#so much happening i need to start pushing my presence when i start advertising my other stuff

[lcpmon]

putting off finishing Iaventon stuff bc i am broke and also distracted by many other ideas. and life. everything is happening so much fr man.

[muchadoaboutnot]

.

On the fourth night, nothing happened.

On the fifth day, however, she heard from some of the other performers how there were many missing people in town.

"I don't even know why the director had us stop here, Derry is so small." "Yeah, but they advertised enough that we get a decent crowd, a lot of people from the neighboring towns have shown up every night so far."

Two of her colleagues chatted around her, she herself was quiet because she was certain those missing people were prey for that thing.

For a moment she felt a stab of guilt; she could have prevented that right? Prevented more missing children? But what did she know, in fact, who knows how long that thing had preyed upon this town. Then she told herself it was not her problem and the only thing she needed to do was protect her livelihood or job at the Cirque. Which is why she made sure no one was getting murdered in their vicinity in or around the show.

But damn did she hate seeing humans die, especially the small ones. And even though she herself was not human she had lived amongst them all her life; thought like them, exhibited the same behaviors as them, enjoyed the same pleasure and walked amongst them as if they were alike.

So in Sable's mind, she replayed the last time she met him, Pennywise, and his little words ran around in her mind before she had to get up and leave. The other two performers, Antoinette and Jeanette looked up and waved her off.

She could feel their eyes on her back as they watched her walk off and towards her trailer.

The sun was high in the sky by now and tonight they had no performance, a night off for everyone before the shows would start up again every night and be the same till their two weeks here were up. As much as she wished they never came and wished many other things the reality was they were here and she had knowledge of some cosmic being living here.

In fact-

"Hi."

Sable had gotten so lost in thought she had blinded herself to his presence, to IT, and the words; "Oh my god," each word pronounced flew out her mouth as she stood stock still and stared at him. She did however push any fear away since she didn't want to feed into him and how he obviously used things like fright to his advantage.

The funny part of meeting him in broad daylight was how he stuck out like a sore thumb though. Her eyes trailed up his tall presence yet he looked slightly hunched forward, 'bad posture', she thought to herself while his chin was slightly tucked into the frilly collar around his neck. A ruff.

"Hello..." Sable finally said cautiously before looking around them since in the distance a few of the maintenance crew were walking around. A performer or two walking back and forth between their trailers and it made no sense to her how nobody seemed to notice them. Her talking to some strange... Man. At least that's what it should look like, her talking to some strange man in a clown outfit yet her thoughts were cut short by him.

"They can't see me. I won't let them."

"You can manipulate a lot of things, huh?"

"Not you. Not so well." The way his voice was full of ire and the sour look he gave her told Sable all she needed to know why she might still be alive. She was certain if he had the chance he'd have taken it by now to be rid of her, yet thankfully something within her cosmic makeup prevented him. Was it simply her senses that alerted her- "Shut up, shut up, shut up, I hate hearing your voice. Humans, I can listen to whenever I want and then silence them whenever I want, all their little thoughts if I don't want to hear them anymore... Blocked. But you..." He almost seethed before sucking in a breath and calming himself, a slight whistling noise came from between his buckteeth, but otherwise, he didn't look very clown-like and happy. Only glowered at her. "I can't shut you up."

That was... Interesting to know. Sable herself didn't know what to say and when she thought about she did not like it, at all, because this interaction should be cut and dry. She had charmed nobility at one point but this... Clown. Obviously different. Her tongue felt tied and she felt like some maiden in a field meeting the Devil at the crossroads near her home. As silly as that thought was she finally got enough nerve to take a few steps before fully walking towards him and then past him.

Wrong-o.

His hand shot out so fast and caught her elbow that she felt a yelp in her throat.

They locked eyes.

Yellow and red-rimmed they could be seen as terrible and menacing while her brown eyes dilated at the contact they had between each other. A human behavior he was familiar with and it made him smirk until she bopped him on the nose harshly and he dropped his hand from her.

Instantly Sable ran towards her own trailer even if she felt stupid and like some... Some prey animal which sort of bruised her ego until he was there again.

In front of her trailer door he stood there terrible and annoying.

"What do you want from me?" Slowing her steps she came to a complete stop but not as far as he'd probably expect her to be. No. This time Sable was close enough to him that they could reach out to each other although she was at a disadvantage as she lifted her chin up to look at him. Gladly though she observed how her bravado sort of made him waiver; 'a coward,' came and went in her mind's eye as she waited for an answer.

"That's just it. I don't know." His voice came out sullen and almost in a pout, frustration etched on his features and his frown reminded her of a cartoon character than a real-life person-thing.

But what could she do with that? What kind of answer was that and what did he expect of her?

"What do you mean, 'I don't know'? Because to me it's easy, just go away and go somewhere else to... Hunt. Stay away from here. It's that easy."

"No. I don't think I will."

She bristled at his bratty reply and wished she could slap him again but the fact of the matter is she didn't know what to do either. Never in her life so far has she had to... Fight. It seemed archaic, no, she watched others do it. Humans fight. Saw battlefields even or duels. But was she going to have to do that with him? With it? Did she even know what to do she thought to herself?

"Hey? Dumbo, we don't need to fight if you listen to me." He hissed at her and shuffled his feet, making the bells on his costume jingle.

"You say that but you're going to kill and if you try that here then I'm going to need-"

"I won't do anything if you just let me eat in peace."

"You're literally eating people!"

"You act human, behave like one, think like one- but you're not one."

That shut her up and she was quiet until, "So?"

"So from one immortal to another-"

"You're immortal?"

That made him stop and stare at her, a dangerous look flashed in his eyes as he thought about his reply.

"When I bit into you and tasted your blood... It was sweet like nectar but made me hurl, that's never happened before." It was an accusation but it had a reason, even though he did not reveal if he was immortal or not he did reveal to her enough to know he could get sick. Or at least the body he presented himself in right now could become ill.

"I'm... Sorry?" Sable finally said if only a little stupidly before looking away hoping nobody else saw her just standing in front of her trailer like an idiot talking to what could be thin air.

But wasn't thin air because a gloved hand shot out and grabbed her chin; forcefully moving her face back to him so he could look down at her.

"Little thing, I'm right here."

Oh. Oh! She didn't like that but at the same time, something in her core, and not the human core of her body but in her celestial body liked that.

Which was strange because she never felt touched like that not ever. Humans could not do that to her, make her feel like that, but this thing did.

And he knew it the instant she didn't pull away.

A smirk grew on his features but also a disgusted look in his eyes, almost like a sneer; "Feelings."

"Are you above feelings and emotions? Because it seems you like fear, a primordial emotion that almost every living thing on this planet has. Perhaps even you."

He dropped her chin and let his arms hang at his side again while his face was expressionless.

"Next time don't interrupt me."

He resorted to a threat but it did little to make her afraid or even angry this time and instead, she just observed him and he didn't like it. He felt like she was observing him through a telescope as if he was a meteorite about to land but instead of panic at the destruction he'd cause. She'd study him and dissect him.

But it was Sable's next question that made something inside his guts churn and tighten.

"Are you afraid of me?" She asked in an innocent tone yet her breath got caught in her throat when he grabbed her and held her by the back of her neck, forcing her to look up into his face. Terrible and angry his human teeth were gone and replaced with a sharp grin, the tips of his fingers had turned to claws and the look on his face was more animal than human.

"Afraid? Afraid of you?" It laughed in her face and she could feel spit fly onto her cheeks and for a minute she felt a stab of fear but then curiosity.

Sable's curiosity got the better of her and with enough wiggling, she did something unexpected and kissed his chin.

Oh. Oh!

He didn't like that. Pennywise did not like that and now she saw the fear in his eyes and he was gone.

Standing outside her trailer door in the middle of the afternoon Sable found herself wondering just what she thought she was doing; except other than the fact she found a weakness to exploit with that clown.

[maximoff-pan]

you are not to blame | peter parker

Summary: From your universe, you’re spider woman. You lost your Peter Parker and it’s all but destroyed you. What happens when you end up somewhere else, meeting a look alike of your Peter, but from a different universe?

Pairing: Tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning: mentions of death and violence, *spoilers for nwh*

A/n: there are m a j o r spoilers for nwh in this oneshot so please be warned! I hope you all enjoy this, and I apologize for any inaccuracies from my recollection of the plot/dialogue. I tried to write it all from memory so it probably doesn’t make a ton of sense. And if you’re confused, young peter = tom, tall peter = andrew, and older peter = tobey!

part two

“I just wish we could see him.” Ned waves his arms around, eliciting a spark in the air to appear. Sitting here waiting for Peter was becoming an almost impossible task.

“Ned?” MJ instructs.

“Yeah?”

“Do that again.” She gestures wildly to her best friend.

Ned’s eyes widen as he nods his head in affirmation. “I just wish we could see him.” A spark flickers again. “I just wish we could see Peter!”

This time, a whole portal bursts open, and much to their surprise, Spider-Man is standing on the other end, peering in through an alleyway.

“Is that him?” Ned asks.

MJ narrows her eyes in suspicion. “Yeah.” She doesn’t sound entirely convinced, but who else could it be? “It has to be.”

“Peter! Over here!” They call, ushering him towards them. The figure tilts his head for a moment before jogging through the portal.

It’s a jog that MJ doesn’t recognize, which starts to make her nervous. She looks him up and down briefly as the door Ned had opened closes, and she notices the different suit. And had Peter gotten taller?

“Hi.” He waves, pulling off his mask. MJ and Ned share a glance, this isn’t their Peter.

Ned’s Lola lets out a shriek of fear, threatened by the new presence. “No, no, no. It’s okay. It’s okay.” The stranger speaks, hushing everyone around him. “I’m a good guy.”

His hair looks soft to the touch, MJ thinks. And his eyes are warmly putting her at ease, but she knows she shouldn’t trust him just yet. Even if he does remind her of her boyfriend.

“Who the hell are you?” She asks, her tone laced with as much ice as she can muster.

“I’m Peter Parker.” He replies gesturing to himself.

Ned’s gaze darts to the spider crest on this ‘so called’ Peter’s chest. “That’s impossible.”

The man shakes his head. “I’m Spider-Man. In my world.” He clarifies with a clear of his throat. “But then yesterday, I was just….here.”

“Wow.” They both muse.

This Peter begins to pace around, looking everywhere and anywhere. His surroundings are foreign, and yet they almost feel familiar to him.

“String theory... Multidimensional reality... And matter displacement.” He trails off. “All real?”

Ned smiles at him for a second, recognizing the wonder in his eyes as something he would see from his Peter Parker. “Yeah.”

The tall man lets a laugh bubble from his throat. “I knew it!” He exclaims.

Ned turns to MJ suddenly. “This has to be because of the spell.”

“The spell?” New Peter questions. “Like magic spell?”

“There’s no spell.” MJ backtracks.

Peter questions again, more confused than ever, “no spell?”

“No.” Ned replies unconvincingly.

“So magic’s real here.” A smile lights up on the stranger’s face.

Ned goes to reply but MJ stops him. “Shut up Ned.” She hisses. “I’m gonna need you to prove it.”

Peter takes a step back, gleaning a change in the mood of the room. “Prove what?”

“That you’re Peter Parker.” She pushes, as if he’s supposed to wear a sign on his suit that advertises his personal identity.

This Peter sends her a look of bafflement. “I don’t carry ID.” He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Kinda defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing.”

He comes to an abrupt stop when he feels a roll of bread hitting him in the chest. Glancing over, he watches as the girl, MJ as he’s learned, picks up another piece and is standing at the ready.

“Why’d you do that?” He asks, but he feels like he already knows the answer.

She replies, “to see if you have the tingle thing.”

He laughs, running a hand through his hair. “I have the tingle thing. Just not for bread.”

She throws another piece at him as he releases another breath of frustration. “You’re a deeply mistrusting person.” He points. “And I respect it.”

She sends him a look that says both ‘you best believe it,’ and ‘you’re never going to win so you may as well do what I say,’ to which Peter picks up on it tenfold.

He sighs in defeat, reaching up to the ceiling, his fingers gripping it as he hangs there. When he jumps down, he can tell that MJ is still not convinced. “Crawl around.”

“What?” He sputters.

“Crawl around.” She instructs.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not enough.”

He huffs once again, and as much as he wants to push back, he knows it’ll be useless. As he’s about to scale the wall, Ned interrupts him. “While you’re up there, my Lola wants to know if you can grab that cobweb there.” He points to the corner of the wall.

Peter sends them a lopsided smile. “Sure thing.” He says as he scales the wall. When he jumps down, he shoots MJ a look, “believe me now?”

MJ herself huffs in defeat. “For now.” She follows her best friend as he begins to babble.

Ned’s waving his hand wildly, trying to figure out just what he did. “So I opened the portal,” he starts. “To the wrong Spider-Man.”

“Yeah.” MJ confirms as Peter listens intently. “I guess you just keeping trying until you find the real one.”

A scoff falls from the new Peter’s mouth. “Ouch.”

Ned’s eyes widen at the insinuation that this Spider-Man is a lesser one. “Sorry.” He says, “no offence.”

They fall back into a rhythm of silence as Ned prepares to try to find his Peter again. It’s a strange concept for him, this Peter, thinking that there’s another one of him out there.

“Find Peter Parker!” A fiery orb opens and a normal looking man steps through.

“Hello.” The man waves, just like tall Peter had done when he walked through.

Ned and MJ sigh. “Great. It’s just some guy.”

The guy chuckles a bit, a smile forming on his face. “I hope it’s okay I just came through this…” He turns back to look at the portal behind him, “It just closed.”

MJ shoots this newer stranger a look of confusion. “Who are you?”

“Peter Parker.” He replies.

“So you’re Spider-Man too?” Ned asks. And when the man nods he says, “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I don’t really go around advertising it. Kind of defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing.”

Tall Peter tilts his head in bewilderment, “I just said that.”

“He just said that.” MJ echos him.

Everyone seems to be caught up in the whole who’s who game of Peter Parkers, but out of the corner of his eye, older Peter can see this Ned kid waving his hands around again, and before he knows it, another portal is opening.

This time it opens from the sky, and the person who comes through it is screaming bloody murder.

“Fucking bullshit.” You hit the ground with a loud thud. Standing up and dusting yourself off, you turn around to face a whole room of people. Coughing in embarrassment, you mutter an apology. “Sorry.”

Older Peter steps forward, taking charge. “Who the hell are you?”

“I don’t know.” You say, quickly realizing your mistake. “I mean, shit, I do know. I’m (Y/n).” You fumble your words. “What I meant to say, is I don’t where I am.”

MJ glances at you in suspicion, sizing you up slightly. “This whole time we’ve been searching for Peter Parker, Spider-Man. Why would you show up all of a sudden?”

“You’re not Peter, nor are you a man.” Ned affirms.

You place your hand over your chest. “You don’t know that!” You fake offence. “I could just happen to be a very feminine man. What would you say then, huh?” Their eyes widen. “And how do you know my name’s not Peter?”

“You just told us it’s (Y/n).”

“Oh.” You deflate. “Right.”

“I like her.” Another voice pipes in. “I say we trust her.”

All of a sudden, your world halts. That voice, that face. “Peter?” You whisper as he steps into your view. Your Peter. But very clearly not your Peter. He doesn’t know who you are; he just looks like yours. That makes your heart clench even more.

If they notice your shock, they don’t indicate it. They continue to talk amongst themselves about the multiverse, and helping and finding this universe’s Peter Parker. You’re listening, but at the same time, you’re not. It’s almost like their voices are radio static, and you’re trying desperately to tune into them.

It’s working in bits. You pick up little pieces of their conversation, enough to put it together, until you can force yourself to snap out of your panicked state.

“Is there some place he would go that has meaning to him?” Older Peter’s voice breaks though. “Like a place where he would go to-“

“To get away from everything.” Tall Peter interjects and they both nod at one another.

“For me it was the top of the Chrysler building.”

“Empire State.” Both you and the look alike of your Peter muse in unison. You share a look of understanding. “Better view.”

MJ steps forward, eyeing you down. “Why would you need to get away from anything? I thought you were just, normal.” She pauses.

“I may not be Peter Parker, but I do know what it’s like to carry his burden. Your burden.” You say gesturing to the two Peters. “In my universe, I’m somewhat of a Spider-Man myself. Spider-Woman I guess you could say. I knew a Peter Parker once, and I would do anything to help yours.”

MJ smiles at you, starting to let her guard down with you. “I think I know exactly where he’d go.”

• • • • • •

“Peter.” MJ’s tone is soft, much softer than she had been with you. “There’s some people here to see you.”

When you get a look at him, the first thing you notice is how young he is. He’s just a kid, you think. A kid who looks understandably scared.

“Sorry... About May.” Older Peter steps forward. “I got some understanding of what you're going through...”

“No,” this universe’s Peter pleads. “Please don't tell me that you know what I'm going through. She's gone and it’s all my fault.”

His words break your heart, and you’re sure it has the same effect on the men beside you. Each of you has lost people you love, people you’d die for, only for it to feel like it’s all your fault, even if it wasn’t. It took you years to realize that. Sometimes you find yourself falling back into that mindset. Peter died because of me. He died because I wasn’t quick enough, I couldn’t save him. But you know you can’t let yourself think that way, or else you might not come back from that darkness this time.

“I'm gonna do what I should've done in the first place.” Young Peter says. “You don't belong here. Any of you,” he points to each of you, “so I'm sending you home.”

“You don’t have to do this alone.” You speak up for the first time since you’d laid eyes on the boy. Maybe you could help him the way you couldn’t help your Peter. Maybe this time, you could save him.

He shakes his head dismissively. “Those other guys are from your worlds, right?” He asks with a venom seeping through his voice. He’s angry, you get it. “So you deal with it. If they die, if you kill them... That's on you. It's not my problem. I don't care anymore.”

“Peter-“ MJ tries to reason…

“Look,” he cuts her off. “I'm really sorry that I dragged you into this. But you have to go home now.”

There’s a silence that blankets itself over all of you, and you’re just waiting for who’s going to break it.

It’s older Peter who does. “My Uncle Ben was killed.” His eyes close as he takes in a breath. “It was my fault.”

“I lost... I lost Gwen.” Tall Peter’s voice sends shivers through your spine. “My... She was my MJ.” You place a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “I couldn't save her. I'm never gonna be able to forgive myself for that. But I carried on. Tried to keep going. Tried to keep being the...friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, because I know that's what she would have wanted. But...at some point, I just...I stopped pulling my punches. I got rageful.” He pauses, his voice nearly cracking. “I got bitter. And I just don't want you, to end up like, like me.”

“Like me.” You whisper, the ghost of your Peter’s last words dying on this Peter’s lips… I don’t want you to end up like me…is what he’d said to you before he died in your arms.

Everyone turns to you, their eyes burning straight through your soul. It’s like they’re waiting for some kind of big response from you, for you to share your story.

“I, uh,” you avert your gaze to the ground, your voice faltering ever so slightly. “I had a Peter Parker in my universe. He was my partner, my Spider-Man. We knew the risks, I mean, it was just a part of the job. I was used to him getting hurt, and he was used to me getting hurt. We’d always patch each other up, and every time we got better.”

Your breath hitches, catching in your throat. “Until one day, he didn’t. He got hurt… really bad. And he didn’t,” you pause, “he didn’t make it.”

MJ reaches over to place a soothing hand on your arm. “I’m so sorry.” She whispers. She couldn’t imagine losing her Peter like you had lost yours.

Young Peter glances at you with tears in his eyes. You can feel each other’s pain radiating off your bodies, and strangely, it makes you both feel more connected to the situation you’re being faced with.

“I can still hear her voice in my head.” He says, his eyes still on you. “Even after she was hurt, she said to me that we did the right thing. She told me that with great power...”

“Comes great responsibility.” The three Peters finish in unison.

“How do you know that?” He asks.

“Uncle Ben said it.” They reply. “The day he died.”

You smile at the interaction, sending the youngest Spider-Man a nod of encouragement and understanding. “Maybe she didn't die for nothing, Peter.”

And for just a moment, he smiles back.

• • • • • •

“Okay, so,” young Peter starts, “I think that I can repair the devices for Dillon and Marko, but the others...” He trails off.

“I got Connors.” Your Peter’s look alike confirms. “I've already cured him once, so no big deal.” When everyone gives him a look of surprise, he replies, “What? It's no big deal.”

“Great. Yeah.” Older Peter chirps. “That's great. I think I can make an antiserum for Doctor Osborn. Been thinking about it for a long time.”

“Gotta cure all of them. Right?” The Peter of this universe turns to you, raising his brows.

“Right.” You affirm. “That's what we do.”

When you all separate, you notice that you divide very much based on age and familiarity. Younger Peter sticks next to MJ, with Ned just off to the side, who occasionally drifts to check on the oldest Peter. You and tall Peter sit side by side, your elbows grazing one another. A couple feet from you is older Peter, who although he’d deny it if you said anything, is observing Peter and MJ comfort each other.

“You said you’ve cured Connors before?” You ask the Peter who’s seated to your left.

He nods his head, fingers tapping the desk rhythmically. “Mhm.”

“Wish I could say the same.”

He stops what he’s doing and looks at you with those deep brown eyes, so much life in them. So much love. They search yours for an answer, and you think he finds it when you see a look of realization dawn on his face. “Connors.” He grimaces. “That’s how he died? Your Peter?”

He doesn’t need you to nod, doesn’t need you to speak to know that that’s exactly what happened.

“I got an internship with Dr. Connors in college. We were nineteen, and Peter warned me the work he was doing was no good.” Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to fall. You haven’t had to tell this story in a long time; you’ve tried like hell not to have to. “But I didn’t listen. I thought I knew better, so I helped him make the genetic code that would regenerate his arm. And when everything went wrong, and Connors became this lizard creature, I panicked.”

Peter reaches over to place your hand in his as he rubs him thumb gently back and forth. He hums, “it’s okay.”

“Peter and I,” you fumble, “we fought him, but we didn’t cure him. Connors killed Peter, and I killed Connors.”

“I’m so sorry.” He says.

You lift your head to look at him, and try to give him a smile, even if it is half hearted. “It was my fault, and there’s no way around that. I just wish I could have been like you.” Your words strike Peter hard. “If I had just been smarter, maybe I could have made the cure, and he would still be alive.”

“Hey,” he tries. “I’ve played that game. I’ve seen how that goes…And it doesn’t end well. You’re not to blame. Not one little bit.” He says. “The only person at fault is Connors. He’s the only one responsible.”

You’re grateful to him, more than he could ever know. More than you think he could ever understand. And even though you’ve only known each other for a matter of hours, you feel like you know him like the back of your hand. Undeniably and nearly unexplainably, this Peter Parker feels the exact same. The pause in the conversation is brief, but it allows you the time to think.

“He looked like you, you know?” You intertwine your fingers with his. “My Peter.”

“Really?”

“Exactly like you.”

Eyebrows raised and mouth parted slightly open, a look of shock rests on his face. “I can’t imagine how hard that is. I’m surprised you don’t hate me.”

You cock your head to the left. “How could I ever hate you?”

He hums lightly. “Every time you see me, you see him. You’re reminded of him.”

“It’s hard.” You agree, pondering your response. You’ve been thinking about this conversation since the moment you laid eyes on this version of Peter Parker. “And I know you’re not him, but it almost feels like I’m getting some sort of second chance. I get to see his face again, hear his voice…I get to feel like, even for a moment, I’m not so alone.”

Peter turns to face you, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “As long as I’m breathing, you’ll never be alone.”

Closing your eyes and letting out a breath of relief, for the first time in forever, you think: I am not alone…

I am not to blame.

///////////

tags: @krishavania @dumb-bisexual @crashed-on-mars @nerdygirl8203 @writersmaydream

[happyandticklish]

Tickletober Day Two - Anticipation

Notes: This is barely within the deadline of day two, but I managed to get it in just in time! I was super busy today, and then it ended up being just a bit longer than I thought, so... yeah. Hopefully I can get the rest of the days out earlier than this.

Summary: Deku re-discovers an interesting fact about his classmate. 

It had been three days now, and Bakugo was going to lose his mind if that green-haired idiot didn’t make good on his promise soon. His mind was jumbled and unfocused, his nerves constantly on edge whenever the two were in the same room together. A couple times Deku had passed him in the hall and Bakugo could practically feel the fizzle of energy between them when he brushed past.

It had all started in the dorms one afternoon. Bakugo had been lounging on the couch, one arm thrown haphazardly over his face as he slowly found his way to sleep. Training had been significantly more exhausting that day than he had let on to the others, and he needed a moment to relax and let his body destress from the exertion. 

He thought he was alone, but he didn’t hear the door open signaling his classmate’s presence. Briefly he registered a voice, insistent and bright, and he merely grunted, attempting to ignore it.

One poke. That’s all it had been. One poke to the side innocently to get his attention, and suddenly Deku’s eyes were wide in the aftermath of Bakugo’s startled yelp.

“Are you—”

“No!” Bakugo had snapped instantly, trying not to sound too obvious but failing miserably. He pushed himself up roughly on the couch; sleep was the last thing on his mind now. “Of course not. Don’t just say things like that without thinking, you damn nerd!”

Deku had watched him curiously, his brows furrowed intently in that way that indicated he was trying to work through some puzzle in his head—or rather, had reached a conclusion. Undeterred by Bakugo’s angry protests, he sat down next to him on the couch, smirking in a way that was very un-Deku-like. Before the other could register what was happening, Deku dodged around arms, curiously scribbling his fingers over his sides. Bakugo screwed his lips together, trying to hold back his body’s natural reaction, but in the next moment giggles were spilling out and he was doubled over in a useless attempt to protect himself.

“C-Cuhut it o-ohout!” Bakugo hissed, batting at his hands and curling back against the couch.

“You are ticklish!” Deku exclaimed triumphantly. “I thought you had grown out of it years ago. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me!”

Red flamed across Bakugo’s cheeks. “S-Shuhut uhup! Ihi wihill end yohou!” He drew one leg up to his chest defensibly, using the other to fend Deku off as best he could.

Unfortunately, Deku simply used this oppurtunity to grab his ankle, spidering his nails over his sole. Bakugo let out an undignified noise, frantically jerking his leg out of the other’s grasp. He scrambled back quickly, but it was too late; the damage had already been done.

