#not sure how well i did on the turquoise end lol

[horizon-penblade-art]

they forg! :)

I got really excited about the bigb redesign and almost immediately got to work brainstorming a nosy neighbors fusion. This is mostly just what i could come up with at 8-10 PM for the moment but i'm surprisingly happy with it

gemcyt AU, pearl design, and bigb design by @chrisrin

[cal-kestis]

HOW TO: Make a Pantone “Color of the Year” Gif

A few people have asked about my Pantone sets which use the “Color of the Year” swatch design. So, here’s a full tutorial with a downloadable template of my exact overlay! Disclaimer: This tutorial assumes you have a basic understanding of gif-making in Photoshop.

PHASE 1: PICKING A SCENE + PANTONE COLOR(S)

I’m starting with this because it’s crucial for planning your gifset as well as making sure the execution is smooth sailing. The steps in this phase won’t necessarily be literal steps but some tips for how I usually go about making a Pantone set:

1.1 – Picking a scene.  Scene selection is everything. To make things easy on yourself, I suggest choosing scenes where the background is mainly ONE color — for example, a scene where the subject has a clear blue sky behind them. To make things even easier, choose a color that isn’t the same color as the subject of your gif. Like, if your subject is a human, I’d avoid using a gif with a red or yellow background unless you want to do a lot more work to mask their skin. 

Rip me using a scene of green lil Grogu in green grass lmao. But I guess that goes to show you could really do this with any scene (I just did lots of masking and keyframe animations to perfect this green shade). BUT selecting your scenes wisely = a lot less work. 

1.2 – Picking Pantone colors.  People often ask me how I choose my colors and there are a few methods which I’ll go over below. 

But note that not all Pantone colors have a cute name, or any name (fun fact: only Pantone textiles have official names and they end with TCX, TPX, or TPG).

METHOD A: Google Search “Pantone [Color]” Source: Google Easy but not always fruitful, all you do for this method is open Google and type “Pantone [insert color here].” For example, when searching for teal colors, I searched several things including: Pantone Teal, Pantone Turquoise, Pantone Blue, Pantone Green, Pantone Blue Green, etc. Then, just sift through the Google results and click on whatever comes up from the official Pantone website! Since Pantone’s site blocks some info behind a paywall, you won’t be able to get a hex code from them. But you can just screenshot the swatch from their site, put it in Photoshop, and use the eyedropper tool to figure out the color.

METHOD B: Color-Name Site Source: https://www.color-name.com/ This handy website lets you search by colors using the upper navigation bar. Or you can just type something like "magenta" or "blue pantone" or even “frog” and see what comes up lol. Color-name can put together palettes too! I like that this site also tells you the hex code of a color, which is really helpful for getting the right code to put in my overlay. Note: Not every color on this site is a Pantone textile, so not all of these names are Pantone-official names. You can tell it’s official if, in the Pantone row of the Color Codes table on the middle of the page, it has a code that’s 2 numbers, a dash, 4 numbers, and either TCX, TPX, or TPG.

METHOD C: User-Made Pantone Colors Archive Source: https://margaret2.github.io/pantone-colors/ For my Wednesday characters as Pantone colors set, it was all about matching the color name to the character’s vibe. So, before looking at the actual colors themselves, I wanted to find the perfect color names. I stumbled upon this page. The pros = it lists pretty much all of the current official Pantone names. The cons = it’s not convenient since there’s no filtering tool. You can do Command+F and search for keywords, but that’s it. I literally scrolled through this whole page for my Wednesday set and read every single name, which... I think means... something’s wrong with me /lh /hj

METHOD D: Official Pantone Color Finder Source: https://www.pantone.com/pantone-connect This is last on my list because I don’t actually recommend it. Unless you already have access to this resource from your school or work or something, I would never pay for it and it is a paid feature only. Boooo 👎 But there is a free trial (which I’ve never used), so if you want to see what it’s about, you can definitely go for it.

PHASE 2: MAKING THE BASE GIF

Again, just some super quick tips for making a gif that, I think, looks best with this kind of set — but if you’re still learning how to gif, I do have a basic gif-making tutorial here for extra guidance!

2.1 – Uncheck “Delete Cropped Pixels” before cropping your gif. When you use the crop tool, this checkbox appears in the top toolbar. Unchecking it allows you to move the positioning of your gif later on, which is handy in this case when you want to choose which part of your gif will be underneath the Pantone swatch. You can read more about this tip in my basic gif-making tutorial (linked above; Step 1.5 – Tip B).

2.2 – Make your gif 540px width. My gifs for these sets are usually 540x540px but I think 540x500px will also look good. I think it’s more impactful though to make a big gif to show off your coloring.

PHASE 3: ADDING THE PANTONE OVERLAY

3.1 – Download my template I made this template myself, so all I ask is that you don’t claim it as your own and that you give me proper insp or template credit in your caption if you decide to use it! Get the PSD with the transparent background here!

3.2 – Download the font Helvetica Neue Bold The font I use (and I’m pretty sure it’s the same font Pantone uses) is Helvetica Neue Bold, with some very specific letter spacing (which I determined by studying Pantone’s official Color of the Year Very Peri design). It’s already set in my .psd but here are specs in case: color name spacing = -40, color code spacing = -75 (sometimes I’ll do -25 for the numbers after the dash if I don’t like how tightly they’re packed together). 

I uploaded Helvetica Neue Bold to my dropbox here!

3.3 – Import my overlay You can either drag the whole folder onto your gif from tab to tab or right-click the folder, select Duplicate Group, and select your gif as the destination document. Just make sure this overlay group is above your base gif!

3.4 – Fill the color swatch In my .psd, on the layer labeled “Pantone Swatch,” just grab the hex code of your chosen Pantone color and fill that layer using the Paint Bucket tool! I’ve already put a layer mask on the layer for you so it fits perfectly inside the square outline.

If you’re using my .psd, all the blend mode settings are already in place! I usually set the colored square behind the Pantone logo to the Color blend mode, but sometimes, I prefer the way Hue looks. It’s up to you! 

You can also adjust the drop shadow settings to make your text more visible as needed. The layers are arranged in this order so the drop shadows don’t interfere with the semi-transparent part of the colored swatch. 

3.5 – Insert the color name and code My .psd has two versions to choose from: (1) a color name that fits on one line and (2) a color name that requires two lines. Use the one that applies to your color name and simply type that and color code into the corresponding text layers! 

Note 1: Pantone doesn’t keep their font size uniform for every color of the year. They’ll sometimes shrink the text to fit longer names, but I like being consistent. So, I use this one font size for all my colors.

Note 2: My template has all the text left-justified and matching the starting point of the P in Pantone. BUT, sometimes the gif looks better if you nudge the text a bit so it looks more centered. Use your discretion when aligning the text!

Note 3: Btw, you definitely don’t have to use the TCX/TPG codes like me. (I’m a nut and there’s no way I’ll ever do a Pantone set and not use those types of codes to maintain uniformity across this series lol.) I’ve seen others do sets inspired by mine using different color codes or even just the hex code itself!

PHASE 4: COLORING THE BASE GIF

The key here is to make a majority of your gif feature your chosen Pantone swatch. If you’re really smart with your scene selections, this should be a breeze! If you’re stubborn like me and want to use specific scenes with the opposite color of your chosen Pantone swatch, there will be a bit more color manipulation involved... However, this isn’t a coloring tutorial, so again, I’m going to give some tips and resources that will hopefully help you out!

4.1 – Color matching. Now that you have the Pantone swatch on your gif, you should be able to reference that center square set to Color/Hue to match the rest of your gif to that color. Feel free to paint a little blob of your color onto another layer anywhere on your gif so you can refer to it closer over a specific part of your gif. For example, I put a little circle over Grogu’s head to see how closely I matched Pantone’s Peapod color, then I tweaked my adjustment layers a bit more until the colors matched near perfectly and I couldn’t tell where that blob begins or ends. The left is the solid color and the right is set to the blending mode Color (like the square):

4.2 – Moving the base gif. This isn’t really about coloring... but remember when I said to uncheck “Delete Cropped Pixels” in Step 2.1? Well, here’s your chance to adjust your canvas and move the gif around so the exact part you want under the color swatch is in the right position. I personally think these kinds of sets are more impactful when you put a differently colored part of your gif under the swatch so you can see through it and the difference is clearer. In my example, I put Grogu in the center so the green box would cover some of his brown potato sack robe.

4.3 – Color manipulation. Color manipulation is when you transform your media’s original color grading into a completely different color. The Grogu gif isn’t a great example because the original scene was already a green-yellow color:

I mean, the difference is still pretty drastic but that’s mostly because my file was HDR and washed out as a result.

So, here’s an example I made using a gif from my first Pantone set for ITSV (I’m not doing this demo to the Grogu gif because it’d be too much work to manipulate a green background with a green subject. This ITSV scene is perfect bc the majority of it is blue while the subjects are mostly red.)

For the “basic coloring,” I did everything as I normally would: mostly levels and selective color layers.

For color manipulation, my fav adjustment layer is Hue/Saturation (those are the screenshots that are on the gif above). When you’re smart with your scene selection, it’s pretty easy to manipulate colors with one Hue/Sat layer because you usually only need to tamper with 1-2 colors and, hopefully, they shouldn’t interfere with skin tones (obviously you’ll do other layers to further enhance your gif’s brightness, contrast, etc. — but I just mean the heavy lifting usually only takes me one layer with a good scene choice). 

All you have to do is figure out what color the majority of your gif is, toggle to that color’s channel, and fiddle with the hue slider. In the gif above, you can see that I played with both the Blue and Cyan channels. Here’s why:

If I only adjust the Blue hue slider, I get those speckles of cyan peaking through in the gif above. Unless you’re working with completely flat colors — like 2D animation with zero shading/highlights — a color is never just one, solid color. Blue isn’t just blue, it may have some cyan. Purple isn’t just purple, I often have to toggle the Blue channel too. So, yeah, be mindful of that!

I’ll sometimes go in with the brush tool and paint over some areas of my gif to really smooth out the color and make it uniform. When I do that, I just set that painted layer to the Color blend mode. Some of the resources below go into that technique a bit more!

4.4 – Coloring resources. While not all of these tutorials cover the same type of color manipulation I did in my gifs, I think the principles are similar and would be helpful to anyone who’s a beginner:  – color manipulation tutorial by usergif/me: I go a bit more in depth here (I think lol) – how to change the background of any gif by usergif/fionagallaqher: a great tutorial for using keyframes so you can manipulate the background of a gif with lots of motion – bea’s color isolation gif tutorial by nina-zcnik: this tutorial has more tips about hue/saturation layers as well as masking your subject – elio’s colouring tutorial by djarin: this tutorial shows a lot of examples of first manipulating the colors then brushing over the gif with a matching color for extra coverage

And just one last note on coloring, I always try to appreciate gifs with the mentality that “good” coloring is 100% subjective. One of the only things I would classify as “bad” coloring is when you whitewash or [color]wash someone’s skin tone. So, as long as you keep the integrity of your subjects’ natural skin — especially if they’re a POC — you should feel good about your coloring, because it’s yours and you worked hard! <3 

PHASE 4: EXPORT

That’s it!! If you work in Video Timeline like me, just convert from Timeline back to Frames, export your gif, and voila! 

Easy PEAsy. 🥁 

If you have specific questions about this tutorial, my ask box is open <3

Also, check out these other Pantone-inspired sets by my friends @nobodynocrime (Mulan set) and @wakandasforever (Ponyo set)! There are so many ways to use Pantone colors in your set, so I hope this inspires you to create something beautifully colorful <3

[thevelria]

Pull the trigger (SFW/hitman!Gojo x mafia!leader!fem!reader)

Author's note: I've been working on this story for weeks lol I really enjoyed writing it, reader is completely different this time. She's cold and ruthless but don't worry, they get their happy end (kinda lol)

And also I did a collab with my lovely friend @randompurr again. Please give her some love, she did an amazing job <3 

DO NOT copy or repost her art without giving credit! Comments and likes are much appreciated.

And thank you to my lovely @ladycheesington for proofreading <3

Warnings: MNDI/ 18+ ONLY!/ injuries, blood, violence, torture. Mention of guns and illegal business. It's a mafia AU after all Wordcount: 5.1K

“Such a shame to kill someone so beautiful.” he thought and for a brief second he hesitated. For the first time in his life Satoru was unable to pull the trigger. In a blink of an eye you were out of his sight. His pupils grew wide and his breath became uneven, because he knew he fucked up. 

“Shit.” he clenched his jaw as he was still staring through the lens of his high tech weapon at the spot you stood just a second ago. 

***

A big yawn and an even bigger stretch helped you get out of the bed in the morning. You knew it was going to be a busy day. Some business meetings then a party where your business partner invited you. So actually it was a must. 

It’s been a few years now that you had to get in charge as the head of the family. Your father passed away and his last wish was you to protect the empire at all costs. He raised you well, if raising a girl as a ruthless yakuza could mean “well”. Skilled, smart, sneaky were just bits of your personality. 

Did you want this role? Sure. Would you have any other choice if you thought otherwise? Of course not.  

For some reason old memories rushed your mind while you were getting ready in the bathroom. Taking a hot shower, standing under the water was supposed to make you feel relaxed. But instead you frowned as an unwanted scene from your past flashed in front of your eyes. 

“Do it! And prove your worth!” you heard your father’s harsh voice. 

“I don’t want to…” you argued with shaky hands. 

“Do you think I wanted it when I was at your age? No! Did my father care about my feelings? Also no! Because our feelings don’t matter. The only thing we need to focus on is to keep the business together, protect the empire at all costs. Never forget that! And now pull the fucking trigger.” he shouted. 

You closed your eyes and obeyed. It was the first time you killed someone. With time it became easier but you were unable to forget the first one. You were only a child for fuck’s sake. 

Your turquoise silk robe hung on the hook and waited for you to put it on after you dried yourself with a huge fluffy towel. As you stared in the mirror you noticed how tired your eyes looked. Circles and massive bags showed you would have needed some more rest or some less stressful life in general. But there was nothing that makeup couldn’t hide. Getting ready was one of your favorite parts of the day. 

Business meetings meant casual makeup and conservative hairstyles. Messing with your bun you chose some gem covered hair pins to fix it. Your typical velvet lipstick finished the look before you walked to your wardrobe to choose an outfit. An outfit that showed you were a powerful and dangerous business woman. 

A black long sleeved turtle neck blouse with also black tight pants were the best choice. You spiced the outfit with heels, a long snow white coat and a pair of leather gloves. A slight smirk appeared on your face as you took a quick glance in the mirror before you left the room. 

Yuuta was ready to escort you as always when you headed to a meeting. During the years you implemented some changes in the family, you rewrote some old rules and replaced them with new ones. One of them was to change the ranking process. Before, members under the age of 30 couldn’t guard the boss. Your father believed young people weren’t able to handle certain situations. Yuuta on the other hand proved his worth more than once, plus you trusted him. So he was the perfect choice. He appreciated your faith in him and did his best to protect you no matter what. Even if the boy was in his twenties he was already a skilled fighter, great in martial arts and even better with his katana. 

You loved the terrified look on people’s faces when they noticed your guard with a huge sword on his back. Of course he was armed with guns as well but no one needed to know about that. 

“Good morning, boss.” he greeted you with a slight bow. “The car is ready and waiting for you.”

You nodded and a tiny smile showed him you were satisfied. Yuuta weren’t only your guard but your personal chauffeur as well. 

On the way to the meeting you felt like someone was watching you. 

“Are you okay?” Yuuta looked into your eyes through the rearview mirror.

“I can’t explain it.” you cleared your throat. “I have a bad feeling about today, so please pay attention. This family is nasty as fuck.”

“You have my word, I will protect you.” he frowned as he focused on the road again. “And if they try anything I will kill them all.”

***

“Why do you want me to kill her?” Gojo grabbed the folder from the table. His client stood in front of him in his office. The man looked determined, hatred flashed in his eyes. 

“I need that family to be wiped out as soon as possible. Starting with the useless boss is the best.” he snorted. 

“Hmm…” Satoru laid back in his chair, chewing on his inner cheek, seemingly hesitating. He was staring at your picture that was attached to the folder. Your beautiful face, mesmerizing eyes, oh and your silky looking hair distracted him for a second. 

“So? What do you say?” The man was getting more and more impatient. “I pay as much as you want. Money doesn’t matter.”

Gojo clicked his tongue as he stood up and threw the folder on his desk.

“Deal!” he slammed his palm into his client’s, shaking hands to make it official. 

Even if he accepted the request he had a weird feeling about it. Something bugged him but he had no idea what or why. 

The next few weeks he spent examining your life. He tried his best to get every useful information about you, about your daily routine and about your family. Once he realized how loyal and faithful your men were, he knew it wasn’t going to be a piece of cake to eliminate you. 

“Okkotsu Yuuta.” he hummed as he made some notes. “This fucker will cause me big trouble, if I’m not careful enough. That katana looks worrying. And on top of that he’s like a lap dog, he’s always around her. So pitiful.” he rolled his eyes. “Who’s next?” he frowned. “Nanami Kento. The consigliere of the family. He seems smooth but he’s a freaking butcher when it’s needed. I definitely have to pay attention to him, otherwise he will cut me into pieces. I know how far he’s willing to go…” he clicked his tongue. 

Satoru kept going on and on with his notes and list about you and the family. He was the best hitman in the area if not in the whole country. His hitting rate was 100% successful, no mistakes, no missed chances. When he accepted a job he was determined to get it done. This was one of the reasons that made him the best. 

But the second he laid his eyes on you he knew he needed to be careful. Not because he wasn’t good enough to kill you, no. But because you seemed that kind of woman who looked sweet and beautiful on the outside and probably was a dangerous, cruel mistress on the inside. 

***

Yuuta opened the car door for you as he pulled off in front of the building. In front of the 65 floor high skyscraper in the heart of downtown, which wore the name of the owner right above the entrance. Enormous letters signaled the importance of the word Zen’in.  

You were wary of the family. Bunch of fuckers as you mentioned them, whenever a conversation involved these people. The way they treated some of their members made you feel sick. For you family was the most important thing. Something that needed to be protected and saved above everything else. For the Zen’ins money and power came first. 

As you stepped out of the car you kept fighting the weird feeling. The feeling that you were watched. For a brief second you turned around and looked at the top of the building on the other side of the road. Nothing. You saw nothing. Maybe a tiny little reflection but it was so meaningless that you didn’t care at all. 

“Boss?” Yuuta’s husky voice snapped you back to reality. “You okay? We should head inside.” The boy stood next to the car, frowning. He was always so ready to step in, to get into action. His senses were always aware of everything. And no one could blame him for not seeing a skilled hitman hiding at the top of a building as high as the sky. 

“Yeah, sure.” you cleared your throat and turned to the entrance. 

The inside of the building looked stunning, rich, luxurious. It represented everything the Zen’ins wanted to show to the world. They wanted people to see them as a higher form of living. As they would be worth more than the average. Obviously it was bullshit and all this circus made you laugh and gag at the same time. 

“Oh, stop this Naoya.” you rolled your eyes. “I thought we were here for serious business but all I hear is “but” and “if”. I don’t have time for this.”

You felt as if he tried to buy some time and actually you were right. The current head of the Zen’in clan tried his best to keep you in the office. He was terrified because you shouldn’t have arrived at all. If everything went according to the plan you would have laid on the ground in front of the building with a bullet in your pretty head. Instead you were pulling faces, rolling your eyes and calling this whole meeting useless. 

After you left the building Naoya became furious. “What the fuck happened?” he yelled through the phone right into Gojo’s ear.

“Stop yelling.” his cold voice sent shivers through his client's body.

“Answer my fucking question! I thought you were the best.” he hummed.

“The job will be done. Stop bothering me unless you want me to change my target.” he clicked his tongue as he ended the call. 

***

“I don’t know, Yuuta.” you frowned. “Am I paranoid or was this meeting off? I mean, I know he is a fucking jerk but…” 

“Something was definitely off.” he nodded slightly as he opened the car door for you. “Maybe you should cancel the party tonight.”

“I can’t.” you sighed frustrated. “I have unfinished business with Kashimo Hajime. I owe that bastard a dance.” 

“Boss…” Yuuta rolled his eyes. 

“What?” you acted innocent. “We made a bet and he won. You do know how important it is to stay true to your word, right? I can’t let rumors spread that I’m a liar.”

“I know, I know.” he waved. “I’ll be aware of every source of danger, just please don’t make it harder than it should be.”

“Seriously?” you hummed a laugh, while you raised one of your eyebrows. “Let’s head to the hair salon, please.”

You spent the day enjoying the luxurious pleasures that rich business women could afford. After the hair salon you stopped to get your nails done. A little bit of shopping and having lunch with Yuuta in a fancy restaurant were the most enjoyable part of the day. You loved spending time with him since he never complained. Okay, it was part of his job but somehow it seemed he enjoyed your presence just as much. He wasn’t only your first Lieutenant, he was your friend. 

In the late evening you stepped out from your room in all your glory. You wanted a dress that showed enough but still stayed elegant. A classic black dress you chose with long sleeves and deep cleavage. A thin silver belt hugged your waist. The bottom of the long dress just brushed the floor, while your right thigh was shown through the slit on the side.  

Besides the dress you wanted your hair to look perfect as well. So you made a messy but lovely looking low bun and spiced your outfit with a pair of tiny diamond earrings. The velvet lipstick was a must. 

