#mood elevated through the clouds

[mooifyourecows]

Did a quick Lucas doodle :)

He's so HANDSOME!! Gah, i love him so much 😭 my son, my sweet baby boy 🌈🥹

he seriously looks amazing! thank you so much for sharing and caring for my boy enough to want to doodle him 🥲🖤 that makes me really happy and proud

[chaoticpuff17]

Amygdala

masterlist

part 18

Namjoon’s showing up at the restaurant had not been a part of Margot’s plan, and Yoongi’s resulting reaction had been a less than ideal outcome to their outing.

The ride back to the penthouse was tense and silent, Yoongi’s hand’s clenched around the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckled turned white. The entire interaction at the restaurant had left him with a vein in his forehead throbbing so badly that Margot was half afraid that it was about to burst. The other worry that kept playing through her head was that he was going to turn the car around and punch Namjoon in the face.

Despite the dark cloud that remained around him the entire journey back to the penthouse, Yoongi didn’t say a word the entire time. The entirety of his focus remained on the road. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing Margot had yet to see. She hoped for everyone involved that it wouldn’t blow up in their faces, but from what she knew of Yoongi, if he was still anything like the Yoongi that she had known, it didn’t bode well for any of them that he was stewing in his anger.

Yoongi’s anger had always run cold. He didn’t react rashly. If he was going to retaliate for the incident today, it would be well thought out, and he would strike where it hurt. It was the disadvantage to Yoongi’s particular brand of anger. At least when someone lashed out in the moment, it was over without any time for them to plan out something worse, but Yoongi would think through the cause of his anger and the target of it and find exactly what would hurt most when he retaliated.

Margot hoped that he wouldn’t strike back, but she also knew he was unlikely to forget what had happened.

She had started coming up with contingency plans the moment he’d shoved her into the car. She wasn’t confident that any of them would work, but she at least had contingency plans if she needed them which she had the very distinct feeling that she would. Placating had worked to get him out of the restaurant without any punches being thrown, and she was hoping that it would work again once they made it back to the penthouse. If there was anything that Margot had experience in, it was the art of placating people.

Growing up, her own parents had been constantly at odds with one another, and it had been Margot and her sister’s jobs to help smooth things over. It hadn’t worked in the long term, their parents deciding to split up when Margot was in high school, but she couldn’t help but think that that had been for the best. The pair had had a penchant to ruin anything they touched including their own lives and their children’s, but the skill of smoothing over turbulent emotions which was going to server her very well if she planned on surviving Yoongi and his delusions.

Yoongi continued in his seething silence as they arrived back at their building. Silently, he dragged her out of the car and to the elevator which had turned out to be a horribly awkward ride as Yoongi remained silent the entire time, quietly fuming and adding onto Margot’s anxiety.

The silence was slowly killing her, but she was too afraid of what would follow once it was broken. She didn’t know what Yoongi was thinking, but her own wild imagination had come to the conclusion that it was something horrible. Yoongi’s tight grip on her hand hadn’t helped to ease her anxiety either. His grip was almost bruising in its intensity as though he was afraid that she would slip away from him the moment that he let go. To his credit, that particular fear wasn’t all that delusional. If Margot had had her way, she would have run for the hills already.

As they entered the penthouse, Yoongi slammed the door behind him, one of the few outward signs of his current dark mood, and released Margot’s wrist as he stalked into the kitchen. Here in his own space Margot noted that he looked less like the predator and more like a puffed up kitten.

Slowly, Margot followed him into the kitchen tentatively calling out to him with the modicum of confidence that had returned to her.

All thoughts of Yoongi looking like an angry kitten quickly fled as he turned his gaze towards her. He hadn’t looked at her since dragging her out of the restaurant, and she was frozen in place by what she saw in them. She didn’t think that she’d ever seen such anger in Yoongi’s eyes, not even when he had realized that she was trying to flee from him. Yes, he had been angry then, but something about this was different. This held something darker and more territorial, and it was narrowed in on her.

Before she could react, Yoongi was striding back across the kitchen towards her, reaching her in only seconds. His hands came up to frame her face, eyes searching for something there though she didn’t know what.

They stood there for what felt like ages, Yoongi’s gaze focused in on Margot and Margot staring back in wide eyed apprehension until finally Yoongi spoke.

“I didn’t like seeing his hands on you.”

“Namjoon’s hands?” She asked, speaking slowly and carefully as though to a feral animal. She wasn’t entirely sure that Yoongi wasn’t one in this situation.

“Don’t.” Yoongi hissed, thumb brushing across her cheek bone in a motion far gentler than his tone. “Don’t say his name.”

“He’s just a friend.” She kept her tone even and placating still uneasy by Yoongi and his actions.

“He wants to take you away from me.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Don’t patronize me, Mari-ah. I know what he wants to do. I saw the way he tried to play hero.” Yoongi’s hands fell away from her, one of them running through his hair in a hurried motion that left the strands falling in all directions.

“He’s a cop.” Margot pointed out. “Playing hero is literally part of the job.”

“I saw the way he looked at you.”

She scoffed at that. As nice as Namjoon was and as much as Tae-il might like for her to date a young man just like him if not Namjoon himself, nothing had happened between them apart from the fake date he’d taken her on to get her out of talking to Yoongi that one evening.

“And how does he look at me?” She asked, crossing her arms under her chest and waiting for Yoongi to answer.

He scowled, crossing his own arms over his chest. “You know how he looks at you.”

“He’s a friend, nothing more.”

Yoongi chuckled, a twisted little smile on his lips though the expression had no joy in it, only bitterness. “He’s a man, Mari-ah, and you are a beautiful woman.”

“You’re jealous.”

He bristled at that, his whole body tightening up at the accusation. “I have nothing to be jealous over. You’re my woman, and he can’t have you.”

“I’m not your woman or anyone else’s for that matter.” she pointed out. “You kidnapped me. That doesn’t make me your woman. Technically speaking it makes me your prisoner.”

Yoongi’s gaze narrowed, his jaw clenched. “You’re mine, jagiya. You were mine the moment I laid eyes on you again.”

She sighed deeply, tucking a stay strand behind her ear. “That’s not how that works, Yoongi. You don’t get to unilaterally decide we’re in a relationship just because you want us to be in one.”

Yoongi paused, looking at her strangely as though her words were too ridiculous to comprehend. “Jagiya, this is forever. What we have will be forever.”

“We don’t have anything.”

He sighed deeply. This was an argument he had a nagging feeling they would continue to have until Margot gave up her delusions of leaving.

“What we have is everything, jagi. I love you, and you love me.”

She spluttered out a noise that was more of a squack than anything else at that. “I certainly do not!”

“Jagi…” The warning was clear in his tone, but Margot proceeded on, all previous caution thrown to the wind in favor of her current indignation.

“You can’t just decide that I love you even if you have lost your damn mind! You are a fully grown man not some delulu twelve year old! You have to realize how crazy you sound!”

“Mari-ah.” he cautioned again not liking where this was going at all.

“I would literally rather step on glass again than be here with you!”

Yoongi’s gaze hardened, his jaw set as he fought to reign in his own growing temper. “That’s enough, Mari-ah.”

“I would be lucky if Namjoon wanted to take me away from you! At least he’s not fucking delusional!”

Yoongi cut her off, one hand reaching out lightning quick pulling her in by the back of her neck as he ducked down to press his lips to hers.

A small “eep” escaped Margot at the unexpectedness of the action, and she stood there frozen as Yoongi’s lips moved fervently against her own. It was passionate and frenetic. It was both jealous and tender, conveying all of the emotion that Yoongi didn’t have the words to say in that moment.

Yoongi had certainly been touchy before since coming back into her life, but he had never crossed the line towards intimacy like this. She knew his intentions. He’d made them more than clear especially after kidnapping her from her home, but he had not acted on any of his delusions in such an intimate way until now, and Margot didn’t quite know what to do with herself.

It wasn’t as though she’d never been kissed before. She had, but she’d never been kissed by Yoongi, and that had been something of a dream of hers back in her college days. Her crush on Yoongi had been a dream that she had let slip away as the years went by and had been completely crushed as soon as he’d walked back into her life as a delusional criminal. As much as her mind knew that this was wrong that it wasn’t what she wanted, another part of her that was still that girl from college was swooning.

No one had ever kissed her like this before. No one had ever kissed her with such passions, such need. He held her as though she was something precious, as though she was going to slip away if he moved even an inch away, and the part of her that was a romantic swooned a little more at that, but as Yoongi pulled away, resting his forehead against hers as they both caught their breath, the part of her that knew who and what he was took over.

She brought her hands up to grip his wrists, gently beginning to pull his hands away from her and was mortified to realize her hands were shaking as she did.

“Enough, Mari-ah.” He rasped, staring deeply into her eyes as he did. She opened her mouth to say something, but Yoongi shook his head, stopping her before she could get a word out. “I can take a lot, Mari, but I can’t listen to you say you hate me. I can’t listen to you say how you would prefer another man. Please, Mari-ah.”

She nodded dumbly, still a little dazed from the suddenness of his actions and a little taken aback by the vulnerability in his eyes. In that daze, it suddenly hit Margot that he was entirely serious. He couldn’t stand to hear her talk about Namjoon as an option. He couldn’t stand to hear her say she hated him. He might have been delusional about her feelings, but his own were one hundred percent genuine. He actually had feelings for her.

She had thought that every declaration of love, every affectionate gesture had been a product of his delusions. She had assumed, or rather hoped, that with time he would snap out of his delusions. He would realize that he didn’t know her any more, that he certainly didn’t know her well enough to be in love with her, but that wasn’t the case.

Staring into his eyes in that moment with him staring back into hers, Margot had the horrible sinking realization that Min Yoongi was deeply, madly in love with her.

“Fuck.”

[sofiascripts]

detentions secret soundtrack

mha band au (lemonade mouth inspired) // eventual bakugou x reader

★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆ striking a chord!

while tidying up the bandroom in the school’s basement, someone suggests a spontaneous jam session to lighten the mood. the drab room quickly transforms into a lively stage as they perform a kyoka jirou original, with each student adding their own flair to the impromptu performance. the music infuses the group with new energy, lifting their spirits and easing the tension. when the jam session wraps up, ms. midnight, who has been observing from the sidelines, enthusiastically praises their unexpected talent. her encouraging feedback hints at the group’s potential and opens the door to new opportunities. could something so silly really turn into something more?

╰┈➤ tw: not proofread #imsorry </3

the end of the day arrived much faster for the troublesome six than they had hoped. each of them left their respective classrooms, going through their end-of-day rituals before making their way toward the music room, which was inconveniently located in the basement at the farthest end of the school.

to bakugou’s distaste, there was only one way downstairs, meaning he had to walk through every single club that had been banished to the basement. his gaze was fixed ahead, his body rigid as he moved through the narrow, dimly lit halls. students and staff alike quickly moved to the side, avoiding his path, their conversations dying out as they felt the intense energy radiating from him. kaminari, who had run into bakugou in the elevator, took advantage of the clear path and practically skipped through the hallways, trailing closely behind.

when the pair finally reached the end of the hallway, they stopped at an old, battered lemonade vending machine. bakugou reached for his wallet while kaminari obnoxiously patted himself down, feigning surprise at his lack of funds.

kaminari slowly turned to bakugou with a silly grin. “you got me?”

“seriously?” bakugou grumbled, his tone dripping with irritation. kaminari just shrugged, unfazed. the two grabbed their respective drinks, with kaminari forcing their bottles to clink together in a mock cheers before they took a swig. kaminari didn’t bother hiding his obvious distaste for the sour drink, while bakugou struggled to maintain his signature scowl.

“it’s not that bad,” bakugou muttered, though the slight twitch in his eye suggested otherwise.

finally, they entered the music room, where the others were already inside. jirou was facing the small, high window in the top corner of the room, her expression unreadable. momo was beside her, typing furiously on her phone, her face contorted in a deep frown. shinsou sat in front of them, his head resting on his folded arms, already fast asleep. you were across from him, your head hung low as you absentmindedly wiped down a desk.

bakugou and kaminari slowly made their way to some seats in the corner of the room, settling down with a rustle of clothing and the clink of bottles. the room fell silent once more, a heavy, uncomfortable quiet that lingered for only a moment before the door creaked open again, revealing mr. aizawa. he stepped in with a clipboard in hand and a stern expression on his face.

“today, you’ll be doing some housekeeping. some of you have earned multiple days—” his eyes flicked towards jirou for a moment, causing her to sink further into her seat.

“and you will be expected to finish up whatever doesn’t get done today.” groans and sighs filled the room, but the six teens reluctantly got to work. bakugou managed to find a broom and began sweeping the floor, his movements more aggressive than necessary, sending small clouds of dust into the air. the others wisely chose to work on the opposite end of the room. kaminari and jirou dusted off the various instruments while momo sat on the floor, organizing sheet music. you focused on wiping down the teacher’s desk, meticulously cleaning the many trinkets that filled it, while shinsou worked at the shelves, emptying out the cardboard boxes filled with books.

“so… what’s the deal with you and monoma?” kaminari’s voice broke the silence, his curiosity getting the better of him. jirou was quick to slap him on the back of the neck, muttering an exasperated “idiot.”

you gripped the rag a little tighter, your knuckles turning white as you turned to offer them a forced smile. “just a little misunderstanding.”

“a misunderstanding, huh?” shinsou’s smirk grew wider, his voice dripping with amusement. “that’s not what it looked like to me. seemed pretty clear-cut.”

“it’s complicated,” you replied, trying to keep your tone even. “but, in essence, yes, a misunderstanding.” you didn’t owe them an explanation, but their stares were unwavering, pressing for more. the lack of noise from their end of the room suggested that they had all stopped cleaning to face you, their curiosity practically tangible.

the tension in the room thickened, the silence amplified to an almost unbearable degree. all that could be heard was your violent scrubbing, the rag squeaking against the desk, occasionally shifting it with the force of your movements. you tried to gather your thoughts, searching for anything to say that might lighten the mood, but your emotions were hard to keep in check.

all you could think about was the way monoma had looked at you when you tossed that drink in his face. his expression was a mixture of shock and anger, but that was it. that was all that was there. he didn’t look at you like someone who had spent the entire summer with you. no, he looked at you like you were some random psycho who had a bad day and decided to take it out on him.

your grip on the rag tightened further, the fabric digging into your palm as the memories swirled in your mind. the silence continued to stretch on, oppressive and heavy. finally, unable to take it anymore, you muttered under your breath, barely audible but enough to break the tension.

“it’s not worth talking about.”

with that, you turned back to the desk, determined to focus on anything other than the prying eyes behind you.

the tension lightened on its own, everyone in the room seemingly understanding that you weren't ready to talk about it and decided to respect your wishes. everyone except for bakugou.

“you gonna tell us or what?” he grumbled, his tone impatient and rough.

you quickly turned your head towards bakugou, meeting his sharp gaze with a glare of your own. “there isn’t anything to talk about. we worked together over the summer and got a little close. that’s it.” your words had come out a little more strained than you had hoped. 

you wanted to end it there, already continuing to clean off the desk in front of you, but there was a tight knot of heat rising in your chest, coiling tighter with each passing second, threatening to unravel if you didn’t get the words out. “it’s messed up, but i kind of saw it coming,” you said with a bitter laugh.

“he’d been pretty distant lately,” your tone a little sharper this time, cutting through the air with a bitterness that surprised even you. 

the words hung in the air, and you felt a surge of frustration bubbling up inside you. “but i just can’t stop thinking about it,” you continued, your voice rising with both anger and disbelief. “like—who even does that? who cheats so obviously, so publicly?”

your frustration began to boil over as you paced the room, your hands gesturing wildly. “it was almost like he wanted everyone to see it—including me,” you said, your voice now a little unsteady with rage. “and the worst part? he didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. like it didn’t matter at all.”

the room thickened with tension, the air heavy as everyone exchanged uneasy glances but remained silent. you could feel their eyes on you, waiting for more, but you had nothing left to say. the silence grew oppressive, pressing down on your chest and making it hard to breathe. you turned back to your little section, your movements more deliberate as you tried to push aside the painful thoughts.

“you should’ve hit him instead,” bakugou said gruffly, breaking the silence with a sharp edge to his voice. “dumping soda is for kids.”

you shot him a glare, your patience wearing thin. “what did you expect? a brawl in the middle of the cafeteria?” your voice dripped with sarcasm,“i’m not a violent person, unlike some people,” you snapped, referencing his infamous temper. “heard about your little incident with the soccer coach.”

bakugou’s smirk widened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “should’ve taken a couple of notes and tossed that can at his head,” he retorted, his tone lightening with a hint of amusement, but still laced with that familiar bite.

you huffed, crossing your arms as you faced him. “not everyone solves their problems with their fists, bakugou. some of us try to handle things like normal human beings.”

he rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall mimicking your pose. “that shits boring. you wanna get back at someone, you make sure they don’t forget it. that bastard deserves more than a soda bath for what he did.”

bakugou’s words hung in the air, and for a moment, the room seemed to pulse with the intensity of his conviction. his eyes were locked on yours. your eyes narrowed, a mix of frustration and something else—something like agreement—simmering beneath the surface. bakugou might have been blunt and abrasive, but there was something in his words that struck a chord with you. he wasn’t pitying you; he was angry on your behalf, and that made his support, twisted as it was, feel oddly genuine.

“thanks for the advice,” you muttered, your voice a little steadier now as you turned back to the desk, focusing on the task at hand. “but i’ll handle it my way.”

bakugou paused for a moment before shrugging “your loss,” he muttered, turning away with a huff as he resumed sweeping, his movements no less aggressive than before.

as the clock ticked closer to the end of detention, the atmosphere in the room began to shift. the earlier scene between you and bakugou had fortunately been enough to let the room settle back into a more comfortable silence. you all continued to work towards a clean room, consistently glancing at the clock in the front of the room.

jirou, who had been dusting off a set of old drums in the corner, paused for a moment, her eyes flicking over to the guitar propped against the wall. in this quiet, awkward moment, it seemed to be calling to her. without a word, jirou picked up the guitar, her fingers instinctively finding the chords from the song she had been trying to write earlier that morning. she strummed a few notes, testing the strings, and the sound filled the small room, breaking the silence in a way that felt almost magical. the melody was soft at first, a gentle, soothing tune.

momo, a little intrigued, put down the sheet music she had been organizing and moved over to the piano in the corner. she sat down, her fingers hovering over the keys. she paused for a moment focusing on the tune. jirou made her way towards her helping to count her in, and soon she began to play, adding a delicate harmony to jirou’s guitar.

kaminari, catching onto the impromptu performance, quickly grabbed a guitar from a nearby shelf. he adjusted the strap, tuning it with quick, practiced movements before joining in with an upbeat rhythm that contrasted with the gentle melody.

shinsou, watching the growing musical ensemble, found a bass guitar leaning against the wall. he picked it up, his fingers gliding over the strings as he added a smooth, steady bassline that nearly tied everything together.

bakugou’s sweeping had slowed to a near stop, watching the scene with a mixture of irritation and something else—something that looked a lot like interest. despite himself, he found his foot tapping along to the beat, though he kept his face set in a scowl, determined not to show that he was enjoying it.

kaminari noticed his friends behavior and looked over at him with a cheeky smile, “cmon bakugou, you gotta know how to play something”

bakugou glared at him, but there was a spark of something in his eyes—a challenge that he couldn’t resist. with a low growl, he finally gave in, he put down his broom and marched over to the drums, plopping himself down in the little stoll, quickly finding the drumsticks, his movements were loud and brash, but precise and added a flare that caused the others to cheer.

shinsou had locked eyes with you and slowly walked towards you as he continued to strum to the rhythm, he nudged you with his foot, his voice low as he teased, “scared to join in? thought you were better than that.”

you rolled your eyes, but the playful challenge in his words was enough to make you crack a smile. without giving him the satisfaction of a reply, you started humming along, your voice adding another layer to the growing chorus.

jirou was quick to reach into her bag and point to the song she had been playing, lyrics already spread across the page. it would be rude to ignore her invitation so you began singing along, your voice adding a bright, energetic layer to the growing melody. as you sang, you moved around the room, book still in hand, draping furry scarves over shinsou and kaminari, who both looked momentarily surprised but amused by the sudden accessory.

kaminari wore a goofy grin as he tapped his foot to the beat, while shinsou raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help a chuckle as the scarf was wrapped around his neck. you picked up a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses and plopped them on bakugou’s face, who initially tried to swat them off but eventually gave in with a reluctant smirk.

jirou, still playing the guitar, laughed as you placed a sparkly crown on her head, and momo soon found herself wearing a matching crown as you draped one over her too. the playful transformation gave everyone an almost surreal, whimsical look, turning the music room into a makeshift stage of goofy fun.

the room erupted into spontaneous dancing. jirou and momo twirled around with their crowns, while kaminari and shinsou tried to keep up with the beat on their instruments, all while their furry scarves whirled around them. bakugou, had pushed his heart sunglasses up, wearing it as a headband, and he couldn’t suppress a genuine laugh as he played the drums with extra flair, his usual intensity softened by the sheer absurdity of the moment.

the room now resonated with laughter and music. you all played together, your individual sounds blending into a surprisingly harmonious and fun song. bakugou pounded the drums with intensity, a fierce look of concentration on his face. jirou's guitar riffs were energetic and playful, while momos keyboard added an unexpected but beautiful layer to the music. kaminari guitar strumming was enthusiastic and full of life, and shinsous bass lines were steady and grounding.

as the song came to an end, they all exchanged glances, a mix of surprise and amusement on their faces. but a loud squeal snapped you all out of your excitement. 

“wow, that was amazing!” ms. midnight said, clapping her hands together with a beaming smile. mr. aizawa, standing behind her with his usual stoic demeanor, nodded approvingly but remained quiet.

ms. midnight’s playful challenge hung in the air. “you guys should definitely give that monoma brat a run for their money. if this is how you perform when you’re having fun, imagine what you could do on stage!”

despite her praise, the six of you exchanged awkward glances before shrugging off her suggestion as you all made your way back to your seats. but ms. midnight wasn’t one to let things go so easily. she quickly approached the group, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“ms. yaoyorozu, your precision and control are impeccable, as always,” ms. midnight said, turning to momo with a warm smile. “you brought such elegance to the performance—it really grounded everything.”

momo gave a modest nod, her cheeks tinged with pink from the compliment. “thank you, ms. midnight,” she replied with a small smile, always the picture of grace. “but–”

“and as for you three—you were the driving force behind this whole thing! mr. kaminari, your energy was contagious, ms. jirou, those riffs were killer, and mr. bakugou, that intensity? perfect for the stage.” passion was practically spilling out of her as she danced around the room complimenting everyone. 

kaminari’s eyes lit up, and he grinned widely, clearly pleased with the praise. jirou smirked, nodding her appreciation, while bakugou crossed his arms and scowled, “whatever.”