“I can’t believe it,” Deku said, shaking his head in disbelief. “All this time you’ve used my own sensitivity against me constantly, and now I find out that you’re just as, if not more, ticklish?”

“Well it’s not exactly something I advertise,” Bakugo said, rolling his eyes in a gesture he hoped would disguise his nerves. “Besides, I wouldn’t say more. After all, I don’t think anyone can get more ticklish than you.”

Deku flushed, but lifted his chin up. It was rare that he had a leg up over the other, and he intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. “You’re not turning this around so easily. I mean, now that I know you’re ticklish, I’ll have to take advantage of it. It’s only fair to make up for how much you’ve teased me about it all these years.”

Bakugo stiffened, instantly clocking the other’s movements as he leaned back warily on the couch. “Don’t even try it. I’ll blast you so hard you’ll have smoke coming out your ass for weeks.”

“Oh, no, not now,” Deku clarified quickly. “I have to meet up with Iida and Uraraka to go over today’s homework. That’s why I woke you—I was wondering if you’d seen them. I never expected to get a surprise like this though. I guess you’ll just have to wait for my revenge. But don’t worry—I’ll be sure to make it worth your time!”

Deku flashed him one of those big, genuine grins of his, and then he was gone, off to go find his friends, as though he hadn’t just sent Bakugo’s mind into a tailspin seconds ago.

It had been three days since Deku’s alleged promise for the tickling of a lifetime, and still, nothing. It was to the point where Bakugo would pointedly sit next to him in class or during lunch, hoping to instigate something. At least if he could provoke it then he would know when it was coming and he wouldn’t have to wait on pins and needles for the other to make the first move. A snarky comment here, a brag there, whatever he thought would best work to spur the other into ending this siege on his nerves.

However, no matter how hard he tried, Deku just laughed his comments off, acting like his usual self. Finally, Bakugo couldn’t take it anymore.

Deku jumped as the door to his room slammed open, a flustered and furious Bakugo on the other side of it. “O-Oh, Kacchan. Did you need something?”

“Just do it.”

Deku blinked. “What?”

“Tickle me, alright?” Bakugo growled, refusing to meet his gaze. “I know you’re going to, just get it over with already. I’m not gonna be a part of whatever game you’re playing with me. You said you were going to make up for everything, so do it already you coward!”

Deku stared at him for a moment, before a pleased smile bloomed across his features. “I knew you would ask!”

Bakugo frowned, thrown by the statement. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You always get whatever you want, when you want it,” Deku explained calmly, turning around in his chair to face him. “I thought if I let you dangle for a moment, then you would eventually come to me about it. And I was right!”

Bakugo stared at him, dumbfounded, as he slowly realized he had been played. The tips of his ears tinged a bright pink with embarrassment as a stammer of protests flew quickly from his lips. “What do you mean want, I don’t want to be tickled, I have no idea why the hell you would even assume that!”

“So I shouldn’t tickle you?” Deku asked innocently.

Bakugo glared at him, debating internally. Finally, he muttered, “You might as well get it over with. If you were going to anyway.” 

Deku knew that was as close of a confession as he was going to get, and so he stood up, easily crossing the distance between the two so that Bakugo staggered back a bit, his back hitting the far wall. The first sparks of excitement started inside him, a giddy, euphoric feeling that he hadn’t experienced in a while. 

“Are you ready?” Deku asked sweetly, too sweetly. It was quite possible Bakugo was going to get heat stroke from how red his face was at this point. He blamed any future medical expenses firmly on the other. 

“Fuck o—ah, nohoho!”

Deku quickly went to work bringing Bakugo to a giggling, cursing mess on the ground. He went slowly, working his way over each and every spot, teasing out the process for as long as the two wanted.

After all, they had a lot of time to make up for.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

ascendance - 04

PAIRING: mob!bucky barnes x reader

WARNINGS: abduction, age gap (reader is 23, bucky is 37)

A/N: hello!! i hope you enjoy this new chapter as i dive more into bucky’s past. italics in this work symbolise a flashback in case anyone’s confused. hope you enjoy it xx

> NEXT CHAPTER | MASTERLIST

The entrance hall of the Barnes household was pilled up with people. Between his mum barking orders left to right and caterers bringing food in and out, the once silent room turned into a busy crossroads which meant James had retreated back to his room. He was sat down in his bed, cashmere black suit on and hair pushed back, Dead Souls opened on top his legs. He was lost in between the small black letters printed on the yellowing paper, so lost that the sound of his window opening went by him until a loud thump woke him up from his literary daze. Bucky looked up to see his younger sister, sat on the floor of his bedroom by the window with her dress partially on and hair messy due to the windy weather outside. He sighed, closing his book and putting it off to the side.

    - Can’t you climb into your own bedroom? - Bucky got up from bed, leaning down to help her back onto her feet.

    - Yours is closer. - she brushed the dirt off her baby pink dress picked by their mother. - Shouldn’t you be downstairs?

    - Shouldn’t you be in your bedroom? 

    - Touche. - she pointed. - Can you not tell mum? She’ll freak out if she discovers that I went out on dad’s big day. 

    - Go on, I’ll keep mum occupied while you sort out that bird’s nest hair. 

    - Thank you! - she smiled, giving him a short hug. - What am I gonna do when you go to Princeton? Who’s gonna cover for me?

    - I guess you’ll just have to form an alliance with the maids.

Y/N and Bucky were silent, barely speaking to each other if even looking into each other’s eyes. She merely remained there in her operatic costume, the corset doing the best of jobs at enhancing her female features and almost making her look like a femme fatale out of a classical movie in rich red and green fabrics decorated with what he guessed where heavy metal gold pieces resembling precious jewels and golden rings. He did not know which production they were putting on, he hadn’t even heard her sing before but she looked like she belonged in that stage, like she would have been showered in praise the moment the spotlight grazed her. 

She paced around the living room not exactly sure what to do, the beads which made up her skirt and would suddenly peak to show her legs making a slight rustling noise as her eyes studied the book shelf which was filled with tons and tons of books from the classics to mere economy books. Maybe she could read them whenever the tension between of them wasn’t so apparent. She couldn’t help but sometimes look at the badly fixed window and wonder if she could make it, maybe when he wasn’t looking, maybe when he was sleeping yet looking at him; tall, muscular, fast, definetely much stronger than her, she knew that even if she managed to get outside, he would easily get her back. Her mind battled her positive side as she wondered if this was it, if this was home now. Suddenly, her old flat no longer seemed old and she would give everything away if only she could go back, back to being told to do errands that really did not concern her, to stepping on bobby pins laid on the ground, to way too strong makeup which looked ridiculous in proper daylight. She would give everything, if she could go back to what her life had been. 

The man whose name he hadn’t even dignified himself to tell her yet was sat on one of the high chairs by the kitchen with his eyes trained on her. She briskly turned around, arms crossed under her chest with an almost child like pout of someone who had just been punished. In reality, I’m the one who’s being punished here, he thought to himself.

     - You could tell me your name. - she said, not looking into his eyes, instead rubbing her worn out ballet shoes against his hard floor. 

     - You don’t need to know my name. - he was quiet yet imposing. Y/N could not deny he seemed to have a strong presence despite barely raising his voice. It was almost magnetic as if he was made to be looked at, yet she felt he didn’t want to be seen. 

     - What if I need to call out for you? 

     - I would know. There’s no one else here, is it?

Y/N did not reply to this, instead rolling her eyes and sitting down on the couch. There was not much to do in the small one bedroom apartment other than pace around, eat and watch television. Her hand flew over to the remote, pointing it at the TV to turn it on which opened on the news channel. She guessed this was the way she had of now knowing what was happening outside the four walls she was being held captive in. There wasn’t much happening and even if it was, all the local news could talk about was about the upcoming mayoral election. It was a circus with advertisements and rumours flying around about each and every candidate and while it was almost painfully enjoyable to see men over thirty acting like gossip mean girls in school, everyone knew who was gonna win. 

She’d always been told that behind every great man, there’s a great woman and in this particular election it couldn’t be anymore true. The favourite candidate to win, Robert Moore, also known as Bobbie, was married to an senator’s daughter but not just any senator, Senator Barnes. She was too young to remember his policies or even his public persona, yet from what she knew, he had been a very well liked and well respected Senator, coming from a prominent family and building an even more prominent family. Being married to Rebecca Barnes, now Rebecca Barnes-Moore, was a one way ticket to a good career in politics. The two stood in the television screen, side by side in an almost JFK and Jackie Kennedy fashion with sunny smiles looking like the picture perfect Americana couple. It seemed all his ads showed him, his wife and their new born baby. High school sweethearts, it seemed.

    - Are you gonna watch that the whole day? - she turned her head around, looking at his annoyed expression, whiskey glass in hand. 

    - They look good together. 

    - It’s a circus. - he snickered, sitting by her side. 

    - What are you? An anarchist? - those words flew out of her mouth without any filter, mostly out of nuisance. - Her father was a great politician and he is young and likeable.  

     - Young and likeable ... sounds like great political traits. 

     - What do you know about politics?

     - What do you know about politics? Do they have a crash course in politics at whatever company you were in? 

She rolled her eyes, turning the volume up to listen to the broadcaster tell the love story of the future mayor and his wife. Her face softened as she heard what was probably a highly modified version of the actual truth yet she couldn’t help but slightly smile at the idea of it. They seemed in love and as someone who had a degree in pretending to be in love while singing, it warmed her heart to see it. She liked that idea, the idea of Ms and Mrs Americana, the idea of having someone to lean in. Well, she liked the idea of someone. Sure, maybe the man whose name she still didn’t know and was starting to believe was never going to learn was right, it was a circus, all elections are but she couldn’t help but be pulled by the myth of it, by the we against the world mentality no matter how morally wrong it was. 

She continued to watch the coverage of the election run as the man next to her got up from the couch to pick up a phone call. Her hearing slightly moved towards what he was doing, mind always thinking of escaping but even though he was talking on the phone, his gaze was trained of her as if she were his prey. He mumbled something on the phone before turning it off and moving his eyes to text someone yet after that his eyes were on her once more. 

    - Try not to escape for the next hour.

    - Do you have a nameless anarchy convention to attend?

    - Billy is coming to watch over you. No funny business. 

    - Will. - she corrected him. - He doesn’t like being called Billy. 

    - As long as you don’t pull a mission impossible on him, I will call him whatever you want. 

Will didn’t take long to arrive, dressed in a tennis-like outfit as if he had been pulled away from tennis which sounded like something he’d do. Bucky exchanged a few words with him before leaving the two of them together. He trusted Billy, or Will, was smart enough not to let her escape or run away. God, he didn’t even want to think about what John would do to him if she escaped, much less what he would do to her if she escaped. He made his drive to John’s condo in fifth avenue, parking his bike somewhere before making his way up. The condo was always weirdly filled with chatter talk yet he could see no people, it was as if the ghosts of the people he had taken out followed him in his own home and Bucky couldn’t say he pitied him. After all, he had his own ghosts too. 

He looked into John’s office where he was sat in the couch, the coverage of the election run on the television on low volume. John’s eyes immediately found Bucky’s figure looming at the entrance, never really entering, just standing behind the line which separated the hall from the office. 

     - How’s the roomie? - he motioned his hand for him to come in. - Still pretty?

     - What do you need?

     - I just got an invitation to a fundraiser. Zemo’s going so I want you to go. 

     - I can’t, I have her to watch over Y/N. She’s not very keen on remaining in the flat.

    - Chain her up for all I care. It’s in two weeks and I’ll be damned if I’m there by myself with Zemo. Besides it’s your sister’s fundraiser, I always love to see Rebecca. 

    - She’s not gonna be there. - his jaw locked. - A fundraiser for the mob? It’s mostly free alcohol and networking with them not showing up. 

    - Maybe you should bring your roomie. She’s pretty and if anything I’m sure she can sing and if not maybe she can entertain in another form. 

    - The NYPD is probably looking for her, it’s not wise ...

    - Do you make the rules? - John interrupted him, leaning against the couch with arms crossed. - You seem to have forgotten who makes the rules, soldat. 

    - I just don’t think ...

    - You don’t think. - he interrupted him once more. - This election is important and since I do not have the right person here to get ahead, I will make do with what we have. I don’t give a fuck about what you do when you’re at your flat but she is mine. She is my get out of jail card. Are we clear, soldat?

    - Yes. 

    - You can go now. - he dismissed him. Bucky turned around, eyes open wide yet emotionless face as if he were disconnected from his own consciousness. He guessed it was for the best to remain disconnected, to not know what was going on.

He drove himself back home, standing alone at night looking at his flat; the window still broken while the lights were flickering. He thought about running off, starting his bike and running off into the night and just drive until the tank was empty but he couldn’t. He had strings, strings which kept him tied to where he was right now. He guessed that now she was another string keeping him here. 

Bucky sighed as he walked back to his flat, opening the door to a rather serene sight. Will was by the kitchen watching the football game while Y/N was laid across the couch, book in hand which he recognised as one of his old ones. Her hair was different, she probably had taken off her wig and for the first time since those few minutes in the costume room. It looked soft, framing her face and getting in front of her eyes as she herself got lost in the room. Will excused himself, leaving just as he noticed Bucky before he could be yelled at by using his television. Yet again, Y/N and Bucky were alone in that small flat. She looked up from the book and at him before returning to read.

He left her with the book, walking to his bedroom which was probably now more hers than his to grab one of trousers and hoodies before returning back to the living room. Still reading. At least she wasn’t trying to break any more windows. He put the hoodie and trousers by her side, turning off the television as more screams for the football match came through. 

   - You can change into those. - he pointed at the clothing, getting her attention as she closed the book. - Those beads can’t be comfortable. 

   - Oh 

   - The bathroom’s there. - he pointed at one of the few doors in the flat. - You can shower too, there’s towels. 

   - Thank you. - she grabbed the things he had put out for her before leaving him in the living room by himself.

And then it was just him once more, alone, tied to this city which screamed everyone’s name but his.

TAGLIST: @lookiamtrying​ @buckyswillows​ @blossomslibrary​ @juliesland​ @iloveshawnieboi​ @unmagically​ @red-head011​ @poisonous00​ 

[lostinthewiind]

3AM in the City

Tetsurō Kuroo - Haikyuu

Synopsis: after high school, you don’t see Kuroo as much as you used to, and not nearly as much as you would like. The only exception is when he calls you up at 3AM to go for a drive—an offer you never turn down; and tonight’s events are exactly why you don’t. 

Rating: PG

Warnings: some kissing, nothing you haven’t seen in the movies before kids. A little angsty if you squint?

As far as you knew, it was just another Friday night you would be spending at home alone, which you didn’t mind in the slightest. As much as you enjoyed going out just as much as the next person, you still knew how to appreciate a quiet night in by yourself.

Scrolling through your phone, the bright, white light illuminating your face in the otherwise pitch black room, you glanced up at the corner of the small device in your hands and took noticed of the time. 3AM. 

Letting out a yawn, almost as if in response to realizing just how late it was, you shifted in bed a little, trying to decide if you should try to get some sleep or keep mindlessly prowling social media for a little while longer.

Before you could make up your mind, however, a notification for an incoming phone call took over your entire screen, startling you a little more than you would like to admit. A small smile toyed at the corners of your mouth as you read the caller ID and answered the call.

“Hello?” You pressed the phone to your ear and sighed, body ready to climb out of bed. You already knew why he was calling . . . it was the only reason he called anymore.

“Hey.” His voice was smooth and casual over the phone, indicating that he hadn’t just woken up, meaning he hadn’t slept at all yet; which wasn’t exactly uncharacteristic of Kuroo. “Did I wake you?”

You shook your head instinctively, even though he couldn’t see it. “No,” you answered. “Just lying in bed.”

There was a short pause before he spoke again. “Wanna go for a drive?”

You had already known before you answered the phone that you would be saying yes to his proposition, but instead of responding right away, you hummed softly, pretending to think about it—pretending you weren’t as eager to see him as you actually were.

“Sure.” You swung your legs over the side of your bed and started searching for some clothes in the dark, unwilling to turn on the bright overhead light and ruin the late-night trance that you enjoyed so much. 

“Meet you in ten,” he said before hanging up. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, even though he was no longer on the other line. Thankfully, you knew this was just the way that Kuroo was—he was just bad at talking over the phone—but you still wished he sounded even a little excited to see you after so long.

Pulling on the same outfit you had been wearing that day, purely because they were sitting at the end of your bed and had been easy to find, you tucked your phone into your pocket and fixed yourself up a little before heading out the door. 

Like always, you waited at the street corner for Kuroo to drive up and pick you up. When he arrived almost exactly ten minutes after he had ended the phone call, you jumped into the passenger’s seat of the incredibly expensive and lavish car he drove. That vehicle was his pride and joy and sometimes you were honestly surprised he even let you inside of it considering how little he seemed to care about you lately.

Before you could even get your seat belt on, he was speeding away from the curb and heading out of your neighbourhood. Glancing over at the man you used to consider your best friend, you noticed the creases between his brows and the way his lips stretched into a thin, tight line. Something was bothering him, but then again, he didn’t ask you to accompany him on mindless cruises at 3AM when all was well in his life.

Knowing that it would be a couple of minutes before he warmed up to your presence and wanted to talk, you turned up the radio and watched the scenery pass by out the window. In the distance, you could see the glowing lights of downtown Tokyo, the bustling hub of the city that you usually avoided due to how busy and crowded it was. 

The city in the middle of the night was a completely different story, however. Maybe it was the way the many colourful advertisements and store signs illuminated the dark night sky, or maybe it was the way the streets emptied out enough for the overwhelming aura to dissipate just enough, but driving through the streets at night brought you a sense of euphoric calm that simply couldn’t be obtained during daylight.

Looking back at Kuroo, you took note of how his face had relaxed, even if just a little. You watched his hands tense around the steering wheel, griping tight before relaxing and tapping his fingers against the leather. Feeling your eyes on him, he finally looked over at you and acknowledged your presence.

“How have you been?” he asked seemingly out of nowhere, as if he just realized he would have to make conversation with you eventually.

Your heart fluttered slightly, joy spreading through you at the thought that he genuinely cared about how you were doing. “Fine, thank you,” you told him. “And you?”

“Okay,” he lied. You knew it was a lie, because even though he had changed drastically since high school, he was still just as bad at bending the truth, especially when it came to you.

“That’s good.” You rested your head against the window and observed the passing buildings and how they grew taller and taller the further into the city Kuroo drove.

As silence consumed the inside of the car once more, you became keenly aware of the music playing in the background; so, when a certain song that brought back a lot of memories started playing, you noticed it before Kuroo. 

Your eyes widened a little as you looked from the radio to Kuroo, waiting to see if he remembered it as well—hoping he remembered it. 

Feeling your eyes on him once more, he cocked a dark brow in your direction. “What?”

“This song.” You gestured lazily to the speaker. “Do you remember it?”

Kuroo chewed on his bottom lip as he listened, and for a moment, you thought he had actually forgotten. Then, a wondrous smile spread across his dimly lit face and he nodded. “Yeah, course I remember.” His spirits seemed to have increased ten-fold. “You always insisted we play it, and every time we did, you would sing every single word. Without fail. Every. Single. Time.” 

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “What can I say? It’s a good song.” You turned up the volume a couple more notches. 

This time, when the conversation ceased, the vehicle wasn’t filled to the brim with thick tension. Instead, you found yourself thinking back to your days in high school—those incredible three years that you would give anything in the world to return to. Back then, you and Kuroo had been nearly inseparable. Back then, you hadn’t had to fight for his attention.

Back then, you genuinely felt like he wanted to be around you.

Looking to your former-friend and now casual acquaintance, you watched him carefully as he drove, his eyes glued to the road in front of himself. You wondered what had happened. What had gone so wrong that he felt the need to distance himself from you? Had you done something to push him away . . . or was that just the way high school friendships played out?

The question as to what series of events had taken place to get you to where you were now was one that you were unable to answer. The only thing you knew for sure was that you missed Kuroo . . . more than you probably should, but you missed him nevertheless.

Feeling a sudden burst of confidence, either from the inspiring city lights or the nostalgic song, or maybe both, you shifted in your seat to face the man beside you and cleared your throat. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s been bothering you?” you asked matter-of-factly.

Kuroo glanced over at you for a split-second, blinking a few times in response. He was clearly taken aback by your sudden and direct inquiry, and you completely expected him to ignore you altogether or change the subject. What you didn’t expect was for him to turn into the nearest parking lot, park the car, and let out a long, exasperated sigh.

Worry and curiosity coursing through your veins, you sat silent and still, waiting for him to speak or move or do anything.

“I feel lost,” he finally said, his line of sight falling to his lap. There was a pause, and you were unsure if he was going to elaborate more or leave it at that. When you opened your mouth to respond, however, he continued. “Work takes up all of my time . . . so much so that I’m starting to realize I’ve cut ties with everyone I used to know without even noticing it; not until it was too late. And the worst part is, work isn’t even going well. This corporate ladder bullshit is way harder than I ever imagined. I feel stupid for throwing away everything I had for something I might not ever be able to obtain . . . for something I don’t even enjoy. It feels like it’s all for nothing.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. Kuroo had never been that open about his feelings with you before; not unless you had pried for days-on-end or he was plastered drunk. 

You were unsure how to respond at first, so you did what you usually did when people came to you with a problem; you tried to put yourself in their shoes and then give the advice you thought you would want to hear.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not all for nothing,” you told him. “You didn’t get into business because you hated it. Sure, maybe the spark is a little dimmer right now or you’re going through a really rough patch . . . but don’t doubt yourself over one little bump in the road.”

Slowly, Kuroo turned his head toward you, his dark eyes landing on you for more than a few seconds for the first time that night. “But how do I know if it’s worth throwing everything else away over?”

“It’s not,” you said simply. “No job is worth throwing everything else in your life away over. But the best part is, you don’t have to choose between a career and a social life, and anyone who says you do is just plain lazy or insanely bad at time management.”

Kuroo cracked a smile at that and a puff of air that could be interpreted as a soft laugh passed his lips. 

“So my advice is just try to do better from here on out.” You smiled back. “Everyone has a hard time every once in a while. If the people in your life truly care about you, they will understand.”

“Do you understand?” he asked.

This time, you didn’t hesitate at all. There was no need to play coy or pretend like you cared less than you really did. “I do.” You nodded. “I’ve missed you.”

Kuroo’s eyes softened and his small smile faltered for half a beat. “I’ve missed you too.” 

Before you knew what was happening, Kuroo’s large hand was caressing your cheek and his lips were pressed against yours. Even though it was the middle of the night, you swore your entire world lit up at that moment. You had known you had wanted your best friend back, but this was so much better. This was more than you could have ever hoped for.

“I’ve been horrible to you.” Kuroo whispered against your lips, his fingertips trailing down the side of your neck and sending shivers up your spine. “I know this is a lot to ask . . . but can you ever forgive me?”

“Just promise to call me more than once a month . . . and maybe during the day sometimes,” you chuckled. 

He laughed, his hot breath warming your face. “I can do that.”

“Then yes, I forgive you.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

bao | myg | 1

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Min Yoongi is always late to start work. He’s late in starting a lot of things. Like telling you he loves you.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of parental injury/surgery; it’s actually SO MUCH fluff; non-idol!AU; (slightly) jealous deliveryboy!Yoongi x hardworking chef!reader ft. bao fiend, next-door neighbor, model!Taehyung; Yoongi gets injured T_T

it’s Weverse magazine Yoongi; can’t be helped he looked too good and yes it’s another fic revolving around food like mango | jjk (less dark this time lmao), guess that’s my schtick now

-

Men in leather jackets?

Yes.

Men who liked to wear silver rings?

Double yes.

Men whose name was Min Yoongi?

Fuck, no.

But, unfortunately, Min Yoongi was both of the first two things, when annoyed you to no end. You could hate Min Yoongi, easy, if he wasn’t attractive, but the truth was that he was very attractive, with his dark hair, cat-like eyes that were the color of black coffee, large pale hands, silver earrings, silver bracelets, and raspy deep voice.

The infuriating thing was, he was always late.

“Sorry,” he apologized for the billionth time. “I had to do something.”

You always have to do something, you thought, pursing your lips as you pushed the paper bags towards him. Each one was stapled with a small piece of paper, indicating the address and complete order of the patron.

“I’m going to fire you if you’re late again,” you warned.

Yoongi grinned as he gathered the bags. He had pretty white teeth too. Fuck. You even liked seeing his stupid teeth. The fuck was wrong with you?

“Nah, you won’t fire me. I’m your favorite delivery boy.”

“You’re my only delivery boy,” you shot back as he retreated.

“Thus, being your favorite,” he chuckled, out the back door once again.

You sighed deeply as you watched the black leather depart. He was wearing black jeans today that showed off his long legs, with a tear in the right knee. Why did he have to look so good? And why was he always late? It was very annoying. You checked your phone, texting your father, asking how he was today.

-

You spent all day taking orders and prepping them for Yoongi to deliver. In between, you continued making buns of all kinds, from savory pork buns to sweet red bean buns. You father owned a small Chinese-style bao shop, but since his back surgery, he hadn’t been able to work for a while. Your mother was taking care of him and complaining quite a bit about having another baby, except this one was bigger and more demanding and sounded way too much like your father.

You just laughed through the phone as your dad asked for more water and a foot massage.

Being their only daughter, you naturally had some experience making bao, but actually running the business was much harder. You weren’t sure how your dad did it all these years to be honest. There used to be a counter where people could drop by and pick up a bun for their lunch break, but the person who worked at that counter used to be your mother or you, and that wasn’t happening if you were making them all day. You weren’t as fast making them as your father either.

Therefore, the small shop ended up being converted to delivery only, and your only delivery boy was late to arrive all the damn time.

Okay, he wasn’t a delivery boy per se, because he was definitely an adult man, but he might as well have been a boy with how often you scolded him about being late. At least he was good at delivering the actual orders on time.

You heard a knock at the back door and scooped up two steaming roast pork buns, brushing the excess flour off your hands before opening the door.

A bright, jovial, boxy smile greeted you.

“Hey!”

Your only exception to delivery only. Kim Taehyung, your next-door neighbor.

You handed him the pork buns and he handed you some bills.

“Keep the change,” he grinned, biting into the bun and gasping a little at the heat. “Mmm, delicious as always.”

