#made me spend my time AND real money for desperate singles o(-(

[blooming-cecilia]

the pain i went through to get this fucker TEN (10) MINUTES BEFORE IT ENDS

[noteguk]

hickeys | jjk | m | drabble

[ ! ] this is a “bad influence” drabble

— summary; Jungkook gets a bit jealous. Not that he’d ever admit it. 

— contents and warnings; pwp, smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits, jealousy/possessiveness!!, kind of angry sex (it’s one-sided, jk is going through a Moment), unprotected sex, marking (hickeys, mentions of bruises), dirty talk, overstimulation, creampie, mentions of oral (f rec) and of cum eating, jk has a big dick, the oc being clueless but overall having a good time 

— words; 2,2k 

— author’s note; this was supposed to be shorter but, well, that’s the story of my life. A few people asked for a bit of jealous!jk so here I am to deliver it 😌 Inspired by this ask I got. 

~ 

Jungkook hated the wintertime. He hated the fact that you no longer used skirts because of the cold weather, hated that you had to go away for a few weeks because of winter break and, above all, hated those stupid turtlenecks you wore. 

Not because you didn’t look good in them — in fact, he had grown to appreciate them over the weeks, the way they made your breasts pop out and how your body felt so comfortable and warm against his — but because it became extremely easy for you to cover up the hickeys he gave you. Which completely missed the point of even having hickeys in the first place. 

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” You asked him, fingers pulling slightly on the messy strings of his dark hair. Jungkook was hovering above you in bed, his mouth glued to the skin of your neck, sucking on the flesh. He simply moaned in response, hoping that the roll of his hips against yours would make you shut up. Which obviously didn’t happen. “You better not be doing it.” 

Jungkook pulled away from your skin with a pop!, watching the blossoming red that appeared close to your jaw. It would be hard to cover up that one. “And what if I am?” He smirked, placing a kiss against your lips. His cock was deep inside you, and it was incredibly difficult to argue with him when he was fucking you so well. Not that it would stop you from trying. “What are you going to do about it?” 

You playfully hit him on the shoulder, the frown on your face only making him smile wider. “You’re such a jerk, I’m going to spend all the concealer I have left with this one,” you complained, and Jungkook hummed and leaned back towards your neck, resuming his devilish ministrations. Only one hickey wouldn’t be enough, Jungkook realized, he wanted you to go out to buy more makeup for that. “What’s the deal with you today?” You tried again.

Jungkook’s irritated groan vibrated throughout your skin, his hands tightening around your hips as a flame of anger sparked inside his chest. His deal was that you had cancelled on him at least three times last week to go out with some stupid guy named Jimin from your Wednesday afternoon class. He knew that he shouldn’t care about it — you two were obviously not exclusive, barely even a thing, and you didn’t seem to give a single fuck when he told you about one of the girls that he was going out with. And yet there he was: pissed off out of his mind because someone else might have interest in you, fucking you hard into the mattress because he wanted you to remember that no one could be as good as he was. 

There was also a second layer of indignation when it came to that subject: Jungkook was frustrated with himself because he was balls deep inside your pussy and he couldn’t even focus on it without thinking about your stupid date. It was the fourth week of the semester, he hadn’t seen you for the entirety of winter break, and it was the first time that he was fucking you in your bed (since your roommate was out in some idiotic spiritual retreat). He could actually have you for as long as he wanted, as loud as he wanted, not a single worry about being interrupted. And how was he using that time? Being jealous of a guy he barely even knew, just because he took you out for coffee or whatever. 

It really wasn’t his best moment.  

“Jungkook, that’s so good,” you cried out, sucking him out of his thoughts. Jungkook grunted at the desperate tone of your voice, his name sounding so perfect coming from your mouth, and he just wanted to hear more of it. His cock was slipping in and out of you with ease, your wetness dripping down his length, and he forced himself to pay attention to you for the rest of the night. “I’m getting close.” 

“Yeah?” Jungkook groaned and pressed his forehead against yours — he could tell that already from the way you were tightening so perfectly around him, hugging his cock like you were meant to take it. “You like when I fuck your pussy like this, baby?” 

“Y-Yeah, I love it.” You closed your eyes, back arching off the bed as he continued to drill his fat cock in and out of you. No matter how many times he gave it to you, you couldn’t get used to the incredible pressure of his girth against your walls, filling you up so perfectly. “Feels so good…” 

“Is this all for me baby?” Jungkook finished his sentence with a particularly hard slam of his hips against yours — you didn’t even need to ask him to fuck you rougher, he already knew that was what you wanted. His eyes were a deep dark storm, glued to your parted lips as you moaned out for him, your perfect little cunt pulsating around him. Jungkook could only think about how wonderful you felt, how he couldn’t find someone better even if he tried. “Is this pussy mine? Was it made for me?”

Jungkook was fucking you so well that you could not help but nod, a pathetic whimper tearing itself from your throat as your hands fumbled to hold onto the nape of his neck. Your nails scratched his skin, the sensation making him groan. 

“Yeah, it’s yours.” You said it because you knew that it was all pretend, all his weird possessiveness that he only showed when he was hitting that deep inside you. Jungkook also knew that it was bullshit — but he allowed himself to dive into that fantasy as he felt himself throb inside you. “Fuck, Jungkook, I’m really close.” 

But he didn’t relent. Jungkook shoved his head on the curve of your neck, grunting as he quickened his pace in and out of you. He could feel your thighs trembling, your pussy fluttering around him, and yet it didn’t feel like it was enough. “Say it again,” he roared, hands digging to the flesh of your hips. It would leave a mark, both of you were aware of that, and yet there was a shared sense of wonder when you saw the purple bruises that he would leave behind. “Say that it’s mine.” 

“This pussy is yours, Jungkook,” you whined, head pressed hard against the soft pillows. At that point, you’d say and do anything he asked you to. “O-Only yours.” 

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice hoarse and deep as sin. Jungkook was drilling into you like a madman, hoping that the ache between your legs would be enough to remind you of him, of what he could do to you. He wanted you to keep that in the back of your head next time you had to pick between him and some other dude who wouldn’t know how to treat you. “All mine, this is all mine. Made for me.” 

He quickly got lost in his own praises, mind whitening out at the pleasure that monopolized his body. When you came around him, just as perfectly as you had many times before, Jungkook felt a wave of pride washing over him. It pierced its sharp teeth in his flesh, sucked him out of his worries — suddenly he didn’t give a shit about Jimin from your Wednesday class, because he knew that no amount of stupid coffee dates would ever equate to the way he had you. It was just a matter of time before you realized that as well. 

He felt you shivering beneath him, the way you always did when your pleasure was starting to become a bit too much. Jungkook leaned back so he could see your face, that blushy mess that got him sinking deeper inside you, the thin veil of tears that swam over your unfocused eyes. He would bet real money that Jimin from Wednesday class wouldn’t get you like that in a million years. Not that he was jealous or anything. It was just a fact. 

“J-Jungkook, that’s too much,” you whined. 

And he knew that it was, but he also wanted you to feel it all, and wanted you to cum around him as many times as you could. After all, you finally had some alone time, so he was definitely going to make good use of it. 

“Take it for me, baby,” he asked breathlessly, the rising pitch of his voice signaling that he was close too. Jungkook could feel his own orgasm growing closer, building up at the base of his spine and tugging at his balls, threatening to overflow. “Because I’m not done with you yet.” 

You bit your lip, fighting against a sob as he continued his frantic movements. You wanted to be good for him, wanted to fight through that sensitivity for him. But sometimes it was hard to focus, and the space between the pain and the pleasure could be a bit too long sometimes. “A-Are you close?” You asked. 

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter,” he spat. Jungkook’s eyes zeroed in on your own, watching as a coat of desperation painted your features. “What’s the matter, baby? You don’t wanna get eaten out after I’m done here?” 

“God, Jungkook,” you said. If you weren’t so lost in the afterglow of your orgasm, you’d probably argue with him further, perhaps try and ask for the millionth time what had possessed him. But you seriously couldn’t be bothered with any more arguments and your brain wasn’t fully functional yet, so you settled for a quick and objective, “Are you trying to kill me?” 

Jungkook chuckled, lowering himself so he could place a kiss against your lips. “I'm trying to make you feel good. Let me eat my cum out of you, baby,” he teased, feeling as your walls pulsated around him at the idea. The fact that he hadn’t cum yet was a miracle on its own, because he had been about to tip over for a while now. “Unless you want to keep it inside you.” 

The interesting part was that Jungkook didn’t fully understand his second option until it had spilled from his lips. Now that it had been spoken out loud, manifested into the universe if you will, it made his cock throb with the mental imagery of you walking around stuffed with his cum, making other guys think they had a chance when you were already his. He’d seriously have to try that sometime. 

Before he could stop himself, his hooded eyes centralized on the hickeys he had embellished your neck with, and his marking was enough to make him spill himself inside you, painting your walls with waves of his warm cum. Jungkook called out what sounded like a broken version of your name, throwing his head back and listening to the wonderful whimpers you were producing for him. Just for him. 

At that point, both of you were considering buying your roommate something as a way to thank her for her wonderful idea of a spiritual retreat. 

Jungkook breathed out hard and removed his cock from your pussy, watching as the white liquid dripped between your glistening folds, accumulating on the sheets. If you weren’t so exhausted, you’d probably have yelled at him for ruining your mattress. 

“Have you made up your mind?” He asked, flickering his gaze up at you. You were such a pretty mess, and he lived for the fact that it was all because of him. “Wanna keep it in or want me to eat it out?” 

Honestly, he realized there was no wrong choice and, yet, he wanted to know what you would pick. 

You bit your lip and, after a moment of hesitation, you answered. “Eat it out,” you said. 

Jungkook smirked, lowering his head between your legs. “Good girl.” 

~ 

Jungkook saw you wearing a scarf the next day and he wanted to smack himself across the face for not considering that possibility. It hid all his efforts to mark you, didn’t make you nervous talking to other people. He could see from the faint coat of sweat on your face that you were feeling hot, but he also saw you smirking at him enough times to know that you were planning to endure that for as long as necessary. He was stupid to believe he’d actually get what he wanted for once: it had been too easy. 

He really fucking hated the wintertime. 

~ 

Check out the rest of the bad influence collection! 

Taglist: @youurkryptonite @taehyungieskith​ @fan-ati–c​ @btstrasht​ @crazy4myself​ @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

[lubdubsworld]

Make you mine.

One Shot.

!8 +

Hoseok x OC

Angst , fluff 

OC is a popular solo idol  in love with street dancer Jung Hoseok. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“One date. Come on...let me take you out for coffee. Once, just once?” I sounded like a broken record at this point , hands gripping his arm as he leaned against the table, writing out something about positions on his notebook. 

Jung Hoseok, impatient as always, gave me a shove, causing me to trip and land on my butt.

“Ow.” I muttered glaring at him. He stared down at me, unimpressed. 

“I told you not to come in here when I’m working. No. I won’t get coffee with you. Now go climb into that million dollar car of yours and get the fuck away from me.” He said sharply and i flinched at the coldness in his tone. 

I swallowed. Grinning wide, i ignored the sharp sting of his rejection. i could process the hurt later. For now, i had to change tactics. Lifting myself up, I rubbed my tailbone , moving closer and trying to peer into his notebook. 

“Okay...no coffee..” I smiled, touching his arm gently and pulling back again when he glared pointedly at me., “ That’s fine . What’s your plan when this ends? I don’t have anything on my schedule for the next two hours. We could just hang out? Talk about stuff? Your sister told me you’ve been working on a mixtape recently? I’d love to listen ....”

Hoseok groaned.

“Leah, go get your fucking hair done or buy out the latest Gucci collection or whatever it is that you rich snobby bitches do in your free time. Stop hounding me... we have  nothing  in common? Why on earth would i want to hang out with you?” He snapped. 

I shrugged.

“Because of my rocking hot bod and angelic voice? Because I happen to be the nation’s sweetheart? Because i got voted, “most likely to offer you her umbrella in a thunderstorm “ last week? I’m kind and beautiful and sexy. I can cook you your favorite dishes  and  suck your dick under the table while you’re eating it? “ 

One of his students, who just happened to be drinking water a couple of feet away from us, spat it all back out, wheezing as he gave me a look of horror. 

I gave him a sweet smile and a wave. He blushed red and smiled wide at that and my smile faltered. \

 I was sick of the adoration, sick of the applause, the praise , the compliments and the flattery. Sick of the stage itself and I couldn’t wait for my contract to end this year. I wanted to get back to songwriting and singing in my studio. Releasing vocal tracks only. No more make up or pastel dresses or bunny years. No more aegyo in fansigns , no more pretending to get scared by fucking confetti on the stage. No more giggling when a guy looks at me. No more shying away from anything even remotely adult because i was delicate. 

I was drawn out of my thoughts by Hoseok clearing his throat. 

“So you’re not leaving?” He tilted his head in question.

“I love you.” I said simply. 

Hoseok sighed, reaching out and gripping my elbow hard. He yanked me close, till I was right in front of him and I licked my lips, shamelessly staring at the plump redness of his lips. He gripped me harder at that, fingers digging into the tender flesh of my arm and I gasped.

My entire body sang at the contact and it was impossible to explain how it made me feel. Hoseok looked angry. He was angry. But I didn’t particularly care. Not when he was touching me like this.

I stared at his face, his beautiful fucking face with the sharp angular features, his dreamy body ,broad shoulders and lean waist,  those mile long legs and those thick thighs. 

I wanted something raw and real and heady and strong and there was nothing more breathtaking than the man in front of me. A  real  man. The kind of man you wouldn’t mind getting on your knees for, even in public. the kind of man who makes your breath catch in your lung. Makes your lips part and your thighs wet.

 He smiled. 

“You don’t know what the fuck love is, you little--- ” He shook his head , swallowing the insult and I bit my lips, making to move closer but his grip tightened holding me away from his body. Pain began shooting up y arm but I ignored it. 

“Then show me...I want you.  “ I said softly.

“I’m not a sextoy you can buy because you saw me in a catalogue. if you’re horny go fuck one of your cotton candy haired oppas. ” his free hand shot up, gripping my jaw . 

I wanted to scream . 

“That’s not what this is.” I choked a little when his thumb slipped down to my neck and squeezed . I kept my eyes trained on him, refusing to back away. I’d done a lot of that in the early months. But after nine months, this crush or whatever sure wasn’t going away. and i wasn’t even going to try denying how badly I wanted him. 

“What is it then? Because right now all I’m seeing is a desperate little slut, so eager for attention she’s willing to beg for my di-”

“Hob-ah...let her go.” Min Yoongi’s calm voice rang out from behind us and hoseok smirked. He stepped away and I knew he’d bruised my chin and my arm. But I resisted the urge to rub against the skin. 

“One date.” I whispered. “Please.”

He smiled , his face softening .

“Never in a million years. Get the fuck out of here before I call security.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoongi watched Hoseok go through the routine one more time, flat on his back, head cradled in his arms . 

“Why do you keep refusing that girl?” He called out . 

Hoseok didn’t stop dancing.

“Cos I don’t like her.” he grunted, hips rolling in tune to the music, sweat dripping down his neck. 

Yoongi scoffed.

“You do know I’ve seen your search history right? For someone who doesn’t like her you sure spend way too many of your waking hours watching her fancams. ‘ 

That made Hoseok pause.

“Whatever hyung, she’s just joking around. “ 

“For nine whole months? i think she means business.”

“What business? Fuck me once and leave... not into that.” 

“ Or maybe she wants to get to know you...”

“What’ there to know hyung... nothing that would interest someone like her, for sure. She probably spends more many a day than i make in a month. I’m nowhere near her level.”

Yoongi sighed. 

Hoseok’s mind seemed to be made up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When i first heard that they wanted me to debut Solo, I’d been so flattered. Debuting solo meant I would have no one else to please or get along with. i could do my own thing and just the fact that they trusted me enough for that made me feel on top of the world. 

But as time went by , I realized that all it meant was I would be saddled with bone-crushing loneliness.

Alone in the waiting rooms.

Alone on the stage. 

Alone while the other female artists crowded together. 

It was lonely on the top and I had to smile and laugh through it all. 

But the loneliness was most pronounced when I was stuck without a friend. A girl i could confide in and trust . 

When everything is silent and quiet,  that is when the loneliness inside you screamed the loudest. 

I sat with my knees drawn up , leaning against the wall  and staring out of the bay windows, watching the rain pound the glass.

And in the vast emptiness of my apartment, it was always silent and quiet. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright , that’s it!!!” Hoseok grabbed my arm, hauling me straight off the small stool i was sitting on and I yelped, surprised.

“Hoseok-”

“Get the fuck out of here. I know for a fact that you’re only looking for someone to play around with and I’m not going to be the poor pathetic sod who get caught on camera with you only to get hated on and cancelled and whatever the fuck else your cult does..... I want you out of my life.!!” He shouted and I dug my heels into the ground, yanking my arm away from him.

“I don’t fucking care about any of that. My contract ends in two months ...I’m not going to sign back on with my damned company!! They can’t control who i see and neither can my fans!!” 

“You’re going to quit your company...? the biggest label in the country? You expect me to believe that?!” He scoffed.

“It’s true! I’ve had enough of being on the stage. I don’t enjoy it anymore ! All its done is “  left me sad and alone and without a single friend. 

‘”Paid for all your ridiculously expensive lifestyle?” He sneered.

I sighed.

“You’re obsessed with my money Hoseok. I’ve never flaunted it in front of you. I’d be happy eating dukkbeokkie from a street stall with you. I don’t care about money or my company.” 

“Really? you don’t care about your company?” he shook his head in disbelief . 

“I don’t.” i insisted. 

“then how about this. I’ll be done with the day at nine o clock tonight. Meet me at the dance studio at ten. Come alone. just you. And not in that flashy car of yours. Take a fucking cab. Don’t bring your fucking bodyguard or your manager. Don’t even tell them where you’re going. If you can do that, I’ll believe you.” He said softly. 

I swallowed. 

“I...that’s... that’s dangerous.”

He scoffed.

“Thought so. Your money and your label is a part of you. And they’re things i can’t stand. So just stop-”

“Okay!” I blurted out, heart pounding. 

Hoseok stopped talking, staring at me with a frown. 

“What?” 

“Okay.. i’ll... I’ll take a cab from my apartment.... I’ll come meet you at the studio. “ I whispered. 

“Don’t be a fucking idiot.” He said harshly.

I felt my anger rise. 

“You asked me whether I can put aside my money and label.... I can! I fucking can!” 

“Just leave Leah! ” He turned on his heel.

“I’m going to be there!! At ten , tonight. And if I show up and you don’t, let’s just admit that you’re a fucking coward, Jung Hoseok!!!” I screamed at him.

He didn’t even look back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The studio is deserted. 

Of course it is. 

Feeling a little bit like a fool, I wrap my arms around myself, sinking into the shadows as I walk up and down the hallways. Its still just a little past ten. I could wait a while. Just in case he changed his mind. 

Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. 

I swallowed, the darkness seeming to close in on me. 

Footsteps made my ears perk up but then anxiety spiked when i heard unfamiliar voices.

“....she fucking pants after him like a bitch in heat and the bastard is too much of a pussy to take her up on the offer.” One of them says .

“I know. Holier than thou Hoseok. Fucking prick. Like if you don’t want that a grade cunt, why not just pass it on to one of us huh?”

“....fuck ...just wanna run into her in some dark alley. I’ll stuff my fingers in her whore mouth and give it to her nice and hard , like she obviously wants. “ 

Nausea rising, I stumbled to my feet and made to move away but they had already turned the corner, both of them stopping at the sight of me. 

I felt my heart leap up into throat... stark terror blooming inside me. I opened my mouth to scream but my voice wouldn’t come , I was too petrified to even breath. 

I turned on my heel, adrenaline making me run really hard.

I’d barely moved a few inches when i crashed into a very familiar chest.

Strong arms wrapped around me, drawing me into his warmth and i heard Hoseok’s voice growl from above me. 

“You’re fired. “ His voice trembled with rage. “ You have five minutes to get the fuck out of here.” 

Both of them stood frozen.

“Hyungnim...we’re...”

“If you leave right now you’ll be walking out. If not you’re gonna be needing a fucking ambulance , Jaehyun.” 

The sound of them scarpering away made me relax, exhaling in sweet blessed relief as I sagged into his arms. The cry that I couldn’t vocalize earlier came back with a vengeance and i choked, pushing away from him. 

“I... I’m... i need to go.” I sobbed out, my nerves completely frayed as I stumbled a little. Hoseok’s hands reached out gripping my waist when i lost my balance and I flinched trying to pull away.

“Leah...wait. Leah...” He said , sounding upset and i felt like a stupid, pathetic fool. 

“They were right. You’re.... you don’t want me. That’s not your fault...I’m such a... “ The tears threatened but i refused to cry in front of him. That’s what my big, expensive apartment was for.

“Leah...no. Its not fucking true...Fucking look at me, Damn it” He grabbed my shoulders shaking me and i was forced to stare at his face. 

“I like you.” He gritted out. “ Fuck I may even be a little bit in love with you and I feel like the worst kind of bastard, making you come here tonight..alone but i swear I didn’t think you would turn up... It was so fucking reckless baby.... You could’ve gotten hurt, why would you come here....”

“you like me?” I whispered, stunned. 

He stopped , sighing.

“Yes... I do.. Always have. i just... I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea what with who you are and....You deserve someone who can spoil you and I’m far from being made of gold....” 

I cut him off with a kiss, throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my lips against his. 

He laughed and kissed me back, lips soft and gentle against mine. 

“It’s a good idea. “ I whispered, nodding my head. 

He hummed, rubbing his nose against mine, gripping my thighs and hauling me up into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him. 

“We have a lot to talk about.” He said softly. 

“We do.” i agreed.

His lips pressed against mine again. 

“But than can wait?” He asked softly.

“Yes it can.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

author’s note : just a snipper for that prompt i wrote earlier :D I’ll probably make one more part of this later :D 

[petersasteria]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 - 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

Pairing: Harry Holland x Reader 5,170 words

𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐇𝐎����𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒

Harry felt so free. He just turned 18 and he was able to move out of his parents’ house and live on his own. The apartment building looked old, but it was home. His first ever home where he’s alone. Everyone was supportive of him, of course. They always knew he was independent.

He felt homesick from time to time, but that was normal. The apartment next to his was empty and it kind of saddened him that no one was living there. The rest of the units were taken, but they were all older than Harry. In short, it was difficult to make friends with people because the people there were either divorcee’s or really busy people who work at offices. He was on the young side.

Because of that situation, you could picture his excitement when he saw a moving truck outside his apartment building. Harry smiled excitedly and silently prayed that the person moving in was the same age as him and that they were moving in the apartment unit next to his. Otherwise, he’d be lonely in that building.

Well, he wasn’t totally lonely. Every morning Mrs. Johnson would smile at him when they get their mail together and sometimes invite him inside her apartment for tea and they’d talk about their families. She was a lovely old woman. Mr. Bradley would knock on Harry’s door from time to time to ask if he could babysit his son in case the babysitter cancelled. Then of course there’s Rick ‘The Maverick’ Nelson. He insisted that Harry should call him maverick. A maverick is a noun and it means an unorthodox or an independent-minded person which is totally the opposite of Rick ‘The Maverick’ Nelson. He’s a divorcee and every weekend, his 8 year old daughter would come over. Harry didn’t really care about the kid going there, but what he did care about was the fact that Rick would always drink. It made him worry about the 8 year old. So whenever the 8 year old kid was around, Harry would give her a few sweets and sometimes would take her to the park nearby (with Rick’s permission, of course).

As soon as Harry arrived on his floor, he was ecstatic to see a girl around his age bringing in the last box in the now occupied apartment. Harry knew he had to introduce himself because he finally had someone his age to talk to. He was truly happy!

He decided that he should look for something in his house to give to you, so he rushed inside his apartment and immediately looked for something. A pan? No, Sam uses it whenever he visits. Body lotion? He uses it because of his skin care routine. Cologne? He only has one. A house plant? His mum would be upset if he gave his one and only house plant away. Harry settled for a box of pizza. He called and thirty minutes later, the pizza was delivered to his door. He fixed his hair one last time and left his apartment to knock on the apartment next door.

The door opened and Harry smiled, “Hi, I’m Harry! I live next door. I bought you some pizza as a welcome gift.” He handed the pizza to you despite your awkward smile.

“Um, thanks.” You said as he handed the pizza to you. Both of you just stood there for a minute. He was just looking at you all giggly and smiley, but you were looking elsewhere, avoiding his gaze. “Well, uh, thanks for the pizza.” You told him with a tight-lipped smile.

“You’re welcome!” Harry grinned.

“Okay… you can go now.” You said, backing up a bit, getting ready to get inside and close the door.

“I’m actually not busy. I could help you unpack or something.” Harry said. He was desperate.

“That’s okay. I don’t have a lot of things, anyway.” You shrugged off.

“But there was a moving truck awhile ago.” Harry pointed out.

“Believe it or not, when I got here, someone was moving out. Hence, the moving truck. I only got here in an Uber with four boxes and a foldable mattress.” You awkwardly chuckled. Harry blushed in embarrassment and said, “Oh, I see.”

“Yup.” You said. It was really awkward.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Harry said and smiled. “If you need anything, I’ll just be there next door.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thanks again.” You said with a small smile.

