#its like my brain got tired of me tap dancing around and refusing my feelings

[kaiserkisser]

fuck

well fuck

[paellaplease]

HAII!! if it hasnt been done yet, could you do revali x reader with basorexia? maybe reader really wants to give him a kiss but she really cant since,, yknow she has lips and he has a fuckin beak so she just decides to give him a lil smooch on the cheek? idk that was just an idea i had in mind, u dont have to write it!

22. basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss.

pairing: revali x reader summary:  revali spirits you away to enjoy the new years eve festivities.

   In the darkness of your room, you awoke to the sound of a soft tapping on your window. Twisting in the mess of blankets and pillows, you pushed aside the papers and textbooks that had accumulated at the foot of the bed, noticing only then that the candle at your desk had long since extinguished. 

Head pounding, you rubbed at your tired eyes, feeling heavy. How long had you been asleep?

The tapping grew more insistent, forcing you to get up. Grumbling, you allowed yourself a second to stretch, ignoring how your room felt like water sloshing in a glass. 

"Yeah, yeah. Hold on!" You said, hobbling to the window. Brushing the mess of hair from your eyes, you pulled the curtains away and roughly pushed it open. 

The culprit hovered outside, eyes bright and smug. Revali looked very much at home though he was floating at a dizzying distance away from the ground. In the sleepy haze, he looked like a painting of some myth you had read before, with the late night sky as his backdrop and the outline of your window as his frame. 

"Took you long enough."

"Apologies. I thought some tree branches were hitting the glass." 

The Rito made a show of turning in the air. "Funny, I don't see any nearby trees."

"I know," you sighed, disappointed. 

Revali rolled his eyes and poked his head through the window, feathers brushing past your cheek as he ignored your personal space in favour of scoping out your room. The stiff turn of his neck as he looked around reminded you of the curious and confused little birds that landed on the sill from time to time. 

"Quite a dreary home you have here." Gesturing to the overall darkness, he pointed to your stack of scattered papers. "You shouldn't study without proper lighting, it's bad for your eyes." 

"I was asleep."

"Why, I'm surprised. And here I thought you were one of the festive many who choose to stay awake at an ungodly hour in order to count down the remaining seconds of the year."

"Well," you shrugged, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Not like it's anything special. New year, same shit. What difference would a countdown do?" 

Biting down on your tongue, you stopped yourself from saying anymore. The cold breeze sifted past the light shirt you were wearing, making you shiver. 

He was right, normally you were one of those people who stayed up, excitedly watching the hands of the clocktower tick til they reached midnight. You enjoyed the energy of being in a collective crowd, waiting with bated breath for the first inhale and exhale you would take into the brand new year.

The final month on the Hylian calendar brought a sense of relief and a hope for new beginnings. Usually today of all days  you were at your happiest, jumping at the prospect of celebrating along with the rest of the kingdom and yet…

That sinking weight clawed at your chest again, forcing you to clamp down on it once more.

You grimaced. There it was; that bitter feeling. Hylia. How annoying. It twisted in your brain like an angry snake, pulling down your mood and enthusiasm along with it. 

Last year you wanted to cheer and dance until the morning light. Now all you felt like was staring at the wall. Or falling asleep. 

You blinked, turning back to the window to see Revali patiently waiting for you to continue. Feeling your face warm, you hustled your brain to get a move on. A coherent thought would be great right about…now!

"Hey have you ever wondered why they don't grow trees on this side of the castle? It's not fair the more expensive quarters get all the pretty greenery. I mean, non-noble guests still need that sweet oxygen everyone keeps raving about, you get me?" Shut up brain, that's enough. I said a coherent thought. C o h e r e n t. 

Stars in his wings, Revali shook his head but answered anyway. "I agree, it's hardly fair. Also go change into something warm, we need to get you outside."

"What? Why?"

Something in the Rito's expression clued you in to the fact that he wasn't in the mood to play stupid. You've been sitting in the dark for the past few days and it didn't take a private investigator to know it was playing tricks with your head. "Fine, but when I say we go back--we go back, got it?"

He huffed, turning around to give you some privacy. "I promise on my honour."

The brightly lit lanterns of the town square made you squint as you shuffled closer to your guide, the sound of the city loud in your ears.

Though less prominent, the twisting feeling in your gut continued, making you more hyper-alert than usual to the world around you. Adjusting the sleeves of your coat, you followed Revali past the streets, the Rito expertly navigating through the sea of people. 

Somewhere along the way he had taken your hand, and you told yourself it was a good way for you both to stick together. Wouldn't want you getting lost and spending the final minutes of the year playing an elaborate game of hide and seek after all. He was a great friend like that. Nevermind that everytime you would hold his wing a little tighter to remind yourself that he was there, he would always squeeze back. 

You needed a distraction. 

Just focus on everything that's not him.

The night was alive with the sound of music. It didn't matter if you partied with an alcoholic drink in hand, or a glass of milk, everyone in Hyrule was filled with an addictive buzz that came with an event that only happened once a year. Vendors with bright smiles called out from their stalls, the smell of freshly baked sweets or the sizzle of a barbecue beckoning you to take a closer look. To your left, a group of friends raised their hands in the air, loudly welcoming a Goron that had turned up late but regardless had finally arrived. 

The archer followed your line of sight, guessing the question bouncing in your head. "Daruk is in Eldin, probably rattling Death Mountain with that story again about the Moblin camp and the barrel of explosives."

"I love that story."

"Of course you would."

"Sorry about your feathers though."

"Whatever, they grew back."

"How about the one's on your--"

"Anyway," he interjected quickly, playfully nudging you to the side and glowering at your laughter. "We've been told to 'take a break'. The other Champions have chosen to spend this day with their families and loved ones. We are planning to regroup and continue preparations in the days following."

"How about you?"

"I already said it."

Your cheeks coloured at the implications of his words, mind replaying the previous sentence. Families and loved ones. Families and loved ones. He didn't even hesitate. You both were not related. So that left you with...

"Woah!" Digging your heels into the dirt, you abruptly paused your brisk walk and saved yourself from colliding with the archer's back. 

Stopping at one of the stalls, Revali held two fingers up. You glanced up at him questioningly but he refused to give anything away, expression relaxed. The vendor returned quickly, the Rito thanking them quietly and placing the payment on the bright yellow table cloth along with a large tip in their jar. 

He turned around, dropping a square shaped pastry into your hands. It was some kind of rice cake, with a fluffy exterior and a golden baked surface that smelled of butter and felt warm like the sun. 

Taking a bite, you smiled at the hints of coconut that were hidden in its sweet flavour. The sticky treat was familiar somehow. "Is this so luck sticks to you in the new year?"

Revali scoffed, though failed to hide his own smile behind the cake held in his wing. "You said the same thing when we first met. You need new material."

"Says the baron of bird puns."

"I am the king." He punctuated the statement by biting into his own rice cake. Offering his wing, he gently took your hand once more, turning back to step again into the busy promenade. 

Following him, you noticed that the crowds ever so slowly began to thin. A lantern lit hill was coming up. The grassy expanse was dotted with a few people, though it was blessingly not as populous as the town square. "I should be the one that's surprised. Thought you hated crowds unless their attentions were all on you."

"It's tolerable so long as I am with good company." 

The both of you walked up the hill with an unspoken agreement to make it to the top. Taking a seat on the grass, you allowed yourself to breathe, chest heaving from the small burst of exercise after days of being sedentary. 

The twinkling lights of Castle Town stretched out before you. Gazing at it, you could imagine all the untold stories hidden in the glowing little pockets of the alleys and in the hushed whispers behind closed doors. Funny how in a city so full of people, one can feel so alone. 

Revali was the first to speak, breaking you from your thoughts. "I think I can understand now. Looking at it from this distance, it really can feel like nothing much has changed."

You continued to stare at the lights, trying to focus on a certain string in an attempt to ground yourself. "Yeah. Sometimes it feels like though the world continues to spin, I'm remaining completely still. Just stagnant."

Frowning, you ran your hands through the grass, feeling the dirt shift under your fingers. You could feel your frustrations building, bubbling up to the surface with no way of dragging them back down. 

"And the challenges just get worse every year. How am I going to face those old problems and these new ones if I'm still the same lost person I was back then?"

Your voice echoed at the last sentence, making you hide your head in embarrassment. That was loud. 

Some strangers relaxing on the hill turned around to flash you an annoyed glare, before quickly returning to their picnics after spotting the Great Eagle Bow on your friend's back. 

 "I'm so sorry." You wanted more than anything then to dig a hole and hibernate preferrably for the next hundred years or so. "I'm yelling, that isn't like me. I'm so so--"

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You needed to say it." He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. There was a serious element to it that made it a little hard to breathe. "There is one part of that I don't agree with, however."

"What is it?"

"That entire section about you, how did you put it, stagnanting." He twisted a wing in the air, thinking on his words before pointing a feather directly at your face. "You're fully capable of enacting the change you want to see in yourself."

You felt a little dizzy now. But another kind of dizzy, one very different from the vertigo you felt waking up in the darkness of your room. 

"And who said you were exactly the same as you were back then? You've changed. In a good way. You're stronger and more capable of things I'm sure the person you were two years ago or even less couldn't even fathom doing." 

Turning to face you, Revali gave you his full attention, compelling you to do the same as the cadence of his speech joined the steady rhythm of your own beating heart. From the back of your mind, you could barely register the sound of people gathering together, their voices floating into the cold night air. 

'Ten!'

"It's difficult to see your own progress from a distance."

'Nine!'

"So take my advice and start looking at yourself up close for once."

'Eight!'

He had that expression on his face, one that said he was thinking too hard about something. It was like watching him try to pull the planets together with just a piece of string. His brows were furrowed so deep that your fingers wished to run over his feathers and smoothe the worried creases. 

'Seven!'

You slowly reached out to him, giving him enough time to back away. Revali stilled as your hands traced up the nape of his neck, leaning in as his pulse thrummed underneath the soft pads of your fingertips. 

'Six!'

He opened his beak the moment you reached his face. You paused, half expecting him to tell you to let go and pretend like it never happened. 

Instead, he called out your name. 

'Five!'

He said your name again, though quieter now. It was enough to tug at the invisible force drawing you two together. Enough so that the polite distance nervously enforced by the both of you gradually began to dissipate, trailing away like a ribbon of smoke as you both leaned in closer.

'Four!'

"May I--," He cleared his throat, eyes darting away for a second before they were back on you again. Bright green in the lantern light. Emeralds in the desert sand. 

'Three!'

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes."

'Two!'

"Your way or mine?" You couldn't help but joke. Revali smiled, exhaling a soft joyful laugh before pressing his forehead to yours. 

'One!'

'Happy New Year!'

An earth-shaking boom rattled your ears, but all you could think of in that moment was Revali and the feel of his feathers against your skin; the utter elation of being so close to someone you deeply cared for and that cared just as deeply for you. 

In the dazzling light you lifted your head from his, both your eyes meeting for a brief moment. Hands moving, you gently angled his face with a steady hand, feeling then the soft, butterfly light brush of his wings on your waist.

Closing your eyes again, you leaned in to press your lips against his beak, the blush on your face warmer than any fever or furnace. The Rito's soft sigh was barely audible as you trailed your kisses upwards, stopping at the red circle on his cheek. 

Revali laughed again as you turned his face to press a kiss to the identical red mark on the other side. "You're very thorough."

"You deserve it." You beamed. "And this is just the beginning, just you wait at the end of the countdown I'll--"

"Actually my dear," he grinned, pointing to the sky. 

"Huh?"

Above you were the vibrant colours of the firework display. It was beautiful and awe-inspiring, but a confirmation that you were definitely minutes in to the new year.

"Oh," you said, before shaking your head with a smile. "It's fine, we got 12 more months to prepare ourselves for the next one."

Revali nodded, pulling you closer so he could press your foreheads together again.

"Indeed," he grinned. "Now will you finish your sentence? What exactly were you going to do at the end of the countdown?"

fin. 

[itstittycitybaby]

From the Ashes we are Born (Part 13)

a/n: ayo ayo we here! time to get smutty. god this gif is gonna be the end of me. here you go V fans your time has come (haha).

Warnings: NSFW 18+, sex, daddy kink, choking.

His lips were rough as they closed over your nipple. You squirmed underneath him as V rolled his fingers over your other one while sucking on your nipple. He let go with a wet smack before murmuring, “Stay still my darling.”

“How can I whenever you’re doing that,” you whined, lips pulling into a pout. V chuckled darkly. The sound sent heat straight to your core. “Because I told you too,” he said softly, hand gently stroking your cheek. “You want to be good, don’t you?” You whimpered, nodding. A sharp smack on your bare thigh made you hiss. It was dark in the bedroom. “Answer me mademoiselle, I’m afraid I can’t see you.” V’s hand rubbed soothingly at your now sore thigh. 

“Yes V,” you sighed softly as his fingers stroked your inner thigh teasingly. God, he was so close. “I’ll be good.” You whimpered as his thumb lightly brushed against your clit. “That’s my girl,” V rumbled, adding more pressure. 

He leaned over and pressed his lips on your neck. You sighed as he started nipping your jaw and kissing the sting away. V’s thumb picked up its pace,  adding more pressure to your clit. You let out a mewl at the delicious pleasure he was giving you. Your skin was prickling with heat and you tried so hard to stay still.

“Heyyy,” you whined once V lifted his fingers from your dripping cunt. “What was that,” V tutted. “I thought you were being good.” “I am,” you grumbled. Smack! You jolted and let out a hiss at the stinging pain on your thigh. It hurt more than the first one. “Darling,” V muttered darkly, “This is your last warning. Disobey me one more time and I’ll stop. Understood?” 

“Yes daddy,” you replied, pouting. V’s breath hitched. The name never failed to make him flustered. You smirked, knowing that no matter what you had the upper hand. “Good girl,” he praised softly, rubbing your sore thigh. “Now suck.”

Opening your mouth obediently, you took his index finger into your mouth. You loved the rough texture of his hands and knuckles against your tongue. You swirled your tongue around V’s fingers, tasting your slickness on your tongue. “My angel is already needy and we haven’t even started. You’re so wet for me, my darling.”

Your moan was muffled from V’s fingers. He chuckled, taking out his fingers from your warm and wet mouth. “V,” you whimpered, aching for some sort of relief. “Yes?” “Touch me..please?” “Hmm,” he said, pretending to think about it. “Please Daddy,” you begged, spreading your legs. “I’ll be good!” “Where would you like to be touched angel,” V asked. “Here?” His fingers trailed down to your nipple and pinched it lightly. You squeaked in response. “Or here?” Slowly, V’s fingers trailed down to your stomach. Your skin felt like it was on fire. He always enjoyed making you needy.

Once V’s finger brushed against your clit again you let out a soft moan. “Right there?” Biting your lip and nodding you replied, “Yesss.” As a reward V, leant down and kissed your inner thigh. Your breath hitched as his mouth hovered right where you wanted it to be. “I love to hear your pleas,” V whispered, breath ghosting your cunt. You whimpered, fighting the urge to grab his hair and pull him right where you wanted him to be.

“V, please,” you whispered softly. “Please what?” Your cheeks flamed and you screwed your eyes shut. Fuck, this was embarrassing. And the bastard knew it. “Please...put your mouth and-” V’s nose slightly brushed your clit. You whined. He was so damn close to where you wanted him to be. He flicked your thigh softly to make you keep going. “I want you to..eat my pussy.. please.”

“Naughty thing hm? That wasn’t so hard was it? Since you’ve been so polite,I’ll oblige.” You almost cried in relief when you felt V’s tongue lick your slit. He drank up every mewl and moan you made as he licked your needy pussy. You swear you heard angels singing once V finally wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently. “Fuuuckkk,” you cried, gripping the sheets beneath you for something to grip. Slowly, V prodded his finger into your hole gently. He always made sure to be careful.

V’s finger brushed against your g-spot while his tongue swirled around your clit. You cried out once another finger entered you, thrusting into the places that made you see stars.

The warm pool in your belly tightened as V continued slurping you up like you were his last meal. “Daddy,” you mewled, “I’m gonna cum.” V stopped licking and sucking your clit. You were about to cry right then and there, but his thumb went back to rubbing your clit. “Cum for me my darling,” he said. V kissed you as you came around his fingers. His tongue muffled your moans and you could taste yourself on him.

“You did so good angel.” You heard the shuffling of clothing coming off. Your cunt twitched in anticipation. V’s hand stroked your hip gently as he took off his tunic. “Do you want this love? Do you want me to take care of you?” Even when V had your wet cunt in his mouth, or teased you endlessly, he still made sure you were wanting. V was a sweetheart and he always will be.

“Yes Daddy,” you sighed, “I want you to take care of me.” V stroked your cheek softly, before tapping your thigh. “Spread your legs for me darling,” he said, while stroking his cock. The silk sheets were cool compared to your legs as you spread them. V always spoiled you and made sure you had the best comfort in his care.

“So obedient tonight,” he praised, hand rubbing your thigh. “Tell me, could the Commander please you as much as I can?” You didn’t miss the hint of jealousy in his voice. It made your heart thud with excitement. “No Daddy,” you answered, voice breathy. “Only you can make me feel good.” “Good girl.”

Your pussy stretched around V’s cock once he slowly entered you. He never failed to make you feel so full. V waited patiently for you to get used to him. Hurting you would make him feel terrible. “I’m good,” you reassured him once you adjusted. He kissed your nose softly before moving. He thrusted into you slowly, savoring every inch that swallowed his cock.

“Go faster please,” you whimpered, fighting the urge to mount this man. “Alright my darling. I think you’ve had enough teasing for tonight. You smiled in victory and prepared to get your brains fucked out.

V’s hips snapped into yours and you let out a mewl. The head of his cock brushed against your g-spot but it wasn’t enough. V gently lifted your thighs and wrapped them above his hips for a better angle. He thrusted up into your cunt and grunted. The eyes rolled in the back of your head once he started hitting the place that made you see stars. “V,” you moaned, back arching as he continued his brutal pace.

“God, my darling. I love the noises you make,” V growled, snapping his hips onto yours. “Whining and crying just from my cock. You’re been waiting for this all night haven’t you?” “Yesss,” you mewled. “Yes Daddy. I’ve been waiting all night for you to fuck me.” V chuckled darkly; his hand trailed up your body and wrapped around your throat gently. He thrusted into you while his left hand gripped your hip tightly. 

“C-choke me,” you begged, crying out from his cock hammering into you. V’s cupped your throat gently and squeezed the sides. Blood rushed to your head and your brain felt dizzy. The pace of him fucking you and his hand cutting off your circulation sent you into a state of euphoria.

“Seeing my angel being tainted by that vile man made me angry....You looked so beautiful out there tonight....I wish I was the one dancing with you,” V grunted. His left hand left your hip and lightly circled you clit. You jolted, slightly coughing from the rough pace. Your hand flew up and tapped V’s hand that was around your throat twice. Immediately he let go and the air came flooding back to your head.

“I’m gonna cum,” you cried, tears welling in your eyes. “Cum on my cock, darling,” V growled. You twitched and arched your back as your orgasm ripped through you. You trembled underneath V and you swore your vision got spotty. V cursed as your cunt yanked his cock, refusing to let go. He thrusted a few more times and came into your aching cunt.

“You did so well my love,” V said softly, wiping your tears away, and pulled out of you. You smiled softly, eyes drooping with sleep. “ ‘m tired.” V laughed, kissing your fore head. He slipped on his mask quickly along with his clothes before turning on the bedside lamp. The room glowed with light and you smiled frombeing able to see your masked lover.

“Stay right there darling, I’ll be right back.” You nodded tiredly, barely having the energy to keep your eyes open. After a few minutes V came back with a glass of water and a damp wash cloth. “I can do that,” you mumbled. V shook his head stubbornly. “Nonsense my dear, let me take care of you.” You sighed but accepted it nonetheless.

After cleaning you up and being forced to drink some water, V held you in his arms. You peppered his mask with kisses, much to his embarassment. “Let me take care of you too,” you said grumpily. “You already are, my darling,” V replied, holding you tighter. You shook your head and gave him a peck. “You were so good V,” you cooed, “I’m lucky to have someone who knows how to love me.” V’s breath hitched which caused you to giggle. “Next time you’re gonna be the one begging.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, shifting a bit. You laughed, “It’s payback.” “Take mercy on me.” “Hmm,” you said, pretending to think. “We’ll see.” V choked. Squeezing him you whispered, “I love you V.” “I love you too my darling,” he replied, stroking your back as you fell asleep.

[highonchocolate]

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter One

First: You are here   Previous: None   Next    Ao3

Trigger warning: Name-calling and Physical Assault

Smack!  The sound of a fist colliding with flesh reverberated through the air. Marinette felt her head snap back from the force of the blow, as the warmth of her blood traced its way down her face. Its sharp iron tang filled the air as Alya and Lila looked down at her, lying on the floor, and laughed. 

Their insults filled her ears as she curled into a ball and tried to protect herself from the verbal and physical assault.

Bully!  they cried as they descended on her in a fury.

Loser! A whispered insult as they tripped her in the hallways.

Unlovable.  A sneer when they saw how she sat alone

Worthless they laughed as they kicked her in the ribs.

Liar! They screamed when she tried to plead her case.

Useless  they hissed when she refused to help.

Their words filled her ears and marched in circles around her head, drowning her in the deep red tsunami of sorrow and cruelty. 

Adrien had a photoshoot, so he wasn’t there to reign them in. They took full advantage of his absence to rough her up as much as they wished.

Blow after blow, kick after kick, she laid there, eyes closed, taking the hits. Completely still, and utterly  numb .

The sharp crack of her broken wrist, and the sickening crunch as someone stomped on her leg were the only signs that indicated they were still there. She didn’t even bother opening her eyes, even as the sharp pain of thousands of knives stabbing her leg, and spearing her wrist worked its way through her body. 

She knew what she would see.

She didn’t think she could take their harsh glares, and scowling faces. Not today.

Eventually, they got bored of pushing her around and using her as a punching bag.

They left her there, lying in a pool of her own blood. Alya and Lila high-fiving each other as they headed off to the park. The rest of them followed, chatting about various extracurriculars, and (in Alix and Kim’s case) discussing their latest bet.

Triggering Scene Over

It was hours later that Marinette found the energy to open her eyes.

She could hear Tikki fretting and flying around her worriedly. 

Her fingers twitched, sending sharp lances of pain up her arm.

As she opened her eyes, the faint buzzing in her ear solidified into words.

“-rinette! Mari! Wake up, please!” Tikki’s voice was heartbroken and terrified. “Oh my precious bug,” she cried “what did they do to you?”

It was not a question. It was the lament of a kwami, broken at the sight of her Chosen lying so lifelessly on the ground.

Her blood had crusted on her face and in her hair. She could feel the cold liquid seeping through her shirt from where she lay curled on her side. She laid there for what seemed like days until she found the energy to try and speak.

“...Tikki?” She questioned. Her voice a faint whisper. She wet her lips, ignoring the sting as she brushed the cuts on her mouth. “Tikki? Can you hear me?” She tried. Marinette’s head was pounding from the sudden noise, and she saw black flecks in her vision. Little dancing spots in the air that were slowly going larger. 

Oh Marinette! I’m so sorry this happened to you! Yes I can hear you! What do you want me to do! I can call you parents if you want! Do you want me to? Here let me get Kagami and Adrien and the rest of you team...” Tikki’s sudden frenzied rambling faded with her vision as Marinette tried to respond.

“Team.” She croaked out. “Tikki, get...team” She thought she might have responded, but she wasn’t sure. She suddenly felt very tired, Maybe she could close her eyes and just rest them for a little while…

---

Chloè had been relaxing at her daddy’s hotel when her phone rang. Leaning back on the plush leather seats of the sofa, she flicked her gem-encrusted sunglasses up off her face and reached over to her phone. She scoffed at the idea that someone would be stupid enough to interrupt her relaxation time, but then immediately smiled at the contact that flashed on her screen. “Maribug!!!” She chirped, waving her hands around wildly. “How are you? You’ll never guess what my daddy said-” 

“Chloè?” Instead of Marinette’s low, sweet voice, Tikki’s high pitched and worried tones greeted her.

 “Hey Teeks, what’s wrong? Is Nettie okay?!” Chloé questioned. Her bright smile shifting into a frown at the sound of the Kwami instead of her friend. 

“No! It’s not okay! Lila and everyone beat up Marinette! You have to help her!!” Tikki cried.

Chloé’s eyes blew wide in shock. “Of course I’ll help! Oh poor Mari…” she trailed off, mentally running through all the disasters that could have occurred. Snapping herself out of her downward spiral, she jumped off the couch and ran out of the hotel, phone in hand.

“Tikki,” she asked firmly, “can you tell me where you are?” “Of course!” The Kwami squeaked “We’re in the locker room at school! Please hurry, she’s not responding to me anymore!”

“I’m on it! Let me text Luka and Kagami. We need to bust that alley cat out of his photoshoot and go rescue our bug!” The blond heiress cried, tapping away at her phone.

“Oh thank you Chloé!” The Kwami responded, nearly crying with relief. 

“No problem. We’ll be there in ten!” She responded determinedly. 

Hanging up the call, she immediately texted Luka and Kagami.

QueenofMean: Code Pink

QueenofMean: Mari’s in trouble

SnakeyBoi: What?! Who didn’t it to her? 

SnakeyBoi: *did what 

HissIAmADragon: Who hurt our Mari-san?!

HissIAmADragon: They will taste my blade!!

QueenofMean: Do you even have to ask? It was the lying witch.

QueenofMean: She’s ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!

QueenofMean: Now come on! She’s not responding to Tikki. We need to get Adrien out of his photoshoot and then head for the locker rooms at school.

SnakeyBoi: I’m already halfway there.

SnakeyBoi: Before you ask, your girlfriend’s with me too. ;)

Rolling her eyes at the idiocy of her friends, Chloé stuffed her phone into her pocket and ran towards Kagami and Luka’s figures in the distance. As she caught up with them Kagami turned to face her as they ran. “Adrien’s at the Louvre for his shoot. I told my mother that Mari-san was in trouble, and she said she would notify Gabriel.” she informed her.

“Your mom didn't yell at you? Impressive.” Luka responded, huffing out a laugh as they sprinted for the landmark.

“For your information Luka, my mother loves Marinette, and was willing to let me go once I informed her of the situation.” The fencer responded, not even sparing him a glance.

Chloé’s feet ached in her heels, but Marinette needed her! She couldn’t stop for some measly foot pain! Catching sight of a familiar blond head of hair, she raced even faster towards him, Kagami and Luka hot on her heels.

Adrien opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but even as he began to speak Chloé was there, grabbing him by his arm and dragging him away from his photographer. Kagami and Luka jogged in front of them as they raced towards the school.

“What-what's going on?! Where are we going? What are we doing! Does my father even  know that you guys have dragged me away?!” Several questions spilled from his lips as she towed him towards the school. Rolling her eyes at his idiocy, she opened her mouth to respond.

“-Lila and her gang beat up Mari. The school. Getting Mari to the hospital. No.” Kagami answered for her, deep brown eyes focused straight ahead. The fencer’s answers were blunt as always, but the tiny waver in her voice betrayed how worried she was for their friend.

To  Chloé’s utter annoyance, Adrien immediately stopped in his tracks and stood stock-still. He paused for a moment, gaping at nothing in particular, before a startled cry escaped his parted lips. “WHAT?!” He yelled.

Chloé glanced over to see his normally bright green eyes darken with feral anger.

