#look i know ivory isn't a love interest but he is to me and we are married in cursed matrimony

[softmangoes]

how the LIs kiss

18+

pure!sydney's kisses are sweet, mouth soft and his tongue warm. he kisses you in the same way he savors the hard candies you'd slide over the library counter, slipping them into his hands just so your fingers could brush. when he pulls away, his glasses are foggy, a nervous smile on his face. "was that..." he says, blushing. "was that alright?"

corrupt!sydney's kisses are hungry. he's got his hands under your shirt and his tongue deep in your mouth. he's been waiting so patiently, after all, and now he finally has you to himself. "you taste divine, beloved." he says, fingers slipping under your waistband. when you sigh against his mouth, he smiles. "but i think it's time i have my dessert."

whitney's kisses hurt. they're full of teeth and bruises and blood and his nails digging crescents into your skin. whenever he crushes his lips to yours, he always makes sure to leave you aching. and like every fight you've had against him, you never come out unscathed. "there," he says, marveling at the fresh marks blooming along your neck. "now everyone will know whose slut you are."

kylar's kisses are desperate. his hands roam your skin as his mouth murmurs endless promises into the hollow of your neck. "we'll be together forever," he says, drunk on the scent of you. he presses his body to yours, eager to get closer, to envelope you in his embrace. to never, ever, let you go. "nothing will ever change that."

eden wastes no time when he kisses you. he has known the lean months of winter and the lonely days of fall. you cannot deny him the sweetness of spring. he bites into the curve of your neck like the first fruit of warmer days, licks at your lips to drink in your sweetness. but a hunter is always hungry, always wanting. "it's been a long day," he growls, deepening the kiss. when he takes your shirt in his hands, the fabric rips apart easily. "too long without you."

robin's kisses are warm. they're fingers running through your hair, a smile against your mouth. sunny days and lips that taste like fresh lemonade. he always laughs when he kisses you, like he can't believe he's doing this. like he can't believe he's yours. when he kisses you, the world is a little brighter. softer. "it's a beautiful day to be with you," he murmurs after he pulls away, pressing a peck to your cheek before taking your hand in his.

there is no way you can truly describe how the ivory wraith kisses you, but there is a note of familiarity to it. your mind conjures memories of kisses whispered in passing, of lips locked in darkened halls. "as sweet as ever," he hums, licking your lips with his cool tongue. "as sweet as always." the passing of centuries have done little else but make him yearn. the wraith, with his great and terrible beauty, kisses you like he's been waiting for you all this time.

[ghouldtime]

I just followed you based solely on an ask you responded to because I very much vibe with a Ghost who walked into a craft store for paint and came out with two new hobbies.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚 AHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

I'm a proud 'Simon "Ghost" Riley is just A Dude ©' Truther

I love seeing that where he is just living a nice domestic life. I usually write spooky AU's or things with the paranormal but he's always just a dude there too, I like keeping him like that!!

To me, I can never look at him flat on and agree with the version of Ghost that people usually write (no shame to those who do, keep doing whatever makes you happy - it's not personal it's just not my taste) where they make him this ultra edgelord dommy sigma guy where he's always somehow towering over EVERYONE, growls every word, and is just???? That version viscerally reminds me of my early wattpad days or those rlly weird thirst trap biketoks

Like, have you LISTENED when this man speaks? Have you heard his jokes? His sense of humor that he doesn't hide??? Give me the dad jokes, give me the terrible puns that would make you give him a significant side eye if you heard them as his shoulders shake with the laughter he's trying to hold back !!!

Soap implied he made his masks and he probably would have to to make sure that hey, this isn't something flammable. I don't think he'd just buy something that personal to him. Which means he would have to sit down and pull out the paint kit, pull out the Dremel, and get to work

THAT MEANS he has to go buy the art supplies. He has to go shop for them and browse the aisles of paint, holding up two of the bottles, determining if he would rather have Eggshell white or Ivory. And I'm convinced that yes, he knows there's a difference and he'll insist on it and NO it's not the same shade

He sews, he has to. He HAD to have made his mask. Sewing is also a super practical skill when you're out on the field and it helps improve dexterity and coordination so I'm going to say it's likely he does. Sewing is super cool y'all.

So I implore you to imagine him in the fabric store, trying not to get distracted by the seasonal prints or the really ornate shimmery fabrics that you can't help but to look at. I refuse to accept that he hasn't sewn pillows in his house just because he liked a certain fabric and wanted to use it

And I'm going to say he's made a god awful holiday themed mask. It's simultaneously the most ugly thing you've ever set eyes upon and the greatest thing ever too. He's committed to the bit

He's also picked up embroidery because, like sewing, it helps improve your dexterity and keeps your hands busy. It's also practical because how else can people steal your things or confuse them if there's a tiny ghost embroidered on the hem????

He's just a guy and I love imagining Ghost with actual domestic hobbies, being himself, living his life (falling into the trap we all do at some point of going into an art store and finding something interesting to do)

Just A Dude© Ghost is my favorite and I'll never let him go

[stesierra]

Okay! Since people are asking, here's some of my writing. I'm not used to sharing because on Twitter no one really cared... 🥺 Please let me know if you're interested in learning more about this book or being added to a tag list for my stuff! I love questions about my stuff too... This is new adult fantasy even though publishing says new adult isn't real.

(please excuse my MC's attitude because she is depressed! We've all been there when we released a plague of skeletons.)

The Bone Queen

Chapter 1

When I fell in love with Aubrey, I never thought I'd dream of killing him one day. Why would I? He was already dead.

Now, two years after he’d won my heart with lies, we stood alone in my dimly lit parlor, between its lion-footed couches all in pine green and gold and blood red, Queen Idony’s colors. The golden tapestries that thickly coated the walls depicted Bandrum Palace as seen from the streets of Asteraxe: a many-floored edifice that sprawled across the top of a hill, half hidden behind a mighty wall.

The enormous skirts of my dress weighed me down like I was dragging my own casket around. The bodice hugged my ribs and the corset I didn't need, embellished with lace and embroidered birds, and the sleeves poofed around my skinny arms. It left my scrawny shoulders bare, and even with the fire that crackled in my fireplace, the winter air inside the palace chilled me.

The dress was ivory. The same ivory as my fiancé’s bones.

He clenched my hand, his icy finger bones pinching my skin, and his touch revolted me. But I didn't draw away. I'd learned by now that there was no escape. What point was there in trying? Besides, I deserved this unhappiness. I'd brought it upon myself. Upon the entire kingdom of Sweelough.

When I'd met Aubrey, he'd been nothing but a handsome ghost on Lake Langlyn’s shores. But since I'd freed him—freed them all—he’d become something more. Not alive, even Queen Idony couldn't do that, but she'd given him back his skeleton with which to wield swords and write notes and touch my vulnerable skin. His ghost hadn't gone anywhere; it wrapped around his skeleton like transparent flesh around bones. Now, when I looked into his face, I saw both sharp gray eyes and yawning sockets, both a full, cleanshaven mouth and a skull’s grinning teeth. And the clothes his ghost wore echoed the very real doublet and hose he'd pulled over his bones. Green and red and gold, of course. He honored the queen in everything he did.

He bent close to me, brushing the top of my fashionable tower of hair with his jawbone. He stank of potpourri and dust. “Tell me you love me, Elise.”

I said nothing, just breathed and thought about hitting his bones over and over again with a hammer. In my mind, he crumbled into bits, nothing but ashes in a grave. Of course, it was a fantasy; no one could kill someone who was already dead. I knew because so many people had died trying. Because I had hit him with an axe down on the shore of Lake Langlyn, and it had only torn his clothes.

He said again, “We are to marry in a month. Tell me you love me. Smile at me and say my name, the way you used to.”

“Aubrey,” I said. I didn't love him, but what good would it do to tell him again, when he would only yell at me? It was pointless. Everything was pointless.

His ghostly eyes narrowed, and he crushed my hands in his. “Smile, Elise. Thank me for taking you to wife. For when we met, you were nothing but a serf too stupid to write her own name. Now look at you. Aren't you grateful?”

Tears stung my eyes. When I'd met him, at sixteen, I'd been happy. I'd had parents and four brothers who loved me, and it hadn't mattered that none of us knew how to read or write. What did farmers need letters for? Now, two years later, life was meaningless, and it didn't matter that the tutors he'd forced on me had taught me to scribble my name and read a handful of poems.

Aubrey sighed and leaned down to kiss the back of my hand. For a horrifying second, his lips passed through me, and his teeth brushed my skin. “I'm sorry, Elise. I know I push you too hard. You'll be a good wife. Docile and obedient. Quiet. A good mother to my children.”

If I was docile and quiet, it was only because I'd given up. But his last sentence made me whip my head up. “Children? What do you mean, children?”

He smiled up at me, his spectral mouth matching the grinning teeth of his skull. “Why, Elise, didn't you think I would want a heir?”

“Why would you?” I cried. “Lady Kinburg tells everyone how she had no choice but to hang her descendents when she came back, because they wouldn't return her lands. The dead don't want heirs. You're planning to rule forever. Aren't you?”

“Of course,” my fiancé agreed, straightening up. “But I would still want children. Offspring who will love and admire me, just as you do.”

Unless they inherited my ability to see and hear ghosts, all the children would see was a skeleton that couldn't even talk to them. They wouldn't admire him. They'd fear him, just like I did. Somehow, that didn't matter, not when there was a bigger issue. “Aubrey, you're dead. You can't sire children. It's impossible. Are you planning to have some living man bed me?”

He scoffed, reaching up to seize my chin. “I'll kill any man who lays a finger on you. You're mine. Forever.”

I ripped my face out of his grip. “If we adopt children, they won't be able to see you.” No other living person in Asteraxe, the capital of Sweelough, saw and heard the dead like I did. They just saw skeletons, awful and deadly. It was my gift and my curse to see more. A curse that had doomed me and all of Sweelough.

He let me retreat to sit upon one of the couches. “But children born of your body will, my love. And it's not impossible. Do you have so little faith in the queen? In one month, on the day of our wedding, she will cast spells upon me to give me the ability to lie with you. With her magic, she'll quicken my seed in your belly. And nine months later, you'll bear me a perfect son.”

Aubrey was going to have sex with me. He was going to force me to bear his child. My thoughts ran in terrified, anguished circles. My limbs grew weak, and I sank into my couch. I wanted to vomit all over his pointed shoes. If I could've, I'd have bolted out into the halls of the palace and straight out the front doors. Running for my life had never sounded more appealing.

But the queen's magic brand wrapped my ankle like a jagged red tattoo, and even now I felt it burning against my skin. She'd promised me, when she enchanted me two years ago, that if I ever tried to escape, it would punish me. And Aubrey had stood beside her, smiling because I could never leave him.

“You look faint, my love,” Aubrey said, stepping up close to me. “Come to dinner tonight. Sit at my side and display your beauty to all the court.”

“I'm not hungry,” I said, and it was true. I was never hungry, and after the horrible news he’d just dropped on me, I might never be hungry again. If I accompanied Aubrey to the Great Hall, where the nobility gathered over feasts of roast beef and fish and fresh fruit, I would only sit uneating in front of plenty, just like all the dead who wanted to pretend that they were still alive. Aubrey couldn't eat, being nothing but bones. I had a stomach and all the equipment needed, but I'd lost my appetite with my family, and now that he’d threatened to impregnate me, it was doubly gone.

He took my hand and kissed it again. “Very well. I will send your maids in to tend to you. But after dinner, I will come fetch you. Queen Idony wishes to speak with you.”

My stomach dropped, and I tore my hand out of his. “What? Why? I haven't done anything wrong.”

He patted my cheek, and his bones were so cold that surely they'd never belonged to a living man. “Fear not, Elise. She doesn't want to punish you. She merely wishes to tell you your new duties in the days ahead.”

“Duties? What duties?” Dread constricted my throat. Duties, whatever they were, would take me away from my rooms and safety. They'd put me in the eyes of the living nobles, and all of them hated me. Not because I was a peasant pretending to be one of them. Because it was my fault they had to bow to a dead queen. I didn't blame them. I hated me too.

Aubrey beamed at me. “Great events are on the horizon. Do you remember that the queen made overtures to our wealthy neighbor to the west?”

Only one county bordered Sweelough to the west. “Ahheleisa. But you said nothing would come of it. That the living were too superstitious to see a gift when the queen offered it.”

He waved a hand. “The living are cretins. But in this case, I was wrong.”

“I’m still alive, Aubrey,” I reminded him. For now. Every other night, I woke from nightmares that the queen had stripped me down to nothing but a ghost and dry old bones.

“Yes, yes. That doesn't matter. We have news now that an ambassador and his party are coming here to Asteraxe. In fact, they are nearly upon us. And so Queen Idony has plans for you. But she’ll tell you the details tonight, I am sure.” He patted my leg through my layers of skirts and petticoats. “Now, promise me you'll eat something.”

“I'll eat something,” I lied. But after he'd left and sent my maids in to check on me, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing. Thoughts kept sneaking in of a dead man's touch and a dead man's children, and I had no peace at all.

[the-bloody-sadist]

Hi, it's been a while - I haven't looked at anything bsd related in a while (besides just reading the last chapter of the sinner epilogue) because it's not one of my current fixations, but I wondered if I could hear more from you about emotions? Recently my brain has been rotten by a love of computers and robots and maths and physics and I have been obsessively consuming all versions of I have no mouth and I must scream (have you heard of it? If not, ihnmaims is a short sci-fi story written by Harlan Ellison about an AI, AM, torturing the last 5 humans). The relationship between Ted and AM is fascinating to me, especially in terms of what 'emotions' AM feels towards him, and it reminded me of something that I think you wrote about how intertwined hate and love are - how hate is to care enough about a person to want their suffering and pain (I'm not entirely sure if that was you, forgive me if I'm wrong-). I'll spare you my ramblings about the story itself unless you are interested in hearing more, but I am very curious about your perspective on a being who was created for war, gained sentience and immense power and intelligence but will never be free, will never belong, will never play Mozart on the ivory keys of a fortepiano... a being who cannot feel in a way we can conceive but is driven by hatred, who craves humanity or release yet cannot die, who has no mouth but must scream.

There is a point where AM invades Ted's mind, ramming The Hate Monologue in the form of a steel pillar into his mind - some of the lines in this section make me go a little bit feral - "AM touched me in every way I had ever been touched, and devised new ways, at his leisure, there inside my mind."

It's incredibly intrusive, and for Ted there is no escape from AM - it's physical machinery covers the entire planet and the humans live within it, it's 'belly slaves'. As AM cannot die it keeps them alive, pretty much immortal (but not indestructible) and in the end, Ted too has no mouth though he must scream.

It's a fascinating mix of hatred, envy, deification, love (?), hope, resignation, invasion, co-dependence, wires and viscera that can never mix or understand each other but are the same in every way.