When it was about a party or a public appearance in general four or five of your men escorted you. Just in case. Yuuta and Nanami were waiting for you in the hall. The way Yuuta’s eyes widened the second he noticed you walking down the stairs made you smile. 

Kento cleared his throat that snapped him back to reality. “Be professional.” Nanami whispered to the young boy. “And know your place. She is the boss!” 

***

The parking lot was way too crowded in front of the breathtakingly beautiful building. Long stairs guided the guests up to the entrance. As you took a few steps forward someone bumped into you. A young girl with dark green hair and a pair of very fashionable glasses grabbed both of your shoulders. She leaned in quickly and whispered. “Be cautious! Gojo Satoru wants to kill you.” And with that she was already gone. 

Yuuta appeared next to you in a heartbeat, he was furious about being too late to prevent the incident.

“Boss!” he placed his hand on your forearm. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What did she want?”

“She said…” you stared into the nothingness, still in shock.

“What?” he frowned. “What did she say?”

“She said Gojo Satoru wants to kill me.”

“What the fuck? Okay, get in the car. Right now! We need to take you to the safe house and…”

“No!” you raised your hand which made Yuuta quiet immediately. “Kento, please come here.” you turned to your consigliere.

“Yes, boss.” he stepped next to you in an instant.

“Do you know the name Gojo Satoru?” you looked him in the eyes. 

“He is one of the most successful hitmen, boss. If he is after you, we should take this seriously. That man never misses his target.” 

“I’m not gonna let that bastard ruin my night. So it will be your job to be ready to act, understood? I have a plan. Because I’m sure he will try to approach me. You wait for my sign and we’ll capture him. I need to know who hired him.”

“Boss, with all due respect…” Yuuta gulped hard.

“No!” you shot a deadly stare at him. “Do as I say and know your place!” you took a deep, irritated breath before you turned around and headed to the stairs.

***

The inside of the building looked even more mesmerizing. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, marble floor sparkled under your feet. Everything seemed fancy and expensive, extremely expensive. You hated these kinds of parties from the bottom of your heart. Even if you were loaded you never liked bragging about it. And yet this party was all about it. Every guest, every person in this room was disgustingly rich. 

A few steps you took and eyed the place to find some familiar faces. A friendly voice called you from behind that made you smile. 

“Kashimo, are you already here?” you turned around to greet him.

“Darling.” he smirked and hugged you immediately. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show up. You know…” he blinked “Because of our little bet.”

“Oh, c’mon…” you laughed out loud. “This time you won and I’m true to my words no matter what.”

The night started to get heated, more and more crowded. You had a nice dinner and kept enjoying Kashimo’s presence. Cocktails after cocktails disappeared down your throats but you were aware of the danger.

“So…” Kashimo stood up from the table and reached out his hand for you to take “Can I have this dance, milady?” he kissed the back of your hand as you accepted his offer. 

“With pleasure.” you nodded slightly. 

Kashimo Hajime was an attractive bastard, there was no need to deny this fact. His tall figure, toned body and handsome face stole the hearts of the women across the country. Tonight he wore his semi long, bluish white hair down with a messy bun. The suit he chose followed his body perfectly. His dark blue button up shirt showed all his muscles, if you checked him well enough you could spot his abs, too. The black pants fitted his figure and followed his round bum. All in all he looked hot as hell. But you would have never admitted that. There was no way on Earth for you to boost his ego even more. 

The slow song echoed through the marble room and lured several couples to the dance floor. He softly took your hands and guided them around his neck, while his own hands found their way to your waist. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he cooed.

“It’s been worse.” you teased.

It was just a game between you two. Teasing was your thing. Maybe you were attracted to him, maybe not. Maybe he was attracted to you, maybe not. But one thing was sure, you both loved this cat and mouse game way too much. 

As the dance went on you felt the same weird feeling as in the morning. The feeling of someone watching you. 

“What’s wrong?” Kashimo frowned “You don’t enjoy this nice dance with me?”

“I do.” you admitted without even realizing it “But I have a weird feeling. I think someone is watching me.”

“Oh, you mean the crystal white haired guy in the corner?” he smirked. “He hasn't taken his eyes off you since you walked in. I think he’s a fan of you, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and hugged him just a tiny bit tighter. 

“Be ready…” he whispered in your ear “He’s heading here.” Kashimo thought he did you a favor when he waved to the unknown man behind your back, inviting him closer. He had no idea the man was here to end your life. 

The second he stepped next to you, Kashimo released your waist. “I think you paid the price of losing our bet, darling.” he took a step back and winked at you, before disappearing in the crowd. 

“May I have this dance?” the tall man reached out his hand to you.

“Who am I about to share this dance with?” you looked skeptical.

“My name is Gojo Satoru.” he stepped a bit closer. You grabbed his hand and tried your best not to show any sign of nervousness. Playing it cool was your only goal. You had to get the name of his client no matter what. 

“What a lovely name.” you smiled softly as you placed one of your palms on his shoulder. Gojo was taller than Kashimo and in a wicked, twisted way he looked more attractive. The snow white hair, his handsome face and those undeniably beautiful blues made you weak. 

It seemed your hitman had taste in dressing up. The ebony suit with silver white button up shirt and matching tie made him look unbelievably eye-catching. But you were aware, you knew what he came here for and you weren’t about to give him what he wanted. 

The slow melody filled the dance floor and for a brief second you felt a spark. A spark between him and you. Satoru stared deep in your eyes and you saw…regret?! In that short second you played with the thought of what if you met in other circumstances. What if he wouldn’t be here to kill you, what if you could give yourself completely into this dance. It sounded so ridiculously insane that you almost chuckled, but you felt somehow safe in his embrace. 

The second Gojo pulled you into him and hugged you tight you let out a soft moan. It felt good, it felt nice, it felt natural. You threw your hands around his neck while you kept dancing. To the rhythm of the song your body moved in sync. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

“I wish this was real.” you whispered. But he heard you and pulled you back a bit just to look into your eyes. Even if he kept silent his eyes showed more than enough. 

“May I?” he leaned in, closer and closer, inch by inch. Did you want him to kiss you? Oh, yes! Did you let him do it? Well…

His lips were so close to yours that you felt his hot breath on your skin. In that exact moment you raised your hand behind his back and snapped your fingers twice. Yuuta, Nanami and the rest of your men appeared around you in a blink of an eye.

“Let’s not make a scene.” Yuuta growled as he pressed a gun against Gojo’s lower back in a way that no one even noticed. 

“Such a nice act it was, darling. I almost believed we had a moment.” he kept staring into your eyes. 

“Take him.” you sounded ice cold. 

Yuuta walked him out of the building and stopped next to their car.

“Put this on…” he threw a sack to Satoru.

“Is this really necessary?” he clicked his tongue. Yuuta didn’t answer him, stepped a bit closer and punched him in the gut as hard as he could. 

It surprised him, he didn’t think this young boy had the balls to actually hit him. 

On the way to the base millions of thoughts ran through Gojo’s head. He was mad at himself. “This woman…this woman made me vulnerable.” he clenched his jaw. Even if he knew it wasn’t professional, he couldn’t help his feelings. Now that he shared that dance with you, now that he felt your body close to his, now that he almost kissed you he knew what he had to do. “I’m gonna make her mine, no matter what.” he smirked under the cloth. 

But there was one thing he wasn’t aware of. You weren’t as easy to get as he believed. 

***

After your men escorted Gojo into The room Yuuta walked back to you into the living room.

“Boss…” he took a deep frustrated breath “Please let me handle this fucker. I will get the information you need, I swear.” hatred flashed in his eyes.

“Take Nanami with you.” you poked your inner cheek with your tongue. “But you cannot kill him, understood?” 

The boy’s eyes widened when he heard your order. Something was off and he felt it. Normally you were the first one who stepped into the room and beat the shit out of anyone who tried to harm you. Never before have you shown any kind of mercy. Every single time you were the one who pulled the trigger. But this time it seemed different. On your way back to the base you declared that you weren’t going to join them.

***

Nanami walked next to Yuuta but when they reached the door the boy stopped Kento.

“I will handle this on my own.” he said with a serious tone in his voice.

“Stop this bullshit, kid.” the tall blond rolled his eyes “No one needs you to be a hero. Especially not her.”

“Fuck you, Nanami.” Yuuta clenched his jaw “I’m going in alone and I will get from that piece of shit what she needs. But I don’t need you to be there and stop me…”

“She said we cannot kill him, remember?”

“Mistakes can happen.” he shrugged as he slowly opened the door and stepped in. 

Gojo was sitting on a chair in a completely empty room with his hands tied behind his back.  The second he heard the door moving he knew it was going to hurt. And he was right. 

Kento was waiting outside but he heard everything. Every punch, every hit, every hiss. He knew this hitman was a tough one but he also knew that Yuuta would go as far as possible to get the information for you. You were his world even if you didn’t see him like that. 

“Talk, you filthy shit.” Yutta punched Gojo in the face for the umpteenth time.

“Sorry, boy.” Satoru smiled with blood covered teeth “I told you I won’t say anything to you. I’m only willing to talk to her.” 

“Bullshit.” he spat on the ground. 

“Hey!” Gojo yelled out of the blue “I know you hear me Nanami! Please tell her I’m going to tell everything but only to her. ”

Yuuta froze in his action. “How do you know him?”

“I’m sorry boy but it’s none of your business.” 

Kento clicked his tongue before he headed to get you. He wanted this to end. 

“Boss.” he stood in front of you “He is willing to tell everything but only to you. Maybe…”

“Fine.” you rolled your eyes and got up faster than you expected. You didn’t understand your reaction either. 

***

“She would never play your game.” Yuuta pulled an annoyed face. Gojo stayed silent and smirked, because he knew. At least he hoped you felt the same tension between you too. The door shot open and there you were, standing in front of him with the coldest look in your eyes.

“Boss…” Yuuta turned to face you. He saw as you raised your hand to hush him, so he bit back everything he wanted to tell you. 

“Leave us alone.” you kept staring at Satoru who looked way too beaten up. 

“But…” Yuuta tried his luck again.

“Enough!” you yelled and looked him in the eye. “Who do you think you are talking to? I said leave. Now!”

He realized what he did and felt really ashamed. Talking back to the boss was very disrespectful and unacceptable. He knew what his punishment was going to be and he couldn’t do anything but accept it. Deeply he bowed in front of you and walked out of the room. 

“You have 2 minutes to tell me what I want to know.” you said the second you heard the door closed behind you. “Otherwise I let Yuuta in and I won’t hold him back anymore. You know…he really wants to kill you.” you clicked your tongue. 

“I assume Nanami talked about me.” Gojo tried to sit straight even if he was in real pain. This boy beat him up pretty well. “And so you know I could have killed you if I really wanted to.”

“Oh, how generous.” you rolled your eyes. “Name…give me the name of the fucker who hired you.” your ice cold tone sent shivers down his body. He knew it was crazy but he found you way too attractive. The power, the raw cruelty in your eyes made him want you even more.

“Look, I'll tell you the name with one condition. We finish the dance which was interrupted so aggressively.” he tried to smile through his blood covered face.

“You think this is some kind of joke?” you got mad in an instant and stepped right in front of him. “One minute left.” you looked down on him.

Even if you were aware of a lot of things you missed the fact that Gojo was trying to free his tied hands behind his back. During your lovely chit chat he was able to get rid of the rope. As you looked down at him, he slowly looked up right into your eyes. He didn’t say anything but slowly stood up. The way he towered above you made your eyes widen for a second. You really didn’t expect him to break free. Several thoughts rushed through your mind and you realized you made a huge mistake. You let your emotions get in the way and you underestimated your enemy. 

You took a step back but he grabbed your waist gently. 

“Please.” he growled. “Just let me hold you for a second. I can’t explain it and it drives me crazy but look…” he pulled you close to him. “I could never hurt you. Never! ” 

Unbearable tension was throbbing in the air. For a brief second you eased your body and melted into his touch. Satoru felt the difference right away. 

“The Zen’ins” he whispered as he leaned in. “They wanted to get rid of you.” 

You bit your lower lip, you were hesitating. Did you want him to kiss you? Oh, yes. Did you understand why? Not at all. But did you let him…?

His pink lips got closer and closer to yours, just like back at the party. You felt his breath on your skin when suddenly his eyes widened and he froze in his action. The cold steel of the gun, pressed against his tummy, stopped him immediately. 

(colored version is on Wattpad)

“Did you really think that I would let you kiss me?” you caressed his cheek and smiled softly. 

“I thought we had a moment.” he hummed a laugh. For the first time in his life he let his guard down and now he knew he was about to pay the price. 

“You know I have to do it…” you closed your eyes and pulled the trigger. 

Gojo collapsed on the ground and watched you walk out of the room. Barely heard some mumbling between you and someone else. Then everything was black. Pitch black.

“Get rid of him.” you turned to Yuuta “But make sure he stays alive. Understood?” 

The boy gulped hard and nodded obediently. 

***

6 months later:

There was a party where you were invited. A fancy, rich, luxurious party as always. That you hated oh so much. Shining in all glory, you looked more beautiful than ever. Killing time at the bar, while cocktails after cocktails slid down your throat, you heard a familiar voice.

“Looking beautiful tonight, darling.” Gojo sat down on a barstool next to you. 

“I’m glad you’re fine.” you hummed a laugh.

“Are you? Because it seemed you thought otherwise a few months ago.” he teased.

You kept silent, finishing another drink. 

“I was thinking…” Satoru sighed. He's never done anything like this before. 

“About what?”

“About working for you. If you’d accept me of course.” he smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck.

“Hmm…” you pursed your lips. “You’re skilled, I know that. I think I could use those skills…”

“But?” he raised one of his eyebrows. “There’s always a ‘but’.”

“I’m gonna test your loyalty and your will to take orders.” 

“What if I fail?” he smirked.

“Well, then this time I won't miss your heart when I pull the trigger.” you winked.

[sundaynie]

𝐚𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | 𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐜𝐡

pairing | st. shelter!lars x mc

genre | fluff

summary | mc mulls over her first day at harp island

author’s note | it’s been a week since i started playing lovebrush chronicles and i am obsessed y’all. here’s a short, fluffy drabble dedicated lars rorschach bc that man owns me now !! (work cross-posted from my ao3 account)

His eyes remind you of the Mediterranean Sea.

A delicate blend of pale blue and subtle green hues. It's a little warmer in tone, fittingly enough. His oddly benevolent gaze resembles pools of aqua, with streaks of turquoise in his irises emulating the soft ebbs and flows of water.

I could drown in them, you think.

Waves of azure blue intermingling with seafoam green to create the most stunning shade of aquamarine.

I would like to, you muse.

A yawn escapes your lips as you prepare for bed. It’s well into nighttime now, just approaching 11pm. You’ve changed into your pyjamas after finishing your usual evening routine— a scorching hot, full-body shower and your ever-so-elaborate skincare routine.

Eyes shifting to your suitcase by the door, you’re glad you didn’t need to unpack your belongings. Your stay at this dorm is a provisional one since you’ll be moving out in the morning and into the off-campus housing that your guardian, Cael, had arranged for you.

Tucked snugly into bed, the journey from your hometown to the small island occupies your thoughts. It had been an exhaustingly arduous overnight trip and with your seasickness rendering you bedridden for most of the time you were aboard the cruise ship, you were thankful for your mentor to have accompanied you.

You hadn’t anticipated your arrival at Harp Island to be an overwhelming one. Your first day for orientation, sure. But stepping foot on the official campus grounds of St. Shelter Academia and meeting so many people all at once was beyond what you had prepared for.

Their faces and names are all a Gaussian blur in your head. The fatigue of travelling and having to assimilate to your surroundings so soon finally catches up to you as you sink into the bed of your temporary accommodation.

It had been a long journey but you were glad to be here, at last.

You turn over, gently resting your cheek against your palm, vivid blue-green eyes flashing in your mind.

Lars Rorschach.

You ponder the possibility of encountering him again. Given his status as one of the academy's key investors, crossing paths with him seemed highly probable. You mull over the extent of his connections within St. Shelter and wonder how far-rooted his relations are with the academy. His familiarity with Cael suggests they were well acquainted, evident in the way they spoke to each other.

It would make sense if he was a former student.

You speculate on the academic path he might have pursued at the academy, envisioning a business-related course, given his role as the CEO of Feinz Group, a thriving multi-billion dollar enterprise. You picture him as someone who was a well-known figure on campus, he is charismatic enough, after all.

Not to mention devastatingly handsome.

With his towering stature and golden hair, sharp nose and chiselled jawline.

Amidst all his striking features, it was his eyes that captivated you the most.

You find yourself wondering if they change colour, refracting and reflecting under different lighting.

Were they blue most days? Or did they lean towards green?

The memory of his eyes sparkling as he openly praised In Passing, blissfully unaware of your identity as the author of the manga, replays in your mind.

"I really like this artist. I hope to get her autograph one day."

His remark was sincere, with all the enthusiasm of an easily excitable golden retriever.

A small smile unknowingly graces your lips as you slowly drift off to sleep, dreaming of aquamarine eyes.

—

end note | i already have like 917279645883624 lars fics + drabbles lined up so watch this space lol

[inkofamethyst]

December 15, 2024

The end of a fun weekend!! I have things to discuss and unpack but first, a recap:

Had a movie night with my island-friend and her partner a few nights ago which was truly truly fun, I feel so comfortable around the two of them <333

Went to see a play with my island-friend and, uhh, the-girl-who-invited-me-to-play-dnd-w-her-crew-who-will-need-a-nickname-sometime-soon (unfortunately dnd-friend is taken lolll) and it was really good, incredibly funny, and both of my companions enjoyed it as well (which is what I was most worried about because I'm the kind of person who will just go see whatever basically, but not everyone has my risk tolerance when it comes to performing arts (and I mean tbf it's not like I can even claim that mine is that high, it's just probably higher than average)).

Later that same evening I went out to go party with my island-friend and her partner as a sort of end-of-semester let-loose situation (even though my island-friend still had an academic meeting left and I still had a final coming up). We pregamed, chatted for a while (those two can chat that's for sure (but it's always always always good conversation)), then went to the party. My turquoise-friend (who was supremely surprised at my presence) and one of her friends who I know was also there, so even though the theme was a bit, well, outside of my typical wheelhouse, I still felt safe and relatively comfortable with them around to just kind of move and groove haha. The DJing was quite good, pretty much everyone (except me lol bc I didn't know what the theme was until the day-of) was dressed impeccably on theme (though I was wearing the square-neck prototype I made and it worked quite well!!), and it was generally just a fun house party (though I cannot stress enough that I was dreadfully out of place theme-wise). I had two drinks across the entire, oh, five hour night (we "only" stayed at the party for four hours though (it was meant to last eight (I heard from someone who heard from someone else that the cops were called a bit after I'd left))), which was plenty when I was unfamiliar with the crowd there, and the crowd itself was pretty intense. But! A fun night! Probably the most fun I've had on a night out since I've been here (though I can count on one hand I think the number of nights out I've had). I will come back to this though.

Then today was a cookie swap hosted by the girl I met sewing at the library several weeks back!! I met a bunch of her friends and we colored for hours and just chatted and they were all really nice :)

So yes, a good weekend! Still technically need to prep a bit more for my open-note final though..

Okay now time for rambles. I wanted to unpack a little why I specifically feel/felt so uncomfortable at being the object of a man's attention at the party? Because there were two times in particular where I shied away (and also notable examples where I did not!) and they confused me in the moment, even while buzzed. I think it has to do with the party's theme being pretty explicitly.. well, explicit, and feeling unsafe at the prospect of even potentially indicating to a guy (even one I was attracted to ohhhh my god) that I wanted to engage further. And also, I think, purity culture's "men only want one thing from you" mentality which I've internalized and can't seem to shake. And the fear that I wouldn't know how to stop something that I wasn't comfortable with. But, on the flip side, I felt safe with the people I was with. Though, while I probably could've trusted them to intervene had it been necessary, I don't want to seem like a chore to monitor when I go out with them? I dunno. Because the two/three instances where I did not shy away from engaging with some guy was when they had already been engaging with one of my friends (and I wasn't attracted to them).

Maybe there's a conclusion to be drawn there and maybe I'm just too tired to make it. Eh, my future self can make sense of this sometime down the line.

Today I'm thankful for a good weekend!!!

New Captain America movie coming out in February... I really need to get caught up on my mcu bc I think Sam Wilson is one of few characters left who I really care about.

[edit: also a new superman in july, god bless]

[innerchorus]

Taking you up on your offer, I've got some thoughts and questions, some AU-specific and some not!

Do you remember the captain/soldier who Arslan and Daryun encountered in the earlier chapters? The one who was Shapur's captain? Yeah I've gotten attached to that guy too. You got any thoughts regarding him?

Do you think Shapur will wear little threads in his braids like the clan people do? (They favor braids and they tend to weave little decorative threads or ribbons in their hair). I thought he might wear black threads in them, not noticeable right away if at all (people might get curious and suspicious why he's suddenly wearing decorations) but still honoring his husband and his clan. Also would he ever take the bracelet off?

Was there any information on Narsus's parents, I wonder... I only know that his mother was his father's concubine.

On that note, I made Farangis an orphan in my AU but I wish we got to know about her parents in canon!