“I know. I’m worried too. For now, we just need to get her to the hospital and tell her parents.” she snapped, brushing away tears with the back of her hand. The other tightened in a vice-like grip around his arm.

She heard him take a shaky breath as she continued to run. Pushing herself to go faster and reach their friend. There would be time for tears later. Right now their priority was Marinette.

As they sped up the stairs and into the school, Chloé caught a glimpse of a sausage-haired liar walking away from the school. Ignoring the liar, she opted to race up the stairs towards her friend.

 ---

It was a sunny day at the Louvre. The sparkling glass pyramid rose majestically in the background as the sunlight glanced off the clear panes. Adrien had been standing in the light in front of the famous landmark when Kagami, Luka, and Chloe came running towards him with matching expressions of cold determination. Kagami and Chloe both had tears in their eyes, and Luka was glaring at his phone in pure, unadulterated rage. Even though he knew that look wasn’t directed at him, Adrien still shivered in fear. Whoever had made the calm, laid-back musician angry was  not  someone he wanted to meet.

He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but even as he began to speak Chloe was there, grabbing him by his arm and dragging him away from his photographer. Kagami and Luka jogged in front of them as they raced towards the school.

“What-what's going on?! Where are we going? What are we doing! Does my father even  know that you guys have dragged me away?!” The torrent of questions tumbled from his lips as he quickly pumped his legs to match their pace.

“Lila and her gang beat up Mari. The school. Getting Mari to the hospital. No.” Kagami responded, her deep brown eyes focused straight ahead. Her answers were blunt as always, but the tiny waver in her voice betrayed how worried she was for their friend.

Adrien stopped moving as his brain tried to compute the information. Mari..was beaten up? She had to go to the hospital? What about her parents?! Did they know?! All these questions were running through his head as he tried to voice his concerns in a dignified way. The only thing that came out was “WHAT?!”

Yep. Nailed that one, Agreste. He thought to himself.

“I know. I’m worried too. For now, we just need to get her to the hospital and tell her parents.” Chloe snapped, brushing away tears with the back of the other hand. The other tightened in a vice-like grip around his arm.

He took a shaky breath and tried to reel in his racing thoughts. Right now their priority was Marinette.

As they sped up the stairs and into the school, Adrien caught a glimpse of sausage-haired pigtails turning the corner towards the subway. He clearly wasn’t the only one, as he noticed Luka was fingering his guitar in a way that indicated he was going to bash someone over the head with it, and saw how Kagami's hands twitched towards her fencing sabre. Reaching the locker room, Luka nearly ripped the door off its hinges in his desperation to get to their friend. They ran inside and stopped short at the gruesome sight awaiting them. 

[katrinawritesthings]

jonghyun / taemin; runaway; PG

close your thoughts and open your heart // hey love let's run away or you know that part in runaway after the bridge where jonghyun starts hitting in with the ad libs. I felt that in my heart @rollercoasterwrite hi again : )

After a while, a bouncy song worms its way into his head, has his heel tapping on the wooden slat of the train tracks. Taemin is holding his wrist in one hand, poking and pinching at the veins in his hand with the other. Jonghyun twists his hand so he can hold Taemin's instead, lacing their fingers together.

“Hey love, let's run away,” he sings softly. Taemin snorts quietly, the sound followed by a slow sigh.

“Sometimes I really want to,” he mumbles. He tilts his head away, but only until Jonghyun’s head falls to rest on his shoulder. Then he rests his head back on top of Jonghyun. “Just…” he says. “Pack some shit and... leave.”

Crickets chirp at Jonghyun’s feet as he walks along the dirt side of the road. The sidewalk dropped off about a block ago as he got towards the back of the neighborhood, where all of the big older houses are, the ones that are framed on this corner by the train tracks ahead of him and the creek to his left across the street.

 He can hear the creek now, barely; it's summer so it's pretty low, but there's still a very faint trickle of water running through the rocks at the very bottom. He follows it, hands in his jeans pockets, leather jacket over his shoulders, collar popped for style and gay, and alternates between watching where his feet are going in the darkness and gazing up at the starry sky through the trees grown tall and wide by the house on his right.

  Soon he comes to the end of the houses, the corner of this block, and faces the train tracks just on the other side of the road. He turns right and starts making his way that way, walking with the tracks to his left now, and keeps going until he hops back up onto the sidewalk in front of the blue apartments that line the road here. There he counts doors, passes one, two, three, four, Taemin’s, comes to a stop, turns left.

 There, across the street, sitting lazily on the metal rail of the train tracks, softly illuminated by a street lamp a couple of yards away, Taemin lifts a hand and waves at him.

 Jonghyun smiles even though he knows it's too dark for Taemin to see and waves back. He knew he would find Taemin here tonight. Taemin is always out here when he starts posting his emo lonely shit on his blog at 2 in the morning. Looking both ways, hopping off of the sidewalk yet again, Jonghyun jogs across the street and joins Taemin, sitting on the rail opposite him with their feet purposefully close together so that when he gets bored of sitting still they can play footy. 

 “Hey,” he says.

 “Hey,” Taemin says back.

 “How are you feeling?”

 “Mmh. Buh. You?”

 “Yeah. Same.”

 “Nice.” Taemin reaches one hand out over the tracks and Jonghyun takes it, a handhold of solidarity over their shitty mental health. They grin at each other in the lamp light, Jonghyun taking in Taemin’s tired eyes and mussed dirty blond hair under his hood and blotchy skin, knowing that Taemin is looking him over as well.

  A moment passes like that, and then another where Jonghyun appreciates that moment, appreciates Taemin, appreciates the gay little nut that he always harbors inside of himself for his friend. Then, before he even gets bored of sitting still, he gets bored of not sitting next to Taemin.

 So he stands up, just for a second, and moves to sit on the opposite train track, next to Taemin so their sides are pressed together. Swinging his arm around Taemin’s shoulders with enough force that they sway backward and forward a little bit, he smirks when Taemin rolls his eyes at him and leans their heads together. This is good.

 “How's work?” Taemin asks him then. 

 “Oh, awful,” Jonghyun says cheerfully. Taemin snorts, but not in a surprised way; Jonghyun knows that he already knew what the answer was before he asked. He elaborates more anyway: “Hours suck, mr. manager can't decide whether or not he wants to give me none or all of them,” he says, lifting one finger on the hand around Taemin’s shoulders. “Ever since summer started we get way less cool broke college kids and way more entitled Karens, management spent a whole month hyping up a super big raise that turned out to be a whole $0.50, one of the other stockers quit and I got stuck with training the new kid, except the new kid is just the managers son and he refuses to learn how to do jack shit because he knows he won't get fired, and Sekyung transferred to a different store last week before I could even get up the courage to tell her I liked her.”

 “Oh, dude,” Taemin says, a disappointed sigh accompanying his words. He turns to Jonghyun with a look that's half exasperated, half sympathetic. “I told you to get on that before you lost your chance.”

 “I know,” Jonghyun whines. He knows. Everyone has been telling him to confess to her for like 5 months. “I'm shy around femmes,” he pouts, turning to smush his face into Taemin’s shoulder. They make him all flustered and shaky. It's always been so much easier for him to flirt with everyone else. Taemin’s hand comes up to ruffle through his hair sympathetically, which Jonghyun appreciates.

 “How’s school?” he asks into Taemin’s hoodie. He knows the answer to this just like Taemin did when he asked his question, and just like he expected, Taemin groans rough in the back of his throat. 

 “It sucks,” Taemin says, probably too loudly for how close they are to a line of apartments at 3 in the morning. “It sucks and I hate it. I have too many classes because I need to take so many classes and fucking rich boy mc asshole that always sits next to me in bio always goes," Why don't you just take fewer classes and stay for more years?" and it's like, because I'm not fucking made out of money, asshole, and also, I don't even know why the fuck I'm taking bio, I don't know why I'm majoring in biochem, I hate it, I still can't believe I let my parents bully me into it, and I can't even join the dance club because the fucking dance club got cancelled somehow, and it's like, how the fuck do you--? It’s just a dance club? It's like one of the least problematic clubs in the school? How does that even happen? And all my teachers talk so much big shit about how woke and accommodating they are but they never even let me have one extension on anything, and--” 

 He stops talking in favor of just curling up his knees and pushing his forehead into them, and then tapping his forehead on them, harder and harder, almost to an alarming intensity. Almost because Jonghyun, knowing to expect it, quickly curls his arm even further around his shoulders and lifts his other arm to push on his chest, keeping him away.

 “Hey! Hey... Hey,” he says quietly, close to Taemin’s ear. He drops a tiny little smooch to his temple as well, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. “Be gentle with yourself,” he chides. He can't keep banging himself up every time he gets all worked up because of all of everyone else's bullshit. Taemin sighs through his nose, whole body sagging into Jonghyun’s.

 “Yeah, yeah,” he says. He sounds a mix of tired of how often Jonghyun says that to him and tired of how often he needs to be told that. “Thanks,” he mumbles.

 Jonghyun hums back and then lets it be quiet between them for a little bit. That's what always helps Taemin. Just sitting with someone that supports him and thinking through his brain stuff on his own. Jonghyun likes the comfort of quiet snuggling as well. He didn't walk four blocks in the middle of the night just because he was worried about his friend getting lost on the train tracks 10 yards in front of his own apartment. He was feeling emo and lonely and couldn't sleep, too. And Taemin has to know that, because he shifts closer to him and takes his hand to hold in both of his, rubbing warmth into his skin.

 Taemin looks into their laps, at their hands, scuffs the pebbley ground with his foot. Jonghun looks up, to the sky, at the moon and all the stars that twinkle down at him. Both of them are getting lost in the same way, lost in their thoughts, lost in their surroundings, lost in each other's comfort. It's a familiar and easy escape to settle into and Jonghyun rests their heads together gently again.

 After a while, a bouncy song worms its way into his head, has his heel tapping on the wooden slat of the train tracks. Taemin is holding his wrist in one hand, poking and pinching at the veins in his hand with the other. Jonghyun twists his hand so he can hold Taemin's instead, lacing their fingers together.

 “Hey love, let's run away,” he sings softly. Taemin snorts quietly, the sound followed by a slow sigh.

 “Sometimes I really want to,” he mumbles. He tilts his head away, but only until Jonghyun’s head falls to rest on his shoulder. Then he rests his head back on top of Jonghyun. “Just…” he says. “Pack some shit and... leave.”

 “Same,” Jonghyun says. The allure of it is so strong that sometimes he only has his executive dysfunction to blame for not actually doing it.

 “Yeah?” Taemin asks, turning to him with a raised eyebrow, so close that Jonghyun can see up his nose. He fights down his giggle in favor of nodding simply. Yeah. “Where would you go?” Taemin asks. Jonghyun grins. This at least is a question he can answer easily. 

 “Ideally?” he says, and then points a finger straight up at the stars. “Infiltrate NASA, steal a spaceship, blast off, explore the cosmos and find a universe where everything doesn't suck.” He lets his hand fall back down into Taemin’s. “Realistically?” he asks quieter, and then he shrugs. He's never really done more than daydream and he doesn't really have any actual plans. “SHINee is doing that free little concert on the beach this weekend,” he says. That would be fun to go to.

 “Fuck, I forgot about that,” Taemin hisses. “I was going to say Japan, but, fuck, I love SHINee.” Jonghyun chuckles. Japan sounds fun too, but, yeah, a chill acoustic beach concert a couple of hours away sounds much more doable. “One time, in high school,” Taemin says. “When I didn't feel guilty about asking for shit like concert tickets or whatever, I went to go see them. And this was, like, before they were popular, so I got front row seats, and Taeyeon did one of her spins, you know?”

  He looks at Jonghyun like he expects Jonghyun to know what he means; Jonghyun does. The kind of spins that Taeyeon does when she's dancing, where she winds herself up and then nuts herself around like a top.

 “And some of her sweat dripped on me,” Taemin continues dreamily. He taps a spot high on his cheek, next to his nose. “Right here. It was so great.”

 “Lucky,” Jonghyun sighs wistfully. “2 years ago I got Junghee to sign a guitar pick for me,” he says. He blushes just thinking about her crescent eye smile, her sharp teeth, her buff babely arms as she handed him back the pick. He still has it in a tiny little glass frame on his headboard. “Do you think she would sign my bass for me, if I took it to the concert?” He asks. 

 “Probably, if we got up close to the front,” Taemin says. Jonghyun feels his shoulder shrug under his cheek. Then he feels it shift and move more, and sits up a little bit so Taemin is free to dig in his hoodie pocket for his phone. “How far away is that concert, even?” he asks, pulling up a map app and entering in two addresses. Jonghyun snorts as the directions and distance pop up. It's even further away than he thought; about four hours drive. Taemin doesn't snort, but he does sigh in the back of his throat, rolling his eyes and stuffing his phone into his pocket again. “Fucking. Hundred fifty bucks worth of gas,” he mutters.

 “I forgot how awful your car is,” Jonghyun says, the words coming out as half of a laugh. He knows he can't talk because he doesn't have a car, but Taemin’s car is a piece of shit. He loves that rusty little bug. Taemin laughs too, embarrassed, probably a little offended. Then he sighs again.

 “Plus hotel costs,” he mumbles. “You know I can't drive at night. It's scary.”

 “Sure,” Jonghyun says. He can't relate, but he understands. “Train tickets are only like, eight bucks each,” he says. “$30 round trip, that's not bad. Still would have to find a hotel, though.” The trains stop running too early around here.

 “Does it even have to be a round trip, though?” Taemin says absently. “I thought we were running away.”

 “Oh yeah,” Jonghyun says. He yawns into his popped collar, and then smiles as a wild thought appears in his brain. Leaning back on his hands so the pebbles skittered all over the ground dig into his palms, he says, “What if when we get there and I get Junghee to sign my guitar, I show her some of the songs I've written and she's so impressed she hires me to be like, her roadie slash groupie slash songwriter?”

  “Dude, yeah,” Taemin grins. “and Gwiboon wouldn't be able to resist my super cute face,” he says, poking his own cheek proudly. Jonghyun snorts, giggling into his shoulder.

 “Please, she has standards,” he says, elbowing Taemin in the side. Taemin just shrugs lazily.

 “Not high ones, you've seen how soft she is for Taeyeon.” and Jonghyun can't argue with that, so he doesn't. He just shakes his head fondly as he thinks about his 5 favorite ladies. Looking up at the stars, he finds his favorite one and smiles at it while Taemin yawns into the back of his hand. “We could pick up jobs with them, if we tried,” he says quietly. “You know they've talked about needing more help on their tours. We could just... Go. right now. Just us two. We could do it.” 

 “Yeah,” Jonghyun says, just as quietly. It really could happen. If they went. If they tried. He turns his head to his left to look at Taemin, to say something, but before he can, something behind Taemin catches his attention. Further down the track, way further, down on the main road, red lights blink slowly back and forth. And one big bright yellow light in the middle of the track slowly approaches. Faint dinging from the train crossing reaches his ears now as well.

 “Shit,” he mumbles, and stands up. When Taemin blinks at him in question, he reaches both hands out to help him stand. “Train’s coming,” he says, nodding down the track. 

 “Oh,” Taemin says, looking down there himself. He pulls Jonghyun off of the track, to the little metal fence on the other side of it that separates them from the ditch between the track and the high soundproof walls that encase the fancy rich people apartments. 

  They hoist themselves up and sit on top of the fence, Jonghyun slipping his arm behind Taemin to hold on to the railing on his other side, keeping him safe. Together they watch the train slowly draw near, chugging it's way along steadily, thick clouds of smoke puffing from the front. It moves slowly; it's one of the usual supply trains that runs on this track, not one of the fast public transportation trains. Jonghyun watches the line of cars on the main street pile up behind it, amused.

 It takes at least five minutes for the train to actually come near them, the scent of metal and grease and rust and smoke thick in the air. As it draws near, Taemin raises a hand in a lazy wave. Jonghyun smiles, then is filled with a sudden impulse.

 Slowly, hesitantly, with all of the same hope in his heart that he had when he was 8 years old, he lifts his hand next to his head and pumps it up and down twice. Then he waits, other hand gripping tight to the railing in anticipation. He can't see the conductor in there; it's too dark, and the headlight makes it too bright in all of the wrong places. The train chugs ever closer, almost passing them, and Jonghyun starts to lose hope, but then--

 The train whistle sounds, 2 long notes, just as the front cabin passes them.

 The sound blasts through the night air, no doubt annoying everyone except Jonghyun, who does his biggest and loudest woohoo!, both hands raised high in the air, fists pumping back and forth triumphantly, and Taemin, who has one hand on the fence and one hand on Jonghyun’s thigh as he doubles over laughing. 

 It's exhilarating; Jonghyun feels ecstatic, rejuvenated, alive. His heart beats against his ribs, his lungs expand with huge breaths of air, his cheeks almost hurt from how wide and hard he's smiling, his body tingles, the warm summer breeze feels extra sharp against his skin. He watches the train go, gratitude and excitement in his soul, feeling so light and so bright from that small favor from a friendly stranger that he feels like he'll burst into a million elated pieces. 

  It's overwhelming, almost. How happy he is right now, in this isolated moment, how intense the emotion is. He never gets emotions this intense anymore. He loves it, loves feeling so much so suddenly, so hard, so positive. It fills him up all the way, starts in his chest and expands to every single part of his body, and Taemin’s continued laughter next to him only makes him feel better.

 He turns around, takes in Taemin’s wide open mouth and round red cheeks and scrunched up eyes and feels like with him, he could feel this happy all the time. His heart, already so full and so happy, beats even faster, feels so good, so good that he reaches up and cups Taemin’s face in both hands and presses a kiss firm to his mouth.

  Taemin makes a noise into his mouth, not surprised, just a little muffled exclamation. Jonghyun keeps kissing him, shallow, simple, just to feel their mouths together, to prolong this moment of happiness, to share it with his friend. Taemin, after a moment, kisses him back, a breath of a laugh puffing over Jonghyun’s upper lip. His hands come up and cover Jonghyun’s, not to move them away, but to hold. 

 “Yeah?” he asks between two kisses. His voice is a little incredulous, but mostly resigned, and a little enamored. Jonghyun nods, moving their hands down together to rest gently around Taemin’s neck and angle him better into the kiss.

 “Yeah,” he smiles. He loves this, loves kissing, loves kissing Taemin, loves feeling this good. He wants to feel this good all the time. He wants to be with Taemin, to go with him, run away with him, he wants to--

 He pulls away for just a moment, and in that moment, looking at Taemin’s closed eyelids, his chapped skin, his softly parted lips, Jongyun’s elation fades away. Reality creeps back in, slowly, a trickle of disappointment. A thought comes to him. A real thought, not an emotion. A thought of responsibility. He sighs, sliding his arms down to hug Taemin around the arms instead, pulling him close and hooking his chin over his shoulder.

 “We should... Call someone to be our voice of reason and not let us run away,” he mumbles sadly. If he's feeling impulsive enough to want to kiss Taemin and be with him forever, and Taemin is feeling desperate enough to drive to the coast and never come back, then the two of them together really shouldn't be left alone. In his arms, Taemin expands and deflates in his own heavy sigh. 

 “Yeah,” he mumbles. “I guess you're right.” It's awkward when they're sitting next to each other like this on the fence, but he slips his arms around Jonghyun’s waist and hugs him back. “Jinki?” he asks. And despite how little and sad Jonghyun is suddenly feeling, he snorts and giggles a little bit. 

 “Are you kidding, his Sagittarius ass?” he asks. “He'd drive all the way over here right now and pick us up. Minho too.” he wouldn't trust either of them to stop a runaway impulse if his life depended on it, and that's him speaking as an Aries. Taemin scoffs quietly next to his ear.

 “Astrology hoe,” he teases. Then, before Jonghyun can grump at him, says, “Key would murder us if we woke him up this late.” Jonghyun chuckles a little more. That also is true.

  “That's the Libra in him,” he says slyly.

 “Excuse me? He's a Virgo.”

 “He's a cusp.”

 “What the fuck is a cusp?”

 “If you were an astrology hoe, you would know.”

 “God. Shut up.”

 Taemin shoves him away, but he's smiling when Jonghyun leans back and smirks, smiling and shaking his head. He pulls down his hood, runs his hands through his messy dirty blond bangs a few times, and pulls his hood back up. Jonghyun elbows his side gently, wiggling his eyebrows when Taemin glances at him just to make him shake his head again. Then he just grips the railing on either side of his hips, looking back up at the stars. Taemin holds onto the fence too, his right hand so close to Jonghyun’s left that their pinkies overlap, and looks down at the earth. 

 “I guess if we can't call anyone to stop us then we have to find some shred of responsibility between the two of us and do it ourselves,” Jonghyun says to the sky. He’s sure that between the both of them they can find one small nugget of good mental health and adult skills to keep them from making a bad decision at 3 in the morning. Jonghyun rolls his head to the side to nudge Taemin’s shoulder. “Want to go back to my place and just sleep?” he asks. Taemin breathes out a laugh, feet kicking against a lower rail of the fence so Jonghyun can feel every hit of contact under his thighs.

 “I don't want to fucking.” he lifts one hand to rub over his face tiredly, smile still wide behind it, then gestures it vaguely over the neighborhood. “Walk, like, over a mile in the dark, that's so much work,” he says. He nudges Jonghyun back. “You just come sleep with me in my place.” he nods his head forward, over the track, across the street, at his apartment door. Jonghyun raises his eyebrows, surprised.

 “I thought I wasn't allowed in your house?” he says. “Because your parents hate me, because I'm a bad influence and I turned you gay and I filled your head with awful horrible thoughts like, free healthcare is a human right and capitalism is inherently evil and no one should have to work for a living.”

  Taemin snorts into laughter, ugly adorable little giggles that crinkle his eyes, then shakes his head. Shrugging, he says, “I convinced them that it was actually college that did all of that, and you couldn't have done it because you didn't go to college, so now they just hate you because you didn't go to college.”

 “Oh, well, that's so much better,” Jonghyun says sarcastically. Taemin just shrugs back again, looking completely unbothered.

 “They're both asleep right now and they'll both be gone in the morning anyway,” he says. “Besides, I bought myself a lock for my door and pulled the I'm a 24 year old adult and I deserve privacy excuse for it. It'll be the easiest thing in the world to sneak you into my bed. Come on.” He hops off the fence, straightens his hoodie around his hips, and then holds out his hand. 

 Jonghyun looks at it, his weird little fingers, his bony wrist peeking out of the sleeve. Then he looks up at Taemin’s face. Acne on his cheeks, bags under his eyes. He feels nice in his heart, the way he did earlier, but less intense, more familiar. Taking Taemin’s hand, he resists the pull in favor of tugging Taemin close to him instead, pulling him to stand between his legs. Even from here he has to tilt his head up a little bit to look into Taemin’s eyes. He cups Taemin’s face again, rubbing his thumb over his bumpy cheek, and smiles, leaning in to softly peck his lips. 

 Taemin makes the same kind of not surprised but just amused noise as he did before. His hands slide up to rest on Jonghyun’s thighs. Jonghyun appreciates that Taemin lets him just do this a whole lot.

 “Hey, not to be impulsive emotional gay and also genuine soft gay in the same ten minutes, but,” Jonghyun says, resting their foreheads together, letting their lips brush as he speaks. “Thanks for being my friend,” he says. Then he kisses the little humming noise that Taemin makes in response to that.

 “Don't mention it,” Taemin says. “Come on.” He gets his hands around Jonghyun’s waist and tugs him off of the fence. Jonghyun pretends to stumble and leans all of his weight on Taemin, clinging to him, smiling against his ear when he staggers for real and makes a surprised, disgruntled little noise. Then, before Taemin can get mad at him, he just swings his arm around his shoulders, steadies him on his feet, and bumps him gently to start walking back to his apartment. 

 Taemin bumps him back even harder, but he also slips his arm around his waist, so Jonghyun doesn't mind.

 Their shoes crunch over the gravel around the train tracks, clink against the metal of the rail, thud against the planks. Jonghyun tilts his head to look up at the stars, thinks that would make a good picture, pauses as that thought stirs something in his memory. Tightening his hold on Taemin so he stops too, Jonghyun puts his hand into his jeans pocket and pulls out his phone.

 Opening up Instagram, he leans back and snaps a picture of the sky. Then he takes another with the moon in it, his favorite lesbian, and then he lowers his phone and takes a picture of the train tracks disappearing into the darkness. Then he flips it to the front camera and smushes his cheek against Taemin’s, smiling pretty and watching him roll his eyes on the screen.

 “Why?” Taemin asks, even as he lifts a hand to mess with his bangs and make them look nicer.

 “It's this thing I read online one time,” Jonghyun says, waiting for Taemin to close his eyes and smile tiredly for the camera. He takes the picture and then continues, “to help with, you know, not being so mean to myself all the time. I'm documenting all the times that I feel like it's pretty okay to be me.”

  As Taemin hums quietly in approval, Jonghyun raises his phone and tilts it to give them one of those funny face selfie angles. Taemin catches on very quickly, raising both hands in little v signs and pushing up his cheeks. Jonghyun giggles, muffling them in Taemin’s shoulder, before popping back up and tilting his head and opening his eyes super wide so they look gigantic in the picture.

 Once he takes it, he pulls his phone back close so he can look at all of the filters and everything. He lets Taemin pull him across the street and up onto the sidewalk as he does. He plays with it, putting filters on all of the pictures except the selfies while Taemin quietly jiggles his key into the lock and sneaks him through the apartment and to his bedroom.

 When they get there, Jonghyun snorts at the fact that Taemin purchased a whole ass electronic fingerprint lock instead of a key or combination one. That must have been one hell of a conversation with his parents. Taemin opens his bedroom door and gestures Jonghyun inside with a silent flourish and a huge grin, one Jonghyun returns as he curtsies gratefully and flounces inside like a delicate princess.

 Then he tosses his phone onto Taemin’s bed and shrugs out of his jacket and jeans, doing his best not to stumble around and curse when his foot gets stuck. Taemin isn't doing much better; Jonghyun hears more than sees him bang his knee on his dresser as he makes his way to the bed. 

 Still, they manage to fall into bed together without making too much noise, and Jonghyun gets comfortable with his right arm under Taemin’s head. He picks up his phone and goes back to his Instagram post, typing out a summary of his night so he'll be able to look back on it another time when he isn't feeling as good. Taemin grumbles at the brightness and turns his face into Jonghyun’s shoulder, pulling his blankies up high over them.

  Ruffling Taemin’s hair gently, dropping a tiny kiss to the top of his head, Jonghyun finishes his post, sends it, and then puts his phone on power save mode so it doesn't die during their little snooze. Then he curls up on his side, wrapping his other arm around Taemin’s waist and tangling their legs together. He always likes sleeping with Taemin. It's so easy for them to be comfortable next to each other.

 “I hope you dream about playing guitar with Junghee on the pier at sunset,” Taemin whispers to him. It takes a moment for that sentence to process in Jonghyun’s brain, but when it does, his heart swells and he squeezes Taemin that much closer, that much tighter. That's so sweet.

 “Thanks,” he whispers back. “I hope you dream about dancing with Taeyeon and then you both have the sweatiest hug imaginable.”

 “Hell yeah,” Taemin giggles. “Nighty-night.”

  “Nighty-night.” And Jonghyun isn't feeling particularly sleepy, actually, but here, with Taemin, he can still close his eyes and let his brain turn off for a little bit, maybe doze for a little while, and that's more than he gets with anyone else.