“oh, don’t be like that, mr. bakugou,” ms. midnight teased lightly, her gaze shifting to shinsou. “and mr. shinsou, your cool, laid-back vibe really balanced everything out. it’s like you’re the calm in the storm, keeping everyone on track.”

shinsou gave a casual nod, “just doing my part.”

finally, ms. midnight’s attention turned to you. her expression softened, and she looked directly into your eyes with a more intimate focus. “and as for you, y/n…”

you felt your heart drop to the depths of your stomach as her gaze zeroed in on you. her voice lowered slightly, making the moment feel more personal. “your voice was just incredible out there.”

you flinched slightly, taken aback by her sudden closeness. “uh, thanks. just... was having fun with it.”

ms. midnight leaned in even closer, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. “oh, don’t be so modest! it was fantastic. you have such a unique tone—meshed beautifully with those friends of yours. how come ive never heard it before?”

just as you were about to respond, a chuckle came from the back of the room. shinsou, who had been silently observing the interaction, smirked and spoke up.

“you know, y/n’s got the talent, no doubt,” shinsou said, his voice tinged with amusement. “but i think i remember—”

before he could continue, kaminari suddenly chimed in, cutting him off. “honestly, ms. midnight, you’re giving us way too much credit. we also dont even know each other, calling us all friends seems like a stretch”

shinsou frowned slightly, sinking back into his seat, clearly a little annoyed by the interruption. but it gave you a sense of relief. ms. midnight pouted slightly but wasn’t ready to back down.

“oh, come on, kaminari!” she exclaimed. “imagine how stunned everyone would be if you guys took the stage at the halloween bash. picture it: a lineup of raw talent that’d have everyone’s jaws on the floor, a feast for the eyes and ears!”

jirou, who had been quietly observing, chimed in with a smirk. “sounds like you’re really pushing for this, ms. midnight. ya sure you’re not just trying to live vicariously through us?”

ms. midnight laughed, waving off the comment. “maybe a little, but mostly, i just know talent when i see it. you all have something special, and i’d hate to see it go to waste.”

as ms. midnight stepped back, you let out a small sigh of relief, your cheeks flushed from the close encounter. the conversation had clearly left an impact, with some more than others, but you all remained resolute. the idea of becoming a band, especially for the halloween bash, was firmly off the table. you were ready to move on and put this performance behind you, knowing full well that there was no way in hell you’d be performing again anytime soon.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“hell no, headphones!” the shouting echoed down the hallway, the frustration in the voice was unmistakable. your face flushed with annoyance, the events of the day already wearing your patience thin. you glanced over at shinsou, who had his head resting against the wall of the elevator, muttering curses under his breath. the kid next to him shot nervous glances in your direction.

you and shinsou trudged down the hall towards the music room, neither of you particularly eager for what awaited inside. what was supposed to be a single day of detention for the group—except for jirou—had turned into a second round of cleaning thanks to the chaos you’d all caused with the instruments.

apparently, there had been a very intense chess match in the room next door, a title match that could’ve earned the chess club a spot upstairs with the regular clubs. but because of your little ‘band practice,’ their star player got too distracted and lost his round, condemning the club to another year of basement meetings. 

you had all been made aware of your later detentions during your homerooms. while everyone had grudgingly accepted their fate, bakugou nearly earned himself another week. he was quick to find and scold the chess player, claiming that if he were as skilled as he said he was, he would’ve won despite the distractions. mr. aizawa, however, let him off with just a stern warning about his temper. it seemed aizawa was either feeling lenient or simply couldn’t stand the thought of dealing with bakugou in detention for another week.

you both reached the end of the hallway where the small yellow vending machine was placed, you exchanged a knowing look with shinsou and before you knew it you shinsou was already putting in the bills for a drink, a small indulgence from the day’s frustrations.

as you reached into the machine to grab your drink, you heard a call of your name causing you to turn around. kaminari and momo had arrived and they both offered kind greetings. they came up behind you, each buying drinks of their own. kaminari had seemingly remembered his wallet this time. the four of you made a show of clinking your cups before grimacing at the taste.

you all entered the classroom and you made your way over to an empty desk, dumping your stuff onto the chair before walking over to grab a rag and a spray bottle. however, you were quickly stopped by an uncharacteristically cheerful jirou. she held your spray bottle in one hand and the rag in the other. you gave her a small smile and a quick thanks before reaching out for the set, but she took a quick step back, her smile unchanging. you furrowed your eyebrows, confused, and reached for them again only for her to take another step back.

“wh-”

“pleasejointhebandireallywanttocompeteandifeelliketheressomethinghere—”

“what are you saying?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“midnight got into her head with all that bullshit and now she wants us to become a band for the night and play at that stupid halloween dance,” bakugou grumbled his voice laced with irritation as he continued to empty our boxes and organize the various music books into their respective shelves.

a collective groan erupted from the group as the realization sank in. it was obvious that the earlier outburst had come from bakugou, who had reacted explosively when jirou first proposed her idea.

“tried to tell her that we already did the singing thing once. no need to turn this into a thing,” bakugou added, slamming a book down with enough force to make everyone jump.

momo shook her head, clearly unimpressed. “jirou, while i do admit it was rather enjoyable, i have to agree with bakugou. it was supposed to be a one-time thing. we’re in our final year now. we have more important things to focus on.’”

jirou’s enthusiasm didn’t wane. “cmon guys, you all have gotta hear me out.”

she continued to follow you. even while you began working at your own section, hoping that she would take the hint. “ it’s a chance to showcase our skills, have some fun, and—” she paused dramatically. “monoma’s gonna be performing as well!”

you knew what she was implying, but you couldn’t stop yourself from humoring her just a bit, “so?” 

“sooo thisll be a fun way to humiliate him by simply being better than him! and i’m pretty sure the best band gets some sort of prize, who doesn’t love a good prize” jirou clasped her hands together and looked at you with large hopeful eyes. and when you turned to face her, you swore you could see a literal twinkle inside of them. 

“i will admit i do love prizes.” kaminari muttered, jirou was quick to turn her attention towards him slamming both of her hands down on his desk dramatically.

kaminari leaned back in his chair, trying to escape the intensity of jirou’s gaze but clearly intrigued. “but isn’t monoma just going to show off? hes been doing this kinda thing for a while now.”

“exactly!” jirou grinned triumphantly, as if kaminari’s reluctance was exactly the confirmation she needed. “that’s why it’ll be so satisfying to beat him. and think about it—we’ll be the highlight of the dance! plus, it's halloween! we can dress up, add a theme to our performance, make it unforgettable!”

bakugou scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at jirou. “you really think we have time to mess around with costumes and setlists? i’m not interested in stroking monoma’s ego by even pretending he’s competition.”

jirou didn’t miss a beat. “oh, please, bakugou. like you wouldn’t love to blow him off the stage with one of your killer drum solos. ”

for a brief moment, bakugou’s expression wavered, as if he was genuinely considering the idea. but then he shook his head, returning to his usual scowl. “it doesn’t matter,” he said firmly. “we’ve got exams, college applications, and real-world shit to deal with. we can’t waste our time on this nonsense.”

momo nodded in agreement, “bakugou’s right. our schedules are packed. we don’t have the luxury to divert our focus from important tasks.”

kaminari, who had been unusually quiet up until now, suddenly perked up, his face brightening with enthusiasm. “i’m with jirou on this! come on, guys, it’s our last year! we should make the most of it. plus, we’ve got the talent—why not show it off?”

shinsou, who had been quietly listening to the exchange, finally spoke up, “i dunno. it could actually be kinda fun.”

bakugou shot shinsou a heated glare, his frustration boiling over. “you too, eyebags? i expected this bullshit from him,” he said, jabbing a finger towards kaminari, “but i didnt think youd be dumb enough to fall for this crap too.” 

 shinsou shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “it’s not exactly my scene, but i don’t have much else going on right now. why not give it a go? besides, i’m not a fan of monoma either. it’d be satisfying to put him in his place."

“yeah, come on, bakugou, you’ve already got the jump on him in soccer and academics—why not try this?” kaminari asked. he’d known bakugou since they were in grade school, understanding exactly how he ticked and which buttons to push.

bakugou shot him a sharp glare, carefully weighing his response. after a tense pause, bakugou finally spoke up, “alright, so what if i agree? what happens if this turns into a disaster?”

jirou placed a hand on her hip, her smirk widening. “disaster? with you in the band? please, bakugou. the only disaster here would be if we didn’t give the crowd a show they’d never forget. and let’s be real, if anyone can turn this into a win, it’s you.”

bakugou’s eyes narrowed, the tension in the room clear as he glared at jirou. the two locked eyes, the unspoken challenge between them crackling with electricity. jirou didn’t flinch, her gaze steady. she knew she was playing on bakugou’s pride and competitive spirit.

bakugou’s lips twitched, a flicker of a smirk betraying his resolve. after a long pause, he finally growled, “fine. but we’re doing this my way. no half-assed performances. we’re going all in. you screw up, and i’ll make sure you regret it.”

jirou’s face lit up with victory. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

before the excitement could fully settle in, momo stepped forward, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. her expression and tone were serious as she spoke, “i’m not trying to be a killjoy, but have you all thought this through? this isn’t just about jamming for fun. if we mess this up, it’ll reflect poorly on all of us. we’ve barely got two weeks, and we’re up against monoma—who, despite his flaws, knows how to put on a show.”

momo’s frown deepened. “and if things go wrong, we’re risking our reputations.”

unfortunately, that sense of responsibility and reputation really only applied to bakugou, momo, and kaminari. each of them had made a name for themselves at the school, though for very different reasons. you, shinsou, and jirou were on the opposite end of the popularity spectrum. both you and shinsou preferred to stay out of the spotlight. you both typically chose to avoid unnecessary attention. jirou, having transferred midway through last year, was still somewhat of a mystery and had yet to establish a reputation of her own.

 kaminari, ever the optimist, waved a hand dismissively. “so what if we embarrass ourselves a little? we’ll have a good laugh about it later. besides, mo, you’re always the one telling us to balance work and play. this could be our chance to do that.”

momo hesitated as she weighed her options, glancing around the room she could see the resolve in their eyes. she also couldn’t deny the fact that part of her found the idea of a band a bit exciting.

“fine,” momo said slowly, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “but just promise that we are going to approach this with the seriousness it deserves. i cant allow myself to be part of something that falls apart because we failed to put enough effort ”

jirou’s face broke into a wide grin, and she clapped her hands together in excitement. “yes! this is going to be amazing! i promise, momo, you won’t regret it.” 

now all eyes were on you, and you were still trying to grasp how things had changed so quickly. barely a few minutes ago, the idea had faced the strong resistance as yesterday, yet jirou had managed to win everyone over, with bakugou’s agreement being the most surprising. 

that scene in the lunchroom was the most spotlight you’d had in years, and you had always preferred to remain in the background. it had taken years for the whispers about that middle school incident to fade, and now this performance felt like a shortcut to more unwanted attention and awkward reminders.

but it was clear that no matter what you said now, they would continue to push and attempt to persuade you. you were unfortunately fighting a losing battle. you sighed in defeat, meeting the eyes of your peers. “alright,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “i guess it won’t be that bad.” the group exchanged quick glances, a mix of excitement and apprehension settling over them.

jirou clapped her hands together, her excitement reaching a fever pitch. “this is going to be amazing! we’ve got the talent, the drive—now we just need to figure out the details.”

the room buzzed with a renewed energy as the group began tossing around ideas, discussing song choices, potential costumes, and ways to make their performance stand out all while continuing to tidy up. 

but as the conversation continued, your mind wandered, a flicker of doubt still lingering. you couldn’t shake the nervous knot in your stomach. the idea of standing up in front of the entire school, putting yourself out there like that, was daunting. you could only hope that this gamble would pay off and not end in disaster.

a/n: GUYS PLS TELL ME IF THE SCENE WHERE THEY LIT JUST BROKE INTO A JAM SESH IS CRINGE PLS I WANTED IT TO BE LIKE THE MOVIE BUT OMFG FELT LIKE I WAS WRITING A Y/N SINGING FIGHTSONG DURING THE SPORTS FESTIVAL SCENE. but anyways, i decided this is going to be a band au with lemonade mouth elements bc i lowk fucked up with the characters and the plotline! also i have my full outline now #yippie! also sorry for deleting and uploading, i kept changing the picture. still not a fan of this one, might have to mess around and make my own...

taglist:

likes & reblogs & constructive criticism are all welcomed and appreciated <33333

thank you sm for reading this! im gonna try and pump out another chapter tomorrow or the day after <3

[coffeetank]

7 Simple Literary Devices That Elevate your Writing

1. Mood:

The mood of your story is the ambience you're trying to create around your setting and characters in a book. For example, in a horror story, the mood of the book will dark and ominous. In a romantic comedy, the mood of the book will be light-hearted, funny and swoon-worthy.

The mood of your story needs to be maintained throughout your book as it is the direct emotional environment of the themes you're using. It does not change at any point of the story.

2. Metaphor:

Metaphor is a literary device where you compare two things without using the words "as" or "like". It is an indirect comparison that convinces you of the similarities between two things.

For example: "You knowledge is your weapon." This sentence is indirectly comparing knowledge to a weapon to imply that both can be used to protect/defend/fight.

3. Simile:

Simile is a figure of speech that directly compares two things and insists on their similarities. You use "as" and "like".

For example: "slept like a baby" or "as light as a cloud".

4. Colloquialism:

Colloquialism is the device used to fit a more informal environment. Imagine the way you talk to your friends or family. You are a lot more relaxed with them than you are in a professional setting, say work or university.

Colloquialism is especially important for dialogues as your characters are not going to be speaking formally with each other all the time.

For example: Words like "wanna", "gonna" are used in dialogue to show how a character talks. Moreover, a lot of time, people don't pronounce the 'g' in '—ing' words which is another easy way of showing how your characters talk; talkin', goin', etc.

5. Imagery:

Easy, effective, engaging — imagery is a common and useful tool that can help you with descriptions.

Imagery is a device used for descriptive writing as it triggers your reader's senses. We have five senses — touch, smell, hearing, seeing and taste. Using imagery will invoke these senses in your readers and they will be able to put themselves into the world you're creating for them.

For example: "The house reeked of alcohol, the windows deeply ingrained with dirt. The wooded floor creaked with every step he took. When he came across the plate of cake left unattended on the dining table, he almost retched at the thought of how it would've tasted."

6. Amplification:

Amplification is a literary device used to emphasise on the importance of something being conveyed. Amplification uses a detailed extension of an already understandable sentence/word/phrase to add more to it's value.

Amplification can be used in both descriptions and dialogue based on it's requirement. If you're writing a character that's dramatic, they may resort to using amplification to focus on their POV. If you're writing a serious scene, they you may use amplification to describe the essence of it.

For example: "You could be the richest man alive, have a closet full of designer brands, line up a hundred lambos, wear the most expensive shoes ever made, eat Michelin star meals, sleep in the finest of silks, date the most beautiful of women, but you still won't be happy unless you've actually worked on yourself."

Designer brands, expensive shoes, lavish cars are all self-given details that we'd understand once we read the phrase "richest man alive", but those details are still written to add importance to the point being made about working on oneself.

7. Tone:

Tone is a tool you use when writing about the subject in question. Tone involves a particular incident/scene/circumstance on your work where there is a shift in the general ambience only until the subject matter is resolved.

For example, if you're writing a romantic comedy and your two main leads have fought recently, then instead of your general liveliness, you will write a bit dully to show that your characters are going through some problems. This will go on until your characters make up.

**NOTE: Tone and Mood are not the same thing. I will make a post soon about the difference between tone and mood too.

Hope this helps!

-ashlee

[rottenpumpkin13]

what would aszc do if Genesis just kinda collapsed one day?

You mean like this?

Amidst Genesis' volatile temper and penchant for dramatics, there was one constant sign of frailty yet to come: his voice. It was a barometer of his health, an instrument he had been taught to play against his will since birth, tuned to the subtle shifts in his health.

The first signs were subtle—a slight quiver where there once was a firm tone, a rasp where there was once resonance, a cough at the end of a sentence that grew tighter with each word. Those who knew him well could detect the shifts, often when Genesis himself remained willfully blind to his declining health.

Genesis would dismiss their concerns with a wave of his hand, claiming it was merely fatigue, asserting he was fine, "can a man not cough in peace?" with a hint of disdain for their concern.

But that day Genesis defied all expectations. He was not teetering on the verge of impending illness, nor was his voice any different than it had been all week—strong and mellifluous, matched by his buoyant mood. He flourished, his laughter reverberating through the corridors of headquarters as he entertained a group of eager third-class recruits with tales of his recent exploits. His cheeks were flushed, his smile genuine and his presence commanding—all observations noted by Cloud, who had only recently made Third, as he entered the training facility.

Meaning it came as a profound shock when Genesis suddenly collapsed without warning, his body convulsing in agony as he collided with the ground.

Cloud's cry for Angeal pierced the air before he even realized he was moving, his knees hitting the ground hard as he cradled his commander's head in his lap. "Someone get Angeal!" Cloud screamed to the other Thirds, their panic matching his own. "Go!" he urged, hands trembling as he checked for a pulse, doubting what he found.

Zack was the first to arrive despite the shouts, having been training in a nearby chamber when Cloud's urgent voice pierced through the din of the combat simulator. He rushed into the scene to find Angeal and Cloud in heated debate over the best course of action. He arrived just as their argument reached its peak:

"We need to get him to the medical facility," Cloud insisted. "It's the quickest way to diagnose and help him."

"No," Angeal countered firmly. "We take him to Hollander. He's been Genesis' physician for years, he'll know what to do."

"Time's running out, guys!" Zack snapped as he stepped between them and swiftly lifted Genesis onto his shoulders. With Cloud and Angeal trailing in argument, they hurried out of the facility.

Sephiroth had been in the briefing room when it happened, deep in discussion with Lazard, when movement caught his eye through the glass. He saw Cloud, Zack, and Angeal rushing urgently, with Zack holding an unconscious Genesis thrown over his shoulder. Without a moment's hesitation, he ran out, leaving Lazard mid-sentence.

He caught up just as they reached the elevator. "What happened?" Sephiroth's gaze flickered between Genesis and Angeal. "What did he do?"

"Nothing," Cloud was breathless and visibly shaken, strugging to explain and find his words. "He collapsed⏤out of nowhere," he managed between gasps. "We don't know… he just...went down!"

Sephiroth's thoughts raced as the elevator descended. The sight unnerved him, because he had witness far too many of Genesis' brushes with death to be mollified by their route toward the medical facility.

The urgency with which a team of doctors and nurses rushed to meet them only heightened the tension, the blaring alarm sounding throughout the white hallways as they swiftly strapped Genesis to a gurney. They hurried off with him, leaving the rest of them without answers or any assurance that he would recover.

But Genesis awoke six hours later, disoriented and feeling as if the goddess herself had forced him back to consciousness. Cloud, Angeal, Sephiroth, and Zack were granted entry into the room, where they found him alert, but his attempt at cheerfulness was visibly forced as he greeted them.

Sephiroth wasted no time in asking: "What happened?"

Genesis scoffed lightly. "It's silly, really," he assured, lifting the medical gown to reveal a fresh scratch on his hip bone. "I got nicked by the enemy on that mission two days ago," he explained, his gaze momentarily falling to the injury. "It seems the wound hasn't healed yet, but don't worry," he added hastily, covering the scratch with the gown and attempting a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm sure it will."

[nshtn]

when wesker finds out that you used painkillers during your last sparring matches, he decides to try it himself next time. you didn't seem any less fast or snappy, so what if it could end up being useful in combat?

that makes it worthy of a test. he calculates his dose based on his weight and extra blood filtration. you're unaware.

mistake! turns out t-virus doesn't inhibit its' potential!

it starts off relatively normal save for the good mood he seems to be in, until you two actually begin. you usually focus on dodging, because wesker cheats a little and can't help but put a little t-virus behind his hits in a bid for superiority in all things. and maybe, maybe a reminder of how weak you are compared to him - how soft, how fragile, how in need of his saving grace and endless mercy. when a hit connects with you, though, the feeling arcs through him like lightning: hot and searing, and perfect.

he absolutely needs to feel that again! the mood elevation is getting to him, making him sloppy in a hyperaggressive effort to land another on you so he can feel the pleasure intermingling with physical superiority. it's not inherent to the chemical itself, but the modulation of sensation!

and you recoil so beautifully, too, clutching your chest and suppressing a pathetic grunt of pain as you reject a heave. it's almost erotic.

"do you need a moment? you're like a lamb to slaughter. you're lagging behind..." you grimace. he sounds so condescending. he continues, "oh, don't worry, i'll patch you up after this. quit pouting."

you think he's done, but he breathes out, voice getting unexpectedly deeper. if you were insane, you'd think it was husky. "i can't have my best toy getting broken, can i? good thing i'm the only one who gets to break you like this... if anyone else saw you, you'd be fired."

god, he's cocky, but never like this. you flush a little; there's an undeniable, disturbed intimacy that weaves like a toxin through those words. what's gotten into him? maybe he's trying to provoke you...

you rush him while he's gloating and blabbering, carrying the element of surprise around your neck like a noose, and he gets a direct punch to the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. the sound that erupts from him is filthy, not the scowl you expected: he staggers, first, a little faster than you but not quick enough, and his mouth opens like he's anticipating the filtered sound he should make, but the sensation doesn't align with his expectation and something unexpected drawls from his still-parted lips, eyebrows tightening far more than they should.

you're on him before he can recover, bringing your knee up to collide with the same sore spot before, wrapping your arms around him to grapple him as if you might be capable of mustering the strength to break through his augmentation through sheer will. this time he does scowl, his own, larger pair caging you in his iron grip, forcing you to keep your knee digging - an odd prospect, but you can't flex it to complete the move. you lose your balance, but instead of him forcing you off and toppling backwards, he falls with you, a hiss that ends with a climbing, shivering whine, hips forcing your knee deeper.

his precious sunglasses slack at the gravity and movement, shuffling forward enough to expose his glittering eyes...

they're blown out, the golden filigree of them barely visible, clouded over with far too large of a dose to maintain his professionalism.

just how much did he take?

[thatonedaydream]

Don’t really wanna be Elevator Buddies (Sephiroth x Reader)

A/N: Part 1 here. im suffering sufficiently at my current job that im leaving that i think i can write something because i need an outlet and i also want sephiroth to make it better. also, i am so much older than when i wrote the first part; as such, my writing probably reads a lot more different - better, worse or same is up to you. to those who have requested a part 2 and have waited literal years (its been 4!!!!!), i love you, i'm so sorry its so late.

★★★★★

Staring at the message in your work inbox, you suddenly couldn’t summon the effort to care. Your mood instantly dropped and you needed to leave your desk. You kept your headset on as you wandered towards the small staff kitchen under the guise that you were still connected to a meeting and listening in, when really you just want to block people out. You didn’t want to be perceived.

You just wanted out.

ShinRa Inc wasn’t known as the best place to work, but the pay was good and it was better than any other options you had. 

The coffee machine rumbled as you waited for it to process your order. You didn’t even want to drink the cheap, watered down stuff, you just didn’t want to be at your desk looking at that stupid fucking request. There wasn’t much that could get your out of these kinds of emotional troughs bar one thing that seemed to always work.

