#its like being on stage and staring into the spotlight- knowing the world awaits your grand soliloquy

[biohazard-inevitable]

Sometimes, I get kinda depressed and overly anxious and my mind feels like its so dark and sad and that nobody actually likes me

And then I see the moon.

And I know the moon likes me, I can talk to the moon, and it talks back. The moon will always like me.

The stars will love me, they always have, always will.

The ground will love me too, its always been there to support me and it always will.

The night will adore me, as it always has.

And maybe I’ll cry a little about that, who knows?

[fuwafuwamedb]

Dodging Death Pt 12 (CasGil, Emiya, Hakuno, Shakespeare)

Previously: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

___

“You’re.. phenomena! Truly! The only way you could improve upon your work is to twist the tale into a true tragedy!”

Her teacher was walking around the man, watching that smirk as Gilgamesh continued on what had to be the fourth or fifth eloquent speech.

Hakuno could all but feel the silence in the air around her. There were several watching her from behind. Those in the front were stuck capturing as much of the king’s speeches as possible, a few opting for recording his words rather than attempting to make their hands keep up with his charisma and rhetoric.

“What is your field of concentration?” Professor Shakespeare inquired.

“Politics.” Gilgamesh made that smirk practically give off its own flash of light as he glanced her way. “You could say I relate quite well to King Gilgamesh, handling the troubles of many and building the world to limits formerly unattainable.”

“Fantastic! Fantastic! And a patron of the arts!”

“I do my best to support my spouse. It’s important for relationships, after all. Since she has done so much to accommodate me, it is only natural that I would support her pursuits.”

This wasn’t a lecture, this was a damned nightmare.

She could feel Emiya looking her way, a few more students staring back to look at her more carefully. She’d been so careful, so quiet all this time. Now she was bringing a foreigner into the classroom whom called himself her husband.

“I see,” Emiya murmured.

Did he see?

Did he see at all?

“Ah, but you should be careful. Learn well from the mistakes of the poets! A respect for mutual interests is not all, not after a time. Interests change.”

“So long as two people can come together when it is important, I see no concern,” Gilgamesh proudly told the man. “And I have no issues when it comes to Hakuno and I coming together.”

“Emiya,” Hakuno murmured, pushing her notebook carefully into her bag and grabbing her drink. “Can you, ah… Tell Gilgamesh that I’m going to head to the bathroom for a few minutes?”

Or an hour.

Maybe she’d just wait in her car until the day ended and she could drive home.

She’d withdrawal from this course. She was a month into the semester. There was still time and she could always say she found the course too complicated or something. There was nothing that said she had to take this course in particular. She could transfer to another class. Maybe a night one. She could set Gil to sleep and come-

“Ah! Hakuno!” Shakespeare beamed, “Come on down! Stage players! Ah, but you must try another story. We’ve been finishing the Epic of Gilgamesh and preparing to move on.”

“Such a shame that you could not have us present for the tales of Lugalbanda.”

Shakespeare spluttered, calling for her again before he spoke up. “You truly know your tales of intrigue!”

“How could I not? What king who had no respect for the gods would also call such a man his own personal god? Any fool would inquire and learn of the great Lugalbanda.”

She had to come over to them. She had to, only because it was impossible to avoid getting an argument started over this otherwise.

“I concede the stage to you then, my dear fellow poet and literary enthusiast! Regale us! Tell us of the great Lugalbanda!”

Hakuno moved in close, finding her bag pulled off before Gilgamesh turned her to face the class.

He would die later. He thought Ishtar’s curse was bad? Her curse would make the goddess’ own look like a joke. There would be no need to fear any axe murderer. She’d pummel him with her bag in a hallway closet, take his card, pay off Cu’s baby brother Proto to say she had been having tea with him, and then she’d run off after the investigation was closed to live in Bora Bora.

The sun, the cocktails, the murder mystery and trash romance novels; she’d be living it up soon.

“There are many tales of the great and holy Lugalbanda,” Gilgamesh told the class.

There is, of course, the most famous of them all- the tale of Lugalbanda and the Anzu bird. A tale of the great king, then only a soldier in the war again the useless Aratta king. Lugalbanda had come across a tiny baby of the great Anzu. He found it cold and hungry, suffering on its own and awaiting someone to help them. The great parent was off hunting you see, but the child was still in such need.”

Gilgamesh set her on the teacher’s desk as he spoke, moving before her.

“The soldier needed to keep moving, but he was tired and his timing would be poor. Along with that, the cries…”

Hakuno shook her head, earning a few laughs and a few more looks of pity from their audience.

“Ah, my anzu is quite shy, it seems.” Gilgamesh shook his head, glancing to the teacher. “Lugalbanda could have killed the bird for its strength. He could have struck the beast and waited for the parent to simply fly him to his people to fight alongside, but he was human, not a beast or a god.”

Hakuno found her hand lifted, pressed against the man’s lips.

“He fed the anzu from the resources around them, finding the parent soon calling. The parent called and called, but only found the child after searching. When it did, Lugalbanda wisely stood before it and praised it thus.”

Those eyes met hers.

“He spoke of the beauty that surpassed Ishtar, the intoxication that would have brought flushed cheeks to Ninkasi. He spoke of the sun, and how he would consider himself the son of the sun, if only to find no lineage that could make him worthy of standing equal to the anzu.”

He glanced to the class.

“What he gained was just that. Divinity. Power. He caught up to his comrades by racing upon his own two feet through the lands with that power he’d acquired. He stood up, standing alongside the gods, but they began to fear him. A man who went from soldier to king, from king to partially god? They could not have such a thing.”

“They killed him,” Hakuno found herself muttering.

“Ah, someone paid too much attention during my courses last semester,” Shakespeare teased.

“The gods did not need that. They decided the king should bear a son, one who could take the payback of the king’s decisions and one that could connect them to the humans, acting as a go-between.”

Gilgamesh was a messenger of the gods?

“The king seduced the goddess, Ninsun, having found her the most worthy,” Gilgamesh told the room. “He found her amongst her prized steer, lifted her up,” Gilgamesh scooped her up into his arms, grabbing her bag as he walked towards the door. “And he told the gods to visit Ereshkigal, since Ereshkigal herself would never let them leave.”

“The class isn’t over,” Shakespeare told him.

“Ah, but my lecture is, wizened bard.” Gilgamesh made a small side trip to grab his drink before he nodded to Shakespeare. “It has been entertaining, if nothing else.”

The bell rang the moment that Gilgamesh had the door closed.

Hakuno listened to the sound of the professor laughing, dismissing the rest of them from their seats and wishing them a good weekend.

“Gilgamesh,” Hakuno glanced up at the man.

“Are all your classes that entertaining?”

No.

No, they were not.

In fact, she was pretty sure she’d never had a class like that before.

“What is next on the list of tutorings that you have?” Gilgamesh went for her notebook, stopping only when she shook her head.

He was going to find ways to distract her in each of her classes, wasn’t he? She would go from one to another, finding herself pulled to the front or-

“Hakuno.”

Emiya, blessed Emiya, came over to them, looking between the two of them before he motioned to a classroom nearby.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“My wife has her other classes to attend-“

“We’ll be just a minute, Gil.” Hakuno handed him her bag, looking over at Emiya expectantly. “You said in here, Emiya?”

“Yeah…”

The two men stared at one another until Hakuno was turned away. They may have worsened their looks, they may have looked away from one another; she didn’t know and, right now, she needed a minute of being away from the king.

She slumped into a seat, sighing as she looked at the empty room.

“You got married?”

“Engaged,” she corrected, leaning back and brushing a hand through her hair.

Whether she liked the idea or was nervous, she’d agreed. She’d told him she’d trust him and, out of anyone in the world, he’d shown he at least cared about her safety and wellbeing… amongst other things.

Truly, the problem they had was going from circumstance to daily life.

The man lives a life of luxury and spotlights. I don’t even think I know how to tell a salad fork from a regular damn fork.

Gods help her, she really could pick men.

Her mental turmoil didn’t seem to be internal only. Her companion right now was frowning, his eyes shifting towards the door nearby as he hesitated. “Are you in some kind of trouble with him?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen you happy. When you’re with Sakura and the others, you smile and laugh. You scurry around everyone and mostly listen. In the few minutes I’ve seen of you, you’ve tried to escape the classroom without him, you’ve tried to avoid being seen, and you’ve murmured to the guy and ignored him.

Yeah…

There was a lot of ground to cover between her and Gil.

Hakuno ran a hand through her hair to gain a second, scrounging the depths of her mind for anything, absolutely anything, she could use as a deterrent. He didn’t need to think she was a lunatic for having her cat turn into king charming… or maybe king money was better.

King Gorgeous?

“Gil… and I… we didn’t use protection.”

Emiya paused, staring at her.

It wasn’t the best excuse, but she really couldn’t think of a lie that wasn’t even close enough to the truth that she could use it as a reason for her and Gilgamesh being out of sorts. How did one explain the whole cat concept?

This probably wasn’t the wisest decision at all.

“Y-You had sex with him?”

“A couple times?” Hakuno smiled sheepishly at the man. “We’ve been a bit at odds with one another since I realized what we’d been forgetting. Between the axe murderer and my flu… I really just haven’t had time to talk to him and I missed so much classtime…”

“Why leave without him?”

She shook her head. “Did you want to sit on Shakespeare’s desk in front of the class? I can ask him to make you the companion for his next lecture on ancient myths.”

“I’ll pass.” Emiya sniffed, rubbing at his nose a bit as Gilgamesh pounded on the door. A glance towards the noise and the man smiled. “So… You just got into a situation and he’s taking responsibility?”

“I think I can handle the consequences of my actions on my own. He’s… Well, I don’t really know, but he’s something.”

Emiya laughed.

“How’s Sakura?”

The question was dodged, the man pulling his bag over his shoulder and grabbing the doorknob.

“Emi-“

“I have to get to our next class. You comin’?”

“I am feeling a little out of sorts. I think I’m going to miss.”

“Do yourself a favor, Hakuno: if you’re not sure about him, toss him aside and come stay at my place. Cu and I can pull out the couch mattress for you until you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks.”

Gilgamesh gave a shove as the door opened. His mouth threw the expletives. His gaze, honing in on her, remained steadfast.

Each of those stomps was accompanied by at least three quick strides as Emiya booked it out the door. They were alone in seconds, but there was a mountain of outrage standing before her as Emiya disappeared.

“Hakuno-“

“He was worried that you had coerced me.”

The man paused.

“Emiya wanted to make sure that I was alright. Thanks for letting me talk to him alone. He would have gotten the wrong idea if I’d refused to budge from your side. That’s not normal for me.”

She didn’t need that anger, didn’t want it either.

Thankfully, the man before her seemed to be able to shed that anger as quickly as he’d summoned it.

Those eyes drifted to the door, half expecting the man to be there and finding the space empty. Emiya wasn’t an idiot, after all. He knew staying would mean talking to him. It meant having to associate and it didn’t seem that the man was willing to get close to Gil like Cu was.

“…What did you tell him?” Gilgamesh asked.

She could only hesitate.

What was best to tell him?

Her tap of random half truths was all out with the one excuse. She wasn’t sure she could lie to this guy since he seemed to already be aware of how she was. Her bluffs weren’t the best either.

“Hakuno-“

“I told him I was pregnant.” Possibly.

The man nodded, closing his eyes. “Sensible.”

Was it?

Huh… she should have probably used that earlier then.

“Well then,” Hakuno stood up, brushing her skirts a bit and pulling her bag over her shoulder. “I told Emiya that I’m skipping classes. I can’t focus today. I think I’ll just take the rest of the week to get my head on straight and then-“

“You’re pregnant?”

“Hmm?”

He was getting closer, those eyes focused solely on her as he closed that distance. One moment, he was calmed and relaxed. The next- he was encompassing her entirely, swallowing her in an embrace that seemed to be impossible to escape. She breathed in cologne and aftershave off his person as she found herself trapped.

“You fool, telling others before me. You should have told me first,” he murmured.

“I’m not,“ but he didn’t let her finish.

“Hakuno,” Gilgamesh pressed her against his chest more, pausing a moment to pull his jacket off and drape it over her shoulders. And then the hug was back, tight, invasive; she found herself squished against his chest as his lips pressed to her head.

The man held her in a vice.

“You have done what no one has accomplished before. You, plain and simple though you may be… Hakuno, you are someone truly astounding.”

Her lips were claimed before she could argue.

She found herself scooped up, held in his arms as she found her coffee cup left behind and her bag thrown over the man’s shoulder.

“We’re going back to our suite. There are things we need to consider. I will work on-“

“I still have work!”

She had to go to the library! Hans and Kiara, Rin and Rani; they’d all be expecting her at her shift this evening and she couldn’t skip her shift. She was lucky she’d had part of the week off.

“When and what work?”

“I work at the library.”

“A library?” The man nodded. “At what time?”

“…Five.”

The man pulled his phone from his pocket, grinning at the time. “It’s only ten. We have all the time in the world today and your news has placed me in a good mood. We’ll head back to the hotel and I’ll show you proper appreciation for your efforts.”

“Hold on!”

He wasn’t holding on.

No, the man carried her towards the doors of the building, paying little mind to their spectators. She could feel herself being hauled out to the car, the man paying absolutely no attention to anything.

“I need a test to be sure!”

“A test?”

“Yes…”

Thank the gods the man was being understandable again, at least a little.

“There’s a test you can buy. I don’t know that I am or not.” She wasn’t. They’d done it two-three times? The test would at least let him down easy.

“Fine. We’ll get your test.”

She sighed in relief.

“The library will be useful as well,” he continued. “While you are doing your scribe duties, I can peruse the shelving for more information on how to return us to Uruk. We will need to be returning sooner rather than later.”

Maybe she’d quit her job like he’d mentioned, Hakuno thought ten minutes later, standing awkwardly in line with pregnancy tests and a bag of candy from the shelving next door.

Literally living off of an obnoxious amount of wealth, spending her days goofing around here and there in whatever manner suited her may be the smartest choice since she’d never be able to go to school or to this store again.

She made her purchases in record time, face burning as she pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to their hotel.

This had to be a lesson from the gods.

The man all but purring against her as they stepped into the elevator and rode up to their floor had her shivering a bit.

“I’m going to draw us a bath,” the man murmured. “We’ll enjoy whatever food you’d prefer and have you rest for now.”

“The test,” she reminded him.

“After it is done,” he agreed, nuzzling against her more.

 “I might not be,” Hakuno warned him. 

“If you’re not, it means that I just can try harder.” Gilgamesh’s smile could be felt against her neck, his mouth kissing to her ear as he pulled her hair out of the way. “I’ll take you long and hard enough when we are prepared. I think you would find my own bed to be a most suitable place for losing your head and mind to me for a while. You’ll find nothing better than the feeling of the evening breeze and the promise of a good rain floating in from the windows when we have our time together. Artificial air like your buildings have leave something to be desired.”

The doors opened with her legs feeling wobbly. 

She couldn’t think straight as she walked herself to the bathroom and shut the door.

Her whole life had gone careening into one hell of a strange direction.

[otonymous]

Second Chances (Ikesen Masamune - NSFW)

Description: Let Modern AU Masamune be your biggest cheerleader Warnings: NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.   Word Count: 2125 words (~11 mins of fluff & smut) AO3: read here Author’s Notes: This is a story commissioned by the very lovely and talented @midnightmagicx, who requested a scenario with a MC who is experiencing anxiety in the midst of training for a gruelling pole dancing competition.  I had a lot of fun writing this and hope you enjoy it, dear!  Thanks a million for entrusting me with crafting this story for you.  Happy reading! 💕💕💕

Tagging: @midnightmagicx

Ikemen Sengoku owned by Cybird.

“Kitten….kitten, wake up….”

Masamune is looking down at you, cerulean eye wide in concern as he gently wipes the sweat from your forehead with one large hand, the other working to relax your white-knuckled grip around the bedsheets.

Wrapped up in the security of his arms, your breathing gradually calms as you take in your surroundings: eggshell-white ceiling, the warm glow spilling from the bedside table lamp, windows that made up one wall of the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend, overlooking the dim lights of a city still deep in slumber.

Masamune passes you a glass of water, waiting for you to drink before he asks,

“Another nightmare, baby?”

You nod, fingers rubbing at your temples as you try to swallow back the anxiety that nipped at your heels whenever you thought of your upcoming pole dance competition. The stress of your relentless training schedule colluded with your fears about your last event to conjure up nightmares that hounded you even in your dreams.

“I’m sorry to have woken you up. You have an early day tomorrow as well. I…I’ll just go…and sleep in the living room.”

Masamune clasps your wrist as you make to grab for your pillow, and when you glance up you see that look on his face: brows furrowed and blue eye flashing in admonishment. And with one tug, you find yourself lying on top of him and held tightly within the embrace of his muscular arms.

“You’re not going anywhere, kitten. Didn’t I tell you? We’re in this together. I’m here for you — every step of the way. You promised you would rely on me more.”

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you melt into the warmth of his body, the slow, steady beating of Masamune’s heart echoing in your ears as you allowed yourself to relax against the firm support of his bare chest.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

His smooth, baritone voice resounded in the room, familiar like a lullaby, and you wondered at the contradiction of the man — the effortless way in which he was able to both calm and excite you with a single word, a light touch, a mere glance.

You nodded in response and Masamune continued, laying his hand lightly over yours as your fingers languidly traced the lines of his six-pack.

“You couldn’t stop staring at my eye patch,” he chuckles, the sound sweet, smoky and so alluring.

“And then that sad look that came over your face when you found out I lost my eye in a motorcycle racing accident. Gods, kitten, I could’ve taken you right then and there. But, you know, I could’ve hardly laid you out on the dinner table in the restaurant with all our friends watching. Well, I could’ve, but I’m sure you would’ve been unwilling to at the time.“

You slap his chest playfully as the insufferable man laughs, your mind’s eye transporting you back to that fateful night five years ago when mutual friends introduced you to the man they called the One-Eyed Dragon because of the way his company, Oshu Foods, dominated the industry, and…well, his having only one eye.

You smile to think of how irresistibly attracted you were to Masamune. He moved with the machismo of a matador, completely comfortable in his skin and dignified in a white tee, designer jeans and black leather jacket even as those around him were dressed to the nines.

And yet, all eyes in that Michelin-starred restaurant were irresistibly drawn to him, and you reflect on how Masamune always had that certain je ne sais quoi about him: men wanted to be him and women wanted to fuck him.

But you had made him laugh so hard he almost spat his water out, and he endeared himself to you with the way he blushed when teased about how poorly he handled his alcohol.

So when he insisted on seeing you home on the back of his motorcycle, extending an extra helmet to you as he leaned against its carbon fiber frame, you accepted, caring not about the incredulous looks of those around you as you let him kiss you breathless the way he had wanted to the entire evening. And the rest was history.

Masamune spoke again, pulling you back to the present.

“The doctors said I would never race again. And my dad…gods, he was furious when he found out I entered the Isle of Man TT race last year, saying I was throwing my life away after having it handed back to me on a silver platter, asking what would happen to the future of Oshu Foods if I weren’t so lucky this time around. But you know, when you find something that makes you feel so happy, so absolutely…alive, you just gotta do it, kitten.”

You listen, rapt, until the hand that had been slowly tracing the line of your jaw stopped at the chin to tilt your face up towards his.

“But I know you know this, kitten.  I’ve seen it.  You come alive when you dance on that pole. You’re so strong and graceful and sexy all at once. Hells, it’s beyond me how you make something so hard look so incredibly easy. It’s nothing short of magic.”

You could not helping smiling for you knew it was true, and looking deeply into Masamune���s eye revealed this was no lip service. His voice dropped even lower as he said,

“I was scared too, baby. As I sat at that starting line before the race, my thoughts began to close in on me: what if I had another accident, what if I came in dead last?  It was so bad, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“But then I thought about what it was that I loved about being on a motorcycle, that initial thrill when I discovered how it felt to ride faster than the wind, how all you can see when you get in the zone is the road straight ahead of you.

“And that’s what really matters in the end: that you’ve tried your best, put your all into training for the competition and, most importantly, that you’re having fun. Because life’s too short not to be enjoying yourself, kitten.

“So I let all thoughts of the event being a competition just slip away and focused solely on going as fast as I possibly could without losing control — all while trying to enjoy the process.”

Silence descends between the two of you, comforting like a warm blanket. And as you settle your cheek back onto his chest, the sweetness of his words floating in your head like wisps of cotton candy, the corner of your eye falls on the photo frame on the bedside table.

In the shot, your arms are thrown around Masamune’s neck, sunglasses slipping off the crown of your head as you jumped for joy amidst champagne spraying into the air like liquid confetti. The One-Eyed Dragon, still clad in his racing gear, had one arm tightly wrapped around your waist, the other lifting his first-place trophy high into the air.

Yes, you remembered the day Masamune defied all expectations and came out victorious in the Isle of Man TT race, one of the most difficult and dangerous races in the world. You had never once doubted that he could do it. And now, he was telling you the same.

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“Did you see it, kitten?”

He whispers before licking the shell of your ear, large hands chasing the drops of water falling from the shower above to cascade down your chest.

“There was a standing ovation just for you! You absolutely murdered your routine. You did it baby, first place — just like I always knew you would.”

In the wet heat of the shower, with Masamune’s solid chest pressed up against your back, you felt the tension that had been steadily building in the months leading up to the competition seep away from your body, following the trail of soapy bubbles as they circled the drain before disappearing.

You thought of the bright spotlight that had awaited you beyond the curtain. Remembered how you had taken three deep breaths to ground yourself before stepping out — tall, proud and strong — to take centre stage, the place where you belonged.