[redeemablesoldier]

i could never give you peace

@winged-cap

Bucky didn’t bother knocking as he strolled into Sam’s place, coffees in a tray with a bag of pastries balanced on the other side. He’d messaged Natasha to make sure she had been with him the way they’d figured and winced a little at her reply. When she could keep up with him in terms of drinking, and Sam tried to keep up with her, he didn’t like to imagine how the man’s head was going to be feeling. The contents of her reply bounced around his brain. Sam didn’t have moods. He wasn’t one of those moody, snarly people, and yet apparently, here they were because he had been. 

He set the coffee tray and the bag he’d brought from the grocery store on the counter before slowly making his way through Sam’s place to his bedroom, one of the coffees in hand. “Sam, com’on man,” he entreated as he slowly opened the door because he didn’t trust the other man to not throw something at him if he really was in as much of a mood as Nat had said. A pillow thudded into the wall next to the door and Bucky rolled his eyes. “Alright, Captain Tantrum, I brought coffee and the shit to make you food.” He walked over and set the coffee on the nightstand before turning around and walking away, ripping the blankets off him as he walked out the door. 

He couldn’t afford to be soft, not yet, not right now, and he didn’t think that Sam would particularly want it out of him yet. He opened the pastry bag and put them on a plate, leaving them for Sam to grab while he worked on making a proper hangover breakfast. The smells of frying bacon and eggs and more coffee filled the space because there was no way he was facing down a rare grumpy Sam without offerings of peace. When he saw Sam coming into the kitchen, coffee cup attached to his face, he winced and slid the packet of ibuprofen across the counter at him. “Hey, man,” he offered, careful to be quiet because he was not going to raise his ire when he was here to be a friend. 

“Have a donut while your actual hangover breakfast finishes,” he instructed carefully, ignoring the furrowed brow aimed his way. He turned his attention to finishing breakfast, sending a quick text to Steve to let him know that he was with Sam and their grumpy friend was awake and that he’d message him later. His phone was slid into his pocket, knowing he could forget about it until much later now and be comfortable with that.    

After a few moments of silence, Sam stood up and went to the coffee pot right next to Bucky, popping the lid off his cup to refill it. “Appreciate it, Buck,” he murmured quietly, ignoring the lid entirely as he leaned against the counter to watch for a moment. He took a moment to give thanks that all the lights in his place hadn’t been turned on and reached over to pat Bucky on the shoulder lightly in gratitude. Once, he knew that the super soldier would have shifted away, but that didn’t happen anymore. This morning, he was slightly surprised when Bucky turned slightly into the touch. 

He gave a gentle squeeze and moved around him to pull down a few plates to help out before he went and sat back on a barstool, watching the whole show in front of him. He wasn’t sure quite what to think of having Bucky in his kitchen cooking him breakfast. All he knew was that he wasn’t mad and it wasn’t the worst thing to wake up to, but he knew better than to think it would be normal. That thought was its own freezing shower and he quickly buried his face in his coffee, ignoring how it burned his tongue. 

When Bucky carried their plates over, he gave him a tip of his chin in appreciation. “Pastries and actual breakfast? We’re not married, Barnes. Did you feed Steve like this?” He snorted lightly and tried to bury it like it was their usual teasing. He didn’t usually go after Bucky’s relationship with Steve, though, and he knew they were both aware of that. A flush of shame ran through him as he thought about the night before, raging about the pair of them and Steve being back and his refusal to simply talk to Natasha, to look too deep at the mess of emotions roiling.    

Bucky let out a heavy sigh as he simply settled down next to Sam, ignoring the abnormal attitude radiating from the other man. “I actually left when he was doing his run. He’s a grown ass man who can take care of himself.” It didn’t matter that he liked taking care of him. He liked taking care of Sam, too, in a very similar way. It put a warmth in his chest that he needed to figure out, but he needed to work with Sam first, to help him through whatever he was dealing with. 

He let the silence reign after that, simply eating his breakfast and letting Sam eat his. While they were eating wasn’t the time to go prodding at whatever was going on in his friend’s head. As they finished, he gathered everything up to rinse it and load the dishwasher, not wanting to make unnecessary noise if he could avoid it. He sighed softly as he finished, leaning on the counter and looking over at Sam with concern clear on his face.

“Alright, Sam,” he said quietly, reaching over to pick his own cup and sip on it while he looked at him. “What’s going on, man? You were only marginally kinder to Steve than you were to that council,” he pointed out, firm and no-nonsense because he knew that was what Sam would respond to better than him attempting to tap dance around anything. “You’re allowed to be mad at him. I was mad at him,” he admitted with a shrug.    

Sam froze at the question, wishing he could tighten his hand on his cup. He took a slow, deep breath and shook his head slowly. “Were you, man?! Were you really? Because it sure as shit didn’t seem like it.” He drained the rest of his cup before dropping it in the trash. “Or did y’all lie to us? Did you get days to process shit before deciding the rest of us got to know the truth? It obviously didn’t take you long to get over it,” he snapped before finally stopping. His eyes widened as he realized exactly how he sounded in that moment. 

“I get that damned shield shoved on me, you slammin’ it down my throat, my best friend gone and you hated me for not being willing to carry it,” he snarled at him, finally actually letting himself feel something about everything that had gone down. He’d ignored it for so long that it had sort of swelled and expanded to the point he simply couldn’t ignore it anymore. 

He pressed his hands against the counter trying to get himself back under control, taking slow deep breaths as he looked at the shelf under his hands. “You forgave him! Before any of us even knew he was back, that he wasn’t actually gone,” his voice had gone from angry to almost dreary. “No one else gets that, gets the stolen time and grace and… and… happiness…,” he almost snarled, “that the two of you have gotten.”    

Bucky couldn’t blame him for the temper, for the demanding questions. He was a little surprised by the vitriol in it all, though, his own brows furrowing. He stepped closer, trying not to treat him like this was Steve. He wasn’t allowed to handle Sam like he handled Steve, regardless of any inclination to the alternative. That was something for him to deal with later, if it really was necessary.

“Sam,” he started softly, carefully, “I was angry, and I’m sorry that I came at you the way I did. It wasn’t fair to you, at all.” He still couldn’t forgive himself for his anger at Sam over it, but he knew that part of it should have been directed at Steve but he hadn’t been here. He took a deep breath before he even gave a thought to answering all the rest of it. He was trying not to take the digs at his relationship with Steve personally, though he wondered where it came from because that hadn’t been anything that he’d ever expected out of him. 

“If the person you loved for half of your life was back from the dead and told you that he loved you, could you walk away?” The question was soft and directed more at the countertop than at Sam. “Regardless of anything else, I couldn’t walk away from either of you,” he finally picked his head up to look at his partner with a soft sigh. “Aren’t you tired of being angry, Sam? Tired of fighting? There’s finally something in my life that doesn’t need me to fight, to be the creature that the Army and Hydra turned me into.”   

 Just as quick as it had risen, all of the fight slid out of Sam and he sighed heavily. He didn’t know what it was like to love someone that long, that deeply. He’d never been given the chance to love someone that deeply or strongly, and he couldn’t bring himself to mad any anyone who was. He gave in somewhat and reached up to curl a hand around Bucky’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze and tamping down anything that wasn’t comfort for both of them in that moment. 

“You’re fine, man,” he assured him easily, “You’ve been the best partner I could have asked for in all of this craziness.” He didn’t think that there was anyone else who could have handled it even remotely as well. “I don’t think I could have managed half of the shit without you, to be honest.” Bucky had given him perspectives that he wouldn’t have been capable of on his own, had helped him understand things he really wouldn’t have otherwise. 

“You don’t have to fight, Buck. Not if it’s not what you want,” he told him, incredibly seriously, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder lightly to turn him to face him. He wasn’t sure it was the smartest idea, but he needed him to know that it was important to him. “I’ve got Torres. Nat’s got my back, you know that. You and Steve… you deserve whatever happiness you can have, I get that.” He sighed quietly and shook his head. “Please, man, take it. Happiness doesn’t just come around, okay? A life like that? With the love and the peace that you two can have?    Man… that’s rare.” 

There was no stopping the immediate protest that welled up in his throat and made him shake his head. “I can’t just walk away and leave you, Sam. If you walk out of this knowing anything, I need you to know that. I’ve got your back, and Steve wants me to have your back. You’re not alone.” He hoped that he sounded as sincere as he felt, knowing that he could never actually manage to walk away from him. 

“I won’t leave you, not for real,” he assured him with a soft sigh. He reached up to wrap his fingers around Sam’s wrist, “Neither is Steve. We’re both here for you, always.” He watched Sam’s face shift and squeezed gently, but firm enough for him to know he meant every word that he said. “Now, go take a shower and let’s get to training. We know there’s more to deal with soon.” 

[faulty-writes]

Bird Brain In The Hospital

Warning: Injured Reader, Mentions Of Tongue Kissing, Swears Casually Sprinkled In. The Good Stuff. 

Fandom: My Hero Academia 

Pairing: Keigo Takami (Hawks) x Sidekick!Reader 

“Well, well, well, glad to see you’re still alive after a fall like that,” Keigo laughed as he entered your hospital room, still dressed in his hero attire. Those bright red wings gave a soft flap as he walked over to your bedside and pulled up a chair. Groaning as he took his seat. Sitting there with his legs spread, his elbows resting atop his knees, his body hunched over. Those bright eyes of his staring at you before he spoke again, “I’m almost disappointed to see you awake, I had a little bet going on with Endeavor, could have saved me a couple bucks. You know?” You turned your head which still ached, sometimes you weren’t sure if you hated or loved Keigo. You had been his sidekick for a long time now and your relationship was a little up and down. 

Some days, something would just click and Keigo couldn’t keep his hands off you and you loved days like that. His sweet kisses, his wandering hands and if you were lucky, bedroom antics. But still, on certain days like this. You couldn’t stand his bossy, humorous attitude. Taking a serious situation and making a joke out of it. You had gotten seriously injured, not only did your head take a hit. But you had various cuts and bruises across your body. Your wrist was in a splint and your leg was in a cast. But here Keigo was, making fun of your well being. You growled softly and crossed your arms over your chest. Glaring at the birdman who only seemed to find amusement in your anger, returning it with a smirk that you would love to slap off his face. 

“Hah, hah, you’re so funny.” You scuffed and reached over to throw your pillow at him. “Hey, hey now!” He chuckled as the pillow hit him, but he made no move to pick it up from the floor. “No abusing the handsome merchandise.” You rolled your eyes at his comment and laid back against your bed which was a tad uncomfortable without that stupid pillow. “Not to mention your mentor, you shouldn’t abuse the person teaching you how to be a great hero right or do I have to remind you the hard way which is typically the funnier option if you ask me.” You said nothing in response, your head turned away from the man and your arms still crossed over your chest. You knew you might be acting childish, but how could he honestly joke about this, about you? 

You heard the chair move, the sound of those metal legs scraping across the floor made you cringe. “Okay, I might be sensing some tension ...lighten the fuck up already.” Keigo’s voice held some frustration but despite that. He leaned over you, though you still refused to look at him. “Come on, fucking killjoy sit up.” You remained still and Keigo reached down to push your shoulder. “Come on I said sit up already, you’ll be more comfortable using your pillow for its actual purpose rather than a throwing weapon.” He insisted though you could tell by the flat tone of his voice that he was growing impatient with you. Sighing, you dropped your arms and carefully sat up. “You’re the one cracking jokes about my well being, do you think I purposely got injured?” You growled as Keigo adjusted the pillow behind your back, fluffing it before he leaned back up. 

He looked down at you, his eyebrow raised as if you had just asked a stupid question. Then, he did something you didn’t expect. He crossed his arms over his chest, his wings flapping again and a few loose feathers fell onto your bed. “You say that as if I enjoy seeing my perfect little sidekick like this, well ...I have news for you, sweetie.” He said as he leaned down to your face, something that always made you blush. It didn’t matter how much time you spent with Keigo, whenever he got this close you would always flush. Still, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from those golden orbs. “I don’t like seeing you like this, but I figured you would have guessed that shit by now.” You dropped your arms before glancing down, well ...Keigo was a hard man to read! 

How the hell could you even tell he was upset that you had gotten hurt with all those damn jokes, plus he acted like this was a normal occurrence. You gasped when you felt his gloved hand take hold of your chin and gently force your head up. An action that made your heart race and you were thankful that you weren’t currently hooked up to a heart monitor, else Keigo could be able to tell just how shy you felt around him. Keigo however chuckled and leaned closer, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Ah ...” You didn’t know what else to say, your thoughts were scattered and you could feel Keigo’s hot breath against your face as he spoke. “I bet I could do a little something that would make you feel better.” You felt your mouth go dry, following the movement of his eyes as they shifted. 

“W-What would ...t-that be?” You questioned, though part of you was too damn nervous to find out. “Hm ...maybe this,” Keigo whispered as he pressed his lips against yours, causing you to gasp. “Mm!” His hand reached up, threading through your hair before resting it on the back of your head. He deepened the kiss which caused you to take a deep breath and a tingle ran down your spine. Slowly, you brought your hands up, grasping onto Keigo’s jacket. “Mm ...” You began to melt into the kiss before Keigo pulled away, making you whine in response. “Hey, hey relax. Might want to close your eyes, my little sidekick, it’s better that way.” You nodded and closed your eyes as he suggested. Keigo chuckled and you felt the bed dip next to you, maybe he was tired of standing. 

Though his hand was still placed to the back of your head and you could hear him lean over again. “Mm, you’re certainly an obedient little thing when you want to be. Is it my kisses that make you like this? Hm, maybe I’ll have to try this little tactic more often huh?” Though your eyes were closed, you still rolled them. “Shut u-mm!” Your words were silenced when Keigo pushed your head forward, allowing your lips to collide once again. You moaned as his tongue seized the opportunity to slip into your mouth, circling along the top of your teeth before brushing against your tongue. Your fingers tightened on Keigo’s jacket and you moaned softly as your tongues danced together. Though the great hero Hawks could never stand to lose and proceeded to dominate over your attempts at tongue wrestling. 

You gasped for air when he pulled away, saliva dripping from your lips and a small string connected your lips to Keigo’s. Your face was flushed and your heart was racing, damn ...Keigo knew exactly what to do to make you go crazy. “Ah!” You cried out, your hands dropping from that jacket to wrap around Keigo’s shoulders instead. Your wrist brace scratches along his back as he leaned up, placing sloppy and desperate kissing along your neck and jawline. Soft pants were coming from the hero as his lips finally reached your ear and you shivered as he whispered. “If you didn’t look like the daughter of a mummy right now, I might even go further,” He paused and pressed a kiss to your ear which made you whimper in response, “than this ...” Keigo chuckled before pulling away, smirking at you looking so shocked and flushed. 

“But I can’t, you see sweetie if I were to injure you further. Well fuck me, they’d sue and frankly, I don’t want to be known as the guy that has sex in ...hospital settings. Not really my thing.” Though you wanted to huff and glare at him, you still so dazed from the kiss. Keigo retracted his hand and chuckled, “You know I really do like you like this, dazed and under my spell. Who the fuck would think I had that power over such ...a small mind?” That comment seemed to break through to you and you reached over to slap his shoulder with your good hand. “Bastard ...” You hissed which only made Keigo laugh again, somehow you were always such a comedian to him. “Yup that’s me, your favorite friendly neighborhood bastard with the glorious face and wings.” That earned a soft chuckle from you, though a sigh soon left your lips. 

How long were you going to be here anyway? You looked down at your leg cast, the thing was so heavy you couldn’t even move your leg if you wanted to. Keigo seemed to notice your ...unhappy expression and laid his hand on your head. “Hey, cheer up kid! If it means anything, well you’re a pretty good sidekick. Well, at least the one that’s been the least amount of pain in my ass. Though those kisses and sexual moments seem to even out the negative.” You looked at him with a blank expression, was that supposed to make you feel better? You shook your head and looked away, feeling his hand retract. “Okay, I see how it fucking is then ...let me see ...positive words, positive words ...” Keigo placed his hand on his hip, the other tapping away at his chin.

A moment of silence passed before he seemed to think of something proper to say. “How about this, despite the fact that you’re my sidekick and quite younger than me, I do have feelings for you. In fact, when I saw you fall and I wasn’t able to fucking catch you. I found myself praying to the God I didn’t even know I believed in, that you were okay ...because the fact is ...” He paused and reached over to take your hand, squeezing it tight. You turned your head back, a little confused by his affectionate gesture. “I can’t live without you, I mean sure I could realistically. But, fuck if you don’t make my life interesting and I guess ...” He paused and for a moment, you could have sworn you saw the faintest of blush on his cheeks. “I guess I ...might have feelings for you ...you mean a lot to me okay? Don’t make me repeat that, being soft isn’t my thing either.” He dropped your hand and stood up from the bed, looking down at you with a serious glance. 

“You get better soon, I have some business to take care of. But, eventually, I’ll need my sidekick back and I don’t feel like going through the pain in the ass process of finding a new one.” With that, he turned and walked to the door. Pausing just before sliding it open, he looked over his shoulder at you laying there. Broken and beaten, truthfully he hated himself for allowing it to happen. For allowing you to get hurt, for not protecting you. But this ‘business’ he was going to take care would at least level the playing field for those that did this to you. Of course, he wouldn’t let you know what he was planning. It was better if you didn’t know about his darker side. Still, you unknowingly nodded. “I will! I’ll be back by your side soon Hawks. Promise.” He glanced down before forcing a smile. 

“Yeah, you do that. See you around. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” He said as he finally walked through the door, his mind burnt with the image of you. Those villains would pay.

[ajokeformur-ray]

A beacon of hope // Arthur Fleck X Reader // soft comfort.

Summary: You just really need Arthur. You need him so badly it hurts. Even without you saying a word does he know the extent of your fears, doubts and worries. Without you saying a word, does he hear you. He hears you, he knows you, he loves you.

Dedicated to @rebs-doom​ - I love you so much, honey. I hope that this provides some comfort to you.

Contains tears, smoking (reader and Arthur), angst (reader; suicidal ideation, dissociative states and other), fluff. Heavy feelings are described here so if this may affect you, please either read with care or skip this piece.

Word count: 1, 787.

You lay on the floor in the darkening living room, another cigarette between your lips. You had smoked so much today that your lungs hurt but you didn’t care. Why would you? Pain at least meant that you were alive. So intently were you staring up at the ceiling that you failed to notice a concerned Arthur leave the bedroom. He stopped dead in the doorway and just looked at you. He just looked. 

He said nothing. He did nothing. Not yet. 

Arthur just watched as you took a deep drag from your cigarette, your finger carelessly tapping away the excess ash, which scattered all over you and the worn carpet. He watched as orange flecks flickered out in the low light of the room. You seemed... weighted. Like you were having an internal crisis. You looked like someone who was tired. Tired of waking up every day just to do the same things. Tired of trying but not seeming to get anywhere. Tired of living.

You looked like you were just waiting to die, such was the aura of hopelessness around you.

Following his instinct, Arthur padded across the carpet and unceremoniously threw himself down beside you. He gave you some space as he lay down beside you, his head turned so that he could have all of him focused on you, but he needn’t have bothered.

Smoke blew out of your nose as you exhaled. Time had seemed to come to a stop, so lost in your head were you. Nothing existed outside of these four walls. It was only you and your raging thoughts, which swirled through your mind like a hurricane and refused to allow you rest. You just wanted it all to stop, to go to sleep listening to your favourite songs and never wake up.

With gentle fingers did Arthur pluck your half finished cigarette out of your slack grip, take a deep drag and as he exhaled through his mouth, he handed it back to you. You hadn’t even blinked since he had laid down. It was with growing concern that he rolled and propped his head up with his hand; putting all his weight on one elbow as he gazed at you with tears in his eyes.

“Stop that,” He murmured, reaching out with his other hand to smooth out the crease between your eyebrows. “Your thoughts are lying to you.”

“How do you know?” The broken whisper of a breaking heart. Tears poured hot and fast down your face. With a shaking hand did you raise your cigarette to your lips, inhaling on it for the last time. You had let it run down to the filter, too lost within your own mind to be able to smoke it. Your lungs ached but you didn’t care. You really and truly just didn’t.

“Because I do.” Arthur still had more to say but as he saw you reach out blindly without tearing your eyes away from the ceiling - you had yet to look at him - for the pack of cigarettes, he said, “How many of those have you had tonight, baby?” 

You shrugged carelessly. “I don’t know. I don’t care,” were the words that escaped as you exhaled what little smoke remained in your lungs. The words left you in a sigh.

Sneakily did Arthur slide the pack of cigarettes towards him and away from your probing, trembling fingers. He stood, then, tossed the pack behind the television, and looked down at you. The same hand which had discarded the cigarettes reached down to help you up, and you stared at his hand like it was something you had never seen before.

Arthur smiled tightly, all of his usual childlike innocence gone from his face, his eyes swimming with worry and concern, and tugged you up to standing. With his fingers still intertwined with yours did he walk with you to bed. He needed to get to the bottom of what you were feeling and he needed to do it soon, before the moment passed and you were calm again. But you wouldn’t be, not really. He knew well what happened with thoughts that were left to fester and then became toxic to your mind; they exploded without a care for how they manifested and you would be left to ride them out. You would feel everything all at once and cry harder than you felt you had ever cried before in your life, and then in minutes would it be over and the moment gone. Arthur would be there through it all, no matter what the personal cost was. He hadn’t seen you smile all day and it had left him with a heavy heart.

Not caring that you were both fully dressed, Arthur got you into bed - your eyes had glazed over again and he knew that you had gone back inside your mind, your teeth worrying your bottom lip - and then he got in beside you. Instantly did he tug you into his chest by wrapping an arm around your shoulders. His fingers tapped out a beat that only he could hear as they danced upon your flesh; raising goosebumps in their wake.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on, angel?”

“I have so many questions,” A whisper, like you dared not speak your thoughts aloud lest you make them real, “I don’t even want to ask,”

Arthur paused. Mentally braced himself. You had been strong for him so, so many times, and now it was his turn to be strong for you. “What is it? Tell me everything. And I want the truth; don’t lie to me.”

You smiled without humour. It twisted Arthur’s heart.

“I feel like I’m a burden... like people are only being nice to me so I don’t annoy them. I feel like I’m gonna end up alone. I don’t want to be alone.” You broke. A gut wrenching noise ripped its way out of your throat, startling you and Arthur both, and he sat up quickly, twisting around so that he was leaning over you. His hands brushed your hair away from your face, his thumbs rubbing across your cheek soothingly as he bent down to kiss your tears away. 

“Sweetheart, no,” Arthur bit down hard on his bottom lip to stop his own tears from falling. It didn’t work. His tears fell and landed on your face and it was with haste that he brushed those away, too. “No. So long as you’re with me, you’ll never be alone. I love you so much.”

A hushed whisper. A pause. Two hearts beating erratically. One mind desperately searching for answers and the other desperately asking questions he would not speak.

“I love you too.” 

More tears were kissed away. Arthur bent down to rest his forehead against yours as he slid his arms underneath your back and just held you. He cradled you in the safe cage of his embrace while you sobbed into the junction of his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his neck. He shushed you gently, his hands underneath you keeping you pressed solidly against him. 

“You’re the best thing about this city.” Arthur murmured words of love and adoration to you as he kissed your hair, your forehead, your cheeks, your temples, your lips... anywhere and everywhere he could reach did he kiss you, as if he were trying to heal you by touch alone. He allowed his own tears to fall and brushed away your own. “If I had to choose between saving you and saving this planet, then I would choose you. Every time. You’re my whole life.”

“I’m not worth it,” You whispered, confessing your darkest thoughts into Arthur’s neck. 

He listened closely, closing his eyes against the sheer pain which shaped every syllable that left your dry throat. You were desperate for a glass of water but you cared little for your physical needs. You cared little for yourself as your mental state rendered you unable to do anything but to just feel.

“Don’t say that. Don’t.”

A soft noise of pain. Arthur’s arms tightened around you. His heart was slowly breaking as he thought over everything you had said tonight. What he focused on, though, was what you hadn’t said. Those were the things which greatly concerned him, and he hurried to think of something that would make you feel better.

He couldn’t have known that you were already beginning to calm down just by looking at you. Your mental anguish had forcibly translated itself on your face, your makeup running, your hair a mess. You looked as bad as you felt in your opinion, but to Arthur... oh, to him you were an angel. He wasn’t afraid of how intense your emotions were. You felt deeply, you hurt and you loved deeply. You were so incredibly precious to him, a true gem hidden in the grimy, filthy streets of Gotham, and you had no idea just how special you were.

“I love you, Artie.”

He smiled at the sound of the nickname that you had for him. You only used it when you truly wanted to show the depth of your love for him, and it was something that he treasured above all else. It meant that you were starting to come back into yourself as your hormones regained their balance within your brain. Emotions were tricky things and their effects were often severely underestimated. As such, they manifested themselves in violent ways and you were left to deal with them as best as you could, even if you didn’t know what you were feeling or why you were feeling it.

“I love you too, darling. So much.”

You stayed like that for a time. When you were ready, you would get up and get ready for bed and return there to be held as you fell asleep, Arthur’s fingers in your hair and your fingers in his as you shared one pillow and one side of the bed; pressed together so tightly that not even a sheet of paper could get between you.

But for now... oh, for now would you allow yourself to feel what viciously demanded to be felt, simultaneously basking in the love of one of the people who loved you the most and made sure that you never, ever doubted it. Arthur was your warm beacon of hope in a dark and cold world, and he would never have it any other way; no matter how intense your emotions got or how far into a dissociative state you spiralled.

For better or for worse, Arthur Fleck loved all of you just as much as you loved all of him. 

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z  @x-avantgarde-x  @mapreza1 @insomniabird  @mavalenovaninagavi  @itwasrealenough  @morrisonmercurymalek  @rand0ms-fand0ms  @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing  @rebs-doom  @vivft  @help-i-am-obssessed@autumnaffection   @taintednihilist   @vladtoly   @mg-woolf99@misstgrey92  @that-s-life   @dopey-girl-blogs  @seeking-dreamland  @sweetheart-syndrome  @heartxfdesire  @xmusichealsthesoulx  @0callmejude0  @the-one-that-likes-riddles  @hannibalsslut  @folliaght  @freeeshavacadoo  @bingewatchingmylifegoby  @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything  @okamiredfoxx  @sp0okysp0oky  @the-pandorabox  @mardema  @jibanyyan  @honeyflvredcoughdrop  @emissarydecksetter  @jokerfleckk  @epidendroideae  @chuuntas  @stillmabel  @pumpkinpeyes  @onehystericalqueenposts  @the-jokers-wolf  @nalsswa  @justahyena  @arianatheangelworld  @soullessblondbitch  @gothamslittlejester  @twentyonestarrynights  @sirianfromsixties  @kissmeclownman  @joker-is-my-hero  @lazyloosah  @lovesickkloxx  @ladylovelyluna  @live-love-loki  @clownerybbxx   @tragicarthur    @anmach123     @rommie-chan      @arthurflock

[theboyz-engup]

To All The Boyz I’ve Loved Before; Letter Nine

Summary-

It was wonderful what a few little letters could do; they could make or break a friendship, cause someone to laugh or smile, make someone remember the time of their life or that moment they wanted to forget. Just some words on paper and poof, everyone knew the way your heart beat and workings of your brain. High school really did wonders on you, as did those twelve boys. Maybe they didn’t know it, but they changed your whole life with each smile, each wave, and each word you typed into paper. You made them permanent, and now they had to know why.

Word Count- 10.1k

Previous Letter - Next Letter

Sunwoo’s hands crushed at the letter in his hands. He didn’t even have to open it to know who it was from. He’d received so many of these letters that he could pick them out of a pile. There were days where seeing it on his dorm floor would make him the happiest man alive. Now, they were all tucked up in a box in his room, only to be thought about on the saddest of nights when he hugged his pillow and pretended he wasn’t upset. 

