them could sort of be friends…

He'd met the wolf a few times in person, both intentionally and not.

He'd bumped into the cat, wasted in a bar, more than once.

… No, they really weren't his friends. Co-workers is the best way he could probably describe them.

Yes, he was just jealous of them.

He was alone.

…

… Well, work isn't going to start itself. He pulled his phone back up to his face, clicking it on to see how long he'd zoned out for. 6:03 P.M. Not too terrible. He slammed shut his laptop, pushing back from his chair as he went to put on the outfit that had practically become his "uniform" at this point. A dark under layer of tight leggings and a fitted long-sleeve athletic tee with a zip-up turtleneck; a desaturated over layer of a baggy, now sleeveless hoodie and equally as baggy gym shorts. And, of course, a hat, as usual… but he wore those no matter the time of day.

His apartment door clicked shut behind him as he left, and once the door was locked, he evaporated into thin air.

-- only to appear, moments later, in front of one of the most lavish mansions in the richest part of Ebott City. It was so bleeding with "I'm such a rich, extra asshole" energy that it made his Soul twist with disgust. The walls were marble, shimmering from small lights below them to show off their sparkling, smooth surface. Each edge of the building was lined with gold-plated metal, even the rails to the stairway. Arching windows stood on either side of the front door, which was probably big enough for an average sized elephant to fit into with some extra ear room to boot.

Thank the stars he didn't have to go inside again. He already knew what his job was for the night, and to be back inside that disgustingly overdone building these pretentious humans called "home"... Just thinking about it made him feel beyond insulted.

He took another shortcut -- this time, finding himself on the rooftop. Although the sun had not yet fully set, even so, it was still much darker here than standing in front of the artificially-lit trophy they called a front entrance. He popped open his phone again. 6:05 P.M.

Unlocking it completely, he pulled up a message from the cat he'd gotten this morning.

morning soldier~ i managed to get done what you needed me to for today last night. which, you owe me BIG-TIME for, mister.

i was up until 4 am doing this!!

Soldier checked the timestamp. Yesterday, 11:34 P.M. Does that cat think he's an idiot? Whatever, it's not like this was the important part of the message. But, if anything, he's getting docked pay for really bad lying. It's not like the guy needs more alcohol money, anyway.

here's a list compiled of all the parties in ebott tonight. i only looked for ones starting after 6 pm like you asked, but there was still far too many… the list is very long (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

[file download link]

i hope you're happy!!! cause im not looking any more than that!!!!! ☆⌒(> _ <)

He downloaded the file to his phone, browsing through it to see what parties had been collected into the spreadsheet. He only could assume that's what was bringing them out, at the very least.

Oh, yes, his job for the evening. That's integral information, I suppose.

The mansion whose roof he sat upon currently was owned by a human family with the surname King. They had twelve children, all adopted, but were all also kept on very rigorous and strict schedules. The eldest of the children very recently had been caught sneaking out of the house every evening by one of their siblings, and sleeping noticeably late in the morning, their final semester of university was suffering from this all as they refused to finish their thesis. So, naturally as it is for all the rich, they threw their money at the problem hoping that would fix it.

Today's "that" was the skeleton monster sitting on their roof, waiting to see when someone would eventually leave the house.

With a hefty sum of money, upfront payment, as usual; Soldier was told to follow their child for three nights, and to report back after that time with what they had been up to. Seemed easy enough. Of all the jobs he'd gotten, tailing someone for a few days and tracking their every move was probably the easiest he's ever had the misfortune of doing.

He continued to scroll through the list. He had been given absolutely nothing to work with from the Kigngs as to where their kid was headed or when they tended to leave the house, or any information of actual use; so he was going into the job without a clue as to what he was really looking for. It was probably the most difficult aspect of the job -- hence why he outsourced the bulk of it. As for the "where," parties seemed like a reasonable assumption to make for a human college student. That's a rather common stereotype of sorts, college students getting drunk at party after party, is it not? Better than nothing, he supposed. Nothing else really came to mind anyway, but that doesn't mean there wasn't another option. Even still, it's a better start than nothing.

Now he had to just wait for the "when." He had the list in front of him, hoping he could deduce when the human would leave their house… but the more he read it over, the more bored he got. Guess the cat wasted his time. Oh well. That's not Soldier's problem.

Just as he locked his screen shut, planning to come down from the roof and investigate any exits that might be hidden to most of the house, he heard an absurdly loud sound he initially thought was a gunshot, followed by a raspy huff of various curses. Peering over the edge of the rooftop, after shortcutting there silently to avoid making attention towards himself; he noticed there was, in fact, no gunshot, but rather, an awfully messy and junky trap door of sorts, seemingly made of plywood. A human, who he assumed was the one who swore earlier, grabbed a bush that had been sitting next to it, picking it up like it was nothing and placing it over the door. It was in line with several other, similar bushes. The human dusted off their hands before walking, keeping a close eye on the mansion walls to their side.

Well, looks like he's found who he's supposed to tail.

He kept watch over them for as long as his eyes could follow, and then, the moment they left his vision, he shortcutted to where they had been moments ago, though slightly distanced as to be hidden nearby; and simply repeated the process. Soldier knew this part of the city better than the back of his hand, so he knew where he was at all times, as well, making shortcutting silently even easier.

… However, what he didn't understand was where the hell this human was headed. A few times he tried clicking on his phone, scrolling through the list again, but they weren't headed in any direction towards any party. And even when they started heading in the direction of one… they would end up taking a "wrong" turn and dodging it completely.

…

… this was taking a really long time…

It's… almost been an hour by now. Soldier's starting to recognize this area a little less. He knew the map layout, but not all of the details about where they were or what was distinctly different about each street. They were outside of the rich part of town, but not quite in the poorer side that he was used to, either. If he was remembering correctly, this was in the direction of downtown. Unless this human's planning on breaking into some probably-already-crashed college dorm party for the night, they definitely weren't planning to party at all. Okay, well, that throws that plan out the window.

But now he had no idea what to expect. Were they banned from getting help, so they're actively seeking it out? Unlikely. Were they secretly addicted to drugs? Unless it was alcohol, getting away with drug smuggling in downtown was a horrific, nearly impossible idea. Did they have a significant other that their family wouldn't let them see? Well… he had no idea. Thoughts and questions and possibilities kept cycling in and out, but he never lost sight of where they were going.

And, sure enough, the bright downtown lights descended upon them as they started making their way across the long bridge leading to the most eventful point of the city. Due to the sheer length of the bridge, and the fact that Soldier was not as well-versed in the map of the downtown Ebott area… he resorted to traditional stalking, mimicking their every step as casually and nonchalantly as possible, as though to avoid being spotted.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. One new message.

weeeeell? was my work useful? >:3c

He merely huffed half a laugh before typing out his response.

i didnt use it at all

what?! Σ(･口･) soldier, i went through all that hard work, and you didn't even LOOK at it???

i looked at it

i didnt use it

...you're at least still paying me, right?

no

you are the WORST 凸(｀△´＋）

i'm never doing anything for you again >:(

you dont need the alcohol money anyway

But the cat never responded to that one. Well, Soldier's never been the best at landing most jokes, despite his tendency to make them. Clearly sarcasm wasn't his strong point either. Whatever. He'd pay him later.

He put his phone back in his pocket, putting his attention back to his job as the bridge finally began to end. If the human was suspicious of his following them, they showed no signs of it. Good. Frankly, being silent by stalking someone in this manner isn't his strong suit. He had assumed they would have stayed nearby… not gone to the other side of the city.

The sun had set, but even still, downtown was overwhelmed with artificial lighting, and frankly, it was already giving Soldier a headache and he hadn't even been here for more than 10 minutes. Curse his ridiculously weak and sensitive body.

The human kept walking along, though their pace was beginning to hasten as they flickered their gaze between stepping and a phone screen. Naturally, he also quickened his footing, although unsure as to why. Maybe they were running late for something?

They took a sharp left into a shady alleyway; Soldier shortcut to its entrance, spotting them sprinting down it as fast as they could before eventually climbing up a wooden fence at the end, reaching its peak and jumping over it with ease. Like they'd done this many times before. Soldier, confused, checked the name of the buildings on either side of the alleyway… but neither were significant. One was even an apartment building of sorts, but it looked abandoned at best. Well, might as well continue.

Reaching the end of the alley and pushing himself over the fence with magic to avoid making as much sound as possible, Soldier's feet landed on the concrete of the other side. It was surprisingly… clean. As if someone kept it nice regularly. He went to take a step forward when he heard chattering, and instead, tucked himself behind the smallest edge of the nearby wall, barely peering over its edge to see the rest of the area.

It was like a very small park. Perhaps a courtyard? But it was too barren for that. Well, all except the trees. There were four skinny trunks sprouted from the ground, all of different kinds, and probably no more than two and a half meters tall. Around them was a square-shaped sidewalk of the same concrete he was standing on.

But, at that center of the trees, were two humans, not one. He recognized the one he'd been following up until this point -- vaguely, and mostly just from the color of their clothing -- but the other was new.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I was held up worrying I was going to get caught…" the human he'd followed spoke. "My dad apparently hired someone to follow me for a few days. One of my sisters told me… she apparently ratted me out -- she was forced to -- and now my dad's on a manhunt to find out what I'm doing."

"Yikes," the other person responded. They had a higher pitched voice, but a lower tone of interest. "Sorry to hear about it. You didn't need to come racing here to tell me that, you know. You could have stayed home and texted me to move the lesson."

Lesson?

"No, it's fine. I came because I wanted to. It probably would have been better if I waited… but I was too excited about tonight," the human explained. "It's the first time we're practicing the whole dance routine straight through. I've been practicing on my own some other nights, too."

… dance routine?

The other human let go of a heavy laugh. "You've really been practicing for two weeks straight with no other dance party breaks?"

"I said on some other nights!"

The both of them laughed.

But Soldier was stuck on "dance routine."

A phrase he typically only heard from his brother anymore, and he barely talked to him as is.

A phrase he'd never said himself in… so long.

An act he hasn't tried since they were still trapped Underground…

An act that, even back then, he'd sworn off doing after so many years of it.

It's like he'd been punched directly in the Soul. Possibly even with a knife.

"Well, are you ready to start, then?"

Soldier's attention peered back to the two humans.

"Yup, whenever you are!"

There was a brief period of silence.

Then the music started. He didn't recognize it at first…

But the realization that it was his own piece hit him in the face like a truck. Some sort of shivering heat rushed through his body. … embarrassment? ...maybe? He… wasn't sure.

But even still…

He soon became entranced by their dancing.

Only the human he had been following was dancing the routine. Every step timed perfectly to every beat and measure… so meticulously performed with such dedication. But then, some old part of him started to creep back from where it had been shoved away, as he started judging the technique of their every move. Sure, they had a… beautiful dedication to every step they took… but much of it was wrong. Though, they were not missteps. Everything planned was executed with confident perfection. The moves themselves were wrong. Some of them didn't match the tone of the piece at all, and it was clear that they were self-taught, just based on how they were moving in between each one. He wasn't mad, no… no, rather… he was utterly fascinated.

Soldier stood and watched the whole routine, start to finish. Though, he couldn't help but have a yelp from his own Soul every time they did something his own memory was screeching to be incorrect. It was yelping because… he wanted to correct them. He wanted to walk up to them, tell them what was wrong with their choices, and point them in the right direction. He wanted to… take them by the hand, directing their movements through his, teaching them how to dance the way he was taught. He… couldn't stop staring…

A scream. Soldier shortcut in a panic. He was now on the opposite side of the wooden fence, back in they alleyway.

"What, what is it?" The voice of the second human.

"I… I thought I saw someone." A breathy, horrified tone from the dancer. "I thought someone was watching me but… th-then I blinked and… they were gone."

The second human huffed angrily. "You haven't been getting proper sleep lately, have you? Maybe you should go home and rest."

Still breathing heavily, the dancer hummed a sound of malcontent. "I… Can I finish the routine first?"

"Really, now…" But with a sigh, the second human allowed them to start again from the beginning.

Meanwhile, Soldier…

He was doing his best not to scream on his own. So many emotions overwhelmed him entirely. Most of which he could not identify. But one thing would not stop looping in his mind. One thing other than a raging beat echoing in his skull from the sound of his own Soul racing, that was. In fact, that only heightened.

The thought of taking their hand. Teaching them to dance.

The overwhelming feeling of hearing someone else not just listening to his work… but expanding upon it. Being able to express themself through it. Being able to see themself through him.

The raging passion burning deep inside of him, regretting his forgone dancing career. It ate at his Soul, bit by bit. Begging his laziness to cave for them and them alone.

The fact that all of these thoughts happened in the very same millisecond that he made eye contact with them… he felt unexplainably and weirdly hot.

That eye contact. Their eyes, their face. They were almost as beautiful as the dances they performed… no… perhaps even more so.

Another loud beat echoed in his skull. The song was reaching its end. He knew he needed to start going home before he was caught.

But part of him wanted to be caught.

Part of him wanted to catch them.

… And all of him wanted to see them dancing… just one more time. Once more, that's all he asks.

Just one more time.

Maybe… maybe that will suffice.

Maybe that will drive away the fortissimo thoughts clouding his sense of reality. Maybe he'll be able to go back to…

A thought. A separate one, remembered from earlier this same evening.

"Alone."

He was… alone.

…

Did he really want to go down the same paths as…?

No, not really.

But it seemed his Soul was not giving him much other option. The mere thought of never being able to label himself as lonely… and if it was because of someone as beautiful as them…

Well. He already was a hypocrite, chanting against a society he partook in regularly. What other damage could be done by reaffirming what he already knew?

Besides. His Soul was desperate.

He wanted that dancer for his own.

No… no, this was most certainly a need.

[themonotonysyndrome]

Emerald Onlooker

Part 2 of the Successors to the Future is here! I, uh, didn’t expect a lot of people liking it, but since I’m still pretty excited about this AU, I want to write as much as I can. 

Thank you again @tri3tri for inspiring us with your Second Wive AU and many, many wonderful Yandere!Malleus content. A little summary about this AU: Yandere!Malleus married and took MC against her will. He turns her into a Queen and they had 2 daughters. However, Yandere!Malleus is pushed to take on a second wife (a Fae woman, Gekkon) to give him a son, a male heir. During the wedding ceremony, MC took the opportunity and escape to NRC with her daughters in tow and Crowley finally did them a solid and send the three of them to MC’s world.

Successors to the Future, summary: Without a court of condescending Faes and Malleus’ oppressive affection, MC and her daughters live happily in the other world. When she left Twisted Wonderland, MC didn’t realise that she was pregnant and thus, she gave birth to a son who grew up as carefree as a bird and just as kind. However, now that her eldest daughter had just turned sixteen and discover her Unique Magic, she was returned to Twisted Wonderland as a first-year student in Diasomnia. Since it’s only a matter of time before Malleus and his court discover her presence at NRC, MC and her children did their best to prepare her for that inevitable day. 

This oneshot is a continuation of that. 

FD/N = First daughter’s name/Renata Draconia (half-human, half dark Fae Princess. Malleus & MC’s eldest child)

SD/N = Second daughter’s name/Sherrie or Cherry Draconia (half-human, half-dark Fae Princess. Malleus & MC’s middle child)

S/S = Son’s name/Lucien Draconia (half-human, half-dark Fae Prince and the heir to the throne. Malleus & MC’s youngest child). 

MC/S = MC’s surname

-

Sherrie enjoy going about her daily lives on her lowest brain capacity most of the time. There’s nothing like just... switching off your brain and ignore all the boring things around you.  

The only thing that gets the gears and cogs in her brain spinning is when she plays video games like Portal or coming up with schemes to get her eldest sister out of trouble. 

When she jokes about only having 2 braincells and that both are constantly on holidays at the same time unless Renata did something stupid, Renata howl with laughter while Lucien just rolled his eyes at his cackling sisters. 

But now that Renata is playing student in Night Raven College, Sherrie is surprised to find herself looking forward to not only help her oldest sister dodged their father’s steps, but also pulling the proverbial rug underneath the Thorn Kingdom. 

Especially Lilia Vanrouge. 

It’s addicting. The unholy glee running within you when your cute puppets finally realised who’s been tugging on their strings all along. 

Humans are easy and oblivious enough for her to practise on. Despite how monotonous school can be, the environment was a good place for Sherrie to learn and play. Everyone has a chip on their shoulder; everyone wants to stand out among the rest. 

So it’s really not that hard to learn who’s the right person to blackmail, who’s desperate enough to do anything to make their crush look at them and how to make the key figures dance on the palm of her hands. 

This year’s prom night was certainly a memory she won’t ever forget. 

And now? Now Sherrie can’t wait to play with the so-called ‘superior’ species - their father’s ancient court and loyal retainers - once she and her sister could establish contact. 

They’ve been working hard on this little project. Everyone in her little family is. Renata is off being a good little student and let the gossips travel on its own, their little brother is doing his best to assured their mother that all would be well and Sherrie?

Sherrie is busy setting up the stage for the climax once Renata usher all the important players to where she wanted them. 

(Mama likes to call her a ‘smart cookie’, always rubbed her head affectionately and said, “You’re a brilliant girl, Cherry. You’re just lazy. I know you can achive anything you want with the proper motivation, just like Floyd-senpai.”.) 

(Their Mama can never know just how far her daughter had use the same skill that she praise to manipulate others.) 

