#now let ghost Scratch enter the chat with them

[briastar-artz]

WOAH HOLY MACAROON, THIS IS AWESOME!!! 👀

I wonder what they're fighting about? Probably for the last food on the table who knows, feels like they will fight for that.

the greatest fight known to man! Both vampire and werewolf Todd belong to @tornrose24

[remscorner]

One of your playthings (slight NSFW)

Contains: fluff, childhood friends, Fem!Reader, Sebastian being a simp, drug-use, alcohol, mentions of NSFW

Beginning of junior year flashback

"You hear? Y/n's coming back to the valley for this year. Air is tense in the city with the bomb threats so determining the length of this war, she might stay for longer."

Sebastian's interest was piqued. Only for a moment, did his focus from his desk stray.

It was early morning and class hasn't even started yet. The teacher was still absent, about ten more minutes of idle chatting with one another until the class would have to settle down.

The town playboy glanced past his trio to where Haley whispered rumours of the heart of the town to Alex, a hand covering the gap between the two. Though it did little help with concealing their hushed conversation.

Sebastian thought for a moment.

It wouldn't be too bad to have her back. Especially since he felt so comfortable around her when they were kids. He wondered if she was the same ball of sunshine as she was back then. The one that wasn't only warm and bright, but angry with emotion and a menace to those who defied her.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his cheeks. Surely, the girls in class would swarm around her considering how much they adored the farmer's granddaughter. She had always gotten along with them as children, even Haley.

Glancing curiously, Sebastian eyed Abigail who had heard the whispers across the room.

Excitement reached her shoulders as they raised, now fidgeting with a string that had fallen from her shirt. She became antsy, each time someone had entered, her eyes would stray in the direction of it, hoping for someone she missed to have her eyes lay on.

Locking eyes with Sam and Sebastian, she realized how similar their thoughts had been. "I wonder what she's like now," Abby mutters sheepishly, scratching the back of her neck.

Sam sighs in return, smiling with cheeks that burnt pink. He felt relieved he wasn't the only one thinking about her.

"Probably the same. Innocent. Polite. Short. Approachable-"

"Or confident, easy-going, taller than most of the girls in class and hot as shit- holy shit cute farm girl is so attractive!" Leah's voice consumes the room as the classroom door slams shut.

She was rushing to her seat, collecting herself as she ran into the town's favourite menace.

Though she was still taller than Y/n, there was no doubt the returning beauty was a second to the tallest girls in class.

"Huh? Leah, you saw her?" Emily stands in her seat when the door suddenly opens. A familiar, less child-like-looking face walks in. Her eyes are half-lidded and she yawns, not caring to conceal her exhaustion and voice.

Once she opens her tired eyes, they scan the room as attention is on her. She remains in her spot, the corners of her lips raising just a little before she lets them form a smile. "Been a while," Y/n says casually with a shrug. As if he's been expecting it, Sebastian glanced over at Abby, tensing up as tears reach her eyes.

"Y/n!" She bursts out all of a sudden, standing from her chair, the legs of it scraping against the floor.

"I missed you so much!" Abigail wailed out. She runs through the maze of desks to wrap her arms around her. Y/n snickers softly and gently pat her head.

Eventually, the girls have begun to crowd around her just like Sebastian predicted would happen. Surrounding her with hugs so tender and surging with love.

They truly missed her presence.

____

A few months into the year

During the time Y/n spent in Pelican town, Sebastian paid little to no attention to her.

They weren't that close, and neither did they see a reason for getting close. Only small gestures like nodding to one another when locking eyes, exchanging notes during group lessons where they were paired up, and brief greetings when they'd bump into each other outside of school.

They had a mutual agreement, one made with a silence that they didn't have to get along as well as they did when they were children. Whether or not they were mere acquaintances, there was a comfortable air between them that never lifted.

Still, their situation didn't stop either of them from noting the differences in their childhood to who they were now.

Sebastian often wondered what life was like in the city to make her sweet seem more like sultry. Sure Y/n was still as kind and open-minded as ever... but the vibe had switched from someone innocent and sheepish to someone experienced and confident.

She was loud, her laughter often reaching the halls of the school and her voice bouncing off the walls in the room so stunningly. Her demeanour was laid back, but even there were times when she'd fool off in the middle of class. Of course, some things had never changed... simply put, Y/n remained as clumsy and reckless as ever.

Besides Sebastian's occasional thoughts of her, Y/n too couldn't help but study her childhood friend.

His differences were much bigger than hers. He seemed more confident in himself than he was back then. Smug, almost disgustingly. He had a bored look on his face constantly, only ever forming a smirk when he found interest in a girl he wanted in his bed.

Y/n couldn't say he changed for the better, but at least he wasn't as self-deprecating as she remembered him to be as a child. At least he knew his worth. Right?

"Hey Y/n, if you see Sebastian, tell him me and Sam are gonna use his motorcycle for a little joyride to the liquor shop at the edge of the countryside. We'll be back in a jiffy!" Sam gave Y/n a head pat.

It was Leah's birthday party and the whole high school was invited to an Airbnb she saved up for.

The party consisted of other small-town teenagers who went to the same school, so everyone pretty much knew everyone.

"You sure he's gonna like that?" Y/n scoffed with a  snicker as she watched Abby and Sam skip off happily. Abigail reply's back, cheerfully. "Nope!"

Shaking her head, Y/n brushes off the encounter and noted the favour mentally. Keep a look out for Sebastian, if she bumps into him that is. Passing by the sea of bodies, her nose scrunched with displease as it reeked of alcohol.

Sure, she had a few shots herself... but it simply wasn't her thing.

Playing with the lighter in the pocket of her zip-up, Y/n smirks lightly to herself as she's relieved to feel the small container of weed still in her grasp, and the packaging of flavoured rolling paper.

If she had one thing in common with Sebastian, it'd be the fact they were both stoners.

He just didn't know she was too.

Sneaking off into an empty bedroom, Y/n searched for a bathroom to open a window and light a joint in. She was feeling sober and things were never as exciting when she was making good choices at a party. Besides, Emily and Haley promised they'd be the designated drivers for when they leave in the morning so what's the use of keeping stable when Y/n didn't have to?

Pausing for a moment, Y/n felt her fingers tingle with restlessness and decided she needed the weed.

Who's gonna walk in anyways, she locked the door behind her and the only other place there was had been the bathroom door which Leah specifically told people not to puke in. Maybe this was the place she planned to pass out in at the end of the night.

Sighing to herself, Y/n pulls out the rolling paper and weed, kneeling on the floor beside the bedside table as she rolls a joint as quick as she could before anyone can bother her.

Biting her lip, she's frustrated she can't do it properly before fixing the paper again.

Finally, she successfully rolls a joint and doesn't waste any time in lighting it, the fragile thing in between the roughness and calloused skin of her fingers.

She took a long drag, letting the smoke travel down her throat before exhaling with a cough. Too much for her first hit in a while. Shoulda watched herself a little.

After her coughing fit, Y/n stands with weak knees, stripping off her zip-up so she was left in a black cropped tank top and black low-rise cargo pants.

Around her hips was a black thong peaking from the band of her pants, hugging her features perfectly. She admired herself in the mirror for a moment, proud of being able to call herself self-obsessed at times when she looked good. Until a stifled moan came from the bathroom.

Taking another hit, Y/n no longer coughed. But she smirked against the taste of marijuana as she began slowly walking towards the bathroom door.

She wasn't so surprised somebody had been banging in there. More like she was in disbelief that she hadn't known any sooner.

Y/n swayed with each step, listening to the moans and mutters until she turned away from the door, leaning till her back slammed against the wood, letting the people inside know that she was there.

Her arms crossed, one used as a rest for the other so she could take another drag.

The silence on the opposite side said all that she needed to know and a hand snuck behind her back to reach for the knob, twisting it, the struggled whimpers of a girl become a form of Y/n's amusement as she opens the door separating herself from the other two.

Now receiving an eyeful, Y/n stares at Sebastian and a random girl from their school, half undressed. There's a bored look on the farm girl's face, a smile on Sebastian's. He looked far too relieved for this to be a regular hookup.

Glancing down at the girl, now angry. Y/n watches as her skin turns red with embarrassment.

"You-" she begins but Y/n's relaxed gaze catches her off guard.

"I..?" Y/n tries to continue for her. Sebastian's smile widens at this, shuffling back into his black tee and leaning against the sink, he ruffles his hair, messy and fluffy from a forced make-out session. He wonders just how Y/n could've known he was in there.

The girl stammers in return, glaring at Y/n before finally running away from the situation.

How movie-like it felt.

"My bad, did I interrupt something?"

Sebastian scoffs as the farmers' granddaughter is spacing out at the bathtub, discarded heels inside of them. She takes a hit, her eyes turning to Sebastian with genuine guilt.

He seems amused. Just a second ago, Y/n had barged in impulsively and with no care. And now there she was, staring up at Sebastian with doe eyes. He wondered if she was actually looking to take something from him. His body maybe. But studying her eyes and the way her hands lightly shook from the weed; he couldn't help but remember how kind she was. She wasn't that kind of girl. And if she was, she'd long retired from male manipulation.

Sebastian could tell she'd had enough of hookups and one-night stands, based on her reactions to such questions about her life in the city.

There was no doubt she'd gone through her fair share of sex-life issues since Y/n was reluctant to shake off how things usually went during those nights she participated in such activities.

"Yeah... but I'm glad you did. She sorta came onto me and I really wasn't looking to be regretting anything tonight."

Sebastian shrugged, pure honestly slipping past his lips as he leans against the sink with his arms crossed. "Can I take a hit?" He asks, brows raising with a sincere look of politeness Y/n's never seen before. Last she could remember him looking like such a saint, he did some chores for her grandfather when they were children.

Nodding, Y/n exhaled with relief as she hadn't been a bother to anyone. Maybe to the girl, but at least she was someone worth bothering if she truly forced Sebastian into a corner as he said.

Y/n passed him the joint, their fingers grazing just barely as she leans on the wall opposite of him.

"Be honest with me," he began, taking a hit between sentences as Y/n's calm features suddenly tensed beneath his gaze.

He was gonna ask her something about the city, wasn't he? "What was your life like? You know, back in the city, city girl." A smirk appeared on his lips as the nickname slipped out. He knew she was constantly asked about city-related topics. But he wanted to know if she was telling the truth.

"Why should I be honest? You don't believe that people are the same as they are here?" Y/n raises a brow, slightly irritated.

Who was he to ask her to be honest? She didn't have to be. Y/n had owed him nothing.

"Mmm, it's a leap. But I mean, I'm just curious. You don't have to answer. Just seems like sometimes you have a lot on your mind."

Silence solidifies the air in the room and suddenly the house feels quiet and blurry.

The laughter, music and cheering outside of the room seemed to die down, even the crickets outside were more prominent than the party.

Caught off guard, Y/n analyzes Sebastian for any mockery. But she breathes out in a laugh when she finds none, disbelieving of such a genuine look on his face.

Now it was Sebastian's turn for confusion. Had he said something funny?

"Oh, how- HAHAHAAA. Sebastian! You- you are so funny! Oh- awwwww! Awwwwwwe!" Y/n lightly punches his arm, her eyes smiling as she laughed and teased him. Sebastian in return, raises a brow at her, arms still crossed and a smirk still on his face.

What a dork she truly was.

And how amazing her laughter sounded. Lucky he got to be someone who caused such a sound.

"You are so weird- I'm not allowed to be at least a little concerned? Come on L/n, I've known you since I was practically a baby- and sure we haven't been that close recently but like... I can still tell when something is wrong with you. I'm just curious is all. What's bothering you? Muds."

Once again, Y/n is out into silence. It was hard to shut her up. Surprising Sebastian still had the ability to do so.

The nickname was so foreign yet so nostalgic. Something he used to call her when she'd come over after a day worth of helping her grandfather out at the farm, covered almost head to toe in mud stains and green-painted knees and hands.

Muddy shoes and clothes, hence the nickname; muds.

Pausing for a moment, Y/n gestured for the joint but let Sebastian hold it up for her.

She neared him, a hand holding his to stabilize the tingling feeling in his fingers. Sebastian merely watched as she wrapped her lips gently around the joint and took a long drag. Her eyelashes fluttered, pulling away again to inhale the smoke, exhaling when satisfied with the burn.

Amidst the quiet room, a slower song played downstairs where the party had been.

Y/n sighed out and sat against the ledge of the bathtub, gesturing for Sebastian to do the same. He follows suit, putting out the joint.

Sitting next to her, he stares, waiting for an explanation he didn't necessarily expect.

If he was being honest, he didn't mean to pry. But maybe his curiosity would be put to rest once she tells him.

"I guess... people are much crueller than they are here. Sure, the valley has some assholes... but in the city... uh. I guess you could say they don't know when to stop. The word 'no,' can easily anger some people. To others, it's not even one in their vocabulary. Yeah, I've met a few friends here and there that'll always have my back in those moments where someone is so persistent- but the feeling will never go away. You know?"

Y/n is smiling softly, staring at her shoes. She avoided Sebastian's piercing stare, starting to burn at the skull of her head as he watched her body begin to fidget and lean away from him.

"Yeah, I get what you mean."

There was silence once again. But this time, it was less tense. Y/n seemed to let herself sway with the love song playing downstairs, the dim yellow lights of the bathroom almost golden against the beige walls. With a sigh, she leaned back and let herself fall into the tub. Her head hits the wall but she doesn't care. Somehow her talk with Sebastian seemed to drain her energy, so she rests her eyes, listening to the rustling of Sebastian's long limbs struggling to sit in the tub next to her.

They're comfortable, at a point in time where it feels as if everything had stopped for a moment, Y/n leans her head on his. He cooperates, finding her touch just a little comforting.

"So why do you let these girls do the same to you as the people in Zuzu did me?"

The question hangs thickly in the air above them and Sebastian breathes out, chuckling. "I think at the end of the day, even if I don't want it at first... I'll be satisfied with feeling wanted, even if it was just my body."

Y/n hums in response, seeming to understand what he meant. Still, she knew what was really happening. So did Sebastian, he just refused to believe it in hopes that he was truly being 'loved,'

His body was wanted, but not himself. Sebastian was never wanted, but more like he was used.

Y/n knew what that felt like. And she's come to terms that it had happened in the past. She did not intend to bring it back. Seeing Sebastian go through a miserable cycle of craving attention, even when it was toxic; felt almost shitty to her.

"Y/n?" Sebastian's voice is raspy with dehydration and he wishes he had drank more water before letting himself be dragged away by some girl.

"Mm?" Y/n hums, she rolls her head and cracks an eye open to check up on him. A smile reaches her face as he's also doing the same. They snicker at the faces they were making and pull away before Y/n turns the water on, the tub filling with water.

"After this. The party I mean... do... you wanna be friends again?"

Sitting there, Y/n thought as the water drew higher and Sebastian leaned in on his knees to shut the water off before sitting back down.

"Not really. If I'm being honest, I like the shit we have now."

"Drifted but still close?" Sebastian smirks, his tongue poking the side of his cheek as he stares playfully at his acquaintance. "Exactly." Y/n snickers. Her eyes have been closed, and they'll remain closed.

They rest there for a while, the warmth of the water acting as a blanket for the damp coldness of their clothes.

How stupid.

"We're gonna get sick like this." Y/n sighs as she suddenly feels her sober meter rise the tiniest bit. "You're right..." Sebastian sighs.

Sure he wasn't one to get cold easy, but he surely hated the feeling of being sick. The stuffy nose, pounding headache to add to his migraine. And he surely didn't wanna have to deal with that in the morning.

"I left my zip-up in the room. I'm just gonna strip and crash in the bed." Y/n exhales. For a second, Sebastian agrees but then clicks into reality when he hears the sound of her pants dropping to the floor. Alarmed, his head darts up just in time to catch Y/n stripping down till she was in her underwear, staggering off into the room to search for her discarded hoodie.

Sebastian stays there for a moment, contemplating what to do in such a situation. Sure he's had plenty of experience with women. But not one has he ever been platonically involved with. Y/n was simply an old friend. Even if he's had a wet dream or two, it didn't technically mean he was sexually attracted to her, right?

Standing from the tub and letting the water drain, Sebastian strips out of his pants and T-shirt and hangs it with Y/n's clothes so it would dry. Guess he could crash too.

Brushing off the heat in his cheeks and the slight anxiety that suddenly crept over him, Sebastian tried to shoo away the nervous habits he hasn't met with for years. He was still introverted and reclusive, but he was less anxious than before. Just what had been making him so tense that his head felt hot with each step he neared the bed?

Y/n's figure was already laying beneath the covers, zip-up now covering her body.

For a moment, Sebastian stood over her. Staring with an uneasy feeling surging through him. He's never been in a bed with a girl before, at least not without some sexual encounter. For once in his life, he could say one of his firsts was taken by somebody completely uninterested in using him. Someone who could, and would never use him. Even if they were told to.

"Hey."

Snapping back from his daydreams, Sebastian glanced down at Y/n who stared up at him with tired eyes.

"Come on, you'll catch a cold. Cuddle with a homie if you wanna I don't mind." She nuzzles into the thick blanket with a relaxed look on her face. She invited him into bed, making space for him on the opposite side.

"Uh yeah, I was about to say actually. I might accidentally hold you in my sleep. My bad." Sebastian chuckles sheepishly, walking to the other side as he scratches the back of his neck.

"I don't mind, I like having something to hug when sleeping anyways. So I'm glad you're here. Just as long as you're comfortable."

As Sebastian is getting comfortable, he stares down at Y/n again and she finally opens her eyes again.

She smiles at him, a sincere look of reassurance on her face as she makes sure he's okay. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. You?"

"A-okay Bastian."

____

In the present // Senior year

"Sebastian."

The teacher called during attendance. He expected nothing more than silence, but he surely wasn't too happy about it.

It wasn't an unnatural occurrence that Sebastian would be gone. Just that, he'd been gone two days, when he usually returns after a period or the day after.

Y/n and Sebastian remained in their little bubble of a friendship. Drifted to something less than being friends, but at the same time, closer to being something more. During parties, they often met with one another at the end of the night to discuss their deepest secrets, their confessions and just things no other was capable of knowing about besides the two of them.

They had a friendship like no other, something sacred and private for just the two of them.

They wouldn't talk very often in school or outside of it. Their time together was reserved only for nights they were far too stoned to be dancing and socializing at parties.

Still, Y/n couldn't help but feel concerned. Was he safe?

"Sebastian McCarthy." The teacher called again. When no answer came, his shoulders tensed and his eyes darted to the empty desk next to Y/n where he usually sat.

"Not here," Sam called out. Y/n looked back at him, his seat right behind Sebastian's. As if they'd been speaking telepathically, Y/n raised a brow at him, her hands raising just a bit on her desk as if gesturing questions.

He only shook his head, unsure himself where his friend had been for the past two days.

The teacher stilled for a moment, hands tightening around his pen before finally marking Sebastian absent.

He and Sebastian were close. When he'd lost his father, their homeroom teacher was the older brother figure that he needed in his life during such a time. Since then, he was practically a therapist for Sebastian. Coming by during free periods when he had nothing to do, just so the two could catch up on life.

"Sam." He continued.

"Here."

Still, as the row of seats was called for attendance, Y/n and Sebastian's little trio were feeling uneasy. Abigail right behind Y/n, poked at her shoulder. She looked back at her, expression unreadable. "Do you know where he's been?" The purple-haired girl asked. Y/n merely stared. Why would she know?

Her head aching. Y/n could only guess how people have caught into their little late-night party meetings. How rumours must have started floating around. Besides, she was an old friend of his. No wonder some people have been skeptical of the two of them.

"No-"

"Y/n and Abigail. I would like it if you two would listen to our plan for today. Unless you wanna sit there cluelessly like last time?" The teacher interrupted, raising a brow with a small grin. He seemed to put up an act. But studying his features, Y/n could tell he was still concerned for his missing student.

"We'll talk later." Briefly, Y/n put a hand on Abigail's reassuringly before turning away.

Just where had he run off to?

[slasherrabbitmadness]

Victorian DILF Brahms x Female Reader

Series: Don't forget who you belong to.

Chapter 2 - Give me your answer, do

Underthecut - NSFW, Male Masturbation, Oral - Male Receiving.