It took everything for him to keep this one. He had so many questions for you. It had been almost a year since your last one so why? Why this one? Why now? Was it just to bite at him? Were you mad? Had something happened? These ate at him in ways he couldn’t control, but still, he didn’t want to read it. He didn’t want to rip open the pressure in his heart. It was already too much to bear and just one more thing might send him off the edge. 

His legs came up all the way to his chest as he folded inwards, taking up all the space on his train seat. With his lip between his teeth, he let out a little groan. The letter was Shroedinger’s Cat. On one hand, if he didn’t open it, he would regret it and wonder what you wanted to say for the rest of his life. On the other, if he read it, he would regret it for other reasons too complicated to understand. Still, he couldn’t help the impulse. He couldn’t help himself from unravelling the crumples of paper in his hands and brought it closer so he could read. 

If he closed his eyes, it was like he was right there with you. Despite himself, a smile began to form itself on his lips.

—————————

Dear Kim Sunwoo, 

I’m drafting this with you in the room. You’re looking at me right now, actually- no, now you’re back at your notepad. You’ve got a dumb smile on your face, and a shirt that’s way too big for you on your chest. I could look at you forever sometimes, like when you’re focused on writing or when you’re drifting off to sleep. We’ve been friends for so long that it scares me to be thinking this but here we are. There you are. Here’s the start of many love letters I hope to be writing to you.

——————————

Early December, 2016

Following the events of October, your entire friend group seemed to be imploding. Hyunjoon was busy with dance, really starting to take it seriously and looking for academies to apply to after high school. He seemed to be missing in action and Amalia went with him, using it as an excuse to spend more time with him. Sunwoo was also in and out of school, training taking up much of his life. Jace had been suspended for a few days in October but, afterwards, refused to face you or anyone other than Shankeri, really. Keri had plans to get out of this town, claiming it was exhausting and suffocating. That was something you couldn’t disagree with, feeling loneliness slip into your bones easily. When you walked home from school, passing diners and parks your group used to laugh loudly in, you felt much like you did in grade nine: lost and alone without a silver lining to your cloud. 

The bell for one of your classes snapped you out of your thoughts in a jiffy, eyes blinking a bit to try and keep up with students already piling out the door and some packing up. Your chemistry teacher had given up trying to give final tips after the bell, though you did offer him a sympathetic smile as you passed by his desk and out the door. Hauling your textbook, now a little frayed from being knocked out of your arms and sliding across the floor in October, you began your slow walk to your locker. 

Lunch time again. If you closed your eyes, you could see it all again. For some reason, you couldn’t keep it out of your head, the sight of Changmin’s body being slammed against the locker showing up behind your eyes whenever you blinked. You hardly noticed the raise in voices as you neared your locker, though a particularly loud scream ripped you from your stupor. 

“Kim Sunwoo!” 

The voice was piercing and sharp, but not meaning to be malicious or scared. The girl sounded like she was in love, calling out for her long lost love. You turned your attention to a cluster of girls, some holding signs and others with pens and notebooks, all looking down the hall for your friend to come walking down. You found the sight stomach churning, large crowds in thin hallways like this making you feel suffocated. Your hand hovered over the lock on your door and, instead of daring to open it, you turned on your heel and walked the opposite direction of the crowd. 

I’ll just hold my textbook for the rest of the day, whatever, you thought, suddenly bitter and wanting to be left alone. There was no such luck for you that day though.

A yelp escaped your mouth as you were tugged to your left, the squeak of a door coupling your voice. You nearly dropped your book again but clasped it tightly against your chest, feet struggling to get a hold of what was happening but you stayed on your toes. You were whirled in a circle to face your captor, room you were pulled in so small that you hardly had space to breathe. They were flush with your textbook, as your back was with the wall behind you, and the door through which you came closed so you had no idea where you were. 

With a small switch of a light, you were met with Sunwoo, who raised his finger to his lips immediately, begging for you to be quiet. You nearly shoved at him but realized there was nowhere for him to go unless you broke a hole in the wall and, while that was an idea, you found yourself pausing. Your eyes connected within a heartbeat and the happy film he kept over the deep brown of them slipped away. He sighed and you saw the exhaustion beneath his skin, creating bags and premature wrinkles. 

“I’m so tired, y/n,” he breathed, coming to lean his head forwards on your shoulder. It was clearly an uncomfortable position for him but he didn’t move, mumbling, “I’ve been trying to avoid them all day but they’re everywhere I go.”

The panic from his touch made your brain malfunction, tongue not being able to form a sentence that pertained to the situation. All you could think of stuttering was, “S- Sunwoo do- don’t you think this looks suspicious like wh- what if they find us or-?”

He just shrugged, finally lifting up his head, hands coming up to cradle his forehead as he did so. “Doesn’t matter. We’re friends, right? We’re with each other all the time.”

“We used to be,” you pointed out, a slight pout on your lips. You didn’t meet his eyes, legs shifting your weight back and forth. You could feel his thighs against yours as you did so and suddenly stopped, surprised to think about the way his touch felt. Still, you were presently aware of where he was pressing into you, knees tapping each others and stomach against your hands. 

A small pause drifted through the air, one thick and full of questions. Sunwoo gave himself the time to think, asking a question you imagined scared him. 

“Are you upset at me for getting casted?”

It was hard not to bring your eyes up to meet his, sadness lingering in there. He looked so entirely vulnerable, something you hardly ever got to see. This would only come out when he was deep in his writing or just woken up from a nap. He was entirely unfiltered, quiet and young. If you pressed your hand into his chest just a bit more, you were sure you’d feel the pulse of nervousness, reading it his lips when he pulled one in to chew on its corner. 

“Sunwoo, no,” you murmured quietly, immediately feeling sorry for acting the way you did, “of course not. How could I be? You’re happy.”

“But you’re alone more now,” he shot back, like he could see right through you. As he kept speaking, you had the strangest feeling like he’d peered into your mind and read what was wrong. “I don’t want you to feel like you did in grade nine, when all of your friends were so far away.”

You blinked, not knowing what to say. Quickly though, you managed, “I can make new friends too, Woo.”

“I don’t want you to. Amalia, Hyunoon, and I, we should try harder. ” Sunwoo’s words were definitive, like they were hardened and immovable. You didn’t know what to say, some form of sadness nipping at your eyes. You were happy but also upset and sorry that he felt this way. An incessant need in your heart made you want to seem strong in front of everyone but there he was, seeing through all the walls you tried so hard to put up. Maybe he could see it too, that you’d removed your film around him. Your eyes were just as vulnerable. You were just as open. 

It was difficult for you to figure out what to say in response, your eyes tilting downwards to avoid crying and feeling entirely pathetic. Silence drifted through the room but it wasn’t uncomfortable but rather solemn. He meant what he said and wasn’t going to go back on it.

“Y/n,” he started, voice soft. One of his hands grasped your shoulder and you didn’t pull away at the touch. Your name sounded so natural falling from his lips, no sign of a joke  coming on. There was a seriousness about him, one you knew you couldn’t take lightly. So, you waited with bated breath, not knowing what he was going to say next. 

Yet, in a split second, his ears seemed to perk up like a kitten’s would, eye drifting from your face to the closed door, mind far off and focused. You tried to follow his moves but didn’t understand what he was listening for, straining to hear something. 

“It’s finally quiet,” he exhaled, looking genuinely relieved. You knew he admired his fans as they admired him but it was taking its toll on him. He was the only famous person for miles so people were eating him up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It was no surprise he had no energy left in him.

“Well, we should go eat lunch,” you suggested, finding a way to escape your sudden breathlessness and leaning to grasp the handle to the door but he beat you to it. His hand was there in a flash, covering the metal before you could touch it and you pulled your hand back. 

“What-”

His mouth was plastered with a large grin, one that meant a bad idea . You knew it all too well and yet, you were still caught off guard by it. As his eyes glinted in the dim lighting, he asked his ridiculous question. 

“Wanna skip school with me?”

You spluttered around like a fish for a second before returning back to your last word. “W-what?”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he mused, notching his head to the side. His hair wasn’t filled with any product so it fell softly and was easily manipulated by the air. Despite it being a dumb idea, you couldn’t help but nod yes, arms wrapping further around your textbook as if to brace yourself. 

Sunwoo’s smile only became more natural, broadening into something kind and grateful. He explained he would leave first, grab his stuff from his locker and text you when he was out next to his car. Then, you could leave and follow him out but it had to be inconspicuous. 

“I can’t have any scandals,” he murmured, looking a bit nervous as he bit down on his bottom lip. You snorted. 

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you dragged me into a storage closet, stupid,” you chided, leaving a light pat on his chest instead of your usual smack. He definitely noticed that, smiling slightly before sliding past you, bidding you goodbye for the moment. 

It didn’t take long before you were face to face again, chemistry book long forgotten in your locker and winter jacket on. It wasn’t too cold, surprisingly, but you weren’t taking any chances with your grades. You couldn’t get sick and suddenly miss class. As you fixed a hat over your head, thin mittens with the fingers cut off hiding your palms, you neared the car with a wave. The boy was only wearing a thick grey hoodie, his favourite one with his university of choice imprinted on its front. His hood was on but he was cold, lips pursed outwards to blow air on his hands. 

“Get in faster, come on, come on,” he said, rushed as he unlocked the door to his car and quickly climbed in. You discarded your bag in his back seat before moving to the passenger seat door and swiftly seating yourself. Sunwoo was hunched over, blowing hot air on his hands as you fixed your seatbelt around you. 

“Need some help?” You offered your covered hands, thrusting them forwards. Despite the high sun, his car was no better than the outside. The boy looked at you for a moment, unsure of what you meant. Leaning forwards, you grasped at his hands and rubbed at them softly, hoping the friction would help. He was quiet for once, watching the movement before quickly retracting one hand to turn on the heat. 

“Better?” you asked, feeling some sort of tug in your chest but deciding to ignore it. He was unusually silent, giving you a nod before forcing out a thank you. It went silent for a moment, his phone not connecting to the bluetooth system so no music streamed in and filled the space. Once you pulled your hands away, resting them in your lap, you quickly decided to have a change of pace, trying to find something to talk about.

“So, how do you even have access to that room?” you asked, quirking up an eyebrow as you got comfortable in the passenger seat of his car. 

He shrugged, seemingly grateful for the new topic. As he settled and put his own belt on, he spoke. “Bribed the janitor, I guess.” 

You gaped. “You what?” 

There was something bashful about his voice and the way his lips formed around words, pink forming very lightly on his slightly browned skin. “I- I promised him a signed picture of me for his daughter if I could have the key to that room to escape.” 

“Wow,” you drawled, smiling out of amusement at his story, “Mr. Kim Sunwoo. Famous enough to use signed pictures to get what he wants.” 

“Shut up,” he chuckled as he started the car, but you could tell he was embarrassed by it slightly. You let it slide but he could see the imprints of jokes on your cheekbones and the way your nose bunched up when you grinned. 

“Stop!” he protested, pulling out of his parking spot carefully but stealing glances at you. 

“I’m not doing anything,” you pushed back, but you fixed him with a look that bore into him, begging to tease him further. 

“Th- That face!” He was stirred up, but he was beginning to chuckle too. “Stop looking at me with that face!”

“What face?” You played the fool, even pulling up your phone to give yourself a small look-over. “This is just my face, Sunwoo.”

“Stop,” he laughed, “you know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, I’m just looking at you,” you hummed, though you could feel the way your heart filled slowly with this. It was so easy to fall into a pattern with him, bickering your main form of expression. None of it was harmful or mean, but it was nitpicky and fun. He was so easy for you, seeming to understand things about you that you didn’t realize yourself. 

Maybe he was the glue keeping your group together and that’s why him leaving was making you guys fall apart; but in that moment, you didn’t feel like you were breaking to pieces. You weren’t hanging out with a soon to be idol, or someone whose future was bigger than you could even imagine. You were just with Kim Sunwoo, your friend. The boy with the grey hoodie and the loud mouth. The boy who ran after you to give you back paintbrushes. Sometimes even your best friend. It was easy for you to be with him, which meant it was easy for you to miss him. You didn’t realize just how much you had until then.

“You don't think you'll get noticed at a bowling place?” You were suddenly nervous, walking towards the building shoulder to shoulder with Sunwoo. He looked past the edge of his hoodie at you, fully circular eyes hooded with relaxation. 

He shrugged. “They already know I'm not in class, which is what I'll get reprimanded for. Doubt they'll care where I was.” 

“With who though?” you countered, going to open the door but he beat you to it. He held the heavy door open with his foot, motioning for you to go ahead. The second he did so, warmth immediately beckoned you forwards and you rushed to get in. Another shrug fell from his shoulders. 

“Doesn't matter.”

As you rubbed at your arms lightly, hoping to retain some warmth, you snorted. “One second you're afraid of scandals and the next, you hardly care.”

“You can argue that was an hour ago,” Sunwoo pointed out, annoying smile tugging at his lips. 

“You got what I meant,” you chuckled despite yourself, giving into the way his mouth twitched to grin. 

“Can’t say I did,” he pestered, being just as teasing as you were earlier and you knew why. He was just leveling the playing field, something you did often. This time, you didn’t let him have the satisfaction, conceding quickly. 

“Okay, Sunwoo,” you chimed, knowing it would gnaw at him more. His jaw dropped, tongue working at saying how unfair that was as you approached the service desk. 

To your left, multiple bowling alleys stretched out before you, each of them empty. You supposed the middle of the day on a Wednesday wasn't particularly a hot time but thought that maybe someone else would be there. Yet, it was just you, Sunwoo, and the woman behind the desk who was looking extremely bored. She seemed to perk up at your arrival, straightening her back and removing her chin from her hands. You hardly noticed the wave she gave you, much too caught up in Sunwoo’s antics, but gave her a faint smile back, not knowing what else to do. Sunwoo’s voice travelled through the empty hall, swerving through pinball machines and claw games until the end of the walls. The smell of popcorn and corn dogs filled your nose and somehow, you weren't bothered by it. 

“Good afternoon,” the woman crooned, a sparkle in her eye drawing you inwards. Sunwoo stopped his rambling a second before she spoke, turning his full attention to her. A small gasp fell from between her two front teeth as she took in his face, hands stacking on each other in front of her mouth. 

“You- you’re that rapper boy! That Kim Sunwoo, right?” 

A small blush appeared on his cheeks. In an instant, he became a bit more tense, shoulders freezing to push them back and hands coming to remove the hood from his head. God, you thought, shaking your head at him, did he really think a hoodie would be enough of a disguise? Almost on instinct, he bent a bit to say hello politely, lifting his head afterwards. She clicked her tongue in response. 

“Oh honey,” she sighed, waving her hand to have him stop, “don't bother yourself with all of that. I just didn't expect to see you at this time is all. Relax now, come on.” 

Sunwoo smiled a bit, saying okay but not really following her instructions. You gave the woman a shy look as well, hoping she wouldn't think something of you being here alone together. Yet, she didn't mention it at all. Instead, she just asked for shoe sizes and disappeared into the back. The boy beside you gave you an apologetic look, worry written across his cheeks. 

“Hey,” you murmured, grasping at a portion of his hand without thought, “it’s fine. Like you said, it's no big deal. We’re just bowling.” 

“But-” 

His protest was cut off by the woman bustling forwards out of the room, two boxes in her hands. With a bright grin, she handed one to you and one to Woo, looking very proud of herself. 

“These are brand new! I needed an excuse to throw out some old ones and put these on the shelf and now I have a reason.”

You began to open the box but Sunwoo’s hand clasped on top of it, his mouth working fast.

“No thank you,” he started, sounding determined, “there's no need for this. We'll take the regular shoes.” 

“Please, I insist.” The woman's smile seemed to falter for a moment, like she was worried she'd done something wrong. As you put the cap back on the box, you brought it forwards to the counter and placed it down. 

“I insist as well.”

The interaction was tense for a moment before the woman gave in and took the boxes back. When she came back out and handed you a pair of regular shoes, you finally caught her name from beneath her long grey hair. When she moved it from the front of her chest, you found yourself reading Hwasoon and kept the name looked in your brain. 

“That was weird,” you whispered to Sunwoo as you walked to an alley of your choice. You were meant to put your shoes on away from the front desk, where she couldn't hear. 

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, looking embarrassed once more. He didn't have to explain himself. You knew he just wanted to feel normal. 

“No need to apologize.” 

The look he gave you in return was softer, as were his shoulders and the features on his face. You could feel his walls being taken down brick by brick when he looked at you like that. Except you hadn't come crashing in or anything like that. It was just that, slowly, he was beginning to trust you more and more. You hoped he could sense it within you too, that you were trying to be more candid with him. His smile was kind now and entirely bare of anything but gladness to have someone he found comfort in. You returned it.

The world seemed to whirl around you as you began your setup to play. After punching in your names and switching into your shoes, you let Sunwoo wander and find suitably weighted bowling balls for him. Casting your phone in your jacket pocket, you turned the ringer off and sighed, wanting to be free of distractions. Once the boy returned, you went looking for bowling balls that suited your fancy, picking them up and weighing them while Sunwoo went back to ask for Hwasoon to open a particular alley for you. She complied, giving him a small bowl of popcorn complimentary. You even thought you heard her say sorry, your eyes very much following the grey hoodie around the room and discarding your current task. They both proceeded to bow shallowly at each other, Sunwoo just a few more times before coming back to you.

To pretend like you were doing something, you grasped at a few lighter bowling balls and picked them up, saying they were for you. Woo wiggled the bowl at you before putting it down on a seat, now going to the hem of his sweater. 

“Aren't you warm?” He looked at you with your hat still on, mittens still covering your hands.

“Not yet,” you murmured, turning your gaze to the alley in front of you. Music began playing louder over the stereo system above you and you were glad for it. It created the atmosphere for competition but, mostly, it seemed to relax Sunwoo. He stretched a bit, trying to intimidate you before grinning, grasping a ball, and going to play. 

It was beautiful seeing him so free. Every time he was going up, he gave you a look dead in your eyes like he was going to beat you. Every time you went up, he shot a heckle at you through laughter. Despite the hair in his eyes, you could see the brightness in them, giggles dripping through his teeth at little jokes and the times you missed. He mocked you for requesting the bumpers up, claiming he was better than that but then proceeded to miss his shot. You snorted, popping a piece of popcorn in your mouth. 

Between games, because you’d collectively paid for two, you shot little pieces of popcorn at him as he ran around trying to catch them with his mouth. Most landed in his palms, but he liked to scream when he nailed it. Doing this reminded you of Juyeon for the moment but Sunwoo sweeping you up to grab something to eat was enough to get the boy out of your mind in an instant. 

“I’ll get it,” he grinned, insisting on it as he moved up to the counter and asked for nachos, requesting the biggest plate. What was brought out was absolutely horrid but you ate it up together, complaining and giggling and sitting side by side. You hardly noticed how close you’d gotten to him until you could feel his shoulder firmly against yours. 

It was hard not to feel the heat on your cheeks when you looked at the boy, clad in all black with browned hair to match. His eyes were crinkled at the ends, nose scrunched up as his lips spread evenly across his face for a smile to rest on them. There was something inviting about him, warm and comforting but exciting still. You were starting to feel tingles run up your arm where he touched you and little smiles started making your heart race. 

A part of you wondered if he always felt this way to you and you just pushed it down for the sake of your friend group. Yet, Amalia never did. You were never forced to push down anything, forcing feelings down your throat like you did with Juyeon. No, it was your choice to never notice his advances or act on them. You said no to his sideways glances but, thinking back on it, he was always there. He was always a support, someone who brought colour back to your skin and life to your laughter. Maybe you were just never ready to face it until now and seeing him like this was enough to change your perspective. Secretly, you wished to be ready to face it now. 

The drive home was quiet, music filling the air lazily. You could still hear the way the car rumbled across uneven roads and the whir of his engine. It surely wasn’t supposed to make noise but you figured he’d figure that you soon enough. Sunwoo had a silly smile on his face, one hand on the wheel comfortably while the other rested in his lap. You had your legs tucked in to your chest, arms wrapped around them and chin resting on your knees. With what space you had in your seat, you faced yourself towards him and just watched as he drove, hummed along, and caught your eye. Desperately, you wanted to reach over and grasp his hand, the events of the day filling your heart with gold. Still, you stopped yourself. You were scared. You didn’t want to ruin a perfect day. 

As you pulled up in front of your house, you requested a walk around the block, making up an excuse you didn’t even remember. When you extended your hat towards Woo, he reluctantly took the bait and began his little stroll, not waiting for you to get out of the car. Typical. You hurried to keep up with him, tripping forwards and grasping onto his arm for support. Slowly, you slipped your arm through his, surprised at how forwards you were being. Sunwoo seemed surprised but instantly melted against you. 

“Date me,” he murmured as you neared your house again, voice barely audible over the wind that was picking up as day quickly turned into night. 

You blinked. The request was enough to stop you in your tracks, the arm you had around his own pulling him backwards. A part of you thought you had misheard until he repeated it, confidence making his words drip out just a bit louder. 

“Date me, y/n,” he said, like he practiced how and when he was going to ask, “please. Or- or you don’t have to date me but at least give me a chance.”

“I- Sunwoo, what-”

He shook his head, ready to explain. “I’ve liked you ever since I first saw you, like that first day when you literally fell over in front of me and looked like the biggest mess ever: I’ve liked you ever since then. I’ve wanted to ask before but I didn’t know when or if I had a chance or if you liked me back but I feel like this is it. This feels like this is it and I’m never going to get another chance if I don’t ask now so please. Please date me.”

The feelings in your heart swelled, confused and happy all at once. Still, your mind had a way of shutting things down for you, immediately going into panic-mode. 

“B- but you’re going to be an idol now, Sunwoo. You can’t afford any scandals, you said so yourself.”

“That’s the best part, y/n,” he seemed to plead, something desperate in his voice, “we’re already friends. Everyone knows that and it wouldn’t be weird to see us out together, just like you said earlier. It would be okay.”

“What if you want to do something like- like, I don’t know, like hold my hand? Or kiss me?” You hoped the question would pose a challenge but it didn’t at all. He just shrugged. 

“Nobody has to see it, right? I could do it now.” 

His hand fell from the front pocket of his hoodie and clasped onto yours softly. There was a hammering in your chest you couldn’t deny, not as his movements inched you forwards bit by bit. It was hard to deny the way your breath caught in your throat, hands shaking from the cold and his touch. You couldn’t take your eyes from his, hair trying to block your way but there was no way you could look away. The chocolate of them held the seriousness of the whole situation. 

The opposite hand of his came up to graze the exposed part of your neck, touching so lightly and still, he let your jaw upwards the slightest bit. “How about now?”

Feeling like gelatine in his arms, all you could do was whisper a very small, “okay.”

This stopped him, vulnerability returning to him. He suddenly became softer in every aspect of the word and you found yourself melting into him once more, as if you were a perfect fit. You prayed he could feel it too, that the pounding of your heart wasn’t to be ignored. 

“Okay?” The near silence of his voice was enough to confirm your thoughts. All you could do was nod, closing your eyes and grinning lightly. 

“Okay.”

The word was nearly swallowed by his lips touching yours. It was perfect. The only thing missing maybe was a bit of snowfall but that came at night, when you lay in bed and kept grinning at the thought of him. You felt so much like a high schooler in that moment and you loved it. You wanted to feel young and he gave it to you. He gave you your youth back. 

———————————

That day really was the turning point for us. It didn’t just change our friendship but it changed our friend group too. We were suddenly two couples who went out as friends but nobody knew about it. It was a little secret we proceeded to keep between us four, sharing glances and giggles when people murmured about how close me, you, Amalia, and Joon were. Though, it didn’t come without its downfalls, of course. Studying with you became more difficult until we found something that worked. Finding alone time and having to keep our hands from drifting into each other’s was a constant effort. Is a constant effort, more like it, but I don’t mind it. I don’t mind any of it as long as it’s with you.

———————————

Late January 2017

You were sitting in front of your typewriter, excited to start typing out a letter to Sunwoo. These had become a ritual when you wanted to let go of someone but, somehow, sitting down this time became a completely different event. It wasn’t your intention to let him see it until much later. You thought maybe it would be your one year anniversary and you could gift him a box of monthly notes, along with a few other things. A part of you realized that, yes, you were getting ahead of yourself but you couldn’t help it. 

Hardly before had you found yourself grinning without thought but now you were doing it so often. Even your parents picked up on your giddiness around the house, willingness to do chores and cook food increasing. 

“You seem happy,” your dad mumbled one day through chews of a croissant, newspaper in hand and glasses at the bridge of his nose. His hair had turned from a classic black to grey at the roots and you wondered when exactly that started to happen. 

With a shrug, you finished wiping down the counter he was eating at, careful to catch the final crumbles of his snack. “Just glad first semester is over, I guess.”

“And that Sunwoo’s home, right?” He glanced at you over the brim of his glasses, knowing and teasing look in his eyes. You supposed the way you hesitated was enough of a tell but your dad just laughed and folded his newspaper, shaking his head. 

“Kids these days,” he hummed, sticking the paper under his arm and going to wash his hands, “they think their parents are clueless.”

The scene replayed in your head more than it should. Your relationship with Sunwoo wasn’t defined by much yet, you were just going out, watching television, kissing sometimes. It never went further because you were hardly alone and, when you were, it was for brief moments. Still, you wondered how your father had picked up on the way you shifted around him. You could’ve sworn you stayed the same in large gatherings when Hyunjoon and Amalia could spare some time to have pizza dinners with you and Sunwoo and the rest of your family at home. 

“I don’t see a difference,” Amalia stated over the phone, voice much too close to her microphone. She told you she was painting her toenails so you imagined her with her shoulder pressing her phone against her ear, polish going on slowly. 

You leaned back in your seat, leg drifting you in lazy circles as your eyes met the ceiling. “I just don’t get it then. Why would he say that?”

Amalia must’ve shrugged because the sound of fabric now filled your ears before a small curse from her end filtered through. She said that she was putting you on speaker and finished what she wanted to say before.

“Parents are psychic, you know? My parents knew I liked Joon before I even knew it.”

You snorted. “You knew like the second week of grade nine.”

“And they knew before me,” she retorted, to which you gave a genuine laugh at. A knock at your door caused you to turn to face it, door sliding open. 

“Mom wants you,” Haymond informed you, hand resting lightly on the door knob. There was something tense on his face but you supposed it was just leftover stress from exam season ending. A nod slipped from your head and, before you could explain you had to hang up, Amalia already knew. 

“I heard him,” she chimed, “go hang with your mom. We’ll talk later. I’ve been meaning to ask about the English class next semester anyways.”

You hummed instead of giving a proper goodbye and placed down your phone on your desk, typewriter with few words discarded in the course of your conversation. Haymond was slipping back into his room as you came into the small hallway and he gave you a faint smile. 

“What’s she want?” you whispered, still going down the stairs. Your brother gave you a small shrug, though he seemed to know more than he let on. You clicked your tongue and went the rest of the way downstairs only to see your parents sitting at the dinner table, whispering among themselves. 

Your father was the first to see you, plastered smile on his lips. It was obviously meant to be encouraging but all it did was cause a pang of fear to rush through you. Your parents went silent, though your mother beckoned you forwards, getting up to untuck a seat for you. Looking between them, you narrowed your eyes and murmured, “what’s going on?”