For you knew Masamune was in the audience, watching you succeed with love and admiration in his eyes. You also knew that you loved pole dancing, that your body was addicted to the way the sport made you feel, and that this was something nothing and no one could ever take away from you.

With that affirmation, everything came together. Your limbs moved of their own accord to the memory of a routine you knew like the back of your hand, and you lost yourself in the music. And when the rest of the world fell away, only Masamune and his unconditional love remained.

“Masa?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you, really…for all that you’ve done.”

“Kitten, I didn’t do a thing you haven’t already done for me. Besides, you’re the one who put in the time and effort. You deserve all the credit for your victory.”

“Can’t you just graciously accept my thanks for once, you crazy man?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how quick Masamune always was to downplay his contributions to the successes of others, yourself and otherwise.

“Well, if you insist…”

He fit himself even closer against you, lips finding the nape of your neck as his fingers brushed teasingly against your hardening nipples. And as he spoke between kisses pressed along your shoulder blades, you felt the unmistakeable nudge of his arousal against the cleft of your ass.

“…I’m always up for a reward. After all, it took everything in me to hold back from ravishing you on the spot whenever I saw you practicing your routine.”

Turning around, you wordlessly drop to your knees, warm water flowing down the smooth arch of your back as you look up at Masamune. Your tongue darts out to wet the corners of your lips and he sighs to feel the grip of your hands on the firm muscles of his backside. Steadying yourself on the tiled floor, you slowly took his formidable length into your mouth.

Masamune hisses through his teeth as you move, deliberately slow, and you know you’ve got him where you want him when he buries his hands into your wet hair, the furrow between his brows and tension in his fingers so telling of the monumental effort he is putting into restraining himself, when all he wanted to do was buck into your face with abandon.

Thick cock still in your mouth, you smile at him instead with your eyes as your hand draws away to move up the soft insides of your thighs, nestling in the heat between.

“Hells, kitten…now you’re really not playing fair.”

It excited you, putting on a show for him. For there was something deliciously primal about the way he looked at you now, much like the way he watched you when you pole danced. And as your fingers worked feverishly to stoke the fire of your arousal, the vibrations from the moans you couldn’t suppress almost drove the man mad.

So you really shouldn’t have been surprised when he pulled out and brought you to your feet, his command unmistakeable despite being whispered,

“Hands against the wall.”

Through the steam, you could make out your reflection in the bathroom mirror: palms pressed white against the glass of the shower stall as your body bent at the waist, wet strands of hair whipping the surface at intervals perfectly timed to the hard thrusts of Masamune’s groin against your ass.

And each time your lover slid in to the very hilt, making you gasp as he hit all the right places, you could only focus on the wet sound of flesh meeting flesh, the rhythm made more salacious for having been amplified by the acoustics of the room.

“Oh god, Masa-“

He kisses you from behind, swallowing your screams as you come undone, his fingers slowing on your pulsing clit as your pussy ceases to clench around the cock still buried deeply within you.

Then he finally pulls out to kneel before you, breathtakingly gorgeous as he admires the slow trickle of his release from between your legs. And when you feel his finger gathering the liquid to spread along the length of your folds, you melt from his words as much as the touch of his hand when he says,

“You know kitten, I know you won the competition, but I feel like the one who truly got the prize.”

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Thank you for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[spiderman-spoilerman]

SPIDERMAN EXPOSED BECAUSE OF TAYLOR SWIFT ADDICTION: What Is Peter Parker to Spider-Man?

This shit that has been going on for months now has finally been solved. For the longest time I’ve been following Spider-Man oh so very closely, eager to find out his identity—not to expose it to the media vultures, oh no, our hero deserves more than that. But… to satisfy my own curiosity. He’s the only Avenger hiding his identity, you know? You’d think they’d be okay with it after all these other superheroes get to run around freely…

Anyway!

As you all know, countless names have been linked to Spider-Man. He seems close with Tony Stark, but that’s hardly relevant. There’ve been links to JD Slinger, the American Pop Singer, in a very poor attempt to sell records—you’re not Hannah Montana JD fucking Slinger! Stick to your trash music!!!

However untrue and disappointing Slinger’s attempt at fame is, he’s not the only one with musical elements that is linked to Spider-Man.

A few months ago, a viral video entering adorable and kind of pedos-get-the-fuck-out-of-here-territory circulated around the internet and into our nightly news, as does every baby goes viral video does. You can check it out on the link below for a good dose of endorphins.

[Link: Baby boy wants to be Taylor Swift, re-uploaded by djflash]

[Description: A six-year old boy is standing in the shower with a towel draped over his body like a makeshift cloak, he is clutching his tooth brush on and seems to be furiously lip syncing. The camera shakes as the person behind the camera stifles laughter.

May Parker, the original uploader and aunt of the then-toddler Peter, asks: Aren’t you tired Peter? From all the singing? You’ve been singing for two hours. Aren’t you cold?

Peter is intensely staring at the mirror as he lip-syncs but pauses to look at May. He says in a tired and raspy voice: Yeah, but, but my fans! I need to sing, Auntie May, for the fa— [looking harried] DROP EVERYTHING NOW, MEET ME IN THE POURING RAIN—

The sound of Peter singing is drowned by May’s scream as Peter falls on his butt, having jumped with his passion for the song, and tripping.

It cuts off with May laughing while taking Peter in her arms, phone capturing her picking him up and hearing Peter crying as he tries to get back to the mirror: It—doesn’t hurt May. Need to get back—my! My concert!

Video ends]

Now how does a viral video of a baby Taylor Swift fan connect to Spider-Man?

Well, May Parker posted it on Facebook when Flash Thompson, who claims to be a good friend of Peter Parker (although I highly doubt this, he’s only in it for the clout and Spider-Man’s love, click here for more on Flash), decided to share it to everyone. One of his reposts on Twitter propelled it to viral success.

Weeks later, May Parker decided to bless us again with more content by taking a video of her now teenage (17 years old—PEDO’S STAY AWAY) nephew singing, once again, a Taylor Swift song.

[Link: I’m so glad im seventeen and can properly thirst upon this wonderful hooman]

[Description: They are in the kitchen this time and May Parker is being discreet with her video-taking. A Taylor Swift song ends softly from his phone’s tiny speakers. A Spotify ad interrupts but the video cuts it off two seconds later for another Taylor Swift song to filter in.

We take in the scenario. Peter is in his pyjamas, shaking his booty while singing Stay Stay Stay. He flourishes his hands a few times, dramatizing, “That’s when you came in wearing a football helmet, and I said, [he changes voices] “Okay, let’s talk” [he finishes one pancake and pours a new batter in before using the ladle as a microphone, as if in anticipation for the moment, and, back bent, face scrunched up, belts: STAYSTAYSTAY I’ve b EEN LUH-VING YOU FOR QUITE SOME TIME- TI-HIME! YOU THINK THAT ITS FUNNEH WHEN I’M—OH MAN, I spilled batter on my shirt!”

The camera shakes with May’s silent laughter. Peter does not seem to notice. He looks side to side, almost as if he is looking for something to wipe the batter with, but there are no paper towels in sight and his shirt is dripping with the excess batter the size of his fist.

In the most compelling, and understandable, moment of decision making, Peter has chosen not to be responsible and strips instead, to the utter delight of seventeen-year old’s in the world (and ONLY those younger than that! Pedos, I swear to god, if I see you, I kill you, that last blog was the last time you make me burn my eyes!)—a wonderful set of abs and toned muscles you would not expect from a seventeen year old boy singing to Taylor Swift with the squeakiest voice in the world.  Adorable. Ten points for my good boy ranks.

The video ends with Peter staring further at the shirt and licking at the batter before it violently cuts off to the roaring laughter of one May Parker]

It is peculiar, to watch May navigate the wonders of technology, too, because the first video was on her Facebook years unnoticed before Flash Thompson unearthed it for the world to see (Mr. Thompson, what exactly were your intentions going through a beautiful May Parker’s Facebook pictures?). But this time, she also apparently intended to send it to Peter’s friend’s Instagram account. However, the fluke came when she posted it and tagged them instead.

People who have followed her upon the first viral video have now decided it to be God’s work to distribute the video, making it viral within days. The very same people were the ones who noticed that Peter Parker’s singing style is the very same as Spider-Man’s.

I hear you gasp. Well, of course. I spit my tea as well, when I realized it too.

See, unless you were living under a rock, about a year ago, Spider-Man was exposed as a Taylor Swift fan when he saved a ten year old girl and began teaching her about the History and Influence of Swift’s discography and career, before proceeding to sing with her the hit song Speak Now. All of it was caught on camera, of course.

The people who spread this new video started a conspiracy theory that Spider-Man and Peter Parker are very similar people. One user @finn-man-the-aquaman pointed out that Spider-Man and Peter Parker’s voice are very similar. Another user @maxine_and_spider-man compared the dance moves from the two videos, putting frames of each steps beside each other, and found that it was so uncannily similar that it couldn’t have been a coincidence. It was an interesting point to make, because both Peter and Spider-Man had particular steps, all seemingly on a whim, but also matching each other perfectly. They are by no means good dancers, God no, but their whimsical dancing looks like two bad dancers following one choreography, couldn’t follow it technically but committed to it emotionally.

Twitter user @emiliar summarized it the best: the chest pump, the feet extension, the little jig, and the butt shake, before leaning backward and singing at the height of their emotions— apparently this is a common dance choreography?

To which @pissshitcry responded with a video that would bring us the wonderful breakthrough that I’ve been walking you all through.

[VIDEO uploaded by spidermansavedmetwice]

[Caption by @pissshitcry: No. Apparently: ]

[Video Description: Spider-Man is swinging through the buildings before stopping by Midtown High School, in front of a harried looking student, screaming frantically, and this is it folks: CAN YOU GIVE THIS TO NED LEEDS, TELL HIM SPIDER-MAN THANKS HIS FRIEND PETER! tHANKS! Before zipping away

Video ended]

Now. Okay. I know, calm down guys, I’m trying so hard not to run up the hills and do an Irish Jig, because I am so, so, so excited about all these new revelations! Nobody has quite documented this, too, so people, watch out for more of my content in a few weeks.

SO! Implication one: Spider-Man knows Ned Leeds.

Implication two: Peter Parker helped Spider-Man somehow.

Implication three: Spider-Man knows Peter Parker.

Cut, do it again, but with more emotions: SPIDER-MAN KNOWS PETER PARKER.

Let’s zoom back to a few weeks after the viral hits and Taylor Swift posts a video of her watching the video and then saying into the camera, with that iconic red lipstick and perfectly sculpted eyebrows: I have never thought this would be something that will happen to me in my career ever, but seeing a super-hero sing praises about me and teaching my [and she quotes from Spider-Man’s erratic explanation about her history] “unattainable song-writing prowess equal to that of the rock singing legends of ye old—” really does bring a smile to my face! More than that, Peter Parker is an absolute cutie too! He looks like such a sweetheart, baking those pancakes, apparently, for her aunt? Be sweet to your aunts guys! But also. I came here to cordially invite both Spider-Man and Peter Parker to come out to my concert in New York in two weeks! I’ll be there May 25th at the Lincoln Center, and maybe we can all sing together!”

She ends the video with the iconic Spider-Man wrist flip. The video has been circulated and has now gained over an estimated 100 million views.

It sparked a buzz of interest among the people, Peter Parker having received much of the spotlight. He hasn’t said anything in relation to Spider-Man but had reluctantly agreed to go to Swift’s invite. And I cannot emphasize the reluctant part. Kid looked so uncomfortable, but maybe he’s just shy!

Okay. Now, this thing is the most glaring indicator of what I will be telling you. The night of the concert. Everyone is there for Swift, but everyone is also there waiting for the much-awaited Spider-Man and Peter Parker saga. Halfway into her song list, Taylor Swift stopped to talk. The time has come.

Peter Parker walks into the stage, and the crowd welcomes him with adoring cheers, similar to Swift’s entrance herself. She introduces him, even though she absolutely does not need to, and the people scream their approval.

When Swift gives him his own mic, he almost drops it before catching it with his incredible reflexes. Swift calls for Spider-Man to reveal himself, much to the delight of the crowd, chanting his name as if it was a concert for him, which, in many ways, it kind of was. However, Spider-Man didn’t appear after that and the duo had to continue on.

It was a cute performance, with Parker stumbling a few times before getting the groove with Swift and belting it out as well. Everyone joins in on them singing and enjoying her old songs, Swift smiling and laughing the whole time.

Peter leaves the stage Spider-Man plushies and roses thrown for him, to which he received with a graceful bow. Swift resumes her concert after a few hearty jokes thrown in—but wait! What’s that?!

A screaming insect crashes at one of the large LED walls at the stage and the camera [and the collective crowd] is surprised to see the superhero—SPIDER-MAN!

“Ehehehe, hello Miss Taylor Swift, Ma’am!” He says, in a particularly deeper voice. Autotune? Before they sing it out, as they would—Swift laughing, and Spider-Man trying—Spider-Man explains that he was nervous meeting Peter Parker, before scrambling to correct that it was Swift he was nervous about meeting.

Swift then teases Spider-Man about a potential crush, which.

BRINGS US TO MY BREAKTHROUGH POINT.

TAYLOR SWIFT WAS ABOUT TO BRING US THE GAY COUPLE OF THE CENTURY, BUT SPIDER-MAN WAS TOO CHICKEN TO GET TO IT.

Okay, alright, I hate pedos, and we don’t exactly know Spider-Man’s age but we do know that he’s very young, what with all the pop culture references he’s been dropping with the intuition of an internet native. So, he’s young, alright? Possibly Gen-Z, even. Here’s a post you can see about his age analysis.

SPIDER-MAN. HAS. A. CRUSH. ON. PETER. PARKER.

[Insert hand chopping movements]

AND THEY ALMOST HAD A CUTE MOMENT ON STAGE HAD SPIDER-MAN BRAVED IT THROUGH.

PETER PARKER, AND I MEAN, PETER PARKER! SPIDER-MAN HAS A CRUSH ON YOU!

We’ve established that Spider-Man knows Peter Parker. They’ve met. Peter has possibly helped, or even saved Spider-Man himself. Now, saving a superhero is something that not just anybody does. And Parker himself is a student at Midtown Science High—he’s a smart kid! And seeing as these events just happened months apart, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to imagine them meeting again, perhaps, with Parker making pancakes in dewy mornings, and a tired (and yearning) Spider-Man is watching from the windows as Peter dances along to Swift’s songs.

The watching from the windows theory and thus getting to know the choreography might not be so creepy if you factor in the fact that Spider-Man might be hiding his crush for Parker’s safety!

It is like the modern incarnation of Super-Hero romance, only now, its more inclusive! To exist in such a beautiful world, and to watch such an innocent tale bloom in this cruel, cruel world. We could only hope to see more of them together, maybe as something... more?

--

COMMENTS:

reblogged by thunderstrike: this is like someone trying to overanalyze twilight for some depth—THERE ISN’T ONE!

thunderstrike reblogged by spidahmanna: come on, give them some credit at least for recounting the most batshit insane crossover in the universe as we know it so far

reblogged by skdfas: this person needs help, but very entertaining to read

reblogged by nedleads: oH MY GOD 

reblogged by kliyon: new ship, age appropriate Spider-Man x Peter Parker

reblogged by ekeke: um yes, i need a dash of meet-cute with one cup of flavored angst—soda please, I like it to hurt— large fluff, a BFF serving of some of them yearning, and a happy sad-meal for one please.

reblogged by unaunann: im done with this site, who wants to burn the internet with me?

3, 000 reblogs in 1 day

--

 Tony, reading the blog: Hmmm…

[Later]

Tony: Okay so I read this blog and I have remedied it.

Peter: Oh my god thankyoumisterstark I swear I didn’t mean to—

Tony: You are now the biggest shareholder for Spotify because I know you don’t want me to pay for a premium account, but if you’re gonna listen to those damn ads while singing to Taylor Swift, at least earn from it, you know?

Peter: …that’s what you took from the whole thing?

--

NEXT ARTICLE: The Avengers film a parody of Queen’s I Want To Break Free. Is Captain America is as beautiful as Rogerina, or is he too buff??? Tony Stark is an iconic drama queen, perfect for Freddie Mercury, and more!

[nev3rfound]

two of a kind : b.b

brief summary: bucky becomes enticed by a ballerina who he’s more alike than he may think

requested: nope, it was just an idea I went with  word count: 2.2k warnings: none that I’m aware of

* requests are open if you have any ideas, feel free to drop ‘em in my inbox or message me. *

Bucky sighed loudly as Steve convinced him to get out of the compound, see a bit of the city he once called a home that now has never felt so foreign to him. 

“Why couldn’t we just train instead?” Bucky grumbles as Steve glances to his friend, clearly unimpressed by his statement. 

“Because Bucky, you gotta adapt whether you like it or not. I’m introducing you to new culture, something you might learn to love.” Steve motions to a large building with a poster that covers an entire wall, The Swan Lake. 

Raising his eyebrow to his friend Bucky shakes his head. “Like we’re seeing a ballet.” 

Steve sighs, “Natasha got the tickets. Her friend’s a performer.” 

Bucky remains quiet, silently refusing to attend despite a ticket already having his name on it waiting for him to take. “Could you imagine seeing me sat through a ballet performance, Steve?” Bucky asks and a smile appears on Steve’s face at the eventful evening awaiting them. 

Patting his arm lightly the two of them continue walking down the street as Steve talks about the show they’ll be seeing, but something catches Bucky’s eye. 

It was almost a split second of seeing someone in through a window. She was twirling, elegantly making her way around the space she had as her eyes remained tightly shut, hair slicked back. 

He knew at that moment he wanted to know the young woman as she turned her back, placing her feet flat on the ground, but before she could turn her head Steve snapped him out of his trance. 

“You still in there?” Steve asks as Bucky clears his throat, glancing back to see her shoe slip out of the door, leaving the room in front of the window empty. 

*

Slumping into the chair Bucky pulled at his tie, clearly uncomfortable in the tux Steve insisted he wore for such an event. 

The velvet curtains remained covering the stage as spotlights already positioned awaited the performance like everyone in their finery. “She’s going to be amazing, it’s almost unbelievable how far she's come.” Natasha tells Steve as he places his hand on her forearm, rubbing it softly. 

 “What’d you mean?” Bucky peers over Steve to ask Natasha who raises her eyebrow to Steve. 

“You didn’t tell him?” She sighs as Steve stutters, leaving Bucky waiting. 

As Natasha goes to explain the orchestra begins, cutting her off before she has the chance to tell him that he’s not as alone as he may think. 

Everything that was itching away at Bucky melted away as the show began, the gentle music as the dancers emerged, slowly telling a story through movement. He was in a trance as the woman emerged in a white dress, it was delicate, she was the swan. Her movements resembled nothing but beauty, the way she extended her fingertips as she passed the Prince, someone Bucky wished to be in that moment. 

He wasn’t even aware he was leaning forward until it was the interval and the lights rose as a series of people got up, heading to purchase food and drink. “Enjoying it, Bucky?” Natasha speaks up as a smile plays on Bucky’s lips thinking about the swan. 

“She’s somethin’ else.” He states, not catching the look exchanged between Natasha and Steve. “She famous? I mean, she must be with that kinda talent.” He gushes, continuing to speak up about her precise movements, the use of her body in a sensual delicate manner. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” 

Steve lowers his head, realising just how much Bucky has missed out on. He’s never seen or even been to a real dance, not like the ones they went to as kids. This was a whole other world to him, one he didn’t even know he’d missed. 

“She’s just a dancer, Buck.” Steve shrugs his shoulders as he turns to Natasha. “Never know, might get to meet her after the show.” 

A slight nudge in his metal arm causes Bucky to tense. The thought of meeting someone so angelic wasn’t a steady concept. He was too harsh, too strong to be around someone like that who oozed beauty whilst he lived in a world of pain and personal torment. 

As the performance resumed Steve couldn’t take his focus from his friend, the way his mouth remained ajar as a smile formed on his face, something he hadn’t seen truly in a long time. Bucky was in a trance with her, as she was oblivious to the hundreds of eyes focusing her, but he wished he was one she would notice. 

Placing his hand on Natasha’s, Steve motions for her to take a look at the sight. 

Averting her eyes from the stage she can’t believe what she’s witnessing. Bucky Barnes was in complete awe of her, of Odette. 

It was over too soon for Bucky’s liking, despite having sat down for hours it felt like mere minutes. He was one of the first to his feet, applauding the entire cast, but especially her as she bowed. 

The Orchestra finished the closing song and the velvet curtains returned to their original position. Slowly everyone began to exit the Theatre, but Bucky was still sat down, picturing her all over again as she twirled around the stage. 

“Buck?” Steve speaks up and Bucky sighs before rising to his feet. “We’re just heading backstage to meet Natasha’s friend, wanna join?” 

Relectunatley he agreed as they departed the Theatre, heading out of the main entrance before turning down the side of an alleyway as the conversations and buzz of the performance had died down. Bucky kept his head low, thinking he’ll never get to see her again, she’ll probably be hidden away in some dressing room with the Prince whilst he sits quietly being nothing more than a member of the audience to her. 

The door swings open and Natasha laughs. “Oh my gosh, you were incredible!” She cheers as the four of them walk inside, Bucky hanging back from the three others as the sigh of silk shoes and pieces of costumes pass his gaze. 

“So, Steve, Bucky, this is my old friend, Y/n.” He lifts his head up, simply to be polite, but he freezes as she smiles. 