Please use this as an excuse to ramble about any and all thoughts you have, if you're up for it!

Oooh, what a good ask! Sorry it's taken me a while to get to it (I swear I have a never-ending list of ArSen posts I want to make, lol).

I do remember Shapur's captain, poor guy. I basically hone in on anything related to Shapur. I felt so sorry for this guy when I first read the manga, you can just feel how horrified he is by what's happened to the Parsian army, and what's happened to Shapur. I have a headcanon that Shapur was respected and well-liked by his men, because even if he was strict, he was always fair, and they knew that he cared about their fate in battle just as they cared about his. I think if Shapur had survived Atropatene, he'd have had a really hard time coping with how many men had been lost under his command.

Anyway, there's really not much information about this man, other than that he's a 100-rider Captain who serves under Shapur. He was probably fighting beside him not long before their entire group were overwhelmed. When I read the manga, I assumed he was trying to say that Shapur had been captured, but if you look at the novel scene he says "Our general Lord Shapur sustained grave wounds as well from both fire and arrow. Whether he still lives or not…” (The novel scene is a little different; Daryun is alone when he encounters this man, and he has to leave him to go and find Arslan.)

Daryun recognises him and knows his rank even though he doesn't recall his name, but Shapur must have had a close relationship with him — each Marzban had ten of these 1000-rider Captains and I'm sure they knew them very well. I wish we met more of these subordinates in the series! There are a few more named characters who pop up later in the novels (but only one I've been able to identify by name in the manga so far, Barhai.)

I suppose this guy's capture sets the scene for the later reveal that Shapur, too, has been captured, since we already know that the Lusitanians aren't necessarily just slaughtering all the Parsians indiscriminately, they are actively looking for higher-ranked individuals to take alive.

asdhfhf I definitely think Shapur would wear threads in his braids! If you think about it, the turquoise beads he wears are already a form of adornment/decoration, and black threads wouldn't be super noticeable, but he'd know they are there, and that's what matters. I headcanon that Shapur is a very private person so even if people noticed, I don't think they'd ask him or comment on it except for maybe Kubard who might wind him up about it so much that he snaps at him and blurts something out and then regrets it, lmao (though to be fair, if Kubard did accidentally find out about Shapur's marriage to Kazai, he absolutely wouldn't say anything to anyone else). As for the bracelet, I think he might take it off if he were going into battle — I feel like he wouldn't want something so symbolic of his relationship to get stained with blood.

Narsus's parents! There's not a lot of details but I have looked at this before, there's some relevant stuff in the novels.

Narsus's father, Teos, was a shahrdaran who held the Dailam region.

'Though Narses was technically a young master of an aristocratic family, his mother had not been Teos’s legal wife. She had been born a lowly azat, a freeborn commoner, and was merely one of Teos’s concubines, ranked perhaps twentieth or thirtieth in his favor. Upon giving birth to a male infant — that is to say, Narses — she had been chased from the estate by Teos’s wife. However, having received just enough for living expenses, she took her young son away with her and settled down at the royal capital of Ecbatana.' (Book 2, Chapter 1, Part ii)

Teos had 10 children apart from Narsus, but they were all girls. It's not stated whether they were all from his wife, but I'm going to assume not because we know he had many concubines and that's a lot of children. Plus, it seems that his wife's issue with Narsus and his mother is the fact that Narsus is male.

(...ever thought about how Narsus's situation is basically a more mild version of Isfan's? I headcanon that Isfan and his mother were abandoned to die not just because of Shapur's mother's jealousy, but also because another male child was a potential threat in terms of inheritance — and while Isfan shared a father with Shapur, he was of no relation to Shapur's mother. If it was just jealousy, why did she wait for two years after Isfan was born to get rid of them? I have thoughts... Anyway, that backfired when Shapur saved Isfan, because it's pretty clear that Shapur deliberately raised Isfan to inherit his own position etc...)

Teo's wife died when Narsus was 10, and at that point, Teos summoned him and designate him as his heir.

Teos was an old friend of Andragoras, apparently. So when he died, Andragoras instated Narsus as his successor. Little did he know what he was letting himself in for (though at that point, he needed that private armies of all the shahrdaran).

I always thought the deaths of Narsus's parents sounded a little suspect, but nothing ever came of it in canon so *shrug*

(Teos's wife died suddenly from food poisoning after eating mutton, conveniently allowing Teos to welcome Narsus back as his heir, and then Teos himself slipped on the stairs and hit his head just as he was summoned by Andragoras to help fend off the three country alliance of Sindhura, Turan and Turk, conveniently allowing Narsus to take his place and prove the worth of his strategy. There are some pretty dark headcanons in there, I'm sure.)

Farangis is an orphan in canon, too. Her parents died when she was young. Her father was a knight who left behind his wealth when he died, and when her mother also passed away, she left half of that money for Farangis and donated the other half to the Temple of Mithra in Khuzestan, asking them to support her daughter. Farangis was raised at the temple, and trained to become a priestess.

[wordsafterhours]

Hello! I’ve been feeling inspired since reading all my favorite fics here and I’ve been itching to write my own. Not sure where I’m going with it or anything, but I wrote this scene today. It’ll fit somewhere in the continuation,  lol. 

Apologies in advance. I am SO out of practice writing and it probably sucks. I have such high standards after reading the works of so many good writers on here.

Masterlist

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

The bar grew quieter than Rowan would have liked as he weaved himself through the crowd towards the stage. He was used to people staring, he wasn’t easy to miss with his tall stature and silver hair, but he was especially aware of it tonight. Bars like this weren’t his usual scene, as he preferred quieter, more intimate ones like the one down the road from house. Furthermore, he stuck out because his attire—dressed in worn boots, Carhartt pants, and his favorite flannel button-down.

His anxiety was increasing with every step closer, and his only solution was calmy telling himself that he was climbing on this stage for a reason. To express his feelings in the best way he knew how.

He took a deep breath and sat down on the sole wooden stool adoring the weathered stage. His calloused fingers made fine adjustments to his guitar and when he was satisfied, Rowan placed the capo across the second fret. Gods let me do this song justice he thought before starting in on the opening notes.

The soft, acoustic sound filled the air and a hushed interest fell across the bar. Rowan’s rich lilt laid warmly across notes, embracing them like a lover’s arms:

I’m a stone’s throw from the mill And I’m a good walk to the river When my workin’ day is over We’ll go swim our cares away Put your toes down in the water And a smile across your face And tell me that you love me Lovely Lady May

Rowan took the small break in words to search through the patrons to see if the one person he came here for was even paying attention to his performance. He did two passes and tried not to let disappointment get the best of him as he didn’t see the familiar head of hair or silhouette of her body. Perhaps that’s what had him so on edge to begin with, he didn’t see her when he came in, not that he needed to see her. Rowan could be blind and still know the minute she’d entered any space.

It had been like that for a long time now. Not always, but enough to matter. Honestly, he wanted to blame the anxiety for not being more aware—he should have already known she wasn’t here, but it was a Saturday night. She loved to let go with her friends and this was a frequent haunt for the group.

Rowan was too caught up in doing a third pass over the crowd that he almost missed the start of the second verse. He couldn’t mess up his own song during its debut.

Now I ain’t the sharpest chisel That your hands have ever held But darlin’ I could love. You well Til’ the roll is called on high I’ve seen my share of trouble And I’ve held my weight in shame But I’m baptized by your name Lovely Lady May

At this point, the crowd and atmosphere no longer bothered him. Music was a godssend in life and he hadn’t found anything in his 30 years that it couldn’t soothe. He continued crooning out the lyrics, pouring his heart into it. Even if she wasn’t here to appreciate this performance, maybe the universe would and something good would come from it. Life was funny like that.

As he was nearing the end of the song, he caught sight of a familiar head hair to his left. Instantly, his heart entered its own staccato tempo, chasing away the calm he had only just settled into, and he wasn’t quite sure he’d be able to belt out the last few lines with her now here.

The gods or the universe had a cruel sense of humor because she chose that moment to turn, and he was like stag in the headlights unable to look away from gaze. Her turquoise eyes ringed with gold were taking him in and stripping him bare, leaving him no choice but to hold her gaze as he finished.

I came crashin’ through forest As you cut my roots away And I fell a good long ways For my lovely Lady May

There was a long silence before the bar erupted in loud whistles and claps. Rowan delivered a quick thank you into the mic before rushing off stage and through the crowd. He couldn’t chance her trying to talk to him—he was still trying to calm his racing heart and come to terms with the fact that the song he’d written with her on his mind, was out in the world. And that she had finally heard it.

*song in the chapter is “Lady May” by Tyler Childers. 

[ohtobealady]

Number 3 please with Robert and Cora 😘❤️❤️🥰

Hi there, Anonny! You didn’t specify which category to pull the #3 from, so I went with smut. Ha! And while I was at it, I added a Part Three to One and Two here. And while this isn’t necessarily smutty, it does have room for a Part Four lol. Thank you so much for the request — and to everyone else who has asked and not yet received, ooo I’m trying! And I’m so appreciative. Xoxox

Smut #3 “Do that again” ————————————-

Cora watched as he untied his dressing gown in the bedroom they’d been assigned: a large, bright space, with pinkish marble floors and ornate yellow and white walls but thin and delicate painted furniture, florals throughout. It wasn’t anything like her room at home, and watching her husband toss his navy silken robe onto the settee at the end of the bed gave her a small thrill.

They had traveled, of course, had been to the south of France more than once before, but it had been quite a while since Robert had tossed a dressing gown anywhere but the chair in her room at home. She smiled at that and let her eyes follow him as he now walked to a small open case on the chest of drawers near the washroom. She studied the width of his shoulder blades beneath his pajama top and the sound of his bare feet padding from the green and turquoise covered rug to the cooler marble. She was sure it was somewhat of a relief to him; he’d complained how hot he had been on their excursion to the town.

He hadn’t looked at her at all since he came in, but as he began to dig a little through her open case, he glanced once at her upright in the bed. “Did you have Baxter pack the gifts for the children?” He lifted out a box of sweets Cora bought for herself and smelled it. “Oh! Macarons?”

She laughed when his mission was quickly abandoned. He strode over to the bed with the box and settled in beside her.

“I didn’t see you buy these,” he was grinning like a schoolboy, and Cora’s heart beat a little quicker.

“You were too busy asking if I needed to go into yet another shop.” She shimmied in closer beside him and peered into the little box he slid from the carton.

“Mmm. Pistachio.”

Cora laughed and extracted the rose one for herself. She took a bite, but beside her, Robert had popped the entire confection into his mouth at once.

“Would you like the lemon?” He offered after a moment and Cora shook her head with a smile.

“No, this one’s enough. But it’s sweet you remember what I like.”

He shrugged, and Cora watched him choose the chocolate one. “I’d say that’s what comes of being married for as long as we have.” In went the second macaron and Cora chuckled.

“Indeed.” She ate the rest of hers.

Robert chewed beside her and lowered the light blue-striped carton to his lap as he looked around the lamp-lit room. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Do you think Tom’s thought of Sybil?”

Cora blinked, the question something she hadn’t at all expected, and she had no idea how to respond. “What?“

“I mean since the honeymoon. Being here with Lucy. I can’t help but wonder what he must feel.”

Cora settled down into the covers and let her hand go to Robert’s arm. His sleeve was soft over the muscle of his forearm, and Cora drew her fingers along the line of it. “I hope he feels happy,” she answered. “Sybil would want him to be. He deserves to be.”

“Of course. Of course, he does.” Robert put the box of macarons on the table beside them and sighed. “Though you must admit: It’s been a strange sensation to see him love another — to begin another life.”

Cora sighed, as well, agreeing. “I suppose. But then that’s been sort of the theme of this whole trip, hasn’t it?”

He scoffed, loudly. “Hasn't it, indeed. I can hardly get my head around it.”

He shuffled down further in the sheets and blankets and then tossed away the heavier ones, the warmth of the night too much for the quilt.

Cora waited until he finished, until he adjusted his head once and then twice, just like always, into his pillow before she drew in a breath to speak.

“I told Edith about Franklin.”

He looked at her immediately.

“Franklin?” He furrowed his brows. “Franklin Mills? Franklin Mills, with whom you thought yourself engaged, though, of course, you weren’t.”

It was Cora’s turn to scoff.

“Why on Earth did you feel the need to tell her about him?”

“Because I felt she should know,” Cora lifted her chin along the pillow and tightened her fingers around Robert’s arm. “She was speaking as if I were some version of an infant all my life, without any real past or experience to speak of.”

“We were practically infants when we married. We had no experience.”

“We had some,” she argued.

“Franklin Mills kissed you twice, Cora. One of which was on your cheek.”

Cora laughed at his irritation and began to incline herself on her left elbow to look more closely at him. “You speak as if you were there,” she smiled.

But Robert rolled his eyes. “I am only repeating what you told me and have no reason to doubt it. We came to one another hardly having a clue about any of it at all. And that I was there for.”

Cora felt herself blush, quick and rather embarrassing memories suddenly springing to mind. “I suppose,” she conceded quietly, and grinned down at him when he looked at her. “Though if I remember correctly, we did learn the trick of it fairly quickly.”

He laughed and brought a hand to the top of his head, a habit he always had before bed, while he was thinking, while he was comfortably lying beside her. She watched as his heavy fingers felt the thinning and graying waves there, and she wiggled down on her tummy and closer beside his body, her center now feeling tingly and warm from the images of her thoughts.

“Yes,” he responded at some length, Cora wondering if he, too, was picturing what was in her own mind. He pouted in thought. “I’d certainly say so. Learned and then enriched what we had learned.”

Her blush deepened at that, and she laughed softly as she let her head fall. She nodded and pressed her lips for a moment.

“Do you remember the greenhouse?” she asked, now feeling strangely bashful.

But her question had needed no further explanation or expansion. Robert nearly gasped out a laugh. “God. What were we thinking?”

“We weren’t,” she was laughing now, too. She felt herself whispering. “We were terribly young and so full of new discoveries.”

“And in love.”

Cora smiled at him. She nodded again and moved even closer to his arm, snuggling against him now.

His eyes lingered on hers for a moment before she felt him draw in a long breath and gaze again to the ceiling of this strange room, his expression taking in a far-off look. His brows twitched. “How did I manage to lift you that way?”

His question made her snort with laughter and she shook her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Looking back, it does seem rather acrobatic.”

“At our age now, I’m not sure we could do that again.”

But Cora’s tingles and warmth had remained throughout, and she bit at her lip.

“How do we know unless we try?” she whispered; and when he looked at her, she quirked a brow.

He hummed, slightly before their lips met, Cora leaning down over him, his broad hand eventually grasping at her upper arm.

“Mmm.”

She opened her eyes at his sound and gazed down at him, their noses touching.

“I’m glad you didn’t have the lemon,” he teased. “The rose tastes quite nice.”

She smiled at that, and then felt her husband pull her down into the bed as he rolled his weight on top of her.

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 5, 488

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

here is chapter 12!!! hope you guys enjoy it hehe.

You got a new doormat, Jungkook realises.

He preferred the old one, purely because he remembered the two of you coming across the crocheted piece at a flea market sold by a lovely grandmother that was all smiles and kindness when she spoke to the two of you.

It allowed Jungkook to be a part of your home, the first step into the place that inflates his chest with pride knowing that such a small memory that the two of you shared could act as a conversation starter for people who came over; because truly, the doormat was beautiful.

It’s a plain one now. Far more boring than the array of colours that use to litter the floor, a simple circular mat in a plain shade of beige. Jungkook doesn’t want to know why you’ve opted to change it after a year, right when things have gone sour.

The mat isn’t the only thing that’s different. Even the way Jungkook lingers by your porch at almost midnight with his fist raised and flopping back to his side is different too. Usually, he’d drop you a text, pick at the key in the crevice of a corner you hid it at, or just knock on the door with obnoxious intent until you’re scowling while you greet him at the door.

This time Jungkook has his chest caved in, a heavy feeling in his stomach when he attempts to mull over the apology that rests in his throat. It’s long overdue, a proper one at least. Nothing like the one he gave you at your apartment a month or so back. That was him being selfish.

The words ‘can we talk’ never meant anything good, because if it was light-hearted and civil you’d let him know through a text. Especially when you made it clear that you needed, and purposefully took, time away from him. It felt shitty, having your friends distance themselves away from you because of your own mistakes.

But Jungkook couldn’t resent you, or Jimin, or Taehyung—or even Namjoon who opts for curt nods instead of the usual pat on the back. Because he knew that what he did was awful and that you and everyone had the right to be disappointed in him.

Maybe that was why he was so terrified because had anyone else said or done the same things he did to you—Jungkook would make sure that person would never see the light of day. So he’s terrified, even if he knows you won’t hold him against it—but he’s so scared that you’ve realised how flawed and disgusting Jungkook is and that you’d leave him.

He’s stalling. Prolonging his potential demise when he stands rooted into place with his leather jacket draping his shoulders feeling heavier than usual.

When Jungkook got the text, he was at the gym; blowing off steam. He saw it an hour late, and when he realised it was from you—his heart sped up while his stomach dropped, especially noticing the time it was sent.

He knew he had to act quickly; what if you were asleep? What if he knocked and you realised that you didn’t want to see him anymore?

But Jungkook realises that not talking to you, or not seeing you—is far worse than any of the scenarios he could conjure.

So he takes a deep breath, steadies his fist and knocks.

In a bated breath, he waits; and he’s nearly sweating even under the cool ventilation of the hallway of your apartment. He hears shuffling inside your house, and he feels his heart thump against his chest when he feels rather than anything else, your presence behind the door.

He wonders if you’re hesitating like he was, but he can’t think for too long because the door opens and he sees you.

You’re in your pyjamas, an endearing two-piece set he remembers Taehyung gifting you for your birthday last year. It suits you, highlights your personality because the colour is a calming turquoise, dark enough to feel cosy and bright enough to resemble your character.

Jungkook can only blink at you because it feels like ages since it was just the two of you, and he can’t bring himself to say anything, or even to greet you.

Your hand rests on your door, while you offer him a meek smile.

“I told you the door was open.” You say softly, stepping aside so he can enter.

Jungkook swallows, snapping out of it before he nods his head slowly. He walks into your apartment tentatively, and it feels so wrong. The awkwardness, the tense postures and the uneasiness that permeates the air. Things used to be so easy with the two of you, conversations flew and the two of you just … clicked.

“It didn’t feel right.” He settles for that as an answer, and he notes that you don’t deny it.

“You can leave your jacket on the coat hanger.” You tell him, and he has to push aside the way his heart drops at the distance you keep; prevalent in your voice.

He wants this to be over, the tiptoeing and the way that your walls are always up when he’s around. He just wants to apologise and hug you, hoping that you could forget what happened even if that kills him on the inside. He just wants to be around you, even if he can’t be with you.

But Jungkook pushes aside his desires; the culprit behind the entire mishap in the first place—and slips off his jacket, leaving it on the coat hanger as you mentioned. His t-shirt chafes, and he’s sweating for sure now. But he pretends like he isn’t a step away from a nervous meltdown.

“Have a seat,” You say, patting the spot across you on the couch.

It’s a distance away, and he assumes you do that on purpose. The last few times the two of you were close on a couch … well, things happened and now the two of you were the way you are.

Jungkook sits, resting his palms on his thighs stiffly like he was sitting for an interview. Your eyes drift to his hands, narrowing ever so slightly before you’re returning your gaze onto him.

“What happened to your cheek?”

Jungkook stutters for a second, brain pausing to process your question until his hand reaches up to touch said cheek. He remembers clearly now, and he almost forgets the reminder Jimin left him.

Your brows are furrowed, and he sees you shifting in your seat. Usually, you’d already have walked up to him and helped him with an injury; the past memories of him injuring himself during practices while you were always there to mend him up like you’ve always done resurface. His heart clenches.

“Practice,” Jungkook says quickly, and you raise an eyebrow. Your mouth opens, possibly to counter it, but it closes immediately after.

Jungkook releases the breath he was holding, relieved. He didn’t know what Jimin said to you after, or before it happened. But he knew that you definitely weren’t aware of the conversation Jimin had with him.

“You don’t have to be so stiff, Jungkook.” You frown, “It’s just me.”

Your voice interrupts his thoughts as he snaps his head to stare at you. You’ve managed to rest yourself on your couch, hands tucked under your thighs in an endearing habit you’ve always had.

It’s because it’s you, he’s nervous; Jungkook thinks.

Instead, he says—“Okay.”

He relaxes his posture to appease you, settling into the couch until he sees you giving yourself a soft enough nod of approval.

The atmosphere is almost reflective, the two of you clearly have things to say and to address, but he doesn’t know whether or not to start; to say something when he was the one that was invited over. Clearly, you had a plan—that was only ever why you did the things you did. You were meticulous with routine and order, and any disruption to that would mess with your agenda and you hated that.

The two of you sit in silence, unsure of what to say. Jungkook nibbles on his lips as a nervous habit, bouncing his thigh up and down while he waits for you to break the silence, to say something.

But at the same time, he’s afraid he won’t be able to accept what you tell him.

Jungkook is about to break first, but then you speak, so softly that he strains his ears to catch your voice.

“You hurt me.”

Your voice is weak and timid, and Jungkook’s eyes widen when you opt to start the conversation with that.

It feels like a blow to the chest, seeing you look down at your hands while you furrow your brows, unsure of yourself. Jungkook wants to reach out to you, to apologise, to hold you, to comfort you. But your words are a reminder that he can’t.