Apologies for the rambling infodump (especially if you have already read it/have absolutely no interest in this sort of thing - this isn't a rec, just my putrefied brain matter leaking into your ask box), I should really be asleep right now so I would not be surprised if this is entirely incomprehensible.... I just want to study them under an electron microscope.... It's a very grim story, with a powerful sense of the indomitable human spirit but very grim nonetheless. The hyperfixation is hyperfixating....

Anyway I should shut up, and I would love to hear your thoughts (I don't even know what I was intending this ask to be .. I can't remember now but I don't think it was .. this..) and thank you for putting up with this mess of a message- hope you have a lovely day/night!

- 🪼

P.S. oh yes! I loved the last chapter of sinner's epilogue- your writing never fails pluck my heartstrings like.. a very strange surgeon (?)(I'm so sorry I am very tired)(I have no brain and I must sleep...) I adore how you write Fyodor's experience of emotion and (as always) Dazai's fear and panic-

Okay listen, I don't plan to get into this story (I've watched essay videos on it so I do know about it, at least), but I respect how much time you took describing this to me in my asks box, so I'm putting it out for anyone else who might find it cool!

Despite my love for psychological trauma, some stories are a certain flavor that I know I shouldn't get into, and IHNMAIMS belongs in that category. Pretty sure if I read it it'll haunt me for the rest of my life and I'll have to deal with a big depressive episode over it for the weeks after, WHICH IS NEVER FUN.

This and other reasons are why I never read A Little Life, and then I learned that I dodged a bullet by putting the book down on the first instance of Jude's cutting episodes, BECAUSE OH MY GOD DUDE THAT STORY DID NOT HANDLE IT THE WAY I NEEDED IT TO BE HANDLED AND I COULD SMELL WHERE THE STORY WAS GONNA GO WITH IT AND TAPPED OUT. I won't get into the frustration of A Little Life but IHNMAIMS felt like it would be that same level of too much grim, not enough plot?? for me. Does that make sense? Too much bad happening just feels like dragging myself through mud without reason, making myself miserable by enduring hours of hurt-no-comfort LMAO

Regardless, thanks for talking to me about it! I knew most of the details of the story, but it was entertaining to read your description of it--I'm glad you find such interest in the story!

ALSO THANKS FOR THE COMPLIMENTS ON THE NEWEST SINNER EPILOGUE, I'M ACTUALLY WRITING YET ANOTHER ONE CURRENTLY...AHAHA....THEY NEVER STOP....we'll see how long it takes me since my writing has been out of touch with me for a while, but fingers crossed! <3

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

Welcome to the "What the fuck is that theory?!"

Today I want to talk about DMC 2. What about it, you might ask; well my friend, I want to tell you of a theory that I have been thinking about constantly for the past week/week and a half.

What if, in DMC2, Dante isn't Dante; what if it's actually Vergil? Just--

Hear me out--

According to the actual DMC writers; DMC2 takes place after 4 (and I think 5 as well, for this we are going to say after any game in the series).

So maybe the reason Dante sounds so... off is because that's not Dante. It's Vergil masquerading as his brother.

This is rough but just--

What if Dante died when the twins were in hell?

Vergil in his grief and probable fucking mental breakdown would come back mimicking his brother; keeping the Devil May Cry going in his brother's name.

Maybe Dante even asked Vergil to take over the shop for him and bestowed his gear to him--including Rebellion.

Or (and here comes the crackhead and main theory) what if Argosax is Dante.

Vergil and Dante's story lines up almost perfectly with Mundus and Argosax, respectively. Mundus ate a Qliphoth fruit to become stronger than Argo; Vergil ate a Qliphoth fruit to become stronger than Dante.

So let's roll with Argosax somehow being Dante in DMC2;

⋗It would be really ironic that Argosax wouldn't talk when "normal" Dante won't stop talking.

⋗Argo's horns are similar to Dante's Sin DT and his body is similar.

⋗"Dante" is able to disappear during the last fight which is kind of more Vergil's thing--to be able to teleport.

⋗Although I know this is old and Dante's colors weren't all red; Ivory's charge color is blue.

⋗"Dante" doesn't look Argosax in the eye or say anything--not even "Jackpot". Argosax, on the other hand, looks at him; staring him down. Perhaps to try and plead with his older brother (who knows that there is nothing that can be done).

⋗Plus the symbolism of Ivory being used NOT Ebony; Ivory is the gun that Dante used in DMC3 where as Vergil used Ebony. It would have made a LOT more sense for "Dante" to use Ebony for that shot, but he didn't, he used Ivory--he used Dante's gun. Given, Dante does kind of smile buT perhaps it is because he is happy to free his brother of this curse (and that he won a fight against him lmfao)

⋗Rebellion hitting the ground at the end of the fight might be a metaphor for Dante being put to rest; the legend of the Sparda twins being put to bed. (It's also just a cool view by I digress)

All this comes to a head when "Dante" (or in this case, Vergil) decides to go to the underworld; seemingly unphased by the idea--which, again, would play into it being Vergil who spent most of his adult life in Hell. Perhaps to go and continue the fight? or maybe see if his brother is, in part, still alive like he was after being killed in DMC1.

I don't know, it would be an interesting way for them to retcon DMC2 into the time period they say it's from...

Instead of taking place between 1 and 4 like literally, everyone else thinks it does--including myself--and that Dante's just really fuckin' depressed lmao Please keep in mind, as I said, I do not personally think that this is how it should work-- I just thought it would be interesting to talk about. I'm sure that this has been talked about before and probs been beaten into the ground but I thought it was interesting lol.

I'm curious to know what anyone else thinks about this; does anyone else see what I'm getting at? Like I know I am kinda grasping at straws, but isn't that the whole basis of DMC lore to begin with lmfaooo Please let me know through the tags or comments what you think--I'd love to read other's thoughts on this!!

Thanks for coming to my sleep-deprived theory time and I'll see y'all next time.

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

[hypahticklish]

gently play on your heartstrings

Summary: Where Aziraphale challenges Crowley's understanding of what intimacy can look like...and it backfires.

Word Count: 1657

Setting: Good Omens, post end-of-the-world

A/N: I wanted to write something in celebration of Good Omens receiving a second season. I love these two so much, it's about time I dabbled in writing them. I took inspo from @wordstrings naming conventions via using Queen lyrics. And I'm also posting a day early because I have no chill.

~~~

It was a Tuesday.

There were never any deals on a Tuesday worth pursuing in Crowley's expert opinion. And yet,

"Curry has been all the rage in London, what'd'you mean you're not interested?"

Aziraphale huffed from the passenger seat of the Bentley. "I mean I'm not in the mood for it. No, the shop is much too hot during the day as it is; I don't think I'd be able to stand more heat."

They pondered from deep within the white noise of the road. "Have we tried...foe? Po?" Crowley asked, his eyes narrowing as he puzzled out the pronunciation.

"Fuh, and we have."

"Take that as a no as well, then."

"Gabriel interrupted me the last time I had sushi." Aziraphale frowned.

"Did he now?" Crowley smoothly circled the Wellington Arch back towards Soho. "Can't have that."

~~~

"Canoodling?"

Aziraphale's cheeks were contentedly flush from shared bottles of umeshu. The dessert wine was the perfect complimentary night cap to their meal. "You know what I mean."

"I assure you we-we-we...I haven't the foggiest." Crowley sprawled across the loveseat in the bookshop's cluttered back room. His arm was slung across the back while his opposite leg dangled to the floor at the knee.

"Surely you do. Look at you, picture of a cad!" Aziraphale motioned from his plush chair adjacent to him.

"Proper harlot, I am." Crowley smiled broadly. His head tilted back to hang off the armrest and he nonchalantly adjusted his hips. "Still, what's canoodling got to do with anything?"

Aziraphale's eyes wandered along black fabric hills and valleys. "It's, uh, it's something Madam Tracy specialised in… don't laugh! I shared her mind - she is a professional!"

Crowley continued to chuckle. "You wouldn't know a canoodle if I found a VHS demo. Really, Aziraphale, a Blu-ray player wouldn't kill you."

"Intimacy, that's the word. And of course I know how - I'm an angel! Love is our thing."

"Sex isn't always love."

"Intimacy isn't always sex."

"Right," Crowley said. "Of course you," he spat the word while gesturing vaguely toward Aziraphale, "would figure all touch counts. Holding a hand equals a kiss, a cuddle equals a fuck -"

"And why wouldn't they?" Aziraphale countered.

"They just don't - oomph!" A sudden stubborn Angel sat heavily between Crowley's bowed out legs at the other end of the couch. He lifted his head enough to look startled. "What the heaven are you doing?!"

"Proving you wrong. Your hand, if you please. Thank you."

Crowley's fingers were long and slender things. Had he had the interest, he could have made a phenomenal musician. Aziraphale cupped the back of his hand and rubbed his thumb across the small bulge of muscle at the side of Crowley's palm. His other hand melted, casually, purposefully, into the hollow as they sought the pair of small buttons securing the cuffs of his long sleeve shirt. They eagerly popped free. Aziraphale slipped his fingers under the loosened hem and drove it slowly toward Crowley's elbow to expose his forearm. His skin had taken on many shades over time, depending upon how much sun it saw during an era's given fashion, yet his palms and wrist remain the same pale ivory since the garden. The tips of Aziraphale's fingers swept back to his wrist and traced the pronounced tendon. As Crowley reflexively went to close his hand, Aziraphale tightened his grasp with his thumb and pinky across his fingers and gently stretched it taut instead. He fluttered along Crowley's wrist, up over the heel of his palm, and walked circles around the crisscrossing lines for several minutes...months...millennia...

"Well?"

Crowley choked on the breath he hadn't noticed shivering in his chest. "Well, what?" He made a show of rolling out his shoulders and laid his head back again. He tossed his free arm back to dangle beside his head and did his very best to power past the relaxed smirk teasing his lips.

Aziraphale sighed softly and stilled his fingers. "You leave me no choice." He set Crowley's hand down at his side and carefully fell into position. It wasn't smooth yet him bumbling around on the small sofa made it all the more charming. By the end, Aziraphale was snuggling his face into Crowley's neck, one arm keeping him from falling off the edge while the other bent and held Crowley's side. His knees sank into the other cushion and left his legs pressed into the armrest with argyle socks crossed at the ankles.

"Ah, I see. Handhold and a cuddle." Crowley absent-mindedly wrapped his arm across Aziraphale's back. "This is your most devastating metaphor yet, Angel."

Aziraphale sniffed. "It was your metaphor. I'm merely proving these things can have the same intimacy as those other things." His fingers resumed their idle waltz, this time atop his ribcage.

"Have not," Crowley instigated. The fine hairs on his neck prickled due to the soft puff of air from Aziraphale breathing so close. The quiver in his lungs returned stronger as the ticklish touch brushed nearer to his open underarm. "Aziraphale," he warned from the back of his throat.

"Would you happen to be ready to admit you were wrong?"

"No, yo-HOO!!" Crowley's arm snapped down. A wild cackle escaped from the hundred's year-old cask of authentic mirth buried deep inside as fingers squirrelled away in his armpit. Aziraphale held fast and summoned an unnatural squeal with a direct stream of air blown exquisitely into his ear.

Crowley dug in his heels and bucked hard, flipping them off the loveseat and onto the rug covered floor. He took Aziraphale's soft tan lapels in his fists to pin his chest down and loomed inches from his face. Malevolent brows furrowed over fiery eyes bisected with a thin slit pupil. "Now you've done it!"

"C-crow-crowl-ley," Aziraphale badly stammered, pale faced and with both hands hanging onto his fiendish friend's wrists. The tumble had taken him quite by surprise and knocked some of the intoxicated wind out of him. Along with the righteous defiance he previously had been wearing. And the upper hand in these sorts of games they played. "I was only-"

"Proving a point? Yeeeaaa, fine job you've done with that. But now it's my turn," Crowley snarled with a manic smile that was all teeth. Had it been missing a distinct mischievous sparkle, he could have been perceived as a genuine threat. He leaned back onto Aziraphale's thighs and wrestled with his hands.

"Don't be silly!" Aziraphale half-heartedly struggled with wide eyes and a damning smile of his own.

"Much too late for that, I'm afraid." Crowley grappled the smaller celestial's wrists and tucked them carefully under the pressure of his legs. "You brought up canoodling." He flicked away the edges of Aziraphale's suit jacket and made short work of the buttons of his vest.

"Wait, Crowley -"

"You started the tickling." Crowley stretched out all of his fingers, fluidly pulled them to his palm and rotated his wrists. "Knowing full well how much more sensitive," poke, "and vulnerable," pinch, "and susceptible you are to it."

Aziraphale squirmed underneath him. "W-well tickling can be an expression of intimacy!" He swallowed hard as he watched where Crowley's hand would go next.

"And of canoodling."

"I misspeak one time -" Aziraphale's groan rapidly dissolved into cheerful giggles from a squeezing claw to his pudgy belly.

Crowley dropped to Aziraphale's ear by resting on his elbow, all the while pinching his soft sides. "Listen here, Lover Boy," he said, low and menacing. "How 'bout we explore just how intimate laughter can be, eh?" Crowley's fingers ran ribbing relays from sternum to where his Angel writhed into the ground. "Maybe I'll miracle up some scarves and feathers? Perhaps test finger tickles and mouth tickles and find where tickles the most tickles."

"St-stop saying the word!" Aziraphale pleaded.

Crowley nudged Aziraphale's head to the side so they were cheek to cheek and his lips brushed his ear. His fingers slowed to a crawl, and did so back toward his stomach. "Does the word tickle make you more ticklish?" Crowley chuckled as he felt his friend's blush burn his cheek. "Figured as much. To think, heaven's finest, so defenseless to a bit of tickling that simply speaking the word tickles them."

Aziraphale whined.

"I ought to thank you, Angel, for this opportunity to learn all about this intimacy you were talking about. It just tickles me."

"Oh, shut up alread-eee!" Aziraphale shrieked, followed by a full-on snorting guffaw from Crowley blowing noisy raspberries into his neck and kneading his love handle at the same instant.

His feet kicked helplessly behind them. Aziraphale tugged uselessly from where his hands were trapped. Peals of laughter were coaxed out with ease as Crowley made rude noises and nibbled hungrily at his throat. He switched hands to pinch and squeeze and play with the length of his untouched side, leading to robust waves of squeaks.

"Too tickly for you?" Crowley taunted.

"I-I-I-," Aziraphale attempted to respond and fell apart again due to Crowley copying him and blowing in his ear. "Crowley!"

Smirking with pride, the demon rocked back onto his heels, releasing Aziraphale's hands but remaining hovering over his body. Crowley rested his elbows on his knees and allowed his fingers to idly brush Aziraphale's panting stomach until they were blocked by crossed arms.

"You are a nefarious hellion," Aziraphale said once breath had returned to him. He sniggered and curled from the prods his insult earned him.