Your mother gave your father a side glance, hands folded on the table in front of her. Her back was straighter than usual and she seemed distressed. Her hair was back in a tight bun, suddenly long enough for that to be practical. It felt weird but sometimes it was like you hardly knew your parents or what they looked like. You were so caught up in your life that you hardly realized theirs had been progressing alongside yours the whole time. 

“We’re worried about you,” your father started, unnaturally crooning tone fitting his voice. It was desperate to be comforting but you didn’t understand where it was coming from, eyes blinking back blankly.

Your mother decided to take the next few words carefully. “Y/n, we’re worried about who you’re dating.”

That seemed to be a wrong foot to start off on. It simultaneously scared you and put a sour taste in your mouth. You wondered what they knew, and how they knew it, figuring you hadn’t told anyone else but your closest friends and then- Haymond. That’s why he was acting so weird, you knew something was up.

“Look, I don’t know what Haymond told you but-”

“Haymond didn’t tell us anything,” Dad hurried, shaking his hands and head in time with each other.

“We figured it out ourselves. We’ve been paying attention to you a lot lately, especially since you met Raven and all of those things happened at school.” The way your parents avoided properly speaking about what you’d seen happen to Changmin irked you even more. You found yourself pursing your lips, jaw clenching without much thought. 

“Listen, it’s difficult dating anyone but an idol- or a soon-to-be idol- that’s different, okay? It’s way more… dangerous,” your mother attempted, lingering on words she was unsure of. There was something in you that understood she was just trying to look out for you but it wasn’t enough to overrule the budding anger in you. 

“You don’t know about his contract,” your father added, trying to give you some practicality. You simply sat there in your chair, pushing down words you could say in return, arguments you had to fight back. They won’t listen anyways, you grumbled internally, knowing how it felt to talk to them when they had their minds made up.

“And- and people are mean, y/n,” your mother murmured, realizing she was losing you to the confines of your mind. Her hand lightly cupped yours, desperate to try and get you to meet her eyes. “They’re going to say things about you and about him and it could be so dangerous for the both of you.”

“We don’t want that for you.” 

A stillness fell over the room, one of unrequited affections in the moment. Your parents were desperately trying to reach out to you and you realized it but something made you angrier- more upset than ever before. It was like everywhere you turned, you were faced with a no. With Juyeon, it was your love for Haymond stopping you. With Eric, it was distance stopping you. With Amalia, it was a new relationship she was discovering with Hyunjoon stopping you. No matter where you turned, there was something pulling you back, confining you to your room in this house, alone and isolated. Yet, you’d finally found someone who said yes to you and still, there your parents were, trying to stand in your way.

You wouldn’t have it. Not this time, not when you were finally starting to feel like one piece of your massively overwhelming puzzle was placed correctly. 

“We want to protect you,” Mom whispered, concern lacing every movement. She squeezed your hand and, despite yourself, you found your eyes bearing in on hers. The details in there were hard to understand, swirls of multiple different emotions drifting into and apart from each other. 

There was not much you could say or wanted to in that moment. All you really wanted was to be alone, which you asked for politely. Your parents reluctantly agreed, asking for another conversation later on. That one wouldn’t be as calm, you knew it. Not listening to them when they were trying to be nice was a mistake but you were willing to get into a bout with them at another time. For now, you wanted to chew on their words and rip them apart in ways that would only hurt your feelings. 

Walking up the stairs, you kept your head down until you heard a door shut. Haymond was standing in the hall near your room, giving you a small and sympathetic look. 

“What are you doing in my room?” you hissed, rushing up to face him. Your brother staggered back a moment before holding up a pen. 

“I just needed thi-”

“Yeah well, next time, ask,” you snipped, snatching the writing utensil from his hand and going back into your room. It took everything out of you to not slam the door shut, though the noise it made wasn’t exactly quiet.

You wanted to disappear. It was like life was going in cycles of amazing to horrible and you didn’t know what to expect next. One day would be fine and the next would be black and you couldn’t keep up. All it was doing was ripping you to shreds and you just wanted to lie down and sleep until all your problems solved themselves. Only they wouldn’t without you trying. 

The thought made tears nip at your eyes and you hissed for being this upset about small talk. Your parents couldn’t logically control your life and you didn’t want them to but they would bug you endlessly about Sunwoo. Most people would just do what they wanted but, as you were constantly reminded, you weren’t like most people. There wasn’t a moment you didn’t feel restricted by other people, things, situations- anything. You were restrained but trying to reach for a life where you weren’t. How bold it seemed of you to even try now.

Time slipped through your fingers and you hardly went to go and pick up your phone when it buzzed. Some were texts and some were calls but it would take a lot more to rip you from the ball you’d formed of your body atop your bed. Eventually those stopped too. You’d have to tell Amalia about it soon enough but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain any of your emotions. You didn’t even really understand them yourself. 

It was only when you started to hear a pelting at your window did you get up. Some kids on your street had started doing this to Jaehyun’s house, knowing the room was empty and trying to crack the window. You, on the other hand, were ready to give them a piece of your mind. 

You ripped the curtains to the side and slid the window open, sticking your head out with a curse on your tongue. Only, you were met with a pebble striking the skin on your cheek and Sunwoo’s wide eyes, hands now covering his mouth. 

“Wha- what are you doing here?” you hissed as you cupped your cheek, glad for the quiet of the neighbourhood. It was a wonder he heard you at all but he didn’t respond at all. 

“Holy shit, are you okay?” 

The question was loaded without him knowing it. You just rubbed at your face, giving him a shrug and feeling the anger sap from your bones. His hair was parted so you could see his forehead but he still refused to wear a winter jacket, grey sweater now looking bigger on him than it did before. Idol preparations were surely taking their toll on him. 

“Come hang out with me,” he crooned, not a direct demand but you knew he wanted to see you. Not responding quickly must’ve given him a scare but not responding at all was completely out of character for you. 

“I’m on house arrest,” you said, trying not to be too loud in case you were heard over the television downstairs.

Sunwoo pouted, not knowing what to say. There was a beat of silence where you simply stared at each other and he took an unconscious step forwards. You slumped down against your windowsill, leaning your head on your arms. 

“Wait there,” you murmured as you made up your mind. You grasped a thin blanket from your closet and slipped on warmer clothes quickly before embarking down the stairs. 

As you typed a quick text to Sunwoo, you caught your mother’s eye and paused in the front hall. The courage it took you to speak was overwhelming in that moment, shoving all negative feelings to the side as you said, “Sunwoo’s just outside. He asked if we could see each other for a bit.”

Your father had begun lowering the volume to his television as your mother straightened from her slumped position against his shoulder. Without any words, she looked between you and the ground before reluctantly giving you a nod. 

“Don’t stay out too late. It’s… it’s cold,” she hummed. The look of concern didn’t leave her face, not even as your father rubbed small circles into her arm and beckoned her to lean her head back on his shoulder.

Winter air nipped at your nose, making sure to leave little red marks on your skin but you were prepared with two hats and scarves for the both of you. Woo poked his head around the corner of your home at the sound of your door opening. The rest of his body followed as he smiled, rushing to give you a hug. For some reason, when he did so, you clung to him harder than before. 

“Hey,” he whispered, warm air rushing past your ear, “are you alright?”

Sunwoo wrapped his arms around you in the back of his dad’s truck, chest pressed against your back. His breath moved the smallest of hairs just above your temple, cheek pressed against your head and he just listened. There wasn’t an air of judgement and he didn’t seem hurt by what your parents said. He just listened and held you, keeping you perfectly sheltered between his legs. When it went silent, he let that happen too, probably thinking it was what you needed. 

“I just want to forget about everything but you.”

There was hardly a response to that too. You wondered briefly if he was paying attention until-

“Then let’s do that,” he murmured, hands sliding until they fit perfectly into yours. The blanket you’d brought with you hid you from the chin down but you were still cold in places Sunwoo’s body couldn’t cover. You felt held by him and the winter stillness, night sky stretching up above you and clouds unmoving. The world felt like it had paused when he said that and you closed your eyes, happy to live in a little time warp for the moment. 

“Let’s just be each other’s everything for a little bit.”

———————————

I know I said it in the beginning that this is the start of many love letters and blah blah but… but I’m writing this letter in hopes of this being my last one. I want to love you forever. I’ve written so many of these to so many boys and I just want to stop/ I want it to be you. Sometimes, I feel it in my heart that it is you. Maybe I’ve always felt it. I don’t know and it doesn’t matter because now I’m sure. Now I know what I want, and I never want that to change. I want you and I never want that to change. 

Thank you for showing me what it means to feel loved. We haven’t said it yet but I want you to know that I’ve loved you from now. I don’t think I’ll ever stop. 

Then, until next time, y/n y/l/n. On February 14th, 2017.

———————————

Hyunjoon sat down in the living room, rather awkwardly, he’d say. The sofa to his left was taken up by you and the other two boys, who seemed rather enticed with the truth you were spilling. You had to explain all you’d explained to him in the car just earlier but, this time, you did it much clearer. It was like he was the run through and this was the actual play, not that he minded. He loved hearing you ramble, but it was better you didn’t here. Haymond didn’t seem up to playing games today.

“But that’s my best friend, y/n,” he pressed, line forming between his brows. You seemed to grasp at strings and it was the only time Hyunjoon felt the need to interfere.

“I think y/n’s allowed to like anyone. They didn’t act on it for a reason,” he said politely, though trying to defend you. The look you exchanged was innocent but grateful and he pressed a smile on his lips to give you encouragement. 

“I had to write it or else I- I couldn’t get over it, Haym,” you explained, hands folded in front of you and eyes now trained on them, “If I saw it on paper then that’s the only place it existed and- and I could move past it. I have moved past it.”

The last statement definitely threw the other dancer off balance. Juyeon kicked his eyes up from the floor, searching for some sort of solace in you but you gave him none. Hyunjoon knew where your heart lied- where it had always lied. He felt bad for his friend.

“S- so you didn’t do anything?”

Juyeon clicked his tongue, getting up from his seat as he huffed, “god, Haymond, is that really all you care about right now?”

Hyunjoon took a step towards the boy but he just turned his back to the attempt. Joon was now back to awkwardly watching, daintily sitting on the edge of the sofa to get off his feet. You sighed, leaning all the way forward and pressing your head into your hands. 

“If three got out that means other people probably did which means I’m so fucked.”

Haymond paused. “Wait. There’s more than two?”

You nodded but gave no indication of how many. With a look at Hyunjoon, Haymond questioned at the number. Sticking up a one and a two using his fingers and mouthing the word ‘twelve’, Joon tried to help out.

“That’s a lot,” he hissed, almost as if he was the one in pain. You simply groaned in response, shaking your head. 

“Trust me, I know.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” The question was pragmatic, just as Joon would’ve expected. Though, he supposed it was what you needed at the moment. You clearly were overwhelmed by emotions and couldn’t think of much to do.

“What do you mean?” Juyeon asked, sounding tired. “What is there to do?”

“Cry,” you said, a pathetic laugh drifting past your lips but nobody chuckled along with you. You were serious and everyone knew it.

“Understandable,” was all Hyunjoon could think of saying. You snorted at this, turning your head from your hands to fix him with a look. He tried to push a smile to make it better. It didn’t work.

“Sunwoo’s,” Juyeon hummed, voice breaking the awkward silence, “did you write one for him?”

Joon didn’t even think about asking that one, though he knew he should have. Oh boy, he thought, mentally face palming. That was a can of worms nobody should open without knowing what they were getting into. Still, you just shrugged, trying to play it off like you were so cool. The quiver in your voice was enough to give you away.

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I know he has one, I can feel it, but I wrote so many, I forgot which one I kept; but he must’ve read the one he has and, to make it worse, I have to pick him up from the station tomorrow.” 

“You don’t have to,” Haymond pointed out. Joon watched him rub the back of your hand, trying to comfort you. 

“He’s right.”

You shook your head. “I want to. I need to see him, I- if he’s read it, I want to explain.”

Juyeon was the first to speak, sounding determined. Hyunjoon admired how quick he was to put you before himself. “So we’ll make a game plan.” 

A collective nod went around the room. It was just the three of you there to support you but it would be enough. It had to, because there was no one else to call. 

“We’ll figure it out, y/n,” Joon promised, inching closer. You lifted your head fully to face him, watching him give you an encouraging smile. It took a lot for you to match it, pools forming just at the bottom of your eyes but you were willing to try. 

“Just you see. Everything will work itself out."

———————————

It was safe to say that things did not go as planned. Joon had texted Sunwoo beforehand, telling him that you were on the way and had something to talk to him about. There was a plan and Hyunjoon gave him the outline, sending two crossed fingers emojis and ending with:

Kitten, 6:09 p.m: please, don’t make it worse. Just listen to them, okay?

Me, 6:13 p.m: what does make it worse mean?? Why would I?

Sunwoo got no response from there, but things sure did escalate on the drive back to his place. He couldn’t even place when it happened but suddenly, you were crying and he just wanted a break. He felt like he couldn’t breathe seeing what being with him did to you. You seemed to crumble to pieces and it was all his fault. He needed to fix it. He wanted you happy again, just for once second. There wasn’t a single moment he didn’t miss your smile but you were so far from showing him one and it made his heart sink to his toes.

“Y/n, can you please stop? Can we talk about this? Please?” Sunwoo was pleading with you now, watching you from the passenger seat as tears created paths down your cheeks. It was hard to understand how you were even driving with how worked up you were but he wanted you to stop and think. He needed you to not freak out like this, get yourself all worked out. He was scared. He was sorry.

“Please,” he whispered, softer and more emotional than he’d felt himself be in such a long time, “I still love you. I don’t care about anything else, I still love you.”

You brought one hand up to your eyes, pushing inwards to wipe at your cheeks but he knew it was a way for you to redirect your aggression. The pain in your heart reflected in the way you gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning pale. 

“Sunwoo, stop,” you begged, not wanting to listen to him anymore, “I can’t take this.”

“Hold on, okay? Just pull over. Stay with me. I’m here for one night, just stay with me.” He was trying to mediate it but he didn’t know how. He was strapped into his seat, eyeing the wheel but knowing he couldn’t grab it to stabilize it. You seemed so erratic right now, driving on empty streets but veering left and right. 

Something about your voice ripped at his heart, cries slipping past your teeth and integrating quietly into your words. “I missed you. I missed you so much and I know I shouldn’t because we can’t ever happen but fuck, Sunwoo, sometimes it feels like I’m being torn in half.”

“Hey, woah,” he murmured, not wanting to raise his voice as his concern boiled forwards, “y/n, please. Just slow down. Pull over. Let’s talk about this logically, okay?”

The request for stability made you pause. You felt calmer for a moment, nodding a bit. All he needed you to do was pull over after this intersection. You just had to make it through once more intersection you were already passing and then you could stop. Talk. He could make it better. He could fix it, he knew he could. He could make you smile. 

A breath was all you needed for Sunwoo to get distracted. All his mind was bent on you that he hardly noticed the shadow that flickered at the corner of his eye. The breath and the flicker and he turned to look. God, he wished he’d been looking at you instead of a bright pair of headlights in that moment. You would’ve made all the fear in his body dissipate in an instant. 

On instinct, he cowered inwards. Time seemed to move in slow motion, his body not moving fast enough to turn back to you. Somehow, he reached his arm out and grasped at the wheel, attempting to turn it against your will. His voice worked ahead of him.

“Y/n, look- watch out for-!”

Whatever he meant to say was lost in a chorus of other noises. The few moments where time stopped suddenly came crashing forwards and now, everything was too quick. There was a thud and a screeching, metal scraping the ground and alarms popping off. Air came from somewhere in front of him and his seatbelt dug into his chest and neck, pushing his back against his chair. His arm felt crushed by something but his body felt like it was made of water. Nothing in his eyes registered properly, blurs filling his vision until all he saw was black. He couldn’t remember a thing. All he could feel was what seemed like your hair. It didn’t make sense but, no matter how hard he tried to blink, he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything and suddenly, it all disappeared, swallowed by pain and the still sounds of the night.

[valeptraglia]

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Battle of Calormen

NOT C.S. Lewis! All rights to him!

Chapter 3: "Getting in the mood"

As we left Susan and Lucy alone we started walking towards another tent in the middle of the camp. It was the armory.

"Take what you need your majesties; and King Peter as soon as we get to Cair Paravel I'll give your sword and shield back" he said turning back to Peter.

"Thank you" he said smiling.

I started walking around the tent taking some weapons in my hands and proving them giving some twists and stabs. All memories of old battles flowed into my mind and I started feeling that old self confidence I used to have. I loved it.

There were lots of weapons, bludgeons, sharp daggers and swords, scary battle-axes, arrows and bows, and shields capable to bear a minotaur's launch.

Sword fighting was one of my favorites pastimes. I used to participate in competitions of every nations and I've never lost one.

Finally I decided to go for a plain, long and sharp sword, its handle with silver details, also a dagger, sharp and curved.

"No shield?" asked me Peter raising an eyebrow.

"Nop" I said grabbing a belt to put my new acquisition.

"You might need it"told me King Erasmus worriedly.

I only use shields in a very needy case. They don't let me move fast enough.

"Maybe"I simply said.

"Do not underestimate your abilities Edmund, it's been a long time since we've done this" pointed out Peter with a worried face.

"Don´t worry Pete" I said patting his shoulder. He just shook his head.

Peter chose a plain sword, similar to mine, but with it's a handle in gold, and a silver shield with a lion on it.

"Well, are we ready?" asked King Erasmus. We nodded our heads and he said: "Let's go then"

We got out of the tent and King Erasmus left us to change in privacy saying he would meet us in twenty minutes for a formal presentation.

We went behind the tent, where the forest started and where we sure would have a little privacy.

"What do you think?" asked me Peter while tossing his shirt on the floor and putting on a white shirt.

"About what?" I said tossing my own sweater and shirt to the floor.

"About this, about why are we here, about those Stoll." he said impatiently.

"Oh, I don't know" I said. I really didn't know what to think. "All this is weird"

"Why?"

"First of all" I said sitting on a rock and putting on some black leather boots "Aslan said we wouldn't come back, but then that forest appears and we are thrown back here again"

"And second?"

"The Stoll's. I mean, if they are the help, it all resumes to the first question. "Why are we here?" " I said putting emphasis in the word we.

Peter stand there with a boot on his hand letting what I've said sunk on his brain. Finally he proceeded on putting on his boot and saying: "I want to meet them. The Stoll's" he clarified.

I shrugged and then gathering all our clothes we went to meet King Erasmus.

He was standing in the bonfire next to Susan and Lucy, who were wearing a little too big clothes. When he saw us he waved his hand. We reached him and he cleared his throat.

"Warriors! Come on! Please come on now! "he shouted to all the narnians in the camp. Slowly the bonfire was full of creatures and humans looking expectantly to their king. "Are we all here? Alright. Today we received a special visit, and although all of you know about it, I think it deserves a formal greeting. Fellow narnians please welcome back to High King Peter The Magnificent," the crowd burst out in applause and shouts, and Peter smile brightly "Queen Susan The Gentle," the same was for her and Susan's face light up with a huge smile. «Okay here we go», I thought to myself "King Edmund The Just," I took a deep breath while the crowd burst out in applause and shouts, suddenly my heart had warmed up in the same way it did when I heard Aslan's name and I couldn't help the huge smile it plastered on my face "and Queen Lucy The Valiant!" he said and the crowd did the same for Lucy as she smile broadly.

"Long live High King Peter! Long live Queen Susan! Long live King Edmund! Long live Queen Lucy!" the crowd shouted and we all laughed full of emotion.

"Very good! Calm down please! Calm down!" said King Erasmus laughing and trying to get the crowd of enthusiasts narnians to quite down. "Good. Now, we'll have a peaceful dinner and we'll get ready 'cause tomorrow at dawn we are leaving to arrive at nightfall to Cair Paravel, carrying with us the victory of our battle with the giants of Ettinsmoor!" and the crowd burst out again.

As the King said we had a peaceful dinner, listening to the warriors stories. After it the fauns played some melodies that made a few dance around the bonfire.

I sat there, next to the warm bonfire seeing Lucy and Susan dancing with the fauns, and laughing hard when a few dryads started pulling Peter up to dance with them. Of course Peter, being the great gentleman he was, couldn't refused to their pleas and I ended up carrying him (with a big bump, earned when the dryad he was dancing with, apparently felt offended, turned into an oak tree and hit him with a brunch on his head.) to a hammock before the first melody had even finished.

"Ed"

…

"Ed" I felt someone shook my shoulder gently "come on, get up" I ignored the voice and turned around in my hammock "Edmund. Get. Up" the voice said irritably.

"Guaat?" I said incoherently.

"GET UP!" the voice shouted in my ear making me jump from my hammock and stumble to the hard floor.

"I'M UP I'M UP!" I shouted back to annoying Lucy.

"GOOD! Now get ready we are living in twenty minutes!" with that and a laugh she left.

I looked around me and saw some creatures and humans dismounting the tents slowly and tiredly. Other ones were preparing the horses, packing their personal stuff, getting up the lazy ones splashing water in their faces, (I shivered thanking Aslan, Lucy hadn't adopted that measure with me, yet.) and two fauns throwing some dirt in the bonfire.

Fifteen minutes later the whole camp had been dismounted and we were heading to Cair Paravel mounting beautiful horses. Mine was a black, friendly talking-horse called Mila.

We did a few stops so the ones going on foot and the horses could rest, and to drink and eat. The entire journey back to Cair Paravel, the army went giving shouts and singing songs of victory.

During the journey the King told us about what had happened since the last time we were here or, actually, the last time Eustace and that girl, Jill, were here two years ago in Earth years.

He told us King Rilian had died like one-hundred-and-twenty years ago and that he was his fifth descendant. He had a wife, Queen Calantha, a beautiful half-nymph.

Finally, when the sun was starting to descend and the sky had tints of red, orange and pink, the waves of the sea could be heard and the salty water could be smelt, soon Cair Paravel's rampart could be seen. Slowly we passed the entrance, where a few centaurs were on guard, and made our way to the big door that led to the inside of Cair Paravel.

As we dismounted our horses in middle of all the chaos into what had been transformed the entrance of Cair Paravel, people, nymphs, dryads, fauns, dwarfs and centaurs, that were in the gardens or inside the palace, came running to our encounter.

My head was starting to ache from all this chaos, but their happiness was so contagious that it was impossible not to smile or to start shouting and singing with the army.

"Erasmus!" I heard a woman yell in middle of the multitude and I turned to see her. She was a beautiful woman, probably on her thirties, long blonde wavy hair and tanned skin, there was something exotic on her features. I immediately knew it was King Erasmus' wife. "Erasmus!" yell the woman again,

I looked at the king but he was too busy congratulating his men for making it to home safe, that he didn't notice it. So I tapped his shoulder with a small smile and when he turned to me I said signaling to the woman:

"Your Majesty, I think someone is looking for you" He stared at me in confusion and then looked over my shoulder to who I was signaling. Instantly his tired face light up with a huge smile and went running to his wife. I turned around and localizing Lucy, I went to her.

But as I was about to reach her something fell on top of me and knocked me down to the floor.

"Wha…" I started saying but the words stuck on my throat as I horrified saw what had knock me down.

It was a faun with an arrow thrust in his armpit, where the armor couldn't cover.

...

[theperksofbeingbarbie]

The Empath (Pt2/6)

Summary: Picking up after Klaus comes back from his chat with Reggie, you join the Umbrella Academy as the heat starts turning up under this apocalypse. 

Set during I Heard a Rumour

Warnings: Language; Mention of former overdoses; Mention of CPR

Pairing: Diego x Reader; Platonic!Klaus x Reader

Word Count: 1.436

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6

A/N: So this might suck, but here’s the second part. This is really just kinda setting it up for the big action-y parts. A little bit of banter, the introduction of a stranger into this weird ass family. Feel free to let me know what you think! Do have any thoughts for this going forward?

                                          ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You huffed as you sat in your car, Klaus staring straight ahead in the passenger seat. “You wanna talk-”

“No,” Klaus replied quickly, not giving you a chance to finish your sentence. 

It wasn’t the first time you had to do CPR on Klaus. Hell, you had plenty of overdoses between the two of you. It was, however, the first time you used your powers to push back the group of men that attacked him. The fear of them hurting your best friend was overwhelming, stifling. You didn’t mean to let out that big of a pulse but there were hundreds of people in that building, all of their emotions filling you; it was only a matter of time before you snapped. It was also the first time you were afraid he wouldn’t actually wake up. But in true Klaus fashion, he woke up and just... left, asking where Luther went. You heard someone mention the bouncer kicking him out as you trailed after Klaus. 

“Will you stay at the mansion with me?” Klaus finally requested after a few silent moments in the car, glancing over at you as you started the engine. He had mentioned the impending apocalypse and how he thought you’d be able to help earlier in the evening, it only made sense to stay the night and meet the family, though you could tell he just didn’t want to be alone. 

“I can’t believe you actually slept with the furry,” you commented with an amused laugh as you poured Luther a cup of coffee. 

“Who the hell are you?” Five asked as he took the cup out of Luther’s hand, taking a sip as he sat down, grimacing at the taste. “Who do I have to kill for a decent cup of coffee around here?”

You paused pouring a cup for Ben, glancing up at Klaus. “Why is a literal child talking to me like that?” 

“Now, now, you two. Behave. Five, Luther, this is [Y/N]. [Y/N], this is Luther and Five,” Klaus introduced, handing you the sugar as you sat down, remembering how you liked your coffee. 

“I thought you said this was a family meeting? What are they doing here?” Luther asked, groaning quietly as Klaus tapped the spatula he was holding on the table. 

“[Y/N] is more like family than you realize, dear brother. They’re one of us.”

“Klaus dubbed me the Empath,” you added, taking a sip of your coffee. 

“You can feel people’s emotions,” Five clarified on behalf of Luther’s hungover brain. 

“And do some pretty cool shit with the energy. Like get a group of douche bags off your brother while you dance the night away with a girl,” you added, glaring at Luther who just ducked his head in embarrassment. 

“Okay!” Klaus interrupted before you got more annoyed. “Is this everyone? Has anyone seen Diego or Allison? No? I guess this is as close to quorum we’ll have.” You could feel the empty space behind you grow slightly agitated: Ben didn’t think this was a good idea. “I conjured Dad last night,” Klaus finally admitted with a sigh. 

There was a pause before Luther spoke up, “I thought you haven’t been able to conjure anyone in years?” 

You looked to the space beside you. Did Klaus not tell his family about Ben? Did they not believe Ben was actually there? You couldn’t usually feel the emotions of the deceased, but with the bond Ben and Klaus had, you could feel him as if he was actually there. How could they not believe that Klaus could manage to conjure their brother? 

 “Well, no, but I’m sober now! Yay!” Klaus answered with a smile. 

You stayed quiet as the brothers bickered among themselves, feeling Klaus growing... Sad. They weren’t believing him, they didn’t care that he was clean, he was missing his love. It wasn’t fair. You were about to speak up when Pogo came out of his room. Suddenly the energy went from sadness to anger, confusion. “Luther,” you warned, feeling him growing the most agitated. 

“It was his dying wish, Master Luther,” Pogo said softly, looking down sadly. 

You huffed once everyone went their separate ways, rubbing Klaus’ back as he sat down beside you with a tired sigh. 

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You were sitting on the end of Klaus’ bed catching up with him as he attempted to knit. He mostly just pulled on the yarn and sighed dejectedly. 

“Get dressed, we’re going out,” Five said as he suddenly came into Klaus’ room. “You too.” 

“Where are we going?” you asked, not making any effort to move because Klaus didn’t. 