“Okay. Bye!” Harry said.

“Bye.” You smiled before quickly getting in and closing the door. Harry sighed and bowed his head down.

“That went well.” A voice said from across the hall.

Harry looked up and turned around to see Mr. Bradley and his son. Harry awkwardly chuckled and waved at them.

“She’s pretty.” Mr. Bradley’s son said. He’s 5 years old.

“She is.” Harry nodded in agreement.

“Ask her out.” Mr. Bradley said and winked.

“Maybe next time.” Harry said with a smile.

“Good luck!” Mr. Bradley’s son said with a cute smile.

“Thanks, little dude.” Harry smiled too. The 5 year old’s smile was contagious, after all.

Birthday

Harry didn’t want to be nosy, but he was really curious as to why you had a bouquet of flowers on your doorstep. He looked around to see if anyone was looking before picking up the bouquet. ‘To: Y/N’ was written in beautiful cursive. A million thoughts were running through his head and he didn’t know how to react: who was it from? Do you have a boyfriend? Why isn’t your boyfriend around? Is he hiding as a surprise?

His thoughts were cut off when you arrived.

“What’re you doing?” You asked. Harry slightly jumped in shock. He turned around and looked at you and looked at the flowers and looked at you again.

“N-Nothing! I just saw these on your doorstep and I was just going to give it.. to you.” Harry smiled and handed you the bouquet. You took it from him with a suspicious look on your face.

You read the card and smiled a bit before turning to him with a b;ank expression, “Thank you for handing to me.”

“You’re welcome. What’s the occasion?” He asked.

“Nothing special.” You shrugged as you moved around him to unlock your door.

“Flowers are involved… it has to be a special occasion. Is it an anniversary?” He asked once more.

“I’m single, so it’s definitely not an anniversary.” You chuckled humorlessly.

“Um...a secret admirer?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. Harry opened his mouth to guess again, but you cut him off. “It’s actually my birthday. The people who raised me sent me these which is surprising because they’re usually super cold and shit.” 

“Oh, happy birthday! Why didn’t you say so? Let’s celebrate!” Harry cheered.

“I don’t celebrate my birthday, sorry. Thank you, though.” You nodded at him.

“Why not?” Harry frowned. “It only happens once a year and-”

“Exactly. It only happens once a year and there’s not much to do, anyway. If I threw a party, the whole place would be a mess and no one would clean it up except for me.. the celebrant. Plus, I have to spend money for the food and drinks for people who I secretly find annoying, but I invite them anyway so that they won’t nag me for not inviting them.” You rambled.

“And I totally get that, but it could just be the two of us, y’know?” Harry suggested. You stared at him, “...Is this your way of asking me out? Because I don’t want to date anyone. Not right now, at least.”

Harry blushed, “O-Of course not! We could celebrate as friends.”

“I only know your first name and that you live next door.” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow.

“This is our chance to get to know each other then.” Harry smiled. “What do you say? Wanna celebrate? There’ll be no party and it’ll just be you and me. My treat, so that you don’t have to spend. It’s my birthday gift.”

You thought about it for a while before un-crossing your arms and nodding, “Fine. Let’s celebrate.”

“For real?!” He exclaimed.

“Yup. A little change won’t be so bad, I guess.” You gave him a small smile. “I’ll put these inside first and then we can go, okay?”

“Okay.” Harry smiled as he watched you go inside your apartment. A few seconds later, you exit your apartment, lock the door, and turn to Harry.

“So, where are we going?” You smiled.

Mother’s Day

You were making a fresh batch of cookies when you heard a knock on your door. You stopped what you were doing and waited for the knock to repeat in case you were just hearing things. When you heard the knock again, you washed your hands and made your way to the door.

“That’s weird. I’m not expecting anyone today.” You told yourself before opening the door. You were surprised to see a woman you’ve never seen in your life before. She was smiling at you and she had two boys with her.

“Um, hello.” You greeted politely.

“Hello, love! Harry never told us that he had a girlfriend.” The woman smiled excitedly. You looked at her dumbfounded. “I’m Harry’s mum. You can call me Nikki.”

“And I’m Dominic, Harry’s dad. But you can call me Dom.”

“This is my youngest, Paddy.” Nikki said with a smile. 

“Hey.” Paddy nodded at you.

You smiled, “It’s nice to meet you all, but there must be a mistake. I don’t live with Harry nor am I his girlfriend. I’m his neighbor, Y/N. Harry lives next door.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Nikki blushed.

“It’s okay.” You chuckled. “It was an honest mistake.”

Just then, Harry’s apartment door opened and his eyes widened when he saw his family on your doorstep instead of his. “Mum! Dad! Paddy! That’s the wrong apartment.” Harry said, clearly embarrassed. He turned to you and said, “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You shook your head and waved your hand, “It’s alright.”

Harry smiled and turned to Nikki, “Let’s go?”

“Yes, please! I’m starving.” Paddy said.

You all laughed and you said, “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it.”

“Let’s leave Y/N now. She’d want to spend Mother’s Day with her mum.” Harry said. You wanted to tell him that your mum was out of the picture, but you kept your mouth shut; not wanting to receive any look of pity and not wanting to answer questions about your personal life. Instead, you just smiled and nodded your head politely. You closed your door as soon as they left after you wished them a good lunch and a ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ to Nikki.

A few hours later, you hear another knock on your door. You opened the door only to reveal Harry with a small paper bag.

“We had leftovers at lunch and I figured I’d let you have it. My fridge is full, anyway.” Harry said and handed you the paper bag.

“Oh, thank you.” You smiled. Harry nodded and was about to leave when you stopped him, “Wait!”

He turned to you quickly and said, “Yeah?”

“I have an extra batch of cookies. Wait here.” You left and went to your small kitchen as Harry waited out in the hallway. He took a peek at your now furnished apartment and frowned at the sight of no visitor. Surely, you had one whilst he was away, right?

You came back and with a plastic Tupperware of cookies and gave it to Harry, “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Harry smiled and left.

His Birthday

Harry knocked on your door and he smiled when you opened it, “Hey Y/N!”

“Hey!” You smiled.

“Sam, my twin, is here and he cooked some food. Thought I’d give you some.” He handed you a Tupperware of food. You took it gratefully and thanked him.

“What’s the occasion?” You asked him.

“Mine and Sam’s birthday.” Harry said with a smile.

“Happy birthday!” You smiled.

“Thanks. There’ll be a party later tonight and I’d love for you to come.” Harry said.

You smiled sadly and said, “Parties aren’t really my thing and I have work tonight.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Harry said, covering up his sadness.

“I’ll make it up to you. Are you free tomorrow?” You asked casually. You felt bad for him.

“Yes, I am actually.” Harry said. “But Sam is sleeping over.”

“You shrugged, “Take him with us. It’s his birthday too, after all.”

The next day, you kept your promise and took them to your favorite restaurant as a birthday treat for them. It was really fun and you got to meet Sam.

A Random Day

You were going back to your apartment when you saw Harry exiting his apartment to take out the trash. He looked up and smiled at you, “Good morning, Y/N!”

“Morning, Harry.” You greeted back. “I’m surprised you’re up early.”

“Same here.” Harry laughed. “My parents are dropping off Paddy here in an hour and I have to clean up a bit.”

“Oh, okay. Do you need help? I’m free.” You shrugged.

“That would be really nice, thank you.” Harry smiled gratefully.

“Okay, well, I’ll let you throw your trash first and I’ll get changed in my cleaning clothes. I have a lot of cleaning supplies in my storage closet. Living alone is lonely, you know. Cleaning keeps me occupied.” You chuckled lightly.

“I’m excited.” Harry laughed. You exchanged a few more sentences before Harry threw his trash and before you got in your apartment to gather your cleaning supplies and change your clothes.

Five minutes later, you knocked on Harry’s door with your cleaning attire and cleaning supplies. “Wow, you have the whole cleaning package.” Harry chortled as soon as he opened the door and saw you.

You shrugged, “What can I say? I’m Monica Geller.”

“Okay, then.” Harry smiled and let you in before closing the door. Both of you started cleaning up and before you knew it, there was a knock on Harry’s door. He opened it only to reveal his parents and Paddy. They entered the clean apartment with a shocked expression on their faces.

“It’s so clean in here.” Nikki said in awe.

“Y/N helped.” Harry said and looked at you gratefully, mouthing a small ‘thank you’. You smiled back and mouthed back, ‘you’re welcome’.

“Hello!” You greeted with a smile.

“Hello, Y/N! Thank you for helping Harry.” Nikki smiled. “It’s so nice of you to do that.”

“It’s no problem, really.” You smiled. “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it.”

“Thanks again, Y/N.” Harry said before you left.

“Anytime, Harry.” You grinned before waving goodbye to everyone and going back to your apartment.

Those happened for years and throughout the years Harry has known you, he realized that you’ve never had visitors in your apartment. It was such a mystery to him as to why you never had anyone come over. He never even saw any family member of yours. He’s been in your apartment a few times, but other than him, no one else went there.

The holidays were coming and the snow was covering the ground. Harry decided that enough was enough. He wanted to confront you about it. It wasn’t his business, but it was bothering him. It was lonely, after all. He just wanted to give you company.

He was on his way to his parents’ house for the holidays and he didn’t want to leave without asking you what the matter was.

He knocked on your door and you smiled when you answered it. “Hi Harry! Aren’t you supposed to go to your parents’ house?” You asked.

“Yeah, I’ll go tomorrow. I just wanted to hang out with you before I leave.” Harry explained.

You nodded, “Come in, then.” You opened the door wider for him to come in. He went in and took in your apartment’s interior. You didn’t even have Christmas decorations on.

He went in and made himself comfortable on the couch. You closed the door and joined him. “What’s up?” You turned to him and asked.

“Just wanted to talk, that’s all.”

“Is something bothering you?”

“Yeah, actually.” Harry bit his lip nervously. “I just noticed that throughout the years of us being neighbors, you never had anyone come over to your apartment. Y’know, it’s always quiet and you don’t go home during the holidays. I’m not trying to be nosy or anything. I’m just… concerned and curious.”

You oursed your lips and nodded. He saw this and said, “I’m so sorry for sounding like I’m prying into your personal life or anything. I’m just concerned.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“You kinda remind me of Becca from Pitch Perfect. Closed off and all that.” Harry said and you chuckled at his analogy.

“I’ll take that as a compliment because I love Becca.” You said with a smile. Then it went silent. The comfortable silence filled the room as you thought about telling Harry or not. You decided to tell him because you’ve been neighbors for so long and he’s the only person you’ve been talking to in the building.

“Fine, I’ll tell you.” You said, breaking the silence. Harry didn't say anything. He just turned to you and patiently waited for you to talk.

“I grew up in an orphanage. My mother couldn’t take care of me, so she dropped me off there. It was like Meet The Robinsons minus the genius and the looking like the Cornelius thing. To be clear, I was Goob and not Lewis. Except, I don’t have a bowler hat and this is getting way off topic.” 

Harry laughed and nodded for you to continue.

“Anyway, based on my story about me being Goob, I wasn’t adopted by anyone. I was interviewed a couple times, but I guess no one ever liked me. So, I grew up in the orphanage and stayed there until I was 18. The people weren’t bad there, but they weren’t good either. I can’t really describe them, so all I can really say is that they’re cold people.”

“When I turned 18, though, they gave me the biggest surprise ever. I was given a huge sum of money and a key to a decent apartment. I packed up my things and left that day and moved here immediately. I’ve never looked back since.”

“Remember the flowers on my doorstep?” You asked and he nodded. “It was from the orphanage. I was surprised that they remembered.”

“What about your friends from school? Or the ones who were adopted? Surely, you had contact with them.” Harry asked.

“Those who were adopted became bitches and we were kids. Those were empty promises. I expected a call from the first kid who was adopted, but after a few more kids you start losing hope that they’d call, y’know? Besides, I heard from the orphanage that one of those kids is in jail now for robbery. Big yikes.” You said casually.

“Big yikes, indeed.” Harry nodded in agreement.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m leaving this apartment next year.” You told him which took him by surprise.

“Next year? Why? Where will you go?” Harry frowned.

“I got a promotion, but they want me in Singapore.” You explained.

“Well, it’s Christmas in three days and now that you’ve told me all about you, I really don’t want your last Christmas to be alone.” Harry said.

“I’ve been alone for as long as I can remember, Harry. I’m used to it, really.” You chuckled lightly.

“You don’t have to be. I’m going home to my family tomorrow and I’d like to take you with me. It may not be the family that you want, but it’s the family you need. So, what do you say?” Harry asked.

“I don’t want to ruin your holiday. Besides, it’s family members only and if it didn’t already occur to you, I’m not family.” You said.

“You’re a family friend, though. That HAS to count.” Harry said. “I hope you know that I won’t stop until you say yes.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and said, “Okay, I’ll go, so that you can shut up.”

“Good.” Harry grinned. “I promise you that we’ll have so much fun!”

The next day, you and Harry were on your way to his childhood home. The drive was a bit long, but it was fun and filled with singing. You arrived there 45 minutes later and you were extremely nervous. You’ve met all of them except for Tom and Tessa. You didn’t even know he was related to the Spider-Man actor mainly because you didn’t know Harry’s last name and you’re not active on social media. And like Becca, you don’t watch movies.

Both of you got out of the car and brought your bags to the front door. Harry unlocked the door and both of you went into the cozy house. You looked around and immediately noticed the smell wafting through the house. It smelled of fresh baked cookies and cinnamon.

“Harry and Y/N are here!” Paddy announced and everyone went and greeted both of you. A familiar face smiled at you and said, “Hi, I’m Tom. Harry’s older brother.”

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled. “You know, you look familiar.”

“I do?” Tom furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yeah. The kid from ‘The Impossible’. You look like him. I don’t watch a lot of movies, but I remember faces of the cast.”

“Oh, that’s me, love.” Tom chuckled.

Your eyes widened, “Really?! Wow. That’s so cool! What’re you up to these days?”

“I still act and I’m in Spider-Man.” Tom said. “Do you really not know?”

“She doesn’t watch movies.” Harry said. “So she doesn’t know your movies.”

“Or movies in general.” You chimed in causing all of you to laugh.

“We’ll let you guys get settled in, then.” Nikki smiled. “Sam, show Y/N her room.”

Sam smiled at you, “Hello, m’lady. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“Hello and it’s been a while indeed.” You chuckled as you and Sam went upstairs to the spare room that was cleaned up especially for you. As soon as you got settled in, you went downstairs to hang out with everyone. 

Your time with the Hollands has been wonderful. They never made you feel like an outcast, they treated you like you were one of them. Tom made you watch a lot of movies, especially the ones he was in. You and Sam cooked and baked together. You played with Paddy and Tessa. You went last minute shopping with Nikki and you helped Dom in brainstorming ideas for a new book.

It was now Christmas Eve and you were preparing dinner with Sam when suddenly you felt someone giving you a side hug. You slightly turned your head and smiled when you saw Nikki. She smiled back before pulling away.

“I’m sorry about that. It just felt right.” Nikki said shyly before helping out in the kitchen.

You never experienced a mother’s hug before. In fact, you’ve never experienced a hug before. It was nice for a change and it was at that moment you knew that Harry was right. His family was a family that you needed. Sure, they weren’t perfect and you were sure that they had arguments here and there, but you could see that they really took care of each other and loved each other. It was also obvious that they would do anything for each other.

As you sat down for dinner, you couldn’t help but think that you were on the outside looking in. Honestly, you didn’t mind observing. Laughter filled the table and warm smiles were shared as they passed the food around. And for the first time in your life, you felt like you belonged.

After a week, you and Harry were packing up again to go back to your apartment. “Thank you so much for having me. I’m truly grateful for it.” You smiled at them while you stood on their doorstep. Harry was busy loading up your things in his car.

“It’s no problem, Y/N.” Dom said.

“Yeah, and you’re welcome to stay here as well. We love having you around.” Nikki smiled. “It’s quite sad that you’re going to Singapore next year. If I had known that you were going next year, I would’ve told Harry to bring you every Christmas since you’ve met.”

You chuckled and said, “I’ll be keeping in touch, Nikki.”

“I know.” She said and stepped forward to hold both of your hands. “It’s just sad that I’ll lose someone who I think of as a daughter. While I had so much fun with you every time I visit Harry and while I especially had fun having you here for a few days, I have to let you go to have fun on your own in Singapore.”

Both of you teared up and hugged for a while. Harry cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry to cut this moment short, but we have to go, Y/N.”

You pulled away and wiped your tears, “Okay. Thank you again for having me!”

“You’re most welcome.” Nikki smiled, kissed your cheek, and wished you good luck in Singapore. You walked to the car and Harry stayed behind to say goodbye to his family.

“You should tell her how you feel, Harry.” Tom chimed in. “Y’know, before it’s too late.”

“I don’t feel anything about her, Tom.” Harry lied. Of course he felt something for you.

“I’m not stupid. I know the look of love when I see one.” Tom chuckled.

“He’s right.” Nikki said. “Listen to me; I’m your mum.”

“I’ll think about it.” Harry said. He bid his goodbyes once more before jogging to the car and getting in. The drive back home was just as fun as the drive going to his childhood home.

Harry didn’t know what to do. It’s been three days since you got back and he hasn’t seen you. You were too busy packing your things and giving some of your things away. Packing for Singapore really made you busy. Harry wanted to help, but that would make it real. He didn’t want it to be real. One thing was for sure, though. He promised to drive you to the airport.

As much as Harry hated it, the day he dreaded most finally came: your flight to Singapore. Some of your things were already shipped there while your other things were donated or sold. Harry parked the car and helped you get your things from the car.

He walked you inside and stopped when you reached a point where Harry wasn’t allowed in anymore. “It seemed like yesterday when you were moving into your apartment with just four boxes and a foldable mattress.” Harry said, making you laugh. “Now you’re going to Singapore with two big suitcases and a carry on. You leveled up.”

“Thank you.” You playfully bowed your head.

“Before you go, there’s something I want to tell you.” Harry said nervously.

“My flight’s boarding in five minutes, but sure. Tell me.” You said to him. He took a deep breath and looked in your eyes.

“Y/N, I love you.” He said seriously, your eyes going wide as saucers. You clearly didn’t expect that. “I’ve loved you even before and I’ll love you from here on out. I’ll support you and I’ll be here for you whenever you need me.”

“Oh, Harry.” You smiled sadly. “I love you too, but…”

“But what?”

“I can’t do this whole relationship thing. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“Aren’t you willing to try?” Harry pleaded, but you shook your head.

“It doesn’t always work, Harry. I’m sorry.” You said sadly.

Harry nodded and asked, “Will I ever see you again? Will you come back here?”

“I don’t know, but all I know is that I can’t stay here.” You frowned. You looked at each other with sad eyes and you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Goodbye, Harry and thank you.”

“Goodbye, Y/N. Thank you too.” Harry pulled you in for a quick hug before letting you go. He watched as you walked away. His heart was broken, but something inside him told him that yours and his story hasn’t ended yet.

He was right.

It took him five months to think about it and it only took his cousin’s wedding to finally decide what he should do. Your last encounter with him at the airport didn’t affect your friendship which he was grateful for.

Harry didn’t even stay at the wedding long because he walked out after his cousin and her husband said their ‘I do’s’. He rushed home in a cab and packed his things and rushed to the airport to buy a ticket to Singapore. He successfully got a ticket and rushed to the gate where he needed to be. His phone rang and he hurriedly took it out of his pocket and answered it as he ran.

“Hello?”

“Harry! Where the bloody hell did you go?” Tom hissed.

“I can’t talk right now. I’m at the airport.” Harry said, out of breath from all the running.

“Airport?! Where are you going?” Tom shrieked.

“Singapore. I’m going after her, Tom.” Harry said with a smile. He got through the gate and is now boarding the plane. “I’m on the plane now.”

“How long are you staying there?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know, but I’ll let you know when I land.” Harry said. “Bye!”

“Wait!-”

Harry hung up before Tom continued speaking. Harry got seated and in truth, he was excited to see you. He could almost imagine the look on your face when you see him. Hours later, his plane landed in Singapore and after a few minutes of getting off the plane and finding his suitcase, he hailed a cab and immediately told the cab driver where you lived. He remembered that you weren’t working today and he was so happy.

Harry paid the cab driver when he arrived at your apartment building and he was nervous. He got out of the cab and went into your building. He searched for your apartment number and was elated when he saw it at the end of the hall. He grinned and knocked on the door and waited for you to answer.

You opened the door and gasped when you saw him. He smiled shyly and said, “Hi, there.”

“Hi Harry.” You smiled brightly and pulled him in for a tight hug. He pulled away after a minute and you asked, “What’re you doing here?”

“You said you couldn’t stay in London, so I came to you.” Harry grinned. “Although, I have to go back after two weeks because I need a visa if I’m staying here with you and-”

“Shut up and kiss me.” You smiled and pulled him in for a long awaited kiss.

* * * *

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @sufwubi​ @abrielleholland​ @purplepizza-summerrain​ @marshxx​ @lizzyosterfield​ @justanamesstuff​ @croissantwriting​ @blueleatherbag​ @euphorichxlland​ @givebuckyhisplumsnow​ 

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:  @justasmisunderstoodasloki​ @allyz​ @miraclesoflove​ @god-knows-what-am-i-doing​ @drie-the-derp @hollands-weasley​ @itstaskeen​ @call-me-baby-gir1​ @the-panwitch​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @geminiparkers​ @holland-styles​ @calltothewild​ @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual​ @theonly1outof-a-billion​ @piscesparker​ @unsaidholland​ @musicalkeys​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @hufflepuffprincess24​ @hollanddolanfangirl​ @parkerpeter24​ @bellelittleoff​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @aqiise @lexirv​ @blairscott​ @pearly-pisces​ @u-rrose​ @speedymaximoff​ @theliterarymess​ @beequeen8020  @justafangirlduh​ @sarcasticallywitty15​

[masterweaverx]

Me: “I should probably be writing so I don’t get so desperate at the last minute that--”

My brain: “The El Goonish Shive characters as students of Beacon academy MAKE IT HAPPEN GO GO GO!”

Me: “FINE. I’ll draw notes, but I’m not necessarily doing the story!”

So anyway here’s some notes for a story I’m not necessarily doing.

Team SPET (Spectral), led by Grace

Grace Sciuridae:

Faunus, Vale origin. Squirrel tail, “antennae” forelocks, and clawed fingernails/toenails (not actual claws, she just let them grow out.

Emblem: An acorn, generally worn as a pin on her sleeve.

Outfit is a loose long-sleeved shirt in green, black pants, bandoleer belt with a sheathe for her weapon and pouches, and no shoes/gloves.

Beacon uniform adjustments: no shoes, and she doesn’t wear the neck ribbon thing, but otherwise standard girl’s outfit.

Semblance: Extensorary. Grace can extend her aura to feel anything in the area, manipulate objects, or simulate flight.

Weapon: Shade Tail. A zweihander that splits into two bladed whips. Possible Dust effects.

Backstory: Kidnapped as a child by Damien, who in this universe is an absolutely insane faunus-supremacist that thinks he can control the Grimm, Grace lived several unkind years in the forests of Vale before managing to escape and arriving at Beacon academy. Ozpin let her in as a student mostly to provide her the protection of paperwork, since from what she’s describing Damien might be tied to the Bigger Secret of the world. She becomes partners with Tedd during initiation. Her upbringing does leave her mostly the same as EGS prime canon, ignorance of all social norms included, but she has an especial dislike of the creatures of Grimm due to Damien’s madness. Also she doesn’t get racism. Period.

Susan Pompoms:

Human, Argus origin. Appears mostly the same as EGS canon, with exception of single blonde side-braid.

Emblem: Venus symbol, used as a belt buckle.

Outfit is a dark blue longcoat has straps on the back, through which backpack straps are run to hold onto her Big Box O’ Stuff. Wears blue pants held up by belt and going into calf-high boots, black leotard, and black three-finger half gloves. Shoulder armor and a metal backbrace.

Beacon uniform adjustments: Boy’s uniform instead of girl’s, but otherwise standard.

Semblance: Portation. Susan can mark any container as hers and teleport whatever's in it to herself and back.

Weapon: Morrígna. A warhammer that can split into a sword and mallet. The mallet can morph into a one-handed gun.

Backstory: The early parts of the backstory would remain basically the same, but she doesn’t meet Nanase until Beacon and has only a passing familiarity with Sarah as ‘Oh yeah, her family comes to Argus sometimes.’ But she would have a friendship/rivalry with Pyrrha, which might lead to some interesting interactions with Jaune. She winds up partnered with Elliot during initiation. And, upon realizing how completely unaware of social norms sheltered Grace is, would be very vocal about certain people not abusing her.

Elliot Dunkel:

Human, Mantle origin. Literally looks the same as canon, because why break a good look?

Emblem: An oval with some abstract lines, seen as a symbol on his shirt.

Outfit is a White cape and black crop-top, black pants and white shoes, belts in an x-shape over his belly with pouches for carrying things.

Beacon uniform adjustments: he does not wear the white undershirt. That’s it. The jacket’s buttoned up, but he doesn’t wear the undershirt.

Semblance: Soul Fury. Elliot can draw on the negativity of others, such as pain and fear, in order to increase his own physical attack strength. He has trained this to a degree that he is capable of jumping to intense heights.