"Come on, you love it. I feel closer to you already." Crowley grinned down at Aziraphale, his pupils now perfect circles. "So, have you had enough yet or shall I tickle you some more?"

A slightly goofy smile slid across Aziraphale's face. He was disheveled and buoyant. "Would you happen to be ready to admit you were wrong?" He repeated.

The little old bookshop on the corner was definitely the loudest, and happiest, building in all of Soho that evening.

[pixelwisp-archive]

Itadakimasu!! | Part 11: I'm Sorry (Written Chapter)

word count: 3.1k

The Mixtape: Thinking of you | CA, 1979

The music that pooled out of Onigiri Miya was anything but what you expected.  A small smile crept up onto your face - despite your best efforts - and with a featherlight touch, you crept into the restaurant, silently thanking the soft jazz for drowning out the creaks as you pushed the door open in search of a certain chef.

Osamu stood at the sink, hands working some leftover dishes from the work day. He hummed softly along to the music, and it surprised you just how nice  he sounded - how his deep hum complemented the honey voice that dripped through the speakers; rich, thick, and soft like velvet. You padded into the kitchen, clutching the wine and apron closer to your frame so as not to bump it on anything that could give you away, and allowed yourself a few minutes to listen and appreciate before ultimately ruining the moment.

“I didn’t know you could sing, Miya.” You brought a hand up to suppress a giggle as he stiffened and dropped the plate he had been washing with a loud clatter. Osamu bowed his head and cleared his throat, loud enough to drown out the music for a brief moment before it ultimately pervaded the kitchen once more. He grabbed the nearest towel to dry his hands before reaching for the remote, the music ceasing with a quick click. Once he turned around, your eyes immediately fell on the dusted pink that settled onto his cheeks, and you did your best to ignore the warmth that ignited in your chest at the sight.

"So, Etta James, huh?" Osamu coughed awkwardly, turning his attention back toward the sink to finish up the last few dishes that lingered in the basin.

"Ya know Etta James?" An affirming hum left your lips as you placed the bottle of wine and your apron on the island, eyes flitting over the rustic kitchen in search of wine glasses.

The kitchen was a decent size, the bright wooden counters and cabinets a stark contrast to the dark iron of the appliances, but it complemented each other and suited the space well. The soft ivory paint on the walls kept the overall area from being too loud compared to the rest of the restaurant, and you wondered if Kita was behind the greenery that added a lush, vibrant addition to the otherwise plain shop. Your eyes landed on a modest pile of cookbooks stored neatly in the corner, and you let out a huff of victory as you made your way over to the wine glasses that sat in a windowed cabinet above them.

"My parents were big fans, they've always had a funny fascination with America," you explained, and from the corner of your eye you saw him nod. The two of you relished in the, for once, comfortable beats of silence that followed, and you were surprised when he - for a second time since you had met him - decided to be the one break it.

"My Ma used to have this busted up, old, mix tape that she would play every night when she made dinner. Got it at a flea market when she spent a semester abroad in California. She always talked about how she wished she could visit again." The fondness in his voice made your heart squeeze. You busied yourself, listening intently as you placed two wine glasses onto the counter and filled them generously. "Eventually the cassette broke from years of abuse, but I managed to find the songs and make her a playlist. She still listens to it, every night, and I guess I got so used to it that it feels almost...wrong, to cook without hearin' it in the background, even though I'm not home anymore." You slid one glass over to him and he raised a brow at it, a soft smile pointed your way.

"I think ya skimped me a bit," he joked, and you chuckled sheepishly, a hand coming to scratch the back of your neck.

"What can I say, I like my wine." He chuckles as you reach for the small remote. 

"You didn't have to stop it, you know. I love me some Etta," you said, and his smile widened ever so slightly as you pressed play, the smooth voice fluttering through the speakers once more, softer this time as you adjusted the volume. You lifted the wine glass to your lips, taking a tentative first sip. The second the bittersweet liquid hit your tongue, you closed your eyes and sighed into the familiarity. It flashed you back to Tokyo; the seemingly endless nights on the balcony with Tendou and Semi, your drunken laughter rivaling the music in volume as Semi sang along with fervor - but, really, does anyone sound good when they're nearly a bottle deep?

Reality slammed into you like a meteor, and you were instantly struck back into the present moment, meeting Osamu's eyes as he watched you curiously. You felt the warmth crawl up your neck from the embarrassment, and you cleared your throat in the hopes that you could divert his attention to literally anything else.

"So,  are you gonna teach me how to properly make some Onigiri tonight?" His eyes fell on the apron you brought, the one he gifted to you, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise as his lips settled into a playful smirk.

"Who said anythin' about 'teach'? I said I'd show ya how I make it; I didn' say nothin' about teachin' ya."

"And miss out on learning how to make Onigiri Miya's signature dish? No way." Osamu scoffed as you grabbed your apron and began tying it around your waist. His arms folded in front of him, his lips a thin line. You couldn't tell if he was thinking or already disapproving.

"This was meant to be an apology, you know," he started, but you cut him off.

"I know! And what better apology than by helping me perfect my shaping?" The resigned sigh that followed meant a victory for you, the grin proof enough for both of you that you had won. "So, what are we making today?"

"I figured I'd keep it simple tonight. Ya like fatty tuna?" Of course you do.  Who doesn’t? "Great, let's get started then."

To be honest, you weren't expecting Osamu to be as patient with you as he was. Even though you were decently acquainted with the 'art form' that was Onigiri (as so eloquently and dramatically described by Osamu), you decided to entertain him and pretend to struggle with every step - over shredding the tuna, spilling the spices, adding too much mayo - in the minor hope that you could catch him stressed and maybe a bit frustrated - but to your somewhat disappointment, mostly pleasant surprise, every effort to get at least a furrowed brow or a groan was met with a warm smile, sometimes a breathy chuckle, and a strong pair of arms gently guiding you through the correct steps.

It was as equally frustrating as it was endearing.

"Now ya wanna dip yer hands into the dish of water I left on the side for ya, yeah, great, that's it - now grab a pinch of salt - not too much, just a pinch, and ya wanna rub it into yer hands to prep for the rice."

"What if I have a cut somewhere?"

"Do ya have a cut?"

"Well, not that I know of, but what if there's a cut I don't know about?"

"Well then I guess we'll find out soon, won' we?"

You huffed, but nonetheless pinched the tiny mountain of salt and collected a modest amount before tentatively rubbing it into your hands. Your shoulders were stiff the entire time, prepared for the sudden sting on the off chance the salt decided to acquaint itself with an unknown wound on your hand. You heard Osamu stifle a laugh, and your eyes met his as he smirked at your cautious form.

"Stop staring at me, focus on your own stupid rice ball." He laughed - loudly, beautifully - and you felt your hands tremble the slightest bit as you tried to put all of your focus on making a stupid, dumb triangle out of some stupid, dumb rice.

"Need some help?" You merely grumbled in response as the little bundle of rice and filling crumbled in your hands, despite your feeble attempts at shaping it. He set his own, perfectly shaped, onigiri aside and scooched over to you, his arms reaching around your form, chest pressed lightly against your back. "Yer pressing in too softly, so the rice isn't holding. Cup yer hands like this-" he cupped your hands within his own "-just like that. Now press a little firmer, like this." You were trying your best to pay attention to what he was showing you, you really were - but you couldn't help but marvel at how soft his hands were. You expected them to be rough; calloused from years of cooking, volleyball, and the handyman side hobby, but clearly that wasn’t the case. What kind of lotion did he use to make them feel so smooth? Probably some fancy homemade Aloe Vera lotion Kita made for him, you thought with a scoff.

This new revelation had also made you hyper aware that your hands were not, in fact, soft - countless burns, cuts, and other various acts of carelessness in the kitchen have given your hands a battle worn texture that no amount of hoity toity, all natural Aloe Vera would be able to soften up. He must have been cringing inside just having to touch the absolute burlap that is your haggard looking, stupid hands, oh god-

"Nice job, yer doin' great." The gentleness in his voice plucked you from your inner turmoil, effectively grounding you back to the task at hand. What was once a crumbling mess of rice and tuna now stood a beautifully crafted onigiri, the plump triangle nestled snuggly in between your hands. A gasp left you as you beamed at the finished product, and you whipped your head toward him, twisting slightly within his grip so you could face him properly.

It was then that you realized just how close he was to you.

Whatever words you had planned to say to him died in your throat as your brain tried to comprehend why the hell his face was so close to yours. Osamu seemed to be in a similar state of shock, eyes wide and mouth emulating a fish, opening and shutting when the words weren't coming to him. From the way your own mouth gaped, you imagined you shared a similar expression.

Simultaneously, almost comically, you separated yourselves and severed eye contact, Osamu finding something above you particularly interesting. What exactly, you weren't sure - you were too busy eyeing every minute detail of the remarkably plain tile flooring.

Like an awkward embrace from an old friend you never truly vibed with, the uncomfortable silence settled between you two once again.

It would have almost felt nostalgic, if you didn't hate it with a seething passion.

'And my arms need someone, someone to enfold'

The playful jazz number cut through the silence, and you mentally cursed Etta for clearly not reading the room - your arms were certainly not looking to enfold anybody at the moment, and you imagined it was likely that Osamu felt the same.

You spun back around toward your work station, a quick roll of your shoulders the only indication that you were gonna keep working, because you sure as shit didn't trust whatever would have come out of your mouth had you chosen to open it. Lucky for you, he seemed to get the hint and moved back toward his own work station, making quick work of shaping what he had left, while you continued to struggle, albeit far less than before.

Not a word had been uttered in the moments that followed, the music filling the awkward rift that split between you.

To be honest, you felt guilty that nearly every interaction between you two inevitably dissolved into a dense, unbearable tension; the once lighthearted mood suddenly cracked open like a fault line, the quiet settling between you like dust, and it always felt so thick that trying to bring the moment back its old, enlightened state seemed to take such an immense amount of effort - effort that neither one of you appeared to want to put forth.

You wondered if Osamu shared a similar sentiment.

While you finished up the last of your onigiri, you allowed your attention to flicker to Osamu as he eyed the leftover tuna filling with seemingly great interest, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. You watched as he scooped the mess onto his finger, putting obvious effort into keeping it balanced as he brought the teetering pile to his lips. Right as he went to close his lips around his finger, the tiny mountain fell, smearing onto his chin and landing on the counter with the saddest little ‘splat’ you'd ever heard. The disappointment he exuded at his misfortune is what ultimately broke you, and you laughed - a bright, gleeful sound that dispelled the suffocating air in an instant, and made you feel like you could finally breathe again (which was ironic, considering how out of breath you were from the incessant giggles that sprung free with absolutely no regard for your lung capacity).

Your hand flew to your mouth in an (admittedly failed) attempt to stifle yourself, as well as possibly save the last shred of rapidly waning dignity Osamu was probably holding onto for dear life. You folded in on yourself, laughter bouncing off the restaurant floor and - again, probably - stabbing directly into Osamu's crumbling pride.

Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, Osamu's loud, beautiful laugh cut through your own, and at the sight of his uncharacteristically bright smile, accompanied with the little smear of mayo on his chin, you realized that, maybe, probably, he was actually doing just fine; and that this - laughing with him - was something you'd never been given the chance to do before, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't something you wished you could do more often.

You hoped that, maybe, Osamu wanted that, too.

"So, I take it they didn't teach you how to make onigiri at your fancy schmancy culinary school?" He smiled as you bit back a groan. It was embarrassing, how ugly your onigiri looked next to his. Sure, you were joking about your incompetence in the beginning in the hopes to rile him up a little; but when it came to actually forming the balls, well - there's a reason the spite onigiri you made were small and round.

"You win this time, rice man." He boldly plucked one of your creations and plopped it onto his plate, while you opted for one of his. You knew yours were gonna have too much mayo and way too much seasoning, and you weren't about to subject yourself to that.

You took a bite out of the rice ball and audibly moaned - how is something so simple so delicious? He chuckled, lazy smile draped across his features as he watched you eat. The little sparkle in his eyes didn't go unnoticed by you, and you felt a tiny tug on your heart at how excited he was that you were enjoying his food, even if he wasn't being outwardly showy about it like you tended to be.

"'This time'? Does that mean we're doing this again?" You reached for another one of his as you hummed to yourself.

"Hmm, maybe. Maybe I'll force you to bake me some macarons." You were kidding, of course - you wouldn't wish that upon even your worst enemies - but the way his eyes brightened and he agreed with a small but noticeable lilt to his voice had you wondering if maybe making macarons wouldn't be all that bad if you made them with him.

He bit into your onigiri, taking a far more generous bite than you would have, and you snickered at the obvious attempt to conceal the grimace he had involuntarily made upon swallowing. The way he tiptoed around his critique of your failure was incredibly endearing ("It's not bad, just...mayo-y." "You don't have to eat it, you know." "No no, you worked hard, I'm gonna eat it."), and you felt the first little crack form in the walls you had begun to keep up around him ever since the curry incident.

The longer you enjoyed the food, wine, and - surprisingly - company, the harder it became to ignore the guilt that had settled onto your heart earlier in the evening. What started off as a mere twinge had become a sizeable weight in your chest, growing each moment you spent with him that didn't make you want to launch him off the summit of Mount Fuji.

"I'm sorry," you said, quiet and out of the blue. He shot you a confused smile.

"Pretty sure that's my job right now," he pointed out, and you offered a meek chuckle in response.

"I shouldn't have sold the dessert onigiri. Seeing just how passionate you are makes me realize the gravity of what I did. My ego was a little bruised and instead of being an adult about it, I openly insulted you and Kita by making a mockery of your business. I took it too far, and I'm really sorry about that. I'm sure it goes without saying, but I'm gonna stop making them so you don't have to worry anymore." He was quiet, staring at you in a way he hadn't before, and it made you feel far too exposed, playing with the rice crumbled on your plate as you waited for a reaction.

"I'm sorry, too. I only said those things because the idea of you expanding yer menu terrified me. Yer an amazin' chef, and I honestly think ya could run me out of business one day." His voice was soft, too; and you felt the crack grow considerably wider, your vulnerability peeking through pinched brows and hands that you couldn't seem to keep still. "I've always wanted to open up a location in Tokyo, and expand the menu. Onigiri made sense because it's always been a source of comfort, but as much as I love makin' em, there're others things I wanna make, too."

The air between you was...light. The weight that usually settled itself into your shoulder blades seemed to have dissipated, and you couldn't tell if it was the wine, the time, or Osamu. Maybe it was all three.

"I...I like it better when we don't hate each other," you said.

"I never hated you," he said.

"I never hated you either," you admitted.

"Does that mean we can stop pretending we do?" He looked you, and you saw hope.

You smiled.

"Yeah," you said. "We can."