You chuckled. “You need to learn how to cook for yourself.”

He pouted, chewing noisily. “Ugh, it’s so hard. Teach me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I tried. You burned it somehow. I don’t even know how that’s possible.”

He shrugged. “I’m better at watching anyway.”

You looked over his attire. A brown suit with a cream t-shirt, green silk scarf around his neck. His hair was dark brown again. “What are you advertising today?” Taehyung was a model. Sometimes you saw him on billboards or ads in the supermarket.

Taehyung shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m going to the agency right now.” He held up the buns. “But I gotta eat first because it’s gonna be long day.”

You chuckled. “Better go before your manager calls.”

As if on cue, a colorful tune erupted from Taehyung’s pants, chirping loudly. Taehyung shoved one of the buns entirely into his mouth and spoke around it, words muffled.

“Ugh, thanks again. Let’s hang out when I can!” he called as he ran off, snatching his phone from his pocket, mumbling into it as he chewed.

You smiled ruefully, watching him hurry away. “Yeah, like that will ever happen.”

Taehyung was far too busy to hang out with you. You were surprised he still lived in the same apartment complex you did, because he made decent money now, but he said it was because his dog Yeontan didn’t like change and his parents lived nearby so he could drop him off there when he was working.

“Your boyfriend or something?”

You suddenly noticed Yoongi standing next to the door. You jumped back, staring at him. He raised an eyebrow.

“How long have you been there?”

Yoongi shrugged. “As long as you’ve been making googly eyes at him.”

You frowned. “I’m not making googly eyes at Taehyung.”

Yoongi smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Ah, he has a name. And no honorifics. Very suspicious, if you ask me.”

Nobody asked you! You wondered if he needed both arms to deliver food, because you were pretty close to breaking at least one of them. Surely, he could drive one-handed? You were a bit disturbed on how imagining that seemed somewhat attractive to you.

“He’s my next-door neighbor,” you huffed, turning on your heel and going back into the shop to pack more orders for Yoongi.

“Next door to you puss–”

You spun around and shoved a pork bun into Yoongi’s mouth. He nearly choked, grabbing it as you let go, his fingertips brushing against yours for a moment. A strange tingle travelled through your palm, going up your arm. You ignored it, purposefully slipping buns into paper packages for an order for a local office nearby.

“It’s your lunchtime anyway,” you said impassively, not looking at him.

If you did, you would have noticed the pink tinge on Yoongi’s cheeks, the furrow in his brows as he chewed on the bun, watching you. You would have noticed the way his jaw seemed to be tense, thinking about what he just saw, holding tightly to the pork bun.

-

Yoongi knew you were the one who made it. It tasted great, almost as good as your father’s. He knew your father well, having been the on-and-off delivery boy through the years, from high school to university to now. Being an underground music producer didn’t make him a ton of money, but he didn’t care too much. If he was more popular, he would have to quit.

And he really didn’t want to quit, because he was staring at your back, hoping one day you’d notice he was watching you.

He knew who Kim Taehyung was. Taehyung came every day. Maybe even for the same reason as him. He never interrupted your interactions with Taehyung before, because it seemed rude. They were always short anyway. But, of course, Taehyung noticed you were alone now, and Taehyung had been dressing nicer, looking cuter, flirting more and more. Yoongi doubted you noticed, but it still bothered him all the same.

Yoongi sighed inwardly as he picked up another bun. You shot him a glare but he shrugged.

“Might make me taller,” was his response.

You raised your eyebrows. “You want to be a fucking skyscraper or something?”

He bit into it. Fucking delicious. “Maybe.”

Truth was, he just didn’t want to stop eating them because you made them.

Yoongi wanted to pretend you made them just for him.

-

"What's this?"

"Pork and leek bao. Tell me what you think."

Yoongi took a small bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Light flavor, but nice."

"Too greasy?" you pried.

"Mm, little bit."

You sighed. "Hm, okay, won't sell them then. I'll have to eat them myself."

Yoongi looked at the huge tray of freshly streamed buns.

"I can help."

"Wait for them to cool and then you can pack however much you want," you said absentmindedly, off to wash the pots. "You have a steamer at home?"

"Mhm."

He looked good today too, still in his black leather jacket and black jeans, different loose gray shirt. Almost cute with the way he was chomping on the steamed bun, his cheeks filling and becoming round. 

Too bad he couldn't be punctual to save his life, you thought, violently scrubbing the metal clean. 

-

Yoongi sat in his studio, holding one of the pork and leek bao you had given him. He stored them in his freezer and streamed them periodically when he was at his desk. Easy, quick meal that had very little mess. 

He chewed on it. 

He should have told you to sell them. 

But he also liked having his freezer full of bao that you had made. You probably would have given him some of he asked, but Yoongi felt bad asking because he knew how hard you worked. They should be for customers, not him. 

He sat back in his chair, taking bites slowly, savoring them. Salty pork with the mild flavor of fresh leek, a little black bean to add a hint of nuttiness, grounding the greasy nature of the meat. Made by your own two hands, your hard work, day in and day out, trying to make up for the absence of your father.

He really should stop being late.

Then again.

Yoongi was always late because he was always working on music and when he wasn't working on music, he was oversleeping his work alarms.

It wasn't until you had gone to university that he realized how much he missed you and your presence at the bao shop. You were smart. Had a Biochemistry degree and everything. Yoongi couldn't make heads or tails of science, so that alone was impressive to him. But you hadn't been able to get a job in your field because your father’s back pain got worse and worse, until he had to get surgery. Now it meant you did everything and, while it pained him to watch you working so hard, secretly he was a little glad that he could see you every day. 

He felt ashamed for thinking that way, because your father had surgery for a misaligned disc and Yoongi didn't wish that on anyone.

His eyes shifted to his computer. 

He hasn't dropped his mixtape for a lot of reasons. One, what if no one liked it? All of his hard work, ignored? Or, what if everyone liked it? What if he made it big? 

Could he handle that?

He didn't know. He wasn't very good with people.

Who was he? A nobody. Yoongi doubted your parents would be happy if the fucking delivery boy wanted to marry you. They were nice people, but of course they wanted better for you. That's why they worked so hard to put you through school to the point of your father's back literally breaking. 

Maybe it would be better if you dated Taehyung. It seemed like he made a reasonable amount of money considering his clothes. He was handsome too. Yoongi saw Taehyung's face at the local supermarket sometimes. His own face would never be in supermarkets. No one would pick up a coffee with his face on it over Taehyung's. 

Yoongi ate the last bite of bao bitterly and returned to his music. 

-

"You're even later than usual today!"

"I'm sorry. I'll grab the orders right away."

"And why are you wearing this stupid hat? It's unprofessional–"

You attempted to grab the black baseball cap off of Yoongi's head, but he dodged you. He seemed more aloof than usual today, but you barely noticed in your irritation as you clicked your tongue and grabbed his leather jacket, yanking him towards you and pulling the cap off.

Three things happened at once. 

Yoongi's body collided into yours. 

He painfully gasped into your neck, turning your skin burning hot with his breath. 

And third, your eyes widened as you realized Yoongi had a black eye.

You barely even noticed the first two things because you were staring at the fair skin around his right eye tinged with rings of purple-red. You released him and he backed up away from you, wincing. 

"What happened?" you asked in a stunned voice. 

Yoongi narrowed his eyes and tried to grab his hat, but you moved it behind your back, eyes glued to his bruise.

"Yoongi, tell me what happened."

You saw him pause. If you weren't so fixated on the actual black eye, you would have noticed his expression change from annoyance, to bitterness, to realization. Your tone was not angry. You were genuinely worried, to the point you felt strangely emotional, like you were going to cry. 

"It's nothing," Yoongi mumbled. "I'm fine. It only looks bad."

Your eyes locked with his. Those dark orbs did not want to say anything. They wanted you to treat it like no big deal, or yell at him some more for being late, anything but address his black eye. 

"Please tell me what happened," you said quietly. 

Yoongi sighed, rubbing the back of his head. Usually his black hair was styled, but it was messy and flat from being under the cap. 

"I did something stupid," he finally replied. "I trusted people. And I got scammed."

You waited. Yoongi shuffled his feet and continued. 

"I produce and make music. I mixed a guy's entire album and when I asked for payment, they told me I was getting paid with exposure," he spat, as if the word itself was disgusting. "I was already in a shitty mood. So I punched him."

"You did what?" 

"I punched him," Yoongi repeated coolly. He shrugged. "There were three other guys so I punched them too."

"Y... Yoongi!"

"What?" he snapped. "They fucking deserved it."

"You can't go around punching people!"

"Yeah." He pointed to his black eye. "Sometimes they punch back."

You stared at him before you held out his cap. He took it from you and crammed it back on his head. 

"Yoongi, go home."

He paused. Then he chuckled, straightening. "What are you taking about?" He changed his tone, making to more lighthearted and teasing. He gestured behind you, to the brown paper bags waiting. "I have deliveries to make."

"I'll do them."

You stood in front of the bags, blocking him. Yoongi frowned. 

"You have food to make."

"Yoongi," you said softly. "Go home and recover. You probably didn't get much sleep last night. I can see your dark circles."

He chuckled, the noise dying in his throat as he looked at your serious expression. 

"I always have dark circles."

"I don't want you to get in an accident because of sleep deprivation."

"I won't get into an accident," Yoongi said impatiently. He tried to move around you, but you and your flour-covered apron blocked him. 

"I don't want you to get hurt."

The way you said it stopped him. You thought of your father, laying in the hospital, doctors and nurses trying to make sure he was okay after the surgery. Yoongi could see it in your eyes. He sighed. 

"Look, it's just a couple bruises. I did this to myself," he mumbled. His eyes shifted from side to side before they came back to you. "I need to make money. I'm short on rent because of this."

"Then I'll pay you," you insisted. "You need to rest."

You suddenly realized Yoongi was very close to you now, looking down at you from under his black baseball cap. His chest was almost touching your chest. The scent of leather and pine cologne filled your nose, vastly different from your dusty flour-covered self. His cat-like eyes were on you, expression unreadable.

"This is my rest," Yoongi said quietly. "Helping you deliver orders is the least stressful part of my day."

For a long moment, you didn't move. You weren't sure if it was because you were still worried or because Yoongi was so close and it felt weird all of a sudden, as if you recalled the way his body hit yours earlier and the way his breath tickled your skin. 

You moved away and Yoongi collected the bags, careful not to drop them. You always ordered them so they were from first to last delivery, maximizing efficiency and order number. He made his way to the back door, using his back to open it. 

You spoke again, voice nearly cracking.

"Please don't get hurt."

Yoongi looked up from under his black cap, expressionless. You expected him to give you a snarky remark as usual. 

"I won't."

He headed out. 

-

2.

--

masterpost

[noctarcanum]

army dreamers || levi ackerman x male!oc

Rowan, the young, but promising marleyan warrior candidate was never famous for his ability to keep out of other people's businesses. After getting caught up in his family's history of titan experiments and genetically modified clans, his supervisors decide to harvest said curiosity and lack of discipline. He wakes up on a ship, sailing north, with a piece of paper in his backpack that has only one sentence written on it, over and over again: "Kill the remaining Ackermans on Paradis Island and return home."

chapter one: the remaining

‘So, is it true?’

Zeke pushed himself away from the concrete wall he was leaning against.

‘What?’

‘That you’re the one to inherit it.’

The streets of the inner district got filled with busy adults, hurrying home from work. The two blonde boys slowly made their way through the crows, leaving the training center behind them. The setting sun painted an orange glow on the old, shiny stones and bricks.

‘Oh,’ Zeke sighed. ‘Yeah. But keep quiet!’

‘Quiet?’ Rowan exclaimed with sparkling eyes. ‘But this is awesome, you can finally be an honorary marleyan! You’re gonna be rich or some shit! Who knows about it?’

‘Those who need to know about it.’

Rowan walked next to him in silence, as he examined the stores they were passing by. Women with thicker arms than some warriors were carrying wooden boxes back from the street, cleaned the blackboards. He didn’t really understand why they had to clean them, after all, the same thing was advertised on them every day: potatoes and flour. Maybe because the price got higher and higher.

He thought about what his sister and mother did while he was away at training and then the interrogation. He doubted if Ma even got dressed.

‘Do you want to come over for dinner?’ asked Rowan. ‘You could tell Cornelia the big news!’

‘I was there yesterday…’

‘And?’

They turned at the corner but didn’t stop at Zeke’s house.

‘Do you think I have a bigger chance now to get the armored? I mean, you could say some nice things about me every now and then!’

‘Yeah, I’ll tell them about you. What nice things could I say to them, though? You are already on thin ice, that would just end up me also being punished.’

Rowan rolled his eyes but didn’t respond.

‘You’re being punished, right?’ Zeke inquired.

‘Well, yes, technically, no. They kept talking about all the things they can thank my family, and how it won’t protect me forever, and…’

‘They’re right, you know.’

‘I know,’ Rowan sighed. ‘Also, interrupt me again and you’re not getting dinner. As I was saying… they sort of agreed with me. Or I was just hallucinating out of stress.’

‘I highly doubt that’s a thing’ Zeke shook his head. ‘What on Earth did you say to them that they agreed?’

‘Well, they first shouted at me that I need to stop acting up, they can’t deal with me anymore in these times. You know, they’re about to plan the mission to retrieve the Founding… but they don’t even have proper candidates yet, they’re just stupid fuckers who never learned how to deal with pressure…’

‘Rowan, quiet!’

‘Shit, okay, got it!’ the younger frowned. ‘It was quite the speech they gave, though. About the titan experiments my ancestors did, and those… families. That the shifters they will have to send to Paradis will not only have to deal with those devils, but entire clans of genetically manipulated guard dogs, and they really don’t have the time to discipline me every time I’m too nosy. So, it got me thinking, and I just blurted it out, that they should get rid of the families first, then comes the hunt for the founding titan…’

Zeke raised a brow, his eyes locked on Rowan. He knew him too much, that tall monkey was already thinking, planning, or just revising ideas. His train of thought was interrupted by the sight of two soldiers, patrolling the narrow street.

‘When were they placed here?’ asked Rowan, as Zeke didn’t comment on the phenomenon.

‘They weren’t here yesterday,’ he muttered.

‘That’s why I asked, dumbass.’

Zeke yet again stayed silent – he did that an awfully lot of times. Rowan sometimes wondered if it simply was his nature, or he became like this after… what happened with Aunt Dina and Uncle Grisha. What he did not like to wonder about, is that what would happen to Cornelia and Ma if he got sent to paradise, like Zeke’s parents. Would they break down? Miss him? Rent out his bedroom immediately? Starve to death?

‘So, I only said the… plan or whatthefuckever to get them off my tail, but I think I really did give them ideas… I hope this makes me more favorable when it will come to the inheriting the armored titan!’ He had to blabber about something before his mind went to a darker place.

Rowan locked the front door behind them as they entered the narrow townhouse. Thick dust sat everywhere, around and on the once elegant leather shoes his mother used to wear but wasn’t picked up in weeks. The filth that Ma didn’t take care of quickly distracted him from the bad feeling he got from the soldiers on the street, this far from the fence.

‘Ma! Cornelia! Zeke is staying here tonight! What’s for dinner?’ he shouted, but got no answer, as usual.

They found his sister at the kitchen table, sleeping on top of a pile of textbooks. Her silver hair spread out on the pages, but he knew she studied for her pilot exams. Which she won’t be able to take if they’re not honorary marleyans. Another thought Rowan needed a distraction from.

Rowan gave Zeke a more comfortable t-shirt and sweatpants, after they both changed they headed back to the kitchen. Their cupboards were almost completely empty.

‘Didn’t you get the aid this month?’ Zeke glanced at him, after unsuccessfully searching for fresh ingredients.

‘The military has some good methods to keep up one’s motivation’ he shrugged. ‘We still have some potatoes and dry pasta somewhere, I think.’

They started working together in silence, Zeke knowing the kitchen just as good as Rowan. They boiled the potatoes, then the pasta, and added the remaining spices from the packet.

The meal was only enough for two.

Zeke automatically picked up one bowl and put it in front of Cornelia, who didn’t wake up to any of the noises they made.

Rowan gave the other to Ma, who even though had her eyes open, could have easily been asleep. He placed the warm bowl in her lap, guiding her bony, scarred hands to grab onto it, but her reaction to any of these arrived long seconds later. She didn’t seem to register his presence, not even when she sat up a bit on the sofa, and started eating, her greasy hair falling in front of her face, functioning like an old, ugly curtain. He stayed next to her for a while to make sure she didn’t stop after a few bites. Meanwhile, his mind wandered in his memories, trying to think back to the times his Ma was still pretty and healthy. Were they even real memories, or just the creation of a young little girl?

Zeke and he headed upstairs to get away from the smell of pasta that made their stomachs growl even louder.

‘Is it always going to be like this?’ Rowan asked quietly, not even expecting an answer.

‘This is what we signed up for.’

Rowan sat down on the bed, soon followed by Zeke. Their shoulders touched, but they didn’t pull away.

The bed they sat on barely counted as one, as it was one old mattress laid on the ground. He was supposed to get a frame, a few years back, Uncle Grisha promised to assemble one. This was the smallest promise that was broken.

He glanced out the window the mattress was placed next to. The two soldiers were still patrolling on their street.

‘We should sleep,’ said Zeke. ‘Or at least you should, you had a long day.’

So Rowan did. It was the last time he closed his eyes with full trust in the presence of him, as he didn’t wake up in his own bed the next morning. He didn’t even have any kind of bed under him, only smelly, wooden slats, and the scent of the sea around him.

He got up, thinking he was dreaming some bullshit again, but the wind in his long hair was too real. Everything got too real in mere seconds, just as the dozens of people a few feet away from him, all in chains. All in chains, except form him.

A nearby officer flinched as he spotted Rowan moving, his hand moving closer to the grip of his gun. He was clearly still a detainee, but some other kind. The ship they were on… was it sailing to Paradise? That was his supervisor’s solution to harmless bullshit he pulled sometimes? Turning him into the same mindless titan as traitors and murderers?

‘Hey, you rat.’ Burped the old officer, not even bothering to look in his direction anymore. ‘You’re not here for sightseeing, you have instructions.’

Rowan opened his backpack with trembling hands. It was almost empty – it had a water bottle in it, his knife that he trained with, and a piece of paper that got smudged ink all over it.

It had the same sentence written on it over and over again, mimicking the punishment they used on first graders in school. He couldn’t tell if it was Zeke’s or Cornelia’s handwriting.

Kill the remaining Ackermans on Paradis Island and return home.

Kill the remaining Ackermans on Paradis Island and return home.

Kill the remaining Ackermans on Paradis Island and return home.

Kill the remaining Ackermans on Paradis Island and return home.

Kill the remaining Ackermans on Paradis Island and return home.

[msgrumpygills]

Social Media Anon Here!

Firstly, never change Grumpy ;) you are probably the only person on Tumblr to LISTEN to another view and let it change a prejudice.

Secondly, the Padagram/Social Media change bus continues. Don't be fooled people will be looking at positive and negative reactions to that change on social media.

So here goes!

1. They are starting to market season 2 of Walker in Hiatus. That really doesn't happen. That means they know they need to target new viewers. They are acknowledging they have a problem. The main problem is Jared either didn't learn enough about production quality on SPN (Jensen/Misha were both more interested in behind the camera's) or that he thought he could stick a Stetson on and we all had such sh1t for brains we'd watch anything. So they need a viewer boost DESPARATELY and are going all out to (a) persuade Walkers remaining viewer(s) that it's worth sticking around and (b) get back old viewers or convert 1m+ viewers to season 2. So now we see all the cast (and Keegan has more followers than Jared and Lindsay has a VERY engaged following) trying to persuade their followers how fabulous Walker is. Expect this scrabbling to continue if they want their COVID paychecks.

2. Connected to 1, Jared has started trying to break out of the fandom bubble. I don't think he's trying for power couple (the clue in a power couple is that two FAMOUS people get together and create a super brand, here we have one niche C famous guy and a hanger on wife), I think we are in Jared profile raising and trying to raise his recognition score, which is probably a little low having half assed it in the last year and a half. He's doing it by scatter-gunning so I'm not sure it's going to stick.

3. Connected to 2,

(i) if I run my algorithm clean laptop with a "Jared Padalecki" news search, I get (a) a daily mail article on Jared "clarifying the rift" (b) a "hello" magazine saying he's been "inundated with support after death of "family member"" (c) the new york times article on Walker and Supernatural. It then goes into a variety of articles about Jared raising money for Holly's family (fucking atrocious in my view to use her death for publicity) and a series of derivative articles on his mantrum and later explanation. ONLY THE NEW YORK TIMES ARTICLE MENTIONS WALKER other than as a throw away, all of the others link to Supernatural only. Walker isn't on the main radar of anyone as a show. It's not mainstream enough to mention. it has ZERO buzz.

(ii) if I run the same search on my compromised tablet, I get a SEA of fluff articles "jared padalecki goes to venice", "jared padalecki's wife wishes him a happy birthday" "jared padalecki goes to watch soccer" "jared padalecki goes to the wrestling". I'm expecting "Jared Padalecki defecates regularly" tomorrow.

At the end of that I get the same articles as in (i) but the majority of his publicity is still going through the fandom and the, not very viewed, endless zine type websites that update on every episode of every geek show every day.

So we are seeing, and I expect it to continue, a break out Padalecki, (who knows he and his forehead may wish to have a final crack at films), and a fluff Padalecki, trying to stay relevant a year after SPN relevance ended, because he hasn't got the same push for season 2 of Walker as he had for season 1 and Walker has zero presence. No one, not even the fans are talking about Walker.

Will it work? I don't think so. Keegan has 7m followers on Insta and that's because he's a photographer and writer and it's interesting. I would follow his account (I don't), but certainly it isn't a Walker instagram.

Jared is a clever guy, but he's boring on social media. He has a limited appeal. He does family snaps, hunk snaps, flogs orange pee and flogs his show. He says "family" and "mantra" a lot but that's really it. The clue is, if you didn't know who he was and came across his instagram you wouldn't follow him. Why would you? For a video of a guy running up steps? A smug picture of two middle aged men trying to flog you something?... (oh and lots of "brother" comments on Keegan's social media, which is irritating. It's like he thinks that is his repeatable formula and it isn't).

His media approach won't work because advertising and exposure pushes a product. In TV's case, it's not a one off product and there is a lot of competition. Product Jared needs to be more interesting (his mantrum's are the only exciting thing about him - and that is tragic) and his TV show just needs to be BETTER, well, a LOT BETTER.

Soooo, expect the Padapush to continue, but it's not about a couple, it's about individual marketing and for Jared breaking out of SPN bubble. For Gen, it's her tag along profile that she'll never break out of. She'll have to be satisfied with her superpower of being able to persuade people to buy toothbrush's and dog food (if she can).

Expect though the couple's bit to die off a little. Jared is getting over exposed. His engagement rating is plummeting (nearly 3% is a plummet) because of the repetitive photo content. He'll have to back off or people will switch off (I have already). What makes me laugh is.... from the dawn of time when cavemen took their wives 2 miles away for a new cave weekend.... NO ONE HAS EVER BEEN INTERESTED IN SOMEONE ELSE'S HOLIDAY SNAPS.... Gen and Jared apparently need to learn that lesson...

I might stop these posts now because, well, it's gotta be a bit boring for you and I write LONG. :)

Stay safe and wear your masks ;) xxx

I don’t want you to ever ever change, lovely! Also, I’m NEVER bored by your messages! You put so much effort into the research you do and the messages you send and it’s appreciated! <3 

I started following Lindsey on IG because she seems pretty genuine, and her cat is way too cute! Plus, I like her attitude. I haven’t followed her for the whole Walker season, but even she doesn’t post a lot about it. She posts interviews and then posts about that night’s episode, but other than that, nothing.  Can’t speak for Keegan, but how are fans and non-fans supposed to be excited about a show when the people STARRING in the show can’t be bothered? Maybe they’re all aware of how shitty it is or maybe they’re lazy, but it doesn’t make sense. 

I’m always interested to see the difference in an “algorithm-free” setting and one that has an algorithm. I always figured Google was the same for everyone, but seeing the difference in articles you’ve outlined is insane. It really just goes to show that Jared isn’t the star that his stans think he is. He’s not as important as they think he is, he’s just an actor.  It’s even more jarring to see just how little Walker is talked about at all. All of my devices probably have been “contaminated” when it comes to algorithm so I can’t really speak personally about the public and fans talking about Walker or not talking about it. I can say that on the posts about Walker from the Supernatural Facebook page, a good chunk of the comments are people saying they stopped watching, never got into it, or thought it was trash. There are only a handful of comments talking about how they enjoy the show. 

I think it was disgusting for him to use a fan’s passing for publicity. And no, I don’t think it was anything other than a PR stunt. Her family had a GFM going that was promoted by plenty of the case INCLUDING GEN, so you know he knew about it. But for him to make his own special one and then have articles posted everywhere about how charitable he is? That’s gross PR bullshit and I hope it backfires. 

I still follow a few Supernatural fans, Jared fans, Jensen fans, etc. on Tumblr and even they aren’t mentioning it. I think maybe the hardcore Jared stans post gifsets or whatever, but I don’t see much praise for the show itself, just Jared’s looks. Even the fans aren’t biting and that would make me reevaluate everything if I was Jared. 

I'm expecting "Jared Padalecki defecates regularly" tomorrow. This made me laugh way too hard!

who knows he and his forehead may wish to have a final crack at films You are on a ROLL!  Maybe I’ve become biased, but I can’t see Jared doing films. I mean, I could see him doing like a side character role or something small, but I can’t see him having a big part of a movie. Like I said, maybe that’s me being biased but I see him staying in TV. I could be proven wrong, but I don’t know. 

I agree about Jared being boring on SM. I used to get some giggles from his Twitter posts and even some of his early IG posts because they were goofy, clever, and candid. It showed his humor and was more personable. Now it’s just all fake and comes off as someone whose only motivation to engage with fans is money and that’s a big turn off. 

For me personally, I think that if instead of the “couple goals” bullshit that they try to push for their lavish trips, if they just posted cool pictures they took of different locations, activities, food or whatever, that would be more palatable than all the “Look at my hubster and I! We’re in Italy! Look at how in love we are!” But maybe that’s because I’ve become a bit of a photography nerd? 