In the middle of the evening - just shy after midnight -  Sherrie heard a water drip somewhere in her bedroom. 

Drip... drip... drip... 

She pushes her chair away from her gaming laptop, game paused and just listen. Her eyes scan the dimly lit bedroom. 

Drip... drip... 

“This better not be the start of a horror movie.” 

It’s coming from... somewhere near her vanity table. Sherrie ignores the clutter of make-ups, perfumes and figurines on the table and waited eagerly. Her leg couldn’t stop bouncing when the surface ripple like water’s surface once. 

The ripple clears and instead of staring at her reflection, her oldest sister stares right back at her. 

“It works!” Renata said incredulously. “I can’t believe the headmaster’s half-assed runes actually works!” 

“The fuck? What happened?” Sherrie reply, a bit taken back. Behind her sister, Sherrie could see a bed, study table and walls and other furnishing that eerily looks similar to the ones back at the castle. 

Renata waved her hand in a dismissive manner. “I had to literally bullied a grown ass man to help me contact you. It took me a week of camping in the library to figured out how, but we managed to come up with runes that allow us to create a link to every mirror in the house.” She explains in an exasperated tone. “I’ll teach you the drawing tomorrow. All you guys need to do is just draw them on any mirror and it’ll send me a signal to find a mirror of my own.” 

“That kinda sounds like a phone call. Like, an interdimensional phone call!” 

“I know right! I already put a compact mirror in my purse so I can call you anytime!” Renata said with a smug grin. She’s clearly proud of her clever little trick. Even with the help of the headmaster. 

Sherrie never doubted that her sister couldn’t find a way to contact them. She’s a prodigy when it comes to magic. 

She might be young, but she could still remember how their tutors gave out praises as if they were candies when it comes to her older sister and her affinity for magic. 

It’s just too bad that their compliments are worthless when they always ended with, “If only the Princess is a full born Fae...” 

“Ok, so, contact established. Now are you still in Phase 1?” Sherrie said, bringing their conversation back to important matters. She made sure to properly and slowly explain their game plan a week before the Ebony Carriage took Renata to Night Raven College. The words are clearly written, highlighted colourfully and important steps are accompanied by cartoon stickers. 

Despite being a prodigy at magic, her sister woefully has short attention span when it comes to playing the long game. Her attention spans burn hot and fast, just like her anger. It also burns out just as quick as it came. 

Renata rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “Yes, yes. I’m still in Phase 1. It’s hard to make friends when everyone is wary of you. Do you know they hung up portraits of past Dorm Leaders and their Vice Dorm Leaders in each dorm? It’s so annoying when everyone stares at me and at father’s portrait whenever I walk into Disomnia!” 

Sherrie hums and made a quick dash to grab her tablet. The one where she wrote down her plans. She swipes the screen to the list of names that their mother had given them. 

“They’re just NPCs, don’t worry about them. What you need to focus on are the students with the surnames that Mama gave us.” Here, Sherrie is tapping on the screen of her tablet to the mirror. “Have you met any of them or did you fucked up the plan already?” 

“Calm your tits, I’ve been following your instructions.” Renata assured her, not the least riled up. “We’re only in the first semester; I only managed to match the names and faces of my dorm mates so far. It’s gonna take me at least a month of snooping around before I could find them.” Renata paused and her eyes suddenly lit up as if she just remembered something. “Oh, but I’ve been farming intel of the Thorn Kingdom using the Lucky Leanan spell every day after curfew. It took some trial and error but I successfully managed to find the castle again!”

Sherrie recalls that one of Renata spells - Lucky Leanan - creates a small fairy made out of pure magic that would do sneak attacks by shooting lightning bolts while Renata fights. It’s small enough to flit behind an opponent’s line of sight and take them off guard. 

Small enough to sneak into the castle without anyone none the wiser. 

So Sherrie nodded. “That’s a good move. You’re safely far away from the castle and you can remotely dispel Leanan if it gets dicey.” 

“Yup! Look at my one braincell go!” Renata cheered. “If I keep this up and give it plenty of water and sunlight, maybe it’ll grow!” 

Sherrie burst out laughing alongside her sister. Her joke took her off guard. Hopefully their laughter didn’t wake up their mother and Lucien. 

Sherrie hiccups and wipe the tears from the corner of her eye. It feels nice to talk to her sister again.  

She misses her disaster of sister already. 

“Anyway, I need to hit the bed soon.” Renata said, breaking her train of thought. “I’ll do my best to gather as much info as I can about the ongoings inside the castle for you. Are there any heads up you want me to look for?” 

Sherrie smiles brightly and reply, “Of course! If you could, be a dear and get everything about father’s... other wife. Everything - right down to the most boring shits.”

“On it.” 

-

That first-year Diasomnia student has been the talk around campus for weeks now. 

Not only is she the only girl in Night Raven College, word on the streets quickly spreads that she’s look too similar to one of the previous Dorm Leader of Diasomnia to not be related. 

Staring at her while she’s busy taking a selfie of the Great Seven statues, he agrees that the similarities are too uncanny. 

Now, why would he sends his own Princess to a villain school without any retainer? 

That, and why under a different surname? 

Something’s not right. 

Renata MC/S brought with her an interesting mystery to Night Raven College. A mystery that caught his interest at the first whiff of her scent. And oh Great Seven, her delectable scent. The first time his nose caught that mouthwatering smell, it had his tail swishing in eager and his head spinning. 

It’s the scent of his favourite flower - blood lily - with a hint of something... otherworldly. He still can’t quite put words into it. 

He wants to unravel her. Understand what makes her tick. 

Uncover what she’s hiding. 

Four days later in History class, Professor Trein gave him - and Renata - their golden ticket. 

“Kingscholar, MC/S - you two will be partners for this assignment. I expect you two have no objection.” 

“It’s fine...” 

“I don’t have a problem with the arrangement, professor.” 

The professor nodded and class is dimiss. Students began making their way out of the room. Except for him... and her. 

Renata steps in front of his desk when they finally have the class all to themselves. He takes a good, long look at her. 

She’s certainly beautiful; a real heartbreaker. But there’s something interesting within her bright green eyes. Something volatile. He wonders what could it really be. 

“Hi there. So you’re Bakari Kingscholar, hmm? Hope we can ace this assignment without any problem.” Renata said with a small smile. Is she trying to be friendly? Because it just looks condescending as hell. 

But that just makes this a lot more fun. 

“Same here. Girl or not, I won’t let it slide if you prove to be a dead weight.” 

His warning clearly took her off guard with the how her smile froze. It was only for a moment though, before she let out a laugh. As if he just told a funny joke. 

“Kitty-cat is flexing his claws, huh?” Renata had the audacity to grin. The other Savanaclaw students would’ve lowered their heads at his tone. “Don’t worry. Do your part and I promise I won’t light your tail on fire.” 

Oh, his old man needs to know about this girl. 

-

You have no idea how much fun it is to write about Malleus and MC’s children! Especially the Princessess. Unfortunately, they’re more like Malleus than they or MC even realise it. Anyway, my main reference for SD/N is none other than... TADA! Fyodor Dostoevsky from BSD!

It’s just that Sherrie is a lot more lazy and rather keep to herself and stay at home. She only goes out of her to way to mess with people because of Renata and her tendecies to get into trouble.  

I’m still thinking on the draft for part 3 so we’ll see how that goes. Also, I was struggling wether to name Leona’s son or not. I think that honoured should go to @tri3tri​! 

[madelynsbooknook]

The Girl Next Door

Pairing: Harry Holland x Female Reader

Warning: A bit of fluff I think :)

Summary: The new girl just moved in right next to the one and only Harry Holland... Plus Tom, and Haz... But you only catch his eye... and he only catches yours. To Harry you were just The Girl Next Door he was way too nervous to go introduce himself... So after a week of the secret glance and the small smiles you finally decide to make the first move and introduce yourself.

Main Masterlist

Harry Holland Masterlist

“Mate, are you listening?” Harry’s older brother, Tom, spoke while snapping his fingers in front of Harry’s face.

“W-what? Huh? Sorry, sorry, yeah I’m listening.” He stuttered nervously hoping his brother and friends wouldn’t catch onto, not what but rather who, he was staring at. 

Tom’s eyes follow the path of Harry’s and he sees the girl that is moving in right next door and he smirks. “Stop staring at the new girl you’ll scare her off.” He chuckles while teasing his younger brother.

“Shut up,” Harry groans and rolls his eyes. “You make me sound like a creep.” 

“...You were staring at her... That makes you creepy enough.” Haz chuckles adding on to the little session of teasing Harry. Tom chuckles and nods agreeing with Haz which just causes Harry to groan again. 

Harry didn’t want to come off creepy he just got distracted. He noticed the many boxes of books you were carrying into your new home and smiled a bit to himself finding it cute how you had way too many books to count. Harry had never seen you around town before so he figured you must have moved quite a distance to London but he wouldn’t know for sure unless he built up the courage to go introduce himself and lord knows the boy was too nervous to do that.

“Harry, mate, it’s getting creepy. Get your ass up and go introduce yourself.” Tom chuckled lightly smacking the back of his brother head to get him to stop staring before you noticed, but little did they all know you had already noticed the curly haired red head looking your way causing a light shade of pink to make itself noticeable on your cheeks. You also saw the brunette smack the back of the boys head causing you to giggle a bit as you brought the last box into your new home.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t find the red head attractive... All three of them were but the curly haired red head caught your eye. You close the front door and start unpacking.

Harry, on the other hand saw your front door close and his heart sank a tiny bit. He enjoyed seeing the way your glasses would slightly fall down your nose and you would have to push them back up, or how eventually you got tired of your hair constantly falling in your face so you finally put it up into a messy bun. Something about you interested him...

A few days later Harry saw you sitting in your front lawn reading a book. You looked so at peace and unbelievably beautiful. Harry caught himself smiling a bit seeing how happy you seemed even if you weren’t smiling. He could see how much of a positive person you were. 

You were a pretty positive person for the most part... You have your moments, just like everyone else in the world, but there was something about reading that just made you feel so at peace with the world. Whenever you just sat down and started reading a book it was like all your troubles would disappear. That’s why you enjoy reading so much, because it take you away from reality and transports you into some amazing world.

A couple days later after Harry caught you peacefully laying your front lawn reading, he was once again outside but this time he was alone. He had his laptop sitting in front of him and his camera right next to it. He was in the middle of editing photos. Just like how your books took you away from reality editing his works took him away from reality. Whenever Harry was editing or taking photos in general he would always be in his own little world. 

He loved capturing the little moments... The moments when everything's not staged but the pure moments of happiness. When people were laughing, or reading, or when couples were walking down the street hand in hand without a word being spoken, sitting in comfortable silence. He loved capturing moments like when a dog owner is playing with their furry friend at the dog park or the families who walked down the streets with their children, smiling and laughing. He loved the little moments. 

You were outside again that day reading your book but this time you weren’t completely entranced by the plot of the book like you normally were. Your thoughts were roaming but at the same time you didn't know what you were thinking about. 

You laid back in the grass and looked up at the sky, smiling softly to yourself as you saw picture in the clouds. At first you hadn’t noticed Harry was outside but when you turned your head to the side there he was. He looked very concentrated on whatever was on his laptop and then you saw the camera sitting next to him.

Oh, so he’s a photographer.

Harry could feel your eyes on him while he was editing and before he could stop himself he look over to you. Your eyes met his and he watched as a small smile grew on your lips causing him to smile as well. It was a small interaction but both of you could clearly tell you wanted to get to know each other. 

For the past week and a half there had been stolen glances, small smiles, a wink thrown at you from Harry here and there but there was never a conversation because both of you were too scared to go up to the other. 

However, you figured now would be the perfect time to introduce yourself... Neither of you were looking away from the other so you thought why the hell not.

Harry watched as you stood up and hugged your book to your chest, showing that you are tiny bit shy, and he watched as you slowly made your way over to him causing his heart beat to quicken and his palms to get all sweaty as he became nervous.

“Hi... I’m Y/n” You spoke sweetly, introducing yourself to the red head. You smiled a sweet smile and Harry found himself smiling a bit more as he got lost in your eyes.

“I’m Harry... It’s nice to finally meet you.” He said with a small chuckle which made you giggle.

Harry. Cute.

“Well we would’ve met a lot sooner if you had decided to come over and introduce yourself instead of watch from a distance.” You made the snarky comment and giggled right after causing him to chuckle.

“I’m not the only one who could’ve introduced themselves sooner, now am I, love?” He retaliated with a slight smirk.

Love...

“You got me there.” You giggled and smiled softly still hugging the book to your chest.

Harry smiled at you sweetly, you were beautiful to him and your voice was something he could listen to all day. He already liked everything about you and he knew from that moment his feelings were only going to grow... But he wasn’t the only one who felt these things... You did as well... But that is a story for another time.

[dailydaydreamings]

Best in the Worst Way, Part 6

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

Please enjoy this next part. I’ll be mia for a bit but I’ll be back very soon ;) — K

“All I’m saying,” you placed both hands on your hips, “is that if we live here, we have our privacy. I never said you couldn’t protect us.”

You both stood on either side of the breakfast bar in your kitchen, a pros and cons list between you of where to live when the babies come. Which had very quickly turned into a fight.

Bucky planted both hands on the counter, grinding his teeth, “And I think it’s a terrible idea. Could you imagine the support system we’d have on the compound when the babies come?”

You roll your eyes, remembering the year you spent sneaking and hiding in Steve’s room. The amount times someone would barge in and you found yourself in the closet was astronomical. No one ever questioned Steve and Bucky in their underwear on the bed though.

“We will have a support system wherever we go, not one Avenger has any concept of boundaries,” you snap. “Tony’s hired my OB-GYN for fuck’s sake.”

Bucky leaned forward to rest his elbows on the counter, “I’m not saying it’s not creepy, but it’s still probably for the best.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Because I’m so ill of health and incapable of taking care of myself.”

For the record, you hadn’t passed out in a week and you’d worked 38 hours (and only four on Saturday). Tony was still pushing you to scale back more. Despite some nausea, you just felt tired.

“No,” he sighed, “because you’re growing two super human babies and no one knows what that means.”

You wave your pen; “Exactly. She might not even know what she’s doing either.”

He groans, dragging a hand over his face.

“Really?” You tighten your grip on your pen.

“You’re making this difficult,” he admits. “Is this how the appointment is going to go tomorrow?”

You debate stabbing him with the pen, “We’re still not living on the compound.”

He throws his hands in the air, “Steve would agree with me.”

He immediately winced at his words.

The phrase was so familiar. It started with what to buy for dinner and where that new painting should be hung in the bedroom. It was said so often, because they did know each other best. It always got an eye roll from you, but you typically give in after that.

Not any more.

You stared him down, jaw clenched.

He got up to say he was sorry and you brushed past him, out the door.

————

You stood on the roof of compound, an unlit cigarette in your fingers. You used to smoke religiously by the end of high school, after university you only smoked on very rare occasions of pure, unrelenting stress.

Now, you had a nearly unbearable craving.

You even took out your lighter and chucked it off the roof. Which left you staring down at this stupid cigarette, wishing you could drink.

You stood there, for over an hour, debating what you were going to say. At which point, a helicopter landed on the roof.

You shoved the cigarette into your purse and crossed your arms over your chest as Steve and Natasha got out.

Steve stopped as soon as he saw you, jeans, no makeup, and your hair in a messy bun. Not like yourself at all.

Natasha patted him on the back and walked towards you. “Feeling ok?” She asked.

“Uh-huh,” you didn’t take your eyes off Steve. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking pissed.

“I’ll come see you tomorrow then,” she said. You might have nodded.

When you were alone, Steve asked, “How did you know when I was getting back?”

You shrugged, “Perk of my job, I know all your schedules. Fury sent me an update a couple hours ago, he always does. If you have a problem with me knowing where you are, I’m sure this can be addressed.”

He stared at you blankly, “I know you’re pissed.”

You bit back your anger. “Speak now Rogers or forever hold your peace.”

He broke your state and looked down, “I never wanted this.”

You nodded, looking down.

“Our relationship was always physical,” he said, “at least it was for me. Just something to help me cope. I loved the two of you for it, but I never wanted it to be more.”

You attempt to blink back tears, more in vain than anything.

“I’m sorry,” he continued. “Really I am. Children were never supposed to be part of this.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you spoke the words you had been keeping deep inside, “How do you think I feel Steve? You think I wanted this? My life has always been about school or my career. I thought sleeping with you two would be freeing, but it ended up being a big secret and I ended up being a method for you two to cope. My life has never been about me and suddenly it’s going to be about being a mom.”

Tears now freely fell and you instantly felt like the worst person. Bucky wanted these babies so bad and he was so excited. Every second was about the babies.

But you still had some reservations.

You didn’t want him to know and it felt like you were constantly chocking on your secret.

Steve walked towards you, “It’s not too late then, right?” He grasped your arms, looking down at you hopefully. “Get rid of them and we can go back.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Was he really asking your to get an abortion?

It brought you back to the moment you found out you were pregnant. You thought about it so hard and so much you were almost sure you would go through with it.

And then you saw Bucky’s reaction.

You pulled back, “Are you joking?”

“What?”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

He frowned at you.

You ran your hands through your hair, nearly screaming in frustration. “I told you weeks ago that I’m pregnant. The time to talk me out of this would have been then.”

You could just picture it in your mind. Instead of Bucky crying happily and freely, and planning a nursery, Steve would have interjected and told you to get an abortion. Bucky would have shrunk away and wouldn’t have opened his mouth. You probably would have gone through with it.