You felt the vibration of a notification from your phone in your pocket. Knowing what and who it was probably from, you eagerly checked the new message that had come through. It was just a photo of blue sky with some clouds—the tops of greenery you didn’t recognise lined the bottom. It was very abstract and out of context, but you were used to it now.

Putting aside your misery for the moment, you typed out a short response.

I can’t beat that. This is my view.

You took a photo of the ceiling above you. Stark, stale and claustrophobic in comparison to the natural sky you were given. You sent it off and only a few seconds later, received a thumbs up in response. It made you laugh.

Sephiroth was a terrible at texting sometimes, but it was endearing in way.

When you had first traded contact details a little after The Elevator Incident, it had taken a while before anything was sent from either of you. You were too scared of bothering him and he was more than likely too busy or just didn’t know what to send. It also felt like trading personal IDs was crossing into an entirely different friend territory that wasn’t as nonchalant as impromptu elevator conversations.

The messaging ice was broken when, one day, you got a single image of chocobo out in the wild with no context. If you didn’t have Sephiroth’s ID saved, you would have wondered if someone had messaged the wrong person. Your response was a quick ‘I love chocobos, they’re so cute!’, and your reward several hours later was a picture of a sweetly sleeping chocobo in a stable.

Sephiroth was a man of very few words, but he still found ways to communicate with you and that honestly made you feel… Well, you weren’t sure you wanted to admit what you were feeling too much. You knew you had feelings for the man, that you were attracted to him, but those feelings had no where to go. You couldn’t tell him.

For many reasons, you just couldn’t ever tell him about your ever growing affection for him.

You just couldn’t.

You wandered back to your desk, completely forgetting about the coffee you had made in the kitchen. The message from the 1st Class Soldier perked you up way more than the caffeine would have anyway. You scrolled through your requests again and sighed. It was probably going to be another late night in the office. Maybe you’d just call in sick tomorrow.

You worked a few more hours, eyeing your phone and hoping for more messages, but none came. Sephiroth was often the one to initiate conversation as you still felt like you would bother him if you sent something first. Still… You kind of really wanted to talk to someone—to him, specifically. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to send one message?

Picking up your phone you opened up your chat and tried to think of something to say. You typed out several things, but kept deleting them. ‘Hello’ felt too formal, ‘Hi!’ seemed too chipper.

Is something wrong?

The message popped up before you could send something yourself.

!!! No! I was just about to message you. How are you?

There was a pause—and then a short voice message.

▶• ıll— “Are you sure you’re alright? Was there something else you wanted to say to me?”  

You could hear the smile in his words and you flushed upon the realisation that he must have seen your stupid three dots pop up and disappear constantly in the chat. You playfully hissed your own voice note back, 

▶• ıll— “Ohhh shut up, I just didn’t want to bother you!” 

Putting your phone down, you peeked over your divider and looked around to see if anyone else could hear you. It was fairly late in the office, way past usual business hours, so you could see some screens still lit up around the  space, but there wasn’t anyone near you.

Your phone pinged a few times, indicating new messages. Some more photos, but this time of more a familiar sight—the Midgar cityscape.

I’m back.

It had been awhile since he had left on his last mission. You were glad he was back safe, not that you’d tell him that now. You sent off a quick, mildly motion blurred snap of your desk and sent it off.

?

A question mark? A question mark to what? The photo wasn’t that blurry.

It’s my desk.

Are you still working? It’s late.

Ohhhh… You cringed; it was late. Honestly if you didn’t procrastinate with absolute loathing and low morale earlier in the day you probably could have been home already, but you couldn’t push through the negativity.

Yeah, its been a rough day.

You waited for a response, but none came. Sephiroth went inactive spontaneously during your conversations, so it wasn’t surprising. Instead you put your phone down and continued on a project that was behind on its deadlines. Technically all of them were behind, but this one you at least had the energy to push through for now.

An hour later your phone pinged a couple times. A photo of the elevator you used everyday to get to up to your floor and:

Time to leave.

You stared at the message, biting your lip. Even if you wanted to leave, there was still things to be done and—

Do I have to drag you out?

▶• ıll— “Okay! Alright! I’m packing up, hold your damn chocobos. I’m leaving now.”

Who knew Sephiroth could be so pushy? During the long elevator ride down to the lobby, you wondered if maybe he only showed this side of himself to people he trusted or cared about. The thought made your stomach flip.

It could also have been that people never really gave Sephiroth the opportunity to be himself. It was an upsetting thought. He was the 1st Class Soldier, a warrior that couldn’t be toppled, a man way above the norm. Untouchable. Distant. You knew what his public image was like, but still somehow you couldn’t fathom how people couldn’t consider that there was another side to him.

The side of him that you always got to see.

The same Sephiroth that you saw was waiting for you as the elevator doors opened. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He stood by the empty reception desk with his arms crossed, looking out the front entrance. When he heard your footsteps he turned to face you almost immediately. The man’s expression would have seemed stoic to others, but you recognised the warmth in his mako-infused gaze.

What if you were the only person he looked at that way? You held your smile steady even as your heart argued with your head to accept that maybe that’s what you really wanted.

It felt like Sephiroth’s gaze only intensified as you approached him. “...You look awful.” His voice was low, quiet, but still teasing. There was a chuckle in there too, somewhere in his deep tone. Sure you had heard it recently in the voice message, but it wasn’t the same as hearing him speak to you in person.

“That’s so mean, Seph. Not even a proper greeting for me? Wow.” Even though you were exhausted, you automatically matched his manner. “You look…” Oh, you couldn’t tell him how you really felt about how he looked. There were so many adoring and affectionate words, yet somehow still not enough. “...Like you?” You finally sputtered out after filtering all the other things that your mouth wanted to say.

The 1st Class Soldier gifted you with a short laugh and you struggled to hold back the burst of emotions that bloomed in your chest. “You are so mean to me.” This interaction wasn’t like the others. This didn’t feel like the light playful chats in the elevator. When did these interactions change? When did all the same words that you used to use before suddenly mean something different?

Sephiroth suddenly leaned closer towards you, a small smirk crossing his lips. “I am nice to you.” The way he spoke was next to a purr, “Did you want me to be mean?” It felt like the mako glow in his eyes brightened for a moment; he was close enough that you could see specks of the otherworldly green in his irises.

You wanted to die on the spot. He was not flirting with you, no matter how much it felt like it. No way. However, before you could stop yourself, you replied quietly. “...I like it when you’re nice to me.” The look on Sephiroth’s face melted into something else—something just as warm, just as intense, but something so much more genuine and it immediately scared you. Before he could say anything more you let out dismissive laugh. “Phew, I am a lot more exhausted than I thought. I-I should probably get home.”

Maybe the fear was reflected in your expression. Sephiroth fell back into his usual cool and stoic demeanor and you wanted to apologise—it was hard not to feel as though you had just ruined something important. Casual conversation you could navigate. This? What was this?

Of course you’d find a way to make a bad day worse. Of course you’d ruin a good thing. Of course you’d—

A large hand pressed into your lower back and guided you forwards, interrupting your downward spiraling thoughts. When you looked up at Sephiroth beside you, he simply watched and waited for you to take the lead. Nothing in how he looked at you had changed from when you had first exited the elevator. “There’s a car waiting for you outside.” That voice you so adored, was steady and warm and sure. Still the same.

Quietly you stepped outside with Sephiroth in tow. He opened the car door for you, nodding to the driver who did the same in return. You sat in the back seat, with the soldier leaning outside on the vehicle, looking in to make sure you were comfortable. 

“...Bye Seph.” You really did sound tired.

Sephiroth didn’t respond right away, but the silence wasn’t as heavy as the one inside the lobby. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. “Goodnight.” You knew there was something else he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. There was another pause before he shut the door for you.

You leaned back in your seat and let the butterflies run rampant in your belly, let the buzz run through your veins, let it hum through your body. You covered your hands with your face. It felt like there was still something left to say, a conversation left unfinished.

From outside the ShinRa building, Sephiroth watched as you were driven away out of sight. He stood there, holding what he really wanted to say to you in his throat.

It was frustrating for him to know he could physically conquer any fight, any conflict, except for whatever he could see going on in your eyes. Did you know that he could see you becoming more and more tired with each interaction you had? It frustrated him to no end knowing that people took advantage of you and your time and your efforts. Idiots. Fools. 

How could he put into words how you made him feel? Sephiroth was no good at words. He just wanted to keep you safe. He just wanted you not to be tired. He just wanted you to always smile when you saw him—a smile that said you were genuinely happy to see him. Not the 1st Class Soldier, but happy to see Sephiroth himself.

The man snapped out of his reverie as his phone pinged with a message. A voice note from you.

▶• ıll— “...I missed you, Sephiroth. Welcome home.”

Sephiroth stared at the screen of his phone.

And then he replayed the message, just to hear your voice again.

[yourmomxx]

[spring mornings]

words: 1,6k

It was a typical, late morning in spring. The sun had already risen, but not yet reached its highest state. Not that it mattered much in Gotham City. But today, even Mother Earth seemed to be in a generous mood, and here and there, a few rays of sunlight broke through the usual gray sea of clouds.

Somewhere, on the edge of town, just where the population thinned minimally, stood a tall residential complex – next to another one that looked the same, and another one that looked the same, and another one that looked the same.

Just like most of the rest of Gotham – or at least the parts that weren’t sponsored by Wayne Industries – this building was an old soul, spearing home to around three separate people per floor.

The apartments weren’t the biggest, and the floors in-between were cold due to the stone walls of the building, but at least there was an elevator. Also, it was mostly old people or petty criminals that found themselves living here. No real danger to anyone around.

Or so you would think.

But the real danger doesn’t come from within, no, in this case, it came from outside. An intruder.

It was a typical, late morning in spring. On a weekend. With mostly old people in the building. That were still sleeping.

But he didn’t care for that, no. He was leaning backwards on one of the plain white doors that led to a rented apartment, hands dipped in the pockets of his cargo pants and a loose-fitted T-Shirt. For once, his red hair wasn’t caught under a cap, he had gotten a haircut a while ago anyway.

He didn’t care about peace, he only cared about chaos. Because it was a late morning in spring, on a weekend, with mostly old people in the house that were still sleeping, and he was yelling.

“Oh, Jason, I love you so much! Oh, Jason, please, yes, exactly like that,” Roy Harper exaggeratingly moaned. He pitched his voice higher, in the – absurd – belief it would make him sound more girly-ish, his head was bumping the door behind him in few-second intervals.

Anyone listening would have thought that Roy was having a very ... spicy time down there. But no, he was alone, simply mocking a situation to draw the attention to him that he wanted.

It had been minutes since he had first entered the building, walked up the stairs, and knocked on the door to his best friend’s apartment, only to find that no one answered him. And because he just couldn’t leave it at that, he had decided to put on his little show, and his sounds were starting to become obnoxious to the entire rest of the people living in the building.

“You’re doing that so well Jason,” he kept on going. “Jason, I love you so much!”

Roy Harper had the body of a model athlete, but the mind (and in some’s opinion also the brains) of a five year-old. He was in the constant craving and need of attention and was determined that if nobody was available to give it to him – he would simply take it. Just like right now.

He knew that his best friend was home, and also that he was awake, judging by his inner watch but yet, he hadn’t opened the door for him.

And Roy could all too well figure out why. Which was the reason for all of this circus. Because he came here to see Jason, and if he wanted to see Jason, then he wouldn’t give up so easily, defeated by nothing more than a door.

The two of you were living together anyways, you could thoroughly study each other’s body parts another day.

The archer was just opening his mouth again, taking a deep breath for an extra loud exclamation (he didn’t even get to the kinky parts that he figured the two of you were totally into), when suddenly, and without any warning, the door he leaned on was opened from the inside.

With no time to adjust to his lack of leaning space, Roy fell backwards, flailing his arms for balance, and landed hard on the cold stone floor of Jason Todd’s apartment.

Still grinning, as he was looking up to see his best friend, who was standing leaned against the now open door.

“Hiya, Jay!”

“Roy.” Jason Todd’s voice was flat. His muscular arms were crossed in front of his chest and he was staring down at his best friend with a disapproving look.

He, on the other hand, was twisting his neck to take a farther look into the apartment – with a beaming smile, he recognized you standing in the empty doorframe between the kitchen and the living room.

“Hey, Y/N!” He greeted you. You gave a small wave back.

Roy frowned. Was he hallucinating or was your hair … tousled? And were you adjusting your pajama shirt? Oh, you so totally were!

The archer grinned cheekily. In one swift move - a total opposite to the rather clumsy entrance he had landed - he was back on his feet again and made his way to the left, directly into the small kitchen.

Vaguely, he heard Jason close the apartment door behind him. Determined, Roy headed for the hung shelves. He opened them one by one and closed them again, until he eventually found what he was looking for – a half-eaten bag of mini chocolate-chip cookies.

With a triumphant laugh, he pulled them out of the shelf, closed it behind him, and dug his hand in the bag.

Roy stuffed one cookie after the other in his mouth, without chewing even one of them properly, all while his feet absentmindedly carried him further into the apartment, through the threshold into the living room.

Both you and Jason leaned opposite him against the open doorframe, backs turned to the kitchen, and looked at your friend with raised eyebrows and crossed arms.

It was quiet for a while, only interrupted by the continuous munching noises of Roy devouring his cookies.

You tilted your head.

Normally, there were two possible reasons why Roy Harper would spontaneously seek out your and Jason’s apartment.

A) he was gravely injured and needed medical attendance as soon as possible. This usually happened at nights, or sometimes when he had decided he felt like starting a brawl.

Or case B) where he was just bored and in total need of attention.

You gave the archer in front of you a quick once-over with your eyes. Considering the lack of blood on his clothing and skin, and the fact that he could still walk upright, today the case seemed to be the latter. Also, the more common one, to be honest.

Jason seemed to have come to the same conclusion as you, because he was now shooting a disapproving look at his best friend.

“Roy, what do you want here?”

The addressed looked up from his cookie bag with stuffed cheeks. “Is this a bad time?” He muffled. “Oh, why am I asking, of course it is, you two were totally going at it.”

“I think what we are doing in our apartment is totally our business, Harper,” Jason almost spat at him. But Roy simply waved him off.

“Relax, it’s not like there was a problem, guys. I would love for Lian to have someone she can play with,” mumbled Roy, stuffing his face with even more cookies.

“We weren’t-” Jason groaned, frustrated. “Roy, what do you want? “

He shrugged. “Can’t I just come by to visit my good old friend once in a while? Huh, jaybird? My pal, my buddy, my boy?”

“Okay, that’s it.” Jason pushed himself off the wall and unceremoniously grabbed Roy’s shoulders.

“What are you doing?” The redhead asked, but Jason didn’t give him an answer. With all his strength, and the help of his apartment’s slippery floors, he pushed his best friend towards the door out of the apartment, which you courtly held open for both of them.

Roy turned around on the doorswell and threw Jason his best puppy dog eyes. “Come on, Jay, you can’t do that to me!”

“Call next time, Roy!” Jason simply said, and with a thump, he threw the door closed in his best friend’s face. At least he had left him the bag of cookies.

For a short while, Jason was just standing there, head close to the wall to check if Roy really was leaving. Only, when he heard footsteps disappear in the distance and the faint slam of the main door, he stepped back with a sigh.

You stood cross-armed, leaning on the kitchen counter. “Do you think we were a bit harsh on him?” you asked, and Jason turned to you.

“Nah,” he waved off. “He’ll be fine. He’s used to rejection.”

Your mouth fell open at his comment. “Jason!”

You slapped his shoulder playfully; he had taken a few steps towards you.

“What?” Your boyfriend laughed.

His voice dropped lower as he leant down to you, his warm breath was brushing over your ear. “Was just saying how it is.”

Then he captured your lips in a warm kiss, lifting his hands to grip your waist and pull you even closer to his body than you already were – trapped between him and the kitchen counter.

A soft moan managed its way past your lips at the movement, and you gripped your hands subconsciously into the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Now”, Jason grinned, when he broke away from you. “Before the red tornado barged in and interrupted us so rudely – where were we?”

[chaosduckies]

Restoration (Chapter 7)

I was in a fluffy mood this time. So, enjoy some with Angela because she’s just a littol baby plus Nathan and Ryker acting like responsible parents.

Word Count: 5.2k

CW: None! (I think)

7-Nathan 

It’s been a chaotic week. Well, at least for me. I don’t know about anyone else. But it’s the end of the week again. Yesterday’s counseling was fine. We had mostly talked about how things between Ryker and I were. They were… awkward. To me. He always looks like he wants to talk to me about something, but never says anything to me besides “Hi,” and, “Hey,” when we’re at lunch and last period. Otherwise, I just kind of sit there trying to ignore the bad thoughts in the back of my mind. It never works. 

It was a cloudy day, sort of smelling like it was going to rain as soon as I stepped outside. The bus ride to school was just as loud as usual. When I walked into the halls, they were crowded just as always. So why did I feel like something was off? Oh well. When has something ever worked out in my favor anyways? Nothing new to me. 

Classes were the same. The rain had started, but only lasted for about an hour before the clouds were clearing up. Everything so far had been the same. I don’t know why I was so on edge, but I was always like that. 

Lunch was just as loud and crowded as always. But somehow, Lucky had always found me before I found him. Of course scaring me before he revealed that he was behind me the entire time. I was never going to get used to that, but it was a nice feeling for some weird reason. 

“Hey!” He greeted me, showing off a big smile as always while he guided me through the mass horde of people. I just did a tiny wave back. I’ve felt a little bit better since those counseling lessons had started, but I haven’t really felt the same either. Actually, Mr. Smith says that he might recommend me taking some medications, which I didn’t even know counsellors could do that but he says he’s licensed and able to do so. I wasn’t entirely too excited to see how many medications he’ll have me take. 

As the table we usually sit at came into view, I noticed that Ryker wasn’t even there. Instead, Dylan was sitting across from where Ryker usually sits, on his phone and biting right into an apple. I stood in place. I’ve only really met him once, and even then we had never talked. Just that Friday two weeks ago. It wasn’t really that bad, but I just don’t what to expect when being around him. Dylan loves teasing with Lucky, and I already know I could never handle anything like that. What if he tries anything with me? Where was Ryker anyways? Wait… just breathe. Don’t want to have a panic attack. 

“Right… Ryker is taking care of Angel and Isabelle. They’re both sick.” Lucky had explained, answering one of my questions. The other being why Dylan was here in the first place. He had never sat here this entire week. Nor any of the weeks before. So why now? I wasn’t going to get an answer. 

Lucky stayed beside me when the elevator gate had opened. We walked out, I surprisingly didn’t stumble like I always do, and I was now in full sight. That didn’t sit right with me. At all. 

Dylan placed his phone on the table, smiling when he caught sight of Lucky and I. I took a few steps back. Everything will be alright. Everything will be alright. Everything will be-

“Oh hey! It’s Nathan right? I’m Dylan, I’m sure you know that though.” He laughed before stretching out his finger and thumb like he was about to give a handshake… Oh wait. It was a handshake. Or a makeshift one at least. 

I looked over to Lucky, hoping he would give some sort of hint to Dylan. Instead, he just gave a nervous smile and held his hand slightly out to me. He was giving the hint to me. I mean, it’s like like I haven’t done this before. Just one other time with Mrs. Kay. It’s just… kids are different. I learned that the hard way. I’m not trying to say Dylan would be like that though! It’s just not out of the question. From what I’ve seen, Lucky hasn’t been hurt. Yet. But I have no idea how long he’s lived there. 

Taking deep breaths, I extended a shaky hand. I watched my hand disappear under the surprisingly soft grip, nearly wincing as I had expected to hear a loud pop! Noise only to find out that my wrist or some other part of my hand was broken. That fear didn’t last long though. Dylan let go, my hand still fully intact with the rest of my arm. I shuddered at the thought of having another broken hand. That was not fun. 

Lucky was facing me with a wide smile with two thumbs up. I felt accomplished, but at the same time I mentally kicked myself for ever thinking that one of Ryker’s siblings would have purposely hurt anyone. Even if they haven’t really met me. 

Dylan chuckled, taking another bite out of his apple then throwing it away in the trash can by the wall. I sucked in a shaky breath, wondering what I was even doing here. I just thought that Lucky would be sad if I didn’t come, but now that I think about it, he knows that I’m afraid of giants. Is this his way of helping me? 

“You’re quiet,” Dylan tilted his head in confusion, “Shy?” I bit the side of my cheek, blinking a couple of times before nodding my head. He must think I’m crazy. Absolutely crazy. There was no doubt about that. 

Dylan just flashed a soft smile before talking to Lucky. I sat down where I usually did. Just a little closer to Lucky since he was laughing and having the time of his life with Dylan. Who was the older one? I couldn’t tell. They were obviously really close though. I wasn’t entirely paying attention to their conversation, just some bits and pieces. Who has the answers for their algebra homework. Lucky complaining about making something for dinner. 

My phone went off while I was reading a book the school librarian recommended to me. During those two weeks the librarian always asked me why I stayed in the library. I just explained that I had nowhere better to be. Ever since then we’ve talked more and more. She says she’s read almost every book in this library since rarely anyone ever goes in there unless they needed to print something or watch a movie while playing board games in their free period. Otherwise, she had always recommended me books to read and she’d always have the mini pretzel bags while I helped her place books back on the shelves. It kind of felt peaceful. 

Checking my phone, I read a text message from my mom. 

Mom: Work called me in. I won’t be home until around nine in the morning 

Mom: Will you be fine on your own for the night? 

Me: yeah 

I would not. Just something about a quiet house without hearing the sounds of the tv playing an episode of The Golden Girls while my mom lay asleep on the couch? I honestly didn’t like the idea of being alone at night. It freaked me out. Is it stupid that I was afraid of the dark? Yes. Do I care? A little. Okay, a lot. But it’s not like I can help it. I’m so used to knowing that someone was in the house with me. Oh well. There’s a first time for everything. Plus, It’s embarrassing for someone to find out that I was afraid of the dark. Doesn’t really come as that big of a surprise coming from someone like me though. 

Mom: Okay 

Mom: I love you I’ll call you when I can 

I sighed, standing up and seeing that the bell was about to ring. I checked my phone for any other nonexistent messages, but I wasn’t able to get a good look before Lucky snatched up my phone and started typing something. Panic rose in me, thinking he was texting my mom. Now that would be awkward for me to explain to her. I tried stealing a couple looks, even reaching for my phone, but it was useless given the fact that Lucky was practically an entire head taller than me. 

“Andddd here you go.” Lucky handed me my phone back, a smirk on his face. I gave a questioning look before seeing that he added a new number. Ryker’s number. What? Why would he give me this? I already I annoy him enough at school, I’m not going to do that outside of school. It’d be wrong. Plus, he’s watching his younger siblings, I don’t want to bother him. 

The worst part about this was that Lucky had already taken the time to text him. Saying that this was Nathan. Aka me. Panic took over my mind. I wasn’t really mad at Lucky per se, more a little sad because he didn’t ask me first. I don’t think I could be mad at someone even if I tried. Still, I wish that he hadn’t texted him for me. I would have preferred not having his number at all if I’m being honest. Not because I don’t like him as a friend though! 