Brahms sat idly in his living room, leaning back in his large leather recliner. Feet shuffling along the Egyptian carpet, thumbs twiddling as he hums Daisy Bell by Harry Dacre,

"I'm half crazy, all for the love of you." He smiles as he thinks of her. How her hair shines in the sun, like a halo above her head. Her eyes sparkling whenever she laughs, how the corner of her eyes crinkles ever so slightly. How her smile makes his heart skip a beat.

Brahms sucks in a breath, his hum-singing continues, "There are bright lights the dazzling eyes of beautiful Daisy Bell." He sits up straight, eyes on the unlit fireplace, the gold gate held an ornate Chinese dog welded on the front. He looks above the fireplace to the mantel, the rows of photos in their ash wood frames.

His face is stern as he glances at a particular photo. He, a half-smile as his hand rests on his son's shoulder. Lawrence when he was a boy of eight. Lawrence's other shoulder had a delicate white hand upon it. Gerti, her lips dark with her favourite shade of lipstick, her slight freckles littered her face, her silky blonde hair up in a beautiful age-appropriate bun.

His hum-singing fades as he continues to stare, the family photo, the family in the photo appearing as sharp and elegant as their social standing. That day, Gerti had scolded him all morning, her eyes wide and glossy, her alabaster skin held a blue and yellow hue under her eyes. Her fingers were cold and clammy.

"For the love of everything, Brahms, hurry for once." Brahms flinches as he can still hear her screeching, "Lawrence, get the cat's paw out of your mouth and stop pulling its tail!" He chuckles,

"I miss that cat," Brahms laughs to himself. Never one for pets but how that scraggly little beast could make his son laugh in the most jovial way, warmed him greatly.

His amused grin falls as his eyes lock with Gerti's. Grabbing the photo, his thumb ghosts over her image, remembering how once soft her skin was. His stomach churns as a chill seeps into his bones, shaking him in his spot.

He places the family photo back on the mantle, right next to a photo of her. Her hands grasping each other, face tilted slightly, a timid smile upon her face. "Sir, I don't need my photo taken!"

"Y/n, as my employee of a year, you are practically family." Brahms let out a shaky breath as his mind replays the conversation. "And you may call me, Brahms. You address Gerti by her full name."

"Gerti and are intimate in ways that have allowed us to be close."

"Pray tell may I watch these intimate moments?" His cheeky reply had cost him an ear full from his wife when she had found out. Brahms still never understood why women used such charged words to describe a close friendship.

Brahms left the living room, a stirring in his gut had him heave. He wanted to call upon her for aid, 'Fetch me a water with some ice, and actually bring some black tea and one of our lemons from Italy.' he clears his throat at the thought of dryness being washed back by the cold refreshment.

He had given her a few hours a week for personal time. Free to be spent however she pleased. Ever since the death of his wife and Lawerence attending Rugby School for Boys she had more free time. Much to Brahms immense displeasure.

Brahms had taken to stalking her on her days off. Wanted to see what she got up to. Where she went and specifically with who. He would linger twenty feet behind, always darting behind stalls and other tall men to hide, he even took to wearing a coat that he kept hidden in hopes she would not recognize him further.

He stared in amazement at how well she helped an old lady onto the trolley all the while juggling her belongings, refusing a 'tip' "It's the nice thing to do." in reference to helping others.

His cheeks flushed whenever she stopped to smell the flowers, literally. A quaint smile as she turned down the offer for a free one from the vendor. She often stopped to sniff the white and yellow flowers. He had noticed Daisys were her favorite.

He seethed when one day you were stopped by a handsome Youngman, his tall lean frame stood confidently as his dark brown eyes held a softness as they looked down at you. He had overheard the name in a distinctly American accent, "Dan, yeah I'm studying medicine with my colleague, I'd introduce you but..." He hated that you always walked near the campus, hated all the young men eager, too eager to chat up a single young lady.

Dan had never gotten farther than chaste conversations and one quick feather-light kiss on her cheek.

Brahms wondered if he should up and move, just to be a little further away from the university, away from the young men, away from one of them stealing her away. She was his, he had just yet to convince her. Ask her, even bring it up in any conceivable way.

One occasion made the blood sear in his veins. He should have been more away, should have been more vigilant of this Dan fellow. He watched from a distance as Dan rounded the corner and collided with her. His tall body fell over hers, his hand had just managed to catch the back of her head, softening to the blow to the ground.

"Oh, God! I am so sorry!" Dan's eyes wide in shock, "Oh, I'm so sorry."

She laughed, "No, no, it's fine," Brahms gritted his teeth.

"No, it's not." Dan pulled himself and her up, his hand holding her in a firm grasp. "I am so sorry." He scratched the back of his head, his expression doleful.

"Accidents happen." She assured, grabbing his hand still wrapped around hers. " It's okay Dan."

"You remember me!" Dan's brown eyes lit up. A Radiant smile over his face as he stepped closer to her.

Brahms seethed as the scene played out before him. She smiled, he smiled. She laughed, he laughed. The words between the two began to fall effortlessly between them both.

He watched despondently. How she could let herself relax so easily in another man's presence. How her demeanor shifted around Dan. Those stiff shoulders eased themselves as Dan placed his hand on her shoulder and winked.

Brahms cursed, the university's chapel bell rang out. Every thunderous clang shot through Brahms. Every clang was a reminder he had another place to be. The dreaded desk in the dreaded little corner of his office.

He turned one last time, eyes watched as she smiled with a warmth he'd never seen, how she leaned into Dan as his smile shined bright.

Brahms walks up to his maid's room, thanking Gerti for installing a sense of comfort in Y/N as to never locking the door.

He jiggles the door handle, "Hm..." Again, "Weird," his eyes narrow, "Bloody thing is locked." He jostles the handle, "Bloody woman..."

Click

"Ah, there we are." He hums in approval as the door creaks open. Forever grateful for the previous owner teaching him how to easily unlock a door in the house without a key "Rickety ol' tings" Brahms mocked the man's heavy accent.

He inhales as he enters her room. The simple little abode warmed his heart. Her bed and the nightgown left upon it stirred his loins. He walks to the bed, grabs the nightgown, bringing it to his nose, he growls as he inhales, her natural scent lingered on the garment.

Brahms holds the garment in his teeth as he shucks off his pants, freeing his painfully erect cock. The thoughts whirl in his mind as he plops onto her bed, sighing with content as he sinks down into the mattress and a sneer as he grips his cock.

The same bed she slept, where when the night calls for it, he knew she'd sleep naked. "Fuck..." He growls through the nightgown, ripping it from his mouth to place it over his chest. Her bed, her bed where she no doubt has touched herself, even if briefly in a beautiful sinful manner.

Does she shy away as she dipped those delicate little fingers into her dripping pussy? Does she bite her cheek to stifle her pitchy moans when that jolt of pleasure shot through her?

Brahms collects some spit in his large hand, sucking in a breath as his cold spit touches his cock. His hand pumps eagerly around his thick member, a low groan as the image of her crawling up to him floods his mind. He sighs as he pictures it as her hand gripping him, gasping at how large it is,

"Brahms, my fingers can't even wrap around it!"

"That's okay, love, use those pretty little lips and that wet little tongue to help you."

"What if my make-up smears?"

"Oh, love, that's what I want." Brahms throws his head back, thumb circling his swollen head, picturing it as her delicate wet little tongue. He grips himself harder as he swears he can feel her lips wrap around his cock.

His low groans and breathy moans fill her little room, her name falling from his lips, "So beautiful, Y/N. My love, so perfect, mhm, yes, further down your throat, moaning around it."

Brahms breathing hitches as he pictures her, clawing at his chest as tears prick the corner of her eyes, "I'm a little nervous," She says as she rubs her glistening pussy, inches over his leaking cock.

"You got this, my love." Brahms keens,

"Will it fit, Brahms?..." She bites her lip, a hand groping her beautiful chest.

"My love, just relax, I have you." He pictures gripping her hip to ease her down onto him, gripping his cock as he imagines her warm pussy gripping him.

Audible slaps from the fisting of his cock, mixing with his now desperate pleas and moans fill her room. She's on top of him, her chest flushed against his, she's commenting on how she loves the feel of his hairy chest, praised-filled moans as she comments on his pecs flexing under her.

Brahms bucks his hips into his hand, "Hold you close." He moans as he pictures rolling on top of her, her legs wrapping around his lower half, arms pulling him in close, whispering in his ear,

"Brahms cum in me, cum in me, make me yours." He grips squeeze around his cock, imaging it's her pussy clenching around him, "I love you, Brahms."

He hisses as his body shakes, muscles flexing, toes curling as he snarls out his release. The image of her accepting his seed sends heat washing over him. His cock pulses in his grip, his cum spraying over her nightgown, the remaining spilling down his fingers and cock.

His temples pulse, his ears ringing. His toes unfurling as his legs ceased in their shakes. He squeezes his cock a few more times, hearing her breathlessly thanking him, "It's so warm in me. Thank you, Brahms." He swears he can feel her nuzzling into his chest as if she was there.

Brahms coughs as he sits up, shaking his head as he gingerly throws his legs over the side, placing his feet on the door. The nightgown falls over his cock. He snorts, using it to clean himself. He stands up, placing the nightgown where he had found it. A wicked and mischievous grin spreads over his face at the thought of her wearing his spent at night.

He grunts as he retrieves his trousers, pulling them up in haste, tucking his chub back in. A content sigh as he eyes the bed and nightgown. She wouldn't be sleeping alone for much longer.

Brahms snaps his attention to the trill of his front doorbell. He clicks his tongue as he makes haste to the door. He debates on if he has time to properly clean his hand, decides to just wear a fancy white-glove he leaves, conveniently, near the front door instead.

"Coming! My Maid is out currently," He sucks in a breath as he pulls a glove over his right hand, he cocks his head quickly before opening the door. "Sorry, it'd have been answered sooner...who are you?"

Brahms stared down at the short man before him. His brown hair combed expertly to the side, his brows immaculate under his thick glasses. He wore a glowering expression, his lips in a tight line.

The man clears his throat, "Herbert, Herbert West." Brahms makes note of his American accent, "I believe this paper is for the lady of this residence." Herbert whips the paper in front of him, his expression changing to say "Well, hurry and take it!"

"Mr. West."

"Herbert."

"Herbert, If by Lady you mean, Gerti? She passed awa-"

"I don't mean your dead wife."

Brahms's eyes narrow at Herbert. He opens his mouth the speak.

"I mean, Y/n. She is the only lady living here. So Dan tells me."

Brahms's jaw slackens, "Dan." He says more to himself.

"Yes, it's an invitation to a formal at the university. He already invited her. Just wanted to make sure she got all the details, it's all there on the paper." Herbert whips it again in front of Brahms.

Brahms yanks the paper from Herbert, eyes scanning it wildly.

University of London

Residents of Handel Mansions we formally invite you to bring along the most beautiful dame for the start of our fall formal.

September 28th, 1900

Entrance fee 1 pound, with a beautiful dame on your arm the fee is waved.

Brahms stares back at Herbert who pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Well," Herbert begins, "I figured be best to drop it off for Dan. He's been awfully busy." He flashes a smile to Brahms as he turns, "Dan also says to let Y/n know he wishes her luck at her new job on Robitaille's farm." He turns back around to Brahms, "Oh, it was nice meeting you, Mr.?"

Brahms pauses, clearing his throat, "Brahms Heelshire."

Herbert clicks his tongue, "I knew that." He walks down the stairs, a pep in his step, "Was nice meeting you Mr. Heelshire."

Brahms stares at the short man walking away, nodding to a man walking past. He turns back around, slamming the door behind in, the frame shook.

He stares down at the paper, eyes reading it over and over again. "A formal." He starts, "That Dan..." His breath catches in his chest, "A job?" he questions aloud.

He collapses against his door, slumping over as he crunches the paper in his hands. His thoughts raced to her, cursing himself for not intervening that day she ran into Dan. Wishing he just took the reprimand from his employer and raced in to shove Dan away from you. Creating some fantastical lie as to why he was suddenly there.

Brahms's thoughts slip to his son. Lawrence, his green eyes shine whenever he and Y/n play. He hugs her like he did his mother. How y/n always promises to play with him, tuck him at night. How were you going to tuck him in if you were to be away? How were you going to be there to kiss his little cheek as he falls asleep?

"How are you going to be there for me?"

[qillmhi]

So I'm like... Never a fan of the 'Imma kill my bros for u' kind of scenario especially since I very much love all the turtle bros, so here's my version of an obsessive lover 2012 Mikey!

🖤🧡🐢

Dark!2012!Mikey x Reader

-Michelangelo is the youngest out of the four turtle brothers, so he was easily the most childish and energetic one, much to his older brothers' annoyance.

-He was loud yet small. Just a few inches shorter than you. A social butterfly, but can be oblivious to most things.

-Mikey may not be the smartest turtle, but he does have own way of getting what he wants.

-And he has his eyes dead set on you.

-When he first realised his crush on you, he openly welcomed it with zero resistance. It felt great being in love so why should he deny it?

-He loves expressing himself so there was little to no filter when he's showing you his love.

-"(y/n)~!!!!" Mikey threw his arms around you "I missed you so much!!!!!" He cried in excitement rubbing his cheek on yours.

-You laughed at the youngest turtle and placed your hand on his head "Mikey! I just went for a glass of water!"

-"Yeah! But you took sooooo long so I still missed you!"

-He would be all over you. Wherever you go, Mikey is expected to be following close behind.

-Sometimes without your knowledge.

-Whenever his brothers weren't looking, he would slip by to your apartment to watch you sleep.

-But he did it to make sure you're safe! Don't worry!

-He would always be the first one to tackle you as soon as your foot entered the lair. Then proceed to trap you in a cuddling session with him for hours before anyone could get to you.

-"Oof--!"

-"Dibs on (y/n)!!!!"

-"Ow--Mikey!!" You groaned in protest.

-"No time to talk dudette! Look--" He held up a glowing flower watch "--it's hug time!"

-You squinted your eyes at the familiar looking gadget "Did you force Donnie to make you that hug-watch thing from the Trolls movie?"

-"Maybe~!" Mikey avoided your eyes "So hug time...?"

-Physical contact is his love langauge! Mikey's insides would be all mushy and gushy if you respond to them even the slightest bit. And if you return the favor? This little boy will melt into your arms!

-When you do ask him to let you go, he would just simply say "Nope!" popping the 'p' then proceed to tuck himself below your chin.

-"Awwh come on!!"

-Everytime he feels your soft hands scratching his shell, he immediately starts churring in delight. You thought it was cute, so you'd pat him in the head which made him even more happy!

-He can't help it! Mikey is just obsessed with how soft and plush you feel against his skin! He would definitely glue himself on you if you'd allow him to.

-"You are so squishy~!" Mikey mumbled against your shoulder while hugs you from behind for the nth time today.

-You flicked his forehead earning yourself a small 'ow' "And you are a big baby."

-You didn't mind his clinginess thankfully. It was just Mikey being cute as always. For real how can you resist this baby?

-He's loves it when you give your full attention to him. But if you're talking to someone else, he would just simply have an arm over your shoulders. Silently brooding towards the intruder, giving them a silent warning.

-If the boy isn't hugging you or initiating some kind of physical contact with you, he would be content holding the hem of your shirt or any kind of clothing you own (he may or may not have kept a few in his room that he may or may not have been using as a pillowcase to cuddle). Something that became a norm whenever he's at your apartment and you preparing both of your meals.

-Damn he loves your food! It was then only food he worships other than pizza! He especially loves watching you cook. Like an angel preparing to give him heaven.

-Speaking of Heaven.

-This orange fluff have TONS of pictures of you saved in his phone. If you ever made the mistake of sleeping in the lair, this guy is just snapping pictures of you in every possible angle. Sideways? Upside down? Close up? Bird's eye view? They all made you look perfect!

-His wallpaper is a selfie of you and him enjoying your home made chocolate icecream pizza that you made just for him. Aren't you just the sweetest? He considers that as your first date even though you two aren't official.... yet.

-I mean you made that treat just for him so it must mean that you return his feelings right?

-As time went by, his little crush for you grew into something more.

-You were starting to see his brothers and your other friends a little less and him and little more.

-It was just Mikey. Only Mikey.

-Just the way he likes it

-Everyday you'd wake up and find him cuddled up to you. When you ask him what he's doing he would just look up at you with his innocent baby blue eyes and say "But cupcake! I'm cold and you're suuuuper comfy~!" Cue those puppy dog eyes and you're 100% powerless.

-He would bring you all sorts of goodies like food, favourite drinks, movies, videogames--anything he could carry just for you!

You couldn't say that you didn't like the attention. Mikey is just so sweet especially whenever he brings little trinkets saying "They reminded me of you!" With that adorable freckled smile of his! It just makes you blush every time.

His innocent sweet smile just melts through your heart!

His brothers thought it was weird when he's always out and about after training and patrolling. But hey! The lair is a lot more quiet and Donnie doesn't have to worry about his stuff being broken anymore. Besides they knew you, you were a great friend so they trust you.

After a while you started to miss your friends. Having Mikey around was fun but you wanted to see what the other guys are up to these days.

One day you decided to visit everyone in the lair with pizza and had a great time chatting and playing with the turtle brothers. Oddly enough Mikey wasn't there.

But he was. Mikey was there. Hidden in the dark corners of the lair. Not even his brothers noticed him. His smile was gone. His eyes were dark as he kept himself one with the shadows, silent as a ghost.

He didn't like the way you were smiling with other people. Of course he was fine with letting you talk to his brothers sometimes, but still there were some boundaries to be made.

"Mine..." Michelangelo silently growls.

Although he doesn't favor this image of you with other people, he does take pride in the way your eyes would flicker to his bedroom door every now and then. Good. Very good.

Finally it was time for you to go. He immediately left. Time to take action.

When you got home you saw your favorite orange turtle curled up on the floor sobbing. Your heartached at the sight of the big crocodile tears falling from his face.

-You dropped down on your knees and asked him what was wrong.

-"I was waiting for you here all day b-but you didn't come home... you left me.." He cried miserably "I-I understand... if you don't want to h-hang out with me anymore... no one really wants to. I p-promise won't bother you anymore.." Mikey sniffed then left before you can get a word out.

-That was three days ago and you haven't seen Mikey since. He stopped visiting, stopped replying to your calls or texts. He was just gone.

-You realized just how much you loved having the small orange ninja around. Your home became cold and lonely. You started to miss him terribly.

-You went back to the lair, ignoring the others as you went straight for Mikey's room and knocked on his door.

-Mikey opened the door for just a crack. His eyes were red from crying. He looked absolutely miserable, but you pushed the door open and pulled him into a hug.

-You apologized to Mikey. You told him that it wasn't your intention to make him sad or feel neglected. That you loved having him around you.

-Mikey hugged you back of course. He closed his bedroom door to give you both privacy while you continued to hold him tight.

-He nuzzled his snout on your chest and told you he missed you too.

-Your soul ached when his shoulders started to shake. You placed your cheek on his head with your hand on his shell to calm your crying turtle.

-Except he wasn't.

-Mikey's smile was as wide as it could ever be. His eyes held a victorious sinister glow as he felt his entire body shake from excitement when he as in your addicting scent.

-Mikey was a good liar.

-He didn't mean to make you this sad. But he had to in order to make you come to him.

-And believe me when I say those three days of not seeing you was torture to him. Sure he had a folder full of your pictures saved on his phone (and his cuddle pillow) but it just can't compare to the real thing.

-But it was worth it though.

-He already had you right where he wanted you. He just needs to give you a little more push for you to confess your love for him and you two will be happy together forever!

-He knew he couldn't keep you to himself. You would surely retaliate if he forces you.

-But that doesn't mean he can't push you into making you claim him as yours instead.

-Oh how it feels so good to be in your love and care again!

-Mikey started churring as he pulled you even closer.

-Yeah Mikey definitely wasn't the smartest.

-But he's definitely the most cunning.

-And he would do anything to have you.

[thefanficmonster]

Just Two Sad Roommates

Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.

Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰

The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great. 

Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.

Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point. 

Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.

And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.

Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.

I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time. 

Holy shit, I’ve lost it

I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!

I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from. 

“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.

I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”

He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”

My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”

I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about. 

I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.