Prev | Masterlist | Next

Fun facts -

Osamu listening to old 60′s love songs just did something to me ok, especially my girl Etta

Kita is 100% responsible for the plants 

Osamu’s mom kept the tape, even after it finally broke beyond repair. It reminds her of Osamu’s father, who she met that summer in Cali

he was another exchange student from Japan. They had a summer fling and inevitably said their goodbyes when the summer was over and he had to fly back home.

They ended up bumping into each other a year after she moved back - and fate has been a big theme for the Miya’s ever since. 

Osamu has always felt a little funny about it - it feels too convenient, and he doesn’t like the idea of not being in control of his own path.

He thought your ugly rice balls were disgusting, obviously, and he was sure to eat his own after the first one lmao

A/n - when you haven’t updated in so long you have to look at past chapters to remember how you formatted 😭. BUT ITS FINALLY DONEEEE, this chapter KICKED my ass oh my god but it feels so good to be finished and we’re finally moving into new territory~ I’m very excited for the next few chapters!! I hope you guys enjoy this latest chapter, please don’t be afraid to shoot me messages if you have questions!! I have a LOT of behind the scenes content that doesn’t make it into the fic sometimes and I’m always eager to share 🤩✨💛

Taglist (bolded cannot be tagged!)-

@larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @fucktheworlddude​ @doctorspencereid​ @keiarma​ @cherriechurros​ @halesandy​ @k3nma-fairy​ @jewlmin​ @tabipleats​ @kaleidoscopekai​ @confusedturtle​ @vintagexparker​ @hoeevern @syaziahvg​ @hallothankmas​ @lilith412426​ @aurorahoneybuns​ @oikawakuns​ @reina-de-tay​ @prettyinblack231​ @snowyseungs​ @darlingkuroo​ @chloji​ @1sillylittlething​ 

[ml-salt-central]

So, I finally watched the Miraculous New Your special...

I know this is late, sorry about that. It took a while for me to find a way to watch the special but I finally did so let's just get this shit over with:

Okay, how the fuck are these fucking pidgeons lifting the Eiffel Tower? Do they get super strenght from Mister Pigeon or something?

51 TIMES?! HAWKMOTH HAS CHOSE TO AKUMATIZE THE PIGEON GUY 51 TIMES?! HOW DESPERATE CAN YOU BE, BITCH?!

Astro Cat's design is cool af honestly but Cosmobug's design is awful! Why can't Marinette have a good design for her hero form for once? Oh, right, misoginy...

Okay so, I'm just gonna skip every Love Square scene because then this post would be even longer and I reacted the same way towards all of them, I just rolled my eyes and didn't care

Marinette's still a drooling idiot for Adrien despite claiming that she tries to move on which is... tiring and not funny, JUST LET HER MOVE ON!

Ms. Bustier is having a baby or whatever but I hate her so I don't care

If you saw Ms. Mendeleiev's reaction to Kim calling her a stick in mud and thought that that scene would lead to her trying to be more relaxed and less strict then you get to eat shit because it goes nowhere other than one scene at the airplane

Alya and Nino are just straight up terrible in this special, they spend all of their screen time trying to push Mari and Adrien together despite the fact that Mari said she wanted to move on and that Adrien has a GIRLFRIEND! WHAT THE FUCK, GUYS?!

Miraculous Ladybug: Where cheating is okay as long as it's for the sake of the main pair

I do not like the idea of historical figures being miraculous holders, am I alone on that?

Nathalie's apparently in pretty bad shape for using the Peacock Miraculous too much... good! Die, bitch! Also Gabriel's the fucking worst again, no surprise there

Luka deserves to be an actual character, poor boy is just being done dirty again and again

I said this before but I hate, hate, HATE the fact that there are other superheroes whose powers don't come from a miraculous. This just destroys the already weak world building, New York and Paris in ML don't feel like places that would exist in the same universe and it raises so many questions like how do people like Majestia get their powers? Why don't any of them go to Paris to help stop Hawkmoth since it doesn't seem like that would take much effort? Why are superheroes seemingly an exclusively american thing?

Mister Damocles's owl thing was funny at first but it was kind of annoying here, like this just proves once again that the characters never learn anything, didn't he realize that being an every day hero would be better for him in the episode he got akumatized?

All the american heroes are just knockoff versions of already existing heroes from comics, they couldn't even bother to parody the interesting ones they went with the more boring (and sadly most popular) ones

They made Aeon (the first black girl character of the show) a robot, made her become ivory white when she transformed and gave her the name "Uncanny Valley"... FUCKING YIKES! And that's not even all the things wrong with how her character is portrayed! She isn't even good as a concept! At least the idea of Jess as a character could work if she was written by people who knew what the fuck they were doing

The scenes where Adrien and Marinette can't get through automatic doors are really funny and cute ngl

Normally, I would be all for magic hot dogs being a thing but not on this show

The american heroes having all of their identities being public is just BEYOND stupid! Do the villains just not target their families or try to murder them in their sleep? And if having your secret identity being public has seemingly no consequences then what is Mari's and Adrien's excuse to not reveal who they are to eachother at least? I know the answer is to drag the show out for as long as possible but still!

I don't like the existence of the Eagle miraculous or the fact that there are more miracle boxes out in the world, why add more shit when you've barely explored the things you already have?

Techno-Pirate is boring and his name being Miracolonizer when he wields the Eagle miraculous is just... all kinds of uncomfortable

Adrien throws himself a pity party after almost killing Aeon due to him getting angsty mid-battle, I don't feel bad for him at all honestly

Knightowl looks so ugly without her suit, holy shit!

How the fuck did Jess know the deactivation words for the Eagle Miraculous' powers? Also her suit is so ugly! And her hero name is just "Eagle", at least Ladybug is now tied with someone as the blandest hero

Why the fuck did Knightowl and Sparrow hide the fact that they were female? Like there are plenty of other female heroes around so it's not like they're gonna be judged for it and if it's to hide their secret identities then why are they the only american heroes that do so?

The Miraculouses just keep piling on, making them even less special than before but now with the added bonus that they now seem like a pretty shitty power source compared to the american heroes' superpowers

Lastly, what's up with the technology in the ML universe? Like most of the time it feels like the show takes place in modern day but then we get these very advanced pieces of machinery out of nowhere and it feels so... jarring and inconsistent

In conclusion:

The fuck was all that?!

[ripspaghet]

bff | 06

↳ series m.list | 00 | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | ongoing

→ pairing: yoongi x reader

→ word count: 5,860

Prologue Summary; Your best friend's boyfriend takes an unhealthy interest in you and just as he shows up something from your past starts to creep up on you again. Could this strange and mysterious man have something to do with it? And should you trust him, or your instincts to run far, far away from him?

→ warnings: angst, swearing, cheating, self hate, trauma

Gone. Gone again. Anytime he feels he's gotten closer to unearthing the melody it slips from his fingertips, like water. It would all be so much easier if he didn't have this desire, this want. Every time it's silent he feels there's this void, something gaping within him, and life begins to feel dismal - yet, he still finds himself here, in this dark and desolate place that doesn't belong to him. A single red light aluminates in the darkness and he's left with no choice but to approach, shatter the glass, and enter. It isn't until screeching alarms pull in attention that he truly realizes that this place is not his own. Invaded. Breached. Ransacked. He's an unwelcome guest - although, these simple facts don't stop him. They pull him in, glass crunching beneath his shoes as he takes a seat. Fear and adrenaline suffocate the darkness looming around him, screaming that he is not wanted. He just needs to remember it. His fingers run along with the ivory keys, the smooth melody of the first five notes flowing into each other, only for an eerie pause of silence to follow. He lets his fingers slip from the keys. It's useless.

A soft echo of notes makes his eyes open.

He turns, looking for where the tune originated - but there's nothing, no one as far as the eye can see in this dense cloud of darkness. Nothing but the alarm filters through.

It's been exactly a day since it happened. The way your nerves are making your heart quake has, if nothing else, increased with time. You've been utterly restless - pacing around your dorm, spacing out while staring at the chipped paint of your white walls, and picking at hangnails excessively. You know you're going to have to face this. Otherwise, the rug will be pulled out from under you when you least expect it. It's safe to say you'd rather be the one pulling the rug, then be the one standing on it, waiting anxiously for your inevitable downfall.

You knock on the door about five times before it finally opens, making way to the threshold beyond it and a pair of pleasantly surprised eyes. Her gaze makes your stomach drop, so you opt for studying the interior details of her apartment. It's spacious and open, natural light pouring in from just about every nook and cranny. It suits her, she's never been one for reciting in the dark - despite her, more often than not, glaring gaze.

"____," She opens the door wider, "I didn't know you were coming, I would've made food if you called. Come in." You oblige, taking off your coat as you enter the apartment, the smell of scented candles, and floral encasing you in a spring time-capsule. You hang your coat on the rack next to the door. "It's been so stressful since the new semester started, we've barely had any time to hang out." You follow her into the kitchen after removing your shoes. "Work has been crazy too, you remember that kid that kept coming in and ripping the flowers off their stems?" She circles the center bar, making her way to the fridge and pulling out a pitcher of what you presume to be tea as she pours it into a glass, "Well, the manager refuses to ban him. He blames me for allowing the kid to destroy our merchandise." She slides the glass to you, "You prefer it cold, right?" She sighs, "That manager, such a prick. I'm really considering quitting if this keeps up." Remaining silent you watch as she fiddles with her own glass as she rambles, "I didn't mean to neglect our friendship or anything. It's just between all this and...Yoongi," Your stomach drops and your ears go fuzzy. You don't hear much of what she says, swearing you're about to barf up the chicken you'd had for lunch not all that long ago. Her voice lowers as if she's afraid someone might be listening in, "He's being so strange, showed up h-"

"Mina, I need to talk to you about something." You don't dare meet her eyes, you keep them downcast on the dewdrops of condensation rising on the glass of your untouched drink. She falls silent, the air around you becoming heavy. With a sigh, you take a seat at the bar but still neglect to touch the tea in front of you. Mina moves to take the seat next to you, still silent, observing your exhausted expression. "Listen, about Yoongi - I don't really know how to say this, so, I'll just say it. He k-"

You're startled into a flinch as fumbling footsteps followed by a loud crash of glass and fuck knows what else, cuts you off. As you turn your head, a lanky body stumbles out of the hallway into the kitchen, their back to you and Mina as a harsh swear makes your breath hitch. Dirt and glass is now spread out across the marble floor in a messy display and Mina moves quickly while you remain in your seat, watching as she rushes with worried words, "Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?" 

As if you hadn't already realized, your eyes nearly bulge out of your head, heart slamming up into your throat as his dark hair falls over his brows and shifts ever so slightly with the tilt of his head, "I'm fine, " His dark eyes never leave you as Mina scans him for injuries, "your plant, not so much."

"I'll get the broom." Mina saunters off, leaving you alone with the source of your guilty conscience - you're dripping with it, a metaphorical layer of sweat against your skin that's almost suffocating.

"____-"

"Don't."

"Got it! Yoongi, hold this for me."

His mouth is quick to clamp shut as he takes the dustpan that's shoved into his chest, his eyes darting away from you, "Yeah, sure."

Mina works quickly as always, swiping the dark potting soil up into the yellow pan that Yoongi holds steady. Nervously, you shift your gaze away from the two and pick up your tea to take a large gulp.

This is going up in flames. How are you supposed to tell her with him here? You don't want to be- No, you shouldn't be caught up in this. You should have never let it happen…

"There," Mina's voice pulls your attention back up, "I'll-"

"No, I've got it." His hand lightly brushes her wrist before he turns to dispose of the dirt. The gesture is small enough to convince you that neither of them really noticed it - just a natural loving touch, nothing unusual - though, it's enough to make you look away again.

"____? Are you alright?"

Your breath hitches and you have to force the hard expression on your face to loosen, "I'm f-fine." They are together, happy, maybe even in love. He hasn't said a word to her about any of it, yet, he wasn't alone in the act. You could've stopped him. You could've pushed him away, should've told him no. She's your best friend and you let him-

"What was it you were saying? Something about Yoon-"

"Nothing," You force a big smile, "I think I was just a bit worried about you. As you said, we haven't made time for each other lately."

"Oh, " Her lips purse, "we should make time for each other soon then."

How selfish are you? Never in your life have you thought of yourself as a horrible person. But now? Your skin is crawling with self-loathe. Every time you meet Mina's gaze your stomach drops - not because of what happened, but because of how it made you feel. The images that run rampant in your head shouldn't be there. It's all the worse that there was no lust driving your actions - there was a deep-rooted desire, an intoxicating burning beneath your skin that makes you dizzy just thinking about it. A passionate fire had dwindled to life beneath your ribcage. It should make you sick. You should be repulsed at the mere thought. "I should get going now. I don't want to intrude on your couple time. I'll see you in class."

"You don't-"

"Call or text if you need me."

The hallway is clustered with people, bumping shoulders with you as you drag yourself along. Maybe it's best you act like it never happened, that Mina remains happy and not miserable knowing the man she is in love with kissed her best friend...and that her best friend allowed it - kissed him back even. And maybe you deserve this dreadful feeling that's swelling inside, growing larger day by lousy day.

You stop abruptly, a student behind you swearing at you for making them walk around. You don't know why you've stopped, don't know what urges you to turn your head but, never the less, you do. You blink at the letters next to the door. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you peek through the small door window. It's tantalizing, filling you with more anger than any remorse. You let this thing, this object, control you. Your every move and action revolves around running from it and for what?

Before you can convince yourself otherwise you're yanking the door open and marching in, heading straight for the ivory keys sat on the opposite side of the music room. How could you be afraid of something so ridiculous? It's pathetic. You plop down on the bench, eyes set to kill as your fingers naturally fall into the correct posture. And with a soft and steady exhale of air, your fingers slowly ignite, brushing along the keys with a fevered nostalgia.

'Prélude no.25 in C sharp minor, Op.45', a piece you once knew like the back of your hand. The memories of it still linger fresh in your mind, so much so that your hands could flow with the smoothness of the lilting notes even in your sleep. Your turmoil seems to whip and lash at your fingertips like a ravenous animal as the song crescendos, the tempo increasing with veracity and then it cuts through you, a sharp pain traveling up your right wrist and you yank your hands away. The room falls silent, nothing but the sounds of birds chirping outside and the wind whistling. Your eyes sting with unshed tears and you can't help but slam your foot into the floor out of frustration.

"____?"

Your breath catches in your throat, fear falling in the pit of your stomach as you turn your head.

"What are you doing in here?"

The sight of Jimin's blonde hair and worried eyes only calms you a little. You'd worried that maybe someone else had found you here, but it being him wasn't exactly any better. "I just-" You turn to look back down at the piano, your brows knit together, "I don't know."