I guess time will tell whether or not Jared will make positive changes and if Walker can be saved, but I’m not really optimistic about it. 

I AM optimistic about your takes on things so keep them coming! Long posts or not, I love them! <3

[beatricethecat2]

“I’m super bummed about the yurt,” Myka says.

“It is rather unfortunate," Helena says. "Perhaps internet rentals are unreliable?”

“That’s how everything’s done these days. And it’s not their fault, the pump died, and no water means it’s a no-go. But I still want that river view.”

“And the solitude. Plus the solar-powered generator.”

“You were super into that,” Myka says. “But this place…” She pushes at the cards scattered in front of her. “They just left stuff lying around. Such a dump.”

“It was rather last minute. Merely a stop-gap; a place to rest our weary heads after nights under the stars.”

“And backs on the hard ground,” Myka grumbles. “Where’d you find this?” She twirls a yellow flower between her thumb and forefinger.

“In the garden behind the shed. Though ‘garden’ and 'shed’ are generous terms.”

“Thanks for picking it. And thanks for being so upbeat about this,” Myka says, cracking a small smile.

“Thank you for humoring my curiosity.” Helena gathers the cards within her reach and piles them into a neat stack.

“It’s given us a destination, which we needed.” Myka pushes more cards towards Helena. “You’re sure none of the sites we saw are what you remember?”

“From the stereographs? No.” Helena fans the cards out and begins to arrange them in suits.

“Could you…could it be you don’t remember it as well as you thought?

"Stereographs were the virtual reality of my day. They immersed one in places inherently foreign to our own. The take-away memories were vivid. I was hoping…”

“Hoping what?” Myka says, scooting closer, joining in organizing the cards.

“That the physicality of the ruins would trigger an emotional response. I viewed the images at one of Charles’s parties not long before I was bronzed. My reaction was quite visceral; I’d felt life flowing through the structures, even though they were long abandoned.”

Helena stares at the card in her hand.

“Then again, I wasn’t exactly in my right mind. Perhaps it’s a ridiculous quest.” She lays the card, a joker, on the table.

“Hey, we’ll keep looking,” Myka says, laying her hand over Helena’s. “We’ll regroup in Vegas, then go north and hit Mesa Verde. It’s pretty magical.”

“You’ve been before?”

“Girl Scout trip. Long, miserable bus ride. But even as a kid, the cliff dwellings felt magical.”

“Perhaps they’re the site I’m looking for!” Helena says, perking up. “And, perhaps we met there in the past. Star-crossed lovers, throughout time and space.”

“Past lives? You believe in that?”

“Not in a grand sense,” Helena says, aligning the gazes of the queen of hearts and queen of spades to face each other. “But I do appreciate that these days, one can mention such trivial mythologies without repercussions.”

“What do you mean?”

“In my day, as a woman, there was little room for flippant musing. Christian values dictated our every move, while Spiritualism promoted the fanatic embrace of communing with the dead. Not to mention the base-level assumption women were of a lesser intellect.”

“So you’d never say it out loud.”

“Never. In fact, I’d blocked it out. Hard science was my escape but at the expense of my sanity.”

“I suppose we all need a sense that something out there's guiding us,” Myka says, plucking the two other queens from the spread and aligning them as Helena did. “It’s kind of romantic to think our connection’s lasted hundreds of years.”

“But you’re not sold.”

“Nah.” Myka slips the cards on top of each other and slides them back into the pile.

“Perhaps my bronzing was the universe’s way of aligning our presence.”

“Sounds like a story you might write. Or one you already did.”

“So pragmatic, Myka Bering.”

“You’re the romantic,” Myka says, bumping Helena’s shoulder.

“I’m a woman of science!” Helena quips playfully.

“Hm, yeah,” Myka mumbles, turning to look towards the other side of the trailer. “Come with me, 'woman of science.’ Let’s test out this awful looking bed.”

She grabs Helena’s hand and tugs her across the room. They tumble in tandem onto the full-size futon.

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

Bering and Wells On the Road ("Warehouse 13" Season 5 replacement) Season 1: Episode 5 Title: Las Vegas: Hopes, Dreams, and a Little Bit of Crazy

Summary: Myka and Helena travel across the expanse of Texas toward the arid Southwest, tracking down a memory. A last-minute cancellation leads to less-than-ideal accommodations and musings on the universe. A stop in Vegas turns into an artifact hunt after a few nights on the town. While there, a less than supernatural mystery garners honest talk, revealing a sticking point that, for better or worse, is left hanging to be resolved down the line.

Previously: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4

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

***BONUS SCENE***

“What’s this?” Myka asks, holding a piece of paper found while tidying the room before checkout.

Helena turns from packing and squints at the page.

“It appears to be an advertisement for burlesque.”

“It’s a strip club.”

“There’s a distinction?”

“You’ve watched enough cop shows to know.”

“Touché,” Helena says with a smirk. “Were you considering attending?”

“It’s from your pocket! The stuff you took out to dry clean your coat after it got gooed.”

“I don’t recall saving that piece of ephemera.”

“Maybe you recall this?” Myka flips the paper over.

Helena steps closer and squints again.

“Do you need glasses?”

“I haven’t had proper tea yet,” Helena grumbles. “It appears to be writing.”

“It’s a name. And a number. Who's Giselle?”

“Ah…” A light bulb goes off behind Helena’s eyes. “The tall, blonde you were ogling at the bar.”

“Me? What blonde? Oh…” A dimmer bulb goes off behind Myka’s eyes. “I thought I recognized her from that show we saw, Zumanity.”

“And I’d thought she’d reminded you of a tall blonde from your past.”

“Sam was a man.”

“Gender is a construct–”

“I know! I don’t need another lecture–”

“–designed to control the masses, just like– ”

“Capitalism, religion, television….who knows what else,” Myka gruffs. “No more podcasts in the car for a while, OK?" 

Helena crosses her arms over her chest and grunts dismissively. Myka's face pinches as she holds her ground.

"So you, what, went up to this woman when I took that call from the Warehouse?”

“As it happens, she spoke with me,” Helena says, puffing up like a bird on the defense.

“She came to our table?”

“I’d gone to the bar. I needed a top-up as you’d been gone for an immeasurable amount of time.”

“And she just happened to be there?”

“Coincidentally.”

“Coincidentally? And she 'coincidentally’ gave you her number?”

“We had a lovely conversation about the mechanics from the show. The hanging armatures, the chains, the silks, the water tank. And the athleticism that went into their provocative stunts.”

“Uh-huh. But she gave you her number. Why?”

“I believe there was a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?”

“Must you parrot me so?” Helena plants her hands on her hips.

“If you’d tell me what really happened, I wouldn’t have to.” Myka mirrors Helena’s pose.

“Fine. You seemed so enamored, I thought to ask questions–”

“I thought I recognized her, that’s all!”

“She was quite stunning. Did I mention statuesque?”

“Helena, why?” Myka waves the page in Helena’s direction.

“She offered us a backstage tour.”

“Us, or you?”

“I’d pointedly mentioned you, so us.”

“Oh.” Myka’s shoulders slump. “What does 'backstage tour’ mean?”

“I believe a peek behind the production.”

“Because you said there was a misunderstanding.”

“Due to her somewhat pointed overtures.”

“I knew it! She was hitting on you.” Myka smacks the desk with her hand. 

Helena grimaces. “I believe she was 'fishing’”

“Do you even know what that is?”

“I do, as per the aforementioned police procedurals. In fact, it was….refreshing, being courted by a woman." 

"I’m a woman!”

“Yes, but….in the wild, so to speak.”

“Did you…” Myka starts, then glances at the paper again. She sits on the edge of the bed and looks up at Helena. “Did you want to go out with her?" 

"Again, I’d pointedly pointed out I was taken.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we rushed off New York, New York the minute your call from the Warehouse finished.” Helena throws her hands in the air. “We then spent the majority of yesterday chasing an elusive King Kong around that scale model of the city.”

“We did. Stupid antiques convention.”

“I swear we spend more time on Warehouse business than our own.”

“Like once a month.”

“Every week.”

“Every other week. When they call us. Us getting whammied doesn’t count.”

“Mine was New Orleans. Yours Austin. But the others…”

Myka tallies missions on fingers until she hits ten. “You’re right. We’ve spent a lot of time on Warehouse stuff. I’m sorry.”

Helena shakes her head while breathing out a heavy sigh. She sits next to Myka and lays a hand on her thigh. “To answer your question, we’re off today anyway, so there was no point in mentioning it.”

Myka slips her hand over Helena’s. “I bet you actually wanted to see the mechanics backstage. That’s something people do on vacation.”

“Quite an improvement from Trouble Wit,” Helena says.

“I don’t know that that is.”

“Illusions with pleated paper. Parlor tricks, but they delighted Christina so.”

“See, I like hearing that stuff,” Myka says, squeezing Helena’s hand. “Would you have told me any of this if I hadn’t found the flyer cleaning up?’ She hands the paper to Helena.

"Why would it matter?” Helena crumples the paper and lobs it towards the garbage can. It bounces off and onto the floor. 

“Because for this to work we need to talk to each other, tell each other how we feel.” Myka looks Helena in the eye. “I can’t read your mind.”

“Then, perhaps we were not destined to meet throughout time and space.”

“Hey, you can’t take it back. I like that idea now.” Myka threads her fingers through Helena's and flips their hands over. “You’re really annoyed about the work stuff?”

“I was hoping to have you all to myself.”

“You do.” Myka squeezes Helena’s hand again and lifts it up, kissing its back. “How much time do we have before checkout?”

Helena glances at her wristwatch. “Not nearly enough.”

“But it could be.” Myka threads a lock of hair behind Helena’s ear and guides their lips together. Their kiss leads to more-than-kissing in record time.

Next Scene: Running late to checkout…

-TBC-

NOTES: The quote, “Las Vegas is a city built on hopes, dreams and a little bit of crazy,” is by Eleanor Goggin. If you haven’t seen a well-shot stereograph in a viewer, you are missing out. Their mock-3D spaces from bygone eras can be mind-blowing.Myka with the flyer is from a season four episode where she and Pete go to Las Vegas. The show Zumanity is a racy offshoot of Cirque du Soleil and just closed after a seventeen-year run in Vegas. I started reading a fascinating dissertation about why middle- and upper-class Victorian women embraced Spiritualism. In a nutshell, it gave them autonomy and a sense of power within the rigid confines of what was expected of them as women while they remained safe within the construct of home. H.G. would have bristled at that, because she wanted more. But I’m certain she would have been fascinated by Hilma af Klint’s amazing drawings and paintings, even though they were based in Spiritualism and Theosophy. Oh and here's on of the stereographs. (H.G. would have seen it later than 1898.) Also, the title font/design is from the first edition of the book you are thinking of but the content is not related.

[starlocked01]

Look Alive, Sunshine

AO3 Link

Dukexiety Week Day 7- Music WC: 1.8K Summary: Remus picks Virgil up from his dorm in the middle of the night to combat an old fear. Content Warning: Swearing, Panicking, references to past suicidal thoughts

@dukexietyweek

A/N: This is actually in the same universe as When Can I See You Again? which is the first dukexiety story I wrote featuring Soul mark timers, lots of miscommunication and drama, and fun. And fight club. If you've liked this week's oneshots, maybe give WCISYA? a try ^_^ Thank you everyone for reading along and sharing this week <3

Despite Remus' progress with Dr. B. and despite over a thousand nights with no incidents, Virgil still could not shake his fear of the Xs. He hadn’t seen them in years, but some nights Virgil stayed up to watch his soul mark countdown the seconds until Remus could reassure him he'd lost sleep for no reason.

Most of the nights when he stayed up watching with growing anxiety, Virgil didn't even try to text Remus. His boyfriend needed the sleep and would just worry when he woke up until Virgil finally rolled out of bed and answered his reassurances. Tonight was too much. Tonight, not even the steady passage of time promising he'd see his soulmate the next day was enough to allay thoughts of horrific unforeseen accidents.

Tonight Virgil texted his soulmate at quarter to two am and watched as the numbers changed without warning.

00:05:17

Five minutes. Virgil gulped and couldn't help but feel like he'd fucked up. He glanced at his phone several times, bewildered by the lack of an answering text, but mostly watched his wrist counting down.

At about the two-minute mark he finally realized he should probably get dressed and grabbed a pair of skinny jeans to struggle into. He struck his foot on the corner of the bed and bit his lip hard to avoid waking up his roommate. Virgil quickly shrugged on his hoodie and shoes before checking his wrist again.

00:00:10

He laughed to himself at the near deja vu feeling, walking over to the window to watch for Remus’ car in the parking lot.

To his surprise, there was a knock at the dorm door instead. Virgil jumped and rushed over to the door, cracking it open just in time to glimpse his soulmate grinning out in the hallway.

"Remus! What are you doing here?" Virgil asked in a hissing whisper, sliding out into the hallway and shutting the door as quietly as possible, "do you know what time it is?"

"Uh yeah, babe. 2 am. You're the one who sent a distress signal, what was I supposed to do?" Remus answered at his normal, too-loud volume, wrapping Virgil in a tight hug before the smaller man could answer or object.

"You coulda just told me you were alright," Virgil grumbled, hugging his soulmate back tighter anyway, "do I want to know how you got in?"

"The desk worker recognized me and let me in. Don't worry, I would only break in if mildly inconvenienced," Remus grinned, starting to pull Virgil with him down the hall, "so why are you up so late? You weren't waiting for me to croak, were you?"

Virgil started to respond but stopped before he got a syllable out. That was what he was technically doing, even if he dreaded that very thing more than anything. "I- don't make it sound like I would ever want that! I just… got worried."

Remus tugged Virgil closer to his side, "I'm okay. And I'm not going anywhere, worrywart." He waved briefly at the night guard and ushered Virgil outside, "c'mon. We're gonna fix this."

"How? You're okay tonight but what about tomorrow? How do I know you're going to be okay every night? What if-" Virgil gulped, not wanting to vocalize his worst fear.

Remus stopped just outside the door and turned to Virgil, "come on, Virgie. I always call when it's a bad day. And I haven't had one in a while."

"Yeah, but what if-"

"If I had a bad day, I'd call. C'mon. We've gotta get your mind off this," Remus murmured, pulling Virgil towards his car.

Virgil huffed but followed Remus easily enough, sliding into the passenger's seat as Remus scanned through a pile of CD cases.

“Oh my god, you still have those?” Virgil asked, a bit surprised to see his old emo collection.

“Of course I do. One of the best your-birthday presents I’ve ever gotten,” Remus giggled and picked the album he’d been looking for, “I get that you get scared. When I die you can listen to The Black Parade and mourn me, but tonight we are gonna Look Alive, Sunshine.” Remus started the car and fed the CD to the center console before backing out of the spot and zooming out of the parking lot.

Virgil hummed happily, giggling as Remus recited the initial traffic report along with Dr. Death-Defying, “I love Danger Days. Remember how you convinced the DJ at Prom to play this song?”

“How could I not? He only did it because of your pouty little baby face back then,” Remus teased, earning himself a smack on the shoulder, “what? He certainly wasn’t doing me any favors.”

“You’re an ass,” Virgil chuckled.

“I’m your ass,” Remus corrected him, headbanging along as he drove.

“So where are we headed, ass of mine?” Virgil asked just over the music, watching as streetlights and neon signs advertising closed stores flashed by.

“Nowhere special,” Remus replied carefully, pretty quickly turning into an empty parking lot and pulling into a space as far from any lights as he can.

“Yeah.. not kidding about that... Is this a bookstore?”

“Bookstore parking lot.”

“Okay, why a bookstore parking lot?”

Remus didn’t answer, just unbuckled and tried to squeeze between the front seats of the car to the back. Virgil watched in amusement until Remus managed to push himself through and got settled in the back.

“C’mon. You do this for me all the time, now it’s your turn.”

Virgil laughed and turned the key to the battery-only position in the ignition and locked the car doors before following Remus, sliding back to the back seat a touch more nimbly. He settled into Remus’ lap and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” he murmured, settling in as Remus wrapped his arms around him and started singing along with the music.

“If that's the best that I could be? Then I'd be another memory. Can I be the only hope for you? Because you're the only hope for me,” Remus sang softly to Virgil, running fingers through his hair.

Virgil sniffed and sang the rest of the verse, “And if we can't find where we belong we'll have to make it on our own. Face all the pain and take it on because the only hope for me is you alone,” he tried to relax and let Remus’ presence reassure him that neither of them was going anywhere without the other, “is it weird to say I wish you were around more often?”

Remus stopped humming along with the music to hug Virgil tighter, “not weird at all, V. You’ll graduate soon and we can move in together. Then you’ll really be sick of me.” he smiled and kissed Virgil’s hair, “we’re so close to forever, love.”

Virgil sighed and began to sing along again a few songs later, “we can leave this world, leave it all behind. We can steal this car if your folks don't mind. We can live forever if you've got the time,” he buried his face in Remus’ chest, almost wishing they could just start driving tonight and never looking back.

“My pretty little heart attack in black hair dye,” Remus giggled, “you gotta finish school first so I can just kick Roman and Remy out.”

Virgil laughed at that, “as if you’d ever kick your brother out.”

“Easier done than said. I’ve lived with that asshole for far too long already,” Remus replied pointedly, “you know, we can work out transportation if you would perhaps consider moving off campus next semester.”

Virgil sat there silent in consideration. The only thing really stopping him from agreeing was the wall of anxieties over moving in with his boyfriend and living off-campus and paying rent and having to find a job in between homework and classes. It was a lot to figure out, not even considering the implications of actually moving in with his boyfriend. What if Remus did something crazy like suggesting they get married? What if everything changed and he didn’t like it or get used to it? What if nothing changed and he still woke up at 2 in the morning from dreams of Xs despite falling asleep in Remus’ arms? What if-

“Virgil- where’s your head, Stormcloud?” Virgil’s thoughts were interrupted by the question and a soft steady tapping on the back of his neck.

Virgil sighed and shook his head, “sorry. It got away from me. I kinda want this moment to last forever. It’s safe and predictable.”

“An abandoned parking lot is not life, sweetheart. Trust me, I love how safe this is. I love holding you and knowing nothing can happen to you while we’re here. But life doesn’t happen in safety. We can face it together, we always will. But we do have to go out and face it eventually,” Remus spoke softly, letting his voice mingle with the music.

“You’re here now. You’re here and real and not going anywhere. That should be enough. Why isn’t it enough?” Virgil asked in a small voice.

“Because you care. Your love isn’t limited to this moment,” Remus laughed softly, “your love has saved me before, so don’t you dare try to limit it now.”

“I- oh wow, Rem, I am so sorry,” Virgil caught himself and sighed, “I think I get it now.”

“Oh? Figure something out?” Remus asked quietly, continuing to tap on Virgil to the beat.

“I haven’t been trusting your love. I’m an asshole,” Virgil shook his head, “ of course I won’t wake up and find Xs. You love me. I’m so dumb for not trusting that because of course you’re not going anywhere.”

Remus chuckled, “now you’re getting it, V. I know you can’t help worrying, but you’ll at least let me prove it when the worries get too much?”

Virgil sat up carefully, “I didn’t want to bother you with it before. Goodness knows we both need the sleep, but I think next time, I’ll just reach out like tonight.”

Remus smiled and pulled Virgil back down, “you said it yourself. We need sleep. So sleep, mister. We’re not going anywhere until morning.”

Virgil laughed and feebly tried to push away, “nooo not in the car! At least let's go find a bed.”

“Aww but that’s no fun… unless..”

“Sleep. It’s nearly 3 am. We are gonna find a bed, either mine or yours, and go to sleep.”

“Boo,” Remus pouted but reached to unlock the car, not trusting his ability to climb back upfront.

“Love you too, boo,” Virgil grinned and leaned down to kiss Remus properly, quickly getting lost in the contact. Remus pulled him close, willing to spend the rest of the night that way until the second to last track of the album began and his speakers started blaring a distorted version of the American anthem. They broke apart, laughing together at the awkward background music. Then they managed to kiss the whole way through Vampire Money before climbing out of the back seat and back upfront.

“Alright. Let’s go home. Maybe I can convince you to make it home better from there,” Remus grinned and started up the car again, driving off towards the apartment as the CD restarted the album from the beginning.

[whalien51]

Long SOOP rant. Fuck Hybe.

When they renovated those three mansions,I though,ok,they will clearly rent the space later. Which was obviously better than letting them sit there unused. Win-win,both for the fans who get a new Soop season,and whoever owns those houses.

When BTS almost only wore clothes with the Soop designs,instead of their own outfits,it felt weird,but those pajamas were cute so whatever. When some of the cooking and eating scenes reminded me more of those Run eps which were a Paradise Hotel ad,I was like,whatever,if still feels nice to watch them eat.

When they were mostly shown spending time inside their own rooms,(with a lot of PPL in the background),or using the kitchen(full of luxurious appliances),I said well,it was just because they wanted to be genuine and show how they really spend their time when they are alone(ok that might still be true). When they seemed a lot less enthusiastic to be there compared to the first season,I thought it was only because they were about to drop PTD then and had too much on their plate.

When scenes were cut and the editing was a mess,and it didn't feel like there was that much interest to tell a coherent story this time,some people thought it was because it was being shown on JTBC and BTS usual chaotic interactions and drunk shenanigans were too much for cable TV,and it made sense,so I believed that. Well,that one could still be true.

When from the start the whole thing felt like a giant promotion of that space,with BTS not fully invested in being there,I should have taken everything at face value.

I found out that that recently there was a tour for a few lucky Armys in the Soop filming location.

https://twitter.com/army_roooom/status/1459492906725634052

.......................

So,the place looks like this now:

( I hope posting these is allowed. If not let me know)

BigHit was always good at milking stories from reality. At turning what could have been boring moments into scenes to be remembered. But,lately they are not even allowing real moments to happen naturally. The story is there even before the action happened....

Nice,right? So much thought into this. But it was a 4-day trip only. Does it deserve this level of romanticizing?

Cute cute cute. The person who designed soopy and those who made the merch are so good at their job. I really want all of this now. But that’s the problem...

Maybe my reaction is too harsh,but when I saw this,what I first felt was not excitement or fondness,which are my usual BTS-related emotions,but discomfort. All those ~nostalgic~ photos strewn everywhere of ~healing memories~ that never even felt like that when watching the show,just make me feel used. Do you think they’ll remove those when they later rent the mansions? I doubt it.

You can say,but what about the ahjumma who turned the restaurant where BTS used to eat into a shrine? Well,good for her. Because they actually did use to eat there. She just capitalized on it. But this is different,because the place was meant to be shown on tours from the beginning. So the Soop lost half of genuineness even before it happened.

Yes it's a reality show,so it's already a collection of personal moments being sold and transformed into a narrative by the editors and showrunners. But the balance was different until now. Maybe that was all fake too,but in the first season at least,the image being pushed by the company didn't seem to be that different from the story BTS told about the time they spent there. They genuinely looked like they were relaxed and enjoying being with each other,so adding labels like 'healing' over the whole thing didn't seem disingenuous.

Basically,now they just needed to get BTS' to bless the house with their presence so they can sell the bathwater later. Jungkook slept in this bed! Yoongi played guitar on this chair! Namjoon read this book on this same couch! Don't you want to breathe the air BTS farted in? Now you can!

Product placement is a thing. BTS advertising too many things these days is also a thing. But,so far,in all their reality and travel shows,you could see that BTS at least got some enjoyment out of being there,or that their experiences were the main product being sold. Here,it was not even about BTS. They were props to this huge ad for an ugly house no one fucking needs to stay in.

It's especially feels like a betrayal that they took a show that brought people so much genuine joy,and turned it into just a 5 episode-long ad.

[springday-aus]

Hockey Player!AU with Mark

moodboard link

Group: NCT

Member: Mark Lee 

Genre: fluff, romance 

Additionally: college!au

Type: Bulletpoint AU

Word Count: approx. 2.3k 

→ Inspired by NCT U’s 90s Love! 

I’m gonna be completely honest: I don’t know shit about hockey so apologizes in advance

Mark is a left-winger for the team

he plays for his university’s team and they’re actually pretty good

within the three-ish years that he’s been on the team, they’ve won a couple of championships

it’s not really hard considering that Mark takes everything too seriously

(at least that’s what Donghyuk says during practice all the time)

Johnny somewhere: “okay Mark”

Yuta: “let’s not overreact Mark”

Taeyong: “leave my son alone”

Mark: “I’m a grown adult…”

Taeyong: “shhh”

since he used to play for his team back in hometown, he naturally joined the university’s team

he was a natural and everyone easily took a liking to him

especially since now they have someone to make fun of constantly

by they, I literally mean just Donghyuk

I’m just kidding—it’s all in good fun because it just shows how close they are

Mark is just that one college kid that’s still cute even when he’s not a freshman anymore

the other team members still treat him like the youngest even though YangYang and Sungchan are like

👁👄👁 hello ?

speaking of which, their teamwork is incredible and it shows through their games

and, on the rare occasions that they don’t win, they still have dinner together afterwards

well, it’s less of dinner and more of drinks and strategizing what went wrong—which are kind of depressing but it’s fine

at least that’s what Sicheng says as captain, but it sounds like denial

anyways, even though Ten is the co-captain, they all work to make their play plan together

they all contribute ideas, especially since they’ve been in the positions they’ve been in for, like, ever

anyways

again, Mark is like really good

so you know he got that bombass scholarship

and that’s what really pushes him to do well bc let’s be real, college is e x p e n s i v e

he also likes ice skating in general because the cold reminds him of home

so he’s one of those hockey players that also likes figures skaters and it’s funny because he gets so many weird looks from the others

(altho, Jeno goes with him sometimes bc he’s nice)

back to what I was saying tho: Mark is really good

despite his personality, he’s a bit more aggressive on the ice—considering he’s a forward

Donghyuk, the right-winger: he makes sense

there’s the passive aggressive-ness

Mark? who knew he had some strength to him when it’s actually applied

seriously, have you seen his thighs?

speaking of which, the team serves a lot of looks

which means a lot of speculators that show up to the games

which means lots of fans

people typically come for the looks, but then stay for the games bc the team is very underrated

they actually win games and everything but like

advertising for the team? nonexistent

@stupid college funding distributions that focus on mediocre sports like football

so, where do you fall into the mix? you’re an og stan

you’ve been in the stands since you entered university

it didn’t even have anything to do with the members (altho, it is nice to have some eye-candy)

you just……… like hockey

even if you don’t understand much about it

it’s just… interesting to watch

so, whenever the season rolls around, you go to the games

but to say over the years that you didn’t develop a particular attachment to our boy Mark…… is an absolute lie

so, do you have a crush on Mark?

yes

but also like

who doesn’t have a crush on Mark

this man is literally so talented and nice and adorable and he just makes you want to take care of him all the time and ugh

one of your friends went to a game with you and literally was just like “oh he’s cute”

You: “we know”

he’s def one of those guys who everyone has or has had a crush on at some point

and you are no different

the thing is that you are fine with not ever confessing because you’re happy with just being on the sidelines because you’ve. literally. just been on the sidelines…

the idea of confessing feels ridiculous bc realistically, what would you mean to some guy that literally e v e r y person has a crush on?

the thing is though is that Mark knows you

at least, he knows of your presence

if he didn’t, it would be embarrassing considering that you come to every game - he’s got loyalty unless some people

Ten: “who?”