Weapons: Honor and Justice. Arm-mounted bladed tonfas, capable of shooting grappling hooks from the wrist to either drag himself to a location or to bring a foe to him. Used to be part of the Four Ideals, but leg-mounted equivalents went to Ellen.

Backstory: Saved Tedd from some bullies during one of his visits to Mantle, became close friends. Otherwise standard backstory. Some people might note his childhood doesn’t mention his twin sister, and he’ll say there was a whole money-legality thing until recently. Anybody with a truth-sensing semblance will know he’s lying. The truth, however, is Very Classified. Like seriously you don’t know how classified it is.

Tedd Verres:

Human, Atlas origin. Left half of his hair is the original ‘long hair’, right half is the new ‘pixie cut’.

Emblem: A circle with three lines extending from it, which is placed on his equipment.

Outfit is a light blue longcoat with internal pockets (and everyone is going to comment on that since none of the other characters have pockets), light blue pants, black shirt and boots. Also some purple armor around his chest that is slightly rounded and matching greaves on his legs.

Beacon uniform adjustments: wears the girl’s outfit, but with a tie.

Semblance: Copyscan. Tedd can identify other people's semblances with some observation, and make limited-use copies of them with physical contact.

Weapon: Convergence. A gauntlet with an extendable shield, which also stores copies of semblances. Ted also has an energy pistol called Expedience.

Backstory: Tedd’s dad still works for a coverup agency, but now it’s the RWBY-canon ‘Keep Magic and the existence of Salem an utter secret’ cover-up agency. Tedd was brought into this against his father’s wishes when General Ironwood realized the potency of his semblance, but this also gave him access to a few classified doohickies such as this fused universe’s version of the Dewitchery Diamond. Going to Beacon is meant as a ‘field test’ of Tedd as an agent, at least according to Ironwood, but there’s also his dad wanting him to have friends that aren’t involved in all the top secret drama. Also yes, he does have a copy of Ellen’s gender change spell in Convergence which she willingly refreshes for him, and he will sometimes spend time as a girl. (Possible connection to May Marigold down the line?)

Team STNE (Stone), led by Sarah

Sarah Brown:

Human, Mistral origin. The only real difference is that her hairband now sports fancy curls and flanges and also it’s made of bronze as a sort of informal helmet.

Emblem: a double-sided question mark which is engraved into her arm guards.

Outfit is a pink knee-length dress, belt with four pouches radially aligned. Armored boots, greaves, and with her shoulders, all bronze.

Beacon uniform adjustments: none, but she still wears her headgear.

Semblance: Lookout. Sarah can instantly take in details about her environment to a highly detailed degree, with a range that extends the more aura she pours into it. While she can examine things that might be hidden, i.e. the inside of a closed book, she cannot change anything.

Weapon: Zauberei. Spear/staff that can shift into a rifle and split into a pistol and dagger. It sort of looks like a giant paintbrush?

Backstory: An ordinary Mistral combat student who went up against Pyrrha Nikos and Susan during some combat tournaments and got a case of starry eyes for both of them. Upon hearing they were going to Beacon, she decided to go too because why not? What she doesn’t realize is that she’s going to be put in charge of a team of Secrets and Drama. She winds up partnered with Justin during initiation.

Justin Tolkiberry:

Human, Vale origin. Aside from a very fancy set of earrings in one ear, he looks about the same as his canon counterpart.

Emblem: Abstract fire, which is displayed prominantly on the back of his gi.

Outfit is an open orange gi with lots of red fire patterns and buckled belts around the ankles, thighs, biceps, and forearms. Also sandles. And he does have a belt around the pants with a few pouches.

Beacon uniform adjustments: Wears sandles instead of shoes.

Semblance: Not known, exactly. Justin knows he can ignore damage sometimes, but the details are unclear.

Weapon: Dashing Delver. A rectangle-headed shovel that turns into a tower shield/sled.

Backstory: Basically the same as canon Justin, except that because Remnant is more accepting of LGBT+ people overall he wasn’t bullied and was just very irritated at Mellissa. Also Elliot and Nanase were on entirely different continents so there’s that. He’ll be the snarky rational one when everything about his team is revealed. 

Nanase Kitsune:

Faunus, Menagerie origin. Has naturally dual-colored hair to match her naturally dual-colored fox ears.

Emblem: A heart-shaped fox head thing she wears on her shirt.

Outfit is a black jacket, yellow croptop with emblem in red, red skirt with yellow trim, red armbands, black shoes, and a pouch belt that hangs off one hip instead of being used as a belt.

Beacon Uniform Adjustment: She keeps her armbands.

Semblance: Fairy Companion. Nanase can summon fairy companions to herself or anyone she has an emotional connection with. These fairies run off her subconscious unless she deliberately controls them, and can be used to communicate, scout, or detonate as weapons. Their size is controllable, ranging from ‘hold in one hand’ to ‘outright as big as Nanase herself’, though they always appear to be wearing what Nanase is at time of summoning. Larger fairies take proportionally more aura to summon.

Weapon: Faewind. A backpack with four cable-attached fairy wings. Each wing is a bladed arm/leg shield with inbuilt nozzles that serve either as short-range blasters or a jetpack when retracted.

Backstory: The Kitsunes are a very important family in Menagerie, with a lot of political clout, and Nanase is expected to reflect that as her mother sends her to Beacon in order to indirectly represent Menagerie at the Vytal tournament. Nanase, however, is using this first chance to not have to be a Perfect Icon to actually search for her own identity. She becomes partners with Ellen during initiation, and picks up on how Ellen is really not comfortable talking about her own past. There’s a slow gradual growth of trust going on, and Nanase slowly comes to realize she might love this girl.

Ellen Dunkel:

Human(ish), Mantle origin. Looks the same as canon because of course she does.

Emblem: A rectangular mirror with a suspiciously familiar diamond shape in the center, painted on her shirt.

Outfit: Where Elliot wears a cape, Ellen wears an open coat. But otherwise it’s basically the same, if adjusted for female.

Beacon Uniform adjustments: She doesn’t wear the socks. That’s it. She wears the shoes but not the socks.

Semblance: Shift Beam. Ellen is capable of generating a beam of light from her palm. If the target has no active aura, it is impacted with a degree of force relative to the amount of aura input. If a target does have aura, the beam can cause temporary physical alteration; Ellen is still learning the ins and outs of this, but she can usually make other bodies more like hers (i.e. physically female). This is noted to be unusual, since no other known semblance outright shapeshifts people. Consequently, she tries to avoid using it in ways where this can be observed.

Weapon: Courage and Virtue. Leg tonfas. Complete with jump-jets. Used to be Elliot's.

Backstory: Officially she’s just the long-lost twin of Elliot’s who recently got back out of the foster care system. Unofficially, the dewitchery diamond exists in this fused universe and Ellen has to keep her origin a secret because if Salem heard about her hooooo boy! The original plan was for her, Elliot, and Tedd to all be on the same team so they could protect each other but she wound up partnering with Nanase and then on a seperate team and now Ellen is conflicted between explaining her origins to her partner and not wanting people to freak out. But she does slowly start to explain her various quirks, as people (especially Nanase) start to notice stuff about her.

The Plot:

I dunno, team SPET and STNE interact with teams RWBY and JNPR and get involved in the world-spanning conspiracy? My brain is saying this is enough for now.

[bewareofchris]

Help! My plot is stalled!

It’s alright, friends.  We’ve all been there, sitting at a desk or laying in our beds, staring at the screen wondering what in the holy beef jerky has gone wrong because our ability to write has just come to a screeching halt.

We’re uninspired.

We’re unmoved.

We’re incapable of figuring out what happens next.

It’s time like this that our instinct is to grab a machete and start cutting through extraneous characters like a boiled steak knife through Jell-O.  We’re throwing romantic curve balls and car crashes at our protagonist so quickly they don’t have time to recover from one before they’re being traumatized by another.

Sometimes, we think, now is the time to reveal that our beloved Protagonist is actually an alien from another planet who survives by consuming the souls of lap dogs and his insatiable thirst for Pekineses is causing him great distress because the human mate he has chosen for himself has three such delicious morsels.

BUT, never fear my friends.  Here are some ideas to help you get out of that hellish valley of despair and back on track.

Take a break.  Have a snack.  Stretch your limbs.  Go for a walk.  Call a friend who listens to things and explain to them how your story is stupid and you hate it and it won’t move.  You don’t need to let your friend talk at all. Just keep complaining about your story until suddenly you realize what went wrong.

Daydream about what your character would do if you were to suddenly abandon him/her with six kids under the age of 5 at a busy theme park.  Or what he/she would do if they suddenly found themselves trying to talk two very angry kingly types out of starting a civil war because they disagree on which side of their toast to spread butter on.  Put your character in the MOST ridiculous scenario you could possibly imagine.  Make them rationalize their way out of it.  Don’t make it easy.  Six kids under the age of 5 when you’ve never dealt with children is basically hell.  Let your character suffer, and fail, improve and finally win (or at least survive).

Fantasize about beating your characters with a metal pipe.  Imagine their pleas for mercy as they try in vain to remind you that they are fictional constructs and this is not their fault.

Once you’ve cleaned your system of these violent urges toward non-real people, sit back down.  Re-read what you’ve written, if it’s still as bad as you thought it was, here are some actual bits of advice:

Regardless of what Rafiki once said about moving on and forgetting the past, the problem that you are presently experiencing is mostly caused by something that went wrong in the recent events of your story.  Take another look at the latest choices that your main or side characters made and ask yourself if maybe them making A DIFFERENT CHOICE might put your story back to rights.

Take another look at your character and his/her story so far.  Is your character excelling in every facet of his/her life?  Have they faced any obstacles that amounted to more than a mild inconvenience?  Are they generally well-liked?  Respected?  Do they have noticeable faults?  Are these faults presented in a way that allows other people to be annoyed by them?  Have these faults gotten in the character’s way?  If your main character is Too Good and Such Winning or Basically Useless and Always Failing then your story is imbalanced and it can’t move forward because you’re not allowing the protagonist to experience growth and change.

Are there relationships?  Friendships?  Family?  Rivalrys? ROMANCE?  You need relationships of at least 2 different types in a story.  Preferably more.  And they can’t all be the same kind with different names.  And they need to also be developing with your characters.  So Protag makes an unpopular choice with his family but his BFF is loving it and his Romantic Interest thinks it could be good for him.  You have so much material right there!

DO. NOT. MURDER. ANYONE.  Dismemberment is okay if you really want to have to take the time out of your story to focus on the emotional and physical effects that a traumatic event inflicts on your protagonist.

DO NOT MAKE YOUR ROMANTIC INTERESTS HATE EACH OTHER OVER SOMETHING STUPID.  Please.  Please don’t do this.  It’s really just not worth it.  If you make them so angry at one another they’re screaming death threats and then the next day they’re like: I guess we love one another again you cheapen the impact.  If this is a story about overcoming things and growing as people and forgiveness then yes, break them up and get them back together but don’t do it just to have an exciting screaming sequence.  Or do.  I mean, you do you.

Instead of tearing your couple apart, have them get together.  Have them spend a weekend doing silly, childish, amazing things.  Let them smooch, and cuddle, and eat candy together.  Let them waste money they don’t staying overnight in a fancy hotel.

Visit a Significant Character from your Protag’s past because they are in need of comfort and guidance.  Allow them to reminisce about the good old days, and whine about how they don’t feel like they’ll ever be that happy again.  Let your Significant Character hit your Protag with a rolled up newspaper.  STOP BEING A NINNY, PROTAG.  STOP IT IMMEDIATELY.

Give your Protag an unexpected promotion.  You were just a kid that cleaned stables, but we noticed that you’ve got a real way about you that suggests you’re WIZARD MATERIAL.  Build that Protag up, let him feel pride and joy and love.

(And then make the person that promoted him have questionable morals.  Make him vaguely untrustworthy.  Watch your starry-eyed protag battle against a shady man of questionable intentions to see who wins in the end!  But not with the fate of the whole world.  Like the fate of a small village at most.)

Give your Protag the single worst day of his entire life that does not involve physical altercations and/or death.  Maybe he/she pulled a muscle having athletic sex that morning, was distracted by the pain in the shower,got soap in their eyes, limped to the car to find it was out of gas, went to a busy gas station, got coffee that was too cold to enjoy, was late to work, had more work than usual, the pain meds never started working, left his lunch at home, couldn’t buy anything because they ran out of time, had to listen to the Obnoxious Co-Worker next to them complaining about Obnoxious Co Workers Obviously Useless Significant Other for an hour and a half, left work late, forgot about plans to meet up with a friend, got ignored by friend at meet up, comes home and collapses in a pile of self-pity and physical pain and has Significant Other rub their aching pulled muscle and listen to their complaints.

You could do a car wreck, or you could just ruin your Protag’s entire life by having the transmission die in the middle of traffic.

The point I’m trying to get across here is that you have to have a journey that is balanced with ups and downs.  If you’re only going up, or you’re only going down, or you’re not going anywhere at all but straight forward on a 300 mile car trip across a flat surface with no trees, there’s no story there.

You could shoot someone, or you could have your Protagonist do something that injures their relationship with their Best Friend and Confidante.  Then your Protag protests their innocence to the point that it’s obvious they are being Stupid now.  Let them roll around in undeserved pity.  Let nobody else agree with them, and still they refuse to acknowledge they are stupid.  And then let them FINALLY, sort of, a little, admit they were wrong and instead of them offering a half-assed apology and moving on like it never happened, make them work to repair the damage they inflicted.  

Put your Protag in a position where they have to defend a friend/family member or romantic interest in a non-physical way.  Susan from Biology was telling Quentin and Theodore that Protag’s BFF eats his own snot.  And Protag is like OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO GO FIND SUSAN AND SCREAM A STRONGLY WORDED LETTER AT HER.  (or start vicious rumors about her behind her back, and take utterly glee at her humiliation, and then finally think: did I go to far?  I don’t think I went too far.)

DO. NOT. GET. SOMEONE. PREGNANT.  Do you knows what happens when someone’s pregnant?  They end up with a baby.  (Or a miscarriage.)  That pregnancy cannot be handwaved away.  If you’re not here to write about the amazing journey from sex to birth and lifetime of parenting that follows, you are not here to get someone knocked up for the drama.

Sure, let your Protag develop a desperate attraction to someone’s that not the Primary Love Interest but if the Primary Love Interest and Protag already have sexual and romantic tension building between them, maybe let the audience know that this is one of those things where you’re lonely and you want companionship and it’s not really that fair to Someone You Just Met and Now Want to Have Sex With.  Let Primary Love Interest struggle to be supportive.  or let Protag and Primarily Love Interest be mean-spirited little shits and mock the poor Someone You Just Met.

DO. NOT. MURDER. AN. ENTIRE. VILLAGE.  Did a spell go bad?  Did a curse escape?  Did your magical being accidentally create a sixteen foot tall metal horse with a thirst for squirrel hearts?  Remember that wholesale murdering of innocent side characters nobody cares about does effectively nothing for your story.  Don’t kill the entire village.  Let your character freak out because he/she misplaced a curse and ANYONE COULD HAVE IT.  Let them ransack the village developing a reputation as a mad man to find it.  Let him work furiously to develop a cure to the curse and refuse to rest until everyone’s been inoculated against said Curse, and then idk, he finds it on the floor under his work station.  Or, let him realize a curse is missing and he just kind of says nothing while he watches the village to see how effective it is.

SIDE QUESTS, so here me out.  This works best for longer stories and serial type works of fiction, but if your character has only one goal and never any other goals or distractions or purposes or interests you are seriously shooting yourself in the foot.  Don’t focus all your energy on Protag Loves Love Interest.  Protag also has Family Drama.  (Did you hear that Bobert is trying to buy a fucking boat?  A boat!  Why does he need a boat!  He can’t swim.  He’s going to die.  A boat.  A god damn boat.)  Protag has ambitions at work that are being undercut by Evil Boss.  (And anyway, Worst Boss Ever, he just comes over and drops this massive work load on my desk and he smiles at me because the Main Boss is coming tomorrow and my desk will be the only one covered in unfinished work.  What choice do I have?  I can’t quit, I need this promotion, so I stick to it.  I stay late, I work as hard as I can and...)

I know it’s not for everyone but Sex.  Unless your characters are Too Young to have a developed sexuality, that sexuality needs to be in your story.  I mean, if your entire story takes place and Grandma’s funeral, then you probably can skip this one.  But if your story takes place over any length of time, sex and sex-adjacent things need to be brought up.  They don’t need to be graphic.  They don’t need to be gross.  It can be a kiss, or the yearning for a kiss.  It can be a meaningful, flirtatious touch.  It can be the idea of a flirtatious touch.  There can be complaints of a need for flirtatious touches.  To each their own comfort level, but some sense of sexuality and how that is a Driving Urge in your character is also good.

Introduce a Rival.  Go ahead.  Let your uncontested King of Bowling protag meet a New Challenger.  Send them spiral with fear that they may not be top dog anymore.

Force your Protag and Antagonist to form a momentary truce.  Let them come to some understanding of the other that makes their future interactions more difficult.  

Strike your Protag with a Great Unfairness.  They didn’t get the promotion.  They couldn’t pay the bills.  They weren’t selected to be court jester.  They didn’t get to the store on time.  Someone else got to the top of the summit before them and now they’re basically trash to history.

Randomly have your supposed Antagonist turn out to Actually a Decent Guy that you’ve been blaming for all the wrongs in the world because it was convenient and really the actual antagonist can’t be defeated because he/she overpowers you somehow.  But with Actually a Decent Guy and his Surprisingly Nice Friends and you and your friends, you stand a chance.

Push your protagonist into a mud puddle.  Just for shits and giggles, make it so there’s not a dead body in there with him.  Or put one in if you want.  Nothing says ‘happy fun times at plot-stalled high’ like a decomposing corpse where one shouldn’t be.

Break your Protagonists heart, and let there be people that love them.  

Have fun, take your time, embrace the mundane and ridiculous aspects of life.  ALWAYS give your character flaws, and make them aware of them, and let them grow.  That’s the story.  All the other nonsense, the car wrecks and gunshots, and serial killers doesn’t matter in the end.  The reader is looking for Relationships That Matter and Characters that Grow.  Characters that stink of humanity, that reflect something about human beings the reader has met (or the reader themselves).  They want to connect, they want to love your character and they can’t do that if your character is Perfect.  Nobody’s perfect.  Stories stagnate when they can’t grow.  Let your story grow.  Let your characters grow.

[juminsmysticmc]

Can you make a saeyoung x hacker!reader when the reader is better then saeyoung at hacking and has to hack saeyoung for her job and we meet at some point and you can expand on that

Competition

Hey babe! I hope you like this story! I had two story lines and I hope that this one is the one which fits to your request. Please give me feedback! 

,,Okay.’’ you nodded. Your boss just gave you a new job. ,,Good, then begin!’’ he snapped and slapped the information on your desk, leaving you alone in your room. You sighted loudly and looked through the files he prepared for you. Your job was literally to hack into a charity group’s personal information to get their guests. ,,Just because you lack at your work I need to steal someone’s else work…’’ you sighted again, thinking about your own charity group which was literally a big fail. Your group just sucked at finding guest or preparing a party, stealing guests wouldn’t help you guys for sure. But you knew, you couldn’t leave this place. ,,Being blackmailed is a shit, huh?’’ you asked yourself and looked at the picture on your desk. It showed a smiling boy, your ten years old son. Your boyfriend made you pregnant ten years ago and left you and so you had to gain money for you and your sunshine. Unfortunately you couldn’t provide him without doing illegal work. 

Beside working for a charity group your work was to hack companies and steal personal information. You hated your job, you waned to be a simple mother with a stable job but you couldn’t since your boss blackmailed you with your son’s life. And now, here you were, typing on your keyboard to enter into the RFA’s files. ,,Woah, this person must be really good…’�� you mumbled to yourself and caught yourself smiling. So much time passed since you had a hard job. This was really a challenge. You spend three hours in front of your desk and still couldn’t enter into the personal files. ,,Just who in the world is he….’’ you mumbled to yourself and closed everything to go home. 

,,Hey big boy! Mommy is coming home, do you want chicken?’’’ you asked your son over the phone who quickly agreed with you. ,,Okay, I will be at home soon. Remember what I told you? Do not open the door yourself, I have a key with me!’’ you repeated. You tried your best to keep your son save, you weren’t at home a lot and so you could just trust him. As soon as you cut the call you got a message. Curious who it could be you opened your phone. ,,Oh, so the amazing hacker who was fighting with me is a lovely single mom? i want chicken too!’’ you read out loud. ,,What…’’ you mumbled to yourself and looked around you. Did he already find you? Was he following you? A second message appeared. ,,No use. You can’t see me. But now enjoy your evening with your son. I will be waiting for you, tomorrow in front of my desk. You’re even better than me!’’ the message said. Your hands trembled a bit. Your feelings were somewhere between fear and happiness. You decided to rush home, you felt weird for some reason. Even through the person seemed a good one, you didn’t want to trust someone over the phone. That evening you were a bit distracted but your son didn’t really notice his mom’s worries. Insteatd he kept telling you how funny it was to play football. 

,,Good morning, my favorite moron. Get up and hurry up to school.’’ you woke up your little prince who tried to go to sleep again. The morning began a bit tiresome but you still were fired up to find out about the personal information. And so as soon as you were in front of your desk, you kept hacking. This time you did it and won. You scrolled through the files and printed out everything what could be used. Afterwards you quickly shut up your desk to make sure that the hacker wouldn’t hack you either. You quickly called your boss and gave him everything you found. ,,Nice.’’ he complimented you and looked through the papers. You were indeed proud of you but somehow everything felt way too easy. 

,,What?!’’ you yelled at your boss when he threw the papers away. ,,These people aren’r real! You idiot fell into their trap! Are you stupid or what?! Do you want to visit your son’s funeral?!’’ your boss asked you, making you shiver in fear. Once again he left you, this time he gave you just a few hours to find the files. ,,If you fail once again, you can search for a beautiful picture of your son for the funeral!’’ he hissed. You were on the verge of hyperventilating. You knew that if you would tell your son to escape, your boss would still find him somehow. You were desperate. Our of the blue a new message arrived, telling you that your son was save. ,,You should tell him how dangerous it is to go into a stranger’s car.’’ the message said. 

Your heart felt as if it was about to stop to beat. Was the hacker good or bad?,,Don’t worry….I will help you.’’ the next message said, making you feel as if he was actually observing you. The next hours were the most frighting hours you ever experienced. You really did what the hacker said. ,,This will give you a few hours to escape. Just go into this building. A big black haired man with a lot of money will protect you.’’ And so you followed his orders. You printed out the new fake files which would make your boss busy for at least three hours and quickly escaped with everything which was yours. 

,,C&R…?’’ you mumbled to yourself and entered the building. ,,Hello. You must be Mc…right?’’ a brown haired woman asked you. Her glasses made and her short hair made her look like a strict woman. But she seemed nice. You just nodded. ,,Please follow me. Your son is with us. Luciel is already waiting for you.’’ she said and entered the elevator. As soon as the both of you had more privacy she kept on talking. ,,The next steps will be that a few of our bodyguards while threaten your boss, so that he won’t harm you. From now on you are under our protection. Would you like to enter the RFA?’’ And so you journey as a second hacker for the RFA began, finally free from fears and dangers. 

,,Oh dear, you’re the hacker I fought with? I didn’t….expect that…’’ you chuckled when you saw Seven, making him blush too. ,,Am I even handsomer than your thoughts?’’ he asked you. 

Indeed, the black haired man, also known as Jumin Han, helped you out. He even paid for you and your son’s needs. ,,Wow…Thank you very much….you’re even giving me a job…’’ you blushed in front of the young CEO in line. But not because he was very handsome, but because the red haired hacker stood right next to you. ,,No problem, Luciel told me that you’re even better than him at hacking.’’ he nodded and brightly smiled at you. 

,,Would you like to become my daddy…?’’ your son one day asked Seven after he brought him a new toy for the tenth time in this month. Seven looked at your flushed face. ,,Yes, why not. What do you think, Mc?’’ he asked you, approaching you and kissing you. 

[thewhiterabbit42]

Beard Kink

Part of Tantalizing Trickster Tuesday

Pairing: Gabriel x reader

Summary: Gabriel riles the reader up with a little extra something he’s brought on the hunt.  

Written for: Anon - beard kink request and @spnkinkbingo

Square Filled:  Free Space

Word Count:  1777

Tags/Warnings: beard kink, oral sex, brief fingering

A/N: It’s after midnight and I’m mangling what my beta fixed doing final edits.  I bet she’s waking up with chills as we speak.  

You still weren’t certain how he talked you into it.  Probably because there wasn’t a whole lot of talking involved.  He was all sly looks and subtle touches, priming you throughout the hunt until you were practically sprinting back to your motel room for some much needed self-release.

Imagine your surprise when you found him waiting just inside.  

You still hadn’t made it more than a few steps in.  There you were, leaning heavily against the door, stripped from the waist down with an enthusiastic archangel between your thighs.  His technique was amazing, though you expected no less from someone with centuries to perfect it.  What was really making you weak in the knees was the latest addition to his look.  

“What is that on your face?”  You didn’t mean to sound rude, but, really?  He was going to show up with that and expect you to accomplish anything?

“Like it?”  He struck a pose, trailing the back of his fingers along his jaw.   