I looked over to Lucky with a nervous look on my face. He just laughed, “You’ll thank me later.” 

“Gave him Ry’s number?” Dylan held back a laugh behind his smirk. He stood up and held his palm out, waiting for Lucky to climb on. Was this some kind of plan of theirs? What if I didn’t want his number? I can’t exactly get rid of it since he already texted him… But maybe this could be a good thing? No. I don’t think so. Never mind. 

“Anyways, if you’re not too mad at me, we should probably get going.” Lucky pointed towards Dylan, and with seemingly no effort, climbed onto his hand, waiting to help me up. I was not expecting this in the slightest. Wait, no, he won’t do anything while Lucky’s with him, would he? It wouldn’t make any sense at all. I mean, they are brothers, right? 

After a couple seconds of going over the pros and cons and all of the endless negative outcomes, I just decided that I would go. Nothing could happen while we were at school, and there was no way that Dylan would ever do anything harmful while Lucky was with him. Right? That was my way of thinking. 

Lucky helped me up, flashing an excited smile. I guess his way of helping is actually working. Huh. Wasn’t expecting that. 

———Ryker———

Isabelle was stuck in her bed, too weak to pull the blankets off and stand on her own two feet without falling. Meanwhile, Angela was snuggled up in my palm with her new stuffed animal she’s named Livvy. They both had a fever. A bad one at that. It’s gone down since this morning, but it was still burning hot. I couldn’t really tell with Angela since I didn’t want to make her too uncomfortable, so I had no idea how she was doing. 

They both insisted on waking up and then heading back to sleep after I tucked them back in, making sure they couldn’t pull the blanket off too easily, even if they tried. How they even managed to get sick? I had no idea. But, they were the only ones who didn’t go to high school, so I kind of thought that other kids at their school were sick too. 

Me? I felt fine. Well, almost fine. This morning I was worried I might have to take them to the doctor, or that I might not have any medicine to help them out. Turns out I did, and Lucky, given his name, was lucky to find some in the back of their medicine cabinet and gave some to Angela. 

Now when everyone had left was a different thing. The night before they had me work later than before, so I barely had any sleep. Then, of course, I had to make Isabelle something to eat that I knew they wouldn’t throw up. Turns out it never worked in the end because she forced herself to go to the restroom and vomit, thankfully, in the toilet. Then there was Angela, who had a slightly less severe case, and I couldn’t make her anything to eat. It didn’t really seem like she was up to the task either, but still. 

They’ve been sick before, just never this bad. Maybe just a little cough or a slight fever, but otherwise they’ve been fine. It’s been hard taking care of them, but I didn’t mind. Just as long as they feel better in the morning. 

Isabelle was fast asleep after I gave her another small dose of medicine. She was doing a lot better now, but I was more worried about Angela. I can’t exactly give her any medicine because I don’t know if it’ll do more harm than good. So I’ve just been holding her tiny body in my palm for the entire. Mostly because she refuses to get off for some reason, and another because I wouldn’t be able to hear her if she woke up and needed something. 

I was laying down in the living room, the tv on a low volume rewatching a horror movie that was supposedly supposed to be scary. So far it was not. At least to me. Angela had been stirring in her sleep, trying to find a comfortable position for a solid five minutes. I knew she was going to wake up soon anyways, so I just lightly pulled the blanket off, pressing the back of my finger into her tiny frame. She was burning up. I guess it was a good thing I pulled the blanket off of her then. 

My heart fell seeing her curl up on herself looking so uncomfortable. There was nothing I could do though. School didn’t end for another hour and Angela hasn’t eaten anything since last nights dinner. Even then she didn’t eat much, saying that she didn’t feel too good. I probably should have seen this coming. 

I paused the movie for a little, waiting for Angela to wake up and ask for a blanket. She stirred, turned, and I finally saw her rub her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time today. It’s been off and on. Again, nothing I could do about it except just let her rest. 

“Mmm… Ry?” She groaned, still holding her stuffed animal. I smiled softly, rubbing her back with the pad of my thumb. She slightly leaned into the touch eyes opening and closing, trying to stay awake. 

“Just go back to sleep, Angel. I’m right here.” I whispered, watching her snuggle up close and point to the human-sized blanket pinched between my thumb and finger. I didn’t want to give it to her. Her fever might just get worse like that. Dylan had texted me earlier to crush up an ice cube and wrap a tiny piece for her, but that wouldn’t work. 

“Aren’t you hot?” I frowned, seeing Angela shake her head and reach for the blanket in a futile attempt. I gave in, letting her wrap herself comfortably and snuggle closer to me. 

After a couple minutes, she was out cold once again. Didn’t matter when she was just going to wake up in an hour again. I unpaused the movie, and glanced to my phone. I grabbed it off the charger, seeing that I had an unknown number text me and a few from Lucky saying that he may have given Nathan my number. Of course he did. He brought the idea up last night after I came home from work. I only said no because what if Nathan didn’t want it? I mean, what if he wanted nothing to do with me. I’d understand if he didn’t, but then it’d be awkward just having it. 

I guess texting him wouldn’t be so bad though. As long as I don’t ruin it. 

———Nathan———

Last period was another free day. But Mrs. Kay says that she has another “project” she wants to try with us. I was not at all excited, but I just had to take this class for the next eight months and then I could go an do what I wanted… what did I want to do again? Didn’t matter. Still have eight months. I’ll be fine. 

As I sat at my desk aimlessly trying to pick a move to watch on my phone, there was a text. From Ryker. What did it say? Would it say not to text his number? That he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore than he already has to? That doesn’t really sound like him, actually. Why would I think that about someone? I bit the side of my cheek, opening the messages app and reading what he texted. 

Ryker: Hey! 

Ryker: I’m guessing Lucky gave you my number 

What do I text back? I’ve never really talked to him. I don’t want to say something stupid either. I can’t leave him on read. That’d be harsh. I groaned silently to myself, typing something out and immediately deleting it. Over, and over again. What do I say though? I ended up just typing something out and hoped he would say anything about it. 

Nathan: He did yeah lol 

Ryker: Of course he did 

He sent it along with an eye roll emoji. 

Ryker: It’s a good thing though 

So he does want to talk to me? I was so confused. 

Nathan: Yeah 

Ryker: Are things boring in last period without me? 

A smile took over my face. This was actually going pretty well considering I never text anyone but my mom. Or call anyone but her. A sad, sad life, I know. But it’s the story of my life. 

Nathan: Yup

Nathan: I heard your sisters were sick 

Ryker: Yeah I’m pretty sure they have the flu  

Nathan: Well I hope they get better :)

I’m pretty sure the conversation ended. That was short lived. Even in real life I can’t keep up a conversation for long. I either go silent or say something that ends it. Great, right? So I couldn’t even be on call until midnight because people lose interest in me fast. I’m surprised Ryker hasn’t yet. 

Ryker: They’re both asleep right now 

Ryker: If you wanna come over you can 

Ryker: I’ll just ask Lucky to take you or something 

Ryker: If you’re comfortable with it 

Going over to his house again? I mean I’m okay with it. It’s just that he’d have to hang around me while also taking care of both Angela and Isabelle. But maybe I could bring them some soup to make them feel better? It would be the right thing to do. I don’t want to go over there just to create more problems. But now that I think about it… why didn’t their parents take care of them? I feel like they can’t just keep Ryker away from school to watch his siblings. Don’t get me wrong I think it’s great that he does! But… they’ve never once mentioned anything about their parents, and I just feel like they should be taking care of their own children. It’s not my place to ask them though. I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually. 

Nathan: Sure

Nathan: Is it okay if I grab something for Angela though

Nathan: Like soup or something? 

There was about ten minutes until the last bell of the day rang, and I would have to find Lucky before he just walked out of the school. I have no idea where they live, and there was no way I wanted to get lost on those terrifying streets. Especially with all of the riots lately. I just hope I can go home this time. 

Ryker: If you want 

Ryker: I’d really appreciate it 

Nathan: Will do then 

I sent it with a smiley face, hoping that he wouldn’t tell me anything otherwise. I’m sure my mom would be fine with me staying over for a couple hours. I doubt that they’ll have a movie night when their two youngest were bed-ridden. Or at least I think Ryker kept Isabelle in her bed. I don’t know how he’s been taking care of Angela… Maybe I could help out? Seems like a plan. 

Ryker: Tysm 

Ryker: I’ll tell Lucky to wait for you by the exit 

Ryker: Thank you, again 

He sent a smiley face back to me. My lips twisted into a small smile

Nathan: No problem 

——————

I was expecting for Lucky to be waiting for me. Not Dylan. But I guess it makes sense because they kind of live together. Duh. I’m so stupid sometimes… 

“You’re coming over!” Lucky excitedly announced, Dylan rolling his eyes and waiting for us to climb onto his palm. I bit the side of my cheek, thinking that we were going off of school grounds. Anything could happen. Does Dylan even like me? Probably not. Do I care? Yes. A lot. 

“U-Um… yeah,” I stole a glance to Dylan, who was texting someone, “S-sorry for making you b-b-both wait on m-me.” I whispered to Lucky while pointing to Dylan who wasn’t paying attention to either of us at the time. Lucky nodded his head, seeming to understand. 

“It’s all good. We’re stopping by the store first, right? We need groceries anyways.” Lucky had asked. I hesitantly nodded my head, letting Lucky lead the way as I followed. This was a familiar sight. I was getting to used to being around giants. Was that a good thing? I’d have to ask Mr. Smith about that later. 

About five minutes into walking, and watching in horror as Lucky quite literally had half of his body hanging from the edge of Dylan’s hand, Dylan had decided to start a little conversation. Mostly towards Lucky.

“You’re gonna fall.” He sighed, cupping his hand a little more to prevent Lucky from falling to his death. I shuddered just at the thought of looking over the edge. It’s taken literally almost everything in me to not look over the edge and pass out. 

“No I’m not.” Lucky stuck out his tongue, fixing his position so only his arms were dangling. I could practically hear Dylan roll is eyes. We made eye contact for a while, him giving a smile and opening his mouth to speak, “So what made you want to come over?” 

I jumped at the sudden question directed to me. It’d be pathetic to speak and stutter in front of Dylan, but then again the same goes if I don’t speak. What would he think? Choices are so hard to make. What if I just shrugged? But then he might want to bring it up again and then I’d have to answer. 

Out of nowhere, Lucky sat beside me, wearing a sympathetic face that said, “I’ll tell him for you.” And I’ve never been more grateful in that moment. I would have hugged him if I knew how to. Also I might step over a boundary. Not something that I’d like to do. 

I whispered to Lucky what I wanted him to say, noticing that Dylan looked so confused. I would have scooted back had I not remembered that there was about a hundred foot fall from where I was. If the fall doesn’t kill me the injuries would. 

“He say he just wanted to help out. I told him Angela and Isabelle were sick earlier. Plus, apparently Ryker asked him first.” Lucky shrugged like it was nothing. I admit, I was jealous, but that was shortly lived. I’ll be able to talk someday. Hopefully. Maybe. I’ve done it once I could definitely do it again. If I really wanted to anyways. 

“Makes sense,” Dylan shrugged, “That’s also oddly… nice?” He raised an eyebrow, suspicious of me. I nearly let out a squeak as I brought my knees closer to my chest. I really wasn’t trying to trick anyone… I’m just a really nice person trying to help a friend out. Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t- 

“I was just messing with you. You should have seen your face.” Dylan laughed along with Lucky. Oh thank goodness. The last thing I needed was to be ditched on the side of the concrete not knowing where I was. I was pretty sure we were close to their house though. 

“But seriously, that’s amazingly nice of a stranger. Ry could actually use the help too.” Dylan told me. A tiny smile formed at the corners of my mouth. Maybe he really didn’t see me as a bother. 

——————

It didn’t take us long in the store. Only a couple minutes tops. Though, I didn’t know that the human-sized part of the store was connected. It really made things easier for Dylan since he didn’t have to wait outside awkwardly. Plus, he could grab one for Isabelle too. I was paying anyways. 

We checked some things out, I paid for the things I was getting, while Lucky kept on insisting that I just let him pay for everything. We agreed that we would pay for our own things in the end. It only took a couple minutes to reach the familiar neighborhood I saw two weeks ago. 

Dylan walked up to their house, unlocking it and announcing his presence to practically the entire world while he was closing the door behind him. Ryker turned his head an glared at Dylan, making him whisper a sorry and let both Lucky and I on the ground in front of the same human-sized door that led to their rooms before silently walking back to his own room. It was intimidating to see him from this point of view, but I sucked in a breath, and walked through the open door. I came here, so I’ll just have to deal with it. 

It looked the same as before. Just that there were a ton of blankets thrown onto the couch. I didn’t think about that too much. 

“So do I get a thank you?” Lucky teased. For the phone number? I just laughed to myself, “Y-yeah. Thank you.” 

Lucky was putting away some groceries he had bought. I helped clean up a bit before we both decided to head back outside. It was a long walk from the hallway to the couch, but that’s no surprise when you’re two inches tall to these people. Now I get why Lucky and Angela get carried around almost everywhere in here. 

“Are you staying for dinner?” Lucky asked, now walking backwards to keep up a conversation with me. Was I? I still haven’t told my mom that I was here. I’ll tell her when she texts or calls. She’ll probably be so happy to hear that I was here anyways. 

“I don’t know.” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. 

“You should. You could teach me how to make actually good food.” We both laughed. 

“If you want me to.” 

Lucky silently cheered, thanking me several times before we reached the elevator to get on top of the side-table by the couch Ryker was currently sitting down at trying to find something to watch. 

“Hey Ry.” Lucky grabbed his attention, standing near the very edge of the table. Nope. Could never do that. How is Lucky so brave? Does he really have that much confidence in himself that he won’t fall? Just one wrong step… No. Don’t think about that. I’m not the one on the very edge. 

“Hey” Ryker replied, letting down his free hand. We climbed on and slid back off onto the arm of the couch where there were human-sized blankets and pillows making a makeshift bed. But there wasn’t anyone there. Where did he have Angela then? She wasn’t in that room earlier. I sighed, sitting down. I’d just have to wait until she wakes up. 

“How are they doing?” Lucky asked, sitting beside me. 

Ryker let out a long sigh, “Off and on. Isabelle’s been asleep for a while and I managed to get her to eat some toast. I haven’t been able to check Angela’s fever, but I don’t think she’s getting any better.” 

He brought his other hand towards us, revealing Angela wrapped up in a pink blanket. She didn’t look like she was having a peaceful dream either. She kept moving around and mumbling things that I didn’t understand. Lucky went to check if she still had a fever, which she did. I just have to wait for her to wake up so I can start making something for her. It’s the whole reason I came anyways. My mom’s a nurse, you learn a thing or two. 

“Oh, um, thanks for coming by the way, Nathan.” Ryker thanked me, looking concerned for his little sister who looked like she was about to wake up. 

I came back with a small bowl of chicken noodle soup and some crackers, hoping that this would help in some way. Angela was struggling to keep her eyes open, but after she ate something she already looked a lot better. She didn’t go back to sleep either so I guess that was a good thing too? All I can say was that Angela was excited to see me. We were sitting on the arm of the couch where the pile of blankets and pillows were. 

“Nathan!” She forced herself up and wrapped me in the tightest hug she could manage. I laughed nervously, debating on returning the gesture, but she let go before I could. Thank you. That would have been one awkward hug in front of so many people. Though, I noticed Ryker trying to hide his smile. I didn’t know if that was directed to Angela or me. Or both. Nope. Not going to think too much on that. 

Angela let out a series of coughs and sat back down, wrapped up in her blanket once again. I noticed that she was also hugging the panda I gave her two weeks ago. My heart fell. I didn’t expect her to like it so much. 

Her fever had gone down a lot. Which was a good thing. She ended up falling back to sleep eventually. Then it was just back to the little one sided conversations with Ryker. Dylan and Lucky were hanging out in their own room, probably playing a game or watching tv. So it really was just us. 

It was nice, really. Even if I could only listen and react. I didn’t mind. There was nothing to say anyways. I loved listening though. 

Ryker mentioned something about Jasmine having a game to go to tonight, which explains why she wasn’t here. Then, he said he should probably get started on dinner, which, wow, I probably should start helping out Lucky. 

I helped Lucky with dinner, and once again he praised my cooking abilities, which weren’t even that good. At least to me. Afterwards, Ryker took me to the bus stop by my house and thanked me again. I walked back to my house, changed into comfy pajamas and fell asleep. 

Today was a good day.

——————

I think this was a good chapter. I think. I don’t know. I love how Ryker is trying his hardest to be a responsible parent and how Nathan tries his hardest to take care of Angela and Lucky as much as he can.

Anyways, thank you guys for reading!! Love you guys ❤️

[afreakingdork]

Tactical Entreat

RotTMNT Donatello x GN!Reader

Warnings/Tags: Aged-up Turtles, Guns, Cursing, Hate Make Out

Synopsis:  It seems to be a lousy day when at your first Airsofting game there just so happens to be an overzealous pro on the other team that has it out for you.

Also available on ao3

Goodness gracious, do to all the planets aligning, @donathan 's incredible genius tactical!Donnie, and @unknownfanartist 's wonderful base idea, this one-shot came to be. I cannot thank them enough for their creations and existence. Also being able to be apart of a brain chemistry alternating fandom phenomena event is just stellar. Without future ado, Please enjoy my take on tactical!Donnie!

Maybe it was the weather that kicked off your foul mood.

When the desolate two lane road gave away to gravel and then dirt, the shocks on your friend’s car weren’t the only thing that were worse for wear. Emerging into the muggy air, you bent backwards and pressed your hands into your lower back. There was nary a pop to be had. Giving up and grouching into a slump, your friend passed you a hat.

“You’re gonna need that.”

“Fine.” You ground out, donning the thing. When you brought your attention back up, you found them now holding out a pair of clear black rimmed goggles.

“These too.”

“I got it.” You griped and wondered why they’d offered you the hat first. You removed the headwear to put the safety precaution on and then placed the cap back on your head. “We good now?”

“Yeah, let's go. My sister’s explaining everything.”

You could indeed hear said woman already droning on about precautions to take in the woods. You both approached her, but your attention drifted skyward. Overhead an oppressive thin layer of grey clouds covered the entire expanse. There wasn’t even rain in the forecast. This was just a show of humid superiority. You glared at them.

While you had your mental battle with the atmosphere, your friend knocked your shoulder.

“Come on, we’re heading out.”

“Out? Aren’t we here?” You asked, giving the clouds one last stern look before brining your attention to your friend. Their sister and a third ancillary friend had begun to head down a thin trail.

You friend gave a dry chuckle. “This is just the entrance to the forest, we’re meeting the other team on the… course so to speak.” They took the first step and you fell in line with them.

“Why’d you say it like that?” You hopped what you considered an ominous fallen branch just at the tree line.

“There’s no really a course. We can use the whole woods, but there’s this area with different elevations deeper in.”

“Why’d I agree to this?” You glanced up to find the tree line mostly marring the bleak sky.

“Because you have unchecked aggression.”

You hummed in agreement and continued on what was increasingly becoming a hike. The trail began to dissipate and the brush thickened out. Your only directionality came from your friend’s sister’s determined leadership.

“Who’s the other team?”

“Badasses.” Your friend responded without hesitation.

“Please tell me your joking.” You watched as your friend took a few more steps and turned back to you with an amused brow you could see even through their goggles. “Why are we, first timers, playing against pros?”

“Because my sister hates us.” Your friend shrugged and you both continued to trudge through the thicket until said sister stopped.

She then slung a large bag from around her shoulders. “Let’s gear up before we meet the guys.”

You watched as she set the bag on a rotted log and unzipped it to reveal a plethora or pristine airsoft guns. There was a demonstration on refilling the pellets, but you were busy combing over the details of the rifle you were passed. Once everything was said and done, you noticed a lone handgun left in the bag just before your friend’s sister zipped it up.

“What about that one?”

“Huh?” She looked down. “That one’s kinda faulty. It sometimes doesn’t fire. You want it?”

That seemed like a joke. You could make one of your own. “Sure.”    

She grinned toothily and had the object soaring in the air right at your head as soon as the word left your lips. You juggled it and looked up to find she’d already stowed the bag back onto her person.

“Great.” You shared a glance with your friend who gave a knowing shrug.

Your group continued on deeper into the forest until you noticed that your current trajectory was starting to elevate above a lower level. From the back of the pack you swerved to the side as best you could and saw that twisting mounds of dried earth shifted even higher up ahead. You also caught a glimpse of a purple bandana.  Intrigued, you leaned to see more, but the tree line shifted and the path curved. Rounding the bend, your group stopped at a small clearing.

You friend’s sister had stopped on the other side of the clearing and was talking to a group of four men. You would have made fun of their color coordinated bandanas if it weren’t for the fact that they were wearing full tactical gear. You paled at them. You friend’s sister laughed heartily at something and smacked the red one on the shoulder. In doing so that you noticed the way her green tactical vest shifted. You dragged your attention from them to the ancillary friend who also had a vest on.

“Uh…” You reached out, not wanting to look away and swatted at where you hoped your friend was.

There was a resounding slap as you made contact with their face. They wouldn't like that. “What is wrong with you?!”

“We don’t have vests.”

“No, we do not.” Your friend responded and pinched the delicate skin on the top of your hand harshly.

You hissed and retracted the appendage before finally turning to glare at them. “Shouldn’t we?!” You gestured to in the general direction of everyone else.

“Nah, my sister said the regular pellets don’t hurt that much. Besides, we’re only doing chest shots.”

“What do you mean?” You seethed and your attention was dragged back at the four men. The one with the purple bandana was split off from the group and seemed particularly bored with a cigarette hanging lazily between his lips He caught sight of you watching him and reached up to remove the stick. Your head tilted incrementally as he looked straight at you and gave a sneer. Your head shrank back in disgust. “What’s with that guy?”

“Which?” Your friend followed your eye line. “Oof, that’s Donatello.”

“Oof?” You tore your gaze away from the chuckling man to your friend.

“He’s really intense about the game. You should steer clear of him.”

“Wait, you know who those guys are?” You jolted with realization.

“I’ve never met them, if that’s what you mean.”

You stared at them as they seemingly stopped dead in their conversational tracks. “And?”

“Huh? Oh, right. I mean my sister has plays with them, so I know what she’s told me.” You friend pointed lazily towards the group. “They’re brothers and the color thing sure helps, huh? The red one’s Raphael, he’s kind of a tank and never goes down right away because he doesn’t feel when he’s been shot. The blue one’s Leonardo, he’s tricky, but he knows the line which unfortunately, purple Donatello, does not. I don’t know about the orange one though. I thought there were just three bothers.”

“Great, sick the platoon on us.” You jeered and stomped over to the group with your friend in tow.

“Finally.” You friend’s sister rounded. “Ready to play?”

“No introductions?” Your friend sighed.

“I saw you pointing.” She chided. “I guess there is one newbie on their team though.”

“Hey, guys!” The orange brother waved and his rifle swayed from side to side at the motion.