It was her, the Swan, Odette. She was you. 

You stand up, brushing your costume down before Steve brings you into a warm hug as you remain in your ballet shoes causing Bucky to silently wince. “It’s lovely to meet the name behind the ballerina.” Steve jokes and you laugh lightly, a sound that Bucky can feel etching its way through his soul, the warmth that flows through it as he takes it in.

“Hi Bucky,” You’re now stood in front of him, a small smile plastered on your face as he rises to his feet, clearing his throat. Unsure of himself he tries to smile which results in more of a nervous grimace. “thanks for coming to the show, I hope it wasn’t too boring.” You joke and Bucky shakes his head repeatedly. 

“Oh, it was far from boring, doll.” The words slip off of his tongue effortlessly and behind you, Steve and Natasha share a knowing look. “You were,” He lets out a small sigh. “somethin’ else.” 

Bucky raises his head to meet your eyes as he spies a blush rising beneath your makeup. “Why didn’t you mention Bucky sooner, Nat? He’s a real charmer.” You turn to Natasha, nudging her lightly as she leans into Steve, a warm smile on her face. “Well, I better get changed. As much as I’d love to sit and chat I have to get my leg checked.” You towards the exit before pausing, leaving Bucky with a glimmer of hope before you vanish for good. “It was lovely meeting you guys.” 

“Pleasure was all ours, doll.” Bucky states as you smile before walking out of the door, leaving him truly speechless before two of his friends who simply give him a look. “What?” He asks as they shake their heads in disbelief. 

“Who knew you had it in you, Buck.” Steve scoffs as he heads out of the door. 

Natasha goes to follow but pauses before Bucky. “She’ll be in dressing room nine. Just, be nice okay?” She pats his chest lightly, straightening his tie. “If you hurt her,” Her grip tightens on his tie, almost choking him as he swallows forcefully. 

“Loud and clear, Romanoff.” Bucky sputters as Natasha smiles, releasing her tight hold. 

As he stands alone in the room he releases a shaky breath before walking down the corridor, directly towards dressing room nine labelled loud and clear for him to see. 

Hesitantly he lifts his fist up to knock, and the sound of your delicate voice makes his heart skip a beat. “Hold on a sec!” You yell through the door as he hears some struggle before it opens. “Oh,” You raise your eyebrow, surprised to see him stood before you. “hey Bucky.” 

“H,Hi.” He stutters, silently swearing for his nerves. “I just wanted to say to you that what you’re doing is truly a work of art.” 

You let out a small laugh out of nervousness. Someone like Bucky wasn’t exactly your normal audience, let alone critic. Moving aside from the door Bucky can see you’re limping. “Come on in.” You motion as he steps inside and as his head turns his eyes widen at the sight before him. 

Immediately his eyes zone in on it, it’s hard not to. But he snaps his eyes away, back to yours. “Sorry, it’s rude to stare. I, I just never expected it.” He rubs his face, shaking his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned anything I erm.” Stuttering you move towards him, placing your hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright, Bucky. I don’t mind it really.” You shrug your shoulders as you perch on the stool by the dressing table. “When I was a kid I had bone cancer, they amputated just below the knee.” You place your hand on the healed spot where the scars are still evident after all these years, the pain now nonexistent. 

“But you can still dance?” He asks quietly as you nod in response. “It’s so beautiful, so effortless but you’re working harder than the rest?” 

“Not really,” You state as you stand up, reaching over for your prosthetic leg. “this is part of me, has been for most of my life. When I’m in my ballet shoes it feels right, it isn’t so much an extension of me, it is me.” He listens intently as you explain more about it, the way you explain it with no fears or worries. “I’ve learnt to appreciate how lucky I am, and that I can still do what I love thanks to it.” 

He smiles to himself before lifting his flesh hand up, resting it on the sleeve covering his metal arm. “I guess we’re not so different after all.” He mutters as you raise an eyebrow to him. “I erm, my arm is made of metal.” 

It surprises him, the reaction you have. You’re not afraid. Instead, you rise to your feet until you’re stood in front of him as he slips his jacket off and unbuttons his shirt. 

Bucky is aware of his heart beating faster, standing before you shirtless. But he can tell you don’t mind as your eyes fixate on the scarring joining his arm to the metal. “Can I?” You lift your fingertips and he nods. 

A cold shiver spirals through his bones as your fingertips glide along the scars before you feel along the metal, how perfectly it forms together like a normal arm would. “This is amazing.” You mumble as you lift your eyes up to his as he is unable to ignore the glimmer in your eyes of curiosity. “I mean, it truly is a work of art.” 

“Don’t think anyone has ever called it that.” He scoffs lightly before slipping his shirt back on whilst you remain a close distance to him. 

“They should, Bucky.” You softly tell him as you lick your lips, causing his heart to push through his chest into yours. “Because that isn’t something you see every day, that is something to be proud of. We all have our battle scars, but it’s what we do with them that matters.” Your words bury themselves into his memory, not wanting this moment to end as you smile up at him. 

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers to you, meaning it in every single sense, even if it were too soon for him to say such a thing. “Would you like to go for dinner sometime?” 

You smile up at him before nodding. “I’d love to, Bucky.” 

As you two sit in your dressing room, talking like old friends Steve and Natasha are on their way back to the tower, discussing the two of you. “How’d you know they’d be the perfect match?” Steve asks Natasha as she links her arm into him, leaning against his arm. 

“Because Y/n is a healer, she wants everyone to know how much they matter and more importantly, how beautiful she thinks they really are.” Natasha smiles to herself as she sighs quietly. “Y/n needs someone like Bucky in her life, and I think Bucky needs her more than he’ll care to admit.” 

“Just you wait, Nat. We’ll see Bucky on stage performing in the background.” Steve chuckles to himself, picturing his friend attempting to dance. 

“Yeah, as a tree.” Natasha bluntly states before laughing, the two of them knowing how things would work out, knowing you two couldn’t be a better match, two of a kind. 

[yandere-society]

Can i request any member of your choice being paranoid of their SO cheating on them. Whether the SO is actually cheating or not depends on you

Never Let Me Go

Admin: kimseokmomjins

Word count: 2k

Warnings: sexual dysphoria, cheating, lots of angst 

“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”― Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind

•·················•·················•

Monday was your favorite day of the week.

While most of society often looked forward to Fridays, you looked forward to Monday mornings: when Hoseok’s duties as rapper J-Hope mandated that he show up at BigHit promptly at 6am. Mondays meant you could finally breathe. Mondays meant that you wouldn’t see Hoseok until late Friday evening, or possibly even Saturday morning, granting you enough time to be yourself— to be your own person. Free from the burden of a relationship, free from overbearing tendencies that drove you insane, free from the lingering touches that made your skin crawl.

It wasn’t always like this, your relationship with Hoseok. You’d begun dating during your final year of high school, when his career as an idol had just begun to kick off. Soon, Bangtan Sonyeondan had become a household name, and the subsequent fame and fortune meant Hoseok was quickly able to pay off all his debts and then some. The two of you had been a couple for a little over two years at that point, and it was then that Hoseok offered to support you financially, stating that any fan could find out where you worked and harass you. His worries were valid, as his parents home was constantly swarmed with teenage fans, so you graciously accepted Hoseok’s kind offer.

But the underneath the generosity and kind-heartedness that initially appealed to you, a toxic possessiveness soon began to rear its ugly head. Not long after moving into the joint condo in the heart of Seoul, Hoseok began to dictate who you could and couldn’t interact with. Each time that you proposed hanging out with someone, Hoseok was quick to plant seeds of distrust within yourself. He argued that any new friends you made only wanted to use you for fame and fortune, or that a crazy sasaeng could try to kidnap you for ransom. Hoseok’s excuses, while initially sensible, soon became more outrageous.

Pretty soon, Hoseok wouldn’t even “allow” you to interact with any members of Bangtan, alleging that the younger members often made sexual remarks about you and that he’d worry that your loyalty would stray. At first, it upset you that Hoseok even considered that fact that you would cheat on him, but soon you found yourself loving him less and less. He was no longer your hope, your sunshine, your fun-loving Hobi. He was domineering and overbearing, both financially and emotionally.

While each passing day seemed banaler than the last, to you, Mondays were the brightest days of the week. Mondays meant that you could see her.

Much like her brother, she was an icon to many. She had the same hardworking tendencies, having created a successful clothing line from a young age. The charisma she possessed was similar as well, but unlike her brother, she was not the sun— she was the moon. Gentle and tender, like the sweet scent of camellias. She was patient, understanding, and sincerely cared for you as a Friend. A Friend, with a capital F, because that’s all she would ever see you as. You were her younger brother’s girlfriend of course. There were lines that could never be crossed.

And yet, here you found yourself: your lips slanted against Dawon’s as she cradled your cheeks as if she held the world in the palm of her hands. While Hoseok’s lips were soft and tasted like his cherry lip tint, Dawon’s were slightly chapped. But they felt— tasted— so real, so natural and gritty.  Like she was the oasis that sated your unquenchable thirst. That touchable boundary existed no longer; the taboo had been committed, and yet it felt so right.

After her braces accidentally nicked your lower lip, the two of you parted, although neither of you moved to disentangle yourselves from your embrace. The two of you giggled, not out of nervousness, but sheer giddiness. Never before had something wrong felt so damn right.

“I love you,” she murmured, and it was like the world had been tipped off its axis, like color had been returned to your monochromatic life. “You know I love you, Y/N. Please run away with me.” It wasn’t a question, nor a confession— it was a promise.

You brought your cheek to Dawon’s, pulling her closer to your heart. Could she feel how fast yours was beating?

“I’m scared.”

“I know,” she replied, her fingers lacing with yours. “I am too. But I’ll make you happy. We can be ourselves, free from judgment.” Dawon’s thumb rubbed soothing circles across yours, the intimacy comforting you instantly. You exhaled, “Ya-Yeah, let’s do it.”

Dawon grinned, her eyes cresting into two half-moons. “Meet me Sunday at 11pm outside of Seoul Station. Don’t worry about Hoseok, my brother should have afterparty interviews and a group Vlive, so you’ll be able to sneak away, okay?” You nodded before bringing your lips to hers once again, relishing in the tingling of each kiss.

You wished this moment— this regular, ordinary Monday— would never end.

•·················•·················•

It was Sunday evening. But this Sunday was unlike any other: it was the final day of the MAMAs, and Hoseok was emceeing. You reminded yourself that could do this— if you could last through the rest of the evening then you could finally be yourself with the person you loved. As for right now, all you needed to do was smile and look pretty.

You watched Hoseok’s muscles ripple as he put on his dress shirt, the crisp, white linen in stark contrast with his olive skin. The starched collar reminded you of a time when you couldn’t keep your hands off of Hoseok, and his shirt collars were constantly stained with lipstick. But now, they remained spotless.

“You know it’s funny,” Hoseok said, chuckling mirthlessly, eyes locked on his reflection in the vanity mirror. “It’s absolutely hilarious how you think I don’t notice.” You pulled your focus away from your hands and met his gaze through the mirror, feigning innocence, “What’s funny?”

“You think that I don’t know you’re cheating on me.”

It wasn’t an accusation, but a declaration. Jung Hoseok was no fool, he could tell just by the lackluster way you’d responded to his text messages, avoiding eye-contact, and your general skittish demeanor that you were harboring a secret. The final nail in the coffin was the packed duffle bag he found stashed under the bed. He had to give you props— you were gutsy to defy the man who had given you everything you could ever want or need.

Your breath hitched, “H-Hobi, why would you…” The sentence couldn’t even be finished, because you had no excuse, no defense. He had caught you red-handed.

Hoseok studied your conflicted state, his smugness mocking you in the form of a smirk. “Got anything to say for yourself, Y/N?” You dropped your eyes in shame, words seemingly escaping you. Hoseok straightened his back as he fastened his bowtie, examining himself with an intensity that had you nearly cowering in fear. “Well?” He turned towards you, and the coolness his demeanor radiated caused you to flinch. “I’m- I’m sorry, Hoseok.” He made a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh, “I’m sure you are.”

“I mean it,” you continued, hot, fat tears streaming down your face, ruining your makeup. “I couldn’t stop it.” Hoseok cooed at your distraught appearance, swiping his knuckles across your cheekbones, effectively catching your mascara-stained tears in the process. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I know you didn’t mean to.” Once your cries had subsided into faint hiccups, he pulled away, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket before smiling his brilliant toothy smile— the same smile that you loved so much on Dawon.

“Well, how about we put this all behind us, okay babe? Let’s not let this sour such an important evening.” The subtle implication of his words completely evaded you, assuming he was taking his debut as an emcee. Hoseok simply offered you his arm, which you accepted reluctantly, unaware of the velveteen box stashed inside his pants pocket. The shackle that would keep you bound to him as a prisoner.

•·················•·················•

A sea of bright lights surrounded the stage as all the participating idols gathered together for the closing ceremony of the awards show. Hoseok and his co-host stood before the crowd, wishing the audience a happy New Year.

“Ah, there’s one more announcement I’d like to make,” Hoseok said, bowing politely at a nearby camera. The lights on the stage dimmed, with only a sole spotlight illuminating Hoseok. He scanned the audience, focusing his attention in your general direction, as your private table was far from the stage. Hoseok cleared his throat, “Y/N, the beautiful, sweet, love of my life.” His words triggered a cacophony of ‘aww’ from the audience, with a few idols on stage playfully clutching their hearts in mock pain.

“I’m so happy to have found such a wonderful woman to stand by my side for the last five years. You’ve been nothing but supportive and loyal through it all.” Despite Hoseok’s words sounding romantic superficially, to you, they carried a heavy insinuation. “I couldn’t think of a better woman to spend the rest of my life with,” he continued as he crouched down on one knee. “I want everyone to know how much you mean to me, so will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Suddenly, a blinding light burned your retinas as countless sets of eyes stared at you expectantly. Dozens of cameras from different television companies and streaming services focused on you, televising Hoseok’s proposal to nearly all of Korea. Millions were watching in rapt attention as they awaited your decision— a decision that had already been decided for you the moment Hoseok got down on one knee. There was no chance of you rejecting such a public proposal, not after he had poured his heart and soul into such a passionate display of affection. No, Hoseok knew you wouldn’t dare reject a proposal from Korea’s Sunshine J-Hope. Not only would fans be furious at you, but BTS’s reputation would suffer as well. You both knew the only proper response was a yes.

You should be happy: you were experiencing what any ARMY could ever hope and dream of. But instead of happiness, you only felt dread weighing in your gut like lead. You didn’t want a life with Hoseok, not anymore. You wanted lazy Sundays in bed with Dawon, you wanted to run your fingers through her hair as you wove it into plaits. You wanted normalcy, you wanted love.

But you were a coward; so you tearfully accepted Hoseok’s proposal as you silently bid goodbye to love you so desperately craved. As you walked down the aisle towards the stage, you fruitlessly tried to quell the thunderous beating of your heart. All you could think about was Dawon and how you had promised to meet her. Where was she? Was she at home, packing her stuff? Or was she already at the station waiting for you to arrive? Maybe she was eating ramen at her favorite late-night restaurant, and maybe— just maybe— she picked up a to-go container of your favorite as well.

Either way, you knew Dawon would be incredibly hurt. And it was all your fault.

You reached the stage, Hoseok pulling you into a tight embrace before twirling you around wildly. His group mates tearfully watched on as he slid the engagement ring onto your finger, proud that their brother had matured enough to ask for your hand. Hoseok leaned in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I hope those are tears of happiness babe,” he whispered before planting a kiss on the apple of your cheek. You looked down at your ringed hand in embarrassment— or maybe it was self-loathing— and gazed at the spaces in between your fingers.

You wished you had never let her go.

•·················•·················•

And somewhere in Seoul, sat Jung Dawon, alone in a train station. Her tears dotted the phone screen, the live stream confirming the MAMA attendees were celebrating your engagement with pomp and circumstance. Dawon looked at the spaces between her fingers, remembering the ghost of your hand as it rested in hers. She waved the memory away as she tucked her head in her hands and cried. She cried for herself, she cried for you, but most importantly, she cried because she wished she had never let you go.

((A/N: Happy pride month everyone! I know this may not have been exactly what was requested, but I wanted to take some artistic liberties and represent bisexual/queer women in fanfiction, because I feel like they’re often misrepresented. Have a lovely June, everyone!))

[lillaxtrigger]

Young Hope: Chapter 27

The twinkling night sky glistens over the metropolis of Townsville, the Spicer manor lighting through the darkness as the sound of applause escapes its walls. Within the living room of the abode itself, a small crowd of friends and family applaud and cheer surrounding the oldest son of the estate; Kingsley holding what looked to be a gold medal in the palms of his hands. The cheers of the small crowd dying down, the boy genius reads the words engraved in the medals reflective gold; saying: “1st place in the Townsville national gadgeteers competition.” After reading the engraving aloud, Kingsley turns back to the welcoming crowd behind him, announcing to them all that: “An award that I couldn’t have begun to imagine winning these past few days. I can’t thank everyone enough for their love, their smart thinking, and their endless support. I sincerely mean it when I say I couldn’t have won this without all of you. Thank you.” “I was all you, Kingsley. You earned that reward.” Persi compliments. “You did such a fantastic job sweetie.” his mother applauds. “Way to go, Spicer.” Cayenne simply cheers.

Despite the almost overwhelming ovation the boy genius gets, only one among the cheering circle outright refuses to join in; Kingsley younger sister glaring through the crowd with her bleak and contemptuous gaze. Chloe’s sour mood only worsens when she witnesses their father approach her smiling brother take the golden medal from him and claim that: “Beating out the entire gadgeteers expo on the first try ain’t something any genius can do. How bout we put this somewhere everyone can see.” Venturing out to the bookshelf on the side of the living room, the father perches the golden reward right in the middle of the shelf; taking center stage next to a collection of various other award owned by his son. “Aw dad, that hunk of gold ain’t nothing. Its the people that helped me along the way that matter more.” Kingsley’s cheesy line causes the crowd to erupt in a whale of applause and laughter, the cheering proving to be the last straw that his red headed sister can take before taking her leave in a bitter huff; her mother being the only one to notices her departure.

In her stomping huff through the living room, Chloe fails to catch the emergency news broadcast playing on their television; the reporter warning that: “-advise everyone to stay inside their homes for the night. The coma epidemic that has been plaguing the entire city this past week is still ongoing and a plausible source has not been identified. Again, our station advises everyone listening to stay in their homes and lock any and all ways in.”

Reaching the front door of their home, Chloe readies to head out; her hand on the knob right when she hears her mom grab her attention with: “Where are you going, honey?” “I’m...I’m going over to Serena’s for a bit. I promised to help her out with her potions.” “Alright, sweetie. Are you going to be okay?” “I’ll be fine mom. I just need to go.” the red head states before making her exit. As she watches her only daughter close their door behind her, the mother can’t help but let out a worrying groan; knowing full well that Chloe is not as fine as she claims to be.

Strolling down the lonesome darkened streets of Townsville, the young red head can’t help but rant aloud to herself about on: “Stupid Kingsley and his stupid rewards and his stupid accomplishments. Its not like I don’t have any kind of rewards that I earned over the years, no. It’s always just about Kingsley, isn’t it. Of course everything I do just winds up getting swept out of the spotlight. I win the national spelling bee, he wins the science fair project. I take home the gold in the school athletic olympics, Kingsley gets all the praise for his portable fusion reactor. I get an actual A+ on my science test, my brother gets rewards on teaching the whole damn class on fission experiments! It’s not fair! It’s just not fair!” Despite her self pitying cries ringing through the entire block, not a single soul around is there to hear her plea; her screaming eventually dying down into apathetic silence. “You’re right. It certainly isn’t fair.”

The unexpected voice echoing nearby suddenly makes the young girl jump, Chloe’s gaze swiftly scanning through the immediate streets in attempting to find who has shared their sympathy; alas finding nobody else around. “Just keep it together, Chloe. You’re probably just hearing things. Nothing but your own imagination.” “Oh contraire, my young budding rose; I’m no mere illusion conjured by your young adolescent mind. Nay, you’ve been humbly graced by a being from the very heavens themselves; here to free you from your woes and ease your mind.” Despite shaking in her shoes, the young lady stands still in the midst of this new disembodied voice; questioning on with: “Why are you so worried about me?” “Because, dear Chloe; your brother isn’t the only special one in the family. You boast so much more potential than you realize. So much so that it could surpass your own brothers feats, leaving you the shining star in everyone eyes.” “Really...how?” “All that you need is already is already around your little neck.” The voice in her head revealing such, Chloe pulls out the amazon crystal tucked underneath her dress; its pink glow permeating through the surrounding darkness. “My crystal?” “Indeed. That little trinket you have holds underneath its silky smooth shell the awesome power of the gods, awaiting for you to unleash its raw energy into this world.” “It has that much?...I was only able to fly and make such small things with it.” “It can do far more than just that. That stone can do far more than you can possibly imagine. Such potential around your neck could surpass even gods, much less, your own brother. I can show the kind of woman you could truly be with such power under your control, all you have do is open your heart...to me...” Such a golden promise echoing in her head, the red heads entire body ceases to tremble as she stares upon the glimmering sheen of her amazon crystal; the consuming shadows around her fleeing from its growing pink light.