It had been your undoing.  All those nights of careful dancing, of volleying back his flirtations and using every ounce of self-restraint, shattered by a well-trimmed beard.  

“Oh fuck.”  Your legs wobbled, exhaustion and a heady rush of desire nearly taking you to the floor.  You latched onto the doorknob, simultaneously bracing yourself on his shoulder.  

“Let go, sugar,” he murmured, his grace sweeping around your backside.  “I got you.”  

You didn’t have much of a choice.  Worn muscles gave a final aching flair, unable to bear your weight any longer as his mouth latched back onto your clit and did something that defied reality.  As promised, you didn’t end up on your ass.  You simply dropped a few inches before being caught by something that reminded you of a warm blanket.

He ran his hands up your calves before grabbing you by the back of your knees and lifting your legs over his shoulders.  They continued up your thighs, cresting over the curves of your backside.  He indulged himself in a handful before easing you forward, cheek scraping along your inner thigh as he teased away from your sex.  

You wriggled, enjoying every moment as he drew it out, the fire in your stomach igniting with every rub of his chin.  

Cocky ass.  You knew half the reason he did it was so he couldn’t be put in the one and done category.  You’d have no choice but to remember him with the burn he was leaving.

It made you wonder what else he might do to ensure you thought of him the next day.  

You carded your fingers through his curls, hips arching forward, seeking friction elsewhere again.  

“Someone is nee-dy,” he chuckled.  

He ran his tongue along your slit, and the way his fingers followed pulled a mew from your mouth.  He sank one into you, your head dropping back against the door as he moaned against you.  

“Father, you are soaked,” he breathed.  “Mmmm, and so fucking warm.”  You whined as he withdrew from you, his hands moving to steady your hips.  A devious gleam overtook gold.  “But I’m getting ahead of myself.  I have big plans for you, and they start with undoing you with my mouth.”  

You sucked in air as he traced his tongue along your folds.  

“Then again with my hands.”  

He kissed along your mound, intentionally ignoring that nexus of nerve endings you so desperately needed him to touch again.  

“I think the third I’ll try both.”  

His mouth landed chastely on your clit and you could have screamed when it was only enough to create a small spark of pleasure.  

“Then, if you’re good, we’ll talk about what else I might have to please you with.”

A sinful smirk graced his features, and heat pooled further between your legs.

“I hope you can put your money where your mouth is, feathers.”    

“Oh, I’ll put more than that here, sweetheart,” he promised.   

He snapped, and you found yourself staring up at the stained tile ceiling, ensconced in fluffy lightness.  Thinly padded and sagging springs were replaced by a down comforter on top of what might have been a cloud.  You couldn't be sure, but the mattress itself was certainly large and airy enough to be one.

“Show off,” you sighed, throwing your arms back and enjoying the plushness surrounding you.

“Just you wait.”  

He peeled off his jacket, and you looked up in time to watch him remove his shirt.  You’d always wondered what lay beneath all those layers, and the lean but fit frame had you salivating more than washboard abs ever could.  He looked real, not some divine specimen of perfection and a reminder that he was well and truly out of your league.  

“Ah, ah,” he said, holding up a finger and waving it back and forth.  “I don’t know where your head just went, but there will be none of that.”   

He got up on the bed, dropping down onto his hands and knees.  Honeyed hues became molten as he began to climb the length of you, his frame moving with feline grace.  There was a predatory air about him, as if he might devour you at any moment.  

The hunger in his stare when the rest of your clothes vanished suggested he might do just that.

“Now where should I start?”  He questioned, eyes drinking in the sight of you.  “I bet there are some nice, sensitive spots right here.”  He nibbled along the side of your neck, sending goosebumps flourishing across your skin.  

“These are always a crowd pleaser.”  He slid lower, lips tracing over your collarbone before moving along the tops of your breasts.  He brought his face down into your cleavage, the drag of his beard causing you to arch and push more of yourself against him.  

“I bet I could make you come with these alone,” he rasped, grazing his cheek beneath a soft swell before his tongue darted out, flicking at a nipple.  A strangled noise lodged in your throat, fingernails digging into his back as you urged him on.  

“Or maybe I should finish where I started?”  He continued lower, placing lazy, open mouthed kisses along your stomach, each one preceded by a wiry scratch from his chin.  

You’d never had any man spend so much time on foreplay. Most were interested only in what was necessary to get you started.  Gabriel, on the other hand, took his time, exploring every inch of skin, and by the time he hooked your legs around him once again, you were absolutely throbbing for him.  

He lapped at your juices, probing into your slick channel and making you squirm.  He had to hold you down, hands pressing your hips into the mattress when he finally returned to your clit, and the things he did with his tongue alone were going to ruin you for anyone else.  Your legs tightened around him, and he began to move his head, rubbing his face along your thighs and sending you straight into the stratosphere.  

You had never come so loudly - or hard - before in your life, the entire world inking around the edges as bright spots flashed across the back of your eyelids.  Your body finally went slack, your hands tingling as you started to descend.  

“Fuck,” you breathed, your legs shaking as he eased himself out from beneath them.  There was no way you were going to survive another one of those.  

“I hate to say it.”  You really, really hated to.  “But I’m not certain I’m up for a round two.”  

You were sorely regretting not taking Dean up on his offer to relieve you earlier so you could catch a nap.

“Believe it or not, I can have that effect on people.”

You cracked an eye to find him positively preening, smugness splashing self-satisfied across his face.  

“You’re not upset?”   

Most guys you brought back would be, at best, making passive aggressive remarks while getting ready to leave, and, at worst, laying on the guilt trip or pressuring you to continue.

“Seriously?”  His brow shot up.  “I just wrecked you in a single orgasm.  That’s a success in my book.”  

He patted your thigh before sitting up, replacing his clothes in a single snap.  A second comforter appeared in his hands and he buried you beneath it, making sure you were securely tucked in for the night.  “Get some rest.  You’ll need it for tomorrow.”  

A satisfied smile adorned your face as you closed your eyes, the sound of the door opening and closing barely registering.  

***

You couldn’t believe how tired you still were.  There were muscles you’d forgotten existed, a pleasant soreness and exhaustion echoing with every movement you made.  You could barely sit still, the hard booths of the diner not helping, but there was one discomfort that registered above all else.

And you could not have been more pleased.  

“What’s got you in such a good mood?”  Dean asked, his question more idle conversation as he scanned the menu.

You shifted your legs unconsciously, relishing the burn along your thighs.  You thought back to shades of gold between your legs and you couldn’t keep your lips from curling at the edges.  You came up with a suitable excuse, the words about to leave your tongue.  

Before you could speak, someone else chimed in.  

“Can’t a girl just smile?”  Gabriel asked.  “I know it’s a foreign concept for you Gloomchesters, but not everybody makes their living being tall, dark, and broody.”

His fingers drummed along the seat behind you, arm stretched casually along your shoulders.  Every now and then his jacket would graze yours, and you weren’t certain whose awareness he was testing more: yours or your friends’.  

“Remind me why you’re still here?”  Dean demanded, features hardening as he glanced at the archangel.

Sam cleared his throat, and his brother resisted the urge to roll his eyes.   “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the help, but with most of the coven out of the way, cleaning up the stragglers should be like shooting fish in a barrel.  Nothing I’d think would interest you.”

To be fair, it was a valid question.  Even you had been surprised to find him waiting outside the Impala this morning.  

“Normally, it wouldn’t, but…”  He paused, running his fingers thoughtfully over the side of his mug before picking it up.  “Believe it or not, it’s not all about you, Deana-rino, or Jolly Green there.  I’ve got some unfinished business of my own.”  He took a sip of his drink, eyes twinkling as they briefly met yours.  “And I intend to stick around until I take care of it.”  

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[hyungsnkisses]

Tattoos

( ~ o l d  r e q u e s t ~ )

♡ contains fluff and angst, viewer discretion is advised

♡ word count: 6.6k

♡ Describing how a soulmate makes you feel is difficult. It’s a tenacious, profound and lingering emotion which no words can encompass. Why did it have to be Min Fucking Yoongi? 

                                     ♡                      ♡                      ♡

If you had a dollar for every time someone had asked you if you were okay today, you’d be rich beyond your wildest dreams. The deep set scowl adorning your face was very out of character for you. In fact, it gave you the opposite effect of what you had hoped to achieve. 

You could tell why your parents were soulmates - they were perfect for each other. They both laughed at the same TV commercial with the dog that sang about a cleaning product, they both shared an interest in baking and classical music, they even finished each others sentences sometimes. Why did your soulmate have to be the polar opposite to you?

Your parents had given you “the talk” when you were sixteen, sitting you down with a hot chocolate and a box of tissues - both of which ended up being unnecessary. For being honest, you have completely forgotten that on your 18th birthday a name would appear engraved in silver script on your wrist to signify whom you should seek to live forever with. Until the clock struck midnight last night and a searing pain in your right arm brought you out of slumber. It was like no other pain you had ever felt before, like tiny needles were jabbing at your arteries and your flesh was being burned with a red hot poker. You imagined this was what getting a real tattoo felt like, but it didn’t ease your racing mind and your churning stomach. Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours, but once it was over it was as if nothing happened. There was no blood, no bruising, and you were returned to the silence of your darkened room. You pulled at the curtain to offer some light from the full moon onto your view and stared at the simple name in shiny silver lettering written on your wrist.

Min Yoongi.

Gasping in shock, your first thought was to try and scrub your skin raw in hope that it would disappear, but you remember your mother telling you from experience. “All it did was make me more miserable,” she had told you. Your second thought was to cut your arm off, but that would have caused a far bigger mess than the one you were currently in. So, while lying on your back in a starfish shape staring up at the glow-in-the-dark planets attached to your ceiling, you did the last option. 

You self-consciously tugged at your long sleeves for the millionth time this lesson, struggling to focus on the whiteboard with lots of equations you didn’t understand, taunting at you for not accepting the offer of a tutor. Math was not your strong point, but today it felt as if your brain had melted from your ears and pooled on the floor around you. Why on earth did Min Yoongi have to be your soulmate? You were polar opposites.

Min Yoongi was barely at school, occasionally dropping in on his exceptionally loud motorcycle and attending one or two classes per week. His presence was like that of a really bad car accident; you couldn’t help but stare at him even though you didn’t want to. When he pulled his helmet away from his head, the bleach blonde locks that he shook gently fell into the perfect place. Some days he tucked a headband under his choppy bangs, and some days he opted for a baseball cap that pulled the hair flush to expose his forehead. He was the definition of a college frat boy without the obnoxiously arrogant personality. You had watched from afar many times as he rejected yet another girl whom confessed their love to him - what they saw in him you had no idea - with a firm shake of his head and a tug on his backpack. When he graced the hallways of your school he kept his head down despite everyone staring at him, but caused a scene during breaks where he would harass freshmen for answers to the next classes pop quiz or for their lunch money. He was an odd fellow that you couldn’t put your finger on.

You were so distracted by thoughts of your ‘soulmate’ that you had completely forgotten it was your birthday. You were soon reminded when you were finally free from your lesson to find a birthday banner hanging from your locker. You sighed, twisting the dial to unlock the container. You were immediately hit in the face with helium balloons.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” Your best friend, Seoyun, called from down the hall, her dark curly hair cascading down her back. You had always been envious of her, ever since the day you were seated next to each other in Health, and today you wished she wasn’t her usual bubbly self.

“Please don’t remind me.” You huffed, wading through the streamers and balloons to fish out your music book. You had barely touched the corner of it before bolts of electricity spiked through your lower arm and caused you to whip away in excruciating pain. You put it down to heightened sensitivity due to the name reveal and that it was just a regular electric shock, as when you tentatively grabbed the book a second time you were fine. Weird.

“What’s got you so down in the dumps?” She asked, resting a hand on your shoulder. You rolled your eyes at her. “Oh! You got your name!”

“Do you want to scream that any louder?” You hissed in annoyance, walking towards the cafeteria to grab a coffee. You needed something to keep you going for the rest of the day. 

“So... Who did you get?” Seojun pressed, poking your sides. You swatted her away, requesting an iced americano with an extra shot and moving to the collection area.

“I’m already embarrassed enough, I don’t want you to laugh at me as well.” You sighed, looking over the cafeteria. There was a 15 minute break between period 2 and 3, then lunch was an hour long. You looked over all the tired seniors desperately studying for finals that were a couple of months away, their tired forms slumped over a laptop or a mountain of books. You empathised with them as you were doing the exact same, just not during school hours. You couldn’t possibly study as well as learn new things, that didn’t compute in your brain. 

“One iced americano with an extra shot for Y/N?” The barista called and you collected your drink, feeling a warm buzz of energy from the cup. What was going on with you today? The cup felt as if it was vibrating in your hand, the dull thrum jolting throughout your entire right arm. 

“Come on, Y/N. It can’t be as bad as not having one, tell me!” Seojun pressed one final time and you huffed, switching your coffee in your hands. You sympathised with Seojun, as she was probably the most excited person for her 18th birthday. It meant she was able to find the one she would spend her life with, and sadly she wasn’t blessed with a name. You felt guilty for being so embarrassed with your mate; Seojun would kill to be in your shoes, even if it was Min Yoongi. The buzzing of your coffee was still present in your other hand, although not as strong, so it couldn’t just be the effects of the name reveal process last night. Seojun gasped audibly as she looked at your rolled up sleeve, her eyes wide like saucers. You simply nodded in an ‘I told you so’ type of way. 

“I told you it was bad. Anyway, I’ll see you later.” You waved at her as you parted ways down the corridor, making your way to your music class. You took a sip of the strong substance in your hands, the taste hitting you like a truck. Your vision blurred and you suddenly felt dizzy. What the hell is going on? Your mouth had become dry and you couldn’t see straight, the corridor moving in ways that only happen in those stupid American comedies. There was a brightness from the high windows that caused a headache to sear through your eyes, the situation becoming so overwhelming that your legs buckled underneath you. All it took was a blink, and you were transported into a different part of the school. It took you a few seconds to place where you were, registering the principal’s office from the large green potted plant in the corner and the family photo on the desk in front of you.

“Your grades are dropping dangerously low. Myself and your teachers are concerned that you may have to retake your last year of school again.” The principal was looking at you with sympathy in your eyes. What? This can’t be right, you thought, my grades are near enough perfect.

“Sir, with all due respect, I have a lot happening in my home life, so it’s difficult for me to come into school every day.” A raspy voice that didn’t belong to you spoke, sounding very familiar. There was a dull haze in the corners of your line of vision, registering that you weren’t the one in the principal’s office. You felt like you were in a daydream, but you knew for a fact it wasn’t your own. 

“We can put procedures in place to help you, Yoongi. That’s what we’ve been telling you for the last six months.” The principal spoke again. Did he say Yoongi? Were you trapped in Yoongi’s mind somehow? 

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need your help. What I need to do is go home.” Yoongi politely declined and left the principal’s office. You watched through the fog and brightened scene before you as Yoongi made his way through the corridors and into the parking lot of the school, seating himself on the back of his motorcycle. He sighed, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. The smell filled your nostrils and you contained the reflex to cough up your lungs. While you knew that it was a daydream and not real, you were unsure if Yoongi would be able to hear you if you uttered even a single sound. He took a sip of the drink he had been carrying, and soon the bitter liquid flooded your tongue. Americano.

“Y/N? Y/N, wake up.” Someone was smacking your cheeks and you sat up abruptly, swallowing your mouthful of coffee. “Good, you’re awake, are you alright?”

“I... I think so.” You mumbled, looking at your surroundings. Quite the crowd had gathered in the hallway to gawk at your confusion, your coffee spilled on the floor in front of you. You could practically hear the tutting from the janitor already. The school nurse crouched in front of you and helped you to your feet, gave you a brush down and asked if you wanted to call your parents, which you refused. All you wanted to do was go to your class and get the hell out of there. You straightened your skirt and made your way down the corridor, all the while question flooded your mind. Did Yoongi know that you had seen his private conversation with the principal through his eyes? Had Yoongi experienced the same with you? You wondered if he felt the same as you today, the weird electric shocks and buzzing. You wondered if your name was etched into his skin with the same silver script, and if he detested the knowledge as much as you did. You wondered if he was suffering as much as you.

“Y/N! So nice of you to finally join us.” Your music teacher, Mr. Kwon, snarled at you. He already took a disliking to you because you had undermined him as a musician more than once with your piano skills, but your tardiness seemed to add to the pile.

“Sorry, Sir, I fainted in the corridor.” You placed the pink illness slip onto his desk and his hard stare softened for the smallest of moments.

“Very well, be seated please.” You took your seat at the keyboard in front of you, logging into the computer and loading the recording software. For your final piece of coursework, you had been assigned to compose an original song that had personal meaning. While you had been toying with a few idea, you were supposed to be completing the task with a partner and, up until today, your partner had been skipping class. You sighed, slipping on your headphones and listening to what you currently had. You hated to admit it, but writing sad songs was probably the only thing you’re good at. You were usually a very bright and bubbly person, but as of late you had been feeling miserable. Maybe it was because you hadn’t even thought about going to college despite the application deadlines being months ago, and you had no clue what you wanted to do with your life. All you know is you loved the piano. The track that you’d started was a slow song, focused on the higher notes as the main melody. It was a good start and, while you were good at the piano, you had no idea where to start with percussion and even writing the lyrics. That’s why you were hoping your partner would be good at those things, but they are still a no show. You sighed, knowing you’ll have to accept failing your best subject.

“Miss, Y/L/N.” Mr. Kwon’s voice brought you out of your thoughts and you slipped off your headphones, shifting your body to look at him. His face was as stern as always. “Just so you’re aware, I’ve contacted your partner and explained to him that as this is an extension class and attendance is compulsory, he will be joining us next lesson even if it kills me.”

“Okay, thank you, Sir.” You offered a weak smile and he returned that was much warmer than he had ever been since you started at this school.

“Are you getting on okay at the moment?” He asked sincerely and you nodded.

“I’ve gotten the basics down, I just need to figure out what kind of percus-”

“No, Y/N, I mean in general. You seem a lot... quieter today.”

“Oh.” His statement takes you aback, you weren’t expecting to have a heart-to-heart with the teacher that hates your guts. “I’m going to be honest, Sir, not really.”

“My door is always open if you need to chat.” He smiled warmly at you once more before returning to his desk, the dull tapping of your classmates’ keyboards becoming the backing track as your thoughts clouded over once again.

-

Your next music lesson seemed to come in a flash, despite your birthday celebrations separating you from your endless studying. There was an odd sensation that had settled deep in your stomach right after you ate breakfast. Was it nerves? Was it something bad that you’d eaten? The bread you toasted certainly wasn’t mouldy, and the strawberry milk tasted alright, you just couldn’t pinpoint it. But when the butterflies began fluttering in your abdomen, you knew it was anxiety for something. Perhaps because in a few minutes you would meet your mystery partner and be able to finally finish your assignment with a reasonably good grade. You arrived to class a little earlier than usual, skipping your regular americano break, though you could still taste the strong coffee on your tongue. It was odd; recently you could taste tings in the back of your throat that you don’t remember eating. Take last night, your mother had made a delicious beef casserole, yet you went to bed tasting instant noodles and Pepsi. And right now, there were hints of a powdered donut to accompany the bitterness of coffee. You were too scared to speak to anyone about it in case you were going crazy.

“Okay class, pop your headphones on and get to work please.” Mr Kwon announced when walking into the room, seating himself at his desk. A dull heat pooled in your feet and spread up to your calves, twinkling its way around your nervous system. You felt like you were on fire yet freezing cold at the same time. You daren’t roll your sleeves in fear of someone catching a glimpse of your name. You knew it was nothing to be embarrassed about as 80% of 18 year olds receive their name the night of their birthday, but you wished your name was anyone else. Literally anyone else.

“You’re working with Y/N.” You heard Mr Kwon’s faint voice through the noise-cancelling headphones, and the butterflies increased and fluttered dangerously in your chest. You wondered if Yoongi was feeling how you were feeling as well. You snorted at the potentiality of Yoongi, the school’s bad boy, getting nervous. The heat seemed to rush to your head and you felt as though hot lave was about to pour from your nose and mouth.

“Hi.” A faint yet familiar husky voice spoke and you turned your head slowly to look at your partner. You felt as if the wind had been taken from your chest as you finally made eye contact. Time seemed to stop still as you took in every detail of his features: the dark brown eyes set deep into his socket, with eyelashes that fanned out over the tops of his cheeks when he blinked. The dip in the middle of his petite nose that centred his face. The faint acne scar on his right cheek, paired with a light graze accentuating the angle of his chin. His chapped bottom lip that was encased by his pearly white teeth. His blonde locks that fell into his eyes, with a beanie pulled over his ears. He waved his hand in front of your eyes and you blinked rapidly, regaining the moisture you’d lost from staring.

“I-I’m sorry, how rude of me to stare, I’m Y/N.” You cleared your throat a little, holding your hand out but struggling to meet his gaze. When his hand touched yours it was like someone had let off tiny fireworks in your brain, the popping and pinging sounds paired with bright colours seemed to put your reality into HD. You adjusted your glasses and finally brought your gaze back to him. He was grinning at you. “What?” 

“Oh, nothing.” He stated, finally letting your sweaty hand go and watching it fall back into your lap. “Yoongi.”

“Yoongi.” You repeated, smiling to yourself. It sounded even better when he said it. You shook your head a little, opening the software and loading the file you had previously recorded. “So, this is what I’ve come up with so far. You can change it if you want, but to be honest we don’t have much time left to re-compose...”

“No, it’s fine, it’s my fault for not turning up so we’ll go from here.” He nodded, pulling the headphones over his small ears and listening to your track. You studied his face while he listened intently, his fingers tapping to the rhythm you created, a smirk tugging at the side of his lips. Once the recording had come to it’s end, he slipped the headphones off and looked at you, smiling.

“So what do you think?” You asked sheepishly, trying to ignore the warm feeling that had settled into your stomach.

“Did you record this yourself?” He asked. You nodded.

“Wow, you’re very talented, Y/N. All we need to do is add some bass and vocals and you’ve got yourself a song.” He praised. You could feel heat spreading to your cheeks and forming a blush. You had never been complimented on your instrumental work before and it was definitely something you wanted to hear more often. Yoongi rid himself of the same black zip up sports jacket he wore almost every day, leaving him in a white long sleeved shirt, which his rolled his sleeves up. He seemed like he knew what he was doing from the way he was flicking the cursor all over the computer screen, bringing up tabs with long names you’d never seen before a tapping keys. You put your own headphones on to hear what he was doing, listening to the individual beats as he tried pairing them with the piano accompaniment. You admired his skill, being able to work a programme you still hadn’t got your head around, and you couldn’t help but wander your eyes to his wrist. You were curious, was he feeling the same things you were? Did he even have a name on his wrist? You unconsciously tugged at your own long sleeves, afraid of what he might think to know he’s potentially stuck with you as a soulmate. You even hated the word ‘soulmate’. It just all sounded so made up to you, and now that it’s happened it felt even more made up. But the head moving to your hands that were dangerously close to his made you think otherwise. 

“So I’ve got a couple of beats that I’ve been working on at home that we can layer underneath - nothing too heavy, the piano you’d created sounds pretty so I don’t want to drown that out.” Then he pointed towards the monitor, and you saw it. Clear as day. How could you have missed that?

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Which one do you want to do?”

“Oh... Whichever you prefer.” You smiled, but inside your heart was doing somersaults in your chest. Min Yoongi had your name on his wrist.

-

The next couple of weeks had you actually looking forward to your music class and spending time with Yoongi. The school knew him as a bad boy that rarely turned up to school and smoked in the non-smoking areas, but you were getting to know a different side of him. A side that you liked, and could potentially fall in love with. Now that was moving too fast, but your entire being buzzed with excitement every time he was even near you. During break, you went to grab your usual iced american and without even looking up you could sense he was already at the counter ordering the same as you. It’s like your father had said, “once you know who it is you will feel connected to them, like a little piece of elastic tying the two of you together”. And it was, because as soon as the warm feeling radiating your stomach travelled to him, he’d look up in search of you. Once his chocolate eyes laid on your dull green ones, he smiled. Grabbing two americanos and taking a sip of one, he handed the other to you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Yoongi... You know my coffee order?” You took the cup from his outstretched hand.

“I guess my lucky hunch was right.” He shrugged, flashing his teeth in a cheeky grin. “I was wondering if you wanted to work on the music project during study break? I’ve booked the recording room so we can get some vocals down if you like.” 

“Yeah, sounds good. Do I need to bring anything?”

“Just yourself.” Yoongi smiled, letting his hand linger on your shoulder for just a little bit too long before walking in the opposite direction to you, your gaze absentmindedly following him along with the inferno he created on your skin. Thank god you decided to wear a t-shirt today, or there would be a literal fire on your shoulder. Time seemed to move slowly as he waltzed through the cafeteria, stopping only to turn back and flash a gummy grin at you, sending waves of warmth across your forehead and down your throat. While you had accepted his offer of working on your song, you were shitting yourself. You and Yoongi, alone, together. That was one sandwich away from a picnic disaster. 