“I’m—”

“—sorry. Yeah, I know.” You say blankly, finally looking up at him with a vacant expression. It’s almost terrifying how … detached you made yourself seem to the conversation. And it sets bubbling anxiety in Jungkook’s stomach when he spots your expression.

He purses his lips, remaining quiet while he waits for you to continue.

“I didn’t come over so you’d apologise to me, Jungkook.” You whisper, looking at him with a more serious expression.

He blinks at you, taking in the way you just look … tired. Bothered. Frustrated. All three.

“I …” The words die on his lips, especially when you opt to look away, down on your thighs while you nibble on your lips.

“What you said to me that day was horrible.” You tell him, eyebrows furrowed. And he can tell that you’re trying your best to sound stern. Confrontation has never been your forte, he knew that; and you knew that. But the fact you acknowledged his words only makes him feel infinitely worse. “I never knew you would ever say something like that.” You end in a whisper.

Jungkook can only sit in silence, and it’s crazy how he can feel like an outsider in his own home when you mull over your next set of words.

“I want you to be honest with me, Jungkook.” You say softly, eyes peering up to stare into his.

His breath hitches, especially when he notices the determined expression that lingers when you continue to look at him.

He swallows, even if his heart is terrified that the truth will chase you away, “Yeah. Always.”

You blink, searching his face for any lies, he supposes. If you found one or saw the hesitation, you don’t comment on it. But Jungkook is still scared to have his cards on the table. He doesn’t know how you’d react, how you’d feel when you found out the truth.

A part of him wants to just apologise and move on, keeping you close enough for him to be selfish but a good distance away so he wouldn’t hurt you like that ever again.

But he doesn’t say anything, not yet.

“Why?” You ask in a hoarse whisper, “Why did you kiss me that night at your place?”

Jungkook freezes.

He remembered that night when his heart decided for him that it was enough. Having you right next to him but not with him. He remembers the way you looked so at home on his couch, in his shirt after you spilt hot chocolate on the both of you. The way you timidly asked for a blanket to share, and especially the way your cheeks flushed when he drew closer.

Jungkook feels vulnerable like you’re picking apart every single thought that lays in his mind. He hates it, that you can make him feel this way. You don’t push him, though; to answer. You’re patient when you look at him, eyes gentle.

“I—” He chokes, eyes darting everywhere but your own, “I just wondered what it felt like to kiss you.”

You frown, clearly displeased with his pathetic answer.

But you don’t call him out for it, “Okay …” You mumble, “Then why did you touch me after?”

The words leave your lips so easily, even if Jungkook winces. He’s seen you almost naked enough times, even if you’ve never gone further than him touching you intimately—it’s more than you’ve ever experienced and it should’ve made you flustered, not him. But Jungkook realises that you probably ran over the questions you asked about a hundred times before you laid it all out here for him to see.

Jungkook huffs, ears turning red.

“The mood just felt right.” He clips.

You glare at him when he offers another pathetic response.

“Jungkook.” You call out to him. He can’t bring himself to look at you, “You said to be honest with me.” Your voice is soft and gentle when you remind him.

Jungkook feels himself crumble on the inside, his face morphing into a pained expression when he rubs his hands all over his face.

If you’re aware of his internal meltdown, you don’t comment on it.

“I did a lot of thinking on my own.” You say, “But I don’t think that would’ve gotten me anywhere because all I do is overthink every possible situation.” You laugh softly, fiddling with your thumbs.

Jungkook furrows his brows at the sudden shift of the direction of the conversation.

“I spoke to Namjoon and Jennie.”

He freezes.

His heart drops because he almost forgets about Namjoon. He almost forgets the way he cradled your face so gently when your lips touched. He remembers how he felt, the way his heart dropped to his stomach when he saw his captain and you locking lips while you melted into his touch. He wondered if Namjoon tasted your hesitancy on your lips, not because it was him but because you were always calculated with anything that you did. A charm that drew Jungkook in, and apparently Namjoon as well.

But even if his heart aches, he hears the name of another person; and somehow this only makes his face pale further.

“You spoke to Jennie?” He sounds surprised, and he thinks he has the right to be. Especially when you once referred to her with so much vehemence he’s never seen in you.

“Coincidentally.” You nod. “She offered me a few perspectives I never knew of until we spoke.” You fiddle with your thumbs before offering a small smile to him, “She’s a really nice person.”

Jungkook doesn’t know how to react, especially when you’re telling him that you and Jennie somehow spoke to each other and that you found her words … nice? It almost felt like the world was pulling a joke on Jungkook, and he was ultimately just confused.

“I … okay?” Jungkook tilts his head to the side with a furrow of his brows.

You sigh, “I don’t think I told you this the first time you apologised but …” You take a deep breath; a beat of silence passes when you look at him earnestly, “I forgive you.”

Jungkook’s breath that he was holding, releases in relief as his shoulders slump. A selfish part of him knew that you’d forgive him, only because you were incapable of seeing the bad in others. You were kind, understanding and empathetic. You always gave people chances when they didn’t deserve it and Jungkook was no different. But hearing you say it, after months of ruminating over it in his bed before he sleeps, Jungkook feels a lot better, albeit the ache in this chest.

“Not because you apologised to me but because my heart deserves to heal.” You inform him.

Jungkook purses his lips as he nods in understanding.

“I know that an apology will never take back what I said to you but … I really am sorry. I don’t know what took over me that day and I just—” his eyes flutter shut when he recalls the broken expression on your face, “—I regret it so much. I never wanted to hurt you.” He ends softly.

Jungkook shifts on his seat, reaching forward so that he could grab your hand. You jump at the sudden touch, but you relax when you realise it’s just him. Your skin is soft, and maybe it’s because he nearly forgot how it felt to have you close. He’s selfish, he’s always wanted you but he never knew how to ask.

“I guess.” You say softly, shrugging your shoulders. The response is there, though he doesn’t know what to make out of it. “But you said it for a reason, Jungkook. I just … I just want to know why.”

His hand freezes on top of yours, especially when you return the hold and unconsciously fiddle with his knuckles like you used to, tracing over the tattoos he has.

“I’m an asshole. That’s why.” He sighs, leaning his head forward as he misses your frown.

“I don’t think you are,” You say gently, squeezing his hand. And he hates that you’re still so kind to him. “I think you’re confused. But you also know why you did what you did. You just won’t tell me.”

Your accusation causes Jungkook to shoot his head up as he stares at you with wide eyes. You don’t waver, especially when your smile is still sincere and small as you offer him an encouraging look that he knows he doesn’t deserve.

“I really don’t have an excuse,” Jungkook frowns.

“I’m not looking for an excuse, Jungkook. I’m looking for a reason.” You remind him gently.

He purses his lips, eyes darting away until he feels your body shift and a warm touch cradle his jaw. His body freezes when he feels your gentle hand to cup his jaw and nudge it until he’s looking at you again. This time, your eyes are still calm and soft when you look at him, and your smile is still the same. Jungkook hears the thud of his heart in his ears, especially when you’re so close.

"No more games." You trace your hands gently across his jaw, and he looks so much younger. You suppose it's the lights of the room, two lights turned on with the rest off. Just the way he liked it—just as you remembered.

Jungkook states at the shelf in front of him when his jaw clenches. He can feel the conflict behind his gaze. It isn't frustration that peaks through, instead; it looks a lot like fear.

He finally breaks with a sigh, "No games." He affirms, hands tightening by his sides.

The position is getting uncomfortable but the ache in his chest has been present for months, so he thinks a few more minutes here with the promise of an answer would be nothing. But he was equally as terrified as he thought you were.

Jungkook briefly thinks of Namjoon when you wait patiently, deep in thought. Because Namjoon was nothing like him. He'd give you an answer by now. Unravelling the tangled yarn in his mind just so you could catch a piece of his thoughts.

No. Jungkook was a thinker that often never spoke. His ideas and visions trapped in the confinement of his brain and left for others to hypothesise. But you were patient, somehow your most redeeming and costly quality. It's funny—because he’s always said that you were exactly what he needed.

"Jungkook?" You whisper.

Jungkook hums, eyes slightly twitching when the tip of his ears turn red. It's difficult for him too. But he’s waited for far too long.

"You promised." You remind him gently.

Jungkook takes the leap when he realises that you weren't backing down.

"God." He huffs, falling back onto his couch while you observe him with sad eyes. He felt so ... scared. "I'm so in love with you that I can't even think straight when you're around me.”

Your hand freezes, and he doesn’t even feel terrified when it drops from his face. He can only stare at the ceiling after his words leave his lips. It’s out there. The selfish part of him won and he can’t ever take it back. He can’t find the courage to look at you, not when the silence is so loud and his heart rings behind his ears.

So he continues.

“I just wanted you.” He croaks. “It’s always been you and you looked so … at home when I kissed you the first time. I was selfish. I thought—” His eyes shut, as he takes a deep breath, “—I thought I could at least pretend that you were mine when I touched you. Like you were meant for me and no one else.”

He can’t stop, his heart pouring out everything he’s felt.

“And fuck. Every time you’d say we had to stop what was happening I felt like I was losing you. I just … I just wanted to be someone to you that wasn’t your best friend. Or some younger guy that you knew while growing up. I wanted you to see me as a man. Like someone, you could rely on or be with. Because that’s who you are to me. Someone I can rely on, someone I want to be with.”

He hears your breath hitch.

“Jungkook …” You murmur, “Then why … why did you kiss Jennie? Why were you with her if you already had me?” Your voice is sad, soft and meek when you ask the question Jungkook selfishly wants to avoid.

He sits up abruptly, nearly knocking your forehead with his when he grabs your shoulders as your eyes widen. His eyes are desperate when they peer into your own.

“You didn’t deserve anything I did to you. The words I said. The thing with Jennie.” He groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder as you hesitantly reach a hand to cradle the back of his head ever so gently. He automatically relaxes your touch enough to calm him. But he’s still frustrated, scared, and he doesn’t know what to make of your reaction; or lack thereof.

“Jungkook.” You call his name softly, reaching to hold his shoulders while you look for his eyes.

“Yeah?” He says emotionlessly, almost defeated when he peers at you.

You nibble on your lips, thinking over your words before you squeeze his shoulders.

“Why … why didn’t you say anything?” You ask softly, and if he wasn’t crazy—he swore he heard some sadness behind your voice.

He scoffs, and the reaction has your eyes widening.

“And then what? You don’t feel the same and I would’ve just … ruined everything. I know I did when I kissed you but at least I could pretend like it was … casual. Like it meant nothing to me but a fun time.” You wince at his words, and he sees it. He frowns when he realises the words he threw at you a while back the first time he’s seen you break. “It wasn’t. I just … I couldn’t handle you rejecting me. It … it’d hurt too much.”

It was a selfish part on his end, and only after the silence that passed does he look up to see your eyes already trained firmly on him—a wave of sadness that washes over your features.

“You should’ve spoken to me, Jungkook.” You whisper, hands reaching out to hold his cheeks. Jungkook almost huffs but you beat him to the indirection. “I wanted you too.”

Jungkook’s body stills, eyes widening when he peers into your eyes. You smile sadly at him, and he feels everything come crashing down all at once.

The months that the two of you went without talking to each other, the kisses you’ve shared, the way you feel under his arms, the way your back arches, the giggles you’d share with him. All of it becomes more than just a memory now, but it’s still painful. The way his silence caused all of the problems he thought he couldn’t solve.

It feels … sad.

“What?” He chokes.

You nod your head, holding his cheeks gently.

“I wanted you. But you didn’t choose me. You chose … yourself.” You say softly.

Jungkook frowns, “I just—I thought … how?”

You offer him a sad chuckle, “Jungkook, I don’t think you get it. I love you, I really do. The signs were there. You’re the only person I’d ever want this way. You’re the person I think about on a daily basis and I find myself looking for you even when you're not there. Even when you said the things you did, or whenever I saw you with Jennie. I still wanted you. And that’s why I needed time away.” You inform him seriously.

“So we could have—?”

“I don’t know if you really love me, Jungkook.” You say sadly, eyes darting away that makes him want to comfort you. “Maybe I’m familiar to you but I can’t believe you when you say you love me if you had Jennie and me under your hold when everything happened.” You say with a serious gaze.

“I …”

“I want to move on.” You confess, and he feels his heart drop. “… from this. I don’t know if I’ll stop loving you but that isn’t my goal. I want to be able to understand my sexuality because I was guilty when it first happened and then … you said the things you did—”

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, cradling your cheeks in his head when he rests his forehead against your own. You’re so close, and your lips are only inches apart but it doesn’t seem right to close the distance. Not when the two of you were so confused.

“—I know. But it doesn’t matter. You allowed me to realise that I had some growing to do myself.” You smile, rubbing your thumb over his cheek.

And Jungkook feels so much … younger. Like you were taking care of him when he found out his first rejection from a state team application when he was moping by himself. You drove all the way to see him, to comfort him and hold him close when you didn’t have to. Your touch has always been the same, but it’s Jungkook who was selfish.

You loved him.

It feels … surreal. That the two of you felt the same but because of fear, or whatever that stopped the both of you, he ended up hurting you and pushing you away. Jungkook feels his heart ache, the frustration that seeps through his bone is too much to handle.

“I—where does this leave us?” He wants to be with you. He does. But somehow, the timing doesn’t seem right.

His thoughts are only confirmed when you tell him, “I can’t be with you. It’s unfair to you and to me. I have things I need to sort out first and so do you. But I want you in my life, and that’s selfish for me to ask when I feel the way I do, but you were my best friend before anything else. I loved the boy who was my friend before I loved the man who I hoped to be my partner one day. “

"I want to be with you.” Jungkook declares, eyes firm.

You laugh, eyes still sullen, “You don’t know that Jungkook … you hurt me. You really did. Your words … I don’t resent you for it but I can’t forget it, not just yet. You did allow me to realise that maybe I should put myself out there more. Make new friends. You could be thinking that you do for … closure or whatever, but I don’t deserve that.” You inform him seriously.

“You’re not boring—or whatever the fuck I said. I was insecure and I took it out on you. You’re … you’re you and that’s more than enough.” He says softly.

“I may not be.” You shrug with a small smile, "But there’s still a semblance of truth to it that I can see, menace and vehemence aside. Objectively speaking, I’m quiet. I’m shy. You didn’t say that but you definitely implied it.”

Jungkook sighs, and you say it with no malice. Just stating an observation, and he’s still baffled at how … calm you were, especially when you were in his arms and he was in yours. It feels … better, but not enough.

“I want to be alone but together, just as friends. Until the both of us sort out … whatever that’s happening. I want to move on from this, to go back to how we were.”

Jungkook stays silent, as you smile up at him. He thinks you look so pretty. And there’s dread in his stomach when he thinks of how he fucked it all up, how things could’ve been so much easier if he’d just pushed aside his ego and his pride.

But you’re kind as always when you rub at his cheek.

“But thank you, regardless. Even if it hurt me, and even if you regret it—it allowed me to understand what I needed to do. It brought people like Yena and Namjoon into my life, and I’m so grateful for them.” You smile, and for the first time that night; it’s a sincere one. He sees the way your eyes glisten ever so slightly when you speak about them.

The mention of Namjoon’s name only sends a pang through his heart when he recalls the kiss. But he knows it’s unwarranted, especially when you had to deal with Jennie, which was exponentially worse.

“Do you … do you want to be with Namjoon?” Jungkook asks carefully.

You ponder for a moment, and it hurts Jungkook to think that you were considering his words. But he remains silent, because at least right now—he had you in his arms even if you weren’t his to hold.

“I can’t.” The choice of your words doesn’t get dismissed by him. He realises that you never denied it, but said you couldn’t be with him. Jungkook purses his lips, “It’s unfair to him. I shouldn’t have kissed him either but I did. The same way you should’ve either kissed Jennie or kissed me, not the both of us. But if you really do love me the way you say you do. I want this to happen not because I’m familiar but because you actually want this.”

“You’re more than just a familiar girl to me, _____.” He says softly, holding your cheeks.

You shrug with a small smile.

“Am I?” You sigh, holding his wrist while you stare at him. It feels right when you hold him. “I think we need time. I need time, and so do you.”

Jungkook wants to protest, to say that the two of you have waited so long and feel the same. But he knows it’s not that easy. Not when he’s still had bridges to reconcile and build back. He remembers Jimin, he remembers Taehyung, and he even remembers Namjoon.

Love is not all there is, and sometimes it’s not enough; not now at least.

So Jungkook keeps the words to himself, just once more until he can see a smile that isn’t rooted in hesitancy in your eyes.

But he allows himself to ask, “Can I … can I kiss you?”

He’s pushing his luck. But you’re blinking down at him, and somehow along the way you’ve made it onto his lap. It’s not sexual, nothing about it is. Jungkook just wants to hold you and feel you close.

You hesitate, and he sees you nibbling on your lips as you think. But after a few moments, you sigh, nodding your head so softly.

Jungkook allows himself to indulge at this moment, selfishly and wholly. He holds your face in his hand like it’s the last time he could ever feel it this way, and before he brings himself closer—his eyes trace over your features as they map them out in his mind to revisit a place he would call home.

And you’re stunning. Like you’ve always been. The dark circles under your eyes, the few moles on your face, the slope of your nose, the bumps on your cheek, the slightly chapped skin of your lips. He takes it all in because it’s you.

Then, as your breath hitches while his lips flirt with yours; he returns home.

Your lips are as soft and welcoming as he remembers, and he immediately melts into your hold. Your hands are pressed on his chest, and there’s no rush this time. It’s different. A kiss that leads nowhere but here.

Jungkook kisses you so gently that you feel yourself want, but you needed to think. You still needed time.

When the two of you disconnect, he’s surprised to find himself being the first person pulling away.

You smile.

“Will we be okay?” He murmurs, breath fanning over your lips and it’s a familiar question.

This time, you allow yourself to hope.

“Yeah,” You exhale, “I think we will be.”

[ravenadottir]

I recently re-discovered love island the game after giving up on season 2. So, i started season 3 and became instantly in love with Tai lol, your blog is a lifesaver, i’ve already read everything I can find.

aw anon!

that’s so cool! i’m glad there’s more tai stans out there. even though season 3 doesn’t do it for me, i still appreciate tai as an individual 🥺

if there’s one thing i believe is how romantic this man can be. his entire place would be covered in candles, flowers, ambiance lighting and music. he can’t get enough of his girl and that will show once they’re home through how long he spends preparing the place.

moving in together might not happen so fast but i really like that about him. he has his life together and possibly rationalizes as much as he feels. even though he can see it happening, he doesn’t want to put the pressure on her so early on.

i really think tai can be a bit messy. not a slob, but you’ll for sure find hair products in the living room and more. he likes watching the tv while doing his curls so i think that’s cool!

you’ll find lots and lots of things around the apartment that he made sure to adapt to his height. the shower, some cabinets, and even the kitchen sink. all of them are adapted to him, not the other way around.

surely he likes comedies but i think his favorite genre might be the feel good, especially if it involves sports of any sort. surfing cheesy movies from early 2000’s and a couple of action flix might make an appearance on his “most watched” list.

expect a color + boho style on his decor. he doesn’t shy away from colorful and vibrant and you can’t be mistaken once you enter his place for the first time. “it has tai written all over, right babe?”. i picture lots of wicker and macrame, but a good splash of pinks, turquoises, light yellows… he definitely lets his personality show through.

his favorite thing to do is to lie down on a hammock close to the window, just to enjoy the sunrise/sunset/after-lunch-laziness. the boy loves cuddling and how his partner disappears into his arms and chest.

showering definitely is fun with him. to tai it’s not about the sexyness but about the intimacy. “of course i won’t say no to the naked woman in my shower, but i really like spending time with you in here.”

oh, oh! if you ever volunteer to do his hair, oh my god! he’ll marry you! curly hair is extremely high maintenance and if you offer to help, he’ll melt all over you.

listen… he coaches rugby, and if he ever plans his practices, which i think he does, you might get a glimpse of a tai in glasses, and that to me is EXTREMELY HOT. tai in glasses is the equivalent of an unicorn at the end of the rainbow, stealing the pot of gold from a leprechaun. he’ll also try to hide the fact that he wears them and act all bashful, and that along with the peach cheeks and embarrassed look? one of my favorites!

also, tai had at least a corner in his place where he does pottery. there’s a table, a rotating table, a drying station and a small cabinet of paints and brushes. he might get to it if he had a tough day.

below the cut for +18 headcanon.

another anon mentioned thigh riding and i sincerely cannot disagree. those are tree trunks and it would be a waste if not ridden properly. he insists, and helps in any way he can, his favorite probably incentivizing through one or two kinks… say you’re the person who likes degradation… “that’s my little whore” will definitely be whispered at some point. or if you enjoy some praise kink, “that’s my good girl” is number one on the list.

he loves people who take control, possibly even following orders. if you’re the dom/top type, tai will do whatever you tell him to. that easy and that fast.

absolutely loves his hair being pulled during anything he does on, in, near you. “if my hair is not messy and all over the place we did something wrong.”

well, i hope you like this list anon… thank you for the lovely ask!

[sukiglycerin]

it’s too cold outside for angels to fly || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x angel quirk!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, angst, actually sfw (wow, luna's can do that?!)

* words: 8.1k (it’s a big baby!)