As the afternoon sun bakes down the rooftop of the blue boys abode, both Tore and Mally stand at their mothers own bedside underneath; their eyes locked to her motionless, sleeping body. The dark purple dressed witch doctor slides her hands across the moms body, gliding her finger towards her eyes to open them; the mothers pupils bleak and soulless. “Hmm...this definitely isn’t good. How long has she been like this?” Serena questions. “Mom’s been in bed for a day and half straight. I thought she was just tired, but she been out cold this morning too. We tried everything to snap her awake; shake her, cold water, smelling salt, nothing worked.” Mally explains. “We thought she might’ve been hurt on the inside or something; but no matter how much I heal her, she just won’t wake up.” Tore adds. “We tried phoning for every hospital in town, but they’re too busy to even tell us to fuck off.” “I doubt any of them would be much help anyway. Her body isn’t the problem here.” the witch doctor informs. “Its her soul, isn’t it?” all of them hear from behind.

All in the room glance to the door to find the purple merc leaning against the doorway, Roy staring to the mothers unconscious body. “Roy! You’re back!” Mally exclaims. “How’d your date with Roxy go?” Tore asks. To his blue brothers question, the merc can’t bare to make direct eye contact with either of them; his gaze drifting to the corner of the room. “Oh...that bad huh?”

Fixing his eyes back to the three, the purple merc continues to asses the situation at hand by claiming that: “Her souls isn’t there, is it?” “That’s right on the mark. Even with her body at its healthiest; without her soul dwelling within her, she’ll never wake up.” “No problem then, we just find her soul and put it back in. Should be easy enough.” Tore simply states. “If only it were. You say a day and a half has passed since her souls been taken. If it doesn’t get back to her with two more, then her physical body shall become malnourished and she’ll eventually… she’ll eventually die.” The witch doctors harrowing warning sends the trio in a frightening scare; all three of them gazing upon the comatose body of their literally soulless mother. “Roy, can you tell where mom’s soul flew off to?” the blue boy questions his purple brother. “I might. A few sweeps around the city might give us the clues we need.” “The hell are we standing here like idiotic asshats here? Let’s get lookin!” Mally declares. “First, we need to contend with a couple of migraines ready to bust through our door.” Roy warns. “What migraines?” Right on questioning such, all of them hear a loud crash echoing out from the living room; the sound of wood breaking filling the house before somebody scream: “Knock knock, fuckers! We in the house!” “Cayenne! Why’d you break the door down!? We could’ve just knocked!” “Those migraines.”

Racing into the living room, everyone discovers both Kingsley and Cayenne standing before them; chunks of the front door scattered beneath their feet. “Hey guys, you couldn’t have come at a better time.” the blue angel greets. “Mind if I kindly ask what kind of drugged enchilada dipping sauce you ate urged you two to reduce our front door into an example of cheap wood craftsman ship?” the merc question. “It was me.” Serena points out. The trio glancing to the witch doctor behind them, they find Serena with her phone out; claiming that: “I told them to meet me here.” “This is perfect. We could really use your help, I-” Before the blue boy could finish asking for their aid, Cayenne pushes Tore aside as she approaches Serena; soon questioning her if: “Chloe said she was crashing at your place last night. You seen her?” “What? I’ve just been sorting through potions in my basement the other night. I didn’t hear her say anything about coming over.” “Did something happen to her?” Mally asks. “She went out during a little party we had last night and hasn’t come back home since.” Kingsley informs. “You try reaching her through her cell?” Tore wonders as he rises, dusting off the splinters stuck to his clothes. “We’ve tried everything. Phone, voicemails, e-mail, social media accounts; nothing comes up. She’s never been off the radar on her social for this long before, my parents are going insane; they launched a full blown police investigation just to find her.” “And you sure she’s just not passed out in a ditch crying somewhere, cause a full night toiling in your own overblown teenage drama bullshit can do that to a kid?” Roy wonders. “It doesn’t matter what happened to her now. All that matters now is that you hustle your asses outta here and help us find her. Got it?” the spice queen demands. “Yeah, not to sound like a veiny throbbing cock here; but fuck that. We got our own problems to deal with.” the merc turns down. “Sorry guys, but Roy is right. We don’t have the time. We gotta save our mom before she withers away.” Mally adds. “Its alright guys. We get it. Hope you guys can save her in time.”

Out the broken down doorway, Tore, Roy, and Mally all glide out towards the west side of the city; leaving behind them their three visitors. As they stroll away from the broken down door frame, the witch doctor turns her attention to the boy genius and asks if: “Now Kingsley, do you happen to have anything on you that your sister might’ve worn before she disappeared.” “Uh, yeah. Gimme a sec...” After confirming such, Kingsley digs through his jean pockets to pull out a lone diamond earring; claiming that: “This is what she was wearing the night before the party. Its one of her favorite earrings.” “Kingsley, why did you bring that with us?” Cayenne wonders. “I figured bringing it to police could help them track her down. Couple of sniffs from their German shepherds noses would’ve gotten them running after her trail in no time.” “I can assure you that my magic is far more efficient then any dogs the police may use.”

Taking the small accessory from the genius, Serena clasps the earring in the soft palms of her hands; a soft pink glow leaking out from the cracks of her fingers. This enchanting glow soon ventures ahead through the suburban air, the trio witnessing the pink trail drifting towards the city ahead; the witch doctor declaring that: “This aura trail should reveal to us the path Chloe had taken in the last 24 hours. Hopefully, she hasn’t strayed into a bad part of town and-” Before Serena could explain any further, she feels herself rising from the concrete pavement; glancing to her side to witness the spice queen sweeping her off her feet. Ascending from the roadway herself, Cayenne grabs hold of the boy genius beside her; tossing both him and the witch doctor on her back as she declares that: “The hell we standing around like a couple of jack offs here for then? Lets getting moving!” All three of them left on the clock, the spice queen whisks both of them away from the calm suburban neighborhood and towards the deep urban jungle of downtown Townsville.

The trio flying past the countless towering skyscrapers, the boy genius is left stuck on his phone; quelling the incoherent blubbering sounding out on the other end with: “Mom...mom...mom…please calm down. I’m sure if the police are too busy to help us, then I’m sure we can handle it ourselves. We already have Chloe’s trail and are following it as we speak...Yeah...Yeah...love you too...Bye.” As Kingsley puts his phone away, the spice queen underneath him grabs his attention with: “Think that might take more time then you think.” “Why?” the boy genius questions as he gazes to the skyline ahead of them. Before the airborne trio, they discover another of the red heads aura trail venturing out in a different direction; Kingsley questioning the witch doctor with them if: “Uh Serena, this wouldn’t happen to be part of your spell, would it?” “It certainly looks that way. Maybe Chloe took a little detour.” “Doesn’t matter what the hell she’s doin; we just gotta pick one. Thinkin that the new trail can get us to her faster?” “I don’t think so. For all we know, it could be a route she took before hand. Lets stay on the one were following just to be on the safe side.” Kingsley claims. “Whatev.” Their course fixed, all of them keep to the aura trail they were following; the trio continuing to glide deeper into the urban jungle.

Following the red heads pink aura eventually has them reach Townsville’s city square; Cayenne stops in the middle of the air right before the square, causing her two passengers to nearly fall. “Ah, Cayenne! What happened? Why’d you stop?” her best friend questions. Once getting their grips back on the spice queens back, both Kingsley and Serena gaze out to the site that caused her to halt in her tracks; their collective jaws going agap. Woven throughout the entire city square like a bright pink spiders web, Chloe’s trail venture in and out its countless twist and turns; rising and falling across both its streets and skyline. “Chloe flew this much in just one night? That-That’s insane. What was she even doing going through here like this?” “The fuck is this clusterfuck? How the hell are we supposed to figure out where she went with this horseshit?” Cayenne barks. “This is quite the troubling predicament! I’m not sure any spells I can do right now can sort through this mess.” Serena admits. “You got any that might?” the boy genius questions. “I could whip up a concoction that would be more than up for the job, though it may take some time for me to brew.” “Just give us a call when its ready.” The boy genius suggesting such, the witch doctor leaps off the spice queens backside; dissipating in a wave of sparkles. After Serena leaves them, both Kingsley and Cayenne continue forth with their search; following one of the many aura trails woven through the city square.

Flying out from around the neighboring corner, Tore, Roy, and Mally continue their own search through the depths of the urban jungle; the purple merc concentrating as they glide across the city skyline. “You getting any kind of read yet, bro?” Mally questions. “Nrr...Still nothing…I’m starting to think whoever took moms soul might’ve dragged it outta town by now.” A frustrated growl escapes from their orange haired sisters teeth; the skater claiming on how: “We don’t have that kinda time! If they really did ditch town, then we’ll never find them like this. We need a lead or something to give us an edge in this investigation.” “More like a whole damn police report.”

While both of his siblings continue flying forth, Tore breaks right in front of the massive TV screen beside them, the screen broadcasting the news network as its reporter states how: “The coma epidemic plaguing the city this past week has exploded last night. Cases of over 6 dozen people left comatose in their homes coming in from every corner of the city.” Before straying too far ahead, Mally glances back to discover their blue brother left staring to the city square television; grabbing her purple brother with: “Roy, hol up. Think Tore might be falling behind.” “Dammit, again? Swear to Hera, if he thinks he sees a crack in the road that looks like a third world country again; I’m gonna smack him into it.” The duo retreat back towards their brother’s side, finding him captivated by the massive monitor perched over the town square; the black winged merc claiming that: “Christ sake, man; we’re on the job. Get yer sorry blue ass in gear and-” “Hang on, Roy. Look.” their sister implores; pointing to the oversized TV itself. As all of them gaze upon the ongoing news report, they hear the reporter herself continue her story with: “Hospitals all over town are crowded with all the countless comatose victims coming in, and the increasing numbers not giving them a single break. Even as the police are unfortunately still at a loss on who might be behind these escalating attacks, the boys in blue vow to not to rest until they catch the culprit responsible. I’m Jessie Blankman, signing off.” After the news broadcast comes to a close, a commercial for pine scented baking soda comes on; Mally talking over the commercial by questioning if: “You think all that might be related to our moms soul getting snatched?” “Could be a good place to get a lead at least.” the blue angel claims. “It ain’t like we got anything else to go off of.” the purple merc reminds them. A destination in mind, the trio rocket away from the jumbo sized monitor and further above the skyline; gliding north away from the city square.

“Yeah, no. You guys ain’t getting in.” Out at the front entrance of the hospital itself, a lone police officer prevents the trio from barging inside; standing against the entrance doors. “What!?” Tore shouts. “Fuck off!” Roy bark. “Why not!?” Mally questions. “Its cause the staff and police in there are way too busy taking care of all the comatose patients coming from all over the city. So unless any of you have sustained any life threatening injuries or know any victims inside for visiting hours, I’m afraid I can’t let you all in.” “As a matter of fact, officer, we do know somebody inside and we oh so desperately want to see them in their hour of need.” the blue angel dramatically feigns. “Oh really, mind giving a last name?” “Of course, dear police woman of the law. Its...uh...” While attempting to conjure from the bowls of his mind a plausible last name, the blue boy gazes around for whatever he could for reference; first catching a passing truck with buttered corn on a kob. “Corn...” The next to enter is field of vision be an open manhole, several worker attempting to redirect traffic as one of them accidently falls in. “hole...a...” He manages to craft the final piece of his faux last name by glancing to a sign on the wayside, finishing with: “Sign...” Turning back to the officer with a smile, the blue angel takes in a deep breath and claims to her that: “You’re not really buying this, are you?” “Obviously not.”

“Even if you don’t believe that bullshit, we actually do have somebody that has medical treatment.” Roy suddenly protest. “And that would be-” Before the police woman could finish questioning the merc, everyone proves shocked to witness the young purple teenager slug himself right in the kidney; the self inflicted punch causing Roy to double over in pain. After coughing out pint of blood from his mouth, the merc looks up to the officer as he moans and wheezes if: “Now you mind letting us in.” The officers shock swiftly deflates before the downed purple merc, the police woman dead face demanding that: “Please leave before I have you all arrested.”

Along the opposite side of the hospital behind the dumpster, Tore has his hand firmly placed along his purple brother’s side; a soft white glow enveloping the part of his waist as he screams: “What a big blue bitch! Practically spilling out my own insides on the hot concrete and she won’t ask if I was alright. Outta have her sorry sexy ass fired for turning down somebody in need like that. Fuck her with a barbed cattle prod.” “Since just busting through the front door is obviously not an option, how else are we supposed to get inside?” Mally ponders. “I don’t get it. Can’t we just sneak inside through the roof?” the blue angel wonders. “And have a ton of people wonder who we are. And why we’re there? Face it. There’s way too many staff on hand right now to sneak inside reliably.” “Not to mentions it would eat too much of our time up.  Unless we happen to have a police uniform on hand, getting through would be next to impossible.” Right in that moment does the sharp sound of a brief siren horn penetrate their ears; all of their eyes drawn to the nearby corner. Peeking beyond the hospitals brick corner, all three of them find the back of a lone cop car parked along the side of the building; housing only a single police officer inside. “Guess we found our uniform. Now we just have to find a way to get it.” Tore claims. “I think I might know how.” Roy claims with a devious grin. “Does it involve beating the crap outta that cop?” Mally questions. “Yees.”

From the comfort of his heated cop car, the lone policeman peels back the paper lid of his steaming cup of noodles; the aroma of vegetables and pork filling the inside of the vehicle. He digs his fork into a bit of the soft noodles dwelling within the cup, pulling them up towards his mouth as the steam escapes from within. Mere seconds before he could savor their flavor, a desperate plead for help penetrates the shell of his cop car; the officer hearing somebody cry out: “Officer, help!” Glancing to the side, the policemen discovers an orange haired girl right outside his window; hearing her further plead on how: “My brothers bleeding out behind the hospital. I can’t carry him by myself.” Hearing this, the upstanding officer swiftly puts his cup of noodles away and rushes out the door; promising the girl that: “Don’t worry. I’ll help you carry your brother inside. Where is he?” “He’s around the corner! Hurry!” Claiming such, the kind officer follows the young girl out beyond the corner of the hospital; rushing out to the other side as he informs how: “Hang on, son. The docs inside will patch you right...uh...” Perplexing the policeman, he finds not a single soul awaiting behind the corner; not even so much as a body to discover. “Hold on, where is you broth-” Just before the officer could finish questioning the girl, he soon feels the brunt of the purple angels knuckles punch him square in the face; the blunt strike proving more than enough to knock the man in blue clean out.

Hog tied and stripe of his uniform, the unconscious officer is tossed right in the dumpster; the blue angel shutting the lid and turning to his siblings to ask if: “So, you think he’s gonna be okay in their while we “Borrow” his clothes.” “Ah don’t worry. I’m sure the dozens of diseased ridden rats and cockroaches’ll keep him plenty busy.” Roy claims as he dusts off their freshly pilfered uniform. The merc then tosses the blue uniform over to his blue brother and demands that he: “Now get dressed, you’re sneakin in.” Catching the uniform in his arms, Tore wonders: “Me? Why can’t either of you do it.” “Reason Mally can’t do it is cause nobody’s gonna reliably believe that a cop would be that damn short.” This passive aggressive comment gets the purple merc a hockey stick to the head, alongside his sister claiming that: “I’m still growing, asshole!” “And the reason you can’t?” Tore persists. “Agh! Cause strolling around as an officer with one arm is just asking to get ya stopped constantly with: “Oh, how did you lose your arm?” or “You must have been some hero willing to sacrifice your limb to save someone else.” Like “Bitch, I ain’t got any of yo time for your curious bullshit! I’m on the fuckin clock! Move yo sexy ass’s aside; I got shit to do.” I’d just be that kinda Saturday night show on repeat the entire god damn time.” “Alright, fine. Just gimme a couple minutes to get dressed and get in there.” Requesting this, the blue angel ascends to the roof of the hospital with the uniform in hand; parts of his clothes fluttering down to his awaiting siblings.

Coming out from the doorway leading to the rooftop, the blue angel enters the polished white halls of the city’s hospital; tucking in his blue hair underneath the signature police cap. Passing by a hallway mirror, the officer impersonator stops to take a good look at himself in uniform; realizing that he pulls off blue like a beast. Still, that ain’t much of a surprise. We’re talking about the guy that combos with a blazer pretty damn well. Wonder if this uniform comes in white. Interrupting his self reflecting be the harsh sound of a child’s cry; the disguised angel’s eyes drifting off to the nearby door. Glancing through the doors window, he discovers a woman and her child at the beside of a comatose patient; the little boy left sobbing in tears from his fathers unconscious body. A saddening site that further drives the blue boys determination, though urges him to look somewhere else to let his siblings inside.

While venturing away from the occupied patients room, the disguised boy in blue hears a sudden voice underneath him filtered by static; Tore glancing to his belt to find the police radio going off and broadcasting another officer that says: “Officer Barbrady, come in. Do you copy?” Despite his initial nervousness, the indigo angel detaches the radio from his pilfered belt and opens communications with: “Uh...Y-yes ma’am. Just stationed at the Northwest hospital; attempting to interview the families visiting the comatose patients.” “Good. Stay stationed there to keep us updated on how many vacancies are left. Lord know’s there are only so many they can take.”

“Right, I’ll keep you updated with all that. B-Barbrady out.” With her fellow officer hanging up, the police woman puts her radio away as she gazes to the site of the break in before her and her crew; a pair of paramedics carrying an unconscious man out of their home via a stretcher from the broken doorway. Passing the pair of medics carrying the poor man away, the officer takes a good look at the door lying on the porch; taking note the untouched hinges along its side. A peculiar site indeed, especially counting no signs of blunt force or evidence of tools; almost as if somebody was inside and slide the hinges right off and put them back on. The question in mind being why exactly somebody would go through this much trouble just for a break in. As the police woman ponders such, she turns her attention to the other officers exiting the home; questioning them if: “You guys find any else to report? Any prints inside yet?” “Aside from the victims prints, we got nothing. You think with a seamless break in like this, they’d at least steal some loose change from the couch cushions; but absolutely nothing was stolen. No money, no tech, no jewels, no valuables; not even a single cent.” Hearing all this, a small growl escapes from between the police woman's teeth; the officer then claiming how: “That’s over the 50th case like that this week. We practically got the entire city’s force spread thin over this epidemic. Worse off, the docs back at the hospitals ain’t reporting anything wrong with them. It’s just not making any sense.”

Watching their investigation from along the roof of the building across the street, both the spice queen and her boy genius bitch witness something that the police fail to see; the site of their red headed sisters trail leading inside the very home they stand in. “And that would be the forth broken in house her trail has lead us towards. You wanna start assuming the worst or should I?” Cayenne questions. “It’s just not making any sense. What’s Chloe doing breaking into random people’s houses like this?” “You mean more than usual?” “Cayenne, I’m being serious here. We haven’t got a clue what she’s doing flying around town like this to people houses owned by people who’ve been rendered comatose; not to mention the site of police wherever we follow the trail not leaving the best impression.” “Kingsley, chill. I’m sure she’ll pop up on our radar sooner or later. Serena’s already workin on something that can trace her out.” “I’m not even sure we have that kinda time.” “The hell else are we supposed to do beside fuck off with dicks in our mouths?” “Hmm...We might have better luck if we go back home and get better equip. A couple of gadgets in the basement might help us out.” Claiming such, the boy genius rides upon the spice queens backside and take off into the city skies; both of them gliding out back towards the direction of the Spicer manor.

Back inside the white halls of the hospital, the boy disguised in lawful blue peeks inside another patient room; finally discovering one with a patient with no visitors. A rather pitiable site seeing this poor man rendered unconscious without so much as a single visitor by his bedside; but nonetheless making his room the perfect point of entry for his siblings to fly right on inside. The lone mans room proving the perfect entry point; Tore checks around to see if the coast is clear; darting his eyes around the halls for any unwanted witnesses. Finding the halls clear of anyone, the boy in blue rushes inside and shuts the door behind him; soon passing by the bedridden patient and right to the window. Looking beyond its glass, the blue angel glances down to find both of his siblings in waiting; unlocking the frame and sliding the window up.

On the ground floor underneath, both Mally and Roy patiently await for their blue brother to give them a way inside; all the while the orange girl persist on asking her purple brother on how: “So you not even gonna tell me how you lost Roxanne so fast? Cause last I heard, you guys were doing alright at the least. What the hell happened between you that night?” “And I keep having to mention that I don’t wanna talk about it. Seriously, can you at least give me the courtesy of a week to let the scars heal before prying right back in?” “I’m just wanting to figure out how it all fell apart. You were so excited to see her when you left and when you got back, you looked so dead inside. Why?” “What part of “I don’t wanna talk about it.” can I not get through your fucking helmeted skull!?” the merc aggressively questions, his tone taking the young girl back a bit. “Al-Alright, fine. You win. We’ll drop it.” “Egh...Sorry about that. It’s just been a little hard on me to get past; especially since it was about her-” Before the merc could continue to explain, both of them hear their blue brother overhead, announcing to them that: “Hey there kids. Wanna break into a hospital? Get yer 99 cent asses in here pronto.” Flying up to the floor their brother stands with the skater at his back, Roy and Mally climb through the open window; soon finding the comatose patient whose room they broke into. “Nice work, bro.” As the merc passes by his police disguise brother, Roy can’t help but correct him on how: “And my sweet ass is definitely worth more then a fuckin dollar, asshole...Its at least a hundred.”