For once, the school day seemed to drive by faster than a formula 1 car, and before you knew it the last bell had sounded in the corridors and you were anxiously awaiting the school bell to signal the beginning of study break. You rushed to your locker and stuffed your music notes and any other books needed for homework into your backpack and hastily pulled the straps up your shoulders. You walked reasonably faster than usual to the recording studio located at the back of the music building, peering through the small glass window in the door. Your eyes fell on the back of his signature black zip up jacket and watched as he busied himself with scrolling through instagram, but as the familiar warmth bubbled in your toes he looked over towards the door, locking eyes with you and a smile growing on his face. You waved gently at him, pushing open the heavy soundproofed door and entering the room.

“Hey.” He said when you sat yourself down on the wheeled chair next to him, your arms so close that he could touch you if he wanted.

“Hey-Yoongi? What happened to your face?” You gasped, eyes darting from the bloody gash on his cheekbone, the gentle graze on his nose and the dried cut on the left hand side of his lip. You wanted to cup his cheek and take a proper look at them, but you feared he would misunderstand your intentions or slap your hand away. His eyes softened and his brows furrowed as he handed you a set of headphones. 

“Oh, just something at home. Let’s get this song finished.” He offered you a final sheepish smiled and watched intently as you pulled your hair away from your shoulders into a ponytail and slipped the headphones over your ears. “I’ve been playing around with some lyrics and did a few recordings before you arrived, did you want to have a listen?”

“Sure.” You watched as Yoongi darted the cursor over the two connecting screens and pressed play on the current recording. Your soft piano melody filled your ears sweet as honey, complimenting Yoongi’s rough growl and melancholic lyrics perfectly. 

“That’s right, I live because I can’t die But I don’t have anything I want to do I’m in so much pain and loneliness but people around me Keep telling me to regain my consciousness I try to vent my anger but I only got myself So what’s the point of venting my anger I’m scared to open my eyes every day and start breathing”

You gently tugged the headphones from your ears and placed them on the desk in front of you, rushing over to the recording booth and telling Yoongi to hit the red button. Your inspiration was suddenly flowing through you like the first drop of water after a drought; Yoongi’s words were so perfect and so relatable that at that moment you truly felt like his soulmate. Like you were two pieces of a messed up puzzle that fit perfectly. You cleared your throat and listened to the piano melody filling your eardrums and began singing the word exploding in your thoughts.

“So far away, if I had a dream If only I had a flying dream Don’t fall away, if I had a dream If only I had a flying dream”

“W-wow, Y/N... Your voice...” Yoongi’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish gasping for air, and you felt your face flush with embarrassment. 

“Was it really that bad?” You mumbled, kicking at the scuff on the front of your new white shoes. 

“Let me take you on a date.” Yoongi blurted, eyes wider than saucers. Your gaze shot up to meet his in shock. Now it was your turn to be the goldfish.

“What?”

“Please.” Yoongi got up from his seat and joined you in the recording booth, at least a head taller than you. “Those lyrics, that voice... I think I just fell in love with you.” He cracked a grin and you couldn’t help but smile back. You didn’t expect this at all from Yoongi. In fact, you don’t think you’d ever seen him smile that big before, and your heart was beating so fast you were sure it was about to explode. Your head was nodding before your thoughts had registered what nodding would actually mean for you. It means you just agreed to go on a date with Min Yoongi. Your soulmate.

“Pick me up at seven.”

-

You heard the familiar rumble of his motorbike and felt a warmth in your lower legs before you saw him, shouting to your mum that you’d be back late and dashing outside to greet Yoongi. As he pulled up to your front door and hushed the engine, you took a minute to take in his appearance. He was dressed in ripped black skinny jeans and combat boots, paired with a white button down shirt and a leather jacket. He looked nothing but delicious, and you had to fight the urge to salivate at the sight. 

“You ready?” He grinned, holding his spare helmet in your direction. It was a soft lavender colour and had a butterfly sticker on the front. You offered a confused expression and waited for the explanation. “Oh, it’s my sisters.”

“Ah that makes sense, I don’t think lavender is your usual colour.” You giggled, slipping the helmet over your head and clipping the clasp under your chin. Yoongi held his hand out to help you climb behind him, and you gripped his shoulder for support while trying to ignore the electricity zapping into your fingers. Your inner thighs made contact with his lower back and a dull vibration spread through your upper legs, becoming more intense when Yoongi started up the bike and you wrapped your arms around his waist. You felt him let out a shaky sigh before revving on the engine and zooming out of your driveway.

The ride ended far too soon for either of you likings, the vibration dulling from the lack of contact as you hopped off the bike and took in your surroundings. Yoongi had taken you to a quaint little pasta restaurant close to campus, the menu carefully placed in between ivy and beautiful flowers. There was a soft romantic ambience about the place as you were shown to your table (in the far corner of the restaurant where barely any people would disturb you, no less) and a basket of bread with dipping oil was waiting for you to devour. 

“I picked from the menu in advance, I hope that’s okay?” Yoongi spoke in a much softer voice, and your sudden increase in heart rate made you question what this man was doing to you. 

“No, that’s okay.” You smiled, peering around at the soft candlelit glow and the delicate table decorations. “This place is beautiful, how did you find it?”

“One of my friends told me about this place, about how romantic and special it was... I wanted to bring someone special here one day.” 

“Oh...” You felt your cheeks heat up at the sentiment, tucking your feet under your chair and sitting comfortably. Yoongi did the same, watching you gaze around the restaurant in awe once again. He couldn’t help but smile at you fondly. 

The date went as smooth as you had predicted; you had spilled water on the table cloth before your starters had arrived and when you excused yourself to go to the bathroom you noticed a piece of herb stuck in your tooth. How long was that in there?! you wailed, picking at it before fixing your gloss. The bubbly warmth in the pit of your stomach was itching for you to hold Yoongi’s hand, or something, you didn’t know how long you could stand it anymore. So when he invited you back to his place to finish the music assignment your heart jumped at the opportunity. 

-

When you pulled up to Yoongi’s house you were almost overwhelmed; it was a lot bigger than your own, with a double front door and neatly trimmed hedges lining the plot of land. Yoongi led the way, unlocking the right hand door and walking into the large hallway. He tossed his shoes on the rack and replaced them with black slippers, offering a pair for you to do the same. You slipped on the purple fluffy slippers - his sister’s, you presumed - and followed Yoongi up the large staircase and into a small room to the left of the bathroom. The walls were a bright white, the various units littered with recording equipment and all sorts of trackboards. You were in absolute awe, the amount of branded equipment in this room alone must be worth the same as what your entire house cost. 

“Wow.” Was all you could manage, taking a seat in the spare desk chair and wheeling yourself towards the large monitor behind an 88 key grand piano keyboard. Yoongi flitted from place to place on the monitor just like he did at school, pulling up your assignment and opening various other files and layering them with your own.

“I’ve been working on a couple of things to make the track stand out a little better. So there’s a couple of bass notes that can be in the background, and...” Yoongi spoke a lot softer in the comfort of his own home, his deep voice causing your mind to wander. You wondered how soft his hands felt when they touched your own, what kind of shampoo he used to keep his hair so vibrant all the time, what detergent he used to keep his clothes smelling fresh all day long...

“Y/N? Are you even listening to me?” He scolded, but he was grinning. You shook your head, looking at his amused expression.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t.” You admitted. “I’m just... Wow, Yoongi, your house is incredible.”

“Yeah.” He deadpanned, looking back at the monitor. “Perks of divorced parents.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to-”

“It’s fine. Really.” Yoongi reassured, but you knew you had pried too much. You retracted your hands from on the desk in front of you and placed them in your lap, picking at your cuticles.

“Hey, it’s fine, I promise.” Yoongi’s voice was softer again, his attention completely focused on you. You looked up at him, focusing on the bruising around his eye that was fading.

“What happened to your face?” You spoke after a while, your throat hoarse.

“M-my stepdad... He’s not exactly the nicest.” Yoongi chuckled out of awkwardness, scratching at the back of his neck. “I wish life was normal sometimes, you know? I’ve been so miserable recently... Trying to keep that bastard away from my mum, and taking the brunt of his fists.”]

“I get that, I’ve been miserable recently too.”

“That’s only because I’ve been miserable.” Yoongi chuckled, turning his chair to you. You didn’t quite follow, so you furrowed your brows in question. “You think I don’t know who’s name you’ve got on your wrist?”

“I-”

“All those times you’ve been feeling miserable, or weird, or how fucking warm it is whenever we’re around each other...” He took your right wrist in his hand, tiny flames licking over his fingers, and rolled up your sleeve to reveal his name in the same silver lettering. He held his own wrist next to yours, finally showing Y/N Y/L/N in all it’s glory. “We’re connected. I didn’t believe in all the soulmate bullshit before, but now I know who my mystery girl is, I’ve never wanted anything more.”

“But Yoongi.” This was all too much for you, too much to comprehend. Min Yoongi was dangerous, he was renowned for fucking with girls then never speaking to them again. You didn’t want to be another one to add to his collection. “You’re... You’re the ‘bad boy’, you’re not supposed to be kind and sweet and all these things. You’re supposed to be the guy that all the magazines tell you not to fall for.”

“What makes you think I’m bad?” Yoongi leans his face closer to yours, the invisible elastic pulling you closer to him.

“Everyone say you are.”

“And since when do you believe what everyone says?” He asked, and he was right. You were the last person to believe what anyone said. You preferred to find things out for yourself rather than conforming to the masses, yet... How did Yoongi know that?

“How long have you known about me?” Your voice was a lot quieter now, scared that he was only going along with the soulmate idea because it’s what is supposed to happen.

“2 years.” His hand reached out and tentatively touched the skin where his name was place. It was a simple gesture, barely even touching you, but the sensations filled your very soul with warmth and you closed your eyes to revel in the feeling.

“And you didn’t speak to me once.” You sighed, your free hand placing over his to halt the motions. His eyes bored into yours.

“Well I couldn’t exactly go up to you and say “Hey, I’m your soulmate, we should date”, could I?” He chuckled, a deep hearty noise that had your eardrums ringing with joy. You smiled.

“That’s true, I probably would have told you where to shove it.” You giggled, raising a hand and gently swiping the hair from his eyes, reaching down to cup his cheek. You were right before, his skin was softer than anything you had ever imagined. “So, does this mean...”

“Yes, god yes, absolutely yes because I think I’m about to explode.” He laughed once again, using his hand to keep yours firmly pressed to his cheek, continuing his gentle strokes to your wrists. You closed your eyes as he leaned his face closer to yours, your lips barely touching. “But only if you want it too.”

“Please just kiss me, Yoongi.” You murmured near his lips, the vibrations from your voice and the sound of his name rolling off your tongue turning his brain into soup as he closed the space between you. Once your lips were pressed together, it was like the world had stopped spinning. Never in your life had you felt this euphoric, this connected, this real to someone. Yoongi’s lips were like a long lasting candy that no matter how much you sucked it would stay the same size. It didn’t matter that you were inexperienced because you melted straight into Yoongi like a stick of butter in a frying pan. You moved your other hand to his available cheek and pulled his body closer to you, if that was even possible. His free hand placed gently on your thigh caused warmth to collect, as if his hand was being stitched to you forever. His tongue felt moist and warm against your lower lip and you sighed into his mouth. He delicately explored, moving his tongue carefully with your own, desperately seeking as much closeness as possible. You were the first to pull away, your eyes still closed and your forehead resting against his, soft pants blowing against his chin.

“Why d’you stop?” Hi whimpered, brushing your hair out of your face. Your hands were still clamped to his cheeks, and you dragged them down his jaw, neck and rested them on his chest, trying to regain your thoughts. 

“I- We need to get this project finished.” You whispered, grabbing his shirt in fistfuls. You desperately wanted to feel his lips on your again, almost as much as you wanted a good grade on this assignment.

“Well, you need to let go of me if we’re going to finish it.” He chuckled once more, causing you to smile. You looked back into his eyes, the hooded gaze he was giving you all too enticing.

“Fuck it.” You leaned forward into him once again, seating yourself in his lap. He leaned back in his chair as your lips connected once again, his thumbs making small circles in your hip bones. The project could wait another hour or two...

[pengiesama]

The Blue Bird (Fic, TOZ, Sorey/Mikleo, Fairy Tale AU)

Title: The Blue Bird Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Sorey/Mikleo

Summary: In which Sorey is kidnapped by fairies, turned into a bird, and is rescued by the power of love, the power of song, and the power of a speeding chariot plowing through walls.

(A variation on The Blue Bird, written for the 2018 Chocomint Fairy Tale Compilation. With illustrations by yunafezeria!)

Link: AO3

This was written for the 2018 Chocomint Fairy Tale Compilation. @chocomint-srmk is a Sorey/Mikleo fan project!

The zine’s purchase period is now over, but you can check out some of the other fic and art from the zine in the links below. You might start seeing more of the Fairy Tale pieces go up now that the exclusivity period has ended!

You can see the full version of the illustration on Yun's Twitter, or on the AO3 link.

Chocomint's Tumblr: https://chocomint-srmk.tumblr.com/ Chocomint's Twitter: https://twitter.com/chocomint_srmk

Read on Tumblr!

Prince Sorey’s thirteenth birthday was approaching, and he knew that it was going to be the best one ever.

“How do you figure that?” asked Mikleo, who was already thirteen, and considered himself much wiser than Sorey for it.

“You know why!” Sorey said. He very nearly vibrated with excitement. “You’ve heard our families talking. They’re going to formally announce our betrothal!”

Sorey and Mikleo often eavesdropped on their families’ discussions during their play dates. Most of the discussions were on topics uninteresting to a pair of young ears – though they doubted they were truly interesting to adult ears either. But amongst the talk of trade agreements and crop yields, Sorey and Mikleo sometimes overheard bits of juicy gossip. Such as talk of their own upcoming engagement.

It would be a truly beneficial arrangement for all involved. Mikleo was a prince of his own kingdom, and had been playmates with Sorey since the cradle. They shared everything during their long summers together, and were devoted pen pals. A political alliance would surely usher in a new era of peace and prosperity.

To Sorey, the idea of getting to marry Mikleo – for real, not pretend, and in front of everyone – the idea of getting to spend their whole lives together…well, that sounded just wonderful all around.

Mikleo was blushing, and Sorey couldn’t help but throw himself at him to kiss those red cheeks, even as Mikleo squawked at him angrily. Yes, this would be the most wonderful birthday present Sorey could ever ask for.

--

As the sun rose upon the thirteenth anniversary of Prince Sorey’s birth, the castle found itself in a terrible panic. The prince was gone.

His room, the library, the kitchens, the garden gazebo – in all his favorite spots, he was nowhere to be found. Nurses and housekeepers and guards and cooks and courtiers upended every room in the palace in their frenzied search. The queen was beside herself – all the precautions she had ordered to keep her son safe on his birthday were for naught. The guards posted swore they saw no one enter or leave; neither the prince nor his kidnappers. But alas, the kingdom’s mages gravely informed the queen that their protection upon the room had been disrupted. The wards of iron shavings and salt were disturbed.

Mikleo heard all of this from their normal eavesdropping spot. It was so lonely there, now.

The royal families ordered a search for the kidnapped prince that spanned both kingdoms. Alas, instead of being brought together by the announcement of a happy engagement, the two kingdoms became rent by suspicion – the kidnappers were treasonous nobles who were against the kingdoms’ alliance; the kidnappers were revolutionaries from this kingdom or that, out to topple stability and order. Surely the prince was dead by now. It was a waste of money to continue this fruitless search.

The search continued for a year, and then two. And then more. Mikleo stopped being able to count the march of days. They all seemed very much the same now, without Sorey. Somewhere along the way, Mikleo took to isolation. He rarely left his tower room, with its single window that looked out onto the sprawling forests that he and Sorey had once explored and read and picnicked in. Sometimes it was unbearable for him to look at it; at other times, he seemed to stare out into it for days, lost in the wooded depths of his own memory.

Five years came and went.

Mikleo’s mother begged him to leave his room. Sorey’s queen mother was a picture of royal dignity, she said – ruling her kingdom even though her heart was surely filled with the same keen despair that ate at Mikleo’s own. Surely Mikleo could emulate such an example. He would be eighteen, soon, and the crown would be placed upon his brow, and the kingdom on his shoulders. Mikleo could not help but laugh at the very idea of it. A kingdom, wide and vast, ruled by someone who could not leave his room without being struck with nostalgic vertigo so keen it made him ill. He would decline the crown just as his uncle had, and he too would live out his years as a scholarly hermit.

One day, just a scant few weeks before his birthday, Mikleo’s hermitage was interrupted by a visitor on his windowsill: a songbird with splendidly blue feathers.

At first, Mikleo paid it no mind. Birds came and went from his windowsill often – it was rather expected when one lived in a tower. This little creature, though, was an insistent guest. It pecked at the glass – tap-tap, tap, tap-tap-tap – until Mikleo could no longer ignore its presence. It hopped from foot to foot and sang its heart out when Mikleo approached to look at it. Hesitantly, but driven by the insatiable curiosity that defined him in his happier days, Mikleo opened the window and was greeted by a flurry of wings and birdsong. His guest only settled down when Mikleo offered his crooked finger as a perch. Satisfied, the bird fluffed out its chest, and began to sing for him once more.

The bird returned the next morning, greeting him with eager chatter as the sun first glittered through the glass, and stayed with him all day; leaving only when night fell.

“I haven’t had guests in a while,” Mikleo admitted to the creature. “You’ll have to excuse the state of the place.”

The bird simply chirped and picked up an edge of the page Mikleo was reading in his book, then determinedly and laboriously sidestepped with the page held in its beak until it was properly turned. Mikleo smiled – this, too, had not occurred in some time – and stroked the messy little fluff of feathers atop the bird’s head.

On the third day, his guest began to come bearing gifts. They were simple little trinkets: small and lovely stones, polished to perfect shining smoothness by the nearby river (Mikleo remembered the days spent with Sorey wading in its depths, trying to challenge each other to find the most unique and excellent specimens). Herbs from the forest with delicate little blossoms (Mikleo remembered reading to Sorey from his encyclopedia of herbal medicine, trying to find the right plants to soothe the stomachaches they’d gotten by eating the wrong plants). And, as always, the gift of a beautiful song to while away the lonely hours (Mikleo remembered their duets – Sorey on violin, himself on flute, and their music tutor desperately trying to keep them focused).

After a week of gifts and companionship and song, Mikleo opened the window to greet his blue bird – only to freeze at the sight of the gift in its beak. The bird fluttered in, perched on Mikleo’s finger, and dropped the gift determinedly in Mikleo’s lap.

It was an earring. A feathered earring. Just like the ones he used to wear, just like – Mikleo took the earring between two trembling fingers, and examined it closer. No, no. It wasn’t just “just like” them. It was one of Sorey’s earrings. Mikleo felt tears sting his eyes.

“Little blue bird,” Mikleo whispered. “Where on earth did you find this?”

The bird remained uncharacteristically silent, and stared into Mikleo’s eyes – as if it wanted to speak to Mikleo just as badly as Mikleo wanted to hear its tale. Mikleo took a deep breath, and composed himself.

“Thank you,” he finally said. “I finally have something to remember him by. You have my eternal gratitude, my sweet little friend.”

Mikleo had nothing to give the bird in return, save for cool water and leftovers from his lunch. He supposed a kiss would have to do, for now. Mikleo bent down, and pressed his lips to the little fluff of feathers atop the blue bird’s head.

“Mikleo! Mikleo!”

Mikleo jumped out of his skin, and toppled backward in his chair; sending the bird fluttering wildly through the room, calling out Mikleo’s name over and over. Mikleo would have chalked that last bit up to hitting his head on the stone floor, if he was in a better state of mind. As it was, with Sorey’s earring in his hand and Sorey’s voice coming from a bird , Mikleo considered his state of mind rather questionable.

The bird finally settled down, and landed on Mikleo’s body. It took a few moments to catch its breath, and then hopped up to better look Mikleo in the eye.

“Mikleo,” the bird said again, for the dozenth time – though with no less love and jubilation as the first. “It’s me. I’m back.”

It was unmistakably Sorey’s voice. Surely Mikleo had finally lost his mind. But the gifts of the stones, and the herbs, and the song, and the earrings…Mikleo bade the bird to explain himself.

“What,” Mikleo said.

– Though it was not in such eloquent terms. The bird tittered a sweet little laugh; a laugh that Mikleo thought he would never be able to hear again.

“Sorry. I’ve been gone for years, haven’t I...? But you look even prettier than I left you.”

Sorey waited for Mikleo to pick himself off the floor and sit back in his chair before he fluttered to Mikleo’s desk to begin his tale.

“My mom was always…hesitant when I asked her about my father. Said she’d tell me when the time was right. When my thirteenth birthday approached, she was in and out of meetings constantly with the royal guard, with the royal magicians. On the night of my birthday, she locked me in my room and told me to not open the doors or windows for anyone, no matter who they said they were, until morning.

“That night…I heard so many people calling to me. My mother, my grandfather, and you too, Mikleo. I came so close to opening the door, but I remembered what my mother said, and just clutched my pillow over my head and prayed for dawn to come.

“But then, an hour before dawn, a little black cat tumbled down my chimney. She landed in the salt and iron shavings that the mages had piled there in the fireplace. She looked like she was in so much pain, like they were embers burning her alive. I couldn’t help but pick her up, dust it all off of her, and then…”

Sorey paused in his story, and then gave Mikleo a sheepish look.

“Well, as you can probably guess, it was a trap,” Sorey said. “She was a fairy, and she spirited me away then and there to the fairy realm.”

They preyed on Sorey’s kind heart. Mikleo silently fumed, but stroked at his little fluffy breast with a single finger, bidding him to continue.

“It was there I finally met my father. He’s the fairy king, and he said that – he said that, with my thirteenth birthday at hand, they could take me back. Said that the fairy palace was my new home, and its residents my subjects. Said that I would never be allowed to see the human realm again. I begged and pleaded to be taken back to my real home, to my mom and to you, but they wouldn’t hear a single word of it.

“They tried to entice me into staying for days, with exotic food and books, but I didn’t touch any of it. Finally, the fairy king said that I be made to ‘think things over from a new angle’. And then, that fairy magician I saved from the fireplace cursed me into this form. They said they’d only lift the curse when I agree to become the crown prince, and so…”

Sorey extended his wings as demonstration.

“…you can see how well that worked out for them, and me,” Sorey said ruefully. “I couldn’t speak, and they locked me into a golden birdcage in this strange room – I think it shares ventilation with the surrounding rooms, I could hear everything from them echoing in. I heard the king speaking – he’s afraid of an alliance between our kingdoms, Mikleo. He’s afraid of our engagement.

“I stayed in that birdcage for years, Mikleo, singing day and night about how much I missed you. I got my chance for escape one day, when the attendants left a window open before they went to open my cage. I flew out and away, and managed to find my way here…back to you.”

Mikleo extended a crooked finger for him, and Sorey hopped up onto it. Mikleo brought him in to nestle against his neck; Sorey’s silky feathers tickling his skin. Sorey had been through so much. Kidnapped, locked away…and then there was the matter of this curse.

“Your curse,” Mikleo said. “How do we break it?”

Sorey made a thoughtful noise.

“I couldn’t speak before you kissed me,” he said. “Maybe…another one will break it completely?”

Mikleo felt his cheeks burn, but obliged. Sorey’s feathered breast puffed out, and he shivered in glee. He remained, however, a little blue bird.

“Almost broken. I can feel it,” Sorey declared. “Maybe another?”

Mikleo pouted at him, and Sorey tittered that wonderful laugh once more.

“Sorry, sorry. I really don’t know how to break the spell, so it was worth a try. I can at least talk to you properly now.”

Sorey looked around the room; at the piles of books and papers, at the door with dust on its handle. He beaked at Mikleo’s ear lightly.

“You were always the one teasing me for never cleaning my room,” Sorey said. “What’s changed?”

Everything and nothing at all , Mikleo wanted to say. He settled on kissing the fluff atop Sorey’s head again, making Sorey fluff up and titter once more at the attention.

“I missed you, Sorey,” Mikleo murmured. “So much.”

Sorey nuzzled at Mikleo’s finger as it came up to pet him.

“Me too,” Sorey sighed. “I…I came here first. I know I should’ve gone to my mother, and the court mages, but would they have really recognized me? I thought I might be able to convince you first. And I needed to see you again so badly. I sang for you all those years. You’ve gotten so beautiful, Mikleo.”

“And you’ve gotten a little bit easier to handle, for now,” Mikleo replied, trying to will away the redness in his cheeks. “I’ll speak to our court mages and my uncle about the curse. Surely there’s something we can try. For now, I’ll call for an attendant to set something up for you in my room – not a cage, but a perch with--”

“I can’t stay here,” Sorey said mournfully. “I know that the fairy court is trying to hunt me down. If I stay with you tonight, they’re sure to find us both. I’ve been staying in the woods – the woodland spirits bear resentment against the high court, and have been sheltering me…something about the wrong color goose feathers in a pillow, a thousand years ago and some change. They hold grudges over the strangest things, Mikleo.”

“No stranger than human grudges, I’m sure,” Mikleo said. “But please. Stay safe tonight.”

Sorey accepted another kiss atop his head, and gave one to Mikleo’s nose with his beak. Mikleo’s kiss had broken Sorey’s curse of silence. Mikleo wondered what curse of his that Sorey’s kiss had broken.

He opened the door to his room for the first time in months, and walked down the tower stairs to seek out his uncle.