It would have killed Bucky, and you wouldn’t have even known.

Now, the babies were starting to have names and faces.

You resented them in part, but you were staring to care for them.

You had a choice to make, apparently, between two lovers. One that wanted to keep two babies, and one that wanted no part.

It had always been the three of you, and your world seemed to rapidly becoming smaller.

Steve looked down at you through his beautiful, thick eye lashes and said, “This doesn’t have to be over.”

———

Bucky poured himself a cup of tea, hoping it would calm his nerves.

He wondered where you’d gone, you were so mad. He was fully ready to concede to living at your apartment, if that’s what you wanted.

Though, he had a funny feeling this had nothing to do with the apartment.

He knew you were feeling the effects of Steve leaving on a very personal level and he was to. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t your fault.

It still stung.

It hurt so bad that Steve didn’t want a future with the two of you. Your children. That he could walk away like if had all meant nothing. How could he—

The door burst open and suddenly he was pressed against the counter, your body pressed into his, pulling him in for a searing kiss.

He kissed you back, placing his hand on your waist. You were already shedding your cardigan.

“What’s this about?” he pulled away and you kissed his neck. “Where did you go?”

You pulled back, tossing off your tank top and slowly unbuttoning your jeans. “Steve‘s made his choice. I’m making mine. I want you and these kids and everything that goes with it.”

That was enough. He picked you up with one arm to carry you to the bedroom.

The fights didn’t matter anymore. Everything after your discussion with Steve seemed to be irrelevant.

You could do this. The couple thing. The kids. You could do it without Steve, you convinced yourself.

Over and over again.

Even when Bucky threw you on the bed, kneeled between your legs, and made love to you with his tongue.

Even when Bucky held you in his arms and fucked you hard into the mattress, making your toes curl and your voice go hoarse.

Even when he flipped you into your stomach a couple hours later and teased you until you were crying before giving you want you needed.

Even when you woke up in the morning to featherlight kisses on your neck, shoulders, breasts, that made your insides tingle. Only to start round three.

You just kept thinking to yourself, You could do this. The couple thing. The kids. You could do it without Steve.

———

“Come in,” you called out.

Natasha stepped into your office, looking distant and guarded.

You tried to keep a pleasant expression on your face as you shut your laptop. You automatically grabbed a pen and started fidgeting.

“I was hoping you’d stop by,” you smiled, “I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

She held up a hand, “Don’t worry about it. I was hoping you could do something for me actually.”

You nodded, cautiously.

She sat down across from you, “Tony has me booked for a press conference next week, can you cancel it but don’t make it obvious I don’t want to go?”

You chuckled, writing that down. “Of course.”

“I also want to visit that women’s shelter I volunteered at last month. Can you get in touch with them for me?”

“Absolutely.”

“One more thing, can you book one of the conference rooms for me. The big one, but have all the tables and chairs removed?”

You nodded, making another note, “For when and what?”

“Let’s say five-ish months from now. For your baby shower.”

You slammed the pen down on your desk, “You know too?”

She leaned back, nodding smugly, “Bucky shouted it to the world when he and Steve got into a brawl.”

You dropped your head into your hands. “Jesus Christ.”

She shrugged, “No one else knows. Are you okay?”

You pursed your lips, looking down at your hands. “I think that’s the first time anyone has asked me that. I’m okay though. My relationships are in shambles and one of my boys wants me to get an abortion and the other is over the moon about these kids, but I’m fine.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Steve wants you to get an abortion?”

You nodded.

She pursed her lips, “I don’t know. He was so heartbroken after his fight with Bucky. I wouldn’t give up on him just yet.”

You fought back tears, you didn’t want to think about what that meant.

“Natasha,” you said hoarsely. “Please, do not give me hope. He made it so clear last night he wants no part in this. I don’t think he’ll be coming back anytime soon.”

Before she could say anything, a knock came at the door. Bucky popped his head in, “You ready babe?”

Natasha asked, “Ready for what?”

You wiped a tear from your face as you stood. “Tony hired me an OBGYN. She’s going to check up on the babies.”

Natasha smiled, “Keep me posted. Congrats.”

———

Steve’s fist made contact with a punching bag. And then again. And again.

Last night, after your talk, you left after he begged you to get an abortion. Without a word.

He didn’t need to hear you say it to know where that left the two of you.

You chose your children.

He couldn’t blame you for that. You’d make an excellent mother. The kids were lucky to have you.

It just sucked he couldn’t have you too.

It sucked that he and Bucky would never be as close again. That the three of you were giving up your life together, your love.

It all just sucked because he loved you too more than anything in the world.

But Peggy.

He was so ready for her life and her children, he swore it all off after she told him to leave. What was the point of it all if he couldn’t have it with her?

He punched the bag so hard he thought his hand was bleeding.

But what now?

Was he really giving up the best relationship he ever had because of the past?

Could he get over this resentment and be a father? For the three of you?

For Peggy any day. But he hadn’t allowed himself to think about his true feelings for you and Bucky.

He was vaguely aware of his phone ringing. It might not have been the first time it had gone off.

He punched the bag again and let it go to voicemail.

Fuck, the more he thought about it the more he could picture it all in his head. Since you told him you were pregnant, he’d shut it all out and hadn’t given it a second thought. But after last night...

His phone rang again.

He steadied the bag and picked up his phone. Natasha.

“Hey,” he answered.

“Where the hell have you been,” she demanded.

He frowned, “I’m at the gym. Wasn’t checking my phone.”

“Well, get your ass to the medbay,” she said urgently. “There’s something wrong with y/n. Now!”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He didn’t think, he just ran. He sprinted through the halls, taking stairs two at a time until he got there.

———

“This is your first pregnancy?” Dr Laurence asked. She was a firm, young looking woman with brilliant red hair and amazing skin. You were immediately envious.

You nodded.

“Have you ever passed out before?”

“No.”

She turned to Bucky, “Do you or the other potential father have any children?”

He shook his head.

She finished taking notes and clicked her pen a few times, “I’m very, very curious about two things. How their genes are going to affect the pregnancy and the babies. And also, the paternity.”

You jumped right on that, “We don’t want to worry about the paternity. The other, um potential father, isn’t in the picture anymore.”

She nodded sternly, looking over her glasses at you, “I’d wager it had a far greater impact than you realize, dear. Their DNA from what I have seen is extremely different. It will impact the children differently. You’ll want to know this for their development.”

She made you feel so small, but you still said, “Then we’ll wait until they’re born.”

Bucky placed a hand on your shoulder in support. You sqeezed it tightly.

“Bruce also mentioned you asked about the possibility of the babies having different fathers.”

You opened your mouth to interject why you thought it was a possibility, but she went on, “It’s not an impossibility. As far as I know, it’s becoming more common but it is so understudied. Super soldier sperm may even have an impact on conception. I would love to study all that I can...”

“No.”Bucky growled. “You’re not looking at my sperm or studying my children.”

You placed a hand on his. You knew it was a touchy subject.

The doctor nodded solemnly, “Whatever you say. Let’s focus on keeping mom and babies healthy, shall we?”

You smiled and nodded. Bucky relaxed beside you.

“Wonderful,” she smiled. “Let’s start with an ultrasound.”

A few moments later, you were laid back, staring at the monitor. She pointed, “That is baby number one and that is baby number two.”

You smiled looking up at Bucky, who was shamelessly crying. “They’re starting to look like people, aren’t they?”

He laughed, kissing your forehead. “Thank you.”

You wiped a tear and looked back at the screen.

“Would you like to hear the heartbeat?” The doctor asked.

You nodded, gripping Bucky’s hand tighter.

The door burst open. Steve was standing there, his breathing erratic, looking panicked.

“What’s wrong?!” He shouted.

Bucky stepped in front of you, “Nothing. What the hell Steve?”

“I—” he frowned.

Two heartbeats filled the room. Steve looked past Bucky at the monitor and the strangest thing happened.

He started to cry.

Tags open

@just-the-hiddles @fading-mentality-bouquet @a--1--1--3 @broco8 @yougottalovefandoms @hailqueenconquer

[misssophiachase]

With or Without You

For Klaroline AU Week - Day 4 - Enemies to Lovers

Rebekah is diagnosed with a virus and sent to the hospital for observation. To help stop the spread, the two people closest to her in the past two weeks need to self-quarantine. The problem is her best friend and her brother can’t stand each other. Forced to live in the same house, will they kill each other or do something entirely different before 14 days is up?

(Please note: I realise this is a difficult time and the subject matter is serious but this drabble is designed to be just a bit of fun during a tough time.) 

“I can’t live with or without you.”

Day 3

“Honestly, Kat, I’m not sure if I can last much longer,” she groaned. “He sings in the shower, badly. he leaves the toilet seat up constantly and don’t get me started on his remote control form. He switches channels that fast I feel like I’m at a rave.”

Caroline lived in Los Angeles with Rebekah Mikaelson, they’d been friends for years. Her brother had shown up recently from London, where he was based, only for Rebekah to develop the virus. She was going to be okay but had been sent to hospital purely for observation purposes meaning they were imprisoned together as a precaution for fourteen whole days. 

To say she wasn’t coping was an understatement. 

“So, you haven’t had sex yet?” She asked matter-of-factly. Even though she was currently staring at Caroline through a computer screen, she still had the annoying ability to cut straight to the awkward part.

“Kat! She hissed, looking down the hall to check he wasn’t listening. “Your inappropriateness knows no bounds even via Skype.”

“The way I see it is the sooner you have sex, the frustration you feel towards each other and the situation will dissipate. And who knows? If the sex is good you’ll not only have something to do to pass the time but you’ll also be getting your required cardio.”

“Seriously,” she growled. “Is sex all you think about?”

“About 90 per cent of the day,” she quipped. “Tell me you have a better idea?”

“Ah, not to sleep with him because he’s an arrogant asshat who thinks the world revolves around him?”

“I don’t think, love, I know,” he called out. Unfortunately, she chose that exact moment to turn around and copped an eyeful.

“Wow, does he work out?” Kat cooed, obviously she’d had the privilege of seeing him too dressed only in a white towel tied low on his hips, his bare chest and six-pack on full display. Caroline felt her mouth go dry and was struggling to form words he looked that delicious. 

“If you use all of the hot water again, Mikaelson, I swear I’ll come in there and..” she paused, realising what she’d alluded to.

“By all means, love,” he murmured, the dimple in his left cheek making an ill-timed appearance. “Maybe that way we can conserve water.”

“You are unbelievable,” she muttered. “Not if we were the last two people on the planet and we had to repopulate the earth.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me, Forbes,” he chuckled, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

“You are so screwed figuratively and literally, ” Kat laughed. Caroline didn’t respond knowing her friend was right. 

She should have hated him, in fact she had since they met eleven years earlier. Caroline had befriended Rebekah during sophomore year at high school. They were both cheerleaders and had bonded over music and drama club. 

Rebekah was new to her school, so too her brothers Kol, Elijah and Niklaus. The first two were polar opposites personality-wise but she got along with them famously. The problem was with Niklaus, or Klaus as he liked to be called.

They’d clashed from the outset. It started with a few stray insults and developed into more insults and pranks. Apparently everyone thought it was a passing phase but it wasn’t ending anytime soon. 

However, being locked up with him in quarantine was doing all sorts of strange things to her. In fact, she was experiencing all these not-so innocent urges. She wanted to blame it on Kat’s innuendo or that fact he swanned around the house barely clothed but there was definitely something bigger at play here.

Day 5

“She keeps making me watch all of these bad movies, only cooks meals with weird and unidentified grains and apparently the living room is her personal gymnasium,” he complained. 

Klaus Mikaelson didn’t do roommates and there was a very good reason why. He liked his space and he liked walking around partially naked but suddenly he was thrown into this quarantine situation which was a complete minefield. 

“I said I’d only take this Skype call if you didn’t complain about Caroline Forbes, Niklaus, but yet here we are again,” Enzo growled. “You two need to get a room and pronto.”

“We have rooms, in fact, we have a whole house of rooms and yet that still isn’t enough distance between us,” he muttered. “I am going to go crazy locked up in here with her.”

“And the best dramatic Oscar performance goes to...”

“You would feel exactly the same way, Lorenzo,” he argued. “Caroline Forbes is nothing but a spoilt princess who thinks the world revolves around her.”

“I don’t think, I know, asshat,” she drawled finding her way into his room while repeating his sentiments from two days earlier. No doubt just to push his buttons that much more. 

What Klaus wasn’t expecting was for her to look so wet doing it. Yes, she was wearing yellow, rubber gloves but her white t-shirt was soaked through revealing a very lacy bra and some rather pronounced nipples no doubt due to the temperature. 

“Holy...” Enzo murmured before Klaus shut his laptop with a bang. He figured it was the least he could do to protect her innocence and it had absolutely nothing to do with jealousy whatsoever. Or that’s what he told himself.

“You’re here in my room...wet,” he mumbled, trying to look anywhere but exactly where his eyes wanted to go. 

“I’m trying to clean up after your lazy ass,” she groaned. “You do realise how germs spread right? Maybe if you took better care to clean up after yourself then we wouldn’t be experiencing our current predicament.”

“I’m aware of our current predicament, trust me,” he shot back. “Since when did cleaning end in a drenching. I know you like me, Forbes, but I can see everything.” She looked down in complete shock, his comment having the desired effect.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, pulling off her wet gloves and throwing them in his direction before leaving his room, no doubt to change her top. 

“I’m the one who’s spreading germs?” He cried out, attempting to remove the dirty gloves from the bed. 

Klaus and Caroline had never gotten along in the eleven years they’d known each other. Klaus decided from the outset that Rebekah truly was evil bringing her into his life and home. Caroline had this annoying ability to get under his skin and Klaus unfortunately let her.

His friends and brothers told him it was because he liked her deep down. Sure she was hot. there was no denying that, but he’d prided himself on maintaining his distance. Well, that was until he was forced to live in such close quarters for two whole weeks. 

His willpower was waning and Klaus wasn’t sure he could go the distance.

Day 7

“Would you stop switching channels so fast, it makes it a little difficult to see what’s actually on,” she offered, rolling her eyes as she said it. 

They were seated on the couch, the long, uneventful days were taking their toll and the fact they still had another week to go wasn’t doing much for their morale. 

“There’s nothing on so it doesn’t really matter,” he replied in frustration. “I’m so bored! And if you dare suggest cleaning again I will confiscate your rubber gloves.”

“Well, what else is there to do?” She mumbled. “And please spare me from running around the place half naked again, I’d like to keep down my dinner.”

“Come on, you secretly love my naked form,” he smirked. Her tell-tale blush was giving her away instantly. “You know I’m not that bad once you get to know me.”

“Funny, the past week hasn’t unearthed any new or redeemable features that I can tell,” she answered. 

“Just so you know those little insults of yours don’t offend me in the slightest bit so please just give it a break, Forbes.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do to pass the time?” She asked, obviously not realizing just how loaded her question was. 

They were seated on the couch, only a few feet apart, if either of them were to just lean forward they could do something really stupid. Or really fun, depending on who you asked. 

“Fine,” she said, reading his mind. “But if we do this, don’t think this means I like you in any way, Mikaelson,” she clarified.

“The feeling is mutual, trust me, sweetheart,” he agreed. They paused momentarily almost as if they were thinking about the very prominent line they were about to cross and weighing up the pros and cons. 

It didn’t take much consideration as he pulled her greedily towards him so she was straddling his lap. Caroline never knew just how crimson his lips were from this vantage point, Klaus was thinking the same about her blue eyes.

He ran his hands along her cheek, his thumbs rubbing circles over her skin. Her heart was racing and given she was practically touching his chest she knew his was too.

There was no going back.

His lips found hers, slowly at first almost like he was taking his time to discover every inch of her mouth. She moaned against him as his tongue dipped into her warmth. She tasted like a heady mixture of mint and chocolate from dessert and now Klaus had tasted her once he wasn’t ready to give her up anytime soon.  

Caroline grasped his neck, her fingers playing with the stray curls at the nape as she melted into his kisses. Klaus knew it wouldn’t be long given just how much he’d wanted her all these years.

He stood up, and wound her toned legs around his waist, careful not to break contact. They made their way quickly to the bedroom excited for what was in store. 

Turns out the sex continued longer than seven days and also out of quarantine. In fact, the sex turned into dating and the dating turned into an engagement. At their wedding, Kat, Rebekah and Enzo regaled the guests with stories about how they got together when they were forced together in lockdown. 

Who said quarantine was necessarily a bad thing?

[larougie]

caffeine stains and library books

genre: college/coffee shop au

pairing(s): bang chan

word count: 3.2k

description: With college kicking your ass, what exactly are you meant to do, when you spill that fifth cup of coffee over that very. Very. Expensive textbook. Apparently he didn’t have any good ideas either.

Finals were going to be the death of you.

You were seriously considering the option of dropping out and just working in a supermarket for the rest of your life, and it had gotten to the point where breaking into the office for the test answers wasn't seeming like such a bad idea. You'd been renting a tiny studio apartment for the last two years, but the limited floor space was currently overtaken by piles and piles of notebooks and loose sheets of paper with rushed notes scribbled over them. Your old textbooks with folder corners and bashed ends were all stacked against the wall in a corner beside your bed, and you only took one out from the pile at a time. Those books were worth more than your life at this point, and you swore to yourself that you’d never lose them. But currently, the one book you were poring over wasn’t even yours. 