“That’s Michelangelo. His big brothers finally decided the runt could play with them.”

“We didn’t want our widdle Mikey to lose an eye.” Leonardo chimed in, dropping an affectionate elbow onto his sibling’s head.

"I have literally been an adult for years and that happened one time!" Michelangelo squirmed, but couldn't get free.

“You don’t have to be so formal…” Raphael held up a hand to point. “Raph, Leo, Mikey, Don-”

“Donatello.” The purple brother interjected. “I’ll decide how I’m referred to, thank you very much.”

Could he be any haughtier?

“Right…” Raph trailed off and shook his head.

You chanced another glance at Donatello and found him already watching you. You soured and he tauntingly wagged his eyebrows in return. Officially ticked off, you turned to stare down your friend’s sister. “When do we start? I’m ready to shoot.”

Your friend’s sister put her hands on her hips and sized you up. “Alright, we’ll get to it. We’re gonna split the teams up to account for dead weight. Namely you.” She reached out and caught your friend’s arm. “You’ll be on a team with your friend since they’re a sheep in an unknown pasture. Leo, Raph, you two ok with these bums?”

“Hold up your gun like you’re going to fire.” Leo instructed, pushing off from where he was still perched against his sibling.

You and your friend obeyed the action.

“Eh, rough, but we’ll work with that.” The blue brother gave a thumbs up to Raph who returned it.

“That means you’ll be facing off the dream team.” Your friend’s sister stepped over to Donatello, the ancillary friend, and Mikey.

“I’ve knocked you out every single game we’ve played so far.” Leo flicked the tails of his banana like they were his hair.

“We’ll level the playing field and duke it out then.” You friend’s sister gave you and their sibling a wicked smile.

“How about we go strategize…?” Raph urged. The red brother then grabbed Leo and used him to steer you and your friend further down a path to the lower level. You glanced over multiple shoulders and caught a glimpse of Donatello saying something to Mikey.

Once sufficiently away, the two brothers on your team then proceeded to lay out a strategy that mostly involved you and your friend staying clear of what this area would become: a shootout gallery. You and your friend would follow along a specific outskirts line and attempt to pick off the other team from behind.

“Just watch out for Donald. He goes quackers sometimes; ditches his team if it means at least he can win, like a feral lone wolf.” Leo shrugged as if it couldn't be helped.

You shared a seething glance with your friend who seemed amused by your anger.

“What’s up?” Raph asked from where he was knelt down on one knee.

“I think…” You gave you friend one last heated look before turning to the red brother. “Donatello has it out for me.”

“Prey of the game.” Leo shook his head. “You're gonna need to be seriously careful.” Leo’s darkened look immediately disappeared into a carefree one. “Good luck!”

“Leo!” Raph scolded before turning back to you. “He is right though…”

“What did I do?” You gaped.

“Nothing!” Leo shrugged. “None of us know how he picks. He just decides someone’s going to be his first shot of the day. We’ve all be victims….” Leo trailed off and then reached for his sleeve. You watched as he rolled it up revealing a slicing scar across his green bicep. “I almost lost my arm when I was picked once…”

You and your friend paled.

“He did not!” Raph popped to his feet. “He got that from….!” Raph trailed off nervously.

“Occupational hazard!” Leo winked at you both before turning to frown at his sibling. “Let me have a little fun, big guy!”

“You’re scaring them!” Raph gestured to you and your friend. “They’re our team today!”

“Yeah, yeah, responsibility, blah, blah! We got this!” Leo took a sturdy step forward and a deep breath. “HEY SO ARE WE PLAYING OR ARE WE SITT-?” He stopped dead in his tracks and began to incrementally tip backwards.

“L-Leo!?” Raph moved so quickly in comoarison to his size that you almost weren’t sure he’d moved at all.

Leo dramatically crumpled into Raph’s waiting arms and in doing so you got a glimpse of him. There was nasty red welt already forming right between his eyes.

“What the…?”  You trailed off in horror and looked out to where it had come from.

“WHAT DID WE JUST SAY ABOUT HEADSHOTS!?” Raph roared across the forest.

You watched as Mikey and your friend’s sister appeared from behind a tree.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t- I mean- That wasn’t-!!!” Mikey babbled, clearly distraught.

“Avenge me…” Leo feigned a dying cough.

“NEWBIE HERE SNIPED A HEADSHOT ON HIS FIRST TRY, YOU LOSERS ARE GOING DOWN!” Your friend’s sister clapped the orange brother on the shoulder affectionately.

“I’m really sorry, Leo!” Though you couldn’t be sure from this distance, Mikey sounded as though he were near tears.

“No apologies!” Your friend’s sister scolded, pulling Mikey out of view. “THREE MINUTE HEADSTART FOR POSITIONS AND THE GAME COMMENCES!” Her voice was so loud it seemed to emanate from all the trees. “COUNT DOWN, T-MINUS 20 SECONDS!”

Leo reanimated and took a knee. “Stick to the plan, stay out of sight.”

You and your friend nodded dumbly.

“That means go, now!” He ushered with his hands.

“We’ll keep you safe!” Raph called out as you and your friend took off into the brush.

Your friend already had their phone out and you caught a glimpse of the 20 second timer running out. They set a three minute one in its place. At first, you both ran as fast as you could, but as time ticked away, you slowed. You became painfully away of how each step crunched on woodland debris. You pointed this out to your friend. They suggested careful steps, so you dropped down low and continued to follow an approximation of the plan. Woth your friend leading, you tried to keep the mental map in mind, but the forest was nothing more than a cluster of trees. You had little indication of how close or far you’d traveled away from the action. The timer ran out and the humidity compounded with the sudden gravity of the game you were partaking in.

Sweat gathered at your brow and there was the distinct sound of shots being fired in the distance. With each pellet burst, the two of you adjusted your trajectory and did your best to aim for rounding the action. With each change in your position, every leaf crushed underfoot felt like a scream giving away your position. Your heart raced as the rifle's firing drew close. You and your friend hunkered down and you covered your mouth as even your breathing seemed too loud.

“Two little rabbits, sitting in a bush.” Your friend’s sister’s voice sang out from your right.

“Run.” Your friend said simply and the syllable held so much more than that. You both took off in the opposite direction and heard the soft ticks of pellets pricking each tree your passed.

Your friend yelped.

You turned so quickly that the dry dirt underfoot gave away. It caused you to slide several feet until you were essentially laying down in some underbrush. Looking back, you realized your momentum had carried you quite a distance from your friend who had seemingly tripped. You covered your mouth and watched as their sister stalked up behind them.

“You were always so clumsy.” The woman sneered and aimed a handgun at her sibling. She fired a single shot into your friend's back and then snapped her gaze up to look for you.

Resisting the urge to move, you hoped your cover was enough. She scanned for several seconds longer until she heard a twig break to her right. Zoned in, she pivoted and raced off in that direction. Letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in, you watched as your friend lazily sat up.

“Hurry up, get out of here, and be careful. I really don’t think you get what they’re capable of.”

“What about you?” You whispered, shimmying out from under the brush.

“I’m dead. I’m gonna walk with my hands raised, hope no one shoots me again, and head to the graveyard.” They stood and brought their arms up as described.

“There’s a graveyard?”

“You always were shit at paying attention.” Your friend shook their head. “It’s back near where we met up. Just look for this poor lost soul.” Your friend gave you parting smile before heading off in the same direction their sister had gone.

Now alone, you swallowed hard. You were the last line of the back-up defense. Steadying your nerves, you brought your rifle close and readied it. You then proceeded to continue along the path you and your friend had been charting. You slowed and tried to listen past your ever thudding heartbeat. The trees rustled, a lone bird sang, and there was some errant skittering somewhere a ways off. Waiting longer still, you finally heard the distant exchange of fire. It sounded so far away that you frowned. Either the battle had moved or you had headed in the complete wrong direction. Scowling, you dropped from your readied stance and followed along a raised edge of dirt hoping it would lead you back.

Your gun now lazily in hand, you scanned for those telltale bandanas. Against the natural forest colors they should have stuck out vibrantly. You made it a few more feet when you heard a distinct snap. You instantly crouched down and scanned wildly for the sound. It hadn’t seem to come from any particular direction and there appeared to be no follow-up. Confused, you studied the ground underfoot to see if maybe you had accidentally stepped on something. In doing so, you caught a glimpse of a pile of dried leaves surrounding the base of tree just off the edge of your minute cliff. You squinted at it and in return it seemed to quiver. Stiffening, you stared and wondered what kind of forest creature you had disturbed. The leaves slowly parted and you watched in ever horrifying slow motion as purple emerged from beneath them.

“Hey.” Donatello said simply, the tip of his gun rising in time with his voice.

You had been so sure it was an animal that you hadn’t even bothered to ready your gun. With a final downward push, your body shot up as you attempted to escape. You heard the firing of his gun before you felt the biting sting of its pellets. When the pain did settle in, it rippled from your knees straight up your body to your shoulder.

You shrieked. It wasn’t supposed to hurt this badly.

“I'll give you marks for finding me, but your still in the negative because one should never drop their guard when at war.” He said simply.

“What is wrong with you!?” You hissed, clutching your side.

“Wrong with me? You’re the one that’s dead.” His voice sounded amused and you watched him disappear back under the leaf bed he created.

With nothing left to do, you slung your rifle around to your back and brought your hands up. You continued along the raised path and it did indeed bring you back to the small clearing. Your friend, their sister, and Leo all sat in a pouty group around an extra large tree.

“Ah, dangit!” Leo grouched as soon as he saw you.

“What happened to your duel?” You asked, wincing as you sat down.

Your friend watched you with squinted curiosity, but was otherwise quiet. When no one else answered, they shook their head and stepped in. “They shot each other out almost immediately.”

“I shot first!”

“Did not!”

“They were here before me.” Your friend rolled their eyes. “They’ve been arguing like this the whole time.”

You started to laugh and stopped as pain radiating from your side.

“Are you ok?”

“Donatello was freaking buried underground and shot me point blank.” You nearly spit the explanation.

“Brutal.” Your friend’s sister shrugged.

“These games bring out the worst in him.” Leo sighed. “Raph and I were thinking of training Mike to sub him out.”

“Even point blank, it shouldn’t hurt that badly though…” Your friend reached out and grabbed the hem of your shirt.

You shifted your arm to give them better access.

They lifted the fabric and revealed the already purple peppering of bruises across your side.

“That asshole.” Your friend’s sister uncharacteristically frowned.

“What?” You wondered, unable to see.

Leo crawled on all fours to get a better look. “Damnit, Donnie." He then sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. "I am so sorry.”

“What?!” You pressed, looking between them.

Your friend let go of your shirt.

“He’s using 0.4g BBs.” Leo' s voice was heavy with guilt.

“Are those…?” You looked to your friend.

“We’re supposed to be using 0.2 to 0.28.” Their sister clarified. “From the looks of that, his aren’t hollow like they should be either.”

“Are you serious?” You jolted in anger and immediately the pain protested.

Before the conversation could continue, Mikey and the ancillary friend emerged from the forest with their hands raised up.

“Only Raph and Donnie are left.” Leo breathed and stood up to look out across the trees.

The new corpses drew close and took their seats around the trunk. You were about to welcome them when noticed an angry red mark on your ancillary friend’s forehead.

“Come on, kid, don’t tell me?!” Your friend’s sister noticed it as well.

“I’m not doing it on purpose!” Mikey yelped. Now that he was close you could tell he was definitely crying.

“A dead person can’t shoot you out!” The sister hissed.

“I took the shot and I’ll take it again.” The ancillary friend noted.

“And I deserved retribution from the afterlife.” Mikey hiccupped.

“Uh huh, you’ll get them next time, Mikey.” Leo reached back and absently patted Mikey’s head with his attention still on the forest.

“I sure hope not!” The younger sibling whined.

Big thudding foot falls echoed and everyone went dead silent. There was a distinct sound of two different gun models firing before silence resumed. The group scanned the forest with bated breath. It seemed as if even the wind had quieted for the reveal. The red and purple bandanas appeared and within a moment, the raised hands of the loser became apparent.

“Come on, Raph! No!!!” Leo cried out, dropping to his knees. “You were supposed to avenge me!!” 

“Sorry, bro.” Raph shrugged, in a jovial mood regardless of his death.

“Leaving your largest target as your final player.” Donatello shook his head and approached the tree. “After all these years you'd think you'd at least try to give me a challenge.” He aimed a bored stare at Leo.

“Don’t give me that shit.” Leo growled, snapping to his feet. “Give me your gun.”

“No.” Donatello recoiled as if Leo’s statement were an assault to his person.

“Raph, hold him down. I’m serious.” Leo kept his gaze squarely on Donatello.

“What’s going on?” Mikey scrambled to his feet.

“Theatrics, I’m sure.” Donatello scoffed but froze when Raph’s hands took hold of his shoulders. “What are you doing!?”

Leo grabbed Donatello’s gun and after a short lived struggle, the blue brother pulled the rifle away and popped off the magazine. Slinging the strap through his arm, he then let Donatello’s gun dangle and followed the same procedure with his own rifle. He held up the noticeably different pellets up to Raph first. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“They’re non-lethal.” Donatello looked to the side with the pout of a child that had been caught.

Tightening his grip with one hand, Raph freed the other to poke at the BBs. “What are these things made of…?”

“They’re custom too!?” Leo seethed.

“Everything I use is custom! I made your weapons! You've never complained before.” Donnie spit back.

“You hurt someone…” Mikey breathed with realization. He then scanned the group and immediately noticed the resting wince in your eyes. “At least use it on us!” Mikey alit with fury. “They’re human! You can’t just shoot them like that!!”

Donatello bristled, though his posture gave away his wearing resolve. “It’s bruising at worse.”

“It fucking hurt!” You shouted, getting to your feet and in your anger you forgot the pain. “Not to mention your dick hiding spot!”

“Hiding spot?” Raph hovered over his brother menacingly.

“We’re taking five!” Leo shouted and began to storm off toward where you had earlier entered the clearing. The other brothers filled out after him like they were transporting a prisoner.

You didn’t feel a bit sorry for Donatello.

“Isn’t playing with them a hoot?” Your friend’s sister jabbed the ancillary friend in the ribs.

“Yeah, real blast.” You grumbled, resisting the urge to keep showing weakness by holding your wounds.

“Water?” You friend offered you a small bottle and you took it. You all sat in mostly silence and though the brothers had seemingly moved quite a ways away, their voices would sometimes raise up to where you could hear them yelling. As promised, they filed back in after what felt like five minutes with Leo once again leading.

You, having continued standing because bending the bruises hurt more, turned to face them.

Leo gave you a tight nod and stepped out of formation with Donatello as the next in line.

He strode right up to you. “After a boorish discussion I believe there's been a sort of err on my part.”

You searched his eyes and found their dull veneer unconvincing.

“I’ve switched to my backup rifle with the agreed upon rounds.”

You saw a flash of annoyance in his gaze.

“And, taking into account your lack of experience, I will be sticking to a more…” Donatello glanced back at his brothers who were all staunchly waiting with their arms folded. “…mediocre play style.”

You could tell he didn’t feel the tiniest bit bad. You wanted to throttle him. Alternatively, this was, however, the first time you’d been able up close to him. Your eyes flicked down and caught a glimpse of his rippled biceps from where his arms were crossed over his vest. Resisting the urge to linger, you swept you gaze around and tried to head back to his face, but got caught on several scars along the way. You had to remind yourself that you were mad. Blinking, you snapped your gaze to his to find him watching with a cocksure grin and an amusedly raised brow. No, you were undoubtedly mad.

“Are we playing again?” You maintained bitter eye contact, but directed the question out to the group.

“Are you ok to play?” Mikey’s voice wandered in from over Donatello’s broad shoulder.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You ground out. “I’m fine.”

You watched as the smugness in Donatello’s face receded to make room for a tide of impressed amusement.

It wasn’t quite how you’d hoped he would receive your declaration of war, but it was an acceptance nonetheless.

“Same teams.” That was an order.

“Hey…” Your friend’s sister brought a small protest that seemed to be quelled by someone near her.

“Do give me a challenge this time.” Donatello covered his mouth from a yawn and turned back to his brothers.

You weren’t just going to destroy him, you were going to slaughter him.

Eventually the proper teams reformed and everyone took note of your bloodthirsty aura. In a sportsmanlike trade, Donatello’s team departed down the small cliff and your team was left to plan in the small clearing.

There was a pregnant pause before you opened your mouth. “I know-”

“We’ll back you.” Leo interrupted, clapping a hand to both Raph’s and your friend’s shoulders.

“How did you know what I was going to say?” You frowned.

“I think we all saw the staring match.” You friend gave a thumbs up.

“Mikey’s in on it too and he’s going to try to convince the others on the DL. While Raph doesn’t usually approve of fixing games, I can make a special exception just this once. We all saw how his supposed apology went. That was bad even for a Donnie standard.” Raph chuckled.

“He needs to be taken down a notch.” Leo clicked his tongue. “We’ll take all the heat. You just need to get behind him. It’ll be tough, but if we can pull it off, Don’ll never know what hit him!”

“Shoot him.” You corrected, a wicked smile on your lips.

“Where were you first round?” Leo shook his head with amusement and broke apart from the huddle. "T-MINUS 20!?”

A yell of affirmation came back. You all gave each other a last determined nod before you broke off to the right. You left your rifle on your back and loaded your handgun as you wove through trees. Breaking it down, you were wholly unmatched. Not only were you playing a game for the first time against a seasoned pro, but, if his scars and muscles had anything to say about it, he was also quite adept in some kind of warfare. Your best bet was a single glaring weak spot you’d come to find in the short time you’d known Donatello: his smugness. With the trope of pride being a villain’s downfall, you were more than prepared to take advantage of it. Digging your right foot into the ground at an angle, you swiftly changed direction. The sheer adrenaline caused you to forget not only your pain, but any errant physical discomfort from the exertion. Dropping low, you skittered into some bushes and waited for the first signs of fire.

As the wind rustled an otherwise empty forest, you used the time to center yourself by focusing all your energy into the white hot rage in your chest. By the time the shots rang you, you had intensified the ball into radical fury. Popping up, you kept your handgun at the ready as you headed straight for the fire fight. Drawing near pellet pops, you dropped down and watched a heavy ammunition exchange. Between the different elevations, the battle had essentially become trench warfare. Your team had managed to pin down every other member of Donatello’s team, but the purple bastard himself. You relished the perfection. Breaking away, you kept to only unobscured forest floor having learning from your past mistakes. You slowed your movements to a snail’s pace and became hyper aware of even the slightest caress of the wind. It was in that trudging that you heard the whine of a bending branch.

Barely lifting your feet off the ground, you scooted closer to the noise until you spotted the telltale flicker of purple. Stilling, you watched as Donatello seemed to be manufacturing something with twigs. With no supplies other than the bits of wood themselves, you watched as he fashioned something and carefully laid it on the ground. Eye’s widening, you recognized the quarter sized kindling. They were little sound landmines that he could use to identify his opponent’s location even if he weren’t able to see them. Thinking back, it must have been the source if the sound that had triggered his leafy appearance. With its small size, you hadn’t even registered the pieces as something that could snap, but the way he constructed it allowed for a multi-level structure that amplified sound.

After sufficiently adjusting the object’s position. He took an extra moment to admire his work. There it was: pride’s downfall. You moved faster than you ever moved in your life. The force generated seemed to alter the wind’s gusts for a moment. When natural order resumed, you had your pistol pressed to the back of his head and he had his rifle half-turned to your position.

“Any last words?” You asked. It was cliché, but you were already pulling back on the trigger.

“Absolutely no-”

The dull click of the gun sounded and for a moment everything was still. Your eyes widened.

“After all that…” Donnie’s voice was dark.

You scrambled, clicking the trigger over and over. The warning about the handgun being faulty echoed in your mind.

“You brought a cheap piece of crap to kill me!?” He twisted around and fired his rifle just as your gun finally discharged. In near perfect sync, you shot him in the cheek and he shot you in the dead center of your chest.

You both stared at each other numbly.

“You could have shot my eye out!!” He suddenly roared, stalking forward.

You refused to take a single step back. “No, please! Should I be thanking you for shooting me in the chest finally!?”

“It’s minor bruising! You tattled on me like a child to my family!” His face was so close you were about to butt heads.

“You faked your apology like a toddler! Act like one, get treated like one!”

“You are INFRUIATING! You’ve had this INANE attitude since we first locked eyes!!”

“I’m sorry, heard of a first impression!? You mocked me in that EXACT MOMENT!!”

“HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD OF RIBBING?! WE'RE PARTAKING VIOLENT RECREATION!!! IT CALLS FOR RIVALRIES!!!”

What could you say to that? It was a perspective shifting sort of statement. You’d read the context wrong from the start. He may have been a cocky asshole, but he was there for the same kind of release as you. If you were in your right mind you would have remembered how lousy the weather was. Instead, that white hot ball of fury you’d nurtured had full control of your body.

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!”

As soon as the phrase left your lips, his crashed into yours. His gun swung wildly out of the way as the momentum crushed your bodies together. You had no idea where your pistol even went as you forcefully gripped the back of his head. Coming back from its pendulum swing, his rifle jabbed into both of your sides and Donatello hand dug harshly into the back of your neck. He tipped you back to a spine aching degree as your lips moved in tandem. Coy brushes were out of the question as his tongue forced its way into your mouth. For a moment you could only meekly receive him, but your anger was nowhere near dissipating. You threw your momentum forward against his brick wall of a body and in doing so your teeth clicked together. Neither of you noticed in a fierce jockey for dominance. His larger size meant he could exude more force than you and, before you knew it, bark was biting into your back through your flimsy shirt. A sultry groaned echoed from you in response and you could feel the upturnings of his cocky smile against your cheeks.

Shifting your grip, you dug your nails into his shoulders and it was enough to make his hiss. It meant a relinquish of contact that you fully meant to take advantage of until his hand wrapped itself around your throat. He squeezed hard enough to prevent you from speaking, but not hard enough to cut off your air supply. Dazed you put all your residual rage into a scathing glare. His finger tips curled up around your cheeks forcing you to pucker. He gave you once last wicked grin before kissing you again with enough fervor to knock your head back against the tree he’d pinned you against. The war of tongues, teeth, and lips resumed as you manhandled each other for dominance. His legs shifted and pinned yours flat and you realized you were losing real estate you hadn’t even considered investing in. Scratching down the exposed portions of his arm you hooked an armband and ripped it straight off of his appendage. He responded by breaking contact with your lips and instantly latching onto your neck. Your voice betrayed you once again as his teeth sank in against your jugular; his hand having shifted to keep your head in place.

His thumb had drifted a little out of its intended path under his new conquest and, in turning away under the guise of giving him more access to your neck, you neared the digit. He hummed in appreciation right until the moment you popped his thumb into your mouth and bit down.

“I can’t leave that mouth of yours unoccupied for a second can I?” His voice was so thick you felt wrapped in it. Drunkenly, you mustered your own cocky grin, which he masked with his. The violence hadn’t dissipated, but it was twisting into something more. Tongues probed each other in an unrestrained tango. Hands ventured further south. You dug your nails into his thigh and elicited the first guttural groan from him. The power struggle and righteous fury were an electrifying combined aphrodisiac.