Love was a powerful magic indeed, and unfortunately drew the attention of the wrong individual. Symonne was the very same court magician that Sorey had saved from the iron and salt, and the very same court magician that had cursed him. She was an ancient and powerful fairy, and though the concept of gratitude was not unknown to her, her fanatic loyalty to the fairy king was stronger than any sense of debt. Or pity.

The moment Mikleo’s lips broke a layer of her curse, Symonne had pinpointed Sorey’s location, and spied on their conversation. It would not do for her to charge into the territory of the woodland spirits – she knew her king would be sorely cross with her if she provoked them into an uprising. But that presented an even more delicious opportunity: to make an example of that traitorous prince, so unworthy of the fairy throne, in front of the wretched human for whom he had betrayed her king’s patience and affections.

Symonne laid another curse upon the sill of Mikleo’s tower window.

Mikleo awoke the next morning filled with determination, his thoughts racing with the knowledge he had gleaned from the books his uncle had loaned to him. He had barely gotten any sleep; staying up late into the night making notes. But soon, it would be time for Sorey to make his daily appearance. Mikleo walked over to the window, and opened it up to wait.

The sun glinted off Sorey’s feathers as he approached. Mikleo couldn’t help but smile.

“Sorey--”

Sorey landed on the windowsill, and opened his beak to sing.

A crack of magic split the air, blinding Mikleo with light. Sorey’s voice cut off with an awful sound, and the air filled with the smell of burning feathers. Mikleo shouted for Sorey in panic, still light-blind.

“Sorey! Sorey! ”

Vision returned to him as he blinked, and Mikleo saw that his windowsill was now empty. Gripped with dread, he peered over the side, and was greeted with the sight of a small, unmoving blue blur on the ground far below.

“ Sorey! ”

Mikleo raced down the tower stairs, tripping and stumbling, until he burst out into the garden. There was nothing underneath the window, now – nothing at all but a few scattered blue feathers and streaks of red on the grass. The work of an enterprising palace cat, or marauding falcon, perhaps. Mikleo frantically raced around the gardens, tearing apart the bushes and flower beds for any sign of Sorey.

He had lost Sorey once, and just as he had begun to hope once more, he had lost Sorey again. Mikleo fell to his knees and let tears consume him.

It was neither cat nor falcon that had stolen Sorey away – instead, it was a wandering enchanter, drawn to the scene by the thick scent of dark magic. Zaveid was a clever man; clever enough to know that this bird was not what he seemed, and clever enough to know that he’d gotten in way over his head by snatching him up. He hurtled himself back over the palace wall, and hid himself in the brush. Oh, how curiosity had gotten the better of him once again!

He whispered an enchantment into his cupped palm, and placed the bird’s trembling, bleeding body between his hands to allow the healing magic to do its work. The bird’s trembling eased, and it heaved a sigh of relief from its tiny breast.

“All better, birdie?” Zaveid quipped. “Listen, I dunno what you did to get on the bad side of someone wielding magic like that, but--”

“Run,” Sorey rasped out. “We have to run. Into the woods. Where she can’t follow--”

“Too late,” hissed Symmone.

Symonne was quite incensed at being robbed of the opportunity to plunge a dagger into Sorey’s breast in front of Mikleo, but would settle for finishing the job here. Zaveid’s eyes went huge at the glint of the dagger in her hand, and he fumbled in his coat pocket until his fingers closed around a golden, fairy-winged amulet.

In a flash of light, the three of them were teleported straight to the fairy court. Fairy King Heldalf’s eyes went wide at the scene in front of him.

“Who are you?” he demanded of Zaveid. “And what are you doing with my son?”

Zaveid’s eyebrows raised, and he lifted Sorey to eye level to give him a Look.

“Shoulda known you were trouble,” he grumbled.

“Sorry…” Sorey sheepishly said back.

Still, Zaveid was not one to back down from a challenge. He cleared his throat, and bowed deeply, flourishing his free, non-bird-holding arm wide.

“Your most great and powerful majesty,” Zaveid greeted. “Please forgive my intrusion. I am Zaveid, a wandering enchanter. I was trying to rescue your son from death at the hands of this witch.”

Symonne was shaking with fury. Heldalf stared at her sternly, and bade Zaveid to continue.

“It is quite an accusation, to say that the throne’s greatest magician is guilty of treason.”

Zaveid sighed dramatically.

“I know, your great awesomeness, I know. But just take a whiff of your boy – that blood on him is reeking of your magician’s dark magic. Honestly, just ask him yourself. I’m sure he’ll tell you the whole story.”

Sorey had refused to say a word to his father since he was thirteen, which was incidentally the impetus behind Symonne’s curse of silence. He fluttered onto Zaveid’s shoulder to look straight into his father’s eyes.

“I ran away to seek out a magician to break my curse,” Sorey said. “Symonne followed my tracks, and laid a trap for me. When I landed on a tree to rest after a long flight, her dark magic tore me to pieces and flung me to the earth below. Zaveid saved me, and healed me, and brought us all to the court before she could finish her work.”

“ Liar! ” screamed Symonne. “A traitor and a liar! You ran to the arms of that despicable human that you constantly yowl for in your cage, like a cat in heat--”

“Can’t help but point out that she didn’t deny the whole attempted murder thing, your liegefultude,” Zaveid noted. “And if you’re wondering about how I got us all here, I’ll be happy to spin that tale for you over dinner. You see, I used a magical charm gifted to me as a token by a beautiful fairy maiden, for whom I still hold a burning flame--”

A sharp ahem! interrupted Zaveid’s story. One of the other court magicians in attendance, Lailah, was bright red, and had her cheeks puffed out irritably as she very determinedly refused to look at Zaveid.

King Heldalf rose to his feet, and strode over to stand looming and tall over Zaveid – he passed Symonne as he went, refusing to acknowledge her as she fell to her knees and grasped at the hem of his cloak, sobbing for forgiveness.

“You have our thanks, Zaveid the enchanter,” the king said. “Return the prince, and you may request any reward your heart desires for saving his life.”

Now, this gave Zaveid pause. Sorey looked at him pleadingly with those little birdie eyes, as if begging him to help. Clearly, this prince didn’t really want to be returned, any more than he wanted to remain a bird. Zaveid was nowhere near strong enough to break the curse on him, but…Lailah’s gaze upon him inspired him to be generous. Oh, the things he did for love.

“Not that I mean to intrude on an, uh…family matter,” Zaveid said. “But keepin’ your son here as a bird and – what did I hear your witch say? Locking him in a cage? – none of that is going to help mend whatever bridges are broken between you. After that witch nearly killed him, I think it’s the least you can do to let him stretch his legs again. His people legs.”

The king considered Zaveid’s statement for a long moment, then turned to Sorey.

“Prince Sorey,” he began. “I will return you to your original form for three days, so you are in a better state to consider your duty to the fairy kingdom. If you still refuse after the sun rises on the third day, you will remain a bird forever.”

Without waiting for Sorey’s response, King Heldalf waved his arm, and Zaveid felt the weight on his shoulder grow heavy. Like, real heavy. Heavy like there was a grown-ass teenager sitting on it instead of a little blue bird. Right before Zaveid collapsed to the ground, he saw that he was correct in that assessment. Sorey was quite unlike his bird self – tall, with a broad chest and shoulders and chocolate-brown hair. He looked down at his now-human hands, and his green eyes gleamed with newfound hope. Damn, Zaveid thought. Whoever that human was that Sorey was stealing off to go meet was one lucky dog.

“Escort the prince to his chambers,” said the king to the gathered fairy attendants. “And prepare a room and meal for our guest. We will not be derelict in hospitality.”

A fleet of attendants and guards surrounded Sorey, and he went along with them, though reluctantly. Two brightly-colored fairy attendants approached Zaveid, and he winked at both of them, sending them fluttering and tittering ahead of him. He glanced over his shoulder, and blew a kiss to where Lailah stood – Lailah mimed catching it, and then set her hand on fire. Zaveid clutched at his heart and sighed dreamily. To have his heart crushed by such a beauty was an exquisite kind of agony.

With Sorey and Zaveid both escorted from the throne room, Lailah respectfully curtsied to the king as he approached. Symonne continued to weep and grovel on the ground, inconsolable.

“Your majesty,” Lailah began. “Surely you know that the prince will not agree to those terms.”

The king sank back into his throne, and drummed his fingers on the arm.

“Pray tell, Lailah, what would you consider my alternative options?” he asked. “Allow him to live out a short human life, dying just as quickly as the beasts of the forest? Allow him to return to his mother, allow him to marry that human prince, allow their kingdoms to ally and rise up to destroy us?”

Lailah sighed, and looked away. “But surely you do not truly mean to curse the prince forever…”

“No,” Heldalf admitted. “Simply until that human he is fixated on dies. It will be quick, if he stays here – human lifetimes pass in the blink of an eye.”

First, the king imprisoned his own son in a golden cage for years, and now he was planning to do it once more if Sorey did not comply and promise to never again be with the one his heart truly loved. All out of a wild paranoia, and greed for his son’s undivided attention. Lailah could no longer tolerate her king’s behavior. Something had to be done, and there was one surefire way to do it:

The power of love.

That night, Lailah looked herself over in the mirror critically – did she look the part of a beatific fairy godmother? Oh heavens, it had been an age since she’d last played the role. There was no time to find pumpkins or practice a musical number. She could only hope Sorey’s beloved would rise to the occasion.

For his part, Mikleo was hardly in a state to rise to anything. The awful sound of Sorey’s dying scream echoed in his brain, and the smell of his scorched feathers refused to leave his senses. It was surely the work of that loathsome fae court: unable to force Sorey’s cooperation, they had killed him for the offense. They had taken Sorey from him twice, now. Grief and fury battled each other in his mind, seeing who would triumph and be allowed to consume Mikleo whole.

Mikleo had not moved from the chair he had collapsed into after dragging himself back up to his tower from the gardens. He had not drawn the curtains, he had not lit a candle – and with the fall of night, the room was painted with twilight.

A little spot of light flickered to life, throwing golden color on Mikleo’s cheek. Mikleo slowly turned to look. A candle on his desk was alight, and its dancing flame reflected in Mikleo’s eyes. It seemed to twirl around itself, looking down as if it was a lady lifting up her skirts to spot the best place to put her feet on a staircase. The little flame then hopped off the candle, then leapt off the edge of the desk –

– and became a tall woman in a red-and-white lace gown. Fairy wings extended from her back.

Had they come to kill him as well? Perhaps he should just allow it. He would make an even poorer king now, with a heart filled with sorrow and hatred.

“Prince Mikleo, beloved of Prince Sorey,” the woman began. She curtsied deeply. “I am Lailah, a magician. Please, I come to beg your aid, on behalf of my people.”

Mikleo stared at her in silence, his face a cold, expressionless mask.

“To think you have the right to speak his name – that is very audacious of you,” Mikleo said. He rose from his chair. “I wonder, was my fireplace not to your liking as an entryway, as Sorey’s was?”

Lailah curtsied deeper, and shook her head.

“Prince Mikleo, though you may not believe my words, I swear that it was not I who kidnapped Prince Sorey those five years ago, nor was it I who cursed him, nor was it I who wounded him this morning,” Lailah said. “He is alive and well, and was returned to our palace. The king has returned him to human form for three days, to force him to embrace his role as the fairy prince. If he refuses, he will remain a bird forevermore.”

Mikleo was speechless, his mind working to process what he had been told. The idea of Sorey still being alive – it was too good to be true. What was more, this woman was a fairy. How could he trust a single word she spoke?

“You do not believe me,” Lailah observed. She gestured with one arm to the top drawer of Mikleo’s desk. “In your desk is an iron letter-opener. Place it against my skin and command me to speak the truth through my agony. I swear to you that I shall not contradict myself.”

Lailah paused, then smiled.

“Or you could simply plunge the letter-opener into my chest, and be done with it,” she granted. Mikleo’s eyes went wide. “But your heart is pure and kind, just like Sorey’s. I can tell the thought of it did not once cross your mind.”

It had not. Mikleo sank back into his chair, more than a little overwhelmed.

“What would you have me do to save him?” Mikleo asked.

Lailah clapped delightedly. “Oh, splendid! You are already in a heroic state of mind,” she said. “That will make this so much more straightforward. Hoot have thought this would have been so easy?”

Lailah stared at him expectantly for a very, very long moment. Mikleo felt deeply uncomfortable.

“… hoot have thought? Hoot ?” Lailah prompted him again. “You see, Prince Sorey was a bird for many years, and owls say hoot-- ”

“Yes,” Mikleo interrupted before this got even more unbearable to listen to. “Yes, I understand.”

“Hmm.” Lailah paused, then snorted an undignified laugh into her voluminous sleeve. “—SNNNNRT! HOOT!”

“Lady Lailah,” Mikleo said flatly. “You were speaking of heroics?”

Lailah managed to gather herself, with effort. “Oh. Yes.”

With a wave of her arm, she summoned three ivory eggs; each the size of a goose’s.

“Please forgive me, for I am unable to take you directly to the palace,” she said mournfully. “My magic was…borrowed to transport Prince Sorey and several others from the dangerous situation he found himself in, and it will take time for it to regenerate. And time is a thing that we do not have. However, I can give you three gifts to lead you on your quest.”

One of the eggs began to glow, and when its light faded, a small, odd-looking little creature was in its place.

“Pleased to meetcha! The name’s Atakk, a normin,” said the creature. He extended a paw. “Put ‘er there!”

“Mikleo, this is Atakk. He will guide you,” Lailah explained, and tried to move on to the next egg. “As for the topic of transport--”

“Is that it!?” Atakk squawked despairingly. “Lady Lailah, you’re embarrassing me! I’m standing in front of such a beautiful creature, so you gotta talk me up a little bit to him--”

“Atakk will guide you marginally well,” Lailah expanded on her statement. “Now, as for the topic of transport…”

The second egg glowed and expanded into a beautiful grand chariot, drawn by six more normins who grumbled and griped and adjusted their harnesses. Atakk beckoned for him to give him his hand.

“Please, allow me to lead you to your seat, mon cher ,” Atakk said suavely. “I will serenade you on our journey to make your heart feel light. Do you prefer the pan-flute or the dulcimer?”

“The trip will not be long, with the normins leading the chariot,” Lailah promised. With that, she handed the final egg to Mikleo. “This egg will guarantee your escape from the palace, when you have rescued Sorey. Please, do not allow it to hatch before then, lest you be trapped in our realm forever.”

Mikleo took the egg, then looked Lailah up and down.

“…why are you helping us?” Mikleo asked. “Sorey and I.”

Lailah sighed and folded her hands.

“Our king is…a lonely man. He once fell in love with a human princess, and had a child with her – however, she would not abandon her kingdom to live with our king in our realm. She fled with the child, and our king has never been in his right mind since. He has become wholly convinced that the human kingdoms will rise up against us any day now, and kidnapped Sorey laboring under that paranoia – he thinks your marriage to Sorey, your kingdoms’ alliance, would sound the death knell for our own realm. He seeks to force Sorey to love him as his father through cruel means…he does not appear to properly understand that Sorey will only resent him more and more. I cannot bear to stand by and watch this continue.”

Mikleo nodded. He and Sorey had overheard strange snippets of discussion, when they were children eavesdropping on meetings, that had never quite made sense until now…Mikleo walked to his dressing-cabinets, and stripped down to dress himself in an outfit more suited to a diplomatic engagement. Lailah gasped and bent to cover Atakk’s eyes.

“I will not allow it to continue,” Mikleo said. To finish, he picked up his circlet – the symbol of his birthright – from its locked velvet case and slid it on. “I will speak to him as the king-to-be of my nation, and demand Sorey’s return.”

“I pray for your success,” Lailah said solemnly. “You are our last hope.”

Lailah spoke true – the normin chariot sped across the skies and over the forests and mountains, bringing them far from Mikleo’s kingdom. It would take days, weeks to make the trip on foot…Mikleo’s heart ached at the thought of Sorey making this trip as a bird, just for a chance to see Mikleo again.

The chariot arrived at the fairy palace at dawn – Mikleo had so little time left to save Sorey, and that worry clouded his mind to the point that he spared little wonder at the sight of the glittering jeweled spires, the giant blossoms, the lakes and rivers made of…chocolate syrup? Perhaps he spared a bit of wonder at that. He expected the normins to drop him off at the palace entrance, but they charged on full-tilt past the palace gates, whooping and cheering as they sent guards flying left and right. They raced through the halls, knocking into statues and pottery and other priceless pieces of fine art.

“Slow down, you philistines!” wailed Atakk. “That was a Terca Lumereis original!”

“Emphasis on ‘was’!” yelled back one of the normin.

Atakk’s tears soaked Mikleo’s shirt as he buried his face in his chest to weep.

Finally, the wild rush came to a sudden stop. They had arrived in the throne room, and, judging from the stares of the gathered court members, they were quite unexpected. Atakk stumbled to his feet, and produced a horn from thin air – he blew it loud, even through his tears, to announce their arrival. Mikleo squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and stepped out of the chariot with all the grace and presence his mother and tutors had tried to instill in him over the years. He willed his hands and voice to not shake.

“I am Mikleo, of House Rulay,” he said, loud and clear. “I am the king-to-be of the kingdom of Camlann. I seek the hand of the fairy crown prince in marriage.”

The court gasped and tittered, and looked to the throne for their king’s reaction. Mikleo saw that he was a large, imposing man; with a voluminous fur cloak whose high collar made him resemble a lion. The king’s eyes narrowed.

“How did a human enter our realm undetected?” Heldalf wondered aloud.

“That seems like a personal failin’ of your guards,” said one of the chariot normin. “We didn’t even try to be sneaky.”

Atakk wailed hysterically in the chariot, cuddling a large piece of shattered pottery. Heldalf rose an eyebrow at the normins, and then turned to Lailah; who stood beside the throne with a carefully blank expression.

“It seems your magic has brought yet more visitors ,” Heldalf said. “Do tell me that another of my magicians has not betrayed me.”

Lailah curtsied deeply in apology. “My king, I have placed my magic in many artifacts over the centuries, as gifts to those who have served us. Surely some of them have simply fallen into the wrong hands.”

“King of the Fairies, do you mean to ignore your esteemed guest?” Mikleo asked. He would not allow Lailah to be punished for helping him. “After all the questing I went through to obtain this magical chariot, you could stand to offer me a room, and entertain my request for your son’s hand. Surely as the rulers of two prosperous kingdoms, we could come to a mutually-beneficial arrangement.”

Mikleo knew that he had hit upon a sticking point – even fairies were bound by the rules of hospitality. The king stood, and gestured with his hand to some of his fairy attendants.

“We welcome you as our esteemed guest,” he said. “But know this: humans cannot survive long in our realm. You will be safe if you do not leave the room we prepare for you. Should you venture from it, you will be transformed into a beast. And I have my doubts that your people will accept a beast as their king.”

“A beastly nature will not affect my devotion to my people, nor my devotion to your son,” Mikleo swore. “Please, take me to him so I may make an offer of marriage in person.”

“The prince is sleeping in his chambers, resting due to his injuries,” Heldalf said. “He will awaken…in a few days, perhaps. Until then, you may wait in your guest chambers for him. Practice your poetry.”

A few days. Mikleo bristled in fury. In a few days, Sorey would be a bird again. He could not risk calling the king’s bluff without endangering Lailah. He could not rush to Sorey’s chambers and break the doors down – he could already feel the magic of the fairy realm clouding his brain and making his limbs heavy and odd. Fairy attendants and guards surrounded him, and rounded up the normins – he was on his own as they escorted him to his guest chambers. The weight of the final egg in his pocket was small comfort as he was locked into his guest room.

Mikleo did not spend long bemoaning his fate, for as he looked around the room for something, anything to help him rescue Sorey, he came upon an ornately-designed vent shaft. It was securely bolted shut, but his mind was not on the prospect of escape. Seeing the vent caused him to recall a piece of information that Sorey had mentioned on his windowsill visit: that Sorey’s chambers were connected via these shafts to the surrounding rooms, and that he could hear anything that occurred within them.

Sorey had sung for him, day and night, for five years. Mikleo could surely manage the same for two nights.

Mikleo cleared his throat, and began to hum; a halting, shy tune. Slowly, he grew more confident, more desperate – he allowed himself to write embarrassing lyrics that he would have scoffed at only a few short days ago. He called for Sorey, told him of how he’d longed for him, told him of the sorrow that threatened to drown him when he was convinced of Sorey’s death. He sang of the future he hoped for: not only of grand adventures and travel, but also of days by his side, of suffering through boring court meetings on the promise of a kiss after their conclusion, of evenings taking dinner together over their favorite books, of nights tangled up together in their shared bed.

He sang and sang until his throat was raw, and sang some more – the sun set and rose again, and Sorey had still not called back to him, had still not broken down the door. Mikleo took a moment to catch his breath, and wipe away the frustrated tears that streaked his cheeks. He had but one day more, and then Sorey would be a bird forever – if it came to it, perhaps he’d simply walk the fairy palace halls until he became a beast as well, to live by his side. A pair of lovebirds, matched in the same cage, singing day and night.

“Hey. Hey! Prince!”

Mikleo frowned and looked around for the source of the familiar voice.

“Over here!”

Atakk was peeping through the slot in the door that attendants used to slide Mikleo meals – which he had not touched, out of concern for what was in them.

“You’ve been usin’ the vent system to try and talk to Sorey, haven’t you?” Atakk asked. “Any luck?”

“No,” Mikleo said hoarsely, rubbing his throat. He needed to save his voice for another day of work. “No response.”

Atakk hummed thoughtfully, and tapped his chin.

“I’ve been in that room before – those vents echo the sounds loud and clear. He should’ve heard you even if he was sleeping, and woken up…somethin’ fishy is going on. I’m gonna snoop around and get some info for you. Lady Lailah assigned me as your guide, and I ain’t done guiding yet.”

“Thank you,” Mikleo managed to say before his throat throbbed in pain.

Atakk made a kissy face. “Anything for a princely beauty like yourself! It’s so romantic of me, sacrificing my own happiness to bring you closer to another man…!”

Atakk bounced away excitedly, talking to himself of how he’d have to write these verses down before he forgot them. Mikleo shook his head, and stumbled back to the vents on sleepless legs to resume his vigil.

It wasn’t until the sun had nearly set again that Atakk returned – however, this time he was not alone. Three fairy attendants opened the door, and entered Mikleo’s chambers in a line. Atakk gestured to them with a flourish.

“Ta-da!” he said. “These are Prince Sorey’s attendants!”

“…and?” Mikleo said, not able to manage more than one-word sentences.

“And they got the scoop on why Sorey isn’t hearing your little lovelorn sonata!” Atakk said. “…or so they told me.”

The eldest attendant stepped forward.

“We were instructed by the king and the royal doctor to drug the prince’s food and drink to keep him in a deep sleep,” she stated. “His injuries from Lady Symonne were grave, and Zaveid’s magics only served to stabilize him temporarily.”

The two younger attendants giggled at the mention of this “Zaveid”, and the eldest turned to glare at them. They shushed, but continued to whisper in each other’s ears. The eldest shook her head, and continued.

“I do not see why I should go against such esteemed directions to allow the prince to hear your constant caterwauling,” the eldest said. “It will only upset him.”

“The spell,” Mikleo rasped out. “He’ll be a bird. When the sun rises, forever.”

“The king does not mean to truly curse the prince forever,” stated the eldest. “Simply until you and his other human attachments are nothing but dust and distant memory. He will live a long and blissful life here, free from disease and age. You mean to steal him away from us and curse him to a short, desperate, mortal existence.”

Mikleo bowed his head, and put a hand to his aching throat. It seemed so selfish. Perhaps it would truly be best for Sorey that he left, that he allowed himself to fade into memory. But it was Atakk that broke the awful silence.

“That’s all well and good for you to make that decision for the prince then, eh?” he challenged. “Tell me again, ‘cause I forget; have you ever asked Sorey’s opinion on all of this? Seems like it’d be important.”

The eldest attendant glowered at Atakk. Atakk mimed a thinking pose.

“Let me think. Seems like I remember something…oh, right, I remember that terrified little thirteen-year-old that we stole from his family, and then we turned him into a bird and locked him in a cage for five years when he kept begging to go home. Yes, you’re sooooo concerned for his welfare, I can tell.”

Atakk slapped Mikleo on the back, and puffed out his chest.

“But do you know who here is concerned for Sorey? This fella right here. He’ll go on singing and singing until he turns into a bird himself, if he thought there was the slightest chance Sorey would wake up and hear him.”

“I heard his song while tending to the prince,” said one of the younger attendants, fighting back tears. “His feelings for the prince are true.”

“I could barely finish my dusting without weeping from the beauty of it,” said the other young attendant, who was fully wailing. “Madam, we know you heard it as well!”

The eldest attendant’s eyes softened, and her mouth drew into a thin line.

“…the prince dreams of you,” she said quietly. “He speaks your name. I was his mother’s midwife, you know. He was a kind, sweet boy to us over the years, even as we served as his jailers. It pains me to be the cause of yet more grief.”

She turned to leave, gesturing for her bawling younger attendants to join her.

“The prince’s sleeping draught will wear off at midnight,” she stated. “And I might dally in refreshing it. See to it that your song is true.”

As they left, Mikleo managed to smile at Atakk as his tears flowed anew. “Thank you.”

Atakk strutted over and picked up Mikleo’s hand to press a loud, smacking kiss to the knuckles. “It’s all in a day’s work for a tragic romantic hero, mon cher . Now rest up those pipes for a few hours so you can really knock Sorey’s socks off.”