Mark: “dude”

Donghyuk: “is this another one of your imaginary friends?”

Mark: “I TOLD YOU THAT IN CONFIDENCE”

jkjk , they all kind of know you, considering you’re one of the more consistent faces since they’ve been playing in these games (primarily the home ones bc free tickets for students but still)

you also don’t paint your face or anything—you just show up in your university sweatshirt with a couple of those foam light up sticks or something

again, not that wild like signs with his face or anything

you’re just…. a spectator

but yeah, Mark knows of you as a loyal fan ?

who also is kind of cute when you’re cheering for them

I want to emphasize that you have gone to, like, nearly every game, but the main ones you’ve *always* have gone to are the home games bc they’re more convenient

or the final games bc hello

they’re the finals, why the fuck would you miss the finals

I emphasize this because, when you’ve suddenly gone down with the flu, you literally cannot make it to the finals championship game

you thought: no one was gonna notice your absence anyways

haha, you thought

anyways

your friends figured you were sick from the beginning and were like, my friend, it’s flu season, stay away from me and pls stay at home

(wash your hands kids, it’s still covid season)

so you didn’t go and stayed in and binged watched iCarly or something

meanwhile, during the game, Mark was like

where... where are you???

so homeboy is highkey distracted and lowkey worried bc did you die???

(you were dying bc of your clogged nostrils, but otherwise, no)

they somehow managed to win by a couple of points so it was kind of fine

but the teasing was increased by all of Mark’s friends

i.e. Johnny, Donghyuk, Jaehyun, and everyone else

come on, it’s so easy to make fun of him

but like he doesn’t care about any of it bc he was worried about you

which got him thinking

why is he worried about someone whose name he doesn’t even know? is there something more? why is there something more? he literally doesn’t know you? except that you come to the games and you’re really cute cheering him on? what is this?

you know, ✨just Mark things✨

this bothered him for quite a bit more than he liked to admit

and it’s about a couple of days later

things are normal and you don’t feel like everything is dripping out of your nose

until you’re walking through campus from your class

and there’s some footsteps running from behind you that makes you coil up into a semi-standing ball bc you thought a bunch of frat boys were just excited or some shit

but then the footsteps stop at you and you’re standing there, wide-eyed

in front of an out of breath Mark

he was walking out of his class with Jaemin and he spotted you from across the quad

and immediately ran to you

Jaemin: I was talking but okay

this isn’t about you Jaemin

anyways

Mark is in front of you, panting and you’re just like sir?

You: “how are you out of breath? aren’t you an athlete?”

Mark: “oh my God, you’re just like Donghyuk”

you give him a bit of time (and some water bc he seemed like he needed it)

and once he’s caught his breath, he stands up and blurts it out

Mark: “what happened to you during the championship?”

You: “....................... what?”

seeing you blink at him confused, he can feel his ears reddening when he’s realized the situation he’s put himself into

Mark: “um, I just”

Mark: “I noticed that you weren’t at the game”

You: still confused bc how does he know about you

You: “huh?”

Mark: oh my God this is the wrong person, want to die

Mark: “you know what, I have the wrong person, I’m just gonna bounce I am so sorry—”

he starts backing up, but you aren’t letting him escape

You: “whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa, hold up hold up”

You: “I didn’t even know that you knew that I knew you”

You: “wait, did you run here just to ask me that?”

Mark is full on flushed at this point bc of all the questions and realizations and it’s all crashing down on him all too soon

and now you have this mischievous look in your eyes that remind him of Ten when he’s clowning Doyoung and he feels like he’s made a mistake

a good mistake but still a mistake

You: “is it?”

Mark: “well, you like, show up to all of our games and you didn’t go to the finals so I didn’t know if anything happened”

You: “oh, I got sick and I figured I shouldn’t be going into giant crowds while having my insides die internally”

You: “but, I did hear from my friends, congrats btw”

Mark: “thanks”

Mark: “are you feeling better tho?”

You: “yeah, but like, my throat is still kind of shitty”

Mark: “oh, if you want, I have a couple of friends who might be able to cook something up for your throat”

Mark: “I’d offer to make something, but Kun doesn’t let me in the kitchen anymore after finding out about the egg incident”

You: “the egg incident?”

Mark: “I can’t cook, like. at all.”

You: “I think I’m good, I was just gonna go get some tea to make it less scratchy or something”

Mark: “I can walk you?”

You: “sure”

so you two go to a cafe or something for you to get some warm tea and you two end up talking and you get to know each other a bit

and then you end up trading numbers and you make some time together

since Mark doesn’t have to go to practice until the next season, his time has opened up considerably

sometimes you study together

other times, you go check out some other places nearby campus

(eventually, you did get to try Taeyong, Jaehyun, and Kun’s food, to which there was no turning back at that point bc they make the best kind of food—free)

you’re basically dating at this point and his friends know you as his significant other so

Chenle: “is (Y/N) gonna be here?”

Mark: “no? it’s our movie night”

Donghyuk: “aren’t you dating tho?”

Mark: “what”

he told you he took it casually and cool, but considering how red his ears were getting when he told you………………. cute

Mark: “c-can you believe they thought we were dating?”

You: “is that not what we’re doing?”

Mark: “what?”

you both established your relationship after that and Mark got a lot more shy and it’s super adorable bc it makes you wanna take care of him and ugh

he’s precious okay

also cut to him trying to ask the other guys for advice, but then he gets embarrassed as Johnny and Ten tries to educate him about love

or how Lucas gives him cheesy lines to use on you

these boys are having a field day and Xiaojun and Doyoung have never felt more at peace

anyways

def the nervous type that he can’t even hold your hand and keeps asking if it’s okay

so you’re the top of this relationship bc he’s a shy lil boy

after a bit tho, he gets more comfortable and it’s great

he’ll get teased often right? when it happens in front of you, he just runs to you with a whine of your name and buries his face into your neck

and you end up yelling at someone

it’s cute tho

bc they def see you both as an adorable couple

when the hockey season starts rolling around again, you def spend more time at the practices—whether you’re there to watch, do your homework, or just help motivate him to play better

you started dressing up more too, especially since he gave you his jersey so you started wearing them to the games (and also face paint bc Jungwoo had some extra for an unknown reason)

and you make Mark Lee signs and it’s super cute

Sicheng also invites you to the afterparty dinners bc why not

also, remember that thing I said about watching figure skaters?

you two watch the Olympics for that and it’s like tradition now for you two to settle in front of the tv with snacks and watch them skate

so, since he’s an athlete, he has to be careful with his body bc then like scholarship will go poof

that means some of your dates might be physically limited

like he’ll go mini-golfing with you, but he can’t go to like self-defense classes with you

he’ll go to support you but if his foot gets busted, his coach and the rest of the team will be on his ass and he feels a bit bad about it but like you understand

considering that you absolutely refuse to get on the ice bc hockey is hard people

speaking of hockey, you told Mark he’s hot when he plays and he was FLUSHED

bc like the look in his eyes and the way he carries himself…. reminds you of when you’re doing some more………...steamy activities

anyways, stan Mark Lee

he’s a sweetheart who works so hard and you’re there to provide him with lots of love

[be-ace-write-crime]

Lovely Bride (Ch4)

The search for the stone is on as time gradually slips away for you and your husbands. If you cannot find the stone in time, your husbands will be forced into a thousand year slumber, while your mortal self is forced to perish.

Whatever happened to this Santana they speak of? What project is so important it has been consuming all of Kars' daylight hours? Is time really the only enemy still working against you?

“Wamuu! Come, I have something to show you!” you said, a grin almost splitting your face as you took his hand and guided him towards the river bank.

“Has your training born fruit so soon, beloved?” he asked, following obediently as you’d requested. You had been practicing your hamon while your husbands were out and while you couldn’t really say you’d gotten better at it in the two days you’d had it, it was getting easier to use.

“Well, rather, there’s a trick I wanted to show you,” you said, focusing your energy and stepping onto the water. You sank in about an inch or so, but were effectively walking on top of it.

“Incredible,” Wamuu breathed, his voice filled with awe as he continued to follow you. “You have advanced to the point of such a divine feat already!” he gushed.

“But this isn’t even what I wanted to show you!” you said, pulling him close. The water was up past his knees, and while the stream didn’t hinder him at all, he couldn’t tread on top like you did. You were almost smirking when you tilted his chin up with a single finger and got to lean down to press your lips against his.

The warm chuckle you got when he realized what you’d brought him here for made you giggle right back. “All this for a kiss, my darling? You could have just asked,” he said, his arms draped around your hips when he moved to hug you closer.

“This is more fun,” you said, pecking his forehead. He let out a deep sigh and you felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders.

“I wish I could stay with you longer like this,” he said, leaning in to rest his head against your chest. “I fear for you out there by yourself in the daytime. Humans are no less vicious than vampires if given the chance.”

“I won’t be alone,” you whispered softly, carding your fingers through his hair. It wasn’t nearly as soft as Kars’ flowing mane, but the short, bristly strands felt so nice running between your fingers. Their height, Wamuu’s especially, was an obvious part of what made them so glorious to behold, but something about holding your lover this way and having him let his guard down because he felt safe in your arms just filled you with warmth.

“Right, Aries will be a worthy companion to you on your journey, beloved,” he agreed. “I’ll see to it a meal is ready for you when you return. Please be careful,” he warned, lifting you onto your horse’s back and seeing you off before he returned to the temple.

You were dressed inconspicuously for this journey. Your clothes were of a finer make, but modest and plainly colored. You had finally gotten Aries to submit to your reins and a saddle and the massive black horse should deter anyone from trying to get too close.

You had enough money to simply purchase the stone, as it would be considerably harder for you to steal it than it would be for your husbands. You took great care to hide the money you had and disguise the jingling of coins in your purse to avoid being robbed.

Plenty of women in the capital were left unattended by their husbands if their husbands were traveling merchants, sailors or soldiers, but they would usually have a chaperon or at least a handmaid to escort them. You didn’t feel unsafe per se, but you knew a rich woman by herself, carrying a great amount of valuables, invited trouble.

The ride to the capital was easy enough. A well beaten path led the way and no one paid any mind to yet another stranger on a horse. At most some children looked and pointed at the massive steed, but no one stopped you. Aries might have been better suited for one of your husbands to ride, given his size, but he responded well to your calming presence and went wherever you guided him.

There were plenty of merchants selling jewelry by the side of the road and you stopped to examine their goods a handful of times, but you had seen enough gold and gems by then to tell these were mostly just trinkets and given their quality the red stone couldn’t possibly be among their wares.

You’d made it down to the docks with no luck, telling various lies as to what you were looking for and why. “My husband has been commissioned by a senator to create a great art piece.” “My father’s estate was stolen and the stone is a treasured heirloom.” “A servant stole it and my husband will be furious if I do not retrieve it before he returns.”

It didn’t help. No one knew of the red stone and while they could point you to the parts of town where you might find such a pricey gem, they had never even heard of an Aja.

It was late afternoon, going on in the evening, when you tied Aries down to rest and drink for a while before returning home. Everyone around you seemed to be gathering in anticipation of the departure of some imperial vessel, so you were left alone.

“I’ve never been here. How will I find some jeweler who is wealthy enough to have the red stone…?” you pondered out loud, sighing tiredly. “The stone isn’t just beautiful and rare. It’s a weapon in its own right. Like master Esidisi said, it would garner attention if anyone were trying to sell it, so why hasn’t it?” you mused. Then a thought hit you and you almost smacked yourself because it was so obvious.

“They’re not trying to sell it. It’s already been sold to someone who intends to keep it for themselves! Someone rich and powerful enough to wear such a gaudy and massive gemstone…” you said, grinning at Aries. “No merchant will know about it, except the one that sold it, because it is no longer for sale! It’s sitting in the collection of some affluent statesman or scholar,” you concluded, untying Aries and mounting his back as soon as he had finished drinking. He could rest all night once you had returned to the temple to discuss your findings.

The crowd of people parted easily for a horse his size as you made your way back to the main road, passing the caravan that was to be boarding the large roman war vessel that docked a few minutes prior.

“The stone is with someone powerful and rich who could afford to buy something so precious and also wear it without getting killed for it. Someone… Someone like…”

You were passing the lead of the caravan’s formation now, a group of soldiers riding horses that matched Aries in size to bear the weight of them and their armor, when your gaze was met by the coldest, most vicious eyes you had ever seen on a human.

Time almost seemed to slow to a crawl and you needed every second of it to tear you gaze from that icy, indifferent stare, for it to land on the very stone you had been searching for. It was the brilliant, glittering center piece of an amulet larger than your palm and there was no mistaking what it was, or who it belonged to.

“Someone like the emperor of Rome…”

When you returned you passed through your village first, finding your husbands there, rather than at the temple where you expected to find them.

“It is already dark. You are late,” Kars said.

“Lord Kars was becoming worried,” Esidisi said, noticing the way you flinched at being scolded. You could tell some of Kars’ more obvious signs of nerves at this point. His sitting on the edge of his seat, tapping his fingers, the pinch in his brow that made the markings around his eyes look sharp and threatening. He would sooner express his concern for you through discontent than affection, but you saw it for what it was and weren’t offended.

“Aries was tired. I didn’t want to push him too much,” you explained, glad an abundance of hay had been laid out to feed him already.

“If he is tired, that means he has served you well today,” Wamuu said, petting the horse’s flank. “How was the capital?” he asked.

Before you could answer Kars stood and scooped you into his arms, carrying you over to sit on his lap, making you smile. “It was fine. No one tried to hurt me, masters,” you assured him.

“They better not, or their head would roll before the next sunrise,” your master huffed bitterly at the thought. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and you returned the gesture in the hope of calming him down.

“I have… some good news and some bad news,” you started.

“Let’s get the bad news over with first,” Esidisi sighed. He probably figured you had found nothing, as they had found nothing for the past few days. He couldn’t fathom what the good news might be.

“The red stone has left the continent by sea…” you answered, noticing the harsh shift this statement brought in their demeanor. Something anxious and bordering on the rage they never wished to show you, but you had their full attention now.

“How do you know this?” Kars asked.

“I saw it. The stone is part of an amulet worn by the emperor now. I watched him board an imperial vessel and was told its destination was to be the city of Alexandria…” you said, wringing your hands together nervously. If only you could have taken the stone then and there, but obviously you would have been killed if you had tried that.

“Are you sure it was the red stone?” Wamuu asked. You nodded.

“I wouldn’t have said this if I wasn’t completely sure. It was a super Aja the size of my palm at least. The way it shone, it couldn’t possibly be anything else…”

“It would explain why we found no one advertising such a treasure… But the stone departing by sea is the worst thing that could have happened,” Esidisi groaned.

“We can traverse land far more quickly than any humans so long as we can avoid the sun, but to cross the ocean we would be bound to the speed of a human made ship. It is impossible to swim across the ocean to Alexandria in a single night and there would be nowhere to hide from the sun... “ Kars said, near shaking with rage.

“It takes a week to sail from Rome to Alexandria,” Esidisi said.

“It takes only five if we depart from the southernmost point of Sicily,” Kars said, standing up.

“Aries isn’t fit for that journey tonight and I see no other way for (Y/N) to keep up,” Wamuu said. Neither of you wanted to leave him behind, but your poor boy was exhausted after a full day of traveling.

“I have a solution for that. Prepare to depart within the hour,” Kars announced, vanishing to retrieve whatever the four of you might need on this journey.

“Will we be coming back here?”

“Unlikely,” Esidisi answered, looking up at the temple. “Best you gather anything you would like to see preserved. This may be the last time you see your home at all,” he professed gravely.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and asked Esidisi to bring you up the mountain. Your belongings already consisted of very little. Of course, of the treasure your husbands had gathered you wished you could bring all of it, but you wouldn’t have much use for wealth. It was so jarring to think you might never see your home again. Some other humans would find this shell of a village and move in eventually, but a thousand years from now, would any of it still be there? Would anyone know about your people?

You gathered all the things that had become significant to you. The wreath you had been given by your people, the dagger you got from Wamuu, the scrolls detailing the use of hamon and your people’s history from Esidisi, and the vial of antidote from lord Kars. That and whatever clothes you deemed worth packing. Kars emerged from his chamber with a large bag hanging from his shoulder, a single stone mask with a hollow fit for the red stone and a small wooden box. Your candle barely shone into his large bedroom, but you could see the faint glittering of gold and the numerous maps and tapestries that he left behind.

“Have you gathered all you needed to?” he asked. You nodded, holding the somewhat heavy bag with both your hands. It felt like a lot to bring along and yet far too little if it was all that was going to be preserved of your entire way of living. You kept reminding yourself if only you could find the stone in time this wouldn’t be the end.

“Are you sure you don’t want to bring anything else?” you asked, just to be sure.

“I remember everything that is written in those scrolls and drawn on those maps. If we are forced to sleep those would turn to dust before we return and we have no use for material goods like humans do. I am only bringing items that may serve a purpose or cannot be easily replaced,” he said, taking your bag and slinging it over his shoulder as well.

Esidisi had gathered up enough money to buy a small country and a single change of clothes for Wamuu and himself. None of them were very sentimental about worldly possessions it seemed. It made sense, given their immortality, to not get too attached to material things, but your little mortal self still felt a pang of hurt leaving the temple and all that was left there behind.

“Is there anything else in the village you wish to bring, dear (Y/N)?” Wamuu asked. He’d made the effort to gather roughly a week’s worth of food for you on your journey and the supplies to care for Aries, but your boy still looked tired and ready to get his saddle off and rest.

“No, there’s nothing here that would be sensible to bring along. I’ll miss it, but it’s alright,” you said, forcing a smile.

“Lord Kars, you had a way for Aries to endure the journey to Sicily tonight?” your first husband asked. Kars opened the box he’d brought along, showing a very different stone mask from the ones you’d seen before. One made to fit the face of a horse.

You stared at him for a moment, slack jawed. A vampire horse?!

“I’ll ask your permission, but really, you’ll need a proper mount for this journey and either you let Aries be transformed, or you’ll have to leave him behind,” he said, holding the mask out to you. The stallion still liked to nip at your master or try to when he got too close. He preferred Wamuu and yourself as his caretakers.

“That’s alright,” you said, stroking your horse’s neck and ears. To you it didn’t matter much if he was transformed. You’d feel guilty for depriving him of the sun, but in exchange he would remain by you and your husbands’ sides forever as an immortal creature of legends. If he did have to eat meat from living things you wouldn’t mind, so long as he didn’t turn his appetite on good humans. “I love you so much, sweetie. This will hurt for a moment, so please forgive me,” you said, placing the mask over his face. Esidisi kindly spilled just a few drops of blood on it and a series of spikes dug itself into his skull with a loud crunch.

Aries staggered and cried. Wamuu pulled you back and you winced in sympathy for your sweet boy as his hooves slammed down like a sledge on an anvil and he shook off the mask. His teeth were razor sharp and he seemed even bigger and more imposing than before. There was a clarity in his now blood red eyes, like he understood he had been changed. For a moment you were scared, thinking he might turn on you for allowing him to be hurt now that he was a vampire, like the wretched old man you’d been forced to kill, but Aries settled and bowed his head, nudging you gently like he’d done the night you first met.

“The transformation went over well. Better than I expected,” Kars said, reaching over to stroke the horse’s head, but Aries still snapped at him and now he could have likely taken several fingers off. Your master yanked his hand back and scowled. “Still as temperamental as ever, I see… He retained his overall memories and attitude. He’ll have the stamina and speed required for this journey now. Are you all ready to leave?” he asked.

“Yes, my masters. I’m ready,” you answered.

Truth be told, you were tired. You’d been up before sunrise and out all day, but sleeping was the furthest thought from your mind right now. Hoofbeats came down like rolling thunder in the night's darkness. The new moon left the path enveloped in shadow, but Aries galloped straight ahead wherever he was led to, never hesitating or fussing to show fatigue. You were hardly guiding him; you didn’t know where you were going, but you could sense your husbands nearby, even in the dark. Brief flashes of light or warmth, or the wind whipping unnaturally, told you they were close.

“Are you alright?” Wamuu asked you at some point. You’d completely zoned out for a while now, only focussing slightly when you passed through the occasional village. You were aching from how long you’d been riding for, even with hamon to ease the strain on your body, and exhaustion was taking its toll.

“Are we almost there?” you asked back. It felt like you were going so fast you might be, but you wouldn’t get your hopes up too much. You jerked as you felt yourself being suddenly lifted out of your saddle, but calmed down quickly in the familiar embrace of your husband’s arms. He’d taken your place as the rider, cradling you in his arms instead. “Isn’t both of us too heavy?”

“Normally, yes, but Aries is a vampire now. He can easily carry both of us,” he assured you. Esidisi had once told you the strength of a vampire was between five and ten times that of a human. If the same applied to vampire horses carrying both of you shouldn’t be a problem. He was certainly big enough for Wamuu to ride as well. “You seem tired,” he pointed out.

“I am,” you sighed. “But more than that, I’m nervous,” you said. Being held in his arms eased the aching of your legs and back, but you couldn’t relax completely just yet.

“Come what may, my shining dawn, we will persevere,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Very soon we will reach the ocean to cross onto the island of Sicily. We will travel along its shore until we can go no further and from there we will take a ship to Alexandria,” he explained, helping you sit up. You knew the plan already, but still couldn’t keep a grin off your face.

“You want to show me the ocean?” you asked. You did remember asking before, but you’d almost forgotten about it already.

“I realize it’s not exactly what you intended, but I would like you to enjoy it regardless,” the wind god answered. “I remember first seeing the ocean myself. Lord Kars and Esidisi hadn’t bothered to explain it to me and proceeded to laugh when I asked which way would take us around this lake the fastest. My brother Santana tried to drink from it. That was a very unpleasant surprise,” he told you, making you laugh. “Lord Kars says a great thinker should be able to imagine an ocean from seeing a single drop of water. I suppose that is why he is a philosopher and a scientist and I am a warrior,” he added.

“You possess wisdom in different walks of life, my love,” you said, leaning your head against his chest. “Whatever happened to your brother? You’ve mentioned him before, but I’ve never seen him. Where is he?”

You couldn’t see very well in the dark, but you could tell Wamuu’s mood fell instantly with that question.

“Lord Kars killed every member of our tribe who rejected his views, nearly all of them. Most because they sought to bring him down, but many simply because he didn’t deem them worthy if they only strived to wait out eternity underground… Santana and I were children when this happened and for many years we resided where our tribe had once lived while lord Kars sought to perfect the stone masks. Eventually he came to the conclusion mere stone would not suffice and we would leave in search of a catalyst that would perfect his creation and us in turn. Santana and I were… adolescent at that time, he was younger than me by a thousand years or so, but old enough to make his own choices,” he explained, voice tinged with sadness. “When lord Kars said we would cross the ocean and not return, he rebelled, deciding he would rather remain by himself in the ruins of our old tribe by himself. He and lord Kars had grown somewhat indifferent to our training in favour of their… our pursuit of the stone… Master Esidisi thought it a childish rebellion. He persuaded lord Kars to wait for his return… We waited on that shore for a decade. The human population was dwindling. We left and that was the last I saw of him. About 3000 years ago,” he explained.

You swallowed a lump in your throat, bracing yourself to ask the next question. “I-Is he alright? The sun… were there hamon users on this continent as well…?”

“Hm? Santana was young, but strong and smart enough to stay out of the sun. There were no hamon users there and enough stone masks that I am sure he is alive and well!” he said, although he sounded like he was trying to reassure himself as much as you.

Aries pace began to slow. Over the sound of his heavy breathing and the trot of his hooves you could hear the subtle lull of waves dragging over the shore. “Best not mention this to lord Kars or master Esidisi. They will deny it, but the loss of my brother has caused them great pain.”

You nodded, standing on shaky legs as you were let down onto the sandy shore. Kars had killed all who didn’t share his views, yet he waited on Santana for ten years. Clearly this testified to some sort of greater love, even if they hadn’t chased him when he left. If after ten years he didn’t come find them, he likely wouldn’t have changed his mind about the search for the red stone if they had. Even you knew Kars wouldn’t be dissuaded from his plans, so perhaps it really was for the best that he stayed behind somewhere familiar. You hoped the stone masks meant he had some kind of companionship, although you were pretty sure Wamuu meant to imply he had plenty of vampires to turn into food.

“I warned you riding that horse would slow it down,” Kars said. You could just barely make out his face in the dark, but your eyes were caught by something possibly more beautiful than that. The ocean was as smooth as a mirror and the stars illuminating the sky reflected off the pitch black depths like an infinite cosmos.

“Forgive me, lord Kars. Our dear bride looked like she needed some company,” Wamuu explained, followed by a sound like a whip cracking and an uncharacteristic sound of surprise from your first husband. You were sure you’d never heard him gasp for anything, but that’s what it sounded like.

“Don’t use her as an excuse, Wamuu. You were the one craving company,” his master corrected him and you snorted a laugh while he put a hand over his sore backside where he’d been struck.

“Hah! You have not resorted to physical reprimands in a long time, my lord. Don’t be so harsh on him. I’m sure he just wanted to spend some time with someone a little closer in age,” Esidisi said and you bit your tongue hard to a barrage of comments and questions to yourself. You usually prided yourself on being able to keep secrets, but this was a lot to take in, let alone keep it there.