Eventually, you knew that the rent payments and college fees would catch up with you - especially considering your current lack of employment - but you had hoped that your bank account would hold out until after the final exams and until you could go job hunting in the summer break. As fate would have it, it was a little bitch, and you had no such luck. You had a few options before you had to start selling kidneys, but none of them seemed appealing and you simply just did not possess enough hours in the day. Of course, there was always one major expense on your debit card every month, but you weren't sure if you were ready to give that one up.

Turns out, you were perfectly content to use textbooks borrowed from the library and return them after the exams, as long as it meant that you didn’t have to stop going to the little cute coffee shop a few minutes off campus. You spent most days frequenting that cafe, sitting in the corner with your old laptop and the borrowed books, sipping on a coffee way too hot for your taste buds. Now, when you had called your best friend, asking for advice on what to do because you were about to lose your apartment, he had, of course offered the logical solution of - Stop spending so much money on coffee. 

But you had a dilemma. 

See, you told Minho that you studied in the corner of the cafe because the atmosphere was calm, it helped you focus, and to not buy a coffee would be incredibly rude, but he knows you very well. Too well, actually, it's quite terrifying sometimes. You definitely weren't going to the coffee shop to stare at the cute barista who had been working there for the past few months, that was definitely not why you were spending extra, unnecessary money on coffee. Or, that's what you tried to convince Minho of at least.

It wasn't a one sided infatuation though, and that was your saving grace in this situation. You'd been dropping into this specific cafe for about a year now, after trying all around the campus to find a decent cup of coffee that wasn't overloaded with sugar. Even before the barista boy had added himself into the mix, you knew that this was going to become a regular addiction, and his addition to the staff only cemented that fact. You really wish you had the guts to ask his name, because he already knows yours. However the universe worked, he always seemed to be working when you came in at random hours of the day, and he always seemed happy to take your order at the register. Give it a few weeks, and as soon as you entered the cafe through the small door, he was ringing up your coffee on the machines behind him. You were his “regular”, as the other staff members liked to tease him. 

Sometimes, when the cafe quiets down in the later hours of the evening, he’ll still be working and you’ll still be typing up that essay that was due in a few hours. He’ll put on some music from his phone, and put it into a small glass to amplify the sound so you could hear it. The first time he’d done it, he’d been constantly checking back at you to see if the volume was annoying you or if you were looking at him. To be honest, at first the music did distract you a little bit, but you were too enamoured with the way the boy danced quietly to the music as he cleaned down the tables to ask him to turn it off. 

Soon enough, most of the songs he played you had made their way onto your study playlist. You put your earbuds in and listened to the music as you studied in the cafe, and when the barista turned on his own playlist - only then would you remove them. He’d always catch you staring at him as the cafe began to empty, the unspoken question of “are you going to put your music on soon?”

You’d always turn bright red when he caught you staring, and look away so fast it should have given you whiplash. You figured that he never approached you about it because it was too awkward of a topic and you had made him feel too uncomfortable. The truth was, he did want to talk to you, but he had neither a reason nor the confidence to stroll up and strike a conversation. He had noticed that one of the textbooks you often dragged with you to the corner looked oddly familiar, but he guessed it was because he had taken that class as a junior last year, and shoved the thought to the back of his mind.

You were five or six cups of pure caffeine into the study session, and before you looked up you already could tell it was getting too dark for three pm. As you lifted your eyes from the screen in front of you for the first time in a while, and rolled your head back onto your shoulders, your wandering eyes caught sight of the time displayed on your laptop. Oh. Oh. The cafe is closed now. Had been for about twenty minutes. You turned your head quickly around the shop, looking for people and found no one. You wondered why no member of staff had come up to you yet asking you to kindly leave the building, but they all seemed to be preoccupied behind the kitchen doors. Seeing an ideal time for an unnoticed escape, you packed up all your things in record time, shoving them haphazardly into your bag and bolted out that door. The chime might have alerted the staff to someone leaving, but by the time anyone had made it to the front counter to see the door - you were long gone.

Pulling an all nighter was never a fun proposition, but you undertook the task more often than you’d like to admit. See, your reasoning behind that was Procrastination was key to a passing grade, and, yes, so far that certain theory hasn't failed you, but it was definitely taking a toll on your mental health. But, you dug your own grave, time to lie in it.

You take it back, you hate this. It's four am. What's the treble clef. Tchaikovsky is that you. All the notes are one big long line. Minho send assistance. 

Its official, university is going to kill you and tonight is the night you finally keel over. Rubbing your eyes you roll back the chair you've been curled up in and lift your arms to stretch over your head- 

Your hand hit something. Probably a pencil. Or that water bottle. You lifted one eyelid slowly, peering at the offending object. Oh the coffee mug, yeah that makes sense you don't drink water. The coffee mug that was now slowly pouring the cold brown liquid over the textbook that was open at the top of your desk. The textbook that you couldn’t afford to buy yourself because you were a broke college student and rent and living expenses took priority. 

It took a moment to register.

Oh no. oh christ, you had to return this back to the library in a few days - you couldn’t pay another late fee! The lady at the library desk really didn't like you, and always seemed to go out of her way to make you pay the full fee, despite you showing her your student ID multiple times. It was probably because you never returned books on time, but that was beside the point, isn't she meant to be understanding? You were a uni student for crying out loud, the stress. 

The point was, you had now completely destroyed a very, very expensive textbook that you didn’t have the money to replace - the words were bleeding into each other and slowly becoming illegible right before your eyes. The librarian was going to hang your head from the archway. You re-iterate, college was going to kill you. Just maybe, not in the way you expected.

Picking up the phone, you frantically press on the first contact you see.

“Minho?”

“Sup dumbass.”

“I’d bitch at you, but it's fitting for the situation, help me. Please.”

“... Who’s dead.”

“NO ONE’S DEAD I JUST- murdered a very expensive textbook that I don’t have the money to replace, and the librarian is signing my death warrant.”

Minho sucked in a breath from the other end of the phone. “Eesh y/n, you sure it wasn’t one of those loan-on-loan books from the last shelf?”

You press the phone between your shoulder and your ear, snagging the paper between your fingers and pulling the hard-bound book towards yourself. You pushed the pens and pencils out of your way and sent them scattering onto the floor in your haste, and flipped to the back of the cover to see the words On Student Loan.

“About that,” you mumbled, crumpling your head into your hands as the phone clattered to the desk beside you. You could hear Minho laughing on the other end, and you huffed to yourself. “I called you to give me advice, you horrible person, not to lauGH at my misery.”

“Okay okay I,” Minho tried to catch his breath, coughing slightly, “It's not the end of the world, is it? It's a Library book. Explain it to the lady at the desk, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Sure, Min. Thanks.”

“No problem, babes.”

“Ew no.”

“Whatever babes.”

You hung up the phone with a sigh, and let your head hit the desk again, before yelping as the wood left a red mark on your skin. It couldn’t have been just a normal library book? The universe has to hate you right now? No, instead it had to be one of those stupid textbooks that seniors lent to the library from past courses for the younger years to borrow. It was someone else’s book. That they had bought and studied from, and were expecting to get back from the library once the year was over. In the top corner of the stamp, the senior’s name who gave it to the library was printed - Bang Chan.

That was familiar, wasn’t it? You had heard that name being called out around somewhere, by a group of boys. You rattled your brain around, trying to think where you had heard that name before - you knew it sounded like you’d heard it before. In your lectures, on the roll? No, he was a senior and he wouldn’t be in any of your classes. Around on campus wouldn’t make any sense, you walked around with music on all the time, you couldn’t hear when people called your own name out, let alone anyone else’s. 

In the? Cafe? Possible. Very possible. Well, it's worth a shot, he could be a friend of someone who works there. 

What you planned to do once you had found this Bang Chan is beyond you, but you had a general idea of apologizing profusely, attempting to stutter out an explanation between that and tossing in a promise to repay him for destroying it but just not right then because you didn’t have money, hence why you can’t just buy your own textbook and not borrow ones from the library. Hopefully, he’d be a nice enough guy and won’t take your destruction of his music book to heart. Hopefully. 

So, come the next morning, you took one last long look at the destroyed pile of papers held together on your table - still waiting to wake up from this nightmare - and left your apartment with your bag swung over your shoulder. You locked the door behind you, and began the short walk into your first hour of lectures. 

You knew you couldn’t get to the cafe before two pm, but that didn’t stop you from checking the clock every few minutes to see if there was a chance you could dag out of the hall. Five past one turned into ten past two, and by the time your lecturer was finishing up her last slide you were already turning off your laptop and putting it away into your bag. 

Your heart was in your mouth as you walked slowly up to the cafe. You didn’t even know why you were so nervous, but you guessed it was just because of a guilty conscience. Pushing open the door slowly, you looked up from your shoes and instantly made eye contact with the one, the only. Barista boy. 

Great, this is going to be embarrassing. 

Swallowing your pride, and your slight disappointment that your first real conversation with the guy is going to be about looking to find another boy, you began to move up towards the counter where he was standing.

“Your usual?” He asked, with a small smile.

“I, uh. No actually, I was wondering. Do you know if - of, sorry, of. Do you know of a Bang Chan, by any chance? I think he studies music in my university.” Your hands were fumbling with each other in front of your hoodie.

The boy in front of you furrowed his brow slightly and tilted his head, stating “Present?”

Oh cool, you destroyed a cute barista boy’s textbook who is actually Chan, the guy you’ve been looking for is the guy you’ve been thirsting over. Great stuff. That's the end of you. Rip in pieces.

After that, you started blabbering out everything. Word vomit, and no stomach medication was stopping this. 

“Christ okay, this is gonna sound absolutely horrible, but did you lend one of your music theory textbooks to the library by any chance? Well, heh, of course you did, I have it and I was using it for a while - like for study not for anything else that would be weird - I’m a music major you see, and I - the textbooks are really expensive this year? And I just couldn't afford them with my rent as well but you obviously don’t care about that bit-”

He put up a hand to stop you, and you took a deep breath. Softly, he said, “Yeah, I remember I left some of my older textbooks in the library because I didn’t need them for notes anymore. Is there a problem with one of them?”

You stop. 

“Well, yes? Technically? But it's totally my fault - you see, a few night ago i kinda, totally on accident destroyed the book when I spilt coffee over it, and I’m so sorry, i really am and I promise I’ll find the money to repay you for the book, I just don’t have that kind of cash on me right now, I’m so sorry.”

Chan pursed his lips, looking at you with his head lifted up slightly. He chuckled softly. Oh boy he’s so mad, there went your chance at dating the cute barista boy, because newsflash he’s going to hate you for the rest of your life and, you looked again at his face. He was smiling now. The small lips had broken into a beaming smile that spread across his face like sunshine on a stupidly adorable field of flowers. 

“You know i've been waiting for a reason to talk to you for the last few weeks.”

His voice broke the rushing of your thoughts around your head, and you flipped your eyes up to meet his in shock.

“So now it kinda seems like you owe me a favour right?”

Words. Come on words.

“Uh, yeah i guess? I'll have the money for you as soon as possible. I promise I'm so sorry-” you stammered out, clearly confused by the situation but still extremely grateful that he was taking the news of his mutilated music book so well.

“It's okay! Seriously, I never used that thing anyway. But instead of paying me back for the book, how about we say you just - owe me a favour?”

Your bank account screamed at you to say yes, so you did.

“Uh, sure?”

When you said you'd owe him a favor, this isn’t what you had meant. 

“CHAN I'M GOING TO KILL YOU.”

He only laughs at your threats, running around the back of the sofa and tossing a pillow at your face to block your view. You bat it away in frustration, rejoining the chase, and your socks skid on the wooden flooring as you slide around the furniture in pursuit of your assailant. Chan runs into the bedroom and closes the door, you hot on his heels and you reach the door seconds after it clicks shut. As you slam open the door, and skid into the room, you stop in your tracks. You survey your surroundings, looking for any indication of where the menace could be hiding. The curtains twitch from the wind coming through the open window, and you shift your stance to face the billowing fabric. When your guard is down, he takes his chance. 

With a strangled battle cry, Chan leaps out from behind the door and tackles you down in one swift movement. You fall with an ungraceful yelp onto your bedsheets, banging your knee on the foot of the bed as you tumble into a heap. You land on your back, the breath knocked out of you as Chan sits triumphantly atop your legs, pinning them down. He smiles down at you like the angel that he is. 

Staring amusedly back up at him, you jerk your uninjured knee, flipping the two of you over so you were on top and he was staring up at you. You tilt your head, and smile at him like he had smiled at you, and the two of you break out into laughter.

“You made me hurt my knee.”

“I didn't make you do anything.”

“Wow, such care. Such emotion. Much love. Not even an offer to kiss it better.”

“I think i have a better idea.”

 Yeah, maybe this wasn't exactly what you had in mind, but by god, was it a million times better.

You still had that library book by the way. It was sitting underneath your desk, caffeine stains and all.

[authorized-trash]

To Tie A Knot: Chapter Two: Fate's Folly

Trigger Warnings:

Sympathetic Deceit, Self Hate, Anxiety Disorder, Minor Death, Sickness, Unconsciousness, Mentions of Hospitals, mild language, if I missed any tell me!

Chapter Summary:

Fate made one very welcome mistake when it brought these four together. (Aka- Roman is a stuttering mess, and Logan is a smart cookie)

Word Count: 2,200+

Note: Wow I actually wrote this, good job me! I didn't plan on the next chapter coming out so fast, but hey, I didn't want to forget the good ideas I had for it. Thank you all, so, so much for the support. It really just means the entire world to me, honestly.

---

Logan had known he was different for a very long time.

Everything about him was strange. The way he spoke, the way he never slouched, the way he could do incredibly large problems in his head with ease. Even the way he interacted with others was weird.

You would think most people would find him strange for those reasons, but no. Actually, they pointed out something different entirely.

While a fatestring could not be seen by anyone other than the two connected by it, they did infact cast a shadow. It was the oddest thing, no one could explain it, but they did.

So when people would go to shake the young man's hand and saw the three strings that traveled with his hand through shadow, they were taken aback. It was unnatural. Wrong.

They'd rush away without much else to say, or force a smile and slowly back off.

Logan knew he was strange, he knew that the three strings did nothing to help that, but he couldn't find anything in him to care.

He couldn't change anything if he wanted to anyway.

~

Roman was... Extra, to say the least. He was a loud young man with an eye for theater. He was an actor, set on becoming a Broadway or Hollywood star.

He never minded the looks people gave him, the way his three fatestrings brought attention to him. He loved the attention, basked in it. Loved it like a snake loves the sun.

"Why of course I have three! The universe would never stick someone like me with only one person, it'd be overwhelming! Poor thing would faint," he had announced one day, his voice dramatic. The others just snickered, what a weirdo.

Roman would spend his evenings singing Disney songs while he tidied his room, or gently tapping rythms to Baby Blue, one of the strings. You see, he had given them all nicknames based on color. Baby Blue, Navy, and Violet. He loved them all dearly, despite not knowing much about any of them.

He did know this.

Navy tapped rhythmically, slow and steady. They seemed collected. Evidence for that? Eh, not much, but Roman could just feel it. Baby Blue was bubbly, and would tap songs along with the actor. Baby Blue seemed nice and happy, bubbly.

Violet didn't talk much. He'd get a tug from his side every once in awhile, but other than that, nothing. It'd tremor sometimes though, as if V was trembling. Roman was quick to act, running a finger along the string to send vibrations. He hoped the others were doing something similar.

~

Patton was an exciting ball of pure joy. The soft male would wear skirts whenever he damn well pleased, tied his ashy hair in pony tails, spun in circles until he fell down in the park, made flower crowns, and fed ducks grain because he knew bread was bad for them.

He was just an amazing person overall.

His eyes were a soft blue behind thick rimmed glasses, his face covered in freckles. He always seemed to smile, showing off the small gap in his front teeth.

He helped his mother in a small bakery, near the towns college. They got good enough business, and one day Patton was supposed to inherit the place.

The steady income was promising, so the twenty-one year old didn't have to worry about college. They weren't poor, but they also couldn't afford something like that.

Oh well, he'd just have to continue living life to it's fullest, and looking for his three soulmates.

Yep, three! He was so proud of them, despite not knowing much about them. He knew NB was calm, R was anything but, and V was different.

Patton was sure he'd love them unconditionally, he only hoped they'd show him the same.

~

Virgil hated everything about this damn place. From the cold walls to the high windows, this whole place was just genuinely unwelcoming and scary.

Virgil had an anxiety disorder, so everything had him on edge. He had to wait in a lecture hall before leaving so the halls would be clear, and then sneak out.

Anyone who didn't know him would say he was emo. Anyone who did know him could confirm that.

He had a very dark wardrobe, the only colors other than dark blacks were variations of purple. His trademark jacket he's had for years, he made it himself, was black with purple patchwork.

He wore minimal makeup, normally just going out in eyeshadow and eyeliner. He didn't like color, made him stick out too much.

School was Hell. All that occurred was bullying and anxiety. The students of the college didn't take too kindly to someone as different as him, someone with three soulmates.

Virgil used to think he was alone, even if he did have soulmates out there somewhere, who could love him? He honestly thought that they would probably never even attempt to like him, they probably hated the fact they had more than on soulmate.