“DONNIE!? I’M LOOKING FOR THE DEAD BODY OF MY DEAR BROTHER!!” Leo’s voice rang out clearly amongst the trees.  

You both snapped apart and watched, half-lidded, as a string of saliva connected the two of you in the wake of your make out session. He reached up and dispelled the cord with a swift chop. He gave you once last scathing once over before stepping away.

“OH, NARDO, COME HITHER. I HAVE NEWS FROM THE AFTERLIFE. I KNOW EXACTLY HOW YOU’LL DIE!!!” Donatello stormed away in search of the interloper. “BY MY HAND!!!”

Your body went slack against the tree and you slid down until you were sitting at its base. You blinked and for a moment felt an odd hollow before the sounds of the forest seemed to gently flood back into your ears. Picking up a scrap of black fabric, you turned it over curiously before letting it idly dangle in your fingers. Staring up, the canopy looked black against an overexposed white sky. For the first time all day, you thought maybe today hadn't been so bad after all.

A/N: A terrible game would be to guess how much of this is based on a real life Airsoft game I had 😂

[e350tb]

25 August

It is the 25th of August 2012.

It’s been a pretty great day for Mabel Pines. She’s started planning the big birthday party in about a week, and Candy and Grenda have been over helping out. Soos has dropped in and out every now and then to offer his input, whenever Stan hasn’t found some work for him. She thinks she’d pretty close to nailing the vibe she wants.

It’s been a super nice day too! Not too hot but perfectly sunny, with only a few fluffy white clouds in the sky. Dipper’s spent the afternoon on the roof, head in his Journal, and Wendy comes up later in the afternoon to hang out. He looks like he’s having a great day too, and that makes Mabel feel glad. She feels like they’ve all needed a stress-free day like today.

At 6pm, Candy and Grenda go home for dinner, but Soos and Wendy stay, as Stan’s in a good mood and he’s decided to (make Soos) do a barbeque. They stay out the back until well after dark, just hanging out and talking, like it was earlier in the summer before… say, where is Ford? Oh well, probably in his lab doing nerd stuff. At least he hasn’t dragged Dipper down with him.

Mabel tumbles into bed at about ten, just after filling in her scrapbook, a smile still on her face as she drifts away, waiting for another perfect day tomorrow.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Dipper spends the morning watching Ghost Harassers on the TV, and then heads up to the roof to read some of Journal 1 – he hasn’t read this one as much as the other two, and he’s looking forward to seeing what new insights Ford’s written down about the strangeness of Gravity Falls.

Ford’s down in the lab today, and he hasn’t heard from him. But that’s okay. It’s been a while since he’s had a nice, low-key day like today.

Wendy comes up around three, and they hang out on the roof talking about nothing, as best friends do. They watch as the sunset begins, the trees lit a golden hue, and see from their perch as Candy and Grenda leave. When they come down, Stan tells them he’s holding a barbeque, and Wendy decides to stay over – not like there’s much at home, what with Manly Dan… somewhere or another.

Soos cooks, and they stay out until well after dark. Dipper crawls into bed just after Mabel’s finished filling in her scrapbook, but he stays up a little longer, reading under the covers, until he at last drifts off.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Soos is sweeping the floor in the Mystery Shack when a woman asks him for help finding the shirts. He smiles, points her in the right direction, and returns to sweeping. He whistles to himself. Life is good.

Later, as he’s preparing the barbeque, he has a strange feeling of deja vu, but he shakes it off and prepares some pretty mean burgers. He’s so tired at the end of the night that he falls asleep in the break room - abuelita knows where he is, after all.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Just after lunch break is the worst time of day for Wendy to be working, when the temperature is the warmest and the hours drag the longest. She feels like she’s been serving the same five people for over two hours, but she figures that’s probably just her mind playing tricks on her. Man, she is bored.

She checks her phone. Usually Tambry’s lighting it up about now, but Wendy guesses she’s busy face-sucking Robbie, so there’s no messages.

It’s just gone three - the customers usually thin out about now, and whatever comes through, she’s sure Soos can handle. She’s going up onto the roof. Time to slack off, she thinks.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Stan hasn’t seen Ford in days… actually no, he saw him yesterday, but it feels like days. Heck knows his brother only seems to come out of the lab for minutes at a time. He really shouldn’t be bothered - if Ford wants to starve to death down there, that’s his prerogative - but Ford’s his brother, and he has to look after him.

He puts the code into the vending machine, watching as it slides aside, and walks down the steps towards the elevator. He reaches the halfway point and…

…

…what was he doing?

He rubs his head. Geez, he can’t remember. Well, he’s not going to scam any rubes standing around here. He walks back up, closing the vending machine/door behind him.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Soos is sweeping the floor in the Mystery Shack when a woman asks him for help finding the shirts. He smiles, points her in the right direction, and returns to sweeping. He whistles to himself. Life is good.

He thinks he recognises the woman. She must be a repeat customer.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Mabel is sitting on the floor, drawing a family portrait as a decoration for the party. Seeing as mom and dad can’t be here, she figures she’ll draw them in!

It takes her a little while to remember what they look like, though. It’s been a long summer, she’s just gotten acclimatised. She gets it eventually.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Wendy stands in front of the Mystery Shack, next to one of the picnic tables. Her back is a little sore. She wonders why she’s standing here.

…because she’s walking into work, and her path takes her past this picnic table. Duh.

She walks inside. That night they have a barbeque, and she ends up falling asleep on the same picnic table.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Dipper feels like he’s seen this episode of Ghost Harassers before – but he can’t have, this is a new episode.

He gets up to clear his head and sees Candy in the hallway, just next to the front door. She’s looking out the window - or at least he thinks she is. He blinks and she’s looking at him… wait, no she’s not, she’s definitely looking out…

He’s getting a migraine. He goes to the fridge for a glass of water, and Candy is gone when he gets back.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Soos wakes up in the break room.

He rubs his head. How did he get here? He must have fallen asleep here yesterday, of course.

He can’t remember much about yesterday, though.

Ah well, there’s work to be done! He gets up and heads off to find his broom. Tonight he will fall asleep here again, after the barbeque.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Stan’s eyes are playing tricks on him.

He’s standing next to Soos, criticising his barbeque skills, and he looks up and for a moment the starry sky is a deep, blood red. He jumps, shrieks, and then it’s gone. Probably was never there to begin with, he thinks.

He weathers the mockery that ensues as well as he can, claiming he just tripped over – while standing still, yeah – but the image stays with him until he drifts off to sleep. It’s just a trick of the eyes, but it feels real…

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Dipper’s about to watch Ghost Harassers, but something seems to wash over him, and he feels like he can’t stand to watch this episode again (even though he’s never watched it before.) He decides to do a bit of channel surfing instead.

Click. It’s the news, but the desk is empty, and the room is dusty and filled with cobwebs.

Click. No service.

Click. No service.

Click. The harsh beep of the Emergency Alert System, and the works ‘please await further instructions’ on the screen. There’s a timer at the bottom, counting up - right now it’s at 6307200923 and rising every second.

Click. No service.

He gets up – he needs to tell someone about that EAS, but as he turns to walk to the kitchen, his head spins. What was he doing? That’s right, Ghost Harassers – he switches channels and starts watching, even though a subconscious part of him would rather do literally anything else.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Mabel is talking to Candy and Grenda, but something seems off.

She feels like she’s had this conversation before – like she knows exactly what her friends are about to say. Maybe they’re just super in-sync, but something within her feels a little creeped out. They react to perfectly to everything she says.

She stops talking mid sentence, sitting in silence.

They sit in silence.

They sit in silence.

They sit in silence.

Tḩ̶̏ey ̴̺̈́s̴͔̕ï̷̫t̶̮̓ ̴͈̆in̵̦̑ ̴͈̏s̷̘̀í̵̢l̵̦͊ḙ̴̀n̴͓̆ç̶̾e͕̋.̷̢͑

T̴̨̺͕̣͎̹̼͔͈̦̱̪̓̔̌͐̉ḩ̶̛̺̘̹̪̫͕̺͇̥͚͈̹̫̒̎́͑̈͜e̶̖̮͂̊̽̓͆y̵̧̨̢͚̹̗͚̥̤̪̻͙̻̳͙̰̜̗̞̝͎̿̌̽͂͛̉͛͆̀̎̾̄̈́̔̍͘ ̡͇̥͉͕s̷̢̡̛̬̬̟̱̩̹͈̣̥̗͈̥̦̮͔͋͋̿̾̋̎̅̓͋̐͌̈́̾̃͜͜͝ͅḯ̴̩͎̀́̍̂̍͝t̴̡̡̥̰͉̼͕̻̰̲̗̰͚̲̭̫̐̅̒̾̽̉͌͐̊̍͌̾́͋̂͘͜͠ ̡̜̬̫͙͔̲̤̖͈̙͈̝̱͎̟̲́̀̊̿̿̈̓́̍͘ǐ̧͔̗̔̑͗͛̆͆̏͐̓̒́̃̕n̷̨̞̮̳̪̻͍̦̟͉̼͙̙̮͎̤͑̓̆͗̎͌̇́̈́̉̃͗̀̏̾̒̾̏̇̈́̓͜͜ͅ ̢̟̜̬̪̲̪͓̲͈́̒̎͋̔̚ͅs̢̢̪̜̖̩̩͇̭͈̯̋̒̄̈́̍̓̆̌͐̃̓̚͝į̷͕̻̦̟̜͖̼̲̳͇̪̖̘̌̂̈́͝ļ̷̤̯͙͎̥̫̱̘̗̪̘̘̳̬̭̬̈́̓̅̀̑̃̑̒̐̈́̄̎̿̅͂̑͐͜͝͝ȩ̷͉̭͚͔̬̹̜̺̬̱̰̙̏̈̈́́͛̾̀̽̄̋͗́̈́̋̎͑͛͆̕̕͜͠ṉ̴̡̧̱̥̩̼͈̻̞̩̖̯̣̮̘̣̥̉͒̾͋͒͜c̴̨͓̗͖͈͕̠̱̺̤̑͜ȇ̵̛̟̘̝̲̒͋̃̈̓̋͛̈́̕̕.̧̢̤͚̜͍̮̫̮̞̳̣̤̮̹̀̍̎͋͝

T̵̨̡̢̡͇͍̹͎̳͖͓͍͈̖̝̗͕͇͙͉̣̗̝̼̦͉̥̲̳͔̍̈̿̇͌̃̇̀͗̅̒͑̅̌̄̕̕͠͝ͅh̷̛̛̛̩̭͚̗́̍̀̆̾͌͂̊̚͝e̷̡̛̛̝̞̥̻̱̱͇̬̖̰̘͙̔̔̇̊̿̅̒̃̔̈́̆̈́͌͆̏̈́̔͆̈́́̾̈́͂̆́̓̑͒̿͒̆̈́͘̕͝y̵̠͈̎̀͆̊͌́̌͐͊̂̈̓̄̈́̾̊̇͝͠ ̶̖̙̫͚̙͎̰̠̲̜̪̤͗͐̍͗̅͌̋̅̀́̒̒́͐͆̈́̋̃͂́͌̔̔̽̑̉̚̕͝͝͠s̵̢̡̛̬̱̠̬͔̥̱̩̪̝̲̗̭̟̻̥̮͉̗̺͌̌͑͂̀̈̎̈͂̌̈̾̈́̾͋̌͐͂͊̎̂̇̿͒̆͆̑̽̃̄̕͘̕͝͠͝i̷̧̧̨̡͉̭͖̣̥͚̖̻̝̜͉̲̖͓͈͍̥̦̭͖͖̩̞͕̫̱̜̲̠̤̹̗̋̋̌̋̇͋̂̈́͗̍̿̈́̚̕͜͜ͅt̵̨̧̨̧̪͖͕̟͓̺̣̙̠͙͖̯̖̝̦̞̱̎̊͒͒̈́̒̀̔͗͗̈́͌̏̓͐̂̈̉̿̔̄̄͋̈́̒͑̋͘̚̚͘͜͠͝͝ ̡̡̡̨̛̭̠̜͔̯͉͕̦̳̹̣͓̰͈͔̪̬̟̼̦͓̺̫̀͊̔̄̑͝į̵̡̛̻̲̝̲̖̭̟̻̫̰͇̟̤̭̖̞͈̤͉̮̭̤̠̝͔̭̫̰̱̦̬͓͉͓̒͛͐̓͋̿͊̒̎̐̓̆̑̎͊̿͆͌͐̕n̵̡̡̧̢̛̦̺͙̬͓̻͈̭͇̰͈̫̻̝̝͕̬̬̱͖͍͎̪̮̜̞͈̯̪͂̈́́̆̔̔͑̇̄̓͊̆̚̚͜͜͠ ̷̢̢͍̻̪̲̤̯̮̼̪̲̳̜͕̳͗̄͐́͛̌͐́̓̂̂͊̔͒̈̈͐́̐̒͑̇̄͛̍̀̿̈́͑̃̒͊͘̕͘͘̚͝͝͝ş̴̛̱͍̹͙̘̙̰̝̹̜̩̰͚̳̯̥̤͔̈͒̈́̇͑̒̑̓̌̍̾́̃̉́͝͝͝ͅi̶̢̢̧̛̤͖̻̻̟̙̥͚̭̮̖̰͚͉̣͔̦̪͙̥̞̼͓̎͑̑͒̈́̑͒̂͜͠͝l̷̡̖̲͚̻̖̯̩̫͓̣̞̪͕̝̖̺̼̬̩̰̰͙͚͎̻̖̲̤͖̝̬̠̼̣̹̳͇̳̲͙͐̀̿̾̄̇̔̈́͗͋̌͂̽̐͋͋̈́̂͒̑͒́̂͌̏̔̔͆́̓̚̕͝͝ȩ̴̡͕̤̩͖̯͇͕̫̱̜̦̥̪̹͙͈͎̺͉͕̮̬̟̲͙̮̲̱̳͍͔͆̊̿̊͆͆͑͛̉͊͜͠ͅǹ̵̡̛̛̛̛̯͈͉̙̘̍̃̓͆̔̐͐͑̍̋̾̿̌̐́̊̇̒͒̀͆̃̒̓̈̽́͛̏̒̑͐̔̔̕͝ç̴̧̪͎̝̺̲͙͎͓͖̘͓̠͎̘͇̩̳̻͍̯̙̼̫̹̬̻͖̠͇͖̩̮̣͕̩͖̄͂̂̔̄̂͒̎̎̒͑́̃̇̿̈́̂́̎̍̈́͋̀̽͐͑͐̽͑͊͗̈͝͠͝͠e̴̟̣͉̠̞̹͍͓̺͖͚̤̬͔̮̻͎̳͎͉͙̥̓͂͋̇̔͋͆̍͒̾̽́̿̆́̀̃̀̽̽̂̚͜͜͠.̴̢̥̟͓͇̲̦͓͈̦̻̗̌͋͗̄̚͜

T̴̢̘̤̹̺͚͓͖̥̩̰͔̪̜̬̭͕̜͇͛͋̅̄͝͝ḩ̵̧̛̛̜̳̬̹͙̮͍͖̞̩̙̖̳̲͎̘̹̰͍̝̦̙̩̙̹̠̥̫̜̟̻̺̺̜̹̰͙̜͙̜̩̜̥͕̎̐̌̈̂̆́̂̈̒̉̇͋͌̈̉̔̓͒͐̒͌́̂̈́͗̀̈́̊̐̈́͑̇̈́̕͜͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅe̵̱̖̗͈̟̪͙̽̅̈̒̈́͗͌͒̔̋̑̿́͛̋̀y̞̼͎̆͒͊̍̑͒̿͛̓̾̾̒̉̍̕͝ ̶̧̛̜̗̣̟̟̼̲͉̝̞̳̠̘̟̭̘̖̀̈͐͌̂̊̽̓̒̅̅̒̃̏̆̎͑̈́̈̇̾̑́́̃́̄̌̃̑̇͌̉̿̚̚̕̕͘͝͝͝ͅs̷̨̖͉̗̻̭̍̓͌̑̎̄̌̓͊͐̍͐̈́͑͑̕i̶̧̧̧̡̲̠̼̤̟̲͉̣͕̼̜͔̪͇͔̮̟̭̒̅͐̎̔͑̈́̃̈́̃̐̃̔̾́̓͌̍͐́̆́̀͒̑̀̚͘͝t̶̡̧̛̛͍̣̠̥̯͓͔̪͍̝̠̤̱̖̘̥͇͙̯̝̖͐͑͋̐̓̅͒̋̽̈́̓͒̃̃̓̀̆̋̈́͌͆̀́̓̽̀͗̑̔̍͋̓̚͜͝͝͠��̢̨̮̹̦͔͖̙̹͚̭̹̜͍̯͖͖̼͈ ̴̡̨̨̢̡̛̛̤̻͓̻̜̗͔̼̱̲̩͕̳͈͈̺͓̩̦͍̜̦̟͕̫̗̼̫͓̝͈̰̖̖̼̝̙̬̘̲̟̊̈͆̍̇̐̈́̅̈́̽̈̈́͆̕͜͝ͅį̛̥͙̺͈̯̘͚̯̮̥͙̌̅̽̀́̈̀̋̄͌͊͑̄͛̀̑̌̋͗̋̍̑̂̎̈́̅̈́́̍͘̚͜͝͝n̶̨̡̧̨̡͈̤̳̭͓͕̪͔͚̤̭͇̖̫̹͙̪̲͖̮̥̻̦̤̯̥͔͍̤̎̎̃̈́͂̊́̏͛̉̽̽́̂̊̑̐̎̂͘͜͠͝ͅ ̡́̔̓̄̅̂̈̃͌͗̈́̿̓̔̑̇̔́́͐̒̕̚̚s̴̢͚̭͙͕͍̹̻̉̉̒͊̾̄̓̀̌͋́͋̒̐̈́̅̑̎̂̆́̆͒̒́̔̐͋̊̕̕̚͝î̷̡̡̥̘̹̺͖̫̳͖̻͕̱͍̭̰̣̬̱̩̖͉̖̘̰̦̦͈̪͙̟͈͚̱̼̼̱̝̘͔̜̼̖͉́͗ͅͅͅḽ̛̹͎͕̼̗̂̒͗̓͆͌͛̈̀͋̋̆͂͑̈́̎̎̓̀̊͜͝ẽ̛̦̹̖̯͔̞͎̞̹̥̝͇̮̪̪͓̬̓͗̈́̉̒̂͆̄̌͐̾͑̽̐̾̆̓͝͝ͅn̷̨̛̲͔̝̬͙͓̭̪͚̝̩̩̜̭̭̼̟̻̼̫̯͆͂̒̒̔̋̐̈́̈́̈́͂͋͐̈́̓͋͛͒͆͛̆̌́͌̌̍̈́͐͘͘͝͠͝͝͠ç̷̧̭͎̣̦̰̭̠̩̬͖̦̭̗̹̗͕̼͕̪̦̫̱͎̇͐̾͂̈́͒͑͗͗̅̈̅͋̇̅̕͘͜͜͝͝ͅͅȩ̶̧̧̨͖̜͎̟͕̖͍̝̗͓̪̼̥͕̻̖̰̳̪̣̻͂̃̿̌̈͑̓̿͒̔̈̓͐͋͐̋͗̔̒̾́̎̈͐̈́̿̔͘.̶̛͎͓̅́̐͒̈́̀̃͐͊͗̅̾͐̓̎̽̈̌̓̎́̒̂̀͒͛́̒̽̎͒̀͠͠͝

its not them

ì̷̢̫̱̣͓̤̫̜̲͈͕̰̻̠͈̝̼̊̓̈́͛̈́̐̑̉͆̃͗́̈́̑͠ţ̵̰̘̫͎̝̘̤̭̼͍̟̆̎ŝ̞̰̂̊̉̑͗̇̂̀̇͊̀̏̈́̕͘͝͝

it is

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Mabel is talking to Candy and Grenda, and she feels a momentary sense of deja vu.

Oh well. It’s probably nothing.

She starts to draw her parents, and takes a long time to remember what they look like.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Soos is sweeping the floor in the Mystery Shack when a woman asks him for help finding the shirts. He smiles, points her in the right direction, and returns to sweeping. He whistles to himself. Life is good.

Is it good? He feels like he’s missing something. Something important.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Mabel enters her room and finds Waddles standing in the middle of the room. He is perfectly still. For a moment, she wonders if something is wrong.

He vibrates.

What was she thinking about? Waddles comes over for a pat, and she decides it was nothing important.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Wendy feels like she hasn’t left the Mystery Shack in ages.

She supposes she hasn’t, actually, it’s been hours since her shift started, and she’s been stuck here helping customers. It’s all bleeding together. Blonde surfer guy, elderly husband and wife, black man in a knitted sweater, a couple of teenage girls…

“That’s $6.18, no refunds.” Teenagers leave, blonde surfer guy hands her a shirt.

“That’s $10, no refunds.” Blonde surfer guy leaves, sweater man hands her a few keychains.

“Those are $5.23, no refunds.” Sweater man leaves, blonde surfer guy hands her a shirt.

“That’s $10, no refunds.” Blonde surfer guy leaves, elderly couple hand her a mug.

“$15.20, no refunds.” Elderly couple leave, teenagers hand her a bag.

“$25, no refunds.” Teenagers leave, blonde surfer guy hands her a shirt.

“That’s $10, no refunds.” Blonde surfer guy leaves, sweater man hands her a few keychains…

Man, she hates work some days.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Stan sits at his desk in his office, staring at the wall.

He doesn’t know how long he’s sat here – it feels like hours. He’s been deep in thought for a while, thinking about his life. He does this a lot, but today it feels different.

He can’t quite describe it, but it’s almost as if there are dark fingers over his mind’s eye, keeping him from seeing something, he can’t tell what. When he thinks of Ford, this strange feeling grows deeper. Black smudges cover his face. His voice feels distant and staticy. He blinks, and he can see his father. His face is eyeless behind his sunglasses.

He blinks again. Grenada is standing outside the door, looking in. Her face is indistinct.

He blinks again. There’s nobody there.

To heck with this. He gets up, deciding to go bother Soos.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Dipper feels a strange urge to call his mother as he sits down on the roof. He reaches into his vest for his phone.

He dials her number and waits for her to answer.

Beep.

There is silence, deeper than he has ever known, drowning out the sounds of flies. Such silence that he cannot hear himself think. Endless, unfathomable silence, as if what he calls not only doesn’t exist, but has been annihilated so thoroughly that it never has.

Beep.

She must be out, he thinks, and opens up the Journal.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Soos is sweeping the floor in the Mystery Shack when a woman asks him for help finding the shirts. He smiles, points her in the right direction, and returns to sweeping.

Faintly he realises that the woman has absolutely no identifying features. No eyes, no nose, no mouth, no hair, no face, no head, no body, no…

He hums a little louder as he turns back to his sweeping.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Wendy looks at a photo on her phone and wonders who it is. She can’t recognise them, though she feels like the names of the people in the picture are right on the tip of her tongue.