Coming to the slumbering gentlemen’s bedside, the purple angel takes a quick scan through the man’s comatose body; repeatedly poking and slapping the poor guys face. “You think its like how mom was left?” Mally asks. “Yep, this poor bastard is just like how she was. Dead asleep and without a soul to speak of.” After inspecting the slumbering patient, the merc takes a glancing out the door’s window; his senses picking up a good few people inside the neighboring room gathered over what he finds to be an empty bed. Its probably a safe bet that its a family weeping over the condition of their loved ones; it be pretty damn stupid to believe them to be crying over literally nothing; a pattern that the merc can sense all through parts of the entire buildings. “And if the rest of the patients are anything like this guy, then we might have ourselves a good lead.” Turning back towards his two siblings, Roy goes on to explain how: “Whoever is flying around reapin souls outta people in the middle of the night like some vampiric asshole fresh of the cusp off discovering his crazed soul fetish is the same mofo that ganked our moms very own soul.” “Great, have any idea who it might be?” the skater questions. “Eh, not sure. Only really know a handful of people that can casually pluck souls outta people like a picking fermented apples from the orchard of a drunken fruit farmer.” Taking a turn to peek outside himself, the boy in blue witnesses staff roll in another comatose man through the white halls; a family of a woman and two children tailing the mans bed. A small smile forms between his cheeks as he declares that: “We might be able to find out. Time for this uniform to work its magic.”

Inside the room that the slumbering man had been left within, the doctor tending to the patient turns away from the comatose victim; gazing to the wife and claiming to the family how: “We have no idea what kind of ailment is troubling your husband, ma’am. All the tests we’ve done on the other patients like him have come up completely negative. I hate to say this, but I can’t accurately tell how long your husband may be in this coma for.” Hearing this news causes the wife to look to her two children, streams of tears welling in their eyes. “I’ll give all of you some privacy.” the doctor offers as she leaves the room. The door behind them shutting, the daughter of the two children gazes up to their mother and asks: “Mommy, will dad be okay?” “Oh, daddy will be alright. We just need to give him time to sleep.” “How long will it be until he wakes up?” the brother of the two kids question. “I’m...sure that it won’t be long until he gets right back up and gives us all a big hug.” the mom claims with trembling breath.

From giving her two children this false hope, she hears the door behind them open once more; the family glancing to the doorway to witness a lone blue haired officer coming inside to greet them all with: “Afternoon there, ladies and gents. How are ya’ll holdin up?” “Wait, who are you?” the woman questions. “I’m...with the Townsvilles police department, here under investigation on what’s been causing this comatose epidemic sweeping this fair city’s citizen. You think you’d be comfortable answering a couple questions?” “Oh...yeah, of course.” Once wiping away the tears in her eyes, she looks down to her two children and asks them if: “Kids, can you go to the cafeteria to get some snack so mommy can talk to the nice policeman?” “Yeah, mom.” Upon their mothers orders, the two stroll out the patients room; leaving the woman and the faux officer alone with their unconscious father. “I know how hard it must be talking about all this so soon, but-” “It’s fine, really. Maybe talking about this with somebody like you can at least give my family a little piece of mind. To know that someone out there is at least doing something to fix all this.”

Claiming such, the woman pulls a seat from the edge of the room as the false officer does the same; both taking their seats as the blue hair policeman first starts off with: “Obvious question outta the way: What were you and your spouse doing the night he was struck with a coma?” “M-My husband and I were in bed around 3 in the morning. I was feeling parched and my husband happened to have gotten out of bed to go to the bathroom; so I asked him to grab me a glass of water while he was up. While I was trying to drift off back to bed, I hear the sound of a strong wind blowing across my house; followed by the sound of breaking glass. I thought that maybe the windows broke, so I got myself up to find my husband so we could fix it. When I raced into the kitchen to go grab him however, I found him passed out onto the floor with bits of water and glass. As I looked through my kitchen for what might’ve happened, I look over to the door and I find it pried right off its frame with the hinges still screwed on. It still perplexes me how he wound up like this last night.” After retelling the events that transpired the night her husband was struck with a coma, a harrowing sigh escapes from her lips; further claiming on how: “The kids haven’t been taking it well either. I just don’t know what else to tell them. They love their dad so much, he means the world to them.” Despite his eyes drifting away from the woman’s last comment, the faux officer gazes back to the wife and presses further with: “I don’t wanna cause you any further distress then you must be already going through, but did you happen to notice anything peculiar when you checked on your husband? Something leaving the scene perhapes?” “You mean aside from the door being taken off?” “Clearly.” “Well, there was one thing that I caught the minute I found my husband. When I saw him on the ground, I notices something shining just outside my window. I go outside, thinking that somebodies out there; call the police and get a give them a good description. But the moment I get out, the light was already too far in the sky to see who it might be. All I could make out was a bright pink glow.”

From within the dark corridors of the Spicer abode, a bright pink glow reflects off the kitchen tile as it escapes into the black recesses of the manor; the darkened halls swiftly filling with light as the front doors crack open. Behind the wooden door stood both the boy genius and the Spice queen, Cayenne gazing to the shadowy halls ahead and wondering aloud: “The hell are your lights out for?” As both of them stroll further through the darkened halls of the manor, the son of the abode calls out to his parents with: “Mom, Dad. Any of you home? Did the police call yet?” The young boys call falls on deaf ears however, Kingsley’s voice echoing through the shadowy halls of the manor. “Think they might’ve just fucked off?” Cayenne wonders. Pulling out his phone, the boy genius takes a quick glance to his messages, claiming on how: “I didn’t get any texts. Maybe Dad’s in the basement.” As the duo venture further through the darkness of the manor, both of them turn on whatever lights they can; all the while repeatedly calling for both of the boy geniuses parents. “Mom, Dad! Where are you?” “Mr and Mrs. Spicer? You can put the explosives away, its just us.” In hopes of covering more house, the duo split apart, the spice queen heading towards the kitchen while the boy genius heads for the basement. Cayenne finally glides inside the darkened corners of the manors kitchen, gazing into its shadows to attempt and find a light switch; her eyes drawn to a lone hand breaking from the void. Curious of whose hand it is, the spice queen enters further in the kitchen; a horrified glare forming the further she comes in.

Creaking open the basement door, the light from the hallway above leaks into shadows below; the boy genius standing in the doorframe as he stares down into the black void of his underground lab. “Dad...you in here?” Kingsley calls out to his father, his voice ringing down the steps. With his call baiting no response. The boy genius prepares to descend the steps into the darkness below, carefully climbing down each step at a time. He doesn’t even get to a quarter of the way down before his ears catch the call of his friend crying: “K-Kingsley!” Hearing such, the boy genius himself swiftly climbs back up the bright hallway; soon sprinting across the halls as he shouts: “Cayenne, what’s wrong!”

His urgent question yielding no response, Kingsley hurries through the halls of his manor; following the source of the spice queens call towards the kitchen. The young man finally reach his rough and tough friends side, finding Cayenne left completely paralyzed in horror as her gaze is locked to the shadows of the tiled floor. Gazing into the kitchen himself, the young man is meet with a nightmare of his becoming a reality; a deep and primal glare of incredible dread forming across his face. Before the two teenagers lie Kingsleys own mother, struck motionless upon the kitchen tile and rendered completely unconscious. This dreadful site fresh before him, the young man sprints back towards the basement; Cayenne glancing to her departing friend as he retreats from her side. Rushing through the basement door, the boy genius jumps down the darkened steps in a single bound; landing right at the very bottom. “Dad!” he cries out as he flips the light switch. The lights above flood the entire basement with their glow; illuminating the underground lab and revealing yet another site that conjures the young mans horrible nightmares before him. Kingsley’s own father lying motionless across the workbench; the tools at his side falling to the polished marble floor.

Along the back of the hospital, the blue angel tosses his pilfered police uniform inside the very dumpster they left the hog tied officer in; glancing to his purple brother as he review that: “So all the info we managed to cope outta the victims families all say the same damn thing. That somebody shining a bright pink light around is going around and harvesting souls as fast as a farmer on the cusp of a nuclear winter.” “So we just gotta find and beat the shit outta this bitch and we’ll get everyone’s souls back; even our mom’s.” Tore claims. “If only it were that simple. We still don’t got any clue whose behind this soul stealing spree. All we have to go by is that the thief likes bright pink. Not exactly the best lead to go off of.” Mally reminds them. “Actually, I think I might have a hunch of who our culprit might be.” the merc testifies. “Really?” his sister questions. “Who you think it is?” his blue brother wonders. Just before their purple brother could answer them, the trio hear somebody’s phone go off; the orange skater pulling out her mobile device and checking her messages; claiming that: “Got a texts from Kingsley. Saying we need to come to his place ASAP.” “What for? Don’t they know we’re busy?” Roy questions. “He doesn’t say. Must be important enough enough to type in all caps though.” “The hell are we waiting around for. Let’s move!” Tore declares. Just as the trio take off towards the direction of their friends manor, a dump truck turns the hospital corner and pulls up to the dumpster; the truck grabbing hold of the dumpsters side and pouring its contents in the back, the unfortunate tied policeman tumbling right alongside the miscellaneous garbage.

Resting upon the Spicer’s living room couch, both Kingsley’s mother and father lie peacefully next to each other; all the while their son beside them gazes upon them with a mix of wayward panic and fear. “So, both of them were like this when you came in?” Mally asks. “Yep. Completely out when we got here. Tried everything to wake them up. Even smacking Mr.Spicers face around a couple times. Not even a wink.” Cayenne confirms. “I..I just-I...I don’t know how all this could happen so fast… Just last night, everything was going so well. Surround by friends and family after winning the biggest inventors show in town, I was the happiest I could ever be… Now...and now...my family is practically falling apart before my eyes. And I don’t know how to make it all better. I don’t know how to fix any of it!” In the midst of the boy genius’s panicking episode; his best friend grasps the boys backside; urging him to: “Kingsley, relax. I’m sure we can get through this.” “Who-Why would someone do all this!?”

Approaching the comatose couple, the blue angel gazes upon their still, motionless bodies; opening the fathers eye to find his pupil bleak and lifeless. Once taking a look at the two, Tore turns to his purple brother and questions if he: “Think its the same?” “Exactly the same. Like our mom and all those other patients at the hospital, both of their bodies are completely devoid of any trace of a soul left.” Pulling away from the boy genius, Cayenne turns over to the merc himself, questioning the purple bastard if: “Hold the hell on here people. You tellin me you three know what the fucks going on with this comatose bull?” “Sure do. Whoever stole our mom’s and everyone else’s souls just paid both of Kingsley parents a little visit here.” the skater explains. “And we might have a pretty good guess who might be behind it.” the blue angel adds. “Who you think it is?” Hearing Cayenne question them such, the trio gaze upon one another with worry in their eyes; Mally breaking from their stare and warning that: “You guy might not like hearing who we think it is.” “Please...just tell us.” Kingsley pleads as he pulls himself away from his parents bedside. The spice queen can’t help but look to the boy genius with concern, asking him if: “Kingsley, you sure your up for this.” “All I know is that there isn’t enough time for me to be sure. We need to act now if we wanna start fixing all this. Even if it may seem impossible, we need to keep going.” Her friends little speech makes the spice queen crack a small smile, Cayenne turning to the trio and demanding that: “You heard the man. Lay it on us.” When pressed to continue, a small hiss escapes from between the purple mercs teeth; finally claiming to the two of them that: “We...We think that the culprit might be your little sister.”

This shocking speculation reaching their ears, their determination is swiftly cut short in but an instant; their pupils shrinking to the size of peas. “What?...” “That...That’s….That’s fucking horseshit! Don’t fucking joke like that!” the spice queen screams, seemingly on the verge of lashing out at them at any moment. “Were...being serious here, Cayenne. All the friends and family of the patients I’ve talked to at the hospital gave almost the same story; that shortly after finding their loved ones comatose, they saw a bright pink light leaving the scene.” Tore explains. “I can’t make any sense of this. What would drive her to suddenly go around and take peoples souls, especially from our own parents?” “You two notice anything off about her before she went MIA?” the merc questions. “Well, mom did say Chloe was acting strange before she left, like she was trying to hide the fact that she was upset about something. She didn’t say anything that night cause of the party and thought she needed some time to herself. God, why didn’t I notice anything? I was so busy celebrating with my friends and family that I didn’t even realize she wasn’t with us! What kind of big brother am I!?” the boy genius self deprecates, tears welling in his eyes. In the midst of the boy genius’s potential breakdown, Cayenne grasp his side and urges him to: “Kingsley, relax. I’m sure we’ll find her. There’s still time to salvage all this.” “She’s right Kingsley, we don’t got time to break down and cry here. All of us need to work together if we wanna sort all this out.” Tore explains.

“Mind if I cut in this little moment to remind everyone that we still don’t got a way to tell where our little cherry coke culprit is at and we basically still have next to nothing to go off of?” Roy interupts. “Aren’t you the one with the senses and social decency of a dirty bloodhound? Why can’t you just sniff them out yourself?” the spice queen rudely counters. “That usually be the case, especially with how much power that little necklace of hers is carrying. And yet despite that, I can’t feel a thing. Can really only think of two reasons why; either she got the hell outta dodge and fucked off outta town.” “Or?” Tore wonders. “She found some a way to cover her tracks. And judging from the little soul harvest that happened last night, it’s probably more of the latter than the former.” “So what does all that mean?” the boy genius questioning. “He’s full of shit is what it means.” Cayenne rudely claims. “Still, even with all the people she’s been reaping, I doubt she can carry them all on her at once; especially given the rapid rate she’s collecting them.” the merc continues. “You think Chloe might be stockpiling them somewhere?” Tore wonders. “If that’s true, then how come you can’t find where they’re all that?” Mally adds. “Could be cloaking them all the same way she’s cloaking herself. Don’t know how though.”

“Alright, I had just enough of this bag of prepackage zebrashit. What the hell makes all of you so sure that Chloe doing all this instead of being in the hands of child trafficking psychopath?” “Oh, I’m sorry. You happen to know anybody else that can glow a bright shade of neon pink...No? Well then, may I courteously invite your spicy mouth to taste the jalapeno chili sliding out of my rectum?” “How bout I make you taste something else, you purple prick!?” Before the spice queen could throw a single punch to the merc’s smug ass face, the blue angel gets between the two of them; Tore confessing to the spice queen that: “Look, we don’t know if its Chloe for sure. But given the increase in coma cases since last night, it just something we should keep in mind.” “Imma about serve both of ya’ll a fresh hot can of whoop ass stew if you don’t shut yer damn mouths.” Its then that the entire confrontation is put to a sudden stop when all three of them hear the orange skater go off on them; screaming to them that: “All of you just shut up! We’re all on the clock here and we can’t waist the minutes giving each other piles of crap. If any of you wanna help us get everyone’s souls back and save potential hundreds of live, then can all of you kindly stop flinging yer shit like a bunch of fuckin monkeys!” Hearing such a booming outburst come from the orange skater causes everyone to grow completely silent; the spice queen can’t help but give her a little applause.

To his guest’s loud outburst, the boy genius takes a glance back to both of his comatose parents lying upon the felt of their couch; affirming to all of them that: “She’s right.” Kingsley gazes back to the rest of them with a determined glare, continuing to back Mally’s statement with: “If were actually gonna get anywhere in this mess, we need to stop fighting with each other and combine both of our investigations into one. We won’t rest until we find Chloe and who’s been taking everyone’s soul.” “Guess we know who’s callin the shots here. What you think we should do?” the blue angel wonders. “First thing we should do is try and gather more info on all this. A clue or two to point us in the right direction.” “Didn’t you say something earlier about the police investigating Chloe’s disappearance?” the skater reminds. “The boys in blue are workin on it, but I doubt they’d be much help. And I doubt they’ll be so ready to hand over their confidentials to a bunch of random ass kids.” Cayenne confirms. “Not unless you pull in a couple of favors from the inside.” the purple merc corrects. “From a merc job of yours?” Tore guesses. “Somethin like that. Caught wind of a little scandle involving Townsville’s boys in blue a couple weeks back. They might help us if they don’t want their shit to get leaked. The kinda shit that makes people wanna punch you in the throat and beat the juicy red organs outta you while gasping for air. Calling in a couple of those kinds of favors should get us hooked up with all the info we need on both cases.” “Sorry but, are we really gonna go so far as to blackmail the police to get what we want?” the boy genius questions. “Yes.” the spice queen bluntly states. “I-...Tsk, alright then. Guess I’ll stay here and read what I can from it all. It might be best for the rest of you guys to go around and ask our friends for anything they might’ve saw.” “Sounds like a plan.” Mally claims. “Gotcha, Captain.” Tore salutes. “Right behind ya.” Cayenne states. “Hopefully we can muster enough clues out’ve it all to fix this whole mess before it all comes tumbling down on us.”

Throughout the entire police station, the few officers within scramble through the insides in efforts to manage the oncoming calls and reports; the sound of footsteps and voices ringing inside the entirety of the station as they man the phone lines and carry in new documents. Taking the brunt of all this stress be the very captain of the force himself, glued to his private desk as he looks over the constant cases coming in; taking a couple of ibuprofen pills with his coffee in between his hefty breath. Come on, Captain Blanks; get a hold of yourself. Everyone in the city is hauling in coma reports and counting on you to get to the cause of this epidemic. Hopefully, we can find whose behind all this; for the sake of the city’s sanity...and ours.

In the midst of his constant work on the tablet, the intercom beside him sounds off; somebody on the other end informing the chief that: “Captain Blanks. There’s a private call directed to your office that’s attempting to get through. He says he’s a friend of yours.” “Are you kidding me, Jackson? Do we look like we got time for any kind of prank these teenagers have up their asses? Turn them down!” “Uh, the caller’s saying he want to talk to you about something called, uh...The Strawberry Jamboree of Mildreds farm.” Hearing this bizarrely specific phrase is all it takes to instantly send a freezing chill up the captains spine; the man left standing stiffly silent as the tablet in his hands drops to the floor. “Uh...Sir…Are you still there?” the receptionist questions. “Put him through.” “What?” “Now Jackson, and close the other lines!.” “Y-Yes captain!”

Once the captains receptionist hangs up, the cap’s own trembling hands grasps the neck of the private phone beside him; putting the phone up to his ear and hearing the caller greet the captain with: “Hi, Blanky babyyyy!” “What the fuck are you doing calling me at a time like this, Roy? You realize how busy we all are?” “Chillaz, big guy. I’m just calling in to cash in a little favor we settled on, that’s all.” “I seriously don’t have a single second to spare for you to fling your bullshit at me. The entire police force is up to their necks in constant comatose cases coming in from all over the city and we’re spread out thinly enough as is. I sure as hell don’t need another headache on me to worry about right now.” “Well ain’t that just a big coinkydinky for us all, ain’t it. A couple of my pallies and I are busy looking in the same exact thing; comatose people and all. You know we all have loved ones going through this shit, so you can probably understand. Which is why I’ll be needing to cash in that favor we agreed on a couple weeks ago on the farm; preferably in the form of whatever documents and evidence you guys managed to gather on the whole case. Sound cool?” “Are you being real with me? You’re just expecting me to drop everything we’re working on to sneak out confidential reports and documents with our ongoing case just to hand it all over to some random asshole on the phone? You know what that’ll make me look like?” “Can’t make you look any worse if the news outlets hear about all your little “guests” you took over at the strawberry farm.” “How the hell do you think I can haul out countless documents and reports from a hot ongoing case without getting my blue ass caught?” “I don’t fuckin know. Just copy a bunch and send it my way; it ain’t my problem. But it will be your’s if the entire state catches on with what kind of fertilizer their grocery bought strawberries are grown with.” “Nrrgh! Fine, just gimme a little time to work, kay.” “Thanks, blanky babyyy! Tell yer girl I said hi!” Their little negotiations ending with the purple merc giving a little smooch, the captain hears the line disconnect; the line ringing in his ears as a cold shutter runs down his spine. The captain slams the phone back on his desk as he waltzes out behind his desk; opening his door to face the sectritary on the other side and demanding: “Jackson, grab all the documented files we have on the comatose case, pronto.”

Standing to the face of a house stationed along the suburbs, the orange skater roughly knocks upon the front door; hearing from the other side a familiar voice urging her that: “Hang on a second!” After hearing this, Mally witnesses the door fling wide open to reveal the ice dragon herself; a slightly offput glare forming upon the skaters face when finding her snacking on a lone strawberry. “Oh uh, you. Nnn...Maylord, right?” “That-that’s not even a...” After stammering this, a small sigh escapes from the skaters lungs; continuing past the ice benders excuse to guess her name with: “Just look, I’m tryin to get around a little problem I have going on here. You happen to have heard anything from Chloe in the last 24 hours or so.” “Mind I ask why you wanna stalk her that badly? You that thirsty for cherry red coke?” The icy manipulators accusing questions causes the skater face to glow beat red; defensively flustering aloud that: “No-I-wh-Ju-It’s-it’s just for business reasons, okay!?” “Yuh huh. Sure.” Opal sarcastically agrees as she readies to shut her front door. Before the ice bender could slam the door shut, the orange skater jams her foot in the door frame; admitting to Opal that: “Fine. It’s cause Chloe went missing! She didn’t come home last night and Kingsley and the others are trying to find her.”