“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“

“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“

I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“

So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.

Must be that music.

“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh

I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”

He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”

I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”

‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘

I was never aware this level of sass even existed.

I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”

We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.

“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“

“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”

Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”

He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.

With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.” 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze

[hyunverse]

BUNGA (FLOWER) | FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

gender neutral.

summary; you’re megumi’s dream person.

note; i wrote this bcs my birth name is actually a type of flower ugh the self indulgence also i like butterflies. also inspired by a song called bunga by masdo. i recommend listening to the song while reading. bunga means flower in malay!! also pls open the gif for better quality.

YOU REMIND MEGUMI OF A FLOWER. white orchids; they symbolize purity. and that’s exactly what you are to him.

fushiguro megumi remembers this one day when he and tsumiki had went to a flower garden together. he didn’t know why tsumiki suddenly felt like visiting a garden, but he followed anyway. he observed as his sister looked at the flowers around them, a smile never leaving her face and her eyes were practically sparkling. it felt nice to see his sister actually enjoy herself, especially after their parents got up and abandoned them, leaving tsumiki with all the house chores.

“look at all these flowers!”, tsumiki caressed the petals with her fingers, thumb gently gliding over the flowers, “they look so nice, don’t you think so megumi?”

megumi didn’t reply, he opted to stand beside his older sister. tsumiki explained the symbolisms of the flowers she knew of. the raven head looked stoic, as if he wasn’t listening to any of her words but the truth is, he was. he found the symbolism behind the white orchids particularly interesting. it suited the orchids’ physical appearance. white and innocence just made sense.

as the siblings chatted (though it technically was one sided on tsumiki’s part), a cat walked towards the duo. the ball of orange fur purred and nudged it’s head on tsumiki’s legs, immediately getting the teenage girl’s attention. she kneeled down, her previous smile growing wider.

petting the cat, she looked up at her younger brother, “aren’t cats so adorable?”.

“yeah,” megumi uttered. a lie. he wasn’t a big fan of cats, he found them annoying. dogs are better, that’s what he believed in but he didn’t have the heart to say that to his sister. not when she looks the happiest she had been in a while.

“and the weather’s really nice today!”, she added, eyes glancing up at the sky. the sun was glaring right into her eyes, so her pupils shrunk. she didn’t mind however, she had always loved sunny days. the sunlight shone right above their heads, and megumi didn’t like it. he could feel drops of sweat trickling down his back, causing his shirt to cling onto his skin. megumi much prefers when it’s cloudy, shades of grey in the sky, the perfect weather for staying at home and reading books.

even so, he just nodded, “mhm.”

shortly the sun started to set, spreading orange hues throughout the sky. flocks of birds returned to their nests, and so the fushiguro siblings made their way back to their abode. on their way tsumiki stole glances at her brother, letting out a dry chuckle everytime she notices the lack of expression on his face.

“you should smile more you know, megumi”, she ruffled his erratic hair, “you won’t get much friends if you keep on frowning like that”, she teased.

he grumbled, “i don’t care if i don’t have friends.”

megumi thought it was ridiculous. why would it matter, anyway? he’s fine being alone. people are bothersome; they’re too loud and they stress him out. especially the stupid punks in school who thinks they could do whatever they want. megumi simply shrugged and pushed his sister’s words out of his mind. scratch smiling and being likeable.

yet here he is, smiling at you. over no particular reason too.

currently, he’s walking along a beach with you. you; dressed up in a white sundress, a pair of sandals in your right hand. the sand burns under fushiguro’s feet but he couldn’t feel it over the fast thumping of his heart, he couldn’t feel the heat when his whole skin is tingling. he trolls behind you, walking over the footsteps you made. your sundress flows to the rhythm of your walk, flying slightly up when the wind blows your way, exposing the plush skin of your thighs. fushiguro looks away from your figure, his fair complexion tinted with blush.

you’re his best friend, he’s not supposed to look at you like that.

“it’s so nice here, megumi!”, you call out to him as you stand at the edge of the sea. waves crash, they trickle up to your toes. with a smile you hold up your hand for megumi to hold.

bashfully, megumi walks up to you and takes your hand in his. he’s reluctant, for he dislikes his hands. they’re cold and filled with callouses. so when you grip his hand as though you didn’t intend to let go, when your thumb rubs against his, he feels less insecure of his hands. the sensation of your hand in his is hot, it burns; however it feels nice.

megumi fushiguro hates warmth, but if it’s your warmth, he’d enjoy burning in heat.

the sand by the sea doesn’t feel hot on your feet. the waves get bigger and bigger; till they reach up to your ankles. you giggle because it tickled, the sound of your laughs reaching megumi’s ears. he turns to his side to see you crouching down, collecting the water in your hands.

that’s when megumi concluded, your whole existence screams purity.

a week later megumi meets you again. sometime at 11pm, by an oak tree—your usual meeting spot. the oak tree is large, it’s impossible to miss it. you stand under the oak tree, allowing dried leaves to fall onto your head, getting stuck in your hair. you know megumi would get all the leaves out of your hair. he does it everytime. he’ll pick out all the leaves out of your hair while lecturing you, though his words enter one ear then out from another. no matter how many times he says “i can’t do this all the time”, even he himself knows he would.

from afar megumi watches his best friend run around the flower field, chasing butterflies. your hair gets swept away by the wind as your hands stretch up to the sky, desperately trying to get a butterfly to land on your hand. you’re wearing a jumpsuit, the white color of the material truly brought out your skin tone. your complexion is glistening, and it makes megumi’s heart throb.

“they’re scared of you, y/n,” he finally says, putting both your hands down. the butterflies fly away from your sight, and you pout.

“but they’re so pretty,” you sigh, watching as the butterflies choose to fly anywhere but on your fingers. and then one lands on top of megumi’s shoulder.

your eyes widen, holding the sides of megumi’s figure to make him stay still. megumi could see sparks in your eyes when you admire the blue butterfly. soft is the expression you wear on your face. he likes it on you. that cute expression of yours makes megumi fall five times harder for you even when he knows he shouldn’t.

“you’re like a flower ‘gumi. it likes you.”

ridiculous, he thinks. you’re the flower. it’s obvious by the way your body moves under the moonlight, and how insanely beautiful you are.

fushiguro megumi doesn’t say anything in return, as always. he rarely does. if possible, he wants to avoid you from finding out just how in love he is with you.

after that day, you never show up under the oak tree, a few minutes distance from jujutsu high. he’ll wait for hours long only to be disappointed.

--at least not until his birthday comes, about a few months later. his face turns pale once he spotted you. you wait by the jujutsu high gate with a wide smile on his face, as if you didn’t ghost him for three months.

"glad to see you doing okay," the apple of your cheeks seem more prominent when you smile, megumi feels an urge to kiss them.

"i haven't seen you in so long," megumi mumbles, "happy to see you here today."

you grin and hold up your hand for him to take per usual, and didn’t mutter anymore words until the two of you reach a café in the outskirts of tokyo.

“nice café,” the raven comments , glancing at you. you’re wearing a puffy sleeved white blouse now—honestly, do you only own white clothes?

“found it on instagram”, you mutter, “i thought you’d like it. happy birthday, megumi.”

megumi smiles for the first time today. as a jazz song plays, he eats the birthday cake you purchased for him quietly. the cake tastes delicious (to be fair, anything you buy him is perfect) because it’s not too sweet. the fact that you remember his preference makes his smile grow a little wider.

you hum to the song and rest your head on his shoulder. it seems like the two of you are the only ones in the café—a much needed privacy. you’re usually touchy with him, and he prefers affection to be private. typically they make megumi blush, and he doesn’t want people to witness him all flustered.

“did you miss me, megumi?”, he replies to your question by nodding and placing his hand on top of yours.

serenity is this feeling, megumi thinks.

at the corner of the café stands an antique grandfather clock. it’s sounds are so loud, they resonate the whole environment. megumi suddenly becomes hyper aware of the sound, there’s a pounding in his head. the sound becomes louder and louder, to the point where megumi couldn’t feel your skin under his. he shuts his eyes close, an impossibly bright light glares his eyes.

“fushiguroooo!”, an annoying voice yells. itadori’s voice, megumi is certain.

the pounding in his head slows down. his sapphire eyes flutter open, and he realizes the light he saw was sunlight rays peeking through his blinds.

“seriously fushiguro, we’ve been calling you for an hour now. hurry up, we’re going out to eat in five. to celebrate your birthday”, megumi looks up to see nobara standing behind itadori. 

they’re both leaning against his door frame. itadori is dressed in a yellow hoodie, while nobara rocks a coat over a turtleneck. the female sorcerer holds her toy hammer tight in her grip, her eyes boring through megumi’s figure. by her posture, megumi guesses she was about to hit him with the squeaky hammer if only he didn’t wake up sooner.

fucking menaces, they could’ve left him to sleep for a little more. he hasn’t seen you in so long, he wanted to sleep in to spend time with you.

finally rubbing his eyes awake, the boy looks at the vase of orchids sitting on his nightstand. he sighs before standing up.

megumi will find you someday, he promises. if you’re a flower, he’ll gladly be the butterfly.

✉ taglist: @aliteama @dearsukuna @cybergoo @hanniemilk @ariasann @soulasdarkascoffee @okusetomura @eidotheiapriv @maat-the-prescriptive @etoilezone @elipres @scarednekozz @iridescentkitsune @crapimahuman @nectar0sw33t @hq149 @bluedelphinium @bokutos-babyowl @behan @tdntu0 @sunaluvs @guardianangelswings @fairywriter-oracle @inu-makki @erinisbadger

tagging; @candleohappiness , @haru-senji <333

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

[tenderlyrenjun]

The One with the Halloween Party

summary: your best friend has a halloween party but all you want to do is make out with your secret fuck buddy

↛ ↛ ↛ best friend’s younger brother!Yanyang x older reader

↛ ↛ female reader, college au, mentions of alcohol, suggestive, halloween party, sneaky relationship, secret make out sessions in a closet, inspired by Monica and Chandler from F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (the one where phoebe hates pbs), the next part is going to be spicier (smut)

↛ word count: 7,6k; previously titled: “The One with the Best [Sex] I’ve Ever Had”

preview > part one > part two

It becomes exceedingly apparent that Ten never replaced the strike plate – the gold one, in the closet door by the front entrance of his apartment. He has been living here for two years and still has not replaced the locking mechanism. And you only really take notice because you feel it. The door opens way too easily. You are not even sure why you turn the handle, since the door opens so easily, so goddamn easily. Then, on top of that, the strike plate scratches your nose when you peek out the coatroom. You have to send prayers, begging for no one to hear you creak open the door or hear the squeak from your throat. And the spotlight effect theory, that Yangyang rambled on last week before his social psych midterm, comforts you somewhat, reminding you that all those cliché Halloween costumes in the living room are probably not attune to your indecency as you think they are. Maybe a quickie during Ten’s overcrowded Halloween party (although it was not this packed last year) was not the best decision. Especially, since your own cheerleading skirt, equally cliché, slips down your waist for the first time tonight, rather than riding up like it did minutes before. And you tiptoe back into the closet again, half-bent over to stop your outfit from completely falling off while pressing a hand to close the door as silently as possible. The thought of accidentally exposing yourself in front of all your friends is so embarrassing that your face heats up nearly enough to brighten the room, like a candle or 80s built house.

Right into Yangyang’s bare chest.

“Ow,” you mutter, palm protectively flying to your forehead. It did not hurt – bumping into him, but hopefully, covering some parts of your face understate the extent of this mortifying rendezvous. You take a baby step backward, then knock into the door and the tongue rattles, making you stiffen, making you freeze for a second. Yangyang puts his hands on your upper arms, rubbing them warm, as you look over your shoulder to verify that the door is still, in fact, closed. Both you and Yangyang are honestly incredibly lucky that no one caught you two, so when you confirm the locked door, your arms droop and you lull closer to Yangyang. Your eyes open after a second, and you jolt up again, realizing just how naked he is and how naked he is going to stay. You drag your nails down his pecs and ball your fingers into loose fists before completely breaking off him.

“Back up,” you whisper-shout, as if this command is part of some grand scheme.

Yangyang smirks, his smile curling wider. “I’m not the one touching someone’s rock hard abs.”

You want your glare to push him back, like your command, between all the jackets and superhero capes, but you get provoked by his cockiness. He was so much quieter and pliable when you first met. Now, you are the quiet, pliable one, or at least you are in this situation. Yet you bite at him – with your words, not your lips like his evil grin implies that he wants. “You wish.”

“That’s not what you said last night.” Yangyang approaches you, gauging your reaction until his breath ghosts over yours. And not seeing any actual restraint, he kisses the corner of your mouth teasingly, like it could start another round. Then he lowers his lips to your ear and whispers, “Or five minutes ago.” You wonder if he can feel your eye roll because he tries to change it from annoyed to turned on, sucking on the vein behind your ear.

And for that reason, you put a hand on his chest again, this time lower, on his stomach, specifically on his abs. His smirk broadens and his lips part again, aggravatingly making that clicking sound with his tongue, so you push on him. “Just –“ You pull your hand back to your face again, noticing the lack of change in warmth between his stomach and your face; maybe he is as embarrassed as you are, or turned on all over again. The latter is worse, probably, hopefully, not really. He looks really good and you just want to … You shake your head. “Wait a minute after I leave so this –“ You gesture between yourselves, touching his stomach again, then jerking away again. “- doesn’t look suspicious.”

Yangyang grabs your waist, sympathetically, although not entirely agreeing with your request. He tugs your bottoms over you ass and you expect him to retract immediately after, including the baby step that you asked for, but he only stops you from moving, keeping you locked in place – in place next to him. You roll your eyes again, unhooking his hands. Before you can completely detach, he interlocks your fingers and pushes you against the door, kissing you warmly.

Your head knocks into the door, loudly you think, and you stiffen again. Until his left hand travels behind your knee, up your thighs, and his lips open over yours, his tongue sliding next to yours. You stand on your toes, back curving into his embrace, off the extremely wiggly door, your arms hugging him closer as he pulls you up, pulls your clothes up. His right hand slides down your spine, thumbing at your waistband. This entire embrace is another persuasion, you note, and it usually works, like those mornings before AB Psych, but you two are in a closet, at a party, barely blocked by an unfastened doors that you are actually not sure is soundproof. So, you come down onto your heels and bring your hands to his chest again.

“Mmm mmm.” You shake your head off him. He trails you forward but you end the embrace, tightening your hands over the lapels, to close it, to close off his dumb attractive abs this time. “We have to get back.”

Yangyang pokes your personal bubble again, sliding his chest onto yours, and your arms stretch behind his neck, the closeness giving you some pressure on your boobs. He looks at you for a second, pupils scanning your eyes before he bends his neck on your, opening his mouth during an open mouth kiss.

“We’ve only been gone for a minute,” he seduces you, simultaneously sliding his tongue between your lips to prod at yours.

You slide your hands onto his face, comfortably holding his jaw in place as you look into his eyes, reinforcing your reasoning. “Try twenty.” You sigh, letting go of him. “I feel like such a bad guest. I haven’t even greeted the host yet.”

“Ten will be fine,” Yangyang reassures you, pushing past your fingertips to kiss you again. “Meanwhile –“ He kisses you deeply and you exhale, basically melting all over again. If he did not support you, you might have fallen onto the ground. God, he has some effect on you, and you cannot entirely describe it. “- I am not fine. You could greet me a little more enthusiastically.”

“I’m pretty sure you finished being so enthusiastic, a minute ago,” you scold. You square your hands over his shoulders and gently lean him off you, successfully separating him in the process, then reach for the doorknob. “We’re playing a risky game here, with the door unlocked.”

Yangyang slants forward, fusing you with the door. Your arm bends behind you, at your side, as he envelopes you, so he relaxes you again, taking down your elbow. You look at him with wide, pouting eyes, like that iPhone emoji. He can keep persuading you, effectively, and you will stay with him, but …

“Mmm mm,” you protest, pulling away. You hit your head on the door, hoping that it was not loud enough for someone to hear. “We – I really have to get going.”

Yangyang sighs, ceding, “Alright, fine.”

He beckons you out, looking away, flicking his wrist. And you wonder if he is actually complying. You look from him to the door, stuttering back to him. This would be the time for him to persuade you into staying again, and his gaze is devastating enough to convince you, but you really have to enter the party. As you grip the doorknob again, Yangyang hugs your back, clasping his hands like a belt over your skirt, and you can feel him pout into your shoulder, chin descending further into your skin. You placate him with a brief kiss to his knuckles – something chaste and fleeting, nothing like the fluttering in your heart. And since you cannot see his expression, you wonder if he actually enjoys these small acts of intimacy, of if he cringes; if he does cringe, then he is really good at hiding it, because you cannot perceive anything from him. Although, the moments in bed, in the most intimate hours, when the pads of his thumbs press into your lower back, you think that he feels it too.

Unfortunately, he cannot do that right now. And you head out the door first, straightening your direction over to the bar like a new arrival, or like someone who did not come to their best friend’s party just to make out with said best friend’s younger brother, or closest thing to a younger brother as he can get.

It only takes a few seconds for Yangyang to consider your goodbye, before completely rejecting it, then he groans into the empty closet, throwing his gaze at the ceiling. After, he pokes his head out the door, looking left and right like crossing the street, until the coast is clear for him to leave. When he rejoins the party, he instinctively searches for you among the cliques of cliché Halloween costumes. And he finds you, easily if he might add, at the bar, chatting with Jacob, probably about your matching basketball uniforms. Well, you wear a Trailblazer’s outfit and him a Jazz one – natural rivals but neither of you take it serious enough to start an argument in a semi-public setting.

Yangyang waits for you to leave the bar and meet up with Ten, interrupting his conversation to say hello. He nicks a capri sun from the fridge, then joins you right after with a bright smile on his face, middle fingers pressing into your lower back like a greeting wave. The act might have been offensive, had you been in a club and he a stranger, but he knows you, he likes you. And he smiles even wider when you relax into his hand. Nevertheless, Ten stands three feet away, putting the two of you on edge, and your spine straightens in the most attentive way possible, like you are a military subordinate or something, even though you are dressed as a basketball cheerleader from the U.S. state where you spent a winter semester abroad during freshman year, before Yangyang joined your university. So, to make the conversation more natural, Yangyang high-fives Ten, while you take his juice box away and open it for him. He stares at you, smile faltering, suddenly feeling smaller as you take care of him and Ten resumes whatever the hell you two had been talking about until he entered the conversation.

“Oh, come on,” Ten whines, hitting your arm after you hand Yangyang the capri sun. You glare at him sharply, then make sure Yangyang is okay, rubbing his arm comfortingly. He wants it to mean more, because he does not know what you want from him, but now is not the time, not when you are trying to keep everything on the DL. “I want to meet the guy who is the best sex you’ve ever had.”

Yangyang mimics your body language, though peppier as he smirks. “Really?” he asks Ten. “That’s what you heard?” He turns to you, tilting his head teasingly. “That’s really what you said?”

You baby-step out of the trio, slightly further from Yangyang specifically until you knock into Winwin behind. Your conversation partners giggle at you as you throw a small apology over your shoulder, then you glare at them upon returning to the group. You exhale slowly, giving yourself time to think before speaking, and redirect your annoyance at Yangyang more than Ten. “I might have.”

“Why didn’t you invite him to the party, huh?” Ten asks, bumping shoulders, wiggling suggestively. He raises his eyebrows, glancing at Yangyang to rope him into the teasing too and he falls into it because your mystery boyfriend is already here. Yangyang stops dancing when Ten’s expression changes, softens and reminisces. “I get the whole ‘respecting his privacy thing, but, like, I really want to meet the guy who helped you get over Renjun.”

The name drop causes Yangyang to shoot his eyebrows to the moon. His neck snaps at you faster than Kun’s when he jokingly accepted a marriage proposal. He watches you widen your eyes at Ten and smack him loudly. Maybe not everyone knew that, he thinks; he certainly did not know that, and he has known Renjun longer than you or Ten have. While you and Ten stare each other off, irritated and shocked, respectfully, Yangyang loudly slurps the last of his capri sun.

Yangyang tries to break the tension by pointing to the wall adjacent from you all, at Renjun. “He’s taking five shots of Smirnoff with Jeno right now, while Jaemin holds lemons at the ready.”