She sits up on the little deck chair and asks Dipper if he knows. He takes a minute or two to identify them.

Manly Dan. Marcus. Kevin. Gus. Her family. Right, yeah, of course. How did she forget? It just seems like so long since she’s seen them – but she saw them yesterday…

She loses her train of thought, but in the back of her mind, the thought lingers.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Mabel feels tired. That makes sense, they’ve had a big night, and she’s just sticking a last polaroid in her scrapbook before bed. She turns the page and finds that she’s filled the book.

She yawns, opening the drawer and pulling out another scrapbook. It’s always good to keep a spare. She adds the scrapbook to the growing pile under the bed. How many are there? There’s got to be at least twenty. But that doesn’t make sense, does it?

It must do. It must do.

She drifts off to sleep.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Mabel doesn’t start on the portrait today. She doesn’t realise she’s long forgotten what her parents look like.

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Candy and Grenda leave the Mystery Shack at 6. They walk into the trees and stand perfectly, waiting for

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Soos is sweeping the floor in the Mystery Shack when a thing shaped like a woman

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Stan sees his brother - the other one, his name escapes him - screaming

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

Dipper’s subconscious cries out at the prospect of watching Ghost Harassers again

---

It is the 25th of August

Surfer dude sweater man elderly couple teenagers “$6.18 no refunds”

---

It is the 25th

Mabel laughs with the things that aren’t Candy and Gren

---

It is

wake up

---

It is

wake up

---

It is

wake up

---

It is the 25th of August 2012.

[clotpolesonly]

Six Of One

welcome to another episode of "Jess projects her experiences onto fictional characters" 😂 it's been a little while! (i strongly suspect that this experience of mine is the 'tism somehow, hence me subjecting my autistic king Declan to it) anyway, the title is a truncation of the phrase "six of one, half dozen of another" which means that two options are equal in value and, thus, it doesn't actually matter which you choose. one is as good as the other. | Jordeclan | Gen | 2.3k | Established Relationship | Verbal Shutdown | Accommodations | Fluff | (also on AO3)

The new studio space was spacious, well-lit, and blissfully free of vegetable-esque breasts. This one also had an elevator instead of three flights of stairs, thank God. Declan stepped out of it and into the familiar scent of turpentine and canvas, strong even though all the doors along the hallway were currently closed. A small, private smile tugged at his lips, despite his mood.

Perhaps it wasn’t right to call it a mood. By all accounts, Declan felt fine. His day had gone well so far, with a number of business transactions handled smoothly and efficiently, a phone number attained for a frustratingly difficult to track down associate-of-an-associate-of-an-associate, and several texts exchanged with Ronan with hardly any insults involved. It was breezy outside with just a hint of chill in the air signaling the incoming cold snap. The barista at the café had called him Derek again, but she’d finally gotten his coffee order just right. Matthew had only been five minutes late to soccer practice instead of his usual ten.

Declan had had far more stressful days than this one—he could practically see the look Ronan would give him for the sheer magnitude of that understatement—and yet he couldn’t help the tightness in his shoulders as he let himself into the studio.

Jordan was at her easel, engrossed in whatever she was working on today. Music spilled from her laptop, as it often did when she painted, and her voluminous cloud of curls jounced with every enthusiastic bop of her head. The baggy jean overalls she’d taken to wearing had been released from her shoulders, straps instead tied haphazardly around her waist to leave her in a mildly paint-splattered sports bra instead. She was barefoot.

Some of Declan’s tension eased.

The Artist Unbound, oil on canvas, he thought. Or perhaps pastels, to capture the soft haziness of the feeling that grew in his chest to see her like this. Not for the first time, he considered taking Jordan up on her offer to teach him how to actually make art himself, instead of only appreciating others’. It was always said with a teasing lilt, but she meant it. Every time, she meant it.

It wasn’t until one track flipped over to another less to Jordan’s liking that she noticed his presence. She immediately rerouted from the laptop to dance her way across the room, smiling, until she was close enough to kiss him.

“About time, Pozzi,” she said, arms sliding around Declan’s waist. “I was beginning to think you’d fallen down a manhole or slipped through a sewer grate or something equally cartoonish and ridiculous. Not because I thought it likely—I mean, let’s be honest, if anyone is going to fall prey to cartoon physics in this, the real world, it would definitely be Ronan—but I’ll admit, I did get a certain amount of schadenfreude from the mental image. Hope you don’t mind, love you lots, anyway, what took you so long? Did Matthew lose a fight with his cleats again?”

Declan opened his mouth to tell her about the Masshole who cut him off right when he needed to change lanes to catch his exit. He was going to tell her about the lady’s flowery “Choose Kindness” bumper sticker and make a quip about irony. “If only I could be that lacking in self-awareness,” he planned to say, “it’s probably so much easier to live that way.”

He didn’t say any of it. He thought it. He thought it clearly and fluently, all the words lined up and ready to go. Then he opened his mouth and nothing came out.

His shoulders inched back up toward his ears. Jordan’s fingers dug into his back, no doubt feeling the tension creep in there as well, and she pulled back a bit to look at him.

“Alright, bruv?”

Declan closed his mouth. He nodded. It both was and was not the truth.

Jordan tilted her head to the side, lips pursing. She didn’t look concerned, which Declan appreciated, but the scrutiny brought more color to his cheeks than he would’ve liked.

Tone light and easy, she said, “Hand-Cat got your tongue with its weird little hands?”

That mental image, every bit as cartoonish as Ronan falling down a manhole and twice as disturbing, yanked a laugh out of him. Jordan’s smile was smug, like it always was when she managed to make Declan laugh in a way that would embarrass him if he’d done it in public, but she was still watching him carefully. Looking for clues, maybe, or for an explanation.

Declan wanted to tell her, It’s fine.

He wanted to tell her, You don’t need to worry, it’s only that my mouth has spontaneously developed a dysfunction where it refuses to produce sound.

He wanted to tell her, This happens sometimes. No, I don’t know why.

He wanted to tell her, All the words are still in here, I just can’t seem to get them out.

Instead, he fished his phone out of his pocket. He opened up their text thread and typed out a message, turning it around for her to read instead of sending it.

[Do you mind if I talk like this?]

Jordan had to pull back further to squint at the small screen, tightening her grip on his waist to keep from tipping over backwards. A crease appeared between her eyebrows, lips pursing again. Her eyes darted to his face for a mere second, assessing, and then her face cleared. She shrugged expansively.

“Doesn’t make any difference to me, Pozzi. Words in air, words on a screen—six of one, if you know what I mean. Call it a baker’s dozen if you throw in emojis. Did Matthew teach you about those yet? The silly little pictures the kids are using these days?”

Declan rolled his eyes. He typed out another message.

[I’m acquainted with the concept of emojis, yes. I didn’t even need Matthew’s tutelage in them.]

He included a little old man emoji to punctuate the statement. It might have been the first time he had ever actually utilized an emoji in a text message, but Jordan didn’t need to know that. It made her laugh, anyway, which was the important thing.

She stepped back out of their embrace, her hands taking a brief detour to squeeze his ass before letting him go completely, and dug her own phone out of one of her overall pockets. She held it up with a jaunty little shake.

“Mind if I respond out loud?” she asked, walking backwards in the direction of her half-finished painting. “Only, this shit’s messy, and touchscreens and fingerpainting don’t get along very well. Though I suppose I could make something avant garde out of it. Statement about the sanitization of the internet and corporate whatever-you-like killing the creative spirit and whatnot. You’d have to buy me a new phone after, if I sacrificed this one to the art gods, but I know you’re good for it.”

[You can talk normally.]

Declan sent this text, since Jordan had retreated too far to read it from his screen. She checked the message and nodded. Then she spent a minute fiddling with her phone, humming along to the laptop’s next selection. She propped it up on the edge of her easel, far enough away from the canvas to not be in danger of getting splattered, with an air of triumph.

“Futzed with the settings,” she explained. “So it won’t time out and turn off as fast and I won’t have to keep trying to unlock it with messy fingers. If you say something and I don’t notice for too long, whistle or some shit.”

Declan watched as she picked up her abandoned brush, loaded it with paint, and set about her work without further ado. It took him a moment to recalibrate. He wasn’t certain exactly what reaction he’d expected, but an absence of questions, comments, or concerns apparently had not been it. Eventually, he shucked off his jacket and took up his usual position on the couch, angled just so to have the best view of Jordan herself and also a glimpse of her piece as it came together under her deft hand.

Normally, this was the part of the evening when Declan would talk. Well, he spent a lot of every day talking, but this was when he would actually say things. Things that mattered to him, stories he wanted to tell, jokes too inappropriate to make in a business setting, anecdotes no one else in his life would’ve cared to hear but Jordan always did. Now, he turned his phone over in his hand a few times before typing out, [Missed my exit. Some Masshole with a “choose kindness” bumper sticker cut me off in traffic, if you can believe that.]

Jordan’s phone buzzed with the incoming text. He watched as she finished a careful stroke of the brush before glancing down at the screen, still lit up. She snorted.

“Choose kindness? The irony’s killing me, mate. D’you think she takes selfies sipping $18 frappuccinos and captions them with Love Is Love and #positivity?”

[Almost certainly.] He added a peace sign emoji. It made Jordan laugh. [But Matthew was very nearly on time today, I’ll have you know.]

Jordan’s gasp was theatrical. “Really? He does learn!”

[Miracle of miracles. He didn’t even bitch when I said we didn’t have time to stop for McDonald’s. Truly, a day of firsts.]

Part of Declan thought that maybe Matthew had chosen to let it go on purpose—one of those rare moments of perceptiveness that were growing less rare with time, now that Matthew was making an effort toward, as he put it, “learning how to think better”. On the way to soccer practice had been when Declan’s mouth had started to betray him. He’d had to think “Matthew, put your seatbelt on” six times before he’d managed to actually communicate it audibly. The McDonald’s question had been met with a curt “no time for that”, forced out with far more effort than made any kind of sense for four very simple words that Declan said on a regular basis. By the time they’d reached the school, it had been a true struggle to muster up a goodbye, and once he had, he’d known there would be no more verbalizing tonight.

Matthew hadn’t seemed upset or like he thought Declan was mad at him, which was a relief because he wasn’t. There had been nothing wrong. Declan wasn’t even anxious about anything, beyond his general baseline. He’d thought plenty of perfectly amiable thoughts in Matthew’s direction on that trip. He’d told himself to say them instead, over and over. The rest of him just hadn’t cooperated.

He wondered now if, had he not been driving, Matthew would have minded him texting instead. Matthew wasn’t text-phobic like Ronan. He probably would’ve been over the moon about the opportunity to introduce emoji usage into their conversations, regardless of whatever malfunction of Declan’s speech capabilities had provided it.

Jordan certainly didn’t seem to mind. She chatted away the same way she always did, with only a slight delay when her eyes were too busy to spare. Text wasn’t a particularly expressive medium for conveying tone, but she knew him well enough to infer when he was being wry. She did send him an amused look for how long it took him to type out several paragraphs’ worth of commentary on the Henry Wallis wannabe from down the hall, but she put down her brush to read it all eagerly enough that he didn’t feel judged for it.

Despite the alteration to their routine, it felt just the same as it always did.

Declan wanted to tell her, I love you.

Instead, he texted, [You’re really not going to ask, are you?]

He’d been quiet—so to speak—for long enough that Jordan had to double-tap at her screen with the back of her cleanest knuckle to access the notification. She didn’t need clarification or context. She just wiped some carmine paint onto the thigh of her overalls and said, “Is it something that needs asking about?”

Declan turned that question over in his head. He would have asked, if he’d been in her position. He’d been asking himself for hours. Hell, he’d been asking himself for years, what this was and why it happened and why he couldn’t just spit it out when he got like this. He’d yet to find an answer or a solution.

But Jordan hadn’t needed one. All she’d needed was a way to keep hearing him.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

He couldn’t say it right now, but he could wrap his arms around Jordan’s waist and press a kiss to her shoulder. She set down her brush in favor of reaching up to bury her fingers in his curls, cupping the back of his head to keep him close. She was undoubtedly getting paint in his hair. He decided that he didn’t care very much. They stayed like that for most of a song, swaying gently, Jordan humming along contentedly despite this particular track not being of a genre that easily lent itself to humming.

On the easel, Jordan’s phone screen dimmed, sleep mode impending. Declan picked it up before it could go fully dark. He typed in a text and held it up for Jordan to see.

[Thank you.]

Jordan wiggled around to face him properly, settling her arms around his neck and somehow managing to trap the phone between their chests. She kissed him, sweet and slow.

“Anytime, Pozzi,” she murmured against his lips. “Six of one, know what I mean?”

Declan thought, I’m starting to.

[leftfield-fm]

Scott Ross says of that evening:

The first time I dropped pills was with Brian. I think I knew even then that one day he was going to kill himself with an overdose. He went at it in a crazy way, mixing ups and downs, red pills, yellow pills, pills with stripes on them. “You ought to try this,” Brian said, handing me a fistful of multi-coloured capsules. I don’t think even he knew what they were. Somebody had given them to him and Brian was the kind to try anything. …a party was going on, had been going on for four days. Brian popped four of the pills into his mouth. “Groovy,” he said. I took two of them and they were groovy all right! When we walked back into the party a little later, I felt like I was the tallest one in the room. “Let’s go over to my hotel,” Brian said. “I’ve got some of the good stuff, straight from Mexico.” I had never smoked marijuana, but the mood I was in, anything sounded good. As Brian’s chauffeur-driven Cadillac was heading crosstown, the street-lights began to look brown to me. I figured it was the pills. But then they went out altogether. The lights in the stores were out, too. I rolled down the window. Women were screaming. “Maybe the world is coming to an end,” Brian said. The traffic lights weren’t working and the limousine slowed to a crawl. Automobile headlights were the only illumination on the streets. At last, our driver weaved his way through the snarl to the hotel. I wouldn’t have believed it. In spite of the weird, blacked-out city, there was a group of teeny-boppers in front of the main entrance waiting for Brian to come back. “There he is!” they shouted. “Quick!” said Brian. He pushed me through the service door and waved to the man on duty. Obviously, the guy had been through this before, because he had the door locked behind us almost before we were through it. He handed us a candle and showed us how to get up to the lobby since the elevators weren’t working. The lobby, too, was candle-lit. We climbed a lot of flights to Brian’s suite. We were taking our coats off when there was a knock on the door. Brian took the candle and opened it. It was Bob Dylan with a bunch of people. “It’s an invasion from Mars,” said Bob. They all came in and we stood at Brian’s windows looking out over the dark city. It was wild, like Glasgow in the war. “Let’s turn on,” said Bob. “What better time? The little green men have landed.” Brian rolled me my first marijuana cigarette. Neither he nor Bob could believe that I had never smoked pot. By now, they were saying on the transistor radio that the blackout was probably nothing more than a massive power failure. But we knew better. It was the end of the world and we were going out on cloud nine.

That night, Brian took part in a jam session with Dylan, Robbie Robertson and Bobby Neuwirth in his room. They played acoustic guitars by candle-light, but there was no power to record the music: this session was always referred to later as “The Lost Jam.”

excerpt from Bill Wyman's memoir, Stone Alone

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Take My Heart

🩸Previous Parts Here🩸

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, night terrors, hurt/comfort, mentions of sexual acts, anxious boys, guns, cursing, sick Kells, MF butting in, unwanted person in personal space, alpha posturing, MF manipulating, unwanted kissing, mentions of past assault, severe misunderstandings, angry Dom, hurt Dom, self hated, scared boys, alpha rage, Collette being a saint, more misunderstandings, poor sex education, Dom being a daft boy, Tom saving the day, googling sex facts, improper understanding of life, idiot boys, enemies to lovers 💣 Rating: mature

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

The sociopath was surprised at himself as he stepped to the edge of the roof that night. He was smiling and felt as if he were already floating. It had kept him stupidly giddy all day. He was still confused, he didn't know what he and the omega were to each other. It wasn't as if they talked much. But when he'd woken up in the sweat, blood, cum, and slick drenched sheets that morning it was with a smile and he'd barely rid himself of it all day. When he'd gone home to change Tom had made a few jokes at his expense but even that couldn't fuck with his good mood. He was starting to feel like he was walking on cloud nine- whatever the fuck that meant- and nothing would bring him back down to earth. He hadn't just made his lover feel better, Colson had purposely held him back as they'd fallen asleep. As far as he was concerned they'd made a big step and he'd carry that high with him as long as he could.

Kells had been freaking out internally all day. He wasn't sure if it was a night terror hangover or what the fuck but when he'd woken up that morning covered in the dried remnants of their midnight desire he'd been overwhelmed. He'd barely fallen asleep again when the sun came through the glass wall, making their mess so stark to his nervous gaze he'd nearly gotten sick on Dom. It wasn't the Alpha that bothered him, the fucker was probably more than he deserved. It was the fact that he'd needed the killer. That he'd allowed someone to make him feel better. That staring at the boy made his heart warm and his stomach ache in the best way. That he'd willingly had sexual intimacy with an Alpha, though who that Alpha was made it easier to accept. More than anything though he couldn't let anyone become home.

He'd spent the day mid-panic and pissed at the world. He was so anxious he was nauseous and any scent but Dom's made him snap. He'd made it through the day but barely, he'd kept himself busy with a run, a quick workout, and meetings with his family most of the day. His mother had been shooting him soft worried looks but he couldn't even let himself be alone with her. If he was he knew he'd break down and spill his guts which might end up in him actually spilling his non-existent lunch. He couldn't even eat the whole day.

He knew everyone was treating him strange but sometimes as the boss it was allowed. If they wanted to walk on eggshells he wouldn't stop them. For once he was okay with them treating him like glass and fucking off. Megan however had been a constant shadow all day, she didn't act worried but she wouldn't leave. There was a lot of leaning over his desk with her tits in his face and sitting on the edge of it right next to him. He figured she was just showing her concern in a weird way but he didn't care to ask. Talking took too much energy and he just wanted to crawl in bed and sleep.

As he made his way home that night he was surprised to find the female Alpha waiting for him at the elevator. She had a takeout bag in her hand and a gentle smile on her face. “I thought you might want to talk. Collette was worried you hadn't eaten so… dinner?” She purred, swinging the bag in front of his face and even though he was sure his mother hadn't mentioned to Megan she was concerned, he decided to let her come up anyway. She had obviously gone home, changed, and taken off her makeup. For the first time in a while she reminded him of the girl she used to be. They'd grown up together and even if she was a little over the top as an adult and they butted heads, at one point she'd been his only friend. Maybe with everything going on that was exactly what he needed.

Col nodded and let her follow him up. It was still hours before Dom would appear and he wasn't even sure he could allow him in again. Maybe chilling with Megan would remind him he had needed other people before. He had family beyond that freak. Not that he thought of the killer as family. Fuck.

As the doors opened and she followed him inside his apartment he caught the scent of home. It relaxed his shoulders and eased his worry but that just irked him all over again. His home smelled so much like Dom. “You need candles or something. Shit Daddy that's… Ew.” She teased. Her nose wrinkled as she took a seat on his couch and started unloading the food. Normally Colson would remove his guns, get into comfortable clothes, and unlock the glass door, but he only made it as far as locking away his weapons and stripping off his shirt. He couldn't bring himself to open the door. He still wasn't sure he could let the boy in.

Megan smiled as he stretched out on the couch next to her and she let her hair down to fall around her face. She didn't move to eat anything and he didn't either. “You know I'm here for you, right? I always have been. I don't know what's up with you and that freak but…” She trailed off her blunt words to scoot closer to him and she placed her hand on his thigh.

“We really don't have to talk. Didn't you want dinner?” Kells asked. He tried to cut her off before she started but he'd really thought she just wanted to hang out. It rankled something inside him when she used his pet name for Dom. She didn't mean it sweet and he was starting to realize he did. He already had one Alpha in his life, he didn't need another. As much as he thought of her as a sister that was all it was. That's all it had ever been.

“I'm just trying to help. I mean if you need me to make him back off-”

“What the fuck Megs? I didn't say- If I need someone to fuck off I'll make them go. I don't know who you think you're talking to-”

“I'm talking to you! You know it's supposed to be us Cols, I've always been here for you.”

That shut him up momentarily and they sat staring at each other. He'd never thought that way about her and she never showed indication that she did either until the other Alpha appeared in his life. “I don't want a fucking pissing contest just because you realized I might be worth something. I'm an Alpha Megan, and your god damned boss. I don't need you fighting my battles and I think you need to leave.”

The Alpha scoffed but she didn't move and the omega's skin started to feel tight again. He could feel that pit of anxiety in his stomach and he regretted whatever he thought was a good idea about letting her in. It would take days to get her scent out. How would this shit make Dom feel? Not that he cared. No wonder the psycho stared her down all the time. He hated admitting the other man was right.

Megan pushed herself to the edge of the couch and Colson stood up to get space from her. “Don't do something you'll regret. You need me.” She purred as she stepped closer to him. With her so close he realized something, even the fresh face girly look was a mask. She had makeup and extra pheromone spray and everything about her suddenly felt so fucking fake. Whoever was in front of him didn't feel like his old friend. If she ever existed at all.

“I said get the fuck out before I make you. You forget who you're talking to. If you wanna talk about regrets-” He couldn't finish his sentence before her fake nails were tangled in his hair and she pulled him down with her overpowering strength. He tried to escape but she moved too fast, showing off who was the actual Alpha. When her lips pressed to his he thought he heard a growl. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was himself. Maybe it was the universe saying how fucked up it was. He wrapped his hands around her arms and pushed her back and the moment he had a little distance his stomach rolled from her scent. Wrong Alpha. So fucking wrong. “Get the fuck out!” He spat in a rage as he ran for his bathroom to be sick. He was so overwhelmed he didn't realize who else had been close enough to see.

Dom’s happy high only lasted until his feet touched down on the balcony. The first indication something was wrong was the darkened room on the other side of the locked glass door. Had he done something wrong? Was Colson not home yet? He knew he was early but he couldn't wait. He could hear voices though and he moved along the wall until he found the window into the living room. It was closed as well but he could at least see his lover and… Kells wasn't alone? The omega wasn't just not alone, he was with that bint Alpha and she- they were kissing. Someone that wasn't him was kissing what was his. But maybe… maybe Colson had never been his. Maybe he'd read everything wrong between them. Maybe he'd pushed too far the night before. Maybe he just wasn't good enough.

Something hot and spikey formed in his chest. His heart ached and his fists balled at his sides. Part of him wanted to break the glass and kill her with his bare hands and another… he knew deep down this was deserved. Colson was worth more than that. A monster could never measure up. The urges he'd been pushing off bubbled up in his mind and emphasized his point. He had buckets of blood on his hands and maybe the omega deserved something clean. Well manicured.