“He can do so without telling lies. There is a ferry that will take us across to Sicily. From there it will be about two more hours to the southernmost point of the island. We’ll need to secure a ship before dawn breaks, so don’t waste any more time on pleasantries,” he warned back.

“Understood, master,” Wamuu said. “I’ll recover the time I wasted by blowing wind in your sails. I’ll swim across easily,” he said. You could only make out this ‘ferry’ by the sails blocking out the stars in one spot.

“It’s impossible to blow wind in the sails when you’re on the vessel with us?” you asked. “I mean it seems unlikely, but the god of wind…”

“His control of wind is a physical ability, not some divine magic from human myths. It might create some motion, but more likely it will damage the mast,” Kars answered, picking you up and lifting you onto the ship.

“I still don’t fully understand your powers or what you are. You’re not the gods of legend I was taught to worship. Since your arrival, I don’t know what to believe anymore,” you said. You were hurting all over and couldn’t see a thing, so that was probably best you let yourself be carried. It would also give you a brief window to talk to Kars away from Wamuu before you would be confined to a ship together for a week. Aries made the leap aboard almost as easily and Esidisi was right behind you when a sudden torrent of wind disturbed the mirror-like surface of the ocean and the ship jerked into motion.

“We were born from two parents each, just like humans. We were always immortal, living vicariously through the living things around us, but the masks I made gave us the powers you would call magic or miracles. We have seen hundreds of human communities, all worshiping their own gods and sometimes worshiping us as well. We never did encounter any of your human ‘gods’ and in many cases they seemed to worship perfectly natural things as miracles. I for one don’t concern myself with any gods, unless they should attempt to stand in my way,” Kars explained.

“And there is no one else like the three of you?” you asked. You didn’t expect him to give a straight answer, but you didn’t expect him to lie either. You were curious either way.

“There is one more like us. A youngling by the name of Santana, who still resides on the continent we hail from,” Kars answered, pausing for a moment. “Perhaps you will meet him when we have obtained the stone. Besides him there is no one,” he said simply, handing you off to Esidisi before you could ask anything else. “The crossing will be swift, so restrain yourself. The horse has done enough to bruise her loins tonight,” he warned, making you blush.

“My loins are perfectly fine,” you insisted in a huff.

“I could fix that,” your second husband promptly offered. Luckily he could see your flustered expression in the dark and just laughed. It was true it was your legs and back that were hurting, but you were in no mood to spread your legs in any capacity. “You were wondering about Santana?”

“Yes,” you admitted. “Wamuu asked me not to press the matter, but if you’re the only ones left from your kind… Even lord Kars said that once you have obtained the stone…” You trailed off as your hand was brought up to your lover’s face and you could feel the hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I treasure him and Wamuu as I would my own children, dear (Y/N),” he murmured, clearly holding back worse tears. “He was becoming so strong and I had nothing left to teach and he took this as neglect… When Kars decided we would depart from our homeland where we were worshiped as gods in search of some way to further advance the masks it was the last straw… Ten long years we waited, but he never came around… I knew in my heart of hearts he lives, but…” Esidisi trailed off, his shoulders shaking with heaving sobs and you quickly hugged him, letting him soak the fabric of your dress with tears.

“Esidisi… my king of flames, you will see him again… Soon you will have the stone and when you do-”

“Will he still want us in his life after all those years? Will he forgive us for leaving? It’s been so many years, he’ll have grown up and I will never get those moments back~!!!” he sobbed, partially muffled against your chest.

You gently pat his head, shushing him softly while he wailed.

“He’ll still love you. It’s true you can’t change the time you spent apart, but you can’t change the centuries you spent together either…” you tried to remind him. You didn’t want to tell him to stop crying. He had never once told you to stop crying, and you had cried a lot. However, you weren’t supposed to bring this up and now Esidisi was in hysterics.

The ship jerked to an abrupt halt, the wooden boards creaking from the amount of force dragging the vessel onto the shore.

“That was quick…” you noted, blinking in surprise as Esidisi’s crying stopped just as abruptly.

“Ah, yes. It is a short distance and Wamuu’s winds are exceptionally strong. Thank you for allowing me to vent these thoughts and emotions with you, my darling,” Esidisi said, standing and lifting you up with him. “I am glad to have you, my dancing flame, to ground me when my emotions run too high.”

“Y-You’re welcome? You calmed down very quickly,” you said, a little confused. You winced as you were lifted back into your saddle. This ride was not going to be a pleasant one.

“Relieving pent up feelings through crying like that keeps me in control of my emotions when I need to be. Now is no time for crying or we won’t make it before sunrise. Come on, let us hurry!” he said, a light smack to Aries’ rear spurring him into a gallop as he gave chase to your husband.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Wamuu to catch up?” you asked. Riding along the beach shore would be easier. The sand was easy to ride on and the water’s edge gave you a rough idea of where you were headed, instead of riding blind.

“That would defeat the purpose of the head start he gave us. When we arrive at our destination, we still must secure another vessel and hope the wind turns more favorably,” Kars answered.

Logically you knew it would be alright. Even if you didn’t make it before dawn, you would reach Alexandria in a few days. Finding the emperor of Rome shouldn’t be too hard and you had no doubts your husbands could take the stone easily.

Still, you were uneasy. What if you didn’t make it in time and your husbands got burned in the sun? What if something happened while you were out at sea? What if you had made a mistake, and you wasted your husbands’ time for a gaudy piece of red glass? What if you didn’t find the stone at all?

These uneasy thoughts plagued you. If this all turned out to be for nothing, you would have no one but yourself to blame. They would have no one but yourself to blame.

The coming day colored the distant horizon a pale blue and the stars flickered out one by one against the dark sky. The threat of sunlight loomed in that distance and you were so ready to just collapse.

Exhaustion began feeding into your worries. They hadn’t made you a vampire so you could help them find the stone and what good would you be if you failed at that?

Esidisi might have had the right idea about crying the way he did, but crying to him about this would mean openly admitting to your worries and fears. You would have to tell them and you simply couldn’t bring yourself to, so these feelings stayed cooped up inside you.

You could already see clearly when you made it to a harbor town on the southern cape of the island. Fishermen were getting ready on smaller boats and you and Aries followed your husbands at a calm trot as they slowed to board the largest vessel on the small dock. It was another ship belonging to the imperial navy and it was guarded, but your husbands walked almost right through them onto the ship. You still flinched seeing it, those soldiers didn’t even know what hit them before they died.

“How much do you know about sailing a ship like this?” Kars asked you as he and Esidisi began preparing for departure like they had owned it for years.

“My family didn’t think I should be outside of the kitchen. I don’t know a thing about sailing…” you answered. Why would they teach you anything about finding your way if you were never supposed to leave your little village?

“Right. I expected as much. You see where the sun is rising? That’s the direction we’re heading in. By noon the sun should be behind you. We can teach you how to properly navigate later,” he sighed. You wanted to sigh back at him, because you needed to rest. You could go a single night without sleep, but not a night like this one.

“Yes, master… Do you not get tired at all? Ever?” you asked, standing at the ship’s helm.

“I get tired of waiting,” Kars remarked snidely. For someone who supposedly didn’t get tired then, he sure sounded like someone who hadn’t had his coffee after four hours of repeatedly interrupted sleep.

That being said, you were getting worried. The sun was almost up and there were no mountains or trees, or anything that would provide shade for them to walk safely.

“Is Wamuu going to be here in time?” you asked, looking for reassurance.

“If I’m being honest, he might not be here before dawn,” Esidisi said, getting Aries settled below deck and out of the light. You jerked and sputtered for something to say, but they both laughed.

“Wamuu has been working on a new technique to get around his vulnerability to the sun’s light. He wanted to surprise you with it, but I suppose it would be better to tell you now than to have you fear for his life once the sun rises,” Kars said, joining Esidisi in the shadow of the ship’s hold. You were stunned at how casually they brushed off the risk, or rather the inevitability, of their companion burning in the rays of the sunrise.

The ocean current and a strong breeze were already pulling the vessel away from the shore and you had no way of controlling its pace, only its direction. The horizon was set awash in a blaze of red and gold, sunlight reflecting off the surface of the waves to the point where it was almost blinding. The light was warm, but all you felt were cold chills as you clutched the ship’s wheel to stay upright, looking out across the beach where you still didn’t see Wamuu.

You felt yourself about to start crying again, when your tired, bloodshot eyes noticed something moving rapidly towards you. At first it looked like it was just the wind, carrying a gust of dry sand with it, but it was too oddly shaped. It took until the strange creature leapt into the air, over you, and onto the main deck that you understood what was happening. Wamuu had encased himself in a tempest strong enough to have the vapor in his currents refract and reflect light away from him, essentially creating his own shadow from wind. While it certainly wasn’t the glorious sight of the morning sun washing over his bronze skin, to have him stand beside you in the daylight made your heart leap with both relief and utter joy.

“I-I’m so glad you’re safe! That’s incredible! You’re incredible!” you almost yelled.

“I’d say that puts us even for yesterday morning,” he chuckled.

“Heh, only if I get a kiss!” you said with a big grin.

“Later. Best not to break these winds in the light of day,” he said, a little gust of wind dancing through your hair and making your skirt flutter like a playful caress before he went to join the rest of your little family in the dark hold of the ship.

Relief from having him safely in your care was enough to unwind the knot of anxiety in your stomach and you could finally relax somewhat. Your already shaky legs were getting used to the rocking of the ship. There was something slightly surreal about being the only one on deck like this, watching the sunrise, steering a ship of this size.

It was also a little surreal to think of the three pillarmen and the vampire warhorse below deck as your family. You made an odd combination. Three man eating demigods, a forsaken sacrificial bride, and a carnivorous horse, but you couldn’t have wished for a better family looking back.

Thinking about family brought back the memory of your sister and her two girls. Your nieces. You had no way of telling what they were up to right now, or if they were okay. Your sister was a fighter, always had been, but it was one thing to keep herself standing as a widow in your village and another entirely to be all alone in the world.

The day seemed to drag by slowly and when the sun was high you had grown hungry. You locked the ship’s wheel in one position and headed over to the hatch that led down into the hold. Your husbands had created a den of sorts that bordered on a massive nest in the area that would have been designated for a crew to sleep in.

You had no cargo to move and no crew, so the hold was spacious enough that Aries could stand and walk around and your husbands could lounge around on the extra pillows and bedding like kings.

“Hungry?” Kars asked knowingly. You nodded and grinned when you noticed Esidisi holding a steaming pot with some kind of soup. For a second you worried he might burn his hands, but then you realized he was probably the reason that the pan was hot in the first place. Probably a good idea not to start fires inside a wooden cargo hold.

“I wanted to ask something,” you said between bites, scarfing down half the meal in record time. Your husbands didn’t eat very gracefully either, and putting it all in your mouth looked sort of odd to them whether you minded your table manners or not. “After we find the stone… Would you mind if I tried to seek out my sister and her children? By now you must be sure I won’t leave you and even if I can’t convince them to swear allegiance to you after what happened, I would like to see them again,” you asked, looking up shyly and waiting for a response.

“Hmm? You’ll be free to pursue whatever your heart desires once we have obtained the stone. Go wherever and do whatever you want, within reason,” Kars answered, returning his focus to a new stone mask he was carving.

“Within reason?” you asked. Your definitions of reason and reasonable had become incredibly flexible in recent weeks, given the invasion of vampires, marrying three gods, learning to fight vampires, walk on water, riding a hoofed demon to the end of the continent in pursuit of the roman emperor to steal a magic stone, etc.

“Avoid things like orgies or stealing humans, killing human monarchs unplanned, that sort of thing. Meeting with your sister isn’t counted among such things, obviously,” Esidisi said.

You almost choked on your food and snickered. “Oh, and I had such great plans!” you joked. “I just hope they’re okay… They’re the most precious humans in the world to me and I miss having them around…”

“They’re ours as well, dear (Y/N),” Wamuu said. “As far as humans go, they’re important to us as well, right after you of course.”

More so than even the meal, his words made you feel warm inside. To know that what was important to you was important to them was such a blessing.

“I’d like to have a larger family again,” Esidisi said cheerfully. “Say, do you think our family will continue to grow?” he asked, his gaze falling on your stomach and you took a solid five seconds to process the implications of that question.

You hadn’t even considered you might get pregnant. You hadn’t really thought much beyond the month you had been given on the night you got engaged, but obviously you were planning further ahead now.

You should probably not indulge that line of thinking before at least six hours of sleep, but the idea was in your head now. Could they get you pregnant? How long would that take given how long they lived? Would you be raising a child like them or would it be human? Would it have to live in darkness with them or would they be putting a stone mask on a baby? You had slept with all three of them, so would there be a way of telling whose child it was? Would that even matter? Was there a chance you were already with child?

“C-Can I even… We’re not exactly the same species, right?” you asked. “Lord Kars?”

If anyone would know it was him. Kars seemed to be as caught off guard by the question as you, looking up and staring almost blankly into space for a few moments, but then looked back down to his work, his brows pinched together as he tried to regain his focus. “No, you won’t,” he answered simply.

You’d been a little scared of the prospect at first, but somehow being told that it was impossible to bear any of your husbands’ children was worse.

“Why not?” Esidisi asked, pulling you into his lap. He felt hot all around you and you guessed this was another way in which his emotions showed.

“Is there nothing you could do to make it so?” Wamuu suggested, a tinge of hurt shining through in his own voice.

“Our species aren’t incompatible by any means. The child would be most similar to us, before we were changed by the stone masks, however -” Kars explained, casting a harsh look at them. “No child of either species responds well to blunt force trauma or extreme heat while it is in the womb. You can’t expect to father any offspring through battering and boiling her insides,” he scolded them, making the three of you flinch collectively.

“But if… uh… maybe…” you trailed off, unsure of what you were really asking.

“You’re in good health and if you don’t attempt anything more violent than what you have done so far, you’ll be able to bear as many children as you please when the time is right,” Kars assured you. “In the meantime, try to practice your hamon. It is the best way for you to endure mating and remain healthy. If you wish for a child, you shall have it, but by the stars don’t ask me to give you one right now,” he sighed, having too much to deal with already. You chuckled and nodded.

“I understand. Thank you, master,” you said, Esidisi dragging you onto his lap to cuddle. “Now would not be a good time for me to be pregnant. It might actually be better if it doesn’t happen until we’re in agreement it’s a good time.”

“The fact most humans don’t even consider that is the reason they’re such an invasive species,” Kars mumbled. “If we are forced to sleep I expect the population of humans will have grown tenfold across the globe, if not more,” he huffed.

“That many?” you asked. “There are already so many who starve and wars over territory…”

“And those will be even greater by then. Trust me, humans are more persistent than rats in that regard,” he said. You wanted to argue, but were unsure how. You couldn’t exactly disprove his claims, but it was hard to wrap your head around what he’d said. You’d seen so little of the world before and lived such a short life in comparison to them.

“Whether we sleep or find the stone, we’ll live long enough to see,” you decided eventually, figuring he’d either be right or you could tell him he’d been wrong later.

“If we find the stone and become gods I fully intend on culling the worst of the human population. Starting with its greedy oppressors and ending with each and every one who so much as looks at a dog wrong,” Kars muttered. It sounded harsh enough to make you flinch, but you couldn’t disagree with the types of humans he’d want to get rid of. Being a god it really was his call to make.

It was a strange process, coming to accept this, realizing there really was no one who could stop him or challenge his authority on who he was allowed to live. It was hard, but the more you got to know the three of them the more you trusted him to actually make that call.

Your people worshiped several gods who had done worse things than wipe out a single village that opposed them like yours had. If they did conquer the sun and decided they would decapitate the emperor before his senate, what else was there to be done, except bow to their wishes?

“I can’t help but notice, beloved, that you said we ,” Wamuu pointed out.

“If you’ll have me that long, I’m sure you’ll find a way for us to stay together,” you said with a small shrug. “I trust you.”

Those words brought smiles to their faces. It was a comfort to know you no longer feared them the way you had when you first presented yourself as their bride and you finally viewed yourself as being worthy of your status as their bride.

“You should get back on deck and adjust our course. The ship has been pulling north. After sunset we will take over and you’ll be free to sleep,” Kars said.

You groaned loudly and leaned back against Esidisi, who’s unnatural warmth was beckoning you to fall asleep for a while now.

“It’s an important job that only you can do,” he said, moving you from his lap, which felt like the height of treason. Would he also push a tired kitten off his lap?!

“Hmm, I know. I’m going. Maybe before becoming immortal, you should be mortals for a day. Just feeling tired and having headaches from not drinking enough water and inexplicable stomach gurgles from eating the wrong thing, like the rest of us,” you said, relishing in their expressions of absolute horror and disgust as you climbed the stairs.

“Maybe we’ll give you a stone mask and you can live hiding in a cave like the rest of us,” Kars yelled after you in retort, but you knew he wouldn’t.

“With my three husbands who can still go outside and 200 vampire servants? I’m in!” you called back jokingly, letting the hatch fall shut as a means of ending that debate.

You wouldn’t want to become a vampire, but if your husbands were going to be keeping you awake for two days straight while dragging you around a thousand miles, you might as well remind them the sun was the only part they were missing out on in the human experience.

You were so ready to sleep by the time the sun was setting you didn’t even speak to your husbands for the rest of the day. You were offered the captain’s quarters, but refused, choosing to sleep in the nest they had constructed in the hold. You thanked the stars you were apparently the kind of person to not experience sea-sickness easily, actually finding the rocking of the waves very soothing as you went to sleep.

It was almost dawn when you woke up, feeling infinitely better than you had the night before. You climbed out onto the deck after you had changed your clothes and fixed your hair, surprised to hear a faint sound of music.

Kars was laying back on the railing, plucking the strings on a lute with his eyes closed like he was Apollo himself. Wamuu was the one standing at the helm and Esidisi was seated at the opposing railing with a fishing line cast.

“I didn’t know you played music…” you said. Kars opened one eye and chuckled.

“These past millenia would have been awfully boring without it. There are many things you don’t know about us,” he said, while you leaned against the heavy wooden railing.

“Such as?” you asked, watching his fingers carefully dance along the strings in a playful melody.

“Esidisi is an excellent poet,” he offered, to which the fire god nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Don’t tell her that! In our language, yes! But certainly not in this one!” he complained.

“I could translate! Why don’t I tell her what you were saying while she slept before?” Kars said, smirking like the evil bastard he was.

“Do NOT tell her that!” Esidisi yelled, which only made you more curious.

“Lord Kars is especially fond of birds and dogs,” Wamuu interjected. “And he was the first to devise a compass, many centuries before humans thought to. Why don’t I show you how to read it while our masters coordinate their serenade?” he suggested, picking you up and taking you out of the crossfire that was about to ensue between his elders.

“An excellent idea, Wamuu. Esidisi, get over here!” Kars called out.

You felt a little bad for abandoning him, but your curiosity won out. Besides, you needed to learn how to navigate properly. He pointed out which stars in the sky to follow to your destination, how to read the compass and then went into which ropes held up which sails and when to lower or raise them. You’d have some serious calluses on your hands by the end of this trip, but you were still grateful to learn.

The lesson was interrupted when you noticed something had taken the bait on Esidisi’s fishing line.

“Were you fishing for me?” you asked curiously.

“You can have it if you’d like, but that wasn’t the main reason I wash fishing, beloved,” he answered, gutting the struggling fish that was about the length of his forearm. He dumped the blood and guts overboard and it expectedly drew some larger predators to the surface near the boat. A shark made the mistake of leaping out of the water and was promptly caught by your husband through the use of his extended veins.

“Aries! Dinner time!” he called out, hauling the shark onto the deck. Aries gracefully ran over and bit into the still struggling shark. You’d never heard the noise a shark made. You weren’t sure how to describe it, but it made some kinda noise as the horse consumed it whole, the entire ordeal accompanied by Kars’ upbeat strumming in the background.

Wamuu and Esidisi snickered at the shocked expression on your face as you began to sputter something about your horse devouring a shark. They ignored most of your indignation, you’d get used to it, and Esidisi asked if you would still like to have the fish before the sun came up.

You listened to Kars play for a little while longer at the top of the hatch as you ate and watched the sunrise. Esidisi recited some of his poetry at your request and Kars translated. It sounded beautiful the way he said and according to your master it meant something along the lines of how the blazing sun looked so gentle in your eyes and like the sun his love would burn eternally. You hid your grin behind your hands, blushing bright red at the explanation.

“He’s quite the romantic,” Kars chuckled, getting hit with a pillow by Esidisi, who looked so red that pillow might catch fire.

“Please return to the helm, if you would, my lovely flame? Lord Kars and I have something to discuss,” your second husband instructed, to which you nodded and ran off, giggling like a little girl.

If this was how the rest of your journey would go, you’d be alright.

For the most part it did. With little you could do in the lay of training and nothing else to occupy your time you found yourself with your three husbands vying for your attention throughout most of the nights. During the day you had taken to copying the scrolls detailing your people’s history, planning to leave the originals at the library of Alexandria when you arrived there.

You knew your husbands had noticed, but they hadn’t stopped you. Maybe they saw some value in preserving your people’s history and ways, or maybe it was just a small show of sympathy to you personally. It was reassuring to think the good things you had experienced with your people wouldn’t be lost forever and you could do them this small service.

You once told Esidisi maybe it was right for you to pass on as your people had. Maybe that was more fair. He’d called it survivor’s guilt and insisted you didn’t need to justify your survival, least of all to people that would have sent you to die, but the feel still gnawed vaguely inside of your chest.

Throughout the night it would be a contest for who got to have you to themselves. Kars liked to veto your attention whenever it looked like you weren’t busy, so you had to try to look busy with your first two husbands. It wasn’t all that hard, Esidisi was happy to let you touch his hair or cuddle, so was Wamuu but you would normally just sit in his lap or talk about animals.

You in turn had had your hair braided in all sorts of ways and would talk about flowers or animals that were only around during the daytime.

When Kars had you, he would have you read to him as you sat in his lap or as he read aloud one of Esidisi’s poems. Shamelessly stealing his partner’s thunder in that regard. Many of his scrolls were in languages that you couldn’t read and he would translate for you, so that you might learn some of the wisdom they had gathered over centuries.

At your master’s suggestion you had also taken to learning more intimate practices from them. Wamuu didn’t have much to contribute there except second hand knowledge. You were his first as he was yours.

Esidisi had more to add, and in a stolen moment of private time, he taught you the proper techniques of pleasing them, aided by your hamon breathing. It helped that he didn’t mind when you choked or the one time to actually gag and bit him. You could only marvel at his patience with you. Something both the other pillarman lacked as they disturbed you in several compromising positions repeatedly, at which point you threatened to get off and walk to shore come sunrise and finally you were allowed to finish.

They didn’t mention it directly, but Wamuu took great care to remind you he was always glad to help you ‘practice’ in any way.

You wrote down what you learned from them. The history of your people gaining a new chapter about the erotic arts that could be performed with hamon and the techniques to please your immortal lovers. Future generations might get some use out of them. You took care to keep these texts and illustrations separate though, as you didn’t want your history to end up burned and have your tribe labelled as obscene.

On the fifth night your husbands emerged after sundown and Kars perched himself on the bow of the ship without a word.

“What’s happened now..?” you asked worriedly. You could tell something was up, but it was safer to ask your companions first.

“The winds have not been in our favor this journey. We should have made it to Alexandria by now. It’ll be another day at least…” Wamuu explained. You knew this well, as you had been the one single handedly hoisting and lowering sails and steering the ship during the daytime. You could heal the blisters on your hands, but not the calluses that roughed up your palms and the pads of your fingers.

“The imperial vessel that departed from Rome will have travelled a different route and had a head start by a good 16 hours. It may have arrived already,” Esidisi agreed.

“He’ll be easier to find once we do reach our destination,” you tried to reassure them with a soft smile.

“We know, darling. It’s just that with what seems like the final leg of our journey approaching, we can’t help but grow restless,” Esidisi explained, flexing his fingers. “My joints are growing stiff. That’s always the first sign. The petrification of our flesh will set in about a week from now if we do not uncover the stone.”

The idea itself made you shudder. To slowly turn to stone while you were powerless to stop it.

“It won’t come to that,” you said with all the conviction you could muster. In the distance on the horizon you could see nothing, but Kars’ shifting gaze told you there were likely other ships and sandbank islands you passed.

“Your determination is admirable, dearest (Y/N). Thanks to you, we will soon have the stone at last,” Wamuu said, kissing your forehead.

Food was starting to run low on the ship too. You hadn’t really thought about it, but staying awake as much as you did had led to you eating more without even realizing it. You were also getting a slight cabin fever from sharing such close quarters. On the ship you were always within earshot, given their heightened senses and they never slept. Their presence didn’t make you feel anxious the way it once did, but a week without any sort of privacy was wearing you down.

“Maybe you could distract Kars from his worries a little while?” Esidisi suggested, kissing your cheek and taking over at the helm.

You approached the bow of the ship quietly, but Kars knew exactly where you were and what you and your other husbands had been saying.

“I don’t need your attempts at comforting me. I’ll be perfectly content once I have the stone…” he huffed once you were a few feet behind him, not bothering to look over his shoulder.

“Standing there won’t get us to Alexandria faster,” you pointed out.

“Neither will your creature comforts,” he responded, staring out across the dark ocean impassively. “I promise you, you will spend eternity in my arms as a goddess, but I can’t afford to lose my focus now,” he said, finally casting a look over his shoulder. “You should go take the antidote now. You have waited long enough. I don’t question your devotion.”

These words went through your chest more violently and painfully than having your wedding ring forced into your heart in the first place. Was he doubting himself? No, that was far too unlike Kars. He’d wanted you to keep the ring as a physical proof of his ownership of you, of your bond. You had plenty of other tokens now, but none as powerful as the one inside your heart. The one that would take your life in ten more days.

“I don’t need it,” you said, climbing the bow with him.

“Stop being petulant. There is no sense in carrying around poison in your heart.”

“Then why do you?!” you asked sharply, glaring at him. Before he could answer you jumped overboard. You couldn’t see the water’s surface, so you still ended up getting wet.

“What on earth are you doing?” Kars demanded.