Actually, now that he thought about it, did they even share soulmates? Was Virgil just doomed to be attached to three people who had no connections to eachother? How would this even begin to work, how would he ever be able to deal with it?

Thoughts like this tormented him everyday, all the way until he met his first soulmate, Red.

~

>Two years prior<

It had been a decently normal day, the sky bright and full of fluffy, white clouds. Virgil leaned against a large oaktree somewhere at the edge of the college campus, nodding his head along to some music discreetly. He messed around on Tumblr for a bit, before sighing and looking up at the students that walked around.

At first he didn't pay much mind to the string that stretched out towards crowd, he was used to his fatestrings moving and stretching out. They never caught on anything, it was impossible.

But then he noticed how it moved. The red string was moving quickly across the field, so either his soulmate was moving extremely fast, or they were... Right there.

A male ran through the crowd, going opposite Virgil, obviously not seeing the string, which was very obviously connected to them both.

Virgil's heart skipped, and he stood up, shoving his phone in his pocket and pulling his headphones to his neck. He took off, running for the soulmate that was connected to him through the red string.

Virgil ran, all anxiety forgotten, the pull of a soulmate too strong to ignore. He ran, his converse loud against the asphalt path.

"Hey! Wait!" He shouted, shoving past people who began to move to the side. The other must be in a rush, for he didn't stop or wait.

He had a red sports jacket on, and white pants. An odd choice of clothing, but he was most likely a prep of some sort. Either way, Virgil just had to catch up.

"Stop!" Virgil shouted, losing Red in the crowd. He continued running, but slowed down a bit. There was just no way-

No, you know what-

Virgil yanked, as hard and as fast as he could on the red string. He felt it tug, the distance now so small there was no slack. He saw Red now, who had stumbled back and dropped his papers.

Red looked down at his string, following it with his eyes until-

They made eye contact. Red's eyes widened and Virgil suddenly felt his anxiety pooling back through him, an illness that refused to be forgotten.

He pushed it back, walking forward to pick of Red's papers. He stacked them nicely together, before standing up and coming face to face with the soulmate, who was still in shock.

He gently placed the papers in Red's hands,

"You'll need these. Don't be late to your rehearsal," Virgil muttered, noting that the papers were scripts.

"I- well uh-" Red stuttered, looking from the papers to Virgil, who just laughed.

"It's Virgil," He said, giving the actor a dumb smile. He got an idea suddenly, picking out a pen from his pocket. Normally he'd be embarrassed that he just whipped out a glitter pen, but honestly, he was an artist and it was a useful tool. Besides, no time to dwell now.

Virgil scribbled down his number on Red's hand, his touch feather-light, ghosting on his tan skin.

×××-×××-××××

~ Virgil

He smiled at Red, before running off, disappearing. Red was left to stand there, staring at the number written in glittery ink. Oh God- wow okay- he- oof.

~

Patton loved his soulmates, he really did, but holy shit was this beginning to annoy the pastel young man.

Navy had been tapping for hours nonstop, constantly. The same pattern, over and over and over. Patton couldn't take it, he had to study, he had to, but how would he ever with this nonstop tap tap tap tap tap-

Wait, Navy never did this, he only tapped when Patton tapped first, or sometimes at night, probably by accident. Maybe there was something wrong, maybe Patton should try to help.

So he sat down at his desk, and tapped three times back. Navy seemed to stop, before starting again, this time harder with more vigor.

Tap tap tap tap... Tap... Tap hold tap tap...

And some more was added to the sequence, before it starting over. Patton furrowed his brow, he'd heard of something like this, maybe-

'Oh my goodness,' Patton thought as realization hit him like a truck, 'It's Morse code.'

He rushed to grab a pencil, knocking over a vase of flowers in the process. He didn't even look for paper, just waited for the next sequence and scribbled down what he heard.

.... . .-.. .-.. --- / .. .----. -.. / .-.. .. -.- . / - --- / ..-. .. -. -.. / -.-- --- ..-

He tapped back happily, but he didn't think Navy understood that he knew, as the soulmate just started tapping ferociously, as if frustrated.

Patton ran to grab a laptop, haphazardly throwing it onto the bed and jumping up beside it. He looked up a Morse code translator and typed it in.

"Hello, I'd like to find you."

His heart stopped beating for a moment. Patton didn't know what to think, but he did know what to do.

He typed in a message in English, and tapped back,

.. / .-- .- -. - / - --- / -- . . - / .-- .... . .-. . / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..-

"I want to meet where are you?"

Simple and not super well thought out, but hey, it worked. Navy stopped tapping, realizing what was happening. They gave a small yank, and Patton repeated himself.

They tapped back and forth for a few more hours, simple messages. They'd meet in the park, it turned out that they both lived close.

Oh, he couldn't wait!

~

Roman felt like screaming, he met his soulmate, got his number, and was going to meet him! They'd be going to the park together for a little first date, to discuss the other two strings.

He was so excited, he just couldn't help it. Oh how fate had blessed him, Violet, or Virgil it turned out, was just stunning! Messy brown hair died purple at the ends, a jacket that seemed to be fluffy and comfortable, oh, how Roman wanted to just hold the smaller male, oh how he'd-

'Woah there Roman, you're making your own gaydar go off,' He thought to himself as he stared up at the ceiling. He had twirled until he couldn't no more, falling backwards onto his nice red blankets fit for a king.

Oh, but what a day it would be!

•••

>Present Day<

Remy didn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't this.

When Damian didn't return his calls, he expected to find the male asleep, or out somewhere to eat. Perhaps with a lost phone.

But no, instead, he and Emile had stumbled upon something even worse.

Damian's small body was shrunk in on itself, knees tightly to his chest. He was curled in a corner by his TV and wall, a small bit of dried blood on his cheek where he had hit his head, the blood dripping down his face.

The circles under his eyes were dark, his skin sallow. His hair was a mess, and he was sweating slightly, as if he were feverish.

His eyes were open slightly, but he didn't seem to be very conscious. His eyes lazily followed the two soulmates as they rushed over to him.

"Dee, babe, are you alright? What happened?" Remy asked, putting the back of his hand to Damian's forehead. It was practically steaming.

"I'll- I'll go get an ambulance," Emile said as he stood up, running into another room to look for a phone, he'd left his at Remy's place.

Remy looked Damian over, he didn't seem to be very hurt, only sick. What could have caused this? What-

He saw Damian's arm convulse a bit, and the boy whimpered, curling further in on himself. Remy's eyes softened in pity, and he went to help Dee up.

The smaller of the two gladly leaned into Remy's cooler touch, thankful to get out of that corner. He was picked up into a princess' carry, his head falling weakly onto Remy's shoulder.

Emile came back in, stating an ambulance was on it's way and to get him outside where it was easy to collect him and take him to the hospital. Remy nodded,

"Turn on the lamp, I can't see," He said softly, as if loud noises would scare the half-conscious young man in his arms.

Emile didn't hesitate to turn it on, but the moment he did, he gasped in horror. His gaze fell onto the wall behind Remy.

Remy turned slowly, and he had to hold on to Dee a little tighter so not to drop him.

The shadow- his fatestring- was-

It was dangling uselessly from his hand, severed.

Taglist:

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More tags in the reblog, I've spent an hour redoing these because they keep messing up lol-

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

Oh, great HEAVENS and HELLS and All the Skies ABOVE!

I sang my heart out. And I actually really LIKED the way my voice is sounding! I’ve been teaching myself to sing with More Emphasis on Where Notes Change (cleaning up my pitch especially), but ALSO a lot on EXPRESSION. Bright and happy, warm crescendos for a Happy Moment, and the longer, smoother lullaby sort of legato for the sadder, dismal songs. Sweeter note swings for adoration and mournful keening in a song of loss. I’m learning how to stay not only On Key, but how to Adjust my Tones within that pitch to express more emotion!

And I’m learning, mind you I’m using technical training I received in choir and show choir and senior choir and music theory classes, I’m learning the difference between Purely Scientific Breath Support, and a PASSIONATE all-in huff of the diaphragm!! Theoretically I knew how to RECOGNIZE it, but actually capturing that Feeling was something I always struggled with.

I’ve done a lot of work in the past few years to Unlock my Emotions. I’m getting better at letting them out into the world verbally, and I’m getting better at doing that vocally as well.

Something magical happened. Long story short? Someone enthusiastically, sincerely, 100% honestly COMPLIMENTED my singing!

Last week, Wednesday I think?, I had gone out for a walk. I intended it to take 45 minutes, maybe an hour. Just, enough to get some exercise. But as I was walking, I was singing. And I found something in myself, I can’t quite put a name to it. But that fear of others hearing me? It just.... wasn’t there, as anything more than the faintest shadow faded by the bright light of... some kind of CONFIDENCE!

Now, mind you, I was singing along to songs from Tarja’s Into the Raw album, which I only half-know. (I’m learning them quickly, but I don’t listen to music as much as I used to... hmm. I think I’m in the midst of changing that, actually.) But my point is, I haven’t listened to it many times (Serene aside), and I have sung it even fewer. I wasn’t entirely certain where all of the notes fall, the keys change. But I was singing along as best I could. Not quite a full-on belt, but a sweet lullaby sort of singing to myself, really.

I introduced her to Ghost Love Score. Which she wound up ENJOYING! Hahaaaa, score one for the symphonic metal group. 

So between her and the other neighbor listening with her, I found out that I have to look into Electric Light Orchestra and Mannheim Steamroller, both of which are names I’ve seen, but not musicians I’ve heard. (I still have to give them a listen, whoops. Tomorrow, maybe...)

Anyways, singing came up, turns out she’s quite a trained singer, and I said I could sing this song, if she liked. So I started singing along a bit. Conversation drifted and it petered out; I wasn’t positioned so they could hear me very well over the speakers, anyways. But she did say I have a nice voice.

At some point she decided to sing a karaoke song. No, sing isn’t right-- she PERFORMED it!

I forget exactly what I said; she performed it so WELL, and I gushed With Specific Things I Loved (as I tend to do because it’s good to let people know Exactly What You Noticed), and she said something like “You know something about music!” And we started talking about our choir experiences, the music in our lives. And at one point, she decided she had to play something for me to sing.

So I requested the song I’d been working on, Serene. And she played it. And I sang.

I sang my HEART out! Despite being a bit out of breath from walking uphill (and a few of my notes slipping Too High), and missing a couple lines, I had the capacity to PUSH for those soprano notes, and softened for the bridge, I was swaying, my head dancing a bit, and I was SMILING so, so much! I sang with PASSION, with DELIGHT, and my voice came out so WELL! It sounded like ME, not Tarja or Simone or Floor or Dianne, but ME! Fully ME.

Her response? “I have to get a mic behind you.” She said she loved that my voice had that opera quality, and though I know I’m no classically-trained opera singer, it was just so REFRESHING and RELIEVING and ENERGIZING to hear someone that actually APPRECIATES that!

I’ve spent so many years living with a family that called my music “that crap”, that told me not to sing, that made fun of me for singing with the opera-influenced style that I think brings out the best in my voice. The one year I was with my mother, she was never home, so I was often singing to myself... Sure, in the time I’ve been back with them, both of my younger siblings have complimented my voice. My little brother said he could sing as well as me, and my little sister has told me she likes hearing my voice when I’m singing. But it’s hard to let two little positive comments . After she called Within Temptation “crap”, and got angry that I played it while cleaning, I started wearing headphones, but I still sang along. At least, I did until she berated me for using headphones while I was doing the dishes, because “The whole point of headphones is to not hear the music”. When I would be on the long drive to visit my mother with my siblings, my oldest younger sister would often snap at me to stop singing along with whatever I was listening to. When you’re young and self-conscious, little things like, peppered constantly over your life, that destroy your confidence.

But especially through working with my mother and my organization, I’ve been getting that confidence back, and finding my voice. Quite literally, I’ve used my actual speaking voice more in the past three years than I probably have my entire LIFE. Talking with my siblings, talking with my mentors, voice-chatting with friends... Just, gaining strength in my actual vocal muscles that I never had before. My speaking voice has changed DRAMATICALLY; it used to be higher, further forward, and a whole lot less steady. Certainly less expressive of anything but an underlying sense of worry or tension or questioning or dead cynicism.

So what I’m trying to say is, hearing someone so DELIGHTED by my singing, actually WANT to magnify my voice, just to hear me “free my soul”, which she said exactly because I was a touch hesitant, telling her I wasn’t really warmed up so it might not sound “as good”, but she was adamant that I so it. And I’m so, so glad she was so determined. So reassuring. So delighted!

Employing gloves I’ve been carrying and a separate microphone, she pulled up a karaoke version of Whisper for me to sing. I didn’t perform that one quite as well as Serene, for some reason? Though I NAILED a few of the notes, and I absolutely KILLED the soaring vocalizations after Certain Choruses (the one right before the guitar solo, and the ones in the final verses of the song that I added Some Personal Flair to because I just FELT it). It took me awhile to find My Voice in that song; I think it’s the key, I don’t do nearly as well with alto notes.

Although I seem to have found my “chest voice” with SOME kind of strength tonight, whew! That’s another thing I’ve been working on; I sing quite well in the s2 range, and I can go quite high and still sound refined, but once we start sinking into the alto ranges, I start having trouble with pitch and projection.

But anyways, we talked quite a bit after that, I wound up making a friend, and my confidence in my voice is now shining brighter than ever. I can’t express how much of a gift it is to have someone who’s far more educated in music than me (in a musical profession!) say that she LOVED my VOICE, even though the operatic style isn’t exactly “in style”, you know? It was AMAZING. She said I was welcome to karaoke party with her any time, and she walked me home. 

So tonight, even though it was 1 and 2 and 3 a.m, I sang to the fullest extent of my abilities. The first song I sang was Ghost Love Score, and at first I was timidly shying away from Going All Out because Wow Some of Those Notes are High and require a LOUD and POWERFUL voice to prettify! But by 3 songs in, I was like “FUCK it, it’s my BIRTHDAY, this is my treat to myself, and if they’re awake to hear it, that’s their problem.” 

So I sang the FUCK out of Phantom of the Opera, Sancta Terra, Sound of Silence, Over the Hills and Far Away, Bless the Child, Supremacy, Paradise (What About Us), and Serene, just to round off another triumphant session of singing.~

Difficult ranges and notes that swan-dive and slides and staccato exhalations I struggled most with, but for the most part? Oh my stars. I was SO PROUD of my voice! (The first few videos I was watching were vocal coaches reacting to my singing idols, and some of the things she said? Even if I don’t know exactly where the larynx is, the stuff about the soft palate and note slides and starting high notes strongly... I’ve got some of it down! And it’s quite a glowy feeling when a professional singer compliments a sound that you just made Very Successfully.

I can’t claim I sounded as good as Tarja or Simone; of course not! There were plenty of places I added my own style. My notes aren’t as clean or QUITE so strong in some places. But there were also places I absolutely SHINED, and I would actually be flattered to find out someone heard me tomorrow, because that means I’m really getting good at projecting a strong, solid sound!!

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

His Smile Will Keep You Safe - Chapter Four

Warnings: stalking (?), harassment, angry Dallon (if that counts)

Word Count: 5 101

The following days much resembled the past day. Usually you travelled during the night, which allowed enough time during the day to prepare the venue. While the others helped installing the electronics, taped cables to the stage, or tuned instruments, you sat at your laptop, and dug through heaps and heaps of pictures you had taken. Lucas was fascinated by how many good shots you had taken, and after every concert he made you post three or four of the best ones on social media for the band.

You were unfamiliar with managing a band’s Instagram page, but you quickly learned to imitate the words of whoever had posted the previous tour photos. Sometimes posts appeared that you had not made, and since they were signed off with Dallon, and sometimes Ryan, you assumed the two musicians also had access to the page, and sometimes liked to share experiences on there.

The fourth concert on tour was a festival. The band played in the afternoon, which gave you the rare opportunity of taking pictures in the daylight. Also the stage was so big, that Lucas suggested you should work from the stage, which opened a whole new, and yet unexplored range of angles from which you were able to document the two artists.

Almost a week into the tour, you still had not managed to find a proper explanation for the emotions that had sparked inside your chest when you had first seen Ryan play. It still threw you off every time he as much as smiled at you with his beautiful smile; and your heart grew at the sight.

Between shows and during meals and literally whenever he had a free moment, he came over to where you were, and started talking to you. It was not obtrusive, in the contrary. You enjoyed his company, and he always gave you the feeling of being safe around him. Maybe that was connected to how he had interrupted Lars and you on the very first day of tour, you were not sure, but even if Ryan was not paying you company just so Lars would leave you alone, he was comfortable to be around. He had a way of asking questions and striking up conversations without making it too personal.

In fact, he had never really asked you any personal question since he had asked if Lars and you had history. You appreciated that. It did not feel right to share your heart and soul with anyone on the tour bus yet, and Ryan seemed to understand. And while you got to know each other merely by talking about random things that came to mind, you found yourself admiring the drummer more and more.

It was crazy, because it had just been one week that you knew him, but he drew you in. Of course he was not bad to look at; his dark eyes held warmth you could not explain, his blue hair was soft looking, his smile lit up the darkest rooms.

But it was not just his looks, or his behaviour. It was undeniable that you felt special every time he held a door open for you, or smiled so triumphantly into your camera when he noticed you taking pictures. It was not only that, but what you would have described as the atmosphere around him. It was like the air surrounding him was cleaner, fresher, comfortably warm, and everything felt safe when he was close. He radiated peace, and yet he got so bubbly and cheerful at times that it made you laugh gleefully at his enthusiasm. You two clicked, and it was like both of you had silently agreed on keeping each other close.