"Come on," Jimin is quick to make his way over to you, yet you don't turn back to face him - even when he wraps his hand around your wrist and gently pulls it up to inspect, "you shouldn't do this to yourself." You turn slowly, reluctant to face anyone at such a vulnerable moment, but you manage to frown at him as the pad of his thumb traces soothing patterns into your skin. His hair is swept neatly across his forehead, a soft smile plays on his lips that doesn't meet his eyes, "Does it still hurt?"

"It hurts every day, Jimin." You turn away, "You know that."

"You're strong ____."

You flinch, not expecting him to say that, of all things.

"After everything that's happened, I've never known you to give up. So, stop putting yourself down." He pauses, coming to sit beside you but never letting your wrist go, "I know you can't play anymore, but your talent doesn't just exist within a piano. It's a lot more than that." Still refusing to meet his gaze, you begin picking at a hangnail, "Here," He lets your hand go and you briefly glance over to see what he's doing just as he holds a small yellow sucker out to you, "it's lemon flavored."

You glance down at the thing held up to your face, "Why-"

"You like lemonade, right?" He smiles, eyes twinkling, "Hurry and take it, we have to get to class before you're late again."

You snatch the candy from him, sniffling in annoyance, "What am I? A five-year-old?"

"You don't have to be a child to enjoy the sweeter things in life."

You abruptly plop down into your chair between Mina and Jimin, exhaling dramatically as you do. If only it'd all been a dream and you could just forget it. How many times have you thought that now? Were you in the Hundreds now? Thousands?

"Everything alright?"

Like clockwork, you sputter nervously under Mina's gaze, "Ah, yeah, just tired. Must be insomnia or something."

"Insomnia?" Jimin raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to look at you, "Do you have that?"

"Yes? No? Maybe? I'm not a doctor. Where is the professor?" Both of them turn their attention to the front of the class, seemingly not taking notice of your jumpy behavior. Though, you're sure Jimin did. He just knew when it was time to leave you be.

"Oh, that, " Mina nibbles on her bottom lip to keep herself from smiling, "Professor Lee caught some nasty bug over the weekend."

"I fail to see why that would make you smile like a little school girl that just wet herself."

She scowls at Jimin, "The professor asked a former student of his to teach the class until he returns."

What?

"Oh, wow, so Loverboy is subbing just so he can stare at your toxic face all day? I don't buy it. He must be into guys."

"Excuse me?"

You think you're about to vomit up your breakfast.

"He finds me cute and couldn't get enough."

"He absolutely does not!"

Please, for the love of all that's good in this world.

"Told me himself."

"Stop making shit up, Park!"

"As soon as you stop buzzing in my ear, you fly."

"I am not a fly! You-"

The classroom door slams and you jump in your seat, making both Jimin and Mina turn to you questioningly as you squeeze your eyes shut in denial. Slow footsteps make their way to the front of the lecture hall and the echo of them makes you cringe.

There is absolutely no way the universe hates you enough to-

"Hello, my name is Min Yoongi, a music producer and a former student of Professor Lee's. Unfortunately, the Professor is bedridden and has asked me to substitute for the time being, let's get along well."

Never mind, the universe doesn't hate you - it loathes you. You'd think that after everything you'd have no trouble avoiding him. Hell, you thought that he'd do the same, but you suppose Min Yoongi isn't going to be giving you any breaks anytime soon.

You let your head fall from your hands and slam into the desk beneath you with a concerningly loud thud.

"Woah, are you alright?" Jimin places a hand on your shoulder and you miserably slug away from him.

"Don't touch me."

The class drags on like a snail and you've sat here long enough to, staring at a head of dark hair, try to hex the man it belongs to about a thousand times - give or take. You've yet to see a beehive fall from the ceiling and send him running home though.

When the bell finally does ring you're not even granted the semblance of running out yourself as Mina cuts you off, "I'm having my birthday party early this year."

"Oh, really? When is it?" You keep your head down as the two of you mosey along, closer and closer to the front of the classroom.

"Tomorrow at my place."

You nod, more focused on escape than anything else.

"It was going to be on my birthday week, but Yoongi and I made plans together for the day of my birthday. We're going to-"

"That's great Mina. I'm sure the two of you will have a great time together." You force a smile as if your life depends on it, "Say, what time is the party?"

"Oh," Mina laughs with realization as you inwardly sigh with relief at the welcomed change of subject, "it's at eight."

"Great."

Mina bounces over to the exit with excitement, "You'll be there?"

"Of course." You force another smile as you follow after her.

Almost there, almost home free.

"Great, I'll see you then."

You nod again at the threshold, watching as Mina waves back to you.

"____, I need to speak with you."

You freeze, a deadly chill rushing down your spine. "No, thanks." You wave behind you, not turning back as you continue with your escape.

"It's about your test."

You freeze again, your eye twitching at your lack of luck today, "I'm in a real rush, I can't-"

"Come here, now."

Fuck the universe, that vindictive bitch. 

Reluctantly, you turn and make your way back towards the center of the desk you had passed by with ease not all that long ago, "You failed your last test. Professor Lee informed me that you need to retake it, or you'll fail this class."

You keep your eyes directed on the wall behind him, not once sparing him a proper glance, "Okay, I'll find a tutor and-"

"There's no available tutors, because it's exam season. I told Professor Lee I'd handle this, so I'll be teaching you."

Your eyes are quick to dart to his now, "No!"

His fingers tap against the desk and they draw your attention as his eyes narrow in on you, "This has nothing to do with-" He pauses, letting out a steady breath of air and you lift your gaze back to his. Rather than being irritated or annoyed, as you expect, your surprised to find that he looks super uncomfortable, maybe even anxious, "our relationship outside of this room. And might I remind you that this test is half this semester's grade. You'll only fail again without proper help." You grit your teeth, holding back your protests. You hate to admit this, but he's right - again. "Starting next week come here after you've finished all your classes. I will be in the office grading papers. And-" He slides something across the desk to you, "your laptop, you left it."

You grab your laptop quickly before turning to leave, all the while not uttering another word to Yoongi.

The bathroom mirror is fogged over completely - except for a small spot that you've whipped at in order to dab foundation onto your neck, thoroughly painting over the purple and yellow discoloration on your skin. You juggle with your phone in your other hand, holding it to your ear, "I just- hear me out?"

"Why should I? I don't like her, so the answer is no. End of conversation."

"Please? I don't want to go alone."

"Why not? It's not like it's going to be a fun party. Doubt there will even be alcohol."

"You-"

"Get out of here already!"

"Shit," You begin shoving your makeup back into your bag, fumbling with your phone in the process.

"Listen, I know you've been having a hard time lately but there's no way in hell I'm-"

"Fine! Don't go! It's not like I need you there or anything!" You slam the bathroom door shut behide you, sure to piss off your roommate, who is washing shampoo from her hair.

"Don't be like that, ____. You know she wouldn't even want me-" Throwing your bag over your shoulder you pull the phone away from your ear and hang up. After all the things Jimin has put you through, he can't even do you the smallest of favors. You stomp over to your dorm room door, storming out into the hallway, and down the stairs. You shove the glass door to your complex open, letting the cold wind blow tangles into your freshly brushed hair as you stride toward the Lift driver that's been waiting for you at the curb for the past thirty minutes. Under normal circumstances, you'd apologize to the driver for making them wait, but as you've established, time and time again, these are not normal circumstances. As you buckle your seat belt the driver takes off, drifting at about thirty on the speedometer.

A heavy sigh falls off your lips and you lean your head against the window as the first ticks of rain make contact with the transparent glass. Your phone buzzes in your lap and you glance down at it. You half expected it to be a text from Jimin, although the notification is from an unknown number.

Message from Unknown Number-8:32pm: Let me make up for lost time. Please, answer your phone.

You begin typing only to be cut off by another buzz.

Message from Unknown Number-8:33pm: Don't try telling me I've got the wrong number. Jimin gave it to me.

You scowl down at the small screen before abruptly turning off your phone. You curse Jimin as you shove the phone into your bag.

"Thought you said you weren't going to come."

He fiddles with the ends of his hair, all the while avoiding your gaze, "Well, Jungkook agreed to come along so-"

"You can be a real jerk sometimes, you know that?"

Sighing, Jimin leans against his younger friend, but Jungkook's attention seems to lie elsewhere as he completely ignores the two of you, "You know how I feel about Mina."

"Yeah," You turn to see what's got Jungkook so preoccupied, "and you know how I feel about parties." Across the room you spot Mina and Yoongi. The two are conversing rather aggressively and you inhale sharply, barely managing to remind yourself that it's normal for Mina to blow things out of proportion and it's probably nothing. You don't need to worry. You force your attention back to Jimin.

"I have no idea how you feel about anything nowadays. You're-"

"I swear I'm never doing anything for that she-devil again."

You turn to see a rather annoyed Seokjin now standing behind Jungkook, with a large birthday cake in hand. 

Raising an eyebrow, you tilt your head, "What are you doing here?"

He looks away from Jungkook, who is now laughing at his elder's misfortune, "I was conned."

"Ah," You nod and point at the cake, "she made you bake that?"

Jimin shakes his head, "What a shame you let her walk all over you."

"Yeah," Seokjin rolls his eyes before glaring over in Mina's direction, "it's too quiet in here. I'm going to start some music."

You watch Seokjin make his way over to a speaker and then leave for the kitchen. The smell of birthday cake tickles your nose now as the sound of soft pop music lulls the small crowd of people in the apartment space.

"God, this is boring."

"Beyond boring."

Those two seem to be unable to keep their moping to themselves since you arrived, although you haven't paid them all that much attention. You're more concerned with how you're going to avoid eating cake later on. You hate overly sweet things with a passion and Mina's cake is sure to taste like a sugar rush.

"We should liven it up a bit."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"How about it ____?" You drag your gaze away from a frowning Mina to glance over at Jimin, who's holding a plate full of crumbs that were previously covered in chips. Jungkook stands next to him, bordly munching on some handmade snack you couldn't remember the name of. The two of them refused to stay anywhere that wasn't right beside the snack table. You guessed since there wasn't any alcohol, they were making do with what's available.

"Can you two behave until the candles are blown out? I don't wanna hear Mina yelling until I've already told her my excuse to leave."

Jungkook nods, "Understandable,"

"I suppose I'll wait."

You just want to go home and get some more sleep, you couldn't care less what these two goons had up their sleeves. Yes, you want Mina to have a good birthday, but you can only maintain your act for so long while around her. Faking isn't your strong suit.

"Oh, God,"

"Wha-Oh,"

You glance back over at the two of them to see that they're staring across the room. Jimin is frowning, while Jungkook looks as if his whole life is flashing before his eyes. You turn to see what it is, only to find yourself wishing you never did.

"____! There you are! You sly fox, you. I've been looking for you everywhere."

Your stomach drops, "Who told him?"

Jimin scowls as his friend makes his way over to you, "It definitely wasn't me."

"Sorry, ____. He promised me he wouldn't come if I told him." Jungkook scoots away from you out of fear of your wrath.

The guy approaching you is quick to move to your side, placing an arm around your waist. You're sure to send Jungkook the deadliest of glares that has him cowering behind a now, rather aggravated Jimin.

"Tae, what are you doing here?" You almost choke as you force a smile onto your face.

He pulls you closer to him, a smirk playing on his lips, "I heard from a little birdy that you'd be here." 

As a strong urge to knee Jungkook in the crouch starts to settle in, you grit your teeth, forcing yourself to bear it and not cause a scene.

"Yah, Taehyung, who do you think you are, clinging to my best friend like that?" Jimin's brows have shot up in question as he stares Taehyung down with accusing eyes.

His arm doesn't leave you, though you can feel him stiffen under Jimin's intimidating gaze, "I-"

"If you want your dick sucked find some other girl to do it."

Taehyung frowns, "Jimin, I'm not-"

"Taehyung, " You pat his shoulder, gaining the attention of all three boys' in the process, "how about you go get me a drink from the kitchen?"

He looks back and forth between you and Jimin, slightly suspicious before nodding, and heading off.

Jimin scoffs, "The nerve of him."

"I'm going to get some fresh air. Tell him I went to the restroom or something. Also, try to keep from fighting. Like I said earlier-"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't want to ruin Mina's birthday party. Blah, blah, blah."

"Jimin," You glare, "I'm serious."

"Alright, " He groans, rolling his eyes, "I'll stop. Just go before that horny baboon gets back and tries humping your leg."

You roll your eyes but nod never the less. Jungkook whispers another sorry to you as you walk past them towards the apartment door. You only wave him off, not caring enough to bother with his inability to keep a secret. You're too tired and honestly just wish you could go home. You mean, you could go home with the excuse of, "I started feeling sick." Which wouldn't be a complete lie - thanks to Taehyung. You know Mina wouldn't fall for it though.

Luckily, her apartment is on the bottom floor and it doesn't take you long to make your way outside. The warmth from the building's heater almost seems to melt off your skin in the chilled air. It's only around dinner time, but you suspect the sun has begun to set behind the rain clouds, due to the darkness that has started settling over the city. Your steps are small as you watch your breath puff out into a cold cloud passed your chapped lips. Fiddling with the sucker that still rests in your pocket, you shut your eyes and listen to the downpour that assaults the sidewalk. You hadn't planned on being so weak, so vulnerable. After all these years you'd hoped that maybe you would've grown stronger by now - but you feel weaker than ever.

An exaggerated sigh startles you and your eyes snap open. 

His back is to you as rain showers down onto the awning above, black shoes resting in a puddle on the curb of the street as he stares at cars zipping by. You've never noticed before, but the rainy weather compliments his skin. You find your eyes lingering on the pads of his fingers and the blue veins below red knuckles - a perfect contrast of colors. Really, you know better than to approach him. You know better than to go anywhere near him - but, knowing better doesn't stop you from making your way over to him with a misplaced sense of determination as he reaches into his pocket, nor does it keep you from plopping down next to him as he places the retrieved object between his velvety lips.

He pauses his actions to glance over at you curiously. You frown at him before reaching up and plucking the purple lighter from his left hand, "What are you-"

You shove the lighter into your pocket, exchanging it with your sucker. You know you'll never eat it, might as well put it to good use. You hold it out to him, "You should replace bad habits with healthy habits."

He turns away with a scoff, nibbling on his lower lip - an obvious attempt to keep himself from smiling, "That isn't particularly healthy."

You glance at the sucker, "No, but it's better than what you had before." Nudging the candy into his now empty hand you purse your lips.

Reluctantly, he takes the cigarette away from his mouth and slides it back into its pack, "So, you're talking to me again?"

"No," You stare at him as his long fingers unwrap the yellow sucker and plop it into his mouth.

"Then what do you call this?"

You look away, opting to stare at the wet asphalt and listen to the constant pitter-patter of the rain, "Why were you and Mina fighting?"

Silence falls over the two of you for a moment before he sighs and rolls the stick of the sucker along his tongue, "She wants me here while I need to be elsewhere."

"It's her birthday party."

"Yeah," He snaps, eye sharpening as they flicker over to you, "I told her a month before she planned it what days I'd have work. She did this on purpose."