“Helping!” you responded, grabbing a rope and focussing your energy as much as you could to solidify the water’s tension. You felt like Sisyphos pushing a boulder uphill, trying to pull the ship forward. Maybe it was fitting. A punishment for hubris thinking you knew better than a god. It kind of worked, much to your shock.

“(Y/N), stop this nonsense immediately!” Kars yelled, pulling at the other end of the rope to haul you back on board. You tried to keep pulling, but that tug of war game was never going to turn out in your favor and you ended back right where you started.

“I’m tired…” you complained, nearly in tears.

“Then go to sleep instead of wasting your energy trying to pull this ship like a stubborn mule!” Kars scolded.

“I’m tired of chasing that damned stone, Kars!” you clarified. “I know it’s important… That it’s the most important thing… It is to me too. How could it not be when it determines if we’ll have a future together, but… If we only have one month, I don’t want it to be dictated by the hunt for the red stone constantly… I want to be with you… I want us to be happy together in the time we have… I want you to look back and think of me fondly when I’m gone…”

Kars sputtered, expression flitting across his face in rapid succession, ranging from sorrow, sadness and pity, to pure unadulterated rage. He trapped you between his arms, gripping onto the railing of the ship so tightly it splintered in his grasp.

“I… love you… and I don’t fear dying as you do, but I fear eternity without you more than the sun itself…”

“Same difference,” you said, tears running down your cheeks. Gods, you hated arguing and arguing with Kars was the absolute worst. Why couldn’t you just scream and be angry? Why did you have to cry? “Death would be eternity without you. Of course I’m scared…”

“Which is precisely why we need the stone…” Kars hissed like you weren’t understanding. “I wouldn’t mind sleeping another thousand years. I’ve lived this long already! I could have gone to sleep after exterminating your wretched kin if you hadn’t made me love you, you naive beguiling witch…” he spat, the floorboards under his feet cracking as well now. “I can’t give you the life you deserve if I fail… One mistake and I’ll lose you forever… I already treasure you beyond what any poetry could describe. Don’t give me these tender moments to long for if I fail you…” he pleaded, and for the first time ever you heard his voice crack with grief and uncertainty.

You threw your arms around his neck and by now Wamuu and Esidisi had been hovering just behind you, ready to step in, but you waved them off.

With Santana Kars could be sure he was alive and safe somewhere. With you he didn’t have the same luxury.

“What did I just tell you not to do, you defiant little welp…?” he asked.

“I’m positive we both feel fucking awful and there are no fond memories to be made, so I can hold you as much as I want, you headstrong, ill tempered brute…” you answered, fisting a hand in his hair and standing on your tiptoes for a kiss. “You won’t fail me… Kars you are a god to me and I have absolute faith in you, no matter what…” you insisted.

He let out a long sigh, holding you against his chest.

“My glorious, foolish little sun… Come here...” he murmured. “I hadn’t intended to give you this so soon, but to know you have it would ease my mind greatly,” he said, bringing you back down into the hold with a lantern Esidisi had lit for you. “I have been working on this since the night you recovered the Aja your people had tried to keep from us,” he said, opening a box to reveal a small stone mask of smooth marble, with far more delicate features than the ones you had seen. At the center of the crown like headpiece across its forehead rested the Aja you had offered him so many nights ago. The mask was carved from the slab of marble he had ripped from the god’s throne in his rage.

“The stone is too small to be of any use to us, but you are smaller, more delicate, and your body is already receptive to the light of day,” he explained. “This mask shall grant you eternal life, without taking the sunlight from you or forcing you to feed on the life of others,” he explained, closing the box and putting it away. “The catch is that I haven’t tested it yet. Decidedly few human women have ever been subjected to the stone mask at all and the brain is a delicate organ,” he explained. “I wouldn’t wish for you to change. It is your kind and merciful nature that compelled me to fall for you. If you were made to be any less than the goddess you are right here and now it would be on par with killing you and I could never forgive myself,” he explained.

You could feel yourself trembling where you stood.

Kars was ruthless, cold and dare you say selfish in nearly all his endeavors. Yet here he offered you every single thing he had dreamt of for the tens of thousands of years he had been alive. The power he sought for himself, which he’d struggled, fought and killed for, and before it was even within his own grasp he was giving it to you.

“I love you,” you whispered, almost reverently. “And I trust you,” you assured him. “And when you’re ready I’m sure it will be perfect.”

It took a day longer than it should have to arrive in Alexandria, and the sun hadn’t set by the time you arrived. You couldn’t dock the boat alone and certainly not without arousing suspicion, so you lowered the sails and put an anchor out a mile or so out from the coast. Once the sun set you would walk to shore and deliver the scrolls to the library of Alexandria to preserve them and your husbands would find the emperor and claim the stone.

You would meet by the lighthouse come morning and with the stone they would become the pinnacle of creation.

“The time of ascension is almost upon us. Can you feel it, beloved?” Wamuu asked. He was in good spirits and it was a relief to see some glimmer of hope restored to them now that their goal was within reach.

“I can’t wait,” you agreed, gathering the scrolls you had dutifully copied.

“Once we conquer the sun, hamon will be of no consequence to us,” Kars said, watching you roll the parchment and stow them in a bag.

“Well then, maybe once you do, I’ll have something to teach you,” you offered. Kars startled by the idea and Esidisi and Wamuu laughed.

“I suppose that might be possible. Could you imagine, lord Kars? The three of us, hamon users! The fathers of the future hamon tribe!” Esidisi announced.

“Well, you’re not wrong. And I should like the future generations of hamon warriors to be raised to have some respect,” Kars agreed, planting a kiss on your lips. “The sun is setting, my shining dawn. When we meet again, the world will be at our feet,” he whispered. With a flourish he leapt from the hatch, diving into the water with barely a ripple to suggest it had been disturbed, as he shot like an arrow towards the shore.

Wamuu and Esidisi followed with the same divine grace and you led Aries to a small lifeboat, which you could easily pull towards the shore while walking on water. You could see the lighthouse where you would meet at the end of the night and felt a thrill of anticipation.

The library lacked any sort of formal guards, but you received some strange looks when you entered. You were dressed like a wealthy roman woman and they were never unaccompanied, but no one made an effort to stop you. All around scholars were lighting candles to continue pouring over their texts into the night and you knew right away you would be here all night as well, less you were dragged out.

“I have come to submit these pieces to the library,” you said softly to a man behind a desk once you saw him welcome a returning patron.

The man quirked a brow at you, but gestured for you to present what you had brought.

“Family history? Trade records? Poetry?” he asked, thankfully speaking in Latin as well.

“Transcripts on combat and historic records of a tribe that was recently vanquished by the wrath of gods,” you explained, using the most official sounding phrases you could come up with on the spot. The man’s mouth dropped open, but he clacked it shut just as quickly and started unrolling some of the scrolls you had brought.

“These… wouldn’t happen to be from the hamon tribe, would they?” he asked, eyes flying over the parchment as he spoke.

“Yes!” you said, glad he was taking an interest in them. At least you knew the scrolls would be in safe hands and your history would be preserved. Now that your husbands were about to claim the stone, the task had lost its urgency somewhat, but you were thankful to know you were not alone in saving the legacy of your people. News of their demise must have traveled faster than you realized if the scholars of Egypt already knew.

“I had someone… show in interest in such texts… just today…” the man said, plucking at his beard as he spoke and scanned the text. “I will go fetch someone to bring these into our collection officially. Please hold on to them while I do, my good lady,” he said, rushing off and leaving you alone with the scrolls. You tucked them back in your bag with a grin and started browsing different texts to pass the time. Most were in languages you didn’t know and even fewer were very interesting, but in a collection of this size that made sense. You knew you’d spend more time browsing than actually reading, but if you would actually be reading, but if you would soon have eternity to wander around whatever library you pleased, it didn’t matter.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around expecting the old scholar, but who you saw instead nearly had you leaping into the shelf with a loud yelp. Standing there with her beaming smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes and dimpled her cheeks was your older sister. With another cry of joy and relief you fell into her arms, hugging her with a vice like grip.

You’d feared you’d never see her again. Of all the people in your tribe, she and her daughters were the only ones whom you missed and longed for every single day. You’d prayed for her safety to your godly husbands and whatever ethereal gods might still reside in the skies above, and your prayers were answered!

Now as everything was about to fall into place, fate had brought you back together!

“Oh, my sweet mayflower…” she whispered, cupping your cheek and wiping away tears of joy, even as she began to cry as well. “I’ve been so scared for you… I never should have let them send you away. I never… Oh, but you survived and I’m so glad I get to see you again!” she whispered. “And you saved us… That brute who came to…” she sobbed, wiping her face of tears. You couldn’t help but laugh. Clearly your sister would need some time to get used to her new in-laws.

“When he had us exiled, a few others knew something was off… We’re not alone, sweetheart,” she said, proudly hauling the bag of scrolls over her shoulder and taking your hands.

“W-Wait, what? There’s more who survived?” you asked, the implications of that not yet sinking in through the veil of elation. Whatever made your sister happy would make you happy and Kars did say hamon would soon be nothing to them. You might really have it all now. Both halves of your family forever, you thought until the overjoyed smile your sister wore perked into a full on smirk.

“Quite a few! We warned the emperor before he departed when someone saw you questioning jewelers in the capital,” she laughed, pulling you closer into a hug once more. “Those wretched creatures will never have their stone. Come on, (Y/N). Time to go home to our tribe!”

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Coffee to go

Pairing: Chris Cuomo x female Reader

Warning: Swearing, Smut (only read this if you’re 18+ pls), NSFW, not edited

Note: Alright, this is my first attempt at smut so be nice pls (also I’m not a native speaker, so sorry for my grammar)

The cold November wind blows right into your face as you walk (actually, it was more of a jog) through the streets of Washington DC.

“You will reach your destination in 200 meters“ the computer voice from google maps tells you through your headphones. You break into a run, clutching your hot coffee cup tightly to prevent it from spilling over.

“Shit, don’t let me be late on my very first day of work“ you whisper to yourself, as you finally reach the huge glass doors of the CNN headquarters.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N“ you tell the security guard at the entrance, showing your ID„ I’m the new intern in the politics department.“

„First Elevator on the right, then all the way up to the 10th floor.“

You pass the security check and mumble a quick “Thank you!” to the guard as you make your way over to the elevator. You have 3 minutes left.

“This is my dream job, this is my dream job. It’s finally happening.“ you repeat to yourself, alone in the cabin.

You still can’t believe that you were granted the prestigious position as an intern for the DC politics department at CNN. You graduated with a degree in journalism from Oxford, UK this summer, but with the current political climate and the presidential election coming up, you felt like DC was the place to be at the moment. When you saw there was an internship at CNN advertised, you didn’t hesitate and applied. And all the hard work you put into getting excellent grades and doing tons of extracurricular work payed off, because here you were, on your first day of work.

You try to calm your fluttering nerves one last time with deep breaths and a sip of your still fairly hot coffee.

As the mechanical voice announces the elevators arrival on the 10th floor, you practically storm out of the doors...and run straight into a wall.

“Oh Fuck!“ a deep voice exclaimes, and as you take a step back you see that the wall you ran into was, in fact, a man. A very tall, broad and handsome looking man...with your hot coffee spilled all over his white dress shirt and a furious look on his face.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, Sir!“ you cry out, praying for the ground to swallow you up. What a perfect first impression. You reach in your pocket to grab a handkerchief, but he dismisses you bluntly with a wave of his hand.

„Just watch where you going next time.“

Giving you one last sharp glare, he walks away, disappearing into a door further down the hallway.

Still mortified, you throw your now empty coffee cup onto the nearest bin and hurry to the room you were told to go in your admission email. It’s a tiny office, where a moddle-aged woman sits on a desk loaded with paperwork.

“Good Morning Ma’am, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the new politics intern, starting today.“ you tell her, hoping that your face isn’t beet red anymore and your jacket is free of coffee stains. The woman glances up from her computer screen and gives you a quick look over.

“About time. Welcome to CNN, I’m Susan, your supervisor.“

She rummages trough a desk drawer.

"Here is your company ID, a key to the break room, you already sent us your signed contract, didn’t you?“ she asks in a monotoneus voice.

"Yes, thank you so much.“ you say, taking the offered items. "Is there already a list of what my tasks here are going to be?“

"Yes, with the election coverage starting tomorrow, there is still a lot of preparation to do. You’ve been assigned to run errands for our anchor team today, and I guess also for the rest of the week. Paperwork, coffee, stuff like that, just be at their back and call. We expect it to be a tight race, and we need to cover it 24 hours a day. So be prepared to spend most of your time here.”

"There’s a locker in the break room, put your stuff there. The copy room is next door, make 3 copies of those papers and bring them to Chris Cuomo, he’s our lead anchor for the election coverage. His office is the last door down the hall on the right. And hurry, we don’t have a lot of time and he’s not exactly a patient man.” She starts typing something on her phone, obviously dismissing you.

You rush to the break room, hastily throw your bag and jacket in the last free locker, checking your appearance one last time in the mirror (face still a bit red, but no coffee stains, thank god) and go on to make those copies next door. You let your mind wander while the copier does it’s job.

Chris Cuomo. You know he hosts a well known daily prime time show on CNN, but you’ve never seen it as it airs in the middle of the night in the UK. You’re actually suprised they chose him for the job of the election lead anchor, considering he was originally based in the New York Office of CNN. You try to remember what he looked like, but you have no idea. And no time to google him.

So you just grab the stack of papers and bolt down the hallway to the door Susan described. There’s a provisional sign on the door, bearing the name “Christopher C. Cuomo”.

You knock three times and hear a loud "Come in“ from the other side of the door. You enter...and stop instantly, eyes going wide.

Standing in front of you is the guy from the elevator. The hot one. The one who’s dress shirt you ruined with your beverage.

Said dress shirt lies on the floor in a crumpled heap. The man, obviously Chris Cuomo himself, is wearing only a white undershirt, apparently in the middle of changing clothes . His huge, muscled arms are on full display. And he’s looking directly at you, one eyebrow arched.

“Can I help you?” he asks with a hint of annoyance in his deep voice.

You realize you are staring, and quickly try to compose yourself.

“Uhm, yes, I’m so sorry to bother you, Mr Cuomo, I’m Y/N, the new intern. I’m here to deliver those papers from Susan’s office . I’ve been assigned to assist you today...Sir” you add hastily.

“Assist me, huh? I hope this doesn’t involve any more coffee. I only have so many white shirts.”

“I’m so sorry again for that, Mr. Cuomo.”

“Don’t worry, kid” he says, now giving you a closer look. His eyes are a perfect shade of blue-green. The heat started creeping back in your face under his scrutizing gaze.

“You’re a Brit, aren’t you?”

You just give a quick nod, not trusting your ability to speak properly. He comes a step closer, arms crossed in front of his broad chest.

“Have a good start then, Y/N” he says, voice dropping a bit, still holding intense eye contact.

You feel your heart rate going through the roof and pray that he won’t detect it. This mans presence was really intense and brought all kind of distracting thoughts to your mind.

Your "Thank you so much, Sir” comes out way less confident than you intended to, and you basically flee through the office door you hadn’t even bothered to close when you entered.

“Wow!” you think to yourself, “It’s the first day, and you already made a fool of yourself and now have a giant crush on the lead anchor, who’s at least in his 40s. Good job.”

This was going to be interesting.

(Next Day, afternoon)

“Don’t stare, don’t stare.”

You chant your mantra in your head for what felt like the hundredth time this day.

The last 24 hours have been the most exciting, stressful and demanding ones of your entire life. You currently run on what feel like 5 liters of coffee, some energy bars and a two hour nap you managed to catch on the couch in the break room, the circumstances leaving you with a constant feeling of giddy exhaustion.

But no matter how much your eyes were burning, you couldn’t take them off Chris Cuomos hands. Those big, strong hands with thick fingers, holding manuscripts, fixing his tie or just opening a bottle of water. You try your best not to think about how those hands would feel like on your bare skin, grabbing your hair, pushing your tights apart. The burning feeling between your legs intensifies as you feel yourself starting to get wet.

Chris is wearing a black suit today and looks so unbelievably good that you want to cry. His confident, almost dominant demeanor in front of the cameras, combined with his sharp witted comments on the latest news only fuel your growing attraction to him.

Youre standing in the corner of the studio, holding a stack of papers and a clipboard with the latest numbers of some irrelevant county in Alabama that you need to hand over to the anchor desk.

The cameras move over to Phil on the magic wall. Chris uses the quick moment out of frame to stretch his arms above his head, his shoulder muscles clearly visible even through the suit jacket. You’re staring again. And he’s looking directly at you with a knowing smirk.

He caught you.

You feel your face flushing again and you quickly begin to shuffle through the papers in your hand in a poor attempt to appear busy.

“Thank you Phil, we’re taking a quick break now, stay with us.” Chris’ voice sounds through the studio. As soon as you made sure that the cameras are turned off, you hurry over to the anchor desk, putting down the fresh manuscripts with the latest numbers and restock the water bottles, all while trying your best to avoid Chris, still mortified that he caught you checking him out.

The commercial break only lasts about five minutes, so you quickly make your way to the studios supply cupboard to fetch some new water bottles. They were on the top shelf, just barely out of reach for you. You were already standing on your tiptoes, but no chance.

“Need any help with that?” a deep voice suddenly says right behind you. You startle, loosing your balance and fall right into the hard chest of Chris Cuomo. Strong arms sneak around you, steadying you. In that moment you become aware of the heat radiating from his huge form, his delicious smell of aftershave and coffee filling your senses.

Your pulse is like a hammer in your chest as he lets go of you, giving you the opportunity to turn around and face him.

“We really can’t have any normal interactions, Y/N?” he asks, studying you, again with that intense gaze and a little smirk.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Mr. Cuomo, I don’t know what’s up with me, I’m usually not that clumsy. Must be the lack of sleep.“ you ramble and try to return his stare, forcing your voice to sound steady and confident, something you weren’t feeling at all.

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind you falling into me at all.” He comes closer, his huge form filling out most of the tiny storage room. You take a small step back and feel the shelf behind you. You look to the floor, absolutely overwhelmed with the situation (and without a doubt, with a beet red face again) One of Chris‘ giant hands reaches out and turns your chin up to meet his eyes. His touch burns and tingles on your skin.

“I would appreciate it if you would look at me when I’m talking to you.“ he says in a intense and stern tone that sends a hot throb to your center and makes you take a sharp breath. You feel your nipples hardening under your blouse, wetness gathering in your pussy.

„Yes, of course, please forgive me, Sir.“ You look up to meet his eyes.

His pupils are dark and dilated as he lets out a deep, shuddering breath. The tension between you is almost palpable.

„Come to my office after the shift is over. Alone.“ he says and storms out of the storage room, leaving you behind in a horny, confused mess, waterbottles totally forgotten.

The next few hours are agonizing. Not only is the election a really tight race, your nerves are in a total frenzy because of what happened in the storage room. You keep replaying the interaction in your head and try your best to not stare over to where Chris was sitting, failing miserably every time. One time, your eyes meet his, but he just arches his eyebrows and looks back onto his laptop screen.

The dominance with which he had talked to you stood in a total contrast to the gentle touch of his fingers on your face. You are confused, and more turned on than you have ever been by anyone else.

You want to kiss him, want his hands all over your body, touching your naked skin, claiming you. Why does he want you to come tonhis office? The uncertainty was driving you crazy.

Time was creeping at such a slow pace, but finally the day shift is over. You ask an extremely tired looking Susan for a break which she begrudgingly grants you.

After quickly freshening up, you make your way through the empty hallway to Chris office, heart almost jumping out of your chest. What the hell was going to happen?

Straightening your blouse one last time, you knock on the door, waiting for the allowance to enter.

”Here goes nothing.”

Chris sits behind his desk, both suit jacket and tie hanging over the chair.He’s looking at you, as if he’s expecting you to make a move.

There was a prominent vein in his temple that became more noticeable the longer you stood there, failing to get a word out, hands trembling at your sides.

His shirt sleeves were turned up, and the view of his defined forearms sends a throb of want directly to your core. Finally, Chris breaks the silence and adresses you.

“Y/N, why are you here?”

His arms are crossed in front of his chest, accentuating his biceps. You just stand there, unable to move a single muscle.

He gets up from behind his desk and makes his way over to where you are, stopping directly behind you. A shiver goes down your spine because of the close proximity.

His next words are spoken with his lips so close to your ear that you can feel his hot breath against your cheek, his deep voice making the hair on your arms stand up.

“I asked you a question, little one. Answer me.”

You gathered every ounce of courage you had.

“I want you to touch me.”

He doesn’t move.

“Please, Sir.”

Suddenly, two strong hands grab your shoulders and spin you around.You stare directly into Chris’ face, his dark pupils are blown, there is a look of unhinged lust on his face.

A second later, his lips come crashing down on yours. The kiss isn’t gentle, all tongue and teeth and passion, making your head spin and your knees weak.

One of Chris hands sneaks around your back and grabs your ass, giving it a rough squeeze. You moan loudly as he holds you even closer, his hard bulge pressing against your abdomen. His big, hot body pushes you back against his desk and he effortlessly lifts you to sit on top of it.

Chris takes a step back, his large hands sprawled on your tights. You can feel the heat of his skin all the way through your trousers, the need to have him is so strong that you feel like your whole body is on fire.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, little one?” He says in low, throaty voice, holding your tights in a hard, almost bruising grip. “Staring at me, biting those pretty lips, undressing me with your eyes, making me hard every time. You’re just begging for it, aren’t you?”

He kisses you again, and starts to trail hot, wet kisses down your neck. You can’t focus, your hands clutching at his back, little gasps of pleasure coming out of your mouth.

“Yes, please, I need you” you exclaim, admitting what’s on your mind since the moment you saw him wearing that undershirt. His hands leave your tights and start opening the zipper of your trousers, pulling them down your legs in one smooth motion.

His hands are now roaming up and down your bare legs, slowly coming closer to the pool of heat and want between them.

“Oh my God, please touch me.” you beg, longing to finally feel his fingers on your aching pussy.

One of his large hands leaves your leg and gives you a hard smack on your ass, the pain causing you to utter a sharp cry and sending a pulse of heat straight between your legs.

“Ah, be polite, little one. Use your words and ask me properly for what you want.” Your face is burning, why was hearing this so incredibly hot?

“Please touch my pussy and fuck me, Sir, I need your cock.”

You can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. But this was an exceptional situation, and right now you’d say anything if it would result in Chris cock buried inside you.

He smiles a devious grin. “I wanted to do this since the moment you stepped into my office yesterday. Take off your panties, now.” he commands, giving you another slap on your ass.

While you’re hurrying to get rid of your underwear, he starts unbuckling his belt, opens his fly and takes out his cock. It’s long and hard, already leaking precum. You were in for a treat. He pulls a condom package out of his pocket and rolls the rubber over his length.

“Turn around and bend over” he said, you quickly obey and a moment later you feel one of his thick fingers parting your wet folds and entering you, while another finger rubs your aching clit. A needy whine breaks out of your mouth and you throw your head back in pleasure .“God, you’re already so wet for me, little one.” Chris groans, adding another finger.

You almost can’t take it anymore, feeling like you might go insane if he doesn’t fuck you right now.

“I need you in me, Sir, please” You’re begging now, totally beyond caring.

Chris removes his fingers, lines up his huge cock at your opening and starts slowly pushing in, inch by inch.He groans, grabbing your hips, and once he’s fully settled in your tight heat he starts a brutal, deep pace.

You let out a hiss as he stretches you and hold onto the desk, trying not fall over with the force of his powerful thrusts. The pleasure is overwhelming, his large cock filling you perfectly over and over again, a bruising grip on your hips, his deep voice groaning dirty things into your ear. You’re ability to form coherent sentences is long gone, only moans and short breaths are coming out of your mouth.

Behind you, Chris is breathing heavily as one of his hands reaches around you to rub your clit.

“Fuck, You feel so good baby, so fucking tight around my cock.” he swears as his thrusts are starting to become faster and more erratic.

His rubbing on your clit intensifies, and you can feel your climax approaching.

“Come for me baby, come on my cock.“ Chris leans forward, biting the tender the spot where your shoulder meets your neck.

Pleasure and pain surge through you as you hit your peak, Chris‘ name on your lips. You feel his body going stiff behind you, his grip on your hips tighening almost painfully as he finds his release with you.

For a while, the mix of both your ragged breaths is the only sound in the office, then Chris carefully pulls out, the sudden feeling of emptiness making you whimper.

Strong arms embrace you, and you hear a small chuckle as a kiss is being pressed to your neck.

But the gravity of what you’ve just done still hits you like a punch to the gut and you whirl around, eyes wide with shock, head still spinning from the intensity of your orgasm.

“Oh, oh no” you mutter to yourself, breathing heavily as you see your crumpled trousers and panties lying on the office floor along with several papers who fell from the desk during your activities. What did you do?

“Hey, hey, little one, calm down.” Chris says, sensing your anxiety right away. He cups your jaw and leans down to press a gentle kiss to your trembling lips. Your worry eases a bit as you kiss him back.

“How about you lie down on my couch and I go and get us snacks and something to drink. Maybe even some coffee?” he asks after pressing a final kiss to your head.

You manage a shaky nod and a small smile, looking up at Chris’ handsome face.

He flashes you a toothy grin, forehead still shining with a thin layer of sweat, his hair tousled.

He looks breathtaking.

“You’re staring again, Y/N.”

“I know.”

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 5 - Summer Clouds (Part 1)

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. Shiso a.k.a. perilla is a plant used a lot in Japanese cuisine

2. This is callback to Chapter 4 when Nico-chan mentions “ Don’t they say that men who are bad at driving are bad with that too?”

Previous | Next

“We can’t train in this heat.”

“But if we don’t train, we won’t have a place to live…”

Kakeru listened to the conversation going on behind him while he was boiling somen noodles for lunch. Jouta and Jouji were sprawled out in the hallway by the front door, cooling off.

Ever since Kiyose collapsed, the residents of Chikusei-sou had been more careful about their health: they had all decided to get anemia tests done once a month by the neighborhood physician who had made the house call, there was a range of supplements stocked in the kitchen, and, before going to bed, there were massage battles going on in various rooms.

Even so, there was nothing to be done about the heat.

Now that the midyear exams for university were over and summer vacation was upon them, the air temperature was boiling to an almost violent degree. Chikusei-sou—of course—didn’t have air conditioning, so the front door and the doors of each room were left open. The residents, seeking a place where they could pass the time even just a bit more comfortably, crawled around the hallways like slugs.