“Big deal,” Ten waves him off while keeping eye contact with you. Yangyang stares at his face, looking him up and down, then decides to take a baby step in front of your leg, almost protectively. He cannot gauge where Ten stands, where the conversation is going, but he knows that he will be there for you, just in case. “I did that when I was 17.”

You smack Ten, with the arm opposite of Yangyang, using the other one to pull Yangyang back into an equilateral triangle. “Don’t normalize underage drinking.” Yangyang almost rolls his eyes at that; who are you even saying that too?

“Hey!” Ten counters. “No one is underage at my party.” He holds your hand and pulls you into his side, into a scalene triangle, while covering your mouth. “Shhh, you can’t say that out loud. I invited Mr. I’m-A-Lawyer-Now, and besides, -“ You pull out of his arms and stand slightly in front of Yangyang. “-I just happened to invite the babies, too. Like Yangyang.” Ten turns to the devil in disguise and pinches his cheeks. “Baby.”

Yangyang single-handedly unbuttons his shirt again, like an act of defiance. “I am not a baby!”

Ten drops his head to the side, quirking an eyebrow. “You respond to baby,” he retorts, “And you’re drinking a juice box.”

“I had a bottle of soju earlier!”

“Oh? Just one?”

Yangyang folds the aluminum capri sun into his pocket, hopefully discreetly, and scrunches his nose at Ten. He feels you gently draw him back at your side, via his wrist, and expects you to defend him, but you just tease him further:

“Pics or it didn’t happen.”

Yangyang straightens up, his jaw dropping, then he crinkles his nose and sticks his tongue out at you. He accepts it though, not changing the topic, because he sees the way your posture shifts when everyone moves away from the romantic department.

Although, he might want to talk to you about it sometime.

Ten grounds him back to the conversation, patting his hair – the same spot you place kisses when the two of you cuddle and he is the small spoon, so Yangyang ducks away, slapping Ten’s hand out of the air. The whole hair touching thing reminds him that you are never really vulnerable enough with him, to let him hold you like baby. He wants to try it, especially since Ten keeps babying him in front of you, but he is not sure if you even like it.

“Yeah,” you agree, your voice low. You poke Yangyang’s side then cross your arms over your cropped jersey. “You’re so cute.”

Yangyang circles his neck towards you, smiling reassuringly, or at least he thinks so. His gaze wanders from your eyes to your fingers, which are coiled around your upper arm, so he starts taking off his jacket, pulling off the cuffs behind his back. But he stops after feeling your hand on his bicep. He glances at your hand, then stares at your eyes before pouting:

“I don’t want to be cute.”

He stops stripping but still decides to keep you warm, with another back hug, this time enveloping you into his jacket while he rests his chin on your head, even tiptoeing just to commit to the hug. When you squirm, shaking your shoulders to hit his pecs, he just hangs on slightly tighter until you stop. And after you relax, resuming natural conversation with Ten about anything other than your former crush, he smiles, coming back down to his heels and leaning on your shoulder. The new position tempts him to kiss your neck, and he almost does, but then he feels Ten’s eyes look at him, so he cannot even press a small peck at your jugular like he does sometimes when he catches you at the café by the physics building – the one that only Jaemin goes to, out of all his friends; the one where neither of you get spotted by your friends so it seems like a date, not that either of you have ever called it that. Nope. He avoids kissing your neck and just brushes his nose along your skin. It does not come off as platonic, he recognizes, but Ten does not ask any questions and Yangyang slowly phases out of the conversation to meet up with Hendery who walked through the front door as a pink bunny rabbit.

Yangyang slipping out of the trio feels so sudden, you think after feeling his hands unbuckle around your waist.

Maybe he does not feel important in the conversation anymore. So, you lock your elbows into your sides, clasping your own hands over your stomach to make him stay put. You knock your head onto his collarbone, prompting him to say something, but he does not, only resting his chin on your shoulder. Hopefully, he is smiling; you like his smile. His cheek pokes you at your neck, similar to how he almost kissed you in front of Ten just minutes ago. Then, he pushes his hand in front of you, to wave at Hendery, opposite the room, and your smile quirks down, somewhat embarrassed, as you trace his direction to the pink, fluffy ears bopping along to last year’s Travis Scott song. Ten copies you, twisting hesitantly behind himself. Meanwhile, Yangyang grows a little bolder, hunching forward onto his tiptoes to kiss your cheek silently, before dashing off with his friends.

Too stunned, eyes wide, mouth smaller, you miss the way Ten turns around, his smile wide with a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue. It goes away though, when he sees your face, so after making eye contact, you are met with an ominous stare. It is also curious, but the ominousness throws you for a loop. Then he raises his brow slightly, and you smack him, simultaneously asking what he wants.

“Nothing, nothing,” he laughs, crossing his arms over his pilot costume. He relaxes once you show no intent to hit him again, then he locks his hands behind his back, leaning toward your face mischievously. And when his nose almost pokes your eye out, you jump back into WInwin again, glare prompting him to ask stupid questions. “I simply want to know what all that was about.”

“What?” you bite at him, annoyed, following your second apology of the night to Winwin. And instead of meeting his eye (to give yourself more time to think of an excuse, no matter how flimsy), you flatten down the bottom of your top, where a iron-on patch of Dillard’s number disrupts the obnoxious Portland ‘P’ – you wonder if anyone connects your costume and Yangyang’s favorite basketball team, because no one says anything. Except, Ten is saying something right now, continuing the silent taunting into your personal bubble, getting almost as close as Yangyang was just a minute ago. So, you poke him away, on his forehead. “You want to know why I keep running into Winwin?” Ten rolls his eyes. Your voice does not feign innocence as well as you want.

“That was all you,” he deflects, eye contact maintained but he points at your vodka party drink, implying that you might have had a bit too much tonight. You swallow the alcohol faster, defiantly, and hold your breath, exhaling longer while you pause, holding the empty cup still above your dry tongue. “No, yeah, but, uh, no, that whole thing with Yangyang.” Ten bumps your arm with his elbow, coming to your side so that both of you can watch the man in question from across the room. “Huh?” he teases lightly. “Are you entertaining him? [Because] You two seem really … close.”

“I’m close with you,” you retort, touching his shoulder, into the crook of his neck, with your head. Then you stand back up, reflexively smiling when Yangyang laughs at a new TikTok dance that Hendery shows him. He even looks back at you, waving once your eyes meet. You throw him a thumbs up, and you swear that his smile gets brighter. It probably was not because of you though, because he starts giggling louder and dancing alongside Hendery right after. “We’re all –“ You turn to Ten, smile still blanketed under your nose, then you frown. “- friends; what’s that look for?”

“Nothing!” He imitates innocence better than you do, baring his palms for dramatic effect. You face him frontally, examining his devilishly handsome face for a crack. And he gives it to you: “It’s just that we’ve known each other for eight years and you never let me cuddle you like that.” He pokes your hip, where Yangyang was attached. “You’re closer with someone you just met.”

“You introduced us. In March!”

Ten waves a hand lazily. “Minor details. Besides –“ He blocks Yangyang from your view, not that it really mattered because you are trying to have a conversation with Ten. But it helps you maintain eye contact. “- you seem really comfortable with him being naked on you.”

You open and close your mouth in one short breath, swirling the empty red solo cup at your side, nervously. He has a point; you know he has a point – you are very comfortable with Yangyang being naked on top of you. Wait, he said on you. Either way, Ten is right. You do not want to admit it because that implies feelings, something that you are definitely not willing to talk about at the moment, especially this moment, but he is right. The question is if he needs to know.

“Did you hear about Yangyang and the anatomy student from Renjun’s class? They’re also close.”

You deadpan. As it turns out, he does not need to know. You are not dating, anyways, so …

“It’s my business, because…?”

“It’s not,” Ten agrees, shrugging. He looks off, turning his head toward Johnny, dressed as the Kellogg Tiger, before looking at you again. “Just thought you’d like to know.” He shrugs again. “If you didn’t already.”

“Uhh, okay,” you confirm, as nonchalantly as possible. You mirror his body language, standing straighter. Ten says nothing, not noticing the way your body stiffens, or at least, you hope so. “So you’re telling to what?” Get you jealous? “Give him advice?”

“Nah, we both know that he’s fully capable on his own.”

“Please,” you scoff. “He’s a baby who lives in a frat apartment with seven other dudes and buys food at the café by the physics department to avoid washing a knife.” Well, he charmed you, so how can you criticize his flirting abilities? You shrug – maybe, he was just that horny. He has always been a typical teenage boy. Although, he turned 20 a couple weeks ago.

“Huh.”

“What?” You come down from the high that somewhat roasted your sex partner … fuck buddy? friend with benefits? He is something to you - a little more than a friend but you do not think he would willingly be your boyfriend. Your voice sounds less excited now, and you run your hand through your hair, pulling slightly harder at the ends.

“Nothing,” Ten shrugs again. He twitches at you, briefly spinning his hips. “It’s just that Yangyang mentioned you go to that café too.”

“Yeah,” you drawl, like it is obvious. Ten smirks, knowingly, you think, so you crush him, “Jaemin, too.” You lift your eyes to the ceiling for a second, like it would give you an out. “And Kun on Tuesdays after 5.”

Ten scrunches his face, now facing you again. “Oh, we both know that Kun goes to the kiosk in the chemistry building for the cute barista with a good taste in music.”

You mockingly smile at him, squinting above your nose. He does not get the satisfaction of an equally annoyed laugh – probably because you might crack, your voice might crack and accidentally give something away. It’s not that you don’t want anyone to know that you are sleeping with Yangyang – you don’t, but not because it is embarrassing. You just do not particularly want to hear the two cents everyone seemingly needs to donate, like a commercial tax, especially with their baby Yangyang.

“Why did Hendery even dress up as a bunny? A pink bunny. Is he puling a Chandler?”

“No,” Ten shakes his head. This is the third conversation change you have made, and surely, he caught on by now. “Only Jisung and Winwin are watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. with Chenle; I think that Hendery just like the costume.” Ten points at Johnny, flashing a wave, then glances at you. “I’m gonna head over there. I haven’t seen Johnny since he left for a Paris project.”

“Yeah, no,” you gesticulate, nodding, “go ahead. I’ll meet you later, or something.”

“We’ll catch coffee on Monday.” Ten’s voice shrinks as he moves away. “After office hours!” He turns around one more time, emphasizing his words louder, “At the physics café!”

Yangyang, along with a couple other people, snaps his neck at Ten walking away from you, especially after hearing the bit about the physics café because, no offence to Ten, but that is his place. With you. The café on 17th is his rendezvous point with you. He likes the whole secret aspect of your relationship – it is so sexy; you are so sexy. It is just … the face that everything is secret prevents him from explicitly opposing Ten’s suggestion. And before he knows it, Yangyang makes his way toward you, waving goodbye to his psych friends.

He already knows where you are, because sometimes he would glance over at you when someone made a joke, just to see you laugh, to laugh with you. Occasionally, you would be smiling brightly, at whatever Ten said, and look to him. So, all he has to do is turn right and find his annoyed cheerleader, to annoy you even more.

The music is louder by the kitchen exit, where you are, curled against the wall with an empty red solo cup, blue light from your phone glowing across your face. Yangyang takes the opportunity to scare you, hiding behind a couple groups until he reaches you, creeping slowly. Then he strikes, poking your obliques.

“Boo!”

“Ah!”

You jump against the wall, clutching all your belongings closer while he laughs at you.

“Aw, did I scare you?”

Yangyang envelopes you into a hug, ignoring the way you glare at him. And he relaxes, when you do, feeling you squeeze his waist and sigh. You will never admit it, but the two of you know that this is how your dynamic works – he annoys you, then you cuddle him. And he has so many ways to annoy you. Like, next, he pulls a 180 – both coming behind you and switching up the mood to grind under your hips.

“What are you doing?” he whispers in your ear, fast, grabbing your waist to guide you over his pelvis. He gets dangerously near your cheek, excusing it as a way for you to hear him better, since you two stand adjacent to the speakers, where the music is above talking decibel. His eye catches onto Lucas’s, and he winks, hands tightening above your skirt, because, despite all the teasing, this is not actually how he wants your entanglement to get out. “Wanna head upstairs? I just found a new TIkTok challenge you can practice on me, like the WAP one.”

“What are you doing?” you retort, laying your fingers on his bare chest – he likes that you keep touching him, not so much when you push him away. He wonders if you know that. Like, he chose his outfit for tonight because, well, he looks good, but also because he figured that you would think he looks good, too. It seems like you do, considering that your hand always finds ways back to his abs. So, he grows more confident, nipping at your ear while you push him against the wall, further away. Your eyes flutter, lashes blinking rapidly as he holds you closer, left hand toying with the hem of your shirt. He has this trick that you always react to, and he wants to do it now, while no one pays attention to either of you (larger parties afford far more privacy than smaller ones). You lean your head on his warm shoulder, then he presses his palm into your spine until you are chest to chest with him, impossible to get closer. Your breath sounds louder, as the music transitions to Goodbye feat. Lyse [slow version], and he wonders if he can elicit a moan from you, in the same frequency as the song’s growl. His right hand travels between your thighs, until you stop him, slapping his hand and holding him still. “We’re in public.”

Yangyang spins you around, showing off his own point of view as a counter argument: no one is paying attention. The whole thing bumps your connected hips into the wall, and his arm belts over your lower waist, driving you to essentially demi plie over his thigh that sneaks through your legs. At the sudden movement, you gasp, death gripping over his arm. He does not mind very much, only the red solo cup tapping rhythmically between the wall and his elbow. You barely get time to relax completely before he drops lower, just enough for him to look up at you. And he takes note of the sexual tension essentially radiating off the two of you, so he alleviates it, giving the illusion that there is only dancing going on right now. Though, you baby-step forward, to give him more space. His smile falters, twitching down, and he is thankful that you seem oblivious to it, because you comply with his action, letting your skirt flower spread over his leg and the smile return to his face. Yangyang guides your swaying left and right, grazing over his abs.

“I’m offering to go upstairs,” he answers definitively, still whispering in your ear. “More privacy.” His hands travel up again, skin getting lightly scratched by your top’s texture. Your nails might do a better job, if he remembers correctly. God, he wants you to take up his offer. “You didn’t have a problem with it an hour ago,” he points out, while dropping his gaze to your neck, once again tempted to mark you. He pulls away some of the baby strands that fell out of your hairdo, then locks eyes as he traces your ear shape. “Do you have a problem with it now?”

“No,” you answer him quickly, shaking your head for even more emphasis. You turn around fully and scan his eyes before shaking your head again. “I don’t have a problem.”

Yangyang smiles wider, instinctively bowing forward. Your ambiguous answer tells him more than he asked. He almost reveals something in return: that he enjoys kissing you, because he would totally do it right now, but you keep stopping him. He is all for consent, honestly; it just gets really confusing with you. Even now, he initiates a small, intimate touch while this moment afford you two some privacy, breathing open mouthed kisses onto the vein behind your neck, slightly illusioned in the dark lights as just talking to you. All the boundaries do no really define what he can, or cannot, do in public. Like, apparently, you two can have sex in a closet right before his best friend’s party – a best friend shared between you two, but there are rules about how close he can stand next to you. Both situations still involve secrecy. Although, one is far more sexier than the other. But he wants the whole damn thing – to hold you in public, and private, to kiss the part of your trapezius muscle that he likes so much, to be able to say that he knows places too, like the physics café where he doesn’t want Ten to take you because he takes you on dates there!

Then, you sigh.

Why are you sighing? It feels like that should be his response.

You clasp your hands behind his neck, evidently hesitating to reveal something – he knows because you fiddle with his collar a few times before moving onto the ends of his hair.

“It’s just …” You pause, so he tries to make his gaze unwavering, to hold you securely. “It’s just that a certain classmate might have a problem.” He furrows his eyebrows, bending onto his knees to ask for clarification. “You know … a certain classmate.”

Yangyang narrows his eyes, lost in translation. He slides up the wall and squeezes your waist, thinking, trying to figure you out.

“Oh!” he catches on. “Oh, I don’t think Hyunjin would have a problem with us.” He moves his hand to your shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly. “I don’t really see how anyone in any of our classes would have a problem with us, much less, like, know about us.” He cocks his head to the side sympathetically, lips brushing along your cheek to ear. “I don’t have a problem with us.” He drapes his arms around your sides. “Just FYI.”

“Me neither.”

He smiles wider. You two are on the same page about something. He almost kisses you right then and there, but settles for brushing his nose on yours, simultaneously taking a step backward, closer to the wall so that no one sees the obnoxiously domestic display of affection. Actually, it might be weird for Hendery, Xiaojun, or one of his psych friends to see him act so … boyfriend-like, so romantic. He doesn’t think that anyone would anticipate that kind of behavior from him, and he is honestly too sure if you see him like that. He would try it though, you know, because he is curious and he would like to be your boyfriend.

“Did Ten tell you about Hyunjin?” Yangyang asks, prodding slowly.

You nod, equally slow, eyes falling down. “He didn’t mention any names, -“ Yangyang feels something in his chest drop. He put a name to the idea, and now he watches your eyelashes flutter and the lump in your throat shake, as you try not to say the name. “- but yeah.” He hugs you, bending your arms around his stomach so that he jackets you in his empty shirt. You have said that he has a natural body warmth, and hopefully it is comforting right now, because …

“It’s not really his business who I talk to.”

Yangyang almost apologizes for creating an environment that fosters mistrust or makes room for insecurities. Except, (1) that sounds like a note he would write in his case study’s conclusion for class, and (2) how the hell is he even supposed to say that? He tries to show that this – whatever it is – is exclusive. Like, now, he just holds you tightly, during a Halloween party, only slightly out of view from his friends. He almost apologizes, and it is on the tip of his tongue, but he holds back, pursing his lips as you open your mouth.

“It’s not my business either,” you reason, stepping back. His embrace slackens, like rock climbing because he catches you, not letting you fall off him, even though you wiggle out a little bit, pushing him back into the wall. “Because we’re not dating.”

“No,” Yangyang partially agrees, standing straighter, supported by the wood. “We’re not, but we’re …” He wants to tell you about the exclusivity, that he considers the two of you to be exclusive. Some part of him thinks that you hold the same thought. And he cocks his head to the side, rolling his tongue behind his teeth. “We’re good friends. And, you know, we’re like, yeah. So, it’s your business too.” He rubs your shoulder again. “Wanna go upstairs and talk about it?”

Yangyang smacks your ass for attention, trying to make the situation fluffier, simultaneously gesturing to the second floor with his hair. This is not really the time nor place to dissect your relationship, and he would totally put it under the microscope. Just, maybe, at another time. You seem to agree, walking away first, holding his hand to guide him up the secretive stairs.

And despite this being his idea, Yangyang stops before the first step, waiting for you to march a couple feet taller than him. His eyes linger at the lowest hem of your skirt, until you plant one foot in front of the other, on two separate levels. You look over your shoulder and roll your eyes. He expected it, quickly meeting your gaze innocently. Then he smacks you ass again, as if he were not just looking up your skirt a second ago. You glare at him, but he slaps your ass again and races upstairs.

“You’re so annoying,” you comment after him, still running to meet him at the top.

Yangyang smiles. Yeah, but you love him. He opens the nearest bedroom door, beelining to the bed where he manspreads across the full-sized mattress. You walk into the room quickly after him, turning around to close the door. Your skirt swings chastely around your thighs, and he cannot take his eyes away from it, wishing for you to swing them around his hips.

“Wanna be annoying with me?”

You roll your head, clicking your tongue, after finding him sitting relaxed on the comforter with suggestive eyebrows. “Yeah, I guess.”

Yangyang lifts his arms to catch you when you dive between his shirt, the lower part of your body thrusting on top his as you prowl beside his torso. He leans back, hands anchoring himself to your face. You push him deeper into the mattress, and he feels your nails airily redraw each indent on his carefully contoured abdomen. He smirks, asking if you like what you feel, and tilts his chin up to give you better access to his mouth. You tell him to shut up by biting his lower lip, though you match his expression, shaking your head as you decline into him. Yangyang cannot maintain his position any longer, almost breaking a sweat when you unbuckle his very thin belt and tap into the metal button barely holding his pants together. He whines, briefly breaking the kiss, then he flips you over, bending one of your legs up to fit his in between.