The ice bender hearing her sudden visitor claim such, she opens her door for the skater once more; letting out a little sigh before answering her with: “Alright. I might have seen something up with her.” “Like what?” “Well, I was walking back home from the mall last night after getting a pair of cute shoes for only half off last night; figured since I had most of my winter gear on, I might as well take a little stroll along the scenic route cause I haven’t had a good walk in forever.” “Is this gonna take long?” “I’m getting to it. Anyway, I take a little stop over to this small part of downtown; the place with the cute little ramen shop that do the chocolate fortune cookie. I figured why not grab something to eat since I mom wouldn’t be home until ten.” “So where does Chloe come in?” “Patients dammit. Before I could go right in, I look over and see her right across the street all by herself. I figured that she might just been lost or going home so I thought why not grab a bite with her; it’ll give us some time to catch up. As I was walking towards her however, I notices that she was talking to herself; all while holding out that little pink gem of hers from around her neck. And as soon as I found her, the red head just flew off without so much as another word. I’ll be honest, it kinda creeped me out a bit.” “You happen to catch which way she was going?” “If I remember correctly, I saw her heading out towards the east side of town. Don’t really know why’d she want to go there really. I hear its kind of a mess over there.” “Alright, thanks a bunch Opal.” the orange skater claims. Having finished questioning the ice bender, she starts to take her leave from Opal’s home; but not before glancing back to point at her strawberry and warn her that: “By the way, don’t eat those strawberries; they’re made out of dead people.” The sudden warning causes the ice girl to cough up whatever pieces of strawberry she has in her mouth; the pieces falling to her front step as she panics with: “Pffth, ah, cak! What!?”

In front of another home far deeper in the bowls of the city, the spice queen herself gives the door a less than gentle knock; a little green eyed girl cracking its wood open as she gazes to her bigger cousin. “La prima? I didn’t expect you to pay us a visit. Usually its the other way around when our papa needs a babysitter. May I invite you in.” “Hate to rush ya, Bianca; but I don’t got a lotta time on my hands. You all happen to know what’s going down to coma epidemic around here?” “I don’t know about-” “Yo Cayenne, I got somethin! Get yo ass in here!” they hear echoing from inside. “Ty, me hermano! What did I say about shouting in the house!?” A nervous giggle escaping the young girl, she glances back to her older cousin and offers how: “May I offer you some pizza while your here. It came just this momento.”

As Bianca invites the spice queen inside, Cayenne’s eyes venture upwards as she walks into the living room; an impressed whistle leaving her lips. “Holy shit, Ty. I figured you were all over this shit, but god damn.” Standing before the spice queen be an entire wall covered in, documents, notes, records, statements, and plenty and plenty of photo’s; all weaved in a web of countless strings. “Hell yeah, bitches! I’ve been lookin all this from top to bottom like some cracker browsin the wine section at Wal-Mart. I got me some juicy conspiracies here on how all this a ploy by the government for testing some kind of new military weapon on their hands like a bunch of damn guinea pigs.” “Yeah, that’s great Ty, but-” “In fact, the only reason they though of settin it off here is cause they wantin to see how many homies get hit with it. They seein if they can get anyone with super power to fall fo it too, hoping to snuff us out if we catch on to them.” “Ty, I need you to-” “But I’ve been on to those motherfucka’s since this shit started. Right behind them trackin every move they do, takin pic, doc, notes, whateva I got my hands on.” Once realizing she could get her little cousin to stop his indulgent theory ranting anytime soon, the spice queen takes a seat right on their cousins couch; a frustrated sigh leaving her lips as she sits down. Her littler cousin, Lequan soon comes in the living room with a whole box full of steaming pizza and takes a slice as he sits next to his older cousin; the spice queen soon taking a slice of her own as she waits how the storm of verbal diarrhea gushing from Ty’s mouth. Might as well, it ain’t like he’s gonna be stopping anytime soon.

A massive stack of countless files slams itself down upon a wooden desk; the impact of which makes the entire table tremble to its legs. The boy genius is left utterly bewildered by how tall the collection of police reports and documents that the purple merc had promised. “Uhn...not to sound ungrateful for this frightening amount of information to work with here, but mind if I ask which strings you had to pull to get all this?” “Mind if I ask you if your sexy twink ass really wants to know what dark secrets bellow underneath your city’s police forces that they’d kill to keep outta the public eye, or do ya wanna close those cute little blowjob lips of yours and get started on going through all these reports and documents that your precious purple pal got for ya?” It takes the boy genius a good few seconds to think of a response to the merc’s lewd question; constantly opening and closing his mouth until he finally requests that: “Heya, how bout you take the time to search through the city with the others a couple times. I’m betting they could use someone like you to help out.” “Alright, I get it. But just so you know, I’ll be waiting.” the merc claims as he leaves the boy genius with the huge stack of reports. As soon he hears the sound of his front door shutting, Kingsley lets out a spine curdling shutter; quaking in his shoes as he wonders aloud: “It must be a real story on how Mally wound up getting a guy like that as her brother.”

Facing another house nesting in the suburbs, the blue angel frantically beats the face of the homes front door; Tore watching as a small orange haired demon cracks the door open with a less than patient glare. “Heyo Alex! How ya doing, ya little demon? I was wanting to ask you if-” Before even hearing whatever nonsense the blue angel has to spew out from his mouth, the little demon slams the front door right in his visitors face, walking back toward his living room as an annoyed growl leaves his lungs. Seriously, there’s only so much irritating bullshit that a demon can handle at once; and that big pile of it just outside is something no demon should have to deal with. Better off digging through actual manure than delving into whatever kind of migraine inducing nonsense that blue idiot wants subjugate all of us through.

Before Alex could put that potential headache behind him, the sound of breaking glass soon reaches his ears; turning back to find the blue nuisance delving straight through the window. Witnessing his indigo intruder arise from the carpet in a mess of glass shards and blood, the orange haired demon backs away against the wall as the blue angel lumbers over; hearing the bloody blue dumbass ask: “Think I could I could ask ya a couple questions, buddy?” With his blue intruder slowly approaching, Alex forms a sharp blade from his trembling arm and warns him to: “St-stay back, you dimwitted oaf! I’m sharply armed.” “Oh, guessin your two busy to help Kingsley out, huh?” As soon as the demons ears catch the sound of the boy genius’s name, Alex’s frightened demeanor takes a complete one eighty; a sharp gasp escaping his mouth as his blade arm returns to normal. “My Kingsley needs me?” “Um...well, he’s trying to find-” Before the angel could finish explaining, he feels his demonic host grasp the collar of his glass coated blazer; exclaiming that: “What in burning depths of Satans own boiling bathhouse are we standing around like some brain dead urchins here for? If my Kingsley needs me, then there’s no time for us to gawk around! To the manor we go forth!” Declaring such, the little demon races out his front door faster than the angel’s eye could catch up; Tore watching as Alex takes off towards the setting sun in the horizon. Glancing back inside, the blue boy discovers the demons own mother sitting in the living room; staring upon the angel that crashed through her window. “Hi, Ms Utonium. Nice to see your son eager to help! Bye!” Once giving his short greeting, Tore charges towards the neighboring window leaps right through its fragile glass; crashing through as he yells out: “Yeet!” After witnessing the young man casually break through both of her front windows, all that Alex’s mother could muster was a frustrated sigh; pinching her forehead as her gaze drops to her glass shard covered carpet.

Back within the Spicer abode itself, Kingsley continues studying through the dozens upon dozens of police reports and document scattered across his desk space; the constant noise of paper sounding through the house as he scans through the files. The boy genius suddenly stops filing through the reports when inspecting two of them at once; noticing an odd and sudden change in the case reports. This doesn’t make any sense. According to the documents filed before the other night, the reports that came in had the witnesses describe something else leaving the scene; something leaving behind a rainbow like trail while fleeing. Why the change in color? Maybe to throw people off? The suspect might be changing, but something in most of the reports have been consistent all the way through. The vast number of comatose victims that have been coming up from all this have been primarily men, very rarely do any woman seem to have been effected. A rather specifically bizarre demographic to target; could be something to keep in mind when sussing out a suspect. Something else to note is which direction the culprit escapes towards; most of the witness reports claiming that they see them escaping out towards the east. Roy did say something about how they might be stockpiling them somewhere; a likely place they’d store them all in the east side of town. Even if given little clues on whose going around and reaping out people souls, there could still be a way to figure out where the culprit might be keeping them all. With all this, at least we all can wake everyone from their coma’s; hopefully we can do it in time before those not on life support don’t… This thought dwelling in his head, Kingsley takes a glance back towards the living room; both of his comatose parents lying peacefully on the couch next to eachother. No...It won’t come to that. We will wake everyone before they die. Even if it takes every ounce of effort that all of us can spare. This motivation ringing in his head, the boy genius turns back to his report littered desk and pulls out his laptop; bringing up an entire detailed map of Townsville right on screen.

The twilight lit sun shining at his side, the purple merc glides across the sunset kissed skyline; all the while pondering aloud on how: “It just don’t add up here. How can this soul reaping shit stain even hide from my senses. Hadn’t had much trouble tracking people down before. Think you can quit with the “thou must not interfere with the holy plan” bull of an excuse and actually help us out for once, Hera?” “I’ve told you countless time that there are rules that a goddess like myself must abide by. Though that doesn’t mean I can’t relay helpful advice to my messenger.” “And?” “As embarrassing it is for me to admit, I’ve had just as much luck as you have attempting to find this soul snatching suspect...or Chloe for that matter.” “You too, huh? Think they might be some kind of undead robbing people of their lives and eating them like screaming chunky beef stew.” “Believe me when I say that I’d notice somebody like that roaming around. Raising the dead is practically a steep taboo. Shouldn’t be much of a surprise to say how it doesn’t work out as well as people wish. No, I’d wager it be somebody whose capable of high level concealment magic. How else could they hide themselves from us?” The goddess in his head claiming all this, the merc’s gaze drifts towards the streets below; a discomforting groan escaping from his line. “A bit nervous, are we?” Hera wonders. “It’s just the small bits that are getting to me. The fact that I can’t tell where the culprit or the victims are, the sudden and unexplained abductions, the mentions of powerful magic; all if its just screaming to me in loud and weird profanity on how all of this feels eerily familiar.” “You think you have an idea on who might be behind all of this?” These familiar patterns ringing in his head, it quickly dawns on him who exactly fits the bill for it all; Roy’s purple eyes suddenly shrinking as a chill runs down his spine. “Roy?” Before the goddess in his head could speak any further, the purple merc turns a complete one eighty and rockets straight back towards the manor he flew from.

Slumped on the couch at her cousins place, Cayenne is about on her last straw having with Ty’s constantly spewing conspiracy bullshit; hearing the young boy continue on and on with: “That’s why they hopin to use these weapon to take over the African government to line their pockets, the crackers up top tryin to cut my brotha’s from right underneath them.” “Come on...” the spice queen utters. “And once they done with my homies, they gonna go for the Chinese next. Hoping to get their hands on the market and squeeze out as much as they can from their hoods.” “I really don’t give a shi-” “The last part of their plan involves finally makin this whole thing public and reveal what they been doin the whole time. Scarin everyone to do as they say and finally take over the-” “Ty!” His cousins sudden outburst finally gets him to stop rambling on, at last giving the spice queen the time to say that: “I ain’t here to listen to your constant conspiracy ranting. I’m being serious when I say I need actual tangible evidence on this case. Not one of your overblown theories; practical facts.” “Oh ho, you say my conspiracy game is bullshit; but I manage to snag me a couple a good pics. Including one with the bitch behind all this. Saw her sorry ass leavin a scene of the crime just last night.” “Wait, “Her”? Ty, what did you see?”

“Right so check it. I was going around town under one of my investigations into this shit. Trackin the patterns of which homes she was hittin.” “You mean you just stumbled on it?” “While going through one of the neighborhoods, caught myself a little pink light landin nearby, went to check it out. Wind up flying to the next street over and found the glowing girl leaving just as fast from one of the homes. As the pink bitch was flyin off, I pull out my phone and got me a pic of her.”

Gazing upon her cousins phone, Cayenne finds on the screen a sort of blurry photo of a shadowy figure surrounded in glowing pink trail through the night sky. “This it?” she wonders. “I...Well...Th-the hell did you expect in the midst of the action. This line of work ain’t about quality. Lucky I wound up getting what I did before the bitch flew off. Took off faster than a damn Lamborgini going down the hood at night, just racin to get outta there.” Inspecting the photo closely, Cayenne is able to make out some specifics of the runaway culprit; looking around to be a young teenage girl with long hair reaching her mid waist. Though she can’t make out much else from the womans figure underneath the shadows; she can tell that the source of the bright pink glow seems to be emanating from around her neck. These details fail to paint a hopeful picture for the spice queen, the voices of the merc and his two siblings claiming who the culprit may be ringing in her head. “Ty. Could you make out anything else? Like something about her hair?” Cayenne seriously question. “Well, seein as I got your attention. I was think that we could figure out what those CIA bitches be up to-” Interupting her cousins words, Cayenne grabs hold of Ty shoulders and brings him face to face; firmly questioning him: “What color was the hair, Tyquell?” “Damn girl, chill! It was red, kay. The hell’s the big deal for?” Having confirmed a wavering fear in head, Cayenne puts her cousin down and almost immediately sprints for the door; breaking down the door just as Bianca heads inside. “Aw, prima Cayenne leaving already. I was just finished making churro’s for us.”

As the spice queen speeds through the sunset kissed skies, she pulls out her phone and quickly attempts to call her best friend; hearing the dial go off on the other end. “Come on. Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up.” Unfortunately for her, Kingsley fails to answer; his phone going straight to voicemail. “God dammit, Kingsley! Why won’t you answer!? This is something you need to hear.”

Dwelling within the dimly lit recesses of the Spicer abode, the young boy genius’s phone is left on silent as he peruses through the dozens of documents littering his desk. On the screen of his laptop lay the map of Townsville, with several lines and points decorating the east side of the city. “It has to be somewhere around there. The reports all mention what direction the suspect is going, all them pointing towards a general direction. But where are they putting the souls, they have to hold them somewhere big enough to fit all of them; somewhere nobody would bat an eye to...Wait...” Its in pondering such that he glances to the papers once more, taking another look at the report to read on the exact directions the witnesses claimed the suspect was heading. It all then dawns on him; rapidly sliding over to his laptop and gliding the mouse to the east part of the map as he claims that: “I know where they are.”

Just before he could circle the location he has in mind, the side of his bedroom wall suddenly busts inward; enveloping the entire room in a thick cloud of wall dust. As he coughs up the puffs of dust, the boy genius races out towards the direction of his door; reaching his arm out to its handle as he sprint. Just inches from the doorknob, a wayward pink beam blasts off the handle; keeping Kingsley from escaping. With nowhere to run, the boy genius gazes towards the light permeating from the dissipating clouds; witnessing a single floating figure slowly glide in. “No...No…Why?” Kingsley utters as he backs against the face of his shut door, the approaching figures bright pink light blanketing his own. Above the brightly lit stone hanging around the intruders neck formed a sinister grin; her red lock flowing along the sides of the young girls pink dress.

[ready8210]

“Let me in your heart again”

1. He hates me

Vivian

Munich / Germany - Musicland Studios

I nervously pluck my blouse, sitting in the sparing lobby of Munich's „Musicland Studios", as I wait for the first "meeting" with my future „boss", no less than QUEEN.

You've read correctly. QUEEN! I can't get my head around it yet.

The band was searching for a photographer, to document the tour life and studio work of their upcoming "works" album and their following world - tour, which would later lead them - or should I say US - from Europe, over Asia, Australia to America and Africa.

I was one of the lucky ones, the band and management put on the shortlist in late October, last year. A view weeks later, I was informed that it was me, who would attend the band for the next two years.

Two years, I think to myself, wrinkling my brows in disbelief.

At this moment I don't know if I am incredible lucky or should be scared.

I still desperately try to smooth out the wrinkles on my pastel - yellow blouse, as I nervously scan the room. Leaning back in an uncomfortable armchair, I inhale deep as I gaze over my chosen outfit.

Earlier today I was frustrated standing in front of my closet, throwing around varying outfits, unable to decide what to wear for my meeting with the band.

What would one wear when meeting Queen?

I racked my brain this morning, that would change my whole life.

Needles to say I didn't come to an answer.

After one hour of putting on nearly all content of my wardrobe, I decided to go for casual and simple. I really didn't want to look like an applicant for a secretary job.

I wear that pastel yellow sleeveless blouse I already mentioned 2 times (you have to excuse, I'm extremely nervous), paired with light blue skinny jeans and simple pumps. My wavy hazelnut brown hair is put into a ponytail on this hot July summer day.

Fiddling with the strap of my bag, I hear a door open and dull music echoing in the hallways of the oppressive building.

It is QUEEN, I recognize immediately, forming a smile on my lips.

The music reaches my ears as I am leaning myself forward, trying to get closer to the source of sound.

There it is, the mesmerizing voice of the one and only Freddie Mercury, bringing on goosebumps all over my body. I cling to the armrest, on the chair I am sitting in, as the door closes and the sound fades all to fast.

As you can imagine, this last event didn't lessen my massive nervousness.

You now may've recognized for whom of the four bandmates my heart beats.

In certain circumstances this may change within the next hour. But it don't want to anticipate things.

„Miss Kurzmann" a monotone voice behind a to high counter tears me from my thoughts. „Mr Beach will arrive in about 15 minutes. Can I offer you some tee, coffee or water in the meantime?"

„Just water, thank you" I respond barely audible, biting on my lip. I couldn't handle more at the current stage of my tense mood.

15 minutes. Great. 15 minutes unsuccessfully trying to cool down my nerves, to later make a "smooth" impression.

"Here you go, Ms", I hear the monotone voice again, coming closer, handing me my water.

She's a quiet conservative dressed, middle aged woman, wearing her grey curly hair in a shoulder-length bob. The kind of person, you wouldn't expect to work in a studio, with an endless coming and going of superstars.

Otherwise today its me, sitting in that exact same front hall.

I am by all means far from being conservative, but at the same time, even more far from being some "rockstar material".

The reserved type, always taking a backseat and avoiding the spotlight like wolves the fire.

Ok, I have to confess "reserved" is an understatement. I'm hopelessly shy, especially when it comes to situations like today. Not that I would experience something like this every day.

The only possible outcome for today is disaster.

"Ok, time to relax Viv, you already have the bloody job. Get a grip!!" I quietly whisper, trying to convince myself for the remaining time sitting there.

"Still 11 minutes to go" I mumble, as I look at my watch with trembling hands.

"Your first time?" A voice from the other end of the room brings me back to reality.

"Please excuse me, is it your first time working for a band like Queen?" She quickly continuous.

All I can manage as response, is putting on a tortured smile while nodding almost invisible.

"Don't worry Ms, the band is absolutely thrilled by your photographs and barely can await to finally meet you. And by the way, they won't give you a hard time. They're all relaxed, down to earth guys.

Relaxed,.... so the complete opposite of me, it crosses my mind, as I stare at my watch again.

"9 minutes" I whisper, while watching visitors entering the building.

I hesitantly sip on my water, to not look to helpless and lost and to somehow BRIDGE the DAMN REMAINING 9 MINUTES. Please excuse my little emotional outburst.

Ok Viv....

Oh, crap! Now I realize, I haven't introduced myself to you.

I'll cut it short.

I'm Vivian Kurzmann, 33 years old/young (it's up to you to decide), born and raised in Germany, living in London, in the middle of a divorce, freelance photographer with passion and right now on a kamikaze mission.

"Ok Viv. Think about ways to relax!" I tell myself a tad to loud.

"Excuse me? You need something Ms?" It echoes in the room.

"Oh, I'm ...I was just reading something". To cover up my little white lie, I grab the first magazine I can find, from a massive steel table, right in front of me.

Under extreme tension, I flip through the magazine, without even realizing what I'm looking at.

Maybe I find an article about reducing stress in here?

Come on Viv, figure something out. I try to remember while laying back the unhelpful piece of paper.

"Autogenic training!" I mumble. Wrong time wrong place. Don't be ridiculous.

"Smoking?" Yes, I smoke now and than, an awful habit, I know. I decide to quit smoking for today, not wanting to risk to smell like a bilgy ashtray.

"Meditation, Yoga, ...." Google shows me some options on my phone, which I grabbed earlier to soothe my trembling hands.

"Very helpful fuc*** World Wide Web. I cannot possibly roll out my yoga mat in here and do the downward dog." I mutter and shut google down.

Taking a quick look on my phone, I realize: 4 more minutes to go.

Breath Viv, you can do this!!!!! I remind myself over and over again in my mind, that goes absolutely crazy at the very moment.

"Ms Kurzmann, Mr Beach has arrived and will be here in a minute." the nice woman informs me.

Nodding confirmative I gasp a simple "thank you."

Time stretches like chewing gum, as I finally hear a male voice approaching me. "Ms Kurzmann, I welcome you to the "Musicland Studios". I'm delighted to finally meet you in person. I'm already a big fan and admirer of your work." a brightly smiling, effusive gesticulating man surprises me, holding out his hand to me.

"Oh excuse me Ms. My name is Jim Beach."

"Kurzmann, the pleasure's all mine." I babble, while standing up way to fast, almost bumping into him.

Where's the exit? Last chance to do a runner. I helplessly look around. I must look like turkeys voting for christmas, at least I feel this way.

Mr. Beach wastes no time, taking me along the gloomy corridors towards the studio where the band is recording. "I will introduce you to the band to get to know each other and have a quick talk. Let me tell you, you really made an impression." He winks at me walking besides me. "May I ask you to take you to my office afterwards. I would like to discuss the business side and do the paperwork?"

As I stammer a convincing "sure", we reach the door of our destination, noticing, considering the amount of noise and swearing, a heated discussion reaches its peak.

Mr beach opens the door, rolling his eyes while he whispers at me "please excuse this....rockstars at work."

I can't bite back a chuckle, as the door swings open.

"Guys I want to introduce you to Ms Kurzmann." He shouts.

For a split of a second I want to curl up and die.

Much to my reassurance, the band don't even recognize the two intruders and continue their argument.

The man at my side now starts to get uneasy and tenses up, as he screams again. "DAMN GUYS!!!!"

I quickly notice the heat growing in my cheeks, as all eyes lay on us. No, on ME.