Mikleo did as suggested – his throat was so sore and weak that he could barely swallow the water that Atakk brought to him (with the promise that it was not enchanted). Even knowing that there was no chance for Sorey to hear him, Mikleo was possessed of a nervous compulsion to take a seat back by the vents and continue to hum aimlessly – if Sorey could not hear him properly, Mikleo could still provide some comfort in his dreams.

The clocks chimed midnight, and Mikleo opened his mouth to sing once more. He barely managed to get to the part about kisses after court before he heard Sorey screaming and pounding on every door in the hall outside.

“Mikleo! Mikleo! ”

Mikleo raced to the locked door and began to pound on it himself, and to scream Sorey’s name through his raw, battered throat.

“I’m right here, Sorey! Right here!”

The doors were flung open.

Logically, Mikleo knew that Sorey would not look like his thirteen-year-old self all these years later. But Mikleo did not expect Sorey to be this stunning. Tall, with a sharp jawline and broad shoulders. Strong arms that wrapped around Mikleo so tightly, and brought him close against his chest to feel the beating of his racing heart. Those same green eyes that Mikleo remembered, clear as day.

“Mikleo…” Sorey sobbed over and over, rocking in place with Mikleo. Belatedly, Mikleo realized that they’d collapsed to the floor at some point.

“Sorey,” Mikleo whispered into his ear. “I’ve come to ask for your hand in marriage. Do you accept?”

Sorey kissed him then and there. Mikleo let his eyes fall shut and kissed back, winding his fingers into Sorey’s hair.

“…well, I think that settles that, don’t you, your majesticness?”

Sorey’s arms tightened around him at the sound of that voice, and he broke off their kiss to glare at the approach of his father. A strangely-dressed man with dark skin and white tattoos wolf-whistled at them.

“Hey there. I’m Zaveid, your neighbor,” said the man, gesturing to the guest room next to Mikleo’s. “You kept me up all night with your singing, yanno.”

Mikleo spied Lailah sneaking out of Zaveid’s guest room. He elected to say nothing. Heldalf gazed at Sorey with deep sorrow in his eyes, and heaved a heavy sigh.

“…I suppose it does,” he said with an air of finality. “Sorey. I tried to force your mother to stay here with me, and I failed to learn from her flight, and her distance. Please live your life as you wish.”

The king turned, and made to leave. Sorey and Mikleo’s eyes met. Mikleo took Sorey’s hand, and gave it a comforting squeeze. Whatever his decision, Mikleo would stand by his side.

“…will you attend our wedding, father?”

Heldalf stiffened at that word, then bowed his head, his shoulders shaking almost imperceptibly. Perhaps it was a word he’d never heard before.

Upon their return home, their wedding preparations proceeded in a whirlwind haste. Tearful reunions took place alongside flower selections and dress-uniform measurements, and Sorey barely had the time to accept the embraces offered between samples of wedding cake – though he always managed to make the time to excuse himself for a kiss or two from Mikleo. (Or for a quick sojourn with Mikleo to a secluded room with a lock.)

The ceremony was attended by those from kingdoms far and near – citizens and nobility, woodland spirits and fairy court members alike. King Heldalf gave his blessings to the union, and gifted them with a splendid spread of wedding gifts: among them, a marvelous stringed instrument that played by itself and sounded like a thousand instruments at once, a pair of magical mirrors that permitted instant communication between two individuals, and an enchanted brooch, similar to Zaveid’s, that allowed instant transport to the fairy realm.

“Speaking of gifts,” Sorey said during the reception, as he kissed at Mikleo’s knuckles. “What was in that third egg that Lailah gave you?”

Mikleo blinked – it was still in his robes from their adventure. He requested an attendant fetch it for them, and made to open it.

It cracked open in a glorious light, and when the light faded, there stood a normin dressed in an exotic flamenco gown. It fluttered its fan in its heavily-made-up face, and spoke in a strangely deep voice.

“Dance with me! Cast off your monarchical chains and dance the dance of revolution!”

Mikleo rose an eyebrow, and looked over where Lailah was engaging in a drinking contest with members of the royal court. The normin heaved a sigh, and gathered up his skirts to stomp off onto the ballroom floor.

Fairy culture was a bit beyond Mikleo, as of the moment. But he was willing to learn – after all, alliances didn’t spring up overnight.  

--

[natsspammityspamspamham]

1. Who’s your celebrity crush?

I don’t have celebrity crushes most of the time. I have people who I think are pretty and people that I admire, but I don’t have any of them that I crush on. Alongside my favourite voice actors (seiyuu), Emma Watson would definitely be up there. There’s something about intelligence that makes a person far more appealing.

2. Are you single or taken?

As single as they come! I haven’t even been in a relationship, and I don’t really have any interests in getting into one!

3. Rant. Just do it.

I’m nervous. I’m doubting. I hate this feeling in me. I feel so out of place, so uncomfortable, and it’s eating me on the inside. I wish I had friends in real life. I really wish I did, but it feels like I’m growing apart from everyone, and I’m pushing them all away because I can’t stand being reminded of my past, and I feel like every step I take is just a desperate attempt to get myself back on track, and I’m trying to be proud of myself. I really am. But I have a hard time acknowledging anything that I do. I never feel like I’m enough. I feel insufficient. I feel like I’m just a statistic. I feel inferior yet superior at the same time. My self-image is warped. I feel like I’m lying to myself and to others. It hurts. It hurts a lot, and I don’t want people to know but I do at the same time. It’s a pain unlike any other, and as much as I can say that I don’t feel lonely, I feel like there should be people in my life that I can call my friends, and I want someone that I can mutually call my best friend without them saying that they are just my “good friend”. I want to know that I mean the upmost to a person without feeling I’m burdening them. I want to be No. 1 at something. 

I dream about chasing dreams like becoming a medical professional, but I continue to realize and face my shortcomings that would prove that I’m not really fit for it. I want to do it, but quite frankly, I’m too stupid. 

I can’t even articulate what’s truly paining my mind. It’s difficult. I don’t know why my body and mind wants to destroy itself.

But sometimes, I think I fix myself better.

4. Do you think it's okay to separate the artist from the art?

Personally, I’m one of those people who usually say no to this question. Now, if you have weird kinks or like pineapple on pizza, that’s none of my business. I won’t hold it against you. However, I find it hard to separate when things are illegal or morally wrong.

Examples:

Net-juu no Susume was a really heartwarming anime, and it was one of my favourite anime that depicted a wholesome adult romance that unveiled many truths about the real world despite spending its time online, but I would’ve never watched the anime if I would have known that the director was a Holocaust-denier. The rest of the staff? I don’t know, but I felt extremely uncomfortable even reblogging content after I found out.

I was planning on watching Rurouni Kenshin, and to this day, I believe I’m missing out, but I cannot support or condone or even watch a series that has a creator as wretched as Nobuhiro Watsuki. If you don’t know, he was charged in February of 2017 for child pornography. He was fined 200,000 yen. It was a slap on the wrist. Even though Rurouni Kenshin wasn’t a reflection on his person according to fans, I don’t feel keen on watching a show created by such a man.

In regards to actors, this goes for them too. If they are not supportive of the LGBTQ community, if they are racist, if they have committed acts that are cannot be condoned, I wouldn’t want to watch them or anything. Again, I have a hard time keeping track of who’s actually clean in this world, and in Japan, there is a lot of covering up. It was recently revealed that a lot of Madhouse anime that people love were probably made at the expense of animators who are human beings.

5. How many accounts do you have?

I have a few.

@nsisbest385 - my main where I stockpile my music @natsspammityspamspamham - This one where I am really open and reblog everything that I want to reblog (no exceptions; if I don’t even think about it, I just reblog) @natsthinkitythinkthinkthonk - used to be for inspirational stuff/writing, but now it’s mostly seiyuu stuff. I post things for their birthdays. I should’ve made a separate account. @semitranslatedseiyuublog - Where I semi-translate stuff but mostly transfer seiyuu content from Reddit. @awkwardbsd - This account has more followers than all my other accounts combined. It’s for awkward screenshots, memes, and other stuff surrounding the Bungou Stray Dogs universe. @dragontypepropaganda - I didn’t tell anyone this existed until now. I’m generally not on it. I just queue and leave.

6. How many pairs of shoes do you have?

Let’s see... uh... 1 for outside, 1 for exercise, 1 for my house slippers, 3 for orchestra that I never use, 2 dress shoes that I really never use, and I’m supposed to get 1 pair of slippers for outside.

7. Opinion on…

I don’t think I can answer this.

8. How many accounts do you follow?

9. Favourite brand of clothing?

I’ve been wearing more Uniqlo lately, but my wardrobe has a lot of hand-me-downs despite being so sensitive tactile-wise.

10. Name a dog

Atticus (boy) and Haruko (girl)

11. What unusual talent do you have?

I can whistle. I haven’t tried in a while, but I can put my feet behind my head.

12. What’s the most interesting school's gossip you’ve ever heard?

Keep in mind, I was only in school until grade 9-10. One of my PE teachers Ms. Snow had really scary eyes. When she got mad at me (which is pretty frequent considering she didn’t know who I was and kept calling me by other Asian people’s names because “we look the same”), I swear her eyeballs would extend from her sockets a little. They looked like they were about to pop out of her head. My sister said that urban legend states that she once fell down the stairs and both eyeballs popped out. She put them back in and carried on.

13. Ever prank called a store?

I think I almost tried once until I got a scolding or something (wasn’t even my parents).

14. What’s your coffee order?

Don’t have one. I don’t like coffee. I’m generally open to tea.

15. What’s a question do you constantly get asked?

“How are you?” I usually choose the easy route to answer to this question. I just say “good thanks”. You want the truth? I lie to myself.

“Why did you leave school?” It was a living hell. I didn’t feel safe. I was breaking down years ago. School nearly broke me, and if I stayed there any longer, I would’ve died (not an exaggeration).

“What are your hobbies?” I usually just say music and watching cartoons* (anime). They usually ask what else, and I just stare blankly.

16. If you had to get a tattoo right now, what would you get and where?

I wouldn’t want one.

17. Google the top song from the year you were born

Apparently, it’s How You Remind Me by *gasp* Nickelback.

18. Rant about your favourite musician

I seriously wish I was able to go to Sara Bareille’s version of the Waitress. I wish I was able to see it on Broadway. She’s such a talented individual, and she deserves all the attention she gets.

19. What’s your favorite teacher you’ve ever had?

All of my best teachers have been outside of school. I would say that my favourite teachers are my current bass teacher and my taekwondo master who has taught me for over a decade.

20. Describe your blog in 3-5 words

Fando(o)m, ranting, anime, seiyuu, random

21. What’s a conspiracy you believe in?

I believe aliens exist. I don’t think it would be logical to assume that Earth is the only planet that has “intelligent” (I say that very loosely) lifeforms.

“But they don’t have water or oxygen” Bold of you to assume that said aliens would need such a thing. I would think they can adapt like humans and all that. I just think it’s dumb to close ourselves off to believing that there are people other than ourselves that exist in this wide and expanding universe.

22. If you could see any concert tonight what would you choose?

I would really want to see the Waitress. If that doesn’t count, I would want to see some seiyuu singing live. It would depend. Hosoya doesn’t sing much anymore, Maaya Sakamoto has a waitlist longer than my lifespan (I have no luck with lotteries), and Saori Hayami has the same issue. I would want to see Sphere live too, but I don’t know all of their songs.

23. If you could break one of your bad habits which would you choose?

My depression... or my anxiety. Actually, those aren’t habits. I guess the closest I will get is doubting myself and beating myself up.

24. Can you dance? Sing?

A strong no to both.

25. What’s something you can’t stop buying?

Uh… I don’t go out and buy anything. I don’t make money so I don’t buy. However, if I did, I would really want to treat myself to good food and anime stuff.

26. Crowds or small groups?

Small groups... obviously.

27. How long before a trip do you pack?

Depends on where. When it comes to the Philippines, weeks for the Balikbayan boxes and less than a week for my actual clothes (usually pack a ton of clothes because I sweat a lot and “we’re not doing laundry!”)

28. What celebrity would you rate a PERFECT 10?

I feel like I don’t have a good grasp of the culture so I actually can’t say anything about my favourite seiyuu. We don’t even know if that’s their true personality. However, I feel like my perfect 10s are Emma Watson and Robin Williams. They might not be my “crushes”, but they are perfect 10s. 

29. What quote or inspirational setting do you think is bs?

“When you hit rock bottom, the only way to go is up!” Nah man, you just don’t know what rock bottom looks like. It’s gonna get worse.

“Don’t fix what isn’t broken!” All because you can’t see what’s wrong with it doesn’t mean it isn’t broken. Yeah, I’m talking about the school system.

“Pain makes you who you are. It makes you stronger.” I can say that my trauma gives me anxiety.

30. If you had to dye your hair an unnatural colour right now, what would you choose?

I go by “Purple Dino” online so I’d have to say dark purple.

31. You can change one thing about your life right now. what are you changing?

I wish I could breathe properly. My allergies make it so hard for me to exist. It affects my breathing, sleep, dental care, and so much more. I think that’s the one physical thing I would change.

32. How old do you get mistaken for?

Apparently, I look like I’m in middle school even though I’m almost a legal adult.

33. What do you think about a lot?

Anime, seiyuu, my own shortcomings. 

34. Do you like your Hogwarts house or do you wish you were a different one?

I like Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. I haven’t done my test in a while. 

35. What does home mean to you?

Home is where you live. It’s where the heart lives. It’s where you feel safe, and it’s where you can take off the mask that you live in during the day. It’s the place where I don’t have to lie through my teeth. I can cry, I can laugh, I can scream, and I can finally be me.

36. What do you think you’d be arrested for?

I feel like I would be caught for pirating anime even if I don’t profit off it. 

37. Have you ever been called down to the principal's office?

I’ve been there, but I haven’t been called down there because I really wasn’t important in school.

38. Post a picture of the outfit you would choose if you could have any outfit you wanted

Probably a dark coloured hoodie with sweatpants. That’s my default during the winter anyway.

39. Describe your aesthetic

Tired dead eyes with existential dread and depression. That’s how I see myself.

40. Answer with one of your ‘school memes’ (inside jokes you have with your class/grade) with no explanation 

I’m not sure how to say this, but I was really not in the “right crowd” at school, and I was never let into any of these things. I can’t answer this, and it pains me just to read this because I’m missing out on so much of my youth and “high school life”. 

I’m tagging @caratheillustrious who reblogged the questions!

[morgemuffel]

MALEC. ➰FORGET. EASIER SAID THAN DONE. (aku cinta kamu)

This story takes place after the episode 3Bx18

-> Let's have a look on a deeply sad Magnus after Alec broke up with him. His best friend Cat is not available and he needs someone to talk to. Painful memories of him and Alec are haunting him and a homeless man gives him a lesson in life.

I remember the pain very well, which I went through a few weeks ago when I collapsed because of Lorenzo's magic. I thought I had reached the peak of my pain tolerance. Such an enormous pain that led me to experience my deepest desires. I had this dream, this idea of a perfect life with Alec. We sat at the table ate waffles were joking about crêpes laughing and dancing. A dream quite obvious. Dazzle, deception I would have many names to call it. Never again, I had sworn after Camille. Never again would I open myself, make myself so naked and vulnerable towards another person. Over 400 years old but I never learn. I'm not worth being loved. Not even my mother loved me enough to stay with me. How could I assume that it would be different with Alec? Maybe because he had said so? Because after all these years of incompleteness he gave me the feeling of finally being whole and complete? Because he made me feel like I was the only important thing in the world, the only thing that matters? And even worse, all these things I do have for him. Even now while I'm sitting here and still can't believe it, can't understand it and don't want to understand it. Even now I know that the love for him and thus the associated loss will be my end. A life without Alec surpassed every imaginable pain. "Stay with me" I had whispered desperately. And I thought I knew pain, I knew loss. But as Alec walked through that door, the memories of us shattered into thousand pieces and pelted down on me like dangerous shards of glass. I can clearly visualize the splinters above me. As if they were real and every single one of them wafer-thin and razor-sharp, shoots down on me and right through my heart. My heart that doesn't seem to beat any longer, because there is no reason for it to beat anymore and even worse there is no one there for it to beat for. Magnus sat huddled up on the floor in Maryse' bookstore. He was replaying the past situation over and over again in his head. And tried to figure out when the exact moment must have been when Alec realized that the relationship was no longer working for him. Was it already after his collapse at the institute in his office last week or after the failed dinner yesterday or even before? He knew that he wasn't an easy Person and his personality wasn't simple either. As well that his losses had entirely thrown him off track. Magnus trembled with anger and the tears flowed down his face hot and salty. At first he was angry at Alec because he had left him and then at himself because he knew that this time it was his fault. His depressive mood fluctuation, the constant self-pity and not to forget his slightly exaggerated alcohol consumption had teared the couple apart. He took a deep breath and stood up to put on his jacket. He had to get out of here because he didn't want to accidentally fall asleep and still lie here like a bunch of misery, when Maryse comes back tomorrow to open the store. "You're part of the family." he heard her voice in his head. Every single word was a sting in his heart and the pain it caused almost strangled the air out of him. Alec was everything he had ever wanted, his one true love, his home, his safe haven and his soul mate. And now he was gone, forever. Magnus left the bookstore and locked the door behind him. He hid the key in the large flowerpot next to the front door. But where should he go now? His first instinct was to go to the next best bar, but then it occurred to him that his drinking was a reason for his new single existence and he decided to discard this idea. So he wrote Cat a text message to ask if she would like to eat two or three cans of ice cream with him later and just started to walk in no specific direction. Without knowing it he suddenly stood in front of a big rusty heart made out of metal with the capital letters L O V E beside it and the next memory of him and Alec appeared. His smiling face as he proudly presented Magnus the lock he bought to implement the European tradition in New York. Their trip to Paris had inspired him to place a symbol of their love here as well. A symbol of their eternal love, "Aku cinta kamu", Magnus heard himself whispering before he shrugged from the touch on his shoulder and the memory faded away. He turned around to identify the person and saw a scraggy man in a dirty checkered shirt and a much too-short dirty pair of trainer pants. Clearly a homeless person. Magnus looked at him expectantly with his face smeared with tears.  "I noticed that you weren't doing very well..." he began to speak hesitantly. "Maybe you would like to feed the pigeons with me... that calms me down most of the time when I am sad... and I have a half of sandwich left that I would share with you... if you like? You look so sad..." the homeless man said with a throaty smoky voice that was actually much too deep for his stature. Magnus was visibly irritated but wrested to a smile as he nodded and followed the man to the nearest bench. Cat still hadn't responded to his message, probably she had a late shift. And since Magnus urgently needed someone to talk to, he decided to trust this stranger man with his sorrows. Of course a censored version without shadowhunters, warlocks and vampires. The cool October breeze blew passt the two of them and they sat there for a while and remained silent. Bob the homeless man fed the pigeons with some grains and breadcrumbs. As he broke the silence. "I wasn't always homeless, you know," he suddenly spoke. "I had a great job, a lot of money, a beautiful house, my wife and kids... But when the children grew up and moved out and my wife died cause of her illness a year ago and I was suddenly alone, I realized that all these material things were worth nothing to me. He looked at Magnus to see if he was listening to him and nodded as he continued speaking. "For some reason we all define ourselves more and more by status symbols and forget that it's the little things that really count. Like spending unforgettable moments with your loved ones." Again he looked at Magnus who slightly blushed under his examining gaze. "Every day I try to give something back to the people around me. I help in the soup kitchen or clean the streets in winter and so on. They are small things but they fulfill me. Some people look at me and see a disgusting homeless person, but why should it bother me how others see me as long as the people whom opinions really matters, know my story and love and appreciate me? Love is the only true currency and once you have found it you don't need anything else. He paused and looked into the void when he asked: "Do you believe in magic and the magic behind love? The Has-been-warlock thought about the question and although Bob didn't know that Magnus is, was a centuries old warlock, and belonges to the shadow world. Magnus still felt as if the homeless man could completely see through him. Magic, yes he believed in magic and he thought he was missing his and the immortality and that he'd be nothing without it. But the truth is Bob was right. There is another kind of magic. Magnus chose his words with caution as he replied. "I thought I had everything, too. A great job, a great home, magic... well..." He cleared his throat and continued: "The love of my life I mean, but he left me and it is my fault. He faltered as he spoke and Bob didn't urged him to speak any further. Instead he continued: "I have learned to renounce, because I can and not because I have to. What does the well paid job mean if you don't have anyone you can share the money with? Or worse, what use does money have if you're lonely at the end of the day? We don't live forever and the time we have should be used sensibly. I miss my wife every day, but I know that the time with her was magical and when your girlfriend..." he broke off when he saw Magnus raising his eyebrows. "Your... boyfriend...?" he asked hesitantly and Magnus nodded half-heartedly. "Probably more my ex-boyfriend now" he murmured embarrassed. Bob looked at him insistently as he began his speech again. "If your boyfriend is really the love of your life you should ask yourself if you want to fight for your relationship or try to forget him and guide your time and energy into a meaningful direction. A dove sits on my lap as I open my eyes. It's already dark and Bob has left, if he was even real... and I didn't just imagine the whole conversation. I'm not sure cause I'm holding an empty tequila bottle, wrapped up in a paper bag in my hand and my head is humming. So much for that no more alcohol statement before. Alec's face appears again, his loving smile... God my soul hurts and it's hard to think clear. I have to shake away the thoughts of his perfect face. Fight for us or guide my energy into a meaningful direction Bob had said. I had fought, hadn't I? I literally threw myself at him when he was about to leave me. Begged him to stay, kissed him and tried to show him that I was still the same. That I love him and need him. But he didn't care, he left and I can't and don't want to forget him. Or can I? I always kept telling myself that the pain after a break up is part of the process to forget, it's there to learn from your mistakes. But a life without Alec and knowing that he left me literally tears me apart and I only know one person who can take all those bitter-sweet memories away from me. Yes maybe I'm a coward, maybe that makes me hypocritical and weak but I don't want to stand on a bridge again and... I just can't live with the memories. I need to talk to Jem Carstairs and ask him to erase my memories of Alec.

[shoheiakagi]

For the "talk about Homra": what's Akagi's daily routine? What does he do in Homra, does he have a job or is he studying? Does he have a girlfriend? What does he think of his King? Share your headcanons! :D

Ty so much for sending me this ask! I really enjoyed answering this question, and it actually made me think a lot more about this character. I’m sorry it took so long to reply, I had a really busy day + my phone was dying when I got your message (although I don’t like responding from my phone cause it causes a lot of grammar issues to the point of questioning my own English lol).

Also, this is mostly based on my opinions/interpretation, which I am aware that may not align with anyone else’s interpretation.

Keeping this under the cut cause it came out wayyyyyy too long. Also, there might be some grammar mistakes that I’m too lazy to search for cause typing this thing tired me out lmaoo, so sorry in advance. But don’t be shy to ask me more questions or to send your own headcanons! I love this shit.

Talk to me about HOMRA

Daily Routine:

Okay so this one is a little hard for me cause I barely go on a daily routine when I’m not going to class or work but even then I barely function well so I barely think about how others go on about their days.

He’s one of the few early risers in HOMRA, even on his days off, due to insomnia. 

Which causes him to be super grumpy during the morning and even at work (but it’s a good thing he knows how to pull himself together, otherwise he’d be giving Bandou a run for his money when it comes to getting fired).

He drinks a lot of coffee (there’s a Starpucks right near his job, after all) which is great cause it gives him energy, but it’s also bad cause it gives him too much energy

Like seriously, he’s probably one of those super annoying cheery guys you lowkey wanna smack sometimes but don’t cause self control and cause he’s cute af

He actually doesn’t go to HOMRA every single day like the other members. Some days he’s too tired from work, other days he just wants to chill with his other friends.

But he’s always the first one there whenever something urgent comes up.

He tries to go to the gym at least three times a week, to make sure he stays fit.

In general though, he enjoys working out and staying active.

He honestly hates staying in his apartment for a long time though. Not only does he feel lonely, but lately he’s been thinking too much (”We’re all doomed”- Bandou). Memories of Totsuka & Mikoto, how HOMRA disbanded once, the possibilities of HOMRA not being in his future, etc.

He’s not exactly sure if he wants to enroll in university, cause fuck school, but he also can’t rely on working part time at a local diner for the rest of his life

Which leads him to enroll in an online class for coding since he’s one of the few people who prefers numbers over literature

Whenever he has the time, he loves adventuring out in Shizume city, checking out new places (but lets be real, this boys been everywhere) and making new friends. 

Loves to sit on roof tops; it makes him feel like he’s at top of the world. It’s the little things that makes life worth living.

HOMRA:

He’s one of the moodmakers of HOMRA (mostly amongst the abc boys + yata/kamamoto. He’s way too intimidated by Mikoto). 

I headcanon him as being the strongest amongst the abc boys. Akagi may be behind Dewa in terms of perception, but he is physically stronger. So that combined with his own strong perception skills, makes him a really good fighter, much to the envy of Bandou & Chitose.

Despite being a laidback and cheerful guy, he loves fighting. Whenever there is some illegal gang to bust, he’s one of the first ones out the bar, itching to smash some guy’s head with his bat or burning them all.