“I don’t want you to just guess,” Yangyang whispers. He slowly retreats his palm from under your shirt to the spot on your stomach where your shirt lifted up; he wants your verbal consent before doing anything else, and he waits for it. The kiss gets longer as you sigh into it, lazily hooking an arm around his neck. So, he stops. And then brushes your hair behind your ear, just hovering over you with tender eyes. “I don’t want you to just guess.”

“I’m not guessing,” you reassure him. You play with his hair, the way he likes, toying the strands on the top of his head then combing through the rest until reaching his neck. He looks at you innocently again, in case you crack. But you don’t. He restarts the kiss, sliding his hand under all the layers covering your torso.

Yangyang helps you out of your shirt, watching the way your chest bounces without support, so he gives you more, adding his lips like a low-set suction. “You’re so pretty,” he confesses, kissing into your sternum after you arch it up at him. And he wants to know your reaction, so as he presses an open mouth kiss into the side of your boob, he looks up at you, your lips parted by a silent moan. “You are so, so pretty like this.”

Unlike you, Yangyang moans audibly.

He feels you curl your fingers into his waistband, touching his tip outside his underwear. With his eyes closed, he drops on his back and feels you move around his lower thighs, teetering above them lightly. You meet him between the velvety sheets, giggling with him as your hair tickles his face. He opens his eyes, combing the loose strands behind your face again, finishing the act of endearment with his knuckles stroking your cheek. Sometimes he lets himself fall into these more romantic displays of affections.

Yangyang grips your ass, under your cheerleading skirt. When he remembers that you have his favorite player’s jersey patched onto your crop top, he pulls his chin up, nipping at your bottom lip. You draw him in further, towering over him until he drags you down with him, mixing between the sheets, laughing again. He really loves hearing your voice, and he loves it even more that he can make you have a fun time, make you grin so vocally during the moments that matter. So, he tries it again, slipping under your underwear too, massaging your skin.

“Mmm,” you moan.

Yangyang feels you slither his shirt off his shoulders, your nails grazing around his biceps as he tilts up to kiss you over and over again. Then, abruptly, you sit back, on your knees, around his hips, alert at attention. The new position allows him to mark your neck, one hand sliding through your waist band, over your ass, to have you grind down on him. His lips nibble at your collarbone, tongue breezing along as he waits for your reaction.

“Wait, wait.”

He stops, looking at you from under his eyelashes. A minute passes, and you don’t give any more restraints, so he resumes taking off your underwear. He keeps the same consistent eye contact because you remain alert above him, but you close your eyes and lean your head closer to him. He pulls his arm completely out of his sleeve so that he can hug you firmly against his body. Your chest grazes his, and he moans.

“Shh,” you silence him, kissing him quiet, hands still on his shoulder, “Do you hear that?”

“No, mm.” Yangyang breaks the kiss. “What are you –“

“Shh!”

You move your hands onto his pectoral muscles, his shirt near completely off his body, as you turn your head at the door. His head stutters in the same direction, stopping every half millisecond to return back to your face and make sure that you are okay. Then, he hears it: Xiaojun stumbling into the walls, jiggling the doorknob.

Yangyang stiffens. “Did you lock the door?”

A bit of light from the hallway cracks into the room, along with intoxicated hushing and giggling.

“Shit, no,” you answer, obviously, then start to pick your clothes off the bed and stand up. After a moment of hesitation, Yangyang follows you, buttoning up the middle of his shirt and meeting you in the center of the room, shielding your exposed chest as you clip on your bra.

Yangyang looks at the door when it creaks louder, eyes caught by a headlight. Before he knows it, you shove him into a closet. Neither of you are getting the opportunity to be annoying together because Xiaojun drunkenly stumbles into your space, moaning after his own date. Yangyang rolls his eyes and feels you slide into his shirt with him, scratching his back with your spangled top. He knows that there is no other option, since you two do not want to expose your relationship, especially like this, but he would rather not ruin his relationship with one of his best friends due to indecency – either of theirs. Thankfully, he gets an out, after Xiaojun hides under the blanket.

When you two make it downstairs, Yangyang bursts into laughter, yours following too until he gives you a long chaste kiss, screening you behind the wall to maintain that secrecy he did not want Xiaojun to break.

Although, Yangyang pulls away, brushing your hair behind your ear again, hand holding your waist to prevent you from leaving. You stare at him, at the domestic moment of tenderness, then fall into his chest again. And that is when he realizes it: he doesn’t really want to be a secret.

[plush-rabbit]

I Want To Hear You Say It

Chapter 4: Missed Comfort

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: I just realized that this is my story and I can choose what happens

Prev.

Memories are fragmented, pieces of glass that has broken and shards that escape him and hide elsewhere, leaving his past broken, blurry and incomplete, painful to pick at and there has to be a reason why, there has to be a reason why whenever he thinks about who he was before he was found by All For One, that he scratches at his skin, tearing the flesh off from body, dirty blood that covers his hands and leaves him gasping for air, making him fear that he’ll suffocate before the memory grows clear. He can remember kind words, he can remember breakfast and playing, he can remember something soft under his chin, he can remember love for a moment, a moment that leaves him sick and broken, clasping his hands around his neck and hoping that he’ll die. He can remember the harsh stare, eyes that belong to a monster, eyes that are unforgiving with a hand that is merciless, the harsh feeling of the ground and the eyes that can only look away until he’s forced to face the monster in front of him, the monster that strikes over and over again and it fills him with hatred, it fills him clarity, the one moment where he can breathe and he stares into his reflection, covered in his own blood with red rimmed eyes, and he’s home.

Tomura Shigaraki stands in a room with few possessions, his body cold as he lays above the worn out bed, springs that dig into his back and a pillow that is far too flat to bring any sort of comfort. 

He grew up in the care of All For One, molded and cared for, the embrace clear in his head and there are flashes of memories that are clear, ripe for the picking and allowing him to view who he is now. But he brushes past them. He brushes past the dust on the floor and the tantrums, past the cold wooden floorboards under his feet, the weight of the hands on him are lighter and heavier all at once, lifting him into the air with the promise of love. The hands pinch around his body and threaten to drag him into the depths of hell, moaning out to him, his name broken and unsure, calling him something too different and too similar that leaves him retching and covering his mouth with his hand.

Tomura Shigaraki can remember Kurogiri. He can remember the wisp of a man, purple and black mixing, shades light in certain areas, mixing and swirling with the darker colors, creating a beautiful shade that disappears and is never shown, a shade that was never meant to be seen hides deep within the man. He can remember the apprehension, the choked up feeling, like something small was lodged in the base of his throat, uncomfortable and manageable. He can remember the soft words, the hands that touched him, defying physics and the vapor having actual feeling to it, actual touch that moves the hair across his face. He can remember the shared meals, proper and simple, the hatred in his eyes that soon turned into acceptance and silent compliance with every meal. 

People come into his life and they leave. So far, the League of Villains has remained whole. Kurogiri separated but for the good of the mission. For the good of the plan. For the good of him- Tomura Shigaraki. People separate and they come together. 

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s developed a kinship with the team. He’s developed genuine emotions towards them. He doesn’t want to call them friends. It feels odd- heavy and foregin, the word unspoken of, even when he was just a child, he never spoke the word, flinching when he thought of it because he knew that he was alone. All For One was his sensei, his master, a father-like figure to him but never a friend. Kurogiri was … something. Kurogiri was something else, heavy and comforting, wanted and pushed away. The team right now, they are his comrades. They are the people that he cares about- their wishes and likes, their desires and wants- that’s what he cares for. He’ll spit at the idea of caring, deny it with a wave of his hand, but he cares.

He’s lived a lonely life. And in the blink of an eye, it became filled with people. And he was accepting of that, he can handle people following his bidding, he can handle people if they’re there to serve his cause. But then you come along.

You aren’t there to serve anything. You are nothing to him. And yet, you still fill his mind. He lets it wander and you come into view, the way you brushed his hair and dried it for him, offering to pick something that he’d like to eat. You called him a friend. You were lying. You told a lie to save your skin from a prying neighbor. It’s easy for him to believe that you told a lie. You did. You lied only to protect yourself. But then he can feel your hands again and the touch has faded, it’s nothing more than a ghost that caresses his skin when he’s falling asleep, his own hands crawling to hold the place where you held and his sleep ruined when his hands are not like yours. They don’t hold the same delicacy, the gentleness that made him feel at ease- they aren’t your hands. Your touch is fading and he hates it. He hates that he misses the way you cared for him, the way you let him into your home and cared for him. He is a wounded man, alone in a world with only a few companions, and it’s been so long since he’s felt a touch that wasn’t filled with malice, that wasn’t a rough, teasing punch or a reassuring squeeze of a shoulder, but one where it was focused on him and being gentle, treating him like he were glass. 

He doesn’t want to admit it to himself but he wants to see you. He needs to feel your touch again. He needs a moment where your hands are on him and then he can be satisfied, he can be fine without your touch that haunts him.

-

Learning your schedule is relatively easy. People don’t want to admit that they’re predictable, they want to remain a mystery, they want to be hidden from view and open up when they feel like it and you are no different. You stick to yourself. You don’t talk to people in your apartment complex- minus a few people who stop to chat, a forced smile that takes place on your face. Even at work, you give polite smiles, you eat alone in your car, watching a video on your phone and always peering outside the window, like you’re scared that someone is watching your every movement. You’re polite and you stick to a routine, you treat yourself to the bakery and leave with a white bag curled in your hand and you pass by the alleyway where you first met. And there’s a leap in his heart when you pause, and he can see your hand tighten around the paper bag and then you move on. You continue to walk, faster, a pace that catches the eyes of a few pedestrians and before you can reach the stairs, your keys are in your hands, and you’re inside your home and you’re out of view. 

It has to be a sickness that he has.  He has to be sick with the way that he always finds himself wandering into the alleyway, crouched where you found him and he hates that he can’t remember your scent, hates that he was too disorientated to focus on the important details that you had. He hates that he only realized that he wanted- that he craved and desired your touch when you were gone. He doesn’t bother lying to himself, he’s not in the area to clean any loose ends, the blood that had fallen from him has long since dried, fallen into the crevices of the ground, weeds that have bloomed and raised where he had squashed them. He’s here filled with hope, hope that diminishes whenever you don’t arrive at the same time that you once did. And he hates himself when he feels disappointment, the feeling coursing through his body and leaving him empty, leaving him with acid in his mouth and blood on his neck. 

It was fate then. You worked a late shift and you came to him. You had saved him because he was meant to continue on. You pushed him to live another day. He wonders if you know who he is. How would you react? Would you accept his views? Do you believe that society is damned? That everything within hero society is corrupted and needs to be changed? Would you accept him? 

He laughs to himself. It’s a short burst of laughter, bubbling past his lips and it’s short until he presses himself further into the brick. Of course, you’d accept him. Of course you would accept him. You did it once. You let a stranger into your home, welcomed him and brushed his hair, held him in your hands and let him live in your life for a moment- you’d accept him with open arms. 

-

It was a miscalculated risk. Heroes that were unaccounted for due to how close they were. He’s injured, face trickling with blood that mixes with his sweat and he’s unsure of where the wound is. His clothes are singed at the end, fabric crumbling and fingers painted in soot as he runs through the night, gasping for air. It’s cold and sharp, entering his lungs and chilling his throat, every breath painful and heavier, as he runs. Red ruins his vision and he swipes it away with the back of his hand, blood flickering onto the pavement, seeping into the cracks and leaving nothing but dark spots. He runs and he runs. His legs hurt, aching at the joints, muscles pulled taut, and he knows that if he stumbles, he’ll collapse. Father is held tight against his face, piercing at his skull, hands pulled taut around him, pulling him back and the hands on his neck choke him.

He knows where he’s going. He’ll deny it to himself, lie and say that it was his own moving on it’s own accord, leading him past the convenience store, hands ripped from his body and shoved into pockets, bulging and pale gray fingertips that peek beneath the pockets, stiff fingers intertwined with each other and he’s lying to himself, telling weak lies that even he can’t believe. He runs towards you, running and gasping, a burst of adrenaline spiking through his body and sirens are ringing through the air, colors flashing and you’re so close. He runs, sweat mixing with blood, a heavy red color that reminds him he is only human, he’s covered in his blood, he’s covered in people’s blood and ash, weighing him down and clinging to his ankles, dragging him to hell as the devils rush behind him. His steps are heavy, slapping against the stairs and he’s knocking at your door, pounding and there’s a moment of fear where he thinks someone else will awaken before you do and he’s begging, calling your name in a whisper that cracks and cuts through his alreadys scarred lips and he’s begging for you to open the door, a silent prayer that is echoed into the night and there’s nothing more than he wants to do than to touch you.  He’s close to touching the doorknob, desperate to find safety inside until the light turns on underneath he’s cursing you in his mind for being so careless, for letting the person outside- letting him know that you are home- and he steps away and the door opens and you stand him front of him with heavy eyes, a disheveled appearance with an annoyed expression that only lasts for a second, a moment where he has you entire attention and then you break and you call his name and he stumbles inside and he’s safe.

The door is closed behind him and the ringing stops. He’s inside your home, leaning against the wall, and he’s filthy, coated in grime and sweat, blood that runs down his face from an unknown wound, legs heavy and he slides down the wall and he can see you, standing away from him, a horrified look on your face and maybe this was a mistake. That you didn’t feel whatever he felt. That you were just trying to be nice. A hand reaches, fingers outstretched and he can imagine how soft you’d be, the look of horror frozen on your face as he’s the last thing you see and then you kneel down, and you’re shaking and your words are stuck in your throat.

Your hands are soft. Softer than he remembered, cusping his face and he’s grateful for it, leans into your touch until you grab at something foreign on his face, and Father is removed and held so tenderly in your hand. His eyes widen. He forgot to remove Father. Sirens grow closer and you look out the door and he’s weak and unable to stand as you lift and walk towards the door and there’s a shake of your hands, you clasp around the door knob and you seem to struggle with yourself internally before you latch on the locks and turn back to him. You call his name and he calls yours and he wants to lean in but he’s bloody and you are clean, and he sits against your wall as you hold Father and walk away. 

He sits on the floor and closes his eyes for a second and when he opens them, you’re crouched in front of him, Father beside him and he watches as you bring up a wet rag and whisper to him. “I’m just going to clean you up, okay?” Your voice is shaky, hands matching as they dab against his forehead, your other hand pushing his pale blue hair upwards. “Tomura?” He grunts in response. You pause, your lip is bitten and he wants to know what you’re thinking. “Why are you here?” You dab and the pale blue cloth in your hand turns into a horrible shade, sweat, blood and dirt standing the ruined piece of fabric. Realization has set into your eyes, the fear leaking off of you and yet your hands are nothing but gentle. 

“I wanted you to touch me,” he mutters and your hands still. “I needed it.” He lets his words hang in the air. He can feel the press of your palm against him, and you don’t respond. You clean him, cleaning the sin from him. “Do you know who I am?” 

“I think I can take a guess.” Your hands leave him and you turn from him, pulling out a pack of wipes, the white bright against your palm and then you’re cleaning at him again, discarding the wipe after wipe, the pack becoming thin as you clean him. “Are you going to-” you swallow nervously and you meet his eyes, unsteady and glistening with unshed tears- “you know.” Your eyes dart to his hands and then back to his eyes.

He laughs. It’s rich and filled with something indescribable and he leans towards you, peeling himself away from the wall and you stiffen when his forehead rests against your shoulder. Father has slipped and is on the floor. You’re still, faltering against him and he wants nothing more than to touch you. His lips brush against your neck and he can hear a sharp intake of breath, hands that react and grip the sides of his shirt, pulling him closer to you, and he wonders if you’re crying as he’s pressed against you. 

“I could never hurt you,” he whispers against your neck, nuzzling closer, feeling your pulse quicken. “You were so nice to me-” his hands are unsteady as they brush up your shirt and he hears you whine, and his fingers are pressed against the soft side of you, and he smiles, hidden from you- “I will never hurt you.” It’s the truth- a wholehearted truth that he will never use his quirk against you, he’ll protect you, watch over you and dig his nails into you. He won't ever hurt you, he won’t have you bleed because of him, he’ll keep you with him and protect you, have his hands wrap around you in the loving way that his do, remind you that he’s letting you live and giving you all his love- whole and innocent, twisted and pure. “I love you,” he murmurs and there’s a swell in his chest when you twist his shirt in your hands and your pulse beats against him. “Perhaps it’s too quick to tell each other that-” he hums into you, smelling the sweet scent of vanilla on you- “but I love you. And I’ll protect you.” His nails dig into your skin, red appearing, a pale shade that stings and doesn’t stain his fingertips.

Perhaps it was too quick to give each other your love. But when he pulls away and he sees you crying, hands still gripped against his shirt, a rise and fall of your chest and he smiles. His hands leave you and your shirt flutters and it’s covered in grime, sticking to your chest and it’s wrinkled. Tears fall from your eyes, tracing down the curve of your face, polling and dripping off your chin and you can only look at him with wide eyes and you’re doubling over, gasping for breath, your hands wrapped around you, trying so desperately to control your breathing and you look over, watching the door with hope that vanishes in a second. It’s quiet outside. There are no heroes around. You look back at him and he smiles at you.

“Shigaraki?” You ask him, and there’s a frown on his lips. You need to check if it’s really him, praying that this is a sick joke, exchanging your life for a moment of false reality, to be laughed at because this is some cruel, sick joke that doesn’t exist and isn’t happening before your eyes. “Tomura Shigaraki?”

“You can call me Tomura,” he coos, his hands bringing your face up, held so tenderly, so carefully, with poised and raised fingers, trying not to touch you and you’re crying and he’s shushing you. “You don’t have to cry,” he murmurs. “I mean it-” he leans in closer and your eyes shine with fear, colors mixing together to create a lovely shade of color that he has never seen before and when you cry, it glosses over and he tilts his head, smile stretching past his lips- “I would never hurt you.”

“Be-” your voice cracks and there's a soft pink that licks at your lips and he leans in. “Because I was nice to you?” You’re so hesitant and so scared, trembling under his palm and your tears pool onto him.

“Because you cared for me, yes.” He could never hurt you, never bring himself to cause you to cry. He’s so careful to pull away, hands fisted once he’s moved and he looks around and grabs at a wipe, brings it under your eyes and he shushes you when you flinch from him, his hand gripping at the side of your face, string and firm. “I hate seeing you cry,” he murmurs. You’re scared and new to these feelings. He won’t push you. He’ll stay by your side, faithful and patient, wait for you to come to him and profess your love, and he’ll wipe away your tears. “I love you,” he repeats.

He rises and pulls you up and you stand in the entrance, you stumbling into his chest, and his arms holding you up and he’s nuzzling into the crown of your head, and when you start to sob, shaking into his chest and clinging to the back of his coat, hands threatening to spill from the pockets, he pats your back carefully, run the side of his hand down your back in a comforting motion, slowly turning until his palm is against you and your sobs are muffled into his chest, with your tears staining his shirt. Your name is whispered into the room and you cry until you pull away and he stares at you patiently and you can hardly meet his eyes when you tell him he can use the shower and he stands alone, as you walk into your room, letting the door remain open.

He showers and he lets the water fall from him, dries himself with the same towel he had used from the other day. He washes himself free from grime and wears the same clothes, filthy and hanging from his body, sticking uncomfortably and he wears clothes that are his and he smells like you. His hair is wet and tangled and he brushes at the knots, and makes himself look presentable. He won’t have the first night that he sleeps here cognitive sullied by the outside world. He sits on the chair in your room, watches as you pull the blankets up to your chin and have your back turned to him. He comes to sit at the edge, his hand slowly coming down until he’s holding onto your neck, stroking it, feeling the way that you jerk and go painfully still, and he whispers your name. It's a gentle call, feeling you brush against his fingertips, calling out to you because he knows you’re still awake. 

“Yes, Tomura?” You respond and there’s a level of politeness that sticks to your words and makes him frown. 