* warnings: mentions of trauma, reader is insecure but it's not their entire personality, therapy (not a lot of scenes with it), slight intoxication, mentions of throwing up (not much), like one suggestive joke, (light) cussing because bakugou

* original request: All I’m saying is reader with a angel quirk and the reader even has wings AND ANGST (but happy at the end 🥺) WITH BAKUGOU sounds so good 😔 but of course if you don’t want to do that it’s fine no pressure 💕

* a/n: hi 'nonnie! i hope you like you like this! honestly, it turned out longer than i expected (twice the length lol) but i'm proud of this baby. i'd like to note that enko, the nickname bakugou calls reader means 'halo' in japanese and can double down as a name, and an important reminder not to take any advice from the therapy in this fic. i am not a professional therapist, and please seek advice for situations specific to yours. the name of the fic is inspired by a lyric from ed sheeran's 'a-team,' but i promise it's not that dark. thanks so much to @toishi​ and the amazing feedback from @dylanxmin​ for beta-reading this! hope you enjoy!

* synopsis: you were your parents' perfect angel. you listened, and you followed. you didn't become a pro-hero, you stayed inside per your parents' request. it was okay if you couldn't fly; or, at least it was, before katsuki bakugou came along...

your grandmother loved pastries. that’s why you were here, trekking through the cold city in the tokyo winter. you shivered everytime your feathers came in contact with the frigid air, as if they, too, cowered under the looming shadows of tall buildings and bright lights.

so many people roamed the sidewalks, yet any bodily warmth was gone. you regretted not buying a cover for your wings - surely, it'd be an investment despite the price. wing covers were rarely manufactured for your size in japan, mainly aimed for small children just developing a quirk. the extra cloth needed for adult wing covers as well as shipping costs jacked up the price, making you hesitant to buy them. your wings were folded against the outside of your coat (putting them inside gave you cramps), nuzzling against your back subconsciously for heat. your wings were a pale cream colour, slightly more vibrantly mustard-coloured at the tips, and were the most visible part of your quirk.

according to the doctor, your quirk was "angel," but it felt nothing more than a pet name. there was a time in your life that you adorned a halo, but it no longer hovered above you when you looked up now. you weren't granted much power with your quirk; you were barely able to fly with your wings, but maybe you had a stronger moral compass than others? the wings, at this point in your life, were just accessories, as useless as the appendix. they could only cause you pain. you walked mindlessly toward the bakery, snow flurries dotting your hair. the bakery was a rundown, easy to miss place; you would've missed it if you hadn't gone there so many times. the faded yellow paint on the exterior was peeling, the poster on the window ripped and advertising for summer deals from years back. it had only a word-of-mouth reputation to rely on.

there was a worn sticker on the door, right at eye level, which said the name of the bakery in loopy letters: 'the flour road.'

you swung the door open with a jingle, greeted by the scent of baking bread and warmth. the bakery was your grandmother's favorite, specializing in rice cakes and dorayaki. she loved the pastries, for some reason - the baklava especially. she sent you on an errand to buy her some, giving you extra money to buy your personal favorite of dorayaki. to be exact, she pushed the money into your hands and forced you to buy a dorayaki for yourself. it was still warm when the cashier handed you your boxes, which you gingerly put in the bag.

you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the cold, before you opened the door and found yourself back in the cold winter.

a hand roughly pulled you into an alley, and you found yourself face to face with a masked figure.

"give me your money." the figure pointed to your purse, tugging it.

"i don't- i don't-" you reach to take off your purse, not questioning it. there was simply nothing you could do; besides, the voice was young enough. what if they were simply going through a rough time in life? that was no cause to-

"OI, DUMBASS, WHADDAYA THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" a spiky haired man appeared suddenly, wearing what appeared to be melons on his arms. you suddenly recognized his getup of black, orange, and green; he was a pro-hero. what was his name? zero gravity? zero gr...ass?

"LADY, MOVE ASIDE." he looked you over. "FLY, OR SOMETHING."

"i can't-" but he was already after the thief. it took him less than 30 seconds to capture the thief; he was fast by himself, but was faster when propelled by his explosions.

"well, why are you here still?" he turned to you, the figure from before slung over his shoulder.

"i can't fly," you blurted.

he blinked. "then walk. besides, you literally have-" the figure moaned over his shoulder. "agh, nevermind, gotta take this douche to the police. go home."

the next you see of the explosive melon hero is at a supermarket. his arms are melonless this time, though, and you're not actually sure if he's the melon hero. you only recognize him by his hair and red eyes, but truthfully, it was probably not him. he was muttering something about "the spice not being spicy enough," and "stupid hair-for-brains nagging about the heat."

you felt a finger poke your wings. "hey miss, you have ugly wings." a stubby boy, no more than 5 or 6, looked up at you. smirking, he pushed his own smaller wings out, hands on his hips. "mine are teal-turquoise! yours are boring white."

"uh, okay-"

"mind your damn business, brat. where are your parents?" you could now confirm that the spiky haired man was indeed the melonhero by his voice and vulgarity. melonhero had turned to the kid, standing by your side.

the kid hmphed and walked away, to where his mother scolded him for straying from her.

"you again?" melonhero turned to you. "you really need to learn how to stand up for yourself."

"eh? i was handling it fine!"

"yeah, sure. what’s up with your wings, anyway?" he grunted. "can’t fly?"

"n-no. they're, uh, too weak." it was something hard to admit out loud for you. all winged people could fly, but you couldn't even hover, your wings just flapping up wind.

"too weak?! eh? is that even possible??" he poked one of your feathers. "they seem sturdy enough to me."

you turn your wings away from him, frowning. "it's not that easy. i-i never really had time to learn..."

"isn't that what all kids do in their free time, though? experiment with their quirk?"

"my parents thought it was useless..." you shuffled your feet awkwardly, eyes downcast.

"WORTHLESS?!" you flinched at his sudden volume. "it's your quirk, though, 'wings'?"

you rubbed the back of your neck. "well, not really... it's...." angel. the word echoed in your mind, under the spotlight on a stage. it stared at you in an empty auditorium. 'angel.' the word had negative connotations for you. to others, it was a sweet, innocent nickname, but to you, it meant more.

it represented the weight of your parents' expectations, the burden of your classes' assumptions. it became a ball and chain, reminding you of who you were, who you were supposed to be, and who you could never become. you were your parents' angel, your parents' little light. nothing else.

"'angel,' eh?"

"huh?" did melonhero suddenly manifest a mind-reading quirk? you look at him, but his gaze is above your head.

"halo."

"halo," you repeated, looking dumbly at the flickering ring above you.

"well then, enko, it's nice to meet you," he smirked.

"i'm not enko- i'm y/n-"

"enko’s better. i'm ground zero, the number one pro-"

"melonhero," you blurted.

"HUH?! what's that, moron?!"

"nothing, sorry, continue-" you apologized. what had gotten into you?

ground zero cleared his throat. "-number one pro-hero! ...it's katsuki bakugou to you."

"bakugou, i'm y/n l/n, nice to meet you! oh, and um- where are my manners? -thank you for the other day."

"don't go giving your purse to random men on the street, dumbass."

"it wasn't like that!" you protested. "i mean, what if he was going through a rough time? or, his parents kicked him out-"

"doesn't justify anything. you're so naive," he grunted. "didn't your parents teach you self-defense or anything?"

"w-well, no, not really..." you mumbled. you'd always just been their angel, delicate and thoughtful. you never wanted to disappoint them; always staying inside to clean or cater to their needs. their perfect angel. in their opinion, villains could never touch you if you never went out.

you recalled a time in your youth when deciding on a high school.

"i wanna go to ua!" you'd said. you knew a teacher willing to recommend you, so you didn't need to worry about much.

"honey, no, you can't be a hero..." your father started. "you're an angel, you're our angel, okay?" 

your mom nodded. "it'll be dangerous, angel, and we can't have you getting hurt day after day," she added.

you simply agreed, not wanting to upset your parents. they were always right. being a hero wasn't worth it, anyway, you told yourself. it was an unstable job. you'd entered a private high school near the coast of japan, instead of ua.

"eh?! well, how are you supposed to fend for yourself alone?!" bakugou exclaimed.

"i'm... supposed to stay at home..." you confessed quietly.

"then why are you here?!"

"...i moved away from my family."

"and you didn't learn to protect yourself? get yourself some pepper spray, idiot!" bakugou grabbed your wrist, abruptly leading you to an aisle with pepper spray in it. he briefly paused, then picked one.

"it's on me. i can't have more morons like you to save when you could save yourself." 

"thank you," you said. in all of his vulgarity, bakugou was semi-decent. you wondered why he was so on edge constantly; perhaps it was a trait from being a high-demand hero.

"HEY!" bakugou yelled, making you jump in place. "whatcha smilin' at?!"

you wiped the small grin that subconsciously crept on your face. "n-nothing."

"tch, so quiet, enko." he looked above you. "halo’s gone? fuckin' weird-ass quirk."

"could you... um... nevermind." you originally wanted to ask him to tone down the swearing, but thought better of it. the vulgarity reminded you of your uncle, and you a gagged at the thought of the disgusting man who'd occasionally crash at your family's home completely wasted.

"what? just spit it out," bakugou said. "i don't get offended, unlike deku or something."

"can you... cut down on the swearing?" you ask, then add more quickly when you see his face. "i mean, it's okay if you wanna keep doing it. i can't stop you. y'know, freedom of speech and everything."

"okay," he said with surprising composure. he didn't question the request, instead looking at you intently.

your gaze was set down, trying not to think of your uncle, and the horrors you'd gone through as a child because of him.

"i- um- sorry," bakugou forced out of himself. "i didn't mean t-"

"don't worry," you smiled cheerily. a fake smile, but you tried to convince yourself it was real.

"d'you-" he coughed, "d'you wanna talk about it?" he seemed to be going through something in his mind. "there's a park nearby - god, what did hitomi say? - we can, uh, talk it out? you can vent."

"oh no, it's fine, you're busy, a pro-hero." you said nervously.

"ah- yeah," bakugou seemed to be flustered too. "my therapist though- uh, she's really damn good- i mean, really good-" he pulls out a wallet from his pocket and sifts through cards. "here." he handed you a business card, advertising 'HITOMI YABUKI' in bold.

you blinked at him and accepted the card reluctantly. pro-heroes were really kind at heart, huh? "is she a pro-hero therapist?" you asked.

"her? no, she does other stuff. normal stuff, trauma, quirk stuff, erm- whatever you need. she's an all-rounder."

"oh." you put the card in your pocket. "okay, thank you."

he grunted, accepting the thanks. "need to buy anything else?"

you glanced at your cart. "no, that's all. thanks for everything, bakugou-"

"i'll pay," he blurted. "for it all." he looks surprised at himself, perhaps even angry. "oh, no thank you-"

"i'll do it. i mean it. you didn't even buy much," he muttered.

"o-okay," you said. he snatched your cart from your hand, walking to a self-checkout.

"weren't you gonna buy anything?" you asked.

"eh?!" he grunted while scanning items.

that was the end of the conversation. once he finished, he swiped his card and handed you a bag.

"make sure you use the damn pepper spray."

it was only once you got home that you realized he slipped his number into one of the bags.

you see bakugou again at hitomi yabuki's therapy lobby. he sat casually, earbuds on as he stared at his phone. you debated sitting next to him and decided against it, not wanting to bother him. you didn’t contact his number yet; your hands sweated at the thought. as much as you were tempted, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of a pro-hero.

you found yourself staring at the man, who was unusually calm at the moment. you stared at his eyelashes, his eyes, down to his nose and lips, and his firm set jaw. your eyes fell to the phone he’s clutching, to the curve of his fingers and uniform nails.

"l/n y/n?" a tall woman called your name. bakugou looked up at you, and for a split second you could see what looked like a genuine smile before it was twisted into a smirk.

"yes!" you stood up and followed her, glancing back at bakugou before he disappeared from your sight. after a short elevator ride, you walked out onto the third floor.

she led you down a short, carpeted hallway to the last door. it was an opaque glass door that said "hitomi yabuki" on a plaque.

"so, what brings you here?" she finally said once the two of you were seated. "um- bakugou?" you said.

she smiled and jotted something down. "is that so?"

"yeah. we met a couple times by accident, and uh, he gave me your business card."

the rest of the session was just introductions - prices, meeting times, and therapy that can be provided. still, you weren’t really sure if you needed the therapy - maybe it’d be suited more for someone else struggling more than you. you didn’t need to use your quirk much; flying wasn’t much your style anyway. what would your parents think if they found out you were taking therapy? they’d surely be hurt, assuming that they didn’t provide a good childhood to you. you could practically hear your mom asking you why you’d waste money on therapy. you took a deep breath as you re-entered the lobby. bakugou was seating in the same place you last saw him, still on his phone. you bid goodbye to the receptionist, thinking out your decisions. your insurance could cover much of the costs for the therapy, but you still wondered if you should spend the money.  these thoughts trailed you as you waited on the sidewalk for a cab, watching your breath billow in front of you.

"hey, enko."

your elbow shot out by instinct, hitting the invader of your thoughts.

"woah, idiot, it’s just me." luckily, bakugou had caught your stray elbow, chuckling to himself. "so the angel does know self-defense, eh?"

you stiffened at the pet name, though you knew bakugou meant well. you could remember each distinctive voice in your childhood. your parents beckoning: angel. your nickname: angel. how everyone saw you: angel. you could never escape it, not with your halo or wings. it was so distinctive, your defining quality. whether he noticed the shift in your posture, he didn’t say. "how was it? hitomi’s great, right?"

you hummed in response, rubbing your wings together for heat.

"are wings supposed to get cold? aren’t they just... feathers?"

your wings ruffled at the comment. you sniffed. "they’re sensitive."

"weird," bakugou muttered under his breath. for a split second, you considered smacking him with your wing, but you stopped yourself before you could execute the instinct.

your cab pulled up by the sidewalk. "that’s my ride." you smiled and waved to him as you entered the car. somewhere during the 15 minute car ride, you mustered up the courage to finally text bakugou.

who knew he was so dirty-minded, anyway? you leaned back in your car seat, exhaling. thankfully, you didn’t text the wrong number or prematurely end the conversation. so, now you were friends with a pro-hero, or so you assumed (friends texted each other, right?). the you from 10 years ago would be jumping for joy at the prospect of befriending a pro-hero, and here you were. you finally booked a therapy session for saturday at 3pm. you checked into the lobby ten minutes early, just as your parents had taught you, and took a seat in the lobby.

when it was finally your turn, you found yourself back in hitomi's office, the familar scent of vanilla and fresh linen wafting in the air.

"i hope you don't mind the scent," she said.

you shook your head. "it's fine." the fragrance was almost reassuring in a way, but you couldn’t pin point it. this time, you allowed yourself to drink in your surroundings. hitomi’s office was spacious, a large window overlooking tokyo’s snow-covered cityscape adding onto the effect. the walls followed a vertical gradient pattern of mint green and light blue decorated with paintings, hanging plants, and wooden shelves yet not in a cluttered way. in the center, against a wall, was a white couch. it had an oddly calming aura to it, as if you'd stepped into a dream outside reality.

"would you like an apple? or some water?" hitomi offered.

you weren’t really in the mood for either, but accepted the water. she gestured for you to sit on the couch.

the meeting consisted of her asking and you answering, the topic changing from family life, to your quirk, to your feelings.

"so, can you explain your quirk to me?" hitomi asked.

"well..." you gathered your thoughts. "obviously, i have wings like an angel. they don’t really do anything, though, just get sensitive to the weather. i used to have a halo when i was young, but it’s faded by now. dunno why. let’s see...." you paused. "i guess i have an inclination to help others? it’s hard for me to say no to things, honestly."

"is it because of your quirk?"

"probably," you admitted. "i’ve always been like this, i think."

"can you fly with your wings?"

"no." you sipped your water. "i guess i never learned. i’d try, but i don’t think they can support my body weight."

"how do you feel about your quirk?"

you shrugged, but then regretted it. you didn’t want to seem insensitive to all the quirkless people who could only wish for a quirk. "it’s- it’s cool, i guess. it makes me unique..." you thought back to your parents’ words, how they’d praised you for such an amazing quirk. when you used to feel bad about your quirk, they’d always remind you that there were children who’d wish to even have a quirk at all, and that you were special. your mother’s quirk allowed her to shine small rays of light through her fingertips, while your dad’s quirk gave him a wing attached to his left arm. it was pretty much useless for anything other than generating wind, considering he didn’t have a right wing to balance him out. their quirks together worked out just right to create you, their perfect angel. hitomi jotted something on her notepad.

the more you thought of it, the more you felt broken. you'd been doing therapy with hitomi for months now, and it had gotten harder and harder to emotionally process. your parents, your family, your quirk; you now saw the things for what they were.

your parents had used you. you were their doll, their perfect obedient angel, and it disgusted you. your hands felt tainted, your wings heavy weights on your back. you were revolted by yourself; looking in the mirror, you couldn't help but gag, seeing not the you of now, but the you of the past looking back at you. you couldn't sleep; tossing and turning and ruffling your wings in frustration. you couldn't stop thinking about your parents, how they restricted you from everything.

you wondered how it'd be different if your parents were better. you wondered if you'd gotten into ua and strengthened your quirk. you wondered how your reputation as a pushover would change. maybe you'd be a hero right now, helping others instead of being so irreparably broken.  you could hear the catcalls from your classmates like bullets beating your wings. angel, the goody-two-shoes who couldn't say no.

not once did you cry. maybe you felt too disgusted by yourself. maybe bakugou was becoming the best friend you'd ever had.

he was there for you. making spicy curry or those awful, equally spicy instant korean noodles - he was there for you, in the same way milk is there for you when eating a particularly spicy dish. he listened to you, and you did the same for him. you laughed and joked together. somehow, in such a dark time, your friendship bloomed. it was strange, really. his reputation as a hero made him out to be aggressive and careless - and while he could brash in word choice at times, you knew he had a good heart. at one point, you’d even opened up to him about your past.

"then deku just completely f- messed up the mission! i could’ve blown up the damn guy, but he had to play mr. goody-two-shoes and just tie him up. and he got all the interview time. what’s even up with that?!"

he talked about his friends a lot. he'd deny his relationship with them being something other than strictly professional, but the way his crimson eyes would deepen gave it all away. he mainly spoke of deku and red riot (though their names would be referenced in cruder ways).

"what if- what if i was a hero?" you asked suddenly.

bakugou lifted an eyebrow. "you'd be a damn good hero if you could manage your quirk. like hawks."

"you think the public would like me?"

"duh. you're pretty, kind, AND fight villains? pretty badass. hell, if i approve of you, anyone would."

you smiled.

"why, though?" bakugou asked.

"curious. i, um, used to want to be a hero. growing up."

"your quirk has potential." bakugou leaned back on the couch. "why didn't ya become one?"

"parents." you flinched as the word passed your lips. thinking about your parents was painful, as if you had to rip off a month old bandaid before you could even get their faces into your mind. "they just... worried," you said. you didn't say anything else.

"betcha couldn't come up with a hero name as damn awesome as ground zero." "i could barely remember it," you teased.

"though, i must say, i do like enko as a hero name. it's like i'm joining an idol group."

"akb48 has nothing on you though,"  bakugou said.

you flushed. "i-i don't think you've looked at them properly, then."

"nah, i have, ochaco's obsessed with idol groups. don't doubt me, enko~" his voice was dangerously close, but he hadn't moved an inch from his original spot. "you're prettier than all the idols combined. tch, how low do you think my standards are?!"

"they're idol groups, bakugou, they practically rely on visuals!"

"eh? who cares? you've beaten them in looks and personality."

the thing about bakugou was that he was always completely honest with his thoughts. his integrity always amazed you, but then again, he was a pro-hero. you were quick to change the subject. "um- then-- what time is it? it must be getting late. i should get home-"

bakugou frowned. "it's late, idiot. eat before you go. i have some leftover tonkatsu and rice, and i can whip up the miso-"

"n-no, it's fine bakugou, you don't need to-"

"idiot, i can't have you starve to damn death on the ride home. eat."

even if you wanted to protest, you couldn't. bakugou's cooking was always to good to pass up, alarmingly spicy or not.

"the rice is still warm in the rice cooker," bakugou finally said, turning towards the kitchen. he knew you'd follow him, and you did.

bakugou busied himself making some instant miso soup and reheating the tonkatsu. you prepared yourself for the spicy of bakugou's tonkatsu; you'd had it once before, and it was quite painful. finally done, bakugou sat to the side of you eating tonkatsu as well, seasoning his with extra chili flakes. he was positively crazy; how did he handle such spice?

you cut yourself a strip and brought it to your lips. the tonkatsu was surprisingly tame for bakugou's cooking; it could've passed for normal restaurant tonkatsu.

"thish ish good," you said in between bites.