Viv, damn, now of all times. Think about ....ice....no, Antarctica, .....uh. FU**

I can only let my gaze wander for a view seconds and take in the room, as a sympathetically grinning young man, with blonde tousled hair and sunglasses - I guess the sun always shines for him, even in a pitch black cellar - room. - sprints towards me, with joyfulness and flings his arms around my neck. "Hi sweetie. Vivian, right? I'm Roger. Roger Taylor, the drummer of the pack." He sputters, as he steps back again, while turning to face the band and rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Taylor." I smile at him bashfully.

"I'll call you Viv...can I call you Viv?" I'm just Roger." He grins, with the brightest smile he can pull of.

"Alright, just Roger ." I joke, unable to suppress a giggle.

"Brian, come over!" He shouts to a large, lean man with a giant mane of brown curly hair.

The shaggy man puts down his guitar, leaning it against the wall and strolls towards me, kindly smiling, reaching out his hand for me. "Ms Kurzmann, it's a pleasure. I'm Brian May."

I like him already. He has this strongly soothing impact. At this moment....priceless.

"Vivian Kurzmann, my pleasure." I reply affectionately.

Viv, you're almost done, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale...it wheels in my head.

Suddenly a shyly smiling man with guitar, is standing in front of me and introduces himself as John Deacon, the bassist of the group. "Miss Kurzmann, welcome to chaos." He jokes.

"I'm very pleased to meet you Mr Deacon." I give him a handshake, a bit to long as I try to interpret his restrained smile.

I think I like John Deacon, he's just like me. Exaggerated shy and reserved. My clone.

I neglect the fact that this man is a music genius!

"FREDDIE, what the hell takes you this long? Take your ass over here!!! I hear the blonde yell behind the mixing console, interrupting my thoughts.

Ok. The time has come. Breeeeath! Don't get hysterical. I internally scream. There's still some hope, this will work out right.

After a while, what seemed like eternity, no less than Freddie Mercury in flash and bone, appears in the room.

Like a tiger on prowl, he paces at me with slow, cautious moves, his lips formed into a devilish grin.

I can swear everything happens in slow motion.

I can feel his eyes - oh yes, his eyes, his beautiful big brown oceans, framed by those incredible long lashes, I could sink into right now - examine every inch of my trembling body as he spits out words, that break down my idyllic world.

"So you're the one to trample on my privacy from now on, like any greedy paparazzi, reporter and journalist out there?" He hisses while hesitating to reach his hand out to me.

I suppose that means FREDDIE MERCURY HATES ME??!!

As he construes my slack jawed and shocked expression, he continues in a dismissive tone.

"I think you know who I am, but what's your name again?

Pulling my hand away that won't receive a handshake from Freddie Mercury today, I stutter "Kurz.....Vi Vivian Kurzmann."

"Kurz Vivian Kurzmann?" he apes me, grinning cheekily, waiting for me to break down.

"This will be fun." He laughs, while shaking his head and stepping back.

STOP! Can we go back please? That's not how I fantasized this!

The thoughts in my head ride a rollercoaster when my stomach cramps at the last spoken words, still echoing in my head.

Everything feels unreal, as I stand there, watching everything in a haze.

Before I can realize what happens, he continues with a disdainfully look on his face.

"To get it straight. I'm not thrilled by the fact someone is chasing me day after day, to document every fucking move I make. I really appreciate my privacy and want you to respect this. No photos beyond the studio and the venues. Got it?"

This will be the most horrible two years of world history. Freddie Mercury hates me.

As he turns round and starts to stroll away and I almost pass out, I begin to stammer

"Mr Mercury I assure that your privacy and the privacy of everybody involved is crucial to me and I..."

„I find this a little hard to believe, considering you do the same like any fucking journalist. Dig around in others life's and take what you can get." he spits at me and turns his back on me.

Bracing up one last time, I start to answer him, as I hear John entering the conversation

"Freddie, calm down. Don't give that pure girl such a hard time."

Freddie disdainfully gazes at me one last time, before he enters the side room.

I can feel a hand on my shoulder, as I come back to reality. „He has his moods. Don't worry, in a view days he will be fine with it and won't cause any trouble." John is trying to calm me.

All I can manage is to nod like an idiot, still standing there, paralyzed from shock.

As I let my eyes wander around the room, Mr Beach stands behind me. He must have left the studio for our short encounter and came back at this disastrous moment.

„Ms Kurzmann, may I walk you out" he asks me politely. „I love to." I answer quickly, in a relieved voice. I just want get out of here. Somewhere far away from the predator, that just rent me.

John, Brian and Roger farewell me, cheering me up by telling me how they're looking forward, working with me.

„Don't worry about our little diva, Viv. He will calm down." Roger nudges me from the side.

„You'll see, he's not that bad." Brian encourages me calmly.

„Unless his shadow follows him." a joking Roger lets out.

„Shadow?" I can manage to ask, confusion washing over my now chalk white face.

„PAUL" they all shout, rolling their eyes in unison, before bursting out laughing.

As I want to dig deeper, Mr Beach interrupts us. „Ms Kurzmann..?" Turning towards him I notice,, he already stands besides the open door, waiting for me to follow him.

I turn to face the boys again. "See you in a view." I wink towards them, as I leave the room.

Disappointed, I couldn't take a closer look to the studio and the band working, I make my way out, following Mr. Beach.

A nice bunch of men, I think to myself, as we walk down the barren corridor, were it not for my new nemesis.

As I told you. Disaster.

Part 2 will follow soon.

Also published on wattpad:

[grimlegate]

Of Somewhat Similarities

              Sunlight filtered unevenly through thick, waxy leaves, bathing the ground in cool sanctuaries of shadows. Footsteps echoed across the stone walkway, the steady murmur of conversation; of people on their phones, of short talks between friends, or the long meandering stories that escaped the lips of passers-by. Even the sound of the station below-ground made its way to the surface, the voice on the speaker, the doors sliding open and shut.

              Most of the buzz that fell upon perceptive ears was the same, excitement bubbling up in the eyes of the public as they eagerly awaited the Sports Festival, and the would-be heroes that would be suddenly shoved into the limelight. Smooth, bobbed hair flitted around as its owner’s head shook from side to side, looking around at the clusters of people, and hearing the excitement filter towards them.

              “Ohhh! Do you hear all of them, Iida? They’re all talking about us! We’re gonna be the ones up on the stage tomorrow, and they’re gonna see all of us – are you nervous? Are you excited?” The brunette’s excited attitude was unfortunately infectious to the stoic classmate beside her, the teen reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck.

              “A little bit of both, to be honest. It’s a very big deal, and everyone is going to be trying their best. It’s a little daunting.”

              “Oh, Iida, you worry too much!” She chirped, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll do great! If they’re all gonna try their hardest, we have to, too!”

              “Hey, those uniforms – you guys are from UA, right?” Their attention snapped back to the world around them, heads spinning to the perched form on one of the railings nearby. Iida’s hand snapped up, and Uraraka sighed, knowing that the poor stranger was in for a lecture.

              “There are perfectly good benches for that sort of thing, you’d get into big trouble if a police officer sees you.” The other teen looked down at his impromptu seat, nodding sagely for a moment before slipping down, giving the other a polite smile.

              “Oh, I guess you’re right.” He gave the pair a look up and down, taking in their features for a moment before rocking on his heels slightly. “So, as I was saying – you go to UA, right?”

              “Yup! We’re a couple of first years, but we’re gonna be some of the best heroes that you’ve ever seen!” The girl cheered, bumping her hip into Iida playfully, the boy sighing despite the quirk of a smile on his lips.

              “First years? So, you’ll be in the festival tomorrow… Are you nervous? I wouldn’t blame you… Being out in front of all those people would terrify me.”

              “Well, a little, but mostly I’m excited! I get to show off all the cool skills I’ve learned during class!”

              “Uraraka, we’re going to be late if we keep this up –“

              “Oh, give it a rest, Iida! Mister Aizawa is always late, besides, it’s not polite to just leave a conversation like that!”

              “I… suppose you are right, in both regards for that matter.”

              “Uraraka? Iida? You’re students in 1A aren’t you? You guys have been all over the news lately. Pretty impressive if you ask me, you’re already on your way to becoming proper heroes, being in the spotlight and all.”

              His eyes slipped over them again, taking in the appearances that he had only heard about. The odd little whorls on the girl’s fingertips, and the way the other’s calves misshaped the leg of his pants. His eyes darted back up to the other boy’s face, giving him a pleasant smile.

              “Y’know, Iida, you’ve got a pretty impressive quirk. It kinda reminds me of Ingenium.” He hummed, his finger lightly grazing along the notebook in his hand. The taller of the pair jolted for a moment before clearing his throat, looking almost bashful at the compliment, and comparison.

              “That’s not to be unexpected, Tensei’s my brother, after all.”

              “Really? That’s awesome!” The freckled cheeks swelled as a smile split his face, the boy leaning back against the railing he had been sat upon. “It must be pretty cool to have such a well-known hero as your older brother… Y’know… I’ve always wanted to meet a professional hero like him. I know he’s busy and all, but wouldn’t it just be so cool to have his autograph?”

              Uraraka nodded, and even Iida had a hard time shooting down the idea. After all, how could he, when he lionized his own brother? When he aspired to be everything he was and more? Though, both of them turned back to the green-haired teen when he let out a wistful sigh, staring up to the cover of leaves overhead.

              “Although… if I’m being honest?” He mused, bringing his gaze back down to lock eyes with Iida… Oh, yes… He could see the resemblance now. In the crooked way their eyebrows darted back at the end, the same undertone of navy that shone when the light hit their locks just right. Down to the strong jawline, ever prevalent in the way each clenched their teeth.

              Regardless of in pain, or in slight annoyance at being late.

              Even the shape and color of their eyes, that Deku had found fascinating, while he had crouched at the wall beside the armor-clad man, piecing together every piece of the regalia, every way in which he squirmed. The serrated blade piercing through his spine was plenty enough to keep him pinned, the red scarf of his accomplice fluttering annoyingly within eyeshot as his fingers worked to scribble down every piece of information he could on the hero.

              Deku stepped forward away from the rail, moving a hand to pat Iida on the shoulder, giving him a smile that was far more teeth than strictly friendly, moving past him sluggishly into the crowd.

              “I just wouldn’t have the courage to ask him.”

[1rosex]

BTS Reaction to being their crush’s bias

Request: Hey I saw that you did a scenario where bts finds out they aren’t you bias and was wondering if you could do one where they find out they are your bias? Thank you!

Masterlist

A/N I didn't know if you wanted the reader to be their s/o or not but I decided it made it more sense if theyre just friends but have a crush on them? I hope thats okay ^^`

Jin

Jin had finally returned from the world tour he had taken and you had been dying to see him. As soon as you received news that he had arrived, you two had arranged to hang out. So now you were sitting cross legged on the bed trying to open a bag of popcorn while Jin tried to get YouTube to work on the television.

"Jin its fine if we don't see your performances right now.. I can just watch them later." You insisted as he failed to set up once more. He stood up and put his hands on his hips while turning to look at you.

"Are you joking? No way! I want to be right here with you so I can see how surprised you are to see my handsome face on tv." He said as you finally tore the bag open and sent popcorn flying everywhere.

"... Right. You do that." You said slowly before picking the pieces up and eating them. Jin just stared at you before going back to setting it up. Truth was he knew that you looked at him when they performed, and he could only hope he'd see you do it again since he had a crush on you for like.. Forever. You were halfway through the bag when Jin finally got YouTube to work, cheering and clapping his hands excitedly as he sat besides you and started to steal some popcorn. You sat and watched their performances, awed by the band. You still couldn't believe you were friends with someone of such a popular band, they were so incredibly talented. You realized that Jin had suddenly gotten silent and took your eyes off the screen to see him smiling at you.

"What?" You asked while taking a handful of popcorn into your mouth.

"So who's your favorite?" Jin asked. You slowed your chewing, considering your options. Either you tell the truth and risk fueling his ego even more, or you lie and damage it. You swallowed and made your decision. "Honestly? You're my bias."

Jin gasped dramatically and fanned himself, making a bunch of exaggerated facial expressions before sending you a flying kiss.

"I knew you couldn't resist my charms, I truly am talented and not to mention good looking."

"Dont make me take it back”

Namjoon

You were sitting on the couch in the living room of the boys dorm, watching their performances with all of them. They had recently finished their tour in America and had invited you over to watch a rewind of their stages with them, of course you had to accept. You could barely focus on the actual show when all of the members were talking over each other, saying how Jungkook sung that note well or how Jin was behind a few steps, followed by retorts of how he was perfectly in sync.

"Guys can you be quiet? Y/N Probably cant even hear our song!" Namjoon scolded.

"Just cause you're her bias doesnt mean you can shush all of us!" Jungkook yelled out while the other members all muttered and nodded in agreement. Namjoon looked at them in surprise and then at you.

"What.. No I'm not... Am I?" He asked, looking legitimately confused. You honestly thought he knew. You laughed as the others all looked at you to await your answer.

"I thought it was obvious? Yeah, you're my bias." Once you said that, Namjoon covered his face and looked away so you wouldn't see him blushing. Jimin immidiately poked fun at him for getting embarrassed but Namjoon was too busy smiling at the fact that he was your bias to care.

"Stop poking me Jimin, maybe you'd be their bias too if you were the tallest."

Yoongi

That morning you woke up early to your phone ringing right in your ear. You answered the phone half asleep, not even knowing who it was until you heard Yoongi's voice on the other line asking you if you wanted to accompany him to practice. You sleepily agreed before hanging up, getting ready and dropping by later in the day.

"I mean yeah. Yoongi's my bias." You admitted to Namjoon who had started up a conversation during their break.

Yoongi, who had been trying to take a drink, choked on his water when he heard you and broke out into a coughing fit. You looked over at him in concern as he coughed a couple more times and cleared his throat, waving his hand around to signal that he was okay.

"I am? I mean- yeah. Of course I am." He coughed a final time and looked away so you couldn't see him blushing. The rest of the practice, Yoongi couldn't help but get nervous. He did have a major crush on you and the fact that you biased him only made him even more nervous.. But you can fully expect him to use this against you. One day you might not want to do something with him and he'll just give you a knowing look that you can't resist.

"...Not even for your bias?"

J-Hope

You didn't know why you had agreed to playing Truth or Dare with Hoseok and his friends, you knew you were gonna suffer. Yet here you were, watching Jin complete his dare of trying not to laugh for a minute straight, only for Jimin's aegyo to send him over the edge with laughter and make everyone scream with cringe. At least it was temporary, unlike Jungkook whom had to yell for the remainder of the game thanks to Namjoon's dare.

"Y/N, TRUTH OR DARE?" Jungkook yelled at you, making you jump.

This could possibly be the most vital decision you were going to make in your life. Either you pick dare and risk having to do some crazy stunt for the members entertainment, or you pick truth and risk being asked something revealing that they'll never let you live down. You swallowed nervously, deciding you preferred verbal embarrassment over doing something physically ridiculous.

"Truth." You answered. Jungkook thought for a second, then his face lit up.

"WHO'S YOUR BIAS??"

Oh no. This was it. All seven members cheered at Jungkook's choice in question before leaning in to await your answer. You looked at all of their faces, from Taehyung's sweet smile and Jin winking to bribe you into picking him, then to Hoseok's bright grin. You sighed, pressing your lips together before pointing to Hoseok as your bias. The dorm interuppted into chaos once more. They all attacked Hobi which was busy with screaming with both excitement that his crush had just called him their bias, and fear that the members were all currently crowding around him.

"I'm sorry my good looks are too much for Y/N, don't attack me!"

Jimin

"Y/N!" Jimin called out to you while you were eating on the couch, watching BTS' choreography to Go Go.

You looked up with a noodle sticking out of the corner of your mouth, quickly slurping it up. ".. Yes?"

"You're watching Go Go without me I told you to waiiiit." He whined before taking a seat besides you and settling his own bowl of ramen noodles in his lap. You laughed and wiped your mouth.

"I'm sorry, you took too long." You two had been friends for a long time, but you'd been lacking a lot of quality time with him. Jimin had been so busy with the new album coming out that he didn't even time to reply to messages sometimes, so when he finally got a break you immidiately asked him to hang out.

"Your outfits and dance moves to this dance are so cute. Omg, look at Taehyung." You smiled when you saw him take the spotlight. Jimin looked up from his bowl of noodles, staring at you with puppy dog eyes.

"Y/N I can not believe you, I am Park Jimin, your best friend, the man whom has been at your side through thick and thin, the groups mochi, yet you compliment Kim Taehyung!" He put his hand on his chest dramatically, pretending to be hurt. Truth was though,, the guy was crushing on you. Big time.

"Chill Jimin, I was just kidding! You know you're my bias." You smiled, and Jimin looked like he had just been shot. He turned into a giggly mess and looked away, he didn't actually expect you to say that.

"Wait, really?"

Taehyung

"Dude." Taehyung said, rolling over and shining his phone light into your face.

"Taehyung I'm trying to sleep." You muttered tiredly, opening your eyes to look at him. Taehyung had barely gotten back from his MAMA performance a day ago, and not knowing when you two could hang out again you'd asked him to come over. But then it started snowing, a lot. Taehyung complained about the cold until you finally told him to just sleep over and you two built a blanket fort. But you had ended up getting sleepy, though Taehyung didn't seem to be sleeping anytime soon.

"Do you think the fans like me?" He asked. You frowned, rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes before propping yourself onto your elbow.

"Of course they do Tae.. Why are you asking?" You said as he turned his phone back to him and then turned it off, covering you two in darkness.

"I don't know.. Just doubtful, I guess." He said. Sometimes Taehyung would confide in you with his feelings, and even though it was late and you were tired, you always heard him out.

"Are you serious? You're Kim freaking Taehyung, BTS' visual, their sweet boy, a caring bean, a meme, the one with the box smile, the one who won most handsome face, the one with a laugh that plEASES THE GODS." You could go on but Taehyung cut you off by hitting you with his pillow, laughing. "You didn't let me finish! And, and you're my bias." You added. Taehyung was glad the lights were off so you couldn't see him blushing at your words.

"Thank you, Y/N."

Jungkook

You and Jungkook were walking around town going shopping, something you had missed for a long time. Jungkook's schedule made it hard for you two to have time for each other, you only ever had time for the occasional text or a call if you were really lucky. But with Jungkook having a break from his schedule, you took the oppurtunity to go out and do something together. Jungkook was just as excited- if not more, to finally be spending the day with you. He refused to admit it, but he had started developing feelings for you and being away for so long was torture.

"Y/N look I'm Hoseok." Jungkook said before pulling a beanie over his head like Hoseok was always seen wearing them. You laughed and shook your head at him.

"Aww poor Hoseok, leave your members alone." You had just finished saying your sentence when Jungkook turned to look at you, his brown eyes wide.

"Why are you defending my hyungs and not the golden maknae?" He asked you. "I thought I was your one and only, your friend, your comrade, partner in crime, the one you choose over anyone else, YOUR PICO DE GALLO, but I guess I was wrong. My own best friend biases Hoseok over me." Jungkook dramatically clutched his chest and sobbed. You didn’t even know what the heck ‘pico de gallo’ meant. (it’s a Spanish dish but can also be a saying for close friends- at least where i’m from lmao)

"Noo, Jungkook, you're my bias!" You insisted while coming up to him, he looked at you in surprise,

"Am I really?"

"No, my bias is Yoongi."

"Are you serious??"

"I'm kidding, it's you."

"STOP CONFUSING ME."

You laughed at his expression. "Okay, no I'm serious. You're actually my bias." Jungkooks face lit up again, hoping he didn't look as excited as he actually felt.

"Oh uh.. O-Of course I am I mean.. who wouldn’t fall for this talented and handsome face right?”

I do not own any gifs

[bubbleteascenarios]

Bringing Us Closer (Chanyeol)

Note: You can read this scenario on its own, the previous parts are not vitally important to the story. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t read the previous parts because they’re so old and cringe-worthy. ^^

Final

(1 | 2 | Final)

You lay in bed staring up at your outstretched hand at the shiny diamond ring on your finger. It was a whirlwind relationship, a crazy impulsive decision. You married within the first year of living together, despite the strong opposition from Chanyeol’s management; even your friends and family thought it was too soon. It didn’t matter, you were young and in love; nothing could stop you. Despite all this, you never regretted any moment of it. Chanyeol treated you like a princess and protected you from the public spotlight for all these years.

It all happened so quickly. He debuted as a member of EXO, released his first album, and his popularity exploded. Before you knew it, his schedule was always packed and he barely made it home most nights. When he did come home he’d practically have to force his way past fans into the building, but he'd always come home with a smile no matter his exhaustion. It worried you 24 hours of the day. His popularity, his determination to keep you from worrying, everything.

You rolled over and stared at the empty spot where Chanyeol would sleep. How long had it been since he slept beside you? He was on tour the past few months and your loneliness had been festering in your heart the whole time. You grabbed his pillow and held it tightly against your chest, inhaling his scent.

You hated yourself for being this way. You knew what you were getting yourself into and it was always in the back of your head when you decided to enter a life with him, but it still pained you to be alone. Your friends lived in your hometown and you didn’t have a job because Chanyeol insisted that he’d provide for you. You fought him at first, but you knew he was just worried about the reaction you’d get from the “outside world,” as he liked to call it.

“When are you coming home~?” You mumbled into his pillow.