“I’ll be back to see you soon, okay?” He has to leave for now. He needs to go before he can give in to his wants and touch you, to let himself bury into your chest and hold you, and sleep beside you. “But I’ll be back, okay?” He pulls away and the bed creaks as the weight shifts. He’s closing your door, and his eyes are on your body and he’s smiling to himself. “Don’t try anything dumb, okay?” He doesn’t wait for an answer- you’re smart, you know who he is. It isn’t a threat, it’s just a phrase that he knows will keep you in line from trying anything reckless- he’s viewed you, watched you and he knows that an empty threat will keep you in check. “I love you.” He whispers your name and it’s filled with love, enough to make him sigh and close the door, lean against it for a moment and let his imagination wander on how you’d welcome him into bed and hold him. The door to your apartment clicks shut and he’s walking out, Father holding tight against his face, and a strange calmness flooding throughout his body.

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[rawstfish]

Mall of Verdanks Chapter 2

Warning: none, unless you count long as one

Gaz glared at Soap.

“Any actual questions, FNG?” He said through gritted teeth.

“That was an actual question.” It was like Soap was challenging him, but it would be the lamest challenge anyone could witness.

“Sure. Anyways-”

“Gaz, I need to see you in my office.” A deep british voice interpreted them. Both men whipped their heads around. Soap could feel his face heating up at the mere sight of his boss. As quickly as he turned his head, he lowered it.

Fucking hell I forgot he was here. Dumbass why would he not be here? He’s the fucking owner of the store, and now look at how your acting. He hired a fucking employee not some blushing teenage girl. He still hung his head low, his thoughts broken by Gaz’s voice.

“I’m training the FNG right now sir.” Soap widens his eyes at his response. How big are these dudes balls to talk to the boss like that? There’s no way his boss isn’t about to take his fucking head off.

“Office now.” The bearded man left after that. Soap could have Gaz mumble under his breath, he could barely make out the words “horny bastard”.

“Excuse me, just stay next to Roach.” Gaz unclipped his walkie talkie from his slightly baggy pants.

“Golem, tell Alex to come over to the cash register in the flower department.” With that Gaz left without any more words. Soap finally lifted his head, looking over towards Roach. Actually looking at his face, you could see his bloodshot and watery eyes. His face the most relax thing Soap has ever seen.

Is this dude fucking high right now? How did he even check that person out? Soap waved his hand in front of his face. Roach had no reaction, he wasn’t even blinking.

“Hey.” Why did Soap think that would work?

“Hey!” He persisted.

“Don’t fucking yell at him!” A force deep voice snapped. Soap Jumped, immediately turning around to face the voice. He was met with a short man, wearing a skull mask. He also had dark sunglasses covering his eyes.

“He just high off his balls right now, now leave him alone.” The new short man continued to snap.

“Why the fuck is he high while working in the first place? And where did you come from?” If Soap was to be honest, he was scared of this little man.

“Because he can, and I just so happened to walk into you yelling at my friend.” His sunglasses- covered eyes found Soap’s tag.

“Oh you're the FNG. A little tip for you then, don’t fucking yell at Roach or me.” Soap could feel his intense glare burning a hole right through him. Even walking away into the back, the man held his glare. Soap felt like he would never escape his glare.

What the fuck is wrong with that dude? Why is he wearing a skull mask? And why am I feeling so intimidated by him? Come on Soap, he’s basically a fucking twink. You could take him easily any day. Once again his first day is going down the shit drain. His ears were filled with heavy footsteps and dragged boots. He broke away from his thoughts being met with a much taller man this time.

“Are you gonna yell at me too?” He questioned the stranger.

“You met Ghost didn’t you?” An American voice questioned back.

“That’s his fucking name?” Soap knew he must look so dumbfounded

“Well his real name is Simon, but he persists that everyone calls him Ghost. Anyway, don't mind him, he’s just short-tempered.” Both of the men snickered at that. Ghost was short-tempered indeed.

“Ahem, You're the FNG right?” There goes Soap’s one second good mood.

“Yeah.” Just when soap thought he would like this guy.

“What’s with the sour look? If it’s the nickname, don’t get caught up about it. We were all the FNG once.” This man tried to reassure, but Soap still wore the sour look.

“Um, do you know why Gaz asked for me, I don’t see him over here.” Great now Soap made this man radiate awkwardness.

“Price called him to the back while he was training me.” The American giggled and shook his head.

“You’ll be stuck with me for a bit then. What do you know so far?” Soap was thankful that the overwhelming awkwardness was starting to leave the man. He would have beaten himself up if he made this dude hate him.

Soap gave him a recap of what Roach had visually teached him.

“Perfect, the next customer that comes over is yours then.” Somehow every person in the mall has perfect timing, because an old lady with packets of flower seeds slowly came up.

----

What a fucking first day. I would have never guessed a plant store, would be so fucking exhausting. No scratch that, I never have guessed assholes run plant stores. Soap clocked out, ready to finally go home. However, he was stopped by none other than Price.

“Before you leave, I need you to get a cake for me.” His gruff voice broke the silence, his blue eyes piercing Soap's own blue eyes.

Why did I need to get a cake right before I leave? Can’t he just get it? He desperately needed to lay on his bed, filled with the stray cats he brought in.

“Okay.” Soap reluctantly agreed.

“It’s from the bakery across from us, and it's under the name Price. I already paid for it.” With that, Price took his leave. Soap stood questioning that if Price hadn’t paid already, would he have made Soap pay for it?

----

Soap was face to face with bright, blue, neon lights. The word “Spetsnaz” being written out. He pushed the glass door open, a bell following his movements. He thought the fluorescent lights in the shop were bright, but this place is proving him wrong. The color white over took his eyes with the help of some blue. Little white, metal chairs were paired with the same styled tables.

There was a skinny man at the front counter, playing on his phone. A broad man wearing a completely black mask stood behind him, chatting with a man who was small in every way and a net hanging over his face.

“Ahem, I’m here for a cake. It’s under the name Price.” Soap nervously said, the two masked men immediately stopped talking and looked up. Their cold eyes staring Soap down. He wasn’t going to move an inch from his spot at the door.

“Oh, you must be the FNG!” The man working the front excitedly stated.

Does everyone in the fucking mall know that term? Soap’s nervousness was instantly placed back with the irritation he’s worn all day.

“Let me go get that for you.” The skinny man left, his big head the last thing Soap saw of him. Great, now he was left with the scariest man he has ever seen. He held his head down, too afraid to even accidentally make eye contact.

“How was your first day? They tear you up already? You look like the type to plead and beg for mercy at the littlest amount of pain.” A thick austria accent said, but he couldn’t tell which man it came from. Whoever it was, made a sharp shiver run down Soap’s spine.

“You're not going to answer him? Trying to play the rule of the strong, silent type?” This time a heavy, raspy russian accent was directed at him. Soap has never wanted to leave a place so fucking fast. He felt like he had to reply now, who knows what would happen if he didn’t.

Before he could get any words out of his mouth, the skinny man had returned.

“Don’t mind these two, they’re all bark and no bite. Well, except for Krueger.” He could probably sense Soap’s fear. Hell anyone could have honestly.

“Excuse me? When have I ever been “all bark and no bite”, Rodion?” The broad, russian man spoke. At least Soap knows whose voice is whose now.

“To me.” The Rodion guy did a little pose and blinked his eyelashes in response.

“I hit you at least once a day.” The bigger man deadpanned.

“But I know it's out of love and not hate.”

“Yet you still cry about it.” You could feel the smirk on his face.

“Nikto!” Rodion cried, going to kick him but missing completely. The two masked men laughed at him.

How can that tiny guy be so fearless around these two. Now I’m fucking scared of him too. This mall has some seriously fucked up people. Soap quickly walked up to the counter.

“Can I have the cake now?” Soap finally dared to utter words.

“Oh yes, I’m so sorry.” Rodion put the cake down and turned back the mask men. Soap has never grabbed a cake so fast in his life. The sounds of the three dudes followed him until the door.

----

“Price, I have the cake. I’m sorry if I took too long.” Soap was beyond glad to be back in the back rooms. The color gray was never so soothing.

“I’m in here.” Price's voice came from the breakroom.

Upon entering, Soap was attacked by playful colors of tiny confetti. If he didn’t have a tight grip on the cake, he would have for sure dropped it.

“Happy first day, Fucking New Guy.” Soap’s eye twitched at that. The break room was filled with, what Soap could assume, every employee in the store.

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Criticize is very much welcome :)

[fangirlovestuff]

A Very Colin Christmas - Colin Shea x reader

Ch. 2 - The Proposal

a/n - hey lovely people!! here goes chapter 2, and this is where things really start to get interesting... enjoy;)

read ch.1

Summary: You help Colin with some Christmas decorations, but it turns out he does have one more thing to ask you...

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: curse words, innuendos

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

After Colin left to try and get a tree, you went back to your apartment to tidy up a little and write cards to give out. You wrote all the big ones first, for your family and close friends, and then wrote the ones for coworkers and other people for whom a simple "Merry Christmas" would suffice. It was a little extra to write cards for all the presents you gave out, but it wasn't too much of a bother.

You were just putting the cards in place when you heard a knock on your door. "Just a second!" you yelled out and finished with the cards.

You opened the door to reveal Colin, smiling. "Let's go," you said, locking the door behind you and going with him to his apartment across the hall.

When you entered you were greeted by the sight of a little tree in the living room, but more importantly with the delicious smell of takeout. You were painfully reminded you hadn't had dinner yet when your mouth watered at the smell.

"I got some takeout on my way as well," said Colin and made his way to the kitchen. "You want some?" he yelled.

"Yeah, I'd love some," you said, grateful. You started to look at the pile of decorations on the couch, wondering where it would be best to put each one.

Colin came back with two very delicious smelling plates, one of them you accepted before sitting down on the couch beside him. You ate and chatted a bit. He asked you a little about your job and you ranted about your shitty boss for a bit.

"Well, lucky for me I'm the boss of me. And I gotta say, I'm a pretty great one," Colin replied, smirking.

"Oh yeah, how's that going for you?" you asked. A week ago, you had seen him in the park with some kid and he tried to hide from you. "The babysitting business must be thriving with you in it," you grinned.

"Ha ha," he replied dryly. "For your information, that was my nephew, and I definitely did not get paid for that," he grimaced slightly. "But my actual work, which is music, is going great, thanks for asking."

"I'm glad," you chuckled.

When you finished your dinner, it was time for decorating. At first you were hesitant, asking Colin if the place was okay for every single ornament you hung, but you quickly realized he didn't really care, and started getting more and more confident. Eventually, you were telling Colin where he should put the stuff he was hanging.

At some point Colin started to put on some music from his phone, blasting a cheesy Christmas playlist. You started mindlessly humming along, and so did Colin. Gradually, you both started swaying to the beat, until eventually you were both just dancing around, singing at the top of your lungs. You grabbed a candy cane and started using it as a mic, offering it to Colin every other line, and he gladly sang into it, laughter dancing in his eyes.

When the song ended you both collapsed on the couch, side by side, each breathless to some extent. You looked at him and started laughing, and soon he joined you, your laughter booming through the apartment. Another song was playing now, but he lowered the volume so you could speak comfortably.

"Wow, you really are musically talented," you said once your laughter had died down, "I'm impressed."

"Thank you, thank you!" he got up and bowed with a flourish, waving at an invisible crowd. "You're not too bad yourself," he said once he sat back down.

"Thank you!" you said, your hand on your heart, feigning deep gratitude. "It means so much when an expert like you says that," you rolled your eyes.

"You sound like my mom," he raised his eyebrow and reached for his beer on the table, taking a large gulp.

"I can't tell if that's good or bad," you chuckled.

"Definitely bad. She's still waiting for me to give it up, and so is my entire family. They seem to forget I've been doing this for years now. My mom is very adamant that it's a phase. She is, of course, forgetting my expertise, as you framed so nicely," he said with a bitter smile.

"Sounds like a lovely lady," you smiled.

"Yeah. I love them but loving them from afar is easier. Soon they're gonna be here, so don't be surprised if you hear some shouting," he smiled.

"Why would you shout? It's the holidays!"

"Exactly. It's gonna be all 'Colin, why don't you have a job?' and 'Colin, when are you gonna settle down with a nice girl?' like I'm a fucking baby," he took another swig of his beer. "And because I do have a job, and I tell them that, that's when the shouting begins," he said with a shrug.

"What about the nice girl?" you smirked, and Colin just looked at you with a puzzled expression. "I mean, you just told me your answer for the first question, but why don't you settle down with a nice girl?" you raised your eyebrow at him.

"Well, it's simple," he leaned closer, putting his hand on the couch beside you, "I like 'em naughty," he murmured and smirked.

"Okay," you rolled your eyes and pushed him away playfully. "I hope that's not what you're gonna tell your mom."

"No," he sighed in defeat, "but it's sure as hell what I'm gonna tell Andy," he smirked, "that jerk doesn't know what fun is. He was like that even before he got married. Pity," he shrugged.

"Andy?"

"My perfect big brother. Perfect idiot if you ask me."

"You don't actually hate him that much," you said, convinced you were right.

"Not really," he admitted. "But he's a lawyer with a wife and a kid. You can do the math as to what expectations that sets for me."

"So you're jealous of him."

"God no, I wouldn't be a lawyer if you paid me in gold," Colin chuckled. "It looks so fucking boring."

"But you're jealous that he's getting your parents' approval," you remarked.

He stayed silent for a moment. "Maybe," he shrugged. "Whatever. It's not like that's going to change anytime soon."

"What, like you want it to? Colin, you've come to hide out in my apartment three times in the last week. I know enough to say you're not really looking for a girlfriend," you chuckled.

"I know, I know," he said, "but I kinda wish I'd have like, a girlfriend for the weekend, you know? Like a fake girlfriend to prove my family wrong, and then I'd go back to normal," he shrugged.

"Why not post an ad? People will do anything for money."

"I'm not buying a girlfriend!" he scrunched up his nose, "even I don't stoop that low. That's really fucking pathetic."

"Okay then," you chuckled, "how about ask one of your hookups?"

"Something tells me they wouldn't be up for it," he grimaced, taking another sip from his beer.

"Really? What about Stella from a couple of days ago? Two days isn't that long to ghost a girl," you shrugged.

"Oh, is that what I said her name was?" he furrowed his brows.

"Okay, I see your point," you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I do have an idea… but you have to promise not to hit me if I tell you," he grinned. You contemplated it with a smile before motioning for him to go ahead. "Maybe… you could pretend to be my girlfriend for the weekend?"

You reached out to swat him but he dodged your blow quickly, "You said you wouldn't hit me!" he pouted.

"That's before I knew you were going to say something stupid! Besides, I didn't actually say anything," you objected, but crossed your hands on your chest nonetheless.

"C'mon, it'll be fun!" he smiled hesitantly. "What are your plans anyway?"

"Sit in my apartment and watch Christmas movies," you grumbled. "My family usually meets after Christmas, because 'roads are always jammed on the holidays', so I stay in."

"See? Your family's weird, so you can help me get my annoying one off my back!"

"Hey! Only I can call my family weird," you bumped your elbow into his side. "But I guess I don't have anything that much better to do," you said after a few seconds.

"Yes!" he pumped his fist in celebration, "I promise you won't regret it, baby," he leaned in and you rolled your eyes and pushed him away.

"Okay, Casanova," you chuckled, "but I do have some ground rules. First of all, PDA to a minimum, okay? No kisses," you raised your eyebrows at him and he pouted in response.

"Cheek kisses?" he asked.

"Maybe," you sighed. "Rule number two – no funny business," you gestured vaguely.

"What does that mean?" he chuckled.

"I don't know," you said, "just… be normal?"

"I thought the entire point of this was that I didn't seem like my normal self," he scratched his chin as if in deep thought.

"Well, I meant be a normal person in normal people standards."

"You got it," he grinned.

When you got back to your apartment, he escorted you to your door.

"See you, Colin. Goodnight," you smiled.

"Goodnight. And… thank you," he smiled back, "for saving my ass. Today and hopefully over the weekend."

"Don't thank me yet," you smirked, prompting him to chuckle. "Bye," you said as you closed your door behind you.

So… looks like you're going to have a very interesting weekend.

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

tell me your thoughts!! honestly i have mixed feelings about some of the dialogue in this one, because i really like it but at the same time idk... anyways i hope that you enjoyed and have a wonderful rest of your day<3

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12

A Very Colin Christmas Taglist: @janaygrant

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

[miyaniacs]

Distance

a/n: hey there, felt like writing a lil angst again, it’s not too bad though :) again, tell me if you want a second part and if you want to get tagged (comment or sent an ask) ALSO not  Tumblr deleting my post right after posting so here you go again.

masterlist

characters: Oikawa Tooru x fem!reader  (but I try to keep it as gn as possible and avoid using female pronouns/ characteristics)

format: angst oneshot

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating

It’s so hard to look at your phone right now.

On screen you see the beautiful face of your boyfriend. His soft brown hair into his face, his eyes are closed, his mouth slightly open. He is shirtless and thanks to the light of his own phone you can make out parts of his toned arms.

But why is it hard to look at such a beautiful few?

Well, the fact that he lives across the world.

You just woke up and he just fall asleep.

Your fingers ghost over your screen, over the picture of his soft skin. How badly you wish to be with him right now, to be in his arms, to caress his cheek, to play with his hair, to feel his lips on yours again.

You mumble a soft “I love you.”, and end the call.

You missed him so badly, your heat arches every time you see him on your screen.

Forcing yourself out of the bed, you get dressed, putting on the beautiful necklace Oikawa gifted you on your first year anniversary and put your hair in a bun. Putting your laptop and Keyes you leave your home, heading to a small cafe, in hopes to finally start your essay.

Three pages later, someone sits down in front of you.

Looking up, you see Luca  one of your classmates.

“Hey Y/N.“  He smiles brightly and places a new cup of coffee next to you laptop, “For you, I thought you need it.“ He smiles even more now. With a smile you thank him and take a sip of the coffee.

“Did you already finished the essay?“ You ask with a sigh looking at your document.

“Finished it last night.“ He laughs and adds: “Do you need some help?“ Thankfully you accept his offer.

A few coffees later, you finally click “Sent“ on your email browser and close the laptop.

“Thank you so much!“ You look up at him, your head resting on your closed laptop.

You never really looked at him. His skin is tanned, dark brown hair, which he is right now pushing backwards. His eyes are a beautiful golden color, dark long lashes, making them even more prominent. From the perspective you got, you can clearly see the muscles flex under his shirt, as he pushes his hair back, his prominent jawline perfectly displayed as he slightly tilts his head to the side. His full lips turn into a smile as he waves his hand in front of your face.

“Hey? Y/n? I was asking something.“ He laughs and you snap out of your thoughts. “Sorry..“ You mumble embarrassed.

“It’s fine, I was just asking if you want to grab something for dinner?“ He repeats and lightly scratches his neck.

“Yes sure!“ You smile and start packing your stuff. On your way out, your phone vibrates.

Looking at it, you smile seeing it was a video call from your boyfriend. Quick you throw your back over your shoulder and tell Luca that you have to get this call real quick.

“Hey sleeping beautyyy.“ You tease as soon as you see Oikawas face.

“Hey, I need to keep up with your beauty.“ He winks and you blush. Luca walking next to you chuckles. “Oh, are you busy love?“ Oikawa asks.

“No, I just finished my essay thanks to Luca, and we’re about to get something to eat now.“ You smile and move your phone, so Oikawa was able to see the male, walking next to you. Frowning his brows, he looks at the phone. “Ahhh, I’m glad you finally finished it.“ He forces a smile, “Love, I’m sorry but I have to hang up now, practice starts earlier today.“ He lies and after saying your goodbyes he immediately puts the phone away.

He really doesn’t want to be jealous, he knew he can trust you, but seeing some random guy, doing what he is supposed to do? Helping you with your essays, taking you out to dinner … he’s supposed to be that person. Opening the calendar app, he checks his schedule.

“Perfect“ he  mumbles and opens google.

4 weeks later

The past weeks, yours and Oikawas Video chats got shorter and shorter, sometimes you even declined his call. You felt bad for it yes, but it was finals week and you spent all nighters all the time, together with Luca. The two of you got along really well and started spending more and more time together, growing pretty close.

He was always nice and helpful, not even complaining when you fell asleep on him while studying.

Today was the day of your last test, putting on one of the random hoodies, laying in your room, you hurry to your University, trying to call Oikawa, hoping to get some encouraging words from him, yet he didn’t pick up. “He probably is already asleep.“ You think and continue walking.