"i know," he gritted out, but he looked proud. "would be better with chili."

you shook your head, smiling. "never in a million years."

it was often you thought of this moment. it was so happy, so complete. it was just you and bakugou, simply being. right now, a genuine smile was something you couldn't curl your lips into, no matter how hard you tried. when you did, the taste of something salty crept into you mouth.

something salty...?

you touched your face. it was wet. your head spun, and then it dawned on you: you were crying. you were crying? your eyes focused, and pain throbbed in your head. lights shone too bright on you, heightening your headache, and a foul taste lingered in your mouth. you were suddenly aware of something solid in your hand: a drink.

something else you were aware of was how much you wanted to go home. you could barely remember what led you to a club as you fumbled in your purse for your phone, glancing at the time and unlocking the screen. all you needed to do was go home. you really wanted to go home, but where was home? home was gone. home...

a fresh wave of tears glossed your face, and you ignored the person next to you's advances. you didn't even know why you were crying. you struggled to read your contacts, dizzy, and called the first one you can make out with your hazed vision.

bakugou.

yes, all you wanted right now was bakugou. you wanted him and his warm arms, his endearing words. you wanted him so bad. you wanted him, and his warmth, and his happiness. you wanted his scent of comfort, the smile that made you feel fuzzy. you wanted his voice to shelter you precisely at that moment, you wanted to feel like it was him and you against the world.

"dumbass? hello? where are you? why is it so freaking loud? enko?"

you hadn't realized that a low quality projection of his voice was speaking on your phone.

"b-bakugou," you said, though it came out hoarsely. "bakugou."

"enko? where are you, and why are you calling at ass o'clock in the morning?"

"miss you," you almost said, but instead it came out as "dunno, you," a mix between "dunno" and "miss you."

"eh? where are you?"

you shrugged. "come here."

"send me your location, moron, and stay where you a-"

you hung up to send him your location.

you yawned and rubbed your forehead. everything was loud, everyone was together. and you were alone. it made you sad. you wanted to have somebody. a voice in the back of your head told you that you had bakugou. did you? right, he was coming. did you tell him to come?

you pressed the call button again.

"what is it?" bakugou asked roughly.

"lonelyyyy..." you moaned. "pick me up, baku...."

"idiot, i'm on my way. why the fuck are you so far from where you live?"

"hmm mmmhm," you strung together sounds. "'m sad."

"don't be." he sounded mad. he always sounded mad.

"why are you always mad at me?" you pouted.

"i'm not, dumbass! i'm pulling in."

"hmmm...!"

bakugou almost tore through the door with rage. "ENKO, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE."

you hopped toward him, wobbling a bit. the floor seemed to turn under you. enko! that was you! right?

"bakuuugoooou~" you cooed, flopping into his arms. "let's sleep."

he smelled nice. his scent enveloped you, a mix of vanilla and caramel that you’d grown so accustomed to.

he stiffened. "dumbass, i can smell the alcohol on you, we’re going the fuck home."

"don’ wanna," you whined. "lonely. wanna be with youuuuu..." you nuzzled more into his chest, finding comfort in his body warmth. you didn’t want to let go, ever. "tch, fine."

the car ride to bakugou’s place was uncomfortable. cars spun by you, lights making you woozy. you almost bashed your head on the dashboard. your seat was uncomfortable, the seatbelt itched you. despite all that, you stopped to stare at bakugou in your daze, all serious and set on the road. he had nice biceps, and his side profile was a sight for sore eyes (see also: your eyes).

"what, enko?" he grunted, glancing at you.

you said the first thing that came to your mind. "you know you smell nice?"

"huh?" he glanced at you, turning in to his driveway.

well, there was no going back now. "you smell like caramel... and vanilla... it’s nice..." you sighed happily, imagining the fragrance.

bakugou didn’t reply, instead parking and unlocking the doors. "get out, dumbass, it’s past your bedtime."

"but i don’t haaaaaave a bedtime," you slurred, stumbling out of the car. bakugou mumbled a complaint before hoisting you over his shoulder. it was probably not the best move, considering the blood rushing to your head made you feel sick. after entering his house, bakugou set you down on a sofa, sitting you upright.

"stay here."

you leaned back on the sofa, feeling suddenly empty. the buzz in your head had not quite left, but the weight of the world came crashing down again. therapy, your parents, your quirk. it struck you that you were probably bothering bakugou and disturbing his sleep; he was a pro-hero after all, lives depended on his health. but here you were, ever so selfish and probably taking a toll on his health.

"drink." you hadn't realized bakugou had put a glass of water in your hands. you simply nodded and gulped it down, hoping to sober yourself up.

you stared at the man glossy eyed, glass in your hand half empty. "bakugou."

"eh?"

"sorry."

"for what?"

"y'know... waking you up... bothering you... i know you're busy, and-"

"shut up, it doesn't matter. i'd rather you here than in the hands of some douche at the club."

"but still, how would i make it up-"

"by sleeping well. off to bed you go."

he started pushing you towards the hallway. "where will you sleep?"

"sofa."

"but bakugou-"

"go to bed."

"i feel sick-"

"hah?"

a rising sensation of bile emerged in your throat. the only words you could get out of your mouth was "bathroom," before you rushed in. it was not a pretty sight - you preferred to skim over the details when recalling it. the details you did not skim over, however, were that of bakugou's care; for being awoken at ungodly hours in the morning, he was surprisingly gentle with your vomiting state, soothing your stomach with warm hands and rubbing your back. after, he gave you a glass of water and forced you to take ibuprofen, though you swore you felt fine.

bakugou's bed was surprisingly comfortable. then again, bakugou did claim to have gone to bed at 8:30 sharp daily during his high school years, so it made sense he still valued sleep.

you were then reminded how you disrupted his.

and how you were now forcing him to sleep on the sofa.

you padded out of his room, wearing one of bakugou's old shirts that he'd graciously lended you, to the living room. he was laying on his back, feet sticking out of the sofa, eyes closed.

"what?" he asked, eyes still shut.

you knew he wouldn't let you feel guilty about intruding his sleep, so you settled upon saying the next best thing. it was partially true, anyway.

"'m lonely without you." your voice came out smaller than intended.

"huh?" he sat up, groggily looking at you.

"it's- kinda cold, and y'know, with your quirk..."

he grunted and obliged, walking toward his bedroom. you stood behind him, staring at his back; that was surprisingly easy.

bakugou slept with his arms around you, so you were nestled comfortably into his chest. this position felt strangely domestic; something lovers might do nightly. but you and bakugou weren't lovers, you were friends. image of you and bakugou involved romantically faded into your mind; coffee shop dates, cooking together, waking up next to each other. there was a sudden loss of breath in your chest, as if your heart had become weightless and was lifted by a thousand of butterflies taking flight. bakugou... romantically? it hadn't crossed your mind. still, you could see it so vividly in your mind; you, becoming his dumbass, his and his only. you could imagine how he'd look at you, full of love in his eyes, and how he'd gently kiss your forehead in the morning. was it so bad to want that? the more your thoughts indulged you, the more his body warmth drowsed you, his calm breathing adding to the effect. he was practically nyquil in human form. you found yourself nodding off in his arms, not before mumbling a quiet "what if i liked bakugou?" and clutching his shirt closer to you.

you were far too engrossed in the realm of sleep to hear bakugou's faint but hopeful reply of "i'd hope so, dumbass."

at your next therapy meeting, you told hitomi about bakugou. it was unplanned, spilling out of your mouth as soon as she asked why you looked so anxious. you couldn't like bakugou. you blamed your slightly intoxicated past self for planting such a thought in your brain, but you knew it just admitted a lingering feeling from in your heart. you spared her the details of the throwing up and the guilt that gnawed at you regarding how bakugou cared for you.

"it's... childish, right? like an old schoolgirl crush," you flushed, finishing your confession.

hitomi shook her head. "it's good to feel this way, actually. it's quite healthy for a twenty-something like you to harbour such feelings; it allows you to explore your feelings and relationships healthily."

even so, crushing was so damn frustrating. it's one thing to like a person; it's a completely different experience after admitting to yourself, yes, they're my crush. when you were younger, you very rarely developed crushes (as influenced by your parents) and even less were able to act on them. but now, as an adult, you had the freedom to act (or not, considering how your nerves constantly started to act up around bakugou). you decided to push the feelings down; you were just friends, and bakugou had no time to pursue a romantic relationship.

if having a crush was like an addiction, rehab was torture for you. gone were the days of seeing bakugou as platonic; you couldn't stop your heart from swelling whenever he recounted his day to you. bakugou had now become attractive, from his tight, bulging muscles to his hard chest. it did not help that you had to see him in his hero costume flaunting those features every other day on the news.

you convinced yourself bakugou harboured nothing but platonic sentiment for you, but he never failed to send your heart aflutter with discreet compliments he hid under rough comments. you started leaving early whenever the two of your hung out under the guise of other plans (that in reality didn't exist), and tried to always cut conversations short when you bumped into each other in public. he was ground zero, pro-hero, and you were just a civilian who could barely maintain their quirk.

you were just starting your quirk therapy, but you couldn't expect major changes a week in. bakugou had said your wings looked brighter, but you assumed he just said that to make you feel better. you could hover off the ground for less than a second now, but your wing strength lacked too much to be able to do anything requiring more strength. your halo was still absent, and you couldn't figure out how to make it reappear. there hadn't been much research done on the essence of halos; hitomi said not to worry about it regardless.

flap flap flap.

"oi, dumbass, you're gonna create a tornado in here."

flap flap flap.

"i'm practicing flying."

"well, you're going nowhere. d'you want me to call hawks or something?" flap flap flap. 

you turned to bakugou, folding your wings neatly. he had the same expression as always, slightly disapproving and tired. your eyes meet his momentously; but they fall down immediately to his lips. lately, this kind of thing had been happening often. bakugou acted like he didn't notice you'd been different lately, but you could tell he wanted an explanation.

you acted on your impulse, your mouth opening and words tumbling from your mouth.

"bakugou- idon'twanttoruinourfriendshipbutijustwannasayitnow- ilikeyou."

"what?" why did you do that?

if this were a texting conversation, you'd leave him on read. if this was a tweet, you'd make your account private. if this was a video call, you'd end it.

alas, this was real life, so you resorted to the next closest thing: you ran. you ran faster than any shoujo girl and with more conviction than any shounen boy, and then you were lost. damn cities.

panting on the sidewalk, wings heaving up and down, you realized what you did. staring at the edge of the pavement, where the curb met the street, hands on your knees, it hit you.

you cussed and yelled at yourself mentally, and though a small part doubted bakugou even heard you, you didn’t allow yourself to have hope. it was game over. you let your feelings override rational thought, and you ruined what was arguably the best thing going on in your life.

you were interrupted by an itch in your feathers from being so cramped while folded. they ruffled against the cool air, distraught. you stretched them out, observing your surroundings and allowing yourself to cool down. the breeze was a satisfying sensation against your feathers, and you hovered just a moment when they flapped.

"mommy, wings!" a kid passes you on the sidewalk, pointing. his mother hushes him, but you smile at him.

the next few days were rough, particularly because you were avoiding bakugou. it was definitely not a good idea, but it was a temporary patch over the open part of your heart.

this was not one of your healthy coping mechanisms.

did he text you? did he call you? you didn’t know, because you turned off your notifications. you knew you were just making things more awkward, even more so if he hadn’t heard you at all. it gave you all the more excuse to ignore him longer.

now, with evenings to yourself, your mind wandered more. your thoughts drifted into a vast desert of tangled constellations in your mind, tightropes you’d tread that would lead you to a random destination. sometimes it led you to random memories - other times, it wasn’t as random, leading you to painful manifestations in your heart. these were the things you tried so hard to ignore, but rang so true.

you were reminded by the constellations in your mind that you were being terribly selfish to bakugou; not even considering his feelings. bakugou didn't deserve you. maybe stars twinkled in your mind, but the bluest ones burned you to the touch. you needed to get over bakugou.

that wasn’t to say it didn’t hurt, trying to get over bakugou. the stars in your mind dimmed, and perhaps, at one point, the constellations were reduced to thread; knotted, tangled, and hopeless.

maybe it was better when the string had been unkempt, because now it unraveled. you cried, and cried; in the shower, at your desk, doing chores. tears, hot and sharp like newly shapen diamonds, dripped down your face. your face was permanently marked by the wounds the diamonds left, and contrary to the stars, your eyes were red and hot. your thoughts unwound like string - there was a clear pathway now, but it was tainted by the shape of the knots there had once been.

everything hurt when you thought of bakugou. your swollen eyes became lifeless as memories of him overtook you. they controlled you. you missed therapy session after session, too scared to go to the place which bakugou had connected you to. sometimes, you’d sprawl across the ground, stare into your ceiling, and feel yourself vanish into something, a dark void of nothingness. he had cared so much for you - too much. why had he? why couldn’t he have left you, that one day you were almost robbed? why couldn’t you just have stayed the way you were? why did you have to find the truth in things? ignorance was a bliss you woke yourself from. ignorance, the dream which from you woke to find a nightmare, reality. why did he have to be him, the stupid pro-hero with a heart that bled kindness into yours? why couldn’t he have stayed a two-dimensional public figure, the careless and angry ground zero? why did he have to be in your goddamn life and ruin it, entangle everything into one big mess? you hated him. you hated him and his stupid endearing insults, him and his rugged smirk that pained your heart so, him and his eyes that held sparks and diamonds and you. deep inside, you knew it wasn’t true; hate was just a name for an indefinably strong feeling you had for him. you knew you didn’t hate him, you knew you couldn’t hate him. you told yourself you did to distance yourself from him. the distance between you and he only grew. your memories were tarnished with pain, his image blurry and wrinkled in your eyes. katsuki bakugou was just someone, no one.

this was the feeling of agony, this was the sight of pure hell, and this was the sound of you burning your heart. distance between you and the man named katsuki bakugou grew, as did your descent into pure madness.

until the distance between you and he was less than a metre.

you had not bothered to tame your hair; it was a bit overgrown and sprouted a couple split ends. you were dressed in a stained shirt, your face not even mentionable, and your heart was beating in your ears. you felt yourself dragged quite forcefully down to sanity, as if opening the door suddenly put gravity into effect.

because here he was, katsuki bakugou in all of his perfect glory, standing on your doorstep.

the little shit refrained from making a comment about your current state, but you could see the comment appearing in his eyes and vanishing as soon as it came. you watched his eyes go from the state of your face down to your unkempt attire. he, on the other hand, looked unaffected. he was sporting a t-shirt and jeans, hands shoved into his pockets. the only indicator, which was minuscule at best, that he had changed at all was the red at the corners of his eyes and slight eyebags. he looked shocked at the sight of you.

"y/n..." you almost fainted on the spot.

you weren’t not jumping for joy in ecstasy at the sight of him, and you didn’t feel like a shoujo protagonist at the moment. it was something different.

"again," but your voice was too hoarse to be heard. your mouth opened and closed, you coughed, and repeated yourself. "s-say it again."

"huh?!" it was nice to know someone hadn’t changed after all that time.

"my- my name..."

"eh? enko."

you sighed, your face indifferent. you weren’t exactly disappointed by his reply; it brought memories upon memories of happier times with him.

"well, what do you want?" you asked, rubbing the side of your face.

"what- what the fuck is going on?" he gestured to you. "i should be asking about you. what the f- what happened to you?!"

"i-"

"enko, i don’t get any of this shit. this relationship crap. what do you want me to do?! first, you act weird as shit- because of what?! i don’t fuckin’ know. you avoid me - don’t think i didn’t notice - and then suddenly you spew shit and leave?! i don’t see you for a goddamn week, you don’t answer your damn calls or texts, and suddenly i’m the damn villain and i’m supposed to give you time or shit to figure things out, and when i can finally fucking see you, you look like actual crap?! hell, i should be the one with deteriorating mental health with all of the bull you put me through! if you want something, if you don’t wanna be friends or shit, just goddamn say it to my face! i’m not good with people, enko, goddamnit! tell me what’s wrong!"

you stood in shock. relationship..? you shook his words away. you hadn’t realized how much this took a toll on bakugou, too. he looked away - something glinted in his eyes, but you couldn’t tell exactly what.

"god-fucking-damnit," he grumbled. "...are ya gonna let me in, or what?! it’s cold out here!"

you didn’t think about how bakugou’s quirk involved producing heat, and let him in unreluctantly, stepping aside. "sorry," you mumbled.

he took off his shoes, and you motioned for him to sit down on your couch.

"explain it to me," he demanded. "what in the goddamn world has happened tot you? did someone do this to you?!"

you refrained from saying technically, it was you, and settled on: "no." it was apparent he hadn’t heard you that day. "just- it’s nothing. i was being stupid, a-and i’m okay now." it was a lie.

"do you take me as an idiot?" he asked. gears shifted in his eyes. "sit down," he said, suddenly calm.

you did so, sitting as farthest as you could from him.

"closer," he gritted out. you scooted a centimetre. "closer." another centimeter. "clo-ser." he pulled you so you were sitting angled toward him, knee brushing his.

"baku...gou?" so many questions flashed in your mind.

"confirm something for me," he ordered. "what exactly did you say to me before running away?"

"i- nothing. it was nothing, i told you, bakugou."

"tell. me. i don’t care if you quoted freud, told me a failed joke, or what. tell me."

your mind was devoid of possible jokes you could use to lie.

you opened your mouth, forcing the words out with all your might. "i don’t remember the specifics," you rambled. "i don’t think i was in the right state of mind-"

"spit it out."

"i think it went something like ‘i like you’ or something?" your pitch rose with every syllable.

"tch," a smile was on his face. "thought so." his hand was suddenly on your cheek, and his lips were on yours. he tasted like caramel. your eyes widened, and you pulled away, sputtering.

"what? what d’you mean, ‘thought so’?!"

"idiot, i like you too. also, when did you last brush your teeth?"

"i- that doesn’t matter. bakugou... i don’t think that this relationship is good for us. as friends or whatnot."

"huh? why not?"

"look at me. look at you. i can barely handle my quirk, and you’re a pro-hero who uses his quirk to help people. i can’t really do anything."

he mumbled something under his breath. "enko, do you think i care about any of that? i don’t care if you have the strongest quirk in the world or none at all. you’re strong - and i don’t say this ‘cause i like you - you’re kind, you see the best in people." he paused. "people don’t give me the time of day ‘cause they think i’m too irrational. brash. careless. but you? you see past that, you don’t care. you work hard no matter what people say. people-" his voice caught in his throat, "people say shit to you, and you don’t care. you keep going."

he saw you... like that? your face heated up.

"don’t be gettin’ all shy on me," he grunted. "tch. come here." he pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you and narrowly avoiding your wings. you flushed, holding him tight and inhaling his caramel scent. you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing to hold him like this forever.

“hey, enko,” he whispered into your ear. you looked at him, who was currently looking up and pointing. “halo.”