“I’m already home.” You swore you were hearing things, but when you looked into the bedroom doorway there he was. You rubbed your eyes, thinking you were still groggy. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a hallucination. Standing in the doorway was your lovable teddy bear of a husband with outstretched arms. You threw his pillow aside and threw yourself into his arms. You pressed your face against his chest and deeply inhaled. His familiar and comfortable scent set your emotions running as tears rolled down your cheeks. He chuckled quickly as he stroked the top of your head, “why are you crying? I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I missed you,” you muttered through your tears.

“I know, I missed you too. Do you know how hard it is to try and smile on stage when I know you’re not backstage waiting for me?” You looked up at him with a pout and he responded with a quick kiss.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I know how you are. You’d wake up extra early and meet me at the airport. Then, you’d come home and insist on making breakfast. All I want to do is come home to my cute little wife and cuddle.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. So how about we get back in bed and let me sleep for a while? I’m super jet-lagged.” You nodded fervently and crawled back into bed, eagerly awaiting Chanyeol. He flopped down onto the mattress and pulled you back into a hug with a deep sigh of satisfaction. “I definitely missed this. Now, sleep.” Within minutes you could hear him quietly snoring.

“You must have been really busy. I hope you had fun.” You smiled, tapping the tip of his nose with your finger. Although you were enjoying yourself as you watched Chanyeol sleep, the quiet room and his warm embrace quickly lulled you to sleep.

When you opened your eyes for a second time today Chanyeol was missing again. You whimpered, convinced that it was a dream, until Chanyeol stepped out of the bathroom.

“Don’t make that face~ I’m still here. I’m also hungry, so--”

“Should I make you something? What do you want to eat? I’ll get started right now.” You’re prepared to scurry off into the kitchen when he gently takes your hand in his.

“Relax! Let’s eat out.” Without another word, you prepared yourself for a night out.

--

“This is the restaurant we first ate at when you came to Seoul, do you remember?” Chanyeol asked, resting his chin in his palm as he watched you look around the restaurant.

“I remember, you think I’d forget?” You send him a cheeky smirk and stare back at him. The server quickly delivered your food and left before he threw up, he was pretty sure he saw hearts in your eyes.

“Nope, just checking. We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” Chanyeol asked as he fed you a mouthful.

“Mm~ But it still feels the same.”

“I’m glad. I’m always worried my being away will make us awkward.”

“That’s not possible, we’re two peas in a pod. Besides, I love you too much to let that happen. Stop feeding me! I’m not about to eat this all myself.”

--

You finished dinner and were now quietly strolling through the city. You held his hand tightly and clung close to his side, making sure he couldn’t disappear on you. He would occasionally glance at you, making very adorable satisfied faces to yourself.

“Why’d you want to eat out? I could have made something at home.” You peeked up at him and caught him looking away.

“It’s been forever since we’ve had date night and you make me feel like some cruel master, making you cook for me whenever I’m here.”

“But I like cooking for you,” you grumbled, disappointed. “You’re always away so I barely ever cook for myself.”

“I’ll be home for a while, so you’ll have plenty of chances to do that,” he answered nonchalantly.

“That’s good... Wait, really? You’re not going away again?!”

“Not for a while. I was adamant about getting some time off.”

 You stop walking and pull him down to your level and place a quick kiss on his lips. “Good, because we’re a mess when we’re not together.”

✰—————————— 

Trying to power through these requests which are literally years old. T-T On another note, these scenarios are long af in comparison to my old ones.

[loudjellyfishluminary]

The roar of excitement from the crowd could even be heard through the cement walls of the backstage hallway, sending faint vibrations through the tunnel, only elevating the nervous excitement of the four girls heading deeper backstage. Over their enthusiastic giggling and chattering, the security guard sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Oh em gee!” One of the girls squealed, bouncing on her toes. “I can’t believe we got picked!”

“I knoooow!” Another one sang, nearly tripping over herself when the annoyed security guard picked up her pace. “We actually get to meet Ahri!”

The mere mention of the idol’s name sent the girls into another fit of excited squealing, making the disgruntled security guard growl before sighing in relief and opening the door to the dressing room.

“Here,” She motioned the girls inside with a lackluster wave of her arm. “Ahri herself…”

The girls all stopped in their tracks with a collective gasp when they laid eyes on the kitsune.

Ahri relaxed on a red loveseat, watching the girls with a cool gaze from her golden eyes, their corners perked up in a playful manner. Her nine pristine white tails fanned out behind her like a throne of fur, making Ahri appear as a vixen queen overlooking her adoring subjects. Her pink jacket and shorts hugged her curvaceous figure like a second skin, with an almost space age look to its sleek design. It was a far cry from her usual black and white K/DA outfit.

“Well, well, well,” Ahri cooed, plump lips pursing in amusement. “Our little guests have arrived, dear~” 

Sona stepped towards the popstar, eyeing the new arrivals with a giddy look in her eyes. She danced from foot to foot, gracefully twirling around before pulling a heart shaped vial from her generous cleavage.

“Someone’s eager.” Ahri chuckled, taking the vial of red liquid when the maven handed to her.

Sona bounced towards the starstruck girls, arms outstretched like she was about to hug them, her massive bust bouncing and jiggling with just as much energy as she seemed to have. Meanwhile Ahri uncorked the vial and brought it to her nose, inhaling deeply.

“Mmmh,” She purred, gently swirling the bottle of deep red liquid. “Smells like a good time~”

Reaching out and grabbing one of the girl’s hands, Sona motioned for the others to follow her as she eagerly but gently tugged them towards Ahri. The leader of the pop group eyed them up and down with a sultry smirk, idly passing the bottle between her hands.

“You girls have no idea how lucky you are…” She cooed sweetly, beckoning them closer. “Tonight is a very special night.”

The girls nearly tripped over each other to close the distance, their eyes never leaving the superstar. It took a few seconds of Ahri staring at them with amusement before they snapped out of their stupor.

“Y-Y-You’re...y-you’re her…” The closest girl, a chubby brunette, managed to stutter out. “Y-You’re really her…”

Ahri smiled her best smile and patiently nodded, standing from her seat. She held the vial out as if she were passing it to someone, only to have one of her silky soft tails curl around the vial and hold it for her.

“Aww, it’s always so nice to see someone get so starstruck over me…” Ahri giggled, biting her lip. “I wish everyone looked at me like that~”

The three immediately brightened at the kind and friendly disposition of their idol. The kitsune smiled wider as they bought her act.

“But you girls are here for a very special performance. But let me tell you a secret, just between us…” Ahri leaned in close, drinking in the awestruck looks on the faces of the girls. “Tonight, I’m starting my solo career…”

The girls all gasped in shock, the shortest one with the fox ear headband starting to squeal and hop in place out of elation.

“I knew it!” She cried, clapping her hands together in excitement. “I told you guys she was gonna go solo! She’s soooo much better than the others!”

The other two still gaped in shock, the blonde having her hands clapped over her mouth.

Ahri giggled again, clasping her hands in front of herself. She watched the girl bounce around and cheer, happy to sing to her friends about how she knew the popstar was good enough to make a solo career for herself.

“I’m glad you agree~” She purred after the girl had calmed her bouncing. “But there’s a reason I’m telling you girls this before anyone else.”

That got their full attention if she didn’t have it already. They stared at her with wide eyes, eagerly awaiting the reason why they had been picked to be the first to hear the news from the superstar herself.

“The reason I’m telling you girls this is because I need your help to go solo and really get big…”

Their jaws dropped. They slowly looked at each other, not sure if they had imagined it or not. Their idol had just asked them for their help specifically. It was a dream come true for them, and it was only after seeing the same expressions on each other’s faces did they believe it.

“Y-Y-You...need o-our help…?” The brunette stammered.

“I do.” Ahri cooed, cupping her hand behind her back and letting the vial fall into it. “But we need to hurry before the show starts.”

The shortest girl nodded eagerly, the headband nearly slipping from her head from the speed. “Anything! Whatever you need, we’ll do it!”

“Anything~?”

“Anything!” They cheered in chorus, nodding happily.

“Well,” Ahri brought the vial to her lips and tilted it back, downing the surprisingly small volume of liquid in one quick gulp. “I need you girls to come on stage with me tonight~”

As the excited squealing started again and the girls began chattering about knowing all of her songs and dance moves by heart, the kitsune wasn’t focusing on them. She focused on the warmth radiating from her stomach as her body began to absorb the drink.

The vial had been a surprisingly small amount, barely even a mouthful for the popstar. Still, she trusted her girlfriend and in turn, trusted the vial to do what she said it would. She could already feel the warm tingling spreading through her body, from her toes to the tips of her tails. The magical drink was taking effect quickly, something she was thankful for as the girls seemed to be calming down again.

“Oh my god! You’re actually letting us be on stage with you?!” The blonde gaped.

“We’re like, so ready! We promise!”

“Of course.” Ahri smirked. “I need someone to help me start off my new career as the world’s biggest star. But before we go out there together, I think I need to get you girls looking like proper star material~”

She motioned to Sona with a flick of her wrist while the girls squealed and bounced around, the maven nodding eagerly and reaching past the security guard to lock the door. Ahri stepped back over to her seat, sitting down and letting her silky soft tails spread out behind her like the back of a throne.

“So, who’s first~?”

The three nearly fell over trying to push their way to the front of Ahri’s attention. The chubby brunette, with her clear size advantage over the other two, managed to shove her way to the forefront.

“Me! Me! I wanna go first!”

Ahri giggled coyly, putting a finger to her chin. She eyed her first volunteer up and down, stealing glances at the other two who still bounced eagerly in place, not at all phased by being shoved aside when they were in the presence of their idol.

“Well,” The popstar started. “You two turn around and I'll get us ready for the spotlight~”

The other two turned their backs to Ahri and the brunette, taking a moment to smile at each other. They giggled and chattered, not paying attention to the instructions Ahri was giving to her first volunteer.

“Oh my god, Katie! I can't believe she's letting us come on stage with her!” The blonde whispered to her friend, hopping from foot to foot.

“I know! Ahri's probably gonna make us look sooooo good!”

“I hope we get to wear something like they did in their Taiwan concert!”

“Oooh! That would be amazing! Do you think she has something that will...fit...uhm...”

(1 part)

El título es: La estrella más grande del mundo The title is: The biggest star in the world

[moneyinthebank0]

Ryan Dilbert's 10-Count: Shinsuke Nakamura Doesn't Need Money in the Bank Win

1. MITB Not Necessary for Nakamura

The final image of Tuesday's WWE SmackDown featured Shinsuke Nakamura atop a ladder pulling down the Money in the Bank briefcase and staring at it with a palpable hunger.

That need not be how Sunday's pay-per-view ends. Becoming Mr. Money in the Bank would be superfluous for The King of Strong Style. He's a magnetic star who will easily earn his way into the WWE Championship, briefcase or no briefcase.

Shinsuke Nakamura grabbed the Money in the Bank briefcase on Tuesday in a potential preview of Sunday's PPV. Shinsuke Nakamura grabbed the Money in the Bank briefcase on Tuesday in a potential preview of Sunday's PPV.Credit: WWE.com The Money in the Bank concept is best suited for two types of wrestlers—the underdog and the slimy opportunist.

For the former, the briefcase offers a means to take down bigger opponents. We saw Daniel Bryan rip the world title from Mark Henry's mitts in 2011, for example.

WWE doesn't have to tell that kind of story with Nakamura. He could believably tear down Jinder Mahal's kingdom without the element of surprise.

He's not a plucky scrapper who needs a leg up. Nor is he the type of character who would wait for his prey to be half-eaten before pouncing.

Nakamura is a badass with a rock-and-roll sensibility. He's the coolest guy in the room, a gladiator who feeds on great competition, a two-time NXT champ who has taken down the likes of Samoa Joe and Finn Balor.

WWE would be better off building him up as a contender by having him kick people's heads in.

He can continue his current hot streak, beat up on midcarders and further excite his fanbase. After only being on the main roster since April, the focus, for now, should be for the audience to get know him better. There's no reason to have his journey climax with a world title reign anytime soon.

Letting anticipation build for a potential Nakamura reign is a smarter move.

And it's not as if he needs the Money in the Bank narrative device to get him a crack at gold. Believing that Nakamura holding the briefcase on Tuesday night meant he wouldn't win on Sunday, Jake Barnett of ProWrestling.net wrote: "I'm wondering if that means Nakamura goes after Kevin Owens and the US Championship next."

That's a more than plausible scenario.

Nakamura has already thrice pinned Owens. A U.S. title shot is a natural next step.

View image on Twitter View image on Twitter Follow WWE ✔ @WWE HE DOES IT AGAIN! @ShinsukeN has once again pinned #USChampion and #NewFaceOfAmerica @FightOwensFight on #SDLive! 6:57 AM - 7 Jun 2017  329 329 Retweets   638 638 likes Twitter Ads info and privacy And should he dethrone Owens at some point, Nakamura could easily move up to the WWE title picture. WWE has sold him as a big deal since the moment he signed with the company, hyping his debut and keeping him in the spotlight. It clearly holds him in high regard and has big plans for him.

That backing from the WWE machine will carry him to the top, no boost from Money in the Bank needed.

2. In Lesnar's Absence

Brock Lesnar stormed back into the Raw landscape on June 12 after not appearing for WWE since April 3.

In that span, the Universal Championship was an absentee title while the WWE Championship was handled far differently. Randy Orton and Jinder Mahal have both been far more prominent than The Beast Incarnate as their brand's top titleholders.

Universal Champion Brock Lesnar Universal Champion Brock LesnarCredit: WWE.com Raw's Payback PPV was sans title match. SmackDown, meanwhile, featured Mahal dethroning Orton at Backlash and will see those two go at it again at Money in the Bank on Sunday.

The Maharaja has defended the title in two dark matches as champion, per CageMatch.net.

And on SmackDown, Mahal stole the WWE Championship in a memorable scene. After winning it, Mahal gloated during a "Punjabi celebration."

While Lesnar had zero matches following WrestleMania, Orton took on Erick Rowan and Baron Corbin in non-title action as champion, as seen on WWE.com. On May 9, Orton battled in a six-man tag match. When Mahal won the title, the champ crushed Mojo Rawley's Money in the Bank dreams by beating him in non-title action.

One may argue that Lesnar's schedule makes him and the title feel special, but it's been far more entertaining to see what's unfolding with the WWE title scene.

3. Throwback Video of the Week: Mitsuharu Misawa

Mitsuharu Misawa passed away eight years ago on June 13, 2009, after losing consciousness in the ring. Hideo Itami paid tribute to the Japanese great on Twitter just before that somber anniversary.

It's only natural to start reflecting on Misawa's career and pulling up old clips of his work at this time of year.

Mr. Triple Crown's 2007 bout against Samoa Joe is one of his more underrated efforts. Misawa's elbow-strike acumen was on display here in a hard-hitting showdown.

It's hard not to feel melancholic looking back at Misawa in action, though. He is missed and will be for a long time.

4. Tozawa Must Avoid Titus Brand

Titus O'Neil is trying to recruit Akira Tozawa to a part of his Titus Brand, and the cruiserweight has to hope that partnership doesn't come to pass.

O'Neil has done next to nothing for Apollo Crews. His presence at Crews' side has only made him feel like a joke. O'Neil isn't adding spark to Crews' act. He's a flat character with a poorly defined "brand" that would only make Tozawa feel like a low-card also-ran.

View image on Twitter View image on Twitter Follow WWE ✔ @WWE VICTORY SELFIE = 💲💲💲 #RAW @TitusONeilWWE @ApolloCrews @TozawaAkira 6:20 AM - 13 Jun 2017  310 310 Retweets   905 905 likes Twitter Ads info and privacy WWE should instead be letting Tozawa tell his own story as he works his way toward a Cruiserweight Championship showdown with Neville. Lumping Tozawa into the tractionless Titus Brand is easy, not smart.

5. The Warriors Are Indeed Imperfect

The Golden State Warriors looked immortal en route to spanking the Cleveland Cavaliers in the NBA Finals.

The new NBA champs, though, did give us an odd, bungled moment, like something straight out of Botchamania. Draymond Green tried to catch a tumbling Klay Thompson but struggled to hold him up.

MLB Network host Robert Flores noted it looked like a botched wrestling move:

View image on Twitter View image on Twitter Follow Robert Flores ✔ @RoFlo When you try to powerbomb your friend but totally screw it up.#NBAFinals 8:02 AM - 13 Jun 2017  65 65 Retweets   155 155 likes Twitter Ads info and privacy Green may not be able to snatch someone out of midair as gracefully as Cesaro, but he can sure kick a man in the onions on par with Undertaker.

6. A Welcome Invasion

New Japan Pro-Wrestling is making a concerted effort to break into the North American market, and that's a beautiful thing.

The Bullet Club and NJPW is headed to Los Angeles for the G1 Special on July 1 and 2. This is the just latest stage in the company's attempt to get a foothold in the United States.

Wrestling fans should be elated about this development. For one, NJPW has long produced some of the best in-ring action in the world. And if the company puts one more shows in the U.S., it means more American fans can discover talents like Kenny Omega, Kazuchika Okada and Hiroshi Tanahashi.

And over time, if NJPW can start siphoning WWE's fanbase, the biggest wrestling company in the world will be finally be invigorated by the power of competition. WWE's lack of real rival means it doesn't have to be as innovative, bold and aggressive as it was during the Monday Night War in the late '90s.

NJPW pushing WWE down the road would be huge for the industry overall.

7. History Awaits

The Money in the Bank PPV will be a landmark event for women's wrestling.

Charlotte Flair and Becky Lynch lead the field set to compete in the first-ever women's Money in the Bank ladder match. The event promises to be statistically significant beyond that, too.

View image on Twitter View image on Twitter Follow WWE ✔ @WWE THIS SUNDAY: The first-ever Women's #MITB #LadderMatch takes place at @WWE Money in the Bank! Who will walk with the briefcase? #SDLive 6:14 AM - 14 Jun 2017  445 445 Retweets   902 902 likes Twitter Ads info and privacy If Lana defeats Naomi to claim the SmackDown Women's Championship, it will be the first time a women's title would have changed hands at the event, per the Internet Wrestling Database.

The 2017 edition of the PPV will be only the third time Money in the Bank has featured two women's matches on the card. And only one women's match has ever gone over 10 minutes at the PPV. None have reached the 12-minute mark.

That's poised to change as the Money in the Bank ladder match won't be contained in that small of a space.

8. Classic Brawls

Samoa Joe and Brock Lesnar's pull-apart brawl on Monday night was a beautiful sight to behold.

Those two hosses carried on a longstanding tradition of wrestlers going at it. Lesnar himself has been in his share of these scraps, tangling with Undertaker and John Cena in the past. Long before The Beast Incarnate reigned, though, wrestling's bruisers and behemoths were trading blows outside of the comfort of a sanctioned match.

Check out some of these wild brawls from decades past for a look at the art of the wrestling brawl:

(Note: Some footage is graphic)

Jerry Lawler, Bill Dundee vs. Larry Latham, Wayne Farris: Memphis Wrestling (1979) Ricky Morton, Eddie Gilbert vs. Atsushi Onita, Masa Fuchi: Memphis Wrestling (1981) Jerry Lawler, Tommy Rich vs. Dirty Rhodes, Ron Bass: Memphis Wrestling (1986) Abdullah the Butcher vs. Bruiser Brody: World Wrestling Council (1987) The Fantastics vs. The Heavenly Bodies: Smoky Mountain Wrestling (1992) Memphis was home to more than its share of these. There was always a chaotic energy pulsing through that territory.

Anyone who joins WWE Creative should be required to sit down and binge-watch old Memphis footage, looking at how Lawler and others gave the medium a sense of gritty realism.

9. Give Emma the Spotlight

Emma returned to Raw on Monday night after recovering from a shoulder injury.

She immediately found herself lost in a crowded stage as WWE crammed her into a six-woman tag team match. It wasn't a triumphant return. She didn't earn a win or lay out a rival. Instead, Sasha Banks bent her backward with the Bank Statement to force her into submission.

And with that, Emma stepped back into her place in the middle of the pack.

Too often, the company has presented Emma as just another member of the roster. She needs to be a bigger focus of the division, however. She's one of the more compelling female characters the Raw brand has to offer and a promising performer overall.

She excels as a cocky, vindictive heel. She's produced when given prime spots on NXT cards against Paige and Asuka.

Raw has to start showcasing her at that level.

She'd make an ideal rival for Banks or Bayley. She'd thrive as Alexa Bliss' right-hand woman, the obstacle babyfaces had to charge through to get to the champ. Anything other than making her ordinary is the way to go.

10. Scurll on the Danger of the Squared Circle

In the midst of an eight-man tag team match over the weekend, Mark Andrews rolled out of the ring and held his neck in pain. Moments later, medical staff carried him off on a stretcher.

And just like that, the thrill of in-ring WWE action turned to unsettling concern.  

Andrews luckily escaped suffering a major injury. WWE.com reported: "A CT scan of Andrews came back negative, with just bruising evident."

Former Progress Wrestling world champ Marty Scurll tweeted about the power of the moment Andrews went down:

Follow Marty Scurll ✔ @MartyScurll A scary reminder of just how dangerous this biz is & how wrestlers risk their lives to entertain. Love you @MandrewsJunior https://twitter.com/wrestlingsheet/status/873996934217953280 … 1:21 AM - 12 Jun 2017  303 303 Retweets   1,232 1,232 likes Twitter Ads info and privacy Every dive outside the ring, every suplex, every power move could leave a wrestler paralyzed or worse. We've seen these athletes suffer broken necks and cervical damage. We've seen men die in the ring.

A healthy supply of cajones is among the many skills wrestlers must have in their tool box.