"Why would she-"

"Because she thinks I'm cheating on her with my coworker." The words are spat bitterly, the sound of the sucker cracking between the tension of his teeth. Your lips clamp shut and you look away from him. Why are you getting involved? You're only making things messier for yourself. "She's not all that wrong, though. I guess I deserve this."

Your head whips back over, "W-what? Are you cheating with a coworker?"

He turns to look at you, brows furrowed, "What? No, I-" He pauses then shakes his head, deciding against it and laughs, "Why are you here ____?"

You glance around, "I-Uh-Mina said I had to come and I-"

His head tips forward, dark hair falling over his lashes, "No, why are you here, with me."

"Oh," You watch the rain as it begins to slow, "I'm not sure."

"Thought you hated me."

"I should." You grit your teeth in annoyance.

"But you don't." Rather than it being a question, it's more of a statement, as if he already knows exactly how you feel.

You don't say a word, you just blink over at his side profile, heart thudding against your ribcage.

He sighs, turning to look at you, "You and I, I know it isn't good. I know I should stay away from you and you do the same to me...but," His dark eyes trace your features, as if trying to memorize them, "I don't think-"

"Jimin! You asshole! Get out! You were never invited for this exact reason!" 

You both turn to see Jimin stumbling out of the apartment complex, Mina hot on his heels, "It's not my fault your party was boring!"

Shit.

"Shut up!" She lands a solid slap that echoes off the back of Jimin's neck and through the rainy streets.

"Fuck! Jungkook! Do something she's touched me! I'm infected!"

Jungkook isn't far behind the pair, seeing as a second later he's the next person to rush out onto the sidewalk. Mina shoves Jimin's chest and he barks with laughter as he stumbles back, "Are you a child?!"

"Sure, if that's what you want me to be."

"Jimin, come on, stop. ____ said to-"

"____ said what?! Is she the one who brought you?!"

Shit.

"What? No, I-"

Next to burst through the door is Taehyung, who is quick to step in between Mina and Jimin, "Really sorry about all this Mina. I'll escort Jimin home."

"You?!" Jimin laughs dryly, "Why? So you can have another go at ____?"

Taehyung's brows crease as he opens his mouth to speak, but when he glances over to see you sitting on the curb he shifts gears, "____! There you are!"

Fuck.

All of their heads turn to you, Jimin raising an eyebrow, Jungkook looking confused, and Mina narrowing her eyes at you as she assesses the fact that her boyfriend is sitting next to you.

"The fuck are you doing out here?" You can tell that her question is directed at Yoongi, only by the small shift of her eyes. Yoongi simply shakes his head and turns away to watch the cars again. 

Somewhere in all the commotion, Taehyung had made his way over to you, seeing as when he plops down next to you and snakes an arm around your waist you flinch, "Is this where you've been hiding?"

"For the love of God, Taehyung, if you don't-"

Jimin is cut off when Yoongi stands up, pulling you with him by the wrist, and glaring at Taehyung in such a way that he freezes on the curb - hands kept to himself. You fidget at the feeling of Yoongi's cold fingers wrapped around your wrist, holding your breath.  The group turns dead silent before you eventually pull away from Yoongi, taking your wrist back, "Taehyung, please take Jimin home."

"What?!" Jimin squawks at you, "You said you needed me-"

"And I should've just asked Jungkook instead." You're quick to cut Jimin off, glaring at him as if he'd just stepped on your toe.

"I can't believe this. I literally-"

"Aw, poor Park. First time getting dumped on a sidewalk?"

"Shut up!" The snarl takes all of you by surprise, even Mina takes a step back, mouth clamping shut.

"Jimin,"

Jimin's eyes shift back to you, flickering over to Taehyung, then Yoongi before settling back on you, "Are you going to tell me what's going on with you?"

"What's going on with me?" You scoff, "You're joking, right?"

"Well, other than the usual shit show you have going on." His words are harsh and they catch all of you off guard for a second time. Jimin tends to be blunt when he needs to be, yes, but never harsh, "I'm fed up, ____. You won't talk to me. You're just bottling it all up. You can't expect anything the change if you-"

"You're the one who gave Hoseok my number!"

.

.

.

a/n: sorry it took me so long to post and that this is kinda filler🙇‍♀️ but it's the start of some character development and the conflict is raising so it's about get crazy real soon👀😳

@team-work-made-the-dream-work @seokchella @crackhead1-800 @chogiyeol-utopia @thatchampagnebitch @jeonchan26  @loveyoongles @ghoularaki @team-wang-puppy

To be tagged send an ask 🍬🚬

[0ghostwriter0]

The Originals Imagines

Request: Female Original Character x Elijah Mikaelson

The character is best friends with Rebekah. From the moment she saw Elijah she developed a crush. One evening the Mikaelsons throw a ball in honour of the character’s birthday. But Elijah decides to dance with Davina which means she and Kol plot to make Elijah a bit jealous. Later in the evening, the two confess their love.

The thin framed woman stood timidly in front of the mirror. As the chiffon fabric clung to her curves, she sighed deeply. Mortified and ashamed, the young woman wrapped her arms around herself to cover up her body. The bedroom door flies open as Rebekah storms in.

"I couldn't wa- ... Hera why are you covering up?" The younger Mikaelson questioned.

Turning slowly, Hera pushes her arms to her side but instantly put them back in front of the deep v neckline that exposes her chest. The original smirks at the young woman's actions and goes to sit on the bed. Mortified and self conscious, the thin woman pulls at the dress trying to cover more of her chest.

"That's it you're changing" Rebekah exclaims as she rises from the bed.

The Mikaelson wanders down the hall to retrieve a black garment bag. Sighing in relief, Hera starts to unzip the atrocious dress that Kol had picked for her. Kol usually knew what outfits would catch the eye of Elijah but this time he was wrong in so many ways. Eventually, Rebekah returned with a grin plastered across her face and a pearl embellished dress in her arms.

"Elijah is a sucker for classic glamour" the vampire smirks which causes Hera to blush.

Soon, Hera was all dolled up in a vintage pearl embellished dress. Her chestnut hair fell into neat ringlets on her shoulders. Taking one last glance in the floor length mirror, Hera smiled brightly as the dress accentuated her figure. Softly and slowly, the young woman sighed "I think I'm ready". Giggling quietly, Rebekah nodded and pulled Hera down the hard oak stairs and towards the black SUV. Hera smirked as a tall driver stepped to open the SUV door.

"Time to celebrate birthday girl" the original said excitedly.

After many moments of fumbling with her hands in the back of the SUV, Hera's face lit up as they turned the corner leading to the Mikaelson Mansion. Extravagant yet classy, lights guided the way to the grand entrance. Slowly, the door was opened by the same tall driver and Hera stepped out with her ivory heels gracing the cobbled path. Lonely and afraid, Hera prayed that she wouldn't fall face first before being in catching distance of the noble stag.

As the huge doors opened, Hera was welcomed by her friends and family who had gathered to celebrate her 21st birthday. Hera had first met most of the Mikaelsons after she turned 16 when she took a trip to the french quarter. But it wasn't till she was 18 that she met the gaze of Elijah. When she first laid eyes on the elder brother of Klaus, Hera knew that she had met the perfect suit that would look after her no matter what. As much as Elijah looked after Hera, she longed for more and despite Rebekah's comments nothing came of the affection that Hera had for the suit. Today was different. According to Rebekah, the grand party that laid before Hera was planned by Elijah but knowing Elijah, he would deny such claims.

Pulling Hera from her thoughts, a husky voice draw the attention of the room. For a split second, Hera believed that the voice was that of Elijah but after turning to face the sound, she realised different. It was Klaus.

"Welcome all. We all know that we are here to celebrate a special person who means a lot to my family and I'm sure she means a lot to the rest of you who have come to wish Hera a happy birthday." Smirking sinisterly, as he stairs at the noble brother. "So let's raise a toast to twenty one amazing years of Hera Moreau. Happy birthday, Sweetheart" Klaus raises a glass with the rest of the guests and Hera smiled as she looked down at her feet.

Spending fleeting moments with acquaintances, Hera waited patently for the first dance of the evening. From the corner of her eye, Hera spotted Elijah talking amongst some French Quarter witches (Davina was among them). Sinking slowly, Hera heard the call for the dancing to begin. Much to her surprise, Davina, the witch who was head over heels in love with Kol, started slow dancing with Elijah. Noticing the minor fractures in Hera's mood, Kol graciously took the hand of the birthday girl and pulled her into the movements.

"Thank you" the small framed woman whispered.

Grinning, Kol admired the pearl embellished dress. "This is better than the one I picked" he smirked. Giggling softly, Hera took a spin "Rebekah knows how I move" she replied. Kol smirked catching on to the theme of the conversation. Pulling Hera in close, the two friends relaxed as they danced to make the suit jealous. Noticing how close his brother is getting with the birthday girl, Elijah excused himself from Davina's grasp.

"You're girl is free to be swiped off her feet" Hera stopped and gestured to Davina. Before joining the quarter witch, Kol nodded knowingly and kissed the top of the young woman's hand. Watching her dance partner float away, Hera retreated to the upstairs drawing room.

Slowly impeaching on the seemingly deserted room, Hera heard the pouring of scotch. The young woman slowly creeped away but landed on a squeaky floor board. From within the drawing room, the figure crept out of the doorway. "Miss Moreau?" Hera turned back to the scotch glass as she started to stumble over his words. "I'm sorry I was just looking for some...where to-" Elijah cut the young woman off. "It's alright it's just me and my thoughts. Come and sit with me" his words fell softly from his perfect lips. Slowly, the young woman brushed past the tall suit. Elijah's breath hitched. Pouring her a scotch, the original admired the young beauty that sat before him.

"So Davina" she smirked as she reached to take the outstretched scotch glass. Smirking softly, Elijah replied "So my idiot youngest brother." The two enjoyed each other's company for a while before an annoyed Rebekah Mikaelson broke the bliss. The blonde pushed into the room and flopped onto one of the many seats. "So it's over. The party. The ball that was for you" As a response to Rebekah's annoyance, Elijah smirked to himself. "And you. You dance with a woman who you have no interest in when you could have danced with your beloved Hera" Rebekah was drunk.

"I'll take her to her room" the birthday girl commented as she hoisted the female original from the seat.

"I'm taking myself!" The blonde exclaimed as she stumbles through the doorway and into the long hall.

Hera watched Elijah's reactions as his sister made a fool of herself getting to her room. Suddenly, Hera felt Elijah's arms snake around her waist. Before she knew it, his lips crashed with her own. They remained encompassed in the kiss for minutes but for them it felt like they had been entwined for hours. As they parted, Hera stared into the dark romantic eyes of Elijah.

"Please forgive me. I couldn't resist." Hera hung on each word that fell from Elijah's lips. Pulling him in again, the birthday girl pressed a delicate kiss on his lips.

"You don't know how long I longed for you to show me what I mean to you," she whispered as the two parted.

"Please know, my dear, I loved you from first glance but our family isn't safe enough for me to throw myself after you." His words melted Hera's heart.

"You can have me. We're here now and if you want to be my first and last thought of the day then know you already are." Elijah stared into Hera's eyes as he let his words drift through the air.

~You Can Have Me~

[obx-snippets]

Chapter 2 ∫ ≈ Ocean’s Siren at the Kegger ≈

Summary: Reina goes to her first kegger in the obx and it’s a lot more than she bargained for.

Warning: Cursing, panic attack, mentions of aquaphobia, drowning.                  S L O W B U R N

Word count: 3.2k

Pairing: JJ Maybank x female!oc

Masterlist

a/n: thank you to those who are showing interest in the series so far! Hope you stick around till the end!  

After long-wearing hours of searching for a suitable outfit, Reina gave herself a pep-talk in the mirror as she sat on the floor, staring deep within herself. If it weren't for Mina and Chris being at work so late, they would diagnose her to be clinically insane.

"It's a party, quit being a pussy."

"It's near water, why the hell would you even go?"

"I mean....you were invited, so it's sort of rude if you don't."

"I don't even drink anymore, so I could bring my own Gatorade."

"Why would you say 'yeah, I know where the boneyard is.' Fucking dumbass, you just moved here yesterday."

"Where are my pills?"

The setting sun was seated on an orange and pink horizon that it claimed as its throne. The breeze carried the ocean's salty scent in the air, tousling Reina's hair that she fought to keep tucked behind her ear. Her flip flops slapped against the hard cement, moving her bike by her side, not yet having the courage to step in the sand as she walked alongside the beach. She could hear the faint sound of pounding music, and as she neared the supposed kegger, the hollering a cheering of teens became clear as day. The lights of burning torches danced across her brown as she stopped just at the beach's edge, her toes only inches from the golden sand. A familiar sensation bloomed in her stomach like a flower that was hidden from the sun for too long. Excitement? Thrill?

A feeling that she hasn't experienced since that night. There was a smaller crowd of teens surrounding a small area of a particular part of the beach, and Reina had to squint her eyes to make out John B holding up a blonde boy by his ankles as he performed the infamous game, the keg stand. Pride tugged at her heart, knowing her past self would have stood up to the challenge of lasting longer. But she stayed put, hugging her body over the soft material of her white oversized sweater that covered a portion of her blue tennis skirt.

Her jaw instantly clenched, and eyes screwed shut upon hearing the water so close. The waves were mocking, tormenting enough to make her breathing ragged and uneven.

A gleeful cheer brought Reina to open her eyes to see John B patting his blonde friend on the back after he successfully lasted thirty seconds on the keg stand. Cheap beer dripped down his contoured chin, his laugh traveling to where Reina stood. She guessed he was one of the other boys in John B's van but wasn't sure what his name was.

Was he Pope or JJ?

His cerulean eyes shimmered under the torch lights, his toothy grin surprisingly contagious. Reina hadn't even noticed she was smiling until a pair of blue eyes latched onto hers, heat quickly radiating up her ivory cheeks. Her lips parted as if to say something but realized how far he was and quickly closed her mouth. It seemed the blonde surfer discerned what she attempted and opted to pass her a nod before stalking away with his arm draped over John B's shoulder.

Reina couldn't comprehend what she felt once she made eye contact with the boy. His ocean eyes. His handsome, chiseled features. That toothy smile that spread to her own lips. That gray muscle tee that made her mind wander. Her bottom lip was tucked between her teeth as she watched Kiara punch another boy on the arm for tossing his red solo cup on the sand.

The one who ordered the sprite.

John B was leaning forward as he sat on a fallen tree trunk, his finger prodding the blonde's side before gesturing toward a gorgeous blonde girl dancing provocatively in a small crowd. It seemed like she was the bait for the night, but Reina wasn't impressed.

"Hot, isn't he?"

Reina let a yelp slip her lip as she jolted away from the smirking girl standing next to her. She was casually drinking her beer; her dyed hair pulled up into a bun with bobby pins holding back stray hairs. She had seen her at the Wreck along with the other rowdy teenagers that occupied too much of her time for just a couple of drinks.