“To save the world, of course.” 

“Oh, is that all?” Klaus asked with a playful roll of his eyes as he sat up. 

You climbed out of his bed to find something clean you could borrow, tossing a tie-dye shirt toward him. You hid behind the wardrobe door to change your shirt, appearing a moment later in one of his old band t-shirts. You listened to the pair wonder about their father and how he could’ve known about the end of the world but kept out of it. You followed the brothers out of Klaus’ room pulling on a cardigan that was hanging up by Klaus’ door. Your motley crew stopped when another of their brothers ran by. You quickly figured out it was Diego, your first celebrity crush. How could someone still look so fucking hot? 

“Where have you been?” 

“Jail- don’t ask. Who the fuck are you?” Diego asked as he appeared in the hallway again, pulling his harness on. 

“Does no one in this fucking house know how to say hello like a normal human?” you replied sardonically. “[Y/N]. Klaus’ friend.” 

“Oh, yeah, we met before. I think you were high.” Diego’s eyes dragged over your body, nodding in approval. “You look a lot better now. Has anyone seen Luther?” 

Your cheeks went bright red at the attention from Diego, shaking your head. 

“Haven’t seen him since this morning, why?” 

“Allison’s in trouble.” 

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

After trying a few bars, Klaus managed to find Luther in one close to the Academy. “Look!” You all filed in, standing next to the table as Luther refused to look at any of you. “Trying a little hair of the dog, hm?” 

Diego sat down beside Luther with a huff. “Give us a minute,” he demanded, waving the three away. 

“Yes, daddy,” you drawled, turning on your heel to follow your friend to another table. 

“Don’t make me hear that with my ears ever again,” Klaus growled, causing you to laugh. 

The corner of Diego’s lip quirked at your teasing before he turned his attention to Luther. 

You couldn’t hear much, but it was taking a lot longer than you expected. Klaus even mimed checking his watch to Five who seemed just as confused. Luther was out of his chair a moment later, breaking the door off its hinges as the group ran after him. 

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

“So, you’re one of us?” Diego questioned quietly, looking over at you. There was a bit of time to kill on the drive to Harold Jenkin’s house in the woods and nothing to do. 

You nodded, pulling your foot up onto the seat beneath you. You lowered it a moment later when Diego glared at you. He didn’t mind you sitting in the front with him, as long as you respected his car. “I can feel people’s emotions and use the energy to do things. Anger conjures fire, fear pushes things away from me, and sadness or pain causes things to break. I’ve broken a lot of mirrors because of exes.” You chuckled at the memories, shaking your head a bit.

“Happiness makes them all warm,” Klaus added with a fond smile. 

You laughed again, thinking of all the times Klaus would make you laugh just to act as his personal heater on cold nights. 

“Are you and Klaus....?” Diego inquired awkwardly. 

“No!” you said in unison with your friend. “Jesus, no. I’m single as a Pringle.” 

Five let out an uncomfortable sound at that, causing you to wince. 

“Pringles are always better when you have two stacked together, though,” Diego replied, trying to follow along with your awkward flirting. 

Klaus slowly slid forward, resting his elbows on the back of the seats. “Diego, brother, are you trying to get with my friend?” 

You managed to manifest a little flame on the end of your middle finger, flicking it at Klaus’ forehead, smirking when he yelped. 

“That’s mean!” the medium protested, sitting back in his seat as he rubbed his forehead as if to disperse the heat. Everyone chuckled at the expense of Klaus and for a moment, it wasn’t like the apocalypse was in two days.

                                           ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tag list: @misspygmypie 

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[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

A Dance With the Devil: Part 1

Pairing: Incubus!Bucky x Reader Summary: You’ve been plagued recently by sexual dreams, all featuring the same man. He has long dark brown hair and piercing steel blue eyes. Every time, the dreams ends before you’re ever really satisfied (but, truly, you don’t think you would ever stop wanting more of the man). Then, one day, you see him in the waking world, and he seems to know every dirty thought and dream you’ve ever had about him. Warnings: Language (as always), smut, NSFW, 18+, porn gifs, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) Word Count: ~a lot I guess idk. Maybe 3k? A/N: I feel it’s only fair to warn all of you, this is porn. Plain and simple. There is almost no plot whatsoever, but I figured that the other three each had their own unique thing (unexpected/horror ending, sweet story w/ magical reader, heartbreak/bittersweetness, and so… we have smut). Enjoy, my pretties. This has been reposted after my original was deleted in the Great Tumblr Purge 2k18.

Masterlist // The Monster Series Collection // Next Part

“Yeah, baby, just like that,” he purred, holding his cock steady as you speared yourself on it. The stretch was delicious, making you moan loudly as he bottomed out inside of you.

“You take my cock so nice, Doll,” he murmured, reaching around to rub your clit gently as a reward.

“Oh god, please fuck me, master,” you pleaded, hips bucking against his hand.

“God isn’t the one inside of you, my little slut. But since you asked so nicely…” he said silkily, pulling his hips back slowly before snapping them forward again, making you cry out with pleasure. Every move inside of you was the epitome of pleasure, better than anyone you’d had before.

He fucked you relentlessly, setting a brutal pace that had you screaming your satisfaction in minutes. He grabbed your hips, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust forward, his balls slapping lewdly against you. He bent over you and took a nipple roughly in his grasp, pinching it almost painfully hard, causing you to mewl and arch your chest into his hand.

“Please- fuck- I’m so close. Don’t stop!” you begged, savoring the way his pace sped up at your words.

“You gonna be a good girl and cum for me, Doll?” he whispered in your ear before biting your earlobe.

You turned your head to look at him, capturing his lips with your own. His blue eyes never left yours as you nodded and begged, “Please, sir, I wanna cum. Want your cum in me,” you murmured, eyes pleading with him.

“You’re such a fucking slut. I love it,” he said, grinning wickedly. His lips latched onto your shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave love bites. You gasped in mingled pain and pleasure as he bit your neck before soothing it with a lick.

His fingers on your clit picked up their pace and you felt yourself nearing your climax. You reached behind you and gently cupped his balls, causing him to murmur praises in your ear, and you felt yourself about to-

     BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP  

You sat up in your bed, suddenly wide awake. You turned and glared at your phone, which was blaring that god awful alarm.

“Just when I was about to get to the good part…” you muttered angrily, fighting the urge to throw the thing against your wall. You angrily jammed your finger on the Dismiss Alarm button and groaned, flopping backwards onto your bed. Maybe you could just… go back to sleep and hope to pick up the dream where you’d left off?

Bah, that never fucking worked, and you had to get to work if you wanted enough money for food this month.

You wiped a hand over your face, glaring at the sun shining merrily through the window. You were tired. In fact, you were always tired nowadays. You attributed it to the fitful sleep the man in your dreams caused. You weren’t sure exactly when you started dreaming about him, but you enjoyed yourself immensely every time he made an appearance in your dreams… which was every night.

You groaned and got up from bed and went to get ready for your day.

You gazed around the room, base-filled music pounding in your ears. Monsters from almost every species you’d ever heard of were dancing around you, unaware of the perfectly tasty main course in their midst. You still weren’t entirely sure how’d you’d been convinced to come in here. You’d lost Wanda a while ago and you sincerely hoped you wouldn’t end up dead tonight.

The conversation had gone something like this:

“I refuse,” you said bluntly, glaring at your friend, Wanda.

“Come on, it’ll be fine! They won’t know you’re human!” she insisted.

You see, Wanda was a witch. A powerful one, at that. You’d become her friend after a particularly harrowing escape from a vampire together and had been inseparable ever since. She was now trying to convince you to come with her to a supernatural-creatures-only night club, but you weren’t biting.

“Wanda, they’ll spot me from a mile away. Or, if they have ‘wolves at the door, smell me,” you said, crossing your arms obstinately.

“Please, (Y/N)! I’ll mask you! It’ll be fun I promise!” she pleaded, falling on her hands and knees, looking, frankly, a bit pathetic.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Fine, but you’ll owe me. Now, stop grovelling. It’s beneath you.”

She leaped up and cheered in excitement then quickly ran off, dragging you behind her to get ready for your night out on the town.

So now, here you were. At a club full of supernatural beings, at least half of which would eat you in a heartbeat if they knew you were there.

To Wanda’s credit, though, she’d done a spectacular job of hiding your true identity; Not even the werewolves guarding the door had sniffed twice.

That was, until a familiar set of eyes caught your attention from across the room.

He was staring directly at you, blue-grey eyes trained on you like a hawk watching its prey. The smirk on his lips was just as familiar as his eyes, and you felt heat pool between your thighs at the sight of him.

You knew that people in dreams were people you saw in day-to-day life, but to see him here, of all places-

You stood, frozen, as he gracefully got up from the table in the corner he’d been sitting at, and made his way over to you. He dodged people easily, cutting a path straight to you. A small voice in the back of your mind told you to run, but it was silenced by the other hundreds of voices telling you to run to him; throw yourself at him, even.

Before you knew it he was in front of you, wicked smile on his face. He leaned down until his mouth was by your ear; you could feel his warm breath caress your neck and you shuddered involuntarily.

“Hello, pet. How did you get in here?” he asked quietly, breath tickling your ear.

You felt your blood drain from your face. “H-how did you-” you sputtered, turning to look at him, shocked. How could he know you didn’t belong here?

“Oh, come now, Doll. You think I wouldn’t recognize you after all the fun we have together on a nightly basis?” he asked, tucking a piece of your loose hair behind your ear. His fingertips brushed against your skin lightly and you sighed happily at the contact, however brief it was.

You tried to focus on his words, though just being around him seemed to dull every sense you had and muddle your train of thought.

“What do you mean? I’ve never met you before in my life,” you said, brows furrowing in confusion. I mean, sure, you had a dirty mind, but those were dreams. He wasn’t making any sense. Then again, how often did you hear guys nowadays calling girls “Doll”?

He tsked at you, eyes turning hard as he gazed down at you. “Now, pet. You know how I feel about lyin’,” he chastised, fingertips trailing from your cheek down your neck, lingering over the spot which the man in the dream had sucked a hickey onto your skin. It felt tender under his fingers, as though there really was a bruise there and your hand flew to your neck, covering it self consciously.

“I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person,” you said, turning on your heel to leave. The tiny animalistic part of your brain was telling you to run, and run fast.

He was in front of you a half second later, head tilted to the side as he regarded you. You froze, looking up at him, your eyes wide with fear. His gaze softened at your expression and he reached towards you slowly, giving you time to move away. You were too terrified to move, and he cupped your cheek gently with his hand. “You don’t need to be afraid of me, Doll. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” he promised, stroking your cheek gently. “Do you understand that?” he asked, eyebrows raised in question.

“Yes,” you murmured, unable to look away from his enchanting blue eyes. You felt yourself take a step forward, but you hadn’t told your body to move. It was like he was an irresistible force and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to try and resist.

He leaned closely to you, voice quiet in your ear. “Now, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You do know me, Doll. You know me quite well, in fact; intimately, even. Just like I know every nook and cranny of your body, and just how to bring you the pleasure you so crave,” he purred, other arm sneaking around your waist to pull you slowly to his broad chest. Your heart pounded in your ribcage as you listened to his words. Could he really be the man from your dreams? It seemed the only logical explanation, even though it was illogical on principle.

You inhaled his heady scent deeply; even that was the same. It made you dizzy and you leaned farther into his embrace, relaxing. “Ah, yes. There we go,” he said, smiling widely. “You know I’m right, don’t you?” he asked, using his index finger to tilt your chin up so you were looking straight into his eyes.

You nodded, smiling warmly up at him. “Master is always right,” you said devoutly, standing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his neck.

He pushed you back gently but firmly, making you frown. Had you done something wrong?

“Not here, love,” he said, placing a kiss to your forehead. “As much as I love a good show, I don’t want the bottom feeders in here getting any ideas,” he said, glowering around at the assembled monsters in the room. “Come with me, Doll. The pleasure I bring you in your dreams pales in comparison to the real me,” he said, hands roaming down your back. One gave your ass a squeeze and the other snuck around the front to rub your core through your jeans. Your fingers gripped his shirt, knees suddenly weak. “Do you want to come with me? I’ll bring you unimaginable pleasure,” he cooed, planting kisses on your neck and shoulder. You nodded eagerly, fingers tangling in his hair and he chuckled against your skin. “I need to hear you say it, pet,” he purred as one of his hands slipped under your jeans and began teasing you through your underwear.

“I want to go with you. Please, I want you,” you said, biting back the moan in your throat.

His lips were on yours a half second later and he forced his tongue in your mouth, claiming it for his own. You moaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“(Y/N)! No!” you heard Wanda yell. In your lusty haze you turned and stared at her, head tilted in confusion. He turned and smiled devilishly at her, eyes completely black.

“You should keep a better watch over your playthings, witch,” he said darkly, looking her in the eye as he snapped his fingers and the two of you vanished from the club.

“That was a demon, (Y/N),” she said incredulously, staring at the spot you’d just been. “You just sold your soul to a demon!” she despaired, hands flying to her face in horror. She’d just doomed you for eternity.

You were aware enough of your surroundings to recognize the room; it was the one you were always in with him in your dreams. The large bed felt just like you remembered, and you stretched out on the silky sheets, reveling in the feeling.

“I take it you remember this place?” he asked, smiling as he laid down beside you, already shirtless.

You turned to him and smiled, placing kisses on his chest as you nodded. He sighed happily at your attention, moving you onto his lap as he scooted up the bed and leaned against the headboard.

“You’re my favorite, you know. It’s why I visit you every night,” he said, burying his face in your neck. “Do you remember my name, Doll?” he asked, peppering light kisses over your skin as his hands roamed under your shirt, rough fingers mapping every inch of your skin.

“James,” you breathed, head thrown back in ecstasy.

“Oh, you remembered! I’m proud of you,” he praised, pulling your shirt over your head.

You reached behind you and unclasped your bra as his hands traveled down to your hips. He pulled you down onto him and gave a slow roll of his hips, making you squirm with need as his cock pressed against your clothed core. You threw your bra to the side, exposing your breasts. He smiled at the sight, and leaned forward, taking a nipple into his mouth. A gasp flew from your lips as his tongue swirled around it and one of his hands reached up, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers. You arched forward, needing more, and ground your hips against him, pulling a low groan from him that rumbled in his chest.

Your fingers ran over the hard planes of his chest, worshiping every inch of it. He was right, even this was better than in your dreams. He felt real and solid beneath you and if he felt this good now-

“Patience, Doll, I know what you’re thinking. We’ll get there soon,” he purred, smirking up at you as he took a nipple between his teeth and nibbled at it gently, causing a moan to escape your lips. “Get up and take everything off, Doll,” he said, relinquishing his grip on your breasts.

“Yes, sir,” you whispered and stood without hesitation, though you missed the feel of him between your legs. You tore at the button with every intention of ripping them off as quickly as possible, but his voice stopped you. “Nuh uh, (Y/N). Slowly,” he said, grinning wickedly at you as he pulled his jeans off and began rubbing his cock through his boxers.

You bit your lip, desire coursing through your veins. He looked delectable laying there, and it took every ounce of your self control to strip slowly.

You made a show of it, knowing it was what he wanted, running your hands slowly down your body before you undid the button, on your jeans. You stared him in the eyes as you slowly lowered the zipper, rubbing your legs together in a desperate attempt to provide some friction for your aching core.

Zipper undone, your hands went to your hips where they slipped in the waistband of your jeans and you slowly- oh, so slowly- shimmied them over your hips, down your thighs, and to the ground. You stepped gracefully out of them, eyes never leaving his except to glance at the erection straining against the thin cloth of his boxers.  

“Not done yet, baby,” he chastised, giving you an expectant look. You snapped out of the daze you hadn’t realized you’d been in. You’d been groping your breast without realizing it, your nipple pinched between your middle and index finger.

You reached down to the flimsy fabric of your underwear, fingers playfully dipping in and out of the fabric. He smirked at you, obviously enjoying the show. “Does that feel good, pet?” he asked, eyeing you hungrily.

“Yes, master,” you murmured, fighting the urge to run your fingers over your clit and through your wet folds. He was letting you have this little pleasure, but that would be crossing a line and you knew it. You turned your back on him and slid your underwear down slowly, bending over so he had a clear view of your soaked lips. You kicked them off, and turned back slowly, eyes full of desire.

He grinned wickedly as he took in your naked body, drinking in every inch of your bare skin. “Even more beautiful in person,” he murmured as he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood, walking towards you, still stroking his cock through his boxers. “My turn, Doll,” he said, reluctantly letting go of his dick.

You sunk to your knees almost reverently, running your fingers over his chest as you went. You kissed his cock through the fabric, smiling with satisfaction when it twitched due to your attention. He carded his fingers through your hair, and pushed your face gently but firmly closer to himself. You didn’t need any more of a signal. You tugged his boxers down and his cock sprung free, swinging heavily between his legs. He stepped out of them and smiled down at you.

“Do you wanna taste it?” he asked, smiling benevolently down at you.

You nodded eagerly, mouth practically salivating at the sight of the pearly drop of precum on the tip.

“Open up, then, Doll,” he commanded, hand coming down to wrap itself around his thick member. You obliged, opening your mouth widely, and he guided it slowly between your lips. His other hand was tangled in your hair, holding you still.

You licked the precum from the slit, moaning at the taste; It was absolutely amazing. You sucked greedily at his tip, wanting more. He groaned softly, obviously trying his best to stay still while you got used to his size.

When you took so much of him into your mouth that he hit the back of your throat, he stopped trying. “Relax your jaw, pet,” he warned. You had a second to follow his command before he thrust forward, shoving his cock down your throat. You fought the urge to gag against the sudden feeling, but he pulled back a second later. “Damn, Doll. You’re so good,” he murmured before thrusting back in again. You were ready for it this time and had to admit it was easier to take the second time. His other hand joined the first in your hair and he set a slow, sensual pace as he fucked your mouth and throat. You moaned against his cock and the added vibrations made him groan in pleasure. “Yeah, baby, that’s it. I love seeing your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock like that,” he praised, looking down at you hungrily. One of your hands moved to gently cup his balls, the other playing with your nipples.

He pulled out of your mouth suddenly and you nearly followed the movement, missing the feeling of his cock in your mouth, but he pulled you up and, with inhuman speed, bent you over the edge of the bed. You turned to look at him, confused, but a split second later his fingers were teasing your folds, making you gasp and buck into his hand. He massaged the entrance of your ass gently, making you look back at him in concern. Even in your dreams you’d never-

He smiled warmly at you and you immediately felt yourself relax a little. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll save it for another day. I’m just going to give you a taste,” he said wickedly as he slipped a finger in your ass and another into your pussy. You crumpled the sheets in your fists, shoving yourself back onto his hand with a moan. It felt so damn good. You felt so full, so full of him. “So greedy,” he said, admiring the way you were fucking yourself on his fingers.

With a smooth movement, he switched his fingers around until two were in your cunt and you whimpered at the loss from your ass, making him chuckle. “Another time. I promise,” he said, moving his other hand to massage your ass, spanking you lightly every few seconds.

His fingers worked themselves in and out of you, getting drenched in your slick juices. You squirmed, moaning as his fingers brushed your g spot. His fingers were so good, but you needed more. You needed-

“I hear you, Doll,” he said, smiling down at you. He slipped his fingers from your soaking heat and popped them in his mouth, licking them clean. He moaned at the taste, eyes fluttering with pleasure. “You taste even better than I’d imagined,” he said wickedly. Before you knew what was happening, you were on your back and he was over you, kissing you passionately on the lips. He spread your legs open wide as he placed himself firmly between them. His tongue invaded your mouth and you let him; you were his to command, after all.

He broke the kiss after a moment, gaze lustful. “Beg for it,” he commanded, teasing his head against your entrance. “Tell me how much you want it,” he cooed, nibbling on the shell of you ear.

“I want you so damn much, master. I’ve wanted you like this since our first night together. I’ve dreamed of you fucking me for months. I need you inside of me; need you to make me yours,” you pleaded, gasping as he ground his cock over your clit.

“You’re already mine,” he growled, kissing you hard on the lips as he entered you slowly. He broke the kiss, smiling wickedly at the thoughts running through your head as his cock stretched you out. “You didn’t ever let on that you were a virgin… my lucky day,” he murmured, moving to your neck to suck love bites into it as he began fucking you at a steady pace. His hips were slamming into you so hard that he had to hold you in place.

  “Master, your cock’s so good! I feel so full,” you moaned, hands playing with your breasts.

“You take it so good, my little cock slut,” he praised, hips snapping into yours.

“Always want you in me,” you said, moaning as his hips met yours again and again and again, the lewd sound of skin hitting skin filling the room.

“Oh, little pet. I intend to never stop fucking you,” he said, groaning as he plowed into you.

You smiled blissfully. “Thank you, master. Fuck, thank you!” you gasped, release coiling tightly in your lower stomach.

“Feel that?” he asked, fingers ghosting over your clit, putting you one step closer to your orgasm. You nodded eagerly, wanting him to know how good he made you feel. “You’re gonna cum all over my cock soon, aren’t you?” he asked, hips snapping into yours.

“Yes, sir!” you moaned.

“If you cum without my permission I won’t cum inside of you,” he warned, speeding up his already unrelenting pace. “Understand?” he murmured, kissing a line down your neck to your breasts. He sucked a nipple in your mouth, steel blue eyes looking at you expectantly.

“Won’t cum. I promise,” you said, breathless. You didn’t want to disappoint him, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold out.

He smiled at you, seemingly satisfied. He grabbed one of your legs and tilted you a little, somehow managing to get even deeper in you at the new angle, immediately putting your promise to the test.

You guessed he was getting close; his hips were beginning to stutter in their rhythm. Then, his hand flew to your clit and began rubbing it in small circles. “Cum for me, Doll,” he said, blue eyes locking onto yours.

The order was all you needed and you came on his cock, walls fluttering around his throbbing dick. You screamed his name, how much you loved him inside of you, how much you needed him. With a grunt, he was cumming, thick ropes of cum painting the inside of your walls, his cock twitching with the release. He pulled out of you a moment later and collapsed heavily on top of you. He turned his head to the side and peppered your temple and cheek with kisses.

You giggled, turning your head to catch his lips with your own. You kissed lazily, post-sex haze satisfying the two of you for the moment.

“I’m keeping you forever,” he murmured, rolling on his side, and pulled you to his chest. You snuggled against it, loving the warmth he provided against the chilly air.

You were tired, so tired. You looked up at him and gasped. His eyes had turned completely black.

He sensed your unease and frowned. “I’m an incubus, babe. Sex demon. Normally, what we just did would have killed you. Lucky for you, I’ve taken a liking to you. We’re going to be having fun together for a very, very long time,” he said, hands venturing down your body.

“I don’t care what you are,” you murmured, gently brushing his hair out of his face. His eyes flicked back to their piercing blue and he smiled brilliantly at you.

He lifted your leg and his cock prodded at your entrance gently before he sheathed himself completely inside of you. His mouth found your neck and he bit hard enough to draw blood, making you gasp from the mingled pain and pleasure.

Yes, you would have fun with your James for a long, long time.

Next Part

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 3 - Crescendo con Herzlich

Libelle Hall by George deValier

PART THREE Crescendo con Herzlich

.

The second Gilbert picked the lock and stepped through the front doors of Libelle Hall, he heard the music. And the second he heard the music, he knew he was not alone. "Little Austrian," he muttered under his breath - pretending to be surprised, pretending to be annoyed, pretending he had not expected to find this all along. But Gilbert never was a very convincing liar, even to himself. So he simply shrugged resignedly, took a swig from the glass bottle he'd cracked open two streets over, and followed the music.

The old foyer was lit faintly by floodlights from the demolition equipment outside, filtered through high, dusty windows, illuminating faded gold walls and frayed red carpet. The hall was deserted now - no sign remained of the protestors who had cried so very loudly for its salvation. Nothing except that intricate music, deep, full, and echoing through the eerie emptiness, drawing Gilbert deeper into Libelle Hall and towards the only person who actually seemed to give a damn for it.

He walked through the dim foyer and up a red staircase; through a large, golden, doorway into a wide, open hall where the air lightened and the music swelled. Down past aisles on aisles of red, musty-smelling chairs and then a few wooden steps onto the stage itself. Gilbert had never been in here before – after all, what was the point? He was only going to knock it down. But now, he couldn't help feeling a little awed as he stared up at the high, domed glass ceiling, the embellished balconies, the massive silver pipes lining the walls. Even in its decline, this place was magnificent.

The music now blasted down from directly above, shaking the very air, and Gilbert followed it to a narrow staircase behind the stage. He climbed it steadily, the old wooden steps creaking beneath his feet. He was pulled towards this, unable to turn back, but why? Why had he even come to this place, with nothing but a six-pack of beer and a vague sense of confused inevitability?

Because, his traitorous brain answered, you knew he'd be here. "I don't know what you're talking about," Gilbert muttered. He finished his beer, tossed the empty bottle over his shoulder, and reaching the top of the stairs, he stepped onto a small, balustraded balcony.

His heart did a somersault in his chest.

On one side, the balcony looked down on the stage below, and rows and rows of empty seats stretching dimly into the dusty light. On the other…

Roderich sat with his back to the hall, fingers flying over four rows of keys, feet tapping across a line of pedals, his entire body practically dancing with the massive sound he drew like magic from the old pipe organ. Gilbert nearly reached for the wall to hold himself steady. He felt his breath catch as he watched the Austrian play, and for a moment he almost thought the soft, gold light that filled the room was glowing from Roderich's beautiful face rather than the tall lamp which sat atop the keyboards.

After what might have been a few minutes, or might have been an hour, the air-shaking music finally drew to a close. Roderich still had not noticed Gilbert standing mere feet away. Heavy silence engulfed the hall, and Roderich slowly stilled, head bowed and hands resting on the keys.

"Holy shit!" Gilbert slammed his mouth shut, too late to stop the words echoing accusingly off the cavernous walls. Roderich gasped loudly and spun around, hand flying to his chest, face white and utterly stunned. Gilbert's blood roared to his head and he stammered, "I mean, fuck - I mean, gah - I mean…" Be cool! "S'up."

Roderich's astonished expression turned nervous. He glanced briefly at the exit. "How did you get in here?"

Gilbert answered too quickly. "The front door was open."

"No it wasn't."

"It was unlocked."

"No, it wasn't."

Gilbert let out a defeated breath. "Okay, fine. I busted the lock."

"Ah." Roderich did not sound surprised. "What do you want?"

"I..." Difficult question. Which he didn't exactly have an answer for, so he nodded up at the massive pipes instead. "They, uh… said it didn't work."

Roderich lifted one shoulder slightly. His wide eyes did not blink once. "Some of the keys are stuck, and a few of the stops refuse to move. You have to be gentle with it. It is a little broken, but it can still create something beautiful."

Something guilty and unpleasant crawled under Gilbert's skin. What was he doing here? Roderich obviously felt threatened by him. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, and maybe Gilbert should leave. But maybe there was a reason he couldn't get this Austrian out of his head, and maybe this was the perfect time and place to find out why. Also, maybe he should give the guy a compliment or something. "It sounded fucking epic, dude."

"Thank you." Ever polite, even as he furrowed his perfectly groomed eyebrows.

"S'alright." Gilbert scuffed a foot against the ground awkwardly. "I can play 'Stairway' on the guitar."

Confused silence. "…oh?"

"Yep. Rock on." The silence grew uncomfortable. Not knowing what else to do, Gilbert held out what remained of the Köstritzer six-pack. "Want a beer?"