He’s obviously closer to the other alphabet boys than he is with the core members of homra (trio + anna/yata/kamamoto), which leads them to forming their own group within the clan. Whereas the main members are in the bar most of the time, the alphabet boys are usually out partying or dicking around somewhere. 

Job/Studies:

Based on the movie and some official content, it’s safe to say that he works part time at a local diner, which he later gets Bandou to join.

Despite him being grumpy in the morning, he’s always friendly to the customers he’s serving, which makes him super popular, especially amongst the female customers.

At first, he was oblivious to it, but that didn’t last to long cause he is pretty perceptive. Eventually he uses his charms to his advantage, cause the more customers, the more tips.

He’s always caught in the middle of arguments between Bandou and his boss (and sometimes other coworkers) which he often has to beg his boss not to fire Bandou cause yeah the guy’s petty, but he’s really good at frying those potatoes (no lie, San Chan is really passionate about how he cooks his fries). 

But sometimes it leads to his own job being on the line since he’s the one who convinced his boss to hire Bandou (goddammit san chan). It’s a good thing he’s popular amongst the ladies.

As i mentioned before, he enrolls in an online coding class, since he’s still on the fence about going to an actual university, but he doesn’t wanna spend his life flipping burgers.

I actually got the coding idea from another blog, but it really makes sense since he was good with hacking in s1.

Back in school, he was an average student. He did the bare requirements, always studied last minute, and would zone out in class. But he’s always found himself doing better in math. To him, math was simple. You just gotta work through the problem to find the correct answer, which is kinda how life works. He likes that there is only answer to a question, not multiple interpretations. This pretty much reflects on Shouhei himself. Despite being an optimistic guy, he tends to the see the world in shades of black & white.

Relationship (*slightly nsfw):

Honestly, I can see him in a relationship, but it’s usually set during the MOR timeline (before Totsuka’s death), months after the events of ROK, or in a completely alternative universe where no one dies. I can only imagine how his s/o would feel when they find out about him & the rest of HOMRA terrorizing a high school in order to seek vengeance.

He’s not a womanizer like Chitose, nor is he desperate for a woman to look at him like Bandou, but he’s had his share of relationships & hookups.

I genuinely think that he’s one of the more experienced members in HOMRA after Kusanagi & Chitose, but he’s more discreet about it. Also, he’s just not the type to flirt with every single woman he sees.

Actually super romantic and takes relationships seriously, but occasionally indulges in random hookups and one night stands.

Has been in a friends with benefits relationship, but it did not end well since he ended up catching unrequited feelings.

Has actually flirted with a couple of his customers who interested him, and gave them his number.

Very into PDA (handholding, kisses, arm around the waist, hugs, etc). 

*As mentioned by other blogs, he’s adventurous when it comes to sex, but he has a soft spot for vanilla cause it seems romantic. Loves foreplay, and he usually prefers giving oral than receiving cause he loves to please his s/o (and cause he has an oral fixation).

*Lowkey fantasizes about public sex, but knows how control himself.

He wants a relationship in where they’re best friends, and have a lot of fun together, even if they’re doing boring shit like watching Netflix & eating takeout on a Saturday night (it’s the company that matters).

He’s a super friendly guy, which can sometimes annoy his s/o cause some people misinterpret his kindness as romantic interest.

I could see him being weak for sweet & petite girls with long brown hair (this may seem like self inserting but I can only wish I was petite).

As for guys, I’m not exactly sure on what his exact type would be since I ship him with a few characters who are completely different from each other, physically and mentally (Eric, Chitose, Bandou, etc). 

But in general though, he’s weak for anyone who looks good in red, his favorite color.

When he likes someone, he makes sure that he can do whatever it takes to win them over. Can be a bit persistent at times since he’s stubborn af, but stays within his boundaries and backs off if he notices that the other party is uncomfortable or genuinely not interested.

He can be a bit oblivious when it comes to others crushing on him, but it doesn’t take that long for him to figure it out.

He likes to think that he’s not a jealous person, but when he sees a sweet smile growing on his SO/crush’s face cause of someone else, his jaw noticeably clenches.

Super happy if his s/o gets along with his clansmen, but he gets a little tense when they’re near Chitose cause sometimes he can be a bit too flirty, but he trusts his S/O and Chitose.

Loves to tease his S/O, which can sometimes lead him to be a little fuck boyish.

His relationship with his Kings:

1. Mikoto:

Like the others, he respects Mikoto a lot. But unlike the others, he can’t help but feel a bit uneasy whenever Mikoto’s sharp, amber eyes rest on him.

Which can sometimes make him feel upset, like how can I be a HOMRA member if I can’t even look at my King without feeling nervous?

Sometimes though, he thinks back to the night when HOMRA had to save him & Bandou from getting killed due to his reckless ass. 

He can’t help but remember how Kusanagi briefly compared Mikoto to him, which didn’t mean anything back then cause he was ready to pass out from all that blood loss.

But it kinda makes him feel better to know that at least there’s one thing he has in common with his king: that they both can easily get corrupted by their power in the name of good. He likes to think of it as a special bond that connects them but he’s pretty sure there are other members who relate to the sentiment.

Somedays, he can’t help but notice how Mikoto is just there. Like yeah, he is a very powerful presence, but it doesn’t really seem like he’s there with them. He just doesn’t seem to care about what goes on, which doesn’t really fit the image of a king at all, at least from what he knows. Shit, if he was a King, God knows the havoc he would create.

Sometimes he wants to talk to his King and get to know him better, maybe even cheer him up. But he immediately rejects the idea and goes back to his own little group with the other alphabet boys.

He is just a clansmen, after all.

2. Anna:

Despite initially thinking that she was a weird brat, he genuinely came to love and care for her as the little sister he never had.

He takes her out for shopping w/e Kusanagi & Totsuka are unavailable.

Loves to bring her toys & candies whenever he can.

They both share a mutual appreciation for the color red, a bit more than the other members.

When Anna first became King, he wasn’t really sure on how to feel.

Like great, HOMRA is back together, but can she really be our King?

He, along with a few others, genuinely believes that they should be protecting Anna, not the other way around.

Especially with her tragic past, she needs to protected. Being a King will only cause more danger.

Also, despite all his denials, his ego is a little hurt that the leader of a street gang is a 12 year old girl.

But him & the rest of HOMRA eventually come to understand that Anna is capable of taking care of herself, she is their King for a reason.

[ifightmywarswithfingerguns]

People say life teaches you the hardest lessons of all and you shoudl learn from those lessons. (insert qupte herer) However, I feel that it isn't life teaching you it is you, you tech yourself these things because they're your experiences and only you can decide how you feel and how you want to live your life. Yes, these are always outside influences. Up the unlimited decisions are always made.by you and you're the one who has to live with said decisions. No one else I the world knows what you want and no one else but you knows how you feel. So why shouldn't the person who is with yo the most by the one who lobes you the most? Life is full of old but I feel the most important love one should feel is the love for themselves. How much you love yourself depends on how you perceive yourself and who you think you are. If you base your self perception on the feelings of others you'll always be unsure of who you are because you are differ t and hold different meanings for different people. Your mother sees a different person than your best friend and you teacher may know more about you than the. Other combined but only you know who you all. Who you are is. On prized of all these things, it is the whole picture not just the pieces taken by different people.

A lot of this perception takes place in our own minds because how we see ourselves is reflected in all of our actions, someone who feels poorly about themselves may nto stand as straight or walk with a certain swager as soemone else who is confident in themselves. And in today's world with the ever constant attack on your girls in the media I find it more difficult to find girls who can honestly say they lvoe themselves and take pride in how intelligent, beautiful, and witty they are. If you ask a woman if they are aware of their beauty they shy away and find 50 things ":wrong" with themselves within twenty seconds because they have a list in their heads of their flaws. It is alwyas there when we're out buying clothes or watching a movie there is a pressure to look, act, and dress adn certian way to be considered attractive. Go to the store and pick up a tabloid and i gaurentee you'll see it plastered everywhere of "how to loose weiht, makeup tips to look better, and hwo to get/please a man." We are tarught that it is our goal to confomr to what the male gaze desrires fom us adn become that no matter how unrealistic. I vividly rememebr thinking if i read all the magazines and dress like them and looked like them aht boys owuld like me and i would be completley happy with every aspect of my life. Thankfully that never happened because I am a different person nwo and how I fel about myself is how every girl/woman shold feel about herself and that is loved. Every woman should love herself for all that shee is because all the media we see isn't real and none of it will ever make you happy with yourself. The media is made that way to make you spend money trying to look like these women who are photoshopped or diet and starve themelves in order to look the wway they do. It is a vicious cycle but it is on ethat can be broken. So that little girls don't grow up and skip meals because it'll make tem prettier. So they grow up to be women who own thier bodies prudly and aren't afraid to say "yes, i am beautiful.". I love body positivity and sein women lvoe thier bodesi no matter how much hair, fat, or stretch marks they have on them. I also love seing women complimenting each other instead of competing to be the prettiest in the room to gain male attention. There is so much propoganda tearing women down that it is empowring and heatwarming to see them wake up and shun the idea that they should be anythin other than what they are. That they should o to extremes to "fit in". Quit frankyl if you don't love yourself of rall that you are you will never be happy ith how you look there will alwyas be somethin ot be fixed. As soon as oyu stop lookin on the ouside for balidatio your life will imporve and your confidence wil improve because if you build youself up with the compliments from men thier criticisms will tear you down. So you become your own bricks abd rebuild yourself and your self image to one taht you like. So you take a look inside yourself and hwo you are to amke taht person better and make thsat person one who loves themelf. 

I am so adament about htis because I was trapped in the world of pandering to the male gze and constnaly fhanign my appreacne to get them to like me which  nveer worked or bsing my self confience on how others saw me and i was miserable. I was depressed, suicidial, and quite frankly i ahted myself and my body image. I still  struggle with my body image because it has been engraved into my brain dn way of thiking of hwo i hsould look adn i have to stop myself form thinmkin gthat way. I am admaent about his becaue i wasted years of my life and destroyed my body for a peive of mind i never got. I am a recovering annorexic and although it has been four years since i "quit" it has never left me. It is an ever looming shadow on my life because it is a constant thing when you have it. I was always counting calories and doing anything not to eat to avoid gaining weight. I exercised excessivly and i remember almost passing out at every workout session i would go to because i hadn't eaten htat day. I had a system of going three days without eating and on the third day maintaing a one-thousand calorie limit. It was toture but i was losing weiht and i gauged the weight by how easily you could see my bones. I pradiesd myself everytime i could see them a little bit more. I cursed myself whenever I did eat on the third day calling myself names like fat, worthless, and weak. Not only di di curse myself i punished myself for eating so much with mroe exercise or waiting an extra day to eat. I thin that was the biggest struglle of all, eating. Every bite felt like i was getting fatter and it was as trule ot force myself to eat a single bite. Every swallow felt like it was stuck in my throat and like i should go vomit ot keep it from getting ot my stomach. it was an awful feeling in multiple asy but mainly becase i love food i love eating and tastin things but i oculdn't llow myself the one htin i lvoed. An incidnet i had where i felt the weakest were When my mother made my favorite mamwhich which i love to death but i couldn't brin myself to eat it even though th esmell was intoxicating. So i went o bed with no dinner that night to get up in the morning and get ready for shcool. I wasso desperate for it i got a spoon adn just tastd it. It was loruious they savyory and salty i even chewed it a little bit but i could not le tmyself swallow it. So i we tot eh sink and spat it out and even went as far as to wsh ti task out my mouth because i couldn't even swallow that it woud be cheating. It was constant and thw rost part was i ot compliments on ym weiht loss. The compliments pushed me to continue even further because i knew it was working. I thrived off of the compliment sbecause it meant my heard work was paying off. Adn you don't get that kind ofprasie from reovery you get digusted looks like " you really let youserlf go". Or irls would be nasty in school like the usually are and i heard comment on haw faat i've gotten and horrible giggles from these gaggles of girls. Recovery is one of ht e toughtest things I ever had to go through and i had to go through it alone because no one knew about it. I coudn't let anyone know about my anorexica and peopel to this day don't know abut it because i kpeti tso well hidden. Although my eatin habits are back and i'm at a normal weigh tnow i still feel the thoughts creep up on me. i still ahe htoughts of "wow you're fat" and i have to tell myelf "yes, i have fat but i'm happy and fat is not a negative thing ot be. Fat is not a person or a noun it is an adjective to describe something and shoudn't define my entie person and how i fel abiout myself. i have fat and taht is kay and the more i accept that the happier i am with myself and the tiem i spent worryign about hwo i looked turned into learnign about why i felt that way and learnig more about myself and the wordl aroudn em. In the years since my recovery I have become mroe eduacted and acepting and aware of the world around me and I feel better for it. I feel mroe empathethic adn it gives me hope fora brihter future where i can be even better than the prson taht i am nw. I always want to learnadn grow ad I hope to ive that experince to someon eelse via my time in college and far after. I want ot encourage women to love themselves and every part of them becaue they desreve to. Because no one should have to go through what i went thorugh and because these girls are worth much mre than thier measurments. They are doctors htey are mothers they are terachers and daughters firefighers senators and presidnets. Women are amazing and capable creatures who deserve to feel some self love  and that is not soomething life will teach you. that is something you ahve to teaf. to love yousrelf deeply and with no bounds. The love the should feel for thiemselves should equal the ones they read about in reomance novels  unconditional.  It took some a long time to get where I am in loving self and who I am and I even falter sometimes when I overheard mean comments and I start to think badly of myself. I have to physically and mentally stop myself and dispute whatever it is that was said about me because I can't let myself jnternalize it. If I internalize it Nd take their opinion a truth I begin to be,I e it and become self deprecating. And now that I am in a better place i still see. Y peers whose still I the negative space that I was in and I even hear my mother and sister picking at their bodies and h Ow they wish they were different or skinnier. And I want to explain how it is a via thing to search for and to try to be. Skinny and healthy do no correlate nor does skinny and happy. It is a long process to love yourself. It is a daily regime of stopping negTive behaviors and correcting them. Small comments like oh I'm so fat or I couldnstandtk lose weight wear your self sped teem. It's about stopping yourself from those thoughts and placing them with I'm amazing and wonderful. Another thing is a denoting compliments 9/10 women will deny any compliments as if they aren't true but accepting them is accepting yourself and agreeing that ueah I am cute or adorable or whatever it is. I never wit any girls to go through the struggle that I went through especially. Yniece. These little things these Mir agrees ions add up over time and really affect how you see yourself and it starts at a young age. Children can be cruel especially she it comes to weight and Eve. Adults are cruel. I remember as a child it was a joke in the family how fat I was but it really stuck with me as I grew up that this I show people see me and bow people see me matters. And I've learned that it doesn't that it is how I see myself and how I h

[reasonablespeculation]

how do paparazzi photos work??

putting this all here for my own peace of mind more than anything.

12 Things I Wish I Knew Before Becoming a Paparazzo [Cosmo]

You spend money on tips [people who call you to tip you off to where a celebrity is are oftentimes rewarded with money as a gesture of goodwill].

You can either doorstep, which is when you are assigned or you assign yourself to a particular celebrity, and you go sit outside their house and hope they leave. You could doorstep a gym or a restaurant or an area of town or a city block that celebrities go to a lot. Or you can troll and just drive around looking for celebs.

To be honest, I can recognize a celebrity from a long way away just based on the way they walk and the way they wear their hair. You become really good at people-spotting.

Most people look at the covers of some of the seedier tabloids and they see really negative stories that make it look like the tabloids are all about trashing the celebrities. But 90 percent of what we photograph, and 90 percent of what the public wants and buys are happy celebrities looking stylish with their head up, smiling. Those pictures are what the tabloids want to buy, and those require us as paparazzi to be non-antagonistic with the celebrities and to actually even develop friendships with them.

Cameron Diaz is another one who I love. She's just brilliant. She uses the paparazzi when she wants to and when she needs it: When she and Justin Timberlake broke up, she wanted to get photographed all the time looking super hot and totally used us. We were all here for the use! We were like, "All right, you're making us money. We'll help you, you help us."

A Paparazzo Explains How Staged Celebrity Photos Really Work [Cosmo]

Certain celebrities, like Taylor, not only accept that paparazzi are a part of the business, but they actually go out of their way to use us as a tool for publicity. [...] Taylor loves to have control, and I'm sure she absolutely hates that someone was able to catch her sharing an intimate moment with her new love interest.

Why would a celebrity ever set up and stage photos?

Many setup photos include a paid product endorsement, where a photo agency works as a middleman between a celebrity and a company who has a product to sell. [...] Certain photo agencies specialize in these types of fake paparazzi photos. They usually try to make the photos look natural and candid, but in reality, the celebrity and the photographer are working together.

Control is another big reason for staging photos. There are certain celebs who hate being photographed by paparazzi and they will do anything to avoid it. When your image is such an important part of your career, the last thing they want is to be photographed looking badly. Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds are a good example of a celebrity couple who hates paparazzi, but you will see nice photos of them released on a regular basis. Those photos are totally set up. When they see paparazzi in real life, they put their heads down and hide their faces — unless they are promoting something.

Another example is when there is high demand for a certain photo. When Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin's daughter Apple was first born, they worked directly with an infamous paparazzi photographer in New York. Together, they staged the first baby photos and made them look like candid pictures, then they sold the shots to a major magazine. The pictures were rumored to sell for upward of a million dollars.

Most paparazzi have heard rumors that the first shots of Taylor Swift and Jake Gyllenhaal looking cozy together on a sidewalk in Brooklyn were staged. They were shot with a long lens from a great distance, and the photographer had to put time into the job. But many people believe that his tip came from inside Taylor's own camp.

Most of the staged shots look silly and are very obvious to a trained eye. If it's a huge news story, you always have to wonder, don't you?

Ask a Publicist [Jezebel]

(spoiler alert: 2/3 professional publicists don’t believe that even Hiddleswift was purely a setup. let me reiterate, an extremely over-the-top seeming romance with obvious benefits on either side with two extremely well known celebrities was not seen as a purely fake relationship by PR professionals.)

I am more than sure some short-lived Us Magazine romances were purely for press, and I think they happen with the aid of PR but also the needs of the celebrity. There are obvious things one can watch for: Is the man rumored to be gay? Does the relationship coincide with the promotion of new series or movie? Is the celebrity becoming a has been and worried? Are they only photo’ed together in the most obvious public places?

I’m sure film studios and movie executives are lining up to get him. It’s now as simple as one social media post from Taylor Swift about a movie he’s in and it will go viral.

So there is a lot of planning and scheduling with each and every single movement in their life. So when you see these pictures of couples that seem staged in public, well, they are. And they have to be. Look for the fake celebrity relationship rumors first. Usually that’s PR testing the waters to see how it’s going to affect each of the brands. There is major business and money at stake.

I’m sure there are more fake relationships that the public is unaware of. I don’t think they are always the easiest to spot, nor do I think we really know to look for fake relationships.

The telltale signs would be timing and abruptness (around an upcoming project or release, post break-up), Over-obviousness (t-shirt and tattoo on Tom, professing love, “acts” of desperation), lots of tabloid photos that are not completely candid (like T Swift and Tom on the rocks in Rhode Island, strolling with his mom) and photos taken at close range w/o long-focus lens.

anyhoo, I’ve been uncomfortable with this narrative that one of them sicced the paps on themselves for ?reasons? [insert ur choice wacko conspiracy theory here] when the simplest explanation is that pap was in soho taking pics of various people, recognized Seb (see bullet point 3 in link 1), grabbed a few pics, done. the only mystery here is how/why they were dumped on weibo/IG.

(((- but they match!!! ... ehhhh sort of. their lewks are pretty generic, I bet you could see that exact outfit on ten other people within a 2-block radius.

(((- she’s a beard!! pfffff

(((- he’s promoting Destroyer!!! I mean... not really? Nicole is promoting Destroyer.

(((-he’s doing it for something something fandom something Margo something if one of y’all can draw me a lil diagram of how this does anything for anybody other than the most rabid of fans (including myself why am I even researching this why) and/or why a grown woman in a serious relationship of her own would care about one measly set of awkward & bland pap shots that were not even commercially released I AM ALL EARS

[sansy-fresh]

The Memoirs of an Asshole: 1

So I’m still on hiatus for all my usual stuff, but Portugal kinda grabbed my attention and held it like the jackass he is. 

Anyways, have a bit of an...introductory thing? 

Tags: Angst, Instigating a Fight, Self Harm (kinda), Alcohol Consumption, Papyrus OT5, Hurt no Comfort, Mention of an Eating Disorder

The clink of ice against glass, slowly melting and watering down the amber liquid, drew his attention away from the worn bar counter. His sockets blinked lazily, single green eyelight more blurred than it should have been. Before anything more than a slight burn could irritate his eyes, he wiped at his face with his free hand, willing the annoying feelings away. None of it mattered, not anymore.

Taking a swig of the now watered down scotch he’d ordered, he grimaced at the bland flavor, setting the near empty glass on the counter with a small chink. Tapping the rim with his finger, he watched, expression bored as the bartender refilled his glass, dropping in a few new cubes of ice before sliding it back to his hand.

Another sip and his eyelight was focused back on the worn grain of wood, a goofy smirk on his face. If he was right in his guess (and he usually was), the Idiot Squad would show up here in a minute or two. They always showed up right after some big “accomplishment” or some kind of tragedy, ready to drink themselves into a stupor. Last he heard down the grapevine, the Edgelord had finally gotten his teaching license. Good enough reason to celebrate, he guessed. Rolling his eyes, Portugal downed his drink, tapping on the glass once more and ignoring the tired look he received from the bartender as the front door all but slammed open. He smiled.

Showtime.

Papyrus after Papyrus made their way into the bar, each more eclectic than the last. He’d had a hell of a time categorizing each of them in his mind when they first met, but by then he had them pretty well down.

The Edgelord. Uptight asshole, actually cares about the people he’s close to. Enjoys baking, cleaning, and bossing the others around. Has an eating disorder, not very good at hiding it. Too much LV to really get into any altercations.

The Ashtray. Sarcastic jackass, bad at emotions. Bad at romance. Enjoys smoking, telling shitty jokes, and eating sweets. Has issues with anxiety. Too weak to be much of a threat.

The Mutt. Quiet bastard. Weak at the best of times. Enjoys candy, quantum mechanics, and getting drunk. Has issues with depression. Wouldn’t put up much of a fight unless provoked.

The Moneybag. Vain jackass, wants everyone to think he only cares about himself. Enjoys counting his money, spending his money, and making more money. Comes from a background of being desperate. Will do anything to stay where he is.

The Insane asshole. Has more than one screw loose. Enjoys working on cars, being an annoying piece of shit, and sticking his nose into places it shouldn’t be. Very dangerous, but won’t attack.

He watched, eyelight shining as the five of them made their way to one of the large booths at the back. The four were surrounding Edge, congratulating him over and over in that saccharine sweet way they seemed fond of. Once they’d ordered their drinks Portugal made his move, grabbing his refilled glass and padding smoothly over. Grabbing a chair from a nearby table, he ignored the immediate glares he received from Cash and Slim, plopping down with a chuckle.

“‘Ello boys, ‘eard someone finally got their license!” Portugal smirked as the chatter immediately died, the five of them turning to give him varying degrees of angry looks.

“Get the fuck outta here, asshole, we’re here to celebrate, not get in a fight.” Stretch’s voice carried a moderate amount of warning, though coming from the taleverse it might as well have been a child telling him off.

He waved his hand, socket closing in a wink. “I’m not ‘ere to get in a tussle, just to say a bit o congrats!” Looking straight at Edge, he closed his blind eye. “‘ow is it you’re going ta teach them kids again? Teach ‘em ‘bout how to live and sew and cook? Are you gonna teach ‘em how ta eat too?” Looking down at the empty table, he clicked his tongue. “Might be a mite hard when you struggle wit’ that yourself, eh Edgy?”

The anger that had been generally directed towards his person intensified, magic sparking a bit in the air around him. This was what he wanted, but wasn’t at the right potency. He needed to push a bit more, nudge them a little farther.

“If all you wanted was a reaction, Portugal, coming up and slapping me would have garnered a similar reaction.” Edge quipped, even as his eyelights lost a bit of their brightness. Portugal’s grin widened.

“Why would I want ta slap ya? Just ‘ere ta talk, have a fine conversation between friends.” Glancing at Slim, he leaned on his hand. “Chain too short for ya yet, pup?”

He almost laughed at the low growl that got him, the sound reverberating through the table. THe magic was almost tangible, so thick he could just about taste it, and yet none of them seemed keen to give him the beating they thought he deserved. Needed one more.

“Just leave if yer gonna be an ass, P.” Twist finally spoke up, the only one that seemed to be trying to reign in his anger. The only one that acted like he gave a shit. This time Portugal did chuckle, the sound bitter and tentatively bordering on rage.

“Anyone ever tell ya yer an idiot, Twisty? Stupidest fucker I ever met, for certain.”

There it was. That spark of ignition, the manifestation of real, sharp magic, aimed at his soul, his bones, ready to rip him to shreds. The rush it gave him was only comparable to how he felt when he was standing at the edge of a high up place, ready but unwilling to take that final step. His own magic sparked in his soul, desperate to save him, desperate to do something other than lay idle and let them beat the absolute shit out of him. Rather than actually manifesting into anything useful, it died, his sockets closing as his smirk grew.

Maybe he’d actually pass out this time.