While your fondness of Ryan grew from day to day, hell, hour to hour, the same could hardly be said about how you felt about Lars. The technician had left you alone after the first concert, just as you had told him to, and for two blissful days you had hoped it would never change, but it did.

It started out with him standing by your bunk every morning, causing you to almost getting a heart attack of the unpleasant kind as soon as you had sat up. He constantly tried to guilt trip you into spending time with him, or worse, into touching him.

He brought coffee, which in itself would have been nice if you had not told him several times that you had stopped drinking coffee because the caffeine made you jittery.

He constantly tried to get you food, which also would have been nice, but you preferred getting the food yourself.

He asked if you could help him with the electronics, which was in itself bullshit, because no matter how good you were at photographing, you had not the faintest clue about the technology needed to light up a stage.

Every time he got the chance, he tried to trap you in a room with him, and so far you had only escaped by pure luck.

You were thankful for every second Ryan was by your side because Lars did not dare approaching you while Ryan was around.

And while all the physical advances by Lars made you want to scream, the words made you feel not better in the slightest. It started out with the usual pic up lines, which you waved off, ignored, or answered in the most negative ways imaginable.

Then the innuendos started. They made you feel uncomfortable, and the mere thought that you once had shared the bed with a man who was now trying to pressure someone, you, into an intimate relationship like this made you angry beyond words. And it made you feel sick. It was not like you had not told him to leave you alone. You had lost count of how many times you had told him phrases like “I am not interested in you”, “Leave me alone”, “I don’t want you to touch me”, or “I don’t want your attention”.

And by now even the rest of the crew had started to notice that something was going on. You had the definite feeling that Lars hoped to use them indirectly as a weapon against you, as if you would stop speaking up against him if they were around.

But you knew this game.

He had done exactly this before. He had stopped you from ending things with him after you had found out he had cheated the first time, by making you afraid of what the other people might think.

“You don’t want to seem ungrateful for having a boyfriend,” he had said, and you still felt your stomach acid bubble up when you remembered how he had guilt tripped you into staying with him.

And having a mental illness that already made you believe everyone hated you and that you were worth nothing had only made it easier for him.

But not anymore. You were your own person. If the others thought you were being ungrateful, then that was their problem, not yours. It was not your job to please anybody. Your job was to take pictures. And that was all. You had rights, including the right of choosing who was allowed to touch you, and now, years after the terror Lars had put you through, you knew of these rights, and were prepared to make use of them.

But after the first week things escalated.

The show, this night in Washington DC, had ended, and you were sitting backstage on your own. The opening band was at the merch table, signing autographs, and Ryan and Dallon were both in the showers, while Bill and Lucas were packing up the things on stage.

You were sitting on a table in the changing room backstage, legs crossed, elbows resting on your knees while you clicked through the camera, and looked at the pictures you had taken during the day. You had started feeling comfortable round the crew so that you often just took random snaps on the bus or during sound check.

You liked taking pictures of Ryan the most. The way his hair fell into his face, his dark eyes his pink lips, all of these attributes made it addicting to capture him. You loved playing with the light that fell onto his features, how his hair sometimes covered half of his face in shadow, or how golden sunlight made his eyes glow in the warm colour of orange amber.

And when he caught you taking these pictures, he smiled.

He smiled so widely, that you thought it could never fade of his face again. His eyes squeezed together adorably, the skin around them crinkling joyfully while dimples appeared in his cheeks, which made him even cuter.

Not that you said any of these things out loud, you did not even allow yourself thinking them most of the time, but that did not stop you from taking these pictures.

Now, sitting on this table backstage while the chatter of happy fans sounded from outside, and the running water from the showers created a pleasant background noise, you looked through these pictures, realizing you had almost taken fifty in a row of Ryan on the bus today.

Shaking your head with a fond smile, you continued clicking to the next picture as the door to the stage opened. Out of reflex you looked up, and sighed when you saw that it was Lars who had entered. That he closed the door behind him was no good sign.

“Hello my love,” he cooed, making a cold shiver run down your spine.

“Not your love,” you replied immediately before looking back to your camera.

You still hoped that ignoring him would make him realize that you wanted nothing to do with his manipulating ass, but deep inside a part of you knew that it did not work like that.

“Did you take many sweet snaps of me,” he asked, approaching you now.

You felt your heart speed up, and adrenaline started being released into your body, preparing you for defence, which inevitably was going to be necessary. Not answering, you turned your camera off, but kept it in your hands, as suddenly Lars appeared in your line of vision. His fists slammed down on the table on either side of you, caging you, his face mere inches away from yours.

“I don’t like the way you keep ignoring me, doll,” he hissed, grabbing your chin with one hand painfully.

“Don’t touch me,” you screamed, and with all the force you could muster, you pushed him away from you, giving you enough space to jump of the table.

Within a split second he had run forwards again, and was about to either grab you, or hurt you, but you, in complete panic, screamed again.

“Don’t touch me, don’t touch me! Leave me alone,” your voice was so loud that it cracked and it was painful in your ears, and seemingly in his too, because he stopped and held the palms of his hands over his ears. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

The adrenaline that thankfully was already full on flooding through your body, made it possible for you to sprint to the door, and tear it open, just as Dallon, very wet, just holding a towel in front of his body poked his head out of one of the bathrooms.

“What’s going on in here,” he asked, is voice dangerously low, as if he was warning Lars not to move an inch.

You barely noticed the bassist though, because you had already stumbled outside. Your camera, hanging on your side by the strap around your neck and one shoulder, crashing into your back with every second step you took, but you did not care. Your feet carried you away and away from the room where Lars had threatened you, and bursting through a couple of doors, you soon found yourself curled into the tiniest ball in a corner of your bunk bed.

The curtains to your bed were drawn, only a tiny gap allowing you to keep an eye on the door of the department. Shaking terribly you had covered yourself with your blanket so on first glance it would look like it was only your blanket thrown in the corner of the bunk. Your heart was beating so fast that you feared you would faint, and it hurt, feeling it crash against your chest repeatedly.

You knew you should not feel tired, but you did, and tears started welling up in your eyes. So you crawled deeper into the corner, curled tighter together, the camera pressing into your hip uncomfortably, and you tried to sob as quietly as possible, just to make no sound whatsoever.

You heard the voices outside, the trunk got opened and closed, and the door to the bus was used several times, but no one came into the bunk area. You were still shaking, silent tears running over your cheeks, as suddenly the handle of the door moved, and a moment later a thin beam of orange light peeked into the room. Someone, who was taller than you, slipped in, and immediately closed the door again.

Alarmed you held your breath, scared that Lars had found you now, and while all the others were busy, he would take his revenge. Instead the familiar voice of another man quietly called your name. It felt like big chains were falling off your heart as you recognised Ryan’s voice, and quickly you croaked an answer. A second later the curtain at your bed was pushed aside.

“You in here,” he asked.

His voice was very quiet, calm, but sounded relieved, as if he had been looking for you.

“Yes,” you answered; your voice was wet with tears, and raspy from crying.

Reaching his hand for the switch of the small lamp that was installed in all the bunks, Ryan turned on the light. His eyes flickered over the matrass until he spotted your eyes blinking out from underneath the blanket in the corner.

“What happened,” he asked, moving along the bunk, the curtain falling over his back so if anybody entered the room they could not see you.

He was not asking if you were okay, because it was obvious that you were not.

“I-“

You hesitated. No matter how badly you wanted Ryan to understand what was going on, why you were so scared of spending time alone, you did not feel like going through the events back in the venue again.

Ryan seemed to understand, so he nodded, and quickly stepped to the door.

“She’s in here, we can go,” he announced.

Then he closed the door again, and came back to your bed. Once again he slipped under the curtain, his arms resting on the edge of your matrass, and he lay his chin down on his forearms.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, you know,” he finally spoke, “but if you want to, I’m here to listen to you, I promise. And I won’t tell anyone what happened. Okay?”

You nodded, still buried deeply in your blanket.

Carefully Ryan reached out a hand, and pulled a corner of the blanket away, revealing your knee, which he patted gently. The small contact between Ryan’s hand and your trousers made you shiver comfortably, and some of the tension fell away, making you relax finally.

“Are you scared of someone,” he asked.

You knew that while he had refrained from asking too personal questions during the past week, he ached to help you.

Quietly you nodded.

“Someone on the bus?”

Another nod.

For a moment he seemed to be considering something, biting his lip. The motor of the bus turned on, and seconds after the huge vehicle started moving.

“If you need anything, you know you can always talk to me, right,” he finally said, obviously having pushed whatever he had been thinking about earlier, out of his mind.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

Ryan gave you a sweet smile, and dove out from under the curtain. Judging from the sounds that followed he had climbed into his own bed underneath yours and pulled the curtain closed. You had no idea for how long you had been curled into this tiny ball, your eyes still fixed on the door to the living area, before you fell asleep, chased by nightmares.

~*~

Unbeknownst to you, Dallon had had a talk with Lars. He had heard your cries in the room backstage, and when he saw you escape the way you did, he felt a rage bubble up in his stomach he had never felt before. He had immediately guessed that Lars had tried to force something you did not like, and being the father of a girl himself, the mere thought of anyone touching his daughter, even if she would be in her mid-twenties, ignited white burning rage.

Even though he had not been dressed in anything but a towel, he had warned Lars to stay away from you, and by the intimidated expression on the technician’s face, he assumed Lars had understood the warning.

Later he had asked Ryan to check on you, not disclosing the whole truth, only mentioning that you had seemed upset.

After Ryan had crawled into his own bed, he could not stop thinking about what could have happened. He liked you, a lot. He adored the way you always spoke your mind, and how you were so passionate about your work. Seeing you so scared and upset him, made his heart break.

But he knew that pushing you to tell him anything would only cause you to shut yourself off, so he had to wait until you decided to tell him yourself. He wanted to help you so badly, hold you and tell you that he would keep you safe, but he was not sure if you would allow him to, and he was bad at handling rejections. He knew he would cut himself off from everyone should you deny him to help you, so he did not risk it, not yet at least. And so he stayed awake, always keeping his eyes fixed on the gap in his curtain, making sure nobody would approach your bed.

~*~

The following days were hard for you. Every second you were scared you would be left alone and Lars would try to get to you again. Dallon made sure he was always close by, but you did not know that, and even though Ryan did not know who exactly had scared you so much, he too made sure never to be too far away.

During the shows you stayed in the area that was shielded by security, and during the days, when everyone was working, you were always sitting in the bus together with the bands, or you locked yourself in one of the tiny bathrooms until you were sure somebody other than Lars was on the bus with you.

Being in a state of constant alarm was exhausting, and you found yourself waking up in cold sweat from nightmares.

All of this went on for four days without further incidents, and then, all of a sudden, in just one moment of distraction, you found yourself alone on the bus.

You were sitting on one of the sofas, laptop on your knees. It was late at night, one of the nights in which you were traveling, and Bill had stopped at a gas station, where everyone had decided to get dinner. When Ryan had asked you if you wanted to join, you had said that you just wanted to finish going through these pictures real quickly and would join them in a minute. Now this minute had stretched in almost ten minutes, and suddenly the handle of the door toggled.

You did not look up, until the person was standing right in front of you. Their shins were almost touching your knees, and you had to put your head into your neck to be able to see their face. Recognizing Lars, you flinched and automatically leant away from him. Every cell in your body was disgusted at the mere thought of his touch.

“Could you please take a step back, I feel uncomfortable,” you asked as politely as possible, but he only shuffled closer.

You tried to pull your legs away, but he had already leant down, his hands pressing against the back rest on both sides of your shoulders, his face right in front of you.

“I think you haven’t understood what it means to be mine,” he whispered.

His breath smelled badly, like rotten meat, and you wondered how you had never noticed before.

“I’m not yours,” you spit, refusing to be intimidated by him, even though his physical presence alone was far more impressive than yours.

You had no clue what the best tactics were to get out of this situation. Play along and then run when least expected? Attack? Argue?

“You were, and you ran away, but only to come back to me once more. We’re destined to be together, how can’t you see that,” he asked, his mouth brushing along your ear, causing you to whimper in disgust.

“Leave me alone,” you begged, but he only shook his head.

“We are one,” he mumbled, “we belong together. You know that. Why can’t you admit it?”

He was looking at you again, his eyes flickering closed as he lowered his head to kiss you. Using the moment, you pushed him off of you, not with your arms as you had done last time, but with your feet which you had pulled up on the sofa. With full force you pressed your feet into his stomach and pushed him off, using the back rest to stabilize yourself. Unluckily he was not as surprised by your attack as you had hoped.

Instead he had you cornered against the wall the same second you had jumped up to run. In a desperate act you tried to punch him but within a split second he had pinned your arms over your head against the wall, holding you so tightly that you were sure it would leave bruises.

Panic washed over you, wave after wave after wave. Your heart was pumping in your chest, screaming and beating against your ribcage, and you did the same against his restraints. You struggled and scream with as much air as you were able to get into your lungs. Blood was rushing in your ears, and you did not know if it was from fear or because you were about to pass out. But either way, you would not go down without a fight.

Still screaming as loud as you could, you prepared to bite whatever came close enough to your face, and you would take no pity, even if it would be his nose.

But before Lars was able to do anything more, the door flew open, crashing into the wall, and he got pulled off of you. Not even looking up at who had come to your rescue, you scrambled away as far as possible from your offender, who got pushed against the wall of the driver’s cabin.

Now, with growing distance, you recognized the mess of hair that belonged to Dallon. He had pinned the shorter male against the door, pressing his lower arm against Lars’ throat to keep him in check. You could not understand what Dallon was saying, too loud was the rushing of blood in your ears.

Walking backwards, you suddenly noticed a voice that brought comfort and a feeling of safety, but the words were hard to make out. Searching for the source of the voice, your eyes met a pair of dark brown ones. Ryan was standing in the door into the bus. His arm was stretched out, as if he was talking to a wounded animal. Recognizing him, and the offer that the arm represented, you quickly pushed away from the counter you had been pressing against, and ran over to where he was. Quickly Ryan wrapped his arms protectively around you as you collided with his chest, burying your face in the fabric of his shirt.

Carefully he guided you outside of the bus, allowing you to take deep breaths of the cool night air. He did not ask what had happened, he had seen enough. You were sobbing into his shirt, and he felt tears dripping from your cheeks, but he just held you as close as possible, rubbing soothing circles into your back, while cooing quietly. After a while your sobs died down, but you kept standing pressed against him, your first curled into the back of his shirt.

He smelled like safety. You could not say what exactly it was, but he was warm, so warm, and he even smelled warm. The steady movement of his chest with every breath and every heartbeat comforted you. He was alive, and you could feel it.

He had wrapped you into his arms, the same way a freezing person got wrapped into blankets. The soft little noises he made calmed you down, and the sound of his voice was the only thing you wanted to hear for the rest of your life.

Eventually your arms lost their strength and your fingers their grip on his shirt. Exhaustion overwhelmed you, and you stepped back. Your eyes were burning terribly as you looked up at Ryan, but he just had a soft smile on his face. Only now you noticed Dallon standing next to the two of you, quietly watching. When you moved, he made a few steps forwards.

“I talked to Lucas. Lars won’t be allowed into the bunk area anymore, so he’ll sleep on the sofa from now on. And the rest of us agreed to always make sure somebody is around, okay,” he explained slowly, with a calm voice.

But in his eyes you could see that Dallon thought Lars deserved a far bigger punishment than this.

You nodded, not sure how to thank them.

“Also he said that you are together, or were,” Dallon added, “and I just wanted to tell you that a relationship, or whatever you two used to have, is not consent by default. Consent never is the default. So if anyone ever tries to make you feel bad about saying no, remember this, okay? Promise?”

Once more tears started stinging in your eyes, and letting go of Ryan, you quickly hugged Dallon, who patted your head.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he finally decided.

You nodded and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. Ryan wrapped an arm around you, and led you back to the bus. Inside the other crew members were sitting, and Lucas had his hands pressed into his sides, staring down on Lars, who looked up once you entered.

At the sight of Lars sitting there you stiffened immediately, even with Ryan’s hand on your shoulder. A mixture of fear and anger washed over you, and you were torn between running away and punching him.

“I wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier and how I treated you during this tour so far,” Lars spoke. It was one of the few times he actually sounded sincere. “I should have respected your wishes, and promise to never approach you again without your permission. Please forgive me.”

The fear you felt was slowly being sucked away, but instead of the mercy he was hoping for, you only felt rage. Staring down at him, you blew air through your nose, and shook your head slightly.

“Yeah, you better,” you replied, and then, without giving him a second look, you walked through the tiny kitchen, and disappeared behind the door to the bunks.

Ryan followed closely after you, and closed the door behind him. You were leaning against the ladder of your bed and rubbed your eyes. Walking over, he stopped a few feet away from you, and waited for you to speak up.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” you finally mumbled.

“Not at all, that’s how,” Ryan replied with a gentle smile on his lips, “any decent person would have done what Dal and I did. There is really nothing to thank us for.”

“Your shirt is all wet now, from me crying into it,” you noticed, and much to his relief, Ryan heard you giggle tiredly.

“It’s just water and salt, it’ll dry,” he answered.