"W-what?" Reina cleared her throat, playing dumb as she wrung her hands to let her sweater's sleeves cover her hands.

The girl glanced at her from the corner of her dark hazel eyes as she gave her a pointed look. "The one you were ogling is JJ." she stated, pointing one of her fingers that held her red solo cup toward the blonde who was currently staying still so Kiara could pluck something out of his eye. "The sweetheart who ordered the sprite is Pope, and you met the rest--oh, and I'm Harlow. Westwick."

Harlow held out a hand, and Reina glanced down at her black painted fingers before shaking it gently.

“Reina Lynch.”

Harlow made a face, “Reina. I like it.”

Reina was surprised when she felt a smile pull at the corner of her mouth. She looked back up at Harlow, a kind expression of her own on her face.

“Thanks,” she replied.

Harlow took a large gulp of her drink, blinking wildly when some of it splashed into her eye, “So,” she started, clearing her throat, “how long you been in the OBX?”

Reina let out a sigh, carding her hand through her hair before tugging her sleeve back over her hand, “not long,” she answered, “definitely still adjusting.”

Harlow nodded her head, shivering from a gust of wind before brushing some of her baby hairs from her eyes, “Yeah, it takes a while,” Harlow laughed, “where are you from?“

“Cali.”

Harlow gaped quickly with a laugh, “Oooh! California, I like it. That’s totally rad, dude.”

Reina let out a laugh, a real laugh. “Nobody talks like that in California, you know?”

Harlow’s pink lips parted, ready to reply to her when the song switched, causing a gasp to slip from her mouth, “I love this song!” she exclaimed, turning in small circles to find a place to set her cup down, “dance with me!”

Reina clammed up immediately, the smile slipping from her face as her eyes darted to the crowd of drunk dancing teenagers. “Oh, no, I-“

“Come on!” Harlow cried over the blaring music and shouting, her dainty hand wrapping around her wrist, “please! nobody else likes to dance to this song with me!”

Reina pondered for a moment, letting Harlow shake her limp arm, chewing on her bottom lip. Worry pooled her eyes, wondering how it would feel to jump back into the party life so soon. She hasn't had a drink, so as long she steered clear of any and all alcohol consumption, one dance didn't seem like the worst thing. Besides, her blue Gatorade was tucked safely on her bike, where she had parked it by a palm tree.  

“Okay,” Reina sighed, itching a random spot on her neck before she touched her regrettable scars and coiled her hand away, a smile touching her lips once she met Harlow's eyes, “one dance.”

She didn't seem like it at first, but Harlow Westwick was a firecracker who's adrenaline had boosted to a hundred by the time she started dancing. Reina couldn't help but laugh anytime the girl poorly busted a dance move that, in her opinion, was killer. Instead of trying to mirror anyone else's movent, Reina gradually let her body sway to the heavy pumping music, her eye getting lost in the darkness and focusing on the song's base. Soon enough, the two had been dancing for an hour, disregarding Reina's 'one dance' policy.

Reina followed the tipsy girl around the boneyard, not bothering to tell her to ease up on the drinking as she didn't see it as her place to tell her what to do. She had caught Kira glancing toward her and passed her a small smile before quickly grabbing Harlow's waist when she nearly fell face-first on the sand. Too occupied with keeping Harlow upright as she marched down the beach, Reina overlooked JJ, John B, and Pope staring at her from where they sat around a bomb fire.

“So,” JJ started, downing the last of his beer, “what do we think of the new girl?”

John B casted his eyes over to Reina, who was dancing with their friend, more trying to hold her up than anything, “She seems cool,” he replied with a shrug.

Pope nodded along, his eyes still on Reina and Harlow down the beach, “She sounded nice, and she’s currently babysitting Harlow, so seems like she could hang.”

JJ tapped his ring clad finger against his plastic cup, his eyes dancing side to side, “Think I could bag her?”

His question sent the other two boys into a groan, Pope rolling his head back and John B tossing a nearby empty solo cup at him,

“Jesus, man! Do you think about anything other than sleeping with girls?”

JJ looked up, pondering, “Weed,” he answered, “spend a lot of time thinking about weed.”

“Yeah, we know,” Pope said, rolling his eyes.

“She could be gay,” John B suggested.

“What makes you think she’s gay?” JJ asked, face scrunched in confusion.

“What makes you think she’s straight?” Pope rebutted.

“Touché, Pope,” JJ tipped his empty cup at him, “touché.”

The wind was nipping at Reina's skin once the music suddenly died down. She had been following Harlow for so long that she just realized how different the sand felt under her sandals. The ground was a bit more firm but squishy at the same time, unlike the dry sand she had been wondering just hours prior. Reina stopped dead in her tracks when the sound of waves broke her from her trance. She inhaled sharply, her smile dropping, and her eyes widening in mild horror. The smell of salt became like a toxin in her lungs, and she stumbled back, her hands balling into a fist. If she knew Harlow would lead her this close to the water, she wouldn't have taken up the offer to dance. The dark sky made the water look like a raging god, calling her to step into its deadly grasp.

Despite the influx of cold wind, Reina found herself sweating under her sweater as she created more distance between herself and the ocean. A flash of a flowy green dress came across her eye when she saw Harlow drunken figure dancing toward the water. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest, seeing her tread dangerously closer to the shallow part of the ocean. The girl couldn't even keep herself balanced on the sand, and the waves would devour her immediately if she got any closer.

"Um, Harlow," Reina's tone was scarcely over a shout, not wanting to scare the girl. "could we maybe head back to the party?"

Harlow flimsily whipped her body around, her pale cheeks flushed with heat as a grin played on her lips. "There's not a pool at the party, Reina!" Harlow stated, her hand's failing to properly set on her hips as they kept slipping off.

"This isn't a fucking pool, it's the ocean. Now could you please--Harlow!

The giggling mess of a teenager took another tantalizing step into the water until she was knee-deep. The waves roughly slapped onto the back of her legs, her body bucking forward, bringing Reina to gasp. Any person with sense would have marched to Harlow and dragged her away from the water to prevent her from drowning. But Reina stayed glued in place, watching the tipsy teen splash water about. Maybe if she called her enough times, Harlow would listen.

Reina bounced on one of her legs, her pleading eyes desperately trying to spot one of her friends in the crowd that seems small considering how far they had traveled. Another loud splash brought Reina to look back at Harlow. Water must have got in her eyes, and she was brutally rubbing her knuckles over her eyelids to cease the burning. Reina's heart stopped upon seeing a wave hurtling toward Harlow, but as her words got stuck in her throat, the water slammed into her back, her body lurching forward face-first into the icy sea.

"Harlow!" Reina cried, taking a hesitant step forward. Her ears keened in on the waves, her eyes adjusting to the darkness to try and spot Harlow but nothing. She prayed that her head would appear above the waves, smiling and breathing. But nothing again. It's as if the ocean had eaten her alive and didn't think twice to bother apologizing.

Reina's breathing became uneven once she realized Harlow wasn't resurfacing as long as she stood there doing nothing. "Fuck me.." she huffed and shook her head.

Without a second thought, Reina was dashing forward down the small hill that led to the water, kicking off her sandals. Her mind was so hellbent on saving Harlow that she didn't focus on how the water felt on her torso, how it tugged on her figure to swim deeper. She knew if she let her mind find out that she was indeed in the ocean, she would surely drown, and both girls would be lost at sea.  

Reina's hair was now wet as she was forced to dive under and let the salt burn her vision as he tried to make out Harlow's silhouette in the darkness. She kicked around, her hands roaming the area until she felt her hand swipe across a clothing material. She instantly heaved the girl's body up until Harlow's face was above water. She was completely unresponsive, and a sting of guilt tugged at her chest. If she hadn't hesitated, Harlow would still be breathing.

She pulled Harlow to the shore with all her strength, letting her body lay on the wet sand. Reina brushed her damp hair from her face and tucked it behind her ears to better examine the girl. "Harlow," Reina called to her urgently, cupping her face in her hand to try and shake her awake.

She had never performed CPR, but this was a life or death situation. Reina pressed both hands on Harlow's chest and began pumping up to thirty. Reina gripped her jaw and plugged her nose to pry her mouth open and started breathing air into her lungs. She repeated the action a couple of times, and just when she lost hope, Harlow's body began jerking violently until she was coughing up water to the side along with some of the cheap beer that she let screw with her mind.

Reina's heartbeat eased as she let out a sigh of relief and sat back on her heels, looking up and letting her eyes flutter shut. Harlow wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before sitting up, her eyes wide with her mouth agape as she stared ahead at the ocean that nearly killed her. Silence loomed over the two girls, both trying to process what had just happened. The only sound was their heaving breathing, the taunting ocean, and the party that was likely to go on until the sun rose.

"We shared our first kiss," Harlow giggled after fleeting silence, resulting in Reina snapping her neck toward the girl.

"W-what?" she muttered, her face reddening as confusion pulled at her brows.

Harlow was beaming, and the wink she sent to Reina made her squirm in place as she stared at the girl stunned.

"Harlow!"

Both girls looked back to see Kiara, JJ, John B, and Pope rushing toward them.

“Holy shit!” Pope examined the girl's soaked state and shivering bodies, “what happened?”

“Had a near-death experience, P man,” Harlow answered as her feet wiggled in the sand, “but God herself over here saved me.”

“Are you seriously cracking jokes right now?” Kie shouted, her features stitched into an angry frown, “you almost died!”

"That's an exaggeration," Harlow quipped with a quirked brow. With shaky hands, Reina helped Harlow to her feet. She looked among the girl’s group of friends, averting her eyes from the ocean beside them.

"I had to perform CPR," Reina mumbled quietly to her statement. But it seemed Kiara and Pope caught on as they're eyes bulged from their sockets.

“Dude, for real, are you okay?” JJ asked, his eyes bouncing between Harlow and Reina.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Harlow sputtered with a shrug as she held her body to find warmth, “never almost drowned before, so I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.”

“What is wrong with you? You could have died! You can’t just go out into the ocean drunk as shit!” Kie lectured.

“Yeah, Kie, I get it, alright!”

The two girls' voices started to rise as they argued, John B and Pope hurried to step between them, trying to mediate. Reina stood a few steps away from them, biting through the skin of her lip until her mouth filled with the taste of iron. Without knowing what she was doing, her feet started to move her away from the group, unaware JJ had his eyes on her the entire time.

________________________________≈Ω≈___________________________________

Reina's hands were trembling as she unlocked the door to her house, her face blank when she entered the cold living room. The driveway was vacant of any cars, meaning she was completely alone. Alone with her thoughts.

Her worst enemy.

When she took another step across the cold wood floorboard, she nearly slipped. A gasp sounded through her lungs, and her mind found an opening. A door that had been locked for so long that she never dared be this close. But with her soaked hair making a puddle on her feet and her wet sweater weighing her down, the tears that began streaming down her cheeks were inevitable.

Reina tossed the keys toward a wooden table near the door and fled to her bedroom. She had to use the wall as support as she pressed her hand against her chest, trying to even out her breathing. But it was too ragged, and she felt like collapsing. Though her room was large in width, she could feel the walls closing in on her. Like her nightmares had finally cornered her.

A sob racked her throat, and she began to tear off her skirt along with her underwear. She didn't want to feel anything related to tonight's events. She regretted going at all.

Reina finally stripped out of everything until she was bare. Her legs gave under her, and she fell to her knees and shuffled back until her spine made contact with her bed. If ripping her wet hair out was an option, she would do it immediately. From the air conditioning blowing down on her, she knew a stuffy nose was guaranteed, but she didn't want to feel anything.

With her jaw wobbling uncontrollably and her body shaking, she held her legs close to her chest and rocked back and forth.

You're not in the water anymore.

Reina threw her head back, scraping the side of her neck along the pattern of her scars. The tune of the windchime seemed so distant, but yet it was enough.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed.

Her heart steadied, the warm tears continuing to flow like a blanket trying to comfort her.

"I'm sorry, dad."

@pogueszn @mdlyncline @bricksatanakinswindow @ponyboys-sunsets @kaitieskidmore1 @casper17 @moonshinerbynight @cordeliascrown @acvross-the-universe 

[arigatonamuse]

two-faced teacher event story: the rooftop scene

(event story spoilers, past backstage stories spoilers, act 7 spoilers)

it's a small exchange but there's so much i can say about: 1) the symbology behind "looking down at the campus" 2) him wanting to be alone 3) him liking that Massu got a rooftop confession (Banri and Masumi conversation after doing the Veludo Library earn cash minigame)

1) i've mentioned before that Banri's in a sort of "ivory tower" due to his easy mode, which is supported visually in the aki anime opening his easy mode makes him be apart from his peers and somewhat isolates him, it puts him "above" others so he can only "look down" on them while he's in the tower it's very interesting to me that, while he was on the rooftop in his past, we had Banri literally looking down to others while he's on his own, it serves to illustrate very well the gap between him and his peers and while he acts like it's his choice, we know from his boyhood collage that he was sorta ostracised by his peers, so is it really his choice? i say it's not completely

because 2) he seems to want to be alone, he doesn't want other people bothering him, which... yeah it checks out because yes, he was ostracised and yes, in his boyhood collage he laments that but he also "didn't feel comfortable around them"

(which is something he's mentioned before: in the joint backstage of the valentine's SSR, he tells Tsumu he can't really "chill" with his school classmates (who we know he isn't close to anyway)) one would wonder why, if he laments being ostracised, would he not want to seek out others? i think it's because they all had an image of who Banri Settsu was supposed to be, so he couldn't really "chill" or be himself around anyone at school this ties with his valentine's backstage, when he says "it's just a pain in the ass to have people's expectations laid on you"

so yes, it makes sense he wants to be away from his classmates, but i don't think he wanted to be alone or to have "no one around to bother [him]"

why? because 3) in his earn cash conversation with Massu, he brings up that he saw someone confess to Massu on the rooftop, and he says it's "awesome"

Banri Settsu, someone who's usually extremely apathetic about most things, says it's "awesome" so why is someone confessing to someone else in the rooftop out of all places something "awesome" to Banri? why is something like this happening in his place to be alone... something he could like? because confessing to someone is seeking a connection, and that's something Banri has been longing for (boyhood collage "Maybe, one day, someone outside of this small world will come to beat me") he's looking for someone, someone he can connect with because Banri had been longing for someone to seek him out for a long time, someone different to those he knew, someone who'd show him there's more to life and he found multiple people at Mankai who he could connect with and it's so evident that he found it in Mankai, because, as @mycynosure pointed out (when i was crying to her about this), Banri also seems to long for someone to seek him out when he tries to leave Mankai he lingers around Veludo way, as if expecting someone would go find him

and what does he do when he's back at school with some of the people he's connected with? he invites them to the rooftop (yes only Itaru went but he invited them all) because the rooftop was never a place to be alone, just a place to be and that brings me to the card name in yaycupcake it's translated as "The Blue of a Sky Someday" and in Cybird's translation it's "Blue of Another Day's Sky" Banri'd been hoping for that "someday" or that "another day" hoping for a day when his life wasn't grey and that day came for him and visiting his previous place for solitude with people he's connected with, people he loves? is proof of that

[pietromelim]

First night of Christopher Lightwood and Grace Blackthorn!