[nxrthmizu]

kAY but I was thinking, what about or needy, clingy bois (bokuto, oikawa and atsumu), finally reuniting with their singer!s/o after she spent awhile away on tour? thank u in advance, I hope you're well and having a great day! Love your writing. 💌💗

»»——⍟——«« 

request | bokuto, oikawa, and atsumu with a singer!reader who has been away on tour 

words | 1.4k 

author’s note | uwuuu this is such a cute idea anon! hope this is satisfactory :3 also I kind of strayed from the topic? lol 

»»——⍟——««

↬ bokuto koutarou 

most of your tours before were only a day or two long at most, because you would only be touring around Japan

it was for this reason that koutarou never realised how lonely it was when you weren’t around :( 

it wasn’t too bad if he had practice, because he’d eventually get distracted by hinata and atsumu 

but that one time it was really bad because 1. your tour was a week long, and 2. since msby black jackals had just finished playing some big matches, they had a few days off 

he moped around for the whole day, called akaashi five(5) times, and pouted when he tried calling you and it didn’t go through 

twitter blew up because he tweeted on his main that he was lonely and wanted someone to accompany him :( 

hinata was spending the day with kageyama; atsumu was back at hyogo; and sakusa just ignored him so he just spent the whole day at home wallowing in loneliness (poor babie <3 ) 

luckily, there was practice the next day, and hinata was able to coax him out of emo mood half an hour into practice 

by the time the week was over, this boy was vibrating with excitement to see you 

if he had a tail, it would be wagging at two hundred crotchet beats per minute 

even with your sunglasses and hat on, he was able to recognise you and I am not joking when I say this man screamed at the sight of you, ran across the airport to pick you up :) 

this man is not going to let you go for the next five hours 

he held your hand the whole drive back home, then insisted on getting into the shower with you, cuddled you while waiting for takeout, made you sit on his lap while the two of you ate, cuddled again while watching a movie... etc. you get the idea 

the next morning when he wakes up with your in his arms he has the biggest smile on his face because he’s been waking up alone for the past week and now that you’re back he’s going to ignore his morning run in favour of staying in bed with you for ten more minutes :3 

↬ oikawa tooru 

he tries not to be clingy because he doesn’t want you to get tired of him but damnnn he misses you so much :( 

and then he proceeds to feel bad because the only thing he can think of is that you must’ve felt this lonely too when he had to fly out of argentina to play international matches 

for every night that you’re gone he has to resist the urge to call you because he knows you’re going to be tired and you need your rest but jskjksjskjs he wants to hear your voice 

if you call him first he’ll try his best to not sound too excited but the truth is,,, this cute baby missed you so much 

‘did you miss me?’ you meant it in a pleasing tone, but you didn’t expect your boyfriend to literally have a mental breakdown on the other side of the line 

he goes to sleep with a smile on his face, because even though he can’t feel your warmth next to him, he can hear your soft breathing through his phone, and that’ll have to be enough for now 

(he also promises himself that the next time he flies out of the country, he’ll make sure to call you every night) 

that isn’t to say he isn’t affected, though 

his teammates notice that his sets are just a slight bit off when you’re not around 

that’s not to say he doesn’t set well, it just isn’t as accurate as it normally is 

the day that you fly back coincidentally clashes with a match, so he makes sure to call you the night before and apologise for not being able to pick you up from the airport 

he’s doing his best to concentrate on the match, but between his phases of strong focus, his brain is filled with thoughts of going home and seeing you, your hair still damp from your shower 

god, he missed you so much 

the game flies past quickly, a quick victory for his team- but the serotonin that the win gives him is nothing compared to the feeling in his heart when he turns and spots you, waving with a smile from the stands, dressed in his former, turquoise-and-white Seijoh jersey (that’s how he always picks you out in a crowd- because you’re always wearing glasses and a hat to avoid anyone recognising you in public)

‘look at him go.’ his teammates nudge each other at the sight of the lovesick-smile that he’s wearing 

you run down to the dressing room, the security personnel recognising you easily and letting you in 

he picks you up, spins you around and kisses you (just because he can and because he wants to show off his strength :)) 

‘god, I missed you so much,’ 

just imagine this man tucking his face in your neck and murmuring that softly <3 I would die for him and this is the proof 

‘you’re so sweaty!’ you laugh but both of you know that you don’t really mind. it doesn’t matter because the love of your life, tooru, is right in front of you and everything else pales in comparison compared to him 

tooru would pamper you so much when you get home, he would hold you in his lap and wait for you to fill him in on everything that happened 

he’s touchy normally but after spending a week away from you, his touches linger for a moment longer and he’s more reluctant about letting you go if you want to get up to get something 

please love him <3 

↬ miya atsumu 

he used to tease you so much when you complained about missing him when he had away games 

but now that he was in your place? he was starting to understand where you were coming from 

you had barely been gone for two days and he was missing your presence already... and he knew he couldn’t call you to hear your voice because you’d probably be getting ready for a performance or catching up on much-needed rest 

he would never admit it but he turned on your laptop to listen to some of your recordings just so he could hear your voice 

sprayed your perfume on the bedsheets just to make it smell it a little bit more like you 

definitely watched a bunch of romance movies in hopes of feeling better but ended up feeling even more lonely instead :( poor bby 

he literally screamed when he got a text from you 

you know that super-high girly screech that some teenagers make? yeah he made that noise, nearly dropped his phone, then proceeded to squeal at your message 

[ hey idiot, how was your day? ] 

the nickname ‘idiot’ isn’t an insult anymore but instead an affectionate title, and he can basically hear your laugh and your voice next to him as he reads the words 

[ hey to you too idiot, my day was ok. urs? :) ] 

it doesn’t show in his texts but he has the biggest smile on his face and the only thing he can think about is you, your pretty eyes and your hair and your skin and basically just... you 

when he finally hears your voice in person again, instead of out of your laptop or from one of your music videos, this man just... stops 

completely freezes because he’s forgotten how beautiful you sound and look and the sight of you, pulling your mask down, standing outside the apartment door just hits him hard 

‘i love you,’ he mumbled into your shoulder, pulling you into a hug 

you pat him on the back a little awkwardly like... what happened in the week you were gone? who is this? that’s not your boyfriend it’s an imposter 

does he wrap you in a bear hug and not let go for the next two hours? absolutely 

‘tsumu... I need to use the toilet.’ 

‘no.’ 

you’re just??? wdym no??? sir I need to use the toilet 

»»——⍟——«« 

send me requests! I feel like writing :3 (ah yes me ignoring the fact I skipped multiple daminette december days plus terushima’s songfic) 

gen. haikyuu!! taglist. @owlywrites @hikari-writes 

»»——⍟——«« 

[astarkey]

I'm sending them in now, but you can save them for later too lol SethKate prompts: camera and/or bubbles! 💖💖💖

Okay, so I did like a pretty long one-shot for "camera." I couldn't think of one for "bubbles" or how to include it, but it'll probably come to me in the future, who knows lol. Sorry that it took so long for me to write it (since it was supposed to be for the July prompt, but it's still summer, so I'm not entirely too late on this ask!!!), but I hope you like it 😅 and thank you so much for sending these!!! 🤗💖💕💖

5. Camera

"So, what's this doohickey?" Kate asks while fiddling with the black gadget that's no bigger than her palm.

"That would be a Polaroid camera," Seth answers as he waltzes through the antique store to stand beside her.

"Oh, I've heard about these! I think I used it once when I was a kid, but it was so long ago that I forgot what it looked like. I wonder if there's any film left in this."

"Actually, we carry film for that camera if you're looking to purchase it," the young clerk behind the desk replies, finally turning away from the comic book his eyes were glued to.

"Oh, perfect! Yes, I am thinking of purchasing this," Kate smirks and raises her brows at Seth, and he's shaking his head. "Oh, Seth, come on! It'll be fun to use for our trip to the beach."

"Oh no, your idea of ‘fun’ will be taking a bunch of snapshots before we even make it to the beach."

Kate glares at him and says, "No, I won’t. Okay, I promise to snap only a few shots just to put your mind at ease.”

"You can do whatever you want with it, sweetheart, but you don't need my permission to buy it. If you wanna buy the camera, go ahead."

She buys the Polaroid camera, along with a pack of film, and they zip out of the small shop that sits alone on the side of the desert road, heading toward their destination. Further down the road, she takes the camera out of the flimsy plastic bag, and she thinks of testing it out. She could take photos of the few cactus or power lines Seth drives past, but it would only end up blurry on film. She pinches her lips to the side and looks at Seth, and the bright yellow Hawaiian shirt he's buttoned up in. Even though Kate bought it as a joke—since Seth's wardrobe comprises the color black—it surprises her that he's still wearing it, and hasn't taken it off yet. She switches the flash off and aims the camera at him, and he’s not budging. He doesn’t even budge when the sound of the shutter goes off.

“And so it begins,” Seth mumbles, following a heavy sigh, and Kate rolls her eyes while shaking the photo in her hand.

***

Kate sneaks in a selfie, posing for the camera while Seth is busy swimming in the vast ocean. She quickly shakes the photo, hoping Seth wouldn’t notice when he comes out of the water; and after the photo is in full color, she tosses it in her beach bag—with the rest of her pile of photos she took behind Seth's back when they were on the road—and hides the camera in the bag just in time as he’s walking back to their spot, wiping the saltwater away from his eyes.

“Did you have a good swim?” Kate asks, looking up from the magazine she pretends to read. She glances at Seth laying next to her under the shade of his umbrella, not bothering to dry himself off as he lets the water beads glisten on his legs.

"It was just what I needed. Surprised you didn't stay out there long, since this was your idea."

"I just wanted a quick break."

"To do what? Read this?" He snatches the magazine from her lap and reads the page out loud. "'Twenty-five steamy ideas to do with a naked man?' Well, getting naked with me, that's already happened. 'Take a shower together,' been there, done that. The hands-off policy sounds like a challenge." His eyes grow bigger as he looks closer at the page. "'Ask him to do yoga?'"

Kate quickly snatches the magazine back and slaps his leg with it while she says, "I was not reading that!"

"But it wouldn't hurt to look; those looked like some great ideas, babe. Not sure about the yoga bit, but if you want me to do that for you I can start practicing." Kate grimaces at the idea and he asks, "What's wrong? Don't feel like getting a little creative in our relationship?" She looks at him as he waits for her to answer, flashing his thick eyebrows and smirking at her; but she knows his games and does not want to feed into his amusement.

"I think we're creative enough." After flipping a couple pages, she closes the magazine. "Besides, I didn't see you staying in the water long enough, either."

"I wanted a break."

"Yeah? And to do what, exactly?"

"See if you're okay."

It has been six months since Amaru's defeat, and six months of healing for Kate. It's been a slow and steady process and she still has a long way to go, but at least she's not alone in the fight with Seth promising to help her as much as he can; both taking each day one step at a time. And even as she finds it a little annoying for Seth to keep checking up on her practically every day, she loves him for it.

"I'm okay," she answers.

"Yeah?" he says, and she reassures him. "Shocked that you didn't bring your camera out here. Could've gotten a nice shot of this view."

"No. I promised I wouldn't take a bunch of pictures and I'm not gonna break that promise."

The corners of his mouth curl up as he laughs to himself. He looks at her once again. His eyes wander around her face down to her body that's covered in a turquoise-colored two-piece bikini; his view isn't of the ocean right now, it's of her. He tugs at the yellow towel she's sitting on, pulling her so close to him she's underneath his umbrella now. Already taking the hint, she pecks him on the lips and holds the back of his head as he kisses her back. In the middle of their embrace, as they’re lip-locking each other, Kate frees her right hand and roams around the sand, searching for her bag. Feeling the bag behind her and feeling the camera inside, she pulls it out, and with one eye open, tries to get it at a good angle where both of them can be in the photo. Now, with both of her eyes closed and feeling the weight of Seth pressing against her stomach as he moves on top of her, she presses the button and the sound of the shutter goes off, and he stops moving altogether and breaks the kiss.

"Really?" he asks rhetorically.

"You know, this could really be useful in spicing up our relationship," Kate comments, taking the photo with her as she stands up to leave him by his lonesome, "As a matter of fact, this photo is so cute, I think I'll keep it and put it in a scrapbook to show to our kids in the future."

"Seriously, hand it here."

"Nope!"

"Look, don't make me chase after you."

"I guess you're just going to have to chase me for it, then." Kate dangles the picture above her head, grinning, and Seth gets up and starts running.

Kate runs across the beach, the sand sticking between her toes as she picks up speed, but she yelps when she feels Seth seize her from behind, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her up. She yells as he swings her around the shore, and she laughs as if she hasn't in years. After the spin, he lands on top of her, smiling as he gazes into her eyes.

"What?" she asks while stroking her finger along the side of his face.

"What you said before, about how that girl you once were was long gone. I don't think that's entirely true."

"What made you think that?"

"Because I'm looking at her right now."

Her eyes begin to well up and she tries to fight back the tears, but Seth dries them before they have a chance to spill. He lowers himself down to kiss her, and they hold each other as the ocean waves collide against their bodies. They're left standing, and the photo Kate accidentally dropped—when Seth tackled her—sweeps away, drifting off to sea.

[thewayshedreamed]

Operation Ghost Leopard— Lysaedion AU

Thank you for the prompt, Non! I really enjoyed writing this one— it’s the first Lysaedion I’ve ever written and the first Throne of Glass fic I’m publishing. Gotta love a prompt that pushes you!

Prompt: Can u write a Lysaedion fic 🙃 Sorry to send u so many prompts lol I’m feeling inspired but don’t feel like writing haha

Hope you guys enjoy! Feedback is always welcome, especially being that I haven’t written these two before!

——————————————————————————

Lysandra turned her head over, fluffed the loose waves, and flipped them back over as she stood up. She adjusted her cleavage in her low-cut ballgown and pulled the fabric down her hips a little to make sure it was as smooth as possible. Exhaling a long breath, she righted her shoulders and walked from the bathroom to the gala ballroom.

Her gown was a beautiful, rich emerald green that hugged her curves and made her eyes sparkle in the low light of the room. She was attending said gala as part of her current mission, which required her to play the part she most resented. People often commented on her beauty, with her bright green eyes, dark brown hair, generous curves, and full lips. She was flattered by the compliments in her younger years, before she realized her beauty was slowly becoming her identity.

She grew exceedingly tired of the assumptions she so often encountered when meeting new people. She was treated as shallow, vapid, and for whatever reason, less intelligent than those around her. She was by no means ungrateful for her blessings; she knew there were many women who would kill for them. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help feeling underwhelmed by the assignments Arobynn tossed her way, wishing for a little more substance in her work.

She looked down toward her cleavage, making sure the microphone that was sewn into the neckline of her dress was intact and well-hidden. Tern had done a formidable job hiding it within the fabric, but she felt as though he’d felt the need to “adjust it” a few too many times tonight. She was grateful to be out of his company for the time being.

Lysandra scanned the room for her target. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and made her way over to a waiter holding a tray of champagne. She smiled to him sweetly as he handed her drink over, thanking him for serving her. She surveyed the room over the lip of her glass, praying to the gods that she would see that head of golden hair. The sooner she located him, the sooner she could start building her rapport with him, and the faster this night would move.

Aedion Ashryver was anything but an easy target. Not only was he nobility, but he had extensive experience in battle and security, requiring an especially clever agent to complete this mission. When Arobynn had briefed her (along with Tern and the others), he had instructed her quite firmly to complete this mission by any means necessary.

Historically, that had always included bringing men home, whether it be to serve as a companion for the evening or offer her body to them. Lysandra wouldn’t claim that the thought didn’t repulse her each and every time, but her work was not for the feint of heart. Besides, she owed an incredible debt to the man she worked for, and it would be some time before she felt entitled to any sort of opinions on the matter. The consequences of those opinions were too grave to consider.

She knew she was in this position to tempt the young prince away from his post, allowing the rest of the men to move in on Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. His reputation as the party prince and his willingness to sleep with most were no doubt the reasons Lysandra had been selected for this mission. If anyone was going to stand in the way, it would be Aedion, who loved his cousin so fiercely that he wouldn’t hesitate to employ any skill in his repertoire to ensure her safety.

Arobynn and his men needed as many barriers eliminated as possible in their quest for the princess; a ploy to ensure the royals knew of his reach and influence in the area. Additionally, it was no small secret that he carried great affection for Aelin, and he believed she owed it to him to entertain the potential of a relationship after all they had been through.

That thought alone made Lysandra want to punch him in the throat. The nerve. The entitlement. As if the princess were indeed property.

She huffed a breath, still scanning the massive room for Aedion. She meant to walk forward, hoping to make a loop about the room, before a deep voice interrupted her.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, miss.”

Lysandra turned her head sharply and had to look up to peer into the face of her greeter. Her green eyes fell on ones of bright turquoise with a ring of gold; Ashryver eyes through and through. She scanned his face, observing how he had his golden hair swept into a low bun at the back of his head. If she truly had to complete this mission by any means necessary, she decided she could be much worse off than the beautiful man next to her.

She plastered her most dazzling smile on her face as she answered him. “I don’t believe you have,” she said, extending her hand to him. “Olivia.”

His mouth quirked up at one of the corners, amusement sparkling in his eyes. He took her hand in his, bowing slightly to place a chaste kiss to the back of it.

“Aedion. It’s lovely to meet you, Olivia.” He smiled, and she swore her heart skipped a beat. “Care to join me for a drink?”

“I would love that.”

——————————————————————————

About an hour later, they were each several drinks in, having settled at a table near the dance floor. Lysandra had just finished laughing at something Aedion had said moments before, and when she looked back to him, she felt like she wanted to pretend... pretend that she wasn’t an agent hired to sabotage the security of this party. That her participation didn’t effectively ruin any chance that she would ever get to have a genuine night like this with the young prince. He had been nothing but a gentleman the entire evening, and to top it off, he was charming and had a fantastic sense of humor... two things not common in the men she so often spent her time with. She was interrupted from her thoughts, once again, by that intoxicating voice.

“Olivia, would you dance with me?”

“Oh, I’m no dancer. But I appreciate the offer, Prince.”

He chuckled at her. “I told you to stop calling me that. It feels too proper. Please, call me Aedion.”

“Are your intentions with me improper, Aedion?” she asked. She didn’t know what had made her so bold so quickly, but she had a suspicion that it had to do with thoroughly enjoying his company.

She hoped she hadn’t crossed the line too quickly, but she was immediately comforted when he threw his head back and laughed.

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

Something in the words made her toes curl, and she had to shake her head slightly to refocus. He stood, holding his hand toward her.

“Seriously, let’s dance. I promise to lead, and I’ll even let you stand on my feet if you’re that bad off. Trust me.” The way he said the last two words made her stomach sink as if it were filled with lead. Guilt had never struck her on a mission before tonight.

He led her to the dance floor, lifting her hand in the air to spin her once, before gripping her waist with his other hand. She kept her one hand in his and rested the other on his shoulder. He guided her through a waltz, coaching her as needed. She found that he was an excellent teacher, and before long, they were gliding across the floor together.

“You’re a great dancer,” she said. She looked up into his face to find him already looking at her.

“Surprised?” he asked, taking that opportunity to pivot and spin them quickly a couple of times to the rhythm of the music before returning to their original steps.

She laughed, delighting in the way he led her so seamlessly across the dance floor. He wore a matching smile, and she found herself trying to commit it to memory.

“Honestly? A little. I didn’t exactly expect a former General to be so light on his feet.”

He gave her a sheepish smile, not missing a single step as he answered. “Ah. Well, neither the military, nor the war itself, saved me from the years of cotillion.” He ended with a grimace.

“You don’t seem too enthused about that,” she laughed. It was quickly drowned out but the popping of the speakers near the stage, startling her toward.

He steadier her, and she righted herself quickly. “Teenage Aedion was an absolute nightmare regarding cotillion, but my mother was relentless. All comes with the territory, I suppose.” He led them into another couple of swift turns, and as they did so, the damned speakers popped for a second time.

Lysandra jumped despite her effort not to, earning a low chuckle from Aedion. “It’s okay, Liv. Just noise interference.” Even so, he pulled her a little closer to him.

Gods, he was so fucking nice.

Just as quickly as she had the thought, she felt inclined to take it back. His hand started to slide up her waist as they moved, dangerously close to the underside of her breast. She supposed he’d earned his reputation from somewhere, and she was about to experience it.

“What do you say you and me get out of here for a little while? I could use a break from the noise,” he purred.

By any means necessary.

She held her breath, but he pulled his hand away slightly before he placed it on her ribs just below her collarbone, covering the neckline of her gown on that side of her body. He leaned his head close to her opposite ear, her breathing more and more shallow as he moved.

She cursed her heart for beating so intensely, knowing he could feel it due to the placement of his hand. She managed to keep her face somewhat neutral, not daring to look at him. She gave a brisk nod before he continued.

“Tern should have invested in better equipment. Your mic isn’t playing nice with the sound system, Lysandra.”

She stumbled slightly, but she corrected herself quickly, hoping no one noticed. He spoke again quickly.

“Give them the signal,” he instructed, as he brushed his lips over hers.

It took her a second to realize his meaning. Give them the signal that we’re going to find somewhere to enjoy each other.

Understanding dawned on her then— he was playing into his known reputation, looking like the promiscuous prince who couldn’t keep from feeling her up on the dance floor, all the while covering her mic to shield his words from listening ears. Her anger washed over her upon her realization that he was absolutely capitalizing on this knowledge. He obviously knew she wasn’t at the gala for leisure, and he also knew who she worked for if he knew her name. For a man who had seemed every bit the gentleman tonight, she couldn’t believe he was taking advantage of this situation to have his way with her. And to instruct her so arrogantly to give the signal, confident in what he knew. It had her blood boiling in seconds.

Despite her growing anger, she obliged. She ran the lapels of his tuxedo jacket between her index and middle fingers before placing a kiss to his cheek and grabbing his hand. This communicated to Tern and the others what she had planned next, so at least she didn’t have to worry about their eyes on her for a while. If she didn’t return within thirty minutes, they would go looking for her, but that still gave her plenty of time to hand the prince his ass.

Once they emerged from the ballroom, Aedion shifted forward, pulling her hand-in-hand behind him. He walked briskly down the hall, scanning all around them for any witnesses. The coast looked clear for the most part. Lysandra wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing as it applied to her.

They approached a women’s private restroom, and he pulled her swiftly inside. He locked the door behind him, gripped her by the waist, and turned her so that her back was against it. His eyes roamed her body, paying particular attention the assets exposed by her low neckline and his higher vantage point. She was still bristling with anger, and it irritated her that she flushed under his gaze.

He ran his nose along her temple, across her cheek, and then up and down the side of her own. She lifted her chin, shoulders squared, unwilling to back down after his odd power move on the dance floor. He offered a sideways smile, and she hated that it made her heart flip all the same.

“We only have a few minutes, Liv,” he murmured.

Liv? He already called me Lysandra.

“What are you waiting for?” she challenged.

He broke into a full grin at that, eyes glancing at her scarlet lips. His gaze darkened as it dropped past her mouth, landing on the neckline of her gown yet again. His hands came up, his calloused fingers running along it back and forth. She thought he aimed to tease her, but suddenly, he had gripped her gown on each side of her sternum and yanked. The gown ripped open down the middle, and any plans she had to seem collected vanished. She gaped at him, utterly speechless.

Rather than groping her chest, he rubbed the layers of fabric between his left thumb and fingers. Once he landed on what he was looking for, he fished her microphone out from between the layers, disposing of it in the sink and turning on the water. She watched as it danced under the stream, seeming as chaotic as her heartbeat and the thoughts running through her head.

“What the hell was that?” she whispered roughly.

He angled away from her as he shrugged off his jacket. He spoke, but his words weren’t meant for her.

“Come in, Whitethorn.”

A few seconds of silence.

“Have the wolves engaged the others?”

He was unbuttoning his white dress shirt. Once he got four of the buttons loose, he gripped it between his shoulders with one of his large hands and pulled it over his head.

“I’ll keep you posted on our location. Notify me once Salvaterre is in position.”

His attention turned to Lysandra again, keeping his gaze locked above her neck.

“Take off your dress and put this on,” he ordered, throwing his white shirt toward her.

“You’re not serious.”