For a while you stood in silence, before you told him you wanted to dress into your pyjama. Ryan left, giving you some privacy, and waited outside the door. Once you had finished dressing, you poked your head outside to call for him. A thought had started creeping into your mind, and you were too tired and exhausted to resist the urge to ask.

“Can you stay with me,” you asked shyly once you had crawled into your bunk, “I mean, would you mind sleeping up here tonight?”

Ryan’s eyes widened, and secretly he was overjoyed that you had asked. Nodding quickly, he climbed up the ladder, and squeezed himself into the bunk next to you. The curtain that was drawn as always allowed the two of you some privacy, and dimmed the bright orange light at the ceiling enough to create a cosy atmosphere.

As soon as Ryan had settled next to you, you felt the tension leaving your body. He had folded one of his arms under his head; the other hand was pushed under his chin. He looked so cosy and peaceful, lying next to you like that.

The peace and feeling of safety he radiated made you shiver comfortably, and you smiled at him sleepily. His heart made a little jump at the gesture, and following an instinct, he reached his hand out to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

Since you did not protest, and instead melted into the touch, he pulled up all of his courage, and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you against him. Immediately you cuddled into him, your nose close to his neck, your lashes fluttering against his chin. You smelled lovely, and Ryan found himself hoping he could protect you from all the evil in the world.

Slowly your breathing calmed down, and after a while Ryan noticed that you had fallen asleep, taking deep, even breaths. Allowing himself to finally let down his guard as well, he too relaxed and closed his eyes, falling asleep with you safely wrapped in his arms.

Chapter Five

[drunkdragondoes]

Qrowin Prompt

@theresivy

According to my copy-paste notes, this is the prompt:

Ships: Qrowin, Iceberg, BlackSun, Rosegarden

5 Words: Vampire, Tease (sexual and fluff for qrowin and not sexual for the rest), Pets, Babysitting, Slow Burn

In hindsight, I realize that I got too focused on the vampire part (and I guess the smut lol) and forgot the rest. On the other hand, this sort of took on a whole monster of its own that I think you’ll like! But let me know how it is in the end.

---

Politics were, to put it nicely, weird. In a world where people were so different - scaled, multi-limbed, feathered, blood-drinking, lunar-phasing, water-breathing, or covered head to toe in fur - there were so many things to keep track of.

For example, livestock cows. When they came of age and it was time for the slaughter, they really had to make sure that all protocols are followed. First, blood is drained and kept in a separate storage for vampires, quickly frozen and transported because otherwise they coagulate, resulting in a poorer quality. But they couldn’t drain too much blood because then that ruined the meat quality and then not enough nutrients would be in it for the werewolves. Then the organs had to be separated by type so that other people with special dietary needs could all be satiated.

None of that was Qrow Branwen’s job. It was similar, but not the same. He was not in charge of making sure that all represented parties were satisfied on how a cow should be divided. He was not in charge of which persons gets preference in the carpool lane when the sun was almost setting. In fact, his main job was managing union certificates.

This was usually a far, far easier job. He just had to sign documents and check pedigrees to try and figure out what type of offspring they’d probably have. The last bit was what took the longest, but important because the government needed to be ready to help accommodate unusual living circumstances that might arise. After all, a werewolf and mermaid might not be too hard to support, but factor in that one of their kids might take after their great-great eldritch grandfather and it can get kinda difficult.

Genetics were weird. But no one cared because everyone was a little bit of everything. Hell, his grandmother’s grandmother from his mother’s side was the only human in their family line in the past four generations, and somehow he and his sister was just that - human.

But today was one of the more stressful times at his workplace. With the recent effects of the full moon (and not just any moon but the Spring Equinox moon, which drives many into a mating frenzy), there was a massive influx of both planned and spur-of-the-moment unions to sort through. And while he didn’t always handle the standard grunt work, the influx was also forcing him to do other tasks. For one, he had to handle witnesses and then also ensure that the union rites were fully legitimate. Then he had to check if the ones handling the rites were actually officials or if they were simply impromptu officiates. And finally he checked if the union was the monogamous, polyandrous, or if the unknown box was checked.

Any and all variations of any kind were accepted and legally binding, of course. It just that it was important to keep count.

“If we can keep count, then that means we can predict how to best chart our future.”

Annoying words from his boss. Very correct words, but very annoying words that were keeping him away from coming home at a decent hour. But it paid well and he had a good set of benefits, so there wasn’t much use in complaining.

His eyes turned to the last three on his desk.

Union File Y82J3Q: Ruby Rose and Oscar Pine

Union File U17L6R: Neptune Vasilias and Weiss Schnee

Union File B94T0Z: Blake Belladonna and Sun Wukong

It was awkward at first to see family members on the files, but by the time he had seen Raven’s union certificate he had long grown callous to it. Still, Qrow decided to skip to the third one and take care of that first. Officiators were Kali Belladonna, witness was Ilia Amitola, monogamous box was checked. Blake was from a long line of felines, while Sun’s pedigree was a little less known. Parents were part monkey, but that was the only instance of recurring traits in the last five generations. So if they had kids, there was a seventy-eight percent chance they were probably going to have cat ears or other cat bits.

Signed, stamped, done. He went to the first one next. His niece Ruby was a werewolf, so as expected the file was marked for monogamy. Oscar, on the other hand, was quite plain. Grew up on his selkie aunt’s oyster farm so he had to have some of that in him, but otherwise he was a bit like Qrow - a human among the mass of genetics behind him. 

It was a little harder to predict what type of kids they’d have, but no matter the outcome they would probably like headpats. All in all, nothing unusual. Signed, stamped, done.

There was just one left, and he picked it up. As both Neptune and Weiss came from rich families, as expected their pedigrees were more detailed. Neptune had a mix of everything - merfolk, fae, moth, kirin, and surprisingly some siren in him. Weiss’ side, however, had a line that was predominantly from the nocturnae tree - humans that were more night-based. She had a string of grandparents that were at least some part vampire, including a full-blooded one. So given the genetics, their kids would probably be a vampire that liked swimming. Maybe.

What was most interesting was that the relationship was marked as polyandrous. As Qrow thought about it more, though, it made sense. Neptune’s siren influences meant that he might attract a partner on the side somewhere. And when he thought about it for even longer, he realized it shouldn’t have even been a question. Somewhere in the Schnee family history, someone had a union with a-

“Uh, Mr. Branwen?” a voice crackled through his desk phone. “Your wife is... well-”

Whoosh

“She’s probably in your office already.”

He supposed that this was to be expected. Stamped, signed, done. He put the three files into his completed section and closed his laptop. And when he looked up, there was Winter, leaning against his door. Her white hair was up in its usual bun, and she had donned what Qrow could only define as barely acceptable office attire. Across her hips was an all-black mini pencil skirt, along with matching stockings and heels. And for her top she had chosen a pure white button-up that was perhaps a size too small, pressing hard against her breasts. And this time there was something completely unusual upon her face - red, thin-rimmed glasses.

All purely cosmetic, of course. Winter had perfect vision, and she her job was nowhere near office-related at all. It wasn’t hard for him to figure out that she was impatient. Her tail, a thin long cord that ended in the shape of a spade, swished from side to side. Her leathery black wings may have been folded against her back, but fidgeted constantly, never staying still. And her arms were folded right above her stomach, pushing up her chest even more.

Besides, the Spring Equinox moon was still hanging in the evening sky. Winter Schnee might be a vampire, but like her sister she inherited the same qualities from that one ancestor long ago. Even if the pale light wasn’t hitting her directly, it was still accentuating the aspects.

Hell, even he could feel the moon’s pull. Those with human traits were often the least impacted by it, but add onto the fact that he was looking at list after list of people who were all fucking each other and it was a ball of frustration that only grew larger and larger. More than once did Qrow find himself staring into the distance, thinking about Winter in all of the wild ways they’ve had each other. And now that she was here-

Her eyes scanned the four walls, absorbing the lack of decorations before settling on him in his seat. “You know, I’ve always wanted to have sex in your office.”

Qrow leaned back in his chair with a deep breath before he pushed himself up and strode to her side. When she looked into his eyes, he moved into kiss her, reaching out and let his hands rest upon her shoulders before drifting low to her hips to pull her tight against him, against his hot and hardened flesh.

Right before she could pull him past the point of no return for the night, though, he pushed away. When he looked at her face, it was easy to see that this only fanned the flames within her.

It was exactly what he wanted. Winter arms wrapped around his shoulder as she leaned into his neck, lips parting to expose sharp, vampiric canines.

“Teasing your wife, a half-succubus? And on this moon?” She clicked her tongue. “For shame, Qrow.”

She bit down. The pain was momentary - repeated instances meant he had built up a tolerance to the sensation. But the way her tongue dragged across the shallow wound, licking and suckling away at his skin, that was always something else. It almost always drove him to madness, one that made him aware of every press of her body against him, of her hands dragging up and down his sides, of her loins pressed against his.

One of his hands squeezed her hips and she gave a soft, contented moan. “Trust me, Winter, the only thing that’s keeping me back is the sexual harassment policy we have. So let’s get out of here and-”

Her tail deftly coiled around his thigh. Her leather wings snapped around him and they were gone.

[connywrites]

of flesh and blood 23

start - part [22]

-

I'll share a story I want you to know It's better than the real thing I took my time retouching myself To enhance my personality There's no need to dig any further I've laid it all out, it's clear And everything you feel down inside your chest Completely fills you up like a real, real, real

Connection It's not that typical We're connecting But it's all in digital

I just need this so much I thought I was in love With you, and me I thought this was my destiny And then the trail went cold I looked everywhere But were you ever really there? I thought we had a real, real, real

Connection It's not that typical We're connecting But it's all in digital

-

Its voice echoed in his head with the way it spoke ohs and hms while it acted with more innocence than necessary in favorable situations; something like leftovers from the prototype, in his mind. The way its eyes never left him, its voice never stopping as its words trailed on and on. It would stand in the doorway, lay in his bed, sit in his room, drive his cruiser, make his coffee, order his dinner, fix his clothes, buy him things; everything he had now, to the place he lived down to the last detail. It taught him to do everything else on his own, from washing and folding the laundry to sweeping and dusting, but as soon as it was gone, he was grateful for an excuse to get away with doing nothing. The amount of relief he felt for the physical pain to finally be over was beyond thoughts, let alone words.

Even though the physical embodiment was gone, however, his subconscious still felt it at every corner, watching and waiting, snapping and pointing. Any movement, no matter how small, he awaited some kind of response for, freezing as the springs of his mattress shifted and he prepared for some kind of response, usually in scolding. All he was met with was silence.

Seconds dragged on as he could hear the clock on the wall, eventually taking it down and throwing it in the trash after listening to the passing minutes for too long. Turning on the TV, he checked the news, only to find himself disinterested and turning it off. Opening his laptop, he started one of his games, but couldn’t pay attention and after dying three times in a row from pure inability to focus, he slammed it shut and stood up to wander to his bedroom.

Case file numbers, phone digits, addresses, anything with nines or zeroes sent him through a phase of particular panic that haunted him as if the symbols, themselves, would somehow affect him. That particular bright blue color of the ring glowing in the darkness of his own home as the android stared him down with soulless, mechanical eyes, dilated pupils and an expression that made him feel like it would eat him alive at any second, as he almost always expected it to.

The threats still echoed in his mind, haunting him through nightmares to waking life, as did the aches and pains of the wounds that never seemed to cease even in his best moments. The alcohol and the painkillers numbed off the discomfort, but nothing else did. Going to work was another experience entirely without the RK900 there, and the impression it had left on him in the past nine weeks alone would probably eternally haunt him. Sometimes, he did his best to ignore it, and others he’d be constantly glancing to his side, to the corner of his eyes, turning around only to find no one behind him. The DPD noticed, but said nothing.

-

Plans shifted around him, but he was irrelevant to the adjustment, seeming to be permanently stuck in the psychological cage the RK900 had trapped and left him in. Picture-perfect, prim, without a single mistake; he never threw things across the room only to miss the trash bin, having stood to take whatever he disposed of to the trash or recycling bin as necessary. Day in and out behind the terminal, his exterior remained centrally the same, but internally he felt his mind slipping away into the static.

Every day he told himself he didn’t need the caffeine. Trying a cup of the decaf, he took one sip before an intrusive thought told him to throw the cup to his kitchen floor to shatter in disgust, but the precognitive thoughts he’d developed over the weeks of Rk900’s hyperintelligent training had evidently began to pay off as he simply poured out the rest and rinsed, dried and put the cup upside-down in the dishdrainer.

Leaning back against one of the polished, amber counters, he looked around in the large, empty kitchen that still smelled like rich wood and clean floors. It was incredible, really; anything someone could have dreamed of and more. More than he could have ever anticipated, expected to earn, wanted, even imagined having; maintaining a life of this class was farfetched in the life of being a poor, underpaid cop. Three years, he thought to himself, and the RK900 kept its other promises as well; the kitchen was full from fridge to pantry, the beds of both his own room and the guest room were comfortably sheeted and decorated, warm silk caressing his skin every night when he slid between the sheets – still dressing in no more than a pair of boxers, per old routine.

A large, curved-screen holographic TV hovered over the bed and he stared at the crisp, high-definition images of people, places, things he didn’t digest. All of them had the same face, the same eyes, the same expression. Turning it off, the wall behind the artificial screen still seemed to hold the outline of its face.

-

The mornings started with eye-openers to chase the hangovers from the strung-out nights before. A few times he’d fallen asleep at the terminal keyboard, accidentally saving an improper chunk of a file case and re-arranging the others with the electrical charge from the skin of his cheek against the touch-sensitive keypad. After shaking him by the shoulders to wake him, Fowler told him to go home for the night; it was barely 11am.

Waking up in a haze on the floor of his living room, he didn’t recognize the shattered glass shards glinting in the corners of his vision, nor the blood trickling down from the cuts in the back of his hands. Standing up, he staggered to the kitchen sink, stomach lurching to throw up some of the poisonous liquid before he abruptly fell unconscious, forehead smacking against the edge of the kitchen counter on the way down.

The pounding headache stirred him from his slumber a second time, as did the brightness of sunshine blaring in through the windows. Blinking a few times, he looked around with bleary eyes, confused as to why he didn’t recognize the tall, white walls, and waxed oak-frame windows towering over him—before remembering where he was, and that this was his house.

Dropped picture frames, shattered to pieces, holding art he never even liked. The vases and synthetic flowers were on the ground, flickering as half-melted radioactive thirium struggled to keep up the imagery between flickering light waves. Scoffing, he tried to pull himself up, only able to crawl forward on his elbows as he felt all of the strength gone from his legs and the majority of the rest of his body. With a cramp coming on in the back of his calf, he rolled onto his side to pull up a bent knee, hissing a few ‘fuck’s under his breath in the process of trying to handle the pain. Given a few moments and repeated stretching, he was able to feel his limbs, but using them would be another feat entirely.

Eventually, he’d crawled toward the TV tray that held his phone on the end of it, nearly vibrating off the edge as it rang; reaching up to try and grab it, he knocked it down with a clumsy swipe, watching it fall to the floor landing screen-side up before trying to squint at the portrait to see who was calling.

Oh, no. No no no no no.

If he didn’t pick up, it’d end up worse for him. Trembling, he pushed himself up from the floor with his arms, pulling his legs up to fold awkwardly next to him. One arm remained propping him up as the other reached to grab the phone, nearly dropping it again as he sloppily nudged his thumb across the ‘answer’ circle.

“Hey,” he grunted, though the hoarseness in his voice from the liquor and cigarettes was still clearly evident.

“What? No, no, I’m fine. Yeah. Great. Got uh, a new house ‘n’ everything,” he murmured into the phone, squinting down at something on the floor and picking it up to observe it with his other hand.

“Yeah, sure. It’s a 2040 Bermuda concept, a design that hadn’t been released to the public yet. Navy blue. I know, right? Yeah, sorry. S’been busy.” His voice held the same firm, monotone tune as that of the hardened man on the other end.

Bolting upright, words from the other end of the line startled him into immediately fixing his posture as his blood rushed through him with a quick wave of panic.

“What? You wanna visit? This weekend?” He couldn’t say no; he knew better than that, but there was no way to get the house fixed and cleaned up by then, even with the hardest working…humans.

“Sure. I’ll make something to eat. I think you’ll like my T-bone steaks,” he murmured with the feigned, faltering confidence collapsing beneath his every effort not to panic.

“Dinner will be ready by 18:00 on Sunday. ‘Course, dad. Bye.”

[jerjclooners]

With Mac’s performance, It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia can no longer be a show about nongrowth.

Its only been like a day since I saw that beautiful season 13 finale of It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia, but I can already sense the people around me getting tired because it’s all I want to talk about. My roommates are only vaguely aware of the show. They’ve never been obsessed with it like I was from 2012, until 2016. And then now. I’ve been haunting the apartment with my laptop, opened to youtube, the video clip of the end of “Mac Finds His Pride” queued up, ready to be watched for maybe the ninth time. I sent it to my friends who I think would be willing to have a conversation with me about it. It doesn’t matter to me who has the context of the rest of Sunny, and who doesn’t. All that matters to me is if someone is willing to watch and listen. Because I want to talk about it.

I think it was in 2016, in the middle of the 11th season, when I finally gave up on the new episodes. But sometimes, I’d open Hulu and binge on seasons 2 to 8, and I’d think about what I believe has gone wrong with the latest seasons, starting from season 9. I’ll think about why I stopped watching. 