Enjoy the reading!

Grace watched Christopher as his hands moved,making another one of his experiments.

She was getting used to his presence,as well as being in his new lab,located in the Devil. Her mother would be scandalized if she knew Grace were in such a place.

But she didn't really care,she was with Christopher,being with him made her feel good,as if she did not had to hide anything. She could be true to him,he would never judge her weakness.

-Thinking about something?-Christopher asked,looking at her.

Grace blinked. She could say she was thinking about him,but then,she would not like to put him in such situation.

She knew Christopher well enough to know that beakers and test tubes were easier for him to handle then the mysteries of women.

But a part of her wanted to reveal the feelings she had for him. Perhaps he felt the same way,but that was much more unlikely. He probably would be silent,and their friendship would be ruined.

And she would miss him so much. She only had Jesse,but her brother had his own life to live now,and she would not like to bother him.

-I liked this new lab of yours. It is better than being in Matthew's house,is it not?-Grace asked.

Christopher shrugged.

-I suppose. But i don't have Henry's help here. He is my mentor,and i'm still getting used to doing all by myself.-Christopher said.

-I can help you,though i cannot do much. I don't understand this whole science thing,but it does sound very interesting.-Grace said.

-I wouldn't want you to help me. There are serious risks here,like getting burned and having your clothes nearly destroyed. I'm used to it. But think about it,what if your ivory dress gets ruined? I wouldn't forgive myself for that.-Christopher said.

Grace smiled,though Christopher wasn't looking at her in the moment. She was so in love with this scientist boy,and he had absolutely no clue about it.

It scared Grace a little bit. She always knew how to hide her emotions and be convincing. And yet,something in him made almost Impossible for her to hide anything.

-I'm flattered that you care about me that much. It is nice to see that Jesse isn't the only one that cares about me.-Grace said.

-Well,we are friends. And i care about all my friends.-Christopher said.

Grace sighed. Perhaps if she had friends when she was younger,things would have been different in her life. But listening to Chris talking about them as friends caused a bad sensation in Grace.

Was he really that blind? Could he not see that she loved him?

Unrequited love really was a pain. Maybe she deserved that,since she had done many awful things. Maybe that was just her punishment.

She had the power to make men love her. And the only man she loved felt only friendship for her.

-But do tell me. What are you working on this time? Is it somehow related to that gun over there?-Grace asked.

-It is! I am not sure if you aware of this,but gunshots cannot kill demons,because there are no runes on it. And the runes usually cause the gun not to work at all. I want to fix this. If we could use firearms against demons,it would make everything much more safe for the Shadowhunters.-Christopher said.

-It surely would. Are you sure you can fix this though? I simply don't wish to see you get hurt in a explosion.-Grace said.

-Don't worry about me,Grace! I have dealt with more explosions than you can imagine!-Christopher said.

If that was supposed to make Grace feel more relaxed,it certainly didn't. She had heard from Lucie once,that most of the clothes of her cousin were grey due to ashes.

But that never stopped him from doing what he loved. And that was one of the many things Grace loved in Christopher.

He never cared about the Enclave's opinion about his passion. He would prove them all wrong one day,Grace was sure of that.

-This is it. I am about to make a test! Make sure to cover your ears,Grace. The sound this gun makes is quite loud.-Christopher said.

Grace did as he said. A few seconds after that,a huge noise echoed in the lab.

Grace closed her eyes,but she could feel the smell of burnt.

-Well,this was a unexpected outcome.-Christopher said.

Grace opened her eyes,and saw him there,standing. The gun was on the floor,completely destroyed. There was smoke around the lab.

Christopher turned around to look at her,and Grace's eyes widened.

-Chris! It exploded near your face!? You are covered in ashes!-Grace said,worried.

Christopher scratched the back of his neck,he seemed to be embarrassed.

He took off his goggles,only around his eyes there was no ash.

-I didn't thought it would actually explode. I was waiting for something weaker.-Christopher said.

Grace shook her head. Maybe she was not good enough to help him with his experiments,but she could help him with something else.

-You need a bath,as well as clean clothes. Go get them,i will prepare everything here.-Grace said.

-There is no need Grace,really. I am quite used to all of this.-Christopher said,before coughing.

-There is! You are not decent. I don't want to invade the room you share with your friends,but i will if i must.-Grace said.

There seemed to have little point in refusing to do what she was saying. Grace was right though,being like that could not be good for his health.

Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that he desperately wanted to Grace feel like she had somekind of importance when with him.

And did she have,but he couldn't bring himself to say that. So much for a Shadowhunter,a warrior trained to destroy demons. And he was afraid to reveal his feelings for that beautiful girl.

As he found the clean clothes,he could not help but remember the reactions of his friends when he revealed to them the existence of a friendship between him and Grace.

They all looked quite shocked at first,specially James. It wasn't really like Christopher to have ease in talking to girls. Even more with a girl like Grace.

Thomas was the first one to say that he was okay with it. Grace was his cousin as well,after all. James eventually accepted it,though he and Grace were not in the best of terms right now. Matthew said he would not be against their friendship,but made very clear that he did not trust Grace and never would.

Deep down,Christopher felt like they didn't really knew Grace well. They saw Grace as she once saw herself,as Tatiana's blade. But she was no longer that.

She had feelings. She had emotions,just like everyone else. She made mistakes,like any other human being. She had her flaws and her imperfections. And Christopher loved everything about her.

When he returned to the lab,the door of the small bathroom was open,and he could see Grace there,standing in front of the bathtub.

-At least one of your hands are clean,or you would need another shirt.-Grace said.

-I never saw someone prepare a bath this quickly. I didn't knew of this talent of yours.-Christopher said.

-Mother made me prepare her baths,since we had no servants at the Blackthorn Manor. I am used to it.-Grace said.

If Christopher had a chance to see his aunt Tatiana again,he would make sure to give her a piece of his mind. How could she treat Grace like that? She did not deserve such things.

-I can barely see anything without my glasses.-Christopher said,his hand almost touching his glasses.

-No! Your hand is full of ashes! I will get it for you. You will also need help in taking that shirt off.-Grace said.

Christopher blushed.

-Excuse me?-He said,confused.

-There are ashes in your shoulders only. But if you touch your shirt,it will make it worse.-Grace said.

It was almost like she had not realized how close their bodies were. And she was going to help him take his shirt off? Christopher would never see something like that happening with him.

Well,at least not with Grace being the girl. Maybe she was only being gentle,but still. They seemed to have intimacy acting like that.

And they didn't.

Grace quickly unbuttoned his shirt,and helped him take it off,without getting more ashes in it.

She suddenly realized what she was doing. Christopher stood before her,his face was almost pink. His chest revealed to her.

He was quite handsome,and that was not surprising. There was one thing she knew about Shadowhunters,and that was the importance of training. That was one of the side effects of the training.

He almost looked like a statue,if it were not for the black runes in his skin. Grace had only one rune,and she did not knew the name of any of those runes he had.

For her own surprise,she did not blush at the sight of him. She had saw a shirtless man before,and that was her brother.

But Jesse was weak by then,and Christopher's body was completely different. She felt like touching it,but she couldn't lose the control.

-Go Chris. Get rid of the ash in your face.-She said. There was also in his hair too,the grey was quite notorious against his brown hair.

Without a word,Christopher entered the bathroom,closing the door behind him.

Grace took a deep breath. That was definitely something she would keep to herself. They had no understanding,and that attitude could not repeat itself.

-Grace? I need my glasses. And i forgot the clothes on the desk.-Christopher said. The door was closed but she could still hear him.

Grace took no time in finding the glasses and the clothes,but she took some moments to decide what she was going to do next.

Even though he would be in the bathtub,she knew how she would see him if that door opened. The most intimate way two people could see each other. Was she really prepared for that?

Grace never saw herself being in love before,that was probably why she was taking so long. Being inside that bathroom with Christopher would mean she was no marriage material for any gentleman.

But why was she supposed to care? Christopher was the gentleman she loved,so if she had to marry someone,it would be him,wouldn't it?

And it wasn't like Christopher would say anything about that,so she had no reasons to feel scared or nervous. She took off her heels before going inside.

She entered the bathroom. Christopher was in the bathtub. His hair was wet,and she could see his shoulders,dripping water.

There were still ashes on his skin. Had he not seen them there?

-Here it is. Turns out you are not that good in getting rid of the dirt,right?-Grace said,grinning.

-What do you mean?-Christopher asked,putting his glasses on.

Grace went to the left side of the bathtub and grabbed the soap.

-This bath will be pointless if you don't wash this all off properly.-Grace said,as the soap in her hand travelled through his shoulder,the edge of her fingers could feel his wet hot skin.

If Christopher was supposed to ask her to stop,he didn't. It didn't seemed like he had a problem with what was happening.

-I am sorry that it did not work. I know how important it was for you.-Grace said.

Christopher smiled,shooking his head.

-It is not surprising. I just wanted to create something big,like Henry and Magnus did with the Portal. Something that would help not only the Shadowhunters,but the Downworlders as well. Maybe it is just a silly dream of a silly boy.-Christopher said.

-It is not silly,don't say that. Everything begins as a dream,but eventually you will make it come true.-Grace said.

Christopher looked at her. His lavender eyes seemed full of hope,and of something else that Grace didn't quite knew.

-You really believe in that? Why do you have so much faith in me? I have been told many times that i am just a failure.-Christopher said.

-We have a few things in common. So what if they said you will always fail? Just because someone says something,it does not make it true. I believe you are capable of changing the world,Christopher. You were responsible for creating the antidote against the Mandikhor. You should not be underestimated.-Grace said.

-But you still have not answered my question.-Christopher said,smiling.

-Why i have faith in you? Well,you had faith in me. Everyone always thought that i would only do what my mother wanted me to,not caring if someone would get hurt. They thought i would never change. But you believed in me. You believed i could do better,that i could be better. And i am now,thanks to the faith you had in me. That is why i believe in you. You were the only light for me when i was in darkness.-Grace said,her eyes looking straight at Christopher's eyes.

It took less then seconds for their lips to crash against each other. Christopher's wet hand went to Grace's face,as she placed her hands in his shoulders.

They got breathless after the kiss,both panting heavily. They felt an absolute need to feel each other's touch,as if it were the only thing that could keep them alive.

Suddenly,Grace was in the bathtub with Christopher. Water splashing all over the small bathroom.

Christopher was certainly surprised. He was not even expecting the kiss,he would never dream of something like that.

But now that it was happening,he did not wanted it to stop.

-Wait Grace,your clothes...-Christopher was saying,but Grace interrupted.

-They are in the way. Can you help with them?-She asked,the wet dress made her curves even more visible.

Christopher nodded. He was completely enchanted by Grace,and she was not using her powers on him. He wanted that,just as badly as she wanted.

They got up,and Grace turned her back to him. He remembered when he talked to Anna about how it was like to be with a girl. His sister made sure to teach him how to untie both dresses and corsets.

Only the Angel knew how grateful he was to Anna right now.

Grace stood before him,in her feminine perfection. He loved her so much,and she was much more beautiful than he ever thought.

-Are you sure about this? I do not want you to feel like you are doing something you don't want to do. This will only be okay for me if it is for you.-Christopher said.

Grace smiled,those stupid girls from the Enclave could say whatever they wanted about Christopher's dancing skills,he was a true gentleman in what really was important.

-This is much more than okay. I want you to love me,as i love you. Can you do that?-Grace asked,forgetting completely about any possibility about using her powers.

Christopher nodded.

-I have been doing that for quite a while now.-He said.

They kissed and loved each other. A love strong enough to change two people for the better was a love worth fighting for.

And they would never give up on that special love of theirs.

[lizziestudieshistory]

Books of 2019: August reads

I read a lot and now I'm bulk 'reviewing'... Again... This isn't a complete list of what I read in August, I also read the first 4 books in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time but I want to talk about those separately because they are a new all time favourite!

So this was a good reading month - I got through A LOT, especially when we get into WoT (those books are huge!)

The Two Towers by JRR Tolkien - obviously a fantasy classic! And I adore this series more than I can reasonably articulate in a few words. However, I highly recommend if you haven't read the books already, they are incredibly rich and you can't do any better than Tolkien for fantasy epics! I'm taking my time to reread the series because I bought a beautiful set of the books illustrated by Alan Lee, if you're looking for copies I'd highly recommend!

(Covers and a sample of Gandalf and Frodo from Fellowship)

Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman - this was the buddy read with my uni friends for August. It was enjoyable but...

UNPOPULAR OPINION WARNING

It was nothing special. I feel Gaiman's writing was slightly off in this one from his usual lyrical quality. I was interested enough to read all the short stories, but I wanted bit more from Gaiman than a brief sketch of each myth he chose to cover. He clearly loves the mythology and this shows throughout. Yet, I feel a lot of the hype around this book came from Gaiman's current popularity (following the success of American Gods and hype for Good Omens) rather than the quality of his work here. Gaiman is a wonderful author and I've adored many of his other books (Stardust remains my favourite standalone fantasy book of all time), just this one didn't hit the mark and I was left disappointed.

Empire of Ivory and Victory of Eagles by Naomi Novik (books 4 and 5 in the Temeraire series) - these were both enjoyable and I love the Temeraire series! At this point there isn't much I can say about these books as we're so far into the series. But I continue to adore Temeraire and Laurence, and their relationship! The character development in VoE was particularly stunning and I really enjoyed to see how they and their relationship changed after the events of EoI!

That being said I found the plot of EoI to be a bit slow - I was a bit bored throughout the middle of the book and almost put it down. However, the last quarter exploring the dragons in Africa and THAT plot twist/cliffhanger (if you've read it you know what I'm talking about) really saved it for me and drastically changed the development of this series! I'm excited to see where Laurence and Temeraire end up next, however, I feel their fortunes are not going to get any better any time soon...

The Cruel Prince by Holly Black - as a YA fantasy AND a book centred on fairies (are we calling them fay/fey now? I'm not sure on the correct terminology) this was an unusual pick for me as I'm not a massive fan of the YA genre or fairies. However, I found myself enjoying The Cruel Prince. I have some issues with the romances in this book (none of these relationships are healthy?!) and I found myself disliking a lot of the characters, yet the plot, in typical YA style, was compelling. I sped through the whole book in two sittings and had a lot of fun! It was a quick, lighthearted read, and was a great reak from the epic fantasy I've been consuming recently.