Roderich's eyes lowered to the beer, lifted back to Gilbert's own, then narrowed doubtfully. "Are you trying to mock me? Is that why you're here?"

"Please," Gilbert uttered sarcastically, dropping the beer back to his side. It wasn't like he was disappointed or anything. "I had no idea you'd even be here." Liar. 

"Ah." Roderich folded his arms haughtily, his expression smoothing in apparent understanding. "Of course. You are here to gloat over what you are about to destroy."

Gilbert made a colossal effort not to slam a hand against his forehead in sheer frustration. Why was Roderich making this so difficult? He might be pretty, but damn he could be daft. "We ain't knocking this place down just to piss you off, y'know." He tapped his foot against the ground, and it responded with a creak. "There are termites in the walls, the ceiling is too heavy, the floor is sinking with the soil. It's pretty, yeah, but it's dangerous. Like it or not, Libelle Hall is coming down, with or without my help. Now do you want a beer or not, because this shit's getting warm and I ain't drinking warm beer like a bloody Englishman."

At first, Roderich looked utterly devastated, and Gilbert was terrified he might burst into tears. Then his features twisted in fury, and for a mad second Gilbert worried he might attack him. But just like that, it was all gone, and instead Roderich breathed a deep, tired sigh as he stood slowly from the organ chair. "Yes, thank you. Yes, I would very much like a beer."

"Right then." Gilbert passed him a bottle then sat heavily on the faded timber floor behind the peeling balustrade. Roderich, however, glared at the dusty ground, and would not sit until Gilbert rolled his eyes and dusted it off with his sleeve.

"So, um." Roderich settled beside him, legs crossed and back straight, just close enough for Gilbert to catch a whiff of something suspiciously floral. Oh good Lord, the hippy even smelt like flowers. He took a small sip of beer then rested the bottle lightly against his crossed ankles. "Pretty, you said."

Gilbert instantly felt the blood drain from his face. "I did?"

Roderich tilted his head curiously. His eyes were piercingly violet in the lamplight, the warm glow casting gold highlights in his deep brown hair, and how had Gilbert never noticed the little beauty mark beneath his lips? "Do you really think so?"

Burning sweat rose to Gilbert's brow. Had he said something? Was he that obvious? Could Roderich read minds? Don't think of him naked!

Slightly puzzled, Roderich prompted, "You said it was pretty, but dangerous?"

The air left Gilbert's lungs in a mighty whoosh of relief. "The building."

"…Of course..."

"Of course." Gilbert took a rather desperate swig of beer. "It's nice enough. Don't see why you were willing to be crushed by hippies for it, though. It's just a concert hall."

Roderich stared at him coldly, before breathing a soft sigh and shaking his head. "It's not just a hall, though. It reminds me of someone..." He hesitated, unsure, and brushed his hair behind his ear. "Someone who was important to me."

Sometimes - just sometimes - Gilbert realised he'd been a bit of an asshole. "Shit, I'm sorry, man." How had he been so blind not to see Roderich was grieving? That's what this had been about, all along. "My parents died when I was twelve. If I'd've known…" But not knowing how to finish, he simply patted Roderich clumsily on the shoulder.

Roderich blinked at him, eyes wide in surprise. Then his face softened into a sad smile. "How could you have known? I'm sorry about your parents. Mine are in Vienna. They are professors, and they're horrible snobs, and I'm sorry I called you uneducated because I sound just like them and I hate it."

"S'okay," Gilbert shrugged. He could not even remember Roderich calling him uneducated, but whatever. "It's not like you're wrong, I mean, I didn't even finish high school. Ludwig, my brother, he's the smart one. But hey, at least I got the looks! I just got dirt on your shoulder, by the way."

Roderich's vaguely amused expression fell in horror and he brushed frantically at his shirt. "Oh my God, this is Dior..."

Gilbert bit his cheek to keep from snorting, and took a swig of beer to keep from thinking how sort of cute Roderich's reaction was. This was completely baffling. The way Roderich spoke, the way he moved, the things he said – it should all annoy Gilbert, disgust him, infuriate him. Instead, Gilbert was fascinated. "Is that how you ended up in Canada? Fleeing the snobby parents?"

When Roderich seemed satisfied his stupid shirt was not completely ruined (and what the hell was a Dior, anyway?) he shrugged in response. "That's it, basically. They only cared for the fame I could bring them. Trotting me out at every Austrian concert hall and Viennese social event like some sort of performing monkey. My only escape from the whole vulgar charade was to visit my Aunt Maria, here in Canada." Then Roderich smiled again, looking out over the hall, and Gilbert's hand tightened on his beer bottle. "She loved music. But she really loved it – none of that false posturing of my ridiculous parents. She gave me hundreds of music books and let me play what I liked - even Mahler, who my parents simply detested."

Roderich's face practically glowed at the memory, and he visibly relaxed, his shoulders loosening. Once he started speaking, the words flowed easily, like he had been waiting a long time to say this. "Aunt Maria was the patroness of this place. She brought me here for years, ever since I was small - to watch the concerts and operas, to meet the musicians, to play the pipe organ. This was where music became a joy for me, not a duty. I used to pretend I was the Phantom of the Opera, and I could live in this hall forever, and no one would ever find me and make me return to Vienna. When I turned sixteen I moved to live with her… but she died only a few months later." Roderich swallowed heavily, that smile and that glow and that memory fading. "So now this place is all I have left of her. And tomorrow…" He shook his head, as though still unable to believe it. "Tomorrow it will all be gone."

Another cold stab of pervasive guilt sat wedged in Gilbert's ribs. He'd never imagined that Roderich's connection to this place was so personal, so important. He wanted to say something, anything, to apologise or reassure or show he understood. "That sucks, dude." Shit.

But Roderich just nodded. "Yes. It does, rather."

"Do you think you'll move back to Vienna?" Not that he cared… Liar.

"I'm at university now. After that, maybe. I've been offered a number of performance contracts, so we'll see, I suppose."

Gilbert whistled. "Performance contracts, at your age?"

"I am eighteen." Roderich sniffed haughtily and straightened his back in an almost painful looking gesture of superiority. "I signed my first contract at six."

"Huh. Well I'm twenty-three and the last thing I signed was Antonio's butt when he passed out on New Year's."

Roderich's eyes widened and his lips parted in a tiny gasp of surprise. Then, looking almost surprised at his reaction, his entire body relaxed, and he laughed. Gilbert's spine tingled at the sound. And he wondered if maybe he had made the right decision coming here tonight, after all.

.

Another hour, two more beers, and Gilbert felt completely at ease. Which was really weird, actually, because he never felt at ease. Roderich sat with his back against the balcony balustrade, cravat loosened slightly and one leg crossed over the other; Gilbert leant back on his hands, feet sticking through the spaced wooden beams and dangling over the two-story drop. They'd spoken briefly of music (Roderich had at least heard of Rammstein, which was much more than Gilbert had given him credit for), tentatively on politics (Roderich really was a bloody hippy, no surprise there), and now Gilbert was just drunk enough to ask the thing he really, really wanted to know. "So. What's your boyfriend like?"

Roderich almost choked on his beer, his hand flying to cover his mouth. "My boyfriend?"

"Let me guess – eight feet tall with arms like barrels; does pull-ups with his teeth; fights bears in his spare time."

Roderich's lip twitched, though Gilbert couldn't tell if he was confused, amused, or furious. "What?!"

Gilbert lifted a hand in a silencing gesture. He didn't even know if he was teasing at this point, or hoping to put his own mind at ease. "Wait, no – a middle-aged property millionaire, flies you to Prague for the weekends and keeps a riding crop in his briefcase."

Roderich hand dropped to his chest, faintly alarmed. "Good Lord. I'm not sure where to start. Um… what makes you think I have a boyfriend?"

"Of course you have a boyfriend. Look at you, you look like you've just stepped off the pages of GQ magazine." Gilbert hurried to add, in case Roderich thought he actually read that metrosexual crap, "Francis has a subscription."

Gilbert was growing very familiar with that interesting shade of pink tingeing Roderich's cheeks. "I… don't know if you're complimenting or mocking me."

At first Gilbert could not fathom how Roderich could be so oblivious to how he looked, but then he remembered that Roderich thought skinny jeans and a cravat were the height of fashion. "Just stating a fact, Roddy."

"Well… thank you, I suppose." Roderich blinked dazedly a few times. "But I don't have a boyfriend."

He damn well better not have. Gilbert was almost embarrassedly relieved.

"Actually…" Roderich briefly caught his lower lip between his teeth before adding uncertainly, "I've never had one."

Gilbert's eyes flew wide, and the bottle in his hand felt dangerously close to cracking. Now the relief was tinged with something hot, something like possessiveness, because if Roderich had never had a boyfriend, then... Gilbert's lungs filled with air, his blood started to burn, his head was hazy…

"The closest I've had is Elizaveta."

The words hit Gilbert like cold water. He knew there was a reason he'd immediately disliked that she-devil. He took a swig of beer. "The guard dog, huh?"

Roderich ignored the jab. "She's no property millionaire, however, though I believe she does own a riding crop. And she only fights bears in arm-wrestle competitions at that leather club, The Bear Cave." Roderich nonchalantly sipped of beer. "I've never been, myself."

"Me neither," Gilbert lied, shuddering. He now had no doubt that Elizaveta could deliver on her threats of hair-pulling and ass-kicking.

"It hardly counts, though. We went on one date. She opened doors for me all night. It was a bit confusing."

Gilbert snickered. He hadn't expected how easy it would be to actually talk to Roderich. Not that he had that much experience in actual conversation. With his workmates there was always the sense he was playing the role of someone else; and always the fear they would find out. There was Francis and Antonio, of course, and he loved them to death, but they probably spent more time arguing than anything. And he and Ludwig spotted each other at the gym regularly, but they didn't actually speak that much - which had nothing to do with jealousy, but really, how the hell could his fifteen year old brother lift more than him, anyway?

No, in a way this was more careful than that; and at the same time, it was more honest. And if he kept getting distracted by the white curve of Roderich's neck or the lamplight glinting in his hair, well, Gilbert was only human after all. It didn't mean the pretty Austrian wasn't still a snobby, deluded…

"What is your boyfriend like?"

The question smashed like a hammer through Gilbert's thoughts. "Hey, hey now," he spluttered, sitting up straight and holding a hand out in protestation. "That's a bit presumptuous."

Roderich almost laughed. "You asked me first!" he replied, far too reasonably.

"Yeah, but you're obvious."

Roderich just stared for a moment. "Do you even realise when you're being offensive?"

"I find someone will usually let me know."

Roderich raised an eyebrow. "Gilbert."

"Yeah?"

"I'm letting you know."

"It wasn't an insult!" Gilbert protested. "I just mean you're, y'know... pretty. Arty looking. Roddy, seriously, you're wearing a cravat. Now, look at me." Gilbert gestured over himself. "Sensible haircut, stain on my shirt, my socks don't match. Why would you possibly think that I was…" He broke off, loudly cleared his throat, and attempted an offhanded shrug. "You know."

Roderich folded his arms, obviously not about to let Gilbert off that easily. "I do?"

"Like that."

"Like what?"

Gilbert swallowed dryly, glanced around as though someone might be listening, then leant forward slightly. "That I was…" But he could not say the word. "Why would you think I liked guys?" he finally spat, as though the words might burn him.

Roderich looked thoroughly unimpressed. "Putting aside the fact that you cannot conclusively prove one's sexuality from their appearance…"

"I dunno, Roddy, that cravat's sayin' a lot…"

Roderich ignored him. "There is the little fact that you were in a gay bar last night."

"Oh, that!" Gilbert laughed loudly, too loudly, and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. Unfortunately he knocked over his beer. Then he sent it skidding across the ground when he tried to retrieve it. Then it flew under the balustrade, over the balcony, and after a tense, silent, horrific second that felt like an hour, it shattered spectacularly on the stage below.

Silence. Gilbert couldn't move. He daren't breathe. And oh shit, his face really better not be as red as it felt. "Um," he said finally, drawing himself into an upright seated position and clasping his hands together in a desperate attempt to claw back some measure of dignity. "I don't know what you're talking about."

And there was that raised eyebrow again.

Gilbert finally deflated, and an old, familiar dread grew steadily beneath his skin. He'd never admitted it. Oh, he'd gone home with plenty of pretty boys; he'd had a crush on David Bowie since he was five; he'd once worn nothing but leather boots and a rainbow flag in a Pride parade float manned by Eastern European drag queens. But he'd never admitted it. And as his heart beat uncomfortably, and cold, stinging sweat rose to his neck, he wasn't sure he could.

"What does that tattoo mean? The one on your arm?"

Roderich's voice was deceptively casual, and through the rising panic, Gilbert realised that he was changing the subject. Which was far more polite, kind, and bloody decent than Gilbert deserved. Gilbert took a moment to breathe out the irrational fear; then, like always, he pretended nothing had happened.

"This is nothing." Gilbert flexed his bicep and ran a hand over the intricate black pattern. "Woke up in a gutter the morning after Francis' twenty-first, and there it was."

"Gosh," said Roderich, staring at Gilbert's arm intently. "I do hope you were tested for hepatitis."

Gilbert paused. "I've… never had that reaction to that story. But hey, if you wanna see one that does mean something…" Gilbert twisted so his back was to Roderich, and lifted his shirt to his neck.

Gilbert had searched years for the right artist to ink his back, finally finding a hot Belarusian chick who was awesomely talented, if not slightly psychotic. It had taken weeks, and cost a fortune, but it was worth it all. The massive black eagle that spread across his back and shoulders signified his past, his blood; his passion and his pride. It was part of who he was. Gilbert knew it was impressive, and judging by Roderich's sharp intake of breath, he thought so too. So maybe Gilbert flexed his shoulders slightly more than was strictly necessary - he might not be ready to admit anything, but he didn't go to the gym for nothing.

Gilbert turned back slowly, a smug grin on his face, and took the opportunity to sit just the slightest bit closer. "Yep," he boasted, giving a nonchalant shrug as he cracked his knuckles. "I work out."

Roderich's face was red, lips set in a hard line, hands clenched on his knees. Gilbert couldn't tell if he was trying not to laugh, or overcome with lust. Probably the latter.

"Don't try to deny it, Roddy, you know how smoking hot this body is."

That did it. Roderich's lips turned upwards, and he turned away to hide a brief laughing fit behind his hand. Gilbert wasn't sure what was the bigger revelation: that he was not offended, or that he'd actually been trying to make Roderich laugh the entire time. The sound made his whole body light and warm and he was filled with stupid pride that he was the cause of it.

"Anyway," said Roderich finally, concealing the last of his laughter with a cough."The Prussian Eagle. It's an amazing tattoo. Why…" He hesitated briefly. "Why do you call yourself Prussian?"

Gilbert grin fell when he remembered Roderich's reaction in the bar last night. "Are you gonna tell me it's a 'militaristic model of fascism' again?"

Roderich had the good grace to look slightly apologetic. "No. I am genuinely interested, Gilbert. Tell me, please."

Damn, Roderich did look pretty when he said 'please' like that. Gilbert swallowed heavily and dragged his brain back from that very dangerous line of thinking. "All right, it's like this. First of all, Prussia is tough. It built itself from nothing into a place strong enough to unify an Empire and survive three hundred years of relentless attack. And it's misunderstood. People see it for its wrongs, and ignore everything else. They judge it without knowing it. They hate it without understanding it. And I guess I just get that, you know?"

Roderich's face softened and he nodded. "Yes. I get that." But of course he got that. Roderich knew exactly what it was to be judged, every single day, and Gilbert was an idiot for not seeing how alike he and this Austrian musician actually were. Gilbert protected himself with arrogance, with violence, with denial; Roderich covered himself with a layer of defiant superiority. But in the end, they were both hiding the same thing.

And maybe Gilbert was done hiding.

He leant forward slightly, until both he and Roderich were sitting sideways against the balustrade, cross-legged and facing each other. "One more thing about Prussia," said Gilbert quietly.

Roderich leant closer to listen, head tilted curiously and his hands clasped in his lap. Whenever the man moved, he did it so damned gracefully. Another wave of lilac made Gilbert's head swim.

"Friedrich." Gilbert pounded a fist to his chest proudly. "Friedrich's my bro."

"Friedrich the Great?" Roderich asked, forehead furrowing tentatively.

"Yeah." Gilbert's blood was throbbing in his veins, and it felt like the words he whispered were engulfing the silent hall. But he'd made up his mind. And though he'd never told this to anyone, there would never be a better time to say it, or a more understanding person to hear it. "Whenever people say shit… insulting shit, y'know, about being…" He faltered, but forced himself to stay strong. "About being gay. It hurts. Because I know – deep inside, I've always known – that they're talking about me."

Roderich's eyes went very wide, and he stayed very still, but he did not speak. Gilbert's skin was burning, and he'd never felt so vulnerable in his life. But he would say this. He had to say this.

"Then, I think of Friedrich. Prussia's greatest king. The most badass military leader of all time. A man who moved a nation from a time of darkness into a time of light. A man with vision, and influence, and passion, who had the power to change the face of Europe." Gilbert paused, but only briefly, because if he thought too deeply, he knew he would stop speaking. "A man who, just like me, was gay. I think of Friedrich, and I ask myself why I should possibly be ashamed to have something in common with one of the greatest men in history."

Gilbert was immediately sure he'd said too much. "Shit, that was lame, I..."

Roderich quickly interrupted. "For me it was Tchaikovsky."

Gilbert's heart stuttered wildly. For the first time in his entire life, it felt like someone understood him. And his mouth was still open in surprise, and Roderich was staring rather uncertainly at his hands, and say something, damn it! "Plus, when I was a kid, I liked the idea of being a Prussian knight in shining armour."

"Oh, gosh." Roderich breathed a soft, faintly amazed laugh. "I think we would have played well together."

Gilbert smirked and lightly nudged Roderich's knee. "Never would have taken you for a fellow knight, Roddy!"

"No, I just…" Roderich awkwardly brushed back his fringe, before finishing in a mumble, "… rather liked the idea of being rescued by one." He closed his eyes and whispered, "Now that was lame."

"No, that was adorable."

Roderich's violet eyes met his, and Gilbert forgot to be mortified that he'd actually said the word adorable out loud. This went beyond anything he had ever felt. It was like his heart was going to burst. And Roderich was so close, with his perfect hair in his perfect eyes, and his skin like moonlight, and his stupid, stupid cravat, and oh God, Francis and Antonio were right, he wasn't pretty, he was gorgeous…

"Gilbert."

"Yeah?"

"Why are you here?"

"I…" may as well stop lying. "I knew you'd be here."

Roderich reached for Gilbert's hand, and smiled like he'd guessed that already.

.

Gilbert woke slowly to the sensation of his phone buzzing silently in his pocket, and Roderich asleep against him. He took a moment to marvel at just how nice it felt - warm and comfortable, like everything was right with the world - then carefully retrieved his phone so as not to disturb Roderich's rest.

There were twenty-three missed calls from his coworkers, and a massive stack of messages. Gilbert's confusion to how he'd missed them turned quickly to alarm, a cold dread settling in his gut as he scanned the texts with increasing panic.

Gil, ring back. Can't reach you. Have important news about the Libelle Hall job. 

Gil, dude, the demolition time's been rescheduled. Answer your phone.

Gilbert for fucks sake answer your phone!

Demo going ahead at 6am. You'd better be there or there'll be shit.

Gilbert looked at his phone, looked at the early morning light entering the windows, and looked at his watch.

Six a.m.

"Well, shit."

Then an excavator claw shattered the ceiling.

.

Roderich's body jolted him awake, and he instantly fumbled for his glasses. "What…"

He barely registered the crashing sound before Gilbert's hand gripped his and hauled him to his feet. "RUN!"

Later, Roderich would not recall exactly how they emerged unscathed from the rapid destruction of Libelle Hall. He scarcely felt his legs move as Gilbert dragged him down the narrow staircase, the deafening sound of smashing wood and breaking windows shattering the air. The floor shook like an earthquake beneath his feet, and the only reason Roderich was not terrified was that he was just so very confused.

"What on Earth is going on?" He shouted to be heard.

"What do you think?" Gilbert yelled back. "They're flooring the place. Just keep running!"

Finally, the fear kicked in. As they darted across the stage, a massive piece of ceiling crashed through a balcony, instantly flattening a row of seats. Roderich's head swam sickeningly and his blood roared in his ears. No one knew they were in here... How were they going to get out... What if...

But Gilbert's hand was in his. Gilbert's hand was in his, and it filled Roderich with an inexplicable, infuriating sense that everything would be all right.

Reaching the end of the stage, Gilbert pulled Roderich through the side door, into a narrow corridor filled with overflowing boxes and strong-smelling costumes, then stopped at a red-draped window. Roderich's head snapped into focus, and his heart dropped to his feet. "No."

"Listen!" Gilbert placed a hand on Roderich's chest, his fierce red eyes burning into Roderich's own. "We're only one story up. There's no time to find a door."

Roderich shook his head firmly, even as Gilbert's hand burnt his skin, even as the entire building shook with the force of falling balconies and shattering walls. In his panic, he reverted to superiority. "How dare you? I refuse to..."

Gilbert abruptly turned around, headed back up the corridor, and Roderich's entire body jolted frozen in shock. Gilbert was leaving – why was he leaving – oh God, how could Gilbert leave him?! Roderich couldn't breathe, and his mind wouldn't work, and he was going to panic, and… and why was Gilbert digging through that box of props?

"What… what are you doing?"

"Fair Roderich." Gilbert finally turned, placing a flimsy knight's helmet on his head, and brandishing… oh, for heaven's sake… brandishing a plastic sword. Roderich's fear vanished in a haze of utter bemusement.

"...huh?"

Gilbert stood tall, one hand on his hip and a rather manic grin plastered on his face. "My name is Sir Gilbert the Awesome, and I am here to rescue you!"

Roderich stared. Gilbert stared back. A massive crash rattled the window. "Are you insane?!"

Gilbert lifted his hand into the air, throwing back his shoulders and raising his chin, looking for all the world like a Shakespearean actor about to deliver a speech. "You are startled, Fair Roderich, but never fear! It is my sworn duty to protect you!"

"Oh my goodness you're insane..." Roderich shook his head, trying to make sense of this, and he was not amused, and he was not laughing, blast it all!

Another crash. This time the floor shifted beneath them and Roderich had to grip the windowsill to keep from falling. There was the fear again… "Gilbert! This place is falling apart and you are standing there in a knight's costume!"

Gilbert nodded and tossed the sword over his shoulder. "Better head through that window then."

He had a point. He was insane, but he had a point. "You go first."

Gilbert rushed to Roderich's side and threw open the window shutters. They were perhaps four metres above a colourful flower garden, leading onto a large green lawn bordered by far, well-tended hedges. "What sort of knight would I be to abandon my fair da…"

"If you call me a damsel, I swear Gilbert, I will hurl you through this window myself."

"…dapper young gentleman," Gilbert finished smoothly. "Now what we are going to do, is climb through the window-frame, then I shall hoist your delicate frame atop my mighty shoulder…"

"Gilbert!"

"Okay, okay, then we jump, and hope that flowerbed cushions our fall. Are you ready?"

"No."

"Good, let's go."

The next few seconds were a blur. Roderich vaguely recalled trying to cling to Gilbert's hand as he clambered over the windowsill; his blood pounding dizzyingly to his head; Gilbert flashing him a grin like this was nothing more than an afternoon stroll. They were on the ground before Roderich even made the decision to jump. His arm stung where a branch scratched it, and his lungs screamed for air, but Roderich barely had time to even feel relieved.

"Now get up. Run!" Gilbert grabbed his arm and they ran, as fast as Roderich's aching chest would allow, as far as they could across the vast, open lawn until they finally collapsed, breathless and exhausted, against a low, green hedge surrounded by an orange construction barrier.

Roderich wasn't sure he could think, or feel, or breathe. He was vaguely aware that his shirt sleeve was ripped, and his hair was awful, but he'd just jumped out a window so those were probably trivial matters right now. The world slowly turned right side up, and he was brought back to his senses by the feel of the bush digging into his back and the sound of Gilbert's voice beside him.

"Shit," Gilbert muttered between gulps of air. "I think I might be fired."

And Roderich couldn't help it. He laughed. He laughed until the tension beneath his skin lessened, until it broke, until it drained away and he was suddenly aware of nothing else but Gilbert's shoulder pressed to his, and the realisation that he was laughing, too.

Gilbert reached for Roderich's collar. "Allow me, Fair Roderich, your cravat's all loose…"

Roderich rolled his eyes. The man had a serious obsession with his choice of neckwear. "And you are still wearing that ridiculous hat!"

Gilbert grinned and adjusted it. "I think it suits me."

No had had ever made Roderich laugh the way this mad Prussian did. "Sir Gilbert the Awesome."

"Yeah, baby. Your knight in shining armour."

Roderich had to fight not to cover his face, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Oh, if Elizaveta ever heard about this...

"But seriously…" Gilbert's eyes softened, and he reached up to pluck a stray leaf from Roderich's hair. "You all right?"

Roderich felt the heat from Gilbert's touch tingle across his scalp and down his spine. "Yes."

A tremor in the ground, a startling bang, and as he turned his head, the last of Roderich's laughter died away. "Actually… no." Because there was his beautiful Libelle Hall crumbling in the distance, lines of smoke silhouetted against the grey morning sky. Harsh machinery surrounded the golden building, smashed it to pieces, reduced Roderich's memory and joy to rubble and dust.

"Well," Roderich whispered. He let out a long breath, a bitter ache tightening his throat. His glasses fogged as his eyes began to sting. "I suppose that's it."

Gilbert moved as though to speak, then stopped, at a loss. Instead he slowly removed his hat, then he took something from his pocket and pressed it into Roderich's hand. A short black peg, attached to a little white disc, with a single word - clarabella - stamped across the flat top. One of the pipe organ stops. Gilbert must have ripped it from the instrument itself.

It was the final proof of how very wrong Roderich was in ever thinking Gilbert understood nothing. That one gesture – that one organ stop – and Roderich felt the breath knocked from him. As his pounding heart finally started to settle, he looked up slowly. Gilbert's white hair stood up in wild peaks, and his startling eyes were not nearly so harsh this close – just very bright, and very deep, and staring at Roderich like this was the first time Gilbert had ever seen him.

And Roderich could not stop himself. He leant forward and kissed him.

For a second, Gilbert sat frozen, his lips motionless. Roderich panicked. He didn't know what he was doing, he'd made a mistake, he'd never actually kissed someone, and how was one actually supposed to do this?! But then Gilbert kissed back, and Roderich might have made an embarrassing sort of squeak of surprise, but that very quickly did not matter much. In fact nothing – not Libelle Hall, not its demolition, not Gilbert's ego or Roderich's superiority or either of their stupid stubbornness – none of it mattered now. Nothing except for Gilbert's lips moving on his, strong and soft, parting his lips, touching his tongue, and oh, that was how one was supposed to do this…

When their lips parted, Roderich was practically shaking, and Gilbert looked almost as stunned as Roderich felt. Roderich hesitated just long enough for an inkling of doubt to set in, but it vanished the second Gilbert squeezed his hand. "Hey, here's something awesome. The dragonfly - the Libelle - is a symbol of new beginnings, did you know?"

Gilbert grinned proudly, and Roderich shook his head in surprise, an impressed smile tugging on his lips. Libelle. Dragonfly. It was what Aunt Maria had used to call him. "How do you know a thing like that?"

Gilbert just winked one brilliant red eye. "You'll be amazed by the things I know, baby."