The heat and vapor rising from the big pot instantly stuck to Kakeru’s skin and changed into sweat. He nimbly transferred the somen to a colander and ran it under running water, then put the noodle soup base, mineral water, and ice on the dining table.

“It’s done!” he called out while wiping his sweat with the shoulder of his T-shirt. The twins slowly got up.

Jouta took a look at the table and complained, “It’s so bare. Tell me there’s condiments, at least.”

“Haiji-san is picking shiso (1) in the yard right now.”

Placing the colander heaped with somen noodles in the center of the table, Kakeru struck the bottom of the empty pot with a ladle. The residents, looking like snakes on the verge of death, appeared from here and there and gathered in the kitchen.

“How much shiso is Haiji getting?”

“Shindou is not here either. I wonder what happened.”

“In any case, the landlord’s heartless. He didn’t have to get so angry.”

“I guess we deserved it, though.”

The residents sighed as they dexterously slurped their somen.

The night Kiyose collapsed, the worried landlord had tried to enter Chikusei-sou. Shindou and Musa desperately tried to keep him out, not letting him cross the threshold.

The next day, the landlord, suspicious, entered Chikusei-sou while the residents were at school. Immediately at the front door he discovered the hole in the twins’ room. The landlord’s sadness deepened at the sight of the hole in the rundown apartment he treasured like his own child, so gathering the residents, he made an announcement.

“I need money for repairs for Chikusei-sou. In order to save up money, I’m raising the rent.”

“What!”

“Don’t ‘what’ me! Didn’t you say something along the lines of ‘We’re going to do well in the Hakone Ekiden and get a powerful sponsor to set up a new training camp’?!”

“No sponsor’s gonna go that far,” Jouta, the one responsible for making the hole, grumbled, but he fell silent at the landlord’s glare.

“You all seem to have more than enough energy, so Hakone should be a walk in the park for you. If you don’t want the rent to increase, do whatever it takes to get to Hakone.”

If they provoked him any further, the elderly landlord might suddenly die from too much rage, so they could only obediently say in unison, “Understood.”

“There’s absolutely no way I can move. I want to train for the sake of leaving the rent where it is as well, but…” Prince, who was hoarding manga in his room, said. “Running in the summer is, to put it bluntly, an act of suicide, isn’t it? What do other track teams do?”

“Most of them hold training camps somewhere cool. Like in Hokkaido,” Kakeru answered.

“Hokkaido!”

Jouji became spellbound with just that word. Crabs, sea urchins, ramen…it was so easy to see what he was thinking about that it was practically reflected in the soup. Kakeru coughed, deciding that the sooner he brought him back to reality, the less painful it would be.

“It’s impossible for us. We don’t have the money.”

Right when a disappointed Jouji was gulping down his somen along with the melted ice, Kiyose and Shindou ran into the kitchen.

“You’re late, Haiji. We’re finished eating,” said Nico-chan as Kiyose pushed the shiso leaves onto him.

“Let’s escape this scorching hell called Tokyo. We’re going on a training camp.”

The twins stood. “Hokkaido?!”

“No, Lake Shirakaba.”

It lacked the impact of Hokkaido, but Lake Shirakaba, located in the Tateshina highlands, was also a famous summer retreat.

“But, what are we going to do for the lodging fees?” Kakeru asked.

“A supporter from the shopping district is going to help us,” Kiyose said. “We’re staying at a vacation home near Lake Shirakaba that belongs to the owner of ‘Batting Center Okai.’ The food for the training camp will be provided by Yaokatsu and some others, and we’ll use the Aotake van to make the roundtrip, so it won’t cost that much.”

“Don’t worry about fundraising,” Shindou assured. “We’re advertising to the shopping district and the university staff that we’re aiming for Hakone, so our sponsors will surely increase. Besides, Nico-chan-senpai’s wire dolls are selling better than expected.”

“What?” Nico-chan said, stunned. His hands stopped plucking the shiso and dividing them among the bowls of unfinished somen. “You’re selling them? Where in the world would anyone buy something like that and for what reason?”

“I had them put in the general store, and they’re popular with girls. They’re calling them things like dolls for warding off evil spirits and ‘disgustingly cute!’ and stuff like that.” Shindou smiled. “Please keep making more from now on.”

“Hooray! Training camp, training camp!”

Jouta and Jouji took each other’s hands and rejoiced. Prince had already disappeared from the kitchen; it seemed that he had gone to his room to study what manga he was going to bring to the training camp. Everyone dreamed of a fun summer training camp.

A refreshing wind blowing across the lake shore. A beautiful girl in a white dress, riding in a swan boat with her while gnawing on roasted corn. Even when autumn finally arrives, our love will never end. We promise to meet again in Tokyo, and in the middle of a thicket of white birch trees, we shed tears over our brief parting…

“That was what I imagined, but…” Jouji got a sulky look on his face. “Why is reality like this?”

The vacation home they were borrowing from the batting center owner didn’t seem to have been used in a long time and it had half rotted away.

With Kiyose driving the white van, the group arrived at the home in the coniferous forest by Lake Shirakaba and finished the first day of camp by cleaning the rooms. With the floors scrubbed, the bath polished, and the fireplace soot swept away, the log house finally seemed to come back to life a bit.

The home built between the trees looked like a log den made by a bear at first glance. Now that they had finished fixing it up, it somewhat seemed like a dwelling for humans. Relieved, Kakeru threw the gathered branches into the fireplace.

“Jouji, your imagination is too cliché,” Jouta said, his face pitch black from the soot. “I knew it was going to turn out like this.”

As far as they could see during the day, it seemed to be mostly families and old couples that came to Lake Shirakaba to escape the heat. The swan boats were drearily swaying with the ripples on the water and music was flowing out from the small amusement park by the lake.

“It is good to feel cool, though.” Musa was wearing a hoodie over his T-shirt. “It will be almost cold when the sun sets.”

When Kakeru made a fire in the fireplace, people individually came to gather around it. It was pitch dark outside the window, and all they could hear was the rustling of the treetops.

“I’ve finished preparing for dinner; all that’s left is adding the roux,” Kiyose, who had been staring into the flames for a while, said. “Before that, let’s go for a short run.”

“Curry again?”

“No! I used up all my energy for cleaning!”

“It’s so dark, what if we get hit by a car?”

Kiyose, of course, didn’t heed their protests. As though urged forward like cattle, they put on their shoes and all went out to the unpaved forest path.

“We don’t even know the route yet.” Nico-chan scratched his head. “Which way’s the lake?”

“If we go down the slope, we’ll eventually reach the lakeside.”

With Yuki’s guidance, they formed a line and started running. Kiyose, who was at the end, gave instructions.

“One lap around the lake is 3.8 kilometers. Once everyone’s done three laps, we’ll return to the cabin and eat dinner.”

“Yes!”

When they arrived at the paved lakeside road, they started running at their own pace. The souvenir shop and small art gallery already had their shutters down, and except for a couple of large hotels, there were no other buildings with lights on. They followed this brand new route to explore it, without enjoying the scenery. 

Kakeru was next to Kiyose, running along the night road that drew a gentle curve. The presence of water nearing the shore was their only reference.

Running in a different atmosphere and on a different road from usual didn’t make Kakeru feel anxious—the sense of distance was hammered into his body. If he heard beforehand that one lap was 3.8 kilometers, then he was automatically able to grasp where he was running at that moment from his speed and bodily sensations.

The elation and fun of running in an unfamiliar land filled Kakeru.

“Where’s the coach?” he asked Kiyose running next to him. “Is he still at the go parlor?”

“Who knows. He’ll join us before long.” Kiyose tilted his head to the side a little. “For some reason, the landlord doesn’t want to ride in the car when I’m driving.”

That morning, when they were departing from Chikusei-sou, the landlord saw them off in the yard. He watched with satisfaction as the food they received from the shopping district was loaded into the back of the van, but in the end did not try to get in himself.

“But Haiji-san, you’ve gotten so much better at driving.”

After he said that, Kakeru thought, Crap, that’s not a good follow-up. However, it was true that Kiyose was improving in his driving skills at a tremendous pace; some people even fell asleep on the way to Lake Shirakaba. At the time of the first TSU meet, when they were stiff in their seats or about to pass out like they were riding a space shuttle doing an acrobatic flight, they couldn’t imagine entrusting their bodies to Kiyose at the wheel and falling asleep.

“I’m a fast learner when it comes to anything,” Kiyose said matter-of-factly. “I’m fastidious, so I throw myself into studying and training wholeheartedly.”

Recalling that common saying mentioned before (2), Kakeru, feeling gloomy, said, “Eh, then, for that too...” but didn’t have the courage to ask him. 

“Is that so? I see,” he said instead, nodding.

After passing the lagging members, Kakeru and Kiyose were the first to return to the house. After running three laps around the lake, the chilliness of the damp, highland night air didn’t bother them anymore. To relax his body, Kakeru filled the bath with hot water while Kiyose pressed a plastic bag filled with ice to his right calf to prevent inflammation in his burdened muscles.

“How are you feeling?”

“There’s no issue.” Kiyose smiled. “Go ahead and take a bath.”

When Kakeru got out of the bath and took Kiyose’s place in the kitchen to stir the curry pot, everyone else returned from jogging. They took off their sweat-drenched T-shirts and trudged off to the bath.

The sounds of fighting for the shower and off-key humming could be heard even in the kitchen. Kiyose was apparently thrown out of the bath. With his hair still wet, he opened the lid of the rice cooker, and Kakeru helped him arrange the dinner dishes on the huge slab of a table.

A heap of curry, rice, and salad; milk mixed with protein powder; peaches for dessert; everything was food donated by the shopping district.

After everyone had refreshed themselves in the bath, they went to the dining table. They were just about to grab a spoon to eat when…

“Wait a minute,” Kiyose said. “There’s not enough people here.”

They looked at each other. Musa and Shindou weren’t there.

“This is strange. Even Prince-san came back.”

“I don’t think there was anyone in front of me or behind me when I was running my last lap,” Prince said, tilting his head.

“You don’t think they got lost, do you?” King stood and looked outside from the dining room window.

“Did anyone happen to catch sight of Musa and Shindou on their way back here?” Kiyose asked.

No one raised their hands. Nico-chan went upstairs, and then they heard the sound of the second floor lights being turned on to mark their spot in the woods.

“Where did they go?”

“Shouldn’t we go search for them?”

The twins made worried suggestions.

“No. It’d be bad if more of us got lost. Let’s wait for a while.”

Though he said that, Kiyose was probably out of his mind with worry. They opened the door and stared at the forest path submerged in darkness. No matter how much they strained their ears, they couldn’t hear Musa and Shindou’s footsteps. The curry was getting cold, but now was not the time for dinner.

Kakeru stood at the door with Kiyose. Nico-chan, who came down from upstairs, patted Kiyose’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, even if they have to sleep outdoors for the night, they’ll be fine.”

Right at that moment, the kitchen door behind them burst open. When they turned around in shock, Musa and Shindou were just entering from the side of the kitchen.

There was a steep, pathless slope behind the kitchen. Kakeru was stunned, never thinking that Musa and Shindou would appear from there.

Musa and Shindou started shouting.

“This is bad, this is bad!”

“TSU has also come to Lake Shirakaba!”

Collecting themselves, everyone surrounded the table. As they ate their curry, Musa and Shindou told them that TSU’s clubhouse was apparently located just further up the mountain from the vacation home.

“It’s still a new building. There were lights on, so we approached it thinking it must be this house, but we could see the TSU guys having dinner through the window,” Shindou said.

“By the way, they’re having yakiniku. I believe it is the highest-quality wagyu beef,” Musa supplemented.

King was silent, and then gulped down his minced pork curry.

“Why did you climb up the mountain?” Kiyose asked.

“It is not as though we wanted to climb it.”

“We got lost on the path because it was dark.”

Musa and Shindou both spoke quickly.

“Shindou, aren’t you used to mountains?”

“I am, but I also have no sense of direction.”

“I am the same. To the point that even in my home country, my parents warned me not to go into the savannah, even if my friends invited me.”

Kakeru spoke to Kiyose, who was rubbing his temples, in a small voice. “What are we going to do, Haiji-san? You were planning to enter Shindou-san for the Hakone mountain climb section, weren’t you?”

“Aah,” Kiyose groaned. “We might be able to see the first real-time Hakone disaster drama in Ekiden TV broadcast history.”

“They have a leading car, so I don’t think that’ll happen,” Yuki laughed scornfully. “But if push comes to shove, we’ll have to leave it to Shindou’s wild sense of smell. We’ll have him push through Hakone’s trackless mountain paths and cut ahead to Lake Ashi first.”

“Is—is that possible?” Jouji, who overheard their conversation, brightly asked.

“Of course not. If you go off the route, you’ll be disqualified,” Kiyose chided.

“Apparently someone did it before,” King said, showing off his miscellaneous knowledge. As expected of a quiz enthusiast, he had also looked up trivia about the Hakone Ekiden.

“This was in the Taisho era, when there were only about four competing schools. Apparently, the thing all the schools were most enthusiastic about wasn’t training, but finding a shortcut through the mountains of Hakone. Well, it was an idyllic time where there were no radio relay broadcasts for the Hakone Ekiden.”

“Isn’t that cheating?” Prince said while peeling a peach. Nico-chan laughed as he took a second helping of rice.

“Sounds like something a university student would think of.”

Kakeru conjured up Taisho-era students running along the animal trails of Hakone in his mind: rivals desperately competing against each other, but also trying to figure out a way to make things a little easier. The figures of silly and cheerful students hadn’t changed much from then til now.

“Let’s find a shortcut if we pass the qualifiers.”

“I said you can’t.”

“The problem is TSU. What should we do?” Yuki asked.

“We’ll definitely bump into them on the path along the lake,” Shindou muttered.

Kakeru was wordlessly filled with fighting spirit. Like hell he was going to be overtaken by a TSU runner, even for jogging.

“Don’t fight,” Kiyose cautioned. “There’s only one lake. Let’s compromise and run together peacefully.”

Everyone in Chikusei-sou covered themselves with blankets on the vacation home’s second floor and slept in a huddle, and rose with the twittering of small birds. The first thing they would do was to stretch and go for a jog in the clean air before breakfast. With that in mind, they all headed out to the lakeside path where they immediately ran into the runners from TSU. The TSU track team members, dressed in matching jerseys, had just finished their morning meeting in the parking lot of the souvenir store before it opened. About fifty of them were about to start jogging in ranks, grouped by level.

The head coach and several people who looked like assistant coaches rode separately in cars, accompanying each group. The well-coordinated TSU members started running in order of seniority. “Wow…” Jouji breathed in honest admiration.

The Kansei University long-distance track team only consisted of the ten people from Chikusei-sou. They didn’t hold a meeting before practice, and their coach was absent as usual. Their clothing was all over the place as well; the twins, for example, were wearing extremely colorful Hawaiian shirts that considerably spoiled the scenery of Lake Shirakaba.

The TSU first-year Sakaki seemed to have noticed them. He whispered something to the teammate he was running with. A murmur speedily spread through the TSU group, and they—especially the first-years—turned and looked back at Kakeru and the others one after another.

“This is somewhat tough,” Musa said, getting fainthearted. King, who got nervous easily, seemed like he was about to return to the vacation home.

“Let’s go.” Kakeru was as confident as could be; he never fell behind in running. To anyone.

“What’s with this morning energy…”

While grumbling, everyone at Chikusei-sou seemed to let themselves be influenced by Kakeru and started running.

Kiyose said, “Leave Kakeru alone. Keep your own pace.”

Kakeru laughed a little when he heard that. Even though he told them to leave him alone, sure enough, Kiyose immediately caught up to him. Ahead of them, Sakaki glanced back and beckoned them with his hand behind his back.

“Don’t take the bait.”

“I can take it and surpass him.”

“Don’t throw off your rhythm. This morning’s jog is at a pace of five kilometers in twenty minutes.”

Kakeru looked at Kiyose. Kiyose was running forward with a calm expression on his face. He looked like he was listening carefully to the sounds of his own body. The TSU group and the bikes that sometimes passed them didn’t seem to exist at all to Kiyose, who was beginning to concentrate on running; he was simply moving his body silently in the space between the lake and coniferous forest.

“Yes,” Kakeru said.

He followed Kiyose’s example and stopped caring about Sakaki anymore. Five kilometers in twenty minutes. When he ran at this speed, he was only conscious of the functioning of his muscles and heart. It wasn’t a painful pace; he had room to confirm that his blood was circulating around his mind and body.

The birds were singing with clear voices towards the sun that was actively beginning to rise, and the wind blowing from high up on the mountain made small waves on the lake surface.

What is strength? Kakeru suddenly thought about that again. For example, this calmness of Haiji-san’s. Without wavering, calmly, running in his own world. I can run with a better time than him, but I’m not sure I’m stronger than him. I lose my cool easily, and all I can think about is how I don’t want to lose.

Kakeru wanted to know. He wanted to know what strength was and what he was lacking. It was the first time he had ever felt that way. Until now, he had always been running as his body demanded—as though he was being urged on by something.

Kiyose didn’t restrict or coerce the idiosyncratic members, instead trying to flexibly guide them. Kakeru looked back: the residents of Chikusei-sou were running along the lakeside path. While their abilities still varied a lot, they had solid forms and were working hard on jogging. Even though they had complained so much in the spring, through their hard work these last three months, they had managed to end up looking like members of a track team.

Kakeru faced forward again and cast down his eyes. His consciousness was stretching around, from his toes that kicked at the ground to the flow of his fingertips as his arms swung through the air.

If I follow Haiji-san, then I’m sure I will be able to see something. Something sparkling that I’ve always wanted to see.

The TSU first-years, with Sakaki at the center, were messing with Kansei University.

When they were running on the lakeshore path, they spread out in a horizontal line to block their path. They would run and surround Kakeru as a group, putting pressure on him. They did these things behind the head coach’s and their upperclassmen’s backs, making fun of them repeatedly.

Kakeru didn’t care much about it; he had gotten used to such harassment during club activities and competitions throughout high school. If he got surrounded, he could just break free and move ahead, and if his way got blocked, he could just overtake them by going out into the oncoming lane.

However, almost all the residents of Chikusei-sou were little more than beginners; they didn’t have any strategies for running. They completely shrivelled up under the TSU first-years’ harassment and had their pace disturbed.

“They’re doing something immature.”

Even Kiyose, who had been watching the situation from the beginning, finally couldn’t keep quiet anymore. When they finished their evening jog, they went to speak to them.

There were about twenty TSU first-years, and they were hanging out in the souvenir store parking lot. Kiyose approached them without any sign of flinching. But they couldn’t let Kiyose be the only one to go through something risky, so Kakeru and the others hurriedly chased after him.

The sound of the cicadas resounded miserably in the lakeshore air. “I’d say each of us beating up two people is a good rate,” Nico-chan said, cracking his fingers, and Musa rolled his ankles to loosen them. The TSU first-years stopped chatting and turned towards them. The runners from the two schools stood facing each other in the middle of the parking lot.

“I would like you all to stop interfering with our training.” Kiyose broke the ice quietly. Sakaki stepped out from the TSU group.

“And we would like you to stop with the false accusations. Do you have any proof that we interfered with you?”

“We do,” Yuki said, then took his phone out and thrust it at them. On the standby screen, they could clearly see the TSU students running spread out across the entire path, and Kakeru running cramped behind them.

“I wanted to be able to check my form later. And when I did that, I got some interesting shots.”

“I understand how you feel, but leave your phone behind,” Kiyose cautioned Yuki. “If you run with unnecessary stuff in your pockets, it will ruin the balance of your form.”

Is that actually the problem here? Kakeru thought. He didn’t like Yuki’s actions because he was being too studious, but he was also afraid of Kiyose, who was unfazed by this and only thought about running. Even Sakaki looked astounded and uncomfortable.

Kiyose turned back to the TSU first-years.

“That’s all I have to say. I don’t want to show this out-of-focus photo to your head coach or captain if I can help it. I hope you understand.”

“Of course I do.” Sakaki smiled thinly. “TSU is seriously training to go to Hakone. We can’t be bothered with people who are running on a whim.”

“We’re on the same page, then.” Kakeru saw a vein appear on Kiyose’s temple. “It’s really annoying when people interrupt your serious practice with childish harassment.”

Kiyose and Sakaki glared at each other furiously. Haiji-san, Kakeru whispered, gently putting his hand on his arm to calm him.

“I think we have different definitions of serious,” Sakaki said in a harsh tone. “Why don’t we have a match? You ten and ten first-years from our school will run along the lakeside and compete for time.”

Kakeru’s brain seethed at the blatant challenge. He turned to Sakaki and yelled, “Let’s do this!”

He understood that Sakaki was devoted to running, but he still couldn’t forgive him for looking down on the residents of Chikusei-sou. Sakaki’s attitude was like seeing himself as he was until recently, and he felt unbearably displeased. This time it was Kiyose who grabbed Kakeru by the arm in order to hold him back, but he shook him off and continued to say, “You have something you want to say to me? If that’s the case, you and I should compete instead. Just because you can’t beat me doesn’t mean that you can drag other people into it!”

 “You never change, Kurahara, you’re as overconfident as ever.”

Sakaki also accepted the challenge without faltering. People from both schools cut in between the two, who seemed like they were about to start exchanging blows at any minute. Kakeru, with his arms pinned behind his back by Nico-chan, glared at Sakaki who was still breathing hard, flapping his legs and trying to kick Kakeru with his arms also held down by his teammate.

“Is this the time for a match?” Kiyose said quietly, as if to admonish Kakeru and Sakaki. “Focus all your attention on training.”

Sakaki’s teammate released his arms, and he straightened his dishevelled jersey. He looked at Kakeru and everyone from Chikusei-sou in order.

“Is it fun?” Sakaki asked in a low voice. “Is it fun to run with the comrades you finally made, Kurahara?”

“Enough,” Kiyose interrupted and then turned his back to Sakaki. “Let’s go back,” Kiyose prompted, but Kakeru didn’t move.

Don’t you dare use words like “comrade.” He was so angry and frustrated that the core of his head hurt. Kakeru escaped from Nico-chan’s arm bind and stood still while still glaring at Sakaki. Sakaki continued.

“Are you satisfied running around happily with a bunch of guys who sing your praises to the skies?”

“No!”

Weren’t you guys the ones who were always praising my speed? And yet, there was a bunch of jealousy and feelings of rivalry behind the scenes. I hated that high school track team. Pretending to be friendly on the surface and sabotaging each other behind the scenes, I hate you guys so much I wanna throw up.

Kakeru wanted to say that, but he was so angry that he couldn’t form the words. In a corner of his mind, he knew that there was nothing he could do no matter what Sakaki said.

Sakaki can’t forgive what I did. Endure it. Chanting that in his mind, Kakeru clenched his fists. It’s my fault he wasn’t able to take part in the last high school meet, so it’s natural he’s angry. If I just imagine it’s Nira barking, I can endure it.

“Even though you’re running around so happily now, why couldn’t you do it before? Why would you do something that invalidated all our hard work? All you had to do was endure it a little.”

I can’t, I can’t endure it anymore. Nira is cute, but Sakaki isn’t at all! Grilled by Sakaki, Kakeru easily threw away his endurance.

“I’m not much good at enduring, you know!” he hit back with a force that would make even a lion run away. I’m the one who wants to know “why”. Why did you guys just stay silent and endure that suffocating team atmosphere? The words flooded his chest, but it always took Kakeru a long time before he could say them. Kakeru’s counterattack was abruptly trampled upon by Sakaki’s vigor, which was like a marching elephant.  

“You’re pretty full of yourself Kurahara!” Sakaki said in one breath with a low tone. “I’m guessing you thought you would be the only one who’d get an invitation from the university even if you weren’t in the meet, but too bad. You, at the end of the day, are selfish and egotistical…”

“I thought I told you that’s enough.”

Kiyose’s chilly voice froze the two who had the appearance of beasts battling in the savannah. Kakeru came to his senses and stealthily peeked at Kiyose, who was standing right behind him. Kiyose was expressionless as ice. Behind him, the twins were frantically warning him with body and hand gestures: “Stop it already” and “Haiji-san’s about to explode.”

When he perceived that Kakeru had lost his will to fight, Kiyose turned his penetratingly cold gaze to Sakaki.

“I understand your own grievances. But Kakeru’s a runner for Kansei University now. I want you to stop hurting and upsetting people so excessively.”

We’re going back now, Kiyose announced, and pushed Kakeru towards the forest path. Pulled by the hem of his shirt, Kakeru started walking with him.

“What did Kakeru do to Sakaki-kun?”

“Who knows? But I kinda get the feeling he’s pretty popular?”

King and Jouta sneakily let their imaginations run wild. Come now, Kiyose said, and the residents of Chikusei-sou started leaving the parking lot.

“The rest of you better be careful, he might betray you at the last minute.”

Kiyose turned slightly and smiled at the words Sakaki cast their way.

“We’ll show you how happily and seriously we’re running in the qualifiers. Oh, but you guys have your hands full with chores and odd jobs, so you might not have the time to watch us. Well, do your best to earn a regular position.”

“Who’s the immature one here?”

“Haiji’s getting pretty nasty.”

Nico-chan’s and Yuki’s shoulders were shaking. The fight for a regular position was irrelevant to the Kansei track club, so they were carefree and at ease.

“It means that even a small club with only ten people has its good points.” Musa looked at the frustrated TSU first-years with pity.

Kakeru peeked at Kiyose, walking next to him. The vein had disappeared, but he still had a grim expression on his face, and it seemed he was deep in thought about something. He had caused trouble again. He desperately swallowed down the sigh that was about to spill out of him.

“I’m sorry, Haiji-san.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

Thinking that he really was angry, Kakeru hesitated before rechoosing his words.

“Thank you, Haiji-san.”

“You’re welcome,” Kiyose said. The curve of his cheek was softer than before. I see, I should say thank you in times like these, Kakeru realized for the first time. Because Haiji-san stood up for me. His anger and frustration cleared away. With his feelings lightened, Kakeru started running.

“Get the bath running,” Kiyose told him, and he raised a hand in response.

Even in the highland wind that blew in from the night, Kakeru’s body remained warm.

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