Still sad form not hearing your boyfriends voice that morning, you see Luca standing at the entrance of the University.

“Hey -  wait Y/n? What’s wrong? You just have to pass this test, we don’t get any grades, don’t ne too nervous.“ He says trying to cheer you up.

“No… I’m not nervous, I’m just sad, my boyfriend didn’t pick up today.“ You sigh. Putting an arm around your shoulders, he responds: “Well, it’s his loss, not seeing your beautiful face before he sleeps.“  It was normal for him to say things like that. He knew you had a boyfriend and you just assumed, he’s just naturally flirty, just like you and well… Oikawa.

“I just try calling him later that day..“ You sigh and together you two enter your classroom, ready to end this hell of a week.

A few hours later

“FREEDOM!“ You laugh at Luca, while you two walk down the hallways of your University.

“Ayyy, there’s your beautiful smile again.“ He teases and pokes your nose. „I just miss him, that’s all.“ You sigh. Luca remains silent and continues walking. Just as you two walk out of the building, Luca a few steps ahead, he stops  and spins around, standing right in front of you, grabbing your hands. You look up into his golden eyes, which seem to be glowing in the sunlight, but it wasn’t only the sunlight, there was a certain passion lighting them up.

“Luca? What are you doing?“ You ask confused.

“Y/n… I’m so sick to always see you sad. Shouldn’t he make more time for you? And pick up your calls? And come to visit you? Y/n… be honest with yourself, you aren’t made for a long distance relationship. You need physical contact, you need someone to hold you, to make you feel save, to make you feel wanted.“ He says and looks directly into your eyes.

You being to shiver under is gaze and feel tears well up.

Was it because what he said directly hit that weal point of yours? Triggering all the emotions you tried to ignore? Or was it the stress from the past weeks? It doesn’t matter now, you have to admit that he was right. The past months you always put on a mask. A mask to cover up the sadness that started spreading in your soul.

You loved Oikawa to death, yet there was this small dark part inside of your head asking if all of this was worth it. Was it worth staying up all those nights, just to talk to him and then fall asleep in class during the day? Sure he always said that you shouldn’t neglect your education for him, but you had to. You had to hear his voice, to see his face, to hear him say that he loves you. Especially when all you see over social media, was girls, even models, hitting on him, telling he’s their crush in interviews, seeing all those ships with him and certain models. Well especially one certain model. She was on the cover of the magazine of some famous brand and yes you stopped shopping there because you couldn’t see her face anymore. You knew you can trust him. It was him, bringing up this topic, telling you about his fears that at one point all those lies on the internet would get into your head. You promised it wouldn’t, yet here you are. In all honesty, you just needed to feel his touch again. It was easier to shut off those thoughts when they were occupied by his soft fingers caressing you. Deep down you knew Luca was right, you knew that this long distance relationship was fucking up your metal state, but it’s only until you finished University, you planned to move to Argentina so you’d be together again, or well he comes back to Japan.

Even from across the world, he was so loving and sweet. Waking up to a good morning text or his video call was a given at this point. Receiving random presents from him that suddenly appeared in your mail, receiving a bouquet of flowers, whenever he felt that you needed something to cheer you up. Sending you hand written love letters, that always made you tear up and which you kept in a box under your bed. He really did everything he could, being a perfect boyfriend. Your perfect boyfriend.

“Y/n… you can’t lie to me, I saw how you craved my touch.“ He underlines his words by softly running his fingers over your cheek, cupping your face, moving his tumb up and down, wiping away the small tears running down your face.

You feel exposed. You did enjoy the physical affection he gave you. His arm around you, leaning into his strong broad chest, having his fingers comb through your hair, his hugs, falling asleep and waking up in his arms… you really craved that. But you never craved that from him, you always wished it was Tooru, or did you?

You aren’t sure anymore. A few days ago, you had a dream, you were on a date with your boyfriend, Oikawa, but then he shifted into Luca and you can still feel your heart getting warmer when it shifted to him.

“Y/n… let me hep you erase the pain…“ he whispers and moves closer and closer to you until his lips touch yours.

It was a strange feeling.

His lips are smooth and soft, moving perfectly against yours.

He is gentle and careful, yet you can feel all the passion, he’s holding back at the moment, just waiting for you to fully accept the kiss.

The dark sadness inside of you begs to kiss back, to feel loved again, to feel wanted and desired.

But then there’s this sting inside your hear.

And the more seconds pass, the worse it gets.

This is wrong, you don’t want this.

You don’t want him.

You push Luca way and open your eyes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a male with soft brown hair, walking away from the University.  

“Luca stop! You know that I love Oikawa! Stop taking advantage of me being vulnerable, I thought we’re friends…“ you scream whisper, tears full of ager and regret run down your cheeks now.

“But does he still love you?“ He asks smugly.

Looking at him, you you shake your head, why should he say that, there is no way Tooru would not love you anymore.

Puffing up your chest, you push him away again and start walking back home.

That night you tried calling Oikawa again, but he didn’t pick up.

Neither did he answer to any of your messages.

He still loves you.

He does.

Right?

tags: @writingfreakk​​ @volley-simp​​ ( I know you like him too soooo enjoy the tag lol) @saucysamu​​  @shoyosun​​ ( just because you knew of me writing this lol) @kenmasgameboy​​ ( so you can read some soft angst while being sober lol)

[elsewhereuniversity]

Mellow was reading a murder mystery when the knights crashed through the door to her tower. She closed the book and listened to the voices on the stairwell, smiling when she heard the tone: giddy, drunk on relief, the kind of dazed wonder that only comes after the adrenaline stops. She recognized one- Magpie, if she wasn’t mistaken. 

Her suspicion was confirmed when the pair stumbled through her door, soaked to the skin, dripping what she sincerely hoped was water onto the floor. Magpie was all in plate armor, except her torso was bare, which seemed to defeat the purpose somewhat. The other girl, unfamiliar, was dressed in what appeared to be a bathrobe, and was looking around with undisguised suspicion. Mellow smiled, did her level best to appear nonthreatening.

“Magpie, you’re back,” she said lightly. “I’d say it’s good to see you again, but if you’ve found me, that only means one thing.”

Magpie’s smile turned crooked, a familiar mixture of bashfulness and pride on her face (like a hundred other knights before).

Mellow didn’t entirely understand how it worked. She wasn’t sure if it was a curse or a gift. She didn’t even really remember what she was before she became… well, whatever it was that she was now. She distantly remembered climbing the tower stairs, but even that was foggy, and before that… well, just fog, and the distant sound of the Unsea.

Mellow didn’t try to remember things very often.

But, for better or for worse, people found their way to her tower. Not just people- knights, those recently returned from their quests. And never whole ones. If she was lucky, she got people like Magpie, who would bear scars with pride. If she was unlucky, she’d be sitting with someone with less fingers than expected, or short an eye. The kinds of wounds that even she couldn’t fix, just take the pain away.

The worst ones were the silent ones, or the crying ones. The ones that told her through words or otherwise that dear ones hadn’t made it back, or that they were not as they were. 

“How did we get here?” asked the newcomer, jolting Mellow back to the present. Her suspicion was fading into curiosity as she looked around, peering out the window. “I swear, I’ve gone past here a hundred times, and this wasn’t here.”

“Beats me, love,” Mellow said, smiling wryly. “From what I understand, it won’t be here unless you’re, ah…" 

"Oh.” The girl looked out the window to the swirling fog, then asked, “Are you a ghost?”

“Lark!” Magpie looked mortified. Mellow just laughed.

“Not on my good days.” She looked at her hand in spite of herself, a little self conscious. She shouldn’t have worried- you could barely see the floor through it. 

“And on bad days?” Lark asked with genuine interest. Magpie looked about to die of embarrassment.

“On bad days, you could read a book through me,” Mellow admitted cheerfully. “But enough about me. What happened?”

The two women shared a look, and having met hundreds of knights over the years, Mellow could read the where to begin without trying.

“Let me put it this way,” she said, pulling two chairs to the floor and gesturing for them to sit. “Where are you hurt?”

Magpie immediately held out her right arm, and Mellow winced. There were a couple of shallow gashes along her arm. Something twinkled in the longest one- glass, she realized.

“What did you do, punch a window?” she asked sardonically. 

“Something like that,” Lark said, and held up her left arm. It was similarly injured- actually. Looking between the two of them, the cuts were exactly the same size, same length- just mirrored. Mellow raised her eyebrows.

“All right,” she said, “I’ll admit I haven’t seen that very often.”

It was only the work of several minutes to retrieve the shards from the girls’ arms. The unsettling thing was that when the matching shards were closer together, they vibrated and then snapped together into one. Mellow did her level best not to think too hard about it, particularly after hearing the story- something about a trap, a thrilling duel between Magpie and some-random-fae-or-another, and a particularly belligerent library book with the solution to escaping. After hearing about the tome’s quest, Mellow supposed she couldn’t blame them for trying a more, uh, direct way out.

“But,” Lark said brightly, “I did find Escher.”

“What?” Mellow asked, confused.

“Escher. He’s been gone for like, two years now. Turns out there was some to-do about his comp sci project, and one thing led to another, so he got thrown in there same as me.” Lark held up her other arm, where the wrist was surrounded by a ring of bruises. “After I was taken prisoner by the frogs, we managed to set the place on fire and escape. He’s fine.”

“The- I’m sorry, where do frogs come in here?” Mellow pulled a bottle from the top shelf, squinted at it, added a few drops to the bowl of water she was carrying, and brought it over to Lark’s chair. 

“It’s kind of a complicated story,” Lark admitted.

“I’ll say,” Magpie said, glaring at Lark. “You didn’t tell me about any frogs.”

“It’s been a weird couple of days,” Lark said defensively. Mellow grinned, wetting a clean cloth and gently dabbing the liquid on the worst scratch, her hands as gentle as she could make them. Despite that, Lark winced.

“I’d say so,” Mellow said, talking to distract, moving onto the second one. “There are frogs in a mirror?”

“I mean, not really the mirror,” Lark said, watching with interest as the first cut slowly healed, leaving a pink line of new scar. “The mirror was the portal, not literally where I was. Admittedly, I was put in a gladiator’s arena to fight my own reflection to the death, but I think that’s just a coincidence. Also, to be clear they weren’t really frogs, they were… frog-like.”

She didn’t elaborate, and after seeing the shadow cross her face Mellow was wise enough not to ask her to. The relief was clearly wearing off, and Lark looked like she wanted nothing more than to dry off and go to bed. She moved on to Magpie, doing her best to make small talk, smiling, keeping her hands gentle. This is what she was good at. 

As the last cut sealed shut, and Mellow tipped the faintly-pink water down the drain, Lark sighed and got to her feet. Mellow couldn’t help but notice she had no reflection in the mirror.

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but unfortunately I’ve missed half my midterms and I need to make them up tomorrow, so I really need to sleep.”

“Skip physics,” Magpie said, but she was yawning as well.

“Out,” Mellow said, handing each of them a small bag. “Freely given,” she clarified. “Just like my aid.”

Lark visibly relaxed, and Mellow kicked herself for not setting her at ease earlier. “What is it?”

“Tea,” Mellow said. “Don’t waste it. It’s my favorite.”

“Are you sure you don’t want it?” Lark asked. Mellow did her best to keep her smile light.

“Don’t drink much tea these days,” she said, and out of habit looked down at her hands. She could distinctly see the floorboards now through them. She closed them into fists, tucked them behind her back- don’t scare her, don’t unnerve her. This is a safe place, healing and kind words and careful hands. 

“We should go,” Magpie said into the awkward pause. “Come on, Lark.”

They were at the door to the room when Lark turned around, narrowing her eyes in that quizzical way that Mellow had learned meant she was about to ask a question that Magpie would cringe at.

“I have one more question,” she said. “The stairs, they end here.”

“Yes,” Mellow agreed.

“But if this is the highest room,” Lark said, cocking her head to the side, “Who keeps the light lit?”

The sharpest ones generally did ask. Mellow thought maybe she had asked someone once, the day she had entered the lighthouse, beckoned by the steady glow of the beacon at the top. She didn’t remember who, or where they had gone. 

“I couldn’t say for sure,” she began. She paused, looking at the two knights who she sincerely hoped she would never see again (for the right reasons, of course.), at her careful, gentle, see-through hands.

“But do you know? I think it’s me.”

-Bean

[kaetiesmindpalace]

I’ll Be There -- A Destination Fear One Shot (Tanner Wiseman/Reader)

~CW: mentions of blood~

          The new season of Destination Fear was starting off with a new face amidst the cast. Seeing as this televised experiment revolves around how fear affects the mind, why not see how it affects someone who has not experienced any of this before? It also helped that you had been intrigued by the premise for a while and that you are dating Tanner, one of the cast members.

           The first location? Bobby Mackey’s Music World in Wilder, Kentucky.

           Pulling up to the location with you, Tanner who had an arm around you, and Chelsea in the front of the RV, it all seemed surreal. The stories involving the place including people being physically attacked made you very terrified for everyone’s safety.

           “I have an idea,” Dakota says after all the equipment is set up.

           Everyone by now knows that what follows those words usually is not a good idea. Well, they were good ideas in the sense that most of the time it was to increase the fear being tested, not so much a good idea for everyone’s liking and wanting to do.

           “We should start off with solos. Tanner, you have the honor of writing everyone’s name down to figure out who’s going first,” Dakota proclaims.

           Just as Tanner is about to start writing everyone’s name down, you spoke up with your own idea, “Why don’t I just do it and go first?”

           Everyone just stops and stares at you for your question, confusion and concern on their faces. Can you blame them? No one had offered to go do the crazy thing before.

           “Don’t give me that look. Does it really seem fair to pick names out of a hat when the only one who hasn’t done a solo is myself? I say let’s level the playing field a bit before having to pick names from a hat,” you say with as much confidence as you can muster.

           Dakota, Chelsea, and Alex nod their head a bit, understanding what you were saying. Tanner, on the other hand, still had concern written across his face as he approached you.

           “Are you sure about this?” he asks.

           “As sure as I can be,” you respond while looking at his handsome face, “I’ll have to do a solo eventually anyways so no point in trying to hide from it.”

           He nods a bit, understanding the implications of it all. You two and the rest of the crew were on this trip to explore fear and knew there is no way to protect one another from the scary things that lurk in these places 100% of the time. Sometimes, you must face these things head on. Was Tanner still nervous about you doing the first solo at your first ever location on the trip? Of course, but you made up your mind and are not often easily swayed to change it, and he knew that.

           As you gathered the equipment to head into Bobby Mackey’s alone, Tanner started to ramble, “Be safe out there. Walkie us if you need help,” before giving you a kiss on the cheek.

           “I may come up with some dumb ideas, but I’m not stupid enough to not call for help when I need it,” you say with a little bit of snark to diffuse the tension just a little bit.

           Luckily, the response did just as you hope it would. Everyone chuckled slightly and you started to head towards the entrance of Bobby Mackey’s with your camera in hand.

           “Alright, so my initial thought is to go big and go into the basement. Dumb idea, I know, but fear is what we are searching for, so fear is what I’m trying to get. The basement is where numerous people have gotten scratched, including Zak Bagans of Ghost Adventures fame, whom we all know Dakota has worked with. What’s scarier than the possibility of this happening?” you ramble on camera.

           As you enter the basement, you immediately get an eerie feeling. Something is not right, but you must keep chugging through with this; it’s your job now. Finding a place to sit on the floor, you decide to start the normal investigative procedures.

           “I’m right by the well in the basement and I’m going to do an EVP session with this digital recorder to see if I get any response,” you say as you hit the record button. “What is your name? How did you die? Why do you stay here?” you ask while giving some space in between questions to let the spirits answer.

           You continued to question for about ten minutes before stopping and playing back the recording. It seemed like nothing wanted to interact with you; you weren’t getting responses to your questions. That is, until you listened to your final question of “Is it true that there is something demonic here?”

        A loud, deep growl came through that you did not hear in real time. Your mouth formed an O just hearing it. With whatever in the basement besides yourself hearing this out loud, the growl seemed to shift the energy in the room. While the initial feeling when you entered was eerie, now it feels unsafe and that someone or something is right behind you.

       And maybe something was because suddenly you felt a burning sensation take over your back. You had seen enough paranormal shows in your life and heard many stories involving encounters to know that a burning sensation tends to mean that you got scratched.

       “So, I’m pretty certain that I got scratched across my back. I felt that burning sensation often described when scratches like these occur, but I can’t see my back. I’m going to have to call for some help to see how bad it is. I know I don’t look as scared as I probably should be; I think I am mostly internalizing it to try and process what is happening before I have a huge freak out,” you say into the camera as you take out your walkie.

        “Hey guys,” you say into your walkie.

       Tanner, Chelsea, Dakota, and Alex were all just chatting like normal friends do waiting for you to come back or walkie them. Even with the thought that you could walkie them, you unknowingly walkie scared them causing everyone to jump at the sound of your voice.

       “Guys,” you say as your voice cracks at the end, betraying your true feelings you were trying to internalize into nonexistence.

        Tanner was already up and booking it with his camera towards Bobby Mackey’s before you even explained the entire situation. Chelsea decides to grab the walkie and respond while everyone was grabbing equipment to try and catch up to Tanner.

        “Go from Chelsea” she states in as clear of a tone as one can while trying to respond and grab their camera at the same time.

        “So, I’m certain something scratched my back here in the basement, but I can’t see it for myself. Can someone come and check it for me? I want to know how bad it is” you say trying to reign in your fear.

         “Tanner took off before you said where you were, so he should be there sooner than us if one of the guys decide to yell to him where you are in the building,” Chelsea states just as Dakota yells towards the general direction of the entrance “Go to the basement Tanner!” before they all take off to get to you.

         Tanner was indeed the first of the group to find you, having had the head start, long legs, and hearing the location you were in being screamed to him from far behind. Since you were still sitting on the floor, probably too scared to move from the incident but it had only felt like a second had passed since it happened, he knelt down next to you and put his camera down on the ground. With both hands free, he grabs your face and kisses your forehead before staring deeply into your eyes.

      “Are you alright?” he asks with concern in his voice.

      “I’m a bit shaken up currently. Something scratched my back; it was just this burning sensation all over. Can you check it for me and take a picture of it? I want to see how bad it is,” you mention to him.

       He grabs his flashlight and phone as you start to push up the back of your shirt for him to look at the damage done. Once the flashlight is on, he helps lift the back of your shirt more to get a better look.

      “Oh babe,” he says while taking a picture, “this definitely isn’t good.”

       He hands his phone over to you to see the picture of your back. What you saw were three large scratches marring your back that at some points were bleeding just a bit. You gasp at the sight, having not had thought it would be this bad. You had seen the Ghost Adventures episode where Zak got scratched, but his weren’t bleeding. Why were yours?

       At that precise moment was when the rest of the crew arrived. With one quick glance at your back, they knew they were in for a tough night. Luckily, someone had packed a small first aid kit in the backpack, so your scratches were cleaned up with antibiotic ointment and some bandages were put on the areas that were bleeding. With you now standing with everyone, Dakota nixes the idea of more solos and the group continues to investigate the rest of Bobby Mackey’s.

      After a few more EVPs, some words on the Ovilus, and Alex seeing a shadow figure, it was time to figure out sleeping arrangements. Tanner took the lead of writing out the locations on a slip of paper, but you noticed something odd.

      “Shouldn’t there be 5 slips of paper with different sleeping arrangements instead of 4?” you ask.

      Tanner looks up from writing to say, “After what happened to you alone in the basement, just for this night, I’m not letting you be by yourself again. So, I’m making the decision that you’ll stay with me for the night. I know, it’s such a burden that you’re stuck with me,” adding a dramatic flair to the last sentence before continuing to write.  

      You chuckled at his dramatics. It was something you loved that he did seeing as you pull the same antics at times. You couldn’t really complain; you understand where he was coming from and you also did not want to be alone again in this location. Dakota didn’t try to argue the reasoning either.