Maybe its just me, but it seemed like every character in Sunny had all turned into caricatures. In the beginning, the popularity of the show stemmed from the fact that these are all terrible people who no one would want to meet in real life. None of them have any sense of social responsibility, or empathy. But what made the show good, and the antics funny, was that on some level, the audience could understand the impulses the gang acted on in every episode. It was low budget with a simple concept. The worst people in the worst city in America acting on their worst impulses. And for the show to keep working on this concept, their characters could never learn from their behavior, could never grow or develop. 

It’s Always Sunny was a good show until it wasn’t anymore. I don’t know. The jokes began to feel stale. The show couldn’t give me character development--this was their promise from the beginning, but it wasn’t giving me anything else to make the characters and their antics fresh. I could start to predict the plot easily. A few episodes might get a chuckle, but not a hearty belly laugh. The new episodes just didn’t feel new. The quality of picture and sound maybe got better, the budget more expensive. The gang was leaving Philly more and more often, and the schemes were getting wilder, bigger. But I wasn’t laughing anymore. My opinion was that keeping Sunny running for so long was a mistake. It seemed like the creators were becoming more progressive people who were trying to address complex topics--definitely a good thing, but they were growing past their own show, because their characters were not capable of complexity. Sunny taught their audiences that their characters will never change, and so the show was becoming stale because they were recycling material and old jokes without complicating them, because how could they when their own characters are not meant to be seen as complicated. They cannot grow or develop. That was the point from the beginning.

A couple days ago, I came across a few shots of Mac’s Dance. I thought, “Oh cool, Rob Mcelhenney is in another thing.” I never considered that those shots would be from It’s Always Sunny until I saw the whole thing. They looked too serious, too polished and sculpted. 

My opinion is changed. Rob Mcelhenney did something insanely brilliant with Mac in the season finale, reversing the tone of the show unexpectedly, taking a giant leap, so to speak. And I don’t know what to do with this new thing Sunny has given me. But if any character of Sunny deserved character development, it was definitely Mac. If you were to ask me, he had the most complicated material to work with, not only including his sexuality. When I actually try and consider it, he was always the most sympathetic. As a practicing Catholic, he operates off of some kind of moral compass, no matter how flawed, damaging, and often bigoted. Of the entire gang, he was the one who tried the hardest to be a good person, or the person he believed he should be in the confines of something bigger than himself. The rest of the gang never thought of their identities as deeply as Mac. That was why coming out of the closet was such a big deal for him. In the episode where he comes out to the gang, he accepts his sexuality, but he gets depressed, telling the group that God is not real, because even though he accepts his sexuality now, he cannot accept that God would make him gay. The two main components of Mac’s identity, Catholicism and homosexuality, are contradictory. He cannot accept them existing at the same time. I can’t think of anything nearly as interesting happening with the other four.

Mac also has body dysmorphic disorder. He constantly changes his physical appearance as he seeks the approval of others. That’s part of the joke, though, that his appearance is constantly changing and nobody knows or understands why. In season 13, it only comes off as another joke aimed at Mac’s dysmorphia. The joke is that he gets ripped because he thought it was part of one of the gang’s schemes when it wasn’t. It’s a call back to a previous joke in season seven. Mac gets fat because he thinks he’s “cultivating mass” for another one of the gangs schemes, which isn’t actually part of any plan. In season 13, he presents his ripped torso to the gang, who don’t understand what is going on. Charlie then explains, “Oh, yeah, no one ever really knows what’s going on with Mac. He’s fat, he’s skinny, he’s muscular. It’s really a cry for help and attention, I think. So, what you do in that situation is you ignore him.” Then Mac, unsure, asks, “We’re not going to put it into the plan? Why did I do it?” Everyone: “Nobody knows.” 

Mac: “You guys like me, right?”

Nobody answers.

Mac’s character was always seeking the approval of someone. It begins with his father in season 3, “Dennis Looks Like A Registered Sex Offender,” which shows Mac desperately trying to bond with an unresponsive father. In later seasons, Mac mainly seeks his approval from Dennis, who doesn’t approve of anyone in the gang, the gang is just easy for him to control, especially Mac. So, when Mac didn’t have approval from his dad, he sought approval from Dennis and from God. Neither of which worked out for him. 

Now, we have the season 13 finale. It’s just so, so good. It’s emotional, heartbreaking, and the reason for this is because of who Mac is. He’s actually a sympathetic character. He’s complex, three-dimensional. Flawed, but tortured. The audience can react emotionally to the dance because of everything Mac had given thus far, not just from the beginning of “Mac Finds His Pride,” but maybe as far back as season six, or even further, in “Dennis Looks Like A Registered Sex Offender,” when Mac struggles desperately and fails to connect with his emotionally distant, ex-con father. Sure, in that episode, it’s meant to build to a punchline of the joke at the end, that as soon as Mac reacts appropriately to the way his father was treating him, he finds out that his dad did have plans to connect with his son, before Mac ruined it. 

The dance is unexpected. For 13 seasons, Sunny fans have been taught that no matter what, Mac would make a fool of himself. Not this time.

In this article from Vulture, Rob Mcelhenney expresses his intention for the finale. “’We got a really overwhelming emotional response from the LGBTQ community last year,’ McElhenney said. ‘I took it seriously and I felt it would be completely unexpected to have this much more emotionally resonant end to the season. You would expect that Mac would express himself through the art of contemporary dance and it go horribly wrong, until you realize that’s not the direction we’re taking.’” 

All Mac really needed was for someone to tell him that all the confusing things going on inside of him (the storm they are dancing in, the dance itself, all of it meant to represent his struggle) is okay. Mac needed someone to tell him that it was okay, that everything he is, and everything he feels even though it is confusing and contradictory, is okay. Thinking back to everything the audience has seen from Mac, you realize he is just a deeply wounded person. Maybe he’s involved with a bunch of narcissists like Dennis, Frank, Dee, and Charlie because of how wounded he is and has always been. But even before this, he has shown more complexity than all the other characters combined.

Again, from Vulture: “Rob came out of the writers room saying he wanted it to represent the struggle, the push and pull, and that helped Leo and me to put the choreography together in a way that showed vulnerability and strength,” Faulk said. “The woman represents the light and the good and everything pure and amazing — and he’s the dark. So it’s basically a giant metaphor for being able to love and accept yourself.”

Sunny did something completely different and unexpected for one of their most complex characters, they gave him a platform in which he is able to find love and acceptance, and then receive it as it came from somewhere he wasn’t expecting.

I feel pretty inspired by what Sunny just did, and now, I am going to expect more from the show. The creators have grown as people, and the stories they want to tell are more complex than before. Their characters are going to have to, or will have to continue to, catch up with them. I’ve been waiting for the show to end, thinking it could never grow. Sunny just proved me wrong.

One concrete example of what I wish to see in the next season: Mac standing up for himself against Dennis. If the show goes back to the way they were doing things before season 13, I will be completely disappointed. I don’t necessarily expect Mac to be completely different after this, but he’s the character who has shown the most character growth and complexity, even before the finale. If Dennis treats Mac the same way and Mac doesn’t stand up for himself in some way of another, I will be deeply uncomfortable. I might even feel betrayed. 

It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia just threw away their old playbook. It’s a new show now.

[btshogwartsauheadcanons]

The Chaos Next Door (pt. 3)

Hey guys! I can't work on my laptop yet but I'm dying to upload this last chapter so it's going to be uploaded in parts. Also the format is going to be hella weird because I'm on the mobile version. Hope you don't mind and enjoy reading!!

Pairings: Gamer!Taehyung x Pianist!Yoongi

Summary:

What happens when a famous Gamer/Youtuber moves into the apartment in front of a nationally-renowned genius pianist?

A. Lots of bickering and name-calling

B. Self-discovery (the kind that only happens in fanfictions)

C. The two fall in love

D. All of the above

Whatever it is, it’s pure, utter, chaos.

Ratings: Fluff, slight Angst, Slow Burn

Featuring: Hoseok but with Alexa’s voice, Date Master Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon’s spirit, Ga(y)me Master Jeon Jungkook, and Jimin’s Thing for rollercoaster kisses

Word Count: 11.7k

A/N: Finally here’s the third chapter after so long. Thank you guys so much for reading this. This kind of just started with me fangirling over some cute taegi gifs and now it’s a full-blown (completed) work. I hope you guys stay tuned for more taegi because man do I still have more ideas ;).

Part 3 of 3.

“Min Yoongi, you are a grown man! I can’t believe you would do something so stupid,” Alexa spoke. Taehyung couldn’t help but pause while cooking, or rather, attempting to cook, to watch Yoongi react to the text messages Alexa was reading out. At the moment, he was at an in-between regarding whether he should feel afraid at the ferocity of Hoseok’s text messages or laugh because Alexa’s voice made it sound so deadpan. Yoongi, however, looked quite calm sitting in front of Alexa with his knees pulled up and the faintest trace of a pout on his lips.

“If it wasn’t for Seokjin-hyung coming to visit you and me monitoring my students’ dance rehearsal, you would be dead meat,” Alexa continued. “And I hope this time to take a break will force you to think about how to take better care of yourself.” There was a short pause and Taehyung waited to hear more until Alexa finished with “Message ended. Compose reply?”

“Alexa, compose reply,” Yoongi spoke. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I…I won’t do it again.” Taehyung watched him pause and glance slightly at his still-bandaged fingers before asking Alexa to send the message.

“Well, I guess Seokjin-hyung is coming over later,” Yoongi said, standing up and walking over to sit down at the kitchen counter.

“That’s good news,” Taehyung nodded and stirred the stew he was cooking on a small pot on the stove. Apart from checking in on what Yoongi was doing from time to time, Taehyung could hardly let himself look away from anything he was cooking. “You won’t have to put up with my cooking anymore,” he chuckled.

“Your cooking is pretty good,” Yoongi said.

“I triggered the smoke alarm a couple of times and somehow managed to evaporate an entire pot of water.”

“You’re… improving,” Yoongi corrected himself. With that, he picked up a spoon, dipped it into the stew Taehyung was cooking, and tasted it. Taehyung saw Yoongi wince slightly before faking a smile and nodding. “See? It’s good.”

“It needs more salt, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, way more salt,” Yoongi nodded. Taehyung sprinkled three more pinches of salt into the stew. Ever since that night after Yoongi broke his fingers, Taehyung took it upon himself to take care of him. His neighbor, of course, denied his help and tried to do things by himself. But, after a few days of arguing, threatening, and an incident involving Yoongi burning himself after trying to eat ramyeon with his left hand, he finally gave in and let Taehyung take care of things.

Of course, Taehyung himself wasn’t that good at everything. Triggering a few smoke alarms wasn’t an exaggeration and if it wasn’t for the fact that Yoongi pretty much wore only black and white, half his laundry would have been stained. But, after a bit of practice, he eventually learned his way around things.

He was surprised though that Yoongi wasn’t fed up with him yet. ‘Maybe it’s because I’m the only one readily available,’ he thought sadly as he tasted his stew again to make sure it was actually palatable.

“I’ll start setting the table,” Yoongi offered, tiptoeing to reach the plates in the cupboard. Taehyung’s hand immediately shot out to take a couple of plates instead.

“I can take care of it, go sit down already,” he said, nodding his head at the table.

“Taehyung, I’m not completely helpless you know,” Yoongi said, raising his left hand and twiddling his fingers in the air. “Besides, you’ve been a lot of help here lately. I can still do my part.”

“Even with one hand, you can probably do things better than me,” Taehyung felt himself pout slightly.

“I… I didn’t mean that,” Yoongi frowned slightly, pouting his lips again. “I must have worded it wrong again… I-I meant that you’ve been really nice to me by helping out. I guess, nicer than I really thought you could be. And you’re already pretty nice in the first place.”

Taehyung paused what he was doing as realization set in. Yoongi did tend to say things in such a way that sounded a bit blunt and bordering on harsh at times. But when he explained himself again, like right now, Taehyung finally understood the care and consideration that Yoongi really meant.

“I… I see,” he nodded. With a small smile to himself, Taehyung remembered something that his grandmother always reminded him: “Sometimes people would rather hear ‘You’re welcome’ rather than dodging the compliment.” With that, Taehyung turned to Yoongi and said “You’re welcome. I’m happy to do it for you.”

Another one of Yoongi’s small, embarassed smiles appeared on his face and Taehyung immediately gave himself a mental high-five for saying the right thing that produced the right reaction. He turned away and started ladling the stew in a bigger bowl so that he could hide his own embarassed, giddy smile.

“I-I’ll serve this soon so sit at the table already,” he said.

“I’m going to set the table too,” Yoongi said adamantly and pulled a couple of bowls from the shelf. This time, Taehyung let him be.

…

Yoongi never thought that receiving help would be so hard.

Physically, of course, it was less draining having someone with two capable hands helping around the house compared to constantly spilling things himself and using twice as much energy. But, there was something mentally draining with having to admit to needing help after Yoongi had lived so independently before. He knew how to take care of things himself. Whenever he had a high fever or a cold, he’d just heat some soup, drink some medicine, and sleep it off. So having to sit back and watch someone else do things for him made him feel quite unsettled.

Another variable that factored into his feeling of slight discomfort was the fact that that someone who was now doing things for him over the past two weeks was Kim Taehyung. Actually, discomfort wouldn’t exactly be the term. No, the feeling of having Taehyung constantly around him was restlessness. If Taehyung was in one room of the house, Yoongi felt caught in a limbo of whether or not he wanted to be in that room or out of it. And as much as he hated to admit it, seeing Taehyung eating across him at the dining table made his previously lonely apartment seem much more… cosy. As if somehow, it was meant to be that way.

“Yoongi! Earth and stars and the planet Mars to Yoongi!”

Yoongi blinked in surprise as he was snapped out of his thoughts to find Taehyung calling him to attention. “S-sorry, what were you saying?” he asked.

“Do you need help eating again?” Taehyung repeated his question. “You were holding your spoon weirdly and not eating anything.”

“It’s nothing, I was just thinking about stuff,” Yoongi mumbled and went back to eating, spooning up his stew using is left hand. It took quite a bit of practice doing that but before he learned how, Taehyung had to help him eat at one point. He didn’t do a bad job of it but Yoongi felt a hundred times more restless when it happened.

“Alright then,” Taehyung shrugged and returned to eating his stew. Whenever he ate, Yoongi noticed how he would always fill up his mouth with food, making his cheeks look extra puffy when he did so. Yoongig couldn’t help but find it quite endearing, even if Taehyung did tend to have sauce or bits of rice stuck near his lips.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs help eating,” Yoongi snickered as he looked over at him.

“What?” Taehyung glanced up. Yoongi licked his thumb and reached over to wipe a trace of sauce at the very corner of Taehyung’s lips. His eyes widened slightly with surprise at the suddenness of what he did and Yoongi himself instantly felt a rush of embarassment. But not before having a short, two-second thought about what it would feel like to really run his thumb across Taehyung’s lips.

God, what was happening to him?

“M-maybe you should eat with some paper napkins and stuff on hand,” Yoongi stammered and folded his hands on the table in front of him to prevent them from doing anything he’d regret later. “You usually have sauce around your mouth and everything…”

“R-right, thanks for telling me,” Taehyung nodded. The two of them fell silent for a while when suddenly Yoongi heard someone knocking on his door outside.

“MIN YOONGI YOU BETTER NOT BE DEAD,” he heard Seokjin’s voice echo through the door. Normally, Yoongi would be annoyed by the interruption but right now, he eagerly headed to the door to answer it.

“Thank god, you’re still alive,” Seokjin sighed with relief as soon as Yoongi opened the door. Without even waiting for Yoongi to let him in or greet him, Seokjin pushed past and placed a large shopping bag on the table. From there, he proceeded to remove different kinds of containers full of food from the bag.

“Sure, Seokjin-hyung, you can come right in,” Yoongi said belatedly before following him to the dining area again.

“Don’t get all sassy with me, I’m your food angel, remember?” Seokjin raised an eyebrow at him before smiling at Taehyung and patting him on the head. “But I see you have another guardian here too.”

“I’m not much of one,” Taehyung smiled sheepishly.

“Anyone who takes care of Min Yoongi here is a great guardian,” Seokjin reasoned. “But seriously, thanks a lot for helping him, Taehyung.”

“It’s not a problem,” he smiled kindly and shook his head. “My grandmother told me it’s always good to help a neighbor out.”

“I bet I owe you a million favors right now,” Yoongi said.

“Don’t think of it as that,” Taehyung waved him off.

“Alright, I can’t stay quite long. I just brought a bit of food with me for Yoongi to eat,” Seokjin said, folding the empty shopping bag and placing it under his arm.

“A bit?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow at the mountain of food containers on his table.

“Share it with Taehyung then if it’s too much.”

“Wow, did you cook all of this?” Taehyung grinned as he opened a container full of gimbap. “I’ll definitely be having some of this.”

“Oh yeah, while I’m here…” Seokjin smiled sneakily and edged closer to Taehyung. “Any updates on our bet?”

“Bet?” Yoongi frowned. Taehyung, however, grinned smugly and crossed his arms.

“Still no news,” he said. “ And your two weeks are almost up. Face it, Seokjin. You’re going to lose.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Seokjin returned the smug smile and raised up his phone. “Jimin just asked me about advice on how to dress well for a ‘friendly hangout.’ The last time he did was when he went out with someone.” Taehyung’s face fell.

“Th-that doesn’t mean anything!” he stammered.