“Look, I’ll turn around, but we don’t have a lot of time,” he said impatiently as he pulled his belt from their loops around his waist.

She did as he said, letting the ripped gown fall to the floor. She eased the massive shirt over her head and was enveloped in his scent. She didn’t hate it.

“It’s on. Now will you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

He shoved his belt toward her, and when she offered him a confused look in return, he elaborated.

“Don’t women do something with these to make a dress or something? Put it around your waist. I’ll roll up your sleeves.”

He worked around her efficiently, despite her frequent movements to wrap the belt around her. She pulled it tight, wrapping the excess around itself and tucking it under.

“You still haven’t told me anything, Aedion.”

He pulled the elastic from his hair, letting his long, golden locks fall to his shoulders. She couldn’t help but give him a once over. The fact that he was now in nothing but his slacks, a plain white v-neck stretched tightly across his shoulders, and his hair hanging freely was quite distracting, to say the least.

“I’m on a bit of a mission myself. The twins are working the room near your colleagues to serve as a distraction and to buy us some time. Being that they won’t look for us for another 20 minutes or so, we should be okay. But you’re not exactly easy to sneak out of an event in a tight green dress and looking... like you do,” he explained. He handed the elastic to her, prompting her to pull up her long locks.

“You were quite clever out there. With the mic and all that,” she deadpanned. “I should have known you were up to something.” She pulled her hair into a messy bun and regarded him as he shoved his bow tie into his tuxedo jacket.

“Last I checked, people didn’t earn high ranks in the military or high-profile security positions by looks alone,” he joked. He turned to look her over, running a hand through his hair.

“Gods, you couldn’t be plain if you tried,” he remarked under his breath.

She tried not to blush under his praise, but her body had already betrayed her. His eyes fell to her mouth, and she felt her body heat under his appreciative gaze yet again. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb resting on her bottom lip. She was holding her breath, but his next words brought her abruptly back to the present.

“Lick my thumb.”

She blinked up at him and pulled her head back slightly. “I’m sorry, what?”

He rolled his eyes, daring to look exasperated. “I’m going to wipe off your lipstick. We’re meant to be sneaking out after a quick romp in the bathroom.”

“Please don’t say romp. And, no.”

“Fine,” he said and made to move his thumb toward his own mouth. He was too close and his scent was all over her. She couldn’t think straight.

“Wait! Stop,” she gripped his hand and brought his thumb between her lips. She watched as his pupils dilated, but he shifted his focus to his task as if he was completely unaffected. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, then her top lip, and he spent a little additional time cleaning things up around her Cupid’s bow. She hated the heat that rushed through her at his touch.

He cocked his head as he finished, and she realized it must be because he was receiving some type of communication.

“10-4. We’re on our way,” he responded.

“Why should I go anywhere with you? They’re going to look for me. I can’t just leave. What the hell is this about?” The words poured from her, one statement after the next, all rapid fire. She almost mentioned that he was playing right into her own mission by leaving the princess vulnerable, but she knew it was unwise.

He scooped her gown from the floor and shoved it into the large trashcan in the bathroom.

“I need you to trust me, okay?” The earnestness in his expression broke her heart. “They can come looking for you. They won’t find you, and you’re officially under the protection of the royal family of Terrasen, anyway. They can’t hurt you.” He threw his vest and jacket over his arm, gripping her hand as he opened the door.

He flipped off the light, leading her down the dim hall near the ballroom. They slipped into one of the side doors, and he placed her between himself and the wall as they walked the perimeter of the gala. He walked quickly, his long legs making it nearly impossible for Lysandra to keep up with him without stumbling. She observed the twins holding court near her colleagues, and she dipped her head in the hopes that they wouldn’t see her. She hadn’t made the conscious decision to do so, and she realized then that she was more onboard with this exit than she’d been willing to admit. They approached the doors toward the front of the ballroom, and he shifted her in front of him so that her form would be blocked by his large frame from anyone inside the event.

They made it through the lobby in seconds, and he gripped her hand to guide her toward a large, black SUV. She skidded to a halt, feeling compelled to warn him of the threats to his cousin.

“They’ll look for Aelin,” she breathed.

He pulled her slightly to continue walking, speaking in a hushed tone. “The princess will be fine. We have to keep moving.”

Guilt poured through her, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain everything to him. She wouldn’t have the time, anyway. They approached the SUV, and he pulled the door open roughly, ushering her inside as quickly as she could move. He hauled himself inside after her, speaking lowly.

“Target secured. You may retreat.” She realized he was talking to the twins inside. A dark, intimidating man sat in the driver’s seat, and Lysandra assumed he must be “Salvaterre”. He pulled forward, easing them away from the building, but hitting the gas urgently once they turned onto the highway.

A large, tattooed hand reach from the seat behind them, making her jump in surprise. The hand gripped Aedion’s shoulder, giving it a slight shake. “Well done, brother,” he praised.

“Are one of you going to tell me what the hell is going on? Since Ashryver here seems unwilling to do so?” she demanded, impatience tickling her spine.

None of the men spoke, but she felt the smooth caress of breath over her ear. She turned, and a pair of turquoise eyes identical to Aedion’s locked with her own. The princess of Terrasen looked at her, her chin resting on her folded arms over the back of the seat.

“Evening, Lys. It’s been too long,” Aelin cooed.

“Aelin,” she said as a greeting. She didn’t have anything else to add.

“Maybe I could offer some insight,” she remarked, eyes scanning Lysandra’s face but never showing any signs of discomfort at the tension.

“And why would you be able to do that?” she seethed.

“I’m the one that asked them to find you.”

——————————————————————————

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[strongsassysexysloane]

Tenth Day of Twelve - A Soft Thoughtful Twist

A/N - I like this one. Maybe I'm just impressed I've kept this going lol

. . . .

This morning you'd found a beautiful knitted scarf twirled up on your desk. It was a beautiful turquoise blue with a shimmer through it. The perfect addition to your winter wardrobe and made the walk between your car and the building considerably more pleasant.

You hadn't taken it off all morning, even in the building, it was too soft and warm to leave it behind. Kasie was instantly jealous of your present when you went to the lab to get an update with Bishop. Next was a ride out to the parents house to get some background and on the way back to the yard you bribed Ellie into stopping at the Diner for a late lunch. It wasn't much of a bribe, to be fair.

"Hi Elaine." You both walked up to the counter, Elaine turned around from wiping down the counter.

"Hi ladies, what can I get your hungry bellies today?" She smiled, slipping her cloth into her apron and stepping up to the register.

"Two coffees, make that three. Gibbs will need bribing once he finds out we've stopped for food."

"Done. He was only in an hour ago but I'm sure he needs a refill." You all chuckled, it was probably his sixth of the day but that stuff didn't effect him like most. It would only make him grumpier if he didn't have his consistent flow of bean juice. "Nice scarf. Where's you get it, hun?"

This brought an instant smile to your face and your hand up to fix it more around your neck. "It was a gift."

"Someone has taste. It suits you beautifully." Elaine hummed while pouring the cups of takeaway coffee. "Now while that helps you two stay awake, what food can I get you?"

You relayed your order. Adding a few extras for the boys just in case they were extra sulky about you bringing food back. Elaine hopped out back to help them move it along while there was a lull in people.

With the extra hand, the food was ready in no time and you were back on the road to the office. Ellie fed you fries on the way while she ate her burger not so gracefully. Motor pool would have words with you one day about eating in the cars but it can't be as bad as some of the suspect's you bring back. You shuddered a the thought.

"Elaine is right you know."

"Never said she wasn't."

"What did Elaine, wait you went to the diner?!" There was the Nick whine you predicted.

Bishop handed him a box. "Here. For your whiney tone." It was his favourite.

"I don't have a- thank you, Bishop."

She shook her head. " Don't look at me." Placing a steaming cup of coffee next to Gibbs left hand. "This was y/ns shout. She had to bribe me to go to the Diner."

Gibbs hummed. "I'm sure it was hard."

Ellie rolled her eyes while the guys snickered. You placed a box of fries on Tim's desk. "All it took was the word Diner and I'm paying."

"So five seconds." Tim added with a thank you nod before munching down a bunch of fries.

Ellie shrugged, skipping over to her desk and sitting. "I only had a bagel for breakfast, packet of chilly crisps for morning tea and a juice on the way to the parents. They were super unhelpful by the way."

"Didn' expect 'em to be. They hadn't spoken to their kid in five years but still needed to check 'em out." Gibbs gulped down what looked like half of his drink.

You all worked to find a lead which was a very long afternoon but the food helped and so did your scarf. There was no appearance from Jack at all until it was going home time for some. She waltzed down the stairs all chipper to be heading home.

Ellie slumped back in her chair. "Look who's the lucky one."

"Got my work done. All reports for Dwayne's case AND the Dinnins case. I need a drink and a shower. Missing the constant party that is NOLA however." She bounced on the balls of her feet, looking from an unhappy Ellie to an unhappy you. "Nothing?"

"Nothing." You shook your head at the lack of leads but raised your head at her mention of NOLA. "You'd go partying after a long day?" You chuckled, you don't know where she got her energy.

"It's a constant party down there. It made me rethink my margarita surf bar retirement idea. Dwayne's bar has a nice vibe to it." She bopped her head along to whatever tune was playing in her head.

"Thought you missed the beach."

"I do. I miss playing more often, watching tv and knitting just doesn't cut it anymore... Might move that retirement plan up a few years." It sounded like she was joking but her eyes told another story. You heard Ellie cough not so subtly but you chose to ignore it.

"Sounds like you've got some thinking to do in that shower." You rolled your eyes at the way that sounded and the smirk that curled Jack's lips while you hand came up to fiddle with your scarf again, was it a nervous tick? Maybe this was why you didn't wear things around your neck, you seemed to fiddle with them alot.

"It's beautiful. Suits you." She commented with a smile, looking down at your scarf and back up at you with sparkling her eyes.

You tried to still the blush but it spread across your cheeks, lifting the scarf a bit to hide one cheek. The move probably made it even more obvious, you could tell by Ellie's not so quiet snicker.

"Thanks, Jack. This person has really great taste."

"And knows you well. Everything they've picked is very personal." Nick budded in and you shot him a glare for his efforts.

"Jimmy says I may have a stalker." You tried to joke it off, to get a reaction out of Jack.

She only swayed her head. "Some may see it that way."

"How do you see it?" Nick again with the prodding, you thought this was Ellie's territory. Hopefully Tim didn't bud in or worse, Gibbs.

"Not a stalker." Gibbs budded in and all eyes went to him. He did nothing, just continued to stare at his computer.

There was silence for a moment before Jack piped up. "Think y/n would've noticed a stalker by now. These gifts aren't creepy or too much. They're thoughtful and sweet."

"No photos with people heads cut out and replaced with others you mean."

"Very specific but yes." Jack confirmed and stepped forward to pick up your photo frame. "That was a fun night. One of my favorites."

"Mine too." You smiled up at her, shifting your scarf around your neck.

"Don't wear it out on your first day." She chuckled, placing the photo back down.

"I won't shower with it if that's what you're meaning." The back and forth was so easy with her.

"Might have to ask for a new one if you do that." She winked before shifting her handbag onto her shoulder more. "And on that lovely note. I'm going home to have a shower. Don't work too late everyone..." She spoke to you all but was staring at Gibbs.

"Night, Jack." You threw over the divider as she walked to the elevator. Ellie was staring at you, waiting for you to comment but you went back to work. The conversation replaying in your head, taking apart every detail. Maybe you were the creepy one but you wanted for it to be her so badly.

Only two more days and you'd hopefully find out.

. . . .

We are almost at the end. I don't know if I'm sad or relieved 😅 I want to read someone else's Christmas Jack stories...

[fizzingwizard]

OK gang here we go, episode 33!

It was better than last week, which was better than the week before, so... make of that what you will.

Pic of the week!

A look of steely Dan determination.

More below!

Like I said, this episode is an improvement on the last one, by virtue of plot stuff actually happening, a few big happenings, and references to the other kids that suggest they haven’t been completely forgotten about (only mostly). Don’t get excited though - it still leaves much to be desired. I cry endlessly for the animation budget. But let’s get into it...

Taichi and friends are still in pursuit of SkullKnightmon and Hikari. We found our for sure last week that the creature in the little crystal is, indeed, Millenniumon, or rather a fragment of him, and his fragments fell all around the Digital World at the end of the great war or whatever it’s called and they’re the source of the miasma and they absorb energy from the human world etc etc...

So we find this big ass crystal which seems to be the central one, I guess? because it’s the biggest? and several creepy looking acolytes (dun dun DUN it’s VADEMON my FAVORITE DIGIMON) surrounding it and chanting...

Vademon: Find the horcux, kill Harry Potter, find the horcrux, kill Harry Potter,

In other news, there’s a lot of doom and gloom happening with Jou, who, bereft of his underwear, is forced to censor himself with his partners head. Gomamon you don’t deserve this

Jou: I need to get away from these Nanimon before I go prematurely bald too!!

Mimi, meanwhile, is Boxing Champion of the World.

Koushirou is the only one working. He’s on his way to pick up Jou, so I guess that means Yamato will get Mimi? That’ll be fun lol. We saw Yamato for half a second but it was the same frame of him riding Garurumon we’ve seen five times already so why bother capping it.

Koushirou is also keeping an eye on the satellite situation but doesn’t know what to do about it yet. Kabuterimon asks if he shouldn’t take a break about now and Koushirou says “I’m okay, besides, this is the only thing I’m good for” T___T you know this would be heart-breaking if I really believed the writers have ACTUAL PLANS to make good on Koushirou-related character development.... >:[

no this honestly pisses me off so much but I STILL do believe we will get SOMETHING for him and the others and probably not too far in the future... I think... I hope ugh

Back to Team A, they see lots of Digimon coming at them. Taichi’s like “it’s an attack!” but Sora, whose Fight Mode unlike Taichi’s has an actual Off switch, is about to figure out that they are in fact not interested in the kids at all and are running away from something.

Taichi: I can’t believe they didn’t want to kill us. Doesn’t everything in this world want to kill us?

The Digimon are fleeing from a suspicious crater with a familiar stone in the center. SkullKnightmon raises his own crystal fragment into the air and stuff happens.

By stuff I mean black lightning and purple-blue light which is meant to signify Evil which is mega DUMB because blue and purple are the most awesome color combo EVER I mean it throw some turquoise in there too and I will buy it whatever it is a necklace a shawl a codpiece

There are eight crystals that rise from the ground surrounding the central crystal and share energy with it. I thought the number eight might be significant you know for obvious reasons but it doesn’t appear to matter in this episode.

Evil crystals or not, Taichi’s on his way to save Hikari once and for all!

Hikari: Thanks, but no thanks, oniichan.

Taichi: H-Hikari! You don’t understand! You’re too young to go off with a strange man!

Hikari: But oniichan I love him

Taichi: Who do you think I am, Tevye!? You’re not marrying him and that’s final!

Hikari: waaah why don’t you understand me!!

ok back to the story...

Hikari abandons her brother for his muscular studly lover SkullKnightmon.

... >_>

Using Hikari’s powers, SkullKnightmon evolves to Gundamon DarkKnightmon. Meanwhile there’s lots of chanting and stuff about this being SkullKnightmon’s purpose or some such. I still kinda hope we get a redemption arc for SkullKnightmon or that he has something more to do with the story...

Agumon stops Taichi from wigging out and they go to save Hikari together, but before they can they are beset from all angles by henchmen.

Sora: Hey, you take care of Tweedle Dee and I’ll get Tweedle Dum!

Birdramon: *gets punched in the head* I hope you brought enough aspirin...

Then these guys appear. I’ve forgotten their names but evil as they look they literally just stand there till they get blown up and then more appear... I guess that’s a kind of talent

Takeru: Leave the small fry to me!

Pegasusmon: Takeru when I said I wanted a Happy Meal this isn’t what I meant

Hikari begins to be absorbed into a dark pocket dimension of DarkKnightmon’s or something like that. It seems like a very chill experience.

Taichi: I’ll save you! Take my hand!

Hikari: O... nii... chan... Fuck you...

ok so here’s my problem here.

This is meant to be all emotional and stuff right?? Hikari’s been blowing off her brother for an unknown reason (we all figured out what it was but look the main characters don’t know and that’s what counts) and he’s finally managed to catch up with her. His hand is inches away from catching hers and pulling her to safety. She’s got creepy glowing eyes. She mouths “o..nii...chan...” with a creepy smile before being pulled into darkness.

I know it’s for kids so it’s not going to be too scary or anything but there ‘just like... no build up here. The storytelling style is too mathematical. “We go from Plot Point A to Plot Boint B via Battles 1 2 and 3...” There’s nothing happening in between to make us feel Taichi’s desperation, or even to know what Hikari’s feeling in this moment. Is she really okay with this? Is she having second thoughts? It doesn’t make any sense for her not to be scared. I fully expected her to go through with it, but she can be scared and still go through with it... come on...

It’s like that scene from Utena except sapped of any and all emotional impact.

I don’t really remember how Greymon got up there in the first place since he can’t fly but at least we get a scene of him and Taichi plummeting to the earth after failing to save Hikari. The kind of thing that would be dramatic if there were any kind of animation budget at all.

The one thing the show is sure to do is show us Taichi’s expressions, which I guess is something... It’s just so rushed and the accompanying dialogue leaves something to be desired.

Greymon: Don’t give up, Taichi... Taichi... um. what are you doing...

Taichi: stop hitting yourself stop hitting yourself stop hitting yourself stop hitting yourself

Anyway, Taichi is Big Mad. I thought (hoped, to be honest) that we might get a glimpse of him going wild with dark energy like in the Devimon episode again... Or at least a hint that that was a possibility in the heat of the moment before Agumon snapped him out of it. But nope.

He takes a moment to be upset and then says “There’s no time to worry about what to do” and goes to save Hikari... from inside DarkKnightmon somehow :P

This does not go well.

Meanwhile Hikari is surprisingly okay for someone who was just eaten alive by sentient VantaBlack. She discovers a peculiar light inside... DarkKnightmon’s intestine??? Is that where we are now??? lmao

She recognizes the light as the voice that has been calling her and tries to head towards it, but is blocked by some purple jello.

There’s a kind of cool thing that happens here... We just had a scene where Taichi desperately tries to grab his sister’s hand and yank her out of the clutches of evil, but fails, mostly because she doesn’t do anything to help him since she is weirdly okay with the situation. Now we get a mirror of that moment with Hikari bursting out of the jello with her arm outstretched to grab what is clearly Tailmon’s paw.

Only Tailmon does take Hikari’s hand.

It was really cool to see the brother and sister paralleling each other this much. It shows the ways they’re both courageous and determined and caring.

Meanwhile Taichi finally whips out WarGreymon. Honestly, I feel like this should have been WarGreymon’s intro episode. This would have been a good time for a new evolution, rather than in a fight with a nobody that I’ve already forgotten. Idk. WarGreymon uses Brave Tornado to knock DarkKnightmon’s lances away and burrow into his armor. So, yeah, Hikari’s in his intestines, lmao.

Hikari is being chased by a two-headed monster who is in for the migraine of its (their?) life when the tornado crashes into it.

Hikari: Big brother! You look so cool!

Taichi: Promise me that no matter how many men come into your life, I’ll always be number one.

Hikari: okay that is creepy

WarGreymon explodes DarkKnightmon from the inside out x’D and Taichi gets a redo of his hand-reaching scene. First he berates Hikari for running off on her own and then smiles.

Hikari says she always believed he’d rescue her. Aww.

Sweet sibling love.

Then there’s this really hilarious sound which turns out to be the Vademon hivemind giving a collective cry of distress x’D it’s lmfao amazing. Then they start chanting “Next time next time next time” just in case you thought Millennium was defeated and we can go home now.

Taichi: Sora, do you know where I can buy a leash for this kid? I can’t keep chasing her like this. Aren’t kids today supposed to be glued to their phones and never go outside?

Patamon’s Girlfriend Radar piques at the bundle in Hikari’s arms.

And it is indeed Tailmon, and she’s been waiting for Hikari all this time.

Tailmon: I am Tailmon, a Holy Digimon.

Patamon: oh my god you can’t just call yourself holy ugh you’re so self-centered

D’awww.

They’re both sooooo cute. I’m annoyed they didn’t get a cool ending card like Takeru and Patamon did last week though. But still, this is a sweet moment.

So, there’s not a lot to complain about in this episode, comparatively speaking. I wish we had more dialogue and understood the value of a dramatic pause etc. Also wish Sora and Takeru had more to do than fight the henchmen. Like, if you can just erase an entire part of an episode and it still works fine, you clearly didn’t need that part so why waste time on it.

But at least we do get reactions from Taichi, and at least we got plot development. The Taichi/Hikari parallels were cool. And even though I had other hopes for how this arc would turn out, I’m glad it’s over because maybe we can finally do some other stuff now. Maybe. I want to get back to Koushirou SOOO bad but more than anything I am still gobsmacked by how long it’s been since Yamato’s had anything to do but ride on Garurumon. That is WEIRD. He’s YAMATO.

Next week...

... Looks like it’ll be a light-hearted undersea episode. I’m cool with that. The preview clips had a “Sebastian’s Calypso” vibe that I dig. It’s still about Taichi’s group but I think that’s to do more actual face time with Tailmon and Hikari. I hope we see the others as well and if not maybe the week after. I will be happy if this episode has some personality to it.