He was surprised at himself that he found the strength to jump back to the roof. His body felt numb but he made the leap and felt his lungs trying to seize as he took off running down the stairs. When he hit the bottom floor his vision blurred. He couldn't see straight or think or breathe. When he stumbled against something he could only growl as his legs went out from under him. Was this what emotions felt like? He didn't like them. He just couldn't seem to shut them off or find his safe dark mental retreat. “Dom? Sweetheart? Are you alright?” A soft voice made it through the haze and he blinked through something wet to find Collette crouched in front of him, her gentle hand cupping his face. “Why are you crying? What's wrong? Is Colson okay? The b-”

“Is tha’ wha' the wet is?” Dom huffed, trying to make light of the fucked up situation he found himself in. “Cols is fine. Jus’ ask Megan.” Her name tasted like ash on his tongue.

Collette’s blonde brows furrowed as she sat on the floor in front of the broken boy. It broke her heart to see him like that and she didn't care if they were making a scene. She owned half the building anyway, that had to get her and her family some special treatment. “What do you mean? Did something happen? What about Megan?” She knew her tone changed at the mention of the other Alpha. She hadn't trusted Megan since she appeared as a teen. She wasn't the normal stray her husband had taken in, she was a daughter of a friend and didn't need them like the others did. If anything she just caused trouble. Her annoyance turned to disdain the day she caught her hitting on Travis but of course her love shut that shit right down. She just hoped her son was as smart as his adoptive father. It didn't seem to be the case.

“‘Ow could he do tha’ after last night? I fhought we was- I- Mine?” Dom couldn't get his thoughts straight and he knew he wasn't making sense. He needed to leave. He had to get out. Away. He couldn't stain his omega anymore than he already had. He should have known better.

“I don't know what my dumbass boy did but just… Give him time? I know it's not fair to ask but he needs you.” She frowned at the Alpha's scoff. “They both do.” Dom’s lost eyes looked up at her, confusion etched on his face. Maybe Colson wasn't the only dumbass around. They were perfect for each other. “Did he still not tell you about the baby? He's been denying it but I thought-” Whatever she was going to say stopped dead in her throat as the lost boy's gaze flashed crimson and his face became a mask of rage and confusion. He pushed himself up and stumbled for the door and though she tried to stop him and explain he was too fast for her. She might look young but she was still damaged from the beating her ex gave her. Some of her body never recovered. “I meant yours!” She tried to shout after him but she was scared he was too far gone. Well… if she couldn't talk sense into him she'd have to try the other.

Collette grimaced when she reached her son's floor. The apartment reeked of the female Alpha. It always bothered her instincts. She wasn't surprised to find Megan in the front room and rage for the boys bubbled inside her. “I don't know what you're trying but you need to leave them the fuck alone. I don't know what my son saw in you to keep you around but I have a feeling you killed that tonight. You better hope you didn't break anything else or it won't be Dom coming after you. It'll be me.” The girl of course just smirked at her, Megan was too much a regular Alpha to be scared. Instead of trying to convince her she should be terrified, Collette just left her alone and went to find her son.

Colson felt miserable. His stomach was turned inside out and he was soaked in sweat. Something in his chest hurt but he didn't understand what it was. When he heard footsteps he groaned thinking it was Megan back for more but thankfully it was just his mom. Well, he was relieved until he saw her face and it made his stomach roll again. “Please don't-”

“Don't tell me what to do boy. You think you're too old to be bent over my knee? I'll kick your ass and remind you who's really boss here.” After her small tirade her face softened and she crouched next to her son to pet soothingly down his back. He'd been obviously sick and she knew how awful that felt. For just a moment she enjoyed the revenge, after all he made her feel just as awful twenty seven years before.

“Fucks wrong with me?” He whimpered and even though his mother was a soothing presence she wasn't what he truly needed. “Can you- the balcony. Open it?”

Collette’s face fell and she sighed as she stood up to get her boy a cool wet cloth. “I'm sorry to say Dom’s already been by tonight.”

“Oh. Wait- Oh god.”

“Yep.” Collette nodded, busying herself with getting the temperature just right. “It's bad Cols. He saw you kiss her. I tried to explain about what's happening but he got confused and ran off.” She knew she couldn't say the word flat out to her son. Not after what he went through so young. She'd been trying to hint and trying to be there for him but it obviously hadn't hit yet. Or he was just truly ignoring all the signs. She was just thankful they had another seven or so months to help him figure it out.

“I don't know what she was thinking. I didn't fucking kiss her. She kissed me and made me sick. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me mom. I didn't mean to scare him off.” His voice was shot from being sick and too much emotion. He shouldn't have been so quick to push Dom away. He just didn't know how to handle being so close to someone else. He'd never been able to let anyone inside.

“She saw you with your mate and suddenly decided she wanted what she couldn't have. That's nothing new for her. Here. Clean yourself up. We have to figure out how to get your Alpha back and you don't want to look a mess do you?”

“Fuck you.” Colson grumbled as she pressed the cool wet cloth to his face. His hand caught hers before she could pull away and he cupped her palm against his cheek. Fuck. It smelled like Dom. It smelled like home. “Thank you.”

Dom was surprised at himself when he made it to his flat without slaughtering anyone. It was only two blocks away but still. He couldn't see straight, everything was tinted red, and his body felt so weak he collapsed inside the door. Tom of course was home and came out to find him curled on the floor. Was he still crying? He couldn't tell anymore. “What the hell happened to you?” The omega asked as he took a seat next to what seemed to be the walking shell of his Alpha best friend. He'd never seen the man so gone and it scared him. For Dom and for everyone else that crossed his path.

“Colson don't want me. I get it. M'a monster.” At the boy's whimper Tom couldn't help but roll his eyes. That he knew was bullshit. On both counts.

“And what gave you that impression?” He tried to keep his voice soft and caring but there were moments he thought the pair should really get their heads out of their asses.

“He kissed someone else.” Dom whined.

“Oh? Did he say that? Are you sure someone else didn't kiss him?” The photographer asked gently as he pet through the killer's hair.

“I seen it! Cunt kissed me ‘mega right in front of me! Probably knocked ‘im up too.” Dom's voice broke and he curled tighter into a little ball of misery. “I bet she got summat. I ‘ope ‘ey make each over sick.” Tom snorted. He wasn't used to his best friend being a catty bitch and he honestly liked that side of his dumbarse brother. “Don't laugh! Tha’ pretty fucker’s whelped!”

“I know.”

“Ya know?!” Dom yanked himself away from the omega and pushed himself to sit up. He wrapped his arms around his knees and held himself tight lest he shatter into a million little pieces. How could Tom of all people be so callous? Was he wrong about everyone? “Wha’ ya meeeean?” He sniffled, wiping his red nose on his tattered jeans. Tom couldn't help but wrinkle his nose as he watched.

“I figured it out early but when he didn't go into heat again this last week…” Tom shrugged. It seemed so obvious to him. He could scent it on Dom every time he came home.

“Oh tha’s jus’ bloody brilliant! Fuck right off wiv tha’! Tom, ‘ow could yas? Ain't I been good to you? ‘Ow could ya not tell me someone whelped me mate?” It didn't hit Dom that he finally started claiming the mob boss and somehow the pieces refused to fall together in his mind.

“Dominic. I…” Tom sighed. He knew he had to navigate carefully because his friend had been through hell. “Didn't you have sex with him?”

“Yeah but he was still on blockers. It was a false ‘eat. Besides, we didn't do it right to make nuffin.” That was probably Dom’s biggest regret of the moment but he couldn't bring himself to do it any other way.

Tom was pretty sure he heard an audible record scratch in his mind. How the fuck? He really desperately didn't want to ask but… “What do you mean you didn't do it right? Anal?”

“No he wouldn't let me.”

“Oral?”

“No! Bloody ‘ell Tom.” The Alpha's cheeks flushed but it wasn't from shame. It was the omega in front of him who taught him what was socially acceptable to discuss and this wasn't that. He could never keep up with the damn rules of being human. “It were proper intercourse.”

“Dom… and please know we're never talking about this night ever again but I have to ask- how does an Alpha and an omega make a baby?” He was lying of course, the bastard was never living this one down. Holy hell.

Dom squirmed. He despised this conversation already. It reminded him of his father and the worst night of his life. Well, it had been the worst, this was turning out to be torture for him. “Only proper way to breed an omega is making ‘em present. Cols tried to bend over the table for me but I wouldn't let ‘im. I were careful. But I guess tha’ bitch is why he didn't need me for more.” He pouted, hiding his face against his knees.

So much made sense to the omega and he was happy all over again he could still envision the sight of Dom's dead dad. He was a crime scene photographer even then and he'd never seen something so horrific and artistic at the same time. Dominic made a beautiful mess of all his victims. He shook himself to clear the memory and took a deep breath before slapping the back of the boy's head.

“Oi! Uncalled for!”

“That's your fucking child you daft monkey! If you came inside him? You made a baby. You weren't being careful ya twat, just romantic.”

Dom scoffed at the word that felt almost dirty to him but he locked eyes with the person he trusted most. After a moment Tom sighed and reached for his phone before he typed something in and turned it around. In bold on Google were words he probably should have looked up himself. “‘A fetus is made when an Alpha's sperm- ew- is deposited inside an omega’s womb’... Ya don't even ‘ave to knot?” He paused his reading aloud to ask but he kept on. “‘An omega's ‘eat is ‘elpful for conception but not required. Some omegas may be bred in the days leading to and after’.” His jade eyes went wide and he tried to swallow past a lump in his throat but he had to ask one more thing. His thumbs moved fast as he typed his query in. He was almost terrified to read on. “‘Blockers are known to protect from pregnancy unless conception ‘appens between a True Mating pair and studies show in such cases blockers fail on scenting each over. Effects on fetuses not known’. Fuck.”

“I think if he's still carrying then your baby is fine. He stopped pretty quickly right?” Tom asked softly as he took his phone back. He might have been near laughing before but that part wasn't funny.

“Me baby? Me baby is… mine?” That wasn't what the Alpha meant to ask but it came out anyway and the omega nodded.

“I think you should go talk to him. Stay calm and find out what happened with the other Alpha. Be gentle with him, he's probably overwhelmed.”

Dom felt a growl rumble in his chest at the thought of Megan. “Tha's me baby she tried to poison wiv ‘er bitch spit. ‘Ey mine.”

“There you go. Go on. Go fix it. I'll be here. You're welcome.” Tom teased but he knew the boy was already lost in his new mental mission. He stood up as Dom did and moved to go back to his room but as the Alpha reached the door he stopped, turned back he ran to give his brother a hug.

“Fank you. I couldn't do nuffin wiv’out you.” It was a rare human moment from the sociopath but Tom savored the gratitude and happiness he felt from the other. He hugged him back before gently pushing him away.

“Go to your mate dumbarse. I love you too.” The Alpha grinned at Tom's words before nodding and running off, leaving the omega shaking his head fondly. “Idiots. Both of them. That poor kid.”

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know 🖤

I mean you all knew this was coming, I can't help it. The meddling MF or the mpreg 🤭 Dom's sexual education was awful obviously but at least he's cute. The next chapter will have some very dark moments but it has happy time and love too. I hope you're all enjoying this so far 💣🖤

[thetypingpup]

plug!vernon smoking you out then begging to eat your pussy from the back! cotton mouth be damned, he’s got you making a mess on his face cause your so high and stimulated you can’t stop grinding your fat ma (that’s what he likes to call it) over his mouth and thick ass tongue

first of all him begging to eat you out is already hot enough and i need a minute to breathe. fuck imagine the way he'd beg though, leaning in and letting his hand rove up your bare thigh. you had fooled around before, but it never went beyond making out with some heated touching here and there. you instantly feel that telltale pulse of arousal between your legs, each beat of anticipation languid and intense from your high. he'd breathe out his words with each languid exhale against your lips as he kisses you and pulls you closer, pleading with you to really make you feel good. you already feel your body buzzing with the need for more, the warmth of his kisses sending surges of heated lust through you. his voice would get breathier, bordering on a whine the longer he kisses you, the longer he thinks about being between your legs. he's wanted to eat you out so bad for so long, and he thinks now the mood is perfect. the soft music playing in his room has gone from slow tunes to more suggestive songs, and you look so damn hot doused in shadow and the purple led glow of the lights. he keeps begging you "please, please let me make you feel good. let me taste you. let me make you cum. i can make you feel so good, please."

you can't deny that the thought has crossed your mind before, but his eagerness is what wins you over.

when he finally gets his tongue on you, omfg he's instantly on cloud nine. from the first sweep of his tongue over your folds, you both let out rumbling groans of pure pleasure. the high from the weed makes the pleasure you feel all the more intense, only accentuating your elevated state. he grabs your thighs, pulling you back onto his face, all the while you grasp the pillow for purchase. the moment his tongue circles your clit, your hips move on their own accord, pressing back against his warm, wet tongue. you can't stop moaning, can't stop babbling about how good he's making you feel, and your sounds of bliss makes his cock twitch between his legs. the plush, cottony dryness of his mouth is combated by the way your arousal flows from your centre and right onto his tongue, and he greedily licks up every drop. he lets his eyes slide shut as he just takes you in, wrapping his lips around your clit to make you whine and squeal in pleasure. the way you tremble in his grasp only has him grabbing onto you tighter, pressing his face in deeper. your scent drives him wild. your sounds and cries for more make him move with even more vigor, increasing the intensity. your taste makes him fucking delirious with lust. he keeps his face pressed right against you as he takes it all in, loving that he's completely smothered by everything that is you. and just when he thought it couldn't get any better, you cum right on his face, and he feels the rush of wet heat practically pouring from your quivering, pulsing heat. it's more than enough to have him reaching his own peak right after, and he cums in his pants with a muffled moan of "fuck, yes".

as soon as you come down, your minds are already reeling at the possibility of doing that again.

[boba-at-323]

The stars had never shined this bright.

Moonless clear nights had always been your favorite. The way the stars gleamed in the darkness never failed to fascinate you. They seemed like tiny grains of salt sprinkled on a sheet of deep blue velvet cloth. The cool early-winter breeze, in addition, which gently hit your face whenever you stood on the balcony to admire the wonderful night sky, settled the mood further.

Today, the stars shone ever so brightly and, as usual, you were on the balcony with your arms folded on the cold metal railings, appreciating nature’s creation.

A clicking sound came from the entrance door of your apartment, which went unheard by you which is why you were startled by a pair of cold hands delicately covering your eyes.

“Renjun?” You questioned, gently bringing your hands over his.

“How-” the boy asked awestruck.

“Well… one, you’re the only person who has spare keys to my apartment and two, you are the only visitor I have at 2 am.” you giggled as you turned around to face him.

Each and every time you were face to face with his beautiful features, you were reminded of how there was something else which you admired more than clear night skies. From the way his fringe gently rested against his forehead, to his angelic pure smile, everything about him was absolutely breathtaking never failing to send a whole swarm of butterflies down your stomach, making you fall for him all over again.

“What brings you here?” you continued, swinging your interlocked finger back and forth lightly.

“What kind of boyfriend needs a reason to visit his girlfriend?” he raised an eyebrow at your question, as if offended “besides, it’s a clear night and I know they’re your favorite. So, I thought why not take you out for the night, even if it is 2am?”

Oh, how thankful you were to have him. Somehow, he always managed to be right beside you in moments where your insides were practically screaming for someone to be there for you. He was so God-sent in your life, exactly the person you needed. During the sleepless dark nights, he was like a warm pillow to you when he lulled you to sleep with his sweet voice even if it was over the phone speaker. Sure, he was busy but he made sure you never felt the sick feeling of being left alone. There were times where you were unable to see him for months because of his hectic schedules and overseas trips, yet he made sure to call and text you each and every day because he knew how lonely it could be living alone in a completely new environment with not many people to talk to.

Within minutes, you changed into a pair of jeans and a light blue sweatshirt (which was technically Renjun’s) and left the apartment quietly. As you went down in the elevator, Renjun narrated his day to you. The passion with which he always talked was just mesmerizing, his words flowed out beautifully like a river and his soft tone was like taking a walk on the clouds. And whenever he talks times seems to pass by so quickly because now you were making your way towards his car.

Being the gentleman he was, he rushed to open the door of the passenger’s seat for you. You gave him a smile of gratitude with a small “thank you” before getting in.

Drives with Renjun consisted of either comfortable silence interrupted by the sound of the radio or some song you liked, or talks about the most random topics with both of your imaginations running wild. Your conversation continued until Renjun pulled over in front of a 24/7 café.

“What are we doing here?” you asked.

“I thought it would be nice to pick up something to eat, I know you might be hungry”, he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt, “Wait a while love, I’ll be right back.”

You watched his figure disappear into the café. Since there wasn’t nothing much to do, you reached out for your phone and scrolled through your Instagram feed to kill time. As you awaited his return, you saw that your feed was filled with clips and reel edits of his recent performance. With every scroll, your heart swelled with joy and pride more. It was crystal clear how hard he had been working, and every time you saw him on any of your social media apps, you couldn’t feel any more proud, even if your existence was unknown to the fandom.  

A mindless smile spread across your face as you continued staring at your phone, only did you leave your fantasy land once you heard the door beside you open. Renjun came back accompanied with two drinks and a khaki paper bag in his hands.

“What’s got you smiling so suddenly?” he couldn’t help the warm feeling inside his chest every time he saw you smile.

“Oh, nothing much! Just some fan edits of my favorite idol” you shoved your phone back inside your pocket and took the drinks from him.

“Who?” He inquired as he handed you the plastic cups.

“Well… Someone who also happens to be my boyfriend”

“Oh jeez, Y/N. I really don’t understand you at times” He rolled his eyes at your giggle, but there was a visible pink tint dusted on his cheeks.

As your mysterious journey continued, you decided to take a sip from your drink wondering what on earth Renjun had ordered for you, because obviously he had forgotten to ask you beforehand.

That taste, however… was familiar. That taste reminded you of your early days, days where you used to be a hectic, unorganized school student studying for endless hours at a café. The taste which had accompanied you before every final exam. The taste which had accompanied you during your rainy days. The taste which had been a long-lost friend.

“Is this-” you asked pulling yourself back to the present.

“White Choco Latte? Yes it is” Renjun finished your sentence, eyes not once leaving the road.

“But how-” it was your turn to be stunned.

“Well, I remember you mentioning this was your favorite drink once” He shrugged as if it was nothing.

“Wow Renjun… I- I’m lost for words… No one’s ever remembered things like these about me”

“Well, their loss. I find it my duty to remember each and every single detail about you and this…this is just nothing.”

“Still… it means a lot jun. Thank you so much”

His free hand made its way toward yours, softly interlacing them. His touch itself was enough to make you feel like you were flying, make you blush like crazy.

“No need to thank me, love.”

When you stared out the window, you noticed that the big buildings and the bright city lights had started to disappear, being replaced by small cottage-like houses. You rolled down the window, noticing the difference in the air. Clearer and cooler than that of the city, which made you question where Renjun was taking you. Not like you didn’t trust him or anything, you just wanted to know what was up in the boy’s mind.

“Hey Jun?” you’re answered by a hum.

“Care to explain where we’re heading off to?”

“Hmm... Not really. Just wait a while babe, you’ll find out soon.”

The lights from the outside had disappeared, devoured by the darkness of now 3am. That’s when it clicked you, you were in the suburbs. But why were you in the outskirts of the city at such an ungodly hour?

Renjun I really don’t get you at times, you thought to yourself.

The car came to a halt. You had stopped in the middle of nowhere, not even a sign of a living being was to be seen. Pitch black darkness surrounded you, the only source of illumination being the cars head lights. The scene in front of you gave you chills, which made you hesitant about stepping out of the safe feeling the car provided. However, it seemed like Renjun had other plans.

He got out of the car only to come around and open the door for you.

“Close your eyes Y/N” he whispered as he took both of your hands in his to guide you out of the car without getting yourself hurt or tripping over the door frame.

When you got out of the car, the scene repeated itself. Once again, his cold hands were covering your already closed eyes. A few steps were taken along with you, coming to a final stop.

“Okay… Now!”

As you opened your eyes when you felt his hands back away, you were face to face with the most beautiful starry sky you had ever seen in your life. Millions and millions of stars twinkled along the ever stretching Purple-blue sky. Many different galaxies greeted you, swirls of blue and white spreading across the sky. All your fear died out as you saw the work of art hanging over you. Seeing the sky tonight was like listening to a wordless song, a ray of warmth in the cold winter, a blanket embroidered with numerous sized shining diamonds.

“Surprise!” His voice was heard from somewhere behind you.

“Renjun?” You questioned, turning around to face him

“Is it a bit too much?” He asked hesitantly, heart dropping to his stomach only for a mere second.

All he was answered by was a pair of arms wrapping around his waist, a head resting against his chest. It only took him a while to understand what was happening, so in return he held your figure against his ever so softly, hugging you back.

“It’s beautiful” he heard you say, “Thank you so much, and do you know what’s making this more special for me?”

“What, love?”

“Having you here. Everything is just so perfect. I’ve been missing you so much these days. It’s nice to have you back, even if it’s for a while. Having less is better than having nothing at all.”

Your words were filled with longing, and listening to them broke his heart to a thousand pieces.

“I’m sorry, y/n”

“For what, Jun?” confusion laced your voice

“For not giving you enough time. For not being the boyfriend I want to be. I know you miss me, and I do too! Believe me. But I'm never really left with a choice. I can’t meet you during morning or evening hours. Heck, I can’t even meet you at night with us having schedules till 2 in the morning. Over that, If someone sees me with you, you’d have to go through so much you don’t need to”, he pulled back, bringing his hand to your jaw, “You, you just deserve so much… which I can’t give you-”

“Hush Jun,” your finger was brought to his lips, “You don’t need to say such nonsense. I love you and having you here is all that matters. You’re exactly the person I need my life and I don’t really care if we spend every hour of the day with each other. Just knowing that I have you, there’s nothing more I could ever ask for.”

Your eyes met his, both pairs glassy from either each other’s confessions, or the yearning which had been stuck inside the both of you for months. He was so close to you tonight, in fact in your whole dating history, you only recall being this close to him once or twice. He really did miss you and you could tell because Renjun had never been a big fan of physical affection.

His gaze had been flickering back and forth continuously settling themselves on your lips for only half a second, and you could guess what his intentions were. He wanted to lean in, to give in, he wanted to feel your lips on his but there was a voice inside his head holding him back from invading your personal bubble. He knew you'd always give him permission, but he wouldn’t dare touch you without having your full approval. However, his guts were practically crying to feel your touch. One question was all that was required to fulfill his heart’s desire.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“May I?”

A slight nod was all he got in return.

Your eyes fluttered close as you felt him lean in. The awaited moment had finally arrived. As his lips met yours, a whole set of fireworks exploded inside of you. Tightening his hold around you, he pulled you closer as though you would disappear into thin air if he let go of you. Your hands found themselves wrapping around his neck, only to deepen the kiss. It wasn’t even anything heated, just a soft innocent kiss, the result of not being together for months and months. Just the euphoric feeling itself was enough to make you melt in his embrace.

 After reluctantly pulling away to catch air, love struck smiles were exchanged.

“Love you, Renjun” You said, brushing your nose against his.

“Love you more, Y/N” he said as he pulled you in again.

The stars truly had never shined so brightly.

Title : Clear nights || Word count: 2.195K || Genre: Fluff, Angst || Pairing: Idol!Renjun x fem!Reader