Before Roderich could laugh, or scoff, or even think how to respond, Gilbert's arm encircled his waist and pulled him back into the kiss. It should have been astonishing. Instead it just felt natural, and right, like they had been leading to this moment all along. Roderich placed a hand on Gilbert's chest, felt his heavy heartbeat joining with his own; and when Gilbert's fingers threaded gently into his hair, Roderich thought that there had never been a place he belonged as much as this.

Libelle Hall was being destroyed before them. But between them, something honest, and scary, and wonderful, was being created.

The End.

.

Of Ponies and Edelweiss

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

[fundeadasylum]

melanophobia

melanophobia: fear of the color black

I’m garbage for Chunky theories.

Micoverse belongs to @mushroomminded

--------

Being stuck in the hospital sucked.

Milo groaned, lurching upright in his hospital bed with a dazed and fevered look. He was due to be released any day now but the boredom and that persistent itch to get up and move was driving him up the wall. It writhed under his skin and plucked at the fibers of his muscles, making him twitch and fidget and pick at his fingernails until he made them bleed. He’d been scolded for that one and they slapped his hands every time they caught him at it. He tugged at his ID bracelet and chewed on his hair and flopped around on his bed and whined and wriggled and generally threw a fit unbecoming of a teenager.

This time, however, he was not staying put.

He’d been too long without his hoodie, too long without its warmth and protection and comfort. The longer he went without it the sicker and more panicked he felt. It protected him, it was comfort, it was home. His exposed arms tingled and itched and he felt as if he’d drift away without its familiar weight.

Reese. He had to find Nurse Reese. She would know where his hoodie was. He needed his hoodie.

Something brushed his sweaty bangs from his eyes almost tenderly and Milo flinched, “‘M goin’…”

He heaved himself out of bed, felt like the oxygen of the room had condensed upon his shoulders, and stumbled, clutching at the sider ail with heavy breaths. He took a moment to gather himself before shuffling towards the hospital room door. As he passed the bathroom, he caught his reflection in his periphery and for a second he thought…

…but no, he was just tired. He rubbed his eyes and ignored the feeling of something brushing across his bare legs. The sensation put gooseflesh up and down his arms and urged him forward at a stuttering, halting pace. His heartbeats felt heavy and torturous in his chest, as if it was almost too much work for the organ to pump his lifeblood. His breath wheezed out in desperate gasps and his lungs refused to inflate enough for him to stop his head from spinning. Every step was a labor that would have put Hercules to shame, gravity hooking ten ton weights to his ankles and making him drag his bare feet across the cold hospital floor. The edges of his vision were smeared and fuzzy; he thought there was something floating there, globules of iridescent black clinging to the corners of his eyes.

A flash of white made him flinch and when he blinked to clear his vision, he found a doctor crouched in front of him, blocking his way. It was too much effort to go around. But his hoodie…he needed it…

“—okay? What room did you come from? Who’s your attending?” The man’s voice was muffled by something thick and goopy in Milo’s ears, tilting his balance and making him sway on the spot, “Kid? Hey, what’s your name? How many fingers you see? Damn it.”

A hand curled around his arm, tugged on him gently. It was hot, too hot, and the contact made Milo whine and twist, trying to pull away. He hissed between clenched teeth as the doctor turned the ID band, scraping laminated plastic against his skin in a way that felt to loud. Someone said something. The doctor might have answered. But Milo was tugging, trying to get away, trying to get the man to release him.

“Hoodie,” He whimpered, pulling absently at the man’s grip, “Jus’…wan’ our hoodie…”

His teeth itched.

The urge to bite bite break his skin make him bleed punish him bite him bite him welled up in his throat like bile. Milo’s lip curled, showing his canines. His mouth opened, strings of drool clinging to his lips, something rabid and animalistic shifting in his tired stance.

bite bite get away find hoodie bite the fucker feed make him pay hate him hate this hate

“Milo!”

Clear crystal bell chime, sweet as winter berries and fresh as snow, singing in his head, making his vision dance and vibrate. He blinked, stumbling, the sticky darkness fading back a little to hover at his periphery. It still sat stubbornly on his chest.

“Milo, what on earth are you doing out of your room!? Doctor, I’m so sorry, he never does this—Milo! Milo, sweetie, what’s wrong?” Nurse Reese crouched in front of him now, gentle and kind and sweet Nurse Reese, soft and stern and ready to help. She didn’t touch him, just let her hands hover in front of him, an invitation and in preparation.

“I want my hoodie,” Milo sniffed, his lower lip trembling. Desperation made him feel small and cold. He needed that hoodie, needed it like he needed oxygen because without it, the creeping darkness and the clawing terrors and the ichor of bad things would cling to him and rot him from the inside out. Being without it scared him. It frightened him on an instinctual, animal level. The prey left out in the open, in clear view of the predator. The hawk’s eyes pinning the rabbit’s spine to the ground.

“Sweetie, you’ll get it when they release you,” Reese spoke in a calm voice, smooth and cool like glass, the sounds rolling over his sticky blackness like marbles, “Right now you need to get back to your room and let me take another look at you because you really don’t—“

Milo swayed and fell forward. Reese caught him in her arms, startled by how cold he was. Her fingers  curled at his neck almost by muscle memory alone. The weak flutter of his heart worried her. Milo sobbed, a small, broken, quiet thing. The contact was too much, too hot, her warmth burning against him but he was too tired and heavy to pull away.

“I d-don’t feel good,” He whispered, chest hiccuping with his uneven breaths, “Want my dads. Want my hoodie. Please. Hoodie. ’S cold.”

“Milo…” Reese wanted to tell him it would be okay, he could see it in her face, see it in the way her gaze darted across his thin frame as if it would confirm the words for her. He whined as harsh, sticky claws dug into his scalp, pulling his hair from the roots in chunks, peeling back his skin, cracking open his skull to sink iron teeth into the coils of his brain.

The fear was eating him, chewing up everything he was, devouring him from the inside out and making a nest in his organs, wearing him like a skin. Without the hoodie, it would sew his jaw shut with sticky ropes of black goo and weave patterns into his eyelids that told the truths he never wanted to learn.

He was hyperventilating, everything spinning, sensations going numb. Reese’s voice commanding him to take breaths was getting farther and farther away. Milo tried to raise a hand, to grab her scrubs, to ground himself with something. But his nerves were dead and his bones were liquid and he slipped backwards into the pool of inky darkness that waited to consume him.

No, Milo.

Not yet.

———

“I don’t think it was wise to return his hoodie to him, nurse.” The doctor tapped her pen against the palm of her hand, frowning from the doorway to the room.

Reese scowled, “He hyperventilated in the middle of the hallway. He was nearly delirious with panic. I’m pretty sure he’s either got some kind of undiagnosed anxiety disorder. Or maybe he’s autistic. I dunno. It’s not the first time he’s had a meltdown about that hoodie.”

The frown on the doctor’s face melted, “Yes, I know. Daniel and Jacob really should take the kid to see a psychologist or something. I keep giving them recommendations but I guess Milo’s just very…”

“Difficult?” Reese offered with a half smile and a shrug, “Sounds like him. Sorry for the trouble doctor.”

“That’s all that boy is,” Said the doctor, tucking her pen away in her pocket, “Keep an eye on him, Reese. He’s still got a couple of days of monitoring left and I’d hate to extend his stay any longer.”

Reese saluted the doctor in a teasing manner and the two women chuckled as they walked away from the hospital room. Inside the room, curled around a shark hoodie, was Milo. His fingers dug so tightly into the fabric of the hoodie that his knuckles were white. His eyes were closed in a somewhat restless sleep, his chest fluttering with shallow breaths, the IV in the back of his hand dropping sedatives into his bloodstream every so often to help him relax.

His shadow, barely visible in the harsh glare of the overhead lights, shivered against the cold tile and fell still.

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 28 - 29

I honestly don’t know how it can get worse from here.

So they start the real official meeting that Rowan called in Rolfe’s office, and Aelin wastes no time making me want to rip my eyes out.

[Rowan’s] face—oh, gods, [Aelin]’d missed that harsh, unyielding face

Back to Ratlin (that’s what I’m calling it from now on) splooging I see. Great. Can’t wait for multiple paragraphs of Aelin busting a nut at the thought of Rowan’s peen while SJM insists these books have a plot.

Aelin decided she didn’t particularly give a shit who was watching and rose up on her toes to brush her mouth against [Rowan’s].

UHHH WHAT THE FUCK AELIN. THIS IS AN IMPORTANT MEETINGS THAT’LL DETERMINE IF ROLFE JOINS YOUR WAR EFFORT OR NOT YOU CAN’T JUST - oh forget it, I’ll just sound like a broken record.

[Aelin] just prayed she’d be able to warn Aedion before he ran into his father - who was now sitting two seats down from her, gawking at her as if she had ten heads. Gods, even the expression was like Aedion’s. How hadn’t she noticed that this spring in Wendlyn?

My monkey brain is having feels because I’m sucker for the “child is spitting image of their parent” trope..... bad monkey brain.

“And who would verify the word of a nineteen-year-old princess?” [Aelin] jerked her chin at the wax-sealed tube. “Murtaugh Allsbrook would. He wrote you a nice, long letter about it.” Rolfe picked up the tube, studied it, and chucked it in a neat arc—right into his rubbish bin. The thud echoed through the office.

LMAOOOOOO YOU GO ROLFE!!! SLAY THAT BITCH!!!! I mean considering all the shit Aelin put him through I don’t blame him not wanting to align with her.

Rolfe let out a low laugh. “The talk of young idealists and dreamers.” “The world,” Aelin said, “will be saved and remade by the dreamers, Rolfe.”

See, this is the kind of shit I would be getting excited about if this was a good series. Sounds like something straight of Les Mis. SJM can come up with some good quotes, but if I don’t care about the horrible characters and there’s no plot, why should I give a shit?

Aelin purred, “Do you want gold, Rolfe? Do you want a title? Do you want glory or women or land? Or is it just the bloodlust that drives you?”

Oh my god, SJM is a furry!

Looks like you bid on the wrong horse [Rowan],” Rolfe crooned. He flicked his eyes to Dorian. “What news did you receive?” But that wrong horse [Rowan] cut in smoothly, “There was none. But you’ll be glad to know your spies at the Ocean Rose are certainly doing their job. And that His Majesty is quite an accomplished actor.”

Jesus Christ this writing

Dorian said coldly, “For a petty grudge, you’d refuse to consider allying with us?” Aelin snorted. “I’d hardly call wrecking his shit-poor city and ships a ‘petty grudge.’”

T-this... this can’t be. I am reading Empire of Storms by SJM, right? Aelin? Having self awareness? In my SJM book? Well, it’s more likely... to never appear again.

Rolfe tells Aelin to go fuck herself and that scene ends, permanently establishing Rolfe as one of the few Well Written Characters. I want him, Darrow, Manon, and Gav to leave this shitty series and go forth to a better one.

Aelin hit the narrow hallway, a wall of muscle at her back and by her side, and faced another dilemma: Aedion.

I smell Aedion daddy issues angst over the horizon. Also, are the ‘walls of muscle’ supposed to be Rowan and... the other Fae??? God SJM stop jerking off to your own characters for 5 minutes please.

Aelin made it all of three steps down the hall when Gavriel said behind her, “Where is he?” Slowly, she looked back. The warrior’s tan face was tight, his eyes full of sorrow and steel.

Damn, I just feel really bad for Gav. Keep in mind I don’t remember why he left Aedion (if it was revealed previously) but I’m hoping SJM actually uses him and makes him a good father, this series is severely lacking in good parental figures.

But Aelin sucked on a tooth

“You don’t get to decide when and where and how you meet him,” Aelin said. “He’s my gods-damned son. I think I do.”

Nooo SJM I’m begging you I like Gav please don’t make him a toxic fuckboi pleeeeeease

Aelin just tells Gav not to order her around and that scene ends...? Okay. I hope SJM is implying Gav calmed down and respected his son’s boundaries. I just want one character to stay good and pure and to be a good father is that too much to ask.

Later Aelin goes to have a chat with Dorian.

“It seems you and I are currently without crowns, thanks to a few bullshit pieces of paper.” Dorian didn’t return her smile. The stairs groaned beneath them as they headed for the second floor. They were almost to the room Dorian had indicated when he said, “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

I mean, Dorian, you seem like a good king who would fight to defend his people. You deserve to be king. But Aelin? Yeah if she was queen her kingdom would be already burnt to the ground, so you’re half right.

They have another meeting where Rowan/Dorian share more information about the witches.

“Manon Blackbeak,” Aedion mused, “would be a valuable ally, if we can get her to turn.”

NO NONO NO NO KEEP MANON’S BEAUTIFUL SELF AWAY FROM AELIN’S CRUSTY ASS I’M BEGGING

It was never-ending, [Aelin] supposed while they dined that night on peppered crab and spiced rice.

Reading this as a Cape Bretoner was a mistake. Now I’m hungry for some good seafood..... mmmm, battered fish and chips.....

And [Aelin] was to be given nothing more than obscure commands by long-dead royals to find a way to stop it, nothing more than gods-damned months to rally a force against him.

Gods-damned is a stupid word and SJM should feel bad for abusing it. Aelin decides to make sure Rolfe’s hand maps work and the chapter ends. Next!

Too many animals loitering about the streets at this hour would attract the wrong sort of attention. But Aedion still wished that the shifter was wearing fur or feathers compared to … this.

Greaaat are we gonna get Aedion slut shaming Lysandra? Just what I wanted....

He glanced at the delicate gold chain dangling around Lysandra’s pale throat, tracing its length down the front of her bodice, to where the Amulet of Orynth was now hidden beneath. “Admiring the view?” Aedion snapped his eyes up from the generous swells of her breasts. “Sorry.”

The only reason Lysandra is wearing the Amulet is so Aedion can drool over her boobies. I’m right and you all know it.

“Rowan claimed Rolfe would find the amulet interesting enough to go after it.” “Rowan and Aelin have a tendency to say one thing and mean something else entirely.” Aedion heaved a breath through his nose.

Aedion actually criticizing Aelin?? What the fuck is going on??

Lysandra gets pissy when Aedion points out she’s tired. Not even to condescend towards her, he’s actually concerned, so calm down, Lysandra. We get an ““““explanation”“““ for Lysandra’s shifting powers.

Each shift took something out of Lysandra. The bigger the change, the bigger the animal, the steeper the cost. Aedion had witnessed her morph from butterfly to bumblebee to hummingbird to bat within the span of a few minutes. But going from human to ghost leopard to bear or elk or horse, she’d once demonstrated, took longer between shifts, the magic having to draw up the strength to become that size, to fill the body with all its inherent power.

Better than nothing, but... how does shifting into bigger animals exhaust her but shifting into smaller animals doesn't? Each time the mass of her body is changing, so shouldn’t shifting in general exhaust her? Btw, read Animorphs, it’s a great gritty series that deals with shifting powers way better.

Aedion, however, stiffened slightly as those steps grew closer, and he found himself staring at the son of his great enemy. King, now.

This is confusing as fuck. Stop referring to Dorian as king and use his name so we can understand who Aedion is staring at, thank you.

[Aedion] reined in his scowl as he said to the king, “So, you and Whitethorn didn’t kill each other.” Dorian’s brows scrunched. “He saved my life, nearly got himself burned out to do it. Why should I be anything but grateful?”

Great, now we have to add Rowan splooging that isn’t from Aelin to the list.

He did not resent what she had been, what she portrayed now, only the monsters who had seen the beauty the child would grow into and taken her into that brothel. Aelin had told him what Arobynn had done to the man she’d loved. It was a miracle the shifter could smile at all.

What the fuuuuck why is Aedion portrayed as ~noble and amazing~ for not judging Lysandra based on her past? It’s common human decency to not judge people for things out of their control!! Does SJM not understand how humans operate?

Aedion tells Dorian to fuck off and he leaves, and Lysandra gets understandably irritated by Aedion being a dick.

“He stabbed Aelin. If you knew him as I have, you wouldn’t be so willing to fawn over—”

1. Dorian was, to my memory, being controlled by a demon thing when he stabbed Aelin. He was not in his right mind, and did not have control over himself. Stop holding that over his head, you prick.

2. Aedion you were an asshole too! You tripped Dorian and sent him falling into a thorn bush when you two were walking in HOF. You fucking judgemental asshole, I cannot believe I ever liked you.

Aedion’s like “b-but he was an arrogant kid” and Lysandra, being voice of reason, is like “Um, we all were as kids Aedion, including Aelin” and we litERALLY GET THIS

“I don’t care if he was as arrogant and vain as Aelin, I don’t care if he was enslaved to a demon that took his mind. I look at him and see my family butchered, see those tracks to the river, and hear Quinn tell me that Aelin was drowned and dead.” His breathing was uneven, and his throat burned, but he ignored it.

JESUS TAP DANCING CHRIST. Okay, I’m not saying Aedion isn’t wrong to be weary of Dorian after what happened to his family at the hands of Dorian’s father but this is literally Aedion going “It’s only okay to be a dick if it’s Aelin! Everyone else is a bad ruler and should bow down to her uwu”

FUCKING HELL. I’m willing to bet if it had been Aelin mind controlled, Aedion would be jumping through hoops to justify her actions and convince everyone she couldn’t help herself. Assdion has no character outside of being a dick and kissing up Aelin’s ass. I fucking hat this character almost as much as I hate Aelin.

Aedion braced his palm against the wall again and leaned in to glower in [Lysandra’s] face. She did not yield an inch. “There is an order and rank in our court, lady, and last I checked, you were not number three. You don’t give me commands.”

(...) And the last I checked…” She poked his chest, right between his pectorals, and he could have sworn the tip of a claw pierced the skin beneath his clothes. “You weren’t pathetic enough to enforce rank to hide from being in the wrong.“

*Mortal Kombat voice* FINISH HIM

His blood sparked and thrummed. Aedion found himself taking in the sensuous curves of her mouth, now pressed thin with anger.

W.....

YOU TWO ARE ARGUING AND ASSDION SUDDENLY HAS A BONER OVER HER MOUTH. HOW THE FUCK IS THIS HEALTHY IN ANY SHAPE OR FORM. This is nearly as bad as the “kissing a spouse during an argument instead of solving the problem” trope.

By the way, Aedion is demoted to Assdion. Aelin to Alien, and Rowan to Rowboat. I hate these characters so much.

Lysandra backed away a step, too casual to be anything but a calculated move. But Aedion tried—for her sake, he tried to stop thinking about her mouth—

WHAT THE FUCK DOES SJM THINK ALL MEN ARE HORNDOGS WHO WANNA FUCK 24/7?? This is an incredibly upsetting and inaccurate stereotype! It’s not goddamn hard to not think with your dick for five seconds jfc

Too soon—she wouldn’t want a man’s touch for a long time. Maybe forever. And he’d be damned if he pushed her into it before she wanted to.

Are you sure about that? Because a minute ago you were nearly cumming at the thought of her mouth.

Subject changes and Assdion asks if his father wanted to see him.

“[Gav] nearly bit Aelin’s head off when she refused to tell him where and who you are.” Ice filled [Aedion’s] veins. If his father had been rude to her—“But I got the sense,” Lysandra quickly clarified as he tensed, “that he is the sort of male who would respect your wishes if you chose not to see him.

*sniffles* Gav deserves to be a good father.

“What would you do?” “I can’t answer that question. My own father…” She shook her head. He knew about that—the shifter-father who had either abandoned her mother or not even known she was pregnant. And then the mother who had thrown Lysandra into the street when she discovered her heritage. “Aedion, what do you want to do? Not for us, not for Terrasen, but for you.”

I would be having feels and starting to ship them had we not had a whole scene dedicated to Assdion being a dick and nearly kissing Lysandra without her consent sooooo

[Aedion] bowed his head a bit, glancing sidelong at the quiet street again. “My whole life has been … not about what I want. I don’t know how to choose those things.”

A little late there to make me feel sympathetic towards Assdion, SJM. You CANNOT have Assdion act as an Aelin worshiping prick and then turn around and expect me to feel bad for him.

Assdion asks Lysandra to come with him to meet his father the next day and then splooges about how much he apparently cares about Lysandra.  I don’t care.

From the shadows of his hood, he monitored the alley ahead, the shadows and shafts of moonlight, bracing himself. They’d picked the dead-end alley for a reason. The girl realized her mistake a step too late. “Oh.”

The girl is Rolfe’s barmaid. She immediately leaves and they suspect she’s Rolfe’s spy. Finally, I am free from this god awful chapter.

[mishadventuresofcastiel-blog]

Saturday Night °•sheith fluff•°

Keith groaned, running his fingers through his ebony hair. Stupid college. Stupid two thousand word essays. Stupid everything. All he wanted to do was sleep, maybe reread " Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban" again, but his essay on Egyptian artifacts and how they affected civilization got in the way of that. Again. Why the twenty year old decided to go for his masters degree in archeology again? Oh right, because he was a history buff nerd. In his opinion, he should be out in the field not writing essays. Then again, more often than not he would be writing reports instead of scouring deserts for old pottery. He huffed, leaning over his laptop again. The tap-tap noise of the keys was the only sound echoing through the otherwise empty apartment. Keith's boyfriend, police chief Takashi Shirogane, was still at work, and their reverse tortoise shell cat was somewhere sleeping. Keith indulged in the silence. Silence was something he'd grown up with, out in the middle of nowhere Texas, but ever since he moved up to Houston with Shiro he'd had nothing of it. Keith missed his little shack home, in all honesty. The city bustle, the rush and the chaos just wasn't his style. Keith was more of a quiet outdoorsy, "let's look at the stars until we pass out" kind of a guy, but if Shiro liked the city Keith would tolerate it. Luckily for Keith, Shiro chose an apartment on a higher floor of their ten story apartment, so he didn't have to hear the cars driving by constantly. After finishing another three paragraphs, Keith finally gave up and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his red hoodie. He glanced at the time in the bottom right corner of his laptop screen, and sighed loudly. How was it only 5:30 PM? Keith had started on this essay at 4, and he swore he was working on it for at least three hours. Oh well,time crawls when you're bored and about to flip a desk. Keith huffed and stood up, trudging his way into the kitchen to make a coffee. The Bluetooth speaker sat on the counter, taunting Keith. Shiro had placed him on a strict speaker ban since a week ago, when Keith had decided it was a good idea to blare Fall Out Boy until his ears bled. Needless to say, he almost got them kicked out of the apartment. In his defense, Keith did that all the time, so they neighbors should've been used to it. As he made his Donut Shop coffee in the Keurig, Keith stared at the speaker, debating if he wanted to die tonight. Not literally of course. Keith meant if he blared the new Panic! song until Shiro got home and Shiro got mad. But...would Brendon Urie's glorious high notes be worth the lecture? Yes, yes it would. So, Keith pulled his phone out of his pocket, turned on the little black speaker, and scrolled through his music downloads until he found "Say Amen (Saturday Night)". The first few notes echoed off the silent white walls, and Keith's mood immediately went from "flip a desk" to "yes". Screw Shiro, screw his rules. Brendon Urie was worth more. "Oh, it's Saturday night!" Keith shouted along with Brendon, his coffee sitting forgotten next to the coffeemaker. "I pray for the wicked on the weekend," Keith started dancing around the kitchen, dopamine replacing the melatonin his tired college brain produced. "Momma can I get another amen!" His cat, lovingly named Josh, jumped on the counter and stared at the dancing teen curiously. Keith...didn't care. He was too busy spinning and singing, his laughter almost drowning out the music. He knew what that meant. Keith grabbed his phone and turned the volume all the way up, knowing full well Shiro was going to murder him when he got home. Oh well. His husband Brendon was worth the punishment. "Oooh! Oh, it's Saturday night!" "Swear to God I ain't ever gonna repent, Momma can I get another amen!" He nearly slipped, being he was dancing in socks on tile, but whatever. He'd done this before, he wasn't going to slip. Keith continued dancing and singing, grabbing a spoon to use like a microphone. Screw being a normal quiet neighbor. The people on this floor needed to hear the gospel that was Panic! At the Disco. "Oh, it's Saturday night yeah!" Keith continued this, his cat hissing at one point because Keith almost stepped on it, uncaring that his neighbors were probably groaning in frustration. They could deal with it. At least he wasn't blasting MCR at midnight, which he had done before and said he did without shame. So what, Keith liked alternative rock. So what, his favorite shirt said "I'll stop wearing black when they make a darker color". Did it matter? No, no it did not. Maybe he just enjoyed being different and apathetic. Oh god, was Shiro going to murder him when he got home from work. Oh well! Keith tried his best to match Brendon's notes, even the high ones. Shockingly, he actually did fairly well! The hardest part was at the 2 minute 44 second mark, where Brendon went full on opera soprano. "Its's Saturday!!!!" Keith. Matched. The. Note. The song ended, and silence filled the house again. Keith's lungs hurt, he was breathless, and his cheeks ached from smiling so much. He hadn't exercised that much in a while, and he loved the feeling of his chest burning. It meant he did an amazing job, and he smirked. Walking back over to his coffee and taking a sip, Keith brushed ebony hair out of his dusky eyes. "Nice high notes, Emo McGee." Keith spit his coffee all over himself, jumping and turning toward the direction the voice had come from. Steel grey eyes and 200 pounds of pure hotness greeted him, and Keith flushed in embarrassment. How long had Shiro been there? Oh my God, Keith was dying. Had Shiro saw the whole thing? For some reason, Keith was more embarrassed than the time Lance pointed out his fly was open very, very loudly during a lecture. That time Keith had punched Lance in the arm, swearing like a sailor. This time Keith couldn't resort to assault, as much as he wanted to, so he settled for twirling a fork between his fingers as threateningly as he could. "Shut up. When did you get home?" Shiro chuckled. "Early enough to see you dancing with a spoon." "Again. Shut. Up," Keith shot back, his cheeks flushing further. Argh. Shiro knew him too well, knew exactly what buttons to push. Keith wondered why he dated that man. "Nope.  I refuse, Mr. Soprano-Eyeliner. Did you enjoy singing along to Brendon 'my forehead is the size of the ocean' Urie?" Keith launched the fork at Shiro, and it's target narrowly dodged. The fork lodged itself in the wall, and Keith smirked at his work. All those knife throwing classes came in handy. Nobody disrespected the god that was Brendon Urie in his house. Not unless they had a death wish. Clearly, Shiro did. Speaking of, Shiro gasped and slapped his chest mockingly. "Keith! I am offended! That's abuse!" "Shut up, you jerk," Keith replied gruffly, smiling beside himself. God, he couldn't hold a grudge. That was one of his many flaws, the inability to stay angry at Shiro. Shiro smiled softly, a few white strands of hair falling in his steel gray eyes. "Love you, My Chemical Panic at Romance." "Shut up." "I believe the words you're looking for are 'I love you too'." Keith shook his head. "Nope, pretty sure I said what I meant." Shiro huffed, standing and wrapping his muscular arms around the emo's waist. Keith rested his head on his boyfriends chest, breathing in the scent of Irish Springs and coffee, with the slight metallic scent of gunpowder. If only Keith wasn't upset about being teased. Maybe he'd enjoy this more. "No, I'm fairly sure you didn't." "Fine," Keith gently punched Shiro's chest, careful to avoid the shiny metal badge on the blue collared shirt. "I love you too." "Even though I tease you about blaring a song about Saturday night on a Saturday night?" Oh, right. Keith had forgotten about that. Today was a Saturday. Why didn't he notice when Shiro came home before seven? The only time he came home before seven was on the weekend night shifts. "Even though you tease me about blaring a song about Saturday night on a Saturday." "Jerk." "Bitch."