      The four locations were the well, the room of faces, the attic, and the men’s restroom. Chelsea picked first and ironically got the men’s restroom. Following Chelsea was Dakota; he ended up getting the well which was where you had gotten scratched earlier in the night and he was not happy about it. At least you didn’t have to go back to that area again, but there was still one location in the basement left. Tanner went next and he picked the attic for the two of you. You gave a huge sigh of relief at this since you didn’t have to return to the basement at all now. This left the room of faces to Alex, who also was not looking forward to being in the basement.

      Setting everything up for sleeping arrangements from equipment to where the crew would actually sleep seemed to breeze by. Instead of cots, the two of you had sleeping bags which so happened to fully unzip to create a pad for the two of you to sleep on and for the other to act like a blanket. Knowing that Tanner was right by your side ready to comfort you really helped with still being at this location. As you laid together, he slipped his arms around you and pulled you into him.

      “I’m so proud of you for sticking through this. You’re so strong. Had this happened to me on my first investigation, I would have skedaddled out of here,” he whispers in your ear before kissing your cheek.

      “Well, I knew I had amazing back up ready to help whenever I needed it,” you whisper back while having the biggest smile on your face.

      “And I’ll be there whenever and wherever you need help,” he states so sincerely.

      No matter the situation, Tanner could find a way to make you smile. It may take longer than he would like, but he was always able to do it, and that was one of the many reasons why you loved him.

      The two of you managed to get some sleep, whether it was due to no activity, the comfort of being with one another, or both. Dakota, Chelsea, and Alex all came up to wake you guys up once 6 am hit and soon enough everyone was packing up equipment to put back into the RV. Once the investigative equipment was all put away, all 5 of you split up to give your final thoughts on the location.

      Finding a nice place near a tree, you sat down and started recording your piece.

      “What a crazy first investigation. I don’t think anyone expected the extent of what happened to occur, never mind to the person just entering the crew. Am I still a bit shaken up? Of course, but I’m not letting this stop me. I can only grow stronger and persevere through this. I want to prove that I can handle it. And now, off to another crazy location,” you say, growing more determined with each word.

      Once you finished recording, you stood up and returned to the RV. After a couple of minutes, everyone was back. With Tanner next to you with his arm around your shoulder, Dakota and Chelsea across from you, and Alex on the couch across the walkway from the table the four of you sat at, the RV took off to the next location.

[loosescrewslefty]

Miraculous Ladybug- Fixing the Powers

I’ve been very much bothered by the way that the writing team for Miraculous Ladybug has been handling powers for a long time now. It might not be as frustrating or offensive as how they sometimes treat the characters and their relationships, but it BOTHERS me. Because it doesn’t make sense that Adults are more powerful than kids just by the grace of being an adult if the magic comes from a kwami and the jewelry and as such the age of the wearer shouldn’t matter as much. And objectively speaking, there as several ‘minor’ miraculouses that seem WAY more powerful than the two that are supposed to be the most coveted, the Ladybug and Chat Noir miraculouses. Also both the addition of the potions AND the distinctions given to some of the miraculouses/kwamis (Such as Pollen being the ‘Kwami of Subjugation’) are just... ODD. So a while back I sat down and charted out a way to ‘fix’ the powers in Miraculous Ladybug, much like I’ve seen others fix plots and characters.

More Clearly based on Yin/Yang, Wu Xing, and the Zodiacs

I can’t tell you how much it annoys me that Astruc clearly chose these Chinese motifs for the aesthetic, and didn’t bother researching or properly applying any of the theology attached to them to his show. Ladybug and Chat Noir SHOULD be equal, and balance one another out, but they’re not. Instead, Ladybug gets way more power and importance than Chat Noir does. And the Wu Xing Cycle is an important one too, because that’s nature holding itself in check. 

The Wu Xing has four different cycles attached to it; the Creation Cycle, the Destruction Cycle, the Insult Cycle, and the Controlling Cycle. It could have been interesting to lean into this, so that pairing two miraculous heroes together can lead to new powers being unlocked, depending on the two in question, and that if a  Hawkmoth happens, there are two heroes other than Ladybug and Chat who’d be able to step up and confront him.

New Stations/Distinctions for the Kwamis

It bothers me that the distinctions chosen for the Kwami feel extremely random, and don’t fit together at all. Nooroo is “Generosity”, Trixx is “Deception”, Pollen is “Subjugation”, Wayzz is “Protection”, and Duusuu is “Emotion.” Like, on their own these are fine. But none of them really relate to one another in a way that makes sense, which the Wu Xing SHOULD. As much as it annoys me, I can sorta understand why it would be a bad idea to attach the specific elements themselves to each Miraculous, because then people will expect the powers of that miraculous to relate to that element, which is very limiting. The Wu Xing is about much more than just nature and the elements. It’s also used to reference the passing of time, physical parts of the body, emotions, cardinal directions and so much more. 

But I still feel that the Distinctions for each Kwami and their powers should be presented in a what where it makes sense to see them relating to one another. One way I’ve suggested for people to do this is to include Ladybug and Chat in the consideration and base each of the Kwamis off of one of the Seven Chakras. But another way I like much better is to consider the kwamis in relation to what area their abilities will affect. For Example; Fox- Mind (Wood) Bee- Energy (Fire) Turtle- Body (Earth) Peacock- Soul (Metal) Butterfly- Heart (Water)

These are things you can tell at a glance relate to one another, without limiting the kwamis too much to being one trick ponies. And speaking of limits...

Limits are based on internal balance, not age

In an effort to make the sage figure that is supposed to be Fu NOT look like he has sand for brains and decided it’d be a good idea to give his chosen heroes a massive handicap against the villain right out of the gate, we’re going to change up the limiter for the Miraculouses. Rather than being based on age, the thing that determines how well you use a miraculous is your affiliation with the element/distinction that the Miraculous represents. Let’s use Kim as an example here. He’s very energetic and driven, so he’d have a great time with either the Bee or the Turtle, but give him the Peacock, the Butterfly, or the Fox, and things will get a hell of a lot harder for him. On the exact flip side, Juleka would be great with the Peacock, Butterfly, or Fox, but would struggle with the Bee or the Turtle.

Having the powers draw off of being able to synchronize with that power/ability due to personality makes sense, and is more true to the concepts that Miraculous Ladybug is trying to present than claiming that it’s because of age. And the beauty of this is that people can grow and change at any point in their life, which means that they can learn and change and miraculouses that they once struggled with can become easier for them to use while ones they once used easily can slip from their grasp if they begin to neglect that aspect of themselves.

More Clear and Understandable Power Pyramid

This is one of the things that bothers me MOST about how they’ve been handling the powers. We’re supposed to see Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculouses as the be all/end all, but many of the zodiac miraculouses seem much more powerful than them, and even the Peacock and Butterfly can create opponents that are more than a match for the Lucky Duo. Not to mention the fact that, as I said before, the Lucky Duo itself is imbalanced due to Ladybug getting all the power in their relationship. So the best way to fix that?

Power Pyramid.

By this, I mean that instead of all miraculouses just getting one power and calling it a day, it makes more sense to present the powers as an almost ‘trickle’ effect. To start off, Zodiacs get defined by a single element and whichever side of Yin/Yang they fall on, and get their power based on that. For example, the Dragon. That is a Yang/Earth (Body) Personality, who uses the elements in an aggressive way. Meanwhile, Snake is a Yin/Fire (Energy), so they require someone who comes across as passive, but is actually patient and knows to wait for the precise moment to strike.

Next level up from the Zodiac Miraculouses, we have the Wu Xing/Elemental Miraculouses. Rather than just one power, each Wu Xing Miraculous should get two, one based on it’s “Yin” Abilities, and one for it’s “Yang.” the way I broke it down when I was working this out for examples went like so;

Trixx

Fox Powers/Mind

Yang- Mirage 

Creates an illusion of the user’s choosing.

Yin- Outfox

Gives the user the ability to convince the victim that anything they’re saying is true.

Pollen

Bee Powers/Energy

Yang- Nectar

Ability to heal injuries and cure illnesses (not as strong as Miraculous Cure)

Yin- Sting

Causes temporary paralysis

Wayzz

Turtle Powers/Body

Yang- Shell-ture

Creates an impenetrable shield

Yin- Withdraw

Teleportation ability that allows the user to put people and object of their desire in a pocket dimension of their own making for protection.

Duusu

Peacock Powers/Soul

Yang- Good Spirits

Creates a golem/familiar of sorts that is bonded to a certain person or object and protects them at all costs.

Yin- Soul Search

Allows the user to leave their body and enter another persons to take control of their actions and peer into their memories.

Nooroo

Butterfly Powers/Heart

Yang- Metamorphosis

Creates heroes to fight alongside the user

Yin- Butterfly Effect

Allows a brief glimpse into the future

And then after the Elements, at the top of the Pyramid we have Ladybug and Chat Noir, who get a whopping FIVE power each, but can only access those powers when they are in tune with that aspect of themselves, much like using the lesser miraculouses. For Example, Marinette’s Ladybug Can easily do the Mind, Energy, and Heart powers, but has a much, MUCH harder time with the Soul one, because she tends to read people at face value rather than trying to see beneath the surface. Adrien’s Chat Noir is excellent with the Body and Energy powers, but struggles much more with Mind (linked to one’s creativity) and Heart (Based on people’s abilities to connect with others, something Adrien struggles with after being home schooled his entire life) My idea for the Ladybug and Chat Noir powers look like this;

Tikki

Ladybug Powers:

Positive Heart- (Healing) 

Miraculous Ladybug/Miraculous Cure

Heals all wounds, restores everything to its proper state

Positive Mind- (Inspiration) 

Lucky Charm

Grants Ladybug an object to help her win

Positive Energy- (Creating) 

Wish Come True

Allows Ladybug to will into existence something of her own choosing

Positive Body- (Protecting) 

Elytron

Allows Ladybug to recreate both her own suit and the suits of her allies to help them fight (space suits, ice skating form, underwater suits, ect)

Positive Soul- (Life) 

Red Thread

Ladybug has a limited ability to communicate with plants and animals, extending some of her power to them. Also works on humans, if the person trusts Ladybug enough to basically let her see into their very soul.

Plagg

Chat Noir Powers:

Negative Heart- (Toxicity) 

Cat Scratch

Curses the victim with a lingering sickness that can only be healed by Ladybug.

Negative Mind- (Madness) 

Cheshire Cat

Causes temporary insanity, which varies from victim to victim.

Negative Energy- (Destruction) 

Cataclysm

Destroys anything the user touches.

Negative Body- (Weakness) 

Catatonic 

Puts the victim to sleep.

Negative Soul- (Death) 

Catacomb

Allows the user to see, touch and summon spirits/ghosts

And that’s the basic breakdown of how I feel the powers of the ML universe SHOULD be handled instead. Feel free to comment with thoughts and inputs of your own and ask questions if any of this doesn’t make sense! ^^

[simply-zhouye]

Entering the rivers and lakes for the first time, brutal heart丨Interview with Zhou Ye

Zhou Ye’s first full length interview with Sohu’s 骨朵星番 Gu Duo Xing Fan is out! She talks about her character Gu Xiang in-depth, working with her costars Gong Jun plus how she’s handling netizens feedback about her acting. [Rough translation] Spoilers ahead for her character’s history & future ~

https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/fQphUwOd9ATrIV8QXXv6DQ  #山河令 #wordofhonor

"Savage Sniper Little Witch", Zhou Ye replaced with this as her Weibo signature when "Shanhe Ling" was broadcasted.

This is Gu Xiang’s character in the play. She and "Please call me Philanthropist Wen" Wen Kexing, "Chief Editor 裸辞 事业 " Zhou Zishu, and "Optimism Researcher" Cao Weining and other actors collectively entertained and opened a happy atmosphere. Overflowing the screen.

However, the little witch Gu Xiang is a somewhat tragic character. Her destiny and feelings affect the hearts of the audience, so that when netizens find clues from the screenwriter that Gu Xiang and Cao Weining may be happy ending for the CP pair, celebrating in advance, it can be seen how attractive this girl in purple clothes and holding a long whip is, and she likes it to the point that "the audience has already begun to feel unhappy before saying goodbye."

This is not unexpected. Quite a few actors in the world leave some mark in the audience’s brains and hearts when they “pass”, deep or shallow. Those spiritual marks are often called “impressions”, and Zhou Ye’s especially, the scratches she left on people are deeper.

This may be due to the characteristics of her character, clear loves and hates, or complex and multi-faceted, or from her pure and awe-inspiring face under the lens, which is unforgettable, but it is certain that people have seen it in Zhou Ye. Something, what is that thing?

 When we don’t know how to explain the “goodness” of an actor, we often add the word talent to it, but Zhou Ye doesn’t think she belongs to this type of actor. She said, “I think I’m a little bit of an acquired taste.”

01 First entry into the arena

This is Zhou Ye's first time filming a costume drama.

Some people say that there are "walls" between ancient costume dramas and modern dramas, and the moment Zhou Ye decided to take over the role in "Shanhe Ling" was the beginning of Zhou Ye's breaking of the wall. 

"When I read the script, I thought it was a very good story. It told a series of stories from the rivers and lakes at the time, including the fact that I actually liked the role of Gu Xiang. She was eccentric, dare to love and hate, and had her own shining point."

Zhou Ye's love for "Shanhe Ling" is beyond words. A few hours before the show went live, she wrote a small essay on Weibo to interpret the Gu Xiang in her eyes. In an interview with Gu Duo, Zhou Ye missed that unforgettable environment. "It’s actually very happy to be on the shooting scene. Gong Jun sings in the dressing room every day , and everyone often chats together."

More under cut. Spoilers ahead.

However, playing Gu Xiang is not without pressure. For the first time in ancient costumes, Zhou Ye didn't know what kind of state the costumes should be, and she didn't know if she could play this role well.

"She has a miserable life experience. She had no parents since she was a child, and was later taken in by Wen Kexing. Although A-Xiang is from Guigu (Ghost Valley), she is not bad in the full sense. She has some things from Guigu, but she is very naive. For example, she has rescued two people, the first time was to rescue two girls from the hands of the jealous ghost, the second time was to save the singing girl when she met Cao Weining in a tavern.

When Gu Xiang saved people for the first time, Wen Kexing mentioned that the dog she raised when she was a child was stewed and eaten, and she cried for three full months, as a reminder: If saving people is irresponsible to the end, It's better to give it a pass.

"Gu Xiang agreed, because she is particularly eager to have companions and sisters. The multi-faceted character of Gu Xiang is very attractive to me."

In the play, Gu Xiang followed Wen Kexing from Guigu to the "world". She felt that the people she met after leaving Guigu were stupid, but she also said that "Wen Kexing next to Zhou Zishu feels is like a person." However, the "different paths between people and ghosts" laid the tragic tone for the master and servant to walk through the world, just like the implied meaning of the names of Wen Kexing and Gu Xiang, "the hometown of mourning for the guest."

In Zhou Ye's eyes, Gu Xiang and Wen Kexing have a feeling of being dependent on each other. 

"Wen Kexing is like her brother and her father, because Gu Xiang was saved by Wen Kexing since childhood, so her broken mouth and her violent temper were actually learned from Wen Kexing. The guest line said, "Gu Xiang is the only living thing around him."

When Zhou Ye talked about the relationship between Gu Xiang and Wen Kexing, she seemed to have re-entered the role, and everything was vividly visible.

02 "The people I play are not very like me"

"Have you seen the eyes of wild animals?" When the policeman played by Yin Fang uttered this line to Wei Lai, a bullying girl played by Zhou Ye, in "Better Days", Wei Lai's eyes were pure and chilling.

That was the first time Zhou Ye entered the public eye. With her outstanding performance in this film, Zhou Ye was nominated for the 33rd Chinese Film Golden Rooster Award for Best Supporting Actress, and also received a lot of support from netizens. "Sister Wei in society, there are not many people who are ruthless", "This damn bad woman is so sweet" , there is no lack of pampering in the words.

Actors who have portrayed villains often have an annoyance, that is, if they act well, the audience will hate the actor if they are too deep into the play, and it will be difficult to transform in a short time. But for the newcomer Zhou Ye, the audience is uncharacteristically "double standard". They are afraid of Wei Lai, but like Zhou Ye.

As a newcomer actor who has just entered the industry, Zhou Ye admitted that when facing the camera, she was actually a bit "fearful". Whether it was when the director shouted at the beginning or when working with seniors, she would be a little nervous, but she couldn't take this fear away. Show it. 

"Because Wei Lai herself is an aura and relatively calm person, so of course the Wei Lai you look like will not show your fearful side in front of your eyes."

"Then are you a calm person?"

"I am more in line with the stubbornness of the Taurus. I am more stubborn. Calmness still depends on the situation. I am not particularly calm." Zhou Ye paused for a while and continued, "It seems that my role is not very close to myself. Wei Lai is very close to me unlike Gu Xiang. She is a little girl who has lived in a particularly bad environment since she was a child. Lin Huajun of "Our Southwest Associated University" is a schoolmaster, but she is a talented girl from Peking University, and Tang Susu in "Ah Cradle" in fact, is not too different from Gu Xiang’s character."

The reporter tried to get Zhou Ye to summarize herself in four words. She only thought of two words- "stubborn and delicious", and then she added herself in the eyes of the staff, "They said I was hardworking and well-behaved." It's too early for a girl who is new to campus to analyze herself. It is far from the time to analyze and summarize. Everything has just begun.

Last week, she just graduated from the Beijing Film Academy. She spent six yuan to get the graduation certificate photo and happily shared the joy of "saving money" with netizens. 

"At that time, it was a rather unexpected result to be admitted to the film school. Later, when I was in school, I found acting was more and more interesting, and then I embarked on this road. I didn't really have a long experience as an actor. I started an internship when I was almost a senior. I took the stage slowly, and didn't make many films."

03 The life she loves and understands

Regarding "professionalism", Zhou Ye expressed that he is a person who "takes one step at a time and sees another step."

Although she is not the main protagonist in the broadcast of "Youth in the Young / Better Days" and "Shanhe Ling / Word of Honor", she feels that "the protagonist and the supporting role are no different, they are all a role, and each role will have its own shining point. With her own story, I will definitely play a supporting role in the future. If I have to have any small goals, it is to play every role well.” Zhou Ye seriously emphasized the matter of “playing every role well”.

"Then what do you think is the standard for acting well?"

 "Then it depends on the reactions of the seniors who filmed with me, the feedback from the director, and the feedback from the audience."

When "Shanhe Ling" first aired, some viewers responded that they were not comfortable with the "not cold" Zhou Ye played by Gu Xiang, but now they love this role more and more. 

"I pay attention to the audience's evaluation and criticism. I think their feedback is reasonable and I will accept it with a humility. As for Wei Lai and Gu Xiang, in fact, each character must be different. I will try a variety of roles and let everyone see a different me ."

This year Zhou Ye is only 23 years old. When answering the question, the tone was a bit childish, but the words spoken were surprisingly peaceful, with a natural sense of transparency. 

She said, "I don't mind the comparison. I think everyone has their own choice. I can't interfere with other people's ideas, so I don't mind what they say. Everyone has the right to express their preferences."

As for the audience who likes her, Zhou Ye said: “Thank you very much to them for liking me so much. I want to make a good film and reward them with more good film and television works. I can’t let them down. In fact, some of the films I’ve filmed have not been broadcast yet. I especially want to see how I am in a different state in different scenes."

During the epidemic, Zhou was not very anxious. She read books at home, played with slimes, and chatted with her mother. 

"Because all the work at that time was pushed back, it was actually quite good, and I could rest at home for a period of time." Zhou Ye entered busy work after the rest.

"The pace of work is actually good now, because you have to adapt if you don't adapt. You are a worker, of course you have to adapt to your job ."

The wish of "Playing Workers" Zhou Ye this year is to take a driver's license, and like all southerners, Chongqing Girls, Zhou Ye also has an obsession-"skiing". 

“I didn’t go skiing when I was in college in Beijing. Now I graduated, and I’m filming in other places every day, skiing is even more impossible. In my impression, I haven’t skied before, but my mother told me that when I was very young, I didn’t go skiing. I went to the Fairy Mountain in Chongqing once and glided there once, but I don’t remember."

"If you were say a few words to your future self, what do you want to say?"

"Filming every day, staying up all night every day, you have to protect your body, and then protect your hair." 

However, Zhou Ye told Gu Duo that he has not yet begun to pay attention to health preservation.

"Because young and capricious."